The piano begins to sound as the beginning to “Cold As Ice” by Foreigner plays throughout the Barclays Center. The picture opens with a shot from high above the ring, panning the entire arena. 4CW events are typically packed for even normal events, but tonight felt different. There wasn’t an empty seat in the joint as the wrestling world all gathered to celebrate 4CW’s four year anniversary here tonight, live from Brooklyn, New York! The shot then transitioned to a view from within the ring in which will host this year’s event. Scanning the arena once more, overlooking the sea of people, the camera focused on various signs held throughout the mixture.

From the skies, a blizzard came through as fake snow began to pour from the ceiling. The crowd was energetic as a celebration all throughout was being held. Four years. Four long years of non-stop events and drama. Not many places can make that claim today in the wrestling world but 4CW was one of the few. Switching to a shot from down on the floor, in front of the announcers booth, the camera showed our commentary duo sitting at ringside. Dressed for the special occasion, Steve Johnson and Vinny Vassa waited patiently as the seconds counted down and they were given their queue to kick things off officially.
JOHNSON: ”Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to tonight’s HUGE event! I’m your host, Steve Johnson, and this is Winter Wasteland!”
VASSA: ”And I’m Vinny Vassa, here to call the action live here tonight from 4CW’s four year anniversary event! Four years! Wooo!”
JOHNSON: ”Four years indeed, Vinny. It’s been a long road to get to this point but 4CW has done it. We’ve reached a milestone that not many in the wrestling industry can say today.”
VASSA: ”I can think of two places that will make this claim even though they’ve had periodic breaks between the years. But that’s none of my business.”
JOHNSON: ”I hear you and the sad thing is you aren’t wrong. Unfortunately for them, no one is buying the façade. While they sit there and pretend to be one thing, we’re going to get right down to business with tonight’s event!”
VASSA: ”We have four championship matches on schedule for tonight, and a contender match for the 4CW Championship.”
JOHNSON: ”Before we get ahead of ourselves, let’s not forget about our opening contest, one like no other! We have Cyrus Riddle and Chris Madison finally settling their differences in a Sixty Minute Ironman Match.”
VASSA: ”Starting the night off for an entire sixty minutes straight. That’s insane! Good thing I stopped by the bathroom not too long ago. Let me ask you, Steve. Is you old bladder going to be able to sit through this entire thing?”
JOHNSON: ”Oh shut up, will you?!”
VASSA: ”I’m just saying, sixty minutes is a long time for someone your age.”
JOHNSON: ”I realize how much I dislike you more and more with each show we call.”
VASSA: ”That’s okay booboo, I love you sweetie!”
JOHNSON: ”After an hour long Ironman Match, we then have Erica Cambry and Aidan Carlisle going head to head. Erica may be completely opposite to Aidan when it comes to wrestling, which in my opinion, makes this match that much more exciting.”
VASSA: ”She’s by far the opposite of Aidan. Aidan has no problems whatsoever smashing someone’s skull in. And she’s also hot while doing it! Erica on the other hand, like why does she climb into that ring when it’s clear she wants nothing to do with this business, at least the physical part of this sport.”
JOHNSON: ”Different strokes for different folks. There’s got to be something behind Erica’s actions, maybe hidden intentions. I’m not quite sure what it is.”
VASSA: ”After that we have Nurse Kinsley squaring off with Alessandro Quagmireleotard.”
JOHNSON: ”That’s Quagliaterre.”
VASSA: ”Yeah, that’s what I said Steve!”
JOHNSON: ”No, you said something that wasn’t even remotely close.”
VASSA: ”Listen here old man. I know what I said. Maybe you should turn your hearing aid up a bit and listen next time! Next match, I’m done with you!”
JOHNSON: ”Okay, have it your way. Next in the lineup, Alexis Mercer and Andre Holmes will get to settle their beef that was been boiling for months now.”
VASSA: ”She isn’t going to have the opportunity to sneak attack him from behind. Oh no, no! Tonight she’ll have to face him in that ring.”
JOHNSON: ”Will the outcome be the same as when she attacked him from behind, or will Andre stand over her triumphant? That’s the question.”
VASSA: ”I’m going to have to say… hmm… I’m not quite sure.”
JOHNSON: ”While you think about that, I’ll jump into the 4CW Tag Team Championship match, featuring the team of Cosmo Cooper and Jeb Fisher from Octane, challenging The Hostile Takeover from Adrenaline.”
VASSA: ”Cosmo Cooper and Jeb Fisher are an odd pairing to be challenging for the straps. These two have been at each others throats and now we’re supposed to believe that they can work together tonight and knock off the champs? Please…”
JOHNSON: ”This is a huge match for Octane as a brand. We’ve already seen one championship move from Adrenaline to Octane when American Tommy carried the Fate Championship, Now Ignition Championship, over after winning it at Fright Night.”
VASSA: ”If there’s one match that I know Jimmy Walker cares about more than anything else it’s this match. He’s determined to make Octane a powerhouse in this industry, much like Adrenaline is today.”
JOHNSON: ”Stealing another belt from the main show is a big start.”
VASSA: ”What I’m really looking forward to is the next championship match on the card. Genevie Carlson walked away from Fright Night and the Warzone of Horrors with the XTV Championship. She has one successful defense to her resume thus far. Tonight she has her biggest challenge to date with a man I wouldn’t want to be left alone with in a dark alley.”
JOHNSON: ”A man who’s held the same championship twice throughout his career, along with the 4CW Championship. Tonight Genie will defend against the first 4CW Hall Of Famer… Dakota Smith!”
VASSA: ”Retired whore taking on The Butcher. She better be careful because I’m sure Dakota has no problems cutting her prized possessions from her chest and adding them to the collection of body parts I imagine him having and building throughout the years.”
JOHNSON: ”There is that one guy that Jett is always talking about. The one who was taken away by Dakota and never heard of again. If there’s a collection I’m sure he’s a part of it in some fashion.”
VASSA: ”NEXT! For the third time this year, Anastasia Hayden and Bryan Williams will duke it out!”
JOHNSON: ”Bryan has two wins over her and Ana has yet to defeat him. Tonight they meet in a Last Man Standing Match.”
VASSA: ”This is literally going to be a brawl as one mist put their opponent down for an entire ten second count. Ten seconds may not seem like a lot, but in terms of keeping someone down for that amount of time, it can seem like a lifetime!”
JOHNSON: ”Ten seconds is a lifetime in the wrestling business. There’s no doubt about that so these two are going to have to dig down really deep in order to put the other one down where they stand.”
VASSA: ”These two completely despise one another and for that, I know this is going to be a huge match up!”
JOHNSON: ”Moving onto our Headline match of the evening, we have no gimmicks, no special features or rules in place. We just have a good ole’ fashioned match up between Jair Hopkins and the defending Pride Champion, Kimitsu Zombie.”
VASSA: ”Jair worked hard to get in this spot here tonight. First he had to overcome Jett Wilder who believe it or not has greatly improved and proven himself to be a threat inside of the ring. Then Jair had to make it through Amber Ryan, the former Pride Champion who wants that belt back around her waist more than anything.”
JOHNSON: ”It wasn’t an easy road to travel by any means but here he is, at Winter Wasteland, at the end of the road with only one thing left standing in his way… Kimitsu Zombie!”
VASSA: ”Kimi has been on a bit of a streak of bad luck lately. Tonight is just as big of a night for her as it is Jair. A win here can solidify her as a champion inside of 4CW, moving her bumps in the road behind her before heading into the new year.”
JOHNSON: ”It’s go big or go home, and everyone wants to go into the new year with a big win under their belt!”
VASSA: ”And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for. Closing out the night, we have Persephone Marquis, the woman who went into the Warzone of Horrors and walked out with the contract to challenge for the 4CW Championship here tonight.”
JOHNSON: ”In the other corner, we have the 4CW Champion, two-time 4CW Champion, a man who has arguably had the best year in wrestling with an opportunity to close the year with one final win under his belt. Not to mention, he’s defending the 4CW Championship in a Falls Count Anywhere Match in the same event that he made his return to last year. You all know who it is!”
VASSA: ”Despite falling to Mariano back in September and losing the 4CW Championship, Bronx has been a machine inside of that ring, not only reclaiming what was his but also establishing himself are the man to beat within 4CW.”
JOHNSON: ”Twenty-Seventeen has been the year of Bronx Valescence, there’s no denying that. Tonight’s challenge isn’t going to be easy. Persephone Marquis has made it a habit of defeating 4CW Champions of current and past times. She finally gets her chance for the first time facing off against Bronx here tonight.”
VASSA: ”That’s it folks! That’s the lineup and that’s what you all have to look forward to tonight! It’s going to be a wild ride as we celebrate four years of 4CW action. Let’s get on with the damn show!”
JOHNSON: ”I couldn’t have said it better myself. Sit tight ladies and gents, we’re going to backstage momentarily before returning with sixty minutes of in your face action, right here at Winter Wasteland!”

We open, per tradition with Bronx Valescence carrying the 4CW championship on his gear bag as he rolls it towards the backstage area. The camera is following him, left at an angle where his eyes stare forward to what is ahead instead of directly into the lens.
VALESCENCE: “We’ve been here before, huh? Another big title match. Another main event. Another chance to prove why I’ve been the top dog in 4CW in 2017… but this year is coming to an end and with the end of a New Year, comes a possible end of a new era. I should be nervous… but I’m not.”
He gave a light shrug.
VALESCENCE: “Marquis is immature. If she wins she’ll gloat and brag and then let people down. If she loses, it’ll be that I am a disappointing champion. We’ve seen it all before with Brandon Banks in 4CW and it’ll be the same with Marquis, BUT if this is the last time you see me as champion, I want to say that it was an honor, and I want to say that nothing is going to change about what I do in 4CW. No taking a break. No moping. No crying. I’ll be right back the next week, and I’ll be ready to go. That’s what I do, I don’t take a few weeks off to cry over a tag team loss like Marquis. In a way? Marquis needs this way more than me, to feel like she has a purpose.”
Bronx continued to roll along.
VALESCENCE: “I’m at peace with the result tonight one way or another. I’ve won this title belt twice now. I’ve put together a hall of fame 4CW career in one year. You can’t win every match you go into… but you can damn sure try… and that’s what I’m going to do tonight… try and extend this win streak. Try and extend this title reign, try and raise the prestige of the belt. And if I lose?”
Another shrug.
VALESCENCE: “No bitching on Twitter. No taking a few weeks off because I lost a tag match like ol’ Marquis. I’ll be right back at it, except I’ll start at the very bottom and I’ll work my way up to the top, because that’s what I do. I keep my mouth shut and I work hard, something Marquis hasn’t quite grasped yet—but she will. This win will make her career. If I win? Just another victory and I move on to face whoever I will at the next event. It’s simple as that, it isn’t rocket science.”
He was nearing the door now.
VALESCENCE: “And that’s why I’ve already won. Tonight… win or lose? You guys have heard it before so say it with me… nothing fucking changes. Tonight I fight with a certain kind of freedom that not a lot of wrestlers are granted. No gif’s of breathing into a bag. Tonight I walk in with a smile… and I walk out with a smile. No matter what happens.”
Satisfied, Bronx nods and walks through the doors and into the arena.

Backstage in the PPG Paints Arena, the cameras open to angled shot of the dark corridor between the arena’s locker rooms and its loading dock area. Alexis Mercer appeared as dark silhouette carrying a duffel bag on her shoulders. She walks to the middle and is greeted by three familiar faces with a smile across her face as the parties meet.
Standing in front of the tag team champions is none other than Christopher J. Wrigley, a smile ear to ear greets Alexis.
WRIGLEY: “This is great! This is just wonderful! What a night, what an absolutely perfect night… for a payoff.”
Alexis Mercer hands Wrigley the duffel bag. He checks inside, nodding to himself pleased. Alexis’ smile broadens and extends her arms out to her sides.
MERCER: “It’s all there. I counted it myself before the meeting. It’s like I always say. Why do all the work when you can pay two monsters to do the work for you.”
WRIGLEY: “You see that’s the attitude that’s going to take you to the top of 4CW! I can just feel it. Anytime you need our services, you just go ahead and give me call.”
Alexis and Wrigley mutually shake hands.
MERCER: “Will do. Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen.”
After that is said, Alexis Mercer leaves the trio counting the money revealed to be in the duffel bag. She leaves them to head off into the locker room area. Wrigley and company have a big smile across their face as the cameras start to slowly fade away into blackness as Wrigley’s last words are head as well.
WRIGLEY: ”Now we just have to find Perry before the match later on and get him to make Wrigley Rules an official thing!”


POWERS: “The following contest is an Iron Man match! At the end of the sixty minute time limit, the competitor with the most pinfalls and/or submissions will be the victor. Introducing first…”
Lights within the arena are killed as static fills the sound system and “Alpha and Omega” by King 810 begins to play subsequently.
“Welcome to the truth
God made me in his image
Who the fuck made you?
You want my voice from me?
You can have it, just know
I sound like this because the Devil has my throat.”

POWERS: “Making his way to the ring from London, England…”
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: “Weighing in at two hundred and thirty pounds… He is the ‘Archetype!’ ‘The Impaler!’ CYRUS RRIIDDDDLLEE!!!”
Cyrus approaches the ring with a confidence in his steps, accompanied only by the subtle hints of methodical approach as if to be zeroed in on a victim.
“Bitch! I am the powers that be!
I am Christ crucified on the T!
I am the alphaaaaa!
And the omegaaaaa!”

Cyrus’ ascends the middle outside turnbuckle as the chorus begins to play, pulling the bandana from his face and throwing the hood backward only to mouth the next part in imitation of the lyrics.
“I’m the Messiah, the gnashing of teeth
No one meets death until they see me!
I am the Alphaaaaa! And the Omegaaaaa!”

His trademark smirk followed by a tongue glide along his bottom lip can be seen as he looks around the arena and jumps down to climb between the top and middle ropes. In the middle of the ring, he removes his vest slowly to reveal his heavily tattooed body and physique, not without that always evident bit of arrogance. He tosses the jacket over to the ring attendant and stands in the corner calmly, awaiting.
POWERS: “And his opponent…”
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!!!”
Madison makes it to the base of the steps and places one foot down before scoping out the fans directly behind him by peering over his shoulder. He smirks as the live audience sings along to the entrance music and then marches up the steps and climbs through the ropes. He immediately leaps up onto the middle rope and faces out towards the crowd. He brings his fists up to his face and punches his jaw with each hand before shooting his arms out horizontally with his hands wide open, welcoming whatever challenge is coming his way. Madison hops backwards, bouncing off of his feet and turns towards the center of the ring, snarling and ready to go.
JOHNSON: “This is going to be one for the ages, folks. Cyrus Riddle and Chris Madison in an Iron Match. Does anything else say ‘war’ more than that?”
VASSA: “I think you mean slaughter, Steve. Riddle is about to get laid out.”
JOHNSON: “You may be over confident, Vinnie, but Chris knows what is in store for him here. He knows that Riddle is not your average opponent.”
The referee waits for Riddle and Madison to both head to their corners, keeping an eye on each as they keep an eye on each other. Once they have stepped back, he checks to make sure they are ready before calling for the bell.

Both men break out of their corners as soon as the bell sounds, colliding in the middle of the ring and beginning to trade vicious blows. Riddle throws closed-handed body shots as the official futilely tries to warn him against it while Madison answers with calculated forearm strikes. With laser-like focus, Madison waits for the perfect opening and then takes Riddle to the mat with a dragon suplex.
JOHNSON: “You can see the calculation from both of these two coming into play already, and we’re only seconds in. The bad blood has been building since even before Fright Night, and tonight is the breaking point.”
Giving Riddle no room to move, Madison then lays in with repeated knee strikes to the ribs. It seems as though Madison had Riddle in an impossible spot, but these two have been in the ring together many times, and Riddle expertly finds himself the split-second he needs to break free and lock in a crossface! Madison snarls in both frustration and pain, but immediately gets his bearings.
He drags himself and all two hundred and thirty pounds of Riddle toward the nearest set of ropes. Riddle cranks back, hoping to halt his progress, but Madison persists. Riddle digs in, Madison’s snarls only grow louder until he finally gets a hand on the ropes! The referee calls for the break, but Riddle holds on until the last possible second to deal as much damage as possible.
VASSA: “Riddle has until four-point-nine, and he uses every second of it.”
JOHNSON: “In a match like this, it’s a sound strategy. These two are locked into an all out war for a full hour. They’ve got to wear each other down.”
VASSA: “And no one has proven better at out-living their opponents than Chris Madison.”
JOHNSON: “I wouldn’t sleep on Cyrus Riddle, Vinnie.”
VASSA: “Gross, I don’t want to sleep with Riddle!”
JOHNSON: “I didn’t say… nevermind.”
Both men are on their feet in the blink of an eye, colliding a second time. This time, though Riddle has the upper hand immediately. He hits a reverse DDT and wastes no time going for the pin. The ref swoops in for the count.

Shoulder up!
JOHNSON: “The first near-fall, but Madison kicks out with time to spare.”
Riddle looks frustrated, but keeps his head. He gets to his feet and starts to haul Madison up, but Madison shoves him away and stands on his own. Riddle lunges forward… right into a Muay Thai clinch! Madison backs him up against the ropes and then begins to throw knee strikes like it’s going out of style.
VASSA: “Riddle’s in trouble!”
Riddle starts to fade, body going limp and making it harder for Madison to maintain the hold. As Madison adjusts, Riddle suddenly throws a fist into Madison’s gut and breaks free, hooking the leg and executing a perfect fisherman’s suplex! He bridges for the pin!

JOHNSON: “Cyrus Riddle has picked up the first pinfall quickly with the London Bridge!”
Madison looks shocked as he breaks free, looking to the referee for confirmation, and the ref does indeed hold up three fingers.

Riddle grins at the look on Madison’s face and taps his own temple. Madison rolls away to create some separation and right up to his feet. Riddle stalks after, looking to keep his opponent on the defensive. As soon as the two are within arm’s reach Madison hits a Colt 45 backbreaker that catches Riddle entirely off guard. Madison looks for the pin but can’t make the cover before Riddle breaks away.
JOHNSON: “Cyrus Riddle has first blood here, so to speak, and Chris Madison is not happy about that.”
Madison closes the gap quickly, but Riddle lures him in before sweeping the leg. Without hesitation Riddle hits a pair of elbow drops, then transitions to a series of repeated knee drops that Madison can’t quite break away from. It’s only when Riddle stops to taunt him that Madison gets the opening. Madison comes back with a sit-out spinebuster and then folds forward into a ferocious volley of forearms and elbows that the crowd counts off.
“One! … Two! … Three! … Four! … Five! … Six! … Seven! … Eight! … Nine! … Ten!”

The official manages to back Madison off for a split second, just long enough for Riddle to recover and get to his feet. Madison looks to keep Riddle off balance and surges in, but Riddle catches him and hits a brainbuster that rattles the ring! Riddle can’t hook the leg before Madison is out of reach again, holding his head but still going.
Madison rolls out under the bottom rope to give himself time to strategize, but Riddle follows with an unexpected suicide dive! Both men careen into the barricade, a tangle of striking limbs. They roll across the ground trading blows as the official tries to shout at them to get back in the ring. Riddle comes out with the advantage and grabs Madison by the back of the head, slamming him face first onto the top of the barricade!
VASSA: “The brutality! I love it!”
JOHNSON: “Well we certainly didn’t expect these two to keep it to the ring for the whole hour, now did we? But they still have to make sure they make it back in.”
VASSA: “They’ve got time, let’s see the blood!”
Madison stumbles back, catching himself against the apron. Riddle dashes forward, looking to make a big impact, but Madison hits the ground and catches him with a drop toe hold that sends him crashing into the steels stairs! Madison closes in, but Riddle sends and elbow into his gut! Riddle rises with a European uppercut that staggers Madison.
Riddle locks up one of Madison’s arms. Madison swings with the other, but Riddle catches that too! Before Madison can start to break free, Riddle goes for the headbutt! The shot connects with a sickening sound, and then Riddle goes for another! Only then to do both men realize that the referee has been counting the entire time…
“Seven! … Eight! … Nine!”

JOHNSON: “Close one!”
Madison and Riddle both manage to roll back into the ring just in time. It’s Madison who is on his feet first, there with a half-nelson suplex as soon as Riddle is within reach. No sooner have they hit the mat than Madison goes for the pin.

Riddle gets the shoulder up with authority and shoves Madison away before pulling himself up using the ropes. As Madison stands, Riddle drops back into the ropes and comes off with momentum… but Madison reverses, popping Riddle up into the air before hitting a double knee facebreaker!!! Madison shoves Riddle over and hooks the leg!


JOHNSON: “Chris Madison has pinned Riddle! The score is one-and-one!”
VASSA: “I knew he’d come back! He just gave Riddle a false sense of security!”
JOHNSON: “I think you’re really underestimating Cyrus here.”
VASSA: “I think you’re underestimating Madison!”
JOHNSON: “Not in the least. Chris Madison is without a doubt one of the best competitors in 4CW, and so is Cyrus Riddle. This is a clash of Titans, but only one can come out victorious.”
Riddle looks none too pleased that Madison has tied things up. Madison, on the other hand, returns the same tap to his own temple that Riddle had taunted him with prior. Riddle snarls and lunges in, but Madison thinks fast and catches him with a low kick to the knee that stalls his momentum. Madison hits a kick to the other knee, leaving Riddle trying to keep his balance before he steps back and blasts Riddle with a running knee strike!
Riddle snaps backward to the canvas from the force, but before Madison can capitalize, Riddle has rolled out of the ring. Madison doesn’t even hesitate before he backs to the far ropes and dashes forward, leaping clean over the top rope and hiddle a moonsault that catches Riddle just as he’s beginning to stand! Both men crash onto the floor to a huge pop from the crowd.
JOHNSON: “WHAT AN IMPACT! It’s not often you see Chris Madison take to the air, but that was impressive!”
VASSA: “The crowd sure thinks so!”
Madison is moving first, pulling himself up using the apron, and then dragging Riddle to his feet in kind. Riddle fires off a few punches to the gut, but Madison holds on and whips Riddle across the narrow aisle, ribs first into the barricade. Riddle clutches his side, but refuses to stop Madison closes in… right into a European uppercut!
Madison is sent staggering, and Riddle straightens. He grabs Madison’s shoulder and spins him around, hitting a second European uppercut! The crowd derides him as he stalks after Madison, yelling at him to get up and fight. Madison rounds on Riddle, only to be caught with the third European uppercut! Riddle then rolls Madison back into the ring and follows after.
Leaving Madison in a heap, Riddle looks to the nearest corner and grins. He climbs up onto the top rope, throwing his arms out to taunt the audience before he begins to stand. Madison is there to jostle the ropes! Riddle drops painfully onto the top rope, but Madison doesn’t hesitation. He maneuvers Riddle into the electric chair position before he hits a German suplex and bridges for the pin!
JOHNSON: “End Game! End Game from Chris Madison!”


JOHNSON: “Chris Madison has pulled ahead and leads two-to-one!”
Scoring another pin has Madison incensed. With the crowd’s cheers behind him, he drags Riddle up and hits a pumphandle slam. He checks to be sure that Riddle isn’t moving before the looks to the turnbuckles that Riddle had just tried to climb. Leaving Riddle where he lies, Madison stalks to the corner and scales the turnbuckles, turning inward.
Riddle begins to stir, but it’s too late! Madison leaps off and hits a double foot stomp!!! Riddle rolls across the ring gasping for air and holding his chest! The crowd gives a deafening pop, urging Madison on. Madison stalks after, giving no quarter as he pulls Riddle to his feet once again. He whips Riddle to the ropes and levels him with a stiff clothesline that nearly folds him in half.
JOHNSON: “My god!”
Riddle is in a bad way, still struggling to get to air back into his lungs after that stomp. Madison grabs the leg and, try as he does, Riddle can’t break free before Madison locks in a heel hook! Riddle slams the side of his fist into the mat once and growls in pain as Madison keeps the submission hold on tight. The official asks Riddle if he wants to tap, but Riddle tells him just what to do with that.
With both hands curled into fists, Riddle pulls himself toward the ropes. Madison leans his weight into the hold, trying to keep Riddle in place. Cyrus is determined, however, and inches closer. He reaches out, but his fingers come up short. He digs down, snarling, and heaves himself forward again to get a hand on the ropes! The referee calls for the break!
JOHNSON: “Crises narrowly averted for Riddle. A submission here would have given Madison an even bigger lead.”
VASSA: “He’s still ahead, he’s fine!”
JOHNSON: “Riddle looking a little worse for wear.”
Madison is pleased with himself as he lets go, watching Riddle writhe on the mat as he tries to recover. He feels confident enough to step back and give Riddle all the time he needs to stand up on his own. When Riddle is finally upright, Madison races in, looking for another high knee.
But Riddle sidesteps! Madison whips around and gets leveled by an STO into the turnbuckles!!! Riddle gloats and crosses the ring before turning and racing back for a cannonball senton! He yanks Madison right back up to his feet and holds on, looking for a short arm clothesline! But Madison ducks under and twists Riddle into a hammerlock… right into a suplex!
VASSA: “Hah! Did you see that?!”
JOHNSON: “I did. Quick thinking from Madison, and he’s turned the match back in his favor.”
VASSA: “The match has always been in his favor, Steve!”
JOHNSON: “I’d argue that an Iron Man match favors no one, Vinnie.”
Riddle shakes out his arm as he stands, glaring daggers across the ring at Madison. Madison surges in again at top speed! Riddle hits the mat and does a baseball slide right under Madison’s legs! Riddle pops to his feet and before Madison can turn around Riddle delivers a huge lariat to the back of Madison’s head!
Madison goes down hard! Riddle drops and hooks the leg, even bridging up a little for good measure. The ref is there to count again while the crowd tries to will Madison to his feet.


JOHNSON: “Riddle has evened it up with the Daydreamer! We are now two-and-two!”
VASSA: “No! No no no!”
Madison looks furious as he realizes that his lead over Riddle is now gone. He’s still trying to shake out the cobwebs as he gets to his feet, but he’s ready when Riddle steps in again, throwing his arms around his opponent for an overhead belly-to-belly suplex! Riddle is tossed practically half- way across the ring from the force!
Madison bides his time as Riddle shakes it off and gets up, only to run across the ring, hit the ropes and catch Riddle with a graceful springboard flying knee! Riddle goes down and Madison makes the cover to try to regain his lead.

JOHNSON: “Nice attempt there, from Madison, but no dice.”
VASSA: “Come on, Chris, stop toying with him!”
JOHNSON: “Since when are you such a fan, Vinne?”
Riddle gets the shoulder up just in time, and Madison shakes his head in frustration. Riddle is on his feet at the same time as Madison, catching him off guard with a swinging neckbreaker! Though Madison holds his neck with one hand, he’s still on his feet faster than he has any right to be.
Riddle drops back into the ropes for momentum. Madison ducks under a clothesline and hits the opposite ropes. Riddle goes low and Madison leapfrogs over! Riddle comes back with even more steam! Madison ducks another clothesline! Riddle brings himself up short as Madison hits the ropes again and catches him for a pendulum backbreaker!
Madison clutches his spine as he rolls across the ring, but still drags himself up using the ropes! Riddle shakes his head, jawing at Madison that he should give it up now. Madison answers with a single finger, we’ll let you guess which one.
VASSA: “Hah! Chris isn’t going to stand for all that jawing!”
JOHNSON: “I have to agree with you there. Chris Madison has always been a man of actions over words.”
Madison surges forward, but Riddle tucks the shoulder and throws Madison’ up into the fireman’s carry position! A grin spreads across Riddle’s face as he turns in a slow circle with Madison on his shoulders. Finally he tosses him up and finishes off with the knee smash!
JOHNSON: “The Purge from Cyrus Riddle!”
Riddle hooks the leg and the referee slides in for the count.


JOHNSON: “Oh my god! Riddle is in the lead once more! Can Madison come back?”
VASSA: “Of course he can!”
Riddle paces a slow circle around Madison, nudging him with his foot several time and hurling taunts and insults at him. The referee kneels to check on Madison, who shoves him away after a second. Madison looks like he’s in another dimension when he finally manages to stand. Riddle grabs the wrist and whips him into the ropes. Madison comes back… and hits a bicycle knee to the head that levels Riddle!
Both men hit the canvas, rattling the ring. After several seconds neither man has moved, causing the referee to check on each of them. When the official stands again, he begins the countout.
“One! … Two! … Three!”

VASSA: “Come on! Get up, get up!”
JOHNSON: “I have no idea where Madison had the energy for that, but it’s taken down Riddle. Unfortunately, it looks like it was all Madison had left!”
VASSA: “No it wasn’t!”
“Four! … Five! … Six!”

JOHNSON: “They’re starting to stir, just barely. You can see Riddle’s fingers moving…”
VASSA: “And Madison’s got an arm under himself!”
“Seven! … Eight! … Nine!”

Riddle drags himself up using the ropes and Madison hauls himself to his feet just in time! The crowd explodes into cheers. Neither man can believe the other is up… Neither man can quite believe he’s up, for that matter. The entire front row is on its feet.
A Yakuza kick from Riddle sends Madison back into the ropes, but he doesn’t go down. Riddle grabs the wrist and sends Madison to the opposite ropes. Madison rebounds… and comes back with a running Yakuza kick of his own! The smack echoes through the rafters and Riddle sags back into the ropes. He stumbles forward with a wild swing, but Madison ducks under!
Madison throws both arms around Riddle in a rear waistlock, but grabs one of Riddle’s arms in the process. Madison whips him around at dizzying speed with the arm, until Riddle has done a full 360, spinning himself, for a ripcord elbow right to the back of Riddle’s head! Riddle goes down like a ton of bricks and Madison makes the pin!

JOHNSON: “Comatosed! Comatosed from Chris Madison and he’s evened the score again! I can’t believe it!”
VASSA: “Yes! That’s it Chris! You’ve got this! One more and you can take back the lead! Finish him! FINISH HIM!”
JOHNSON: “Calm down Vinnie, have another drink.”


It takes almost a ten count for Riddle to recover, but he hauls himself into a corner and stands. Madison lets him, taking the time to catch his own breath. Both men are filled with determination. Both men glare across the ring at one another. Three months of hate boils over in their eyes, and somewhere in it all, maybe the barest hint of respect.
The pair both straighten at the same time, digging into the last of their reserves simultaneously. Madison ducks behind for a butterfly suplex that nearly throws Riddle into the turnbuckles. Riddle is able to recover just in time to avoid a running knee and counters with a Russian legsweep that puts Madison on the canvas.
VASSA: “Oh no!”
JOHNSON: “Quick thinking there by Riddle.”
Riddle is immediately airborne for a jumping knee drop into Madison’s sternum. Madison clutches his chest, but Riddle is already in the air for a second knee drop… and a third! Madison somehow has the wherewithal to roll away after, getting a hand on the ropes and preventing Riddle from attempting a keylock.
Madison sends Riddle reeling with a throat thrust, giving himself some space. When Riddle charges again, Madison answers with a brainbuster! Riddle looks lifeless and Madison hooks the leg. Time drags out to a crawl as the referee slides in!

VASSA: “He had it! Madison had it! He’s got another pin!”
JOHNSON: “No, Vinnie! We’re still three-and-three! The referee is indicating a kickout!”
Riddle somehow gets the shoulder up milliseconds before the ref’s hand hits the mat! Madison looks stunned! The crowd jeers in response! Madison refuses to stop. His shakes himself out and gets to his feet, laying into Riddle with forearms and elbows that drive him all the way back into the turnbuckles! The audience gleefully counts them off again!
“One! … Two! … Three! … Four! … Five! … Six! … Seven! … Eight! … Nine! … Ten!”

Madison grabs Riddle’s wrist and whips him into the ropes. Riddle rebounds off of the opposite side and careens all the way back across the ring. Madison tucks his shoulders, prepared to dump Riddle out of the ring with a back body drop… but Riddle stops short and sends a kick into Madison’s face! Madison can’t quite recover before Riddle tucks him.
Sweat pouring off his face and bald head, Riddle heaves Madison up into the dominator position. The Barclay’s Center is deafening as the crowd boos him and tries to rouse Madison with cheers. The familiar, sadistic grin crosses Riddle’s face and he switches into the sit down piledriver, driving Madison’s head into the canvas!
JOHNSON: “Darkness Falls! Darkness Falls from Cyrus Riddle!”
VASSA: “Get up dammit Chris!”
Riddle can barely throw the arm across Madison’s chest as the referee makes the count.


