ADRENALINE E81 (140)

MARCH 14TH, 2018 PNC ARENA RALEIGH, NC

PRE-SHOW
JOSEPH SULLIVAN VS. BRENDEN MORGANSON

Making his 4CW debut, Brenden Morganson opened the night for the fans in attendance who arrived to the show early before the cameras would begin to roll. His opponent, 4CW’s longest tenured enhancement talent, Joseph Sullivan! With the recent additions to the enhancement pool, Sullivan felt as if his job had been threatened. If he was being replaced, he was going to make damn sure he went out with a bang. And that he did, a bang in the form of a big boot to the face as he rushed Brenden at the start of the match, with no thought behind his actions whatsoever. Sullivan came prepared to put on a performance of his life, but things don’t always go as planned. After an overhead belly to belly suplex, things really started to slow down for Sullivan as Brenden then nearly took his head off with a running clothesline! Sullivan was running on fumes, and that was obvious after Brenden drained his tank with a full nelson slam into the turnbuckle. With the fans in attendance impressed with what Brenden brought to the ring, he made them want to see even more after finishing off Sullivan with a snap powerbomb into a piledriver. It was nighty night for Sullivan, there was no coming back from the B-More Bomb. Making the cover, Brenden easily scored the one, two, and the three, starting things off on a good note in his 4CW debut.

WINNER: Brenden Morganson via Pinfall (7:12)

“Survival” by Eminem plays over the speakers as the picture opens to a shot from inside of the ring. Panning the crowd, we take in the life of the PNC Arena in Raleigh, North Carolina. The song is different than what we’re used to hearing at the start of each Adrenaline over the last year and a half. The promotional graphics spread across the scene are also different. New year. New Look. New fucking attitude. Blue and green lasers shoot in every direction across the arena as the lights above pulsate with the bass of the song. As always, the camera focuses on various signs held throughout the sea of people.

4 GIRLS
1 CUP

OFFLINE FOR
TWO DAYS

YIKES

CALLUM
FEARS
REVOLT

BARFLIES
&
BULLSHIT

The shot transitions to the booth where both Steve Johnson and Vinny Vassa patiently await to kick things off for tonight’s premier of the new and improved look of Adrenaline.

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

VASSA: ”And I’m Vinny Vassa, the voice all the ladies tune in to hear each and every night we’re on the air.”

JOHNSON: ”We’re coming to you live tonight with the Eighty-First Adrenaline, live from the PNC Arena in Raleigh, North Carolina!”

VASSA: ”And if you haven’t noticed, we’ve had a bit of a makeover ladies and gents.”

JOHNSON: ”Indeed we have! What you’re seeing here tonight ladies and gentlemen is the new and improved image of Adrenaline.”

VASSA: ”A little bit of the old mixed with a lot of the new and BAM, here we are baby!”

JOHNSON: ”As you’ll notice, the new logo is somewhat similar to the logo we introduced in Twenty-Sixteen.”

VASSA: ”There are definitely some similarities. And did you hear the opening song? We’ve heard that before a few years back to kick off the show. So like I said, take a little bit of the old and mix it in with some new flash, and you get the brand new look for Adrenaline coming to you each and every other Wednesday night!”

JOHNSON: ”And with a new look, we also have a new goal for sixteen individuals.”

VASSA: ”It’s South Beach Brawl Cup time folks!”

JOHNSON: ”Bingo! Sixteen people, one tournament, one goal in mind.”

VASSA: ”being the grand winner of it all and taking home not only the 4CW Championship, but two hundred and fifty grand!”

JOHNSON: ”As announced two weeks ago at Retrograde, the 4CW Championship will be on the line each and every round until the final round which will take place at South Beach Brawl.”

VASSA: ”I’m excited to say the least. This years tournament is bigger and better than before! The stakes are high and the pressure is on from the very beginning.”

JOHNSON: ”Especially if you’re the 4CW Champion, Bronx Valescence, who must defend for four shows in a row if he wants to win it all like he did last year.”

VASSA: ”It ain’t easy being the champ and Bronxy V wouldn’t like it any other way.”

JOHNSON: ”We have some familiar faces returning to tonight’s event and the tournament. Things are looking good for 4CW right about now, but that’s something we’ve all been a part of throughout the years.”

VASSA: ”So, this tournament… how about we take a peak at the bracket and show everyone watching what this years tournament holds?”

JOHNSON: ”Sounds good to me. As much as I’d love to sit here and talk everyone’s eat off, I just can’t do that because tonight’s card is stacked from top to bottom.”

VASSA: ”And it’s only Adrenaline! Tonight we have a card that many places would kill for to have as a pay-per-view.”

JOHNSON: ”The talent pool is deep in 4CW and this tournament features sixteen people that would outshine any other roster in the business, plain and simple. So take a look folks, we’re going to take a short break before we return with our opening match.”

? ? ?: ”You are not welcome in here!”

He could hear the voice but could not see the source of it. Jason Cashe was running a little late for Adrenaline. Only moments away from his First Round Match against Manny and so much was at stake. Looking from right to left as was the proper method before crossing the road, Cashe couldn’t see who was talking. He heard the voice again, closer as he entered his assigned locker room for the night.

? ? ?: ”Yo! Do you not hear so well? I SAID you are not welcome here!!”

Looking down, Cashe found the source of the voice. CeeJay O’Donnell. The Pint sized brawler hired most recently by Perry Wallace. A joke, a stain on the identity of a former skidmark of Professional Wrestling. Cashe couldn’t help but grin.

CASHE: ”Pretty sure this is my locker room so it’d be you who isn’t welcomed… Move…”

O’DONNELL: ”Ohh No! This is OUR locker room! FELLAS!”

Out from the shower came a handful of others. First thought Cashe had was why are all them dudes in the shower area together? Then his second thought struck him like lightning. He blurted it out as it came to head.

CASHE: ”Is this the Jobbers locker room!?”

It was. Now it made more sense to Cashe as to why the Production guy hurried away after giving Cashe his assigned room. Was this a prank pulled by Perry Wallace? Was this a true status adjustment? Cashe again couldn’t help but grin, one that turned into a chuckle as he became surrounded by 4CW’s famous Jobbers. You had all the goodies like Freedumb who was covered in dog hair. You had Gordy who seemed to be arguing with himself. You had a colorful Indica Neveah who smiled real big and has the reddest of eyes. Yet it seemed like all of them stood behind CeeJay’s “lead”. This had to be a joke right? Cashe looked around for a potential 4CW ripoff of Pranked but didn’t see anyone out of place other than maybe himself. That depended on who you asked.

GORDY: ”Get lost before we go 6-9 on your bitch ass! Ohh CHECKED!”

FREEDUMB: ”I’m building a clock out of a hub cap! You ever build anything out of garbage? It’s my favorite past time… I like dogs!”

Sniffing in the direction of Freedumb, Cashe flinched away. The man smelled like he slept in a kennel. Even with his time being somewhat limited, Cashe took a moment and appreciated what stood before him. So much so that he as it has come to be, begins slow clapping. Entering the locker room completely, he shuts the door behind him. Lets his bag drop to the floor and claps a few more times as everyone gives him a little space.

CASHE: ”Thrilled. THRILLED you all can be here as part of some welcoming party but I don’t want to be here no more than any of you want me here. Trust this is not my preferred means of match preparation. HOWEVER… Unless one of you is actually going to step forward and swing? Move so I can get ready. I unlike most of you, have a match tonight.. Hmmm? Any takers? I could use a warm up! I’m kind of feeling off today and maybe could use a tune up before my match. Who’s up? Anyone?”

Nobody steps up. Why would they? The majority of those in this room with him were talkers. They yapped their traps be it in their current roles or the roles better known by. They talked big games and didn’t actually back it up what-so-ever. This was the joke. They were the definition of that joke. Cashe maybe belonged here now to many people, he wasn’t going to let it bother him. He earned the drags he receives and will either grow from them or they will consume what name he has ever had. This is out of his control but what he CAN control is getting ready. Grabbing his bag, he pushes through the small gathering of laughter cases and sits on a bench. It was for sure a bigger locker room, it’s just that now his address seemed to be that of the jobbers on the roster.

? ? ?: ”CASHE! The hell are you doing in here!?”

A voice he recognized. Another voice that did belong here but one that Cashe actually didn’t mind. Someone not made up of a parody, just someone who had never made it. Joseph Sullivan.

CASHE: ”Sully! My motherfucking D.U.F.F! What’s good man!?”

SULLIVAN: ”I hate when you call me that…”

As the two have a quick chat, the rest of the Job Mob quiets down. Everyone except the loudest of them all, the ringleader, CeeJay O’Donnell.

O’DONNELL: ”Fuck THAT! He’s out of here..”

Huffing and puffing his chest out, CeeJay waddles directly at Cashe who sitting down is STILL taller than CeeJay was. Within arms reach, Cashe leaps from sitting and cracks CeeJay with an elbow across the bridge of his nose. The midget goes limp and flat on his back. Standing as his eyes gaze across everyone else, he waits to see who else will jump in. Nobody so he takes his seat and begins getting ready.

The orange glow of a cigarette illuminates the scene, standing with his back up against the cement walk of the parking is Dakota Smith. His eye beam forward, looking directly into the camera – what were usually filled with chaos and madness, now seemed calm. Dakota takes a long, smooth drag off of his cigarette, letting the smoke seep out of his nostrils as he begins to speak.

SMITH: ”Crooked be thy Kingdom, the rats rise up and then they fall, The old becomes new, and the new rusts away. I’m not here to explain my actions, or the actions of the CK. Because we don’t need any reason beyond it got people talking. They say we wanted to steal the spotlight, and you are god damn right we did. Because when you stop trying to be in that spotlight, that’s when you know you are finished in this business.”

There was a tone of arrogance in his voice, an almost snide rolling of his eyes as he continues to take drags here and there off of his cigarette.

SMITH: ”Me? I’ll never be finished, not until they put me in the fucking ground. Every time you see me, I will be giving my everything inside that ring. Maybe it’s because I like violence, maybe it’s because when I was a wee little abomination, I had big dreams. Or maybe it’s just because I’m cut from a different cloth from the rest of you. CK is cut from a different cloth, than the rest of you. Collectively we are a 4CW dream team, a fantasy draft. Yet when we pulled the trigger and revealed ourselves to the world… We had all these naysayers, all these maggots crawling at our feet trying to tear us down. But that’s because I don’t think they understand.”

Strands of his dirty blond hair fall into his face as he flicks his cigarette off into the distance. Dakota brings his arm up, running his calloused fingertips through his hair – pushing it back. There was an erratic twitch to his movements, which wasn’t unusual for Dakota. But it seemed more under controlled, some would say that he was almost calm.

SMITH: ”Crooked Kingdom is a way of life, it’s who are. A little bit different from the rest, we’ve been beat down, we’ve risen to the top. We all have storied careers. We aren’t some young guns looking to make a statement, we are the statement! We are 4CW! We have been here at the best of times, and we have been here at the worst of times. While the whole world around us changes, rots away into something new… WE stay the same, we stay the constant threat! When you think that we are done, we rise up and take back what’s rightfully ours. We are not just some group of people. We are Dakota Smith! Cyrus Riddle! Jason Cashe! And Jair Hopkins!”

Clearing his throat and spitting on the ground, Dakota repositions himself against the wall. He crosses his arms and rolls his head around his neck, a fit of laughter escaping his lips as he does so.

SMITH: ”Later on tonight we all will be doing our own little things, but we are united under one banner. At Retrograde we showed the world that we are united, and that’s what you all have to keep in mind. We have each others backs as we forge our own paths through the current state of 4CW.”

Uncrossing his arms, Dakota starts to tap his fingers on the wall behind him in a rapid motion. His eyes look past the camera, almost wandering through his unsettled mind.

SMITH: ”Like tonight… The South Beach Brawl tournament! Myself versus Aidan Carlisle. A match that has been sometime in the making if you ask me, a rivalry that died, and after tonight will stay dead. Any spark, or rekindling of flame you all might see, is just that… A spark. Win or lose, I don’t give a single fuck about Aidan – because she won’t be around long enough for me to grow to care. Aidan is a weak link, sure she shows her strength here and there. And on occasion can be quite impressive. But instead of turning into a pearl when the pressure gets too much to take, she dips. Failure frightens her to a point where she just can’t stand it.She is embarrassed by it, acting as if each loss is a cut on her wrist. Maybe it’s about time she just went down the river… “

Another burst of laughter, Dakota’s hair falling back in front of his face. A sly, maniacal smirk across his beaded mouth.

SMITH: ”Tonight… Is just another night. Crooked Kingdom, South Beach Brawl… Aidan Carlisle… Fuck em.”

Contorting his fingers to look like a C and K, the camera slowly fades out into some other sort of shenanigans.

OPENING MATCH
SBBC ROUND ONE
MARIANO FERNANDEZ VS. JASON CASHE

POWERS: “The following match is scheduled for one fall… and it is the first match for Round One of 2018’s South Beach Brawl Cup!”

The audience explodes with so much excitement, knowing that they are in for an action packed show tonight especially since Adrenaline never disappoints with the entertainment, the surprises and the world class beat downs.

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

problem?

“DOESN’T TAKE MUCH AND THAT’S MESSED UP

BECAUSE THESE PEOPLE DO A LOT OF SIMPLE SHIT TO IMPRESS US!”

POWERS: ”And now, standing six feet tall and weighing in at one hundred eighty pounds! From Buenos Aires, Argentina, by way of Miami, Florida… ‘THE GADFLY’… MARIANO FFEERRNNAANNDDEEZZ!!!”

JOHNSON: “And Manny is the first one out and he certainly looks prepared for battle against Hall of Fame greatness tonight. ”

VASSA: “Looks prepared to get his ass whupped, is more like it. Cashe about to have Manny with a concussion thinking he’s in one of those shitty medieval games he wastes his time playing. Make believe is for first graders.”

“… YOU CAN’T ACHIEVE YOUR GOALS IF YOU DON’T TAKE THAT CHANCE

SO GO PRY OPEN THAT TRUNK AND GET THOSE AMPS, YOU KNOW-“

The lights come back on, and after a huge pyro blast, Mariano is standing at the stage entrance, posing to the crowd going wild. He then beings striding decidedly and steadily to the ring.

“In the days of kings and queens I was a jester

Treat me like a god or they treat me like a leper

They see me move back and forth between both

I’m trying to find a balance

(“No reason or rhyme!”)

Once he climbs the apron and passes between the ropes, he raises his fist to the air, receiving a HUGE crowd pop!

“I’m trying to find a balance, I’m trying to build a balance

(“No reason or rhyme!”)”

As the music and the lights come back to normal, Mariano grabs the microphone from Mike Powers.

FERNANDEZ: “FUS RO DAH!!!”

VASSA: “I did not miss this goddamn comic con shit at all, I hope Cashe embarrasses him tonight.”

JOHNSON: “Seems like you already are pulling for Cashe before the match has even begun.”

VASSA: “Could you imagine the embarrassment if Manny wins fuckin South Beach Brawl?? It’ll be as bad as fuckin Vossler existing.”

JOHNSON: “I highly doubt it would be that bad, Vinny and plus, Manny has a whole line up of competitors to get through if he advances from this round and continues knocking down the competition.”

The conversation comes to a cease once the start of Cashe’s theme fills the arena.

“9-1-1 what are you reporting?”

An almost robotic sounding operator’s voice blares throughout the arena. The live audience grows in their cheers and jeers as heads turn to the stage. Another voice, a whispered cry follows.

“Please help us! There is…”

Sounds of a scuffle, a screeching cry as a male’s voice fills the speakers.

“TROUBLE!”

Out from the back comes Jason Cashe and the fans erupt! Some liking him and some not so much but unless they were wheelchair bound, everyone was on their feet. No theme music, something he hasn’t had in a long time for himself.

POWERS: “Coming to us LIVE and Direct from the 3rd Coast! He has held more titles than I care to list! He might kill me but he is a 4 Corners Wrestling Haaaaall of Faaamer! Please welcome.. The ‘tRoUbLeD1’ JASON CCAASSHHEE!!!”

VASSA: “Cashe had Gordy and the rest of the tards back there shook while they were having one of their suspect special olympics avengers meetings. He’s out here doing God’s work with checking all these dumbasses and now he’s facing a man who wears Kate Gosselin’s hairstyle better than she does.”

JOHNSON: “Manny definitely does not have the same hairstyle as Kate Gosselin does, Vinny.”

A hoodie vest on that matches his ring gear, Jason Cashe heads to the ring only stopping as he gets to the point where entrance ramp meets ring side. There he drags his foot creating an imaginary line dividing the two; a reference to him saying this line was when the talking stops. He crosses that line and heads around to the nearest set of steel steps. Climbing up onto the apron, Cashe dips through the ropes to enter the ring, removing his vest before letting it fall to the outside. It was time. He was ready to fight and Vassa was acting like this was the main event match as he grinned with confidence that Cashe was going to shut Manny down tonight.

VASSA: “Manny about to be missing out like Cashe’s two front teeth when it comes to losing this first round.”

JOHNSON: “At least wait until the match even begins to start making your claims on who you believe is going to come out the winner, for christ sakes.”

VASSA: “I don’t need to do shit because I already know.”

DING!!! DING!!!

It was like watching two bulls collide as the two competitors wasted no time getting their hands on one another and the audience definitely had no problem with that as they cheered on the two and watched as Manny quickly gained the upper hand and went for a jump swing DDT followed by a rolling senton before Cashe could even get a shoulder up from the mat. Getting to his feet, Cashe seems to be bursting with energy as with a Float Over Snap Suplex, he shows Manny that he’s going to have to come with it alot harder if he’s expecting to get a pinfall over Cashe tonight.

But Manny has no problem turning up the heat as he kicks it into high gear and goes aerial as he darts forward and takes Cashe down with a headscissors then jumping onto the closest turnbuckle to attack with a missile dropkick as soon as Cashe got to his feet. Vassa doesn’t look pleased while Johnson is busy concentrating on the match and isn’t paying his scowling partner no mind while the crowd cheers Manny having the advantage.

Manny sprints towards Cashe who ends up giving Manny those hands, those left and right jabs causing Manny to take a step backwards for every hit landed before falling back and hit the mat from a discus clothesline served by a grinning Cashe. But Manny had more strategies up his sleeves than he has video games as he instantly gets to his feet and ducks the incoming clothesline from a charging Cashe, who tries to double back with a swinging arm as Manny dodges and quickly turns to jump into the air with his legs wrapping around Cashe’s neck for a successful hurricanrana.

JOHNSON: “Impressive match up and it can go either way as Manny-”

VASSA: “-doesn’t stand a chance.”

Vassa quickly interrupts Johnson from singing Manny’s praises, being granted a side eye from his commentating partner.

JOHNSON: “I’m just calling the match how it is, Vinny. Both men are out there giving it their all in hopes of out besting the other to make it to round two of the tournament.”

VASSA: “Cashe is walking out of here the winner, calling it now.”

Manny was getting lucky whenever he went for his aerial moves so Cashe decided to battle back brawling style as he fought the energetic Manny down and even went for a dude kick that had Manny stumbling away and straight into the ropes. Manny pushes himself off the ropes just to be drove back into them due to a headbutt from Cashe followed up by a second headbutt that even has Cashe stopping to shaking his head out a bit.

Deciding he might need to chill on that, Cashe quickly grabs Manny and pulls him into a headlock to stay in control of the match, giving him noogies while a disapproving Manny becomes flustered and begins struggling to escape out of the headlock.

JOHNSON: “And the confidence is radiating off of Cashe tonight as the Hall of Famer is looking to win this first round but it’s still not enough to count out Manny just yet.”

VASSA: “Death by noogie is what we need to get ready to put on Manny’s tombstone after this and I will be more than happy to oblige.”

JOHNSON: “You can’t be serious right now. It’s going to take alot more than a few noogies to stop Manny and…. well won’t you look at that, Manny back in control of the match as he counters that DDT and is on fire with a pele kick to the unsuspecting Cashe.”

Not giving Cashe time to get up from the mat, Manny locks in the sharpshooter before Cashe can even blink and after a few moments, Cashe begins stretching out towards the ropes once Manny shows no signs of letting up or letting go. Cashe gets lucky as his right hand grabs onto the bottom rope and Manny releases his legs after a few seconds as he looks down at Cashe wincing in pain before he turns to head for the turnbuckle.

But as soon as Manny has reached the top, Cashe is suddenly on his feet and throwing punches at Manny until he falls onto a seated position on the turnbuckle in which Cashe happily throws him off. Vassa is let down that Manny doesn’t land in an odd angle that might indicate that he’s gotten a career ending injury or even an injury bad enough to shelf him for a few months but he does appear hurt after landing on his left arm.

