Our picture opens to an explosion of pyro from the entrance stage as a clear shot looking down the entrance ramp comes into full focus. “Adrenaline” plays throughout the arena and the sounds of Portland, Oregon can be heard as well. Scanning the crowd, the camera focuses on various signs in the mixture of people.

Slowly, the camera creeps down the entrance ramp, looking from left to right at the crowd in attendance and zooming in to various signs held throughout the pack crowd.
Down at the announcers booth, Steve Johnson and Vinny Vassa wait patiently before being given their queue to kick things off.
JOHNSON: ”Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to 4CW Adrenaline! I’m your host, Steve Johnson, and we’re coming to you live tonight from the Moda Center in Portland, Oregon!”
VASSA: ”And I’m Vinny Vassa, and this is MY house!”
JOHNSON: ”We’re comin’ at ya tonight here for Adrenaline Eighty-Eight with a whole slew of high-caliber matches that are set to blow your mind.”
VASSA: ”Not only do we have a big lineup here tonight but we also have a bit of a new landscape. Kimitsu Zombie is no longer the XTV Champion, but the North American champion. She’ll be taking on 4CW veteran Lord Raab in a non-title match.”
JOHNSON: ”That’s right, Vinny! In addition, we have a new Ignition Champion in Demarcus Gresham, who will take on Finn Whelan in a rematch for that well-respected workhorse title.”
VASSA: ”That’s quickly becoming one of the most respected titles in the company, Stevie.”
JOHNSON: That it is. In addition, tonight we’ve got a HIGHLY touted tag match- many folks are predicting it to be a preview of a potential Bad Company tournament final. The Carlson Dynasty are a natural team, while Battle Born have worked extremely hard to be compatible, but they’ve succeeded and made themselves one of the best tag teams in 4CW history.”
VASSA: ”And in what could be seen as a match with major unstated implications, Cyrus Riddle takes on Bryan Laughlin, and I’ll tell you something, Stevie, these two have gotten ruthless in their preparation for this match. The mindgames are unmatched across the landscape of professional wrestling.”
JOHNSON: ”That’s our headline match this evening, but before that, we’ve got two 4CW elite Mainstays locking horns in Aidan Carlisle and Jair Hopkins. We’ve also got a bout scheduled between two power houses in Alessandro Quagliaterre and THE Butcher, Dakota Smith. Let me tell ya, Vinny, those two are DYING to get their hands on one another.”
VASSA: ”No doubt, Johnson. Another match that features considerable implications as far as rankings go features Andre Holmes and Eric Donovan. These two exchanged a war of words that should have made headlines across the industry.”
JOHNSON: ”But the highlight this evening, the biggest match, a match for the ages, pits our BRAND NEW 4CW Champion, Anastasia Hayden against the ever creepy Pride Title holder, Viddus Morta. These two have utterly captivated our faithful fans with their battle of the spoken word since last Adrenaline, and folks, we are just as insanely excited as you are to watch our supremely confident 4CW champion try to take back a win Viddus holds over her.”
VASSA: ”With Bad Company fast approaching and everyone jockeying for position in the rankings, you folks better believe that tonight, Adrenaline 88 in Portland, Oregon will be QUITE an affair to remember.
JOHNSON: ”So without slowing thing down any longer, let us get on with our opening match because we have a huge card scheduled for tonight and you’re not going to want to miss a single second of it.”

American Tommy is shown looking around under papers and boxes and whatever else he can find as an interviewer walks into the room.
INTERVIEWER: “Hello, Feets.”
Tommy looks at the interviewer like he is taken aback by what was just said.
TOMMY: Excuse me?!”
The interviewer scratches his head a bit before beginning again.
INTERVIEWER: “Feets, we’d like to get a word with you before your match with…”
Tommy cuts off the interviewer.
TOMMY: “Woah, woah, woah. Stop right there, mate. Did you just call me Feets?”
The announcer nods his head yes with a bit of a smile on his face. Tommy. He ain’t got no fucking smile. Mad AF!
INTERVIEWER: “We are contractually obligated to call you that per the boss.”
TOMMY: “What the fuck you talking about?”
INTERVIEWER: “Perry said so.”
TOMMY: “If you call me that again I’m gonna stick my size twelve right up your ass!”
Tommy points very meanly at the man. Like, really fucking mean. Tommy must really mean what he said.
INTERVIEWER: “I knew it was true! Also, where is your title?”
TOMMY: “Oh my fucking GOD!”
Tommy grabs the microphone from the interviewer and pushes him out of the camera. Tommy shouts some obscene things I’m too lazy to write about right now and points to the interviewer. When he gets done he looks into the camera.
TOMMY: “Magdalena Lockheart, I really don’t have much to say to you, but I’m definitely going to beat you tonight. Like, for sure going to beat you. If Perry Wallace would ever give me a paycheck I would bet that paycheck that I would beat you tonight and any other night we step into the ring. You better bring me everything you got in that ring tonight, Maggie. I want the whole kitchen sink. The whole kit and caboodle. Every ounce of will and determination you have, because I want to see the look on your face when you give it your all and realize that your all isn’t good enough.”
Tommy stares menacing into the camera, well, about as menacing as someone can do wearing a Harry Styles T-Shirt.
INTERVIEWER: “Can I get the mic back?”
TOMMY: “No, I’m not done! I have a HUGE announcement.”
Tommy clears his throat and begins to talk.
TOMMY: “You see, everybody has been talking about Bad Company and what teams are going to be in it. Hell, tonight you have Eli and Genie Carlson facing off against Jeb and Cosmo Cooper in a match that I will surely not stay awake to watch, but it’s a foreshadowing of what people might see in the tournament.”
Kimitsu Zombie walks up and puts her arm around Tommy as she has the North American Championship around her waist. She pats it and looks down and then looks down at Tommy’s empty waist and then back up at him.
TOMMY: “I’m playing hide and seek with it and I’m currently losing.”
Kimitsu rolls her eyes with a smirk on her face.
TOMMY: “Anyways, you see, we thought what better way to showcase ourselves and show the world that we are two of the best wrestlers in this company than to enter Bad Company and face off against some of the best talent in the world. Y’all better watch yourselves. The Asians are coming!”
Tommy is grinning ear to ear as Kimitsu scoffs at hearing him call them the Asians. She shakes her head and walks out of frame as Tommy shrugs his shoulders, because he didn’t do anything wrong!
TOMMY: “Hey, come back! Yo, Kimi!”
Kimitsu keeps walking down the hall as Tommy scratches his head.
TOMMY: “Kimi?”
Nope. She gone.
TOMMY: “What the fuck!”
Tommy begins to walk away when the interviewer stops him.
INTERVIEWER: “I need that mic back.”
TOMMY: “Oh, this?”
He looks down at the microphone in his hand and then at the interviewer who nods his head yes. Tommy chucks the microphone down the hallway.
TOMMY: “Fuck you and fuck Perry Wallace!”
He walks away and down the hallway, but not before lifting up a tea cup on a tray and checking underneath it for his Octane Championship only to find it not be there.


Now Jay had been on quite a slump as of late in 4CW and things weren’t going to get any easier as he found himself standing across the ring from an actual crash dummy. You heard that right, folks. A crash dummy. I can’t make this shit up. It was just what Jay needed to get back on track in this crash course. While some people would use a match like this to brush up on their skills and put on a show for the crowd, Jay had other things in mind. Getting into the ring with enhancement talent was beneath him. He was getting paid the same regardless of how long the match did or didn’t last. Before Crash could even do anything, Jay lit him up with a superkick that sent Crash flying through the air as if Deebo himself knocked him the fuck out! Placing a foot over Crash’s fallen body, Jay had him shoulder’s to the mat for the pin as the official shook his head and went to slap the mat for the one, the two, and the three! Not even celebrating, Jay headed straight for the back where the real party for him would soon begin.
WINNER: Jay Mora via Pinfall (0:25)


As Caden waited in the ring, the crowd was brought to their feet as Stranglepoli made a magnificent entrance with a chair in hand. Banging his head to the music, which was clearly off beat, he pretended the chair was a guitar and the sounds of his hands sliding across the metal sounded better than anything you’d ever hear from a Griffin Hawkins band. Anything sounds better than that garbage so that isn’t really saying much. After the theatric entrance, Stranglepoli found himself on the receiving end of a brutal assault from Caden before he could even stand to his feet in the ring. The chair was quickly knocked from his hands as Caden rained down on him with punches and stomps from above. Raising both hands in the air together, Caden then swung down with a double axe-handle. Grabbing the chair and rolling over to his back, Stranglepoli lifted the chair into the air to defend himself. Caden’s forearms slammed against the chair with a thunderous thud, but is was enough to save Stranglepoli from the attack. Bringing everyone to their knees watching, Stranglepoli then jammed the top of the chair directly into Caden’s genitals. Holding himself as he lunged over, Caden took baby steps backwards as his face grew a bright shade of red. On his feet, Stranglepoli swung the chair for Caden’s head, connecting with a forceful blow that brought stars to Caden’s eyes. It didn’t put him down though. Stranglepoli then grabbed him by the head and dragged him to the corner before throwing him into it. Dropping the chair to the mat, he then lifted Caden up and sat him on top of the corner. Climbing to the top, he then lifted Caden high into the air with a suplex, a superplex in fact, before dropping him directly on the chair. Locking in an Anaconda Vice, it wasn’t long before Caden found himself tapping away to a beat that Stranglepoli could bob his head to as his Vice Grips had done the trick!
WINNER: Victor Stranglepoli via Submission (3:22)

Backstage, the camera shows DA #TROLL GUY, Mariano Fernandez, already in his wrestling gear. He sits in a bench in an otherwise deserted locker room, gazing down at first, then lifting his head up and looking at the camera seriously.
FERNANDEZ: “Last show, after Ante Up, was one step forward after picking myself up from a stumbling road, mang. Baby steps before striding, and before even running, but baby steps at last. Walking on my own two feet again, so to say.”
He nods determinedly, even if his eyes show steel.
FERNANDEZ: “I intend this night to be another such step, one into two, two in a row, y’all don’t need me to throw statistics around that you can go look up yourselves. But I got something to let off my chest.”
He chuckles.
FERNANDEZ: “I don’t think Mark Storm is just another name, mang. I don’t think the accomplishments he has were in vain, I don’t think he’s here without a reason, without a motive to be. Firstly because I don’t think that of anyone, and second, because the guy’s reputation precedes him.”
His smile ends though, back to the same steely expression.
FERNANDEZ: “That’s the difference between him and I, when I started in these here Four Corners, mang. I was a small name from nowhere, with nothing, and no one but Jason Cashe and Perry Wallace knew me, and only because they somewhat heard about me in a place 4CW was ridiculing at the time. I count myself lucky, chicos, to have been away from that shit.”
He waves it off.
FERNANDEZ: “And I bring this up, mang, because Mark was kind enough to say he remembers when I “shot to glory”.”
He mimics quotation marks with his hands.
FERNANDEZ: “What he DOESN’T seem to remember is how I was marginalized MUCH before that, mang. I don’t know where it came from. I don’t know what it was, that caused the world to turn on me like that. I don’t know what it was that Gen Now at the time chose to do that, and it god damned well continues to this day. But I do know one thing, mang…”
FERNANDEZ: ” … I know that Mark Storm doesn’t know this.”
He stays silent, letting it sink in.
FERNANDEZ: “I know he doesn’t know this, because he still has the Dogs of War. He can shoot his own road in 4CW, and his attitude is commendable for doing so, but he HASN’T been through what I have been, mang. Even now, still among Chris Constantine’s clients, he can’t claim what I’m claiming now.”
FERNANDEZ: ”He can talk about marginalization, and how I’m not the only one to be, all he likes, and some of his points may be right. I’m not the only person in the world. I ain’t that special, maybe, that’s never been my claim. That’s why I keep saying I’m just another guy.”
He looks away, then back at camera.
FERNANDEZ: “But I AIN’T that god damned dumb not to see that whatever shit I’m thrown at, it ain’t because anyone wants to “help” me, mang. You know why that is? Because that same amount of shit is what’s reserved for some of the most notorious names in the business, mang. Mark Storm never received that. The Dogs of War as a god damned WHOLE never received that.”
FERNANDEZ: ”And through it all, I still endured, not just last year, but also this year. Through it all I stand alone. Through it all, I am still here.”
He slams his fist against his palm, then slowly begins to stand up.
FERNANDEZ: “That’s how god damned DEEP this goes, how god damned HARD I’m fighting to break out. To stand on my own, not just stumbling blindly, but standing up right, and walking, and striding, and maybe even RUNNING, in the future, mang.”
Now on his own two legs, he begins getting closer to the camera.
FERNANDEZ: “Because that is, in the end, what growth is all about. What EVOLUTION, is all about. And that was what I wanted to do, how I wanted to come back to 4CW. Up before Ante Up it hasn’t been without its struggles, and probably won’t be now either. But I do know how tonight is gonna end, mang.”
He leans towards the camera lens.
FERNANDEZ: “With another step forward, on the fallen body of YOUR Hero, and Mine.”
And with that, he turns, and begins walking away, out of camera range, before the scene fades to black.


The match starts with Storm and Fernandez eyeing each other. Storm laughs as he shakes his head like it isn’t a big deal and charges at Fernandez. Fernandez isn’t ready as Storm takes him down with a slingblade. Strom delivers some strikes at Fernandez and starts striking at him with repeated lefts and rights. The referee has to warn Storm not to get disqualified. He turns around and starts taunting the crowd that they should be proud of everything he does. As he spins around a couple times, Fernandez delivers a surprise of his own and hits Storm with a running clothesline. Fernandez drops down and delivers some strikes of his own by bashing Storm with a few lefts and rights. He doesn’t waste any time by grabbing Storm and trying to put him in a sharpshooter.
Storm is able to block and turn around and lock Fernandez in a kamura lock in reverse as he pulls tightly on Fernandez. Fernandez screams in pain but refuses to tap. Fernandez is able to get to the ropes and the referee forces the break and gets a four count against Fernandez. They both get back on their feet and exchange more strikes at each other. Storm goes in at Fernandez but Fernandez hits a charging Storm with a spinning wheel kick. Storm tries to shake it off but meanwhile Fernandez heads to the top rope and dives off. He attempts a missile drop kick but Storm instantly hits Fernandez with a big boot. Fernandez goes down hard as Storm heads to the top rope this time. Storm dives off and hits a somersault dive on Fernandez.
Fernandez stirs as he struggles to get up. Storm is proving that he’s the best. Fernandez starts to get up as Storm is taking in his success. Unforumty Storm walks into a hurricanroa from Storm and slides out of the ring. The referee starts counting to then as Storm rolls outsie I pursuit of Fernandez Storm grabs Fernandez and tosses him into the barricade back first. Fernandez gripes in pain as the referee count is up to six. Storm rolls back ino the ring as he starts to celebrate. However, was the referee was on nine, Fernandez uses his strength to get back into the ring just in the niike of time.
Storm picks up Fernandez and looks him in the eyes fore grabbing him tossing hi across the ring. Storm charges at Fernandez but Fernandez moves and grabs Storm and throws him shoulder first into the turnbuckle. Fernandez comes back and Storm hits him with a high kick to the chest. Storm follows that up with a moonsault on Fernandez. Storm starts striking Fernandez repeatedly on the mat. Storm backs off as he awaits Fernandez to get up as he’s obviously playing him. Fernandez gets up slowly as Storm gets ready to charge at Fernandez with the two shots, one knee. He misses as Fernandez dodges Storms move. Fernandez turns around quickly and plants him with a DDT. Fernandez looks amongst the crowd and gets them riled up as he goes for the Stormcloak Elbow. He connects but is unable to pin Storm as he kicks out at two.
Fernandez picks up Storm and slaps him and attempts to go for the Trollface but Storm maneuvers away quickly and hits Fernandez with a sharp right hook. He throws Fernandez towards the turnbuckle. Storm goes for the Heroes End but Fernandez is able to hit an ensurguri on Storm which makes Storm stumble back away from the corner. Fernandez rushes over the rope and to the outside apron. Storm turns around and Fernandez jumps from the ropes and connects with the Warhammer. He drops down and pins Storm.

