Instead of getting her feet wet, Erica dove right into the 4CW action head on! Per usual, Freedumb wasn’t thinking very clearly as his brain was just unable to keep up with the accelerated thoughts overcoming him. Snapping him back to reality, Erica bitch slapped him, forcing a sound to escape his mouth resembling that of a wounded dog in distress. The amphetamine kicked in shortly after as he was overcome with a mentally handicapped rage. Chasing Erica around the ring, she wasn’t running out of gas anytime soon. This could literally go on for nearly seventy-two hours straight before he completely crashed and his body shut down on him. As easily distracted as he can get, Freedumb had Erica finally cornered but was drawn to fans in a section of the front row wearing Christmas attire. He thought to himself for a moment, even scratching his head as if there were something he was supposed to do two Christmas’ ago. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Erica lunges forward, raking both of Freedumb’s eyes and blinding him. Unable to see, Freedumb’s substance abuse problem kicks back in as he tears into another rage fit, swinging wildly but not even anywhere near Erica’s vicinity. Swing after swing and miss after miss, he began to grow slower by the second. Finally running out of gas, Erica hit the ropes and hit him head on, charging in with a superman punch transitioned into a bitch slap! Falling Bankrupt, as probably the case in reality, Freedumb hit the mat as Erica made the cover, scoring the one, the two, and the three with ease.

WINNER: Erica Cambry via Pinfall (5:25)

The picture opens to a shot from within the ring, panning over the PPG Paints Arena in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. As far as the camera can view, the house is packed tonight as we head into the seventy-seventh episode of 4CW Adrenaline. Stopping in random spots, the camera focuses on various signs help by fans in attendance.






The picture transitions to a shot from directly in front of the booth where Steve Johnson and Vinny Vassa sit, patiently awaiting their queue to get things underway.

JOHNSON: ”Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to another night of 4CW’s Adrenaline! I’m Steve Johnson and we’re coming to you live from the PPG Paints Arena in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.”

VASSA: ”And I’m Vinny Vassa! Thanks for the lovely introduction, Steve.”

JOHNSON: ”We both know you’d blurt it out before I even finished!”

VASSA: ”True story, I can’t even argue that.”

JOHNSON: ”We have an action packed night ahead of us folks with a card that is arguably pay-per-view quality from top to bottom.”

VASSA: ”Let’s not forget those who weren’t here to see the action in the ring before he hit the air. Making her 4CW debut, Erica Cambry had quick work of our resident junkie, Freedumb!”

JOHNSON: ”We really need to get him the help he needs.”

VASSA: ”Let’s send him to where Jett is getting help with his substance abuse. And while we’re at it, let’s find a home for Hartman and get the man off the streets.”

JOHNSON: ”What are you even talking about?”

VASSA: ”Open your eyes Steve! Gabriel Hartman is homeless and I’m not even sure he’s officially under contract with 4CW. For all we know, the man is working for free, following us around like the bum he is just hoping to get leftovers from catering after the night is all said and done.”

JOHNSON: ”That’s an interesting theory, but we’ll have to get to that another time because we have a stacked card tonight from top to bottom!”

VASSA: ”Kicking things off we have some XTV action as Luke Jones will try his luck out against Dakota Smith, after failing miserably against Genie two weeks ago with the XTV Championship on the line.”

JOHNSON: ”For the first time, in a match that should have happened long before tonight, we have Bryan Williams squaring off against Chris Madison.”

VASSA: ”Under or over, Steve?”

JOHNSON: ”What?”

VASSA: ”Concussions! I’m going with a solid two here tonight. One by the hands of Madison and the other by the hands of Persephone after he steals her spotlight once again.”

JOHNSON: ”Speaking of firsts, we have quite a few high profile firsts in store for tonight. Possibly the biggest of the night, we have the XTV Champion going head to head with the 4CW Champion – without any championships on the line.”

VASSA: ”Genie and Bronx… this isn’t their first. They’ve squared off in the DM’s on cyber Monday a few years back.”

JOHNSON: ”I don’t even know what that means.”

VASSA: ”They fucked, but with their fingers to a touchscreen!”

JOHNSON: ”Okay… And in our headline match of the evening we have Anastasia Hayden going one on one with the number one contender for the 4CW Championship, Persephone Marquis.”

VASSA: ”QUEEF!!! These two met in the ring two weeks ago in a tag contest and the events following should lead into a great matchup between these two here tonight!”

JOHNSON: ”The way things ended left a sour taste in everyone’s mouth.”

VASSA: ”And for our main event, we have a number one contender match for the 4CW Pride Championship.”

JOHNSON: ”Jair Hopkins and Amber Ryan!”

VASSA: ”These two, along with Jett Wilder and Aidan Carlisle, were thrown into contention two weeks ago and tonight we decide who will advance to Winter Wasteland and challenge for the belt.”

JOHNSON: ”Speaking of Winter Wasteland, it’s only two weeks away.”

VASSA: ”Can you believe it, Steve? Winter Wasteland will mark four years that 4CW has been in business and back in the early stages, I never would have imagined we’d be at the level we’ve elevated to today.”

JOHNSON: ”It’s a huge accomplishment for 4CW and I’m thankful to have spent the first four years with this company.”

VASSA: ”You know what I’ve also heard?”

JOHNSON: ”What’s that?”

VASSA: ”Last year we had the first ever Hall of Fame ceremony where Dakota Smith was the first and only person to be inducted into the 4CW Hall of Fame.”

JOHNSON: ”So what have you heard?”

VASSA: ”That at Winter Wasteland we will have our second year of inductions!”

JOHNSON: ”I don’t believe that’s any surprise. It’s been mentioned numerous times on media outlets.”

VASSA: ”Oh. My. God. Way to go straight Bryan Williams on me and buzzkill this whole entire conversation!”

JOHNSON: ”Someone has to cut you short. We’re spent enough time holding up the show and the fans here are eager for us to shut it up and get on to the opening match.”

VASSA: ”Bye Felicia!”

The cameras cut backstage, where the recently signed Nurse Kinsley sits in the PPG Paints Arena boiler room. She stares off into space, not quite looking into the camera just yet.

KINSLEY: ”Do people still cut promos from the boiler room? Has that fallen out of favor, or is that still considered cliche? I can never keep up with this stuff.”

Kinsley looks around, briefly, as if searching for a direction to go… but eventually, she stops, throws her hands up, and turns her attention to the camera.

KINSLEY: ”You still don’t get it. Do you Aidan? In all your flailing and spitting about who’s underestimating who, rapid firing as many social media memes and inside jokes as you can squeeze into a single promo, vomiting up the same rhetoric I’ve heard from every opponent I’ve ever faced EVER, you still… don’t get it. You’re so FUCKING close and you just can’t put the pieces together.”

Kinsley stares, hard, into the camera. Her eyes narrow, one gloved hand running through her dyed hair. She glances to the floor for a moment before resuming, slightly shaking her head.

KINSLEY: ”You said it yourself, even. Any company I’ve been in previously, I was a big fish in a small pond. There’s hundreds of places I could still go where I’d be the biggest name on the marquee, hands down, bar none, and they’d be DELIGHTED to fondle my proverbial balls just for showing up and gracing them with my fucking presence but I didn’t sign up for those. Did I?

I didn’t join WWH, despite an invite. I didn’t join Death Trip, even though a guest appearance–a one off match against some shmuck–made the top of their PPV card just because I was on it. I could have been god all day every day anywhere… else. I didn’t sign up for anywhere else. I’m in a 4CW arena, right now, and tonight I’m going to work a 4CW match on 4CW television.”

The nurse tilts her head back, placing her hands upon her hips.

KINSLEY: ”You think I’m arrogant but I’m not. I’m not unique, or special, I’m not faster than you or stronger, or more experienced. Neither was any… ANY of the long list of wrestlers I’ve beaten before you. Scientifically speaking there’s no reason I should have beaten any of them, but I did. I have a career marked by substantially more wins than losses, turning me into a statician’s worst nightmare and I’ll tell you how. I’ll tell you exactly how, Aidan, and it’s the same way Amber beat you two weeks ago.

I want this… more than you do. I NEED this more than you do. You said it yourself–I’m just a stumbling block to you, at best. Right, Aidan? You win, you shrug it off. There’s a thousand excuses waiting for you. For me, this could make or break my career. I lose tonight, I confirm every single GOD DAMN thing everyone suspected about me. That I’m nothing. That I’m a joke. The rest of my battle from there is entirely uphill, but if I WIN–if I win, Aidan, I get that moment of doubt. I get that inch of leverage. I get that one step up the ladder, that one foot in the fucking door and from my position even the slightest bit of momentum means everything. I’m not unique and I don’t pretend to be. You can’t see past the costume, and I’ll give you a hint Aidan: that’s part of my secret. You see the mask and you make assumptions. I called you out on that day one, one of the first things I said to you and it never took. I’m not some magical god damn snowflake fluttering on the breeze but I’m not what you think I am, and your attempts to fit me into a square hole are going to make this so, so much harder for you, Aidan.”

Kinsley drops her hands and hazards a glance over her shoulder. She takes a long, slow breath before returning her eyes to the camera.

KINSLEY: ”I could be anywhere else and they’d fucking love me. I could be anywhere else and I’d be swimming in belts, wiping my ass with hundred dollar bills but I’m not. I’m in 4CW. I CHOSE to be in 4CW, and when you finally fucking understand that decision maybe you’ll realize who and what I really am. Scary? Special? No. I doubt it… but definitely not at all what you’re expecting to see on the other side of that ring tonight.”

Harlow turns and begins to walk off. The camera cuts away.


POWERS: ”Ladies and gentlemen, the following no holds barred contest is scheduled for one fall!”

Luke makes his way out onto the ramp and looks out at the crowd as “Break You” by Lamb of God plays. Immediately, the camera focuses on a sign held in the audience.


He walks down the ramp and plays up to the crowd before sliding into the ring.

POWERS: ”Hailing from Lexington, Kentucky, he is LUKE JJOONNEESS!!!”

Luke climbs the turnbuckle and poses for the crowd, only to get bombarded by boos from the them. Climbing down, he stands in his corner, preparing himself for the upcoming match.

POWERS: ”And the opponent!”

“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. 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 and forty pounds and stands six feet, two inches tall. He is ‘The Butcher’, 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 opening the night with another action packed no holds barred contest ladies and gentlemen.”

VASSA: ”Hopefully this one will at least have a decision instead of being ruled a no contest.”

JOHNSON: ”We can only hope. Boston and Dakota literally beat the life out of one another two weeks ago in the opening contest.”

VASSA: ”It was fucking brutal! Low blows need to be banned from 4CW! It ain’t right!”

JOHNSON: ”It’s no holds barred though. Literally any and everything is legal.”

VASSA: ”I’m just asking for one move. I shouldn’t have to witness someone being abused like that and get the feeling in my stomach as well when I’m not even the one on the receiving end.”

JOHNSON: ”Maybe you should write a letter to your congressman?”

VASSA: ”MaYbE yOu Should WrItE a LeTtEr To YoUr CoNgReSsMaN…”

JOHNSON: ”Okay???”

VASSA: ”Anyway, both of these guys need a win here tonight to bounce back from their matches two weeks ago.”

JOHNSON: ”Not only did Dakota score himself a no contest, but Luke ended up being defeated by Genevie Carlson for the XTV Championship.”

VASSA: ”It wasn’t an easy win for her, but a win nonetheless.”

JOHNSON: ”A win here tonight for either man can get them back on track. I’d say Luke would be in more need if I’m being honest.”

VASSA: ”A win over Dakota would be huge for him, and in my opinion, instantly skyrocket him to the top of the XTV division.”

JOHNSON: ”And even though Dakota didn’t win two weeks ago, he didn’t lose either. A win over the former challenger could benefit him as well.”

VASSA: ”Let’s cut the shit. Both of these men are ready to rip each other apart. Why are we making them wait?”

JOHNSON: ”Who said we were?”


Luke erupts from his corner, charging towards Dakota like a bat out of Hell. After a howling battle cry, Dakota bursts out of his corner, headed straight for Luke. Swinging first, Dakota goes for Luke’s head but misses by far as Luke ducks underneath and positions himself behind Dakota. Swinging around Luke slams a forearm to the back of Dakota’s head, knocking him forward and into the ropes. Bouncing off the ropes, Dakota pushes himself away, swinging around and throwing a wild backhand at Luke who is closing in behind him. Ducking underneath Dakota’s arm as it passes overhead, Luke fires into his mid-section with a stiff right. Lifting Dakota off his feet and onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, Luke takes a few steps back to the center of the ring before dropping him with a neckbreaker.

VASSA: ”Luke’s bringing the heat tonight!”

JOHNSON: ”He has to. You can’t take things slow when it comes to Dakota Smith. It’s eat or be eaten alive with The Butcher.”

Pulling Luke up from the mat, Luke clocks him in the face with a forearm before locking onto his head with both hands and delivering a headbutt across the bridge of Dakota’s nose. The headbutt brings tears to Dakota’s eyes. Locking onto his wrist, Luke then pulls him in before whipping him across the ring to the ropes. Following behind Dakota, Luke waits for the perfect moment to strike, and that being just as Dakota’s back hits the ropes. Jumping into the air, he plants both feet into Dakota’s chest, knocking him up and over the top rope with a drop kick.

Dakota crashes down onto the apron with a thud before bouncing off and falling straight to the floor. Despite the rough landing, Dakota slowly begins pushing himself up and just as he is about to stand, Luke takes off for the ropes on the opposite side of the ring. Bouncing off and racing across the ring, Luke dives head first through the ropes, colliding into Dakota with a suicide dive and knocking him backwards into the ringside barricade. With no rules, the official just looks on from the inside of the ring, sort of unsure what to do with himself since there is no ten count required. Instead, he climbs through the ropes, positioning himself on the apron to watch from above.

JOHNSON: ”This is the Luke Jones that I’ve heard about. The Luke Jones who doesn’t give a damn and does what it takes to win.”

VASSA: ”I’ll give him that. He has his moments and right now he’s showing it with the head on fight he’s taken to Dakota from the sound of the bell.”

With Dakota butted up against the barricade, Luke quickly climbs to his feet and rushes in beside him, kicking and stomping down onto Dakota without giving him the opportunity to get up. Holding tightly onto the barricade, Luke uses it for leverage as he steps down onto Dakota’s throat and begins to choke him. The fans in the front row are loving every second of the up close action but the official on the other hand, he looks on from the apron, appearing somewhat bored with no rules to be enforced.

Dakota’s face turns red, even beginning to show shades of purple from the lack of oxygen. Finally letting up, Luke pulls his foot away and instantly, Dakota rolls over and begins heaving for air. Walking along the barricade, Luke heads for a couple of chairs sitting side by side with members of the ringside crew occupying them. Pushing the first one out of his chair, Luke then grabs the chair and folds it in his hands. Turning back to Dakota, a grins at the sight of The Butcher slowly pushing himself up to all fours. With the chair in both hands, Luke begins running towards him, raising the chair above his head. Just as he gets within range, Luke violently swings down.


Popping up from the floor, Dakota grabs ahold of the chair as it swings down, catching it and then slamming it back into Luke’s face!

JOHNSON: ”Oh, that’s not good!”

VASSA: ”All Dakota needs is a small window to turn things around in the blink of an eye.”

JOHNSON: ”I wouldn’t call that a window. He literally busted right through the front door with that chair to Luke’s face.”

Stumbling backwards, Luke remains on his feet but his face quickly becomes crimson, covered in blood from the laceration across his forehead. In a daze, Luke grips tightly onto the chair before taking a halfway blind swing at Dakota rushing in. Swing and a miss! Dakota ducks his head and bursts forward, dropping his shoulder and driving it into Luke’s stomach. The impact forces Luke to drop the chair instantly as Dakota then begins driving him backwards. Running around the side of the barricade, Dakota lifts Luke off his feet before slamming him down onto the other chair nearby, barely missing the ringside crew member as he just barely escaped the collision.

Mounting himself on top of Luke, Dakota then begins slamming his right fist down onto Luke’s face, over and over, and over again. Like a mad man, which he is, Dakota doesn’t ease up, punch after punch, his swings grow more powerful than the one before as he drives his fist into Luke’s face. Luke’s helpless at this point, nothing he can really do to defend himself as Dakota pounds his blood covered flesh, face fucking him with his fist. On the apron, the official look on with concern at Luke being unable to defend himself. Instead of pulling Dakota off of him, or even calling the match, he looks on, still not quite sure of himself or what to even call, if anything at all.

VASSA: ”Jesus Christ! Dakota is ripping his face to shreds!”

JOHNSON: ”Call the damn match ref! Somebody throw in the towel!”

VASSA: ”And you think that’s going to stop Dakota?!”

JOHNSON: ”You do have a point there, Vinny.”

Growing bored, Dakota holds himself back from delivering one final blow to Luke’s face, which at this point resembles that of a used tampon. Rising to his feet, Dakota walks over to the side of the ring, kneeling in front of it as he lifts the curtain of the apron up. Searching underneath the ring, he finally pulls out a table from underneath. How did that get there you might ask. Maybe Redd has an explanation for us, but if the ring were to collapse we’d never even know it was there.

Dakota carries the table to the corner of the ring, placing one end of it on the top of the ringside steps. Walking back over to Luke, he grabs the chair underneath him, pulling it out from under. Unfolding the chair, Dakota walks back to the table, placing it underneath the other end, using it as a leg – as if the table didn’t have any legs but it’s Dakota. Who knows what goes through that man’s mind.

After walking back over to Luke, Dakota pulls his bloody body up from the floor. With a handful of Luke’s hair, Dakota holds his head in place as he leans in and stares directly into Luke’s eyes with not even an inch between their tips touching. Tips of their noses. Get your heads out of the gutter. He then lifts Luke onto his shoulders and in the blink of an eye, Dakota puts him through the table with a twisting Samoan drop, coincidentally onto the steps as well after the table snaps in half.


Or was it a coincidence? After all, it’s Dakota that we’re talking about here.


VASSA: ”Through a table and onto the ringside steps!”

JOHNSON: ”Somebody call a hearse!”

Dragging Luke’s lifeless body down from the steps and onto the floor covered in pieces of the broken table, Dakota then wipes his hand over Luke’s face, smearing the blood. He then wipes his own face, with the same hand, smearing Luke’s blood all over his own face as if it were war paint. Laying over Luke and covering him effortlessly, Dakota makes the pin. At this moment, the official jumps with joy as he finally has something to do, but not without slipping off of the apron as he lands back to his feet and crashing down to the floor. On all fours, he crawls as quickly as he can as Dakota looks up at him, annoyed at the sight. Finally in place, he begins his count, giving it his all and going for the best count ever in the history of counting, to three.








VASSA: ”There you have it folks! Dakota just literally did what everyone thought he was going to do and that’s beat Luke right here tonight on Adrenaline!”

“Welcome to Hell” hits the speakers as Dakota slowly climbs to his feet. Up as well, the official slaps his hands together with excitement as he has one more thing to do before this match is over with. He attempts to raise Dakota’s arm into the air, only to get knocked to the floor as Dakota shoves him away.


POWERS: ”Here is your winner, DAKOTA SSMMIITTHH!!!”

On the floor, the official looks up at Dakota, with tears coming to his eyes as Dakota has cucked him out of his last task. Snarling at the official, Dakota then draws back to deliver a lights out punch, but instead, he holds himself back, for once in his life. Shaking his head, Dakota turns away from the official before walking around the ring and heading towards the ramp as “Welcome to Hell” continues blaring throughout the entire building.

The scene opens with the display of the locker room area backstage in the PPG Paints Arena. Andre Holmes enters into the shot immediately generating a reaction of positive responses from the audience. He has his right black boot on a steel chair and currently lacing it up as his mind is set on defeating the 4CW Tag Team Champions. The leather hoodie over his head, there’s nothing that’s stopping him from walking out with a victory.

However, right on cue to those thoughts, he lifts his head up and his face turns into one where the anger is augmented times ten. Andre stands up to full height, fists balled and has that ready to fight posture in his stance as he speaks with a coarse tone in his voice implementing a purpose of being annoyed.

HOLMES: “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Alexis Mercer walks over to where Andre is holding a nicely wrapped Christmas present. She extended her arms out giving him the gift with a smile.

Upon her arrival, Andre doesn’t seem too keen on the welcoming gesture. Every time she presents herself harmless, he falls under her discretion of a beatdown. He keeps his wits and has his guard up but stares down at the wrapped gift in her hands. Rolling his eyes and placing his hands on his waist, Andre shrugs off her ‘smile’.

HOLMES: “You really expect me to take this?”

She puts her arms up all defensive. Alexis almost seemed genuinely took back by his response at the Anti-Starlet’s approach.

MERCER: “Whoa! Chill out there, my dude. It’s the giving season and we’re about to beat the 4CW Tag Team Champions. Can’t you just relax for one second? I mean, it’s not keys to a new car or something. Trust me I’m not Bob Barker. I figured I’d be nice for one night then we can beat the fuck out of each other at Winter Warzone for all I care. Don’t be a sour puss.”

Andre took a step back and looked around like he saw a ghost. He switched his gaze from the camera lens back to her and just couldn’t believe she actually spoke in all the times they came across each other.

Once again, Alexis hands out the gift.

MERCER: “Take it.”

Easier said than done. Andre didn’t know what to expect with this woman but he quickly snatched it from out of her hands and held it tightly in his. Shaking the box beside his face, something was bouncing back and forth inside the box.

HOLMES: “What’s inside? A bomb?”

She takes offense to this instantly.

MERCER: “Scrooge much? I’m not going to tell you. Jeez, is this how you react to everyone giving you gifts on the Holidays? We’re about to beat Hostile Takeover. And you’re over here thinking I’m going to blow you up with a fucking bomb. Look. You might not want to believe it, but I want to kick their asses, too. It’d be pretty sweet to have a win over them.”

Alexis starts comes closer to him before looking in his eyes, placing an arm on his shoulder. She knew this tag team match was important for them both. Before going off to get ready for their match, she adds something else.

MERCER: “Merry early Christmas, Andre. See you out there.”

Just as Alexis leaves the room, Andre stares down at the present in his hands then back to the open door of the locker room. He quickly unwraps it then opens the small box before taking out the gift and it’s a…watch. A crystal watch. Andre holds it up on his right index finger letting it dangle above his face as he inspects it for any shenanigans. He places it back in the box, puts it in his locker then shrugs the hoodie on tighter.

HOLMES: “…At least it’s Michael Kors.”

He walks out of the locker room and the camera fades to black.


Live from the PPG Paints Arena in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, 4 Corners Wrestling brings Adrenaline to its desperately mouth filled local fan base. The cameras pan around the audience showcasing the different types of fans holding signs, screaming at the camera moving around to reveal the sold out interior of the arena. Finally, it transitions over to the announce table where Vassa and Johnson are sat behind it ready to call the action for the night.

JOHNSON: ”Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to our final episode of Adrenaline on the road to Winter Wasteland. If you’ve been watching, the rivalry between Alexis Mercer and Andre Holmes has been reaching it’s boiling point but what the hell was that backstage with Alexis and the peace offering Vassa?”

VASSA: ”Ugh. It’s Christmas motherfuckers! We are in the season of giving, the season of drinking and the season of fulfilling. It’s why I’m wearing a Santa beard. I’m proud of my girl Alexis for being apart of the Christmas spirit unlike that cancer of professional wrestling, Andre Holmes, acting all paranoid and shit!”

JOHNSON: ”What do you expect? Alexis Mercer has been toying with his mind ever since their first match nearly two to three months ago. She’s been toying with his mind and constantly haunting him; Andre doesn’t know what her next move is and its showing the frustration on his face. However, they have a challenge as the two need to separate their emotions. Andre Holmes and Alexis Mercer are facing the 4CW Tag Team Champions, The Hostile Takeover!”

VASSA: ”Man. Those motherfuckers deserve to be 4CW Tag Team Champions. Unstoppable and can’t be beaten so I can imagine they gon’ bring the fucking rain but I know they gon’ dominate Holmes and Mercer. Listen Johnson. In the hood, enemies remain enemies. Hostile Takeover bout’ dat’ life! LEGGO!”

JOHNSON: ”It’s gonna’ be a looooong night with this guy.”

After that witty commentary, the camera switches over to the interior of the ring where Powers stands in the center in his signature suit. Holding a microphone under his chin, he gets the cue from production to begin with the match introductions.


POWERS: ”Ladies and Gentlemen! This is a tag team match scheduled for one fall!”


The screen goes black.

Not the lights in the arena turning off or something like that, no. The entire Showtime broadcast of this wrestling program goes black for a couple of seconds. With a couple of blinks of white of the television something is still taking place, a second later and a couple of shots of an army of men in black ski masks can be seen inter-spliced within the black screen, along with shots of the tag team champions the Hostile Takeover as the opening notes of “Body Count’s in the House” by Body Count begins to play. The feed to the show suddenly comes back with the police sirens blaring loudly and standing on the entrance ramp is none other than the Hostile Takeover bathed in white light as the rest of the arena remains in complete darkness.


Brody Lee Prince has the 4CW tag team title slung over his shoulder complete with his black stetson hat over his menacing gaze. Next to him is the shorter, but wider Magnus Brutus who drops the last of a cigarette to the ground and stomps it out, he too has his 4CW tag team championship belt up and over his shoulder as well. However, in front of both of them is none other than Christopher J. Wrigley.

VASSA: ”And here these fucks are! Your 4CW Tag Team Champions and the best damn tag team in the entire world getting ready to lay down some motherfuckers tonight! I’m speaking about Andre, not Alexis. These boys can beat the shit out of him for all I care.”

Wrigley is wearing his standard navy blue suit with a bright colored tie, however, around his waist is an oversized version of the 4CW tag team title belt, completely covered in gold and even has some flashing lights surrounding the title itself to draw even more attention to it. Oh, and does that 4CW logo spin? You damn right it spins.

POWERS: ”Taking over at this time, lead to the ring by their manager Christopher J. Wrigley at a combined weight of five hundred and twenty pounds that will be used to step on your throats… they are your 4CW Tag Team Champions of the WWOORRLLDD, they are THE HOSTILE TTAAKKEEOOVVEERR!!!”

Slowly the lights to the arena begin to come back up as the police siren and music continue to blast out over the PA system, Wrigley leads the duo down towards the ring stopping every couple of steps to threaten some of the fans with legal action for attempting to touch him or the tag team champions. Brody Lee hits the ring first as Magnus makes his way up the ring steps.

JOHNSON: ”The Hostile Takeover defeated World$tar at Fright Night proving how they are the best tag team on the planet. They have an interesting match up of Alexis Mercer and Andre Holmes but do not worry as Mr. Wrigley says. They are the champions for a reason.”

Brody Lee stands on the middle ropes and tosses his chaw to the floor as Magnus climbs up onto the ring apron and sneers in everyone’s direction. Wrigley has a huge grin on his face as he points directly into a camera and says “Time to increase the body count” a couple of times. He then tells the camera to get out of his face before he sues him.


A slow but assuring guitar riff broken up in a DJent pattern starts playing with the lights in the arena shutting off to illuminate gray colored images of Andre Holmes on the titantron. “Relentless” by New Years Day suddenly begins with lights flashing, and dancing around highlighting different sections of the arena.


JOHNSON: ”Andre Holmes is ready for action and last week, he defeated his opponent in a record setting victory of ten seconds. Tonight, he may have a lot on his mind especially with Alexis Mercer meeting him backstage for the match. However, with an opportunity to defeat the Tag Team Champions, you know he’s fully focused.”

He walks out from the back wearing the black hoodie over his head, his ring attire on. Cheers are increasing like giant waves on the beach to him as he stands on the center stage surveying the crowd with a big smile on his face. Walking down the entrance path, he pauses until hearing the lyrics.

“Tear Me Down, It Won’t Build You Up….”

A rise of smoke emerges behind him in single-line fashion as he stops center of the entrance path to raise his arms in the air, and a release a primal scream.

POWERS: ”Introducing their opponents! First! Hailing from Houston, Texas! At five feet, nine inches tall, weighing in at two hundred and one pounds. He is ‘Relentless’ ANDRE HHOOLLMMEESS!!!”

Afterwards, the lights return back to normal, and he walks down to the ring while mingling with some of his fans at ringside. Climbing up onto the apron, he quickly runs to leap onto the middle rope. A spotlight emerges behind him to cloak him in a silhouette with smoke pushing upwards for that shadow effect.