Holding his arm while getting to his feet, he’s quickly knocked back down by a strong clothesline from the ready Cashe. Getting back onto his feet, Cashe again with the clothesline that has Manny on his back and looking up as if he’s seeing stars. He pulls himself together and rises to his feet but NOPE, is quick to duck that third clothesline from Cashe and moves quickly to connect with a spinning wheel kick. Manny quickly goes for the cover and Vassa is definitely none too pleased.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

Cashe got lucky at the last minute as Manny quickly gets to his feet and pulls Cashe onto his, irish whipping him into the ropes and was looking to catch him with a flying forearm but Cashe side steps it and smirks as Manny hits the mat and reaches down to grab Manny’s ankle to drag him towards the middle of the ring but Manny ends up rolling onto his side and kicking Cashe in the chin with his free foot. Kipping up to his feet, Manny catches Cashe with a right hook as soon as Cashe steps forward and hits him again before hemming him up.

VASSA: “Oh no no no, please GOD no-”

JOHNSON: “DOVAHKIIN DRIVER!! And Manny goes for the cover, this might be it, folks.”

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

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

POWERS: ”And heeerreeeee is your winner, MARIANO FFEERRNNAANNDDEEZZ!!!!”

“Trying To Find A Balance” fills the arena as the audience applause and explodes in cheers with being pleased with the results of the match. Vassa is definitely far from pleased and agitated while watching Manny get his hand raised high into the air by the referee while Cashe is pulling himself to the ropes and looking on before the camera fades out.

BOOGIE: “Your latest move b, got folks talking mad. They pissed. They ain’t letting that move rest. You got em’ going!”

Jair, with ease had shrugged his shoulder without much care to the masses who blabbered about the move after watching 4CW’s Retrograde. Sitting in the corner of his locker room, although without no match, he was here in support for his comrades who’d be fighting this evening on Adrenaline 81. He eyed Boogie and again, shrugged his shoulders.

HOPKINS: “They talked that same shit after I joined Unstable and won the 4CW Championship soon after. They talked until their mouths ran dry. I don’t care about their thoughts, b. I only listen to those I fuck with on the daily. This move is important. We’ve all faced one another in some degree. Riddle is the only one but who knows, if shit ends up like it did in the past with that other stable I mentioned earlier, that may happen but right now, it’s four of the top dogs in 4CW, uniting their colors, their egos all for a greater good that some folks don’t seem to realize. This ain’t no B-rated movie shit. Crooked Kingdom is something vicious but yes, let folks continue running their mouths on something they have no clue about except for staring at the face value.”

Jair went back to his head aiming to the floor momentarily before standing up. Darron and Boogie were in their spot, glaring at the screens on their phones. Jair walked on off.

DARRON: “That’s what they always do. They don’t know how to not react. Everybody like “They ruined that epic Main Event!” Nah, you four “enhanced” some flavor into it. If they was on the opposite end, they’d do the same. They only mad when they ain’t the ones doin’ it!”

Jair smirked, nodding.

HOPKINS: “Yeah, again as I said, I care nothing about their half-assed opinions. Tired of everyone saying this was a bad move on my part. That I didn’t need the other three and they didn’t need me. Ain’t about need. All about control. We are the four corners of this damn company. Speaks for itself.”

Hopkins continues to trail off. Walking towards the door, cameras catch sight of his eyes flickering as he snapped his head around, looking behind himself to see nothing there.

An inaudible faint whisper floats softly in the air, Jair, again turning his head around as he looked over towards his boys.

HOPKINS: “Ya’ll hear that?”

DARRON: “Hear what, Jair?”

Hopkins shook his head before shrugging his shoulders, proceeding forth only to hear something again.

A whispering voice echoing into Hopkins led him to rub at his ears, as if trying to rub whatever b.s was going on out of his ears.

BOOGIE: “You alright, homie? You been sippin on something earlier?

HOPKINS: “I ain’t had a damn thing! I just heard some noises, whispers, some wild shit. Maybe I need to take a drink.”

Hopkins, rubbing the side of his face as the whispers and noises longer happened. Rolling his neck, Hopkins went on and exited the locker room as on the outside of the door, he took a deep breath before proceeding. Cameras captured him down the hallway before fading in transition back to ringside.

UNDERCARD
RORIE STEELE VS. KAT JONES

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

The lights dim, as “Sex Metal Barbie” by In This Moment starts to play. As the music starts to pick up, lights flash with the stammering sounds. A female figure comes out, hands in the air. Lights stream up behind her, her front still dark. As the first verse is sang, she turns her back to the crowd, arms still up. She spins around through the lyrics in a seductive dance, her silhouette showing off every asset.

“You know I heard I don’t belong in this game

Still you hold your hands in the air screaming my name

Let’s go!”

The lights flash forward, showing Rorie in all of her glory. She smirks at the crowd, walking down to the ring.

POWERS: ”Coming to the ring first, from Vancouver, British Columbia, weighing in at one hundred twenty five pounds and standing five feet, six inches tall! She is ‘The Original Sex Kitten’ and ‘Sweetest Ass in the Game’ and a former 4CW Tag Team Champion, RORIE SSTTEEEELLEE!!!”

She teases a few fans of her choosing as she goes. She walks to the steps, climbing up. She slowly bends her body forward to get into the ring. When finally inside, she goes to each post, getting up on the turnbuckle to blow kisses to the crowd.

POWERS: ”And the opponent!”

“Release me”

The two words from the Public Address system in the arena cause the fans in attendance, already on their feet, to react with disdain and unappreciative shouts. Kat Jones, 4CW’s resident, badass Cincinnati native of ill repute methodically makes her way to the top of the ramp from the gorilla position. Her black shorts and knee high boots are more characterizing of her facial expression and attitude toward the scathing crowd, than her highly decorative top full of self expression.

“No remnants were ever found of it

Feeling the hot bile

With every fake smile

Though no evidence was ever found

It never went away completely”

Kat walks toward the ring, methodically and without much concern at all, regarding the insults and jeers thrown in her direction.

POWERS: “Making her way to the ring, hailing from Cincinnati, Ohio, standing five feet, eight inches tall and weighing in at one hundred twenty four pounds, she is the ‘WildKat’… KAT JJOONNEESS!!!”

“I try to hide from the unholy sound of it

Another day gone

Another night’s dawn”

Standing before the ring apron, Kat removes her black leather jacket, whips it behind her, releasing it and allowing it to sail toward the ramp, ultimately letting out a bloodcurdling scream, before she enters the ring and awaits ………. arrival.

JOHNSON: ”You’re not seeing old footage from the 4CW vault ladies and gentlemen. What you’re seeing in the ring right now is live.”

VASSA: ”Returning to 4CW after over a year we have two ladies tying things up tonight on Adrenaline Eighty-One.”

JOHNSON: ”That’s right folks! In one corner we have a former 4CW Tag Team Champion, Rorie Steele!”

VASSA: ”And in the other corner we have Perry’s own daughter, returning home right here where she belongs, Kat Jones!”

JOHNSON: ”I for one am excited to see both of these women back here in 4CW, back where they belong!”

VASSA: ”I’m excited to see how this is going to play out now that both daughters of Perry are under one roof. Will they fight for his attention? Will one get jealous of the other? Will it turn into a sexy pillow fight between the two?”

JOHNSON: ”Jesus Christ Vinny, what are you talking about?! That’s disgusting!”

VASSA: ”They’re not blood related Steve. Calm down, sir.”

JOHNSON: ”I know they’re not blood related but come on!”

VASSA: ”Alright, moving on. Take a look at Rorie over there. She’s looking just as delicious as she was the day she walked out of this place. Mmm mmm…”

JOHNSON: ”Something is wrong with you, you know that, right?”

VASSA: ”That’s pretty obvious.”

JOHNSON: ”Anyways… we have two ladies returning to 4CW action tonight. Two ladies that have a history with each other even before 4CW. I think it’s pretty safe to say that we’re in for one hell of a match ladies and gentlemen.”

In the center of the ring we find out official, and on both sides of him two ladies aiming to put the other down. After checking in with each corner, the official then throws his hand into the air and signals for the bell.

DING!!! DING!!!

Both ladies circle the center of the ring, sizing each other up and studying the others movements. After a few words between the two, they lock up. Grabbing two handfuls of Kat’s hair, Rorie throws her straight down onto her back. The official steps in, backing Rorie across the ring, giving her a warning as Kat slowly climbs back to her feet. The two ladies then circle the center of the ring once more before shooting in and locking up a second time. Pulling Kat in, Rorie pops her leg up and drivers her knee into Kat’s stomach. Locking onto Kat’s arm, she then whips her to the ropes but instead Kat reverse the throw and sends Rorie racing to the ropes instead. Bouncing off the ropes, Rorie runs straight into Kat who charges towards her, knocking her flat on her back with a shoulder block.

Rorie quickly pushes herself up to all fours but before she can get up any further, Kat grabs ahold of her head, holding it in place as she slams a knee into the side of Rorie’s head. Pulling Rorie to her feet, Kat lays into her with multiple chops across the chest, backing Rorie up to the corner across the ring. Grabbing onto the top rope, Kat uses it for leverage as she then begins to kick Rorie in the stomach over and over, eventually working her down into a seated position with her back against the corner. Backing up to the center of the ring, Kat then charges forward, closing in and colliding into Rorie’s face with a running knee.

VASSA: ”KAT DO NOT RUIN THAT PRETTY FACE!!!”

JOHNSON: ”It’s a little too late to tell her now, don’t you think? Kat just crushed her face with a running knee.”

VASSA: ”I saw Steve, and I’m afraid of what she’s going to look like after.”

Pulling Rorie up from the mat, Kat slams her against the corner before laying into her with back to back chops to the chest. Swinging wildly, Rorie throws a right for Kat’s face but misses as Kat ducks and steps behind her as she goes forward. Turning around instantly, Rorie leaves herself open as Kat ducks down, lifts her off her feet before hitting her with an inverted atomic drop. Back stepping slowly, Rorie remains on her feet, giving Kat the perfect opportunity to rush in with a superkick. Just as Kat’s foot comes within inches of Rorie’s face, Rorie ducks and grabs ahold of her standing leg. Lifting Kay off her feet, Rorie then slams her down onto her back.

Mounting herself on top of Kat, Rorie unloads with open hand slaps from all directions. Hitting Kat with lefts and rights, Rorie shows no restraint. She then grabs Kat by the head with both hands, lifting it up from the mat and then slamming it back down against it. Pushing herself up to her feet, she then stomps down onto Kat’s stomach before pulling her to her feet. Dragging her to the ropes, Rorie presses Kat’s face against the top one and then walks her from one corner to the other, giving her a nasty rope burn along the way.

Pulling Kat up from the ropes, Rorie then locks an arm around her head before taking a few steps forward, dragging Kat along and then taking her face first into the mat with a bulldog. Rolling Kat over to her back, Rorie makes the cover as the official slides in beside them with the count.

ONE

.

.

TW–

Before the officials hand can slap the mat a second time, Kat pops a shoulder up, breaking the count.

JOHNSON: ”After ducking a superkick from Kat, Rorie has turned things around.”

VASSA: ”She only came away with a near two count there, but the momentum has definitely shifted.”

Pulling Kat up from the mat, Rorie hits her across the chest with a couple of knife edge chops. Locking onto her wrist, she then whips Kat to the corner across the ring. Just as Kat slams against the corner, Rorie takes off and charges towards her. After executing a perfect somersault handspring, Rorie flies backwards through the air, throwing an elbow for Kat’s head.

JOHNSON: ”NNOOOO!!!”

Rolling out of the way, Kat avoids the elbow to the face, leaving nothing to soften Rorie’s landing as she crashes against the corner. Kat pops up to her feet and as she turns to face Rorie, Rorie erupts from the corner, throwing a right for her head. Ducking down, Kat rams her shoulder into Rorie’s stomach, stopping her in place. Grabbing onto her, she then lifts Rorie off her feet, flipping her over and down to her back with a Northern Lights suplex. She bridges for the pin but before the official can even get down to begin the count, Rorie kicks out.

Quick to her feet, Kat rises as Rorie slowly climbs to hers. Just as Rorie gets to one knee, Kat sweeps in and levels her with a superkick, connecting with this one as it send Rorie falling backwards to the mat. Kat brushes her hair from out of her face as the crowd begins to stir. Keeping a close eye on Rorie, Kat slowly circles her as she begins to come to her senses. Rushing in, Kat kicks her in the stomach as she gets to all fours, flipping her over to her back. Pulling Rorie up from the mat, Kat delivers a huge bitch slap across the cheek, shipping Rorie’s head to the side. Grabbing ahold of Rorie, Kat then hits her with a swinging neckbreaker in the center of the ring.

JOHNSON: ”DEAD-END!!!”

VASSA: ”It was for Rorie!”

JOHNSON: ”Kat’s making the cover…”

Hooking Rorie’s leg, Kat has her shoulders to the mat as the official drops down beside them with the count.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

VASSA: ”THR–“

JOHNSON: ”AND A KICKOUT!!!”

With no delay whatsoever, Kat hits Rorie in the head with back to back right hands before pushing herself up to her feet. Kicking Rorie a few times while she’s down, Kat then pulls Rorie to her feet. Pulling her in, Kat attempts to set up her swinging leg hook fireman’s carry slam but instead, Rorie swings from the other side of her body, hitting Kat with an uppercut to the head. Breaking away from Kat, Rorie then runs to the ropes and as she comes back, Kat spins around in place and goes to take her head off with a spinning heel kick. Ducking underneath the kick, Rorie continues to the ropes and as she bounces off and comes back on the return, she catches Kat just as she turns to face her, plowing into her with a spear! Popping back to her feet, Rorie hops over Kat’s body and goes to the ropes. Going to her hands, she does a handstand and bounces off the ropes before dropping back to her feet. Flipping backwards in mid air, Rorie lands across Kat’s body with a moonsault!

VASSA: ”OOOHHHHHH!!!”

JOHNSON: ”The Frankensteele!”

VASSA: ”If a spear wasn’t enough, just add a handspring bounce off the ropes into a moonsault to seal the deal!”

Rorie hooks Kat’s leg as the official races over with the count.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

JOHNSON: ”This one’s over and in the books ladies and gentlemen.”

VASSA: ”Turning things around at the very end, Rorie Steele pulls off the win here tonight in her return to 4 Corners Wrestling.”

“Sex Metal Barbie” hits the speakers as Rorie slowly rises to her feet. With a cocky smirk on her face, she stares down at Kat for a moment before whipping her hair and looking out into the crowd. The official steps in beside her, raising her arm high into the air, declaring her the victor.

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

POWERS: ”Here is your winner, RORIE SSTTEEEELLEE!!!”

Ripping her arm away from the official, Rorie looks back to Kat who is now beginning to come to. After a snicker, she then leaves the ring, making her way to the back, ignoring everyone and everything in her vicinity.

PRE-TAPED VIDEO FEED

Sitting in a pharmacy Alessandro Quagliaterre awaits for his latest round of prescribed medication. He could have easily paid someone else to pick up his prescription but he preferred to do it himself. It enabled him to get away from his self enclosed withdrawn isolation that was his mansion and function in the real word, with the rest of society.

He appears anxious, waiting impatiently and restless with tepid sweat dripping at a swift speed down from his head onto his clothes. Sat next to him, a extremely old lady noticed his unstable state, and her exquisite nature found herself interacting with Alessandro.

BISCUITLADY: “Why so tense young man?”

QUAGLIATERRE: “Because of Genevie Carlson.”

Without little to no information, having never met Alessandro before. She heard a female name and assumed.

BISCUITLADY: “Who’s that? Your Special Lady?”

Usually if a man had a problem, the first instance was it involved a woman, that was her school of thought as she was old school from a different era. Alessandro however was quick to clarify.

QUAGLIATERRE: “OH! GOD… NO!”

Though he did wonder for just a split second, what would be if they were each other’s special someone. He quickly vibrated in disgust at the thought, shaking his senses from the thought of it, answering the ladies question.

QUAGLIATERRE: “I’m wrestling her on March 14th.”

BISCUITLADY: “Wrestling? Isn’t that fake.”

QUAGLIATERRE: “Depends. About as fake as her chest. But the fighting involved, and the artistry involved in the execution of what we do when we perform… that’s nothing fake. That’s hard hitting. Smash and grab action.”

BISCUITLADY: “What is the way of the world. In my day… men treated women with respect. If we were lucky we got a bit of exposed ankle action and fresh knitting gear. Nowadays, sexual identification has no bearing, everyone is on a level playing field.”

QUAGLIATERRE: “Ankles?”

Alessandro wondered how ankle intimacy works.

BISCUITLADY: “How Rude. You shame your mother with that type of attitude.”

QUAGLIATERRE: “Probably.”

BISCUITLADY: “What about your father?”

QUAGLIATERRE: “Who’s My Daddy?”

The elderly lady gave Alessandro a resting bitchface full of wrinkles, as if she were to know, she just met him a few minutes ago.

BISCUITLADY: “Don’t take the biscuit. I hope that Genevie Girl beats a level of respect into you. Immature Ill-mannered renegade.”

BACKSTAGE LIVE AT THE PNC ARENA

A short while after the previous match, Alessandro Quagliaterre reflects on what he just saw.

QUAGLIATERRE: “Well I’ll be damned. Kat Jones and Rorie Steele. There are two names I thought I’d never see in a 4CW Ring ever again. But stranger things are happening. What Rorie Steele gets upto on her return, or if she bails after just one match, I couldn’t give a damn. But Kat Jones. I do give a damn. Me and Miss Jones have unfinished business, and we’ve got prior unresolved issues from another company. There will be a time and place for that, don’t you worry about that Kitty Kat. Now onto more pressing matters.”

He had one name on his lips.

QUAGLIATERRE: “What you saw moments ago with the Biscuit Lady was a typical example of a asshat Grandma siding with a certain lady because I rubbed her up the wrong way. Well to that certain lady. I have this to say and more. Whether it’s tonight in the South Beach Brawl Cup, or someplace else in the future. Whenever you think you’ve made it and the bright lights are calling upon you to seize the moment. I will be there to turn that moment into a walking nightmare.”

There was obviously only one name on his lips of whom he was referring.

QUAGLIATERRE: “Genevie Carlson.”

A levelhead was needed to keep it calm as things had gotten quite heated in the pre-match promotional videos.

QUAGLIATERRE: “No doubt about it… what happens tonight in the PNC Arena is the biggest opportunity of your career. The start of a career defining night, in a game changing tournament. Plain and simple, you are going to have have to knock me on my head, to knock me off. It’s pretty hard to miss, because it’s as gigantic, empty and hollow as those eggs in your tumbleweed ovaries and just as easily malleable in breaking. Easier said than done.”

He rattled his nogging, to demonstrate.

QUAGLIATERRE: “That’s what you need to look at to exploit to make your lifelong dream come true. Unfortunately what you are going to learn later on tonight, is when you come face to face on a collision course with me, is the reality of the situation. Which is that as talented and tough as you is. You are not, nor will you ever be Alessandro Quagliaterre.”

He pointed to himself, as that was him. Alessandro had figured the people of Raleigh were not the sharpest of folks so he needed to make it blatantly obvious. Also he wanted to draw easy heat.

QUAGLIATERRE: “So Who’s Your Daddy Genevie? It doesn’t matter. For tonight, I’LL MAKE YOU AN ORPHAN!”

Alessandro had appeared to be done, walking away from the camera shot for the show to continue. But just as the production was about to fade out for the show to go on. Alessandro reappeared.

QUAGLIATERRE: “I’ll be finished, when I want to be finished. I just needed a little walk real quick.”

He eyeballed the production crew, to follow his lead, though he did not make it clear what the lead was, leaving them confused.

QUAGLIATERRE: “So Genevie… here’s is your golden opportunity to back up everything you have ever thought you knew about me. So what are you going to do about it to stop me? I’m waiting. Still waiting. Forever be waiting.”

He tapped his feet against the ground, waiting eagerly.

QUAGLIATERRE: “What is necessary for the two of us, is for me to deprive of you of any room to breathe or even the slightest bit of momentum when we lock horns. I’m going to be all up on you, pressing you right from the word go, even before the bell has rung, because that is what I do. And in doing so I will have succeeded in making you lose sight of what really matters. What happens dead center in the middle of the ring for the biggest career defining however many minutes of your life. When you get ousted with another year of resentment and despair looking over your shoulder having failed yet again in what you promised to do. WIN SOUTH BEACH BRAWL.”

He gasped with his mouth wide open.

QUAGLIATERRE: “Shock Horror. I caused offense through my outlandish comments. OH NO! There goes the neighbourhood. How will I survive? The peephole soul sucking fuck nugget machine of Genevie Carlson got triggered.”

He was being sarcastic.

QUAGLIATERRE: “I know it’s already been covered, but I had an extra epiphany, and I like to overkill a bit until it becomes annoying to the point of seething irritability. Because riling up my opposing numbers and getting them mad as humanly possible, is what I’m an expert in.”

Annoyance was his area of expertise.