WINNER: Mariano Fernandez via Pinfall (10:55)

KAISER: “Sharks aren’t even the most dangerous beasts in the sea. You got dolphins, orcas, and whatever sits at the bottom of the ocean. Some kind of eldritch monstrosity, you know? Hell, in this case, Shark isn’t even a Great White, a Bull, or anything wild. He’s like a Nurse Shark, really. Dangerous if threatened and some situations, but not to someone like me. I ate Shark Fin Soup for the first time.”
Artemis chuckles to herself as she walks outside of her locker room, putting her cell phone down. She actually carries the bowl of soup in her hand, taking a spoonful in her mouth. She doesn’t seem to know what to think of the flavor.

KAISER: “Okay. I’m not going to waste too much time because I’m not one for much words before my matches. I like to be entirely focused on the task at hand and tonight, I got a loudmouthed boy that proves to be a problem every other day.”
She puts the bowl down, having decided that it isn’t her…bowl of choice.
KAISER: “The question I always ask myself after these matches is simple.”
Wrapping her hands in wrist tape, she tugs on the ends with her teeth.
KAISER: “The field is open, 4CW. It’s a selfish mindset to look at the roster as people to line up and beat, but isn’t that what the sport is about? Finding the best and challenging them? Yeah, that’s what I want. That’s what I demand as a competitor here in 4CW. So, I’m going to set this up in advance and hope that it all works out in my favor.”
Artemis takes out a note out of her pocket.
KAISER: “Tonight, it’s Shark, a legend of the past, but I’m a fighter of the present time. It’ll be important to win; it’ll be great to win, but I need to look to the future. So, when you see this, I want you to process it and get back to me when you’re ready.”
She approaches the camera and sticks on a simple note.
It’s a name and a message that should be heard loud and clear.
“Call me, Bronxy.”


The audience were currently chanting for Bryan to kill Johnny while Johnny’s sister, Samantha cheered her brother on from outside of the ring but was no match for the roaring voices of the Corners Four fans. Bryan was in go mode, having had the upper hand in the first half of the match until Johnny started getting some lucky shots in and took that away from him…. but not for long. Johnny moved around with that enthusiastic energy as if he were loaded up with coffee… or something illegal as he flashed that confident smile of his and stepped towards Bryan again with a slight lunge forward to make a grab for him as Bryan steps back again from out of his reach. Johnny was playing it safe for the moment, not wanting to lose the upper but Bryan wasnt for the games because the next time Johnny stepped forward, Bryan stole him hard in the jaw. The audience reacted with loud cheers while Johnny reacted in kind with swinging on Bryan after Bryan’s punch had him stumbling back like the town drunk. The punch doesnt connect and catches nothing but air as Bryan leans back swiftly but ends up getting caught off guard when Johnny moves with a quickness to take to the air with a Freedomcanrana that had Samantha applauding when Bryan went down to the mat after the attack. Johnny was about to taunt it up but Bryan was on his ass like Deebo scoping out Craig and Smokey for possessions to take as he catches him from behind with a backdrop driver.
Samantha was praying Bryan didnt pin Johnny but the thought hadnt even crossed Bryan’s mind because he didnt feel it was time for that yet. He bends down to pull Johnny to his feet and has to boss up with a few punches to Johnny’s face when Johnny tries to break out of Bryan’s grasp. Those punches do well with chilling Johnny out if only for a few seconds and thats all Bryan needs to slide around to the back of Johnny, lifting him up and slamming him down with a blue thunder bomb. Johnny rolls away to make it onto his feet, trying to catch his breath as he feels winded but there aint no breaks when it comes to Bryan and he charges him just to end up running into the ropes and bouncing off of them from Johnny hurrying with a dive out of the way. He is quick to get to his feet and rushes forward as Bryan is running towards him from the ropes and Johnny stops Bryan with a Liberty dropkick. He’s feeling himself, he’s going for the pin and….. Bryan kicks out right when the referee gets to two. Johnny refuses the smile or confidence to melt away as he thinks positively and pulls Bryan to his feet, moving fast for a Patriot-DT before Bryan could attempt to fight back. Vassa was talking shit about Johnny, saying that we already had a Storm on the roster that gave him migraines already, we didnt need another while Johnson praises Johnny for his athleticism to the chagrin of his co-commentator.
Johnny was back in the lead like Flo Jo as he leveled up on Bryan and started throwing straight haymakers with that energy that showed he was now ready to end the battle and pick up the win. Every time he put Bryan down on his back, he gained a new ounce of confidence that skyrocketed moments later when he thought he had slipped up but ended up countering Bryan’s punches and going for an American Bulldog. Vassa cursed on air, calling Johnny Captain Dumbass while watching him climb the turnbuckle and look at the downed Bryan below. He went for the Diving Liberty Lariat with a heart filled with hope and ended up with a salty taste in his mouth figuratively once Bryan moved at the last second. Bryan wasted no time once Johnny got fully on his feet as Bryan brought him off back off them with a Fireman’s Carry Takedown. Johnny wasnt giving up though, he had that proud to be American spirit igniting in him as he rushed Bryan and got cracked in the face with a Superkick that had him seeing American flags waving all over the place. Johnny didnt go down but looked in a daze and reminded you of your opponent on Mortal Kombat just dazing around in place until you got them with that Fatality finisher. Bryan’s Shotgun Mouthwash fixed that though and laid Johnny right down on the mat as Bryan went for the cover for a successful three count that had the fans erupting into loud cheers.
WINNER: Bryan Williams via Pinfall (7:44)

Even though he’s sweating after his match with Bryan Williams, Captain America Johnny Storm remains inside of his suit, wielding his shield, a towel draped over his shoulders as he walks from ringside to his back dressing room with Uncle Sam at his side. Gabriel Hartman catches up with the living, breathing Beacon of Freedom and hurries to keep pace with him.
HARTMAN: “Captain America!”
HARTMAN: “You were in tough out there against Bryan Williams. How do you feel about–”
Captain America Johnny Storm holds up his hand to stop Gabe.
CAPTAIN AMERICA JOHNNY STORM: “Say no more, Gabe. First of all, I want to take this opportunity to personally thank Bryan Williams.”
He looks into the following camera.
CAPTAIN AMERICA JOHNNY STORM: “Thank you, Bryan. Not only for that tremendous match we just had, but also for the witty repartee that took place in the lead up. You truly are a consummate professional in and out of the ring, with loads of talent. Each promo you cut is a veritable showcase of verbal virtuosity and skill, and I look forward to matching wits and testing my mettle against you again. I can only hope to one day be half as gifted as you clearly are.”
He looks back to Gabe.
CAPTAIN AMERICA JOHNNY STORM: “It’s not often you face a man of Bryan Williams’ calibre, Gabriel. I just wanted to go out there, give 110 %, and try and do right by the fans, cause that’s what I’m here for. If I can inspire just one little boy, girl, or gender questioning child to take up this great sport, win or lose, I have succeeded.”
HARTMAN: “That’s a great attitude, cap.”
CAPTAIN AMERICA JOHNNY STORM: “That’s not all, Gabriel.”
He stops walking at the hurried pace, giving everyone a much-needed breather. Captain America Johnny Storm looks thoughtful and sincere as he looks back into the camera.
CAPTAIN AMERICA JOHNNY STORM: “I also wanted to thank you, Bryan Williams, for introducing me to–”
He looks uncertainly to Sam.
She innocently hands him an issue of The Amazing Spider-Man. Captain America begins to leaf through it, looking over the pages as he continues speaking.
CAPTAIN AMERICA JOHNNY STORM: “The creativity here is just… wow. There’s a wealth of ideas I would never have dreamed of tapping in to on my own. These guys deserve some attention. So, I’m hoping with my endorsement I might get some eyes on their fine product. And it’s all thanks to you, Bryan.”
He smiles, holding up the famous Todd McFarlane drawn Spider-Man cover with all the webs on it.
He looks at the cover.
CAPTAIN AMERICA JOHNNY STORM: “‘Spider Man’. He’s truly great. The kids are gonna love it.”
A winning, smiling endorsement as Captain America positions the comic in front of the camera a moment before continuing his hurried pace towards his open locker room.
HARTMAN: “…okay. So your match–”
Captain America is already inside, turning to face Gabe.
CAPTAIN AMERICA JOHNNY STORM: “I’m afraid I need some meditation time, Gabriel. After a workout like the one I just had, I need to gather my thoughts and detox. Okay? All right!”
He claps Gabe on the shoulder and begins to close the door. Catching a quick glance inside before the door is fully closed, on the bench, are stacks of unread comic books. And then the door closes.

We return right to ringside, where the ring announcer is at the ready, mic in hand.
POWERS: ”Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is—”
“A’right, stop, stop, hold on, hold on, hold on—”

A voice clip cuts in over the PA, interrupting Powers, and the lights in the arena all cut out. The crowd doesn’t quite know who or what’s causing this, but they seem to have an idea, judging by how loud the cheers are.
JOHNSON: ”Sorry about this, ladies and gentlemen, we seem to be having some technical difficulti—wait, what?!”
VASSA: ”Who the hell is THAT?”
The big screen turns back on, and the crowd roars even louder for the man it reveals, leaning back against the wall. We’ve never seen him in 4CW before, but considering we’re on the West Coast, it would be stranger for a crowd full of wrestling fans to not recognize the blond streak in his long hair, the Seattle Pro Wrestling Pride Championship slung over his shoulder, the wry smile on his face as he looks into the camera. This is “The Revolution” A.J. Morales, and even though he’s somewhere in the halls backstage, he hears the reception for him loud and clear.
MORALES: ”What’s good, 4CW?”
The crowd lets A.J. know with another round of cheers.
MORALES: ”A’right, so clearly, everybody in the building knows who I am, but for the people at home who might not, I’m A.J. Morales, and people call me a lot of things. They call me the Revolution. They call me the Rawest Wrestler Alive. They call me the greatest Hardcore Champion in XWA history, and as of right now, they call me a champion in Seattle, Mexico City, and Budokan Hall all at the same time. But tonight…honestly, I just gotta call myself a 4CW fan.”
It’s kind of a cheap pop, but the crowd cheers for it anyway.
MORALES: ”For real, though…I’ve been watching these shows as just a fan for like a year now, so I know how good the competition is out here. I know why talking shit comes as naturally as breathing air in this company, and it’s because so many people on this roster can actually back it up. But as much as I’d love to stick around here long enough to fight every last worthy opponent on this roster, start from the bottom, work my way up, all that classic stuff, the fact is…if I sign one more full-time contract, my manager is gonna fuckin’ kill me.”
A.J. stops for a moment to catch his breath and flip his hair out of his eyes before he keeps going.
MORALES: ”So here’s the deal…I’ve signed a 4CW contract for one night only, and that match is gonna be in two weeks in Seattle right here on Adrenaline. And I can’t say who I’m booked against just yet, ‘cause they haven’t worked that card out, but if this turns out to be the only time I ever step into a 4CW ring, I want to be able to say I took on one of the best. I want to try and climb the highest mountain in the valley, just to see if I can make it. I want the kind of challenge that, out of all the thousands of promotions that make up the wrestling world, I can’t get anywhere else but 4CW. Next Adrenaline…I want Bronx Valescence.”
Predictably, the crowd explodes at the prospect of Bronx’s return, chanting his name for a good few seconds while A.J. waits for the crowd noise to die down.
MORALES: ”Bronx, I don’t know if you’re in the building tonight, ‘cause I haven’t seen you around, but here’s what I do know: I need an opponent for next Adrenaline, Seattle needs something big to get people in the door, and you’re not the kinda guy who settles for returning to the ring with an easy win over some drunken jabroni named Big Bad Bill Walker that they dragged in off the street. So if you wanna return with a splash, if you wanna remind the rest of that Bad Company field what they’re in for if they face you and Ana, I’m tellin’ ya, I’m your ticket. And I know these fans wanna see you punch that ticket, right?”
Another roar of cheers, which A.J. goes silent for to emphasize his point.
MORALES: ”You heard the people. Hit me up and let’s give ‘em what they want. Te veré en Seattle, güey.”
A.J. fist-bumps the camera and walks off, and even after the big screen goes back to the usual graphics loop for between matches, the crowd stays electric for several seconds, with several chants of both A.J. and Bronx’s names breaking out in different sections of the arena.
VASSA: ”Now that was just uncalled for! Big Bad Bill Walker is a legend, and anyone in their right mind would be HONORED to fight him!”
JOHNSON: ”Well, we’ll see if Bronx takes A.J. Morales up on that offer, but if he does, then we’ve got one hell of a match coming up in Seattle! For now, though, let’s get back to the action…”

Loud cracks and pop can be heard as the camera fades in from a grainy blackness. Dakota Smith is in the backstage area, standing in front of a mirror. He is getting his body ready, stretching out his limbs and rolling his neck around his shoulders. Each and every movement lets out more loud cracks as a vicious grin forms on the lips of The Butcher, it was if he liked the pain. His eyes are wide, glaring into his reflection in the mirror. With each passing second tension seems to rise, and a wild tick overcomes Dakota’s whole body. Followed by a chuckle he drives his head forward into the mirror, instantly it shatters to the ground and Dakota let’s out an even louder, more monstrous sounding laugh. He twists his attention to the camera, as his tongue extends out from behind his scarred up lips. His grin grows wider as he gives the camera a little wink, as soon as he does this the screen goes black, and the camera fucks off into someone else’s business.