VASSA: ”This dumb hoe don’t deserve anything in 4CW. He’s a lousy aggressive asshole who has no respect for anyone but himself. The day he leaves 4CW will be the best day in 4CW history and God forbid he ever becomes a champion. I’ll quit if he does.”

Hopping over the top rope, he lands inside the ring to stay in an unoccupied corner where he removes his hoodie, and tosses it to the outside. Standing in an unoccupied corner, Andre warms up, and he tightens the strap on his MMA Gloves waiting for his partner to come out.


“Stronger” by Through Fire plays over the sound system while crane cameras get glimpses of the upper-level seats as the crowd pops. Moments into this transitions to ‘The Anti-Starlet’ Alexis Mercer’s entrance video.



VASSA: ”Oh my baby girl! Look at how fine that ass is! Alexis is truly a mark of beauty and hot fire and thunder! She fuckin’ thick all around and she’s going to be the reason Andre will never be the best in 4CW. When she beats Andre Holmes at Winter Wasteland, it’s all over for his career! Night night!”

After a few seconds, Alexis appears in the audience walking down the first set of arena stairs as fans are there to greet her while security makes room for her path.

POWERS: ”Introducing his partner! Hailing from Salem, New York! At five feet, four inches tall, weighing in at one hundred and ten pounds. She is ‘The Anti-Starlet’ ALEXIS MMEERRCCEERR!!!”

Reaching the bottom level. Alexis Mercer stops to take the energy from the crowd. She surveys everything in front of her then with a swift motion hops over the barricade. Alexis circles ringside halfway before pulling herself onto the apron entering the ring and heads to her respected corner taking off her leather jacket and grabbing both sides of the corner ropes, leaning forward looking at Andre who gets on the apron and keeps a close eye on her.

JOHNSON: ”Alexis Mercer has been keeping her eyes set on manipulating and destroying Andre Holmes. The interaction between them backstage seems more than a simple smile but perhaps she is willing to comply for a chance to beat the tag team champions. Andre Holmes and Alexis Mercer. The Hostile Takeover in a tag team match. Here we go!”


Alexis Mercer and Brody Lee will be starting off the match respectively for their teams. Both competitors leave their corners and circle the ring keeping close to the ropes while distancing away from their opponents’ partners on the apron. Alexis is at a clear disadvantage with the height and weight; Strength is not on her side but she is an agile wrestler. Both of them meet in the center of the ring until she ducks under an right arm thrown at her to spin around behind Lee then landing a great drop kick pushing him a few steps forward.


Lee turns around and gets barraged with a couple of right forearms thrown into his head. Enough to temporarily keep him still in the center of the ring before she tries to whip him in the ropes. Using his heavier weight, Brody remains in the center before throwing her into the ropes. She comes back, ducks under the right arm, runs into the ropes again before being lifted off the mat to throw him down onto it via a tilt-a-whirl head-scissor take down.


JOHNSON: ”Tilt-A-Whirl Headscissors and Alexis Mercer starting this match off with her speed and agility! She goes for the pin attempt trying to end this match pretty early!”


Lee kicks out and powers Alexis off of him. While he’s trying to get back on his feet, Alexis drops her right knee down on his back adding more damage to the body. She gets up then drops her right knee down on the back of his head straitening her methodical beat down. Brody on the other hand is back up but escorted to the corner where Alexis wants to make the tag. Hesitant on the offer but the tag is made as Andre hops over the top rope into the ring.


VASSA: ”No! Alexis keep working on Brody. Don’t let Andre ruin your fuckin’ momentum!”

Brody is against the turnbuckles and already eats a running dropkick by Alexis. Once she lands on her back, she rolls under the bottom rope to the apron of her corner. Just before Brody could react, Andre immediately clobbers him with a lariat in the corner that somehow drops him down on his ass. In the perfect position, Holmes runs into the opposing corner, rebounds then destroys Lee with right knee going through his head. The crowd rejoices and Andre drags him for a quick pin attempt.


VASSA: ”I hate that trademark move! Trapped in the Corner! It should be banned!”





Brody kicks out of the pin attempt and Andre rolls over onto his feet. Both men are back up and already Holmes keeps throwing back to back roundhouse kicks into his chest. A spinning back kick into Lee’s ribs keeps him bent forward long enough for Andre to charge into the ropes. However, when he rebounds back into his opponent, a massive shoulder block from Brody turns him inside out. The impact of the blow forces him flying across the ring and landing down on his chest.


VASSA: ”Jesus Christ! He nearly broke him in half!”

The tag is made and Brody offers a great idea. Magnus immediately deadlifts Andre off the mat onto a firemans carry hold until tossing him over to Brody who catches him for a samoan drop. Brody gets onto the apron while Magnus walks down over to the fallen Holmes on the mat. He places his foot down on Andre’s throat trying to choke him out until the referee counts to four. Releasing his foot, a quick double stomp onto his opponent’s body flattens him out.


JOHNSON: ”My God! Magnus Brutus is looking to murder Andre Holmes in the center of the ring. This man enjoys beating someone down until their life is over. What is he doing now?”

He simply lifts Andre back up to his feet without ease who is looking bad. Andre breaks off the hold and starts devouring his face with back to back elbow shots until finishing the combination with an enguiziri kick to the side of his head. Once he’s stunned, Andre gets back up and runs to the ropes again trying to get a good strike but only comes back into a high back body drop as he lands spine first in the center of the ring.


JOHNSON: ”Back Body Drop! Back Body Drop! Did you see how high he flew? Andre tried to fight back and we thought that Enguiziri Kick would have done it but no! Magnus Brutus is just too strong for him! Here comes the pin attempt!”








No! At the last second, Holmes kicks out. Magnus quickly takes Andre by the arms and stands him up where he switches into a double underhook. Before lifting him up, Andre spins out of it and uses the momentum of the spin to land a tornado kick clocking him in the temple. Magnus falls into the ropes where Andre runs into him and lands a sick yakuza kick causing him to fall out of the ring. Brody tries to get in the ring but Alexis gets into it and manages to dropkick him off as well. Both men get up at ringside and they turn around to see both Alexis and Andre diving through the ropes thus creating a huge pile of bodies near Mr. Wrigley!


JOHNSON: ”It’s a chaotic scenery as Alexis Mercer and Andre Holmes dove through the ropes to take out The Hostile Takeover! Now Andre has Brody Lee in the ring and Alexis is on the apron! Andre is on top rope!”

Brody is down in the center of the ring and Andre is already on the top rope. He leaps off backwards corkscrewing into a 450 degree flip thus producing a successful phoenix splash. Just as he hooks up the leg, the referee tells him that Brody isn’t the legal man. Tired as hell, he starts crawling over to Alexis who has her hand stretched out for the tag. The moment Andre is fingertips away, the smile from her is gone and she drops off the apron where he couldn’t believe it.


VASSA: ”I knew it! Alexis played this dumbass from the jump! This is fucking amazing!”

Andre stands on his feet and watches Alexis back up to the stage for a good view of what’s happening next. Magnus clobbers Andre from behind down onto the canvas. Quickly helping him to his feet, Brody secures the russian leg sweep and all it takes is an incoming Magnus to use the lariat as the trigger for the finishing tag team move, “The Takeover”.












“Body Count’s in the House” by Body Count replays around the interior of the arena. Mr. Wrigley enters the ring with the 4CW Tag Team Championship belts and hands them to his clients after raising their arms up for the crowd to boo. Andre is temporarily out and Alexis stands on the stage with that emotion vanishing from her body as she gazes upon his body.

JOHNSON: ”The Hostile Takeover has a great victory and momentum heading into Winter Wasteland. Alexis Mercer played Andre Holmes again adding more fuel to the fire. A lot is going to happen at Winter Wasteland so congratulations to The Hostile Takeover and hopefully Andre Holmes will be okay to make it in time for his match against Alexis Mercer.”


Within the confines of the PPG Paint Arena’s backstage catering venue, Boston was going to make his move. Everyone had to eat. This time, his approach would be more casual. He didn’t want to seem too desperate, after all. Throughout his entire life, all the handsome young man had to do was show up and be visible to draw the undivided attention of any woman he wanted. Amber Ryan would be no different. Unspoken confidence was key in these situations. He had been waiting there for well over an hour when The Distorted Angel finally walked in. Immediately, they caught eyes and exchanged brief, awkward smiles.

His heart raced. She gave him butterflies while he watched her walk toward him…and right past him. That same heart dropped to hell, for a moment, before he realized that that was just her way. She was a distant person, closed off and reserved, but he loved that about her. He watched as she procured herself a dessert, something to satiate the sweet tooth and spark the sugar rush, and sauntered back in his direction. He smiled. They always came back. Except for when they didn’t. She scooted past him again, this time with increased velocity and deliberate refusal to even look in his general direction.

Boston was as confused as he was incensed. This was not part of the plan. She was supposed to stop. She was supposed to flirt. She was supposed to fall for him. She was supposed to sit the fuck down. She did none of those things. She fucked everything up. After a few moments ruminating with frustration on the matter, Boston resolved to take pity on Amber Ryan. She was her self-admitted own worst enemy. He wasn’t going to allow her to put off happiness again this time. They had been playing this game long enough, and Boston’s patience had worn thin.

Boston was an addict and Amber Ryan was his new favorite drug. The high she provided felt like absolute power must. He needed her now. Ready or not. She had always been hard on herself, Boston considered. Maybe she didn’t think she was good enough for him. Didn’t deserve him after making such a big mistake in New Mexico. Poor girl…all she needed was to be saved from herself. So, Boston put on his cape. He’d suck it up and make the first move, even though it irritated him. He kicked out his chair and shuffled after her into the hallway. The anxiety he had felt in previous run-ins with Amber was non-existent. He was going to take back his girl.

BOSTON: “Hey, Amber! Amber. Amber, wait. Wait up.”

She didn’t. She continued forward with more urgency. What the fuck was her problem? Something must have been wrong. She wouldn’t ignore him and certainly wouldn’t flat out evade him. Flooded with concern, Boston broke into a slight jog until he was close enough to grab The Distorted Angel by the elbow.

BOSTON: “Amber! What’s wrong?”

She kept walking as she tilted her head backward and rolled her blue-green eyes, before slamming them shut. What Boston didn’t know was that Amber considered Adrenaline 77 to be the biggest night of her 4CW career, and she had a plan of enlisting zero distractions- least of all from Boston, who almost made her late for her last Pride Title Contendership match two weeks ago as he stood in her doorway, bleeding and stammering like a, “moron.”

BOSTON:“Amber, listen, whatever it is, you can talk to me about it, okay? I know I haven’t been the smoothest dude in the world over the last month and a half, but I was nervous, ‘cause you mean alot to me, and, well, you- you know me, Amber. You know you can trust me. Relax. Slow down. Tell me what’s going on.”

He pivoted out in front of her, initiating a crash. He then “caught” her and held her by the small of her back, while forcing eye contact. Gently, he began grazing his thumb up and down her spine. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed, to no avail. She had no choice, now. She was going to remember she wanted him.

BOSTON: “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”


RYAN: “Are we really doing this again? Come on Boston, you know better than anyone else- don’t… touch me.”

Boston loosened his grip but failed to let go entirely as his smile broadened.

BOSTON: “C’mon, it was an accident.”

Amber took the space provided and broke contact all together.

RYAN: “It always is, isn’t it?”

Boston was a distraction, a recurring one stuck in a groundhog day-esque loop that Amber didn’t have the time nor patience left to indulge. At first it had been endearing, now it was bordering on plain obsessive and weird.

BOSTON: “Yeah. I guess so.”

The simple question left him perplexed. He couldn’t fathom that she may have been implying he was the accident. He stepped back just a touch.

BOSTON: “Wait, what do you mean? Like two weeks ago? I’m sorry about that. That was Dakota’s fault. I don’t even remember seeing you. I’m sorry if…I’m just sorry about that, I guess. Feel like you couldn’t have minded that much.”

She unloaded.

RYAN: “I mean you just don’t get it, do you? Every time there seems to be something important happening in my career at the moment you just have to get involved, you have to just be apart of everything despite the fact no one invited you. This isn’t New Mexico and we aren’t tag partners in a dead end promotion with nothing better to do… ‘We’ aren’t anything Boston. I moved on and it’s about fucking time you did too…”

It was just as she started her tirade that Bronx Valescence, on his way to check out the spread 4CW provided for the evening, came within earshot. It couldn’t have been worse timing. Should Boston push the issue further, things could get much, much worse when it came to matters of pride- but, just like in the ring, Boston relied on reaction and impulse rather than patient calculation. He took the dignity he had left and threw it on the protruding sword with dark red hair standing before him with a beautiful scowl.

BOSTON: “But…we could be something. We’re not anything, but…we could be. Again. I mean…move on? We don’t have to move on, Amber, it’s…we’re right here. Same city every show. Same hotels. Just like when things were good, y’know? Like back in New M-”

RYAN: “Please… just stop. All of it.”

With sad, almost pitying eyes Amber stormed away, trying to clear her head in lieu of arguably one of the biggest matches in her career to date for a chance at a title she wanted desperately back in her possession. Devastated, with a blank look on his face, Boston stared ahead at the space his “destiny” had just vacated. He could hear Bronx laughing, even after he had turned the corner into the dining area. Stephen King couldn’t have scripted a more nightmarish situation.

BOSTON: “Nah.”

He spun around and began after The Distorted Angel, shaking his head with the strong conviction that this was not his reality. This complete and utter humiliation was a fate he would not accept.


His voice had gone from melancholy and weak to furious and commanding- the exact same could describe the transformation of his countenance. Amber had taken a left down another backstage corridor and Boston was in hot pursuit.


Around the bend, with her head down, Amber walked with purpose from the sad state of affairs she’d just left behind. So preoccupied with her escape, she didn’t see the man walking in her direct path. She was physically stopped in her tracks yet again. This time by the more welcomed set of hands belonging to fellow former 4CW Pride Champion, Chris Madison- a man with whom she had been awfully friendly over the last several weeks.

MADISON: “Hey now, where are you hurryin’? All good Red?”

Looking back over her shoulder, Amber caught Boston’s gaze only for a moment. Few people were allowed to call her Red these days, seemed silly but those who’d earned her respect, those she liked rather than just tolerated- were given that right without their nose being broken, something Boston had never received.

RYAN: “Yeah… Everything’s fine.”

With those words, and the cold tone of voice, she broke eye contact and slipped through Madison’s hands as well. Unwilling to stick around longer than could be deemed necessary. Chris made no attempt to stop her, despite his suspicion that everything might not be fine. In the middle of the hallway, he stood the ground that divided Boston’s and Amber’s like a sentinel. Boston not only stopped, he was almost floored when he saw Amber in Madison’s arms. The sight sent him into a daze and his wooden expression displayed his brain’s state of malfunction. Madison stared down a humiliated and disillusioned Boston as Adrenaline moved on.

Number Girl’s Tattoo Ari blares out and yellow and red lights flash around all over the arena as the guitar riff starts and mingles with the mixed reaction from the fans.





Kimitsu Zombie calmly walks out in her street clothes of a net track suit and holds the title on her shoulder. She holds it up above her head as she walks down to the ring and has a shochu bottle on the other hand. Kimitsu drinks from the shochu bottle as she struts to the ring as she displays the title to everyone. She grins and climbs a turnbuckle bobbing to the music.





She takes a long chug of shochu and spits a shochu mist into the air then screams in satisfaction with her tongue out. She jumps down into the ring and grabs a mic.

ZOMBIE:I am still 4CW’s Pride Champion.”

She holds up the belt to a wildly divisive crowd reaction.

ZOMBIE: “Before I get into that I need to address a certain someone. Tonight I face Alessandro Quagliaterrrr. He’s really been trying to get under my skin. His play is to try to get in my mind to get me out of my game. What he doesn’t realize is that is where I put all my opponents. I allow you to get at me and I put you right there in the center of my mind. I obsess over you and I see your face in my waking nightmares. It is not a good place to be. It eventually becomes a little personal but with you Alessandro, we got passed that a long time ago. This about pride, about my record, my name, about love… it is about her.

“You know who the fuck I’m talking about and I am looking forward to get my own little personal revenge for what you have done. For everything! You believe that you are going to get one over on the Pride Champion and make a fool out of me. I’m not some twitter piss baby and every time you try to get at me, in any way shape or form, I fight back. You didn’t expect that, did you? You think you are going to be celebrated for gunning through your first matches in 4CW but now you got your competition. Pay attention. Come here. You.”

She goes to the cameraman filming at ringside and hangs her head outside the ropes to get close to his camera.

ZOMBIE: “The only time you will be celebrated, is when I load up Phoenix, Sindaya, and all of your children into a van and take them to the cemetery to dance on your grave.”

She comes back to the center of the ring, ignoring the fans.

ZOMBIE: “Tonight we also get to see who is going to be the number one contender for the Pride Championship. This is for a rejuvenated Amber Ryan who came back so quickly from the injury I gave her. Then there is Jair Hopkins who is looking to come back into the limelight. I was glad it was decided this way on Adrenaline 76. Their shot is going to be well earned and more bodies have already started dropping off because of this title. Hi, Jett… I don’t care who wins tonight. If it is Amber, then I can defend this against the former champion and put that extra stamp of approval on my reign. If it is Jair then I can add a little piece of the 4CW legacy to my name. He is the old blood of this company and to defeat him would be my honor. This is where I stop being nice. Please watch closely because my intent with Alessandro is also to show you what kind of champion I am. This thing is like a gateway to the upper echelon of 4CW and I am not going to let him in. I will show you all that despite my losses after winning this, I still have the heart of a champion and the brutality of a Zombie. I’ll show you what you are up against when I cut down Alessandro. For Pride.”

She puts down the microphone and screams before getting out of the ring.

As Kimitsu Zombie is finishing up in the ring, backstage in her own locker room, Aidan Carlisle is preparing for her upcoming match. Already dressed in her hot pink ring gear, Aidan is seated on the bench and patiently letting husband Liam O’Shea wrap her hands with matching MMA style wraps. Looking over to one of the bags on the floor, she makes a face.

CARLISLE: “Did you seriously bring a first aid kit?”

The oversized ginger archs a brow at her and nods.

O’SHEA: “Of course I did.”

Carlisle rolls her eyes and shakes her head. She uses one booted foot to nudge the bag in question under the bench and out of sight.

CARLISLE: “I think one person around here playing nurse is enough, don’t you?”

O’SHEA: “Humor me, woman.”

Aidan rolls her eyes a second time, but snickers in spite of herself.

CARLISLE: “If it makes you feel better, but I’m gonna be fine. A few bruises and scrapes at worst, maybe a splinter or something. Possibly some wicked rug burn from the canvas, but nothing worse than your beard gives me.”

It takes a moment for the comment to sink in, but when it does, the big Irishman grins.

O’SHEA: “Nonetheless, ye don’t worry at all, so I worry enough for the both of us.”

CARLISLE: “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

O’SHEA: “Keep up that attitude and you’re gonna end up with more than some rug burn, missy.”

Before the conversation can continue, there’s a knock at the door. Both Aidan and Liam roll their eyes together, assuming that Gabriel Hartman is waiting on the other side. However, when Liam opens the door, it’s one of the backstage workers standing outside.

STAGE HAND: “Delivery for Miss Carlisle.”

Aidan tilts her head and looks around Liam at the young man, flexing her wrapped hands.

CARLISLE: “What is it?”

STAGE HAND: “It’s a box of Uncrustables.”

For a long while, a silence hangs over the locker room.

CARLISLE: “…What?”

STAGE HAND: “Uncrustables, ma’am. Strawberry.”

The worker hands the box over to Liam and hurries back down the hall to get back to his work. Liam quirks a brow as he shuts the door, setting the box on the second bench. Staring suspiciously at the box, Aidan rolls one shoulder in a half-shrug.

CARLISLE: “Don’t ask me.”

Carlisle returns to getting ready for her match, but continues to regard the brightly colored, unexpected delivery across the room.


The camera feed jumps from the “Alpha Bitch” Aidan Carlisle back closer to ringside, as it pans over a portion of fans screaming at the camera at the top of their lungs, more than satisfied with the product they’ve seen so far this evening. The juggernaut that is the 4CW merchandising team has clearly put a good chunk of change in the till tonight, as T-shirts with relatively recent references emblazoned on them are featured by the camera crew. One fan had a shirt that showcased Luke Jones on the front, straining to lift a bag of gold marked “100 lbs.” in his left hand, while he holds an identically marked bag of rocks high above his head with just two fingers from his right hand. On the back, @AnnihilatorLJ_ is written above his smirking, confident face with the phrase, “MIND OF A FUCKING SCIENTIST,” written below. Another one features two stick figures with the heads of Dakota Smith and Rick Astley, seemingly shaking stick-hands, above the words, “RICK ROLL RAPE.” The back is a rick-roll complete with lyrics AND google play information.

JOHNSON: “Perry Wallace has donated over five hundred thousand of those T-shirts to free clinics and student health service centers nationwide to help spearhead their, “Rick Roll Rape” campaign, aimed at raising awareness of how Rick Astley’s words can prevent sexual abuse. 4CW would never make you cry, they would never say goodbye, they would never tell a lie, or hurt you; and they hope folks across America join them in their crusade to not think out loud about literally raping folks, let alone actually follow through with it. If you’re thinking about raping someone, fans, Perry Wallace, Dakota Smith, and the entire 4CW family want you to rrrrrrrick-roll-em instead!”

VASSA: “You have to hand it to Dakota. He might enjoy violating corpses, but anything with a pulse is crossing the line. At least, until this public relations push is over. The man has values.”

JOHNSON: “A very unique set of values, but values nonetheless. Anyway, folks, we have quite an interesting contest on tap, when one of 4CW’s favorite sons, the cerebral and sadistic Cyrus Riddle, takes on something more like a prodigal son of 4CW’s, in Boston.”

VASSA: “Prodigal son? You’re a fuckin’ moron. Boston has been all hype and no follow through in every stint he’s had in 4CW. Wallace and the rest of 4CW would never adopt that piece of shit.”

JOHNSON: “Leave the man alone, he was just rejected and embarrassed by the woman he loves in front of the 4CW Champion AND the most legendary Pride Title holder in the history of this company. His pride must be shattered. His heart must broken.”

VASSA: “Just like yours, whenever you think about the fact that you’ll never have Genie’s tits as close to your mouth again as they were at Fright Night.”

JOHNSON: “I’m going to stab you in the throat, one day, Vinny.”

VASSA: “Huh? What’d you say? Titties bouncing and smiling at me in the second row.”

JOHNSON: “Moving forward, Cyrus Riddle has been white hot, recently, heading into his match at Winter Wasteland with Chris Madison. After blindsiding Madison out of nowhere, the two were forced to put their differences aside to take on Hostile Takeover. After earning the win over the tag team champions, Madison and Riddle are set for a war in Brooklyn on December twenty-seventh. His latest run in 4CW has him looking a heck of a lot like he’s at the top of his game, and when that happens, The Archetype is the one of the best in the world. He’ll look to continue proving he’s one of the best 4CW has to offer tonight against Boston- and folks? You better believe that Chris Madison is watching somewhere in this arena with an extremely intense interest.”

VASSA: “If he’s not already banging Amber Ryan on top of an old replica of the Uprising Championship. Don’t look at me like that, Johnson, sometimes folks in 4CW have trouble even getting it up or making it wet if they’re not about to fuck on a championship belt.”

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

JOHNSON: “And we’re about to get this match underway.”

VASSA: “I’m not wrong, Steve. Perfect example on his way to the ring. If Riddle wasn’t fucking on the 4CW Atlantic City title two years ago, he was letting Perry Wallace use it to get off.”

JOHNSON: “How about a little professionalism, Vinny? Jesus Christ.”

VASSA: “Would have beaten Tornado Desencadenado at Octane Twelve.”

“Welcome to the truth

God made me in his image

Who the fuck made you?

You want my voice from me?

You can have it, just know

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

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

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

JOHNSON: “Cyrus Riddle has re-emerged as a force to be reckoned with in 4CW.”

VASSA: “I heard that guy he took out a month ago? Kris? He’s dead.”

JOHNSON: “You absolutely did not. He was severely injured, but he is most certainly alive.”

VASSA: “Is he, Steve? Is he alive? They don’t know that. It’s called fucking entertainment, Steve, stop worrying about the truth. You fuckin’ ruin everything.”

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!”

JOHNSON: : “Riddle must be motivated to make another mark in 4CW if he made it his business to poke that proverbial bear in Chris Madison.”

VASSA: “Riddle’s a sick son of a bitch, Steve, but Boston proved that he could hang with a killer in Dakota Smith two weeks ago. Let’s hope that false sense of confidence backfires and Riddle breaks the sadfaced, pretty boy’s neck and kills him, just like he murdered Kris a month ago.”

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.

JOHNSON: “Kris is very much alive, but Vinny, you’re right about one thing, and that’s that this is going to be a helluva match.”

VASSA: “Don’t ever fucking correct me in public again, Steven.”

“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 Boston’s arrival.

The sound of a gun cocking before it ultimately unleashes a bullet ricochets about the circumference the PPG Paint arena, and it causes the fans, already on their feet to cast their judgement for Cyrus Riddle, to deliver their verdict upon Boston.




As “Made You Look” by Nas plays over the PA, the camera pans toward the black sheet that acts as an exit from the gorilla position. In its state, the curtain just flutters softly, slowly recovering from when Cyrus Riddle forced it aside, just moments before.

“Now let’s get it all in perspective

For all y’all enjoyment, a song y’all can step with

Y’all appointed me to bring rap justice

But I ain’t five-O, y’all know it’s Nas, yo”

Every time he’d entered a 4CW arena, Boston would have made himself visible by now.

JOHNSON: “Taking a bit longer than usual.”

VASSA: “‘Cause I told you, he’s back there crying like a bitch.”

“But don’t say my car’s topless, say the titties is out

Newness, here’s the anthem

Put your hand up that you shoot with, count your loot with

Push the pool stick in your new crib

Same hand that you hoop with, swing around like you stupid

King of the town? Yeah, I been that”

The lyrics move onward, but there’s still no sight of the insanely athletic cult favorite. The capacity crowd looks around the arena, in search of an answer.


The music cuts short of its typical playing time, as it is clear that something is off. The production team attempts to give Boston another prompt.

The same gun cocks and unloads – the explosion reverberating throughout the PPG Paint Arena once again.




Now let’s get it all in perspective

For all y’all enjoyment, a song y’all can step with

Y’all appointed me to bring rap justice

But I ain’t five-O, y’all know it’s Nas, yo”

The curtain doesn’t move, as more of Nasir Jones’ lyrics permeate the confines of the sizable Pittsburgh venue.

JOHNSON: “I hate to say it, Vinny, but you may be right! I’ve always considered this kid a fighter, but his heart has come into question before, and considering that it was just trampled on by The Distorted Angel, I’m starting to get the feeling that he may have called it quits for the evening.”

“They shootin’! Aw, made you look

You a slave to a page in my rhyme book

Gettin’ big money, playboy, your time’s up

Where them gangstas? Where them dimes at?”

The music blasts, while inside the ring, Cyrus Riddle appears to be mostly frustrated, though hints of concern could be traced from his facial expressions. He holds up his hands parallel with his ears while he shakes his head in disappointment. Most fans boo relentlessly, while others look about for a surprise entrance.

VASSA: “Once again, Vinny Vassa proves to be a psyche genius. I told you that punk, piece of shit kid was nothing but hype.”

A copious amount of boos enveloped the arena, as the fans are beginning to fall under the impression that this match might not take place. Finally, Boston slinks past the curtain, to little or no fanfare, aside from the aforementioned small cult following- the ones that loved seeing him nearly kill himself week in, week out, for their entertainment. With his head down, Boston makes his way toward the ring at a snail’s pace.

JOHNSON: “There he is!! There’s the guy! I should never have doubted! Don’t bet on this young man from Delaware to take the coward’s way out.”