QUAGLIATERRE: “I very rarely admit my own deficiencies. But screw it if Genevie so desperately wants to hold on to being the first one to let rip she was entering South Beach Brawl. I’ll let her have that. I admit it. You entered South Beach Brawl FIRST. BEFORE ME!”

Genevie humbled Alessandro.

QUAGLIATERRE: “Just like you’ll be among the group of the FIRST ELIMINATED from South Beach Brawl, because I’ll let you have an announcement, but you’ll be getting absolutely no respite from me when it comes to putting words into action. It’s one thing to simply enter the tournament of all tournaments, it’s an entirely different equation to go ahead and actually win it.”

A tough challenge.

QUAGLIATERRE: “Yet the woman who is supposed to be the pack leader of this whole tournament, hasn’t said enough of a peep about me. I don’t know, maybe she is busy, she’s got alot going on in her life, whereas I don’t. Because the only thing I got going, is this business. Which is why I dedicate everything to it. You want that same prestige, but you’re not willing to work for it and put in the same level of drive, or desire of what is truly required to be one of the greats. Instead you rest on your laurels, bark from your lips like the mongrel raggedy ann that you are shitting nonsense out your lips.”

Speech fart was a real thing.

QUAGLIATERRE: “Which is why I have a request, I need Genevie Carlson at her best. Because I want absolutely no excuses from you, that even when you give it your all, tried harder than you ever tried before. Took every setback you’ve ever had to let the world know that this evening is the beginning of the greatest journey in the career of Genevie Carlson we’ve ever seen. That after doing all that, and still coming up short to me, you’ll have to swallow your pride and admit. THAT I AM BETTER THAN YOU.”

He enunciated it with great valor.

QUAGLIATERRE: “Everything I have had to say about you had both meaning, and merit. And I don’t regret a single bit of it. But honestly I’ve always wanted to know, besides the obvious and my mistreatment of the mother of my children, and the neglect I paid to my family. What problem did Genevie Carlson have with me, that she would get so riled and over worked, flushed and bothered, like a hotheaded ho on speed with substance abuse.”

A common idiom.

QUAGLIATERRE: “Now this is not the part where I give you a clapback, because honestly a lot of what you said struck deep and actually made me self asess my actions and allowed me to be aware of perceptions which otherwise I would have been unable to see. Because unlike you Genevie. I know how to turn a negative in a positive. Because every bit of criticism that I recieve, whether rightful or wrong, I use as fuel to shape me into the man you see before you today. But here’s the kicker, and this is the part that really bothers you.”

He let out a breath of air.

QUAGLIATERRE: “I do not give a fuck about what anybody thinks about me. I do not need to live through an ideal where anything Genevie Carlson believes is the gospel of the truth, because all you are is a opinionated little hussy and that doesn’t mean I have to heed to it just because that is what you believe so strongly about it. I don’t need to shout it out to the hills for a whole market to see, I make a big enough of an ass out of myself without your concerted efforts. I think it’s a well known fact that I have no idea how to operate myself functionally on Social Media. More often then not, I’m running around in circles like a headless chicken not making much sense. I haven’t got the foggiest, absolutely clueless. Honestly eventhough I’m active as anything on Twitter. Truthfully I’ve got no idea how Twitter Works. But it doesn’t matter, I can live with that deficiency. Because I may not know how Twitter Works. But I know how Wrestling Works. And that’s the only statistic you need to know about me, because that is what counts.”

He gave a final nod.

QUAGLIATERRE: “See you out there. I have said everything I have needed to say, out in the open, and I’ll have no issue doing it in that ring to your face. Like a Man. Fuck Raleigh, You Want a Fight. You ain’t getting one. Instead you’re getting a war. Balls in your court now Genevie. Show me what you got Hot Stuff.”

Back at the ring, “Your Weakness Gives Me Life” by Le Butcherettes hits the PA. Nurse Kinsley makes her way down the ramp, but with none of the usual theatrics. She gives no weird stares, she doesn’t drag her feet… in fact, she keeps a pretty modest pace. She circles the ring, grabs a microphone, and then slides under the bottom rope… crawling to the corner before reclining against the base of the turnbuckle.

Kinsley waits for the music to cut out and the boos to die down before she brings the mic to her face.

KINSLEY: “Hello, ignorant masses!”

The audience begins to boo again. Kinsley gives a big, exaggerated shrug, and waits for the silence to come back.

KINSLEY: “Ladies, gentlemen… miscellaneous. I have an announcement to make. Well, a couple of them, I suppose… announcements that are going to shock the world. They’re going to blow your minds, they’re going to CHANGE 4CW… forever.”

She pauses for dramatic effect.

KINSLEY: “Are you ready for this? Are you seated comfortably? Have you strapped your kids in? I won’t be held responsible for any heart-related injuries tonight.”

Her insistence on dragging it out starts to get the audience riled up again. Harlow grabs the middle rope with one hand, hoisting herself to her feet.

KINSLEY: “I would first like to announce that I, Nurse Kinsley… got laid.”

Somehow, this actually gets louder, longer boos than anything else she’s said so far.

KINSLEY: “It’s true, folks. It’s real. I had sex with a human being. Happens all the time, I know you virgins are jealous. See, I’ve been watching Kimitsu Zombie lately… seeing how she acts, what makes her tick, trying to get into her head. I started to really, genuinely appreciate what she’s done for herself–how she’s gone from isolated and alone, to finding people she could call a family, people she can trust and love and be loved by in return. I began to crave that intimacy. I envied that rapport she’s built up with her dear, sweet Uncle Aoki… so I went out, and I had some sex.”

Kinsley lowers the microphone for a moment, again pausing for dramatic effect, before adding…

KINSLEY: “…With her dear, sweet Uncle Aoki.”

The booing reaches new heights. People in the crowd are visibly disgusted. The camera zooms in on one man in the front row who looks like he’s going to throw up.

KINSLEY: “It’s true. It is. Me and Aokigahara Zombie, Kimitsu’s mentor and former tag team partner… we knocked boots. I rocked his world. Hell, I have pictures–“

The booing hasn’t quite finished, nor does it get a chance to, as Harlow points toward the jumbotron screen. It lights up with a massive picture for the world to see. There, very clearly, is Harlow in a hotel room bed… taking a selfie with a sleeping Aokigahara Zombie. The sheets are pulled up to her chest, but she appears nude otherwise… except for the mask, which she’s still inexplicably wearing in bed.

KINSLEY: “But that’s only my first announcement. See, when I went through with this, my original plan was to come out and start cracking jokes about how I slept with Kimi’s main parental replacement figure, a man she’s so close to that she calls him uncle, how that basically makes me her aunt, that she has to call me Auntie Harlow now… y’know, obvious stuff. As it turns out, though, this doesn’t make me her aunt… it makes me her new mommy.”

There’s confused murmuring from the crowd.

KINSLEY: “See, Aokigahara Zombie–silly old Aokigahara… he didn’t just want the Kinsley special, he wanted to make a night of it. Drugs, booze, the whole nine… and when Aoki does pillow talk, he talks. …And talks. And talks. Now, listen close Kimikins, because this next part? This next part’s real important.”

Nurse Kinsley leans on one of the top ropes, staring down the entry ramp.

KINSLEY: “Aokigahara Zombie… is your father, Kimitsu. Your REAL father. That deadbeat Shiro? That’s not really your dad. AOKI is!”

She stops, unable to keep from giggling. She gets it under control quickly enough.

KINSLEY: “I told you, I TOLD YOU I was going to get to those close to you, Kimi! You probably thought that meant beating up your boyfriend in a back alley or something, but no! I went to the effort of finding out who your ACTUAL BIOLOGICAL DAD is, Kimitsu, and then I FUCKED YOUR DAD!”

The boos at this point are deafening. Harlow straightens up, throwing her arms wide, basking in the loathing of the crowd. She turns in place, strolling around the ring like she just won the Superbowl. Even when it calms down, it doesn’t really calm down. Kinsley finally settles, bringing the microphone back up.

KINSLEY: “What, do you idiots not believe me? I have plenty more pictures where that came from. Hell, I have more than that–I have VIDEO! Come on, let’s show the fans something X rated from me, the future XTV champion! Roll that beautiful bean footage–“

The Nurse Kinsley sex tape does not start playing. What does start playing, instead, is “Tattoo Ari” by Number Girl. The fans lose their minds, cheering loudly as Kimitsu Zombie finally puts a stop to this. Kimitsu charges down the ramp with a steel chair in hand, straight on the war path toward Harlow.

Harlow drops the microphone and bails immediately. The nurse makes it out the back of the ring just a breath after Kimitsu slides in; Kimitsu swings the chair, but it bounces off the top rope, narrowly missing Harlow by a second as the nurse ungracefully tumbles to the floor below.

The two stare each other down, a fury in Kimitsu’s eyes, immense amusement in Harlow’s. Nurse Kinsley slowly, cautiously circles the ring, never taking her gaze off Kimitsu as she backs her way toward the entryway. The camera focuses on the enraged Kimitsu before cutting away.

UNDERCARD
SBBC ROUND ONE
GAVIN GRIMES VS. MARK STORM

The opening beat to “Throne” begins to blare over the PA system and flashing white lights illuminate the arena, going along with the beat of the song and it causes the fans to cheer. Gavin Grimes is now standing at the top of the entrance way, a black hoodie on with the hoodie up on his head, while also wearing a pair of black jeans, black gloves with the finger tips cut off and a pair of white high-top Jordan’s. Gavin’s has his hands crossed as he looks down at the ground under him, his head nodding up and down to the beat of the music.

“Remember the moment you left me alone and

Broke every promise you ever made

I was an ocean, lost in the open

Nothing could take the pain away

So you can throw me to the wolves

Tomorrow I will come back

Leader of the whole pack

Beat me black and blue

Every wound will shape me

Every scar will build my

THRONE”

POWERS: “Coming to the ring… Hailing from Las Vegas, Nevada and weighing in at one hundred eighty pounds… GAVIN GGRRIIMMEESS!!!”

As the word throne begins to blare over the PA system, Gavin pulls off the hoodie from his head and begins to walk confidently down the ramp. Once he makes it to the ring, Gavin slides through the ropes. Gavin now takes off his pullover jacket and throws it into the crowd and it now reveals that he was wearing a white tank top under the pullover. Gavin then walks up to the ropes and stands up on the bottom rope while raising up one hand to the crowd as they cheer him on.

“Short Change Hero” by The Heavy begins to play through the speakers and the lights in the arena simultaneously dim down. Smoke begins to rise from the top of the stage and appearing on the screen above are the following words; “Your Hero and Mine.”

Mark Storm emerges from the mist of smoke, chewing gum calmly as he takes off his shades and stares down at the ring. He can’t help but allow his sadistic signature smirk to appear upon his lips as he closes his eyes and spreads his arms out wide, soaking in the jeers of the audience.

POWERS: “From New York, Brooklyn.. weighing in a two hundred and twenty pounds – Your Hero, and Mine.. MARK SSTTOORRMM!!!”

“This ain’t no place for no hero.

This ain’t no place for no better man.

This ain’t no place for no hero

To call “home.”

At this point, Storm is by the edge of the ring; allowing a smile to embed on his face before he jumps onto the apron and holds onto the ropes, using them to help himself up onto the turnbuckle. He’s grinning from ear to ear, soaking in the rest of the boo’s and cheers coming from the audience, shaking his head sideways as he lowers it, before jumping into the ring.

Walking over to his designated corner and hoisting himself up onto the second ropes, a smirk upon his lips as he holds his arms up; his theme song slowly diminishing. The ref calls for the bell once both men are situated and the music is completely dead.

DING!!! DING!!!

JOHNSON: “Here we go. Another First Round Match in the South Beach Brawl Cup Annual Tournament. These men have a lot of history together and Mark Storm has yet to get a win over Gavin Grimes in the past. His luck might change here tonight.”

VASSA: “I like his odds. Mark Storm didn’t have to just deal with Barbed Wire Ropes at Retrograde. Plus I don’t want to root for the kid that looks like Jett Wilder. I think it would be disrespectful to him. Since he had to leave and take care of his very serious condition.”

JOHNSON:“I wish you would leave for your very serious condition of being a Retard.”

VASSA:“REPORTED.”

JOHNSON: “I hope I get suspended forever.”

The action in the ring starts as Gavin Grimes and Mark Storm lock up in the center of the ring. Mark is able to get the upper hand and wrenches Grimes arm behind his back. Gavin rushes forward though into the ropes and uses the momentum to headbutt Mark backwards and give him some room. He bounces off the ropes and comes at Mark with a clothesline but Mark ducks the move easily and Gavin stops to turn around to be met with a forearm smash to the side of his face. Mark doesn’t stop as he launches a fury of open palm strikes at Gavin’s face hitting him over and over in the face before following it up with a spinning back kick that drops Gavin to his knees. Mark bucks up a touch as Gavin is dazed from the blows before Mark clears the distance and hits Grimes with a High Kick to the Chest knocking Grimes onto his back to lay out on the mat. Storm then executes a flawless standing Moonsault in the center of the ring, and immediately goes for the pin attempt.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THR–

Grimes kicks out.

JOHNSON: “Woah. Mark Storm almost put Gavin away early in this one.”

VASSA: “A moonsault doesn’t win a match. You gotta be Spessial or Alpha and hit the Double Moonie!”

JOHNSON: “Well a single one almost took out Grimes here tonight. If you ask me it doesn’t seem like Gavin is much on his game here tonight. He usually puts up a bigger fight.”

VASSA: “Its Post Traumatic Stress from those Barbed Wire Ropes! I told you!”

JOHNSON: “Well regardless Grimes needs to shake off Retrograde and get his head in the game. There’s money and the chance to face the 4CW Champion on the line here tonight.”

VASSA: “FUCK THE GOLD. GIVE ME THE PURSE.”

Back in the ring. Mark has gotten back to his feet, and Grimes is starting to rise to his. Mark rushes over to help Grimes up the rest of the way but Grimes catches him and does a Roll Up of Doom Quickly. The ref goes down to count but Mark Storm kicks out of it too soon. Knowing this trick of Grimes all too well at this point as the two men bounce back up and smirk at one another. Grimes rushes forward and starts throwing fists at Mark backing him all the way into the corner before grabbing him and irish whipping him to the other side of the ring for Mark to run chest first into the other turnbuckle. He bounces off and the pain is written all over his face as he turns around just in time to be caught by a dropkick from Grimes that sends him back first into the turnbuckle he just hit from the front.

VASSA: “Gavin Grimes making Mark Storm a human pinball into that turnbuckle.”

JOHNSON: “Maybe the kid has finally woke up.”

Indeed it seems like Gavin Grimes has in fact woke up as he rushes forward and hits Mark Storm with an Enzuigiri that sinks Storm like a stone in the corner. Grimes backs up and comes rushing forward to land a kick to Storm’s head but he sees it coming and moves out of the way and Grimes rushes straight into the turnbuckle his leg getting caught up on the second turnbuckle. Storm pulls himself up and stands behind Gavin, almost stalking him and waiting for him to recover. Gavin eventually turns around and gets met with a bicycle knee that sends him down to one knee. Storm flies to the ropes and bounces off of them, flying back he uses the momentum to strike Gavin with another bicycle knee.

JOHNSON: “Two Kicks! One Knee from Mark Storm!”

VASSA: “So much for Grimes having the momentum.”

JOHNSON: “Mark Storm doesn’t appear done here. Like I said these two have faced off before and Mark has never come out on top. He’s looking to make sure that this time? That changes.”

Gavin lays on the mat appearing to be dazed and out of it but it doesn’t stop Mark Storm from picking him up and lifting him on his shoulder and delivering the one handed electric chair driver he calls the Heroes End! Immediately hooking Gavin’s leg as soon as he lands on the mat as the ref makes the count.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

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

“Short Change Hero” begins to play throughout the arena as Mark Storm rises to his feet for the ref to raise his hand in the air.

POWERS: “Here is your winner, and advancing to the next round in the South Beach Brawl Cup… MARK SSTTOORRMM!!!”

JOHNSON: “Mark Storm has finally gotten a victory over Gavin Grimes, and not a moment too soon. He advances to the next round of the South Beach Brawl Cup.”

VASSA: “I don’t think anyone is going to dispatch their opponent as quick as Mark did with Gavin here tonight!”

JOHNSON: “Maybe not…but Mark Storm might not be done here.”

VASSA: “I love it when they kick ‘em while they are down.”

Back in the ring, Mark Storm helps Gavin Grimes to his feet in the middle of the ring. The two shake hands and give each other a look of mutual respect for all their history together before Gavin slides out of the ring and leaves Mark to celebrate his victory.

VASSA: “What a let down.”

JOHNSON: “These two have a lot of respect for each other it appears, but regardless Mark Storm advances and Gavin Grimes falls. This Tournament just keeps heating up!”

HOPKINS: “Man, I gotta stop tripping! I’m buggin’ off the charts right now.”

Hopkins slowly traveled the hallways of the PNC Arena here in Raleigh, North Carolina as he had a bottle of water he was casually sipping on that was about the half-way mark. He innocently talked to himself as he turned the corner. He walks over towards staff personnel.

HOPKINS: “Aye bro, have you been feeling a certain wild vibe in this arena tonight?”

The man with the black Polo tee carrying the 4CW Logo on it, he turned, sharing a smile as it was Jair Hopkins. After a few seconds of admiration, he looked around.

STAFF: “I’m sorry, I haven’t. Tonight has been good without any “weird vibes” but hey, you do look a little stressed out.”

Hopkins looked at him a bit off before just nodding his head, walking off.

HOPKINS: “Yeah, thanks!”

? ? ?: “You will fall.”

The whisper seems to echo slightly as Jair’s footsteps came to a halt at that moment. He paused, looking down at himself before slowly turning around back at the 4CW Staff guy, a bit more shook this time due to the look on Jair’s face.

HOPKINS: “The hell did you just say?”

STAFF: “Huh? I said nothing, except for you loo–“

Driven and pressed to the wall by a ferocious, grimacing Hopkins, turned completely inside out as he stared into the white guy’s eyes, making him almost…go wet. Hopkins’s grip was tight around what was his neck as the color seemed to shift colors a tiny bit.

HOPKINS: “What the hell did you just say to me??”

As if the poor guy could say a thing, his face spoke in colors as Jair loosened the grip but still had control. He stuttered and stuttered on his word to attempt to speak to Hopkins.

STAFF “I…I don’t k-k-know. I s-s-said nothing. I said nothing! P-p-please release me!”

His hands up, surrendering position, Hopkins finally lets him go as the guy falls to the floor, holding to his throat. Hopkins eyes flickered, as if just realizing what he just did. Hopkins held his hand down to the man, offering his help as the man shook his head.

HOPKINS: “I got’chu. Grab my hand!”

The guy scurried off the floor and down the hall, running seemingly for his life. Hopkins’s hand still out as his eyes followed the man running. Jair looked at his arms, hands and body before looking around before walking off.

HOPKINS: “The hell is going on with me tonight!”

Hopkins headed back the opposite way, shaking his head as cameras faded.

CASHE: “Talent? Where art thou talent?”

As if asking himself, Jason Cashe was besides himself. There was self doubt but that really wasn’t anything new. Yet he felt weird. Having lost in the first round of a Title, THE Title tournament. There wasn’t a person alive who felt “good” after losing a match like that. So Cashe was elsewhere in his head. So much so that as he turned the corner, he hadn’t seen Chris Madison.

MADISON: “Well hello to you too. Yo, Cashe! Anyone home? Watch where you’re goin’, yeah?”

Coming to his senses with a shake of his head and Cashe really sees that it was Chris Madison standing before him. A man he idolized and became highly influence by when he was starting out. An ultimate respect, a true admiration.

CASHE: “Sup Madison?”

Neither of them had a reason to sit and brag about much. Both have had questions on if they were past their prime and fading. So Cashe angled himself to pass his old friend by. Madison having his own issues wasn’t going to force the conversation. Then Cashe had a random question and popped back in front of his one time Unstable stablemate.

CASHE: “Question. What. The. Fuck?”

MADISON: “What?”

CASHE: “Us? Our careers? What’s going on man? I take my vitamins, I even tried chasing chickens and drinking raw eggs.. What am I doing wrong?”

MADISON: “Shit if I know man. I can’t tell you what’s goin’ on in your head. Slumps are one thing, but teamin’ up with Dakota and Riddle, after all we went through goin’ up against them?”

CASHE: “I was rivals with Hopkins in both APW and here as well before we teamed up. Now look? I am his token white boy and I need him to eat.. Or something. Meal ticket, that’s it!”

Brushing off the claims from numerous people, Cashe played off the dumb shit too often. It was either that or let it bother him.

MADISON: “When you wanted to bring your own version of Unstable into 4CW, I was the first person you reached out to. You said there wasn’t a name you could see that made more sense than mine. Guess that too has changed about you?”

CASHE: “Heh.. Nope and it’s not like that at all. You seemed busy. You seemed on a different path with Mark Storm. Why align with someone who maybe lined up across from World$tar seeking a run at the Tag Titles, or better yet one of us having to defend them? It wasn’t just my call that mattered or I would have made it..”