JOHNSON: “Oh my god!”
The final buzzer sounds just as the bell rings for the pin!!! Madison and Riddle are both in a heap on the mat, and the referee crouches beside Riddle, telling him that he’s won. The news sends an incredulous look across Riddle’s face, and the official helps Cyrus to his feet before raising his hand into the air.
POWERS: “And here is your winner with four pinfalls to three… ‘The Archetype’… CYRUS RRIIDDDDLLEE!!!”
JOHNSON: “I can’t believe it! After months of antagonizing by both sides, this war has finally come to an end…”
VASSA: “God dammit I had money on this match!”
JOHNSON: “…And the only man left standing is Cyrus Riddle!”
VASSA: “Madison had the odds!”
JOHNSON: “There are no favorites in a match like this, Vinnie. Both of these men are top notch competitors, and they proved it here tonight.”
Additional referees come out of the back to help both men out of the ring as “Alpha and Omega” continues to play.

CASHE: “Hey, long time no see!”
Almost stomping his feet, he doesn’t like it. There is a need in his voice as Jason Cashe paces the empty hallway going over various greetings.
CASHE: “Heeeey when did you come back?”
Scoffing at that last one, he knows like everyone else did when she returned. Seeing her was different in person after such a long time carrying the label of hate that the two have had for one another. Is there a correct greeting?
CASHE: “Oh you got the present I sent? Yeah I like Uncrustables too!”
Acting out how he sees it going in his head, his hands flail about as he gets into it.
CASHE: “Oh, it’s no bother, no need at all to thank me!”
His nerves seem to be on edge. Could he, Jason Cashe, really have missed having her around?
CASHE: “Why are my palms sweaty? Fuck it, let’s do this… No time like the present! Lets get it! Rrraaaaah!”
Nearby is the locker room door, or a door leading somewhere. One can assume it is a locker room in the given setting, but a bathroom or office are good guesses as well. He knocks with a hard tap of his index knuckle but doesn’t wait for a response. He just simply enters through the door.
Standing there moments before she is due for a match is Aidan Carlisle. The anxiousness that filled Cashe, his antsy pace and sweaty palms, have disappeared from him. Now stands a long drawn out look of confusion.
CASHE: “Why are you wearing a dress?”
She is, and it’s a nice dress but is this new ring attire. To Cashe, he quickly hopes and secretly prays in his head that wrestling had brought back evening gown matches. Females stripping each other ‘bucket naked’ as Cashe terms it so often.
CARLISLE: “What the fuck!”
Reaching for her bag, and therefore most likely a weapon, Aidan takes a step back from the door. For the moment, her over-sized husband isn’t in the room to throw out unwanted visitors.
CARLISLE: “What the hell are you doing in here?”
Even hating the culture behind it, Cashe quickly throws up one of those Star Trek V shaped finger palms.
CASHE: “I come in peace… But serious, what’s with the dress? There isn’t an after show dance that I wasn’t invited too right?”
Almost as if he has let his guard down completely. Like the two had ever been friends or even associates, Cashe has a different approach sometimes. Aidan casually steps towards him, Cashe should have seen it coming.

A swift thrusting finger jab to his throat as he gazes up at the ceiling. Gasping for air, choking with a gargle to it, she has done this in the past. A throwback if you will, one Cashe doesn’t approve of but Aidan was heard snickering a bit.

CARLISLE: “The dress is for my match.”
Aidan shrugs.
CARLISLE: “That twat Erica Cambry thinks wrestlers are savages… In your case, she’s right, but she thinks women who wrestle don’t know how to be ladies. So, I’m going to kick her ass in a dress, just to prove a point. Because I’m petty.”
CASHE: “Well I’m gonna ignore the subtle jab because it’s true but does this Erica not see herself as a lady? Seems weird, is she butchy? Bet she looooves the seafood huh?”
Cashe thinks it was funny and maybe Aidan would have too, but she is still full guard having Cashe in her locker room. Looking around, Cashe spotted an Uncrustable wrapper on the floor near a garbage bin.
CASHE: “You got any of those around? I do believe I have a case of the cottonmouth!”
A sudden realization comes over the brunette, and her eyes go wide.
CARLISLE: “It was you!”
Realization turns to disgust, then to suspicion.
CARLISLE: “What are you trying to pull?!”
Pointing at himself, playful in the act of innocence. Cashe laughs and begins to nod some as he comes to confess.
CASHE: “Yeah, yeah, it twas me! Let me explain. I am a lot of negative things. Most of what people say about me is truer than I’d like to admit at times. So all that heat I threw at you way back when? That was childish. Recess banter where the boy picks on the girl or vice versa. I respect you Aidan.”
It’s such a commonly thrown around expression, often times heard from chicken shits in EWC who accept then back out of challenges. So Cashe doesn’t want this to be another example of something common.
CASHE: “More than that, I see you. I see the matches you’ve had, the spotlights you’ve earned and the huuuge nuts you got there dangling under that there dress! I see you in all you’ve been and part of me wanted to hate it. Envy sometimes does that to a person. So not now, not next month even but sometime in the near future, I’d like two things from you…”
Pausing, Cashe doesn’t want to speak so run on. Giving her a chance to let his words settle and decide if she believes him or not. If she cares either way. He can’t tell looking at her but the two things he wanted. That intrigues her some.
The brunette almost starts to speak, but suspicion gets the best of her again. For a long while she just glares at him, until the silence in the locker room grows uncomfortable.
CARLISLE: “What do you want?”
CASHE: “A match, and after that, win or lose, a hand shake. I promise mine will be washed. I mean think about it. We BOTH have hit a Double Moonie! We both are Pro Uncrustables and everyone loves Thunder Buddies!”
Laughing, he can’t contain himself. A shadow of a grin, or maybe a grimace, stretches across Aidan’s face but doesn’t hold for more than a second.
CASHE: “With those two things, I believe we can have a new beginning between us. Would never call us friends but frienemies maybe? What do you say?”
Still, understandably, Aidan remains suspicious.
CASHE: “Why? Throughout history you can locate the upper echelon of talent in this business. You are quite possibly among that and while my accomplishments have had some noteworthy moments. I am a style, I am not upper echelon in talent, never the best even as Champion. I make good fights, I perform and rise based on the competition across from me and Aidan… I want to rise to that with you. I have been in there with the Dakotas, the Bryan Williams and Eli Carlsons. What I am missing is someone like you.
If I lose? I get that autograph. That acknowledgement that I got in there and gave you nothing short of a fight. So let’s get bloody sometime… All the tension we have had between us, the hate, the disgust and cusp of wanting destruction to consume one another… Heh, maybe that is too much but I have found that my best moments win and in loss come from being in there with the best around. I want your respect and I want to give you mine but to fully have that… I need to have those two things.”
Wanting to let her answer without much hesitation, Cashe goes another route.
CASHE: “Tell you what. Don’t answer now, think about it. Focus on your match and wearing that dress. If you decide you accept? Find me. Backstage, in the ring, on the toilet while I am dropping off loads. Find me, look me in the eye and attack. In our business you can say a whole lot but actions. Ohhhh actions! That’s where the real fun begins. Put thought to it Aidan. I’m a patient man so take your time… Good luck tonight!”
The longer Cashe goes on the more it seems that Aidan wants to reply, probably to shoot him down. Perhaps that’s why he keeps going. When he finally finishes, she shakes her head.
CARLISLE: “Whatever, Cashe. If you need me to say I’ll think about it so you can get the hell out of here and I can finish getting ready to beat that bitch’s ass, then fine, I’ll think about it.”
Aidan stares daggers at Cashe until he begins to back out of the locker room, finally turning back to her bag so she can wrap up preparing for her match. Nodding to her as he pulls open the door and begins to leave. Cashe stops, turns back and a whisper of a song is sang.
CASHE: “When you hear the sound of thunder
Don’t you get too scared
Just grab your thunder buddy
And say these magic words
Fuck you thunder!
You can suck my dick
You can’t get me thunder
‘Cause you’re just God’s farts”

The scene opens up with Gabriel Hartman speeding through the halls, panting heavily as he brings us news of something drastic happening in the distance.
HARTMAN: “Ladies and Gentlemen something has just transpired back here!! My God!!”
A mixture of medical staff, backstage officials, and security personnel come into view as the camera swings in that direction. Orders are being barked. Medics are calling for people to fan out away from a motionless figure laid out on the floor.
HARTMAN: “Hey! That’s Erica Cambry! What has just happened here? Oh God, there’s blood. Oh no!”
Indeed there’s a thick pool of blood under her head. Jeeves comes bursting through the crowd, hand held over chest as if suffering a mild heart attack, and he’s furious.
JEEVES: “That god-awful hag, Aidan, attacked her! I saw it with my own eyes! I was lucky to escape! Security, go at once and apprehend her! Arrest that squalid wench! HURRY! Don’t just stand there, you fools! What are you waiting for?”
The black shirts try to calm him down as the camera focuses in closer to the kneeling medics searching for a wound. They search and search and search and finally look at each other in confusion.
MEDIC: “No wound area. It’s not an internal injury. Something’s not right.”
The medic dabs his gloved finger on some of the blood and spreads it on a medical meter device. It pings a color and beep that causes him to shake his head and stand up.
MEDIC: “Okay Miss Cambry, up and at’em. We know it’s fake blood. Nice try. Come on.”
Erica suddenly bolts from the floor to her to vertical base fresh as a daisy and begins shoving the medic.
CAMBRY: “You prick! What’s your problem, huh? You WANT to see me get brutalized by Aidan? I bet you’d like that huh? I bet you get off to stuff like that you fat, many chinned jack-wad!”
Security steps in and separates her from the medic. She hurls idle threats at them and summons her head of security, Frank, to the scene. The former Special Operations Operative blows in with a swiftness and within moments delivers a blindingly fast array of punches, kicks, and headbutts that free up Erica and leave the security team unconscious. Erica manages to kick one of the medics in the balls as the rest escape.
During all of this, Hartman has wisely stayed a good distance away and looks into the camera with wide, bugged out eyes.
HARTMAN: ”It’s bedlam back here! Pure pandemonium! It appears that Erica Cambry has just tried to trick medical staff into rushing her to the hospital, which would have spared her from meeting Aidan Carlisle one on one in just a few short moments. It didn’t work and now we have security down, medical staff down, oh my!”
He lets out a rather girlish scream as Erica and her entourage blows past him and the camera and round a corner.

The picture transitions back to the main area of the arena which happens to be dark at the moment. Silence fills the air as the Brooklyn crowd awaits for the next match or appearance of the evening. A spotlight then turns on from above, shining down onto the entrance stage, illuminating a small area where a podium is placed in the center. Behind the podium, above the entrance way, the big screen comes to life. A blue screen with various footage from matches of past times begin to play. Slowly, a gold outline begins to appear in the middle of the screen. There’s a flash across the screen and to follow, the words “Hall Of Fame” appear within the golden frame.

Out from the back, Perry Wallace and Jimmy Walker dip through the curtain and walk out onto the stage. Slowly, they approach the podium. Perry, like always, is dressed from head to toe in a custom tailored suit made just for the occasion. Jimmy, although his suit is nice, the cowboy hat just doesn’t match. What can you do? It’s the man’s style and who is Perry to tell him how to dress for the occasion when he used to sport a mullet straight from the eighties.
Stepping up to the podium, Perry looks out into the arena, scanning over the crowd. A feeling of pride radiates from him, as tonight marks four years that 4CW has been in business with no breaks, just consistent wrestling action that has made it the staple that it has become today. He leans in slowly, stopping his mouth just inches away from the microphone.
WALLACE: ”Good evening everyone and thank you for coming out tonight. Not only just tonight, but thank you for showing your support week in and week out over the last four years. Tonight is a very special night. Just four years ago 4CW held its first show in Reno, Nevada with a crowd not even a fraction of what we have here tonight. Over these four years I have watched as 4CW grew from a promotion with little hope, into the powerhouse that is today. It makes me proud. Proud of the dedication and hard work of those who have been with us along the ride. Proud of myself for seeing something through for one in my entire life. And more importantly, proud of each and every one of you for showing your support to the product that we have to offer, the product that has set the bar in the industry today. It wasn’t easy by any means, but the rewards have been well worth it.”
Tapping his fingers along the top of the podium, he pauses momentarily. Looking over the crowd, he slowly looks from one side of the arena to the other.
WALLACE: ”Four years is quite the accomplishment by today’s standards. Sure, there are some other promotions out there who have been in business just as long, if not longer. There are also promotions that open and close within months, too many to even count. What makes us different, what separates 4CW, what you see is what you get. Unfiltered and in your face both in the arenas and outside. Name one other promotion with as much hate and jealousy. Go ahead… I’ll wait.”
He pauses again, looking from left to right and then down to his wrist as he holds it up and pulls back his cuff, revealing a watch.
WALLACE: ”You can’t, at least not in the way that I’m describing. 4CW gets a lot of heat and hate from promoters and wrestlers who simply just wouldn’t cut it here for five minutes. For that, they hate us. They hate 4CW and the level of success that it has achieved throughout the years. And to them I only have one thing to say. Fuck you. Hate what you wish you had for yourself, that’s all it is.”
Pausing for a short moment, a smile then comes to his face before he leans back to the microphone.
WALLACE: ”I would also like to take this time to congratulate another promotion for still being in business after all these years. It’s a small place, on the east coast in a small city known as Atlantic City. Keep up the good works guys. Big four baybay!”
Breaking into laughter, he looks to the nearby camera, giving it a wink before doing the famous “Perry Point”.
WALLACE” ”On more of a serious note, thank you all for supporting us throughout the years. So, here’s to four great years, and many more to follow.”
The crowd applauds as Perry takes a step back from the podium, opening it up to Jimmy.
WALKER: ”Listen. I know you’re all accustomed to Perry taking up three quarters of the show with his opening remarks and what not. And I know you’ve fallen in love with Octane because we don’t do things like that over on the B…est show. But tonight is about celebrating 4CW as a whole and two people who have epitomized what it means to be 4CW. And yes, that even means epitomizing FATE and UPRISING programming. Neither of our two Hall of Fame selections are perfect. They’ve had their highs and their lows, just as 4CW as a whole has had its highs and lows. All I need to do is speak names like Vossler or Maddox Lucien and the collective roster and administration of this company simultaneously dry heaves. But what keeps 4CW on top of the wrestling world is its ability to adapt, to overcome and to survive the attempts of faggots and retards to bring us down. It’s not going to happen. It’s never going to happen. We’re not like Vietnam, about to be conquered by a halfwit and his fat lipped brother. Big ol’ fat rain can fall from the sky, but we will stay on top forever. Not even Phoenix Quagliaterre’s massive forehead can bring us down.”
Stepping back to the podium, Perry shakes his head with a smile on his face and the microphone picking up his laughter. After a few moments, he regains himself, his focus.
WALLACE: ”Last year 4CW inducted its first member into the Hall Of Fame. That person was no one other than Dakota Smith. At first when he was inducted, I went into this with the thought of only inducting former talents who were no longer signed with the company or even actively competing. But there here comes Dakota, only months later returning after being presumed dead. It was then and there that I realized that people always say they’re leaving, or suffer injuries that put them on the shelves. And nine times out of ten, that person ends up returning to action in some shape or form. With that in mind, we come to the second annual Hall Of Fame inductions and a completely different mind set.”
He turns his head, looking to Jimmy at his right.
WALLACE: ”Jimmy, would you like to do the honors of announcing our first Hall Of Fame inductee for Twenty-Seventeen?”
WALKER: ”The first Hall of Fame Inductee of Two Thousand and Seventeen is….”
He pauses to build suspense and then cracks the envelope open, pulling a card out from inside of it without really glancing at it.
WALKER: ”The greatest Octane Champion of all time… BRYAN LAUGHLIN! What an accomplishment for a young man who was rejected and discarded and trampled underfoot by the Adrenaline bullies. He’s unique… H-“
Cutting him off by clearing his throat, Wallace walks up and whispers something into Jimmy’s ear and then takes a few steps back.
WALKER: ”Oh… well… I’ve been informed that the first Inductee this year is, in fact, not Bryan Laughlin. But rather a man who has crawled through the vents of an arena, spying on people. A man who has cut a promo while taking a shit on the toilet. A man who has murdered an innocent rat and dog. A MAN WHO ONCE SHIT HIMSELF IN THE MIDDLE OF A 4CW RING! His contributions to this industry are unique… and they are undeniable. Ladies and Gentlemen…. I introduce to you the first 4CW Hall of Fame Inductee of Twenty-Seventeen…. JASON CASHE!”
After Jimmy is finished announcing the first Twenty-Seventeen Hall Of Fame inductee, he steps down from the podium. Right behind him, Perry Wallace steps back to the podium.
WALLACE: ”Jason Cashe everyone…”
Perry claps his hands together, and not long after the crowd applauds as well. After a few short moments pass, the applause comes to an end as Perry leans into the microphone.
WALLACE: ”Now our second inductee for the evening has a great body of work for him in 4CW, just like our first inductee. Although he may not have as many accomplishments, what he’s done within a 4CW ring speaks for itself. You all know him as a two-time 4CW Champion and former 4CW Tag Team Champion. He is a nine time Match of the Night participant and the Twenty-Sixteen Wrestler of the Year. He also bit of the nipple of our first inductee for the evening! He has a match later on in the evening, with a chance to add another championship to his resume. I don’t expect him to accept this honor tonight, but if you will, please give it up for Twenty-Seventeen Hall Of Fame inductee… JAIR HOPKINS!!!”
The arena bursts into applause at the announcement of the second Hall Of Fame inductee for this year. The Screen behind the podium begins to play past clips of Jair’s in-ring performances from Match of the Night moments to various other moments during championship matches. After a good round of applause from everyone, the arena then settles down before Perry leans in for his final remarks.
WALLACE: ”Whether these two gentlemen accept this award, care for it, or whatever… there’s no denying that they have earned it. These men have been a huge part of creating the foundation in which 4CW stands upon today. Throughout the years that 4CW has been in business, these men have been with 4CW through thick and thin. While the door has opened and closed on many careers for many wrestlers, these two have stood by this company, proudly waving the 4CW flag. So with that, I want to conclude this ceremony. Thank you all for the dedication you have given us throughout this four year adventure. Here’s to many more…”
And with that, Perry raises a hand, extending four fingers as he looks over the crowd. The microphone happens to pick up on Jimmy Walker muttering and shaking his head.
WALKER: ”For fucks sake, Perry. You’re not in a got damned gang.”
Clapping his hands politely along with Perry, Jimmy steps up beside Wallace and continues to applaud as the Hall Of Fame induction ceremony comes to its conclusion.

This certainly was a different Dakota Smith we were seeing these past few weeks, or was it? All of that was debatable but for now we see Dakota in a state that few has ever witnessed before. He was on his cell phone, it placed up against his ear. And a smile was on his face, not a deviant smile, or a devilish smile. A smile that would make you think the man was almost human. The way his eyes light up, not with fire, but with excitement, passion. You couldn’t quite make out what it was that he was saying – but you could tell that it was a rather friendly conversation. He intently listened as the other person talked on the phone, taking in and really paying attention to what they were saying. After a few more minutes of this odd like behavior you see the conversation coming to an end, Dakota muttering three words and then hanging up the phone, letting it drop to the floor.
As soon as he does this you see his whole stance change, the smile slowly sinks down into a snarl, his eyes getting a unhinged tick about them. His neck twitches off to the left and then to the right before his chest starts to move up and down in a rapid pace, his breathing changed. Then like a stick getting bent to far, he snaps. An outburst of violent, robust laughter and The Butcher is here. He shoots his eyes over to the camera, and with a maddening grin he begins to walk towards it. His arms twitch is various directions, like a horse swatting flies with its tail.
He kept a low, mumbling chuckle as he approached the camera, stopping in front of it and glaring into it. Showing his blood stained teeth to the camera, like a wolf before tearing into its prey. Suddenly the laughter stopped as his eyes narrowed in, as if he was looking for a certain person within the lens of the camera. After a few moments he seems to find that person as his tongue extends from behind his scarred lips.
SMITH: ”No more words.”
And with that Dakota pushes past the camera, it following him for a bit as he makes his way through the arena, but after a few twist and turns The Butcher seemingly disappeared, leaving the camera and the man behind it in a state of confusion before we cut to ringside.


JOHNSON: ”We’ve got another match coming up for you folks!”
VASSA: ”I know some people will say that Aidan has been having a rough go of it lately, but the times have changed. 4CW isn’t the same place as she remembered. Competition is tougher here.”
JOHNSON: ”You’re obviously referring to the last couple of losses for Aidan Carlisle, tough ones. But she has been facing tougher opponents lately. I think things are going to change for her tonight.”
VASSA: ”I think so too, Erica Cambry got herself a great debut win but Aidan is something else.”
JOHNSON: ”It’ll be interesting to see how these two play out here tonight.”
VASSA: ”No, yeah, definitely.”
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 in full formal attire, escorted by her tuxedo-clad husband. A driving, but instrumental rhythm fills the Barclays Center as an orchestral version of Disturbed’s “Down with the Sickness” plays.
POWERS: ”Coming to the ring from Hell’s Kitchen, New York…”
Through the dimmed lights and flame she surveys the audience, smirking like a predator from ear to ear. Unhooking her arm from Liam’s, she soaks in the reaction from the crowd, holding her arms out to either side, tilting her head back, and letting the music get her revved up for the impending match.
POWERS: ”…weighing in at one hundred forty-five pounds…”
Taking Liam’s arm once again, she strides down the aisle, pointing in either direction, acknowledging packs of cheering fans throughout the crowd. Her smirk is firmly fixed on her lips as they ascend the stairs together. Liam holds the ropes for her, and Aidan gracefully ducks between them.
POWERS: ”…she is the ‘Alpha Bitch of Four Corners Wrestling’… AIDAN CCAARRLLIISSLLEE!!!”
Aidan turns in a slow circle, gesturing for the audience to give her more before she takes off her silk shawl and jewelry, which she gives to Liam for safe-keeping during the match.
JOHNSON: ”Um. Okay then!”
VASSA: ”Is Aidan going to be wrestling in a gown tonight? That is a dress, Steve. That’s coming off, right? Like she has her whole wrestling gear under that?”
JOHNSON: ”I don’t think so, Vinny. She looks to be ready for the match right now.”
VASSA: ”She better be careful in those heels, that shit looks dangerous.”
“Bittersweet Symphony” by the Verve plays and Erica comes out to a wave of jeers. Flanked to her left and right is her bodyguard, Malik, and her butler/manager, Jeeves whom is pushing a fancy mobile frappe and cappuccino machine for when Erica calls time out in the match and requires a beverage. They make their way to the ring, with Erica ordering Malik to rip up some signs of the fans she doesn’t like.
POWERS: ”Hailing from Nonya Business, New York, standing five feet, eight inches tall and weighing none of your ignorant business, ERICA CCAAMMBBRRYY!!!”
When they make it to the ring, Jeeves whips out a fresh cup of frappe and she delicately sips it before taking a huge nervous sigh and enters the ring.
JOHNSON: ”Here comes Erica Cambry, Erica doesn’t look too disturbed by this sight.”
VASSA: ”If anything she’s probably upset she didn’t think of it first.”
JOHNSON: ”No, I don’t think so Vinny. Erica just looked at Aidan and rolled her eyes. This is going to get ugly.”
VASSA: ”Well, we better get that bell going, before shit gets ugly here!”

Erica and Aidan stare each other down, as the bell rings. The match begins as Aidan slowly walks out from her corner. Erica Cambry circles around Aidan, keeping her distance as Aidan watches on. Aidan takes a fighting stance, Erica looks to shoot in for a tie-up but decides against it. Suddenly, Aidan moves towards Erica and tries to push her up into the corner. Erica ducks out, pushing Aidan into the corner instead. Erica lashes out, a few forearm strikes connect as Erica attempts to change levels with a shoulder block. She goes to drive her shoulder into the stomach of Aidan, but Aidan grabs a handful of hair and throws her to the mat!
Erica grabs the back of her head, trying to get back to her feet, but Aidan lands a stiff kick to the side of her ribs. Erica scrambles to her feet, rushing towards the ropes. She charges at Aidan on the rebound, but Aidan ducks and runs the ropes as well. Both competitors meet in the middle of the ring, Aidan catching Erica with a running high knee!
JOHNSON: ”A picture perfect knee from Aidan Carlisle there!”
VASSA: ”She does look pretty majestic, don’t you think?”
JOHNSON: ”What? What are you talking about, Vinny?”
VASSA: ”Huh? Oh, nothing, man. Sorry.”
Erica stumbles backwards, leaning against the ropes. Aidan grabs her, pulling her into a Belly to Belly suplex, but Erica fights out of it. She thrashes her hand across Aidan’s eyes, breaking up the hold. Aidan quickly recovers, but Erica takes her down with a Lou Thez Press! Aidan is a bit disorientated now, as Erica looks on with a smile. She presses her luck, trying to toss Aidan to the ropes. Instead Aidan grabs her, quickly wrapping her up into a clinch! She keeps her locked into a Muay Thai clinch, elbows raining down on Erica Cambry!
JOHNSON: ”Erica thought she had Aidan where she wanted her, but Aidan was still able to fight back!”
VASSA: ”Yeah, look at her go! Such a great competitor.”
VASSA: ”Nothing, shut up.”
Erica breaks free of the hold, pushing Aidan away and connecting with a side kick to her stomach. With her opponent doubled over, Erica attempts a running Spear! Aidan ducks, but Erica stays on it, she runs to the ropes and uses that momentum to take Aidan down with a Spear! Erica knocks Aidan down, quickly scrambling over to her to get the pin!

Aidan was able to kickout in time, surprising Erica completely. She looks around, unsure of what to do next. Erica quickly thinks, moving towards her corner. The hairspray is there, and it’s the only thing on her mind right now. A distracted Aidan would be easy to finish, so Erica heads right to the corner. She doesn’t realize though that Aidan is up, as Aidan charges into her and knocks her into the corner!
JOHNSON: ”Erica got the quick pinfall there, but Aidan is already back up in into this match.”
VASSA: ”Yeah, she thought she had Aidan, but you can’t keep somebody down as beautiful as her.”
JOHNSON: ”Okay, Vinny, what are you talking about here? Do you have a crush on Aidan or something?”
VASSA: ”You shut your mouth, and watch the damn match, Steve!”
Erica hits hard, settling into the corner for a moment as she tries to regroup. Aidan, however, is using her time wisely. Backing up a bit, as she charges into a Handspring Back Elbow! Even in her dress, and heels, Aidan is able to complete the move! Erica collapses to the mat, as Aidan looks on. She quickly lifts Erica up to her feet, connecting with the AC Slam! Aidan moves in for the cover, as Patrick Murphy makes the count!

POWERS: ”Here is your winner, AIDAN CCAARRLLIISSLLEE!!!”
JOHNSON: ”What the hell?”
“Down With the Sickness” begins to play, as Aidan looks confused. Erica immediately pops up and slides out of the ring. She almost looks to be relieved, being able to get out of that match so quickly. The crowd boos Erica, upon realizing she allowed herself to be pinned. Aidan looks on, still a bit confused from the whole thing. Erica gives Aidan a wave, and a wink, playing dead so she could live to see another day.
JOHNSON: ”Folks, it seems like Erica just allowed herself to be pinned! You think she realized that dragging this out would play out poorly for her?”
VASSA: ”Smart move, live to fight another day. Aidan looks so confused right now.”
JOHNSON: ”You sure you don’t want to compliment her again?”
VASSA: ”Shut your mouth, Steve.”

This image appears on the screen for a mere few seconds before cutting to black.
STORM: ”I do, because I can.”
You hear a voice but the screen remains black. The voice sounding a little disgruntled and disturbed but it wasn’t hard to pick a guess as to who the man behind the voice was. You saw the ‘Your Hero and Mine’ slogan right at the beginning and that could only ever be associated with one man, one man who’d made it his mantra despite it’s negative connotations. You hear a chuckle, a clearing of the throat – and suddenly you’re thrown into a scene. The camera focuses on hands clasping together, fingers nimble and nails bitten obsessively.
STORM: ”You don’t, because you suck.”
There’s an air of cockiness about him, you can sense it without even being in the scene – you can hear it behind his voice, his words drowned with self gratification and arrogance, it was almost revolting to listen to. But you continue to listen, and as you do there’s a change of angle from the camera. You’re now looking into the man’s eyes and staring back at you is the self proclaimed ‘hero’ to professional wrestling, mister Mark Storm. He grins from ear to ear, bowing his head ever so slightly and biting onto the bottom lip. Oh, he’s full of himself. He’s loathing in this moment in front of the camera but you can’t help but loathe with him.
He’s wearing a white crew neck t-shirt, on the middle of the shirt his slogan reads: “Your Hero, and Mine“, the exact same style as the image you saw at the beginning of the promo. He takes off his customized “Dogs of War” cap and fiddles with it, refusing to look back at the camera as he lays a smirk upon his lips, clearing his throat once more before opening his mouth:
STORM: Your Hero, and Mine.”
Looking back up at the camera with vacant eyes, his smirk remains.
STORM: ”You know who I am. Don’t pretend like you don’t because it doesn’t mean anything. Whether you know me for good reasons or bad, it’s all the same. You know me.
Some of you, might like me. You might be aware of the things I’ve done all over the world and you respect that, and like me for it. Maybe you can relate to me. Maybe you’ve seen some of my high caliber matches, which have been – for the most part, contenders for match of the year – everywhere I’ve been. Maybe you like me because I was at that place once upon a time. You know, the place that everyone hates around here? Doesn’t matter. Some of you, might hate me. You might hate the fact that I dip in and out of places quicker than you can say ‘Make America Great Again’. Or that I’m a self obsessed, overrated, asshole – who calls himself a hero to make himself feel better. Like me or hate me, doesn’t matter because I’ve affected you. I’ve made you feel something toward me whether that’s love or hate, and not many people can do that. That’s what I thought, anyway. But then I remembered. “
He holds a finger up in the air.
STORM: ”Four Corners Wrestling is the home of some of the most controversial names to ever step foot in a wrestling ring. That’s not me just saying that, it’s a fact that everyone knows and acknowledges. You look through the pool of talent and those names, they stick out because they’ve affected you, too. Whether that’d be by trolling someone online. Trolling them so bad that they get butt-hurt and block everyone associated with the promotion, ranting about how 4CW guys are all the same. Maybe, they ruined Star Wars Force Awakens for you, letting you know that Han Solo dies before you’ve even seen the movie and because of that, you hold a grudge against them over a movie that isn’t real. Or even by what they wear, dressing up as nurses whilst inflicting violence, or what they say, cursing on primetime television – whatever it is, the majority of the names on that roster have affected you. I used to think I was vastly different. But no, there’s others like me. They’re all here. They’re all fucked up like me and do a pretty damn good job when they’re in the ring too.”
He pauses, averting his eyes away from the camera whilst allowing his words to be digested fully before continuing.
STORM: ”The only difference is, they’re contracted here. And I’m not.”
Once again, his eyes meet the camera, and a sinister smirk too.
STORM: ”But that’s about to change.”
Before anything else can leave his mouth, the scene instantly cuts to black and you’re left alone with his last sentence lingering for discussion.