American Tommy, having just finished reporting Perry Wallace to Twitter HQ (it goes to their Headquarters, right?), was feeling good about himself as he entered the ring to take on his newest challenger, Magdalena Lockheart. After the bell rang, the two sized one another up for a bit before tangling. In fact, the two took turns slapping one another in the face like women before any real wrestling began. Tommy even yanked Magdalena by her hair once. It was embarrassing for the sport. Regardless, the two finally locked up in a collar and elbow tie before Tommy seized control with a side headlock. Magdalena only suffered the stench of Tommy’s body odor long enough to have it make her incensed. She pushed Tommy off with all of her might, and the man of relatively small stature for a pro-wrestler rocketed toward the ring ropes. He bounced off of them and was met with a stiff clothesline, flooring him. Magdalena whipped her long, platinum blonde ponytail around and expelled a scream of victory at her ability to knock the grown man to his back. She followed up her minor victory by pouncing on the Octane Champion, delivering blow after blow upon his face. The crowd roared with approval, getting behind this young up-and-comer.
The match continued on with a couple of near falls and a few transitions, back and forth, between the two combatants. The next mentionable moment occurred when Tommy did a backflip. That’s all. That’s what he did. In his bio, under aerial attacks, he simply has listed, “backflip.” So, presumably, the form of said backflip was so impressive that it knocked some sense into Magdalena regarding just the caliber of athlete she was facing that evening. Backflips win hearts if they don’t win matches, folks. Tommy did a backflip and landed behind Magdalena, which enabled him to hit her with a variation of a bulldog (also in bio, so pick one). Magdalena answered this by tripping the Octane Champion and locking him into a front ankle lock. Tommy endured the pain from the submission maneuver and was able to find a rope before he was forced to tap out.
Later, the match featured Magdalena hitting her Eclipsis Lunae (Black Mass Kick) for a very near fall. She had Tommy reeling for quite a bit. After the pinfall attempt, she sprung to her feet and continued to punish Tommy’s face with a series of heavy stomps. She kicked and kicked and kicked until Tommy screamed for her to, “STOP!! THE FUCK?!” Her kicks were followed up by knee drops aimed in the very same general location. Another pin attempt was rebuffed by the 4CW Octane Champion after all the kicking and kneeing was through. Lockheart lifted Tommy to his feet following the failed pinfall and she went for another Eclipses Lunae, but American Tommy had been busted up just enough to the point that he knew he couldn’t bear to take another shot like the last one.
He collapsed to his knees like a seasoned prostitute before darting forth and taking out her stable support leg with a stiff shoulder. She fell over Tommy’s back, but he still had one leg in his possession. With all his might, Tommy lifted the one hundred and eleven pound Lockheart in the air, took just a couple of paces, and slammed her down in the center of the ring with a NASTY spinebuster. Magdalena laid in the center of the ring in a puddle. Tommy went for the pin, but was denied at the very last moment. He lifted the dazed Lockheart to her feet and threw her into the turnbuckle, which she bounced off of before accepting its supporting embrace. Tommy backed up to the adjacent turnbuckle, motioned to the crowd that something big was coming, and dashed toward Magdalena, intending to hit her with the Broken Snitch- but Lockheart pushed out from the turnbuckle and laid flat, causing Tommy to go sailing over her evading body, before crashing balls first into the bottom turnbuckle, which invoked him to scream, “KIMI NOOOOOOO!!!” by force of habit.
From the side, The Future kicked Tommy square in the throat, which caused him to fall flat on his back. Tommy rolled backward and on to his side. He began to lift himself up- he had gotten to all fours when he saw Magdalena charging forward with Lacrimosa in mind (curb stomp), but Tommy pushed up, grabbed her by her leg, and executed a variation of a T-Bone Suplex. The momentum with which Lockheart hit the ground forced her back up to her feet for a split second, which was long enough for the Octane Champion to hit the YoYo Toss Salad hip toss, which left Magdalena in a heap in the center of the ring. American Tommy quickly ascended the three turnbuckles and jumped, successfully landing the a Mongolian Stomp, or Gryffindor’s Stomp, as he refers to it. Three seconds later, the Octane Champion proved victorious.
WINNER: American Tommy via Pinfall (13:25)

Surprisingly, there’s a fair amount of positive reaction from the Portland crowd when the cameras cut backstage to catch sight of Eric Donavan, making his way down the hall with Lyra LeVeux-Donavan at his side. In a departure from the norm, however, both sides look rather more serious and far less relaxed. The two speak as they go, the conversation engaging enough that they have tuned out most of the goings-on around them. They are not oblivious, as evidenced the acknowledgement of others they pass who make an effort to greet then, but it is always a momentary lapse before they’re back to their private discussion.
LEVEUX-DONAVAN: “…and there is still no word yet?”
DONAVAN: ”Not one. They’re calling friends, relatives, got people on the lookout within a hundred-mile radius of the place. Still nothing.”
LEVEUX-DONAVAN: ”It does not make any sense, mi amor. Why leave? Especially after being so determined to stay for whatever reason? And without a word, too?”
Grimly nodding, Eric continues walking down the hallway while Lyra, musingly, considers the situation a bit longer before her eyes widen at one thought in particular. She sighs quietly and shakes her head.
LEVEUX-DONAVAN: ”What do we tell Liam?”
Such a thought Eric had yet to consider and it causes his countenance to become yet more grim. Taped fists clench, the Irish Dragon already dressed for his bout later, but they loosen just as quickly.
DONAVAN: ”If it comes down to it… the truth.”
From down the hall, Andre Holmes marches down the path strapping the extra large black MMA gloves around his fists. He slouges on the hoodie over his head and walks down with one thing on his mind; Victory. It’s quite obvious him and Eric are going to leave everything in that ring but he never expected to see him with his wife out in the open. They’ve always been around each other yet it might be time to get a few words off their chest before they handle their business in their match.
Andre steps up to the two, relaxed and calm. There’s absolutely no need to be an asshole or on the defensive yet as they seem to be occupied with more pressing matters. He calls out to Eric mostly.
HOLMES: ”You guys seem like you’re about to crack a case on Law and Order. ”
Wasn’t the best ice breaker but he felt a comedic approach would alleviate the tension emulating from their body gestures. However, his mood switches over to the confident person when he gets closer to Eric looking him up to his eye level.
HOLMES: ”You know Eric, I have to say you’ve been doing good in 4CW and I’m glad you’re here but we’ve never faced until now; I don’t plan on losing to you and I’m going to make sure I walk out of there with my hand raised. I don’t care if you don’t want, It’s going to happen and you know it too.”
Andre had launched into his monologue before it fully registered to Eric that he was face to face with his opponent for later on. The fans knew right off, though; the tension was thick and their tittering out in the arena proper created a buzz that could be felt by both Holmes and Donavan. Lyra, in particular, looked a little sharp in the eyes, but in feeling this Eric gestured simply to her and she put her attention elsewhere for the moment.
DONAVAN: ”You have a gift for that, don’t you? I’m starting to see it now… the saying one thing but meaning another. The expression on your face and the heat in your eyes not matching what’s falling out of your mouth…”
The Irish Dragon smirks in that way he has, and more than a few ladies squeal out in the crowd. Which, in turn, causes Lyra to make a similar expression. Eric’s does not last, however.
DONAVAN: ”Look, Andre, let’s be real for a moment, hm? What this match could have been is a distant memory, a dream never to be revisited. But where you’re coming from? I get it. I’ve been there. You want this more than anything… so much that you’d sell your soul. But here’s the issue:”
Now all semblance of geniality is gone from Eric’s features.
DONAVAN: ”You chose wrong. If you beat me out there, and I mean IF? You won’t look like a winner, I can damn well promise you that. But if I beat you? The weight’s gonna be twice as heavy and that walk up the ramp three times as long. And you’ll have no one to blame but yourself when the curtain falls. You made it this way, Andre. I’m simply responding.”
Andre licks his lips and slowly nods.
HOLMES: ”If…WHEN I beat you there, I’m just trying to show you that sometimes you need to go down that route if you want to survive. Not everyone can have a happy ending and judging from the situation you’re in, I’d suggest preparing for that road. If not, the heartbreak’s gonna be way worse. Something to think about it after the match is over because if you don’t strike first, somebody else will. Good luck out there.”
He backs away for a little moment before spinning on the soles of his shoes then marches down the hallway getting prepared for whatever little warm ups or exercises in isolation leaving Eric and his wife alone to their private talk. Lyra looks after him, her sharp eyes narrowed. Eric, however keeps on staring forward, that smirk starting to reform on his face. Turning to her husband, the Priestess of Pain raises a brow.
LEVEUX-DONAVAN: ”What’s so funny?”
Taking a glance over his shoulder, Eric chuckles quietly.
DONAVAN: ”It’s just cute when someone speaks like that, as if they know my history… as if they know the depths I’ve sunk to. Maybe he needs to tap into his dark side to get the job done, but it’s clear that he hasn’t considered the price. I have. And that’s why I’m going to take great pleasure in shutting him down tonight.”
LEVEUX-DONAVAN: ”And if you lose?”
DONAVAN: ”Like I told him: it won’t mean as much as he wants it to and he’ll carry marks for the rest of his life regardless. He has ensured that even a victory on his part, no matter the means, will fall utterly flat. It’s a no-win situation. And I didn’t have to lift a finger.”
The two continue on their own way, resuming their conversation at a lower tone.


Fine ass Artemis was serving King of Loudmouths James all the side eyes and looks as he trash talked the hell out of here. He felt he had re upped in the match finally after breaking through to Artemis’ defenses and laying a whup ass on her but by the glint in her eyes, she was ready to return the fire tenfold. James mouthed moved and Artemis’ feet did also but at a slow and steady pace, enough to inch closer to James without having him panic and begin throwing punches at her. The ever so alert James noticed that Artemis seemed closer than before and immediately went into attack mode, swinging as he tries to catch her with a two piece biscuit combo but Artemis was too quick for him and had James coming for her on some super saiyan ish while she kept out of the way with backing up, bobbing and weaving from the pro fighter’s power-packed punches. The ever so relentless James didnt give up though as he kept swinging and swinging until finally, he faked with a left and caught Artemis with a right. James flashes his perfect pearly whites that end up disappearing from sight once his mouth becomes shaped like an O when Artemis knees him in the gut like a G checking someone who had spoken out of line. James was salty and Artemis was here for it as she smirked before making her next move her best move with a death valley driver. James was no danger to controversy and definitely wanted Artemis leaking out from her head or mouth on this mat from the way she kept coming at him and handling her business.
James believed himself to be the man and nobody could tell him differently as he stepped from foot to foot and was war ready for some more. Artemis was happy to oblige as she came at him ready to lay him out but ended up getting uppercutted when James went for a sly dip and came up smoothly with that fist on the ready. Artemis wobbled but didnt go down until James doubled up with a quick right hook aimed at her jaw. A grinning James felt he already had the win and bent down to grab for Artemis’ arm to pull her up when Artemis pulled James down to the mat and hurried to rise up but not before kneeing him in the face. Now on her feet, Artemis kicks James’ sides over and over again, coming for those ribs like she’s trying to cave them in. She then face stomped James, tired of that cocky smartass smile he had been flashing at her all night. He wasn’t smiling now but she was, that triumphant smile lit up like a menorah on the last day of Hanukkah as she aimed that finger gun at James, that taunt seeming to further piss him off. He went scrambling to get to his feet, ready to knock out Artemis as she was ready for him, that jumping DDT of hers seeming to come out of nowhere. James takes his time getting to his feet and as soon as Artemis steps forward, James comes up quick with an uppercut but this time with his elbow getting every last bit of Artemis’ chin.
That definitely set Artemis back a bit as James jumps around in that boxer stance, ready to go and fire off on her some more. His confidence was shining brighter than that bald head of his as that fighter’s scowl is painted on his face and he’s ready for some more action. He lays hands on Artemis like a false prophet trying to heal a blind woman with promising her sight back, backing Artemis into the turnbuckle corner and laying into her. James wasnt with the shits and he would be goddamned if Artemis made an example out of him tonight. James worked those hands on him and made the mistake of stopping which gave Artemis the opportunity to elbow him in the face twice to force him to back up off of her. She escapes that corner finally and gets at James with a leaping lariat to take him down. She pulls James to his feet and he refuses to go down with a fight as he swings on Artemis repeatedly like he wanted to knock her teeth down her throat, making sure each punch is structured to at least knock the wind out of her body but he’s missing from the way Artemis is being too quick on her toes. She finally gets the drop on him, taking advantage of the upper as she goes for Cure for Insomnia and then the pin as the referee drops to the mat to slap his hand three times before the bell rings to end the match.
WINNER: Artemis Kaiser via Pinfall (8:13)

Backstage, at a hallway of the Moda Center, a stacked up bundle of dominos are in a unilateral line.
QUAGLIATERRE: ”It all falls down.”
Alessandro touched with the faintest of finger pokes, one of the dominos closest to him. He then watched, as they all tumbled down from their upright position in a beautiful sequence.
QUAGLIATERRE: ”Represents our recent endeavors perfectly don’t you think?”
It appeared as if he was talking to himself.
QUAGLIATERRE: ”Silence? Just as I expected. Confusion!?! Allow me to clear that up. Your domino effect has not been as bad as mine, but it represents perfectly that no matter how much momentum is built, or how many feelings of ecstacy you get from those endorphins being released through your body at every victory that is attained like the stacking up of a line of domino’s. There is always that fear, and pressure, is that all it takes is one mishap, one error of judgement, and just like that… whatever flicker of hope or ray of sunshine there is gets destroyed. We crash and burn as easy as that. Their appears to be no return, for the weak minded.”
He grunted, as puffs of smoke almost came out his nose to represent his angst and frustration.
QUAGLIATERRE: ”Except me and you, we’re not like that are we? We’re made of a stronger stuff. Fickle nature is not in our repertoire. No matter how raw that bandaid of disappointment can sting within you.”
He pinched his shoulder.
QUAGLIATERRE: ”Sometimes you need to hurt, to feel alive again. I’ve got that gutwrench feeling that just like the dominos, just like that anxiety and fear, tonight could be another horrible night for both of us. I could end up getting done over yet again by Dakota Smith. While you could…”
It was thought that Alessandro was talking to himself but this was not the case. He was addressing another individual, who remained silent, until now.
WHELAN: ”Pull The Plug…”
Finn appeared distant and removed from the conversation, almost as if he wasn’t there.
QUAGLIATERRE: ”True words. What happens tonight… happens. However what about the future?”
Alessandro pointed to the poster on the wall for 4CW’s next PPV.
QUAGLIATERRE: ”Bad Company. One Night Only. Maybe!?! Maybe not. We’ll worry about that later. For now I don’t have a partner, You don’t have a partner. Given our history, where we used to once work, the choice should be obvious. Me and You, Tag Team Partners. Let’s do this… What do you say?”
Alessandro paused, allow Finn to express his thoughts out in the open.
Finn nods in agreement, which indicates a Yes.
QUAGLIATERRE: ”What do we call ourselves, because every legit team needs a name with meaning. Can’t be a honorary member of the Wolves of Gheimhridh, that’s yours and Elena’s thing which you’ve been doing for years. Plus with another duo already taking dibs on the ‘Wolves’ moniker, who are potential future husband and wife or already are if you believe social media, in a attempt to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes. Which I don’t feel anybody buys it. No we’re not a copycat of ‘To The Wolves’ anyone else or a ripoff, we are our own entity all together. Don’t you think?”
Alessandro peered over to Finn who was in a deep thought, to get him to chime in his opinion.
WHELAN: ”We’ll work on that. To be decided soon.”
QUAGLIATERRE: ”My personal favorite when coming up with team names, is meshing two home cities or states together with initials, which is a real hip look, but I’ve already overdone as J2LA with Dan Taylor back in 2011, and D2NJ with Travis Blake in 2017 before he joined the Caitlyn Jenner fanclub. Enlighten me Finn, before you face the enlightened and gifted one.”
Alessandro used a play on words, to get his point across, and reference Finn’s match against DeMarcus Gresham later on in the night. Finn walked off, he was focused on his Ignition Championship rematch later on, while Alessandro was left alone before the reckoning was to come for him against Dakota Smith.