VASSA: “Why not? Bronx beat him once two years ago and he quit. Bronx made him look like a joke again, two weeks ago, and even got to witness the poor son of a bitch get rejected–hard — about twenty minutes ago. While away from 4CW a second time, he turned into a hardcore drug addict, and didn’t bother to grace us with his presence for a whole year and half. He let Madison fuck the woman he wants on some replica of the Uprising Title bought on ebay for five- probably, anyway. Funny or not, I’m gonna keep saying it. The fuckin’ loser should take the coward’s way out and save some face! ”

JOHNSON: “Folks, again, for the eighteen thousandth time, we have no record or proof of anything Vinny says. The folks here at 4CW, myself included, have consistently wondered why he has not yet been sued hundreds of times over for slander.”

As the crowd mostly boos and makes provocative insults regarding his recent, embarrassing rejection from tonight’s main eventer, Amber Ryan, Boston makes his way toward the ring. When he happens to look up from the ground below him, his eye sockets look as though they’ve been dosed with novacaine, though it does not appear that he has been crying in the least, as Vassa continually suggests. He appears entirely devoid of emotion. Riddle stands in the middle of the ring with a frown and furrowed brow.

POWERS: “Finally making his way to the ring- sorry about that, folks- he weighs in at two hundred and twenty-two pounds and stands at six feet, one inch tall. He hails from Dewey Beach, Delaware…he is…BBOOSSTTOONN!!!”

VASSA: “Well, folks, this match is over. Judging by the look on Boston’s face, I’d put down about ten thousand on him just stepping inside the ring and laying down. He doesn’t just look really sad, Steven, he looks like he checked the fuck out of reality.”

JOHNSON: “I hate to agree with you there, Vinny, but you’re right. The man is still in shock. From the looks of it, a strongly worded Vossler tweet comparing his treatment in 4CW to the plight of a ten year old kid could send this once promising talent to the canvas for three seconds, let alone a trained killer like Cyrus Riddle.”

VASSA: “Why not? Madison and Ryan are probably laughing their asses off at how pathetic he is, while they bang on an old Uprising Title- I told you I would keep mentioning it, due to it’s hilarity. The Uprising Title doesn’t even have an archive or history on Anyone who held that title should list it below their third place finish in a twelve and under pass, punt, kick competition. What the fuck does he have to live for?”

JOHNSON: “All of that is one hundred percent conjecture, and I still believe in this young man, Vinny. He’s come back and reclaimed his bright future. He’s got a lot to live for! I also believe that Mr. Riddle isn’t looking for a pushover win, tonight. I think he wants the best out of Boston. And, remember, Boston claims they’re friends, so who knows what kind of dynamic that’ll add to the equation.”

VASSA: “The way Boston looks right now, adding a rabid wolverine dynamic to the match wouldn’t change much of a goddamn thing. Besides rabies.”

The majority of fans previously cheering have opted to join the side of the jeering, as Boston steps through the ropes, neglecting his normal exuberant hop over them, and throws his towel to the ground. He slumps onto the second turnbuckle closest to him, staring at his opponent and proclaimed confidant with a look so blank that folks might suspect lobotomization. Boston looks on as Riddle continues to shake his head in disappointment. The Impaler loosens up, while the referee calls for the bell.


The Archetype swiftly moves toward his opponent, who remains seated on the turnbuckle. He hesitates for a moment, as would a hunter with sight locked on injured game. Where was the fun? He takes a few laps around the ring before he presumably resolves that the man seemingly meditating in the corner, friend or not, was his to dismantle and destroy. He rushes in and connects with a furious Yakuza kick to the clavicle, knocking Boston as backward between the turnbuckles as possible without quite falling through to the outside. Boston slides down the turnbuckle like lava from a volcano, until he finds himself seated on the canvas. Riddle begins putting the boots to him. This lasts for a few moments with no attempt at defense, until Cyrus grabs Boston by his long hair and pulls him to his feet toward the center of the ring, before ultimately relinquishing his control of the recently returned 4CW upstart. Boston stands before Riddle in utter apathy. Riddle holds his arms out and beckons Boston to, “come on, mate” before he reaches out and slaps his opponent across the face, relatively lightly.

VASSA: “Nice, Riddle, slap him like the little big, fat titty baby he is.”

JOHNSON: “I don’t know, Vinny, to me, it looks like Riddle is trying to snap Boston out of his funk. Riddle has been on the warpath lately, and being the warrior he is, he’s not interested in claiming an empty victory. He wants everything Boston’s got, which Vassa, like him or not, you’ve gotta admit, the kid’s got a heck of a lot of talent in the squared circle.”

VASSA: “You’ve got a heck of a lot of talent getting three quarter hard ons during matches that feature females, but where has that ever gotten you? Stevie, you should really give the DTF ladies a shot on Twitter. You can be a tickle-monster, can’t you?”

Boston takes the slap and neglects to display any reaction. His face remaining deadpan, Boston suffers another smack in the face. The crowd is invigorated, with both boos and cheers emanating from behind the guardrails, though the jeers for the matchup’s dead weight outweigh the encouragement for the aggressor. Again, Riddle goes to slap Boston in the face, but not before an extensive wind-up. The echo of his demeaning strike could be heard from the fucking concession stand. The crowd revs up, in love with the intensity Riddle is showing against his basically catatonic opponent.

VASSA: “I fucking love it! Use the back of your hand, Riddle! Bitch slap that motherfucker!”

The crowd continues to roar, as Boston stands in the center of the ring, the right side of his face beet red. In retaliation, he offers…a smile? Sure enough, a half-grin had formed on his face, while he shook his head ever so slowly at his opponent, who was honorably attempting to bring his opponent back to life. One more smack across the face echoed throughout the Pittsburgh arena, drawing further favor from the crowd. Sandy blonde hair masked Boston’s increasingly less handsome face as the force of the slap sent his head careening to the left. The young grappler stumbled a couple of feet and brought his hand to his face. His smile widens while his shoulders shrug.

VASSA: “Fuck him up, Riddle! Let’s get this over with. Steve, after this, we’ve got Nurse Kinsley against Aidan Carlisle, and if these two dudes aren’t gonna throw down, we might as well see some ass and titties gettin’ it in.”

JOHNSON: “You’re just the worst kind of person.”

The man who Perry Wallace insisted on being referred to as the 4CW Atlantic City Champion for months and months threw his hands in the air with frustration, turning his back to Boston momentarily, before he snapped around, grabbed his opponent’s arm, and leveled him with a short-arm clothesline.

JOHNSON: “You can’t say that he didn’t at least try to snap the kid out of his heartbroken funk.”

Riddle follows the young man to the mat, rolling across him and back to his feet. He brings his opponent with him, JUST to send him back down to the mat again, with another huge lariat. Riddle performs the exact same tactical maneuver again, and nearly takes Boston’s head off with his third vicious clothesline. Yanking his emotionally damaged opponent to his feet again, Riddle wraps his free arm around Boston’s neck from behind and proceeds to execute a powerful reverse vertical suplex, as the fans continue to buzz.

JOHNSON: “Ouch! Right on the money-maker! I hate to be a pessimist, but I do believe Cyrus Riddle could end the match right this moment, if he wanted to. Boston seems to be in another galaxy.”

VASSA: “He probably went and got high as fuck after Amber told him to go fuck himself. That’s what I’d do, plus, he has a history!”

A swinging neckbreaker. A reverse DDT. A T-Bone suplex. The damage of one move after another in rapid succession inflicted upon Boston’s body left the blue chip reeling, but he just took everything in stride, despite the pain. That is, until a brainbuster almost steals Boston’s consciousness. Riddle runs his thumb across his throat from ear to ear, suggesting to the crowd that he was about to finish the man who came to a fight without any fight in him. Grabbing him by his hair, Riddle lifts Boston to his feet and hoists him onto his shoulders.

JOHNSON: “Here it comes!”

VASSA: “Gonna put him out of his misery with The Purge! Riddle’s about to fuck pretty-boy up! Can’t be good for his pussy-ass, Bryan Williams’ style concussion!”

At the very moment Riddle pivots his waist to initiate momentum, the arena’s lights dim to black as the opening guitar riffs to “War Machine” by KISS begin to screech over the P.A. system. The video screen lights up with visual static noise. Suddenly in the center of the screen a black handprint begins pulsating to the beat of the drum that has began to play. Riddle spins around to face the entrance with Boston still slung over his shoulder.


A spotlight shines on the entrance ramp and we see Chris Madison standing, wearing an official licensed t-shirt that says, “Always Ready For War,” across the chest, while holding a metal folding chair beneath his right arm.

“Better watch out ’cause I’m a war machine

Better watch out ’cause I’m a war machine”

The song plays on, as Madison stretches out the folding chair at the top of the ramp, before he finally puts it to use.


JOHNSON: “What is he doing here?!”

VASSA: “Why the fuck do you think he’s here, Steve?!”

In the midst of the confusing interruption, Riddle released his grip of an apathetic Boston, who lies in a heap in the middle of the ring. Riddle doesn’t overreact to Madison’s arrival on the scene, however, instead he just invokes a fiery stare at his opponent for Winter Wasteland, as he slowly creeps toward the three ropes closest to the entrance ramp. The Archetype holds his arms out to his sides and nods his head backward at the legendary 4CW performer, as if to invite him closer to the ring. Madison smiles , before laying his right ankle on top of his left knee, settling into his premium seat.

JOHNSON: “Riddle wants to throw down! Riddle doesn’t want to wait until Wasteland!”

VASSA: “Are you fucking intellectually disabled?”

JOHNSON: “What?”

VASSA: “Fuck, was I the only one that had to take cultural sensitivity courses? It means retarded, Steve. Are you fucking retarded? Riddle’s not falling for this! He’s way too much of a sociopath to not understand what’s happening right now. The Archetype may as well have invented mind games!”

As Riddle faces Madison for just a few precious moments, Boston began to stir. Up on one knee, the turquoise eyed addict focused his eyes toward the top of the ramp, and for the first time since he saw Amber walk away from him with Madison standing in his way, he exhibits emotion. A great deal of it. With all of his might, he curses through his teeth, sending saliva flying through the air without aim, as his nostrils flare and his head shakes, “no,” back and forth. All the while, his eyes never break from the new spectator sitting atop the entrance.


VASSA: “For a play-by-play guy, you might think you’d see a little deeper than what’s obvious, ya’ simple bastard.”

Madison continues to calmly taunt an aggressive Riddle, reacting to his challenges with a few carefree finger points toward the ring. What he’s pointing at, Cyrus doesn’t connect at first. It’s not until Boston is standing, shaking with fury behind him that he realizes what Madison has done.

VASSA: “Madison’s not just here to throw Riddle off of his game, you big, fat, curly headed fuck, he’s here to throw Riddle off and to PISS Boston WAY THE FUCK OFF!”

JOHNSON: “Ya’ think?”

VASSA: “For all Boston knows, Madison just fucked Amber three or four times on a child’s foam replica of the Pride Title.”

JOHNSON: “Great Odin’s Raven, you’re right! Madison stared Boston down with threatening intentions after Boston made The Distorted Angel upset!”

VASSA: “Better believe Madison wants every advantage he can get going into Wasteland- he’s a competitor, that’s what competitors do! He knows that as much as Riddle wants to put him down, Boston likely wants to put him fucking out! And it’s working! Look at him!”

Riddle only wasted seconds greeting the intruding Madison, but he would pay for them. Having discovered the true intention of Madison’s seemingly benign presence just as Vinny Vassa did, Riddle wasted no time in getting back to his onslaught. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t occur. As he lunged toward the recovering Boston, his opponent ducked and rolled toward the turnbuckle, which he scaled in two tenths of a second, before diving backward, while twisting in the air, and subsequently landing the most complicated cross-body block in the history of 4CW. Boston’s momentum rolled he and Riddle through the impact and back to their feet, leaving them both stumbling. Riddle tried to catch his balance, while Boston utilized his wayward steps’ momentum to execute a spinning wheel kick, which connected with Riddle’s temple, grounding him. Boston turns his head toward a clapping, nodding Madison, who cheers the high flying underdog on, which only exacerbates the first ever Uprising Champion’s rage. The Archetype reaches one knee, before he is immediately bombarded by a missile dropkick to the side of his head.

JOHNSON: “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a match! I’ve never seen Boston turn that shade of red!”

VASSA: “Except for when Riddle was bitchslapping him? But, you’re right, I think the protruding veins in his forehead are doing fuckin’ morse code or something, the way they’re pulsating!”

Springboard rotating leg drop. Standing moonsault. Springboard moonsault. Boston is relentless in his attack. He routinely steals glances at Chris Madison at the top of the ramp as he reigns blows down upon the head of his self-proclaimed friend. There is barely anything calculated about Boston’s approach. Wild haymakers connect with his opponent, landing anywhere between the chest and face.

JOHNSON: “Vinny, it seems like Boston is about to snap!”

VASSA: “He’s a fuckin’ fruitcake, what do you expect?!”

Striking with fists proves to be unsatisfactory for Boston, as he throws his hands down and imparts a vice grip on The Archetype’s head, just before bludgeoning it repeatedly with his own. Headbutt after devastating headbutt connects with Riddle’s forehead, busting it wide open! Blood ricochets off of the shocked former 4CW Atlantic City Champion (not a real title) onto the canvas and out on the concrete floor below the ring! Taking a look over toward the ramp, Boston delivers a flurry of hard forearms to Riddle’s mouth. With a guttural yell, Boston lifts Riddle to his feet and sends him careening into the nearest turnbuckle. Backing up to the adjacent corner, Boston steals a look at Madison, before he runs as fast as he can toward his opponent. At center-ring, he utilizes his momentum by crouching halfway toward the mat before springing forward, high into the air, while folding his upper body to face his lower half. What would have been a devastating, elevated cannonball turned out to be a spine busting meeting with the top turnbuckle, as Riddle had gathered enough wits to fall forward, flat on the canvas. All said and done, Boston found himself laid out on the concrete floor.

JOHNSON: “Talk about your all-time backfires!”

VASSA: “Easy, Happy.”

JOHNSON: “Riddle is back on his feet now, but he’s still shaking out the cobwebs left behind by that hellacious bevy of offense dealt by young Boston. The Archetype had this match in the books, lock, stock, and barrel, before Chris Madison added himself in as a wildly combustible variable.”

VASSA: “Boston took a HUUUUUGE L when he missed that cannonball!”

Riddle sticks his fingers to his forehead and examines the evidence. Riddle licks his blood-soaked fingertips and makes his way onto the ring apron. Holding the top rope to maintain balance, Cyrus walks to the opposite end of the apron. The crowd pops as Riddle charges forward and dives midway across the ring, flipping forward in the air, before ultimately crashing into Boston, driving his head into the steel ringsteps!

VASSA: “There’s ya fuckin’ cannonball for ya, pretty boy!”

The crowd erupts. Riddle wastes no time getting to his feet. He charges toward his opponent, delivering a crushing knee straight to Boston’s left eye-socket, causing his head to veer backward into the steel steps again! Blood slowly seeps from the back of Boston’s head, gradually making itself visible through his long, thick hair. Cyrus grabs a handful of bloody hair and spins Boston around, sending him flying beneath the bottom rope. Riddle rolls beneath the ropes and finds his footing, before he delivers a punishing Yakuza kick to the back of Boston’s already lacerated head.

The cringeworthy impact from Riddle’s boot sends Boston somersaulting forward, his neck and shoulders finally coming to rest on the bottom rope. With a thin stream of blood running down the center of his face, Riddle takes a moment to size up his opponent. However, for just a couple of seconds, Riddle uncharacteristically fumbles his focus and turns to face his Wasteland opponent still watching intently from the top of the ramp. For the second time this evening, Riddle slowly traces his neckline, earlobe to earlobe. Madison simply smirks. Cyrus turns back around to see that Boston has made it as far as the second rope in terms of gaining his footing. Riddle stalks his opponent, waiting for the back of Boston’s bloodied head to find itself in the perfect frame to strike.



The Archetype rushes forward, stretches out his arm, and prepares to turn out the lights on his young acquaintance, but as if he had eyes in the back of his head, Boston anticipates the maneuver, crouches, jumps and twists to face Riddle, before hethrows a molly-whopping haymaker with his left hand, sneaking right over top of Riddle’s rapidly approaching right armed lariat. The Daydreamer connected! The Back Pocket connected! Riddle’s legs go wobbly before he falls backward onto the canvas, while Boston goes flipping over the top rope, landing on the unforgiving concrete below with a sickening thud.


VASSA: “AND MADISON CAN’T GET ENOUGH! Look at him up there, he’s loving every second of this! Just like you love masturbating to episodes of the Golden Girls that heavily feature Blanche.”

JOHNSON: “I do not pleasure myself to eighty year old women, even IF Blanche DID have a contagious smile and sultry, enticing eyes. And you’re right, Madison must be thrilled with himself!”

Riddle lays flat on his back, his hands holding his head as he rocks gently from side to side. Boston is laid out on his stomach, his only sign of life being the slight tapping of his right toe. The referee begins to count…

“One! … Two! … Three!”

JOHNSON: “They could both be finished, but Boston’s the only one getting counted out, right now!”

VASSA: “And look! Madison’s up from his chair! He’s headed toward the ring!”

“Four! … Five!”

JOHNSON: “Boston’s beginning to stir, now! He’s inching forward. He wants to win! He wants to prove he belongs in the upper echelon of this company!”


Boston finds his way to his elbows. His hair matted with blood, the up and coming superstar peers forward, and in his peripheral, Boston identifies Chris Madison, who stopped his descent toward the ring midway down the ramp. With all of his might and anger, Boston emits a visceral growl and smacks the concrete floor beneath him. He army crawls his way toward the ring apron and lifts the skirting. As Riddle rolls to his stomach, Boston maneuvers his entire upper body beneath the ring.


JOHNSON: “Madison is brilliant! He’s making sure the unpredictably unstable Boston can see him at all times! Chris is bound and determined to beat Cyrus Riddle at his own game! Madison is controlling this match by fueling Boston’s jealous rage! He doesn’t have to lay a finger on Riddle to make sure he’s nice and softened up for Wasteland!”

From beneath the ring, a metal rod about an inch in diameter and approximately a foot in length bounces out, just before Boston’s torso comes back into sight. Riddle has found a knee and braces himself on the mat with his right hand. His eyes are focused on the droplets of blood decorating the canvas beneath, until, suddenly, they fixate upon his Winter Wasteland opponent standing about fifteen yards away from him.


JOHNSON: “Oh, good lord, what the HECK is Boston doing?!”

VASSA: “Every time he sees Madison, he loses his fucking mind, and Riddle has been paying the price for it!”

Boston finally fully emerges from underneath the ring and precariously finds his footing, holding the busted open back of his head with his left hand. With his right, he scoops up the smooth, round metal rod.


VASSA: “That’s not even a chair or a sledgehammer! Why the hell would Redd Thunder have left a lead fucking pipe?! What, is this fuckin’ Clue?!”


Instead of his opponent inside of the ring, Boston turns toward Madison. Two steps are taken in the former Pride Champion’s direction before Riddle’s hands appear, seemingly out of thin air. Clutching two handfuls of crimson caked hair, The Archetype yanks Boston into the air, right beneath the middle rope, and forces him back into the ring, breaking the count!


JOHNSON: “Riddle is a lot of things, and not all of ‘em are admirable, but one thing that you can’t deny is his unrelenting competitive nature! He and Madison won by disqualification last week, he does NOT want to head into Wasteland without a pin or submission here tonight! He wants to prove that he can dominate this young, rising star DESPITE Chris Madison’s attempt to beat him at his own game!”

VASSA: “Think he has any idea that Boston’s got a lead pipe?”

JOHNSON: “By god, you’re right! I don’t think that metal rod was in Riddle’s range of sight! But Vinny, I don’t think Boston meant the rod to be for Riddle!”

As Boston tumbles face down back into the ring, he holds the metal rod close to his abdomen. The capacity crowd is going insane! Riddle holds up his trademark two fingers toward Madison, before delivering a stiff kick to Boston’s skull. Not wasting another single moment, Cyrus locks Boston in the gut-wrench position.


As Riddle hoists Boston into the air up and over his shoulder, Boston twists around and pushes himself off of The Archetype. Riddle stumbles forward and Boston winds up. Cyrus finds control of his stumble and turns it into momentum, as he dives into the ropes, bounces off of them, and flies back toward Boston…

…who swings the lead pipe with all the strength he could muster, burying it just beneath Riddle’s ribs, doubling him over.

JOHNSON: “OH, good GOD, Boston!”

VASSA: “Kid’s showin’ some balls!”

The referee calls for the bell.


And Boston calls for another shot. With the rod held in his hand, tucked along his forearm, Boston runs toward the ropes and springs onto the middle one, before flying backward, twisting in flight to face Riddle, whom he wallops across the face with authority.

JOHNSON: “That’s the Dewey Devil with a damned lead pipe!”

VASSA: “I’m confused as to why Boston’s still going after Riddle! Isn’t Madison the one he’s been after since he decided to show up?!”

JOHNSON: “Right now, Vassa, I don’t think Boston even knows what Boston’s doing. Look at him, the man’s possessed!”

Upon impact of the metal rodded Dewey Devil, The Archetype’s already breached head gushes a stream of blood across the ring. The crushing blow also sent him careening toward the ropes, where he would find himself clinging for life.





VASSA: “AND LOOK AT MADISON! That motorboatin’ son of a BITCH, he pulled it off! HE USED BOSTON TO GET TO RIDDLE! And now, he’s just LEAVING! He’s just leaving, KNOWING that he’s gonna walk into Wasteland a leg up on The Archetype! And he didn’t even have to lay a FINGER on the tormented, sadistic sociopath! He couldn’t have scripted this more perfectly!”


Riddle is barely standing, his feet remained beneath him only due to the way he fell into the ring ropes, which supported his weight. Leaning forward, allowing blood to pour from his forehead like a running faucet, Riddle’s suffering wasn’t quite finished. With a crow hop, Boston skips forward and swings the metal rod like a golf club, teeing off on The Archetype one last time, striking him directly above his eyes. The force of the blow sends Riddle hurtling backward until he crashes into the less than accommodating turnbuckle behind him. Crumbling into a heap, Cyrus can barely move, as his eyes wander about the arena aimlessly searching for nothing in particular.

Satisfied with the carnage he created in the ring with his mere presence, Madison saunters up the ramp with the hint of a smile. The crowd pops huge, the bulk of 4CW’s Pittsburgh faithful finding themselves in a bonafide frenzy, appreciative of the magic act Madison had just performed. Victorious in his own right, he disappeared behind the black curtain to prepare for his upcoming match with Bryan Williams.

Meanwhile, back in the ring, wild cheers transition into a sea of boos aimed at and surrounding Boston, who stares out at the crowd, with an eerie countenance. He looks down at his fallen, respected associate- a man Boston has claimed once, “saved his life.” The young man’s expression morphs from enraged and bloodthirsty to one of a much more subdued, calculating nature. The shift was sudden and dramatic- it was almost as if he had just experienced an epiphany.

He shakes his head and frowns at the canvas, then Riddle, then the crowd. Carefully, Boston creeps over to the profusely bleeding Archetype, with the blood painted metal rod in hand, and squats down to address him.

JOHNSON: “He’s gonna hit him again! That son of a bitch is going to try and ruin Cyrus Riddle’s career!”

The camera zooms in on Boston’s face, accented by strands of sandy blonde, blood encrusted hair. His blue eyes appear calm and genuine in nature. His body language reflected a level of relaxation and self-assuredness that folks in the professional wrestling world had not yet witnessed from the likes of the young, promising, conflicted talent. He places his hand on the crown of Riddle’s head with a warm, gentle, candid affect for several seconds.

VASSA: “This is fucking weird, Steve.”

A crooked, off-putting smile forms over Boston’s lips as he moves his hand to the shoulder of his greatly esteemed opponent, who he once monumentally respected as a mentor- the very same man who he has now left in a state of semi-consciousness. With affection, he squeezes it three times, before releasing his grip. His free hand contains his metal rod- Cyrus Riddle’s blood dripping from its edge. Placing the instrument of blunt-force catastrophe down the back side of his tightly drawn shorts, Boston recuses himself from the most primal court in humanity.

The sound of a now familiar gun cocks prior to the discharge of a bullet, as “Made You Look” blasts over the PPG Paint Arena’s sound system.

All the way with him up the ramp, Boston carries a faint smile, brimming with cold conviction, while his eyes strenuously object against any motion for even the most miniscule amount of blinking. As a couple of medics rush toward the ring, passing him on either side, Boston’s smile both broadens and softens, as he extends them a kind nod. Before he reaches the curtain, he looks back at Cyrus Riddle, and then directly into the camera.

BOSTON: “This wasn’t meant for you.

This was not your fault. This was not your fault. This was not your fault. This was NOT your fault.”

Boston’s somewhat sinister and disturbingly ill beam fades to a faint, telling grin. He barely shrugs.

BOSTON: “…ain’t mine either.”

Blood from the metal rod smears across Boston’s lower back as he walks further away from ringside, eventually disappearing behind the curtain into the Gorilla Position, as the 4CW hoards exclaim their bitter, vehement disapproval, while Adrenaline moves forward.

The cameras cut to the backstage area, as we see Bryan Williams concentrating. He’s focused, and definitely not dressed for his upcoming match. It looks like Bryan had arrived, and put everything down to focus in on this one thing. He takes a deep breath, as the camera zooms out just a little bit more to see him put a card down on the table.

An Uno card, to be precise.

Bryan looks at the card for a moment, and then across from him, where we see Persephone Marquis. She’s sitting across the table, looking at Bryan. She doesn’t say a word, as Bryan sighs.

WILLIAMS: ”I lost again, didn’t I?”

Bryan sighs, leaning back in his chair.

WILLIAMS: ”That’s alright, I’m shit at this game anyway. Thanks for letting me try again though.”

Bryan stands up, getting up from his chair.

WILLIAMS: ”Big night tonight. You won’t have to worry about me wearing a striped shirt though. I tried being neutral, and I let it all go to shit. I know I apologized to you and Zombie, but I just want to say I’m really sorry again.”

Bryan looks at Persephone, who is gathering the cards. She looks rather disinterested at the current subject, getting the deck together and placing it on the table. She looks at Bryan.

MARQUIS: ”You know, the more you say sorry, the less it means. So, stop apologizing already. I said I forgive you, I forgive you.”

Bryan nods his head, clearly just doing his best to just move the whole situation along. Persephone frowns, pointing at the deck.

MARQUIS: ”Go ahead, winner never shuffles.”

Bryan sighs out, grabbing the deck and sitting back down as he begins his shuffle. He nods though, understanding his current situation. Bryan currently sits at twenty-seven losses to Persephone since he’s started playing Uno with her.

WILLIAMS: ”Okay, well-“

MARQUIS: ”And, I mean, of course I’m going to forgive you. What do you think this is?”

Persephone snatches the deck from Bryan’s hand, shuffling herself as a means to keep her hands busy.

MARQUIS: ”I can’t waste my energy being angry at you over anything right now, so forgiveness is just the only thing I can afford. I get it, you did your thing. Whatever, it’s rolled off my shoulders because, guess what.”

She begins to deal the cards, handing out way past the appropriate amount as she continues to speak.

MARQUIS: ”I have this crazy, wild match coming up for the title and that’s my only focus right now. So, maybe, if anything, apologize to me after and see how I feel. That sounds like a better idea.”

She stops dealing, sliding Bryan’s cards toward him.

MARQUIS: ”Sounds cool?”

Bryan looks down at the cards, for a quick moment, and then back to Persephone. He nods, understanding of the situation.

WILLIAMS: ”Sounds absolutely cool. Now, if I lose again I’m going to have to call John Uno himself to complain. This is starting to get a little ridiculous.”

Persephone’s face splits into a grin, organizing her cards as she tries not to laugh. She shakes her head. Bryan looks at his cards, concentrating on his first move.

MARQUIS: ”Call whoever you want. Call John Uno Sr, nothing can stop me. It’s natural talent. Also, yes, before you say anything, I did lose in an Uno match for the Uno Championship. That was my last championship match, fun fact.”

Persephone sighs out.

MARQUIS: ”Definitely going to be doing better next time around. Will you go already? Oh wait, I won. It’s me.”

She throws down a card. Which, we’re not doing a whole rundown. Imagine a color and a number. The cards themselves aren’t really important. Tell John Uno I said that. Bryan sighs, admitting defeat as he places his cards on the table.

WILLIAMS: ”The way you’re playing it definitely will be better next time. You get that 4CW Championship first, though. Then you can snag the Uno Championship back. I’ll try and help you train for that too, even if I’m just an Uno punching bag.”