After the Erica Cambry and Aidan Carlisle match has reached its conclusion, the attention is drawn to the big video screen where Alessandro Quagliaterre is seen backstage in the hallway carrying a fancy leather briefcase. Doing a pre-match walk ritual to calm himself before his match which was due to start imminently, he notices the camera watching him. He places the briefcase down, and addresses the audience.
QUAGLIATERRE: “Yo, yo, yo, yo! Pop a rollie and check your 40’s, it’s *CENSORED SHITTY TAG TEAM*. Brooklyn. Brooklyn. We’re bringing it. We’re bringing it. We’re bringing the hood to you. We’re bringing it. We’re bringing it. Whatcha gonna do. We’re bringing it. We’re bringing it. We’re bringing the hood to you. We’re bringing it. We’re bringing it. Yeah that’s how we do.”
Alessandro shucks and jives in his attire back and forth, doing a little dance, before stomping his foot firm on the ground and fixing up.
QUAGLIATERRE: “Alright. Enough of the nonsense in tribute for the worst tag team that ever lived to come out of this worst borough of New York. Brooklyn. Brooklyn. The only hood I’m bringing to you is a guaranteed ass whooping for Nurse Kinsley.”
He slaps his butt.
QUAGLIATERRE: “Now it’s not quite a boiler room for you Miss Kinsley, this is just a hallway at an arena that will always play second fiddle to Madison Square Garden. Similarly to how tonight you will be playing second fiddle in my shadow. Allow me to catch a insight for his thoughts.”
Alessandro searches for his shadow and spins himself around a few times going in circles making him dizzy. After regaining his balance he picked up the briefcase.
QUAGLIATERRE: “Seem like my shadow is unavailable for comment at this time, which means I will speak on his behalf. Inside of this briefcase I make good on my promise. Fifty Thousand Dollars as promised for your parents to simply be in attendance tonight during our match. I will personally deliver these goods to them myself. Now I know there is a debate that the other Fifty Thousand Dollars which I attached to a Carrier Pigeon on the helicopter may have got lost in transit. Well tough shit, you shouldn’t have chosen to be born in a place that is fake. I really hope your parents made the trip from your hometown which is not really your hometown and simply a figment of your imagination.”
Still holding onto the briefcase, he then punched himself in the head.
QUAGLIATERRE: “I want them to witness the humiliation that unfolds, I want them to see with their very own two eyes the horrors which only you have brought upon yourself. And if they don’t exist and it was all a ruse, then my violence is on display for any parent in that audience, watching at home, to have brought up a worthless piece of shit like you Nurse Kinsley.”
He put the briefcase back down on the floor, and continued.
QUAGLIATERRE: “However I will admit, those in glass houses should not throw stones. It would be hypocritical of me to ridicule your parents and your upbringing when I myself am hardly father of the year. So let’s make this less personal, and more about business shall we?.”
Twiddling his fingers over his chin, he though about it.
QUAGLIATERRE: “Except I much rather prefer to make this personal, seeing as you initiated this Bad Blood between us. From bringing up my past, to where I have wrestled before, and even butchering my name an infinite amount of times. At first I thought you were doing it out of stupidity. Then I quickly cottoned on that you were just doing it to get me riled up. And it worked. You got to me. You made me snap. You drew first blood, and I was left having to smear my face for the cleanup after your barrage of words in the build-up to Winter Wasteland.”
He thought over all that was said.
QUAGLIATERRE: “Here’s the thing though. I will let you have that advantage. I will allow you to believe you are in control and have this all under wraps until I choose to pick my spot. And the time to strike while the iron is hot is NOW! You beat me in the war of words, I concede. You beat me in the battle of mind games, I concede. You even beat me in the social media duel, I concede. But in that Wrestling RING. There will be no concession of defeat, that is where the tables turn and I do what I do best. OUT WRESTLE YOU.”
He pats his chest.
QUAGLIATERRE: “At the end of the day, that is all really matters to me, and nothing else. And seeing as you butchered the pronounciation of my name like a gazillion amount of times, I think I will be forced to stoop to your level of hypocricy. So when we got out there in a few moments, I am going to give you a lesson in what happens when you piss off ALESSANDRO QUAGLIATERRE. Allow me to say that again as you got a spasticated cortex deep in that brain of yours. AL-ESS-AND-RO QUAG-LI-AT-ERRE! Gotta Roll the R’s like you licking out a pussy. Which you would know nothing about as a Cock Muncher.”
His implication was that Nurse Kinsely is a slut.
QUAGLIATERRE: “Just don’t be munching on my Cock because I tell you, this is not the time for a pity fuck. Not that I would ever be interested in fucking a Skep like you as your hair is not firebird red enough, your skin tone is not lovely caramel mocha enough, and you definitely do not meet my forehead size preferences. No! Instead what I will do is rip that fucking surgical mask off your face which you so proudly claim is paying homage to your Lucha Libre roots from your time down in Mexico?”
He appeared lost for a moment.
QUAGLIATERRE: “If it really was in homage to the homies down south of the border, you would wear an actualy Lucha Libre mask you dumb bitch, not a surgical mask used as a tampon dabbler for your period and a cloth used as a cum catcher. Regardless of the reasoning behind that stupid white piece covering your mouth. I’m going to snatch it, and show all of these fanboy and fangirls in Brooklyn what really lies underneath. Which is either your bad breath and crooked teeth that could do with a dental plan. Or the revelation will be the syphillis on your lips as the real reason for you needed to be covered up. I’m going to expose your face bare, and leave you mentally and phsyically drained from the embarassment.”
He lifted up the briefcase a final time, and began to walk towards making his entrance.
Alessandro Quagliaterre was ready to go as the scene faded.

Backstage Cosmo Cooper is pacing, he has his head down and his fists clench and unclench as he looks down at the floor, you can nearly feel the butterflies just by watching him until he finally stops and looks down towards the camera.
COOPER: “There’s no mistake about it, like… tonight is the biggest match of my career. I…”
He swallows as he shakes his head and adjusts the flat bill on his head before he rubs his chin and then looks back down.
COOPER: “It’s weird for me, yanno. I’ve carried the banner wherever I’ve been. Shitty XHW? I was the man. Monkey Business? Their first champ. GCW? Legacy Champ, GCW Champion, I lead the way. AWE? I was on top of the rankings in the division when it went down… but man has 4CW been a damn reality check. I feel like the really good high school player who got bumped up to the big leagues and tonight? Like… man. I am as nervous as I have been in my entire career, but let me tell you why that’s a good thing.”
Slowly he nodded.
COOPER: “It means I’m sharp. It means I am ready, and I am ready to leave it all out there in the ring. I know wins aren’t guaranteed in 4CW, but I know I won’t stop until I’m successful, and I know I won’t stop until I have gold around my waist and even though I hate Jeb… I understand Jeb. I will fight for Jeb. Because he may not be my brother, and we may be fighting on Octane in a tag match, but that doesn’t fuckin’ matter tonight. Tonight? My success is his success and his success is my success. Tonight we faced an established team. But honestly? I know Jeb better than anyone because he is my enemy.”
Cosmo pounded his chest.
COOPER: “And I know my enemies better than I know my friends. I know Jeb wants to win this as badly as I do and whatever tomorrow brings? We can settle it then, but TONIGHT? We are going to win it for Jeb, we’re going to win it for Bob, we’re going to win it for Grandma and we’re going to win it for Octane. Tonight? We stand tall. Tonight? We set the bar and tonight? The best of enemies become the best of tag teams.”
Clicking his tongue, Cosmo winked and walked off, probably to puke in a bucket.


The Barclays Center has been waiting for crazy action and the undercard of Winter Wasteland provides that experience they will enjoy. The cameras show the different fans who sold out the legendary arena before transitioning over to the announce table. Vassa and Johnson are sat behind it ready to call the action of the night especially the next match, Nurse Kinsley facing off against Alessandro Quagliaterre.
JOHNSON: ”Welcome back to Winter Wasteland especially after that crazy sixty-minute Iron-Man match. We’re now starting off our undercard with a match between two new talents who have impressed us with their consistent performances. That’s Nurse Kinsley against Alessandro Quagliaterre.”
VASSA: ”That name is too much fucking energy to say. It’s so much energy to move my lips and pronounce that fucking name. We’re calling him Alessandro Q. From now on, no Quagliaisiterria shit. Q. And he better be ready to face off against Nurse Kinsley. That bitch is crazy and delusional in all types of fucking ways.”
JOHNSON: ”That’s a good point. Alessandro Q is one of the most charismatic competitors on the roster who is facing against probably the most bizarre. This is a match up of not only two talented people but extreme personalities going to clash under one ring.”
VASSA: ”In the case shit hits the fan, we just leave. I’m not being around that Nurse Kinsley bitch. Fuckin’ hell. She gives me the creeps. Whoever gave her a medical license clearly is blind or had their eyes be shot out. Anyways…”
JOHNSON: ”Yeah. Let’s take it over to Powers for the match introductions!”
The camera changes over to the inside of the ring. The referee sanctioned for the match stands in the corner and Powers in his signature black tuxedo stands in the center with a microphone under his chin. He gets the cue from production to begin with the match introductions.

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 first! Hailing from Alpine, New Jersey! At six feet, four inches tall, weighing in at two hundred and forty pounds. He is 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 the entrance stage waiting for Nurse Kinsley to arrive.
JOHNSON: ”Alessandro Q has been on a roll and his first PPV is Winter Wasteland. Imaging getting a win at a PPV like this for your first appearance. His momentum will grow tenfold and it’ll be an impressive win over Nurse Kinsley.”
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: ”Introducing his opponent! Hailing from Bloody Corners, Ohio! At five feet, eight inches tall, weighing in at one hundred and thirty pounds. She is ‘The Good Nurse’ 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.
VASSA: ”And this bitch needs Jesus. She needs Jesus, Allah, Budha and whatever God you can find because she’s messed up in the head. Ugly as fuck but talented. She has a good resume and she’s managed to get some good wins under her belt but tonight it’s Winter Wasteland. Time for the games to be over and to get serious!”
JOHNSON: ”Couldn’t agree with you more? Nurse Kinsley. Alessandro Q. Here we go!”

Both competitors leave their corners and circle the ring. The Brooklyn audience of the Barclays Center are on Alessandro’s side tonight but Nurse Kinsley doesn’t care one bit. She’s directly focused on hurting him to the point of no return while Q wants to have a nice victory. As they get closer to one another in the center, Nurse back up all the way to a corner and leans against the turnbuckles trying to buy more time and goat him in.

JOHNSON: ”Alessandro has to be very careful not to fall into Nurse Kinsley’s mind games. She’s very cunning and very smart on being the predator to her prey.”
Alessandro doesn’t like how his opponent is stalling and directly goes up to her. She senses he’s taken the bait and manages to keep him trapped in the corner. A solid kick into his ribs keeps him bent down and she takes advantage of his exposed back by clubbing it all the way until he sits down in the corner. Kinsley places her foot against his throat then pushes trying to choke him to death but the referee orders her to stop which she does.

VASSA: ”Huh. It looks like Q can’t even resist her tricks. Nurse Kinsley is a manipulative bitch but she knows what to do in the ring.”
After she backs off, she marches forward wanting to inflict more pain but Q gets back up and puts her back against the turnbuckles. He cuts Kinsley off at all costs and starts pummeling her ribs with forearm blows. After that, he drags her out of the corner into the center displays his strength by throwing her across the ring with a belly to belly suplex. She lands down on the canvas then rolls over to the ropes.

VASSA: ”Damn my boy showing what it means to be a true wrestler in 4CW. The power of the Belly-to-Belly Suplex almost made her fly out of the fuckin’ arena!”
Nurse Kinsley is leaning back against the ropes after being tossed around like nothing. Q comes up to her and throws her into the opposing ropes where she rebounds back into him. It’s not long before she gets driven into the canvas by a huge running lariat from Alessandro nearly turning her inside out. He drops down on her chest, hooks the right leg up then goes for the pin attempt!

VASSA: ”Oh! Sick Lariat by Alessandro and now he got the pin attempt!”

She kicks out and rolls over to the ropes. Kinsley rolls under the bottom rope to the apron where she stands behind the ropes. Alessandro gets up then chases after her; She pulls the top rope allowing him to fly over it to the ringside mat. However, when he gets up, Kinsley leaps onto the middle rope then springboards over landing a twisting crossbody to crash him and her down in a huge pile of chaos at ringside where the fans explode in the action!

JOHNSON: ”Nurse Kinsley changing the tide of this match with a Springboard Twisting Crossbody to the outside! She used her vulnerability to goat him and then used her body as a weapon! This woman won’t stop at anything!”
“One! … Two! … Three! … Four!”

Alessandro tries to get up but Nurse Kinsley grabs the back of his head and slaps it against the edge of the announce table. She manages to roll him back down into the ring then wait for him to rise as she gets on the top turnbuckle in the corner. With one great leap, she dives into him having Q’s head in her grasp before spinning down to the canvas; A sick tornado ddt by Nurse Kinsley lands him hard on the mat where he rolls forward into the center of the ring on his back for the pin attempt!

JOHNSON: ”Tornado DDT! Tornado DDT by Nurse Kinsley! The air she got and the hang time of it was insane! Here comes the pin attempt!”

He kicks out and she gets up kicking him a few times in the head. The moment he gets on his knees, Kinsley locks in a chin lock trying her best to pull his head back. The referee leans in closer. Q isn’t going to give up so easily so she pries her fingers into her nostrils and pulls them up harshly. The referee slaps her hand away and Alessandro holds onto her; Lifting her off the mat, he carries her into a backpack stunner hold.

JOHNSON: ”Woah! Alessandro has her in his clutches. The power of this man is unbelievable!”
He falls backwards into a corner squishing her body between his weight and the turnbuckles causing her to release the grip on him. However, as soon as her turns around, Kinsley kicks her body up igniting his skull with an impromptu enguiziri kick. She stands on the middle turnbuckles, leaps off but gets caught in his arms. Alessandro takes a squat before falling backwards tossing her over him into the center of the ring with a fallaway slam.

JOHNSON: ”Fallaway Slam by Alessandro Q! Amazing strength and a good way to counter the high-flying ability of Nurse Kinsley who is stuck in the corner!”
Nurse Kinsley gets up in the opposing corner and here comes Q leaping right off the mat to strike her chin with the a high knee strike. He gets down then whips her into the ropes. She rebounds and gets floored into the mat with a huge bicycle kick into the nose. Kinsley gets turned inside out and Alessandro drops down onto his knees rolling her over onto her back for the pin attempt!

VASSA: ”Corner High Knee! If that wasn’t enough, the Bicycle Kick surely did it! Here is the pin attempt!”

No! She kicks out and crawls over to the nearest corner begging the referee to help her with an “injury”. Alessandro doesn’t buy it and he marches over to her but she quickly grabs onto him then lands a reverse sto slamming his face into the middle turnbuckle. She gets up, runs to the ropes, rebounds then pushes his head further in with a running front dropkick into the back of his head!

VASSA: ”What a lying bitch! Really? Using the referee? I hope she gets hers in the future!”
It doesn’t end there. She quickly manages to put his body through the top and middle ropes while keeping him hung off the canvas in a ddt position. With a quick snap into the canvas spine first, she plants his head deep into the ring. Kinsley drags him down over to the center of the ring where the pin is made again!


No! He kicks out of the pin attempt and Nurse Kinsley has had enough. She rolls under the ropes to the apron and climbs up all the way to the top rope. Steadily watching Alessandro roll to the center of the ring, one leap is all she needs. However, Q gets back up to his feet and leaps in the air knocking his forehead against her body plowing her out of the air down into the canvas like a bird shot outta’ the sky!
Alessandro doesn’t waste any time. He drags her back up to her feet before slinging her across his shoulders. Holding her still in a fireman’s carry, Alessandro throws her forward then lifts his right knee up into her chin. She’s blown back from the finishing blow and flops down in the center of the ring. Go to sleep. Alessandro falls down on her chest for the pin attempt!


“Disturbia” by Rihanna replays around the arena and Alessandro gets up after a hard fought match. He stands up and gets his arm raised by the referee who then checks on the nurse.

Cut to the backstage area of the Barclay’s Center.
Standing by is none other than Christopher J. Wrigley, from ear to ear there’s nothing but a giant grin and teeth, pearly white teeth that fill most of the screen. With a nod he gets the attention of both Brody Lee Prince and Magnus Brutus. The tag team champions look ready to fight, complete with their tag team title belts around their waist. Brody Lee even has a plate of food in front of him with a fork sticking out from his what looks like potato salad, for some last minute carbs. Magnus lights a cigarette and paces back and forth puffing smoke up in the process.
WRIGLEY: “And finally the last dot has been signed, the ink has dried and Perry Wallace himself has approved what we’ve been waiting for since the end of Fright Night. That’s right boys… it’s all in place and good to go for us, we’re living the high life starting tonight.”
Wrigley pauses, neither members of the Hostile Takeover seem too concerned with what Wrigley is jabbering about right now. That is, until Brody Lee finishes chewing his last bite of yellow potato salad and puts his fork back into the pile.
PRINCE: “Better catering?”
Wrigley shakes his head.
WRIGLEY: “No, Wrigley Law.”
Brody Lee and Magnus give each other a look and the duo look down at the tag team title belts and nod. Brody Lee tosses the plate into the nearest garbage can and Magnus stomps out his cigarette. This allows Wrigley to do what he’s been really waiting for, finding the nearest camera and grabs it by the lens with both hands.
WRIGLEY: “Tonight… not only are you all going to witness the destruction of Team Octane or whatever you want to call them, but also tonight is the birth of a new era in 4CW. Tonight, we introduce Wrigley Law.
What is Wrigley Law you ask?
Oh, that’s really complicated… you see there are legal maneuverings, mumbo-jumbo and all sort of things that you people probably wouldn’t really want me to list off here right now. In fact, I had to clear out an entire separate room in my legal offices just for all the paperwork that was involved. Needless to say Wrigley Law is backed by a lot of red tape, you’re going to have to trust me on that.”
He again pauses and adjusts his glasses which allows the camera to back up and make some space between he and Wrigley.
WRIGLEY: “But… I can give you a quick rundown of what to expect with Wrigley Law taking place. You can expect anything to happen. The Hostile Takeover is ready for war, and now we have been given the means of mass destruction.
Wrigley Law!”
With that he holds his arms out before him and as the camera fully backs up there is that giant golden title belt that sits around the waist of Wrigley himself. We fade to black.

Phoenix Quagliaterre is roaming backstage with that magniiiificent forehead and a bright smile that showcases the good mood she’s in instead of the occasional frown she’s shown with. Her hand sweeps through her hair as her emerald eyes are on the search for someone. Her eyes scan the doors she passes in the hallway, looking for a particular one until she’s distracted when she nearly collides into someone turning the corner and a smirk appears on her face once she sees who it is. She folds her arms across her chest while looking at him suspiciously, especially since she knows about his full involvement with the very woman he’s actually involved with.
QUAGLIATERRE: ”Look here, I’m here on my best behavior. Wearing a bra so I won’t be flashing nobody to victory today with the pierced nipples of perfection. It is kinda stressful though because you got my best friend fighting Dakota, my girlfriend is fighting my honey for the Corners Four title, my other girlfriend is fighting my nephew for the Pride Championship, Bry is competing, Cosmo is too, that’s a lot of screaming I’m gonna be doing tonight in support. And I gained weight again a-and I had to go up another pants size, I’m stressed okay and I NEED to see HER tonight to schedule an appointment for this week with being in need of a long therapy session so don’t you be HOGGIN her.”
Standing across from her is no one other than Perry Wallace. With a grin from ear to ear, he smacks his hands together before rubbing them. Looking ahead, above her eyes, he steps in a bit closer before speaking.
WALLACE: ”Good evening forehead, it’s been a while. I hope you are having a wonderful night.”
Not wasting any time and jumping in (fore)head first, he goes straight to the jokes as she’s grown accustomed to from him over he recent months. Chuckling, his eyes slowly lower, until making eye contact.
WALLACE: ”I just couldn’t resist. How are you, Phe? I’m glad that you decided to wear a bra and all that good stuff. I can tell you who isn’t wearing one but that’s a conversation for another time. We’ve gotten to know each other quite well to say the least and for that I would like to thank you.”
Smirking at him while giving him a cut of her eyes, a thought comes to mind and a sly smile slowly spreads.
QUAGLIATERRE: ”You know what they say, a lot of things don’t last. How ARE you spending the holidays this weekend, by the way? Watching the ball drop on television? Perhaps having your own party with your siblings??”
Looking down to the floor, he shakes his head back and forth with a small laugh.
WALLACE: ”A lot of things do not last actually.”
Raising his head with a smile on his face, he continues.
WALLACE: ”Take crazy Twitter marriages for example.”
Holding his arms out to his sides, he continues looking to Phe before winking.
WALLACE: ”I’ll be just fine for the holiday, don’t worry yourself about it, dear. Might even get some good quality therapy sessions in. I was going to be attending this one party but someone got a little attitude and wants to throw a fit. As if her head isn’t already big enough!”
QUAGLIATERRE: ”My therapist will be attending that particular party… I keep forgetting that since her plus one is banned for continuing to be RUDE to me. The rule is that everyone has to kiss at midnight too. So unless someone is going to be nice to me….”
Innocently bats her eyelashes while flashing off that sly smile of hers, waving away the approaching backstage workers who step too close to the duo while they are passing by.
WALLACE: ”So fucking petty…”
Perry says as he places his hands on his hips. Thinking to himself for a moment, there’s a brief silence before his demeanor changes.
WALLACE: ”How are you doing this evening Phe? It’s such a pleasant surprise to see you here tonight, without the goods exposed for the entire world to see. Thank you for joining us here tonight for our fourth year anniversary.”
He cocks his head as the cheesiest grin appears, stretched across his face.
QUAGLIATERRE: ”What is this, Communion? Don’t be addressing me like I attend church, do you know I would burn up if I stepped into one? And you haven’t seen petty yet…. But you will be. Last time I seen you, you kissed my forehead and let me order half the menu. Don’t make me order up more therapy sessions to ruin your date nights with HER during the week, I’m feeling pretty sensitive right now.”
From left to right, and right to left, and back and forth rapidly, Perry disagreed.
WALLACE: ”No, no, no, no, no! Look it, you get your sessions once, maybe twice a week and that’s all you need. I read somewhere that you can actually overdose on therapy. Why do you think I’ve been attending so much lately? I’ll make a deal with you. Keep the sessions to a minimum, but you can still hang out with us if you would like, and in return I will hand you a marriage certificate for a Twitter marriage. It’s a win-win for both of us!”
QUAGLIATERRE: ”Oh my god, he said a twitter marriage.”
She says to herself, slapping her right palm against that shiny extraordinary forehead while mumbling to herself before turning her attention to him.
QUAGLIATERRE: ”Look here, twitter marriages do not equate to the real thing, okay? And twitter marriages are for the desperate. And ANOTHER THING-“
As if right on cue, Dr. Antonia Patton makes her appearance when she spots the two from the other end of the hall and makes her way towards the duo. She notices Perry’s confused face as he stares at Phoenix fussing in Spanish, which causes Dr. Patton to quicken her steps to make the save. She gently places a hand on Phoenix’s right shoulder in an attempt to get her to calm down.
PATTON: ”Now, now, Phoenix… a few deep breaths like we talked about. And remember, never overwhelm yourself even if the situation is severe.”
She pats Phoenix’s shoulder while watching her taking deep breaths as if her life depends on it, used to how dramatic she can be. While Phoenix is busy doing that, Dr. Patton’s attention falls on Perry as she smiles sweetly at him.
PATTON: ”The holidays were pretty eventful for her, she is still reeling over it so I do apologize.”
With a shrug of the shoulders, he smiles at Dr. Patton before taking a step closer to her.
WALLACE: ”Nothing to apologize for. This is what we do. I’m like the nicest person ever to her and she bullies me. It’s all in good fun though. We were just talking about you as a matter of fact.”
PATTON: ”Oh? And what were you two exactly discussing?”
Her light eyes enchanted with curiosity as she holds him within her gaze.
WALLACE: ”Nothing much really, just her upcoming New Years party. She was asking if WE were going to be attending.”
Slowly, he turns his attention to Phe with a cocky grin much to her chagrin as she glares at him. Phoenix presses her hands into her voluptuous hips and meets Perry’s gaze. She was going to say something real cock-blocky before sighing, deciding to be nice.
QUAGLIATERRE: ”Fine, but the dress code is obviously CASUAL.”
Phoenix glares at him before flicking her wavy hair and spinning on her heels to stomp down the hallway, her dramatic hmphs filling the air before she is out of view.
PATTON: ”I take it that she’s finally unbanned you? We need to go shopping for your tux then as soon as possible, what are your plans on Friday?”
Wrapping an arm around her waist, he steps in closer to her as he answers.
WALLACE: ”As far as I know I’m booked up with you for the next few days, but I suppose I can check my schedule. Other than that, just no-selling crazy folks on Twitter who pretend to be married to me. You know, the normal stuff. There is one thing I wanted to talk to you about now that you’ve experienced the atmosphere here for yourself.”
PATTON: ”Wow… and I thought Phoenix had it bad with dealing with men claiming to be courting her… you’re still dealing with that unfortunate situation? Are you sure she is not in need of a therapist?”
Dr. Patton shakes her head, still unsure of how to even take that entire situation. That was just so out of the ordinary for someone to claim to be married to someone so publicly especially if it wasn’t a bit or a plot between the two involved.
PATTON: ”What did you want to ask me?”
WALLACE: ”Let’s take a walk and grab a drink.”
He takes her hand and the two proceed down the hall and back to the life of the arena.
WALLACE: ”Aside from the crazy exes that you’re seeing first hand, there’s a lot of messed up things that have happened in 4CW throughout this four year period. From folks nearly killing one another to kidnappings and metal breakdowns, things can get a little rough on the talent and their emotional state. Being a therapist by profession, I wanted to ask if you would be interested in taking a position with 4CW, specializing in this exact thing. That is if our relationship with one another doesn’t interfere in your opinion.”
PATTON: ”That is certainly something I will think about… we can talk about it more over dinner.”
She gives his hand a warm squeeze while ignoring the nosy cameramen shooting them, leading him into the office and shutting the door so the two can have privacy.


The Barclays Center is pushing for the next match on the card. Completely drenched in the fast action pacing of the matches, the settling of grudges and championships to be decided. Cameras showing the variety of fans who have helped to sell out this legendary arena showcasing their creativity in signs and loyalty with their favorite merchandise of their beloved wrestler. It transitions over to the commentators, Johnson and Vassa, sat behind the announce table.
JOHNSON: ”We are back after Alessandro’s victory over Nurse Kinsley and Andre Holmes’ interview. He’s been waiting at the opportunity to get his hands on Alexis Mercer ever since their first match on Adrenaline before Fright Night. This all started when Andre Holmes defeated Alexis Mercer and she’s been itching to get her hands on the rematch.”
VASSA: ”Let me correct you on that. Scored a fluke victory over Alexis then denied her a chance for a rematch because he’s a pussy. He knows deep down he’ll lose to her and she’s going to fuck him up in ways you’ve never seen before.”
JOHNSON: ”After Fright Night, the mind games begun. She attacked from behind, cost him the chance to become tag team champions and challenged her to a rematch. Andre Holmes and Alexis Mercer are at each other’s throats. It’s about time they put an end to this and what better stage than Winter Wasteland.”
VASSA: ”None of this would have happened if Andre just gave her a rematch. She’s a beautiful woman and she’d never hurt anyone but he pushed her to her limit. He’s the fucking villain, not my baby Alexis. I hope she murders him in the ring!”
JOHNSON: ”…Vassa!”
VASSA: ”I don’t really mean it! Fuck sakes man! Relax!”
JOHNSON: ”Let’s give it over to Powers!”
The camera turns over to the inside of the ring showing Powers and also the referee. Powers gets the cue and stands in the center holding the microphone under his chin.

POWERS: ”Ladies and gentlemen! This match is scheduled for one fall!”

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. 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 first! Hailing from Houston, Texas! At five feet, nine inches tall, weighing in at two hundred and five 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.
JOHNSON: ”He’s been impressing everyone in 4 Corners Wrestling but he doesn’t concern himself with showmanship tonight. Andre Holmes wants vengeance and he wants to bring Alexis down to hell by any means necessary.”
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 paces back and forth for Alexis to come out.
VASSA: ”I’m not gonna lie. This vanilla cunt is actually looking ready for a fight. Still won’t be enough to beat the Anti-Starlet.”
“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.

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 opponent! 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.
VASSA: ”The former 4CW Fate Champion has come to extract motherfucking justice on the world! Thank you to Alexis my true love. I’m going to enjoy watching you ruin Andre Holmes’ year of Twenty-Seventeen and send him back to the piece of shit bingo halls he came from!”
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 with a smirk on her face as she remains in her corner.
JOHNSON: ”Over two months we have been waiting for this match and Winter Wasteland couldn’t be the better show. Alexis Mercer, Andre Holmes! Here we go!”

The crowd of Brooklyn are eager to see what awaits. Andre and Alexis leave their corners and circle the ring keeping close to the ropes. It’s easy to tell the different styles. Andre’s kickboxing footwork coming into obvious sight with his movement while Alexis keeps toying with him faking a take down then smiling afterwards. The two slowly step into the center of the ring and lock up with each other.

A quick side headlock is used by Andre bending her down to the right side of his waist. He squeezes down on her temple and even adds a little noogie for insult to injury. She tries to break the hold off his right arm but he sweeps her over down to the mat. Using his weight advantage, Holmes leans backwards adding more torque to the submission. The referee leans in closer; Alexis denies any chance of him calling this match early. There’s no way she’s going to submit to someone like Andre Holmes.

JOHNSON: ”Andre Holmes applying the Side Headlock in the feeling out process of the match. He’s going to enjoy beating her down to a bloody pulp. That’s his style. Go in and beat down someone until they can’t ever get up again. Alexis needs to find a way to counter that style or she’s going to be in a world of hurt.”
Mercer reels her legs around his neck and pulls him down into the scissors choke. He turned on her right side and slapped him down on the back of his head until he had enough. Andre rolls around and gets back on his knees before producing a handstand. He hops backwards out of the hold, lands on his feet and tries to land a roundhouse kick into her temple. Alexis leans back dodging it then rolls backwards to stand on her knee. The audience applauds the stalemate as the two engage in a quick stare down.

VASSA: ”You gotta be quicker than that Andre! You really think Alexis of all people would let you kick her in the head? You know nothing you little shit.”
Both competitors are back up on their feet. They circle the ring again and slowly inch towards each other in the center until she kicks him in the ribs. Andre bends forward and she clubs him down in the spine forcing him onto his right knee. A left knee punts him in the nose nearly knocking him over until she takes him by the back of his head putting him up to full height. With his right arm her clutches, Alexis throws him into the ropes then she gets slammed down into the canvas by a shoulder barge on his return.

VASSA: ”That’s no way to treat a woman. You see how disrespectful he is to Alexis?!”
He runs to the ropes beside him and Alexis turns over on her chest but he jumps over her. In the rebound, Andre goes for a clothesline but she ducks under it. Back and forth, the two are weaving and dodging each other’s attempts to one up the other until Andre captures her right arm for the arm drag in the center. Back up off the momentum of the speed, Alexis gets arm dragged again. Third time’s a charm but it doesn’t work. When Alexis runs back into Holmes, she gets drop kicked into the canvas and Andre goes for the pin!

JOHNSON: ”Back to back Arm Drags and a Dropkick puts down Alexis temporarily. These two are so fast that we need to keep our eyes open wide. And don’t blink ladies and gentlemen! Here is the first pin attempt of the match by Andre Holmes!”

She kicks out and Andre gets into the mount position. Her head covered and he starts raining down elbows against her arms wanting to slice her open. The referee counts to four and he follows but with a handful of her hair that her face screws up. Holding onto her right arm, Mercer is thrown into a corner and back is glued against it. Seeing her vulnerable, he runs across the ring to her but she throws up a right boot knocking him back a few steps.

Andre rubbed his cheek then charged back into her again but she lifted up both her feet kicking him away into the center of the ring. She burst out from the corner, ducked under a thrown right arm, and bounced off the ropes for added velocity. Leaping right off the mat, a textbook hurricanrana flipped him over onto his back before he rolled up to his feet. He turned around and made a huge mistake; Just charging wildly then eating a spinning heel kick to the forehead.
VASSA: ”Spinning Heel Kick straight to the the skull and Andre is down. Boom baby boom!”
JOHNSON: ”Did you just say…”boom baby boom”?”
VASSA: ”No.”
Instead of going for the pin, Andre eats a knee drop to the back of his head adding more pain down his body. She sits on his back then pounds down on his exposed head with forearms ignoring the referee’s commands until he shoves her off. Holmes tries to crawl away and Alexis quickly applies a chinlock sitting him up. Her right knee forcing itself through the flesh of his spine, her hands clasped under his chin trying to snap him in half.

JOHNSON: ”A chin lock. Smart move by Alexis. Keep Andre at your own pace rather follow in his. Although she is a high flier herself, she’s quite a brawler and a technical wrestler with a knack for bringing others pain. Alexis is even smiling and mouthing off in his ear.”
Using his strength, he managed to stand back up on his feet and elbow her twice in her ribs softening the hold. Once the arms are removed, he leaps sideways to deliver a strong enguiziri kick into her temple currently disabling her balance. Andre springs on his feet, holds her tightly before producing a nice falcon arrow in the center of the ring then holds her shoulders down for a pin attempt.