As the scene changes the cameras catch up with backstage interviewer Gabriel Hartman slinking through the corridors looking for his next target. Unkempt and twitchy as usual, he rounds a corner and almost walks directly into someone. The other person makes a startled sound, but Hartman launches right into his questions.
HARTMAN: “Ah, Miss Carlisle! I was hoping I would find you tonight. How are you feeling since your return to 4CW?”
Aidan takes a step back, putting some space between herself and Gabriel. When he tries to step closer again, she gives him a stiff arm to keep him at bay.
CARLISLE: “I’m feeling just fine, Hartman. Although it’s only been once so far, it feels good to get back in the ring again. I’ve missed it.”
Hartman nods like a bobblehead the whole time she’s speaking.
HARTMAN: “And what are your thoughts on your match tonight?”
CARLISLE: “I’m looking forward to it. Jair and I have never had a match one on one before. It’ll be nice to go head to head see how things stack up. I know he’s a hell of a guy to beat, but I also know it’s not impossible.”
HARTMAN: “What do you think gives you the edge against him?”
After a moment of thought, Aidan just shrugged.
CARLISLE: “I think I want it more. That’s really all there is to it. Jair has accomplished what most people only dream of in their careers. What else is there for him? Of course, thinking I want it more doesn’t translate to a victory in the ring, but I’m going to do everything I can to make it happen.”
Once again Hartman tries to step forward, and once again Aidan throws an arm up to keep him out of her personal space.
HARTMAN: “What is your strategy to take Jair down?”
CARLISLE: “I’m not going to tell you that.”
Aidan shakes her head.
CARLISLE: “Why would I go revealing my hand now instead of waiting to play it? That’s just foolish. Jair is a tall enough order to take down without him knowing what I have planned. If you want to know, you’ll just have to watch the match along with everyone else.”
Without giving Hartman anymore time to bombard her with questions, Aidan steps around him and continues on her way.


Portland, Oregon is about to experience a great under card match between Lord Raab and Kimitsu Zombie. The two leave their corners then circle the ring at equal distance wondering what to do to get the upper hand in the beginning of the match. The moment they lock up in the center of the ring, Raab will lock in the Side Headlock and tosses her across the ring with a simple throw. She lands on the canvas then rolls all the way into an unoccupied corner surprised by the sheer power of Lord Raab; Her opponent walks over to the corner and hoists her up back onto her feet. A strong Forearm Blow into the head keeps her stunned before whipping her into the opposing corner.
Once her back gets slammed into the corner, she suffers a powerful Avalanche crushing her body between the turnbuckles and Raab. He doesn’t end the onslaught there; After taking her by the head, he lifts her up in a Suplex Position and stalls for a few seconds before tipping over down on his back. The Stalling Suplex works to perfection and lays her down enough for the float over pin attempt. She kicks out at one and Raab drags her back up to her feet; A quick knee strike hunches her over and he holds onto her right arm throwing her into the ropes. When Zombie reaches it, she wraps her arms around the top rope preventing the return goading her opponent to charge into her.
Kimitsu drops down tugging the top rope with her allowing Lord Raab to bounce over it crashing down to the ringside. The fans behind the barricade groan at the crash and burn and Raab turns around on his feet to see Kimitsu Zombie performing a Springboard Crossbody from the ring all the way down to Lord Raab at ringside. The pile of bodies on the mat causes the referee to start the count and she gets up first stomping down on his large body. She slowly drags him over to the apron and rolls him into the ring keeping his head exposed over the apron edge. Zombies backs up, runs forward and a Yakuza Kick into the temple forces him to roll back inside.
She slides in under the bottom rope then slowly gets back up on her feet before running to the ropes ahead of her. Upon the return, Lord Raab is already standing and gets put down on his back again with a Sling Blade! The back of his head hits the canvas pretty hard and she goes on top of his chest to hook his leg up. He kicks out exactly as the referee’s hand hits the mat for the second time. Kimitsu knows she can’t let up on such a huge individual; The moment Raab sits up, a strong Roundhouse Kick claps him in the back. He takes the blow and shakes his head at her. Another Roundhouse Kick into his spine claps him down into his spine again and she runs to the ropes ahead of her.
The rebound is made, incoming speed from Kimitsu and she gets lifted off the canvas for the Twisting Spinebuster! The Moda Center explodes in support for his comeback and he slowly gets off the canvas along with Zombie in her grabs. Having both her arms in double underhooks for the clinch, repeated headbutts into her explodes chest almost leaves her breathless. He then wraps her arms around her in a hug and in a Belly to Belly Slam in the center of the ring! He doesn’t even hesitate to bring her back up and whip her into the ropes that has her back glued to the turnbuckles. Raab Spears her right in the abdomen then drags her out of the corner for the Release German Suplex!
She lands on the back of her neck then rolls over onto her chest almost out of it. Raab paces back and forth then raises his right hand up in the air measuring for the Chokeslam. Stalking her every move, she slowly gets up and feels his hand around his throat before being lifted up in the air. She breaks the hold off of him, places her arm around his neck then snaps down to the mat from a Jumping DDT spiking him on top of his head. She slowly gets back up again, falls back into the corner then watches him slowly get back up on his feet. Kimitsu takes off into a sprint and gets lifted up in a Powerbomb position but then she falls backwards to spike him on the head again with a Frankensteiner!
The signature Frankensteiner has him in the pin attempt and he kicks out just before the three count was made. She slowly gets thrown onto her hands and knees wondering how the hell he managed to kick out of that then get back up on her feet. The moment Lord Raab manages to even get back up on his hands and knees, she tries for the Axe Kick down to the back of the head but her leg gets caught in his grasp. Not only does Raab have the leg on his side, but he lifts her up off the canvas for the impromptu signature Chokeslam better known as “The Chokinator”. The pin attempt is made and she kicks out before the three count.
Another chance is gone and Lord Raab can’t waste any time. He slowly drags her back up and hooks both her arms in her grasp before lifting her up off the canvas. She flips over his right shoulder and lands behind him before running towards the ropes, leaping onto the middle rope and dropping him down with a Springboard Moonsault; Both of them are on the canvas except for Kimitsu who gets up from the moment. A quick kick into the ribs manages to drop Raab down on his hands and knees thus achieving the opportunity with the “Banzai God Kick” which is the finishing Axe Kick to the back of his head! Raab is out and she rolls him over for the pin attempt which is a three-count!
Kimitsu Zombie has just pinned Lord Raab and celebrates her victory!
WINNER: Kimitsu Zombie via Pinfall (9:46)

Much like the last Adrenaline there’s a door in front of a the camera with a sign on it. LAst week that sign warned whoever was outside to not enter, or to do so at their own risk. This week it’s sloppily written with black permanent marker onto notebook paper with a message that reads “Peek A Boo I See You”
CAMERA GUY: ”Why? Why am I the one who has to do this… I did this last week…”
He seems to be irritable and not exactly scared as his hand reaches out and opens the door to a dark room again. An aggressively annoyed exhale is heard as the camera walks into the dark room and is surrounded in the darkness for moments until the lights suddenly flick on and behind a black leather couch is Bryan Laughlin’s eyes peeking out with his gloves hands on either side of his head before the lights go out again. This time for not very long before they quickly illuminate the room again and now Bryan is peaking out from behind the side of the couch and waves a little as the lights go back out.
LAUGHLIN: ”Three long weeks we wait between words passed and fists flying. Three long weeks it’s been. You came to pay me a visit and stalk my wife and I while I got to say hello again to a friend.”
Yeah, that’s not Bryan’s voice. Not the one the world associates with him anyways. The voice is high pitch and goes up in tone at the end of every sentence in a sing song manor. The lights turn back on and we don’t see any sign of Laughlin for a few moments until we hear two sets of breathing by the camera and the camera guy belts out a yell his father would be embarrassed to hear as the camera swings and shows Bryan smiling in the corner. But of course….lights out again.
LAUGHLIN: ”Perhaps you’ve learned a bit of something about me Cyrus in the time you’ve spent watching….but probably not. You seem to have gotten some facts lazily wrong in the process of your ramblings. Of course who has time for detail when there’s so many females on social media for you to prey upon. Perhaps your next victims, or just a dopamine drip of affection from the click of a heart.”
The lights flick on again and in the distance of a well placed mirror in the locker room we see a reflection of Bryan from a location beyond the reach of the camera’s direct sight. Well, at least it’s Bryan’s body. He wearing ‘the mask’ again for the moments of the light being on until it goes out.
LAUGHLIN: ”If you had paid attention and looked into the mirror while I prepared my body for battle you would notice the constant struggle for me to remain to the untrained eye a boring human being. You would’ve seen the struggle through every blink and twitch in my right eye. The slight smirk in my face from the pain the weights bring… but that’s okay Cyrus. I learned about you. I learned that nothing in your life matters to you besides… you. So tonight…”
The lights turn back on and Bryan is standing directly in front of the camera. No mask, no smirk, and no more antics. He’s deadpanning the camera with his head slightly tilted to the side as he hands pull his gloves tight around his fingers.
LAUGHLIN: ”Tonight I will take the fight straight to you and make sure you see everything coming. No hiding. No sneak attacks. Tonight I end Cyrus fucking Riddle.”
He waves into the camera as the lights go out for moments before turning back on and all we see is a red balloon touching the ceiling of the locker room as the scene fades to black.

The cameras cut live to the back where it wasn’t so clear-cut. It was dark, there was a brick wall that had graffiti art placed upon it. Tags of unknown but looked very good from an artistic view, however loud music was heard, that to the tunes of one-half of Mobb Deep, Prodigy’s “Keep It Thoro” blasted. The camera continued to seek, showing the graffiti artist who obviously did the tag work, now was doing something else, painting the 4CW Tag Team Titles. Suddenly the camera shook, being grabbed by someone. Someone none other than Jair Hopkins.
HOPKINS: “Hey b, you finished ‘touring’ the area? If so, bring your eyes over to what’s more entertaining!”
Jair’s eyes glowed from the lights that were behind the cameraman, lighting the canvas for the artist that was doing work. Jair pulled the Cameraman’s attention, getting him to remove himself from that area and come over to the other side.
HOPKINS: “Got something to say…and it’s got nothing to do with the “Alpha Bitch” Aidan Carlisle. Nah, I got something better for y’all, something that’s going to open some eyes, especially the eyes of two special people.”
Hopkins wags his index finger into the direction as he is no longer in the picture but there is someone there, standing, Jason Mentez with a smirk on his face as the camera was on him. You could hear the crowd in the background cheer to his sighting. Red/black NY snapback chilling at an angle on his head and a black t-shirt with what looks to be the Jason mask on the front. Behind him, there was a red sheet on the brick wall as Jason cleared his throat before speaking.
MENTEZ: “To the folly fucks who thought dat Ante up was the last you seen of a nigga…”
A slight pause only for the cameras to see Mentez shine that rugged smile.
MENTEZ: “Sup bitches? Back by dat popular demand. I mean lets be honest Jair n I giving the okey doke and us shocking the reigning 4CW Tag Team Champions? My nigga really. Did you think you wouldn’t see us? I’m ashamed a yall.”
The light hearted chuckle pauses him only for a moment. He nods his head for the while at the theme still playing in the background. Mentez adds his voice to the lyrics.
MENTEZ: Why niggas bullshit on the grill. I don’t fuck around dunny, this move’s real. Jeb know. Cosmo saw. Ante Up put it on for us. First time ever tag teaming together in the ring…results. Auto. You understandin me? Lot of teams coming thru for the show but tell me now dat the blueprint out you gon thank the Thoro? Eh? I know yall folly hoes hear me.
As Mentez came to a pause, there was Hopkins, sighted in the background, casually walking, as if thinking as he paced back and forth as his attention stared up at the red sheet covering the section of the brick wall. Jason continued on as he had the platform to talk.
MENTEZ: “Dey get quiet when real walk through doe. I’m getting use to it, it’s sad but I’m used to it. Ése salió por lana y llegó trasquilao eh? So how do we make an encore outta Ante Up? What do we have to offer or what makes us different from the others? We aint teamed together long shit but if you bet dat underdog odds for Ante it came thru type nice for you huh? It’s because you are talking bout two of the best. Dat gear a lotta niggas can’t shift into? We do it wit ease. That occasion you gotta rise to? We in dat shit daily like sunrise. Gotta lot on the line n I don’t know bout yall but I like bragging rites. Throw a mil n the belts in with the field… aaayyyeee toque. WEPAAAA bitch!”
Hopkins comes up and taps his play-brother on the shoulder, as he nodded to him. Jair looked into the camera as he pointed at it.
HOPKINS: “Doubt is all folks know how to do. They doubt you before you even get started. They doubt you even after you prove it to them. The situation remains the same for us. Two Hall Of Famers in our respective companies but we been through the trenches, the mud, the hate-filled comments and the constant doubters who try to bring us down but everytime we rise above it with swagger and attitude. We keep it moving, we keep it thorough. We never quit. We never stop. Look, they counted us out against Battleborn and look what happened? I know they are repped by Phe but we gave them a taste of something special.”
MENTEZ: “And thanks to us the belts finally got a look simply because it put Cosmo n Jeb in action versus some actual competition. Instead of the retarded mafuckas trying to sit down n bite dey ears dey was dealin wit before. On the real…I had to use Jeb’s favorite word for a minute. Real talk, it also made every single one of you hijoueputas open yo eyes to it. It’s not going to be easy for anyone. Dats how it’s pose to be n it’s what we thrive in.”
Hopkins again, leaving the shoulder of Jason, trots back over towards the red sheet as he again paces back and forth, as if thinking what to do. Jason took back over as Jair was one with the background scenery.
MENTEZ: “Can’t call it something it aint. We here and dat shit mean somethin. If you don’t think it do you get downed like the rest of em. People been knocking Jair for the while in here now dat I’m here I know they thinking we won’t last, dis just for the moment, it’ll be just another World$tar fall. First off dis fam…nah it aint dat enemy of an enemy is my friend type fam. Nah it aint dat we of the same mind n mettle type of bring together either. Dis here is ACTUAL family. Stamped n confirmed. Two come ups from the rough ups so yall gon have to change it up.”
As Jason spoke, Jair’s position was now on the left side of that red sheet as he looked up at it, there was something to be seen and he wasted no time in tugging that sheet, pulling it down as it revealed a mural of both Jair and Jason along with their native New York areas painted behind them as the words, painted white with a red, bold stroke around the letters spelled, “Thoro Borough”. A lot of work, a lot of craft, but there stood a message that connected to the other painted images on the wall. The Tag Titles along with the ‘tags’ that were full of keywords that holds true to the two, like “Family” , “Brothers”, “Wreck” , “Hop”, and numerous others that built the foundation. With excitement, Jair rejoined his best man as he stood aside as they both gazed at the paintings.
HOPKINS: “If you don’t know, now you know! One of the greats said that and it reigns true right now. Everyone but our own doubted us a few weeks back and here we are, in front of you tonight. The writings on the wall. You see it for yourself. At Bad Company, the others will be seeing it too.”
MENTEZ: “You think we aint out here able to make the gold ours…
estas mas perdido que Rolandito…”

With that, Jair hits the music, resuming the track that was in play earlier as the two leave, having the camera to focus on the paintings as the scene slowly decreases in lighting, soon fading to black as things cut back ringside.