He was serious now. Chris Madison had achieved a level of respect from Cashe that not but maybe 2 others have gained since Cashe started in this business.

MADISON: “It is what it is man. To be honest, my string of bad luck has got me questionin’ what’s goin’ on with me… Who knows, maybe our time is up? Guess we’ll see..”

CASHE: “Guess we will. I’m not giving up, that’s for sure. I still want the fight and what can’t kill me makes me harder to keep down… Something like that!”

MADISON: “Yeah… Somethin’ like that… Take it easy Cashe, I’m sure you’ll figure it out and put the pieces back together.”

Knocking their fists together like a punch, the two go their separate ways. Cashe stops and turns to look back as Madison turns a corner and disappears.

UNDERCARD
SBBC ROUND ONE
ANDRE HOLMES VS. JOHNNY EVIL

The PNC Arena of Raleigh, North Carolina will host a very unique episode of 4CW Adrenaline. The kick off of the South Beach Brawl Cup starts tonight where matches have been selected at random but what makes it interesting is the 4CW Championship will be on the line every match. For now, the next match on the under card will feature Johnny Evil facing off against Andre Holmes. The cameras move over to Vassa and Johnson sat behind the announce table.

JOHNSON: ”Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome back to 4CW Adrenaline and now we have another first round tournament match on our hands. Former 4CW Tag and Extreme Champion, Johnny Evil, will face off against ‘Relentless’ Andre Holmes fresh off his win from Retrograde.”

VASSA: ”Why is Andre in this tournament? He deserves nothing! Johnny Evil on the other hand is a formidable competitor who has earned everything through hard work and determination. This is going to be an easy match for Evil.”

JOHNSON: ”Well Andre Holmes put an end to his feud against Alexis Mercer at Retrograde and Johnny Evil was a finalist in last year’s South Beach Brawl Cup. Imagine if he were to make the finals again and become 4CW Champion. Andre Holmes is the one blocking him from that path.”

VASSA: ”An easy blockade that can be blasted through. Evil is the toughest son of a bitch in this company so watch him whoop Andre’s ass and be done with it. Powers, take it away.”

The camera transitions to the interior of the ring where Powers is standing in the center with a microphone under his chin. He nods as he gets the cue from production to begin with the match introductions.

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.

“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

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 on his way to the ring! Hailing from Houston, Texas! At five feet, nine inches tall, weighing in at two hundred and one pounds. He is ‘Relentless’ ANDRE HHOOLLMMEESS!!!”

Afterwards, the lights return back to normal, and he walks down to the ring while mingling with some of his fans at ringside. Climbing up onto the apron, he quickly runs to leap onto the middle rope. A spotlight emerges behind him to cloak him in a silhouette with smoke pushing upwards for that shadow effect. Hopping over the top rope, he lands inside the ring to stay in an unoccupied corner where he removes his hoodie, and tosses it to the outside. Standing in an unoccupied corner, Andre warms up, and he tightens the strap on his MMA Gloves waiting for his opponent to come out.

JOHNSON: ”The “Relentless” warrior known better as Andre Holmes looks ready for his South Beach Brawl Cup debut. This is an opportunity he said he wants to use to the maximum of his abilities and make history in the company.”

The lights dim in the arena as the intro to “Shut Your Mouth” by Pain begins to play. When the guitar kicks, pyro blasts from the stage as Johnny steps out from behind the curtain with a smug arrogant smirk across his face, nodding his head slowly in approval as the audience boos in a rage…

“…The only thing I ever wanted

The only thing I ever needed

Is my own way, I gotta have it all…”

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

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

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

I am my own God, I do as I please…

Just wipe your own ass and shut your mouth”

Johnny Evil stops halfway down the entrance ramp ans walks over toward the barricade, beginning to trash talk an audience member. After a moment of trash talk, Evil flips off the fans at ringside before continuing to walk down the rest of the ramp and slide into the ring.

POWERS: ”From Detroit Michigan, weighing in at two-hundred and twenty-five pounds… ‘The American Horror Story’, JOHNNY EEVIILL!!!”

Johnny stands to his feet and paces around as the audience boos louder, before leaning against the ropes and relaxing in the corner before the bout.

VASSA: ”The former 4CW Tag Team Champion and two-time 4CW Extreme Champion. Nothing can absolutely stop Johnny Evil into making the finals of the South Beach Brawl Cup. Only this time, he gets his rightful 4CW Championship match and it all start by beating Andre Holmes into a bloody pulp!”

DING!!! DING!!!

Right as the bell sounds off, Andre Holmes bursts out of his corner in a sprint across the ring all the way over to Johnny Evil who is caught by surprise. He lifts his right leg up before it shoots across Evil’s face from the Yakuza Kick in the corner. The audience explodes from Andre’s quick offense as Johnny rolls down to the center of the ring on his back then Holmes climbs all the way to the top turnbuckle. With his back perfectly aiming down at his opponent, he leaps backwards in the air to complete the Phoenix Splash!

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!”

VASSA: ”You gotta be fucking kidding me! This fucking cheating asshole cheap shotting Johnny Evil out of nowhere to get a freakin’ advantage on him. This isn’t a champion, he’s a desperate thug doing anything he can to win the tournament at any cost!”

After landing on the ribs of Evil, he rolls forward onto his feet. Staring around to the thousands of fans who have paid to see action but never expected this. Evil slowly rolls over onto his chest before standing up on his knees. The perfect position for Andre to sidestep across the ring and land that beautiful Thrust Kick striking Evil in the chin therefore knocking him down on the canvas completely.

“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

JOHNSON: ”THRUST KICK! The finishing Thrust Kick blow! Johnny Evil is out cold and here comes Andre Holmes for the pin attempt! This has been an unexpected quick ending nobody saw coming!”

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

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

“Relentless” by New Years Day plays around the interior of the PNC Arena again. The audience respects Andre’s drive to end the match very early and he stands in the center of the ring with his hand raised in the air by the referee. Andre walks over to the nearest corner, stands on the middle turnbuckle and screams into the camera that he’s gonna win the tournament overall.

POWERS: ”Here is your winner, ANDRE HHOOLLMMEESS!!!”

The camera in the backstage area shows a narrow hallway where it is filled with equipment crates and some backstage workers. Walking down the hallway is Andre Holmes still in his in-ring attire with a towel around his neck looking confident after a successful win. He stops before the cameras still breathing heavily but has a giant smile on his face.

HOLMES: ”No. This is not some weird reality or smoke and mirrors. You’re not second guessing what the hell just happened. People thought they paid to see a match and to be honest, I thought I was going to be in for a fight of my life but sometimes even fate can make humorous jokes. Johnny Evil is a swell competitor but he’s reached his end in the company. I said it before, I said it again. I respect Evil but there’s a time and place you have to understand when the end is nigh and that end was just tonight.”

HOLMES: ”You don’t ever think for a second that will be me? No. I’m just getting started. The South Beach Brawl Cup is going to be the tournament that defies me as the next breakout star of 4CW. With great chances on my side and my family being safe, I have absolutely nothing to lose. In the end, there will be one winner and there will be a new 4CW Champion. That man will be Andre Holmes!”

He slaps the camera away and keeps walking down the hall with the camera fading to black.

UNDERCARD
SBBC ROUND ONE
BRODY LEE PRINCE VS. CHRIS MADISON

POWERS: ”The following contest is a first round match up in the South Beach Brawl Cup and is scheduled for one fall…”

The opening notes of Metallica’s “The Memory Remains” begins to play as a simulated sundown on the video board plays as the lights of the arena begin to slowly fade to black, all that remains is the sound of guitar is heard. As the song kicks in full the curtain parts and out steps Brody Lee Prince. Brody Lee is wearing a black leather vest, a black pair of trunks and black boots. He runs his hands through his brown hair then stretches the pad on his elbow out fully, at that point out steps Christopher Wrigley. Wrigley is wearing a suit and tie, as usual, and has an unhappy look on his face as he clutches his briefcase tightly with his lip curled out in disgust. The two begin to walk down towards the ring, Wrigley yells hands off towards any fan that gets too close.

POWERS: “And introducing, lead to the ring by his manager Christopher Wrigley he is ‘Mister Fucking Texas’, BRODY LEE PPRRIINNCCEE!!!”

Brody Lee climbs up onto the ropes and dips into the ring as Wrigley stays on the outside of the ring making sure that not a single human puts a hand on him. In fact, he threatens to sue the camera man if he doesn’t back off with that invasion. Brody Lee stands on the middle turnbuckle and looks out over the crowd as he pulls his lucky chaw out of his mouth and tosses it to the floor below.

VASSA: ”Only steers and queers come from Texas, Steve. And I don’t see any cattle around here.”

JOHNSON: ”Boy I bet nobody has ever heard that joke before.”

VASSA: ”Fuck off, Steve. Don’t you try and shit on my good humor.”

JOHNSON: ”It’s 2018, Vinny. We don’t use the word queer anymore.”

VASSA: ”I CALL IT LIKE I SEE IT STEVE”

JOHNSON: ”Anyway…”

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…

VASSA: ”Queerbait verses the Job Squad tonight, Steve. Boy this sure will be a barn burner I bet.”

JOHNSON: ”You want to die tonight don’t you?”

VASSA: ”Not before I see Genie’s tiddies in the headline match. I’ll die after that.”

JOHNSON: ”I never thought I’d say this but I wish I had Octane’s commentary team instead.”

VASSA: ”YOU TAKE THAT HURTFUL SHIT BACK RIGHT THIS SECOND STEVEN JOHNSON!”

Both Brody and Madison have the rules of the match explained to them briefly as the referee checks each over for foreign objects. Outside the ring, Wrigley tries not to make eye contact with the referee as he totes his briefcase around while making conversation with some of the fans nearby. For the time being the referee leaves him alone and completes his pre-match tasks. After one more check with both men confirming that they were ready to begin, the referee signaled for the bell and the start of the match.

DING!!! DING!!!

Madison, in spite of the fact that he seems to have taken his recent struggles to heart, comes out of the corner with menace in his eyes. Prince, not afraid of him in the least bit, comes forward as well but after missing on a right hand Madison steps inside his range and lifts him up into the air before driving him down to the mat with a powerslam. Quick to show off his mixed martial arts background, Madison transitions into side control and begins driving his knee into the ribcage of Brody Lee Prince over and over again. When Prince tries to power out of it, Madison uses his positioning to stuff the attempt before driving another knee into the ribcage of his opponent. The punishing knees continue until Prince manages to reach the bottom rope nearby, desperately grabbing onto it with his hand until the referee came and forced Madison off of him. When Madison finally obliges the zebra striped official and stands off, giving Prince the space he needs to get back up, the full extent of the damage early on becomes evident as the ribcage of Brody Lee Prince is fire red from the assault by Madison.

VASSA: ”Holy shit. Looks like the job squad remembered he actually knows what the fuck he’s doing.”

JOHNSON: ”But is that a good thing or did he just wake up the monster that is Brody Lee Prince?”

Pulling himself up with the ropes, Prince listens to a few words of advice from Wrigley as he works his way back up to his feet. As Madison approaches once more, Prince turns and jabs a thumb straight to the former Pride champions eyes obscuring his vision right in front of the referee. The official steps in and lectures Brody for a brief moment but Prince shoves him out of the way and plants a stiff kick to Madisons abdomen that doubles him over. A quick irish whip into the ropes soon has Madison moving at full speed towards Brody, who bends forward looking for a back body drop, telegraphing it a bit too early. Madison slams the brakes on at the right moment and drops to a knee, catching Prince straight to the jaw with a big uppercut that stands him straight up. Attacking Prince’s base with low leg kicks, Chris suddenly catches his opponent off guard once more with a big flying knee that flattens Brody. Looking for a quick cover, Madison hooks the leg and the referee slides in.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

A bit of a smirk forms on Madisons lips as he pushes himself back up to his feet while dragging Brody back up as well. A quick whip into the corner sees Prince slam into the turnbuckle pads and rebound back out, his feet wobbly underneath his legs as he came forward. Stepping forward, Madison quickly locked Prince up with a Muay Thai clinch, backing him up into the ropes before delivering more brutal knees to the abdomen of his opponent, the gameplay he had formulated becoming more and more evident by the moment. After another knee connected, Madison turned and charged toward the opposite ropes, bouncing off of them and coming back with a full head of steam with the intent of putting his boot to Brody’s skull. Before he can execute the move, however, Wrigley grabs Brody by the legs and trips him up before dragging him out of the ring and out of harms way. As Wrigley counsels Brody and tries to buy him time to collect himself, Madison laughs to himself for half a second before taking off toward the opposite ropes again. Once more he rebounds and comes back at a tear, leaping over the ropes with a suicide dive aimed for the duo outside the ring. Unfortunately for Chris, Wrigley seemed to have scouted it and managed to pull both himself and Prince out of the way, leaving Madison to crash down to the floor and into the security barricade.

VASSA: ”JESUS CHRIST!”

“One! … Two!”

Wrigley and Prince both stare a bit shocked at the fallen body of Chris Madison while the referee begins counting upward toward ten. Their hesitation only lasts for a moment before Wrigley encourages Brody to go on the attack. It doesn’t take much urging as Prince quickly steps forward toward Madison before helping him back up to his feet. Lowering his shoulder, Brody then rams Madison back into the barricade, driving his shoulder into Madison’s midsection over and over again like a battering ram trying to knock down a door.

“Three! … Four!”

Turning around as Madison rests agains the barricade, Prince shouts at the referee angrily for having the audacity to even both counting either of them out. Their discussion becomes even more heated, intentionally on the part of Brody Lee, while Madison shoves himself away from the barricade and stumbles away slowly. As he does so, with the referee distracted by Brody, Wrigley uses his briefcase and blasts Madison in the face with it, knocking him down onto his back on the floor. Walking away innocently, Wrigley makes his way around the side of the ring as Prince looks over at the downed Madison and finally waves his hands at the referee before moving to Madison and scooping him up, rolling him back into the ring and following suit right after.

JOHNSON: ”How the hell does Wrigley always manage to get away with that kind of nonsense?!”

VASSA: ”Gordy isn’t around to check him.”

The camera shows a visible eye-roll from Johnson before turning back to the actions where Prince is busy hoisting Madison up onto his shoulders before charging forward and planting him into the mat with a running powerslam. Moving a bit more quickly now, but still being cautious of his ribs, Brody ascends the corner turnbuckle to the middle turnbuckle. Clinching his fist, he holds it up for just a moment before dropping it right across the bridge of Madison’s nose. As Madison writhes, clutching his nose, Brody pushes back up to his feet and steps around to the front of Chris’s body, wish boning his legs. In spite of the fact that he received a warning glance from the referee, Brody placed his foot right into Madisons groin and pressed down with his foot like it was a gas pedal. In fact, that’s exactly what he calls the maneuver. The Gas Pedal. Hurriedly the referee comes over and starts shouting at him to knock it off. Prince ignores the man until finally he starts counting upward. One, two, three and four counts come before eventually Brody Lee pulls his foot away.

JOHNSON: ”SERIOUSLY REF! DO YOUR JOB”

VASSA: ”I don’t know if you know this or not, Steve. But referee’s are never any good at doing their job.”

Wrigley, outside the ring, enjoys the work that Brody is doing and is clapping quite contently for his client. In the meantime, Brody hauls Madison upward to a vertical base that’s uneasy as he wobbles on his legs. Winding his arm up, Brody signals for the big spinning lariat he calls tooth-loosener. As he winds up and winds up he finally unleashes all that pent up energy, spinning and looking to take Madisons head clean off his shoulders. BUT MADISON DUCKS UNDER THE LARIAT! Swooping around behind Brody, Madison quickly lifts him up onto his shoulders in an electric chair position. Everything unfolds in rapid succession after that as Madison thrust him up into the air and then lets him free fall back down toward the mat. As Brody falls, Madison locks his arms around Brody’s waist from behind and tosses him down to the mat with a bridging german suplex as the referee slides in to count the pinfall.

JOHNSON: ”END GAME!”

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

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

Wrigley slides into the ring and dives across Madison, breaking up the bridging pinfall attempt just a half second to late. It agitates Madison who quickly pushes himself back up to his feet, having already won the match. Rolling himself out of the ring, Brody falls to the floor while Madison latches onto Wrigley’s head and then tosses him through the ropes, depositing him to the outside of the ring much to the pleasure of the crowd as well. Soon after the referee comes and raises his hand in the air in victory as Powers announces the win.

POWERS: ”Here is your winner… moving on to the second round of the South Beach Brawl Cup… CHRIS MMAADDIISSOONN!!!”

The cameras backstage were in a unlikely atmosphere, the Men’s Restroom. It looked to be empty at first sight until it spun around to see Hopkins at one of the urinals, back of course facing the camera as his head was slightly tilted forward before raising up.

HOPKINS: “Tonight been on some true bullshit yo. I shoulda stayed my ass home!”

Moments later, the flushing of the urinal was heard as Hopkins departed it and walked over towards the sink. There were no handles, just a sensor for you to wave across for the water to come on. Same for the soap dispenser. Hopkins had wet his hands first before going for the soap but as he did, looking up to the wide, streak-free mirror, there was something vile that seemed to stall Hopkins completely as his hands dripped from the water on his hands.

HOPKINS: “What the fu–“

There were no drugs in his system as Hopkins has never been high on the job. He looked behind himself and saw nothing but an empty stall but in the mirror, there stood Viduus Morta, with a straight face, staring at a vulnerable Jair Hopkins. Hopkins quickly went to finish washing his hands and after he did such, the shot in the mirror again was Viduus only this time, flickering like a glitched out animation. He pointed at Jair, as if saying he’s next with the finger point.

HOPKINS: This shit wild!

As he went to move forward to the hand dryer, the lights in the bathroom began flickering on and off, completely startling Hopkins as that dark, gloomy feel was present. The hand dryer was on and off, faucets was pulsating on and off and the urinals in the bathroom were flushing simultaneously.

MORTA: “You belong to me now.”

Hopkins, hearing that voice filling the restroom, he puts on the jets and jets out of the bathroom only to leave it and on the other side, everything was perfectly fine. He took plenty of quick breaths before choosing to walk off and proceed. His hands were still wet from the water. He simply at this point just dried it on the sides of his pants and moved on as things picked back up to the ringside area.

Shifting back to the arena, “Alpha and Omega” by King 810 begins to play as the lights go out.

VASSA: “Uh oh…”

JOHNSON: ”Well, folks, it looks like our new XTV Champion is deciding to grace us with his presence.”

VASSA: “He doesn’t even have a match tonight.”

JOHNSON: ”Which makes me wonder what he has to say.”

As Cyrus appears from behind the curtain, blue hues surround him while he surveys the crowd with his XTV Championship draped over the shoulder of his all black suit jacket. His confident stride intact, Riddle approaches the ring, stopping briefly to interact with some of the jeering fans, holding his title up to their faces as he mockingly laughs at them, while others who are cheering reach out to touch the hand of the Impaler.

Placing the belt on the apron, he slides it in to the center before rolling underneath the bottom rope himself, straightening his ensemble up after retrieving his achievement and holding it in his hand. After an abrupt illumination, he takes a microphone from the time keeper and stands center ring.

RIDDLE: ”First and foremost, let me state right now that it feels bloody good to be holding a championship again.”

He’s met with a mixed reaction, and with a smirk back, he continues.

RIDDLE: ”At Retrograde, I bled and sweat for this championship, just as I have for any other one that I have held. But the XTV, it was special. My first singles title in 4CW, and long overdue at that. Just as I said walking into Houston, five other people fell and I took the crown. I set out to claim my spot, and I did that with a kiss and a gentle push. Oh so poetic, yeah?”

RIDDLE: “The stitches, the throbs of fresh wounds, they never felt so glorious. The red painting the canvas and my clothes, the recurring flashbacks of watching your former Queen of Extreme fall to the floor while I took the very accomplishment that she yearned for and overzealously accepted challenge to, played like a movie. It was brilliance, it was strategy, it was a need to give this championship a holder that was actually worthy… and here I am.”

Riddle takes the title and shoves it into the lens of the camera.

RIDDLE: ”See this, cunts? This is just the beginning, but it is your end, and in a very short amount of time we will be gifted the foresight of who my next victim will be, whether it’s Kimitsu Zombie or Nurse Kinsley. However, I’m out here to tie up loose ends.”

JOHNSON: ”Loose ends, what?”

RIDDLE: ”So, with that being said. Navaeh, CeeJay, Gordy, and Freedumb… your presence is demanded out here right now.”

All attention turned to the entryway once more, where all four appear at once to no music. Ambivalence in Indica’s face, blissful ignorance in CeeJay’s, retardation in Gordy’s, and stupidity in Freedumb’s, they slowly make their way down.

RIDDLE: ”I said now, you knobs, hurry the fuck up.”