JOHNSON: ”Falcon Arrow! Falcon Arrow by Andre Holmes after the Enguiziri Kick has turned the tides of this match. Here is the pin attempt again!”

She kicks out again and he helps her back up on his feet. A spinning back kick into the ribs is the prerequisite after being thrown into the corner again. This time, he completes his attempt before that failed. A corner lariat clobbers her in the chest then he runs back into the opposing corner, takes a bruising on his back but the jump start to his second run finishes with his right knee bludgeoning straight through her face!

VASSA: ”Why do you always try to ruin her face Andre?! He just used the move I’ve been trying to get banned. “Trapped in the Corner”. The combination of a Corner Lariat followed by a Corner Knee Strike! Sick fuck!”
Alexis’ ring awareness is very experienced. She rolls under the bottom rope to the apron where Andre follows. The handful of hair may not be comfortable but its better than what’s about to happen next. A powerful elbow shot into her cheek forces Alexis to hold onto the top rope preventing her falling off. He tries to throw that roundhouse kick to her head but she catches the leg. Twisting under it then landing on her feet at ringside, Holmes gets a dragon screw whip where his back smashes against the apron edge. The fans at ringside are in complete awe!

VASSA: ”Ooooooh! Dragon Leg Screw Whip right on the apron edge! Alexis showing exactly why she is a formiddable competitor and a former champion in 4CW. The referee starting the count but take it slow please.”
“One! … Two!”

Andre is slithering down against the ringside mat until his opponent holds him by the back of his head and tights. She slowly lifts him up then recklessly throws him spine first against the barricade. The impact is loud and the screams after is even louder. He sits down against the barricade fighting against the pain until a side kick into his chest makes it even worse!



Like an impulse, she continues the outburst of dangerous attacks. Helping him up again then running him into the steel steps spine first again. The battering ram of his body nearly knocks the steel steps off each other and the referee leans in between the ropes demanding the action inside the ring. Alexis leans down and looks down at him; She’s definitely enjoying the pain she’s caused on Holmes. That intense stare in her eyes before she rolls him into the ring.

JOHNSON: ”No one can’t stop the madness Alexis is inflicting upon Andre Holmes. She’s enjoying this and she’s never been more ruthless until now.”
She stands on the apron before holding onto the top rope with both hands. She pulls back and flies over it landing on his body with a tope senton splashing her back against his ribs but she rolls forward onto her feet. With enough space, Mercer leaps off her feet and crushes those same ribs again with a standing moonsault. Perfection of high flying described right there and she hooks the leg up again!

JOHNSON: ”Tope Senton followed by a Standing Moonsault by the Anti-Starlet! Here comes the pin attempt again!”

He kicks out this time and it is Alexis who seems to be getting frustrated. She slowly sits him up and knife edge chop slaps him in the chest. She runs into the ropes, rebounds back to him and tries to kick him but Andre catches the leg. Standing up, he drops the leg and a roundhouse kick slaps her in the temple keeping her on her feet rocked. Enough time to gather his strength and try a rolling elbow but the pele kick out of nowhere stops him in his tracks that forces him paces into the corner.

VASSA: ”Pele Kick! The Pele Kick stopped him and Andre is not going to do shit- WAIT!”
Alexis sprints into him until he slings his right arm across her chest and lifts her off in the air. He runs down into the center of the ring for more momentum before nearly cracking her spine in half with the uranage backbreaker. She rolls off of his knees onto her knees before trying to stand up as much as she can. An axe kick to the back of her head stands her full height before she eats a rolling elbow to the head knocking her down.

VASSA: ”Okay! That was fucking unnecessary! Really?! A Uranage Backbreaker was alright but an Axe Kick to the back of the head followed by a rolling elbow? This man is insane!”
It’s not over yet. Andre slowly holds onto the top rope after taking a harsh beating. He’s feeling the energy flow back to him at the support of his fans. The moment Alexis gets up, back and forth she gets knocked to the canvas with clotheslines. Upon the last clothesline, she stands up then eats an uppercut elbow blowing her head back that she never expected. A quick kick into the ribs and she gets spiked on her forehead with a snap ddt.

JOHNSON: ”Andre Holmes is getting back into the momentum of the match. Back to back clotheslines! An Uppercut Elbow innovated by MMA legend, Anderson Silva then putting her on top of her head with a Snap DDT. Here comes the pin attempt!”

She kicks out and Andre stands on his feet fired up by the audience of the Barclays Center. Alexis is in the center, on her knees and with Andre at her side, it’s never a good position. He kicks her in her bare chest with a roundhouse kick then follows up with rapid fire back to back roundhouse kicks. Upon the last one, a few steps back until spinning around attempting the tornado kick. She ducks under it, and lands another pele kick. Before he falls down on the mat, she quickly turns her back and plants him down with a standing shiranui!


Andre kicks out again and Alexis has had enough. She goes on top of him with closed fists punching down on his skull. Out of brutality, she doesn’t stop and her rage costs her. Andre quickly wraps his legs around her arm locking in the arm bar but he’s not fully on his back for the ultimate torque. She quickly stacks him down on his shoulders for the pin attempt!

He kicks out before the three is made. Andre gets back up on his feet and ducks under a thrown arm. When Mercer turns around, a leaping bicycle knee slaps her in the chin dropping her against the turnbuckles again. Alexis looks up and in comes a running Andre that shoots up his right leg and lands that yakuza kick for a nearly-killing blow into her temple. She drops down onto the mat like a sack of potatoes while Andre looks at the crowd with wide opened eyes.

JOHNSON: ”Yakuza Kick! Yakuza Kick! Yakuza Kick! We’ve seen this signature move so many times, it’s going to happen. Andre Holmes will complete the Deadline Trap!”
He starts climbing all the way to the top rope with his back facing the downed Alexis Mercer. Just the moment he’s about to take flight, Alexis gets up and shoves his leg crotching him on the wire. The audience trembles at that awful sight but she gets a worse idea. Using the top rope, she leaps onto it then springboard taking Andre with her off the top rope all the way to ringside with a springboard top rope cutter!

“One! … Two! … Three! … Four!”

Both competitors are down for the first four seconds until Alexis slowly starts to get up. She barely stands due to holding onto the apron before rolling inside the ring. Andre is covering his face taking the full impact of the high risk move but he starts slithering all the way to the apron. Moving his infused fatigue body to the apron stretching his right arm out to the edge trying his best to get inside the ring.

VASSA: ”Damn fucking right this is awesome! Alexis just pulled off the move ending Andre Holmes! He’s out for the count and now he’s going to lose the match!”
“Five! … Six! … Seven! … Eight! … Nine!”

Using the last of his strength, he gets off the mat and rolls under the bottom rope securing his safety in the ring. Andre then holds onto the middle rope using it to help him stand on his knees until Alexis charges behind him and takes his head off with a running bicycle kick from behind. The clap of her boot meeting his flesh echoes around the arena and the fans groan as he falls face first motionless on the canvas. She rolls him over for the desperate pin attempt!

JOHNSON: ”The “20 Eyes” Running Bicycle Kick! The Bicycle Kick to the back of his head and Andre Holmes might be out! This is over! Here comes the pin!”

A right shoulder is lifted and Alexis sits up shocked like she’s seen Jesus before her. She nearly rips strands out of her hair and slowly gets back up on her feet stalking her prey. Andre’s trying his best to stand but she gets a handful of his head bringing him back up to his feet. The bird is thrown in her face until he slaps her in the face; Mercer turns back to him and eats a wicked tornado kick clapping her down onto her knees.

JOHNSON: ”Tornado Kick!”
As she’s standing on her knees, he sidesteps and lands a savate kick into the skull again. Taking her head under his right armpit, hooking her arm over his neck and holding onto her tights, he dead lifts her into a vertical suplex before dropping her onto the back of her head with a brainbuster! Alexis sits up off the mat and Andre throws her down on the mat attempting a pin!

VASSA: ”Deadlift Brainbuster after the Savate Kick! What an incredible fight Andre has in him but he won’t beat Alexis Mercer! Here comes the pin!”

No! She kicks out- wait?! Andre gets up and spreads her legs wide before putting his leg in between them. Wrapping them around his own, he twists her over and sits down on her back applying the sharpshooter submission in the center of the ring. Alexis is screaming at the top of her lungs, clawing around the canvas as he sinks it in deeper. He’s pulling back with everything he’s got and Alexis is trying her best not to give in!

VASSA: ”Sharpshooter?! My God! Andre’s pulling out all the stops in the match but Alexis doesn’t have any worries. She can get out of it? Right? Right?”
Alexis starts pulling the combined weight down to the ropes. She’s barely reaching them every time she pulls Andre along who knows exactly what to do. Keeping the legs wrapped around the leg and bending backwards, he transitions into the muta lock. Now the pain has increased tenfold and Alexis’ movement has been slowed. She’s still pulling down on the mat and she’s fingertips away before she…grabs it and gets the rope break!

JOHNSON: ”My God! She managed to get the rope break after he transitioned from the Sharpshooter to the Muta Lock! It’s completely amazing how resilient Alexis can be!”
Andre gets up and drags her down in the center of the ring. He slowly helps her back up to his feet then shoves whips her down into the corner again. He charges into her and she pushes him backwards with a superkick into the chin. But as she breaks out, she gets popped up in the air before caught on his shoulders then Andre runs into the corner to deliver the powerbomb into the turnbuckles nearly blowing her back out!

JOHNSON: ”Woah! Bad Landing! Bad Landing! The corner Powerbomb and Alexis is out! Here comes the pin! Andre has this match!”

No! Alexis has her right foot on the bottom rope and the referee tells Andre who can’t believe it. He doesn’t waste any time getting back all the way to the opposing corner and patiently watches Alexis gather her bearings in the center of the ring. Slapping the mat, he releases that primal scream then sidesteps to her on her knees. She ducks under the leg, pops up behind him and smashes his cerebrium into pieces with the reverse frankensteiner!

He gets back up and yells at her demanding for her to finish him off. Andre charges again and she ducks under the right arm before delivering another Reverse Frankensteiner! The moment he gets up again, she runs into the ropes, leaps onto it and flies backwards into a springboard moonsault but she gets caught upon his shoulders before eating the death valley driver onto the knee!

Right! Andre finally gets up and breaks into the last sprint he can make but something kicks into Alexis’ head to trip him in the drop toe hold. He flies in between the top and middle turnbuckle nearly breaking his skull against the iron post. She pulls him out, leaps in the air capturing his right arm in between her legs along with her head before rolling down onto the mat locking in the wrist-clutch neckscissors submission! On top of that, everyone turns away when he’s busted open bleeding down on her body!

Alexis squeezes the life out of his throat and pulls on the arm trying to rip it out of his socket. The referee is looking closely at Andre who is a bloodied mess and sees his other arm go limp. It’s no more. The referee goes over to the ropes and waves his arm calling for the bell as Alexis releases the hold and stands on her knees. He also holds his arms in an ‘X’ format needing medical down to the ring immediately!


“Stronger” by Through Fire replays all around the arena and medical are currently in the ring checking on the passed out Andre Holmes who is still bleeding. They tend to his wounds but Alexis looks down on the blood trickling down her legs. Her eyes doesn’t give way and the referee tries to grab her arm for the raise but she doesn’t budge at all.
POWERS: ”Here is your winner by technical submission, ALEXIS MMEERRCCEERR!!!”
She slowly drags her index finger across the blood on her right leg getting some of it. She slowly raises it then licks it before tasting it. It’s like there’s a sudden urge in her eyes as her head slowly turns to Andre then she rolls out of the ring. Limping backwards up the entrance path, her eyes doesn’t leave him and a slick smirk erupts crookedly across her face.
JOHNSON: ”What a match! Oh my God! Alexis Mercer has defeated Andre Holmes by putting him to sleep but after a great match. These two have probably earned the respect of a lot of people backstage but I don’t think this is the end. This is equal in matches but Andre fought hard tonight. Alexis Mercer has had her laugh but is she done?”

? ? ?: ”Skurrr…Skurrr…Skurrrr”
The sound came from the far right as the cameras followed, locking in on Jair Hopkins, who was now an inductee into 4CW’s Hall Of Fame. He was seen in a North Face Jacket, black jeans and some Timbs. You could hear the huge pop in the background from the crowd as Hopkins eyes settled on Gabriel Hartman. Hopkins nodded towards him.
HARTMAN: ”Yo to you too, Jair. Congratulations on that prestigious honor and thank you for yet another visit. Now, right off the top, why weren’t you out there to accept or say a word or two?”
Hopkins stood silent as he left a pause in between before answering.
HOPKINS: “The simple answer, I didn’t want to break my concentration for this match. Facing Kimitsu is a huge deal to me and yes, being out there to accept what is truly the greatest achievement of all, I wanted to but know my concentration would be screwed. But forreal forreal, that’s all I wanted man. To be recognized one day as a great. With what happened earlier on tonight, I’m now apart of a legacy. World$tar is in it all the way! I’m beyond ecstatic man. I’m holding it in. Tonight is already big and it’s going to be even bigger before the night is over!”
HARTMAN: “And that’s what I’m looking to hear from you next. So far you are three for three on these interviews and two out of three of these visits has led to a W. Am I your lucky charm these past two shows, Hops?”
Hopkins looked at Hartman some kinda way that wasn’t favorable at all. He all of a sudden began cracking up in laughter, shaking his head.
HOPKINS: ”You tryna be the lil homie on the box of the cereal huh? Givin out luck at a high rate. I dunno, it’s a streak that I look forward to seeing remain consistent. Kimitsu bout to meet the sharp, shiny ass sword that greets her with death. I done watched enough of Michonne from Walking Dead to properly end the life and times of Kimitsu. Of course nothing is personal, just business. I root for her before this saga but thanks to the course she took towards me, I have no choice.”
HOPKINS: ”I’m in my hometown of Brooklyn, New York. You really think Ima leave out this bitch without a new attachment to my name? You gotta be on some Xanax or some other trippy shit to not realize how I am, especially when there’s a certain force at my back. We out here tonight Hartman. These folks done used their hard-earned money to see one of their own shine in primetime and on Pay-Per-View. It’s the four year anniversary of 4CW tonight. I been in every one of em. Tonight will be my best yet.”
HARTMAN: ”You speak on that and I say that time has certainly gone by so fast. We’ve all watched you grow from day one since your arrival here in 4CW to now and the improvement has been amazing.”
Hopkins lowered his head, nodding as he took in those complimenting words from Hartman to heart.
HOPKINS: ”That’s all I wanted to do, leave an impression everyone remembers. I only got one job and that’s to do it right. Everybody gonna clown on my losses but those that laugh are those who never will get to that high level of achievement. You focus too much on the losses, you’ll never succeed. I learn and move on to the next like a breeze. I got where I am in this company from not my name but my work ethic. After all goes down tonight, Jair Hopkins will once again enjoy the fruits of his labor that he worked extremely hard for and once again etch another notch of an achievement next to my name.”
Hartman followed with a nod of his own and a pat on the left shoulder of Hopkins.
HARTMAN: ”Well good luck to you out—”
Before Hartman could even finish, it was a small troop of zombie-looking folks dressed in leather red jacket and leather black pants. One held a portable radio before sitting it down on the floor and pressing the button. The infamous sounds of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” comes through in Mono-sound. An instrumental version plays as the Zombies glared at Hopkins and Hartman before they began dancing, performing some parts of “Thriller” dance.
HARTMAN: ”The hell is this?”
HOPKINS: ”Oh, I forgot to mention, I bought out some zombies…they are actually pretty dope and cheap on the pockets. I asked em to come along with me for a bit. Look pretty good huh?”
They continue to watch the group dance, moving their shoulders and head just like MJ as they were beat for beat.
HARTMAN: ”Gotta admit, I’m a bit shocked but amazed!”
HOPKINS: ”Damn straight, I wonder if Kimitsu know how to do the ‘Thriller’? I guess we’ll find out in a lil bit I guess. Somebody gonna scream and it isn’t gonna be me, that’s for damn sure, Gabe. Tonight is my night. Kimi aint gonna stop me from shining. Even in defeat, I’m still gonna live it up like it’s my last night on this Earth!”
Hopkins gave Hartman a pat on the shoulder of his own before walking off as the Dancing Zombies remained, entertaining Hartman before cameras cut away.

In the back, we come across Anastasia Hayden, pacing back and forth as she’s applying her black wrist tape around her hands. She briefly acknowledges the camera, but doesn’t say anything, just glaring at it as she walks back and forth. After a few more seconds of silence, she finally speaks.
HAYDEN: “One more match. One more match until I get to start my Twenty-Eighteen right. And that’s taking down whoever is standing tall at the end of the night. The 4CW Championship is just an added bonus to the match, but I’m looking forward to taking down the person who believes they’re the best in 4CW. If you need a championship to prove what you’re unsure of…you’re making a joke out of yourself. And while we’re on that topic, let’s discuss perhaps the biggest joke of them all…Bryan Williams.”
Stopping dead center, Ana turns toward the camera with a look of determination painted on her face.
HAYDEN: “The man who has already decided the outcome of this match. It’s just a foregone conclusion that I don’t stand a chance tonight. And why shouldn’t it be, right? He’s beaten me twice and now he just has to do it one more time to chase what’s been escaping him all his life…a championship with some actual weight behind it. But can he do it? It’s easy. All he has to do is put me down one more time…”
Ana holds up her index finger for a few seconds, but drops it and shakes her head with a knowing smirk.
HAYDEN: “But with that weight of the 4CW Championship, with that pressure…Bryan’s true form will show tonight. We’ll see the Bryan Williams that I’ve known since day one…the Bryan Williams who is nothing more than a complacent runner up. A man who does just enough to get by, but nothing more. Nothing to elevate himself. Nothing to change himself. And tonight, he’ll do nothing to beat me because he thinks it’s already over. When you grow complacent? You become stagnant. You become…well, you become Bryan Williams.”
A shrug of Ana’s shoulders.
HAYDEN: “Trust me, there’s nothing more miserable than that. To know you can take your skill to the next level, but when it’s right there in front of you…you crumple. When things start getting a little too hard? You fall apart. God forbid something doesn’t go your way, Bryan, because when it all comes down…it crashes down fucking hard. And that’ll happen when I beat you tonight. That’ll happen the next time you hype yourself up for a big match, expect to win…and then unsurprisingly fail.”
Ana scoffs, disappointed at the concept of wasted potential.
HAYDEN: “And when you do fail…I’ll still be here. Win or lose tonight, I don’t lose any sleep. But knowing that I can shut you up for good? Knowing that I can put all of this behind me? That’s all the motivation I need, Bryan. And I’ll give you credit there. For once…I do look forward to winning tonight. I look forward to putting you on the shelf or, if I’m so lucky, making you pack your bags and run while you still can. Run before those weak knees catch up to you or before you trip and crack your skull open for another concussion.”
She taps her temple with her fingers and gives a mocking wink toward the camera.
HAYDEN: “Because tonight’s all about no mercy. I know your weaknesses, Bryan. The Anastasia Hayden that you’ve beaten? She’s dead and gone. You’re stepping into the ring with someone entirely new and I know…I know you don’t have it in you. When the referee starts counting, you’ll want to get up, you’ll want to prove me wrong…but you won’t. You never will. You’ll never have it in you to prove me wrong. And tonight? Here at Winter Wasteland?”
Pointing at the floor beneath her, Anastasia glares at the audience.
HAYDEN: “You’ll never have what it takes to bring me down.”
Taking a step forward, Anastasia taps her chest with her fingers.
HAYDEN: “I’ll be the last one standing.”
Her intense glare lingers before she bites off the last bit of wrist tape and walks off, allowing the camera to cut elsewhere.



VASSA: ”Coming up next folks, we have the 4CW Tag Team Match!”
JOHNSON: ”We’re mixing things up here tonight as we have the champions, The Hostile Takeover, coming in tonight from Adrenaline to defend the belts against the odd pairing of Jeb Fisher and Cosmo Cooper, who both come from the Octane brand.”
VASSA: ”This team of Jeb and Cosmo came at a surprise. Ever since Fright Night and WarGames, these two have been at each others throats. Then two weeks ago they were randomly thrown into a tag match with championship implications.”
JOHNSON: ”Not only that, next month at Holy Grail, these two are set to finally go head to head.”
VASSA: ”It’s a bit crazy, but I like it. These two were able to win their first tag team match as partners, will they be able to win another and become the new 4CW Tag Team Champions tonight?”
JOHNSON: ”We’ll have to wait and find out. As we all saw earlier, this match has now been declared under Wrigley Law which ultimately boils down to being no rules whatsoever.”
VASSA: ”We still have the basic count out and only one legal person in the ring at a time, but other than that it’s anything goes!”
JOHNSON: ”For weeks we’ve seen Wrigley involve himself in Takeover’s matches and it’s clear now that this concept is why! Well, he finally gets what he wants tonight.”
VASSA: ”This is like a dream for The Hostile Takeover guys and Jeb Fisher. Cosmo on the other hand, he may be out of his element, but I wouldn’t count him out from still performing above and beyond as he’s proven time and time again.”
The Loud and Melodic guitar chords of “Seven Enemies” by Hatebreed strum out throughout the arena. After a few moments Jeb Fisher pushes his way out through the black curtains, a shark like smile on his face – he violently shakes his head. Slapping himself in the side of the skull a few times before turning his attention to Bob Fisher who was hobbling his way out of the back.
POWERS: ”Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled one fall under ‘Wrigley Law’ and will be for the 4CW Tag Team Championships!”
Bob was shouting off random shit talking and hyping up his boy Jeb. Jeb’s tongue flicks out of his mouth before he sets his sights on the arena pointing to it and marching down the ramp.
As Jeb makes it down to the ring he stops, waiting for Bob to walk up the steels steps and enter through the middle rope. Bob then pulls his own microphone from his back pocket. He stands in the middle of the ring and gets a sickening grin on his face before putting the microphone up to his lips.
Bob throws down the microphone and Jeb jumps up onto the ring apron before quickly going in through the middle rope. He bounces around the ring a few times stretching out his muscles and punching himself in the face with what seem to be vicious blows. Jeb then lets out a manacle, yet full of himself laugh followed by him beating on his chest. Bob smirks to himself as Jeb gets comfortable in his corner.
JOHNSON: ”We have all seen in the past how Bob likes to involve himself in his sons affairs. Will we see the same here tonight?”
VASSA: ”I’m willing to bet that we do see him get involved in some sense. What else is the old timer going to do at ringside?”
JOHNSON: ”But we’ve seen time and time again when his involvement ends up costing Jeb, the person he’s actually trying to help.”
VASSA: ”Look here, I’d rather him get involved in this match tonight instead of doing nothing. I mean what do you want Steve? You want him to come sit with us at the booth? No thanks, I’m good on that!”
“Lifted” by CL hits as the crowd pops. As the song picks up, Cosmo Cooper walks out with a cocky smile on his face, wearing his flat bill hat and a t-shirt. He looks around to either side of the stage and then drops down to one knee with his arms out as he soaks in the cheers before nodding his head to the beat and standing up, walking down the ramp and slapping hands.
POWERS: ”Making his way to the ring, from Santa Rose, California and weighing in at two hundred twenty-five pounds! He is… COSMO CCOOOOPPEERR!!!”
Cosmo pauses on the ring steps where he slips off his shoes and then tosses his t-shirt and flat bill into the front row before he hops into the ring over the top rope and then does a small sideways trot around the ring before he stops in his corner and leans in it to wait on the bell to sound. Standing not far from him, Jeb Fisher eyes him like a hawk. Looking back with a smirk on his face, Cosmo keeps his cool and remains focused on the upcoming task at hand.
VASSA: ”And here comes Cosmo, just as cool as he can be. Like the bottom side of the pillow!”
JOHNSON: ”At least it seems so. Who knows what’s really running through that mans head. On one hand you have an opportunity to win the 4CW Tag Team Championships. On the other hand, you have a partner like Jeb Fisher, who wouldn’t think twice to put you down despite being his tag team partner for the evening.”
VASSA: ”There are a lot of eyes on Cosmo. There has been ever since he officially announced that he was signing with 4CW. I get it, keeping the game face on is important, but there has to be some doubt, some worry running through his mind here tonight.”
JOHNSON: ”I’m sure there is. With Bob in Jeb’s corner, and the tag team champions having Wrigley, who has gotten involved in matches quite a few times, there are just too many elements going into this match here tonight.”
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.
POWERS: ”And the opponents!”
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. 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 WORRRRRRRRRRRRRLDDD!!! 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. 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.
JOHNSON: ”And here they are, the Tag Team Champions with their first defense since winning the belts at Fright Night.”
VASSA: ”Runner up in Bad Company and then winning the Tag Team Championships against World$tar, the team of Jason Cashe and Jair Hopkins who were inducted into the Hall Of Fame earlier tonight, The Hostile Takeover have proven themselves to be quite the force inside of the ring.”
JOHNSON: ”Their actions speak for themselves and these two have done nothing but roll over the competition placed in front of them. They’ve beaten legit teams with actual chemistry. Cosmo and Jeb don’t have that!”
VASSA: ”Any and everything is bound to happen. Brutus is a fucking monster! Brody can handle his own as well. Then we factor in Wrigley… this team is the total package!”
JOHNSON: ”With Bob accompanying Jeb here tonight, I think it’s at least safe to say that the odds are even in terms of bodies. But there’s still that factor of team chemistry and The Hostile Takeover has that one in the bag.”
The official approaches the corner where the champs are in an effort to retrieve the belts from them. Jumping in front of the champs, Wrigley waves the official back, telling him to step away. Wrigley himself then takes each of the champions belt, holding them both high above his head before slowly walking over to the official and handing them over. The official looks down at the custom made spinner belt that Wrigley has but before he can even say a word, Wrigley covers the faceplate with both hands, back stepping to the corner and then behind Magnus and Brody.
Shrugging his shoulders, the official folds the championship and then holds one over the other before hoisting them over his head. Turning to each side of the ring, the official presents them to the Brooklyn crowd before walking to the ropes and handing them down to a member of the ringside crew. The crew member takes them over to the timekeepers table where Wrigley immediately sets his sights on. Climbing through the ropes, Wrigley’s custom belt gets caught on one of the ropes, causing him to lose his balance and topple out onto the floor. Popping back to his feet, he quickly brushes himself off before looking to the nearest camera and threatening to sue Redd Thunder, the man responsible for setting up the ring at each and every 4CW event.
With Wrigley now standing close to the championships, Magnus and Brody discuss a game plan as Bob yells to Jeb from the floor outside of their corner. Waving Bob off, Jeb looks to Cosmo, and after a short stare down between the two, Cosmo dips through the ropes, leaving Jeb to start things off. Noticing this, Magnus places a hand on Brody’s shoulder, leaning in and whispering something which Brody reacts by stepping out onto the apron. With Jeb and Brutus standing in the ring as the two men to start things off, the official checks in with both of them. After getting the okay from both men, the official then throws his hand into the air, signaling for the bell!

As if hit by a bolt of lightning, Jeb shot out of his corner laughing hysterically. His target was no other than the man standing across the ring from him, Magnus Brutus. The old man wasn’t as quick as he once was so instead of charging across the ring at Jeb who was coming his way, Magnus just stood back, waiting patiently. Coming in like a madman, Jeb lunged for Magnus as he closed in. Awaiting his perfect shot, or so he thought, Magnus threw a right hand, or a meat hooks as he calls them, straight for Jeb’s face. Quick to react, Jeb ducked the massive fist closing in on his face and as Magnus stepped forward, Jeb pushed himself off the corner and spun around, hitting Magnus in the back of the head with a vicious elbow. Brutus fell forward, off balance, but still remained on his feet.
Leaping into the air, Jeb jumped onto his back, wrapping an arm around him and across his throat. Locking in an ugly sleeper hold, Jeb began to choke the life from Magnus, cutting off his air supply. Magnus grabbed onto Jeb’s arm with both hands, trying to pry it away from his throat. He tried, but Jeb’s lock was just too tight. Slowly, Magnus walked around the ring in circles as Jeb remained on his back. Second by second, Magnus grew slower and slower, his face turning a darker shade of red with each step. Nearly a minute and a half has passed, but Magnus remains on his feet somehow, still carrying Jeb on his back who hasn’t let up one bit. Magnus then begins stumbling backwards before crashing into the corner, squashing Jeb against it. The impact forces Jeb to ease up on the sleeper hold, just enough for Magnus to get a breath of air into his lungs. Reaching back and over his head, Magnus grabs ahold of Jeb and then takes a step forward, pulling Jeb over his head and slamming him down to the mat on his back.
With Jeb at his feet, Magnus’ legs give out from under him, causing him to fall to the mat but in the process he manages to connect with a knee to Jeb’s forehead. The old man is heaving for every breath and with each one, he comes back to life. Pushing himself off of Jeb, Magnus then draws back with his right hand before swinging down and catching Jeb in the jaw with a meat hook. He then swings with another, and another, hitting Jeb over and over until eventually drawing blood from the young mans mouth. As Magnus draws back for one final blow, Jeb suddenly pops up, punching Magnus in the throat and knocking him backwards to the mat. Jeb pushes himself up before leaping on top of Magnus. The old man throws his hands up, but Jeb grabs onto one. Wrapping one hand around Magnus’ index finger, Jeb holds Magnus wrist in place before he begins to bend the finger backwards. Grunts are heard from Magnus as Jeb puts all of his strength into bending that one finger, even trying to snap it clean off the old mans hand. The struggle continues for a few short moments until Magnus manages to reach up and wrap his other hand around the back of Jeb’s head. Pulling Jeb’s head down, Magnus pops his up from the mat, hitting Jeb across the bridge of his nose with a headbutt!
VASSA: ”We might as well just lock these two in a cell and let them fight until only one man is left standing!”
JOHNSON: ”That’s their specialty! Both of these men are brawlers by trade. I’m starting to see why Magnus took it upon himself to start things off after seeing it was Jeb starting things off in the opposite corner.”
VASSA: ”Jeb’s nose is pouring blood! I guess the proper repayment of trying to break someone’s finger is breaking their nose.”
JOHNSON: ”While we do have rules in place–“
JOHNSON: ”I almost forgot, this is Wrigley Law! The only rule is that only one person from each team can be in the ring at a time!”
VASSA: ”Anything goes tonight! These men wanted a fight, well it’s a fight they’re going to get. I just hope Wrigley didn’t get his boys in a situation that wasn’t expected.”
JOHNSON: ”This is Jeb Fisher’s element. If anyone can thrive in this situation it’s him!”
Jeb rolled over to his stomach, pushing himself up to both knees with one hand planted on the mat. He covered his nose with his other hand, but it wasn’t enough to stop his blood from spilling out onto the canvas below. With Jeb not paying attention to him, Magnus slowly pushed himself up from the mat. Kicking his leg up, he planted his boot into Jeb’s stomach, flipping him over to his back and sending floor through the air, leaving a trail to the ropes as it hit the canvas. Pulling Jeb to his feet, Magnus locked onto his arm, pulling him into a short-arm clothesline and knocking him to his back. Jerking Jeb’s arm, he pulled him back to his feet and then whipped him across the ring into the corner where Brody stood on the apron. As Jeb’s back hit the corner, Brody slammed a forearm across his shoulders, knocking him forward just a bit into a running clothesline from Magnus that sandwiched him in the corner.
Magnus slapped hands with Brody, making the tag before pulling Jeb away from the corner. Pointing to Brody and then the top of the corner, Magnus then pulled Jeb’s head down between his legs and wrapped him around the waist. Brody quickly climbed the corner as Magnus then lifted Jeb upside down into the air. He then nodded at Brody, signaling him to jump down from the corner and as he did, Magnus dropped down to the mat. Brody grabbed Jeb’s feet, pushing him down even more until his head inevitably slammed against the mat from the spike piledriver delivered to him at the hands of The Hostile Takeover!
JOHNSON: ”A spiked piledriver!”
VASSA: ”We haven’t seen a move like that in a very, very long time.”
JOHNSON: ”It’s a potential career killing move and Hostile Takeover showing no concern whatsoever!”
Rolling underneath the bottom rope, Magnus exited the ring and onto the apron. Rolling Jeb to his back, Brody then dropped to his knees before making the cover.

Cosmo raced across the ring, leaping into the air and flying to break the pin.