Bryan smirks, as he says that.

WILLIAMS: ”You’ll do just fine, I think. Handle Ana tonight, and then show everybody exactly who you are at Winter Wasteland. Gonna be starting off the new year with a new champion.”

Persephone nods.

MARQUIS: ”Yeah, I’ll handle Ana and you handle Madison. And then we’ll grab some dinner or something, or maybe we both fuck up and lose our appetite. That sounds bad, so let’s neither of us lose tonight.”

Persephone smiles at him.

MARQUIS: ”I’m ready. You ready? Of course you are. Shuffle again, though.”

Bryan nods, taking the cards.

WILLIAMS: ”Of course.”

As the segment draws to a close we see Bryan shuffling the cards, the camera cutting away leaving the two of them to continue their game. Mostly just Bryan losing a bunch before they get ready for their matches tonight.


POWERS: “The following contest is a no holds barred match and is set for one fall! Introducing first…”

The lights dim, with rare flashes of red, as “Your Weakness Gives Me Life” by Le Butcherettes begins to play. Nurse Kinsley drags herself down the entry ramp, stumbling and staring off into space. Occasionally she stops, looking out into the crowd with a head tilt or a focused gaze, but then continues wandering toward the ring with no incident.

POWERS: “…making her way to the ring from Bloody Corners, Ohio… NURSE KKIINNSSLLEEYY!!!”

Kinsley slides beneath the bottom rope, crawling toward the nearest turnbuckle. She slumps into the corner, eyes wide and wandering, her expression vacant. She sits like this for several seconds before grabbing the middle ropes and hoisting herself to her feet.

POWERS: “And her opponent…”

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

“This is war time, this is our time

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

This is go time, this is showtime

We will fight ’til their wills are broken

This is game time, and insane time

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

Find the power, to devour

Let the beast inside now be woken

POWERS: “Coming to the ring from Hell’s Kitchen, New York, weighing in at one hundred forty-five pounds… She is the ‘Alpha Bitch’, AIDAN CCAARRLLIISSLLEE!!!”

“In this world only the strong will survive

Hear the roar and you will know you’re alive

Feel the energy build in your soul

‘Cause it’s time

As she strides down the aisle, she extends points in either direction, acknowledging packs of cheering fans throughout the crowd. Her smirk is firmly fixed on her lips as she ascends the stairs and ducks between the ropes.

“Oh, In the calm before the storm

Another legend will be born

Another battle will be won

We will rise

Oh, So heed the call of confrontation

Today we feed on domination

Secure a legacy that will never die

Be immortalized”

Aidan turns in a slow circle, gesturing for the audience to give her more before she takes off her jacket and tosses it into the timekeeper’s area.

JOHNSON: “I certainly hope that no one has been sleeping on this match. On paper it might seem almost routine after the past few weeks, but given what we’ve seen put up on, these two might just be ready to kill each other in the ring tonight.”

VASSA: “God, I hope so!”

JOHNSON: “Vinnie!”

VASSA: “What?! I want to see some action. None of that sportsmanship handshaking bullshit.”

JOHNSON: “Something tells me you won’t have to worry about that.”

Carlisle and Kinsley make a slow circuit of the ring, circling one another a few times while the official tries to direct them to their corners so that the match can start. At last Harlow slumps against her turnbuckles and Aidan backs up into her corner. The referee checks with both competitors to ensure they’re ready before signalling for the bell.


Kinsley launches out of her corner and collides with Carlisle two-thirds of the way across the ring. The 4CW newcomer hits a series of rapid-fire forearm shots that slowly push her opponent back into the turnbuckles. Kinsley then throws up a leg and puts her boot across Carlisle’s throat for a corner foot choke! Kinsley grabs the ropes for extra leverage as she grinds the choke in while Aidan drives her elbow down into the side Kinsley’s knee joint repeatedly to try to break free.

Kinsley releases the choke and backs up to the center of the ring while Carlisle catches her breath. Harlow sprints forward for a big running forearm smash and goes right back into another barrage of rapid forearms. After a handful of wild shots, Kinsley grabs Aidan by the shoulders, spinning her out of the corner and trading places in the process. Kinsley jumps up onto the top rope and flies off with a twisting crossbody that takes both women to the canvas.

Harlow is first to her feet and steps back all the way to the ropes. She gets a running start, looking for a vicious kick to the head. Before the shot can land Aidan whips around on the canvas and kicks Kinsley’s legs out from under her! Kinsley hits the canvas and Carlisle uses the momentum to grab her arm and throw her legs over Harlow’s body, locking in a seated fujiwara armbar!

Carlisle cranks in the submission with one arm, and with the other she reaches back and locks up Kinsley’s free arm so that she can’t tap out even if she wants to! Harlow’s feet pound against the canvas in pain as she struggles to break free. Meanwhile, Aidan leans even further back, adding more and more pressure to Kinsley’s shoulder.

VASSA: “Yeah! Break her arm!”

JOHNSON: “Carlisle obviously looking to cause pain here by preventing Nurse Kinsley from tapping out, rather than winning the match early. It’s not an unexpected strategy with the vitriol between these two, but it is one that could come back to haunt her later on.”

VASSA: “Not if she breaks that arm!”

After a few more seconds of the wicked submission hold, Aidan lets go of both of Kinsley’s arms and gets to her feet. Harlow rolls across the mat to create some space between them before sitting up. Carlisle capitalizes on the space, dropping back into the ropes for extra momentum before hiding a sliding clothesline to the grounded Kinsley!

After the shot connects, Aidan rolls right out of the ring. She grabs Nurse Kinsley by the hair and drags her out to the apron so that her head hangs over the edge. Harlow shakes her head, trying to clear out the cobwebs as Aidan backs up all the way to the ringside barricade. Kinsley starts to regain her bearings… but not in time to avoid a running high knee from Carlisle!

The impact echoes through the arena and Kinsley rolls back across the ring, holding her face. The ref steps over to check on Harlow, who shoves him away, while Aidan paces back and forth outside the ring, taunting her opponent and shouting for Kinsley to get up. Kinsley uses the ropes and drags herself to her feet, looking incensed… maybe, it’s hard to tell with the mask and the contacts.

Nurse Kinsley sprints across the ring. Outside Aidan prepares for an incoming suicide dive. But Kinsley goes for a baseball slide instead, transitioning right into a headscissors that slings Carlisle to the concrete outside the ring! Without wasting a second, Harlow rolls to her feet and lands a double stomp right to Aidan’s chest!

JOHNSON: “A miscalculation by Aidan and solid strategy from Nurse Kinsley may have just turned the tide of this match.”

VASSA: “Yes! Now break her arm, come on!”

JOHNSON: “Vinnie…”

VASSA: “What?! When was the last time someone broke an arm here in 4CW? I want some blood!”

Carlisle rolls onto her knees, clutching her chest with one hand and struggling to breathe. She starts to pull herself up using the ring steps, but sags back down to a sitting position against them. Kinsley is already running, nailing a basement dropkick that crushes Aidan into the steel stairs! Harlow grabs Carlisle by one leg and drags her out before going for the pin!








Aidan gets the shoulder up well before the three and throws an elbow into Kinsley’s face in the process, knocking Harlow off of her. Carlisle surges forward and throws herself on top of Kinsley, raining down elbow strikes that the crowd counts off.

“One! … Two! … Three! … Four! … Five! … Six! … Seven! … Eight! … Nine!”

For the last shot Aidan pulls Kinsley up by the hair and delivers a vicious headbutt!


VASSA: “Did she break her nose?! Please tell me she broke her nose!”

Kinsley recoils from the blow, tumbling backward over one shoulder into a heap. Carlisle stalks after her, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking the skeletal woman to her feet. Kinsley breaks free with a few knife edge chops and then throws an arm around Aidan, hitting a reverse STO into the barricade! Harlow is quick to shove Aidan over onto her back and go for the pin again!








Once again, Carlisle gets the shoulder up, and Kinsley lets out a shriek of frustration. It’s Kinsley’s turn to take a handful of hair as she drags Aidan to her feet, laying in a few forearm shots for good measure before whipping Carlisle right toward the ring apron! Aidan leaps up at the last second, using the apron like a springboard, and flips over backward to catch Kinsley with an inverted DDT on the floor!

JOHNSON: “My God!”

VASSA: “Is there blood yet?!”

For a few moments neither woman moves and the ref steps over to check on the pair, only to get pushed out of the way again. Carlisle moves first, pulling herself over and throwing an arm across Kinsley for the pin.








VASSA: “What?!”

JOHNSON: “Somehow Nurse Kinsley is still going, and so is Aidan for that matter. Neither of these two wants to give the other the satisfaction of a victory.”

Leaving Kinsley where she’s lying, Aidan turns her attention to the apron cover, or rather, what’s under it. She yanks out a steel chair, looking over her shoulder to be sure that Kinsley is still down, however Harlow has begun to move. Carlisle leaves the chair on the floor and heads back over to Kinsley.

Kinsley bides her time, staggering in place until Aidan is close enough before she throws and elbow into the other woman’s stomach. The blow doubles Carlisle over and Kinsley takes her down the rest of the way with a snapmare. Harlow is quick to jump up on top of the barricade, and then leaps off with a missile dropkick that connects with the back of Carlisle!

Aidan gives a snarl and holds her spine with one hand as she rolls forward to create some separation. She comes to stop by the chair, which she grabs as she stands, surging toward Kinsley. Kinsley rushes in as well, leaping up for a spinning wheel kick that knocks the chair into Aidan’s face!

VASSA: “Yesss! There’s the blood!”

The chair hits the ground with a clatter and Aidan’s hand comes away red as she checks her face. After a quick assessment, Aidan wipes her nose on the back of her hand and shakes off the crimson liquid, splattering it across the floor. Kinsley looks on gleefully before lunging forward. Carlisle is ready, however, and hits a shuffle side kick that catches Harlow square in the face.

Kinsley drops to her knees, looking dizzy. Carlisle dashes forward. Kinsley ducks. Aidan leapfrogs over her opponent and stops short of running into the barrier. Kinsley starts to twist around to keep an eye on Aidan just as Aidan races in again, this time leaping up and catching Kinsley’s head to deliver a hurricanrana driver right onto the steel chair!

JOHNSON: “Alpha Effect from Aidan!”

VASSA: “No, don’t be over yet!”

Aidan throws an arm across Kinsley once more and goes for the pin. The ref slides in, trying to avoid the spots of blood on the floor.








Kinsley gets the shoulder up just in time! Aidan slaps the floor in frustration, but hauls herself to her feet, blood still running from her nose. She leaves Kinsley on the floor and rolls back into the ring, but Harlow is close behind, grabbing her feet and yanking them out from under her.

Aidan hits the canvas as Kinsley rolls in and scales the turnbuckles. The crowd boos and jeers, but Kinsley ignores it and sails off backward for a high angle senton, hooking the leg for a pin on the finish. The official slides in yet again for the count.








Carlisle gets the shoulder up! Harlow looks furious and shouts something at the ref that’s largely inaudible behind her mask and over the sounds of the crowd. Aidan capitalizes on the moment and throws her already bleeding face into Kinsley’s, knocking the other woman backwards.

Both competitors are on their feet almost at the same time. Harlow races in, but Aidan catches her and uses the momentum to throw her up onto her shoulders before dropping to her knees for an argentine backbreaker! Kinsley falls away, holding her back, but pulls herself to her feet using the ropes.

Harlow lunges forward again looking for a clothesline but Aidan ducks under. Carlisle hits the ropes and rebounds off. Kinsley hits the canvas and Aidan jumps over, hitting the opposite ropes. Kinsley looks for the Yakuza kick, but Aidan hooks her elbows on the top rope and stops herself short of the impact.

After a few long moments of staring each other down, Harlow gets a wicked look on her face as she grabs Aidan by the arm and whips her directly into the referee! Carlisle just barely manages to stall the momentum and minimize the impact, leaving the ref on his feet. Aidan pauses a second to make sure the ref is okay. Kinsley, still grinning, takes advantage of the distraction with a schoolboy from behind and throws her feet up onto the ropes for leverage!

JOHNSON: “Oh, come on!”

VASSA: “Not illegal in this match, Steve!”








Carlisle kicks out a millisecond too late and the ref calls for the bell.


POWERS: “Here is your winner… NURSE KKIINNSSLLEEYY!!!”

JOHNSON: “I can’t believe it, and neither can this crowd! In a stunning upset, Nurse Kinsley has managed to beat Aidan Carlisle.”

VASSA: “She’s two and oh Steve!”

JOHNSON: “I don’t know about anyone else, but it feels like the temperature just dropped a few degrees. Look at that glare from Aidan. Something tells me that this won’t be the last time we see these two square off.”

VASSA: “I just hope next time someone finally breaks an arm!”

4CW cameras are stationed backstage. Inside the trainer’s room, Cyrus Riddle is being tended to by staff after the vicious attack carried out by Boston.

RIDDLE: “I’m going to kill that little prick.”

He states in an angered, yet still semi-woozy state. The trainer braces himself as the doctor comes over to check the wounds, applying pressure to cease the bleeding so that stitches can be used patch The Impaler up. Yet, Cyrus laid there, taking deep breaths as he came to more and more.

RIDDLE: “This is bollocks…”

? ? ?: “Get the license plate of the truck that hit you?”

Riddle looks up to see Chris Madison standing in the doorway with a sly grin on his face. He tries to jump up off of the he trainer’s table but the medical staff surrounds him to keep him still. Madison quickly throws his hands up innocently.

MADISON: “Easy big guy. If I wanted to ambush you, I would have done so already. That’s not my game.”

Madison lowers his hands and leans his back against the wall. He reaches up with his right hand and scratches at the back of his head.

MADISON: “When does this end Cyrus? When do we put this bullshit between us aside and move on?”

With as much of a fierce gaze as Cyrus can muster, he stares between the staff, directly at Madison.

RIDDLE: “I would assume you would understand that already, Chris. It ends at Wasteland, when I finally avenge my defeats at your hands. After that, it’s all set aside.”

After a brief pause, Riddle shakes his head.

RIDDLE: “But… it can’t be under regular terms.”

Madison shakes his head and waves a finger in the air, unsure if he can believe his bitter adversary.

MADISON: “If you come up short, lose to me again…”

RIDDLE: “No, no…”

Riddle interjects before Madison continued.

RIDDLE: “I’m thinking a real match… a true test to see if you are the better man, or what I know to be true… that I will defeat you. You win, I’ll accept the decision, no questions asked or repercussions after. But, it has to be contested under Ironman stipulation. Thirty minutes, you versus me, most falls to the finish.”

Riddle winces as the doctor injects the needle into the wound site to numb.

RIDDLE: “What do you say, Chris? Let’s do this right.”

Madison grins as the wheels in his mind turn. He pauses for a moment, peering over the doctors shoulder before taking a step back.

MADISON: “Thirty? Got somewhere to be? If we’re goin’ to do an Iron Man match, we’re goin’ full boat. Sixty minutes; that is of course if you’re up to it after havin’ your ass handed to you by Boston.”

Riddle scoffs, shoving the doctor aside momentarily and walking up to Madison, blood still trickling down from his wound.

RIDDLE: “You want sixty, you have sixty, mate. No matter what condition I am in right now, I’ll be giving you the match of your career on the twenty-sixth. One hour, you and me, all left inside of the ring.”

Madison looks Riddle up and down as he stands slightly hunched over, holding his own side.

MADISON: “Just remember, you brought this war onto yourself…”

The two fiercely stare at one another, neither man budging an inch as the feed cuts away.

The scene opens up backstage just in time to catch three folks heading toward the exit doors. Flanked by her butler, Jeeves, and bodyguard, Frank, is Erica Cambry all decked out in upscale slacks, English loafers, and a stylish black winter coat. The fans in attendance, being avid 4CW viewers, greet her with a smattering of jeers, having already seen her distasteful promo a few days prior, and her dismal match against resident jobber, Freedumb during the unaired pre-show. Her hatred and tasteless assault on the sport of wrestling hasn’t resonated well with the Pittsburgh crowd.

Jeeves is pushing a stainless steel fancy mobile frappe and cappuccino making machine and stops alongside Erica, who has come to a halt and is covering her nose with a silk handkerchief.

CAMBRY: “Ugh! What in the world is that SMELL? It’s been resonating all night but now it’s even stronger! UGH!”

Jeeves sniffs and visibly chokes back vomit, then also places a handkerchief over his snout. In a muffled voice he says.

JEEVES: “Smells like Shitsburg mixed with over abundance of dank sweat. It’s going to take time getting used to it, Miss Cambry.”

The only one in her entourage who seems unaffected is her bodyguard, Frank. He chuckles a little as they commence their journey and happen upon someone approaching. Alessandro Quagliaterre appears in their eyelines bouncing a basketball. Whilst Alessandro is fully focused on the basketball, not paying attention to what is in front of him, the three of them look at him quizzically. He dribbles the ball repeatedly, until he smacks his spalding ball against Jeeves shoes, and the rhythm of his dribble is interrupted as the ball rolls away. Alessandro then looks up at them, and remarks.


Jeeves does not seem too pleased about this, falling silent in disgust.

QUAGLIATERRE: “Well what do we have here? Jeeves? Ask Jeeves? WOAH! It’s like I’m four years old all over again. Sorry that you went defunct Jeeves. Your search engine always was pretty shitty. Whenever I asked you for Porn all you would give me was Prawn recipes? WTF!?!”

Alessandro sniggers to himself, enraging the trio. Frank steps in front of him cracking his knuckles, in an attempt to intimidate him.

QUAGLIATERRE: “Easy there Frank. If I didn’t know any better I’d say those Residual checks from Casino Royale, Quantum of Solace, Skyfall, and Spectre clearly haven’t made you rich enough. How hard times have fallen upon you mate. Here you are having to play Babysitter to the Butler from Fresh Prince of Bel Air, and Johnny Depp’s personal punching bag. Hello Miss Erica Cambry. How do you do?”

She ‘bravely’ peeks her head out from behind Frank, her expression changing from a god awful sneer to one of faint amusement.

CAMBRY: “Ah, yes gentlemen. We’re having our first encounter with the turd kind backstage. Typical unlettered professional wrestler. Arrogant. Buffoonish. Throwing, what’s the term these days…‘Shade’? Do not fret this man, for he is perpetually butt hurt over having the face of a ferret, and he takes it out on people when he can. This unsightly booger on the nose of life can’t even dribble a ball due to the immense weight of his brows crushing down on his beady little eyes. Tsk. Tsk. Mr. Quasimoto, would you please be so kind as to un-ass yourself from our personal space and go about doing whatever it is you imbecilic dry humpers do? I know you feel four years old again with Jeeves here, but if you don’t move Frank will pummel you until you have the mentality of a four year old to match it.”

She folds her arms and gives him the nastiest little bitch-face as she moves a little closer. Alessandro combats this by stepping back moving a little further away.

QUAGLIATERRE: “Settle down Miss Cambry. I will put your frustration and out of tone dig down to inexperience and rookie status. Take this right of free passage, because not many others would get this level of mercy from me. I saw your match behind closed doors before the show began tonight against Freedumb. It was quite a calamity you had during the Pre-Show, yet you still managed to get the job done efficiently and win. Kudos.”

Alessandro gives Erica a thumbs up and her entourage a subtle nod, a seal of approval almost for their actions. However their opinion slightly differs to that of Alessandro’s.

CAMBRY: “Oh, puh-uh-uh-lease! Spare me your mock kudos. Of course my performance was a calamity, and I take no pride in my ‘win’. I’m not a…”

She suddenly gets an uneducated deep south accent.

CAMBRY: “RASSLER! I’m a Cambry. I’m beyond reproach from this Temple of Turds called 4-cee-dubya dur hurp hurp dur, well shit fire save a match.”

Frank and Jeeves get a good chuckle out of her surprisingly good hillbilly accent. Alessandro did not find it amusing.

QUAGLIATERRE: “I personally believe this aggression and hate you have for the business, could be channeled into something better with the right guidance. It’s up to you to choose the path which you want to take. You want an example, watch what I do in a short while against Kimitsu Zombie. I am extremely hot headed and ill tempered outside of the ring, much like yourself. But inside of it… I become a different person altogether. I channel the hate, I channel the rage, I channel the aggression and I put on something quite exquisite. Sit. Watch. Listen. Observe.”

With his fingers he pointed at his eyes, and then at theirs for where they needed to be looking in a few moments time. He got down on the floor, loosening himself and started doing push-ups getting himself warmed up and prepared for his match.

CAMBRY: “Alessa-whatever your name is- when it comes to you, the only thing I’d want to channel is the projector beam onto your gigantic movie theater screen size forehead. I could watch a movie on it, and actually get some entertainment value out of your bland ass. Hey! Are you even listening? Stop doing those push ups! If you want to get in shape just run the distance between your eyebrows, you dolt!”

He finished his push-ups and got back on his feet. Not because Eric Cambry had instructed him but because he had something to say to her with a very important finger point.

QUAGLIATERRE: “Look here. I think you got me mistaken with the other Quagliaterre. One’s a massive B word. The other is ME! You can keep on barking. Or you can do something worthwhile? Even Dopey and Grumpy here can come along if you’re worried about anything getting out of hand. I have a business proposition for you. Here take my business card. And when you come to your senses. You can holler at me. Now if you’ll excuse me, my match is next so I best bounce.”

He went into his pocket and pulled out a rather unusual business card and placed it into Miss Cambry’s hand. She looked at it with bemusement. Alessandro saluted them all, located his lost Basketball, picked it up and then went back to bouncing it as he dribbled towards the Gorilla position. Disappearing out of view, Erica Cambry was still left confused by the business card he had given her.

JEEVES: “What appears to be the matter, Miss Cambry?”

CAMBRY: “He said he was giving me a business card. But this isn’t a business card he gave me? IT’S A CRACKER!”

The three of them look at it. Alessandro had indeed given her a Graham Cracker. She throws a prissy rich princess fit, throwing it down and stomping on it repeatedly.


The butler quicky shuffles a cup under the beveraging making machine he has expertise over and produces a delicious Vanilla Bean Latte to calm her down. She gulps it furiously as her eyes menace in the direction Alessandro went.


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

The lights dim out to an almost pitch black darkness. The crowd falls silent wondering what is happening. The sound of a woman screams.


The lights turn back on illuminating brightly around the arena. Music subtly preludes into the arena, with a continuous phonetic utterance echoing around the venue by the same female who was screaming.

“Bum bum be-dum, bum bum be-dum bum

Bum bum be-dum, bum bum be-dum bum

Bum bum be-dum, bum bum be-dum bum

Bum bum be-dum, bum bum be-dum bum”

“Disturbia” by Rihanna then plays on the sound system, and the crowd immediately responded with a mixed reception. Alessandro Quagliaterre then bursts through the curtain full of energy. They are decisive in their indifference, not sure whether to love or hate him with the tension at a knife edge. He soaks in the atmosphere and poses at the top of the ramp with a couple of dabs. He elongates this action for a considerable length of time, and this pisses the crowd off.

“No more gas in the red

Can’t even get it started

Nothing heard, nothing said

Can’t even speak about it

All my life on my head

Don’t want to think about it

Feels like I’m going insane


“It’s a thief in the night

To come and grab you

It can creep up inside you

And consume you

A disease of the mind

It can control you

It’s too close for comfort”

He smiles back at the crowd, unaffected by their response, and then in his own time, he slowly walks down the ramp without a care in the world.

POWERS: “Introducing from Alpine, New Jersey… weighing in at two hundred and forty pounds… ALESSANDRO QQUUAAGGLLIIAATTEERRRREE!!!”

He really drags this on and extends the crowd patience to it fullest by taking as long as he wants. The audience gets frustrated throwing, even more, shade in the direction of Alessandro, but he brushes it off.

“Throw on your brake lights

We’re in the city of wonder

Ain’t gonna play nice

Watch out, you might just go under

Better think twice

Your train of thought will be altered

So if you must falter be wise

Your mind is in Disturbia”

“It’s like the darkness is the light


Am I scaring you tonight

Your mind is in Disturbia

Ain’t used to what you like



He then finally reaches the ring, and slowly walks up the steel steps, and poses some more on the turnbuckle, to really rub it into the crowd that he has arrived. He then flips down, waiting patiently by the corner of the ring, ready to unleash all types of hell on his Kimitsu.

JOHNSON: ”This is a big match for Alessandro tonight, Vinny. One on one against the reigning Pride Champion.”

VASSA: ”Yeah, and I heard what he said about her all week long. He must’ve been head butted by Phe one too many times.”

JOHNSON: ”What do you mean?”

VASSA: ”You don’t say that kind of stuff about these Zombie people. They’ll eat your brains and shit!”

Number Girl’s Tattoo Ari blares out and yellow and red lights flash around all over the arena as the guitar riff starts and mingles with the mixed reaction from the fans.





Kimitsu Zombie calmly walks out of the entrance way in her bosozoku uniform carrying a bottle of shochu and her belt on like a bandolier across her body.

POWERS: “Now, weighing in at one hundred twenty-five pounds and hailing from Kimitsu, Japan it’s your Pride champion, the ‘Little Yokai’, KIMITSU ZZOOMMBBIIEE!!!”

Kimitsu drinks from the shochu bottle as she struts to the ring as she takes in the crowds reaction of cheers and jeers. She grins and climbs a turnbuckle bobbing to the music.





She takes a long chug of shochu and spits a shochu mist into the air then screams in satisfaction with her tongue out. She jumps down into the ring and holds her title up in the air waiting for the match to start.

JOHNSON: ”You know, I don’t think that’s the kind of Zombie that Kimitsu is. I’ve never seen a Zombie anywhere that looks like she does.”

VASSA: ”Uhh… you’ve seen a Zombie before?”

JOHNSON: ”We’re not going to talk about the things I saw in ‘NAM, Vinny.”

VASSA: ”Haha… did you find a girl to rove you rong time? HORY CHET!”


The two opponents slowly stepped out of their corners, measuring each other momentarily before taking a step closer to one another, circling the ring. With each step they drew nearer to one another until, in one lightning quick motion they came together in a tie up. Before Alessandro could assert his strength, Kimi twisted his arm around into a wrist lock, keeping him at bay. The discomfort evident in his face, Alessandro leaned forward and rolled through, popping back up to his feet and turning towards Kimi, the pressure relieved from his wrist and arm. However, as he turned he ate a nasty kick to the chest which was followed up by Kimi sprinting toward the ropes. When she bounced off of them she came rifling back toward him, leaping into the air and taking him down with a sling blade. A quick cover was kicked out of before the referee could get down to the mat and soon afterward both competitors stood back to their feet and paused for just a moment. Ales nodded his head with a half smirk on his face before bouncing back and forth on his toes. In response, Kimi smirked and shrugged.

Once more the two tied each other up in the center of the ring and yet again Kimi got the advantage by refusing to stay in the tie up for more than just a quick moment. With beautiful fluidity, she transitioned out of the tie up and into a side headlock where she began to unload hard left hands to the top of Quagliaterre’s head. As Alessandro tries to fight out of the headlock, Kimi uses his momentum to thrust him over her leg and take him down to the mat, keeping the headlock cinched in. Wrenching on it hard, she finally releases him from the uncomfortable maneuver but it’s enough to keep him down and holding the side of his head and neck for at least a few moments. That’s all she needs to stand back up and begin to unleash quick stomps to his sides and his abdomen and sternum. After nearly ten seconds of consecutive stomps breaks off from her attack momentarily, standing over her opponent and looking down upon him with disgust in her eyes.

Holding both of her hands out, she extends both of her thumb and then adamantly points them downward before dropping to her knees and leaning forward, grasping him by the ears where she then picks his head up and then slams it down to the mat repeatedly. The process seems to be on a groundhogs day level of repetitiveness. When she finally relents you would think that she would have gone for a pin, but instead she just gets back to her feet and drags a dazed and wobbly Alessandro back up with her. The look in her eyes says she’s not done with him, not by a long shot.

JOHNSON: ”Well the Pride champion seems to be in a foul mood tonight.”

VASSA: ”I mean… she is friends with Phoenix. And Phoenix used to fuck Quagliaterre. She’s probably trying to make up for months of disappointment.”

JOHNSON: ”You say stuff like that because you think you can do better. But we both know you’d be finished faster than a Vossler championship run.”