He may have deactivated from social media but he’s here live and in person right here tonight! Alessandro Quagliaterre ladies and gentlemen, and tonight he squares off with someone whose body appears to be deactivating itself as seen on Adrenaline three weeks ago. Enough with the pleasant introductions, let’s get on down to business! Ding, ding, and we’re off, folks! With having three weeks since his last outing, Dakota had plenty of time to work the kinks out in his body but as seen in his recent promotional videos, that doesn’t quite seem to be the case ladies and gentlemen. He had a limp to his step, but that didn’t stop him as he went straight for AQ who was also coming for him as well. Now AQ was quicker on his feet than The Butcher, which he used to his advantage to strike first, hitting Dakota head on with his running headbutt. For those of you wondering, he calls that the Zidane Headbutt because let’s face it, when you have a head the size of his, it doesn’t always have to be a burden, it can be a tool! Dakota went stumbling backwards across the ring before tripping over his own feet and falling into the ropes where he found himself in a bit of a tangle.
Taking advantage of the situation yet again, AQ began attacking Dakota as he was tangled in the ropes with various kicks and punches. Eventually he dragged Dakota’s body from the ropes and back fully into the ring. The match could have ended early, at least AQ could have tried to end it, being trapped in the ropes gave Dakota enough time to come to his senses somewhat which AQ was very well aware of. Pulling Dakota to his feet, AQ connected with back to back stiff jabs to Dakota’s jaw before lifting him off his feet and onto his shoulders with a torture rack. Hopping up and down in place, AQ tried his best to snap Dakota’s body in half like a twig but it was nothing that The Butcher hadn’t felt before in his long, gruesome, and bloody career. Realizing that Dakota wasn’t going to submit that easily, Alessandro swung Dakota’s entire body around in mid air, dropping him to the canvas with a neckbreaker! He quickly went for the cover as Dakota could barely hold his eyes open to look up at the lights.

Popping a shoulder up from the mat, Dakota spit a mouthful of blood in AQ’s face. Where did the blood come from? There weren’t any visible wounds on his face or lips. Maybe that nasty cough was finally catching up to him. This seems like a mystery for another time folks. Pushing himself up to his knees, AQ then drew back with his right before swinging down with all of his strength. His fist crashed into the side of Dakota’s head, whipping it to the side. The camera zoomed into Dakota’s face and although he appeared to be in a world of pain and seeing stars, a smile crept across his face. AQ then rolled Dakota over to his stomach before grabbing a leg and going for a single leg Boston crab. Before he could get settled and apply his weight to Dakota’s back, Dakota dug down deep, using all of his power to kick his leg straight which sent AQ stumbling forward as he was brought back to his feet. He grabbed the top rope with both hands to stop his movements and as he slowly turned around to face his opponent, Dakota was right there in his face with a ferocious roar. Slamming his head forward, Dakota hit Alessandro with a headbutt of his own, stunning him for just a brief moment.
That brief moment was all that Dakota needed to completely turn things around as he kicked AQ in the stomach, following it up with a snap DDT! Crawling on top of AQ, Dakota began hitting him with various punches, elbows, and forearms, literally anything he could think of when it came to attacking AQ with his fists and arms. He then grabbed AQ by the head with both hands, leaning down and blocking the officials view with his head as he began biting AQ across the bridge of his nose. Pushing himself back up to both knees, Dakota looked to the skies and yelled as loudly as he could. Signs of blood were visible on AQ’s nose but without seeing what happened with his own eyes, there was nothing that the official could do about it. Dakota then drew back with his right arm and went to swing with a punch down to AQ’s exposed face. Just like three weeks ago, Dakota’s arm didn’t move forward, his shoulder just rolled as if his body was shutting down on him once again. Dakota tried again and again but still, nothing at all. Shaking it off he turned to other means, falling forward and slamming his head straight down onto AQ’s nose!
While AQ looked to take most of the damage, Dakota appeared to be showing signs of receiving it as well. His own headbutt put him somewhat in a daze but only for a few seconds. The two then slowly climbed back to their feet, standing up at the exact same moment. Alessandro lunged in, throwing a punch towards Dakota that was blocked by Dakota’s left arm as he threw it up. Dakota then went to punch him with his right but just as before, there was no punch thrown, just movement from his shoulder. AQ then fired with a punch of his own, this time connecting directly over Dakota’s head and knocking him backwards into the corner. For a few minutes AQ went to town on Dakota, kicking and stomping on him in the corner until eventually breaking him down to a seated position with his back against it. Pulling Dakota up to his feet, AQ then lifted him up even more and sat him on top of the corner. He then began his climb as well and just as he stood on the middle ropes, Dakota swung with his left arm, slamming an elbow into AQ’s head. Grabbing him by the head with both hands, Dakota held it in place as he began hitting AQ with multiple headbutts straight to the dome. Standing tall, Dakota then locked an arm around AQ’s head before jumping forward and turning his body as he went to the side of AQ. Pulling AQ’s head with him, Dakota turned him around complete as well before gravity took hold and AQ found himself going down to the mat head first, courtesy of a tornado DDT by the hands of Dakota! AQ’s body remained motionless on the mat as his arms were stretched out to his sides. Crawling over him, Dakota made the cover as the official raced in beside them with the count.

As the officials hand swung down towards the mat for the third time, Alessandro kicked out, abruptly ending the officials count. That didn’t do anything but anger The Butcher as latched onto AQ’s body and began ramming rapid knees into AQ’s ribs. Dakota went off, hitting AQ with everything he had. This went on for several minutes, Dakota pounding and tearing away at AQ’s body. Back on his feet, Dakota limped around the ring momentarily before walking back over to AQ and pulling him up from the mat. Swatting Dakota’s hands away, AQ wrapped him up with both arms before lifting him off his feet and throwing him to the mat with a belly to belly suplex! Neither man stayed down for long, AQ standing to his feet first but not far behind Dakota had risen. Lunging forward, Dakota went for a haymaker but missed and found himself wrapped in AQ’s arms once again. Lifting Dakota into the air, AQ then slammed him down even harder than before with a second belly to belly suplex. AQ quickly popped back to his feet and began stomping onto Dakota’s limbs, targeting his right shoulder more so. Pulling him to his feet, AQ then whipped him to the ropes and upon Dakota’s return, AQ lifted him into the air before spinning in place and planting him in the center of the ring with a spinebuster! Making the cover, AQ rolled across Dakota’s body as the official wasn’t far behind with the count.

Kicking out, Dakota kept himself very much in the match as the count had now come to an end. Slamming his fist against the canvas in anger, AQ pushed himself to his feet before driving his foot directly into Dakota’s ribs with a vicious kick. He kicked him again, and again, and again, the last kick forcing Dakota’s to cough up even more blood. Pulling Dakota to his feet, AQ set him up perfectly in the center of the ring before swinging with all of his might and connecting with a hook that knocked Dakota back a few steps. He then swung with his other arm, hitting Dakota with another hook that knocked him back even further. Dakota’s body was wobbling back and forth as he could barely stand on his own two feet. Backing across the ring, AQ began punching himself over and over in the head. We’ve all seen this before. This was usually followed up with a Zidane Headbutt, which would be the second one he hit Dakota with if connecting. Charging across the ring at full speed, AQ threw his entire body and head forward towards Dakota’s. Inch by inch AQ’s head closed in but before making contact, Dakota ducked down and lifted him off his feet and onto his shoulder before turning around and dropping AQ against the corner with his Dovah Death Drop (twisting Samoan drop)!
AQ’s body fell to the mat with a thud as Dakota rolled over to his side to take a look at the damage with his own two eyes. AQ wasn’t staying down. Although in a world of pain, he began to slowly push himself up as Dakota did as well. Standing to his feet, Dakota looked on as AQ pushed himself up, somewhat impressed actually. Dakota then decided to step in and give him a helping hand. Pulling AQ all the way up to his feet, Dakota was taken off guard as AQ slammed both fists into Dakota’s chest, knocking him back a step. Swinging for Dakota’s head, AQ threw a wild, blind punch which came within an inch of connecting before Dakota ducked down and stepped in behind AQ as his body went forward. Throwing his arm up, Dakota hooked AQ’s arm he threw the punch with and in a matter of second, he locked in a full nelson. Lifting AQ off his feet with a full nelson, Dakota then slammed him down, popping his knee up and planting it directly into the back of AQ’s head! It was the Gorewhore and AQ’s limp body fell to the mat with a thud. Crawling over him, Dakota hooked a leg as he looked up to the official who was dropping in beside them with the count.

WINNER: Dakota Smith via Pinfall (11:41)

The camera opens up in the backstage area with 4CW Champion Anastasia Hayden greeting the audience at home with a slight smirk as her belt rests on her shoulder. She doesn’t say anything right away; opting to tilt her head for a moment and look into the camera as her smirk grows a bit. Finally, she turns her head straight again and begins to speak.
HAYDEN: ”Evil reigns supreme in 4CW yet again! How horrifying. The big, bad man known as Viduus Morta will see me step into ‘his’ ring tonight and he’s expecting to destroy me. He’s expecting to absolutely pull me apart limb from limb. Well, here’s the thing, Viduus…I don’t fit into anyone’s expectations. So if you’ve got a plan? You’ve already lost. But thankfully, the monster that you are…”
A pause follows for a moment and then Ana shakes her head before continuing.
HAYDEN: ”The idiot that you are…you’re unpredictable. You’re a wildcard and that? That I do respect in you, Viduus. But then again, plan or no plan…there’s not a wrestler alive who can prepare themselves for Anastasia Hayden. Oh, don’t get me wrong, you can try and many have, but many more have failed. What makes you think you’ll break this mold, Viduus? Because you pinned me once before…in a fucking tag match?”
Ana scoffs at her sole technical loss against Viduus.
HAYDEN: ”You set low expectations not just for me, but for yourself too. I didn’t become the 4CW Champion by pinning someone once in a tag match…I became the 4CW Champion by embarrassing people just like you, Viduus. One on one. No bullshit. I became the longest reigning Fate Champion and now I’ll do everything in my power to become the longest reigning 4CW Champion. You? You can keep your Pride Championship, but for your sake? Hope. Pray to whatever being you believe in…”
She takes a step forward and the arrogance on her face fades to accompany a more stern approach.
HAYDEN: ”Pray that I never lose this 4CW Championship because maybe…just maybe I’ll come knocking on your door and I’ll break it down to show you what a true monster looks like. I’ll show you what a true monster is capable of, Viduus. Fate Champion, Pride Champion, or 4CW Champion…it doesn’t matter. Anastasia Hayden is still the best in the world and tonight, she shows why she’s the best champion in 4CW.”
The cold glare from Ana hangs a bit in silence before she lifts up the 4CW Championship for the world, and Viduus, to see then walks off as the camera jumps elsewhere.