Before the officials hand could slap the canvas, Bob grabbed ahold of Brody’s leg, pulling him off of Jeb. With Brody now out of the way, Cosmo braced himself before crash landing on top of his partner!
JOHNSON: ”Bob broke up the pin in just the niche of time!”
VASSA: ”Too bad he left nothing to break Cosmo’s fall other than his own flesh and blood.”
After having pulled Brody out and down to the floor on his stomach, Bob climbs onto the apron, surprisingly standing to his feet quicker than Magnus who is still on his back. Cosmo checks in with Jeb who is out of it. Despite their hatred for one another, they’re still a team here tonight and need to look out for each others best interest if they intend to take home the gold. Grabbing a handful of Cosmo’s hair, Bob pulls him away from Jeb and in to the ropes between them. After a short struggle, Cosmo frees himself and as he turns around to face Jeb, Wrigley rushes in from behind and pulls the old man down from the apron. Bob lands on his feet somehow. I don’t know how the old man did it but he did, and it looked rather smooth to be honest. Swinging around, Bob throws a wild backhand at Wrigley that only gets intercepted by Brody! With so much carnage going on at the moment, the official hesitates, not really knowing what to do, who to fuss at, or what to call. Seeing Brody on the outside, despite teaming up with his manager and attacking Bob, the official begins to count him out – ignoring Cosmo in the ring as the illegal man.
“One! … Two! … Three!”

Ripping the custom championship from Wrigley’s waist, Brody draws back to take a swing at Bob’s head. Just as he begins to slam it forward, Wrigley pulls the championship out of his hands, holding it closely and cradling it like a baby! Immediately, Brody turns to look at Wrigley but as he does, he opens himself up to a sucker punch from Bob.
“Four! … Five! … Six!”

Brody turns to Bob, only to receive another quick jab to the mouth. As Bob begins to take another swing, Wrigley jumps in front of Brody, holding the championship up and using it as a shield for Bob’s fist to collide into. Bob quickly draws his hand back and as he does, Brody lunges his head forward, hitting Bob with a headbutt but not dropping him to the floor. With a smile on his face, Bob then slams his head towards Brody’s.
“Seven! … Eight! … Nine!”

Bob’s head flew in closer and closer until a huge palm appeared out of nowhere. It was Magnus, and he caught Bob’s head with one hand in a fashion that was more magnificent than any NFL one handed catch. Pulling Bob in to him, Magnus gave Brody just enough time to roll back into the ring, breaking up the officials count before reaching ten.
JOHNSON: ”All Hell has broken loose at ringside and it’s all legal!”
VASSA: ”It’s Wrigley Law, what did you expect?!”
JOHNSON: ”That just became an official thing here tonight. To be honest, I didn’t know what to expect. Whether there are rules in place or not, I knew these managers weren’t going to be able to keep their noses out of this.”
On the inside of the ring, Cosmo assists Jeb to his feet, which then turns into a confrontation between the two. Help or not, these two men were enemies and that wasn’t something that Jeb was going to put aside just for the evening. The two began to argue with one another, more so Jeb but Cosmo stood his ground. As the two men went at it, Brody snuck in and grabbed both of their heads, slamming them together! Jeb dropped to one knee, still feeling the aftermath from the spike piledriver from earlier. Locking onto Cosmo’s wrist, Brody then went to whip him to the far corner. Just as he was about to release, Cosmo countered and sent Brody racing to the corner instead. Brody slammed into the corner with force and right behind him, Cosmo flew through the air, connecting with a splash and sandwiching Brody against the corner.
The heights Cosmo leaped to managed to take his body over the top rope after connecting with Brody. Landing to his feet on the apron, Cosmo looked across the ring at the freight train charging full speed ahead. It was Jeb and his destination was set on the man standing across from him, well leaning in the corner barely even able to stand on his own two feet. Lowering his head and dropping his shoulder, Jeb bursts forward, lunging his entire body and driving his shoulder into Brody’s stomach. The impact of Jeb’s shoulder to his stomach force a mouthful of spit to launch from body’s mouth, nearly clearing the entire ring before splattering upon the canvas.
Although he despised the man standing on the apron across from him, Jeb looked to him to make a tag. He was tired, still in a daze from being spiked on his head, and knew tagging in a fresh body was the best move to make at this point in the match. No attitude or lip whatsoever, Cosmo made the tag with Jeb and quickly dipped through the ropes. Him and Jeb shared a short moment of eye contact, but nothing more as Jeb exited the ring and Cosmo went to work. With an open hand, Cosmo began chopping Brody across the chest, over and over. After six chops across the chest, Cosmo then threw one vicious forearm shot, hitting Brody directly in the mouth. Out of desperation, Brody lunged forward with a right, barely missing as Cosmo ducked it and stepped in behind him. Wrapping both arms around Brody’s waist, Cosmo then lifted him off his feet before falling back, slamming Brody into the corner with a German suplex.
Cosmo popped up to his feet, full of energy and excitement. Pulling Brody by the arm, he lifted him up from the seated position he was in with his back to the corner. Whipping him to the ropes, Cosmo then followed behind him. Brody hit the ropes with his back and right there in front of him was Cosmo charging in with a clothesline. Squatting down, Brody ducked the clothesline before standing back up, lifting Cosmo with his shoulder and taking him over the top rope. Cosmo managed to land on his feet, just in time to duck a wild back fist from Brody as he spun around. Grabbing onto the middle rope, Cosmo then pulled his upper body through the ropes, driving his shoulder into Brody’s stomach. Standing tall, Cosmo hooked an arm over Brody’s head before reaching over the ropes and grabbing his waistband. Lifting Brody upside down into the air, Cosmo pulled him over the top rope before turning his body and falling back onto the apron, dropping Brody down to the floor below with a suplex!
JOHNSON: ”Cosmo with a suplex down to the floor!”
VASSA: ”He made that look effortless! Brody on the other hand, he may need to see a chiropractor tomorrow after that nasty fall.”
Pulling himself up with the ropes, Cosmo stood to his feet. He looked down to the floor where Wrigley has no run onto the scene. Racing over to Brody, Wrigley checked in with his client. He then looked up and his lights lit up like a deer in the headlights. Cosmo was running along the apron and headed straight for him. Leaping off the apron, Cosmo flew through the air towards Brody. In mid air, Cosmo drew back before firing away with a superman punch. From the side, Magnus came out of nowhere, wrapping his arms around Cosmo and tackling him into the side of the apron. The official then began his ten count, with both Cosmo and Brody on the outside of the ring.
“One! … Two!”

Not releasing Cosmo, Magnus turned completely around and charged towards the barricade separating the fans from the action. Cosmo threw fists down onto Magnus’ back, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t slow him down or cause him to skip a single beat. Lowering Cosmo while running forward, Magnus then slamming him sideways into the barricade, driving the top part of the barricade into his rib cage.
“Three! … Four!”

Dropping Cosmo to his feet, Magnus then grabbed the back of his head and slammed it down onto the top of the barricade. Pulling it back up, he then slammed it down again, and again. Going for a fourth, Magnus squeezed his head tightly with his giant hand and as he began to slam Cosmo’s head down, his movements came to an abrupt stop.
VASSA: ”It’s Jeb to the rescue!”
JOHNSON: ”Just mere seconds before Cosmo’s head gets bashed in even more!”
Magnus quickly releases Cosmo’s head and swings for Jeb’s head, missing but receiving a headbutt to the mouth in return.
“Five! … Six!”

The headbutt knocked Magnus backwards into the barricade where Jeb then took it upon himself to kick the old man right between the legs, driving his foot upward and planting it into his crotch!
JOHNSON: ”And a low blow from Jeb!”
VASSA: ”WHY?!?! Why can’t they ban low blows all together and threaten with suspensions without pay?!”
“Seven! … Eight!”

While this all goes on, Brody slowly climbs onto the apron before sneaking back into the ring. With Magnus unable to fight at the moment, Jeb then helps Cosmo to his feet, not bothering to check his wound to the head that is now bleeding, he just helps him stand. Literally doing all of the work, Jeb carried Cosmo towards the ring.

Before the official could shout ten, Jeb lifted Cosmo up and rolled him back underneath the ropes and into the ring. The officials count was dead, so Jeb then took it upon himself to slide into the ring as well. Popping to his feet before Brody could, Jeb charged towards him. Brody stood to his feet and swung for Jeb’s head, missing and spinning completely around. Jeb then hooked his arms underneath Brody’s applying a full nelson and lifting Brody off of his feet. From across the ring, the official began the five count, aiming it directly at Jeb.
“One! … Two!”

Dropping Brody back to his feet, Jeb then used all of his strength, driving his feet downward as he lifted Brody into the air. Turning his body with Brody in the air, Jeb then jumped forward and before you knew it, he fell down on top of Brody, driving Brody’s face into the canvas!
“Three! … Four!”

Hearing the official shout four, Jeb then pushed himself up to all fours and quickly crawled across the mat, sliding underneath the bottom ropes and exiting onto the apron. Slowly rising to his feet, Cosmo limps over to Brody, never once removing his hand from over the laceration across his head from the blunt impact of the barricade. Brody remains down, out of it after eaten the mat at the hands of Jeb. Rolling Brody over to his back, Cosmo then climbs over top of him, making the cover.


The officials hand comes within an inch of slapping the mat for the third time until out of nowhere, Wrigley flies through the air, slamming his replica championship into Cosmo’s back!
JOHNSON: ”Saved by their manager!”
VASSA: ”Hurricane Wrigley!”
JOHNSON: ”Shouldn’t that be a disqualification?”
VASSA: ”He isn’t technically a wrestler in this contest so that cancels the legal person in the ring at all times, right? And since he isn’t a wrestler, there is no count against him… right?”
JOHNSON: ”I have no clue! It’s Wrigley Law so I guess he’s exempt from any rule that could even be enforced in the match?”
From across the ring, Jeb runs straight for Wrigley, who happens to have his back turned to what’s coming his way. With the replica belt in hand, Wrigley stands over Cosmo, shouting and making obscene gestures with the belt. Running right by Wrigley, Jeb hits the ropes and as he comes back on the return, he leaps into the air, planting his boot into Wrigley’s chest and kicking him backwards across the ring. Still on his feet, Wrigley hits the ropes, but quickly hooks his arms over them to keep himself from rebounding. As the words “I’ll sue” leave his mouth, Wrigley closes his eyes and braces himself as Jeb rushes in, hitting him with a clothesline and taking him up and over the top rope. Spilling out onto the floor, Wrigley rolls and stops just inches away from Bob’s feet. After a sinister laugh, Bob then kneels down and begins hitting Wrigley in the face over and over with lefts and rights.
After knocking Wrigley into a daze, Bob then begins fishing underneath the ring before eventually pulling out a table. A table of all things. Underneath the ring. How did that get there? What was Redd thinking when he put a table underneath the ring. More to that story at a later time! In folding the legs from underneath the table, Bob sets it up, not far from the apron. It was at this point that the official finally realized that Jeb wasn’t the legal man and with no more chaos happening before his own eyes at this very moment, he finally began the five count.

Pulling Wrigley up from the floor, Bob then rolled him onto the top of the table.

Instead of exiting the ring in a timely manner, Jeb helped Cosmo to his feet. Again, he helped him even with the thoughts of wanting to spill his brains across the canvas racing through his mind.

Pointing ahead, Jeb made sure that Cosmo saw Wrigley lying on that table, on a silver platter.

Walking away from Cosmo, Jeb exited onto the apron as Cosmo regained his focus and rushed towards the corner. Leaping up to the top of the corner, Cosmo then turned his body to face Wrigley on the table. Leaping down from the top of the corner, Cosmo was intercepted as Brody flew up and over the top rope, crashing into the side of Cosmo and knocking him off course. Brody’s body on the other hand, he fell in the direction of the table, crashing on top of Wrigley and causing the entire table to snap in half and break into pieces.

Cosmo crashed into the barricade, smacking his head against it before dropping straight to the floor. While Brody and Wrigley slowly climbed up from the mess beneath them, Jeb turned the corner of the apron, running along the adjacent side to where he once was. Jumping off, he flew towards Brody and Wrigley, wiping them both out with a double clothesline.
“One! … Two!”

Across the ring on the other side, down on the floor by the announcers booth, Bob had a chair in hand, slamming it over Magnus’ back over and over. With each thunderous swing, he yelled out racial slurs directed mostly at the Vietnamese, having served in the Vietnam war many years back.
“Three! … Four!”

As Bob raised the chair high above his head, Magnus pushed himself up, swinging upward while standing tall and connecting with a monstrous uppercut. Bob lifted off his feet, flying backwards through the air until crashing flat on his back. Still in the air, the chair spun in circles, over and over, before eventually falling straight down and slamming against Bob’s skull, busting his forehead wide open!

JOHNSON: ”Magnus had to dig down deep to find the strength after taking half a dozen chair shots to the back by the hands of Bob Fisher.”
VASSA: ”Magnus hit him just like Deebo! Bob ain’t ever seen any shit like that back in ‘Nam!”
“Five! … Six!”

Shaking his hand, Magnus appears to have suffered a bit of a sting from driving his fist into Bob’s jaw and sending him into the air like a rocket at takeoff. Nonetheless, he looked across the ring as the mess scattered across the floor at ringside. With a limp in his step, the old timer hurried along, as fast as he could at least. Jeb kneeled down in front of Cosmo, checking in on him after receiving quite the blow to the head from the fall moments earlier. Grabbing Jeb’s head from behind, Magnus turned Jeb’s entire body around before driving a knee straight into his face. The blow to the face caused Jeb’s body to go limp before he slithered to the floor.
“Seven! … Eight!”

Walking over to the pile of bodies and broken pieces of wood, Magnus pulled Brody up from the mess. Carrying him over to the ring, he rolled Brody underneath the bottom rope before pulling him back outside of the ring. Magnus shook his head and mumbled to himself as the camera zoomed in to read his lips saying “not like this”. The official then restarted the ten count as Magnus leg Brody drop to the floor as he turned his attention across the way to Jeb and Cosmo.
“One! … Two!”

Magnus pulled Jeb’s limp body up from the floor as Cosmo remained against the barricade, appearing to still be out of it. Magnus pulled Jeb’s head between his legs before wrapping both arms around his waist. From the side, Wrigley walked over with his replica championship in hand. He pointed to it and then he pointed to Jeb before laying it across the floor, faceplate up. Wrigley then slapped Jeb across the back before looking to Magnus and pointing down to the championship.
“Three! … Four!”

As Magnus went to lift Jeb up, Cosmo pushed himself to his feet and lunged over Jeb’s body, hitting Magnus right between the eyes with a stiff forearm. Magnus didn’t let go of Jeb, instead, he began to lift him slowly into the air, with Cosmo on his back. Cosmo began firing rapid forearm shots into Magnus face until eventually he connected with one that forced Magnus to release his hold. He dropped Jeb to the floor, with Cosmo on top, before stumbling backwards and crashing into the ringside steps.
“Five! … Six!”

Across from all the action, Brody has finally pulled himself back to his feet. He looks at the wreckage at ringside and everyone down except for him. Hearing the officials count, he then rolls back into the ring, sneaking in and hoping to be unnoticed before the official reaches ten.
“Seven! … Eight!”

Cosmo rolls Jeb over to his back, checking in with his partner for the evening. Behind him, Wrigley picks the championship back. Holding it in both hands, he then draws back to take a swing. From the side, Bob tackles him to the ground. Mounting himself on top of Wrigley, Bob screams in his face, laughing hysterically as his blood drips down onto Wrigley.

Hearing the officials voice, Cosmo’s head shoots up as he looks to the ring. He sees Brody, slowly pushing himself up. Leaving Jeb at ringside, Cosmo the pops to his feet and runs straight for the ring.

Sliding underneath the bottom rope and back into the ring, Cosmo beat the officials count, ending it just as he began to utter ten.
VASSA: ”We’ve seen more action outside of the ring during this match than we’ve seen inside of the ring.”
JOHNSON: ”Luckily there is at least the count out rule still in place or else this match would more than likely all happen outside of the ring.”
VASSA: ”It’s a goddamn street fight is what it is!”
Cosmo pushes himself to his feet before rushing over to Brody who has still not risen to his. Cosmo grabs Brody, pulling him up but as he does, Brody throws his hands in Cosmo’s face, gouging both of his eyes! Blinded, Cosmo begins back stepping away from Brody until he backs himself into the corner. Seeing that Cosmo is blinded, Brody then charges towards him, slamming into him with a running shoulder block and squashing him against the corner. Lifting Cosmo off his feet, Brody then holds him horizontally before turning around and running to the opposite side of the ring where he drives him into the canvas with a running powerslam. Mounting himself on top of Cosmo, Brody begins wailing on him with lefts and rights, knocking him even more senseless than he was the blow before.
On the outside of the ring, Jeb remains down but Magnus is back on his feet. Not far away from him, he notices Bob beating his manager, Wrigley, and having his way with him. Magnus then limps over before planting his fist directly into the back of Bob’s skull. He then pulls Bob to his feet before turning him around and holding him in place with one hand. With his other hand, his right hand, Magnus then lights him up with back to back meat hooks. Dragging Bob to the corner of the ring, Magnus the slams Bob face first into the ring post before pulling his head down. Getting Bob in a double underhook, Magnus then hits him with double knees to the face, laying Bob out once and for all at ringside with the Paroxysm!
JOHNSON: ”Down goes Bob!”
VASSA: ”I think Magnus might have finally put him away for good with that!”
Wrigley, Jeb, and now Bob are all down on the outside floor while Magnus is the only one left standing. He looks into the ring where Brody now has Cosmo’s head through the ropes and his throat pressed down onto the bottom rope. Sitting on Cosmo’s back, Brody pulls the bottom rope up, using it to choke Cosmo. Being that there are no rules against this, it’s perfectly legal.
Slowly, Magnus climbs into the ring as his partner continues to choke the life out of Cosmo. He walks over to him, looking down at the sight up and close before extending his arm and tapping Brody’s shoulder. Brody whips his head around, as well as his elbow not knowing who is behind him. Swatting his arm to the side, Magnus points down to Cosmo before nodding to Brody. That’s all that was needed, a nod. Brody nods back in return before pushing himself up, removing his weight from Cosmo’s back and allowing him to catch a fresh breath of air.
Magnus then pulls Cosmo up from the ropes, pulling him to the center of the ring. He then positions Cosmo beside him, grabbing ahold of him and setting him in position for a Russian leg sweep. Brody then begins to grow with excitement as he rubs his hands together, seeing that Cosmo is perfectly in place for The Takeover. He then runs straight for Magnus and Cosmo, running right past them and hitting the ropes behind them. Running past them again, he runs to the opposite ropes, gaining even more speed. Brody then hits the ropes and rebounds one final time. Gaining speed by the step, he charges towards the two before throwing his arm up and aiming a lariat for Cosmo.
JOHNSON: ”Here comes The Takeov–“
Out of nowhere, Jeb runs into Cosmo, pulling him away from Magnus and tackling him to the ground. Magnus tries to hold onto Cosmo, but instead gets pulled in the direct path as Brody closes in, hitting him with the lariat instead!
Magnus stumbled backwards in a daze before hitting the ropes and flipping up and over the top. Pushing himself up, Jeb rushed in towards Brody, hitting him with a knee to the crotch. The knee forced Brody to buckle over and as he did, Jeb pulled his head in between his legs and wrapped him up around the waist. Lifting Brody upside down into the air, Jeb then jumped up and as he came down, he drove Brody’s head straight into the canvas with a jumping piledriver!
With Brody on his back, and Magnus down on the outside floor, Jeb then grabbed Cosmo’s arm, dragging him over and laying his body across Brody’s. The official then slid in beside the two with the count as Jeb looked around the area, waiting for anyone who dared to attempt breaking up the pinfall.

VASSA: ”New Tag Team Champions! We have new Tag Team Champions!”
JOHNSON: ”I don’t know how Jeb and Cosmo were able to set their differences aside but they’ve done it here tonight, winning 4CW Tag Team gold!”
“Lifted” hits the speakers as Jeb pulls Cosmo to his feet, doing the heavy lifting as Cosmo can barely stand on his own. With the 4CW Tag Team Championships in hand, the official approaches the two, handing one to each of them. Still holding Cosmo up with one arm, Jeb raises his championship high above his head. Cosmo, still holding onto Jeb with one arm, raises his high into the air as well. The official then steps in between them, raising both their other arms as the final bell sounds.

POWERS: ”Here are your winners and new 4CW Tag Team Champions… JEB FFIISSHHEERR and COSMO CCOOOOPPEERR!!!”
At the sound of his voice, Cosmo begins to fall as his legs give out from under him. Quick on his feet, Jeb grabs ahold of him, stopping him from falling to the floor. Jeb then walks Cosmo over to the corner where he can rest and begin to recover from the chaotic match that just unfolded before our eyes.
VASSA: ”Well, well, well… it appears that we have new 4CW Tag Team Champions.”
JOHNSON: ”We do, and to top it off this is the second championship that Octane has taken from Adrenaline in just a matter of months.”
VASSA: ”I’m more concerned with the relationship between Jeb and Cosmo. They aren’t exactly friends. Sure, they put their differences aside tonight, but these two are scheduled to compete on opposing teams next week at Octane.”
JOHNSON: ”They’re also locked to compete against each other at Octane upcoming pay-per-view, Holy Grail.”
VASSA: ”So how exactly is this partnership going to work? How are they going to be a cohesive unit as 4CW Tag Team Champions?”
JOHNSON: ”That’s a very good question and one that I do not have the answer for. All I can say is that we’re going to have to sit back and watch how this unfolds.”

MURPHY: ”What the fuck are graps? Why are they always talking about them? Are we supposed to know what they are?”
To the casual viewer, the voice was recognizable. But for those who broadened their knowledge of the wrestling world, there was a familiarity in the almost archaic tone in which the man spoke in. Not archaic in the sense of ancient, but definitely old fashioned – a 90’s kind of sound you’d find in the backstage areas of local wrestling promotion, the kind of voice you’d relate to a ring announcer. And then you see his face, and despite perhaps not knowing the man, you’d recognize that smug smirk from anywhere on the social media outlets. It was the face of wrestling agent slash manager, Gregory Murphy, who stood still standing in front of an 4CW logo’d backdrop, with a phone in his hand pressed against the side of his face.
MURPHY: ”They speak a different language here for crying out loud! I don’t know Mark… I just don’t like the look of this place.”
Greg scanned the hallways, watching people walk past and making a face as they do so, a face that only read: uncomfortable. And you could tell by his mannerisms, he was definitely out of his comfort zone. He ran his fingers through his hair and nodded, agreeing with whatever Mark was saying on the other end.
MURPHY: ”Yeah, yeah, yeah – the best talent are here, I get it! That doesn’t make this place any less fucking weird. You know what someone called me on my way in?”
Taking another look around, before continuing.
MURPHY: ”Someone said that I looked like a ‘piss baby’! What does that even mean?!”
Laughter can be heard coming from the main arena as Greg stopped himself and listened to what Mark had to say. He nodded, and nodded, and continued to do so until a familiar face walked by.
MURPHY: ”Okay buddy, gotta run. Yup… yerp… okay bye.”
Composing himself, Murphy picked up his briefcase and shook the hand of the gentlemen standing in front of him. The gentlemen being; Perry Wallace.

The camera cut backstage to Genevie Carlson standing with her XTV Championship around her waist. She smiles brightly.
CARLSON: ”Here it is. The last Pay Per View of the year. 4CW’s 4th Year Anniversary. Winter Wasteland. Everything we’ve all done throughout the year comes down to this one final event. It doesn’t matter where you’ve lost or when you won. It comes down to what you do tonight.It’s going to set the entire tone for what next year brings.”
She shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders.
CARLSON: “I mean just look at Jair. Last year he was losing to my husband in the 4CW Championship match. Now he’s moved down to fighting for the Pride Championship. Persephone Marquis went from tapping out to Bryan Williams in our match last year, to now eating his ass like it’s cheesecake, and fighting for the 4CW Championship. You can either fall down or you can rise, and the reflection can all come back to the events of Winter Wasteland.”
She tapped her finger on her chin as she spoke her next words.
CARLSON: “Now. I may have tapped out to Bryan Williams during this event last year, but can anyone tell me where my opponent Dakota was? Oh that’s right. He was dead, or at least playing dead. Now once again he’s trying to rise up from the dead. Well I say the dead should stay buried. Which is exactly what I’m going to do tonight. Bury Dakota covered in a pool of his own body fluids. Because I am the XTV Champion and it’s what I have to do to finally make you people get it. I’m the baddest bitch on the 4CW roster. Now watch me end the year on a high note and continue my rise to the top well into next year!
Genevie gave her signature wink and blew a kiss into the camera before walking out of the frame and the scene fading to black.



POWERS: ”Ladies and gentlemen, the following no holds barred contest is scheduled for one fall and will be for the 4CW XTV Championship!”
“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.
VASSA: ”Get ready to see some sick shit happen, because Papa Extreme, The Butcher… Dakota Smith is looking to take his whore back tonight!!”
JOHNSON: ”Must you be so vulgar about it? Another thing, do not count Genie out look what she did at Fright Night… she have proven that she can get Extreme with the best of them, Dakota included!!”
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 4CW 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 4CW 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 the 4CW XTV Chamionship 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: ”Make no mistake about it, this is about to be a war folks!!”
VASSA: ”You’re damn right!”

As the match starts, Genie starts circling Dakota wisely thinking about what her first move is going to be as Dakota does a couple of fake lunges toward her every so often to try and take her off of her game. Eventually the time for games has stopped and the two lock up. It’s Dakota taking the advantage first by locking his hand upon Genie’s wrist and twisting it. He spins around Genie and locks her up by the waist, but Genie quickly drops to both knees and slides underneath his legs popping back up and locking him up from behind as well. Not to be caught off guard, Dakota fires an elbow back into Genie’s chin, causing her to break her hold and back peddle as Dakota turns around and gives off a bit of a smirk.
VASSA: “Ah… For fuck’s sake would they just skip the foreplay already??”
JOHNSON: “Would you calm yourself, Vassa?”
They both dart forward again and come to a stalemate lock-up. Dakota pushes Genie back just enough to give enough breathing room to attempt to connect a bionic elbow upon the top of her head. Genie sees it coming and lifts a knee, driving it into Dakota’s ribs. Dakota hardly moves, causing Genie to fire another knee into his ribs. This knee causes Dakota to step back a bit and allows Genie to rush forward delivering a third knee to Dakota’s ribs, causing him to buckle forward.
JOHNSON: “Genevie Carlson is firing some well placed knees to Dakota’s ribcage!!”
VASSA: “The first couple didn’t seem to phase Dakota, but that third one buckled him!”
Genie looks back and then charges toward the ropes. She rebounds off of them coming in Dakota’s direction, and hops into the air with a sunset flip, landing on the mat behind Dakota and attempting to drop him down into a pin. Dakota keeps his balance and reaches down, lifting her from the mat and pulling her up to her feet through his legs and then lunging her into the corner. He runs forward for a body splash, but Genie ducks out of the way, causing Dakota to collide chest first into the turnbuckle. As he stumbles back, Genie bounces off of the adjacent ropes and comes forward, leveling him to the canvas with a clothesline.
VASSA: “Genie getting the upper-hand, and she didn’t even use her tiddy’s to do it!!”
JOHNSON: “Is that really all that surprising to you??”
Genie drops down on Dakota quickly, trying to give him no breathing room and begins to wrap her hands around his neck, choking him upon the canvas. It appears at this point she is going ape-shit in an attempt to choke Dakota out as he rustles around trying to break free. Eventually he reaches up and gouges her eyes, causing her to stumble back blinded. After wiping her eyes, she runs forward as Dakota climbs to a knee. She reaches out and grips him under the arm, trying to lift him to his feet, but Dakota drives an elbow into her stomach. As she starts to fall, Dakota hops on top of her and wraps his hands around her neck, now giving her the same treatment Genie had just given him moments ago.
JOHNSON: “It’s an all out choke fest in the early going!!”
VASSA: “Yes!! Some people loved to be choked, this is kinda’ kinky!!!”
Dakota hops up his feet, releasing his hands from Genie’s throat. As she rolls onto her stomach, Dakota reaches down and grabs her by the hair in an aggressive state, pulling her to standing position. He locks her in a sleeper hold and cranks down as Genie yells in pain. Genie reaches back and claws Dakota’s eyes causing him to stumble back and hit against the ropes. She wastes no time and spins around, darting after Dakota and executing a clothesline, sending both of them over the top rope and tumbling off of the apron and down onto the ringside floor.
VASSA: “Now we’re talking, this is where it becomes dangerous!!”
JOHNSON: “I’ll tell you what, these two are already giving off a lot of aggression and this match just started!!!”
Both Genie and Dakota climb to their feet and Genie swings a wild left hand. Dakota ducks it and kicks her in the stomach. Reaching out and grabbing Genie by the head, Dakota smashes her face against the apron and then spins her and tosses her into the barricade, shoulder first. As Genie leans against the barricade, Dakota reaches down and pulls the ringside mat padding back, exposing the concrete floor underneath. Dakota then reaches and grabs Genie, pulling her to her feet. He kicks her in the stomach and sets her up in piledriver position, lining her up and looking to spike her head on the concrete with a stump pulling piledriver. As he lifts Genie however, Genie kicks her feet back down and lifts Dakota over her head, sending him crashing his back upon the top of the barricade and falling into the front row of the audience.
JOHNSON: “Well, this has just taken a turn for the worse. Exposed flooring, Dakota just took out a section of the front row… It’s already turning into mayhem!!”
VASSA: “I told you!! Chaos is sure to follow when the fight makes it outside the ring!!”
Genie takes a moment and then reaches out after pulling herself to her feet, unlatching the barricades from one another and dropping one flat to the floor. Reaching down, she grabs Dakota by the wrist and pulls him to his feet. Spinning Dakota around, Genie grips his head and hops up, pulling him down with a sit-out facebuster, but before she can execute, Dakota hoists her up onto his shoulders and drills her upon the barricade with a powerbomb. Dropping to a knee he takes a second to recover before dropping down onto her for a pinfall.

As Genie rolls a shoulder up, she rolls off of the barricade. Dakota climbs to a knee and looks to the side of him. Pushing a fan to the floor, he grabs the steel folding chair in which he was sitting on and folds it up. Genie reaches out for the apron and begins to use it to help herself into standing position. Dakota lunges forward with the chair and drives it into Genie’s ribs. Genie holds her ribs in pain as she stumbles around the corner of the ringpost and onto the entrance ramp. Dakota follows behind her with his eyes wide and an evil smirk upon his face with the chair in one hand as only a good and skilled stalker/rapist could do. As Genie turns around, Dakota grips the chair and raises it above his head with both hands. He swings it downward, but Genie scouts it at the last moment and drives a shoulder into Dakota, causing him to drop the chair.
VASSA: “Good thing Genie knows all about chair shots after giving one to Elijah earlier in the year. That chairshot could have ended her!!”
JOHNSON: “Yeah, Dakota was definitely looking for the kill right there!!”
Genie kicks Dakota in his nuts and causes him to buckle forward. She drives a knee into Dakota’s face and then locks his head between her arm. She lifts Dakota into the air and falls backward, suplexing him onto the entrance ramp. Dakota grips at his back in pain and rolls onto his stomach. After Genie regains her breath, she stands up and looks over at Dakota. With a smirk on her face, she reaches down and grabs the steel chair and begins walking across Dakota’s back proudly, hoisting the chair high in the air to taunt The Butcher. After she steps off him, she grips the chair in both hands and raises it above her head, smacking it down across his back, causing him to cringe in pain.
JOHNSON: “Genevie Carlson is definitely going XTV on that ass tonight folks!!”
VASSA: “What did you expect, she’s got to live up to the titles reputation. Think about the XTV Championship match we had last year!!”
Genie drops the chair on the ramp and reaches down, lifting Dakota to standing position. Lifting Dakota over her head from his legs she paces up the ramp a couple of steps before throwing him forward for an Alabama Slam. Dakota somehow lands on the ramp with both feet, blocking the move and having her set-up in piledriver position. Gripping Genie’s tights, he falls backward and piledrives her cranium onto the entrance ramp. As Genie rolls onto her back, Dakota lays back on her stomach for a pinfall.