Despite the look in Kimitsu’s eyes, Alessandro still has plenty of fight left in him and manages to shove Kimistu away from him before she can hurt him anymore. At least for the time being. When she comes back toward him he catches her with a stiff kick to the jaw that stuns her and stumbles her backward. Shaking his head, Alessandro does his best to regain his bearings and try to climb back into the match. Touching her jaw, Kimi glares at him and charges at him once more but he scoops her up as she does so and then slams her down to the mat with a sidewalk slam. He covers quickly but Kimi kicks out with defiance and slaps him hard across the face for even thinking that he might be able to get a victory that quickly over her. Alessandro leans back on his knees and touches his cheek where Kimi’s hand had connected, shaking his head before and shooting her some nasty side eye. A moment later he swung his leg over her and mounted her (not like he did Phe when she was busy hating her a cups but getting on all fours), blasting her with hard punches straight to the side of the head.

She covers up, trying to allow her arms to absorb the shots coming from her opponent but some still manage to sneak through. Knowing that she can’t stay like that for long, Kimi quickly rolls over into a position which Alessandro finds much more enjoyable. Laughing, he slapped Kimi on the backside causing her to yelp and squirm away from him, using the ropes to pull herself back up to her feet. Pure rage in her eyes, she charges at Alessandro looking to kill him. That seems to be exactly what he was hoping she would do, though, as he calmly sidesteps her aggression and takes her down with a drop toe hold before blasting her across the back of the head with a solid forearm. Quickly he’s back up, pulling her up to his feet with him and whipping her into the ropes. When she returns he ducks down and lifts her high up over his head, allowing her to fall freely back down to the mat with a perfectly timed back body drop.

Moving to the corner, Alessandro slowly climbs up to the top rope, taunting the fans in the front row as he does so. When he stands upright on the top turnbuckle he smirks, dabs, and then leaps from the top rope and crashes down into Kimi with a diving headbutt. As much as it seems to hurt Kimi, it certainly hurts him just as much as he rolls around the ring holding his forehead. For the time being the Pride champion and her opponent stay down, trying to recover from a massive diving headbutt from the top rope.

VASSA: ”He HAD to have learned that from Phe!”

JOHNSON: ”If Phe would have hit a headbutt like that she would have driven this entire arena straight to the center of the earth.”

VASSA: ”Yeah… I guess you’re right. That forehead is pretty humongous.”

Kimi gets back to her feet first, somehow, as Alessandro has crawled over to the ropes to slowly pull himself up. Quickly, Kimi charges at him but Alessandro ducks down and lifts her high over his head once more. Showing off her agility, Kimi lands deftly on the ring apron. When Alessandro turns around to survey the damage, Kimi wraps her arms around his head and drops down off of the apron, hanging him up using the top rope to crush against his windpipe. Stumbling away, Alessandro clutches at his throat, heaving deeply trying to suck as much oxygen into his lungs as he could possibly manage. Outside the ring Kimi recognizes her opportunity and quickly rolls herself back into the ring underneath he bottom rope. Coming up behind Alessandro she does a groin claw with both hands before suplexing him over onto his back. BALLSPLEX! Thinking she has the match won, Kimi dives across Alessandro and hooks the leg.









Glaring at Alessandro for kicking out, Kimi pushes herself back up to her feet and takes a few careful steps backward, never taking her eye off of Quagliaterre. As he starts to get back to his feet, Kimi snaps a kick to the inside of his knee that causes him to drop back down, leaning forward to clutch his knee to try and soothe the pain. It’s the moment that she’s looking for as she steps toward him.. BANZAI GOD KI-NO! Alessandro falls back onto his backside, leaving Kimitsu to swing and miss fully on the axe kick that she had aimed at the back of his head. She trips forward upon landing, catching herself with her hands on the top rope.

Back up to his feet quickly, Alessandro latches onto her shoulder and spins Kimitsu around toward him. Quickly he hoists her up onto her shoulders and then tosses her off, bringing his one upward to meet her face. BEDTIME! The crowd stares on, shocked, having thought that Kimitsu had the match put away after the Ballsplex had hit. Alessandro drops down to his knees, heaving a sigh of relief as he lays across Kimi’s body, hooking her leg as the referee slides in to count the pinfall attempt.









POWERS: ”Here is your winner by pinfall… ALESSANDRO QUAGLI… QUAGLIT… FUCK IT, PHE’S EX-MAN!!!”

Rolling himself out of the ring before the referee can even raise his hand to declare him the victor, Alessandro celebrates his win by holding his hands in the air and laughing, mixed in with some pointing and mocking at Kimitsu, who is just starting to come back to her senses and is looking around wondering what exactly had just happened. Realization sets in a few moments later and a look of disgust flashes across her normally steely expression.

JOHNSON: ”You’ve got to think that Kimitsu is going to feel like she let this one get away from her.”

VASSA: ”She had Alessandro in her sights, dead to rights really. But that’s the nature of the business. Sometimes it just isn’t your night.”

JOHNSON: ”No, but this is back to back matches the Pride Champion has come up short. Is her confidence going to be shaken heading into Winter Wasteland? Only time will tell. For now, we’ll be right back folks.”


The look of someone who has just shit their pants washes over Perry Wallace as a unhinged Dakota smith boots in the door to his office. Sitting behind his desk, and acting like a deer trapped in headlights, Wallace remains speechless as Dakota stomps into the room. The blood of Luke Jones still moist on Dakota’s flesh as he walks up the desk, leaning over and placing his fist down on top of it. Wallace was still at a loss for words, as he watches the blood drip off Dakota’s chest onto the papers he was just going over. With his eyes wide, almost like a wild animal Dakota stares daggers through Wallace. Then slowly a devilish, almost perverted grin grows on the Butcher’s face.

SMITH: ”Guess what Wallace?“

WALLACE: “Wha… What?”

Perry let out a gulp, clearly not expecting a visit from your friendly neighborhood rapist this evening.

SMITH: ”You’re going to give me Genie at Wasteland. Or did you happen to miss that crime scene I left out there in your ring? For three straight shows I have dominated every little maggot you put in front of me. Aloith…Boston – tho he got in his as well… And then poor little Luke Jones…Fed to the butcher like meat to the grinder. I painted the floor with that little maggot, dominated him each and every way… Made him my own little fuck toy. So there’s no question as to whether or not I deserve a shot at the XTV Championship at Wasteland “

Taking a deep breath and sitting back in his seat Perry gets a worried look on his face. Dakota however doesn’t flinch and inch – still just glaring at the man who he calls boss.

WALLACE: “Look I can’t ju-”

Dakota like a frog grabbing a fly shoots his arm out and grabs Wallace’s lips, making sure they stay shut as Wallace’s eyes go wide in fear.

SMITH: ”Shut the fuck up!“

Releasing Wallace’s lips the butcher continues speaking.

SMITH: ”That belt is going to need to be defended at Wasteland, and there is no one who has done more for this company, and that division than Dakota Smith. Genie needs an opponent, and I need another fucking victim. “

The butcher lets his arms relax a bit as he slides them off the desk and stands up straight, the intensity in his eyes mellowing a bit.

SMITH: ”I am the only man on the roster who deserves that spot Wallace, I know it… You know it… All these little fucking maggots know it! So book the fucking match. Before you say or do something that we both know you will regret. This isn’t me asking you Wallace… This is me telling you… Dakota Smith versus Genevie Carlson, Winter Wasteland, XTV Champion on the line… I’m already fucking hard.”

Turning his back on Wallace, Dakota exits the office, giving the man in charge no time to answer to his request. Perry sits at his desk looking rather confused, while also taking in some deep breaths of air trying to calm his nerves. He pats down the front of his pants – checking to make sure that he had not pissed himself as the camera cuts.

Following the matchup between Alessandro Quagliaterre and Kimitsu Zombie, Adrenaline viewers are directed to the backstage area, where they find Boston meandering the halls. His visage reflects a state of calm. There’s a new confidence in his steps, despite their slow rate of occurrence. He’s still in his ring gear, despite having finished his match for the evening- the one that ended with a bloody bludgeoning of “The Archetype” Cyrus Riddle. He’s sporting the type of wry grin that one could easily identify as a staple of horror movies. As he walks down the corridor with a blood spattered lead pipe tucked into the back of his black shorts, he spots the 4CW Champion, Bronx Valescence, walking in his direction for the second time that evening.

Earlier in the show, Bronx was fortunate enough to play witness to Boston’s humiliation, following Amber Ryan’s definitive and final rejection of the now clearly unstable individual. The scene was so pathetic that Bronx hadn’t been able to hold in his laughter. Boston had been calling the face of 4CW out since he’d returned to the company, and though it was just a simple annoyance to the champion, it was something that he’d rather not have to hear, much less deal with. Boston stopped and waited for Valescence to walk within ear shot. He sighed before widening his toothy smile to a glow.

BOSTON: “Hello.”

It was one of those situations where you saw someone you didn’t really want to see in public so you kept walking. Bronx stopped and looked over to Boston.

VALESCENCE: “Hello Boston…”

Bronx started to walk away, but then he stopped. Finally he walked over to the guy, looking down, trying to think of the words to say and then he shot up to Boston, nodding confidently.

VALESCENCE: “Look man, I get it. Shit has changed since you’ve been gone. And honestly? You could very well be in the position I am currently in. Champ, sixteen matches of the night under his belt, a hall of fame career in a little under a year. But you can’t just… keep doing this.”

He motioned to Boston sitting there calling after him, and then he jerked a thumb over his shoulder to note the deal with Amber Ryan earlier.

VALESCENCE: ”I’ve got a match coming up at Winter Wasteland, this was the same shit I harassed Manny over, you know? Worrying about every little backstage bother, worrying about whoever came up to him and started shit. Yet here I am, trying to solve your problems or give you some kind of… closure, I don’t even know what the fuck it is.”

Bronx was rambling.

VALESCENCE: “Look, what I am trying to say is. I’ve got to focus on Marquis–and Marquis alone. I can’t be worried about Boston. I can’t be worried about Dakota, I have to take care of what is in front of me first… and if that just so happens to be you in the near future?”

Now he smirked.

VALESCENCE: “I did it once. I’ll do it again.”

Boston nods with his right hand rubbing his chin, understandingly. His left hand is scratching at his back.

BOSTON: “Right. Right. Totally. I could be you, super famous, on top of the world, considered the best, but I’m not and you’d kick my ass- hold on.”

He reaches behind him with an expression of slight agitation, before he pulls the lead pipe from the back of his shorts, flakes of dried blood sprinkling the floor. He brandishes it somewhat, holding it prominently with both hands.

BOSTON:“I’m sorry, that was just terribly uncomfortable. But, right on, you have your match with Marquis, you do it up, rock star. Focus. Focus. Focus, focus, focus, focus. I’m focused, you should be focused too.”

He broke into an elongated chuckle that was as creepy as it was out of place.

BOSTON: “Am I right? The 4CW Champion needs to be focused! Man! Go get focused, Bronx. CONCENTRATE, for fucks sake! Can’t be worried about me, NO cause then you wouldn’t be focused, like Manny wasn’t! I get it, I was listening! I can’t be your focus!”

The last words in the sentence were accompanied by a stiff smack from the pipe to Boston’s own chest.

BOSTON:“Besides, I’m already focused! Finally, my head is where it’s supposed to be. It’s a fuckin’ glorious feeling, Bronxy V.”

Boston swings the pipe around in short circles.

BOSTON: “I apologize for all the rabble rousing, recently. I can be a real asshole. Go get focused on Marquis, who I already beat in a championship match if you need some pointers, annnnnd I’ll be here for whenever you’re free!”

He knocks the pipe against the wall a couple of times, creating an unsettling echo that reverberates in any direction, and then he lightly bounces the pipe from Bronx’s collarbone. Boston was rambling too…maniacally.

BOSTON: “CONCENTRATE! FOCUS! I like it. Go tune in on Marquis, champ. Don’t worry about me.”

Another bounce from the collarbone came in addition to what appeared to be a genuinely friendly smile.

BOSTON: “Not even a little bit.”

Bronx started to speak, but then he remembered what he just said about focusing. Pausing for a moment, he then nodded towards Boston.

VALESCENCE: “You need help.”

Shaking his head, Bronx walked away, adjusting the 4CW championship as he went.

The cameras appear backstage to Genevieve. Her XTV Championship secured around her waist. She looks down at the plate and sighs.

CARLSON: “I can’t say that tonight I’m not a bit disappointed. Not in my opponent. Bronx has so much passion for this business and it shows every week to the point it’s nauseating.”

She rolled her eyes and waved it off with her hand as she looked at the camera.

CARLSON: “No what I’m most disappointed in is that we are right around the corner from Winter Wasteland and everyone seems to be cowering in fear at the thought of facing me. I don’t have any other explanation for why nobody seems to be showing an interest in trying to dethrone me. Maybe it’s because they are scared after witnessing what I’m truly capable of.”

She grinned and brushed her hair over her shoulder in smug admiration for herself, before she narrowed her eyes.

CARLSON: “I know that’s all about to change though tonight. You see when I beat the 4CW Champion, all of you are gonna come crawling out of the crevices like the little cockroaches you are. Lining up because you want a shot at the bitch who beat Bronx this go around and you know what? I say bring it on. As the XTV Champion I am looking forward on creating a throne of all your broken bodies. I keep adding more to the pile every week, and tonight? My favorite piece is going to be put in place when I break the 4CW Champion, Bronx Valescence.”

She blew a kiss to the camera and then made her walk off camera. Her hands placed on the plate of the XTV Championship as she confidently strolled down the hallway as the scene faded to black.

“Star Boy” begins to play over the house speakers as the stage fills with smoke, and coming through the smoke with his arms out like an airplane is the resident 4CW Champion, Bronx Valescence. With his leather ring jacket pulled over his top, and his wrestling tights already on, he eases out on stage and then looks over the crowd with a smile on his face and then he bounces sideways down the ramp as he slaps hands and high fives before sliding onto the ring apron, wiping his feet he gets into the ring as he pulls a microphone out of the back of his tights as he looks around with a smile as he nods.

VALESCENCE: “You know, the last few weeks I’ve came out here. I’ve talked about my match at Winter Wasteland, I’ve talked about my opponent, but I can’t help but to think that these words are falling on deaf ears. I’m not trying to be like Vossler and making the show about me like he tries to do down on Octane.”

The crowd boos Vossler because he’s a titty baby, a “piss baby” chant breaks out when Bronx mentions his name. Bronx laughs and nods.

VALESCENCE: “No… I know you’re watching. I know some people in the back are watching. But are the people who NEED to be watching really paying attention? Because I don’t think so. Once again, I’m all by my lonesome trying to promote a pay-per-view. Once again, I’m out doing appearances, I’m mentioning how important it is for me to win every chance I get, yet I hear not a peep from the other side… I get it. Marquis wants to hold her ammo for the lead up to Winter Wasteland, and I completely understand that… I, for one, don’t need to do all of that. But it’s interesting, you know? Everyone wants to hold this belt…”

With that, Bronx took the belt off of his waist and held it up into the air with a big round of applause from the crowd.

VALESCENCE: “But nobody… wants… to… put… in the work. But I do. Each and every week, and you know? Part of me wishes that someone else would take this ball and run with it a while, but the last person who did… where is he right now? He couldn’t cut it. It would be nice because I would get to prove to you, I would get to prove to that locker room, and I would get to prove to the WORLD that no matter who has the belt… this company runs through ME!”

Bronx stared forward with the belt in the air.

VALESCENCE: “With or without the belt, I will LEAD this company into 2018. Not Marquis, not Genie, not ANYBODY in that locker room. The conversation starts and ENDS with me. And if you’re an old timer back there and that rubs you the wrong way? Deal with it, because you all dropped the ball, and I took it and I’m not only running with it but I’ve scored about sixty-nine Touchdowns in the process this season.”

He made the “Touchdown” meme come to life as he did finger quotes, for his father.

VALESCENCE: “People on the outside? They’ve told me that it’s only a matter of time before 4CW chews me up and spits me out, that it’s only a matter of time before the new flavor of the month comes along and knocks me off my pedestal. Well, bad news. It hasn’t happened yet, and it isn’t going to happen. Mark it down on your calendars, if I am not standing in this ring a year from now talking about how I make this company go around… then I am dead.”

Bronx looked down at the championship in his hand.

VALESCENCE: “And unluckily for Marquis, I’m not ready to see who else can run with the ball quite yet, and so she will have to pry this title out of my cold dead hands, because it isn’t going anywhere…”

Pointing his finger gun, Bronx flipped the mic behind his shoulder and it landed with a pop as he pulled the trigger as “Star Boy” came back to life and he exited the ring and back up the ramp.

Cutting to the back, we come across Anastasia Hayden, still in her street attire with a hoodie and jeans as she’s looking into the camera. Painted on her face is the usual cold, empty expression. Eyes void of any soul.

HAYDEN: “You know, I’d be lying if I said this match hasn’t been on my mind all week long. Normally I don’t fret over this kind of shit. I just show up, do what I do best, and walk away. But this one…this one I’ve been excited for. And it’s not even solely about Marquis, which, I know that must eat away at her. To not even be in my spotlight. It’s petty, yeah, but there’s a joy that comes with knowing that I’ll be putting my boot through the face of Bryan’s girlfriend.”

A playful, mocking wink to the camera from Ana.

HAYDEN: “I figure, hey, an eye for an eye, right? You try and take out someone I love…myself. And I’ll take out someone you care for. Fair trade, yeah? That’s what I look forward tonight, Marquis. Another night where it’s not about you. Another night where everyone else proves they deserve to be in your spot. You just want the glory with no work and that’s fine. Allow me to do that. I’ll help drag you to where you belong tonight.”

She shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly.

HAYDEN: “And then you’ll be off to Winter Wasteland, the biggest match of your career…and you’ll probably choke. Just like you’ll probably choke tonight. It’s what you’re good at and hey…no need to be ashamed of that. And if you think I have the tendency to drop the ball…what do you call your career? Cause if I’m looking back at the history books, comparing you to me…that’s a battle you’ll lose every time, Marquis.”

A small smirk breaks through for the first time on Ana’s face as she takes a step closer to the camera.

HAYDEN: “Which you’re used to by now. And I’m sure tonight won’t be any different. I know you’ll give me your all, you’ll fight so hard to beat this ‘shell’…but remember that you need me. I’m your one and only real test before Bronx. So if you wanna go, let’s fucking go. I want to see what you’ve got, Marquis. No more heroics, no more woe is me bullshit. I want a fight from Persephone Marquis. Can you do that for me?”

Tilting her head as if she’s waiting an answer, but after a few seconds, she steps back and laughs as she wears more arrogance on her face.

HAYDEN: “Cause if you can’t…don’t worry. I will. I always do. Every single night. I don’t need this win like you…but I want it. I want to watch you fail one more time. And I guarantee you one thing…when the night’s over? Whether you win or lose…my name will still outshine yours. People will be talking about me. But you know what’s most important of all?”

She takes a few more steps up to the camera, tapping the lens to get everyone’s attention.

HAYDEN: “I’ll still be better than you.”

Tossing her hands up, Ana shrugs her shoulders again.

HAYDEN: “Now if you’ll excuse me…I’ve got to get the people talking.”

Putting on a knowing smirk, Ana throws her hood back up, and exits the scene as we cut elsewhere in the arena.


JOHNSON: ”Exciting match coming up, and we still have a lot lot more for you all tonight! One of the more packed cards in recent memory, especially with Winter Wasteland coming up.”

VASSA: ”Indeed, we have two former Pride Champions about to face off in the ring. Honestly, this should have happened last year.”

JOHNSON: ”Bryan Williams will meet Chris Madison in the ring, in just a few short moments. These two certainly have been waiting a long time for this.”

VASSA: ”Chris Madison has a lot of history backing him up in this match tonight, I think Bryan is going to find he’s in over his head.”

JOHNSON: ”That could very well be true, but I wouldn’t count Bryan Williams out just yet.”

VASSA: ”Look, I get it. But this is Chris Madison we’re talking about. I just don’t like Bryan’s chances.”

The strong backing sound of the drums fills the arena, as “Lions Below” begins to play. With the song beginning it’s melodic tune, the crowd cheers for the arrival of Bryan Williams. The song quickly kicks in, the backing sample playing over and over as the lights turn down. Strobes going along to the beat of the song, the crowd quickly gets into the song as they wait for Bryan’s arrival. The song continues to play for a few more moments, the beat settling out into a flat section.

“Glad you’re gone

You’ll never hear me say

That I’ll need you here to watch me

Watch me walk away…”

The song quickly picks up again, as Bryan walks out from the back head held down low. The song continues to play, as Bryan stands on the top of the ramp. With his head down, Bryan holds up his right hand and extends his index finger. He holds it up momentarily, eventually beginning to walk down to the ring as the song continues.

POWERS: Coming to the ring from Los Angeles, California, weighing in at one hundred and ninety eight pounds! BRYAN WWIILLLLIIAAMMSS!!!”

Bryan makes his way to the ring, walking at a brisk pace towards the ring. He doesn’t waste much time getting into the ring, walking up the steel steps and climbing in through the top and middle rope. With a serious look on his face, Bryan stands in the ring waiting for his opponent.

JOHNSON: ”Bryan looks ready, but can he handle the challenge that’s about to be facing him?”

VASSA: ”It’s going to be more of a challenge, Bryan will be fighting for his life here tonight.”

The arena’s lights dim to black as the opening guitar riffs to “War Machine” by KISS begin to screech over the P.A. system. The video screen lights up with visual static noise. Suddenly in the center of the screen a black handprint begins pulsating to the beat of the drum that has began to play. A spotlight shines on the entrance ramp and we see Chris Madison standing with his head bowed under a black towel, wearing an official licensed t-shirt that says, “Always Ready For War,” across the chest. He nods his head to the music and as the chorus breaks he rips the towel from his head and tosses it into the live audience, starting his way down the ramp toward, the ring.

“Better watch out ’cause I’m a war machine

Better watch out ’cause I’m a war machine”

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

JOHNSON: ”The fans giving Madison a warm reception here, I think it’s safe to say they got his back tonight.”

VASSA: ”Indeed, a guy like Chris Madison is hard to hate. He’s a winner, people like winners, Steve.”

Madison is soon interrupted though, as Cyrus Riddle tries to come out through the crowd! Security is already waiting for him though, keeping him away from Madison before this match starts! Chris looks heated, wanting to get into it with Cyrus as the two have to be kept apart. It takes a moment, as Cyrus is finally lead away from the ringside area. Madison, left fuming, gets into the ring so the match can start. He stares a hole into Bryan, clearly frustrated by the events that have just taken place here tonight.

JOHNSON: ”Okay, let’s all calm down here. Cyrus Riddle trying to get involved with this match before it even starts!”

VASSA: ”Thank goodness security was there, otherwise we may be looking at a different situation right now. Chris Madison doesn’t seem happy about it though.”

JOHNSON: ”No he doesn’t, he looks really pissed off.”

VASSA: ”This is not going to go well for Bryan. Look at him!”


Madison looks to take his frustration out on Bryan, as the bell rings. Bryan looks to lock up, but Madison is having none of it. Madison tries for a side headlock, but Bryan shoves him away. The two finally lock up, Bryan going for the side headlock attempt this time. Madison shoves Bryan away, who charges back at his opponent. Madison drags Bryan to the mat with an Armdrag, Bryan pops up to his feet but gets taken down yet again! He stays on his knees, watching as Madison tells him to bring it on!

Bryan gets back to his feet, he looks for another tieup but fakes Madison out. Instead he takes him down, dragging him down to the mat. Bryan quickly mounts his opponent, but Madison easily reverses and turns things around! He ends up in Williams’ full guard, raining down punches on him! Bryan does his best to cover up, as Laroy Jones steps in to stop the use of closed fists. Madison doesn’t seem to care much, already angry at Cyrus Riddle’s involvement before the match.

JOHNSON: ”Chris Madison is just teeing off on Bryan Williams right now!”

VASSA: ”Things are already not looking good for him!”

Madison quickly springs up, taking advantage of Bryan still being on the ground. He tries lifting Bryan up into a German Suplex, but Bryan rolls through it and onto his feet. He charges at Madison with a clothesline, but Madison ducks. Bryan keeps his momentum going, and hits the ropes. He rebounds and meets Madison in the middle of the ring, who catches him with a Northern Lights Suplex! The crowd cheers, as Bryan holds his back in pain, rolling to the outside. Madison looks to make a big opportunity out of this, he charges towards that side of the ring. Bryan quickly moves out of the way, as Madison stops himself in time to stay on the ring apron.

Standing on the apron, Madison watches as Bryan slides back into the ring. Madison is careful, slowly going through the ropes as he keeps his eye on his opponent. Bryan calls for another tieup, but suckers Madison with a kick to his stomach when he tries. Bryan quickly locks in a side headlock, but Madison sends him to the ropes. Bryan bounces back, knocking Madison down with a Shoulder Tackle! Madison flops to his stomach, as Bryan leaps over him and runs to the ropes! Madison pops back up, catching Bryan Williams with an amazing dropkick! Bryan falls to the mat, rolling towards the outside yet again. As he tries to recover Madison scouts the situation, he runs to the ropes, gaining momentum to run towards his opponent with a SUICIDE DIVE!


VASSA: ”Chris Madison just dove out of the ring! He wants this match real bad!”

Bryan and Madison crash hard onto the ground, as the surround Pittsburgh crowd cheers on! Madison quickly gets to his feet, looking very fired up. He grabs Bryan, trying to toss him back into the ring, but Bryan reverses and tosses Madison face first into the ring post! Madison hits hard, his head snapping backwards. Bryan quickly rolls him into the ring, but Madison gets to his feet. He plants Bryan into the ring with a Sit Out Spinebuster, holding him down for the pin!








Bryan kicks out easily, as Madison gets up to his feet. Bryan tries to get to a knee, but Chris push-kicks him back down to the mat. Bryan tries getting up again, as Chris lays into him with a right hand to his ribs. The attack is enough to stun Bryan, as Chris grabs him and tosses him into the nearby corner. A running Forearm attack stuns Bryan, as Chris backs up for another charge. He runs at full speed towards his opponent, but Bryan catches him with a boot to his face!

He tosses Madison into the corner, alternating head shots for body shots. Bryan throws his palm across Madison’s chest, a shot echoing out throughout the area, as Bryan follows that up with a slick Forearm Shot! Madison’s head is rocked backwards, Bryan lays into him again with another Forearm! Bryan goes to lift Madison up onto the top turnbuckle, but Madison shoves him away! Bryan charges towards his opponent, but Madison surprises him with a Overhead Belly to Belly Suplex into the Turnbuckle! Bryan crashes hard, landing awkwardly as Chris continues to pile it on. He lifts Williams up to his feet, and drops him to the mat with a Half Nelson Suplex! Chris quickly covers, taking advantage of his dazed opponent!








Bryan shoots his arm up, and Madison quickly locks in a side headlock. He wrenches away, getting up to a seated position as he pulls Bryan in closer. Bryan tries to move towards his right side, but Madison blocks it with his current body position. Bryan pushes his weight to the left, pinning Madison’s shoulders to the mat!





Madison kicks out, but it’s enough to break the hold. Bryan scurries backwards, trying to regain control in this match. Bryan gets to a knee, as Madison begins to carefully study his opponent. The two quickly stand back up, circling each other as they do. Bryan goes for another tieup, but it’s a fake as he tries to roll Madison up in a Schoolboy Pin! Madison rolls through, but sits up in time to eat a Shining Wizard from Bryan Williams! Madison rolls to the outside, looking a bit dazed from the shot. He goes to the nearby barricade, to catch his breath and recover somewhat. Inside the ring Bryan watches, backing up to the opposite side of the ring. He waits for a moment, rushing towards the ropes in front of him as Madison turns around. Madison doesn’t have much time to react, as Bryan Williams goes flying through the ropes with a SUICIDE DIVE!!

JOHNSON: ”Bryan returns the favor with a Suicide Dive of his own!”

VASSA: ”I wish it was off of a building…”

Both men lay on the outside, for a moment, trying to regain their composure. Bryan looks to get up, but seems to be having trouble doing so. Laroy Jones calls for both men to get back into the ring, as Bryan tries to do so. Chris Madison is up though, as he grabs Bryan’s leg and pulls him back to the outside. Madison ducks a right hand, and slams Bryan back first onto the ring apron! Bryan rolls off, grabbing onto the nearby barricade for support. Madison wastes no time, charging at him as he clotheslines him and himself into the crowd! Laroy Jones has no choice but to start counting!