Following on from Ana Hayden backstage, we are transported back to the ringside area, where Steve Johnson and Vinny Vassa await us as always at the announcer’s desk, surrounded by thousands of fans.
JOHNSON: ”Wow, what a night it’s been. What an episode of Adrenaline we are seeing so far- and we’ve got more to come! Anastasia Hayden and Viduus Morta in the main event! Can you believe this, Vinny?”
VASSA: ”I certainly have trouble believing it, Steve. I dunno what else the night is gonna throw at–”
Suddenly, the opening drums of The Feud’s rendition of Kate Bush classic “Running Up That Hill” hit the PA system. The song explodes to life and the Worst of the Pavees herself, the Union Battleground Champion Emery Layton- wearing her trademark leather jacket and beanie- emerges from behind the curtain, and Portland goes suitably nuts. She’s holding her arms out as she struts down the ramp and swaying her head to the beat of her entrance theme, her eyes closed. She’s lost in the moment.
VASSA: ”Oh well wait a minute here, Steve! What the hell is she doing here?”
JOHNSON: ”She’s back again! Ladies and gentlemen- she’s high-flying, she’s flamboyant and one of the most exciting wrestlers on the scene today, the ‘Worst of the Pavees’ Emery Layton is in the house!”
JOHNSON: ”But why? We saw Emery Layton appear unannounced on Adrenaline last week, but we got no answers so why? And what the hell is a ‘pavee’?”
JOHNSON: ”Well hopefully, we’re about to find out all of these things- she’s holding a mic!”
Emery is indeed holding a mic as she rolls under the bottom rope and squats up into a standing position in the middle of the ring. Not wanting to spend too much time on her entrance, Em sports a massive grin as Portland gives her a great reception. Chants of her name have her swaying her head in time with them, like a girl on a field at a festival. After letting it simmer for a moment, Emery raises her mic.
LAYTON: ”Hiya 4CW! Nice to meet you.”
LAYTON: ”Back again like a bad habit- probably the best way to describe me really. For those of you lot that don’t know who I am, my name is Emery Layton, and I’m the Worst of the Pavees. I come from a family of Travellers and Bare-Knuckle boxers and I been at this wrestling thing for a long, long time. Beat a loada big people, been the best pal to some and the biggest problem to others, won titles here, there and everywhere, wrestled in Japan, Mexico, the UK, all across the world…but one place I never stepped foot in was here. 4 Corners Wrestling. Now, here’s the deal people- I ain’t no…what’s the word, er, braggart? Think that’s the one. Well I ain’t one of one whatever it is I mean, but I don’t a whole lotta great stuff over the last two years and beat some big people ever since I kinda rose up into the mainstream and all that, but all I kept hearing was ‘4CW this’ and ‘Adrenaline that’. All I kept hearing was how the best of the best are right here in this place. 4CW is where stars are made.”
She nods as she smirks.
LAYTON: ”And lemme tell ya, for someone like me, I like to go where the challenge is- it’s my achilles heel. Well, that and maybe jam tarts. And hats. And wedding cakes. Like, that might sound a bit weird, but they’re like super-cakes cos there’s loads of tiers of them and–look, I’m getting off topic, the point is I came here cos of the talent, and sometimes when you’re in the forrest, you gotta run with the wolves, know what I mean? I got me a little mental list in my head of people I wanna face. I got a girl on my mind, man. And there was only one place I could find her. So, I chatted to my manager Amy Taylor, I said ‘yo Amy, I gots me an idea’ and I told her and she loved it. Last week, you weren’t supposed to know I was coming. This week, I kinda forced my way into this party again, but next week I’ll let you know now that I’mma be here on Adrenaline #89…and this time, this dirty, no-good pavee’s planning on bringing her gear, I tell ya now.”
JOHNSON: ”Wait a minute…”
LAYTON: ”Girl, I know you’re in the building. Listen man, I came all this way to make a challenge so don’t play silly buggers with me and make me come ask you myself. All I want is you and me, one on one, next week in Seattle. You don’t gotta say ‘yeah’, but I hope you do. I ain’t got no magic lamp and we ain’t in no cave of no riches…but Genie, make my wish come true.”
A huge ovation as Em steps back, allowing this to sink in, placing her mic on the ground as she drops to the middle of the ring. Sat cross-legged. Waiting.
VASSA: ”Did…did this crazy bitch just call out Genevie Carlson? Does she know what she’s doing?”
JOHNSON: ”I think she knows exactly what she’s doing- question is if Genie will answer the challenge! Doesn’t look like Em’s going anywhere till she does!”
The screeching laugh at the beginning of “Killing you Hoes” by Trina can be heard playing throughout the arena. Everyone knows who this is by now and it’s exactly what Emery Layton wants as Genevie Carlson walks out from behind the curtain. She’s in her full ring gear due to having a match this evening. She stops on the stage and points at the ring with a look of confusion before waving off with her hand and beginning her walk towards the ring. She takes her time as Emery sits in the ring to wait for her. Genevie walks up the ring steps and slides between the second rope. She stands there for a moment looking at Emery as the woman rises to her feet. Genevie’s music slowly dies down and Emery picks up her mic and offers it to Gen who waves her off and goes and grabs her own microphone. She saunters back over to Emery looking the girl up and down for a moment, clearly unimpressed.
CARLSON: “Kaelan. I think you’re confused. Bryan is backstage and we don’t do blowjobs in the ring. Run along now.”
The fans boo at the sign of disrespect towards Emery as Genevie looks around and chuckles to herself. Emery not amused either. Genevie stops laughing and wipes the smirk off her face before continuing on.
CARLSON: “Alright. Alright. I’m sorry. That was low hanging fruit and now that it’s out of the way let’s get down to business. Now Emery. I heard all about you. I heard everything you said out here. You talked yourself up. You made yourself seem like the biggest deal in the world, and then you fucked it all up for yourself.”
Emery shakes her head. She isn’t agreeing with Genevie at all. She goes to hold her mic up to her lips and Genevie holds her hand up to stop her.
CARLSON: “Shut up. You had your turn to speak. You called me out here. Now it’s my turn. Pay attention Lassie. Now you fucked it up for yourself because you had the audacity to call ME out of all people. You spent all that time puffing yourself up and making these fans invested in who you are and what you have to offer with your traveling of the world, and your nonsense with cake, and now you’re calling out the top bitch of this entire company?!”
Genevie scoffs and shakes her head before smirking at Emery.
CARLSON: “Well…I have to admit. That takes some balls, and well you got my attention. So in spite of the fact that Bad Company is my main focus with my husband Elijah? I think I can squeeze a beating in for you at the next Adrenaline. Be Careful what you wish for Emery, because you just might get it.”
Emery looks down, her brow furrowed as shes removes her beanie and dusts it off with her sleeve, considering how to respond. Shoving the hat back on her head, Em raises her mic, re-assuming her usual cheeky grin, but this time it seems a bit more deliberate.
LAYTON: ”Well then! How ‘bout that? Adrenaline #89, one on one, you and me! Ayyy! Must’ve been wearing my lucky socks today. But I just remembered you get three wishes when you summon a genie. So my second wish is that I really, really wish you hadn’t told me to shut up, man. And my third? I like, I really, really…really wish you hadn’t. I came here and challenged you in all good faith, all for the sport of it cos I admired you as a competitor, and you just spent the last five minutes scoffing at me and making it clear how little you thoughta me. Well, call me Shania cos that don’t impress me much. But never fear- I spent my career and my life having people tell me I ain’t nothing and I ended up proving ‘em all wrong. Every time single time. They had it all figured out, they thought, they had it aallll solved but then I dropped out the sky and I found a way to beat ‘em and left them questioning how the hell I did it for the rest of their life cos I ain’t something you can just solve in a minute and I live for moments and matches where I can do that. You just turned this into one of those moments, Genie. So forget every problem in your life right now, give Bad Company a back-seat for the mo, girl…cos you just got yourself an Emery Layton problem. Getcha next time!”
Em nods, a serious expression on her face, as she drops the mic on the ground and rolls out of the ring, making her way up the ramp as “Running Up That Hill” starts up again.
JOHNSON: ”Well ladies and gentlemen, it’s official- Genevie Carlson vs Emery Layton, next week on Adrenaline!!”
VASSA: ”Things got kinda heated in that whole exchange. I can only imagine how the match is gonna end up. And I still don’t know what the hell a pavee is- why is she the worst of them? I have so many questions.!”
JOHNSON: ”Maybe we’ll find out next week!”
We then cut backstage.

The Chicago Sporting Journal’s headline reads clearer than day as the camera finds focus in a small, dimly lit bedsit. A double-bed, a ruby-red leather loveseat, a lamp table nestled between these two pieces of furniture and nothing much else of any notable mention makes the cut. The smell of spilled beer sends aromas both sweet and sickening up from the trampled, shaggy carpet that looks to have been fitted at some time during the Great Depression. “Disgraced Wrestler Turned Politician To Be Given Second Chance.” It didn’t really leave much up to the speculative imagination. Certainly more cryptic clues have been known to create a little more suspense, yes. But where was the need in smoke and mirrors when all you are is a walking exigent circumstance? The mind boggles. Yet as David Sanchez sits on the edge of what is most likely the hire purchase bed of a cheap and far from cheerful establishment in a dilapidated part of town; the need for build, for symbolism and suggestive scene setting is all but lost.
SANCHEZ: You know, deep down… I did like it here– honestly, I did. The company was never the problem, nor the pay-scales or the people that work here. Four Corners Wrestling is one of my more public fuck-ups, rare as they may be; and unfortunately for those same people who call this little slice of Sodom gainful employment– It’s a mistake I’m here to rectify.
A crystal half-ball glass of eighteen year-old Glenmorangie is wrapped in his brittle, battle-scarred hands then tipped into his mouth. Sure… rehab had taken care of his more troubling vices– but to stop drinking? To deal with the physical pain of a life lived in proverbial trenches without painkillers and muscle relaxants? That was nothing he’d even consider taking on. Heroin was the problem. Rehabilitation was the solution. And now heroin was nixed from his system. Deleted from his reality like so many failed sitcoms had vanished from TV.
SANCHEZ: Admittedly, I got a better offer, yes… and thus I got my dick wet elsewhere… what can I say? I’m a whore, yes. More publicity, more headliners, more familiar fucksticks to bury in the process… it was a pretty lucrative deal that gave me a year of main event matches and ultimately caused my complete and total hatred of what this once magnificent sport has become. Enough about the past though, it’s done, that part of my life is gone; dead and rotting under the patio slabs. I did always see myself back here someday though– perhaps not in these dire circumstances but eventually, it was always going to happen… and so here I am. The Savage, The King of Pit Fights, The Man… in the Iron Mask. The one you blissfully oblivious jobbers and jobettes should all start keeping tabs on post-haste before you get kicked in the side of the skull and left to the mercy of the buzzards.
Another drink and then he lights a cigarette: Marlboro Red, a less than smoothe smoke but he hated the lighter brands with their slit filters stealing his precious nicotine. At forty-two, Sanchez lets out a series of alarming smoker’s coughs and splutters before spitting a wad of tar and saliva onto the dirty carpet and taking a deep breath. Next to him on the couch, his eleven pound metal mask sits with it’s eye-holes staring into the lens– sending shivers down the spine of any who happened to be watching.
SANCHEZ: “I hate starting anew, you know? Seventeen years doing this spandex Samba-dance of doom and walking into an unfamiliar place of work is still comparable to transferring schools in your teenage years. Like one of you fuckin’ reprobates is gonna try to stuff me in a locker or give me a swirly. Haha… I welcome the thought gentlemen– and ladies, of course… whole lotta girl-power, suffragette shit going on here. Eh… whatever fills the seats. Personally, I’ve never met a woman who takes this sport as seriously as the man whose dick she’s sucking. But that’s just me– 4CW seems to have its own little formula for success and that’s just dandy because I’m not here to win friends and influence people. Fuck that. I’m here to make true on the promises I made in 2016 when I told you people that I was the legitimate, hands-down, time-tested best professional wrestler on the face of this planet. Give me your best and I’ll bag and tag them with the rest…”
A sullen look graces his expression. Could it be that even he was starting to doubt his own musings? Whatever the cause, Sanchez spends the following fifteen seconds staring blankly into the remainder of his single malt– swirling the glass slowly in his hand so that the ice and alcohol clash together like rapids on rocks.
SANCHEZ: “That’s just the thing though… in order to prove such a thing to be true– I’ve gotta do the whole ‘Jenny From The Block’ rigmarole and start off at the bottom. Win enough bum fights though, and sooner or later I’ll get a real challenge– a Lockheart, a Madison, a Somebody McSomeone… a fight I’m actually going to give my full shaft unto, rather just repeatedly and aggressively dip the tip. You can’t keep me down forever– but why would you want to? I’m the new and improved product, the refined, triple-distilled and double concentrated dose of what wrestling should be. What wrestling once was when you dirty fuckin’ millenials were still sperm cells and long-winded talks of abortion.”
He tips the glass to his mouth one final time before tossing the empty container over his shoulder where it smashes against a crumbling plasterboard wall and further adds to the scummy feel that radiates from the room. Without further words, he slips the iron mask over his skull and stands to attention, his face now hidden behind a veil of metal and shipping rivets. As the scene comes to a close he waves his hand slowly; bidding farewell to the camera as the scene closes.
SANCHEZ: “My name is David Sanchez; professional wrestler extraordinaire. 4CW…. this has been your one and only warning. Stay frosty kids and cats, keep your wits about you– the Sanchise is branching out like a motherfuckin’ Christmas tree bay-bay.”


And one of the anticipated matches of the under card is definitely Eric Donovan versus Andre Holmes. Both men are ready to give it all for the victory here in the Moda Center. Both men circle the ring at a distance. Holmes showing of that footwork from his kickboxing training and Eric also showing that footwork as well. The two men meet in the center of the ring for the quick traditional collar and elbow tie up; Donovan transitions over into the Side Headlock and due to being the heavier individual, it’s very easy for him to sweep him over into the Side Headlock on the ground. Andre pulls his legs back around his throat thus reversing it into a Scissors Choke.
He continues to squeeze his thighs around his throat and Eric breaks the hold by shoving the legs apart. Both men get back up to their feet again causing Eric to stop his opponent with a kick to the midsection. He whips Holmes into the ropes where the relentless athlete rebounds and suffers a powerful Shoulder Barge instantly slamming him down to the mat. Eric runs to the ropes towards his left, rebound and hops over Holmes body, rebounds again then eats a powerful Dropkick into the chest propping him against the nearest corner. Before he can even recover, he gets clapped from a Running Corner Clothesline sitting him down in the corner and Holmes rebounds off the opposing corner turnbuckles for the Running Corner Knee Strike completing the trademarked, “Trapped in the Corner”.
The audience of Portland, Oregon applaud him for the creativity of the news then watches Eric roll out of the ring to ringside for temporary recover. Holmes sees this and runs to the ropes behind him, rebounds to the opposing ropes where he will dive in between the middle and bottom one for the “Heat Seeking Missile” Suicide Dive. Unfortunately for him, he gets caught in the arms of Eric who runs him spine first into the hard steel of the ring post then flips him over for the Exploder Suplex on the outside mat. The referee is almost at five for the count and Eric rolls him back into the ring following afterwards. Holmes stands on his feet and turns around to eat the “Irish Uppercut”, the comfortable Running European Uppercut!
It turns him inside out and Eric goes down on his body for the pin attempt. Andre kicks out at two and slowly gets dragged up to his feet again suffering a lot of punches into his midsection. He gets his arm tugged and thrown into the ropes coming to Eric bent down who eats a Soccer Kick into his shoulder. He only stands up from the blow and smirks edging Holmes to try again who looks sort of confused. Holmes tries for a Spinning Back Kick but his opponent ducks under the kick then puts him down on the mat with a Swinging Neckbreaker. Eric quickly gets back up on his feet and collapses a Knee Drop slicing his joint across his forehead. Another pin attempt is made and Andre kicks out again.
Eric slowly gets onto the full mount position throwing down punches and forearms into the arms of Andre blocking his head. The referee manages to stop Eric with the four count and in that little window of opportunity, Holmes pulls his legs back to wrap it around the right arm of Eric for the Armbar. Eric finds himself in pain with Holmes tugging on the arm and he starts punching him in the ribs again but Andre transitions into the Triangle Choke attempting to cut off his air supply. Donovan is trying his best to fight against the submission and Holmes is squeezing down on the head. Eric wraps both his arms around his waist then slowly lifts him off the mat into the Powerbomb position before transitions into the Fireman’s Carry. A Death Valley Driver in the center of the ring plants Holmes down for yet another pin attempt and he kicks out at two!
The Portland’s audience is enjoying the hard fought battle between the two. Eric and Andre are under the ten count of the referee to call it a no contest. Both men are back on their feet and Eric strikes a blow into his ribs responded by Holmes with an Elbow Shot into his chin. They start trading back and forth in a flurry of strikes until Andre ducks under a thrown right arm before landing an Enziguiri Kick clapping him in the temple forcing him down onto both his knees. Andre stands up and back to back Roundhouse Kicks rip down into the chest of his opponent; From the last Roundhouse Kick, he takes a step back for the Tornado Kick but Donovan ducks under it and counters with a Discus Forearm!
Holmes wobbles back and forth on his feet after being turned out from the blow. He gets hugged from behind for the attempted German Suplex but slaps the hold off of him for the Pele Kick. The impact on the top of his head makes Eric fall back into the ropes which he rebounds for the Running Single-Leg Dropkick blasting Andre in the face to the point of him almost flipping backwards twice. Eric slowly gets back on his feet releasing a primal scream and measures Holmes up preparing to end the match. The moment Andre gets back up in the corner, he charges across the ring but Holmes moves out of the way allowing Eric to hit the turnbuckles chest first. Holmes comes up behind him and puts him down on the mat for the Half and Half Suplex rolling him backwards onto his knees where his temple eats the Tornado Kick!
Now the roles have been reversed and we see Eric on the canvas desperately trying to fight against the pain and fatigue. He holds onto each side of the top rope to help himself up only to get a Yakuza Kick into the chin knocking him from the corner down to the canvas on the mat. He climbs up all the way to the top rope then leaps backwards for the Phoenix Splash into the center of the ring completing the signature, “Deadline Trap”, move. The pin attempt is made and Eric kicks out just before the three-count is made. Holmes gets up and backs off in the corner patiently waiting for his opponent to stand on his knees. He slams his hands on the mat, emits his own primal scream and goes for the Thrust Kick!
No! Eric catches the leg in his grasp and completes the Capture Suplex! The signature “Red Dragon Suplex” is made in the center of the ring with the bridge and Holmes kicks out before the three-count barely made it. He gets up off of his feet having enough of Holmes who is still trying to get up but keeps collapsing down on the mat. Eric looks up all the way to the top rope and walks over to the corner to climb up all the way to the top rope; He’s preparing for a high risk move but out of nowhere sees Andre popping up to run to the corner and leap onto the middle rope. He’s trying to get him into the Superplex but Eric hits a nasty headbutt before shoving Andre down on the mat. One great leap and the Double Axe Handle puts him down again on the canvas.
Eric stops at the corner and looks at Andre managing to get up a few moments afterwards. He skips over for his Superkick but Andre ducks under it and holds his waist from behind for the Full Nelson Suplex! Eric rolls over backwards onto his knees and the finishing Thrust Kick does it! He’s down on his back, Holmes gets the pin attempt and scores the victory!
WINNER: Andre Holmes via Pinfall (11:17)