As though being pushed by a rushing force, the four rush to the ring and step in, side by side, across from Riddle. He walks up to each one, staring them in their eyes, except for CeeJay whom Cyrus backs up from since the top of his head would hit Riddle’s ball bag.

RIDDLE: ”Doing alright? Feel good about yourselves? You numpties made pay per view as well. You should be proud. Surprise entrants…”

Cyrus looks to the mat. Standing in front of CeeJay, laughing into the microphone before suddenly raising his leg with ease and leveling the midget with a kick to the face.

RIDDLE: ”In my bloody match! What for? CeeJay wanted some shine? Gordy needed a new glove? Indica needed weed money? Huh? What about you Freedumb? In the market for a new dog?”

An enraged look fills Riddle’s eyes as he glares daggers into Freedumb’s face, jabbing him in the throat and knowing him in the face, causing blood to pour from his nostrils.

RIDDLE: ”You want to make a mockery of my championship, do ya?!”

Riddle drops the mic and field goal kicks Freedumb in the face, rendering him unconscious as Indica and Gordy attempt to flee the ring. Gordy’s portly being manages to get out, but tumbles to the floor while Riddle grabs Navaeh by the hair and pulls her to the center of the ring, quickly disposing of her with a Purge.

VASSA: “Oh my god, this is great!!!”

Seeing Gordy get to his feet and pull up his trunks, Riddle picks up CeeJay and stands back a bit, lawn darting him out of the ring and into the chest of the fat piece of shit, knocking him to the ground. Immediately, Riddle exits the ring and looks underneath, pulling out a cheese grater. He holds it in the air for all to see before shoving it into Gordy’s face and grinding his flesh, with blood beginning to pour from the multiple lacerations.

JOHNSON: “Now this is just sickening.”

Screams of agony escape Gordy as Riddle takes one final rake down the fat man’s face, then turning his attention back to a stirring Indica and Freedumb. He rolls back in, taking his XTV Championship and blasting Freedumb over the head with it, smiling at the imbecile’s lifeless form. Then, with one final display, he lays the belt down on the mat and hoists Naveah over his shoulder, coming down into a piledriver.

VASSA: “DARKNESS FALLS!”

Riddle grabs the woman by the hair and hastily yanks her off of the title before holding it once more, closing his eyes, and taking a deep breath. Once composed, grabs the mic again.

RIDDLE: ”From here on, no more shenanigans. This isn’t a circus, and I’m not about to play ringleader to a midget, a clown, a bearded lady, and a dog boy. This right here is the 4CW XTV Championship. I, Cyrus Riddle, am your champion. You either come correct, or you don’t bother. Integrity will be restored to this belt, you will see a fighting champion, and I will spill every pint of blood from everyone that crosses my path. Consider any and all challengers, my personal sacrifices. Signed, the Crooked Kingdom’s Impaler.”

Riddle throws the mic from the ring and exits, stepping on Gordy’s face as he heads to the back, walking backward to enjoy the scene of his destruction. Once he reaches the curtain, he holds the title up high.

The camera is rolling on a empty wall before Anastasia Hayden walks by, nearly walking off the frame before catching herself, and rolling back into the center of the scene. She takes off her sunglasses, which she may or may not have stolen from Bronx, and looks at the camera with a half-grin on her face.

HAYDEN: ”South Beach Brawl Cup starts tonight. Bronx starts his next batch of title defenses. And I get to start my run in the tournament by kicking Alexis Mercer’s ass. I’ll admit that I was pretty soured about this when I got my draw, I was actually hoping for someone a bit more challenging like Chris Madison or Genie, but instead, I got Alexis. After beating her three times, you can understand why I’d be a bit disinterested in that. Sure, the South Beach Brawl Cup is cool and the 4CW Championship is whatever, but Alexis Mercer?”

She shoots the camera an exaggerated roll of the eyes.

HAYDEN: ”Whatever, man. I honestly don’t care. I’m heading out there to do what they ask of me every other week and that’s to win. To show why I’m one of the best here in 4CW. I know for the next few weeks everyone’s going to be foaming at the mouth to say how I lost to Bronx Valescence…but I don’t think I’ve seen too many of your main eventing against him for the 4CW Championship, so why don’t you all do me a favor and sit the fuck down?”

Ana gives a thumbs up for the camera..

HAYDEN: ”I understand a lot of people are going to be cutting the same shit, the ‘Oh, I’m going to be the one who beats Bronx!’ or ‘I’ll be the winner of this all!’ shit. But you won’t. I will. There’s only one person in this tournament who is going to give me a hard time and once I get past him, there’s no one on the other side of that bracket who has a chance of stopping me. But I do hope that it’s one of the Crooked Kingdom boys that I get to beat at the end of the tunnel. Really eager to see what you goons are going to bring to the table!”

A fake look of excitement from Ana before rolling her eyes again.

HAYDEN: ”Yeah, right. Anyways, let’s get back to the important topic at hand. Me! And tonight I’m getting my first round bye. I’ll be waltzing right into the second round and then as long as Bronx keeps up his end of the deal, I’ll be seeing him in a few weeks time. So Mercer? Do your best. Honestly. Don’t give me the same shit that you gave me the last three times. I’m serving you up a fastball and I want you to knock it out of the park…”

There’s a bit of hope in Ana’s voice as she says it, but a shake of the head reaffirms what she already knows.

HAYDEN: ”But you can’t. When it’s actually time to step up and be a big girl in the spotlight…you fail. You’ve obviously got to understand why I laugh when you try and threaten me. When Alexis Mercer says she’s going to beat me, well, I just can’t believe it. I don’t have to prove anything tonight. I get you’re really excited at the prospect of facing Bronx and climbing out of the depths you’ve sunk so far down to…but focus on the person in front of you. If you can’t beat me, you aren’t ready for Bronx.”

The mention brings a smirk to Ana’s face.

HAYDEN: ”And we know you aren’t ready for me. So don’t feel too bad about losing tonight. It was always meant for me to advance to the second round tonight. But hey, on the bright side? There’s always next year, Alexis.”

With that, Ana pulls her sunglasses back down and mockingly points some dual finger guns toward the camera before heading off as we cut elsewhere in the arena.

UNDERCARD
XTV CHAMPIONSHIP CONTENDERSHIP
NO HOLES BARRED

NURSE KINSLEY VS. KIMITSU ZOMBIE

One of the matches that the audience were all riled up to see especially after the HUGE BOMBSHELL that Nurse Kinsley had dropped concerning Kimitsu and a huge life changing secret being revealed due to the devilish pettiness that Kinsley had unintentionally found out, but it was still a win in her book. The lights dim, with rare flashes of red, as “Your Weakness Gives Me Life” by Le Butcherettes begins to play. Nurse Kinsley drags herself down the entry ramp, stumbling and staring off into space. Occasionally she stops, looking out into the crowd with a head tilt or a focused gaze, but then continues wandering toward the ring with no incident.

POWERS: “Making her way to the ring, from Shaker Heights, Ohio… NURSE KKIINNSSLLEEYY!!!”

Kinsley slides beneath the bottom rope, crawling toward the nearest turnbuckle. She slumps into the corner, eyes wide and wandering, her expression vacant. She sits like this for several seconds before grabbing the middle ropes and hoisting herself to her feet while Vassa just stares with his mouth hanging open like a trap door as he thinks back to what Kinsley had revealed to the world earlier tonight.

JOHNSON: “Nurse Kinsley seems to have no remorse for the personal information that she shared with the world and I have no doubt in my mind that Kimitsu is trying to put it out of her head so that she can focus on the match.”

VASSA: “That’s one hell of a thing to pretend to forget before a match, Steve. Hell, there aint no way Kimitsu can just act like she didn’t hear what she heard. If she doesn’t tear Kinsley to shreds tonight for that then she isn’t the woman I thought her to be.”

JOHNSON: “That’s not something that you can just process in sixty seconds or even thirty minutes.”

VASSA: “No excuses, I expect to see blood.”

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.

“MIGIKATA!

IREZUMI!

AGEKATA!

ZANZOU!”

Kimitsu Zombie darts out of the entrance way in her bosozoku uniform carrying a bottle of shochu with an enraged expression that the camera quickly zooms in on.

POWERS: “Now, weighing in at one hundred twenty-five pounds and hailing from Kimitsu, Japan it’s 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 but doesn’t have that usual grin plastered on her face as she climbs a turnbuckle, her head barely bobbing to the music.

“MIGIKATA!

IREZUMI!

AGEKATA!

ZANZOU!”

She takes a long chug of shochu and screams with her tongue out. She jumps down into the ring to wait while sipping from her shochu bottle while Kinsley stares across the ring at Kimitsu with satisfaction that Kimitsu appeared to be affected by the breaking, unraveling news. Kimitsu doesn’t even wait for the bell as she charges across the ring to tackle Kinsley to the mat, mounting her as she rains down blow after blow onto Kinsley’s face, putting her unbridled rage into action as the referee quickly calls for the bell to officially start the match.

DING!!! DING!!!

JOHNSON: “Kimitsu wasting no time as she takes out all of her frustrations and anger on the cunning Kinsley who isn’t able to fight back against the fast blows.”

VASSA: “Speaking of blow… what all do you think that Kinsley did with Kimitsu’s Uncle… ummm, her old man? What do you think are in those pictures and that video? Kinsley looks like the type that frowns down on missionary and goes for the more flexible positions.”

JOHNSON: “Kinsley rolls Kimitsu on her back to try to gain the upper hand but Kimitsu is fired up and ends back on top of Kinsley with those punches to the face. You can see all the emotions on poor Kimitsu’s face and-”

VASSA: “Yeah yeah yeah, we get it, she’s pissed. But about this video… what would you rate it? You think it’s a high 4 or that it might be on Paris Hilton’s sex tape level? Never mind, Hilton’s was average at best. You think Kinsley dressed up as something else besides a nurse?”

JOHNSON: “After struggling to evade Kimitsu’s strikes, Kinsley finds her footing and grabs the advantage with a dropdown neckbreaker.”

VASSA: “Are you SERIOUSLY ignoring my important questions?!”

Kinsley had so much excitement in her eyes as her actions practically scream with triumph while an angry Kimitsu tries to do all she can to take Kinsley’s head off for the disrespect low that Kinsley was willing to go to announce that public slap to the face. Kimitsu is trying to choke the life out of Kinsley before dragging her over to the turnbuckle post to slam her head into it repeatedly until Kinsley gets a foot up against the turnbuckle to stop Kimitsu, driving her elbow into her face and instead slamming Kimitsu’s head into the post before landing a few more elbow strikes to the face.

Kinsley then shoves Kimitsu backwards the same time that Kimitsu shoves her, sending Kinsley into the ropes. Kimitsu charges and Kinsley quickly hooks her arms around the ropes as Kimitsu collides into her, sending both other the ropes but only Kimitsu hits the ground down below as Kinsley holds onto the ropes before stepping onto the apron to jump down. The audience rains down disapproving boos aimed at Kinsley as she grabs Kimitsu by the hair to pull her onto her feet but ends up taking a few steps back from Kimitsu jabbing her right in the stomach. Kinsley drives her foot into the side of Kimitsu’s face menacingly before grabbing her by the hair to yank onto her feet and lead her to the ring so that she can roll her back in.

VASSA: “All I’m saying is if some whore told me that she not ONLY fucked someone in my family but the man was actually my father? I wouldn’t be sitting here getting my ass handed to me by that same whore to add to my public embarrassment. If Kimitsu loses, won’t this shame her family or something?”

JOHNSON: “It’s easy to say that Kimitsu’s emotions have probably gotten the better of her and it’s hard for her to focus entirely like she normally would with something as big as that information hanging over her head like a dark cloud. I still have my money on Kimitsu, she’s managed to come out on top even with the odds stacked against her.”

VASSA: “Speaking of coming and being on top…”

The two women are trying to psych the other out inside the ring as Kinsley takes a rushed step forward and kicks at Kimitsu, who quickly grabs that leg into the air and has the audience cheering loudly when she turns it into a dragon screw. Kinsley is quickly on her feet and dashing forward towards Kimitsu and seems to say some things to throw Kimitsu off her game but it does not but infuriate her as Kimitsu moves quickly and within seconds has Kinsley staring up at her with a shocked expression from Kimitsu’s tilt-a-while headscissors.

Kinsley had wanted a brutal battle on her hands but she also thought that Kimitsu might be too rattled or messed up to be hitting back like this. Although the emotion showed through Kimitsu’s strikes, she refused to allow herself to become sloppy and knew that she couldn’t allow this scandal to get to her so much that it would end up being the downfall in the match. Kinsley grabs Kimitsu’s ankles and yanks back with all of her might to send Kimitsu on her back as Kinsley is scrambling onto her feet and goes for Kimitsu’s ankle but Kimitsu sends both of her feet into Kinsley’s face.

Standing onto her feet, Kimitsu backhands the living hell and nine demons out of Kinsley before yanking her towards her to get her into a headlock. Dragging her while applying pressure, Kimitsu shows no signs of letting go and is acting as if she wants to choke Kinsley to death even though she knew that she could do much more harm that would be ten times deadlier. Kinsley digs her elbow into Kimitsu’s midsection and as soon as she rises up straight, Kimitsu kicks her dead in the face.

JOHNSON: “I think I hear a kid crying…”

VASSA: “Oh please, I’m pretty sure that little brat knew who his father was all along, he’s just on the longest milk run to the store in his life and his sad life is nowhere near similar to Kimitsu’s. If the kid is crying missing his dad, I’m sure Dakota would love to adopt him.”

Kimitsu was on fire as she ducks and dodges Kinsley’s swings, diving towards her to wrap her arms around Kinsley’s abdomen to take her down to the mat with her before rising up and going for a half boston crab. But she wasn’t getting the screams out of Kinsley that she wanted to hear so after a few moments, she breaks the hold and instead pulls Kinsley up to her feet sends her flying with a choke toss that Kinsley’s body misses by a half an inch to the disappointment of Kimitsu. That doesn’t stop her though as Kimitsu quickly irish whips Kinsley into the turnbuckle and as soon as Kinsley runs into it, Kimitsu dashes forward and sails into the air as her feet plant into Kinsley’s back with a dropkick.

Kinsley’s eyes close tightly as she drops to the mat and holds her back in intense pain while Kimitsu can’t even smile victoriously because that is nowhere near what she really wants to do to Kinsley. She has played in her mind so many different scenarios that would leave Kinsley withering around in pain but she doesn’t have time for fantasy as she focuses on beating Kinsley down in reality. Trying to pull Kinsley to her feet, Kimitsu is taken by surprise when Kinsley suddenly grabs Kimitsu by the head and goes down into a jawbreaker that has Kimitsu stumbling backwards. On her feet, Kinsley advances towards her prey and has to fight through Kimitsu’s swinging punches to get the upper with an arm trap neckbreaker.

VASSA: “I’m about ready for Kimitsu to turn into a dragon like Liu Kang and attack Kinsley like she’s Shang Tsung. Wouldn’t that make Kimitsu’s Un-err Father the dead brother of Liu Kang? Instead he isn’t dead though, but you get the point.”

Kimitsu attacks with knee strikes in the gut and sharp disrespectful slaps to the face until Kinsley ends up having to swing to get Kimitsu to back up so that Kinsley can hoist herself up onto the turnbuckle. A knee to the face has Kimitsu more caught off guard than on her guard as Kinsley grabs the advantage and goes for a tornado DDT. Kimitsu sits up and a sharp knee to the face lay Kimitsu back on the mat as Kinsley goes for the cover.

ONE

.

.

TW–KICKOUT!!!

JOHNSON: “Kinsley was close to having this match won but Kimitsu still has enough fight in her and every bit of determination to not allow Kinsley to get another laugh over her tonight.”

VASSA: “Kimitsu better pull out one of those high priced swords or something because Kinsley looks to have knocked the life force out of her.”

Kimitsu is in a slight daze as Kinsley wastes no time with going for a jumping DDT and then runs for the ropes and is just in time with a handspring enzuigiri to be a success right when Kimitsu has fully just gotten back onto her feet. Kimitsu gets onto her feet too quickly in an effort to appear strong and to show Kinsley that she refused to go down as she charges her, going for a hurricanrana that goes into a direct pin but a kickout from Kinsley before the referee’s hand can even touch the mat.

The two women spend the next few moments involved in a drag out fight all around the ring with trading punches and kicks, going from trying to match blows to trying to put down the other when Kimitsu sees an opportunity and takes it, going for the Trip To The Grave-NO!!!! An unexpected counter by the sly Kinsley and once she’s back onto her feet, she takes Kimitsu down with a twisting crossbody. Kinsley is pulling Kimitsu to her feet and the audience is going crazy with the loud boos at the successful Sobredosis that has Kinsley going for the pin immediately.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

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

POWERS: ”And herre is your winner, NURSE KKIINNSSLLEEYY!!!”

Vassa is being extra that Kimitsu actually lost to the very woman that outed Aokigahara’s secret earlier tonight and the fans are extremely upset that Kinsley is able to brag about how she completely ruined Kimitsu’s night with a verbal assault followed by a victorious physical one.

Backstage the camera fades in on the locker room area. For a few long moments the hallway is empty. Slowly, in the background, the sound of footsteps can be heard. After a few more seconds a familiar face enters the scene. Aidan Carlisle is dressed and ready for her match, but it seems… she has some deliveries to make?

Under one arm a large box of grape Uncrustables is tucked. There’s a big golden bow on top at that. She scans the locker rooms, checking the names that adorn each one, but can’t find who she is after. She makes a little face, thinking out loud.

CARLISLE: “Where the hell is it, in the bathroom? …That would actually make sense I guess.”

She shuffles the box of Uncrustables from one hand into the other and digs in her pocket, withdrawing a rather small object. Finding the door labeled Alessandro Quagliaterre, she tapes the object to it. As she steps away the camera can see that it’s a Starbuck’s gift card.

A tech passes by and Aidan grabs his arm to ask him a question. The answer he gives makes her arch a brow and shake her head, but the overworked tech hurries off on his way, obviously having something important to do. Aidan moves over to the door simply labeled “other” and gives a firm knock. After several long moments, there is no answer at all.

CARLISLE: “Of course.”

She gives a second knock, just to be sure that she’s not going to barge in on someone, then carefully cracks open the door. When there’s no protests from within, she opens it a bit wider, just enough to get the box of Uncrustables inside, and then closes it once more. Checking up and down the hall to be sure no one saw, she then heads on her way.

UNDERCARD
SBBC ROUND ONE
ALEXIS MERCER VS. ANASTASIA HAYDEN

JOHNSON: ”Up next we have two ladies who are no stranger to one another in the ring.”

VASSA: ”Alexis Mercer and Anastasia Hayden, going head to head in the first round of the South Beach Brawl Cup!”

JOHNSON: ”These two have quite the history with one another and tonight will add another layer to it, in possibly the biggest meeting these two have had to date.”

VASSA: ”Of course this is their biggest match! It’s the Cup where the winner not only gets two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, but they also win the 4CW Championship!”

Arena lights go down allowing spotlights to take over.

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

The start of “Nightmare” by Nyxx plays over the sound system. Interference soon interrupts the live video feed and transitions where one minute there’s the upper-levels of the crowd and the next is a shadowy woman walking down a dark and empty hall. Within seconds, the Anti-Starlet logo appears across screens. Once everything gets back to normal Alexis appears in the audience before walking down the stairs heading toward the ring in a timely manner. Her eyes focused on the ring as she moved passed multiple hands from the audience in the arena.

POWERS: ”Ladies and gentlemen. Residing from Salem, New York, weighing in at one hundred and ten pounds, she is the ‘Anti-Starlet’, ALEXIS MMEERRCCEERR!!!”

Alexis reaches the barricade and stops. Her eyes survey her surroundings giving it one last glance while tightening her fingerless glove straps then with rather swift, the Anti-Starlet hops over the barricade. She starts circling the ring until reaching halfway and pulls herself up to the apron and enters the ring. Once there Alexis heads to her side of the ring and gets her upper body on the outside while swinging her lower half onto the middle rope, where she sits on the middle rope with her arms and legs crossed.

JOHNSON: ”Alexis is coming off a tough loss to Andre Holmes at Retrograde but she can quickly turn things around with a win here tonight.”

VASSA: ”Not just any win, but a one way ticket into round two where the possibilities are endless.”

JOHNSON: ”She has a history with Ana. She’s been in the ring with her on more than one occasion. She needs to utilize that here tonight to put the former 4CW Championship contender down.”

VASSA: ”We’ve seen her dark side. If she can channel that here, who knows what will happen.”

“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.

POWERS: ”And the opponent!”

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.

DING!!! DING!!!

Alexis Mercer and Anastasia Hayden stare each other down, as the bell rings. The time for talk is over, as this match in the South Beach Brawl Cup is underway! The match begins as Ana slowly walks out from her corner. Alexis Mercer circles around Ana, keeping her distance as Ana watches on. Alexis comes out first, shooting for a takedown. Ana quickly moves towards Alexis, cutting off her takedown attempt with ease. Alexis ducks out, pushing Ana into the corner instead. Alexis lashes out, a few forearm strikes connect as Alexis attempts to change levels with a shoulder block. Alexis lands some stiff shoulders into Ana’s stomach, before allowing her to fall down to the mat.