Genie rolls a shoulder up, causing Dakota to sit up and give the most offended look 4CW has ever seen. It’s almost too funny to describe. Looking back down at Genie who rolls onto her stomach and starts making a crawl up the ramp in an attempt to pull herself to her feet, Dakota wipes the sweat from his brow. He climbs to a knee and looks around before standing up. Dakota walks up behind Genie as she reaches the top of the stage. Reaching down he grabs her by the wrist and pulls her to her feet. Genie reaches up though and locks her hands around the back of Dakota’s head and drops down with a jawbreaker. As Dakota stumbles, Genie stands and grips his wrist, Irish whipping him into the steel truss by the entrance curtain. Dakota’s face smacks against it, and before he can fall backward, Genie runs up behind him and dropkicks him back into the truss face first once more, causing him to drop to a knee with his body leaned against it.
VASSA: “Where in the hell are they going, Steve?? The rings back there!!!”
JOHNSON: “I don’t think it matters where they’re going or how they’re getting there… all that matters is that we are witnessing a street fight!!”
Genie looks around for a moment and as she reaches out a grips the truss, the crowd begins to go bonkers. She begins to climb over Dakota and starts to ascend the truss. Dakota shakes off his grogginess and reaches up, grabbing Genie’s foot. Genie kicks back and loosens his grip, continuing to climb the steel truss. Dakota then reaches out and hoists himself up, climbing after her. Genie continues to climb the truss, with Dakota beginning to gain on her. They reach about fifteen feet up, before Dakota grabs Genie’s foot halting her climb. She tries to shake her leg free, but it’s no use as Dakota climbs upon her back. He looks down to the stage for a moment before smashing her head against the truss. Genie fires an elbow behind her in desperation while holding on tight with one hand. This helps Dakota lock her in a half nelson. Dakota then reaches up with his other arm and locks in a full nelson, falling backward from the truss with Genie, causing them both to crash upon the stage..,
VASSA: “HOLY SHIT!!! Genevie Carlson’s gotta’ be dead as fuck!!”
Both Genie and Dakota lay motionless on the stage from the impact, causing the audience to roar with a widespread chat…

The official looks around in panic, not knowing what to do. Both Dakota and Genie seem to be out and it seems to take a minute, but Dakota is the first one to move, beginning a crawl toward Genie. He reaches out and places his hand upon the stage, inching closer and closer. Just as he gets close enough and goes to reach out and drop an arm over Genie for another pinfall attempt, it’s as if Genie had been given the gift of life. She somehow reaches up and twists Dakota’s arm, rolling him into an armbar. Dakota yells in pain, scrambling around on the stage, trying to pull himself out of it.
VASSA: “Dakota might have no choice… It might be either tap or snap!!”
JOHNSON: “Knowing the heart of Dakota Smith, it might very well be snap!!!”
Dakota struggles as Genie yells in anger. Dakota continues to scramble around and use his free arm to try and break Genie’s hold. Eventually Dakota gets enough breathing room to get close enough to Genie and give her an eye gouge before rolling out of the submission. Genie holds her eye in pain as Dakota climbs to a knee. Genie drops her palms onto the stage and both her and Dakota make an exhausted stand to their feet at the same time. The two begin exchanging blows dangerously close to the edge of the stage. It’s Genie getting the upper-hand after a couple chops to Dakota’s chest, making it hard for him to keep his balance at the edge. Genie takes a couple paces backward and darts forward, spearing Dakota, sending them both flying off of the stage and crashing upon the electrical box below, sending sparks flying and causing a section of the arena lights to go out in the nosebleed seats.
JOHNSON: “This match is electrifying!!!”
VASSA: “Steve, nobody wants to hear your lame ass puns. Including these people in the nosebleed seats. First they got shitty seating and now they got no lighting?! This is horrible!!!”
Both competitors lay motionless for a moment once more as the referee hops down off of the stage and close to the wreckage. After a moment, Genevie Carlson reaches her arm out, and drops it onto Dakota for an exhausted pinfall…

Both Genie and Dakota roll off of the electrical box. Dakota starts to make a slow exhausted crawl toward the stage as Genie gets to a knee and takes a breather. She starts to follow Dakota around the side of the stage, and as the camera follows behind her they come into view just in time to see Genie reach down and start to ull Dakota to his feet. Dakota reaches out and grabs the stored away fire extinguisher used for emergencies on the side of the stage and quickly pulls the pin, aiming it backward and blasting it off in Genie’s face. Genie staggers back as Dakota stands up fully and turns around, driving it into her stomach before dropping it to the floor. Dakota stuffs Genie’s head between his legs and locks double underhooks in, snapping back and driving her head first onto the concrete floor.
JOHNSON: ”Genevie has to be done after that!!”
Dakota just sits there for a moment as Genie rolls onto her back. His eyes widen as if he’s possessed. Pulling himself to standing position, Dakota walks around the side of the stage a bit more and reaches behind the curtain. The audience erupts when he tosses a garbage can full of weapons out upon the concrete floor. Dakota picks up a santa hat and tips it upside down, causing a whole barrage of glass christmas ornaments to scatter across the ground. Genie starts to pull herself to her feet as Dakota reaches out and grips her hair, wrapping it in his hand. Forcefully pulling her to standing position, Dakota lifts her up onto his shoulders. He’s looking for the Dovah Death Drop, but Genie desperately kicks behind him and locks her arm around his neck as she does, laying him out with a falling reverse DDT, causing all the glass christmas ornaments to pop and shatter under him instantly lifting his leg for a pin…
JOHNSON: ”Reverse DDT by Genie onto the Christmas ornaments!!”
VASSA: ”HAHA!! Merry Belated Christmas you sons of bitches!!!”

Somehow Dakota gets a shoulder up at the last second, rolling onto his back. Bloody shards of Christmas ornaments stick out of his back. Genie stands up and paces toward Dakota but stops at the weapons scattered on the floor. She looks around and then picks up a staple gun. She steps over Dakota leaning down upon him and pulls his hair upward, enough to lean over him with the staple gun and place it upon his forehead, but before she can shoot it, Dakota slides through her legs and quickly pulls himself to a knee. As Genie turns around, he fires an elbow into her crotch, and then another one into her ribs. Genie drops the stapler and stumbles away as Dakota stands, grabbing the stapler himself. Dakota steps forward and presses the stapler against her forehead and goes to town, shooting three staples into her forehead in rapid succession…
JOHNSON: ”Oh my god!! The sick mental of Dakota has struck again… He just stapled the hell out of Genevie’s forehead!!”
In a panic, Genie begins pulling the staples from her forehead, causing a slight amount of blood to trickle down her forehead from the wounds. Dakota drops the stapler and reaches down picking up a light tube wrapped in barbed wire. He cocks the light tube back like a baseball bat and hits a homerun, smashing and breaking it across Genie’s face, busting her wide open and causing her to drop. Dakota starts to walk over to Genie, but she stops himself and taps his finger upon his head as if to say ‘I almost forgot’…
JOHNSON: ”Oh god… what else??”
Dakota walks back by where he retrieved the trash can full of weapons and pulls the curtain back once more, reaching down and picking up a cinder block. As he looks up though, a ball of fire blasts him directly in the face blinding him. He stumbles back dropping the cinder block as Viduus steps out from behind the stage with an evil smirk on his face.
VASSA: ”VIDUUS!! Where in the hell did he come from??”
JOHNSON: ”Viduus Morta just blinded Dakota with a fireball!!”
Viduus reaches down and grabs the cinder block with both hands, looking at it for a moment before rushing forward and breaking it across Dakota’s forehead. Dakota falls to the floor motionless and instantly a puddle of blood begins to stain the concrete floor. The audience doesn’t know what to think as Viduus just stands there looking down at Dakota for what seems like forever admiring his handy work before walking off with no explanation.
VASSA: ”I think Viduus Morta just caught a fucking body!!!”
Genie is still recovering from being smacked with the barbed wire lighttube, not knowing what just happened. The official doesn’t know how to handle the situation looking on frantically. Genie climbs to a knee and wipes the blood from her eyes. She takes a moment to look around before pulling herself up.
JOHNSON: ”Well, I’ll be damned…”
VASSA: ”How in the hell is he still moving??
Dakota starts trying to pull himself up, groggy and stunned as Genie comes to a stand. As Dakota weakly pulls himself to all fours, Genie runs forward and jumps into the air, stomping upon the back of Dakota’s head with her boot and smashing his face upon the concrete floor with a Stiletto Kiss. She drops to both knees and rolls a blood soaked Dakota Smith onto his back, hooking his leg for a pinfall…

Genie pulls herself up from Dakota kneeling in the pool of blood that they have both left on the concrete floor. She wipes the blood from her eyes once more as she looks around the arena. Knowing she has just been through hell, Genie climbs to a knee and shakes her head back and forth knowing how much this match has taken out of her physically…
JOHNSON: “I can’t believe this!!”
VASSA: ”Believe it baby, Viduus Morta is back!!”
JOHNSON: ”And Genevie doesn’t even know what just happened. Both her and Dakota just went through a war!!”
VASSA: ”All I know is I thought we just saw another one-eighty-seven happen here tonight. Thank god that wasn’t the case!!!”
VASSA: ”Either way, Genevie Carlson remains as the Queen Of Extreme here at Winter Wasteland tonight!!”

Returning backstage, fluorescent lighting cast everything in it’s yellow glow. A room paved in white tiles and walls faded in after the conclusion to Dakota Smith and Genie Carlson’s match smelling of disinfectant and some soap. It was the women’s restroom. Crowds can be heard roaring. Suddenly, Alexis Mercer swings the door holding her broken and beaten up body parts walking to the sunk in a stumble barely making the journey and had to pull herself up to a fairly decent height. Air pushes hard through her nose as Alexis tries to breath.
After regaining her breathing patterns. Alexis Mercer takes a picture of Andre Holmes out. Looks at the picture and then starts tearing up the picture into small bits.
MERCER: “Andre. You claim that you’re the cancer of professional wrestling. You want to be the 4CW savior that finally saves everybody and do what Genie, Anastasia and so many others tried to do. They attempted to end me. They thought I would vanish into thin air. That my broken body would float up in some river yet I remain among you. Forever the plague of 4CW.”
A flush interrupts Alexis. It comes from one of the restroom stalls, and the door unlocks. Opens slowly. Out comes the seamstress. The two look at each other for a moment.
MERCER: “What the fuck are you looking at? Haven’t you seen another talk to the dead before. Have some goddamn respect, geez.”
Alexis gives the woman this look before holding her side and walking into the neighboring stall and throwing those pieces of the Andre Holmes picture into the toilet. Flushes it. And stumbles out heading toward the doorway. She turns at the seamstress.
MERCER: “Don’t forget to wash your goddamn hands.”
Our scene ends with Alexis Mercer leaving the restroom as the seamstress looks on.

He stood alone in a hallway, turquoise eyes unfocused as he stared through a 4CW Winter Wasteland IV Promotional Poster. His expression offered no tell regarding any emotion elicited. An extended finger from his right hand poked the very middle of the art advertisement. Each 4CW warrior featured in a match had his or her image abstractly stenciled on the informative piece of graphic design. The marquee matches, as to be expected, were highlighted a little more prominently, presumably after dozens to hundreds of takes deemed necessary by the artist to fit his or her vision.
And in the center, as one privy to the narrative of Four Corners Wrestling would predict, Bronx Valescence and Persephone Marquis shined.
A filth infested fingernail circled about the core of the poster, while his lips only threatened to curl. Boston finally granted his eyes a subject, or focus, and because of it, his face had become increasingly flushed. Nostrils flared, and beneath the lips that exposed his growing anger, his teeth ground against one another like a super Christian girl and her first boyfriend before he broke up with her for sticking to her morals. She wouldn’t make that mistake again, but was it her fault? Surprising that the Bible allowed dry-humping, but not sexual intercourse…just seems like folks are set up for failure. Anyway, he drug his finger around the main event portion of the giant emblem and flicked it twice, once for each competitor, paused, and then struck the vinyl one more time with added emphasis. The last time was for himself. A deep breath was followed by the obligatory sigh that carried a hint of stifled frustration.
BOSTON: “Memory…so subjective. Fact, truth, candor, veracity, plain old fuckin’ honesty…all victims of convenience. Ego. Usually both. Either way, this fuckin’ thing should probably come down.”
His self-talk appeared to be commonplace. He reached up and gripped the advertisement so hard that his knuckles turned a reddish-hued shade of white.
The right edge of his mouth lifted and seemed to have pointed toward a scar on his forehead, a trophy gifted him by Dakota Smith. Boston adjusted the midnight black backpack, accidentally jarring from the side peaked a metal rod, the visible edge covered in a sangria colored substance characterized by tiny bumps. Upon its slip from within the conspicuously out of place for a contracted worker’s bag, it constructed a nearly silent clink of metal on metal as it became acquainted with the zipper.
BOSTON: “Stop it, motherfucker.”
His hand dropped from the promotional print and reached for the strap over his left shoulder. The way he corrected the bag and the positioning of the weapon clandestinely dwelling inside, displayed irrational aggravation from the young man. His expression and muffled growl indicated that he derided picture before him, while he cursed the nearly inaudible sounds emanating from his casual luggage. Boston’s behavior and state of mind had become increasingly disturbing as of late, and examples of both claims had just subtly validated themselves in the hallway he thought he occupied by himself. The struggle with his inanimate foes for the evening birthed two more nearly inaudible clanging noises, while the six by six foot image of 4CW’s upper echelon fluttered. The simple disturbances tensed every muscle left undisturbed by the quietest siren songs he’d ever heard.
BOSTON: “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
From behind the blue eyed man whose tenure in 4CW so far can be described as violent and fairly bizarre, Gabriel Hartman had been watching him gradually unravel at the sight of a poster and a couple barely noticeable interactions between two pieces of metal. He looked at the poster again and noticed two small, spectral figures seemingly floating in the wake of Jair Hopkins, the Pride Title Contender featured on the mural of who’s who in 4CW. Abstract and black and white in color, it was easy to make sense of the Pride Title Contendership Tournament’s two dimensional dramatization. Jett Wilder was one of the figures, which brought a smirk to Boston’s face. The other rendering was of his destiny, his love- his drug, his withdrawal, his fix- Amber Ryan, who wouldn’t be competing at Wasteland that night, just as he wasn’t.
BOSTON: “Destiny didn’t want this one for us, did she, Red? Destiny, fate, they can be changed…y’know, they’re pretty damn all-powerful. But free will? Malleable. Negotiable.”
A wave of emotion poured over his face, provoking a recall of both deep sadness and furious anger.
BOSTON: “On you, Red. On you..”
HARTMAN: “Boston, a word please?”
Boston’s eyes filled with a quick shot of anxiety, before he swiftly turned and faced 4CW’s backstage mouthpiece. With all of the dramatic bravado he could muster, his blue eyes softened.
BOSTON: “Nah, man.”
The twenty-five year old athlete flipped his bag in front of him and began to walk in the direction opposite of Hartman. Undeterred, Hartman hightailed it after Boston.
HARTMAN: “Why did you go after Cyrus Riddle like you did? You said he was a friend! Was it to send a message to Chris Madison?”
Head down, Boston huffed and continued forward.
HARTMAN: “Was it jealousy? Did you intentionally bash Cyrus Riddle’s skull in because you were upset about Amber Ryan’s refusal to engage in any sort of relationship with you?”
Boston’s pace slowed to a stop after three long, suddenly lazy strides. The hair left exposed danced along the back of his neck as his head bobbed for a moment.
HARTMAN: “Why aren’t you competing tonight?”
A zipper unfastened.
HARTMAN: “Is it because Bronx Valescence embarrassed you on multiple occasions, now? Is the climb to the top too arduous for you to undertake? Is it because you’re not booked on potentially the biggest show that 4CW’s ever had?”
As Boston fumbled within his bag, a moment of clarity struck him. Another deep breath. The sound of metallic fastening was heard.
HARTMAN: “Heart has been a question all along, Boston, it’s no secret. Naysayers of yours have reiterated consistently that you won’t be around for long. Why are you even in the building tonight, sir? And what the hell were you doing outside of Amber Ryan’s locker room with that lead pipe?!”
Boston pivots to face Hartman. His lips are curled into a faint smile and the excitement in his eyes reached full capacity. He approaches Gabriel until there is about an inch of reprieve from physical contact, and in recent weeks, any form of that type of interaction ended in a ruthless, relentless, violent nature.
BOSTON: “In consideration of the crux of the argument by your line of questioning, I’m wondering why you feel like it’s a good idea to continue antagonizing me. I denied your interview. I tried to walk away. You pestered. Persisted. Let’s make a deal. You let me place my hands around your throat and squeeze. I’ll answer your questions.”
He grabbed Hartman by the collar. Gabriel shook his head “no” in a panic. Boston pushed the interviewer against the wall, leaning down and in, to be eye-level.
BOSTON: “No? When you shake your head no, does it mean yes? Are you sure? Should I D. Trump you, right now? Cause you really, really, REALLY wanted some answers about thirty seconds ago, when I just really, really, really, REALLY wanted to mosey on down the hallway, get the fuck out of here, and not commit attempted murder in a 4CW venue for the first time in six weeks.”
His hand slid back up around the interviewers neck.
BOSTON: “Actually, I’ve come to really love hurting people in other places than their pride or self-worth. I’ve grown accustomed to going that extra mile, forgoing the three count, and leaving folks unconscious in the spot I leave them. So-”
His grip tightens.
BOSTON: “You have no pride, probably have no self-worth- don’t worry, I’ve been there, I know- so I’m not gonna risk your life tonight. Just make you appreciate breathing a tiny bit more than you did when you strolled up behind me with a barrage of shit you know I don’t want to talk about.”
Boston whispers.
BOSTON: “I value my privacy, as you could see by how I reacted, non-violently, a minute ago. So listen. Riddle was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I feel bad about what happened. It wasn’t his fault. Chris Madison showing up after what he witnessed and…whatever else is going on…I wanted to rip his face off. But I don’t anymore. It wasn’t his fault. Bronx? Bronx didn’t embarrass me. Each time we crossed paths, my mind either wasn’t capable of focusing on him or wasn’t remotely concerned with the words coming out of his mouth. I’ll see Bronx when it makes money for Perry Wallace, simple as that. None of this is his fault. Heart? Dakota Smith and I went to a no-contest, a fucking double knock-out, in my second ever No-Holds-Barred match. I got heart. Why I’m here tonight?”
He backs off a bit, slapping Hartman gently with his free hand.
BOSTON: “Casual wrestling fan. As far as Amber Ryan and what I was doing outside of her locker room? Pretty sure I said, ‘good luck,’ and that was that.”
A turquoise eye winks. Boston’s hand releases the backstage rabble-rouser’s neck, before taking hold of the terrified reporter’s shoulders.
BOSTON: “You know how badly I could have just wrecked your life right now, correct? You understand that’s because you consciously, purposely, tenaciously irritated me. Got it? Nothing against you. I know you were just doing your job. It’s like I keep saying, like Good Will Hunting, y’know? Robin Williams and Matt Damon, crying, hugging, ‘don’t you do this to me, Sean!’ that part? He just says, ‘it’s not your fault.’ Always loved that. Will accepts that, y’know, turns his life around kinda and y’know, seems like he comes of age. So, me choking you until your face was a shade of red that I doubt I could even find a synonym on the internet for if I tried. That wasn’t your fault. Me beating the fuck out of Cyrus Riddle, it wasn’t his fault, either. Everyone else that happens to meet me at this time in my life, in this…this…”
A wicked smile overtakes Boston as his right hand finds his forehead, his left hand waving Gabriel away.
BOSTON: “This hell. I guess. It’s not their fault. I just hope they’re able to grow from it. I hope they choose to accept their fate. Choose to accept their destiny. We’d be a wildly happier species if we did.”
Hartman scurries away, as Boston yells after him.
BOSTON: “But Gabe! Gabri-ellll! It ain’t your fault, buddy, but this is important, don’t forget this: Ain’t mine either. Silk the Shocker told me that in 1998.”
Boston grabs his bag and heads down the corridor. A slight surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins as he departed, and it afforded him some semblance of a sense of humor for the first time in months.



JOHNSON: ”I think a lot of people are looking forward to this next match. I honestly wouldn’t blame them, not after the year they’ve had.”
VASSA: ”You’re telling me. Bryan Williams and Ana Hayden, two of the top rising stars in this company. Tonight they meet for the third time this year, but this match definitely has more at stake.”
JOHNSON: ”Yes it does, the winner here will move on to meet the 4CW Champion after Winter Wasteland. Whoever that may be.”
VASSA: ”Look, I know Bryan has won the last two matches between these two, but that doesn’t matter tonight. Things are a lot different now.”
JOHNSON: ”They certainly have more to fight for. More is at stake here tonight, more so than ever I would say.”
VASSA: ”It’s still tough for me to pick here, I just don’t know how this is going to go.”
JOHNSON: ”It’s all going to come down to who can outlast the other. Who can make it to the ten count, and who can’t.”
VASSA: ”I am so ready for this, I can’t wait!”
“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 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.
JOHNSON: ”Ana looks more than ready for tonight.”
VASSA: ”It’s a big deal, I think these two are finally looking to move on. Ana desperately wants to get this win, and avoid losing three times to Bryan.”
JOHNSON: ”Yeah, and that championship match.”
VASSA: ”Definitely, Steve.”
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 pointer 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 the match to start.
JOHNSON: ”Bryan Williams looking to finish out the year strong. He’s having a strong win streak right now, a win here tonight would be a great way to finish out the year.”
VASSA: ”Started the year as the Pride Champion, beat Chris Madison just two weeks ago. I’d say that Bryan has definitely improved this year.”
JOHNSON: ”It’s a breakout star facing off against somebody who’s improved so much, it’s hard to say who will win.”
VASSA: ”Time for talk is over, Steve. Let’s get this match started!”

The bell rings, and the two waste no time getting into it! Ana runs across the ring, as Bryan meets her in the middle! The two immediately lock up, exchange forearm shots and elbows. Neither one wanting to back down, Ana lets out a roar and lays into Bryan with a brutal elbow shot. Bryan quickly responds, delivering a brutal shot that stuns Ana for a second! He fires back into her face with another elbow, but Ana quickly responds with a high roundhouse kick that catches him clean!

The smack of the kick sends a chill throughout the audience, they react loudly as Bryan stumbles backwards. It’s muscle memory what happens next, as he wastes no time with rest holds, instead he wraps up Ana Hayden and tosses her to the mat! Ana lands hard, on her neck and shoulders, quickly rolling out of the ring to escape from anymore punishment. She stays on the outside, catching her breath as Bryan quickly follows. Bryan drops down, rolling underneath the bottom rope as Ana catches him with a Push Kick. Bryan stumbles backwards, hitting the steel steps awkwardly.
JOHNSON: ”Ana striking out first!”
VASSA: ”She’s really going at him right now, she wants to put him down early!”
He holds the back of his head, as Ana moves in and kicks him hard in the ribs. She drives her heel into his throat, using the apron for support as she stands up. All of her body weight is being driven into Bryan’s throat, who manages to wriggle free from the hold. Bryan quickly scurries under the ring, being pulled out by Ana. She tries to pull him back out, but he connects with a kick that pushes her away! Bryan scurries under the ring, while Ana recovers, popping up on the other side of the ring. He quickly slides into the ring, rushing across the ring to DIVE TO THE OUTSIDE! He collides into Ana, sending them both crashing into the barricade!
Ana crawls around on the outside, trying to get her bearings as Williams is back to his feet. A running kick to the side of Ana’s head stops her, momentarily. Bryan tosses the apron curtain aside, Logan Whitby calling for the two to get back into the ring. Bryan ignores him, instead opting to get Ana back up to her feet. He hits her with a HEADBUTT, before tossing her back into the ring. Ana does her best to get back up, but she’s still dazed from the spill on the outside. She stands up, only to be caught with a Rolling Release Suplex! Bryan tosses her through the air, sending her crashing hard into the mat!
JOHNSON: ”Look at Bryan fighting back!”
VASSA: ”That headbutt came out of nowhere, I think Ana is still feeling that!”
Ana staggers up, as Bryan get to his feet. She ducks a right hand, catching Bryan with one of her own. She grabs his right arm, putting her right foot under his chin. Throwing herself down towards the mat, her foot shoots into his jaw, causing him to fall backwards! Ana uses this moment to recover, she looks to get enough momentum for this next move. A Running Kick to the ribs of Bryan sends him rolling back out of the ring. Bryan stays on the outside for a moment, as Ana looks on. She shoots towards the opposite side of the ring, running at the ropes with full speed and fury. She bounces off, coming back towards her original side. Bryan slowly gets up to his feet, as Ana Hayden launches herself between the top and middle ropes. Bryan looks up, and sees Ana crashing into him at full SPEED!
The two crash back into the barricade yet again, Bryan taking the brunt of the fall this time. He leans against the barricade, appearing to be in agony as Ana lays on the mat. Ana tries to get her bearings, wanting to get back up to her feet quickly. Bryan hasn’t recovered yet though, as he falls down to the mat. Ana gets up to her feet, as Logan Whitby starts his count!
“One! … Two! … Three! … Four!”

Ana slides to the outside, laying into Bryan with a Forearm. She tries another one, but Bryan grabs her and tosses her face first into the barricade! The crowd winces, as Bryan looks on, examining the damage. He doesn’t wait too long, reaching under the ring for something. Bryan pulls out a couple of chairs, tossing them back into the ring as he slides in. Soon enough, Ana is following.
JOHNSON: ”Bryan already pulling out the hardware, I don’t think this match is going to be fun for either of these two.”
VASSA: ”You have to do whatever you can in these situations.”
The two quickly meet, as Bryan has a chair in hand. Ana looks to be cautious, not ready to try anything just yet. Bryan swings, wildly, as Ana is able to duck and get away from the attack. She rolls back to her feet, dropkicking the chair right into Bryan’s face! It looks like it caught him by surprise, he lays on the mat in agony as Logan Whitby again starts his count!
“One! … Two! … Three! … Four!”

Ana looks on in disbelief as Bryan gets back up to his feet, slowly this time. He looks across the ring at Ana, who’s waiting on him to make his move. The crowd is cheering, as these two begin to pace around the ring. One waiting for the other to do something.
Ana rushes out towards Bryan, attempting to take him down with a Headscissors. He stops the move completely, swinging Ana back around and into a Backbreaker! The backbreaker connects, flush, Bryan wastes little time on getting Ana back up to her feet. He wraps her up, almost in a Fireman’s Carry position, floating her over into a Neckbreaker over his knee! Ana rolls in pain, but Bryan is relentless, he picks Ana Hayden up and tosses her to the mat with a Sleeperhold Suplex! The crowd is awed by Bryan’s sudden conviction of violence towards his opponent. Ana looks up at the lights, completely dazed.
JOHNSON: ”Look at this display here tonight!”
VASSA: ”Bryan is just relentless right now!”
Bryan takes his time, walking back over to his downed opponent. Ana still seems a bit out of it, she turns to her stomach and tries to crawl back to her feet. Bryan quickly wraps her up, his hands around her waist. He pulls her up and into a Deadlift German Suplex! Almost in slow motion, the suplex drills Ana Hayden into the mat! Getting back up to his feet, he calls for Logan Whitby to make his count. Ana stays on the mat, very much in pain from the sequence.
“One! … Two! … Three! … Four! … Five!”

Ana slowly gets to her feet, but Bryan looks like he saw that coming. Backing off, he decides instead to use this time to his advantage. With Ana still feeling beat up, Bryan takes a breather. It’s precious time he can use to recover, as his opponent is still dazed. After a few moments he looks over, seeing the Ana is getting back up to her feet. Bryan moves over to her, just as Ana is back to her feet. Bryan quickly settles that with a superkick! The snap kick catches Ana fully, dropping her back down to the mat again. Bryan looks on, as Ana lays there on the mat. Logan Whitby again making the count.
“One! … Two! … Three! … Four! … Five! … Six!”

Much to his surprise, and everyone else’s, Ana Hayden is getting up. She stays on one knee, as Bryan approaches her again. She lashes out, a kick catching Bryan right in the stomach. He doubles over, giving Ana the few seconds she needs to get back up. Ana grins, as Bryan eats a Running Knee from Ana. She took his punishment, now it seems that it is her turn to dish it out. Bryan lays on the mat, as Ana starts walking around him in circles.
JOHNSON: ”Ana took a lot of punishment from Bryan there, but she’s right back into this thing!”
VASSA: ”You can’t ever count her out! She has no quit in her body.”
Bryan tries getting back up, pushing Ana away from him. This gives Ana a chance to smash a chair over his back. Dropping to the mat, Ana follows that up with a Sliding Dropkick to the side of Bryan’s head. This causes Bryan to roll back to the outside, yet again, clutching at his head. Ana looks on, wondering about her options for the moment. Bryan doesn’t look to waste any time on the outside, as he grabs for the ring apron. Ana sees this, and quickly makes her move. Both competitors reach the apron, Ana pulling Bryan right into an elbow shot. She lands another hard shot, before trying for a third. Bryan ducks, pulling Ana into a PILEDRIVER ONTO THE APRON!

Both competitors crash to the ground, Ana being driven head first into the ring apron. Bryan lays on the outside, still feeling the effects of Ana’s attacks. Logan Whitby moves to their side, checking on the both of them. Bryan motions for him to move, as he gets back up to his feet. He wastes no time in picking up his opponent, shoving her back into the ring. Ana doesn’t move, but Bryan doesn’t want Logan to count just yet.
Grabbing Ana, Bryan quickly lifts her up onto her feet. He scoop slams her hard onto the canvas, lifting her back up again. Lifting Ana off of her feet, Bryan drives his knee into her back, with a backbreaker! Ana looks to be in pain. Ana lays on the mat, clutching her lower back after that bit. Bryan tries getting back up, but Ana beats him to it. She grabs Bryan, pulling him right into a Snap DDT! The move plants Bryan head first into the mat, allowing Ana another chance to catch her breath and recover. Bryan isn’t looking well, the DDT certainly stopping anything he was hoping to accomplish. He pulls himself to the nearest turnbuckle, as he tries to get back up to his feet.
JOHNSON: ”These two just won’t quit. Ana looking like that piledriver didn’t even phase her!”
VASSA: ”You know she has to be hurting, though. Everything Bryan is doing right now, she can’t show a single sign of weakness.”
Ana easily lands an Enziguri, as Bryan slumps back into the corner. He sits there on the mat, as Ana brings her boot across his face. She does it once, and then does it again. Another scrape for good measure, as the crowd can see the Facewash coming up. Ana steps backwards, getting a nice running start. She hits the ropes, exploding towards her opponent as she connects with a brutal Facewash! Ana almost slips through the ropes, with how fast she was going! Bryan doesn’t fare very well, the cut from his nose re-opening yet again.
Ana doesn’t waste time, looking to do the most amount of damage she can. Bryan tries getting back up, but Ana clips his right knee from behind. The move is effective, as Bryan crumbles to the mat in a heap. He grabs at his right knee, as Ana begins to stomp and kick away at it. An effective strategy, especially for this kind of match. If Bryan cannot physically stand, the match would be Ana’s for the taking!
JOHNSON: ”Great strategy from Ana right there! She’s going after his bad knee!”
VASSA: ”What a smart move, Bryan might not be able to stand for the ten count now!”
Bryan tries crawling away from Ana, but he has no luck. She easily pulls him into a Leg Lock. The move done to weaken his right knee more, as submitting him wouldn’t accomplish anything in this match. Ana stares at Bryan, as he shouts out in pain. She smirks, wrenching the hold even tighter. Bryan lets out a yelp, but is able to roll enough to escape from the hold. He grimaces, trying to get back up to his feet. Ana looks on, as Bryan struggles to hold himself up by the ring ropes.
Ana Hayden takes a break, trying to collect herself as she decides on what to do next. Her opponent is hobbling now, doing his best to recover. Ana looks on, stepping in with a kick to his leg. The outside kick almost drops Bryan, as he falls into the ring ropes. Ana steps in again, delivering another harsh kick to his right leg! She’s yelling something at him, and isn’t letting up any time soon! Ana step back again, Bryan side stepping out of the way just in time. Ana bounces off of the ropes, and right into a Superkick from Bryan!
JOHNSON: ”Superkick connects!”
VASSA: ”He might have caught her by surprise with that one!”
Ana, stunned, staggers around the ring for a moment as Bryan looks on. Almost like he’s waiting for her to fall. Ana falls backwards into the nearby ropes, but it seems to have been an act! She springs off of the ropes with fury, catching Bryan with a Running Blockbuster! The crowd reacts appropriately, as Bryan is drilled into the mat!
Ana uses this chance to get him up, shoving him to the outside. Ana rolls out of the ring, as Bryan is dumped to the outside. Logan Whitby calls for her to get back in the ring again, she quickly ignores him. Ana directs Bryan towards the barricade, leaning him against it. Bryan stands there, as Ana takes a few steps backwards. She readies herself, running towards him as she throws her body into his! Bryan crashes hard into the barricade, a Crossbody sending him into it. It was well executed by Ana, who seems to have taken no damage from it. Logan Whitby, annoyed, begins counting.
“One! … Two! … Three! … Four!”