Appearing on the screen;

From the main arena, you can hear the cheers and applause echo through the backstage area, as the screen gradually fades from the well known slogan of Mark Storm, to Mark Storm himself. A grin from ear to ear as he clasps his hands together and looks beyond the camera with an expression of optimism.
STORM: Your Hero…
Shutting his eyes tight, breathing in the air before continuing:
STORM: And Mine.
He says in unison with the fans from the main arena and possibly a couple from home who would’ve anticipated the closing response. He opens his eyes and wipes that grin from his face, transitioning to a much sterner look, as his eyes fixate on the camera.
STORM: I don’t wanna play second fiddle anymore. I don’t wanna lounge around and be spectator to all the chaos that’s been ensuing these last couple of months. But that’s exactly what I’ve been. I’ve idly watched and observed from the sidelines, allowing people to get ahead of me and questioning everyone’s motives in this company but not questioning my own.
He pauses, shaking his head sideways in disapproval.
STORM:”What am I doing here?”
He asks firstly, shrugging his shoulders.
STORM: ”What is this all for?”
Another, this time he chuckles as he says it.
STORM: ”How do I get to there?”
And with his last rhetoric, he leaves a sense of ambition lingering behind his words, as if he’s a politician questioning his supporters.
STORM: ”Well that’s easy, folks. It’s about time people started cryin’ havoc, don’t you think?”
Taking off his blazer to unveil a Dogs of War shirt. An enormous pop echoes through the backstage area and Storm can’t help but smirk that sinister smirk, allowing the noise to die down a little before continuing.
STORM: ”It’s about time that the Dogs of War entered the picture here in Four Corners Wrestling.”
Entering into the fray of the camera is Andre Holmes who walks into the limelight beside Mark Storm with a white towel around his neck after winning his match. He’s breathing heavily especially after giving it his all and wiping the sweat from around his face; Mark smirks at him then looks into the camera before patting his shoulder being pleased for this announcement.
STORM: ”Ladies and Gentlemen, the newest member of the Dogs of War – Andre Holmes!”
The audience of Portland, Oregon are majorly pleased to hear this announcement. They know Dogs of War is the most prestigious group in all of professional wresting and Andre gets handed the vest which he slings on that looks good on him. He shares a smile with Mark before it disappears as he looks into the camera with a determined outlet.
HOLMES: ”It’s no doubt when you’re rising to the top, you have a choice to make. This business we’re in doesn’t do well when the numbers are forming together and in war, you choose a side whether you know it or not. I had to make a decision and guess what? I knew I made the right one when I approached The Dogs of War. The most accomplished and dominant group in all of professional wrestling.”
He nods along with Mark.
HOLMES: ”Which is why we have another announcement. You’ve seen Dogs of War dominate everywhere, CWC, Kamikaze and much more. Now it’s time to add another thing to it’s list. Bad Company is coming up and all the teams need to keep their on eye on us. That’s right. Mark Storm and Andre Holmes are entering Bad Company representing the Dogs of War to not only win the million dollar prize but to become the new 4CW Tag Team Champions.”
The camera zooms on them both.
HOLMES: ”And if anyone has a problem with that, they know where to find us.”
The two pat each other on the shoulders and leave the camera view allowing the segment to end.


Once both wrestlers are in the ring, the referee checks both sides for weapons and then checks to make sure both are ready. After getting nods from both corners, he calls for the bell.

The pair circle once before locking up in the middle of the ring. Hopkins’ size gives him an early advantage with a headlock take down and he hits a shining wizard before Aidan can get back to her feet. Carlisle rolls backward over a shoulder and shakes herself out after the impact. Jair steps back in looking for a spinning lariat takedown but Aidan is able to evade and fires off a shuffle side kick that forces him back. With the space between them Carlisle is able to follow up with running knee strike. Hopkins is able to counter an incoming strike with a monkey flip and lifts Aidan up for his Bread ‘n’ Butter on the rebound! He hooks the leg!

Aidan gets the shoulder up before the three and rolls to the edge of the ring before getting to her feet. She catches Jair with a back elbow as he rushes in, then uses the ropes for a springboard flying forearm! She can’t quite roll through to hook the leg and both are back on their feet in a flash. They trade several stiff shots before Hopkins breaks away with springboard DDT. Carlisle is a little wobbly as she gets to her feet and is just barely able to sidestep a second Bread ‘n’ Butter from Hopkins! She thinks fast and catches him with a spinning sit-out sleeper slam, but Hopkins is too close to the ropes for a pin afterward!
Rather than attempting to drag him to the center of the ring and risking getting locked up, Aidan steps back and lets Jair get to his feet. Jair hits a Japanese armdrag as Aidan comes in hot. He looks for a second, but Carlisle counters with a tilt-a-whirl armdrag of her own! A spinning hook kick sends Jair reeling backward, but he comes back with a standing hurricanrana! Carlisle ducks under a running superkick as she starts to get up and catches Jair with a double leg takedown but isn’t able to mount up for the punches. They each roll away in opposite directions and pop back up to their feet, offering nods of mutual respect. As Hopkins crosses the ring at breakneck speed, Aidan drops and pulls the top rope down with her! Jair sails over to the ground outside!
As Jair stands up Aidan takes two steps back and then sprints across the ring, sailing between the top and middle rope for a suicide dive! At the last second Hopkins side steps and Carlisle collides with the ringside barricade! As Aidan gets to her feet she holds her left shoulder, cringing at the pain after the impact. She doesn’t have long before Jair is coming at her with a running forearm smash. Carlisle staggers back several steps before hearing the referee’s count and sliding back into the ring. Hopkins does the same, but Aidan is on her feet a few seconds sooner and hits her C1 C4 before he can stand looking to put him away! She hooks the leg with her right arm, keeping her left protected against herself.

Carlisle is frustrated as Hopkins gets the shoulder up, but tries not to let it get to her. This time it’s Jair on his feet first, and he seizes the advantage with a running crossbody. While they are both still on the mat he locks in a fujiwara armbar! Carlisle yells out in pain as Hopkins cranks down on her left arm, trying to force the submission. As the official asks if she wants to give up Aidan shakes her head no. She struggles against the hold, trying to squirm closer to the ropes. As she reaches out her fingertips just barely graze the bottom rope. She starts to heave herself forward one last time, but Hopkins scouts it and manages to drag her back! As Jair applies more pressure to the submission and with the ropes well out of reach, Aidan is forced to tap to save her arm!

WINNER: Jair Hopkins via Submission (7:22)


Whether you love them or hate them, you have an opinion about the Carlson Dynasty- that’s a fact, and it showed when they entered the Moda Center in Portland, Oregon. In addition to their theme music, a melody of boos countered by cheers contributed to the soundtrack of their walk to the squared circle. With it being just their second match back in 4CW since their highly acclaimed respective returns, the crowd was incredibly hot for them. The energy in the arena remained electric as the odd-couple of the 4CW tag division followed the it-couple. Tag Team Champions Battle Born, a team consisting of Cosmo Cooper and Jeb Fisher, walked to the ring to the sound of great adulation. Cosmo and Genie started the match. Before engaging physically, Genie continued her verbal assault of the young up and comer.
“He’s a fucking SOCIOPAAATH!!” she screamed toward the audience as she and Cooper circled one another. From his corner, Jeb shouted, “ALL OF US ARE FUCKING SOCIOPATHS YOU STUPID FUCKING SLUT CUNT!” It didn’t take long for Eli to take exception to this slight against his wife. He cleared the top rope with ease and charged toward Jeb with hellacious fury, diving for his adversary as Jeb was halfway through the ropes in an attempt to meet the advancing Carlson. Eli connected with a stiff forearm to the forehead, and it sent Jeb careening to the hard ringside floor below.
Eli followed Jeb to the floor as Cosmo looked on with a hint of confusion. As Cooper went to return his focus upon his opponent, he found himself rolled up in a small package that wound up being good fo a two-count near fall. Eli DDTed Jeb on the concrete arena base as Genie worked a still out of sorts Cosmo with an Anaconda Choke. Cooper should have been released from the hold, having found the ropes, but the referee was busy trying to restore order on the outside of the ring.
Eli and Genie clearly dominated the first half of the match. The tide turned when Genie tried to show off by walking across Jeb’s back just for him to maneuver from beneath her, putting her off balance. Genie found herself on the business end of a stiff back suplex immediately rolled into a crossface chicken wing. The hold was applied for close to two minutes, before Eli couldn’t bear to see his wife struggle against the cringeworthy amount of pain she was clearly in and broke up the hold. Soon after, Cosmo rushed his male opponent, and again, the match devolved into a bit of chaos.
After several minutes, the referee restored order and an actual wrestling match proceeded. Highlights include a nasty leg lariat and bicycle knee strike from Cosmo, each accompanied by a near fall over Eli and Genie, respectively. Eli also nearly stole the match following a double jump moonsault-pin combination. Genie and Eli also nearly took the fall with an “Ode to My Prince” and a “Your Coronation” at the same time- the only issue being that Eli kicked Jeb, the legal man, right out of the ring. While the referee counted, Eli and Genie went to work on Cosmo, just to make the “arrogant fuck” pay for his two-faced sins. While Jeb lay prone on the outside, Cosmo suffered a power-bomb/leg drop combo, as well as a Russian leg sweep/dropkick combination.
Jeb barely made the 10 count. As he rolled in, Cosmo was forced out and followed by Genie. Jeb immediately found himself victim to a rendition of Eli’s “Anointed,” a shining wizard, which nearly cost Battleborn the W, as Jeb kicked out at the last possible millisecond. Eli went for another Coronation but Jeb thwarted it by ducking low and diving forward, nailing Eli with a stiff form tackle.
The climax of the match occurred when Jeb hit Eli with the Soap Drop to the outside, leaving the former 4CW Champion nearly lifeless on the unforgiving concrete floor. Seconds after Carlson met his likely demise, his wife sent Cooper over the ringside barricade with a diving crossbody, leaving the pair to risk mingling up close with the 4CW faithful.
Jeb took a moment to contemplate continuing his assault on Eli or taking the fight to Genie to help his partner Cosmo. He opted to solidify his chances of victory by pursuing the former Champion- but he wasted too much time. Eli sprang to life and met Jeb on the apron. Blows were dealt back and forth, before Eli threw an errant swing, allowing Jeb to catch him from behind. A Conplex into the crowd resulted in a “Holy Shit” chant from the raucous 4CW fans as well as a count out victory for Battle Born.
WINNER: Battle Born via Count Out (12:36)

Backstage of the Moda Center, we see a pitch black room, followed by the eerie whisper of Cyrus Riddle.
RIDDLE: “Hush little Izzy, don’t you frown
Daddy’s gonna kill that broken clown
And if that clown dares to laugh again
Daddy’s gonna bring out his best friend.”

A few second pass as a red balloon floats into the picture, followed by the visual of Cyrus’ face next to it, his hand lifting up and holding up a switchblade.
RIDDLE: “You hear the silence, Laughlin? That’s the clock striking zero as two warriors are set to due battle in the ring. Two men who blend the personal with the professional in a test of wills. Two men who want nothing more than to end the other. Tonight, the battle commences.”
RIDDLE: “The braun versus the brain, the physical versus the psychological… the clown… versus the nightstalker. There will be no hidden cameras, no red balloons, or mannequins. Just two wills to kill on the road to hell racing to send the other there first.”
RIDDLE: “I do this for my daughter, tonight. To eradicate the enemy posing as a friend to send a message to her father. I do this for myself, delivering an act two of your retirement speech, dragging your lifeless body to the middle of the ring for a three count. Tonight, I put you down, I forge ahead, and I show you what a future 4CW Champion really looks like. I hope you enjoy the view from underneath, because that’s always where you will be with me around… always the penultimate. Tonight… it ends…”
Riddle pops the balloon to end the feed abruptly, clearly a man of less words and more action leading into tonight’s match with Bryan Laughlin.


The lights dim to full darkness.
“They say form follows function….And if you just function properly then things will form themselves”

JOHNSON: ”Here comes the new Ignition Champion, Vinny. We’re about to watch this gentleman defend his title for the very first time against an opponent that he has only JUST recently had success against.”
VASSA: ”He’s a nerd. I hate nerds. Nerds like you…”
JOHNSON: ”I’m not a nerd, Vinny.”
VASSA: ”Bitch you ain’t no nerd? I coulda swornt you was.”
At that moment a spotlight hits the stage with DeMarcus Gresham standing there with the Ignition Championship belt hanging from his shoulder. He dusts off the clear shoulder of his black jacket then a couple rolls of the shoulders as he stands there looking left to right calmly as the crowd boos immensely. He lowers his head down and he moves in a slow 360 on the stage for a moment allowing the fans to view all of him and his championship. He nods his head upward after that in a very ‘above all’ fashion and starts walking forward.
JOHNSON: ”Anyway, Gresham is making his way to the ring first as a measure of the Champion’s Privilege, a concept in Japan that is rarely performed in the U.S.”
VASSA: ”He’s probably doing it so that he can watch Whalen come to the ring and do equations related to his opponent’s posture and step speed.”
JOHNSON: ”We are lucky to have such a scholar among us, Vinny.”
He takes his steps down the rampway each time he steps on a new panel piece of the floor white pryos shoot up in the air illuminating the area. As he walks down he sneers at the people around him dissatisfied by their presence. The fans show their hatred for him in return. He stands ringside for a moment before he jumps from the floor to the ring apron impressively keeping the belt with him.
POWERS: ”On his way to the ring from Seattle, Washington. He is your shepherd to Enlightenment. The ender of empires, destroyer of dynasty, and the surcease of sovereign. Your 4CW Ignition Champion…“’Gifted’ DEMARCUS GGRREESSHHAAMM!!!”
He bends into the ring where he slowly takes off his jacket and in a ceremonious fashion lays the jacket on the nearest turnbuckle with the ‘Gifted’ laid out for all to see. He then takes the Ignition Championship belt and in the same ceremonious fashion places the belt on top of the folded jacket. Turning around he smirks before pointing at the jacket letting it be known exactly who he is and also tells the ref they are not to touch his belt until giving clearance to do so.
The already dimmed lights begin to cast the arena in a red glow, and for a moment — only a moment — the crowd quiets down just a smidge. The guitar riff opening that carries throughout the rest of Asking Alexandria’s “Into the Fire” breaks out and brings the crowd to their feet — both in a positive and negative reaction, completely mixed.