Alexis quickly tries to move in, wanting to continue her assault on Ana. Ana gets back up, and connects with a Scorpion Kick that Alexis didn’t see coming! Alexis grabs her face, trying to get her balance, but Ana lands a stiff kick to the side of her head. Ana takes a moment, as Alexis tries to recover quickly. Alexis scrambles to her feet, rushing towards the ropes. She charges at Ana on the rebound, but Ana ducks and runs the ropes as well. Both competitors meet in the middle of the ring, Ana catching Alexis with a Spinning Wheel Kick! The move connects beautifully, sending Alexis out of the ring for the moment!

JOHNSON: ”And out goes Alexis!”

VASSA: ”Luckily for her, this isn’t a throw out of the ring elimination match.”

JOHNSON: ”That’s right it isn’t! The only way to win here tonight is to either pin or force your opponent into submission.”

Alexis stumbles out of the ring, leaning against the barricade for a moment. Ana quickly leaves the ring, not wanting to let this match extend on for much longer. She tries to attack Alexis, who fights back with a series of strikes and a knee to Ana’s stomach. With Ana doubled over, Alexis quickly sends her into the nearby steel steps! Ana lands hard, crashing into the steps as Alexis gets back into the ring. The crowd here boos her, as Ana tries to get back up. Alexis quickly leaves the ring, looking to bring Ana back into the ring to pin her.

Alexis finally gets Ana back into the ring, but Ana is already crawling on her hands and knees. Alexis, not deterred by this, looking for an opportunity. Ana tries getting back up, just as Alexis pulls her into a Cradle Piledriver! Ana lands hard, as Alexis quickly covers her for the pinfall!

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

Alexis looks annoyed, as Patrick Murphy tells her it’s only a two count. Alexis continues her assault, stomping away at the back of Ana’s head. Ana is trying to get back to her feet, but Alexis is making it tough. She picks Ana up again, pulling her right into a Standing Shiranui! The move seems to catch everyone off guard, as Ana lays there on the mat. Alexis isn’t finished, she rushes to the corner, and in one fluid motion connects with a Moonsault on her opponent! Alexis is trying to get a win right now! She quickly covers Ana yet again!

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

Alexis yells at Patrick Murphy for counting too slowly, he jaws back with her for a moment. Alexis briefly takes her eyes off of Ana, as Ana crawls back to her knees. Alexis turns back to her opponent, who quickly tries to roll her up into an inside cradle! Alexis easily gets out of it though, getting back to her feet. Ana tries for a High Roundhouse Kick, but Alexis ducks under it. Alexis hits the ropes, looking for the 20 Eyes, but Ana sidesteps and sends her stumbling into the ropes! Alexis stays there, for a moment as she’s caught up, but Ana quickly connects with a Running Bicycle Knee to the back of Alexis’ head!

Alexis falls back into the ring, as Ana grabs her pulling her into a Northern Lights Suplex. Alexis hits the mat hard, but still has some fight left in her! She knocks Ana backwards, connecting with a Dropkick that sends Ana to the mat! Ana gets back up, and Alexis knocks her down again with another Dropkick! Ana gets back up, and finally ducks a third Dropkick from Alexis. Alexis tries a Russian Leg Sweep, Ana fights out of that and drives a knee into the ribs of Alexis Mercer! With Alexis stunned Ana easily connects with a Switchblade Kick!

Ana looks to the crowd, who look fired up to see her like this. She wants to take the match in her control, as Alexis stays on the ground for a moment. Ana readies up, as Alexis crawls to the ropes. Ana quickly charges, but Alexis grabs the top rope as she tries to send Ana spilling to the outside again. Ana adjusts quickly, landing on the ring apron feet first. Alexis figures this out, turning to attack her. Ana connects with a Leaping Enziguri that stuns Alexis! Alexis is pulled to the ring apron, standing in front of Ana. Ana quickly lifts her opponent up, driving her onto the ring apron with a DRAGON SUPLEX!!

JOHNSON: ”Right onto the apron!”

VASSA: ”She’s going to be feeling that one in the morning.”

JOHNSON: ”Quite possibly even longer than that.”

The two fall to the mat, Alexis having taken the brunt of the move there. Ana tries her best to get back up, before Patrick Murphy starts his count. The crowd can’t believe what they just saw, as a replay shows just how brutal the suplex was. Alexis isn’t moving much, but Ana is up to her feet. She grabs her opponent, the crowd cheering her on as she lifts her up and pushes her into the ring! They can sense a win here, as Ana scurries over to cover her for the pinfall!

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THR–KICKOUT!!!

Ana looks up at Patrick Murphy, who tells Ana that Alexis did indeed kick out! Ana nods, knowing that it won’t take much to end this right now. She backs up, waiting in the corner for her opponent to get back up to her feet. Alexis slowly gets up, staggering up to her feet. Ana looks on, letting out a wolf howl, as she charges towards Alexis and connects with She Was Only Seventeen! It lands flush, as Alexis turns inside out as she lands hard on the mat. Ana quickly moves in, covering her for the pinfall!

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

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

VASSA: ”Onto the second round for Ana!”

JOHNSON: ”You saw it here first ladies and gentlemen. After some back and forth action between these two ladies, Anastasia has pulled it off and will indeed be advancing to round two.”

“Shook Ones” (Part II) hits the speakers as Ana rises to her feet. With a cocky grin on her face, she looks down to Alexis before popping her head up and yelling out to the crowd. Stepping in beside her, the official raises her arm into the air, declaring her the official victor in tonight’s match up.

POWERS: ”Here is your winner, ANASTASIA HHAAYYDDEENN!!!”

Jair, looking probably the most relaxed he been the whole night, had the 4CW Pride Title along with him as well (maybe for a weapon?). As he stood in the lower backstage area where the television monitors were, he was awaiting his stablemate Dakota Smith match while periodically looking around to make sure nothing crazy was going on. Gabriel Hartman entered himself into the picture, that trusty mic in hand as he had a welcoming smile for Hopkins as the two shook hands briefly.

HARTMAN: “Jair, what does it do, buddy? Enjoying the ‘off-night’?”

Hopkins gave a slight nod, possibly a fake-ish smile as well in response.

HOPKINS: “You can say that again. Night has been truly something else.”

HARTMAN: “I see you have that glorious Pride Title on your shoulder. Any idea to whom should be the next challenger up?”

Hopkins looked over to Hartman, a sly grin showed on his face as he slowly shook his head.

HOPKINS: “They vowed for Alessandro to be my first defense and with all that back talk, he failed. Yeah, he had some good moments in that match but that’s all he walked away with in the end, good moments…not the title. I don’t honestly care, Gabriel to be honest who comes next. Its so much talent on Adrenaline that it can downright be anybody. I mean hell, even though we are like on the same team, Kimitsu still got her rematch clause for this. I mean, you got the uprising Mark Storm, Genie, Aidan Carlisle, Johnny Evil, Holmes, Brody, Mad Dog, Chris Madison even just to name a few. I mean the field is stack but I am ready for whomever wants these 10’s up their crack. I’m willing.”

HOPKINS: “Everyone is going to say I slacked against Alessandro, showing weakness. I want them to come to try and test those weak spots and show me where I’m most vulnerable. They feelin lucky, let it be known who’s next up for this baby right here! I ain’t hiding nowh–“

Just then the monitor that Jair was staring at twitches and the lights go out. Jair, nor Hartman are visible only the white monitor that should be showing Adrenaline but only shows static and fills the room with white noise prior to going completely white.

*Click*

*Click*

*Click*

The steps from Viduus Morta’s boots clicked and clacked until he was at the forefront of the monitor. In his hand he held a rope that he was spinning in a circle with each step. Finally, in the center of the monitor, surround by a white floor, white light and looking extremely confident he points.

MORTA: “Pride goeth before the fall.”

Viduus raises his hand up showing the rope is actually a noose as a loud “HA!” from Viduus causes the lights to flick back on and the TV to return to Adrenaline. Hartman is nowhere to be found . Jair Hopkins, however, has the noose around his neck, loosened only to show Jair that Viduus could have had him at any moment in the night.

UNDERCARD
SBBC ROUND ONE
DAKOTA SMITH VS. AIDAN CARLISLE

POWERS: ”The following contest is set for one fall. Introducing first…”

“Blood underneath my nails, I think I’m losing it

Dead hooker to my left, an upside down crucifix

Get my fix from fucking dead hoes and these opiates

Killin’ ’em all, I’ll never fall

I get a rush from stalking bad bitches

Collecting teeth and fingernails to add to my shrine

These voices in my head are telling me you have to die”

“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 any time 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. Dakota 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 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. Dakota 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.

POWERS: ”And his opponent…”

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

“This is war time, this is our time

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

This is go time, this is showtime

We will fight ’til their wills are broken

This is game time, and insane time

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

Find the power, to devour

Let the beast inside now be woken

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

“In this world only the strong will survive

Hear the roar and you will know you’re alive

Feel the energy build in your soul

‘Cause it’s time

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

“Oh, In the calm before the storm

Another legend will be born

Another battle will be won

We will rise

Oh, So heed the call of confrontation

Today we feed on domination

Secure a legacy that will never die

Be immortalized”

Aidan turns in a slow circle, gesturing for the audience to give her more before she takes off her jacket and tosses it into the timekeeper’s area. The referee checks with both corners and then calls for the bell.

JOHNSON: “Well here we have it folks, another first round match for the South Beach Brawl Cup!”

VASSA: “The SBBC? You mean the Super Big Black Cock?”

JOHNSON: “No, Vinnie, that’s not what I mean.”

DING!!! DING!!!

The pair circle for a few moments before locking up. Dakota looks for a collar and elbow, but Aidan goes low and uses the momentum to drive Dakota back to the corner. She drives her shoulder into his ribs several times, hammering him into the turnbuckles with the force before popping up from her feet and catching his head for a quick frankensteiner out of the corner. She follows all the way through and lands in a mounted position for a flurry of elbow strikes.

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

At the end of the barrage Dakota sits up and delivers a headbutt. Aidan rocks back on her heels, then throws herself forward and answers with a headbutt of her own! Both competitors roll backward into a crouch before throwing themselves at one another once again. Dakota hits a European uppercut and follows up with a quick powerslam. He holds on and goes right into the cover.

JOHNSON: “An early pin attempt from Dakota.”

VASSA: “Surely it’s not going to work.”

ONE

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

VASSA: “Told ya.”

Aidan gets the shoulder up with ease and rolls backward once again to create some distance as she gets to her feet. Smith lunges in for a clothesline, but Carlisle ducks under and pops up behind him for a backstabber! She quickly transitions around into an STF! She cranks back on the submission maneuver, putting pressure on Smith’s neck. Dakota reaches for the ropes, but his hand comes up shy. He tries to pry Aidan’s grip loose, but to no avail. He stretches toward the ropes again, but still can’t quite get it.

For a moment it looks like Dakota is about to tap, but he digs in and manages to pull himself forward the tiniest bit. He stretches his arm as far as he can… and he gets his fingers on the bottom rope! The referee calls for the break, and Aidan is forced to let go. As soon as both are back on their feet Dakota fires off a standing dropkick. Aidan kips up and makes a move, but Dakota hits a side-step lariat as he evades.

JOHNSON: “Quick thinking there by Smith.”

VASSA: “I bet he learned that dodging diaper duty.”

Smith gets in a few stomps to the midsection and inside of the knee before Carlisle rolls away, all the way under the bottom rope. The referee starts to instruct her to get back in the ring, but Aidan is already in motion. She leaps up, launches off of the rope with her feet, and hits a springboard flying forearm smash that brings Dakota down! She wastes no time going for a pin of her own.

ONE

.

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TWO

.

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KICKOUT!!!

Smith gets the shoulder up with a quickness and shoves the smaller competitor off of him forcefully.

JOHNSON: “A pin attempt from Carlisle now, but still no dice.”

VASSA: “Dice? What, are we in Las Vegas? No one told me.”

As soon as Smith is on his feet he hits a running knee lift! With Aidan on the mat he places his foot across her throat for a choke. The referee warns him against the move, but he ignores the official. The ref starts the count and gets to practically 4.999 before Smith releases the choke to avoid disqualification. Dakota drops right back into the ropes and hits a running senton.

Aidan rolls to the corner and pulls herself up. Dakota charges from behind, but Aidan sidesteps at the last second and Smith drills himself right into the turnbuckles. Carlisle steps back and cracks Dakota in the back of the head with a spinning back elbow. When Smith starts to teeter out of the corner she hooks his head for a swinging neckbreaker and goes for the pin again!

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

JOHNSON: “Here we go again, but the match is still going. Dakota gets the shoulder up once more.”

VASSA: “Wait… wait, what’s this?”

Before Aidan is able to put some distance between them he gets a fistful of her hair and holds her in place as he stands. He yanks her forward, heaving her up onto his shoulders and hitting the Dovah Death Drop! He slides around for the pin and the referee slides in for the count.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

JOHNSON: “Carlisle gets the shoulder up after the Dovah Death Drop!”

VASSA: “I don’t think Dakota liked it, either. There’s malice in his eyes.”

JOHNSON: “When is there not?”

Dakota looks frustrated, and slowly gets to his feet. As soon as Aidan is up he grabs her wrist, whipping her into the ropes. Carlisle rebounds and ducks under a clothesline attempt. She rebounds again and Dakota hits his The Spectrum running knee strike! As soon as Carlisle hits the canvas again, Smith is there for another pin.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

Both the audience and Dakota are shocked as Aidan kicks out again.

VASSA: “Good God almighty, she did it again!”

JOHNSON: “I don’t know how, Vinnie, but she did! Aidan kicked out again.”

VASSA: “Dakota isn’t going to let that slide.”

Smith stands and starts to reach down, but Aidan whips a foot up for a kick square to the face. She takes Dakota down with a chop block, giving herself time to get to her feet and head to a corner. As soon as Smith is on his feet, she leaps off for a diving back elbow! Before Dakota can stand she drops a knee into his chest, and another one right into his face! She delivers a kick to the inside of the knee and is about to grab his foot when he rolls out of the way.

Dakota ducks around behind Aidan and locks her arms up in the full nelson position. He lifts… and hits the Gorewhore! He follows Carlisle down so he’s there to make the pin instantly. The referee is there like lightning to count.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

Somehow Aidan gets the shoulder up! Dakota is livid! He demands the referee count faster next time, but the official holds his ground and holds up two fingers for the two count.

JOHNSON: “Oh my god! I can’t believe it!”

VASSA: “Neither can anyone else, it seems!”

Dakota grabs the back of Aidan’s ring gear and begins to pull her to her feet. As she gets half way up, she suddenly drives an elbow into his gut! Dakota doubles over and Aidan hits a rising European uppercut! Smith staggers back, giving Aidan room for a running dropkick to both legs! Dakota hits his knees and Aidan hit the ropes behind him, leaping up… and coming down for a curb stomp! Smith is driven face first into the canvas from the force, and Aidan doesn’t stop there, laying in with stomps to the back, shoulders, and neck.

The official begins to wave Aidan off. It’s just enough of a distraction that Dakota is able to cover his head and roll away. He breaks into a run as soon as he stands and hits a body block! He sets up as she gets to her feet and charges again, looking for a running Yakuza kick! Aidan evades and uses the leg for a pin attempt, but the referee doesn’t make it to the canvas before Smith breaks free.

A series of clubbing forearms drive Aidan back to the nearest corner. Dakota hits a rapid pair of knife edge chops before he hauls back for a stiff lariat. Aidan ducks under just in time and Smith gets nothing but air! Before Dakota can turn Aidan catches him right between the shoulders with a shuffle side kick that knocks him into the turnbuckles again. He spins around quickly… right into a handstand headscissors from Aidan!

JOHNSON: “It looks like Aidan may have managed to change the momentum of the match here.”

VASSA: “It looks that way, but I wouldn’t be so quick to say that.”

JOHNSON: “Sometimes all it takes is one evasion or reversal, as we’ve seen many a time.”

Smith gets to his feet as Aidan rolls into a crouch. Carlisle ducks an incoming charge. Smith drops as she rebounds and Aidan is forced to jump over. She hits the ropes again and Dakota goes low for a spear, but she leapfrogs! Smith catches the wrist on the next pass and sends Aidan once more to the ropes, but he follows directly behind. As she impacts chest first he makes a roll up! The referee drops for the pin and Smith braces his feet on the bottom rope and gets a handful of ring gear for extra leverage.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

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

JOHNSON: “Oh, come on!”

VASSA: “Sometimes you gotta ensure you get the job done, Steve. That’s what Dakota did.”

JOHNSON: “I’m sure that’s how you’ve decided to interpret it.”

Smith drops his feet from the ropes with a quickness as the bell sounds. “Welcome to Hell” plays over the sound system. The official doesn’t try to raise Dakota’s hand, but just points to the man.

POWERS: “Your winner… DAKOTA SSMMIITTHH!!!”

Aidan heads backstage as Dakota continues to celebrate in the ring.

The cameras cut backstage to Genevie Carlson ready to go in full ring attire. She smiles for the camera clearly excited about the match tonight.

CARLSON: “Tonight I start my journey to the top of this company. Tonight. I’m going to beat that cuck bitch Alessandro and I’m going to the next round of this tournament. There I will become the 4CW Champion. Alessandro thinks he’s got this match won. He thinks posting pictures of me sad is intimidating to me? Bitch please. Sativa tried that and in the end she was left laid the fuck out in the ring, and that was over a year ago. I’m much better now than I was then.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

CARLSON: “Last year I beat Manny out in the first round of the tournament. I can promise you Alessandro that I’m going to send you out the same way. You’re not ready for this. Not a tournament of this magnitude. You’re not deserving of facing Bryan Laughlin or Bronx Valescence in the next round for the 4CW Championship, but I am. For too long people undeserving have fought for the 4CW Championship and I’m putting a stop to it tonight. Alessandro will not make it to the next round. My dream means more to me than anything and I’m stopping at nothing to achieve it. The time for words is over. I’m going to show you all how it’s done.”

Genevie shoved the camera out of her way and disappeared from view as the scene faded out on her walking away as the camera tried to stop shaking and focus.

Silence. And then the “Stranger Things” remix of Star Boy hits the PA system, and we know that can only mean one thing. The 4CW Champion. He airplanes out on stage with the 4CW Championship slung over his shoulder with a pair of sunglasses on—I guess he finally found the ones Ana took or got new ones. Who knows. He nods as he walks down the ramp and slaps hands with the fans, snapping a few selfies on the way down before he walks slowly up the steps and takes a deep breath before he steps in, both arms out as he soaks in the adulation from the Bronx fans in the crowd. He bounces off the ropes and scans the crowd with the 4CW Championship held out in one hand. He reaches behind him and pulls out a microphone as he taps it a few times and then smiles at the pop it brings.

VALESCENCE: ”Tonight brings a New Beginning… a new path. Tonight some of our paths will be carved into stone while others will still be a floating mystery. You see, I’ve been calling this tournament… my tournament. And I think you all know why. Twice I’ve been to the finals. Once, I had to bow out because of an injury… yes… I know. Some folks would rather tell you I lost and then I left 4CW the first time, but that isn’t the case. I left on a win streak, and I left just before I got to face Jair in this very tournament… the second time I made the finals? I came out victorious, and I went on to win the 4CW Championship and ever since that moment… I’ve been right where you’ll see me tonight… the main event…”

Bronx nods to the crowd.

VALESCENCE: ”But I want to make one thing… very… very clear. This isn’t about everyone coming for a shot at Bronx Valescence… oh, no, no, no. It’s about me seeking THEM out. I privately agreed to defend the title if I retained… and to her credit… Ana did too…”

A “To the Wolves” chant begins to smatter across the crowd. It isn’t loud, but it’s just enough for Bronx to notice, enough to throw him off as he gives a small smile.

VALESCENCE: ”I’ve beaten everyone put in front of me. I’ve handled every challenge that has been handed out to me. I’ve been through the four man iron man matches—which again nobody wants to talk about for some strange reason. I’ve been through the ladders… the steel cages… the falls count anywhere… not once, not twice, not three times, not four times… but five times all together I’ve defended this 4CW Championship… so let it be known… all of you in the back… you’re not hunting me.”

Bronx turns and stares, cold, hard into the camera.

VALESCENCE: ”I’m hunting YOU! I’ve proven myself. I’ve ran my race! I’m going into the 4CW hall of fame, and all losing this title is going to do is INSURE that I am a three time champion. I’m looking my equal. I’m looking for someone to be the top dog. I’m not looking for someone who is going to kindly let me hand this title over to them. I’m looking for someone to PRY it from my FUCKING hands… and if that is Bryan Laughlin tonight? I’ll smile. If it’s Alessandro or Genie the next week. I’ll smile. If it’s Ana Hayden after that… I’ll smile. Why? Because I’VE BEATEN THEM ALL… AND NOTHING… NOTHING. FUCKING. CHANGES.”