Madison pops back up, the crowd cheering as he does. Madison quickly hops over the barricade, rolling into the ring and back out to restart the count. The Pittsburgh crowd is very vocal now, as Bryan Williams staggers back up to his feet. Madison rushes back to his opponent, who’s slips over the barricade. Madison grabs Bryan in a Front Chancery, but Bryan slips out. A right hand connects, and Bryan grabs his opponent. He swings Madison around, tossing him into the nearby ring apron. Madison lands hard, as the two men climb up onto the apron. It’s Bryan who grabs Madison into a front chancery, lifting him up and SUPLEXING HIM ONTO THE MAT BELOW!!


VASSA: ”Bryan Williams just suplexed Chris Madison to the outside, I don’t think that felt very good, Steve.”

Laroy Jones calls for both men to get back into the ring, but they stay on the outside after that brutal Suplex on the outside. He has no choice but to restart his count again. Neither man look like they’re about to move.

“One! … Two! … Three!”

Madison begins to stir, but Bryan Williams stays down on the outside. Madison takes in a few deep breaths, trying to get back to his feet.

“Four! … Five! … Six!”

Madison gets up to a knee, and Bryan finally starts to stir. The crowd becomes relieved, as Madison gets up to his feet. He rushes towards the ring, sliding under the bottom rope as Laroy Jones continues his count!

“Seven! … Eight! … Nine!”

Madison watches as his opponent stirs, the crowd becoming elated that Madison might win this match! But at the last possible second Bryan shoots up, and slides under the bottom rope. He looks out of it, having used all of his energy to avoid a possible countout! Madison looks disappointed, scooting back into the corner as he tries to recover as well. He takes a few deep breaths, and uses the second rope to pull himself back up, much to the crowd’s delight!

Madison gets Bryan back up to his feet, pulling him into a Double Underhook. He brings his knees up, catching Bryan over and over much to the crowd’s pleasure. Madison finishes the onslaught with a Butterfly Suplex, as Bryan is slammed to the mat. Madison keeps his pressure up, picking his opponent back up to his feet. Chris lays into him with a European Uppercut, and clobbers him with a HEADBUTT! Bryan falls to the mat, as Madison quickly covers him!








Bryan kicks out, much to the crowd’s surprise! Madison stays focused, slapping the mat to get the crowd behind him. They clap away, keeping the beat as Madison nods his head to it. He gets back up, watching as Bryan tries to recover. Bryan staggers up, backing up into the corner as Madison charges him. Bryan suddenly recovers, a Superkick catches Madison in mid-stride! Madison goes on wobbly legs, as Bryan lifts him up into the Fireman’s Carry position. Quickly snapping him over, he connects with the Neckbreaker over his Knee!

JOHNSON: ”What a move by Bryan Williams there. He might be getting this match under control.”

VASSA: ”I doubt that, he can’t seem to keep Madison down for long.”

Bryan looks focused, getting back up to his feet as Madison tries to get to his. He crawls on his hands and knees, using the nearby ring rope to pull himself back up. Bryan steps towards his opponent, attempting a Rolling Elbow that Madison sees coming! He ducks, connecting with a European Uppercut that staggers Bryan backwards! Madison lifts Bryan up onto his shoulders, in the Electric Chair Position. Quickly dropping him down, Madison grabs him into a BRIDGING GERMAN SUPLEX! END GAME CONNECTS!! Laroy Jones quickly makes the count!





Bryan gets his foot on the bottom rope!

Madison looks distraught, having thought the match was won. Madison looks on, catching his breath as the Pittsburgh audience again begins to cheer for him!

Madison uses that energy to fuel himself, he gets back to his feet as Bryan tries to get back up. Madison lifts Bryan to his feet, several Forearm shots slam into the face of Bryan Williams. That seems to fire Bryan up, who connects with a shot of his own! A quick Rolling Elbow knocks Madison backwards, up near the corner. Bryan charges Madison, but Madison tosses him into the corner with an OVERHEAD BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX! Bryan lands hard on his head, getting back up to his feet. Madison quickly grabs him, pulling him into a Muay Thai clinch. He connects with an elbow, as Bryan looks to throw one of his one. When he does Chris jumps up and locks in the FLYING ARMBAR OUT OF NOWHERE!!

JOHNSON: ”Flying Armbar!”

VASSA: ”Bryan has to tap! He’s got nowhere to go!”

The Pittsburgh crowd goes nuts, as the Armbar gets locked in! Bryan looks to be in shock, trying to pull away the hands of Chris Madison! He struggles with the hold, but Madison is not giving up any time soon!


The crowd cheers Madison up, but Bryan does not tap. He tries to calm himself, getting his feet to a base as he uses his other hand to pull his arm closer to his body. Bryan gets his right knee under him, using it as a base to lift himself up. Madison keeps the hold on tightly, but Bryan is able to pick him up into a Powerbomb position! Bryan tosses Madison into the nearby corner, the Powerbomb breaking the hold! As Madison falls to his feet, Bryan connects with the RAGING DEMON! The backfist connects, as Bryan follows up with the Bicycle Knee! Madison falls to the mat as Bryan covers him!








Madison kicks out, the fans erupting as Bryan argues with Laroy Jones over the count! He thinks it was three, but Jones informs him it was two! Bryan slaps the mat in frustration, shoving Madison back down as he tries to get back up. Madison attempts to, but Bryan connects with a Shining Wizard. Madison falls to his knees, as Bryan quickly scurries up the corner.

Bryan leaps off the turnbuckle, towards his opponent. In one fluid motion he attempts a Double Stomp off of the turnbuckle, but Madison turns the attempt into a Back Body Toss! Bryan flies through the air, before crashing hard to the mat! Madison grabs onto the corner, trying to get himself up as the crowd cheers him on! Bryan holds his back, pulling himself into a nearby corner. As he pulls himself up, he turns to see Madison charging at him. A big running Forearm lands perfectly, as Bryan stumbles out of the corner. Madison quickly lifts him up, placing him into a Ripcord position. He pulls back, looking for the Comatosed, but Bryan ducks and rolls Madison up for the pin!








Madison kicks out, but Bryan has fully recovered. He gets to his feet, shooting a Superkick to the face of Chris Madison before he can get back up. Madison stumbles into Bryan’s grasp, who puts him into the Front Chancery, Bryan lifts Madison up but Madison connects with a knee strike causing Bryan to drop him to the mat! Bryan looks a bit stunned, as Madison clobbers him with a brutal right hand! Madison drops him again, and looks towards the turnbuckle. The crowd starts to sense something coming, as Chris Madison looks to end this match right now! He gets to the top, but Bryan gets back up to his feet! He rushes up towards Chris, as the two come crashing down to the mat from a TOP ROPE EXPLODER SUPLEX!

JOHNSON: ”A big suplex from Bryan Williams sends Chris Madison crashing to the mat!”

VASSA: ”I don’t even think Chris saw that one coming!”

The two men lay on the mat, tired from the brutal match that has led them here. Bryan tries to get back to his feet, but surprisingly Madison attempts the same! The crowd cheers, as Madison struggles to pull himself back up to his feet. Bryan gets to his, pulling Madison up as he does. Bryan sends forearm after forearm into the face of Chris Madison, but Madison responds with one of his own! Bryan staggers backwards, as Madison quickly charges him. Bryan recovers, another Superkick sends Madison to dream street! Before Madison can fall, Bryan grabs him and goes for the CTE!

Bryan lifts Madison into the air, but Chris is able to escape and turn it into the PERUVIAN NECKTIE!! He takes Bryan down into a Guillotine choke, quickly stepping over into the move. The crowd can’t believe it, as Bryan is trapped into the choke hold! Madison does his best to choke the life out of Bryan, the crowd cheering Madison along as he pulls back on the hold!


VASSA: ”Oh man that’s in tight! Wait, I think -”

Madison can’t believe it, as Laroy Jones steps in to break the hold! Bryan got his foot on the bottom rope, just in the nick of time! Madison lets go of the hold, as Bryan struggles to catch his breath. There is a moment, Madison talks to Laroy insisting that he felt a tap from Bryan! Laroy brushes that off, telling Chris that the match continues! Bryan, still struggling to recover, slowly gets up to a knee. Chris looks at him, and takes a deep breath.

Suddenly, Madison starts unloading shots at Bryan Williams! A forearm connects, followed by another! The crowd cheers, watching as Bryan is backed into the corner by Chris Madison! Bryan tries covering up, as Madison just continues to level him with forearm after forearm! Madison quickly stops, grabbing Williams and tossing him across the ring with a T-Bone Suplex! Bryan lands hard, trying to get back up to his feet before Madison can capitalize. Chris sprints across the ring, as Bryan connects with a sharp elbow to the side of his head! Madison stumbles backwards, and retaliates with a TORNADO BICYCLE KICK!!! Bryan crashes to the mat, hard, as Madison falls on top of him for the pin!








Madison, struggling to get back up, grabs Bryan as the two get to their feet. Madison tries to lift Bryan up into the Electric Chair position, but Bryan fights back! Another elbow lands, as Madison grabs his arm. Pulling Bryan into a ripcord, he goes for the Comatosed but Bryan DUCKS! Bryan connects with the Spinning Backfist, putting Madison out for a loop! His legs look to buckle, as Bryan goes to lift him up for the CTE yet again. Madison reverses, floating over behind Bryan! He wraps him up, but Bryan rolls forward into a PIN!

Chris Madison immediately kicks out, allowing Bryan to catch him with a SUPERKICK! Madison still looks to have some fight left in him, as Bryan connects with ANOTHER SUPERKICK! There is no time to waste, as Bryan grabs him and lifts him up for the CTE! IT CONNECTS! Bryan moves as quick as he can, working his way over towards Madison as he covers him for the pin!









POWERS: ”Here is your winner, BRYAN WWIILLLLIIAAMMSS!!!”

JOHNSON: ”Oh WOW! What a match we’ve just seen here, Bryan Williams takes it after a brutal back and forth contest. I can’t believe it!”

VASSA: ”You can’t? I CAN’T! Chris Madison looked unstoppable out there tonight, what a performance by him!”

JOHNSON: ”Indeed, Bryan looked to just barely get by with a victory here tonight. Hats off to both of these men.”

‘Lions Below” begins to play, as Williams rolls off of Madison. The two men lay in the middle of the ring, a tough match that had just taken place. Bryan gets to a knee, as Madison slowly gets back up. He curses, looking up at Bryan. The two nod, as Bryan extends his hand. Madison accepts, a quick handshake as he leaves the ring. The crowd cheers him on though, a fantastic display here tonight!

JOHNSON: ”This crowd is showing their support for Chris Madison. He definitely proved that he is one of the bests in this company tonight.”

VASSA: ”Bryan might eat his words later tonight, Chris Madison had his number all night long.”

JOHNSON: ”Indeed, you have to wonder what might have happened if Cyrus Riddle hadn’t gotten involved before the match. A focused Chris Madison would have put Bryan Williams away for sure.”

VASSA: ”No doubt about it in my mind.”

Still recovering from the match, Bryan Williams is using the ropes to pull himself up as the crowd cheers him on. He’s grateful for the applause, but the cheers soon turn to boos much to Bryan’s confusion. As soon as he turns around, a hooded figure comes charging in and blasts Bryan right in the face with their boot. The hood’s come off the figure and it’s none other than Anastasia Hayden standing over the downed Bryan Williams. Still in her streetwear, Ana steps back, yelling at Bryan to get back up, and as soon as he does, she returns the favor from last week as she drops him with a superkick.

Not done yet, Ana’s letting her anger out as she’s yelling and cursing at the downed Bryan Williams; tensions only growing worse between the two. Ana begins putting her boots to Bryan and takes her jacket off, using it to start choking Bryan with. Various ring crew members and referees rush into the ring and pull Ana away from Bryan. Seemingly finished, Ana backs away as they check on Bryan, yelling that she’s good, but as soon as they turn away from her, she rushes right back in to get a few more stomps in and spitting onto Bryan before being hauled off again.

JOHNSON: ”A vicious attack by Anastasia Hayden on Bryan Williams!”

VASSA: ”This is getting bad, are they getting her away? Keep her away!”

JOHNSON: ”I think Bryan might be hurt, she definitely just did a number on him.”

VASSA: ”Come on Ana, that isn’t cool!”

The second time around, she seems much more content with her actions and backs away from the scene. As the crew checks on Bryan, he pushes through, trying to walk toward the ropes, but collapses, resting on the second rope, and glaring right up at Ana. There’s no emotion on her face as she shoots daggers right back at him before she acknowledges the camera and says she’s only getting started tonight.

JOHNSON: ”I don’t think these two are finished with each other!”

VASSA: ”No way, not by a longshot. A message was sent tonight, Steve. Don’t fuck with Ana Hayden.”

Restless, that was the look on the Butcher’s face as he paced back and forth in what looked to be a boiler room. Do arenas still have boiler rooms? Well this one does, and there was a very twitchy maniac inside of it. He was mumbling under his breath, the blood from his earlier match with Luke Jones, now dried to his chest and face. He hadn’t bothered washing it off, and as sweat dripped down his face it got a red hue to it.

The camera was keeping its distance, as it usually does when The Butcher is in one of his moods. This isn’t the first time we’ve seen something like this, and from the way things are going I’m sure it won’t be the last. But never the less the man you maggots called Dakota Smith grew a snarl on his face. It was as if he was arguing with himself, or at the very least not accepting whatever nonsense he was spewing to himself.

SMITH: ”What….What am I to do? What… am I… to do. The violence it isn’t over. It’s never over. The maggots they scream in my mind for more. Luke Jones was just the beginning, Luke Jones was just… A starter.”

Dakota’s head rolls around his shoulder as he lets out a cackling, maniacal fit of laughter. It starts out loud, just laugh after laugh until there is no more breath in Dakota’s lungs. He stumbles backwards against the wall of the room and lets his tongue run around his depraved smile as his hand slowly runs down his body.

The butcher reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone – which may be the oddest thing in this scenario. Have we ever seen the butcher with a phone? I mean… He’s on twitter so he must have a phone. Anyway, moving on. The smile slowly leaves his face as he stares at the screen, his breathing was heavy but whatever he was looking at seemed to be calming him down.

SMITH: ”I don’t deserve you, But I will… I will soon. Motions are in play, and the tornados are going. There’s no way to know which way the winds are blowing, but I swear to you the reaper man is mowing. And everyone who ever doubted the butcher, there brains will be exploding. For I am the all knowing… STOP!”

Dakota shoves the phone back into his pocket, before beating the back of his head up against the wall. He then pushes himself away from the wall and marches towards the door the camera was peeking through. As he swings the door open, he isn’t surprised by the camera. Just giving it a very low growl before pushing past it.

SMITH: ”There’s something I have to do.”

The camera scrambles to follow him, but decides it just be best to let him go about his way as we switch back to ringside.


POWERS: ”The following contest is a Champion verses Champion showcase match and is scheduled for one fall…”

The beginning beat of “Killing You Hoes” by Trina begins to play as the lights dim, only white and pink lights shine move out over the crowd.

“Ah ah ah yep yep yep

The baddest bitch is back,

I’m back part 2, part 2

I’m reloaded and I’m killin you hoes”

Genevie appears from behind the curtain with a smirk on her face as she looks around the crowd, drinking in the boos. The XTV Championship attached around her waist as she does her signature stripper dance, twirling around as she shakes her ass. She completes a rotation as she bites her lip and winks at the crowd making her way down the ramp. Removing the belt from her waist as she does.

POWERS: ”Coming to the ring from Boston, Massachusetts, weighing in at one hundred thirty-six pounds, she is ‘THE BOSTON GENIE’ and Your XTV CHAMPION… GENEVIE CCAARRLLSSOONN!!!”

“I don’t care what a bitch think or how a hoe feel

Cause ain’t nann one of you hoes payin my bills

And ain’t nann one of you hoes fina buy me a crib

And ain’t nann one of you hoes fina get me a whip

I know I must make a lot of ya’ll hoes sick

And all I can tell you hoes, get used to it bitch!”

Genevie carries her head high as she walks down the ramp with confidence, rubbing XTV Championship as she walks down the ramp. As the song plays she walks around to the side of the ring, She sits her belt on the apron before she herself hops up.. She adjusts her SnapBack as she blows the fans a kiss before picking up her title and holding her title up high, listening to the boos get louder. This only makes her smirk grow wider as she climbs through the middle ropes clutching the title close to her chest, and standing up in the ring as she holds her belt up high mouthing the words “BOW DOWN.”

“And don’t you cross that line cause I get hot quick

And if you do it’s gonna be me & u up in this bitch

And I’m gonna show you why they call me the baddest bitch”

She does one final twirl to show off her ASSETS, rolling her eyes at the jealous fans boos as she goes over to the ropes and leans against them, checking her nails as the referee comes over and she dismisses him to get away from her because he is a peasant and she is The Princess. He backs off and she just continues to smirk as the music dies down, before then walking her belt over to the referee and placing it into his hands, lecturing him about not putting a scratch on it.

JOHNSON: ”FINALLY! The match we’ve been waiting months to see has come about.”

VASSA: ”Haha… I thought you were gonna say finally your favorite pair of tiddies is back out here.”

JOHNSON: ”Well that too… but this is a match we’ve been waiting seemingly ages for. It’s one we expected to see in the finals of the South Beach Brawl Cup. But alas, it wasn’t to be.”

VASSA: ”No it wasn’t. But I’m sure Genie will look to assert herself tonight, just like she did the last time she and Bronx were in a ring together. It was nearly a year ago now but she, and her Royal Family counterparts Tara Davidson… err… Michaels, and Eli picked up a pinfall victory over Bronx and his Generation Now cohorts.”

JOHNSON: ”Oh how times have changed.”

VASSA: ”And how Sweeties have left and gone astray.”

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 pulls his ring jacket back to reveal the 4CW Championship around his waist, he continues down the ramp, a smug grin on his face as he slaps hands with hands on either side of the ramp, occasionally pointing at the belt and talking trash.

POWERS: “Making his way to the ring from Portland, Oregon, weighing in at two hundred and five pounds… He is the 4CW champion… 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. Pulling his title belt off with one hand, he opens 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, waiting for the referee to come over and take his title.


While the referee comes over and takes the championship belt from Bronxy, he hands it through the ropes to the timekeeper for storage right alongside the XTV Championship while the fans still continue to chant his name. Nodding his head, he smiles as he points to himself and the cheers only get louder.

JOHNSON: ”Love him or hate him, you can’t deny that Bronx Valescence has had a huge impact on the wrestling world in twenty-seventeen, and that he’s developed an even bigger following.”

VASSA: ”They can chant his name all they want but he said it himself. Standing across the ring from him is a killer and if he isn’t careful, she’ll take his head off just like she’s done to numerous people in the past.”

JOHNSON: ”But there’s a reason Bronx has stayed on top of the world, even after losing the 4CW Championship to Manny. He takes every single match seriously. This isn’t the Bronx from the twenty-sixteen South Beach Brawl cup who chose to forfeit because of a toe injury. He needs to be wary, yes, but so does Genie Carlson. Because just like Bronx, she’s standing across the ring from a proverbial killer as well.”

Staring across the ring at her opponent, Genie waits patiently for the match to begin as the referee examines her for any foreign objects just like he had done to the 4CW Champion a moment earlier. With a smirk on his face, Bronx stops pointing at himself and instead points two finger guns in Genie’s direction. As he does so, the chants of the fans change from his name to something entirely different.


Shrugging his shoulders, Bronx motions with his hands that he wouldn’t mind for her to do so. Seeming to consider it for a moment, Genie reaches up to grab the bottom of her top, looking around to see if everyone else would approve. The predominantly male audience grows louder, anticipating that she might do what they were asking her to. But then, much to their chagrin, Genie’s hands extend forward and both of her middle fingers shoot up in the air, fully rejecting Bronx and the crowd at the same time.

JOHNSON: ”Felt something starting to stir there. But then, like a thousand voices crying out in the darkness, but suddenly being silence. It was gone.”

VASSA: ”Haha! This match is going to be LITTIDDIES!!!”


At the sound of the bell Genie and Bronx are out of the gate like it’s the start of the Kentucky Derby and they’re both horses favored to win. Of course, Bronx probably doesn’t mind being compared to a horse in some regards. Genie, on the other hand, probably doesn’t like that. But the point is that the match starts fast and furious. Bronx clearly has the idea in his head that he’s going to show that he can outwrestle Genie but at every turn she continues to shut him down. When he goes in for a tie up she slips free of it and brings a knee up into his abdomen that makes him regret doing so. When he goes for a take down she stuff it and drops an elbow down across the back of his head, making him regret that choice as well. And so after the initial exchanges fail to give him any inroads or advantages, Bronx backs off to his own corner and looks at her curiously, like a puzzle he’s trying to figure out but isn’t sure where to begin with.

Deciding against trying to outwrestle her, Bronx changes his mindset and tries to turn it into a brawl and that plays into Genie’s strengths. He tries to meet her in the middle of the ring with a stiff kick to the stomach but she swats his foot away and then steps in close range and drives her forearm into his jaw, backing him back up to his own corner. From there Genie grabs the momentum of the match in her own two hands, stepping up to the middle rope and holding her fist up in the air before blasting Bronx across the face with ten consecutive punches. If it had been someone that the fans like a little bit more they probably would have counted right along with her. Instead, they simply boo her and do so loudly, which only makes her punch him in the head even harder. When she steps down off the middle turnbuckle, she backs away to let Bronx stumble forward toward her.

As he does so she meets him with another kick to the stomach, doubling him over, before taking his legs out from underneath him. She quickly picks him up onto her shoulders, struggling with his weight for a moment (not that Bronx is fat… although maybe he’s eaten one too many bloomin’ onions from outback), before slamming him down with an Alabama Slam. Bronxy’s head snaps off the mat hard, causing him to clutch at the back of his head and roll away from his opponent. This isn’t going the way he had intended for things to go from the start, but he needs to buy himself just a little bit of time and rolling away does exactly that. Genie allows him the time to roll away, even letting him use the ropes to pull himself back up. It’s clear from the way things are going that her confidence is only growing. Once he’s back up to a somewhat stable vertical base, Genie smiles at him and beckons him to bring it on. He obliges her, charging and swinging with a lariat that he clearly was hoping would connect and shift the tide of the match. It doesn’t. She ducks under it, steps through one step and doesn’t even wait to see if he turns around. She knows he’s going to and he does. As Bronx turns around he walks right into….


JOHNSON: ”Holy shit! This can’t be happening. She’s plucked that move right out of Eli’s old playbook and connected with it perfectly.”










The crowd sighs a massive sigh of relief but their beloved champion is still on the ropes and they’re not yet ready to sit back down. This wasn’t how this match was supposed to be going. It was supposed to be Bronx asserting himself at the top of the mountain. It was supposed to be Bronx easily swatting challenges from one of the ‘lesser’ champions away from him and basking in the glory of his eternal reign as 4CW Champion. But that wasn’t what was happening and the look in Genevie Carlson’s eye shows that she knows this is her night. The question Bronx had asked about which Genie he was going to get had already been answered, and she stands with the confidence of a woman who knows that she can’t be beaten on that evening. A near fall that on other nights might have frustrated her gets brushed off as no big deal as she stands and prepares to continue emphatically asserting herself in the match.

Dragging Bronx back up to his feet, she bullies him back into the corner once more and there lowers her shoulder and slams it over and over again into his abdomen. This isn’t about finding a way to climb back into the match at this point for Bronx. It’s about surviving an assault that he had tried to prepare for but really couldn’t have ever seen coming. Bronx manages to shove her away from him for a brief moment but when he tries to press the action and take the attack to her she simply grabs him by the back of the head and deposits him through the ropes to the outside of the ring where he crashes down to the floor and then comes to a resting place laying against the security barrier. Laughing, she points down out of the ring at Bronx before taking off toward the opposite ropes at full speed. As she rebounds, Bronx begins to push himself back up to his feet just in time to see Genie throw herself between the middle and top ropes, crashing into him with a suicide dive that slams him back into the barrier and leaves both of them sprawled out on the floor.

“One! … Two!”

Carlson gets back up to her feet first and takes a handful of Bronxy’s curly, vidal sassoon hair, and sends him head first into the steel steps that are a few feet away. He crashes into them roughly, knocking them over onto their side before tumbling across them and down onto the floor. Quickly, Genie hops up onto the ring apron and takes off at a sprint, jumping over the steps and crashing into Bronx with a senton.

“Three! … Four!”

Rolling off of him, she once more gets back to her feet and helps Bronx back up with her before lifting him up in the air as much as she can, dropping him down stomach first across the security barrier. Letting him rest their for a moment, Genie plays to the crowd that has no interest in showing her support, respect or anything other than sheer, utter hatred as they reign boo’s down upon her.

“Five! … Six!”

Somehow, even after the relentless assault at the hands of Genevie Carlson, Bronx still doesn’t just lie down and let defeat wash over him. Even as the discomfort continues to radiate through his ribs and abdomen, he rocks back off of the security barrier and begins to fight back up to his feet. That’s all fine and well with Genie, though, as she’s perfectly content to continue to beat the living crap out of him as long as he’s going to let it go on without too much resistance. As he stands, using the support of the barrier to assist him, Genie moves in his direction and lashes a wicked knife edged chop to his chest before grabbing him by the back of the head and spiking his face off of the top of the barrier.

“Seven! … Eight!”

Paying little attention to the referee, Genie again grabs Bronx by the back of his head and slams his face off of the barrier two more times, allowing him to stumble away after the second as the referee catches her attention.


Genie quickly rolls herself back into the ring to break the count of the referee before rolling back out. As she rolls back out and turns her attention back to her opponent.



VASSA: ”Oh boy folks, Steve has started to talk like the Rainman.”


VASSA: ”If he says he’s gotta watch Wopner next, I quit.”



The referee was indeed counting to ten once more and just before he got there, Bronx managed to get back up to his feet first and grab Genie, rolling her back into the ring and following suit as well. The action has now slowed down from the pace it was once at, with Genie down inside the ring and Bronx resting, leaning against the turnbuckle pads in a corner trying to catch his breath and reset. He pushes himself out of the corner as Genie gets back onto her hands and knees and slowly crawls across the ring, reaching out toward the ring ropes to try and pull herself back up. Bronx isn’t about to let that happen, though, taking the opportunity to try and roll her up into a pinning predicament and steal the match. With both of her shoulders down, the referee slides in and begins to count.








Genie manages to get out of the pinning predicament before the three could fall, rolling over to the ropes and trying to pull herself back up. As she does so, though, Bronx again closes in on her and brings an arm up between her legs, pulling her back down to the mat with another roll up attempt. The temptation to pull her tights for extra leverage is there but he doesn’t use it as the ref once more drops down to count the pinning predicament.








Once more Genie kicks out, this time fully getting back to her feet, adrenaline rushing through her body having kicked out of two quick pinfall attempts. Bronx rushes toward her and connects with a hard forearm to the side of the head but Genie fires back with a kick to the outside of his knee that drops him down to a kneeling position. Sensing opportunity, she takes off towards the ropes and rebounds off of them, coming back at full speed behind Bronx, Somersaulting and latching onto his neck as he does so. #BOWDOWN! The somersault cutter spikes Bronx’s face off the mat hard. Quickly, she rolls him over onto his back and hooks the leg for the cover as the referee slides in to count once more.








Even after the kickout Genie is still on the same mission as she’s been on since the match started. All of the momentum is in her favor as she backs up to the nearest corner, motioning with her hand for Bronx to get up as he slowly rolls over onto his stomach, coughing a few times before he started to push himself up onto hands and knees, unaware that he’s giving Genie exactly what she wants from him.


VASSA: ”I… I can’t believe what I’m actually watching right now. There’s no way..”

JOHNSON: ”The Stiletto Kiss is on its way. It’s coming Vinny. IT’S CO-“

“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. Dakota Smith pushes his way out of the curtain, a look of disgust, and anger on his scarred face.

VASSA: ”What the hell is he doing out here?!”

JOHNSON: ”He’s not kept it a secret that the XTV Title is what he’s got his eyes set on, especially not tonight. And with Winter Wasteland just a few weeks away, what better way to make a statement than this?”