Ana looks on, completely satisfied with herself, as Bryan is laid out once again. Logan takes his time with the count, but eventually stops counting. Ana, having been trying to recover, looks around as she wonders what was going on. She looks at Logan Whitby, and then back to where Bryan was.

The sound reverbs through the arena, a Superkick catching Ana completely off guard! Ana falls to the mat, as Bryan crumbles as well. He holds onto his right knee, very much in pain. Ana doesn’t seem to move, as Logan Whitby looks on. Bryan and Ana have taken a lot of damage in this match, they lay on the ringside as once again Logan Whitby begins to count!
“One! … Two! … Three! … Four!”

Bryan and Ana aren’t moving, the crowd starts to become worried as Logan Whitby continues to count!
“Five! … Six!”

There is a buzz in the crowd, as neither competitor is moving! Logan Whitby doesn’t seem to be stopping any time soon!

Relief, as Bryan tries getting back up to his feet. Ana is moving as well, but she hasn’t gotten back up yet. Bryan looks to the ring, as he takes another breath.

Using his willpower, Bryan tries walking to the ring but his right leg seems to give out! He falls, gripping onto the ring apron for support! Behind him is Ana, as she gets to a knee.

The crowd is yelling for both competitors to get up, at this point. They don’t want to see a draw. Bryan grabs the bottom rope, pulling himself up to his feet! Ana stands too, at the same time. Both competitors look each other, drawing heavy breaths as the crowd cheers them on. They soon take their time, getting back into the ring as they prepare for the next round of battle.
VASSA: ”I thought that was it! They were both down!”
JOHNSON: ”These two just have no quit!”
VASSA: ”Somebody has to give up eventually!”
The two enter the ring, slowly standing up to their feet. Ana lets out a roar, from anger and pain and charges her opponent. A forearm shot catches Bryan, but he responds with one of his own! Ana and Bryan go back and forth, forearm for forearm! Ana lunges at Bryan, but he ducks and catches her with a Bicycle Kick! Bryan looks to be in pain with his knee, allowing Ana to step in with a Hook Kick of her own! It catches Bryan and causes him to fall to one knee. Ana quickly latches onto him, putting him into a deep Triangle Choke!
VASSA: ”She’s got Bryan with his own move! She can put him to sleep right here!”
It’s locked in almost perfectly, as Bryan does his best to defend against it. It’s in tight, as Bryan unable to escape from the hold. Ana wrenches back, doing her best to choke him out to start the ten count. Suddenly, Bryan stands to his feet! He lifts Ana up off of the ground and tosses Ana into the nearby turnbuckle! She lands hard, the Buckle Bomb giving Bryan the space that he needed. The damage to her back enough to give Bryan an edge. She winces in pain, as Bryan steps backwards. He charges towards her, looking to end this right now!

It was a trick! Ana moves, and drop toe holds Bryan face first into the middle turnbuckle! His head snaps backwards, allowing Ana to connect with a Hurricanrana Driver! Bryan is planted face first into the mat, as Ana thinks up something next. Ana knows that she needs to pile the pressure on, as Bryan is still dazed. Looking over towards the chairs, Ana comes up with an idea. She quickly unfolds them, placing them into a seated position. Setting the two chairs next to each other, Ana looks back to her opponent.
JOHNSON: ”Oh no, Ana has something in mind for this.”
VASSA: ”I can’t even tell, Ana has bad intentions right now.”
Bryan starts getting up, but Ana throws a kick into his ribs! He yells out in pain, allowing Ana ample time to think up her next move. Ana hurries to the turnbuckle, but Bryan is right there. She scurries to the top rope, just as Bryan climbs up and takes her down with a TOP ROPE EXPLODER SUPLEX!! ANA CRASHES HARD THROUGH THE CHAIRS!!

The crowd is on their feet, Bryan taking a breather as Ana Hayden is stuck between two pieces of twisted metal. She had no time to prepare, landing awkwardly! Bryan doesn’t even bother getting up, as Logan Whitby looks at the two. Bryan watches on, as he begins his count.
“One! … Two! … Three! … Four!”

Ana stirs a bit, but looks to be in pain as she tries to get up. Bryan, on a knee, holds onto the nearby ropes for support.
“Five! … Six!”

Ana lays on the mat, clearly still in pain as she does her best to get back up. She bites down on her mouthpiece, turning to her stomach. Using her hand to push herself up, she tries to get back up to her feet.

Ana wobbles, trying to get to a knee as Bryan looks on.

The crowd is stunned, as Ana stands up to her feet! Defiant as ever, as she stares at Bryan!
JOHNSON: ”Bryan can’t believe his eyes! Ana went through those chairs, and she’s standing tall here right now!”
VASSA: ”What does he have to do?!”
Bryan looks on, as Ana stands in front of him. He quickly grabs one of the nearby broken chairs, wielding it as a weapon! Soon enough though, Ana falls down to the mat. Bryan tosses the chair, but the idea seems good to him. He quickly moves out of the ring, looking back under the ring for something. He quickly pulls out a lead pipe, as he heads back into the ring.
JOHNSON: ”Bryan, what are you doing?”
VASSA: ”It’s not that serious, man. It isn’t worth it like this, Bryan!”
Standing over Ana, Bryan holds the pipe in his hands. He looks at it, and looks down at Ana. This would be the finishing blow, enough to keep her down for good! He RAISES IT UP AND
JOHNSON: ”He’s – He isn’t going to do it!”
VASSA: ”Put the damn weapon down, Bryan!”
Bryan stands there for a moment, as Ana stares up back at him. He can’t seem to finish her off, not like this at least. Bryan drops the pipe, instead reaching out to help Ana back to her feet. She looks hesitant, but quickly accepts! The two stand there for a moment, as the crowd looks on. Ana, however, quickly looks to take advantage with a Superkick. Bryan sees this coming, and ducks, connecting with A RAGING DEMON!
With Ana down on the ground, Bryan looks to keep her down for good! He doesn’t wait for the referee to start counting, instead picking Ana back up to her feet. He ties her up into a Muay Thai clinch, driving a knee into her face! Bryan quickly lifts her up for a CTE, but Ana slips out of it! Bryan turns around, and eats a Rolling Elbow strike from Ana! She follows that up with another! Bryan stumbles backwards, allowing Ana to connect with SHE WAS ONLY SEVENTEEN!
Bryan falls backwards into the corner, still standing on his feet! He tries moving forward, but Ana rushes in with ANOTHER SHE WAS ONLY SEVENTEEN! Bryan collapses to the mat, on two knees! He looks dazed, but still not out! Ana steps back, and connects with a Superkick! She quickly follows that up with another, and ANOTHER! Bryan looks almost out of it, as Ana stands there watching. He gets to a knee, doing his best to get back up. Ana looks on, as Bryan motions for her to try again.
JOHNSON: ”He wants MORE!”
SHE WAS ONLY SEVENTEEN CONNECTS FOR A THIRD TIME!! FINALLY Bryan falls backwards, collapsing to the mat! Logan Whitby is right there, as he starts to make the count!
“One! … Two! … Three! … Four! … Five!”

Everyone watches, as the count continues. Bryan doesn’t look to be moving much, as Ana looks on. Bryan stares up at the lights, completely laid out as Logan Whitby continues to count on!
“Six! … Seven! … Eight!”

Bryan tries to move, reaching out for the nearby rope. He turns to his stomach, doing his best to crawl for it as the crowd looks on.

A smile comes over his face, as he lets his hand fall to the mat. HE’S NOT GETTING BACK UP!


POWERS: ”Here is your winner, ANASTASIA HHAAYYDDEENN!!!”
The bell sounds and “Shook Ones (Part II)” by Mobb Deep fills the arena as Anastasia raises her hand in victory, slumped against the ropes. The referee tries helping her, but Ana pushes him away and tries to stand on her own two feet, hand still raised in victory. The fans boo, but she doesn’t care as she starts pacing back and forth on her damaged legs, hyping herself up as she’s crowned the new number one contender. She looks at the camera, pointing into it, and mouthing off presumably to the champion and current contender.
JOHNSON: ”What a match from these two here tonight, Ana Hayden is your NEW Number One Contender. I cannot believe what I’ve just witnessed here.”
VASSA: ”She kept fighting, Steve! Bryan hesitated, and that’s all she needed to get back into the match!”
But all the jawing comes to an end as Ana turns around and sees a slowly recovering Bryan Williams in the corner. Trying to help him as well, the referee gets knocked back as Bryan tries standing on his own, holding his knee in pain, but forcing himself to walk up to Ana. The two glare at each other, almost as if they were ready for a fourth chapter, but nothing happens immediately. No words or fists are exchanged, just a simple nod from Ana before she bumps Bryan’s shoulder and heads out of the ring.
JOHNSON: ”I don’t know what that was, but Bryan Williams showing respect here tonight. Standing face to face with Ana, do you think this is finally over?”
VASSA: ”I can only hope so, wouldn’t be good for their health to keep this going.”
On the way up the ramp, Ana keeps talking trash at the camera as Bryan stays in the ring. The crowd cheers for them both, applauding their performance here tonight. Bryan takes a bow, leaving as “Lions Below” begins to play.
JOHNSON: ”What a performance from these two tonight, I feel bad for whoever walks out of the main event as champion.”
VASSA: ”Knowing what’s waiting for you, Ana is going to be causing a lot of troubles for whoever it is soon.”

Heading towards a pre-taped segment the fans at home gather around for the first part in a ongoing series, “Being Jett Wilder” as we come into the scene of some sort of rec center. Standing outside the door looking like a child reluctantly trying to avoid going in, alongside his mother Carmella…Former Extreme Champion. Shaking his head arms crossed pouting a bit, having grown up a lot over the past year. But still having some of the same Jett issues he has had prior.
J. WILDER: “I know this is some court ordered BS, but I don’t want to go. Can’t we just pay my way out of this…”
Shaking her head as though she has had this conversation prior, as Jett avoids eye contact with someone who enters the room.
C. WILDER: ”Jett as I said before this is very important. And you can learn a lot from this, you have been wreckless of late. Now I need you to go in there and sit down for a few minutes, that’s all. These are people that have the same issues as you…”
J. WILDER: “I don’t have any issues…I just like to party.”
Spouting off back quick as Carmella shakes her head fed up.
C. WILDER: ”Do I need to call Marquis?”
Shaking his head as his mom pulls the trump card, he mouths off under his breath that he tapped her out. A match long seeming in the past as his friend surges towards the 4CW Championship.
J. WILDER: “Fine I’ll go. But do some Lawyer magic, I don’t want to be in these group sessions.”
Smiling happy that she got him to head in as he throws up his hoody and walks into the class, written big on the wall in the background is “Sex Addicts Anonymous”. There is a man that looks almost like Drew Stevenson but than again it could be anyone. He glances at the writing, realizing he is in the class his problems going much deeper than this as he scurries out of the room. As Jett plops down in a chair, looking around at the people in the class looking to try to be too cool for the class. The instructor, looking every bit the reformed sex addict you’d expect him to be closes the door as Jett was the last one in.
WILLIAM: ”Hello class, as always we have some juice and coffee over in the corner.”
Walking across taking a seat at the table folding his legs across holding pen to paper, as Jett rolls his eyes.
WILLIAM: ”Looks like we got a few new faces here today. I am happy to have you all, I am William. My friends call me Willy, but for the sake of this class let’s not go there.”
Pleased with his own joke as he looks around getting a few laughs from the regulars.
WILLIAM: ”As you’ll see I have a friend here today, he is sitting in today as a special request. Don’t worry he’s not taping any of this, he’s just observing. He isn’t some reporter that’s going to report this anywhere. This is Gerard, class. Class this is Gerard.”
Hardly looking up from under his sunglasses he does a little wave as William turns his attention quickly to Jett. Tossing him a blue ball, again super unfortunate lack of foresight over on color choice. The ball hits Jett’s chest and rolls off casually to another person who catches.
WILLIAM: ”Oops! Guess I should explain, that ball is the talking ball. You get it and you have to talk, say whatever is on your mind. I see a new face. Toss him the ball, I am sure he’s got good coordination.”
Not wanting to partake at all but when the ball is thrown, Jett unable to ignore a call out like that catches it expecting cheers. Reluctantly looking at the ball, seemingly realizing this means he has to talk…William on the edge of his seat.
J. WILDER: “I’m Jett Wilder, former 4CW Pride Champion. Huge wrestling star. No big deal. Call me the F.A.G.”
WILLIAM: ”Wow you aren’t the first wrestler we have had in here, know a Sonny Lee? Fairly sure he was a F.A.G. as well.”
Throwing patient doctor privilege out the window in a hurry, as he throws a quotation mark around the F.A.G. part.
J. WILDER: “He was NOT a F.A.G. I am the only.”
WILLIAM: ”From our classes I recall otherwise. But anyways, I am sure that at times it can feel that way. But trust me you are not alone. I am sure there are a few others in this class as well. But that’s not what we are here for…”
A couple gentleman nodding their heads in agreement, Jett glaring around at them with resentment.
WILLIAM: ”So anyways we are here today to discuss a very important disease. That haunts us all. Tell us your story Jett…”
Wanting to not but getting reminded that he still holds the ball, he shakes his head and carries on.
J. WILDER: “Well it’s mostly just because they are making me. But I guess it’s mostly cause my best friend Marquis. She is like my BFF, she was also my babysitter back in the day. Anyways I started to date this girl who was the sister of this other girl I had a long time crush on. So anyways, things were going well. But I had sort of held a vow of abstinence for many years. And anyways I sort of did it once and then suddenly I started wanting it more and more. So I sort of cheated on this girl I really liked and my best friend Marquis. She sort of snitched on accident, at least I think it was an accident. She likes to play jokes you see, she also made a joke that she one time slept with my mom. But it was just cause we were in a feud at the time, so she was trying to play a joke. But the fans had already tried that with my other buddy Bryan. Who they said did the same thing. I know he wouldn’t though because I sort of learned a few things from him. And he had this phase, where he liked this weird leather stuff. What is that called…”
Jett tries to think of it all, all at once the rest of the class quickly shouts out “BDSM” like it’s a sex trivia question. William glaring at them all upset.
J. WILDER: “So anyways I lost my girlfriend went on a bender and got a DUI. My mom used this sex addict thing as a way to get me out of some other legal issues. Oh and I hardly know my dad, he came into my life later on. He and my mom had a random hookup. My Boss found out when he was looking up younger pictures of my dad Frankie. I am not sure why…But anyways. I guess I just sort of like women and sort of want to get with more of them now that I know what it’s like…I don’t think I really belong in here I am normal…”
Wasting almost no time William stands up walking across taking the ball away from Jett in a hurry.
WILLIAM: ”Um listen everyone let’s take a break here. Talk amongst yourselves…”
Pulling Jett to the side.
WILLIAM: ”Listen Jett I think you could really use some solo sessions, seems like you have a lot of issues. I can work with your employer…this Boss of yours. Is he um single? I mean able to speak at some point.”
Shaking his head wanting to ignore him but before he can answer Gerard the man in the corner has walked over pulling William to the side. After a brief discussion William walks back over.
WILLIAM: ”Listen Jett, actually it appears that my friend here Gerard. Would love to do some solo sessions with you, he’s very capable. So I am going to assign you over to him, I’ll sign off on your meetings. But you will have to do at minimum another three to four…Otherwise you’ll have to stay in group..”
Looking around at the degenerates in the room Jett nods his head eager to get out of this, as he gives a nod over at Gerard before walking out of the room William getting back to the class as Gerard looks a bit overwhelmed by the task that he just took on as “To Be Continued” flashes across the screen.

Kimitsu Zombie stares at the Pride Championship title like a she’s about to say goodbye to an old flame. She shakes her head and then looks angry but there is no one else around but herself. She nods and then turns around on the bench she is sitting on. She unlatches the straps of her top and moves her hair out of the way to reveal her back fully. She keeps her arms at her sides to not reveal much more and the shot goes to a real close up shot of the details of her tattoo that covers a lot of her back. It is of a geisha sitting with a shimasen by her side. In one hand she holds a short blade and in the other she holds a man’s severed head. There is a folding fan in the bottom middle with a sutra printed on it. As the tattoo is shown in detail the little imperfections come out that may not be seen in a wide shot from home or even sitting in the audience of a show. A lot of details like lotus flowers and bonsai tees to the hair and face of the geisha herself cover scar tissue. Almost her whole back is a patchwork of scars and ink. She turns her head slightly so she can be heard.
ZOMBIE: “Does this look like the body of someone who has been in a good spot all her damn life, probably? I hope you can see and you can count how many times I’ve had the tebori irezumi artist go over a new patch of flesh that has been ripped from me before I had started wrestling. Each poke of the needle on scar only matching half of the pain that it took to get that mark. Before wrestling in gruesome matches in my first year I have been in many battles for my life. The one by the cherry tree on my shoulder was when I hit an electrified cage. The one at her face was from a boxcutter during a brawl.
Before fighting I was beaten almost regularly by my mother any time I displayed weakness or the slightest bit of empathy. Even when I went out and stole, won, or cheated my way into some money for the house it wasn’t enough. It was the day I was initiated into her old bosozoku gang that she stopped since I had new teachers. It just kept going and going from then, and I kept on getting that shit covered with art.”
Kimitsu puts on a towel over her shoulders and turns around letting the towel ends cover up her upper body at the front.
ZOMBIE: “I am not showing you this to brag or to exchange sob stories, Jair. I am sure if you walk around 4CW just listening you would walk out with a broken heart. I am showing you this to let you know that you are so unprepared for this match. You have been bred to survive the hard life. You came out of one of the worst areas in New York to become the wrestler you are today but survive is all that you do. Me? I was bred to actively fight against such a life. From when I was a little girl to the gang to the Zombies all I ever did was fight. Now I am here and I am going to fight you. I have something that I want to keep or all of that suffering would have been for nothing.”
Kimitsu carefully picks up the Pride Championship. There is a glock under it. She puts the title over her shoulder then picks up the gun and stands.
ZOMBIE: “This Pride Championship is the first thing that I ever really cared about. All the other paths in my life were chosen for me in one way or another but I won this thing on my own. I used my brain and my cunning to do it. I used this body that was forged for me in hell to win it and I will not give it up easily. I feel sorry for you a little that you are so clueless about what will be standing in front of you in a few short minutes. You are facing a real life yokai in the flesh. One who is not going to be unprepared for anything. I will take it all from you even when you threaten mines. I threatened Kandice so you fucking threatened my Tommy. If you want we could just go out back and settle things for good.”
She points the glock and cocks it back but stops herself and laughs.
ZOMBIE: “No, that wouldn’t be much of a show, would it? Besides, I want you to live out the rest of your year. I want you to go from now until you have your last match with your spirit dead. I want it to be known that on this night you could not defeat me for my title. I want to be a black mark on your career. I will hurt your name. I am going to defend this Pride Championship and cement my name in this company. If come up against me again, you will be prepared to lose. The real show starts now.”
Kimitsu throws the gun on the bench and collects her top to go out for her match.


JOHNSON: ”And we’re back, folks with another big match for the night.”
VASSA: ”I have a feeling that more than a loss is going to happen for one of the opponents tonight, especially with how personal it’s gotten. You heard what Kimitsu said earlier, Hopkins needs to prepare to lose if he steps up to her tonight.”
JOHNSON: ”And Kimitsu needs to remember that Hopkins is willing to go extreme lengths to dethrone a champion.”
VASSA: ”This match could go either way but only one will end up disappointed tonight.”
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.
POWERS: ”Ladies and gentlemen, the following title match is scheduled for one fall and will be for the 4CW Pride Championship!”
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…
“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. 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.
POWERS: ”HAILING from Brooklyn, New York but residing in Los Angeles, California… Standing in at five feet and eight inches, weighing in at two hundred and eleven pounds… He is one half of the FORMER 4CW Tag Team champions and two time 4CW Champion… JAIR HHOOPPKKIINNSS!!!”
“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”

JOHNSON: ”The look in his eyes tonight shows that he’s bringing everything he has with him to this match… pride, determination, everything is being laid on the line.”
VASSA: ”He better hope that Kimitsu doesnt rob him of his dignity tonight.”
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 as Kimitsu’s theme transitions in next. 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 the Pride Championship on like a bandolier across her body.
POWERS: ”Now, weighing in at one hundred twenty-five pounds and hailing from Kimitsu, Japan…. it is 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.
VASSA: ”Jair is boring holes into Kimitsu and is ready to get his hands on her.”
JOHNSON: ”And the smile on the Pride Champion’s face shows that she is unfazed.”

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 as the audience is very audible at this point, having waited for this match for an entire week. Between Kimitsu reaching out to Hopkin’s girlfriend on twitter which Hopkins felt was crossing the line and Hopkins declaring that he would emerge as the new champion once he finally stepped into the ring to face off against Kimitsu. Their eyes meet and Kimitsu smirks at her opponent of the night while the referee takes her title away, Hopkins stepping forward to meet her in the middle of the ring.

VASSA: ”And they’re off!”
The ringing of the bell has the two charging one another as Hopkins manages to get the upper hand, leaning down so his right shoulder drives into Kimitsu’s chest and causing her to stumble back into the ropes. A quick bounce off from our Pride Champion as the ropes send her sprinting towards Hopkins who thinks he’s ready for her but not as ready as he thought he was because him grabbing her helps to her advantage with a tilt a whirl headscissors. After hitting the mat, Hopkins quickly rolls away to get to his feet with his eyes on his opponent knowing that Kimitsu had to be packing more tricks up her sleeve than korean noodles that contain high levels of sodium.
JOHNSON: ”Kimitsu already has the upper hand but lets see if she can keep it.”
VASSA: ”Never count out Hopkins, he can be a sly one when he puts his mind to it.”
JOHNSON: ”And the smile on the Pride Champion’s face shows that she is unfazed.”
VASSA: ”Kimitsu is on fire and isn’t allowing Hopkins to catch a break.”
Hopkins comes to a stand but Kimitsu is jam packed with so much adrenaline tonight that she doesn’t stop, coming at him with mid and high kicks to get him to back up closer and closer to the turnbuckle. He doesn’t fall prey to her tricks though as he allows his back to touch the turnbuckle only for a mere second before he ducks her flying fist and moves behind her. Kimitsu spins around and plays right into Hopkin’s hands when she’s sent flying from a successful monkey flip that has the crowd going crazy with their full support behind wanting Hopkins to come away with the Pride Championship title. But Kimitsu is proving to put up quite a fight in preventing that from happening as she makes it to her feet and off she goes, the audience watching the two go all around the ring with trading blows and sabotaging the other’s maneuvers with wanting to get that big advantage to hopefully weaken the other to bring the match to a close.
VASSA: ”Kimitsu is keeping Hopkins close and in her view.”
JOHNSON: ”And a counter by Jair as he escapes within Kimitsu’s grasp.”
VASSA: ”She’s not taking that, Hopkins better watch out.”
Kimitsu drives her elbows repeatedly into Hopkins back until he finally comes to a knee and Kimitsu’s left arm wraps around Hopkin’s neck to secure him in place before driving her right fist into the side of his head that elicits loud booes from the disapproving crowd. Hopkins fights through it with trying to remain strong from the hits before finally swinging his head back with such heavy force that has the back of his head slamming into Kimitsu’s chin. It weakens the headlock and gives Hopkins the advantage as he turns on his knee while hoisting Kimitsu up onto his shoulders as he stands and quickly falls back to the mat in a powerful samoan drop. Kimitsu’s face contorts in pain as Hopkins stands to his feet, happy that his braids softened the blows to the head from earlier.
JOHNSON: ”And Hopkins is back with the upper hand.”
VASSA: ”But how long will it last? Kimitsu may be down for the moment but not out.”
JOHNSON: ”And she’s back on her feet, Dragon Screw to knock Hopkins off of his!”
A power struggle throughout the match as the favor continues to turn for each opponent for a while, the aggressiveness beginning to seep into the match from the two growing tired of the other upstaging them and stealing the advantage. It wasn’t until Hopkin’s mouth slammed into the turnbuckle post and then a sharp dropkick to the face once he turned around that blood had finally been spilled into the match. As he falls to the mat clamping his mouth, Kimitsu’s grin lets him know that she would bleed him dry out here like an animal before parting with her title tonight. In her eyes, she is the superior one in this match who is willing to go through lengths to retain and since her mind games strategy didn’t work on him outside of the ring, she was going to put all of her skills and technique to great use tonight to make up for it. She doesn’t allow Hopkins to recover as she straddles him, grabbing onto the sides of his head to bang his head against the mat as the crowd booes.
VASSA: ”Kimitsu is trying to wear Hopkins down.”
JOHNSON: ”Hopkins is fighting back and trying to take back control of the match but to no avail as Kimitsu maintains control.”
VASSA: ”He has to be dizzy at this point and judging by the smile on Kimitsu’s face, things are going according to plan.”
Kimitsu rises and pulls Hopkins to his feet, backslapping him into the ropes with taunting eyes when he tries to rush her. He leans on the ropes for a moment, rubbing his left eye to try to clear his vision when Kimitsu sprints towards him and is taken by surprise when he suddenly leans down at the last minute so he can throw her over the ropes. The audience oohs at the sickening thud her body makes once she lands on the floor as Hopkins slowly dips underneath the top rope to step onto the apron and jump down to the floor. He grabs ahold of Kimitsu’s left wrist to pull her up while she tries to pull away from him, not wanting his help in making it back onto her feet.
He pulls some more and she angrily drives her elbow into his abdomen to force him back away from her, looking up to see him tripping over his foot and fall heavily back into the barricade. The pain on his face draws a smile from Kimitsu, taking her opportunity to do more damage with dashing forward arduously but Hopkins isnt there as he dives out of the way just as Kimitsu slams into the barricade. Hopkins is thanking God he wasnt there for that attack and even winces from how hard Kimitsu’s body hits. He watches as she rolls on the ground in pain, leaning down to give her an assist to her feet so that he can lead her to the ring and roll her inside.
JOHNSON: ”This might be over for Kimitsu, not sure she can come back from that painful collide into the barricade.”
VASSA: ”Never count out a Zombie, especially how crazy they are. They’ve been through much more damage than a simple barricade hit.”
JOHNSON: ”Hopkins is setting her up for the Bread N Butter, this could be it-“
VASSA: ”And an IMPRESSIVE counter by Kimitsu, that seemed to take almost all of her energy- TRIP TO THE GRAVE! TRIP TO THE GRAVE! This may be over! Kimitsu crawls towards Hopkins, but does she have enough in her to make the cover??”
Kimitsu finally falls onto Hopkins as the referee drops down to the mat to make the count.

Kimitsu glares at the kickout, trying to get into her feet as fast as she can to deliver stomps all over Hopkins’ body with heavy irritation weighing down on her while Hopkins tries to block the blows but it does nothing but makes her stomp on his arms instead. He finally manages to pull his body away and use his leg to sweep her off of her feet, pulling himself towards the ropes while Kimitsu goes down to the mat. He grabs onto the middle rope to pull up before reaching for the top rope while keeping his eyes locked onto Kimitsu for any sudden movement from her. He couldnt afford anymore surprises at this point, especially with how his body was feeling.
His head sways to the side for a split second and as soon as he straightens up, he notices that he’s been dragged away from the ropes by Kimitsu. He notices that she isn’t moving as fast as she normally would and it seems like dragging him is taking more of her energy than normal so he knows that he is not alone in being in the injured zone. She puts all of her weight into standing so she can get him upright, blocking his right hand swinging towards her face and kicking him in the leg to regain the upper hand.
It takes Hopkins down to one knee but he quickly pushes up with that same knee, catching Kimitsu by surprise as he tackles her to avoid getting hit by her lethal punches. They roll around on the mat before Kimitsu knees him in the face and pulls herself to her feet while Hopkins quickly rolls past her as soon as she bends to grab a hold of him. He makes it to his feet, sees he’s behind her and quickly grabs her from behind but accidentally stumbles backwards which makes his release german suplex a bit sloppy but still effective from how Kimitsu lands and reacts painfully to it on the mat.
VASSA: ”This could go either way and both are growing restless. One slip up could cost someone the match tonight.”
JOHNSON: ”Kimitsu in control now as she- HOPKINS WITH THE COUNTER!”
VASSA: ”Right in the middle of the Frankensteiner, Hopkins stood his ground and sabotaged it for a power slam. He almost falls over as he tries to make it over to the turnbuckle.”
JOHNSON: ”Maybe this isn’t the best idea, he’s having trouble climbing up the turnbuckle. One fall and he could be in Kimitsu’s clutches where it will all be over for him.”
VASSA: ”He’s wobbling, he better keep his balance before he falls off. Kimitsu is still out of it but Hopkins might knock himself out if he takes a tumble.”
JOHNSON: ”Maybe this isn’t the best idea, he’s having trouble climbing up the turnbuckle. One fall and he could be in Kimitsu’s clutches where it will all be over for him.”
VASSA: ”He kicks off and OMFG! He nails it and he doesnt waste any time as he quickly covers. Could this be it? Could we really have a new champion tonight???”

The audience is on their feet cheering madly as the referee goes to retrieve the Pride Championship, the camera focuses on Kimitsu as she slowly sits up and hasn’t realized what is even happening at the moment. Hopkins is able to sit up on the mat and leans back against the ropes for assistance while the referee raises his hand in victory and awards him the Pride Championship. Hopkins wipes the sweat from his glistening forehead and manages to roll out of the ring, keeping hold of the title tightly while using the barricade as a clutch to make it over to where his girlfriend, Kandice Kane is seated in the first row. Tears of joy well up in her eyes as he reaches over the barricade to hug her tightly while fist bumping Ricky, one of his Famiglia family members. The camera quickly cuts from the celebratory moment to focus on Kimitsu in the ring who finally realizes that the match is over and that she has lost. The anger on her face is undeniable as she looks over to where the celebrating Hopkins is outside of the ring while the referee makes sure to steer clear of her from seeing the fire dancing in her eyes. The referee keeps to a safe distance while asking Kimitsu if she’s alright while the audience loudly chants Hopkins’ name.
JOHNSON: ”Tonight has been a HUGE night for Jair Hopkins. Earlier he was inducted into the 4CW Hall Of Fame and now he’s won the Pride Championship – adding another 4CW Title to his resume!”
VASSA: ”He’s a two-time 4CW Champion and a former Tag Team Champion. This makes three championships he’s held in 4CW. If he could only add the XTV to the list he’d be a grand slam champion! Something that has never been done in 4CW before.”
JOHNSON: ”That’s a huge accomplishment right there, Vinny. It’s a lot easier said than done – but so is winning three separate championships within 4CW!”
VASSA: ”He gave Kimitsu one hell of a fight here tonight, something I know she was wanting more than anything. She may not have retained here, but she has nothing to be ashamed of. Her performance and accomplishments in 4CW speak for themselves and she’ll find her way in championship contention in no time!”