He begins pacing back and forth as he speaks.

VALESCENCE: ”Because while people were taking breaks in 4CW and coming back… GUESS who has BEEN here the entire time? I HAVE. When people have been whining and crying about title shots and blaming management, guess who has been earning their way to the top? I HAVE. When people use their names and their prior accomplishments to shoe-horn themselves into main events… who has the match of the night’s and accolades to prove themselves as a sure fire main eventer? I HAVE!”

Bronx bangs his chest with his hand.

VALESCENCE: ”I am the gold standard. I am the main event. One loss doesn’t define me just like one win doesn’t define me. This is MY tournament. This is MY company… and I promise it to prove it to any MOTHER FUCKER who wants to step… win or lose tonight… win or lose next week… win or lose by the end of the year… I’ll be the guy this company needs me to be… because the rest of you fuckers have dropped the ball one too many times.”

Bronx flips the microphone and weeks as Star Boy hits again and Bronx leaves the microphone in the ring as he heads to back to get ready for his match with Bryan Laughlin.

Sitting in the middle of his own locker room in the PNC Arena Bryan Laughlin is leaned over on a metal folding chair with his head in his hands. The biggest moment of his professional wrestling career isn’t too far away and for the first time since he’s taken the approach of being nothing more than just Bryan Laughlin he seems anxious. His right leg begins to bob up and down as the laces that have yet to be put through their holes and tied rest at his feet.

LAUGHLIN: ”People keep saying that this is about the South Beach Brawl Cup, they want to be the one hoisting it at the end of this tournament. But they’re all looking too far ahead if you ask me. Honestly this is one match at a time. To approach it any other way would be irresponsible and that was been made clear throughout the night tonight.”

He lifts his head to look into the camera as sweat drips down his forehead from his pre-match ritual warm up.

LAUGHLIN: ”Tonight it’s about one thing. It’s about Bronx. Him and I in the middle of that ring doing what the rest of the world has paid to see. Beat the shit out of each other for the 4CW Championship. I’m not going to lie, I’m nervous. Why wouldn’t I be? Bronx is on top of his game and I am fresh off of an underwhelming performance at Retro Grade. So now the question that everyone asks is can I do it? Can I pull off the impossible and hold the 4CW Championship above my head at the close of the show.”

Bryan’s leg stops bobbing up and down nervously and he stands up from the chair quickly and tosses the chair aside violently sending it collapsing against the brick wall.

LAUGHLIN: ”Why fuck not? Why not me? I’ve bled and sweat for this company and put my life on the line in matches where I was burned. Put through tables. Thrown onto a pile of tacks. I’ve been through the goddamn ringer to prove that I am one of the best that this FUCKING company has to offer. So I will walk down that ramp tonight with nothing on my mind besides beating the one man the rest of this company looks up to.”

He bends down to pick up a shirt and holds it to the camera, a modernized logo of a B and a C combined together prominently displayed on the front.

LAUGHLIN: ”And it won’t be to Make 4CW Great Again. It won’t be as some son of Satan, or broken monster, and it sure as hell won’t be doused in half assed make up as an intergalactic burger overlord. It’s just Bryan Laughlin. Husband of Kaelan. One half of Baelin Club. A man looking for his magnificently miraculous moment. A loyal soldier to the shield. A future 4CW World Fucking Champion.”

As he puts the turns from the camera and puts on the Baelin Club shirt his locker room door swings open startling him. Afterall, Adrenaline isnt exactly the safest place now that the Crooken Kingdom has banded together. His face of concern turns immediately to a smile as Hartman walks in with a microphone.

HARTMAN: ”A few words before the biggest match of your career tonight? Perhaps something you’d like to say to the crowd?”

Bryan smiles and shakes his head.

LAUGHLIN: ”I just did that…”

Hartman sighs as if he’s missed something and turns back towards the door mumbling something about how Laughlin literally never does backstage interviews and perhaps has forgotten how this whole thing works.

LAUGHLIN: ”Nice to see you too, Gabe.”

HEADLINE
SBBC ROUND ONE
ALESSANDRO QUAGLIATERRE VS. GENEVIE CARLSON

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

“OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

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

Yeah”

“It’s a thief in the night

To come and grab you

It can creep up inside you

And consume you

A disease of the mind

It can control you

It’s too close for comfort”

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

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

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

“Throw on your brake lights

We’re in the city of wonder

Ain’t gonna play nice

Watch out, you might just go under

Better think twice

Your train of thought will be altered

So if you must falter be wise

Your mind is in Disturbia”

“It’s like the darkness is the light

Disturbia

Am I scaring you tonight

Your mind is in Disturbia

Ain’t used to what you like

Disturbia

Disturbia”

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

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

“Ah ah ah yep yep yep

The baddest bitch is back,

I’m back part 2, part 2

I’m reloaded and I’m killin you hoes”

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

POWERS: “Coming to the ring from Boston, Massachusetts, weighing in at one hundred and thirty-six pounds, GENEVIE CCAARRLLSSOONN!!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Genevie carries her head high as she walks down the ramp with confidence, with slow and steady steps. As the song plays she walks around to the side of the ring, hopping up on the apron. She adjusts her SnapBack as she blows the fans a kiss, listening to the boos get louder. This only makes her smirk grow wider as she climbs through the middle ropes, and standing up in the ring as she runs her hands down her body.

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

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

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

She does one final twirl to show off her ASSETS, rolling her eyes at the jealous fans as she goes over to the ropes and leans against them, checking her nails as the referee comes over and she dismisses him to get away from her because he is a peasant and she is The Princess. He backs off and she just continues to smirk as the music dies down.

JOHNSON: “One of the most highly anticipated matches of the night. Our Headliner! Genevie Carlson looks to advance out of the first round of the South Beach Brawl Cup for her second year in a row, and Alessandro is looking to redeem himself from losing to Jair at Retrograde, and claim some glory of his own while crushing the dreams of Genevie Carlson!”

VASSA: “You think we’ll see Phe make an appearance tonight? Or more importantly you think we’ll get to see those titties again? Maybe even Genie’s titties again!”

JOHNSON: “I think you need to seek help if that’s all you care about in this match.”

VASSA: “You need to seek help because you DON’T want to care about that.

JOHNSON: “Anyways it looks like this match is just about to get underway, and Alessandro and Genevie don’t look like either is wanting to waste any more time!”

DING!!! DING!!!

The bell rings and Genevie and Alessandro rush forward immediately throwing punches at one another. The fans go nuts as they hammer away on each other Alessandro eventually landing a hook that sends Genevie’s face sideways and has her clutching her jaw. He smirks and says something to her that makes her throw a punch that sends his head sideways and leaves spit to come flying from his mouth to land on the mat. He turns back to Genevie nodding his head and she goes to send a kick into his midsection and he catches it shaking his head no at her. She rolls her eyes and goes to jump to hit him with her other leg but he catches her and slams her to the mat with a spinebuster. He immediately pins Genie.

ONE

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.

TWO

She kicks out and writhes on the mat as Alessandro wastes no time and locks in a fujiwara armbar. The ref immediately starts asking Genevie if she wants to give up she shakes her head no and you can see she’s already trying to figure out how to break the hold as Alessandro tries to lock it in harder.

JOHNSON: “Alessandro already has Genevie in a tight spot here.”

VASSA: “Bet that’s not something Genie is used to hearing.”

Genevie keeps getting asked if she’s going to tap but she refuses and eventually she gets an arm up to reach back and she grabs Alessandro by his ear and starts yanking on his ear and twisting it as he starts to scream out. The ref tells her to break the hold and she refuses until Alessandro lets her go and immediately rolls away from Genevie grabbing his ear as Genie scrambles to un upright position on her knees. Holding her arm from the submission as Alessandro walks over to her furious and snatches her up by her hair. Genevie flails her arms around dramatically as the ref tells Alessandro to let her hair go. He obliges and grabs her pulling her forward and clotheslining her straight to the mat. Genevie clutches her chest on the mat.

VASSA: “NO! NOT THE TITTIES! REF! DISQUALIFY THAT MAN!”

JOHNSON: “Uh…There’s nothing illegal about that clothesline.”

VASSA: “If he busts that silicone that man is going to have a lawsuit on his hands! So it SHOULD be illegal.

JOHNSON: “Well you can’t argue that Alessandro has had full control this entire match. Maybe he didn’t underestimate Genevie afterall.”

Back in the ring Alessandro leans down to pick Genevie back up and she throws a punch into his face. He stumbles backwards a bit but comes back and Genevie lands a kick to the side of his head. This brings AQ down to her level on the mat. She rises up to her feet and runs for the ropes and flies off of them jumping into the air while Alessandro tries to rise to his feet and gets hit with a dropkick for his troubles. He falls to the mat and begins to flop around like a goldfish. This confusing the fuck out of his opponent as she just stares and points at him and then the referee before she rolls her eyes and rolls Alessandro over and makes a pin attempt.

ONE

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.

TWO

Alessandro doesn’t kick out, he flops his whole body and sends Genevie flying off of him. Still overselling the fuck out of the dropkick. Genevie smacks the mat. She obviously wants a serious fight. She stands up and picks Alessandro up but as she does so AQ knocks her backwards before running at Genie headbutts the shit out of her hitting the Zidane Headbutt. The force from his giant egg head hitting Genevie’s not so big head sending her flying backwards and to the outside of the ring in a daze she falls and lands hard on the outside. AQ seems stunned by his own power for a moment but he beckons for the ref to make the count.

“One! … Two! … Three!”

JOHNSON: “Looks like Alessandro isn’t above taking a countout victory here tonight.”

VASSA: “As much as I would hate the fuck out of seeing Genevie lose here tonight it’s a smart strategy and I can expect that. You think Phe is gonna be upset that AQ just headbutted the shit out of Genevie and it was super effective?”

JOHNSON: “I can’t imagine she’s going to be happy about anything that Alessandro does to her best friend Genie here tonight.”

“Four! … Five! … Six!”

Genevie finally rises to her feet and Alessandro rushes towards the ropes to try and block her but Genevie doesn’t let the ref back him off she just sweeps his legs out from underneath him and watches as his head bashes against the mat. She climbs back onto the apron and then looks from a downed Alessandro to the top rope. She climbs to the top and waits for Alessandro to stand up before she jumps off the top rope and delivers a forearm straight to the side of his face. They both fall to the mat but Genevie gets up quickly. She gets behind Alessandro and waits for him to sit up before she runs from behind and hits the #BOWDOWN. She calls Alessandro her bitch as she makes the pinfall attempt again.

ONE

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.

TWO

Alessandro Kicks Out and Genevie throws a tantrum of epic proportion at the referee. This gives Alessandro too much time to recover as he stands up and taps Genevie on the shoulder. As if she forgot where she was she turns to him with a “WHAT” and Alessandro grabs her and whips her straight into the corner. Genevie turns around and Alessandro runs at her with a powerful clothesline that sends her to a seated position in the corner. He backs up with a smirk and points at her before taking off at a run planning to hit a bronco buster on Genevie but she blocks it, and during this block she picks Alessandro up to the roar of the fans.

JOHNSON: “OH MY GOD GENEVIE IS LIFTING ALESSANDRO UP!”

VASSA: “How’s that for a one hundred pound weight advantage you cuck!”

Genevie rises to her feet lifting Alessandro up. He tries to pull himself forward but botches the attempt to jump over Genevie and bounces his head off the top turnbuckle. He swings down limp as Genevie holds onto his legs and smirks before delivering an Alabama Slam in the middle of the ring. The move takes a lot out of her and she even falls to one knee unable to capitalize on the feat she just achieved. It’s clear that Alessandro and Genevie are taking one another to their limits. The ref starts counting for a down Alessandro.

“One! … Two! … Three! … Four!”

JOHNSON: “Genevie and Alessandro both understand what’s at stake here. The winner of this match is going on to face whoever is the 4CW Champion after tonight. Whether it be Bronx or Bryan. Neither one of them is giving the other an inch.

Genevie recovers and decides this isn’t how she wants to win the match. She picks up Alessandro and in his “dazed” state he leans forward and tries to Motorboat Genevie. She blocks it and rolls her eyes before bending a knee and then repeatedly slamming his head down into her knee over and over again. He lands on the mat hard and Genevie taunts the crowd saying it’s over. She’s going to the next round. She climbs on top of Alessandro to deliver a few well placed punches to his head but he grabs her out of nowhere and locks in the Sweet Dreams submission hold. Genevie starts kicking widely as she has no place to go. The ref asks her if she wants to give up and she shakes her head no but she can’t break the hold and it’s looking like the match will soon be over.

JOHNSON: “Genie’s dreams of being 4CW Champion are about to be over. Alessandro has that submission locked in and she has NOWHERE to go.”

VASSA: “Come on Genie! Don’t let this eggheaded retard take you out like this.

JOHNSON: “I don’t think Genevie has much of a choice right now!”

Genevie does her best to break the hold but she can’t. Just when it seems she’s fading out and just about to tap you see her leg reach out for the bottom rope. She’s still inches from it but she still reaches. Eventually she’s able to reach back just enough the tip of the toe of her sneaker snags the bottom rope and ref catches it and tells Alessandro to break the hold he refuses and holds it in as the ref makes the count.

“One! … Two! … Three! … Four!”

Alessandro finally lets go but the damage is done. Genevie grips her arm in pain and writhes on the ground as her other hand goes to her neck. Alessandro doesn’t give her much room to breath he walks straight over and places her on the back of his shoulders, ready to tell Genevie it was Bedtime. Genevie manages to drive an elbow into the side of his head at the last second and kick her legs enough for Alessandro to drop her he turns to her and she still clutches her arm to her chest as she kicks Alessandro in the chest, and then the back of his right knee, before placing another strike to his left knee dropping him down to his knees. He bends over and Genevie falls backwards into the ropes before running forward and delivering the STILETTO KISS to Alessandro immediately making the cover.

ONE

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.

TWO

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.

THREE!!!

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

Genevie rises to her feet still clutching her arm to her chest before shaking it out and smiling as the referee raises her hand and Alessandro lays on the mat staring up at the ceiling.

POWERS: “Here is your winner and moving on to the next round in the South Beach Brawl Cup… GENEVIE CCAARRLLSSOONN!!!”

She paces the ring, soaking in the big win here tonight, only the beginning of a long journey ahead if she intends to make it to the finals at South Beach Brawl.

VASSA: ”Titt– I mean Genie’s done it folks. She’ll be advancing to the second round of the South Beach Brawl Cup.”

JOHNSON: ”Did you just call her–“

VASSA: ”SHUT UP! Don’t say it, there’s a good chance that Eli didn’t hear me almost say that.”

JOHNSON: ”Say what?”

VASSA: ”Titt–OH MY GOD LET’S GO BACKSTAGE!”

MAIN EVENT
4CW CHAMPIONSHIP
SBBC ROUND ONE

BRYAN LAUGHLIN VS. BRONX VALESCENCE ©

JOHNSON: ”It’s been one heck of a first round so far. We have seven people advancing to the second round. Who will be the eighth?”

VASSA: ”This is a blockbuster match we have coming up next between former Octane Champion, Bryan Laughlin, taking on the reigning 4CW Champion, Bronx Valescence.”

JOHNSON: ”It’s our last round one match of the evening and this thing is huge. Bryan Laughlin’s name was the biggest surprise to be in the South Beach Brawl Cup and he drew Bronx in the first round.”

VASSA: ”It doesn’t get any bigger than this for him with the 4CW Championship on the line.”

JOHNSON: ”The first of many nights the 4CW Championship will be on the line as he journey to South Beach Brawl next month.”

VASSA: ”Laughlin came up short in his rematch against Kaz Bonham for the Octane Championship. He had everyone fooled into thinking that he was seriously hanging up the boots, retiring.”

JOHNSON: ”And maybe he was. I’m not so sure that he threw his name in the hat. Perry has a way of pulling people back in, kind of like The Godfather.”

VASSA: ”Well, regardless if he was going to retire or not, he’s booked here tonight in the first round for the 4CW Championship!”

JOHNSON: ”Speaking of the 4CW Championship, Bronx Valescence is coming into this match with nothing but momentum following a successful defense at Retrograde.”

VASSA: ”It was a huge night for the 4CW Champion, that is until it was ruined by Crooked Kingdom.”

JOHNSON: ”Well let’s just cross our fingers that they don’t ruin the ending to another potential epic match for a main event here tonight.”

VASSA: ”Someone has to win here tonight in order to advance to the next round. And if CK decides to interfere, Laughlin’s personalities easily outnumber them!”

JOHNSON: ”You just might be onto something.”

The heavy opening guitar riff from “Out of My Mind” by Mushroomhead hits over the speakers as a slight fog grows around the curtain.

POWERS: ”Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall and will be for the 4CW Championship!”

Bryan Laughlin emerges walking slowly and stopping in the middle of the stage he tightens his leather gloves on his hands allowing the strobe lights that are methodically flashing to the bass thump in the music drown him in mystery.

“Judge me for what I am

The passage of death

You don’t play, you don’t win

You change nothing

You gain nothing

Everybody’s out from here on in”

POWERS: ”Coming to the ring Los Angeles, California by way of Cleveland, Ohio! Weighing in at two hundred twenty five pounds and standing six feet, two inches tall, this IS, BRYAN LLAAUUGGHHLLIINN!!!”

As he reaches the apron of the ring he turns to put his back on the apron and stare back at the entrance ramp that he had just walked down. Throwing his hands up in the air as the chorus hits and the lights simultaneously travel to him in a spot light that he basks in with his eyes closed he then smiles before sliding into the ring on his stomach and makes eye contact with the nearest camera for a bit longer than most would before hopping to his feet and duplicating what he did outside on the apron by leaning against the ropes.

POWERS: ”And the opponent!”

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 and weighing in at two hundred and five pounds! He is the 4CW Champion… BRONX VVAALLEESSCCEENNCCEE!!!”

When Bronx gets down to the end of the ramp, he uses one leap onto the ring apron, and then spins around, holding onto the ropes before rising his feet on the apron and walking over to his corner and using the ropes to vault into the ring. Pulling the championship 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 the title.

VASSA: ”Here we go, for the first time, Bryan Laughlin versus Bronx Valescence!”

JOHNSON: ”This tournament had some amazing first round bookings but this one right here is my personal favorite.”

VASSA: ”It’s a big time match for a big time tournament. There’s no doubt about it, this match right here would have made for one hell of a main event final at South Beach Brawl.”

JOHNSON: ”Truer words have never been spoken from your lips before.”

VASSA: ”I’m a genius Steve, we all know this. Don’t act surprised.”

JOHNSON: ”I wouldn’t go that far, just like we don’t have to go that far to South Beach Brawl to see this match up tonight!”

VASSA: ”Are we sure that’s Laughlin?”

JOHNSON: ”What?”

VASSA: ”Are we even sure that’s Laughlin in the ring right now with Bronx?”

JOHNSON: ”I’m pretty sure it is, the same man who was the Octane Champion not too long ago.”

VASSA: ”Damn he’s changed a lot since we last saw him compete on Adrenaline. I guess the rumors are true.”

JOHNSON: ”What rumors?”

VASSA: ”How can you not see it yourself Steve?! The man is nowhere near the size he used to be!”

JOHNSON: ”OH HERE WE GO!!!”

VASSA: ”I’m just saying, he’s a lot more muscular than he used to be and whatever it is that he’s taking, if anything at all, I WANT SOME!”

In the center of the ring, the official stands with the 4CW Championship. Holding it in both hands, he raises it into the air above his head, turning to each side of the ring and putting it on full display for the North Carolina crowd. After handing the championship to a member of the ringside crew, the official finds himself back in the center of the ring. Checking in with each corner, he gets the okay from both Laughlin and Bronx. With both men ready to get things underway, the official throws his hand into the air and signals for the bell.

DING!!! DING!!!

The two slowly approach each other, meeting face to face in the center of the ring. Staring into each others eyes, no words are spoken from either. Growing louder and louder, the noise level in the arena rises. Breaking the silence, Bronx’s lips begin to move, unable to be heard without a camera between the two. Nodding his head, Laughlin listens to the 4CW Champion. Bronx finally ceases to speak and the two share one last stare before taking a step back from one another and getting into stance. Circling the center of the ring, they then lock up. Instantly, Laughlin pulls Bronx’s head down into a side headlock. Cranking down on the champs head, he easily overpowers him for the moment until Bronx drives his feet forward, pushing Laughlin off and sending him to the ropes. Hitting the ropes, Laughlin comes back and leans in with one shoulder, colliding into Bronx and knocking him flat on his back with a shoulder block.