Genie hears the music but she’s been through this before. Wallace has screwed her out of a victory before with the same stunt and so she doesn’t even glance up the entrance ramp. As Bronx pushes himself fully up on his hands and knees, she steps out of the corner toward him, leaps in the air, presses the back of her foot to Bronx’s face and slams it down straight into the mat. STILETTO KISS! The crowd, whose attention had been turned to the top of the ramp where Dakota was standing, is drawn back by the sound of the impact. Simultaneously they all gasp as they watch Bronx flop over onto his back, lifeless, and Genie drops down to her knees and confidently presses Bronx’s shoulders down to the mat, hooking the leg.



And nothing happens.



It takes a moment for Genie to realize she doesn’t hear the referee’s hand slapping the mat. Looking around in a panic, she spots the referee standing up and looking up the ramp uncertainly at the Butcher, who has a rather devious smirk on his face. Furious, Genie stands up and spins the referee around, pointing the fallen 4CW Champion and screaming at him to do his job. Completely aware of what’s happening now, the referee drops down as Genie once more lay her arm across Bronx’s chest, pressing his shoulders down and hooking the leg. The crowd desperately implores Bronx to get up as the scene unfolds before their eyes.









JOHNSON: ”Look at the rage in Genie’s face! Pure, unadulterated rage. She had this match WON!”

Slamming her fists down into the mat, frustration finally breaks through and runs rampant as she stands up, screaming at the referee and shoving him down to the mat. From his backside he warns her not to make another move or he’ll disqualify her, which only unleashes a swarm of vulgarities in his direction before Genie finally looks up the entrance ramp to where Dakota Smith is standing, still watching on. She turns to look back at Bronx, who is still in the same spot she had left him. Comfortable with that, she turns back to Dakota and motions for him to bring it on too if he wants some. Bouncing on her toes she implores him further, screaming at him to bring his ass down to the ring.

JOHNSON: ”All hell is about to break loose here, folks.”

VASSA: ”If Dakota Smith comes down to this ring who knows what’s going to happen. We saw what he did to Luke Jo-HERE HE COMES!”

Finally giving into to Genie’s beckoning, Dakota begins to pace down the entrance ramp in the direction of the ring. He gets about halfway down before coming to a halt, a wide sadistic grin appearing on his face before holding up his hands and saying not right now. Waving her off, he turns his back to her and begins to walk back up the entrance ramp. Shaking her head, Genie shouts that he’s a pussy before turning back around to return her attention to Bronx.

JOHNSON: ”Thank God that situation got defused qui-“


Indeed he had, just as Genie turned back around. The crowd immediately stood up on their feet, exploding in a mass of cheers as Bronx sprinted toward her, grabbed her around her neck, and flipped. VALESCENCE’S VICTORY! Her head spikes off the mat roughly and Bronx wastes no time in quickly covering her and hooking the leg. It’s pure pandemonium as the crowd loses its mind and counts along with the referee, who slides in in a timely fashion to count the pinfall.









POWERS: ”Here is your winner by pinfall… the 4CW Champion… BRONX VVAALLEESSCCEENNCCEE!!!”

At the top of the entrance ramp Dakota claps as he looks on. Bronx sits up, a look in his face that says he knows he stole one as he raises his arms in the air victoriously!

VASSA: ”We’ve seen Bronx be tested before. We’ve seen him go through some absolute wars. But never, and I mean never, have we seen him as overmatched as he was here tonight.”

JOHNSON: ”It’s true and yet in the end, it’s him chalking up another W beside his name and Genie going home disappointed.”

VASSA: ”You’ve got to imagine that she’s going to be a… WAIT WAIT! HERE COMES DAKOTA AGAIN!”

The moment that Bronx rolls himself out of the ring and stumbles over to the barrier, giving himself a moment to rest and celebrate with the fans, Dakota begins to stomp down toward the ring where Genie is just beginning to get back to her feet. Still not quite aware of her surroundings, she has no idea when Dakota slips into the ring and pulls her up by her hair. Holding both hands on either side of her head, he kisses her forehead before laughing maniacally, picking her up and tossing her across the ring and into the corner.

Genie slams off of the turnbuckle pads violently and nearly gets knocked down flat on her face from the impact. But instead she manages to steady herself, bracing with one foot and ignoring the pain shooting through her back before launching herself into the air at Dakota, catching him flush with a forearm to the jaw. He stumbles backward, bouncing off the ropes and stumbling back toward her only to have her spear him down to the mat and mountain, blasting him in the face over and over again with what seems like an endless stream of punches. She’s completely aware of what has happened now. Aware that Dakota cost her a victory in possibly the most high profile match of her career and she’s not going to stand for it. Overwhelmed, the butcher absorbs the blows. There’s nothing else he can do until finally Genie relents, standing and spitting at him before rolling out of the ring and over to the timekeepers table where the XTV title sits.

JOHNSON: ”Well that certainly doesn’t seem to have gone the way Dakota planned it.”

VASSA: ”No… but it doesn’t look like Genie’s done yet either!”

Indeed it doesn’t, as Genie slides back into the ring with the belt in her hands as Dakota is getting back up to his feet. She rushes at him and swings for his head with the XTV title but he falls down to his backside and quickly rolls out of the ring, away from her, where he begins to back up the entrance ramp. Moving to the ropes, Genie steps up onto the bottom rope and holds the XTV Title in the air, calling Dakota a pussy and telling him he’ll never be able to take the XTV Championship from her. Infuriated, Dakota slams his boot into the nearby security barricade, knocking part of it down flat, before turning back and pointing at Genie while threatening to come back down and get into the ring. He never fully makes it back in there, though, and instead retreats back up the entrance ramp for the time being. One last shot is given of Genie standing tall in the ring with the XTV Championship held over her head, and Dakota standing at the stop of the ramp scowling down at her is shown before the scene fades backstage.

Cameras went live backstage and that led to Gabriel Hartman who was with a welcoming smirk as usual when it came to Hartman seeing Hopkins due to the unique content he would get from Hopkins who most times would happily provide. Tonight was just that. Hopkins had draping over his Adidas black and white-striped tracksuit, an old “UNSTABLE” tee-shirt, newly bought. He showcased it to Hartman who sort of stood a bit confused but kept that smirk on his face.

HARTMAN: “I see you’ve brung something of a throwback. It’s not officially Thursday but I’ll accept. Is this where I’m supposed to guess why you’ve brought this?”

Hopkins shook his head, inquiring that Hartman didn’t need to.

HOPKINS: “Nothing to have to guess about, Gabriel. Just a nice little visual to take in a flashback that embraces the good times that were had between us, albeit it being short-lived as fuck. Oh, pardon my Ghetto-French! This means nothing towards tonight though…”

Hopkins uses both hands as he holds the shirt out briefly for a second or two more before pulling apart the shirt, ripping it into two. Hopkins dropped it to the floor and then proceeded to stomp on it.

HOPKINS: “See? Nothing! It means nothing because for what many label as possible Match Of The Night between former Unstable mates, it’s really just two hungry humans looking to shred each other apart. One more than the other. That one being me! Amber, I have all the respect in the world, I think I covered that fact but tonight isn’t going to be the night she was looking forward to. Real spit. I know she’s going to come with all the ammunition she can carry along. She’s been a bitter lemon all week. She says no one knows truly who she is as she’s only been here in 4CW for a short bit. Well I want to see what the hell else she got, Gabriel. Don’t you?”

Gabriel nods.

HARTMAN: “I think tonight would be the perfect timing to lay it all on the line for a shot to face Kimitsu Zombie!”

Hopkins clapped, agreeing completely with him.

HOPKINS: “I’m ready and waiting for your bag of tricks Amber. This could launch you to new heights, a win over a two-time 4CW Champion. It would definitely add prestige to your name. But its not happening darling. My hunger is much more aggressive than yours. You want it but you ain’t willing to DIE for it. You only get this opportunity once or twice in a lifetime to be an integral part of a Pay-Per-View that is in your backyard. I intend on seeing my name on the marquee in front of Kimitsu at the Barclay’s Center for the Pride Title. I want nothing more than to put on for the city that has raised me since birth.”

HARTMAN: “I wo–”

Hopkins snatched the mic right from Hartman, using his fingers to tell Hartman to move out of the picture. Hopkins took up the whole frame with the mic to his lips.

HOPKINS: “I’m going into that ring, when she arrives, that bell will ring. A respectful handshake will occur and then it’s on and popping. I’m literally going to spin her ass around in circles just by me moving in three-sixty. She won’t see anything coming, ill-prepared to defend and after she’s laid out on the mat, heavily-fatigued, I’m dropping down with full-on aggression as I plant an “L” on her chest. By the end of the match, Amber Jaye will be fragile. One-Ply tissue fragile. Weak with more questions than answers. I’m dissecting her from head-to-toe and she not gonna like that shit AT ALL!”

HOPKINS: “Maybe, maybe once she recoups up and gets better, she can aim her sights lower to the XTV Title and try and take on Genie because she not getting that Pride Title. Not now, not later, not ever! She had her chance. Pride Title will be mines come time and Kimitsu, she’ll respectfully disagree but down deep she knows that fate is looming. Games no longer will be played here tonight Hartman. You know why? Games are for those who sit at home, eating Chester Cheetos and leaving sticky-ass cheese prints all over their controllers. I’m not here for it! Plain and simple, she requested for the old Jair. THAT is what she’ll get!”

Hopkins backed off and pressed the mic hard into Hartman’s chest before walking off, leaving Hartman breathing a bit heavy. He looks back at the camera, a nervous smile showing.

HARTMAN: “Well thank you Jair for your thoughts!”

Giving the deranged, serial killer esque madman Dakota Smith more time on this broadcast. We cut to him to him somewhere in the backstage area. He is sat with is back up against the wall and his smile was that of someone who has lost his mind. He was laughing to himself, giggling if you will. Seemingly very happy at the actions that transpired not that long ago. He runs his hand through his beard, tugging on it as he lets out another disturbed cackle. His eyes rolled around his skull before focusing on the camera in front of him.

SMITH: ”What? Did you think I was just going to piss around at the bottom forever? Did you think I didn’t have a plan after I fell from grace at Fright Night? I’m on a pilgrimage of violence. And my first holy location is that XTV championship, it’s you Genie. I know you’re probably angry. You would probably spit in my face if you saw me right now. But I must let you know that everything that is about to transpire is not personal. I do not dislike, I do not hate you. In fact around these parts you’re about one of the last people I actually respect.“

Dakota tugs at his beard one more time before letting it go, his head leans back up against the wall behind his as he continues on with his maniacal laughter, as if a screw in his head has snapped in two. His eyes were beat and his teeth stained with a combination of his own blood as well as others. He gazed up at the lights above him, smiling from ear to ear. He let out a sigh, the laughter finally subsiding as if a weight had just been lifted of his shoulders. Slowly he returns his attention to the camera, running hand through his sweat drenched hair.

SMITH: ”But the way I feel about you… It won’t save you from The Butchers wrath. I won’t hold any punches just because you are married to my son, and are friends with someone I hold very dearly to me….But it still must me said that I do feel a tad bit sorry that it must be you. That you hold the thing to my redemption, But I will deal with that after I have painted that canvas with your blood. I will deal with how I feel about hurting you – after you are already hurt.“

Flicking the sweat off of his fingers Dakota leans forward, smashing his fists into the ground and pushing himself up to his feet. He stumbles a bit, the effects of his rampage still in effect. After finding a good footing he begins to walk down the hallway of the arena.

SMITH: ”I need this redemption you see… I need to for all the people that still put their faith in me. For all of those who still fear the butcher. Now Genie, I don’t think you fear me. How could you with the past that we have had. I remember when you were still a newborn pup in this company, and look at you now… One of the best that 4CW has to offer. But even as good as you are, It won’t be enough to stop what I put in motion. I won’t let her down Genie… I can’t“

Pausing for a moment, stopping his steps realizing he’s just slipped up a bit. Dakota lets out a deep hoarse cough, blood flying into his hand as he goes to cover his mouth. As he stares down at the blood in his hand he lets out another laugh – this time more prideful and less deranged. Dakota smears the blood along the wall as he continues on his path.

SMITH: ”This is going to be a war between us Genie, your pride won’t let it be anything less. You are going to come at me, and i’m going to enjoy every single moment of suffering you put me through – because I wouldn’t want you to do anything else. We may not always see eye to eye… But at the end of the day we both bleed 4CW, we both bleed to be the very best. I see your struggles, I see how hard you are trying to get out of Eli’s shadow…And you’ve done that – I don’t give a fuck what your last name is because you are the killer in front of me. And you are a killer Genie, you are cold and ruthless and that just makes me want to hear you scream even more.“

Dakota is nearing the exit of the building now, stopping before the doors leading to the parking lot. He places his hand on the door going to push it but stops, looking back into the camera one last time.

SMITH: ”We are both monsters Genie… We both have ruined lives…So at Winter Wasteland it won’t be man versus women, wrestler versus wrestler… It will be monster versus monster… One in broad daylight, and the other hiding behind lipstick and a tight ass.“

The butcher pushes through the doors as the camera cuts to ringside.


JOHNSON: “Back at ringside. You better buckle in for this one. One of the more underrated recent rivalries here in 4CW… Anastasia Hayden versus Persephone Marquis.”

VASSA: “It’ll be hard to keep it in my pants during this match, Johnson.”

JOHNSON: “Excuse me?”

VASSA: “You know how much I am a fan of the good graps!”

“Word up, son, word, yeah

To all the killers and a hundred dollar billers

For real, niggas who ain’t got no feelings

Check it out now”

The lighting in the building darkens a bit before the opening of “Shook Ones (Part II)” by Mobb Deep starts playing and the crowd begins to boo. As soon as the intro of the song finishes, Anastasia Hayden steps out from the curtains with her mouth guard hanging out. The negative reception doesn’t bother her as she stands at the top of the entrance, surveying the ring and the crowd before she pops the mouth guard back in and starts making her way down to the ring.

”I got you stuck off the realness, we be the infamous

You heard of us, official Queensbridge murderers

The Mobb comes equipped for warfare, beware

Of my crime family who got ‘nough shots to share”

POWERS: ”Making her way to the ring, hailing from Steele, North Dakota…weighing in at one hundred and twenty-eight pounds…she is the ‘GRAND DUCHESS’… ANASTASIA HHAAYYDDEENN!!!”

”Rock you in your face, stab your brain with your nose bone

You all alone in these streets, cousin

Every man for they self in this land we be gunnin’

And keep them shook crews runnin’, like they supposed to

They come around, but they never come close to”

The announcement of her name only draws out more boos toward Ana. She brushes them off as she leaps up to the apron and climbs through the ropes into the ring. Ana finds a free corner in the ring and walks toward it, perching herself on the top turnbuckle, and popping her mouth guard out again as she waits for the match to begin.

VASSA: “Ana looks very dialed in for this match.”

JOHNSON: “As she should, this has gotten personal in the last few weeks, especially with Bryan Williams in the fray.”

VASSA: “He can stay broke.”

As “Loyal” by Chris Brown begins, 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: “The biggest match of Persephone’s career awaits at Winter Wasteland, but there is a huge obstacle to overcome here.”

VASSA: “You’re damn right. Only one man and one woman have been able to beat Bronx Valescence in singles action in the calendar year here in 4CW. One of them is standing across the ring from Marquis… she’s going to find out if she has what it takes here tonight.”


As the match starts with the ring of the bell, Marquis and Ana square off, but neither is eager to rip into one another. It’s more of the pettiness between them to not want to strike first. They get into a little jawing argument over what has happened over the last few weeks. Ana nods, she asks Marquis if she is mad over the whole spitting incident. Marquis mouths off about how Bryan can handle his own, and he will handle Ana at Winter Wasteland. Ana sits on the middle rope and pulls it open and asks Marquis if she wants to go back and check on if Bryan has sent her a #WCW yet. Ana has a cocky smile on her face, but Maquis kicks the shit out of her with a bicycle kick right to the grill. Ana is cold clocked out of the ring and to the outside. Marquis hops out of the ring and follows Ana who tries to pull herself up. Ana leans on the barricade and Quis lands another stiff kick to the head. The referee is trying to get them both into the ring as Ana staggers about, trying to get Marquis off of her. Marquis grabs Ana from behind and tosses her face first into the ring post. Ana goes down in a heap, holding her face.

JOHNSON: “Well then, Marquis is off to a hot start in this match.”

VASSA: “Yeah, no kidding. Ana wasted no time taking a pop shot at Bryan, and now Marquis is making her pay for it.”

JOHNSON: “It was Ana who held Marquis back last week from breaking up that pin fall when Bronx pinned Zombie.”

Quis begins taunting Ana, she points to her chin, offering Ana a free hit. But Hayden has been blinded early by the onslaught and takes a swing and Marquis steps back and Ana finds another boot this time to her collarbone. Ana sputters and crawls away, finally the referee gets into the ring and begins counting, but Quis is taking her sweet time outside with Ana. She throws her against the corner of the barricades and puts a boot squarely in her throat. Ana kicks and tries to push it away but Quis only lets go to back up with a laugh as the referee gets to six. Rolling her eyes, Quis rolls in to break the count and then lands back outside of the ring. She makes her way back towards Ana, Ana uses the opportunity of Quis leaving her alone for a second to fire out of the corner with a few heavy shots but Marquis is able to shed these off by covering up and then lands one kick… two… and then a spinning heel kick! Ana has taken a boat load of offense early.


VASSA: “Are you reading off of a script?”

Marquis throws Ana into the ring and makes the cover, she hooks a leg although a bit nonchalantly.





Barely a two count as Ana gets her shoulder up, her lip is already busted open. Marquis pulls Ana to her feet by her head and locks in a front face lock but Ana shoves her back against the ropes and when Persephone comes snapping back, Ana hits her with a shot gun drop kick. Quis is fired back into the turnbuckles in a sitting position. Ana runs in with a knee from one corner, she runs back and hits another knee, and then she backs up from the third turnbuckle and comes in with a knee and then she gives Marquis a face wash with her boot. Marquis is trying to swat her away and Ana pushes herself away from the corner and lets out a yell. Quis his holding her face as she rolls onto the canvas.

JOHNSON: “This is where Ana is extremely dangerous, let her string a few moves together and she can bury you very early.”

VASSA: “I think Marquis got some boot prints from Ana on her face that’ll last until Winter Wasteland, damn.”

As Quis is down, Ana snakes in behind her and manages to lock in a dragon sleeper. Ana rips the arm of Quis back and really locks the hold on, putting more pressure on the face and neck of Quis where she just suffered the face wash and knee combinations. Quis reaches for the ropes but Ana wrenches her away from it and really cranks the hold back, it looks like Quis contemplates tapping—but she way too petty for that shit. She begins to get back to a seated potion and then she arches her back, Ana looks down, unable to know the counter, she just reaches with a free hand and bunches at the stomach of Persephone, but Quis has one foot on the bottom turnbuckle, she plants it, and then she stretches that leg to the top turnbuckle and flips the hold on Ana and drops her with a reverse DDT! The crowd bursts in loud applause for that use of craftiness. Marquis is slow to get to her feet, still feeling woozy rom the dragon sleeper. Both Ana and Quis get to their feet, Marquis tries to throw a swinging neck breaker but Ana reverses out of it by staying on her feet. She goes behind Quis and hits her sternum first into the turnbuckle and rolls back… SHE’S GOING FOR SHEER! But Persephone hooks Ana’s leg and rolls through and gets her in an ankle lock! Ana crawls towards the ropes instantly and Marquis is forced to break the hold.

VASSA: “Is it me, or is Marquis really showing some technical ability in this match? Not a lot of folks can go to the mat with Ana like this because of her striking ability.”

JOHNSON: “With her title match at Winter Wasteland approaching, Quis has really buckled down in the last few weeks, her improvement is showing.”

Ana rubs her ankle as Marquis rolls to her feet. She goes to grab both of Ana’s feet but Ana leaps to her feet using the ropes and then hits an enziguri. The sound smacks across the arena as Ana finds the back of Marquis’s head. Marquis stumbles into the middle of the ring. Ana runs towards her and leaps into the air and hits a block buster! Ana is putting moves together now. Marquis gets back to her feet and Ana hits a Tilt-a-whirl Headscissors! This ends Marquis back to the outside where the match began. Ana slingshots off the ropes and goes for a suicide dive but Marquis quickly runs out of the way. Ana uses the ropes to her advantage to rebound back into the ring after being halfway out, she dives off the opposite ropes and connects with a suicide dive! Ana stands up with a yell and throws Marquis in the ring and hooks the leg!








NO! Marquis just gets her shoulder up. Ana locks her into a side headlock to keep the momentum on, sitting flat against the mat, almost pulling her into a cross face.

JOHNSON: “The unrelenting attack from Anastasia Hayden! If she is able to pull this off, she’ll have done what Jett wanted to do and couldn’t, beat champion and challenger.”

VASSA: “That win against Bronx seems like forever ago, but she’s got a long way to go in this one if you think Marquis is just going to lay down and quit.”

Ana wrenches in the side headlock, having the ring awareness to keep on the attack. Marquis gets back up to a vertical base, she lifts Ana off of her feet and then into a back body drop! Ana crashes hard, holding the back of her head she gets to her feet, and Quis grabs Ana in a side headlock, but she takes a run and go, looking for a bulldog and she connects! Marquis rolls Ana over, putting a forearm with authority right in the mouth and nose of Ana and makes the disrespectful cover.








Hayden kicks out! She wags her finger in the process. Marquis smirks and stands up and gives Ana a swift SLAP right into the back of the head. Ana just gives a sarcastic laugh, Marquis then drops a knee right into the small of Ana’s back and pulls her into a rear chin lock. Ana grinds her teeth, trying to turn it over but Marquis just digs that knee right into her shoulder blades, Ana reaches up trying to peel the fingers of Marquis away, but Quis really has it locked in.

VASSA: “Look at Queef! Really trying to drain Ana before she gets another full head of steam. Great job!”

JOHNSON: “Keep Ana grounded, keep Ana facing AWAY from you. Never a bad bet there with the way she strikes.”

Ana finally begins to maneuver her arms away from Marquis and then gets back on her knees and then spins away from Marquis and hits a forearm so hard it rolls Quis’s eyes into the back of her head and against the ropes. When Ana tries to capitalize, Marquis hits a kick to Ana’s shin. Ana curses and hops away on one foot, Marquis captures Ana with that one foot and hits a LEG CAPTURE GERMAN! Ana stands up as she holds the back of her head and Marquis comes in again, WHAM! Ana hits another forearm. Marquis tries to shake the cobwebs, she turns her back to Ana—and that was a mistake. Ana leaps into the air and hits a REVERSE FRANKENSTEINER! The “Black Star” Ana makes the cut throat motion and makes the cover and hooks both legs.









JOHNSON: “That was our first near fall of the contest, and Ana ALMOST got Persephone there! Just barely got that shoulder up.”

VASSA: “ALMOST doesn’t get you anything though! Marquis is a fighter, she’s too petty to let Ana pin her just after a signature move.”

Marquis says a little different with how out of it she looks. Ana lifts Quis up with just her foot, she smirks down at her, and then goes for a round house but Marquis is able to duck it. The momentum of the swing of the leg gives Marquis some room, when Ana turns back around, Quis is able to hit a hip toss. Ana flips back over to her feet but when she lands, Quis gives her a wicked open hand slap right on the side of the head. Ana staggers against the rope and goes down to a knee and Persephone pulls her back to the center of the ring. Ana tries to gather her footing, Marquis goes off the ropes and hits a high knee! Ana lands on the back of her head, Quis is quick to make the cover and hooks the leg!





NO! Ana kicks out.

JOHNSON: “Now Ana gets a shoulder up! Nearly got a three count there, this would be a huge win for Marquis headed into Winter Wasteland, she needs this and you can feel it.”

Both are getting slower and slower getting up, when earlier in the match they both were getting to their feet. Both of them get to their knees in the middle of the ring. Ana leans in and hits a european uppercut, Marquis rubs her chin for a moment and then hits another open hand slap. Ana leans down and then nods and hits another forearm, rocking Quis just like earlier. They both get to a knee. Quis hits an open hand chop which echoes around the area and Ana if forced to hold her chest for a moment before Ana hits another european uppercut. This brings Marquis to her feet, she hits another open hand slap, and then they begin trading rapid shots until they’re both to their feet. They go forehead to forehead talking shit. Ana dives forward and literally bites Marquis on the forehead to create separation.


JOHNSON: “Uncharacteristic of Ana, but Marquis has stayed attached to her hip in this match so Ana can’t get any room to take her out. This is genius!”

VASSA: “Oh, so biting someone in a match is genius when it’s someone you are okay with, got it.”

JOHNSON: “I mean, she has ’til five.”

Indeed, it works to the advantage of Ana, because Quis shoves Ana away holding her forehead. Ana then shoots kicks into the sides of Marquis, and then into the chest of Marquis, it hits so hard that the thump is heard about the arena and almost caves the chest in of Marquis. She drops down to one knee and Ana drops back and hits a wicked thrust kick to the side of the head of Marquis. The lights are on but nobody is home as she drops down to her face. Ana drops down to her knees and uses her head to roll Marquis over. She hooks the leg!









Ana is frustrated, she’s had the closer pin-fall attempts but Marquis has pinned her more times during the match. She ruffles her hair for a moment as she sits on backside with her knees pulled up to her chest, for once, she’s stumped on how to finish her. Ana nods to herself, as if pumping herself up. She gets to her feet and lifts Marquis to her feet and begins peppering her with kicks again, Marquis is taking a beating, she’s down to one knee and Ana calls for the end once again, she turns to run into the ropes but… MARQUIS SPRINGS TO HER FEET! She rips at the hair of Ana and pulls her back into a CATTLE SACRIFICE! The double knee back breaker bounces Ana into the air and then face first on the mat, it looked like she got thrown out of a moving vehicle the way she landed. Marquis crawls over, wincing and makes another pin attempt.









The crowd erupts as we get yet another kick out. The crowd thought that was it as Marquis shakes her head and kicks her back leg as she gets back to her feet.

JOHNSON: “Unreal competitiveness from both of these 4CW wrestlers, the cards these last few weeks have been absolutely brutal. No shows off here in 4CW. It’s always everyone’s best effort.”

VASSA: “The way Ana bounced off of Marquis’s knees. I think her back may be broken after that!”

Indeed, Ana is rolling around holding her back with a look of pain on her face. She crawls towards the ropes but Marquis is back to her feet, she throws her hair from her eyes and STOMPS viciously on the fingers of Ana as she crawls. Ana drops and cries out in pain. But she goes back to try to get to the ropes. STOMP! Ana tries to kick Marquis away and then she gets into the ropes. Ana uses her teeth to pull herself to her feet. She’s hunkered in the corner and Marquis runs at her, spins and unleashes a discuss elbow. Ana is slumped over, trying to get her fists up to defend herself. Marquis elbows Ana in the neck until she exposes her arm and when she does, Marquis spins Ana around into a cross face! She drops her in the middle of the ring and wrenches back!


JOHNSON: “Ana has to think about Winter Wasteland ahead! Quis has that crossface locked in with absolutely no where to go!”

Ana reaches for the ropes, but she can’t get there. Quis is screaming trying to rip Ana’s head off, pulling back. Ana reaches for the ropes, clawing, but her fingers from earlier are done for from being stomped, another smart Marquis trick. Ana pushes forward, Marquis rocks back, they do this a few times until finally Ana uses the momentum of Quis to get Quis on her back to pin her!







Marquis quickly realizes she is the one being pinned and she kicks out. Ana pushes herself to her feet using her fist, she shoves Marquis away to get some space and then flies across the ring looking for the She Was Only Seventeen, but Marquis side steps it, not only that, she keeps her momentum going into the ropes, she leaps off the second rope and like a acrobat she turns perfectly and…. SHE’S GOING FOR THE PETTY CASH! It’s a thing of beauty as she hooks Ana’s head and spins around but Ana doesn’t go all the way down, instead she LIFTS Marquis back to her feet and then throws her forward, Marquis lands but stumbles. The split second is all Ana needs as she runs forward and hits the SHE WAS ONLY SEVENTEEN! It connects! Marquis lies on her back in the middle of the ring as Ana quickly makes the cover.