CASHE: “One…”
A wet smack against the concrete floor. The parking garage with production trucks, staff members and vehicles for various in house employees had been parked way before the show started. Jason Cashe was on his hands and knees, his palm flat and on the ground, it wasn’t wet, just cold as he lifts his palm from it.
CASHE: “Two…”
A small grin, barely noticeable through the thick of his growing beard. Slivers of grey showing from under his bottom lip down passed his chin. Again he lifts and drops his hand, the count continues.
CASHE: “Three.”
Pushing up onto his knees, he sits back on his legs and stares into the camera.
CASHE: “As you lay conscious or unconscious on your back. Maybe rolled up and power pinned, you will be a weak bottom, really your best position honestly but in this case, you will not be left with nut inside or on you. A losing effort which honestly surprises who? Have you won a match since Fright Night? You want some? You are literally IN the 4CW Title match but you are still held up over me and what I am doing. My poor Brother, he so wants to be the one true love in some fairy tale but the witch never has a happy ending. Still, you want your chance to do what every bitch before you has wanted? Come get your flesh, I really wish you would.”
Hand pressed against his left knee as he moves to get up. Cashe doesn’t brush off the dust from the parking garage floor, he is the very description of slumming it and accepts that.
CASHE: “To more pressing issues, one of interest to me here and now.”
Not that the first topic wasnt of interest, it just didn’t consume his world anymore. Cut offs usually work like that but the one who wanted it so badly is the one still lingering like a bad fart in the room.
CASHE: “World$tar is here, so to the people babysitting our belts? Your borrowed time is running out. Even if we have to earn a shot, we will find it. Our place is with those titles but that doesn’t exclude our interests as individuals. Hopkins will shine no matter the match type, you can knock us for our age or time invested here but make zero mistake that the blood, sweat and bodies that were laid down to build this place are going to regain the deed to the land.
You can doubt this. You can reach and seek whatever excuses you need too but do it now so when it does happen, we can hope you have a great reason to explain your inevitable defeat. I am telling all of you in advance! You want a place in line to prevent this? Step the fuck up.. Or wait where you are and we will come to you because the lane is ours and if you’re in it? Fuck me.. I’d run and find some honor and respect. Join WWH or FGA or EWC because we causing a pile up and knocking everything OUT of our way..”
Starting to step aside the camera, Cashe stops and looks back into the camera.
CASHE: “Congratulations to Bronx, our 4CW Champion with another win!”
Clapping his hands together, slowly but literally a handful of times. Cashe’s celebration is dull and short lived.
CASHE: “This company was founded on changing the game and you’ve surely changed it but ooohhhh weeee! Shit is about to change once again..”
Smiling now, his head sits at a slight tilt. His eyes in a dead stare as he fills his head with happy thoughts. Happy for him, for them even but not so happy for everyone else.
CASHE: ”If you’ll excuse me, there is a spotlight I must see fade..”

MARQUIS: “Whatever that retard had to drool out before me doesn’t matter.”
Persephone Marquis is seen, making her way backstage in the Barclay’s Arena, only one destination in mind.
MARQUIS: “Doesn’t matter who they were speaking to, what points were made for some fucking future that doesn’t matter. None of it does because I’ll be fucking damned if anyone but me speaks before the biggest match of my life.”
Persephone stops walking, taking a deep breath and shaking her head.
MARQUIS: “I haven’t been one to speak on any of this backstage. Everything I have to say, I can say it in the ring with my skill and keep it moving because I’m not some insecure bitch who needs their face in the camera to make a statement. I have my promos, I have my matches, I don’t need shit jokes or underlying sexual tension with a friend. A lot of that shit is useless.”
She stops talking, beginning to walk again as she ponders her next words.
MARQUIS: “This match, though? This is something to talk about now, this is the match of the night. Fuck everyone else, this is about Bronx versus Persephone – something the both of us have been looking forward too. I couldn’t be facing a better champion and at the end of the night, win or lose, I’m going to be stronger for it.”
Persephone finally reached her destination, right at the entrance; ready to break out into the main stage when they give her the signal. She smirks.
MARQUIS: “End of the night, end of this year – end of your fucking life, half of the people on this roster can’t fucking touch me and that’s evident just by the fact that I’m here, ready to face the champion himself, while you guys are still salted up about shit said months ago or dealing with your schoolyard feuds.
The crowd can be heard, muffled in their excitement. She waves the camera off.
MARQUIS: “Fuck what you’ve heard, fuck what you’ve been waiting for. Shit, fuck whatever happened before this very moment in time.”
Persephone grins into the camera.
MARQUIS: “You’re about to witness a battle for the ages.”
The camera fades to black as Persephone waits for her signal to enter the only match that matters right now, fuck the rest of you cucks.



JOHNSON: ”Here it is ladies and gentlemen. The moment we’ve been waiting two months for. For many of us probably even longer than that.”
VASSA: ”I never would have guessed I’d ever see Persephone Marquis in a match for a championship again.”
JOHNSON: ”Oh how quickly things can change. A year ago we thought we were going to watch Jair Hopkins put down Elijah Carlson and continue to assert himself as one of, if not the greatest, 4CW Champion of all time.”
VASSA: ”Speak for yourself. I always knew Eli would win.”
JOHNSON: ”Maybe you did but tonight isn’t about Eli. It’s about Bronx Valescence, the undisputed face of 4CW Since the end of April, taking on Persephone Marquis. The Anti-Hero. The two penny queen. And perhaps, after tonight, the first female 4CW Champion since Felicity Banks.”
VASSA: ”Or, perhaps just another star whose mouth couldn’t cash the checks it was writing.”
JOHNSON: ”For the second year in a row the 4CW Championship will be defended in an environment where literally the entire world is the champion and challengers playground. Jair was out for over half of the year after this match a year ago. Will something similar happen this year? We’re about to find out.”
“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.
VASSA: ”The irony in her entrance music after everything that has happened in the last few months.”
JOHNSON: ”Let’s not get into that. Suffice it to say that coming to the ring right here, right now, is the baddest bitch in 4CW.”
VASSA: ”I thought that was Genie?”
JOHNSON: ”They’re basically One-A and One-Double-D…. or… well… two double D’s.”
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 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.
JOHNSON: ”How about being an objective commenta-“
JOHNSON: ”-tor… for Christ’s sake Vi-“
JOHNSON: ”I give up.”
The referee checks Persephone over once as she stares a hole through the 4CW Champion who stands across the ring from her. Once he is satisfied she has nothing hidden away, he moves over to Bronx and goes through the same process as he stares right back at her with a calm and collected smile on his face. The referee then retrieves the 4CW Championship belt from Bronx and moves to stand in the middle of the ring. There the official holds the belt high in the air for all to see, turning in precise ninety degree increments before passing the belt off to the timekeeper outside of the ring. As the fans begin to buzz, sensing the start of the match growing near, the referee checks with both competitors one more time before signaling for the bell and the start of the match.

There is zero hesitation at the sound of the bell as Bronx tears across the ring at full speed. With a smirk at his enthusiasm, Persephone simply stepped between the middle and top rope and dropped down to the outside of the ring, shaking her head. She wasn’t about to let herself get caught up in the moment as the fans were buzzing wildly. Not surprisingly the fans boo her, unhappy with her instantaneous retreat but from a strategic standpoint it’s a smart move. Control the emotion of the match and the cold hearted killer that Persephone Marquis was could have a field day with her opponent. Shaking her arms loose, she moves toward the steel steps and starts to climb them.
The problem was that Bronx wasn’t one to simply sit around and wait on his opponents. After allowing her her moment to create the immediate pause in action, Bronx quickly stepped up the corner turnbuckle pads as Marquis was climbing the steel steps. There was a graceful fluidness in his momentum as he launched himself from the top turnbuckle pad and flew through the air, twisting and slamming into an opponent caught off guard by his willingness to take such a high risk so early on. The flying cross body drives her off of the second step and both she and Bronx crash down to the floor outside of the rings with the fans erupting into boisterous cheers at the thud of two bodies hitting the floor.
JOHNSON: ”Don’t forget, folks, that this is a falls count anywhere match so the referee won’t be counting anyone out when the match spills to the outside of the ring like it just did.”
VASSA: ”I think they know. You’ve already said falls count anywhere about two thousand times since the Persephone and Bronx were introduced.”
Popping back up to his feet Bronx pulls Marquis up by the hair and slams her head into the security barrier. A pop from the fans as he does so leads him to do it again. And again. And again before allowing her to fall back down to the floor. Still pretty aware of her surroundings, Marquis isn’t one to simply sit around and let someone beat her ass so she scoots away from her opponent to buy time and allow her to work her way back up to her feet. As she does so, however, Bronx is stalking her quickly and he takes off at a sprint, leaping up onto the ring apron where his pursuit continued until he leapt off of the apron, looking to bring a double axe handle down across her head.
Marquis counters quickly with a solid punch to the stomach and everyone knows being punched in the gut sucks. Free-falling into it can’t possibly feel any better. Neither can being run face first into the steel turnbuckle post either but Bronx doesn’t have much of a choice as Marquis grabs his curly hair and slams his head off that post before tossing him down to the floor. Holding his head, Bronx rolls over to the security barrier and reaches up with his free hand, trying to pull himself back up to his feet. As he does so, however, Marquis takes off at a run and drives her foot directly into the ribs of her opponent. A result of the kick is that Bronx let go of the security barrier and dropped back down to the floor, his hand dropping to shield his ribs from the force of another kick.
It wasn’t going to be that easy for Bronx, though, as Marquis quickly snapped a kick off of his thigh, causing him to instinctively lower his hand to block the next kick which only left his ribs exposed again. Naturally, Marquis didn’t delay in driving her boot into his ribs over and over again before dragging him back up to his feet by his hair. With one hand clutching his ribs, Bronx tried to shove her away with his other but she quickly planted a closed fist to his head and then went back to dragging him around the outside of the ring. Once more she shoved him into the steel ring post, but this time quickly flipped around to the other side, grabbing onto Bronx’s wrist. As he stumbled backward a few steps she gave him the freedom to do so, but then quickly pulled on his arm with all of her might, driving his shoulder into the post once. Then twice. And then a third time before allowing Bronx to fall yet again.
JOHNSON: ”Marquis is clearly trying to take away Bronx’s ability to last for a long time in this match. First going after his ribs, now focusing on that shoulder.”
VASSA: ”You know there’s speculation that Marquis was actually the one to cause the injury to Eli’s shoulder leading up to South Beach Brawl this past year. It’s not inconceivable that she could be looking to inflict the same sort of damage to Bronx tonight.”
JOHNSON: ”Sometimes I think people underestimate the punishment that Bronx can absorb, though. He’s been through a sixty minute iron man match at Ante Up, and his match with Manny Fernandez at Fright Night was one of the most physically punishing matches I’ve ever witnessed.”
VASSA: ”You know what gives him that power? It’s the sunglasses.”
Moving around with ease, Marquis plants her boot into the shoulder that had just been driven into the turnbuckle post before bending down and pulling Bronx back up. Latching onto his wrist, Marquis used all of her strength to send Bronx hurling into the security barrier, slamming into it shoulder first, naturally the shoulder that she had been paying attention to. As Bronx slumps to a seated position, Persephone backs away, lining him up for a moment. After taking a deep breath of air into her lungs she took off in his direction, leaping into the air and throwing both feet out in front of her, planting both of her boots directly into his shoulder.
The impact causes the barrier to shake and start to give way but it doesn’t collapse fully. Dragging Bronx back up to a standing position once again, Persephone lifts him up off his feet and drops him shoulder first into the top of the same segment of the barrier he had just been run into, and the padded barrier gives way underneath him. Looking to continue the attack, Persephone steps over Bronx’s fallen body but a few of the fans step between him and her as well, folding their arms across their chests. Screaming at them to get out of the way, neither of the men move. Annoyed by the situation that had just presented itself, Marquis quickly adapted and grabbed Bronx’s ankles and drug him away from the group as a few of the ring workers quickly made their way over to begin to repair the collapsed barrier.
JOHNSON: ”Marquis better be careful. We’ve seen 4CW fans protect their favorites before.”
Slowly Bronx rolls over onto his stomach and Marquis decides to toy with him for a moment, letting him fight back up to his hands and knees and then slowly up to the point where he was on one knee. Stepping around him, she smirks and looks down upon him as he kneels before her. The camera’s pick up on her saying “this is how I know you’re my bitch” before she places a finger underneath his chin and tips his head upward, gazing directly into her eyes. Her voice raises from its conversational level to where she screams at him to get up. Having far too much pride and respect for himself, Bronx grants her wish, slapping her finger away and pushing himself all the way back up to a vertical base. He swings with a hard right, the shoulder that Persephone had been focusing on sending lightning bolts of pain up Bronx’s neck and down he entirety of his arm. The result was Marquis easily blocking the attempt at a punch and quickly twisting Bronx back down to the ground.
JOHNSON: ”Remember folks, Bronx can tap out outside of the ring and it’s pe-“
The crossface submission hold is locked in deep and Persephone is wrenching on it mercilessly. Etched into the expression of Bronx Valescence is sheer agony. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. He was the conquering hero. He was the one who faced down the most extreme odds and emerged on the other side victorious. It couldn’t end like this. Not after he had gone through hell and back to regain the 4CW Championship just a few months earlier. Not after everything he had endured and sacrificed to get back to the top of the mountain and prove himself. But there was no rope break to be had. There was no reprieve that he could find. There was no escape. He had fought for Ana. He had fought for Terry. And hell, he had just gotten Kennedy back into his life.
This wasn’t how this night was supposed to go. But his resolve was crumbling under the weight of immense pain. Persephone Marquis was the rabid, relentless dog he had heard so much about. She was the woman who struck fear into the hearts of many. Who made the best of the best cringe and look for another way out. But he hadn’t looked for that escape. He hadn’t tried to avoid her. And now he laid there, pressed down against the thin protective mat that shielded the 4CW competitors from cold, hard concrete. The joint in his right shoulder was on fire, feeling as though the muscles, tendons sinews and fibers holding it all together were on the verge of snapping and tearing. Raising his left arm in the air he knew there was no other option. He knew he had no other choice to make. He had to tap out. He had to relinquish the 4CW title and live to fight another day.
And then suddenly the pain ceased.
JOHNSON: ”Someone… a fan… just threw something at the back of Persephone Marquis’s head!”
That someone happened to be a little kid who apparently idolized Bronx and sought to be like him. He had a t-shirt that read Valescence Victory across the front of it. The object that he had thrown had been a 4CW Winter Wasteland Souvenir Cup that had been full of his chosen favorite beverage, PEPSI (product placement). It no longer was. The cup had slammed into the back of Marquis’ head and the contents of it had spilled down her long locks of hair and across her back, drenching her in what would soon enough become a sticky mess. It had been enough to cause her to release the hold and direct her attention in the direction that the object had come from.
JOHNSON: ”Oh no… not good not good not good!”
VASSA: ”Get out of there kid! Run for your life! Kick your dad in the shin! Pinch your mothers nipple! Anything to get ahead of them! All is fair when it comes to survival!”
The young kids face gives away exactly who it was that had thrown the object and Marquis is up to her feet and over, shouting at his parents and the young man at the same time. When she reaches out and grabs the kid by the wrist, the father shoves her away. Marquis quickly retaliates by shoving him back and then turning and slapping the kids mother across the face. When she went to reach for the young child again, however, things suddenly shifted from the momentum of the match being fully in her favor, to the entire opposite end of the spectrum, and not the same spectrum that Vossler is on.
Out of nowhere Bronx gets a second wind and gets back to his feet, noticing that Marquis is distracted. He doesn’t waste time, knowing that his shoulder is in bad shape and that he needs to buy himself some much needed recovery time, he runs in her direction and leaps. VALESCENCE VICTORY! The front flip DDT connects flush, spiking Persephone’s head off of the security barrier first before slamming it down into the thin mat covering the concrete floor. Instantaneously the audience is on their feet, knowing that that was it. That was the moment. That the match is over. All Bronx has to do is roll a few feet in the other direction and drape his arm across the fallen body of the challenger and he’ll retain. He’ll move on to the next challenger, having once more asserted his dominance over the entirety of the 4CW roster.
But he just doesn’t have it in him. The big move connected but it seemingly took every ounce of energy he could muster at the time just to execute it and get himself back into the match and out from underneath the oppressive weight of relentless offensive from Persephone Marquis. Briefly he twitches while Marquis remains lifeless a few feet away from him. The movement is enough to give the fans hope that he still has a spark in him, just enough to get him over to make the cover. Trying to speed him along, the fans begin to chant his name.

As the fans cry out his name their encouragement, their belief, and their will seems to cut to his very core. Raising a fist in the air he begins to shake it back and forth. Slowly at first but gradually picking up speed. A buzz begins to build around the arena as he continues to shake his clenched fist, trying to roll himself up onto his side but not getting there just yet.

The second cheer seems to give him just a bit more energy as he manages to get himself rolled partially over onto his side. Not only is his fist shaking in the air now, but his head shakes along rhythmically as well with his beautiful curly locks of hair bouncing around haphazardly. Just a little ways away, Marquis still remains lifeless having really taken the brunt of two ddt’s combined into one.

JOHNSON: ”It’s like the fans are literally WILLING Bronx Valescence to make the pin. Every single soul in this arena right now is begging Bronx to make the cover!”
Finally, Bronx rolls fully over to where he’s laying side by side with Marquis. His arm tiredly collapses to the floor without covering her and the fans briefly have the life sucked out of them. That is, until Bronx raises his fist in the air once more before draping it across the chest of the challenger. The fans erupt as the referee drops down to count the pinfall.

At the very last inkling of a moment, Marquis managed to kick out and keep herself in the match. The fans cry out in misery, thinking for sure that Bronx had the match won. But alas it wasn’t to be. What followed immediately after their disappointed cry was enough to let all of them know that this match wasn’t anywhere near being over with and that the war that Persephone Marquis had promised in the last few moments leading up to the main event, well it was only beginning.
Pushing himself back up to his feet, Bronx went to work on Marquis but his right shoulder hung a bit loosely at his side. That didn’t matter, though. Pain would have to wait. Agony could wait. The reprecussions from the hell that they were already putting each other through could wait. These were the sorts of moments, and matches, that people dreamed of. This was the kind of match that would be rivaled with Bronx’s performance at Ante Up 2017, that would be rivaled with Jair Hopkins performance at Ante Up 2016, and that would certainly make the world forget that Jason Cashe had shat himself in the middle of a 4CW ring just a few months earlier.
First it was a spinning backlist that connected with the jaw of Persephone Marquis. Then it was a leg lariat that flattened her before he brought her back up right. Numerous uppercuts with his left forearm would put Persephone into a further daze as Bronx returned the favor of the focused assault from the challenger earlier in the match with sheer, overwhelming aggression and physical force. A shotgun dropkick rifled Marquis back against the ring where Bronx then followed everything up with ten consecutive knife edged chops to the chest that the fans all over the arena, and all around the world in their homes, counted along with.
Trying to get away from the assault, Marquis twists herself around and climbs up onto the ring apron. When she gets there she turns around, looking for Bronx but finding that he’d disappeared from sight. In actuality what had happened was the moment she started to climb up onto the apron he dipped around the corner of the ring and rolled himself inside. Popping up to his feet just in time for Marquis to turn her back and look around outside on the floor for him. Everything that followed next happened quickly. Bronx moved rapidly behind Persephone and climbed up onto the middle rope, wrapping both of his arms around her torso. The fans could sense what was coming and cried out in unison.

With a smirk and a wink to the fans, Bronx started to lift Marquis up. The idea was for him to german suplex her over the top rope and back into the ring but the moment he started lifting her his shoulder sent those same lightning bolts of pain shooting up his collarbone and neck, and down his right arm. The pain forced him to release her, letting Marquis drop safely back down with both feet on the ring apron as he tumbled backward awkwardly into the ring. On the ring apron, Marquis takes a breather before stepping through the ropes and back into the ring as Bronx pushes himself back up to his feet and beckons her on. Fatigue evident in both of their faces, it’s clear that neither of them are anywhere close to be ready to let the other one walk away the victory.
VASSA: ”Ohhhhhhh boy. Now shit is getting real. SOMEONE BRING ME MY INHALER!”
JOHNSON: ”I think.. I think we might actually be on the verge of seeing wrestling actually happen in the ring.”
VASSA: ”Uh, Steve. We’ve been watching wrestling happen in this ring all night long. That Alzheimers starting to really get to you, eh?”
JOHNSON: ”No you fat dago bastard. I meant in this match. Everything that has happened so far in this match has happened outside the confines of the four corners of the wrestling ring.”
VASSA: ”Ahhhhhhh right right right. Well… I mean. You have been talking about it being a falls count anywhere match. Would be pretty shitty if they didn’t utilize the anywhere aspect of this stipulation, wouldn’t it?”
JOHNSON: ”I swear I’d get more accomplished if I talked to a wall. Or Kaysie Sherell even after she lost her passport. Hope she gets done working on that new Adrenaline opening video soon, though.”
Finally obliging Bronx, the crowd goes wild as the two meet in the center of the ring and trade blows. Marquis knows that Bronx can’t really strike with his right, however, and takes advantage of that, blasting him in the side of the head on that side of his body, backing him up into the corner where she proceeds to stomp him down into a seated position. He tries to pull himself back up right away but her boot meets his right shoulder violently and Bronx goes back down to the seated position quickly. Letting her violent side shine through, Persephone drops to both of her knees and leans forward, pressing both of her hands around Bronx’s throat, choking the life out of him in a maneuver that is blatantly illegal. And while falls might count everywhere, illegal chokeholds don’t count anywhere. Stepping in, the referee counts up to a four count out of five before Marquis lets go and backs off, earning herself a scolding from the referee.
That nonsense doesn’t matter to her, though. It’s just words and she’s out for blood now. Running forward, she leaps and once against with a front drop kick delivers both of her boots to Bronxy’s right shoulder. The impact causes him to groan loudly, drawing a smirk from Marquis. While it had looked touch and go for a while she’s once more found her footing in the match and finds herself in full control. Now all that she needed to do was get back to methodically picking her opponent apart. Leaning forward she drops both of her hands to her side and juts her chin outward, screaming at Bronx to stop being a pussy and get up and hit her. Again, Bronx has too much pride in himself to stay down under such a verbal assault and so, with his left arm, pulls himself back up to his feet. It’s not the best decision, though, as Marquis was obviously baiting him. She lets him take one free swing, but he’s woozy and misses badly. She responds with a series of kicks, upon kicks, upon kicks.
VASSA: ”KICKS UPON KICKS, MY KID! Wallace isn’t going to like his son being subjected to that. Neither do these fans. AND NEITHER DO I!”
JOHNSON: ”I feel like I’ve stepped into a world where everything is opposite. Are you actually on the same side as the fans, Vinny?”
VASSA: ”I’m on the side of our Lord and Savior, our Messiah. The first and only one. Jesus Bronx Christ Valescence.”
JOHNSON: ”Literally when you speak I wish Aidan Collins would stick his shitty beard in your mouth and make you shut the fuck up. Goddamn Vinny.”
Bronx, under the weight of relentless kicks, is fading fast. His legs becoming wobbly, his hands drooping and not being held up as high to defend himself. Like a shark smelling blood in the water, Marquis pounces, moving forward with one final kick to finish off the series of kicks upon kicks. SPRING DEITY! The shining wizard flattens Bronx and Marquis drops to her knees, falling across the body of Bronx Valescence, hooking the leg as she does so with the referee sliding in to count the pinfall in perfect synchronization.

A sigh of relief echoes around the arena as Bronx manages to twist his left shoulder up off of the mat. Rolling over onto his stomach as Marquis shakes her head and pushes her own body weight back up to a vertical stance. It’s in the home stretch now. The final shots of a massive war that had already been waged both in and around the ring were being fired, and she was going to make sure that she had the kill shot. Waiting for Bronx to get back to his feet, the moment that he got there she took off toward the ropes. Leaping into the air her feet bounced off the middle rope and sent her flying back in the direction of the reigning 4CW Champion. As she reached to hook her arm around Bronx’s head and take him down with the springboard DDT she calls Petty Cash, Bronx managed to duck out of the way and stumbled forward a few steps.
Not letting the missed finishing maneuver stop her, Persephone landed on her feet and continued at a full sprint into the opposite ropes, rebounding off of them before shooting back across the ring towards a dazed Bronx Valescence. Lowering her shoulder, Persephone left her feet and collided with Bronx’s abdomen, nearly splitting him in half with a perfect spear. The impact of which sent both of their bodies tumbling between the middle and top rope, down to the outside of the ring. And even though the fans were one hundred million percent in the corner of Bronx, they couldn’t help but erupt with excitement at the oh my god moment that just unfolded right before their very eyes. In unison they began to chant.

Holy Shit indeed. Bronx Valescence and Persephone Marquis lay a motionless, mangled mess outside of the ring. Their chests heave up and down slowly sucking in the life giving oxygen they both need, but otherwise at first glimpse one might have thought they had died.
JOHNSON: ”Swear I’ve heard that same line somewhere before..”
Marquis is the first one to move but it’s only a few seconds ahead of Bronx. Both competitors, by this point, are beyond exhausted but the grandest prize of them all awaits the one who is able to outlast the other, even if it’s only by an asians cunt hair. I’ll know if you read this, Bill, and when radio happens on Saturday I’m going to ask about it since you were so goddamned nitpicky about it. But what really matters is the match at hand and both Bronx and Marquis managed to get back to their feet at the same time. But the moments that the fans have truly been waiting for has finally arrived. Both Marquis and Bronx look up the entrance ramp and then back at each other, exchanging knowing glances. It’s at the top of the entrance ramp where Elijah Carlson and Jair Hopkins had concluded their battle. It’s where falls count anywhere matches always seem to reach their climax.
The brief reprieve, the eye of the hurricane so to speak as the looks were exchanged between challenger and champion, ended swiftly with Bronx connecting with a left fist to the temple of Persephone Marquis at the same time as she was connecting with a left fist to his temple. Rapidly the punches came, over and over again, before Marquis brought her knee up stiffly into Bronx’s abdomen. A hand full of hair sent him was used to send him tumbling into the security barrier. As she charged at him to follow up, he lifted her high over his head and out into the crowd. A mob surrounds her and she wastes no time dilly dallying out in the crowd. Quickly she rushes back toward the barrier, hopping up onto it and leaping off into Bronx’s unexacting arms, taking him down with a modified cross body.
Their brawl continues to ensue as they trade strikes while laying on the floor beside the ramp. At one point Bronx headbutts Persephone which sends her tumbling backward onto her backside. It’s the moment of pause that both need to scramble back to their feet before re-engaging once another. Fists fly. Kicks land. And all out war erupts once more as they get farther and farther up the entrance ramp. At the top of the stage, Bronx blocks a kick from Marquis before going for a massive lariat that was seemingly intent on separating her head from her shoulders. But Persephone quickly ducked under, slipped behind Bronx, and in one fluid motion brought him down to the top of the stage with CATTLE SACRIFICE. She covers quickly and the referee, who had followed them nervously up to the top of the stage, dropped down to count.

He might be Bronxy, but she was Persephone Marquis. She had done her time. She had beaten countless champions. She was the true, uncrowned champion of 4CW. But the reigning, defending, two time 4CW Champion just was not staying down like he was supposed to. So she needed something. Bronx needed to feel Petty Cash at its finest, but at the top of the entrance ramp, on the stage, it was a difficult task finding anything to springboard off of. Recognizing that fact, instead of dragging Bronx back down to the ring and wasting precious time that way, she decided to dip into the backstage area in search of something else.
VASSA: ”Well where the hell does she think she’s going? You don’t think she’s decided to go tell Wallace she forfeits, do you?”
JOHNSON: ”At this point? What good would that do?”
VASSA: ”It would save her from BRRRRRROOOOONNNN-“
VASSA: ”Well hello Buzz Killington Senior. I’ve always wanted to meet Williams father.”
Moment later Marquis reappeared from the backstage area but she wasn’t alone. In one of the most surreal sights the 4CW world has ever seen, Persephone Marquis emerged from the backstage area riding a…
Indeed it is, Vinny. And Persephone brings the thing to a halt a few feet away from the body of Bronx Valescence. There was no need to run him over with the damn thing. After all, it wasn’t an XTV Championship Match.
JOHNSON: ”Do you think either of them realize that they have to face Ana Hayden if they survive this match as the 4CW Champion?”
Shutting the forklift off, Persephone hops out of the drivers seat and back down onto the stage where Bronx is just starting to roll himself over onto his stomach to where he can begin to get back up. Marquis delivers a few strikes for good measure as Bronx continues to slowly arise. When he’s back to nearly standing, Marquis seizes the opportunity and runs toward the forklift, using one of the steel forks to springboard off of and launch herself back towards the champion. PETTY CA-… NO! Bronx blocks it, spins her around and nearly shoves her off the stage but Marquis manages to catch herself and get back to a stable vertical base quickly.
Bronx tries to deliver the punch that will send her teetering and falling off of the edge, but Marquis blocks it and then shifts around to his opposite arm, trying to lock in PAYMENT PENDING! Before she can drag him down to the stage, though, Bronx manages to spin free. As he does so he sweeps in behind Persephone, trying to lock in FOR TERRY! But Marquis quickly spins free herself.
Locking in a rear wrist lock at the top of the stage, Marquis rushes Bronx forward to a few steps away from the edge before he’s able to spin free himself. Marquis quickly throws a punch but Bronx ducks under it and steps through. As Persephone turns, Bronx meets her with a kick to the stomach. VALESENCE VICTORY! OFF THE STAGE! THROUGH A TABLE! ITS ABSOLUTE CARNAGE AND PANDEMONIUM!
JOHNSON: ”Nope. Nope. They’re both dead. They’re both fucking de-“

Camera crews focus in on the carnage off the side of the stage. Bronx lays motionless across the body of Persephone Marquis as the timekeeper rushes the 4CW Championship belt up from ringside to the referee as medical personnel flood out from the backstage area.
Hearing his name seems to spark a little bit of life into him, as he manages to sit up and allow the referee to hold his left arm up in the air as the victor. In his right hand he clutches the 4CW Championship Belt to his chest, his face a mask of pure exhaustion.
VASSA: ”I can’t believe he fucking did it…”
JOHNSON: ”There’s no denying it now I don’t think. Bronx Valescence is the greatest 4CW Champion this company has ever seen.”
VASSA: ”He really…. he really fucking did it.”
JOHNSON: ”Somehow Bronx has run the sort of gauntlet that would make even the strongest, and most fearless, of competitors wince. Elijah Carlson. Jason Cashe. Jair Hopkins. Mariano Fernandez. Jett Wilder. Genevie Carlson. And now Persephone Marquis are all notches under this mans belt. “
VASSA: ”I just… I can’t believe he fucking did it, Steve.”
JOHNSON: ”And his reward for accomplishing all of that? He gets to stare down the one woman who has managed to best him. Anastasia Hayden awaits. And you can bet yo… WHAT THE HELL?! IS THAT?!”
Emerging from the backstage area is, in fact, none other than Jason Cashe himself. You all know him. You’re all aware of his presence, his history, and the unwanted accolades he was given earlier in the evening being inducted into the 4CW Hall of Fame. Walking to the edge of the stage, he looks down at where Bronx sits and Marquis is just now starting to move. With a smirk on his face he raises his hands together and claps a consistent, steady clap.
JOHNSON: ”Your guess is as good as mine, Vinny. What I do know is that by beating Bryan Williams earlier this evening, Ana Hayden has earned the right to be called number one contender. So if Cashe wants a piece of Bronx, he’s going to have to get in line.”
VASSA: ”You don’t think he…”
JOHNSON: ”You never know what’s going through his mind. Another thing that I do know, though, is that tonight has been one hell of a show. Two championships stayed in their respective owners hands as Genie Carlson bested Dakota Smith in a bloodbath, and Bronx just emerged as the victorious warrior in a war unlike any other.”
VASSA: ”And yet two other titles did change hands. I can’t believe it, but another one of our titles is going over to that god damned Octane. They’re supposed to be the B show, not out here stealing our titles.”
JOHNSON: ”And Jair Hopkins entered himself into the hall of champions tonight, claiming the Pride Championship in a hard fought victory over Kimitsu Zombie. I have to imagine that she’ll be looking to get that title back soon. Say, in two months maybe?”
VASSA: ”How about the return of Viduus? I’m glad he came back from Carnage with a K. Or was it Carnage with a C? I can’t remember but I’m glad his crusty skinned self is back!”
JOHNSON: ”It has been one hell of a ride tonight and I couldn’t imagine a better way to close out 2017 than the way we did tonight. I’m Steve Johnson.”
VASSA: ”And I’m Vinny Vassa… and ladies and gentlemen. All is right in the world BRONXY V IS STILL OUR CHAMPEEEEEEEN! We’ll see you in a few weeks and maybe by then we’ll know what the fuck Jason Cashe wants.”
JOHNSON: ”HAPPY NEW YEAR from all of us at Four Corners Wrestling, and goodnight!”
One final shot is shown of Jason Cashe staring down at both Bronx and Marquis, clapping his hands with a satisfied smirk on his face. Trying to push himself back up to his feet, the medial personnel force Bronx to sit down. At the same time, Marquis still is fairly out of it, unaware of what’s going on around her as the show fades to black.