Bronx climbs back to his feet but not before Laughlin rushes in and wraps both arms over and around him, locking hands underneath Bronx. Lifting Bronx off his feet, Laughlin swings his body around before releasing Bronx and throwing him across the ring. Landing on his side in front of the corner, Bronx quickly pushes himself up but as he does, Laughlin is right there, rushing in crashing into him. Bronx falls backwards, slamming against the corner as the weight of Laughlin’s body squashes him against the corner. Grabbing the top ropes, one with each hand, Laughlin then begins pulling himself in over and over, driving multiple knees into Bronx’s midsection. Grabbing Bronx’s head with his left hand, Laughlin then draws back with his right before swinging forward and connecting with a massive right hand to the side of the head.

Dragging Bronx away from the corner, Laughlin then wraps both arms around Bronx’s upper body, lifting him off his feet and throwing him straight down to the mat with a belly to belly suplex. Laughlin lands on top of Bronx, putting himself into position over Bronx to rain down on his head with rapid rights. After connecting with nearly a dozen, Laughlin then stands to his feet. With Bronx still on his back, Laughlin then jumps straight into the air, coming down onto Bronx’s chest with a double foot stomp. He doesn’t step down at first, instead he remains on top of Bronx with all of his weight weighing down onto his chest cavity. Finally, he steps down and paces the ring, off to a good start with an early dominance established over the reigning 4CW Champion.

JOHNSON: ”Bryan is off to a promising start here in the first few moments of this match up.”

VASSA: ”There’s no doubt about it. Bronx has proven that he is the best wrestler in the industry today. However, he can be beaten and if Laughlin can keep this up, we could very well see a huge upset here tonight.”

JOHNSON: ”It’s clear as day that he’s more powerful than Bronx. There’s only one question on my mind. Is he hungrier than the Champ?”

VASSA: ”That’s not an easy one to answer by any means. Bronx may be at the top of the mountain, but while up there, he’s proven time and time again that he’s just as hungry as he was before he first won the 4CW Championship.”

Pulling Bronx up from the mat, Laughlin holds him in place in the center of the ring. Locking in a double arm-trap, Laughlin then begins hitting Bronx over and over with multiple headbutts straight to the dome. After knocking Bronx into a daze with six, Laughlin releases him. His legs are loose, but Bronx manages to remain on his feet although in a daze. Taking a few steps back, Laughlin jogs in place before running forward and leveling Bronx with a running clothesline. Bronx hits the mat hard, slamming his head against the canvas even harder. Laughlin stomps onto his shoulder a few times before pulling him up from the mat.

With rapid rights, Bryan pounds away at Bronx’s head, backing him up across the ring and into the corner. Locking onto Bronx’s arm, Laughlin then pulls him away from the corner and into a short-arm clothesline. Laughlin thought he had Bronx for sure, but Bronx ducked the clothesline, pulling his arm away from Laughlin’s and stepping in behind him. Whipping his entire body around, Laughlin threw his arm at Bronx’s head once more. He missed a second time, leaving his midsection exposed as Bronx quickly stepped in and planted a boot directly into it. Grabbing ahold of Laughlin, Bronx then slammed him into the corner with an STO!

VASSA: ”Holy shit! That’s one way to turn things around!”

JOHNSON: ”Laughlin had him but in the blink of an eye the 4CW Champion turned things around out of nowhere.”

VASSA: ”Bronx is climbing the corner!”

As Laughlin rolls away from the corner and stops on his side, Bronx shoots up the corner and climbs to the top. Catching a glimpse of Bronx in the corner of his eye, Laughlin immediately pops up to his feet. Quick to react, Bronx leaps from the corner, flying in mid-air and into Laughlin with a frog splash crossbody.

JOHNSON: ”WAIT!!!”

Catching Bronx in mid-air, Laughlin holds him up for a short moment before dropping him down across his knee with a backbreaker. He doesn’t release Bronx, oh no. He stands straight back up, still holding Bronx as he then backs up to the center of the ring. Lifting Bronx just above chest level, he then drops him with another backbreaker across his knee. Holding Bronx over his knee, Laughlin pushes down on head and pulls down on his legs, bending his body even more over his knee before finally releasing him and rolling him down face first to the mat. Laughlin stands tall as Bronx slowly rolls back and forth on the mat before slowly pushing himself up. While Bronx rises to all fours, Laughlin positions himself in front Bronx along the ropes. He waits, closely watching until Bronx rises to both knees and at that point, he strikes. Rushing in, Laughlin flips over Bronx’ grabbing his head and executing a powerful running blockbuster. Rolling over, he covers Bronx as the official slides in beside them with the count.

ONE

.

.

TW–

JOHNSON: ”TW–“

VASSA: ”Bronx gets a shoulder up!”

Laughlin leans up, glancing over at the official for only s short moment before turning back to Bronx and slamming a forearm down across his face. He stands to his feet, pulling Bronx up as well. Locking onto his arm, he then whips Bronx to the ropes and as he comes back on the rebound, Laughlin charges right at him, hitting him the chops with a running European uppercut. Bronx stumbles backwards, hitting the ropes and flipping over the top. Bronx grabs the ropes, using them to guide himself to a hand landing on the apron, at least managing to keep himself from crashing to the floor.

Bronx pulls himself up only to look ahead at Laughlin charging straight at him. Laughlin lunges over the ropes but only to miss as Bronx ducks down and pulls his upper body through the ropes, driving a shoulder into Laughlin’s stomach. Laughlin takes a few steps back while lunged over after having the breath knocked from his lungs. Jumping up and pulling himself over the top rope, Bronx springboards off the top before flying through the air. Just as Laughlin looks up, Bronx is right there to greet him with a flying clothesline that wipes him out completely.

The champ quickly rises to his feet, full of a newfound energy pulsating throughout his body. He turns to the ropes and after coming back on the rebound, he jumps up and comes down with a single foot stomp to Laughlin’s stomach. The impact to the stomach immediately forces Laughlin to sit upright. Walking a small circle, Bronx then returns head up to hit Laughlin with a uppercut as he’s in an upright seated position. Laughlin doesn’t fall back, he just holds his jaw as Bronx runs to the ropes behind him. Bouncing back and returning with even more speed, Bronx plants two feet into Laughlin’s back with a dropkick.

VASSA: ”The momentum has shifted once more to Bronx’s favor.”

JOHNSON: ”But can he keep control of the match? He turned things around earlier only for Laughlin to reclaim his early established dominance.”

With Laughlin face down to the mat, Bronx positions himself over him before reaching down and wrapping both arms around him. Locking hands underneath Laughlin’s body, Bronx then deadlifts him up from the mat before slamming him back down with a deadlift gut-wrench suplex. The suplex isn’t enough to Keep Laughlin down, however it was enough to give Bronx enough time to get to his feet first. Grabbing ahold of Laughlin, Bronx keeps him bent over as he pops his leg up over and over, hitting Laughlin in the chest with back to back knees.

Spinning Laughlin around, Bronx then wraps him up around the waist with both arms before lifting him off his feet and dropping him to the mat with a German suplex. Bronx doesn’t release him, instead he works his way back to his feet, pulling Laughlin up as well. In position for another German suplex, Bronx goes to lift him off his feet but Laughlin hooks his leg with Bronx’s, preventing him from executing. Throwing his arm back, Laughlin hits Bronx in the mouth with an elbow, knocking him backwards and breaking his hold.

Turning around, Laughlin throws his arm forward, hitting Bronx across the face with a forearm. He then explodes, hitting Bronx with rapid forearms and backing him up to the ropes. As Bronx feels the ropes to his back, Bronx then fires away with rapid fire right hands, connecting with each one throw and backing Laughlin up to the center of the ring. Bronx grabs his head, pulling it down to a side headlock but before he can really sink in with the move, Laughlin pulls his head out of his hold and throws him forward to the ropes. Bronx comes back on the rebound and right into Laughlin’s arm as he wraps it around Bronx’s throat and positions himself behind him. With a sleeper hold in tact, Laughlin uses his raw power to lift Bronx off his feet while spinning in place before finally dropping him to the mat with a swinging sleeper hold slam!

VASSA: ”Jesus Christ he swung Bronx around like it was nothing!”

JOHNSON: ”That move not only put Bronx down, but Laughlin doesn’t look to be getting back up in a hurry.”

VASSA: ”Well it was sort of a counter.”

JOHNSON: ”It was but it appears to have taken just as much out of him as it did Bronx.”

VASSA: ”Bronx was on the receiving end of that powerful move. Laughlin just used what was left in the tank to execute.”

With both men down, the official begins his ten count.

“One! … Two! … Three!”

Still down, Bronx remains on his back as Laughlin rolls a few feet away from him.

“Four! … Five! … Six!”

Slowly, Laughlin begins to push himself up as Bronx remains down and the official continues his count.

“Seven! … Eight! … Nine!”

Finally standing tall, Laughlin breaks the officials ten count, keeping the match very much alive. Pulling Bronx to his feet, Laughlin hits him with a European uppercut, sending him falling backwards and stumbling into the corner. Laughlin then charges in full speed, connecting with a running clothesline that lifts Bronx’s feet off the mat as it connects. Laughlin steps to the side as Bronx stumbles forward. Moving in behind him, Laughlin locks in a full nelson. Lifting Bronx off his feet with raw power, he then falls backwards, slamming Bronx into the corner with a full nelson suplex!

JOHNSON: ”DUMP’D!!!”

VASSA: ”Yea no shit, he just dumped Bronx right into the corner!”

After demolishing Bronx with his signature move, Laughlin grabs him by the foot and drags him away from the corner. Dropping down to his knees, he then makes the cover as the official races over with the count.

ONE

JOHNSON: ”One!”

.

.

TWO

JOHNSON: ”Two!”

.

.

THR–

JOHNSON: ”THR–“

VASSA: ”NNNOOOOOO!!!”

Just as the officials hand comes within an inch of slapping the mat a third time, Bronx pops a shoulder up from the mat, abruptly ending his count.

JOHNSON: ”Laughlin nearly had Bronx right then and there! We almost had a new 4CW Champion.”

VASSA: ”It was close, a little too close for comfort I’m sure. But just like the champ says himself, you best not miss!”

Laughlin looks down to Bronx, even with a double take, as he can’t believe he wasn’t able to finish him right then and there. Slamming his fist against the mat, Laughlin pushes himself up. Pacing the ring, he speaks to himself while never once taking his eyes off Bronx.

VASSA: ”What do you think he’s talking to himself about?”

JOHNSON: ”There’s no telling. I’m just as shocked as he is that Bronx was able to get a shoulder up before the three.”

VASSA: ”You think maybe it’s the voices? Maybe even Broken McLaughlin? We could be seeing a transformation take place right before our eyes.”

JOHNSON: ”Sometimes you have to go to drastic measures to accomplish what many consider the impossible.”

He shook it off before walking back over to Bronx. McLaughlin wasn’t coming out to play, at least not yet. Pulling Bronx up from the mat, Laughlin lifted Bronx into the air and then dropped him across his knee with a shoulder breaker. Rising to his feet, he then began to stomp down onto the same shoulder over and over. Pulling Bronx to his feet, Laughlin kept him bent over, grabbing the back of his waistband and pulling him towards the corner. He then threw Bronx forward to the corner but quick on his feet, Bronx jumped up planted his hands on the middle ropes. His back slammed into the corner before his body went over the top rope. Grabbing the ropes, Bronx managed to guide himself to land feet on the apron. Just as he thought he was safe, Laughlin ran along the ropes on the other side, leveling him with a running clothesline!

With Bronx down on the apron, Laughlin kneeled down, grabbing his head and pulling him back into the ring. Lifting Bronx to his feet, Laughlin was then met with a solid elbow to the stomach out of nowhere. It wasn’t enough to break his hold, but enough to delay his next move. Bronx then hit him with another elbow, and then another to the stomach. Wrapping his arms around Laughlin’s legs, Bronx then lifted him up before falling back against the ropes. Laughlin’s body then went over Bronx and over the ropes. He crashed hard against the canvas but quickly began to climb back to his feet. As he stood, Bronx was right there to hit him head on with a stiff right to the head. The impact of the punch nearly knocked Laughlin down from the apron had he not grabbed the top rope to prevent himself from falling.

Bronx then hit him with a second right, then a third, and even a fourth. Taking a few steps back, Bronx then slid in and hit him with a superkick to the chin. The entire crowd was shocked at the sight as Laughlin was still on his feet, still holding onto the top rope. He was in a daze, but he wasn’t down on the floor below. Turning him around, Bronx then stepped up onto the middle rope as he wrapped both arms around Laughlin. Using every bit of strength he has, Bronx lifted Laughlin off his feet before falling back and pulling him over the ropes. Still holding onto Laughlin as the two fell, Bronx slammed him to the mat with a German suplex!

JOHNSON: ”TWEET DELETE!!!”

VASSA: ”Ain’t nobody deleting any tweets around these parts!”

JOHNSON: ”If Laughlin was a tweet then Bronx would have deleted him right there.”

VASSA: ”That doesn’t even make sense.”

JOHNSON: ”IT’S THE NAME OF THAT GERMAN SUPLEX HE JUST EXECUTED YOU PUTZ!!!”

Rolling over and covering Laughlin, Bronx went for the pin as the official rushed in beside them with the count.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

After the two, Laughlin kicked out from the pin, even bench pressing Bronx and throwing him off to the side. Bronx couldn’t believe it but Laughlin kicking out right there was something he was just going to have to accept. Although Laughlin had kicked out from the pin, he was still down and by the looks of it, he wasn’t getting up anytime soon. Bronx then turned to the corner. Unlike the many times we’ve seen him make this climb, he left his sunglasses down on the mat underneath the corner. He was still going for True Light’s Flight, but without the theatrics. Standing at the top of the corner, he looked out over the crowd before leaping into the air. Twisting and turning while in flight, he came down with a diving corkscrew moonsault – RIGHT ONTO LAUGHLIN’S KNEES!

VASSA: ”OH NO!!!”

JOHNSON: ”Just when Bronx was going to put him away Laughlin wasn’t having any part of it.”

VASSA: ”He should have put the sunglasses on. WHY BRONXY WHY?!?!”

Both men remained down on the mat and as expected, the official wasn’t far behind with the ten count.

“One! … Two! … Three!”

They rolled in opposite directions, still staying down as the count continued.

“Four! … Five! … Six!”

Both men finally began to show signs of life as they rolled to their stomachs and started to slowly push themselves up.

“Seven! … Eight! … Nine!”

Both men stood at the same time, ending the count, but not ending what has now turned into an exhausting match for both of them. They’ve given each other their all. How much more did either man have left in them? We’d soon find out because without any delay, they met in the center of the ring in an exchange of punches. Laughlin would hit Bronx and then Bronx would fire back and hit him. This went on and on as the two beat the life out of each other in the center of the ring. With each punch throw, the one to follow would be a bit slower as they were working themselves to a fatigued state.

Bryan then connected with a punch that knocked Bronx off balance. Stumbling backwards, Bronx nearly went down but was able to settle his feet. As he looked up, Laughlin was right there, rushing in with his foot aimed high and coming at him head on. It was a superkick, one could even argue that it was the best superkick ever. Surely Bronx wouldn’t disagree, had it connected, but it didn’t. Ducking underneath in just the niche of time, Bronx avoided the possible match ending superkick. He went to the ropes and as he hit them, Laughlin has turned to face him. Bouncing off the ropes, Bronx ducked a clothesline from Laughlin, still racing on to the opposite ropes. Bouncing off and coming back on the return just as Laughlin turned to face him, Bronx leaped forward, flipping over Laughlin and hooking an arm around his head. Lifting Laughlin off his feet and upside down, Bronx planted his head directly into the mat with a running front flip DDT!

VASSA: ”WOOOOOOOOW!!!”

JOHNSON: ”Valescence’s Victory, Valescence’s Victory!”

VASSA: ”Out of nowhere Bronx put Laughlin down with Valescence’s Victory!”

JOHNSON: ”He’s going for the cover!”

Rolling Laughlin over to his back, Bronx laid his body over Laughlin’s, exhausted and nearly out of gas. A cover was a cover and not far behind, the official was right there beside them with the count.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

VASSA: ”Bronxy V retains! He’s going to the second round!”

JOHNSON: ”Talk about a match and setting the standard for the entire tournament in a first round appearance.”

VASSA: ”This match was huge between these two. There were times when I thought we were ending tonight with a new 4CW Champion.”

JOHNSON: ”Bryan Laughlin didn’t score the win here tonight but there’s nothing whatsoever to be ashamed about as far as his performance goes.”

VASSA: ”And to think he was actually thinking about retiring? Come on man! Not yet, not even close!”

“Starboy” hits the speakers as Bronx slowly rolls off of Laughlin and stares up at the lights. He doesn’t get up quickly. After a match like this, he just simply doesn’t have the energy to stand to his feet right just yet. The music continues playing for a few moments as the crowd begins to chant.

“Encore! … Encore! … Encore! … Encore! … Encore!”

Finally to his feet, with help from the official no less, Bronx is handed the 4CW Championship. With one hand, he raises it high above his head. Grabbing his other arm, the official then hoists it into the air, declaring him the official winner here tonight.

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

POWERS: ”Here is your winner, and STILL 4CW Champion… BRONX VVAALLEESSCCEENNCCEE!!!”

At the sound of his name, Bronx pulls his arm away from the official, holding the championship tightly against his chest with both hands before dropping to his knees.

JOHNSON: ”After watching the performance from both men here tonight, I’m willing to say that this could very well be one of Bronx’s biggest matches as 4CW Champion.”

VASSA: ”And it happened right here in North Carolina on Adrenaline!”

JOHNSON: ”Against one of Octane’s biggest and brightest stars.”

VASSA: ”Screw the talk about retirement. To hell with spending your days on Octane. Bryan Laughlin, when you hear this back on the replay, I want you to know that you belong right here with the toughest competition this business has to offer.”

On his knees, Bronx slowly moves over beside Laughlin. He tosses the championship over his shoulder before assisting Laughlin as he begins to come to his senses. Both men finally rise to their feet and after a few words between the two, Bronx extends his hand. Laughlin looks down at it and thinks to himself for a moment. His eyes then shoot back to lock with Bronx’s before he takes Bronx by the hand and the two shake right there in the center of the ring, with the entire world watching.

JOHNSON: ”Sportsmanship. That’s what the greats are known for.”

VASSA: ”It’s a heart warming moment, I won’t deny that. I’m waiting for Crooked Kingdom to come out and crash the party to be honest.”

JOHNSON: ”Don’t say that! They had their unwarranted moment two weeks ago at Retrograde.”

Bronx then raised Laughlin’s arm into the air and the crowd went wild. There was no Crooked Kingdom. There were no interruptions from anyone throughout the entire building. What followed next was another chant from the crowd.

“Please Don’t Go!”

*Clap! Clap! Clap-Clap-Clap!*

“Please Don’t Go!”

*Clap! Clap! Clap-Clap-Clap!*

“Please Don’t Go!”

*Clap! Clap! Clap-Clap-Clap!*

JOHNSON: ”There’s your answer if you were wondering what the fans thought about your recent thoughts about retirement.”

VASSA: ”They’re saying it loud and clear. Please don’t go. You belong in the ring and damnit, you belong right here on Adrenaline!”

JOHNSON: ”4CW yes, it doesn’t matter whether it’s Octane or Adrenaline to me.”

VASSA: ”Adrenaline you old geezer! Then we get to be the ones calling his matches and after his performance tonight, don’t act like you wouldn’t want that!”

JOHNSON: ”Well, we’ll see what happens after the night is over. I’m sure he’ll make his plans going forward known to everyone in due time. Until then, we’re out of time folks.”

VASSA: ”Out of time but one step closer to the second round of the South Beach Brawl Cup.”

JOHNSON: ”We have eight people advancing to round two. One Adrenaline down, two more to go before South Beach Brawl. Things are starting to heat up and I’m not referring to the weather ladies and gents.”

VASSA: ”He’s talking about inside of that ring, a 4CW ring, the only place you’re going to find this level of competition week in and week out!”

JOHNSON: ”You said it, and that’s our show folks. Be sure to tune in two weeks from now when we head down to the Colonial Life Arena in Columbia, South Carolina!”

VASSA: ”We’re on a one way trip to Florida where the action doesn’t stop. GOD DAMN I’M READY!”

JOHNSON: ”Thank you all for joining us here tonight. Stay safe and we’ll see you soon. From 4CW, I’m Steve Johnson…”

VASSA: ”And I’m Vinny Vassa! Good fight and goodnight!”

The music continues to play throughout the arena as Bronx and Laughlin remain in the center of the ring with their arms held high. Despite the ending here tonight, there’s a mutual respect between these two. The picture then slowly begins to fade to the credits as the background noise of the arena is still heard loud and clear.

“Please Don’t Go!”

*Clap! Clap! Clap-Clap-Clap!*

“Please Don’t Go!”

*Clap! Clap! Clap-Clap-Clap!*

“Please Don’t Go!”

*Clap! Clap! Clap-Clap-Clap!*