The bell sounds as Ana rolls off of Marquis, Marquis is quickly back up ready for a fight as the referee informs her it was a three count. It came so quickly that Marquis didn’t even realize it. Ana has her hand raised as Marquis gets attended to on the outside by the official.

POWERS: “Here is your winner, ANASTASIA HHAAYYDDEENN!!!”

Ana heads to the turnbuckle to celebrate as she holds the back of her head and raises a hand in the air.

JOHNSON: “This match was about even to the very end. Marquis did so well to keep Ana close to her and not allowing her that space, all it took was that split second of Ana creating some striking distance to turn this baby around.”

VASSA: “Marquis will go into Winter Wasteland with a loss… I wouldn’t like to be Bronx Valescence right now with a pissed off Marquis waiting for him.”

We fade with Ana winking towards the hard camera and Quis slowly backing up the ramp.

It’s almost main event time and many could and would argue that a plethora of matches from the night deserved the final place atop the card- however on this night of pay per view quality matches, the contendership for the Pride title is set to take centre stage.

Bouncing back and forth on her toes, the Distorted Angel knows this better than most- and after a chaotic night, she seems more than ready to step out there and prove she wasn’t just a fluke champion, that she deserved an opportunity to regain what she lost.

Drama was a fixture in the locker room no doubt, but she’d be putting that aside for at least a little while as she dragged her black hoodie off in preparation to stand toe to toe with former 2-time 4CW champion Jair Hopkins. Tossing the hoodie against the metal lockers with a soft thud, she takes a few deep breaths supposedly to calm her nerves before she steps out the door…

Only to find she has unexpected company.

Boston didn’t acknowledge her immediately, day dreaming almost as he stared off into the ceiling. Blood on the wall that had leaked from an open wound on the back of his head had started to dry around the edges and the crimson stained lead pipe from his assault on Cyrus Riddle earlier thudded rhythmically in his hand, as he sat on an empty production equipment box less than three feet from her doorway.

A half second felt like an hour as Boston would be the one to break the silence, turning to face her with a widening, sickly sweet grin and far away look in his eyes.

BOSTON: “Good luck…”

Slipping off the box, he allowed the lead pipe to drop to his side with a loud thud against the boxes surface.

BOSTON: “… darl.”

Wasting little more time, Boston turned his back and slowly wandered off down the corridor, meandering unsteadily, while dragging the lead pipe against the wall like nails on a chalkboard echoing eerily and obnoxiously. Rattled, Amber moved off in the other direction trying to shake off the rather ominous interaction whilst reminding herself she still had a match to try and win.

The lead against concrete ceased for a moment. Relieved, she tried to focus on strategy…until the pulsing clink derailed her train of thought once again, breaking her concentration. It halts, as she runs her hand through her hair and looks behind her. He was half a football field away now, but the translucent hair on the back of her neck suggested that his breath was within an inch. She rolled her shoulders and bounced on the balls of her feet, before shaking her head, taking a deep breath, and heading toward the ring.

She tried to focus on Jair, but the faint tink of blood-stained metal repeatedly bouncing from white-painted rock was loud enough, even through the hustle and bustle of the busy backstage area, to stop her in her tracks and make her stomach turn. This time, Ryan offered no physical reaction other than a look of significant disconcert.

She stands, her body locked in a state of tension. As the sound finally fully dissipates, The Distorted Angel ran her right hand over her face before she clasped it together with her left. Rolling her shoulders again while holding her recently separated one, she bounced in place and mouthing the words, “Jair. Pride. Jair. Let’s go.” With a quick, hesitant glance behind her, she continued her path as the cameras roll back to ringside.


JOHNSON: ”Welcome back here at ringside ladies and gentlemen. Up next we have our main event!”

VASSA: ”If you thought tonight couldn’t get any better or even more exciting you were wrong! Up next we have a contender match for the Pride Championship and to determine who will face Kimitsu Zombie at Winter Wasteland.”

JOHNSON: ”That’s right we do! Up next we have former Pride Champion, Amber Ryan, taking on one half of the former Tag Team Champions and a two time 4CW Champion, Jair Hopkins.”

VASSA: ”A year and a half ago these two were on the same side of the fence, both being members of the deceased Unstable. Rest in piss…”

JOHNSON: ”Tonight they find themselves standing across the ring from each other in opposing corners with one similar goal in mind. Facing Kimitsu for the belt at Winter Wasteland.”

VASSA: ”Out of nowhere we had two matches announced at Adrenaline two weeks ago that would fall into tonight’s match. Amber Ryan faced off against Aidan Carlisle and then Jair Hopkins and Jett Wilder were scheduled to go head to head.”

JOHNSON: ”That is correct and from that announcement, the winners of those two matches would face here tonight with the contendership on the line.”

VASSA: ”If you missed Adrenaline two weeks ago, shame on you, but if you couldn’t already tell, Amber Ryan and Jair Hopkins were the victors in those two matches.”

JOHNSON: ”Thank you for clarifying that, Vinny.”

VASSA: ”No problem Steve! That’s what I’m here for, along with the open bar backstage.”


POWERS: ”Ladies and gentlemen, the following 4CW Pride Championship contender match is scheduled for one fall!”

It’s the tinkling of the eerie music box that brings the lights down, the crowd murmuring with anticipation, as slowly and silently the big screens seems to crack one by one. Shadows lurk curiously, distorted by the cracks as an almost mechanical synth leads into the stutter of heavy guitar.

POWERS: ”Coming to the ring at this time from Atlantic City, New Jersey!”

Red lights pulse in time as the lights flicker erratically casting light and dark chaotically, the mechanical synth returns as a female silhouette materializes amid the pulsating red and dark to a mixed reaction. 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.

POWERS: ”Weighing in at one hundred forty-two pounds and standing five feet, eight inches tall!”

Maria Brink’s almost taunting, sarcastic lyrics lead the ‘Distorted Angel’ down as fans look for acknowledgement, extending hands and waving signs but most receive little more than a sharp nod or sly wink 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.

POWERS: ”She is THE former 4CW Pride Champion… The ‘Distorted Angel’… AMBER RRYYAANN!!!”

“Baby go ahead

I’ll be your hatred and your pain

This is killing us all

I don’t care if I fall

We’re the dying, we are the damned”

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.

“I know I don’t belong in this scene

Sex metal barbie, homicidal queen.”

With hands clasped and elbows resting on her knees- that familiar Distorted Angel smirk ever present across her face as she waits for the fun to really begin.

POWERS: ”And the opponent!”

The arena lights flickers on and off as there is a visual on the 4CW-Tron, that of a seemingly younger version of Jair with cornrolls, standing on the corner in a neighborhood, a lost look on his face as his head was on a swivel, a paper bag in his hand as siren lights were seen and heard. Running full speed, cutting corners and taking shortcuts, you could see him look back before being frozen in his running stance. Several seconds later, glitches appeared before his image faded. The tron went blank as the intro to “Fade Away” by Logic blasted into play…

POWERS: ”Coming to the ring next and hailing from Brooklyn, New York!”

“All day (all day), everyday (everyday)

We was on that block until we made a way (we made a way)

Day to day, man that’s the only way (only way)

They gon’ know my name until it fade away”

Jumping onto the stage as he came out, cupping his ears to the crowd as he used his other hand to get the fans to raise the noise up even further.

POWERS: ”Weighing in at two hundred eleven pounds and standing five feet, eight inches tall!”

Going to the other side of the stage, he did the same as he got them to get a bit more louder for him. Hopping his way back to the stage, he did a quick spin as his back was showing, pointing alas like Randy Moss, to the name on his ‘jersey’, Hopkins rushed down the ramp before sliding into the ring and popping up.

“Fade away, fade away, fade away, fade away, fade away

They gon’ know my name until it fade—

(Way, way, way), fade away

They gon’ know my name until it fade away”

POWERS: ”He is one half of THE former 4CW Tag Team Champions, and a two time 4CW Champion… JAIR HHOOPPKKIINNSS!!!”

Celebrating with a lap around the ring and a hand up as he blessed the faithful fans with a kiss before folding his hands in the form of a prayer to which he then went to his corner to gather himself for battle.

VASSA: ”And here we are, ANOTHER pay-per-view quality match right here on Adrenaline!”

JOHNSON: ”You’re not going to get any argument from me.”

VASSA: ”Adrenaline after Adrenaline we get these pay-per-view quality matchups and to be honest, I can’t think of another roster with as much depth that this would even be possible with.”

JOHNSON: ”This was inevitable I suppose you could say. After all, it is a contender match for the championship match that will be at the pay-per-view.”

VASSA: ”You hear that folks?! In two more weeks you’re going to have to pay for this top notch level of competition. There won’t be any handouts, unless you watch a live stream online. But you didn’t hear me say that.”

JOHNSON: ”We literally just heard you say that.”

VASSA: ”Did not! No way I would say something like ‘hey folks, get in my DM’s for the URL’.”

JOHNSON: ”What is a DM?”

VASSA: ”That’s where it goes down, if not accidentally put on the timeline of the official company social media handle.”

JOHNSON: ”I have no idea what any of this is that you’re speaking of.”

VASSA: ”Of course you don’t! You still have a rotary phone!”

JOHNSON: ”Anyways, let’s get back to this match at hand. Two weeks ago there were four, four deserving names on top of that and very well qualified to contend for the Pride Championship.”

VASSA: ”And now there are two! Amber managed to get one over Aidan in a highly contested matchup, and Jair sent Jett home crying… driven home by his mother of course!”

JOHNSON: ”Both of these competitors are hungry for what’s at stake and what Kimitsu holds in her possession. For Jair, it would be his first time holding the Pride Championship, but another belt to add to his resume won in 4CW. As for Amber, she wants her championship back, plain and simple.”

VASSA: ”She came up short in defending it against Kimitsu at Fright Night but she has the chance to rectify that once and for all. She just needs to capitalize.”

JOHNSON: ”Well it’s time to either put up or shut up! Now’s the time to get down to business and put your money where your mouth is.”

VASSA: ”I got fi–“

JOHNSON: ”Time to settle this in the ring once and for all! “

VASSA: ”I got five o–“

JOHNSON: ”Let’s get on with the thing already! What are we waiting for?!”

VASSA: ”I got five on i–“


Cutting Vinny off in mid sentence, the bell sounds as the entire PPG paints Arena erupts cheers. Both wrestlers move away from their corners, loose on their feet and locked ahead on the one standing across from them. As the come to the center of the ring, Jair wastes no time and lunges forward at Amber to lock onto her – only to come up empty handed as she side steps him. Brushing it off, Jair quickly turns to face her, squaring her up before lunging in a second time. Side stepping him in the opposite direction than before, Amber then tags him in the side of the head with a quick jab, immediately grabbing his attention as he whips around to face her.

Bouncing back and forth on her feet, Amber holds her fists up as, watching Jair closely and looking for another window to strike. Throwing his dukes up as well, Jair slightly bends his knees, lowering his head. The two begin to circle the center of the ring, deadlocked on the other standing in front of them. Her footwork isn’t the prettiest, but effective as she catches Jair off guard and comes in with another jab to his mouth. Jair’s head whips back, forcing him to look up at the lights momentarily while giving Amber another opportunity to strike with an elbow to the jaw.

As Jair shakes off the blows to the head, Amber swings with her other arm, a closed fist with intentions of putting his lights out. Jair leans back, barely dodging the hook and grabbing onto her arm. Ducking down, Jair then lifts Amber off her feet onto his shoulders before dropping her in the center of the ring with a Samoan drop! Jair immediately rolls up to his feet as Amber slowly begins pushing herself up. Assisting her with the task, Jair pulls her to her feet, standing her straight up before unloading with back to back knife-edge chops across the chest. He then locks onto her wrist and goes to whip her to the far corner but before he can release, Amber reverses, pulling Jair in and taking him face first to the canvas with a drop-toe hold.

VASSA: ”Face plant!”

JOHNSON: ”After shifting the momentum early on, Jair just couldn’t hold onto it after a quick reversal from The Distorted Angel.”

Peeling Jair up from the mat, Amber hits him back to back rapid punches, a left followed by a right. Stumbling backwards, Jair hits the ropes and bounces back into a swift kick to the gut from Amber. Stepping in beside him, she wraps her arm underneath his chin before taking him head first to the mat with a snapmare driver! Rolling Jair over to his back, she climbs on top of him, mounting herself into position before raining down on Jar’s head with punches from all directions. She swings down with a right, only to have her arm caught by Jair. With her left, she catches him square in the jaw before swinging again, and again, and again, connecting with each left thrown.

The last punch landed knocks Jair’s head backwards into the mat, briefly knocking him into a daze. She pushes herself up before standing over him, staring at him for a brief moment. Stepping away, she turns her back to him, looking out over the crowd. The sounds of Jair’s movements against the canvas draw her attention as she slowly looks over her shoulder. With Jair slowly coming to his senses and pushing himself back up, she takes off for the ropes ahead. Hitting them and bouncing off, she races across the ring and just as Jair rises up to one knee, she drives her foot straight into his head with a yakuza kick! Knocking Jair over to his side, Amber drops to her knees before rolling him over to his back and making the cover.





JOHNSON: ”And a kickout from Jair!”

VASSA: ”WOW, A KICKOUT!!! It’s not quite as good as a powerbomb but definitely better than reading.”

JOHNSON: ”What are you talking about now, Vinny?”

VASSA: ”Try to keep up, Steve. These are all inside jokes that you should be well aware of.”

Amber doesn’t waste a single moment, instead, she pushes herself with one arm and begins slamming her fist from the other into Jair’s ribs. After half a dozen shots to the ribs, she stands to her feet and pulls Jair up as well. As Jair gets to his feet while bent over, he grabs ahold of Amber’s leg, pulling them out from under her and dropping her flat on her back. Jumping forward, he clears her lower body before coming down on her shoulder with an elbow drop. Popping back to his feet, Jair stomps down onto the same shoulder over and over before eventually pulling her up to her feet. In desperation, Amber throws a right hook for Jair’s head, missing as he ducks down and steps in behind her. Wrapping her up, he lifts her off her feet before falling back and throwing her to the mat with a release German suplex.

Amber’s body completely rolls over to where she’s face down to the mat. Back to his feet, Jair hits the ropes to the side before jumping completely over Amber. Just as his feet hit the mat, he springs upward, flipping backwards and twisting through the air before landing across her back with a corkscrew moonsault! The crowd pops at the athleticism displayed from the former two time 4CW Champion. Jair maneuvers himself on Amber’s jack, grabbing ahold of her leg and pulling it back, applying a single leg crab. Dropping his weight onto her lower back, Jair secures the hold as Amber begins squirming.

VASSA: ”Amber’s found herself in quite the predicament!”

JOHNSON: ”Jair has her locked in a single leg crab and by the look on her face, she’s in a world of pain.”

Her arms begin to flail as Jair pulls back further and further on her leg, but only for a short moment. She then plants both hands to the mat, pushing herself up. Kneeling beside her, the official checks in with her but Amber spits to the canvas, refusing to submit. Nearly a minute passes as she fights the pain, her face growing redder by the second. Screaming, she ignores the pain and at that moment, the entire crowd begins to clap in unison as she begins slowly dragging herself across the mat, pulling her closer to the ropes, inch by inch. Jair maintains his hold on her leg, but rises up from her and taking all of his weight off of her back as he takes baby steps backwards to maintain his position. With her right hand, she reaches out, placing it on the canvas and pulling her body closer to the ropes. With her left, she repeats until she’s just an arms reach away. Extending her arm as far as she can, she reaches for the ropes, coming up inches short from being able to grab them and break the submission.

JOHNSON: ”I don’t know how much longer she can handle being in that position”

VASSA: ”It’s definitely a test of her mentality, ignoring the pain as much as she can.”

JOHNSON: ”She’s literally a fingers length away from grabbing the ropes but she’s been locked in that single leg crab for minutes.”

VASSA: ”She’s made it this far. She’s almost there. The only thing left to do is reach out and grab it!”

Still extending her arm as far as she can, she still is shy by a few inches. Shaking her head from left to right, she refuses to submit as the official checks in with her. She then eases up a bit, and Jair notices shortly after. As he attempts to reposition himself before pulling her back to the center of the ring, Amber digs down deep and throws her arm out.

JOHNSON: ”Come on Amber, you can do it!”

Inch by inch, her hand gets closer to the ropes and with that added effort, she locks onto one!

VASSA: ”She’s got it! Amber grabbed the ropes!”

JOHNSON: ”Jair nearly had her but that fire inside of Amber still burns brightly here tonight.”

Jair is shocked as he hears the official demanding he release the hold. Amber lasting through all of that and finding the ropes within reach was the last thing he expected. He releases his hold, standing to his feet and stepping away as he shakes his head as the questions of how she managed to last begin to form in his head. Putting the how’s and what’s to the side, he regains his focus and turns back to Amber who is still down and showing tremendous signs of pain and frustration. He pulls her to her feet before lifting her up and turning around to scoop slam her away from the ropes. Amber hits the mat and instantly leans forward into an upright seated position. From behind her, Jair takes off and runs right by her and straight ahead. Hitting the ropes, he comes back with even more speed before sliding feet first beside her and taking her head off with a sliding clothesline.

Pulling her up again, Jair then grabs her by the back of the head and walks at a fast pace towards the far corner, pulling Amber along as she limps with her step. Jair then throws her forward into the corner where she collides head on. Not losing a single step, Jair turns left and picks up his pace as he circles the ring along the ropes. Once he reaches the other side, Amber turns around with her back to the corner as Jair charges straight for her. About three-quarters of the way to Amber, Jair leaps through the air, crashing into her with a splash and sandwiching her against the corner. Dropping down to his feet, he grabs her arm and then pulls her away from the corner before whipping her across the ring to the opposite corner. Just as Amber’s back slams against the corner, Jair takes off and races in her direction. Just like before, he leaps into the air as he reaches the three-quarters mark. Planting both feet into Amber’s stomach, Jair locks onto her head as he stands upright for a short moment.

JOHNSON: ”We’ve seen this time and time again so we all know what’s coming next.”

VASSA: ”It’s time for the flippy-man himself to monkey flip Amber across the ring.”

Just as Jair begins to shift his weight backwards, Amber wraps her arms around his thighs and lifts him up over her head. Stepping away from the corner, she moves towards the opposite corner across the ring before slamming Jair straight down to his back with an Alabama slam! Jair’s body curls as the force of impact travels through him. Crawling backwards, he leans against the corner to recover. Back stepping, Amber creates an entire ring of distance between them as she stops in the corner. Charging forward, she gains speed with each limping step as she gets closer and closer to Jair and as she finally closes in, she greets him with a running knee directly to the face!


JOHNSON: ”All it takes is a split second and the momentum can shift on a dime.”

VASSA: ”We all thought he had her with the monkey flip we’ve seen over the years. BOY WERE WE FOOLED!!!”

JOHNSON: ”Although the move is effective, he does leave himself exposed and vulnerable briefly for a reversal such as Amber did.”

Jair falls over to his side before rolling underneath the bottom rope and out onto the apron. Grabbing the top rope, Amber uses it to pull herself up as she jumps up and over it. Coming down, she drives an elbow straight down into Jair’s chest as she lands on the floor. Jair instantly leans up, holding his chest as the official on the inside begins his ten count.

“One! … Two! … Three!”

Backing away from Jair, Amber creates some distance between the two before pumping herself up with the fans in the front row cheering her name.

“Four! … Five! … Six!”

Rushing Jair, Amber jumps up as she gets close, wrapping her arm around his head and pulling him away from the apron as she turns her body. After pulling Jair completely off the apron, she plants his head into the floor with a tornado DDT!

VASSA: ”Holy fucking shit!”

JOHNSON: ”That’s a tornado DDT if I ever saw one! Amber’s positon was lower than Jair’s and she still managed to pull it off, and on the outside of the ring to top that!”

“Seven! … Eight!”

Climbing to her feet, Amber rolls back into the ring but only momentarily before rolling back to the outside, forcing the official to restart his ten count.


She pulls Jair up from the floor before throwing him shoulder first into the ringside barricade. Jair falls down to one knee as Amber then hits him over the back of his shoulders with a forearm.

“Two! … Three!”

Pulling Jair away from the barricade, she throws him down to his back halfway between the barricade and the ring. Steeping over him, she approaches the ring before climbing up onto the apron.

“Four! … Five!”

Leaping off the apron, Amber flies through the air and down onto Jair with a double foot stomp to the stomach! His breath is literally heard as it is forced from his lungs.


As Jair gasps for air, Amber steps off of him and down to the floor, greeted to a wave of cheers from the nearby fans. She then pulls Jair back to his feet before literally dragging him towards the ring.


She rolls Jair into the ring before climbing up onto the apron. Just as Jair rolls to his back, she pulls herself up and jumps over the top rope, coming down across his throat with a leg drop. Rolling over to her side, Amber covers Jair and hooks a leg for the pin as the official slides in beside them with the count.










JOHNSON: ”Jair just kicked out at the last possible split second!”

VASSA: ”That’s a little too close for comfort but he managed to break up the officials count in just the niche of time.”

Frustrated, Amber rises to her feet, cursing to herself after the huge upset escape on Jair’s behalf. After a few short moments of pacing the ring, Amber turns back to Jair who is still down on his back. Walking over to him, she pulls him up, but keeps his head pressed down and body bent over. Pulling him to the center of the ring, she holds him in place before delivering back to back knees upward into his chest. Ready to end it once and for all, she hooks one of his arms and as she goes for the second to top off the double underhook, Jair steps behind her and turns his body, pulling her arm back and pinning it behind her. With her free arm, Amber throws it back, hitting Jair in the face with an elbow. The first one doesn’t break Jair’s hold so she throws another, and still the second doesn’t break his hold. Pulling her arm back, Jair spins Amber around and using all of his weight, he whips her to the ropes. With the ropes close by, Amber catches Jair by surprise as she rebounds off and lunges forward with a clothesline. With her arm inches away from his face, Jair ducks down just in time and steps behind her before running to the ropes. As he bounces off, Amber just turns around and he leaps forward, hitting her with a lariat takedown and putting her flat on her back! Rolling back over to all fours, he crawls over top of Amber and makes the cover.





Popping her shoulder up from the mat, Amber breaks up the officials count just as he slaps the canvas a second time. Standing tall, Jair stomps a few times onto Amber’s hipbone that just so happens to be connected to the leg bone that just so happens to be the same exact one Jair locked in the single leg crab from earlier. Pulling Amber to her feet, Jair whips her to the ropes and as she comes back on the return, he lunges forward with a clothesline, coming up short as she ducks underneath and continues forward. Hitting the ropes, Amber bounces back and just as Jair turns around, he catches her in his arms and lifts her into the air. Spinning her body, he goes for a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker but things take a drastic turn as she counters and lifts him off his feet, slinging him across the ring with a tilt-a-whirl head-scissors takedown. Jair hits the mat but rolls up to his feet fluidly in front of the corner. Behind him, he hears Amber’s footsteps as she rushes in. Jumping up, Jair leaps to the top of the corner and leaps backwards, backflipping over Amber as she crashes into the corner.

Falling backwards, Amber goes into Jair’s arms as he wraps her up around the waist and lifts her off her feet. Going for a German suplex, Jair completely raises Amber and before he attempts to fall back, Amber rolls right out of his arms and drops down to her feet behind him. She shoves him in the back, knocking him towards the corner but again, Jair shows off his athleticism and leaps up to the top of the corner, pivoting instantly and turning to face her. Like a deer in the headlights, Amber hesitates and comes to a complete stop at the sight of Jair leaping forward from the top of the corner but flipping backwards. As his body completely flips and closes in on Amber, Jair hooks his arm around her head, pulling her down head first into the canvas with a shooting star DDT!




Jair rolls Amber over to her back, distancing her from the corner but not too far away. Pushing himself up, he turns to the corner and slowly ascends to the top. Looking out over the crowd, Jair begins stomping down onto the top turnbuckle, gaining the crowds full attention and hyping up every soul in the entire building. Everything then goes slow motion after a couple of bounces before he leaps backwards, flipping through the air and landing down onto Amber’s chest with a springboard moonsault double foot stomp!


VASSA: ”Oh my fucking God is right!”

The entire building erupts as Jair perfectly executes the maneuver. Dropping to his knees, he then hooks Amber’s leg as he rolls across her, laying over her with his back. From across the ring, the official slides in beside them with the count as every single person in the arena counts in unison.











VASSA: ”There it is! There’s the three!”

JOHNSON: ”Jair’s done it folks! He’ll be advancing to Winter Wasteland and challenging Kimitsu Zombie for the Pride Championship.”

VASSA: ”Talk about putting the final touches on an already exciting match!”

“Fade Away” hits the speakers as the Pittsburgh crowd erupts! Slowly, Jair rises to his feet, excited and full of life. Before he can even celebrate, the official steps in beside him and raises his arm high above his head.


POWERS: ”Here is your winner, and new 4CW Pride Championship number one contender… JAIR HHOOPPKKIINNSS!!!”

“J-JOP! … J-HOP! … J-HOP! … J-HOP! … J-HOP! … J-HOP!”

Jerking his arm from the official, Jair rushes to the opposite side of the ring, leaping straight to the top of the corner and throwing both arms above his head.

JOHNSON: ”Well there you have it ladies and gentlemen! Jair Hopkins is your new number one contender for the Pride Championship and will be meeting Kimitsu Zombie at Winter Wasteland with the championship on the line.”

VASSA: ”I didn’t know who was going to pull this off. At times I thought Amber had this one in the bag, and then Jair pulls off these huge moments that his career has been full of.”

JOHNSON: ”This one literally came down to the wire in what would could very well had been a top quality pay-per-view performance.”

VASSA: ”After losing the Tag Team Championships at Fright Night, and then falling short to Madison the Adrenaline after, many people had their doubts of Jair but look at him now.”

JOHNSON: ”With back to back wins in highly contested matches against Jett Wilder and Amber Ryan, he has some momentum behind him as we push forward to Wasteland in just two weeks.”

Looking over the crowd, Jair holds up both hands, throwing up the “Dying Breed” hand signal as they continue chanting his name.

“J-JOP! … J-HOP! … J-HOP! … J-HOP! … J-HOP! … J-HOP!”

JOHNSON: ”Well that’s all the time we have for tonight folks as we wrap things up before the pay-per-view in two weeks.”

VASSA: ”Tonight has been full up twists and turns and this finish here tonight is just icing on the cake. I couldn’t have asked for a better performance from these two.”

Stepping down from the corner, Jair looks across the ring as Amber begins coming to her senses. Slowly, he approaches her before stopping bust a foots length in front. Kneeling down, he looks to her as she looks up, and the two lock eyes as moments pass with no words.

JOHNSON: ”What do we have here?”

VASSA: ”I don’t know. Jair’s felt a little disrespected as of late in regards to what his recent opponents have said about him.”

JOHNSON: ”Taunting maybe?”

Breaking the tension, Jair extends his hand out to Amber. She looks down to it momentarily before reaching for it. Standing to his feet, Jair pulls Amber up as well before raising her arm up along with his. The chanting stops, but the silence that follows doesn’t last for long as everyone begins applauding the two for their performance tonight.

VASSA: ”That’s what it’s about.”

JOHNSON: ”Respect. It’s earned and these two have earned each other’s respect here tonight.”

VASSA: ”Indeed, Steve. So question.”


VASSA: ”So that’s a wrap then?”

JOHNSON: ”You could say that. Last show before Winter Wasteland but there’s still one more big match in play where the challengers for the Tag Team Championships will be decided at this upcoming Octane.”

VASSA: ”And who knows what else they’ll throw at us unexpectedly.”

JOHNSON: ”Well folks, it’s come to that time. You just witnessed a five star main event and the show must finally come to an end.”

VASSA: ”Unfortunately that end is now, but we only have two weeks to go!”

JOHNSON: ”Thank you all for joining us tonight for Adrenaline. It’s been a pleasure Pittsburgh.”

VASSA: ”Next stop on the list is Brooklyn, New York!”

JOHNSON: ”That’s right! Join us in two weeks for Winter Wasteland as we invade the Barclay’s Center and end the year on a high note.”

VASSA: ”Let’s not forget about the second annual Hall of Fame Awards. I’m really looking forward to that!”

JOHNSON: ”You and me both Vinny, you and me both. It’s been out pleasure ladies and gentlemen. We’ll see you in two weeks. I’m Steve Johnson…”

VASSA: ”And I’m Vinny Vassa! Goodnight!”