Just as the first line of the song is screamed, Finn Whelan appears not from behind the curtain, but from one of the visitor’s entrances.
JOHNSON: ”There’s Finn Whalen!“
VASSA: ”He’s a skinny motherfucker, Johnson, but he’s tough. As a matter of fact, I hate to be positive, but I gotta say: our Ignition division and Octane Division, they’re lower tier divisions, but it has a LOT of great talent.”
JOHNSON: ”That it does, Vinny. I see big, big things for both of these competitors. Holding the Ignition Championship is a feat not to be sneezed at, but competitors in the 4CW and Pride Division had better take notice of these folks.”
He stops at the top of the steps for a moment, a slight smirk on his face as he glances at the people around him, and then sets his eyes upon the ring below.
POWERS: ”Making his way to the ring, from Seattle, Washington . . . he is ‘The Seattle Saint’, FINN WWHHEELLAANN!!!”
He makes his way down slowly, ignoring the people around him, though a few fans clap him on the shoulders as he descends.
“I’m not too sure what I’m supposed to do with this
These hands, this mind, this instability
From a cage I created, to a hell and heaven made
Can’t let go of the hatred, ’cause I love the way it tastes”

At the barrier, he slings himself over and slides immediately underneath the bottom rope and leaps to his feet in the center of the ring. He heads directly for the ropes in front of him, and hops up onto the bottom one, bouncing slightly as he looks back at the crowd, choosing a few choice words to share with them. He drops down from it, and pulls off his vest as he heads to his place against the turnbuckle, leaning into it as his music fades out.
The referee does his due diligence, checking each competitor for hidden weapons. Once satisfied that there is no foul play intended from either party, he grabs the Ignition Championship and holds it high above his head in the center of the ring, which elicits a large pop from the Moda Center capacity crowd. Whelan and Gresham’s eyes do not fall from contact with one another for even the briefest of moments.

The bell rings and another chapter in this duo’s history has just gotten underway. Whalen and Gresham stalk one another carefully for a few moments before they engage in the match’s initial collar tie lockup. Whalen goes for a double leg takedown, but Gresham sprawls and locks Whalen’s head into a bridging headlock. Whalen grabs at Gresham’s midsection and drives forward, trying to reassert his plan of attack, but Gresham kicks his legs up and out as he tightens his grip, wrenching down on Finn’s neck. Finn attempts to reposition himself, but Demarcus switches his footing as he dances around Whalen’s grounded body. Controlling Whalen from behind, Gresham has Finn’s back. He releases his head lock, immediately exchanging it for a multitude of forearms to the back of his adversary’s head.
JOHNSON: “A little amateur wrestling to start us off here.”
VASSA: “You’re an amateur. Heh…hehehe.”
Vassa spouts out the nonsense in a way that hearkens back to Kip from Napoleon Dynamite saying, “your mom goes to college.” I don’t know why, it’s just what came to mind. Anyway, Gresham gives up his pursuit of pounding Whalen’s head into the mat by popping to his feet and hitting the ropes, just to return from where he originated with a stiff dropkick to Whalen’s exposed cheek. He scrambles to his feet, bounces from the ropes, and repeats the same maneuver. Whalen reels for a moment before he bounces to his feet, as Gresham bounces from the ring ropes once again. Whalen sets up for a back drop but Gresham slides to the right, grabbing Whalen’s right leg in the process, and executes a single leg takedown, before it turns into a single leg Boston crab.
JOHNSON: “Gresham’s intelligence is truly remarkable. You see it in his promos, you see it in his matches, the guy is just brilliant.”
VASSA: “Wonder where his intelligence was on that one.”
As Johnson spoke, Whalen was able to acquire enough space to send his other leg through the opening in Gresham’s legs, nailing him directly in the balls. Gresham doubles over, wincing in pain. The crowd exhibits a mixed pop for the dirty tactic. The scene fades and picks back up about three minutes later. Whalen is stradling Gresham in the corner, pummeling him with rights and lefts.
JOHNSON: “Vinny, I tell ya, it seems like Gresham just can’t recover. Ever since that low blow, he has been on the defensive.”
VASSA: “Not even a lick of offense, Stevie.”
Whalen dismounts his opponent and grabs him by the back of the head, leading him toward the center of the ring. In one fluid motion, he scoops Demarcus up and performs a perfect Michinoku Driver, maintaining the hold following its execution by hooking a leg and leaning over his opponent.

JOHNSON: “That was closer than it probably should have been, Vinny.”
VASSA: “Yeah…a kick in the nuts can do that to ya. Lord knows, that feeling can linger. Doesn’t help that the guy landed on his fucking neck.”
Finn lifts his opponent back to his feet and maneuvers him into a would-be vertical suplex, but instead of falling flat backwards, he simply drops his opponent headfirst down toward the mat, before cutting Gresham’s descent short with his knee. The thud that could be heard indicates how stiff the brainbuster on the knee move was performed! Whalen soon mounts the Ignition Champion and lays into him with a series of vicious forearms to the head, just before he goes for another cover.
JOHNSON: “Some shots to the mouth for good measure.”
VASSA: “Normally, folks can just give ONE shot to the mouth, let alone several.”
JOHNSON: “I don’t follow.”
VASSA: “Par for the course.”

The scene fades and reemerges as quickly as it dispersed. Now, we see Whalen is still in control, but the action has moved to the outside. Gresham is out on his feet before Whalen moves to lift him to a standing position. Once satisfied with his opponents stance, Finn lifts Demarcus up and drops him to the unforgiving floor once more with another Michinoku Driver. The referee’s count is already in progress.
“Five! … Six!”

Finn lifts his opponent to his feet and repeats the very same maneuver.
JOHNSON: “Whalen is just BRUTALIZING Gresham’s head and neck!”
“Seven! … Eight!”

VASSA: “Whalen better start getting Gresham back in that ring, or he’s gonna be out an Ignition Championship!”
Gresham finally finds himself able to return the favor paid him earlier in the match, connecting his fist directly with Whalen’s nuts. Finn crumbles to his knees.

Gresham slides in the ring. Whalen overcomes the searing pain in his testicles and stomach, and slides into the ring at the very last second. Gresham takes control. He lifts Whalen to his feet and executes a NASTY standalone lariat, causing the six foot four Whalen to go from a standing position to an inverted state before ultimately landing flat on his back. Gresham goes for the pin.

Gresham doesn’t waste any time. He lifts Whalen to his feet and connects with a vicious Yakuza kick.
VASSA: “This could be it! He’s going for the pin!”

Whalen kicked out of that vicious shot to the head to the delight of the crowd. Again, the Ignition Champ lifts his adversary to his feet and sends him towards the ropes. Upon his opponent’s return, Whalen is met with a BRUTAL spinebuster!

JOHNSON: “Gresham is giving Whalen everything his got and the former champion will not be put down!”
Demarcus goes to lift his opponent back to his feet AGAIN, but he’s stopped short by ANOTHER LOW BLOW!
Demarcus reels on his knees, his face parallel to the mat. Whalen takes this opportunity to capitalize and bounces off the ropes before hitting a DEVASTATING curbstomp.
But he can’t- not at first, anyway. Whalen is still recovering from the vicious assault he endured just moments prior. After a few moments catching his breath, he lays one hand across Gresham before moving his entire body atop Demarcus.
The crowd has lost its collective mind. Gresham kicked out, and Whalen seems to be at a loss. Whalen stares out into the crowd with an exhausted, almost blank look on his face. He grabs the Ignition Champion by the back of the head and begins to lift both himself and his opponent to their feet. A forearm to the champion!
Another forearm to the champion!
Another forearm-
Demarcus lifts Finn off his feet before spinning around and throwing him to the mat with a side slam!
Stevie Johnson, Vinny Vassa, the referee, and the whole crowd counts in unison.

JOHNSON: “OH BOYYYY!!! Whalen gave him a hell of a beating and it took the Ignition Champion throwing just about EVERYTHING he’s got, but Demarcus Gresham has retained his Ignition Championship in a THRILLER!!”
WINNER: DeMarcus Gresham via Pinfall (13:22)

You would expect at this time for the cameras to jump to another part of the show. Another 4CW talent backstage getting into trouble as they tend to do. This time around the cameras do actually follow the defending 4CW Ignition Champion, DeMarcus Gresham, backstage shortly after his heavily contested win against Finn Whelan. Winning the belt off of him was one thing but defending it and officially making the record 2-2…his smirk is noticeable even with the wincing and short cuts of pain going down his back. A slight view of the backstage area of the Moda Center can be seen as the fans still slightly boo with a light…a very light sprinkle of cheers for the Northwestern bred man. Portland being somewhat close to Washington, you get it.
A few nods from people backstage catch Gresham off guard, perhaps a sign of respect as he continues toward his locker room with a slight limp. The 4CW Ignition Championship hanging from his shoulder. As the sweat beads down he finally gets a decent grip on the doorknob opening it and planning to walk through that door until…
? ? ?: “DeMarcus? DeMarcus?”
Moments later Tiphany Banks shows up into the camera view with the fans giving cheers and whistles to the 4CW Backstage Reporter. DeMarcus turning quite slow in his steps to face her but does welcome her presence with a gentleman’s bow.
GRESHAM: “Why you must be Miss Banks. A pleasure.”
He shoulders the championship belt and stands up straight.
GRESHAM: “I take it you do have questions.”
BANKS: “Of course of course. As hard as it can be to get a moment for so many superstars after tonight, fresh off your first title defense of the 4CW Ignition Championship I had to ask a few. Starting off, your thoughts on retaining?”
Looks at his 4CW Ignition Championship and then looks at it his other shoulder which is bare. A quick thought comes to mind before he places his index finger up.
GRESHAM: “Excuse me for just one moment. I am aware this may be out of sorts but just…if you please?”
Getting a slight confused nod from Tiphany to take the time he quickly walks all the way into his locker room closing the door behind him for the matter of 7 seconds at the most. Opening the door once again the 4CW Ignition Championship is still upon his shoulder but he’s since put on a black t-shirt with the following in white lettering
“The Fluke X 2 Becomes 2 Belts Too ”
In his own version of pettiness. He brushes the shirt downward making sure it’s in full view with the belt to the side and smile.
GRESHAM: “Yes, that’s better. Equal. That’s how I feel, equal. I feel that the journey is coming to a great point and I have every plan to enjoy it. It can be short of course. We are well aware it comes down faster than it can be built up. Also we can’t just be content with equal. I want to be better. He looks past me yet I am in front of him. Interesting turn of events from that fateful night in Jacksonville yes? This is the example of what I mean when I say remain undeterred.”
BANKS: “They would be crazy not to pay attention. Are you planning for your next challenger in your mind already?”
Actually thinks for a moment.
GRESHAM: “Whelan has said he’s done with me. What I’m selling perhaps he just doesn’t want to buy. There are a many unenlightened ones out there in the world. Something that is their choice. I can not force it upon anyone I can only help lead the way.”
He looks over at the 4CW Ignition Championship on his shoulder and opens his locker room door a little more to move in.
GRESHAM: “Following your leader does have its advantages.”
DeMarcus gives Tiphany a thankful nod before closing the door to the locker room with the camera fading on his name along the door.

The show pas backstage as people are walking by. Hartman comes into view as he’s looking to interview someone as that is his job. Hartman hates not having anyone to interview. He starts walking around the backstage area as people disappear and things get quiet. Hartman stops and shakes his head.
HARTMAN: ”What the fuck?! This is an unusual night. Still…I should still be able to find SOMEONE to talk to!”
Hartman continues to walk around the backstage area as he gets to the far wing of the building. There is an entrance not far from where he’s standing. Hartman, who’s getting more and more frustrating talks again.
HARTMAN: ”This is ridiculous! How is NOBODY around to have a chat with me? This is a fuck mess! What do I have to do to get an—“
Hartman stops in his tracks as he hears the door into the arena open. The door closes and Hartman can’t believe who he’s seeing right before his eyes. He’s completely silent as he can’t believe who’s standing before him. Hartman speaks again only this time cautiously and quietly.
HARTMAN: ”Oh…..My……God……”
The camera slowly pans over before all of a sudden, BRIAN HOLLYWOOD is seen with a loud amount of cheers in the background from the crowd as they can’t believe Hollywood is here at Adrenaline. Hollywood is dressed up in a fancy, expensive suit and he has a serious, but methodical look on his face. He looks focused, he looks prepared and he looks like the Hollywood of old. Hartman approaches him slowly as he finally has someone to interview.
HARTMAN: ”Brian Hollywood, it’s really good to see you again. I didn’t expect to ever see you again and I don’t think anyone expected to see you again. What happened to you?”
Hollywood doesn’t even say a word as he maintains that bold, serious and focused look. He simply raises an eyebrow to Hartman who tries to get Hollywood to say something again.
HARTMAN: ”Um….MR Hollywood? I got it right this time! I addressed you as Mr. Hollywood because I never forgot what you told me a couple years ago when I didn’t address you properly. But please…all of us would like to know….what happened to you and why are you back all of a sudden? What Is your plans? Please…say SOMETHING!”
Once again Hollywood just stands there…..silent. however, after Hartman asked him what his plans are and why he’s back, Hollywood just looks at Hartman and smiles methodically as he pulls out a wad of cash and simply hands it over to Hartman, who is in complete surprise with the gift Hollywood gave him. The silence continues for awhile before Hollywood finally speaks….but with little known wonder.
HOLLYWOOD: ”Mr. Executive is BACK….and everyone who knows the true me knows that I mean business. And I’m all about business. The fact of the matter is, I’m back to who I’m supposed to be and I’m back to where I’m supposed to be. I see some interesting things have happened here since I’ve been gone. But the truth is I am a man of POWER and I will seize it like I always do! But first, it looks like there’s a particular dynasty here in 4CW and the truth is there will be no dynasty in a world ran by yours truly, Mr. Executive himself, Brian Hollywood! I topple Empires and Dynasties for a living and build my own empire! So there’s going to be some changes around here and I’ve already executed my first move. My first plan is in motion and after that, the dominos will simply fall into place! 4CW WILL…BE….MINE! I have seized power everywhere else I have been and now 4CW will be my next place I will build my empire. I’m putting Perry Wallace on NOTICE!”
Hollywood pauses as the camera slowly zooms in on him as he smiles deviously.
HOLLYWOOD: ”The truth is people, some of you know who I am and know what I’m capable of! Unfortunately there are a lot of people here that don’t know who I am…but they will soon! I’ve already got this place on lockdown and none of you even know what’s coming! Perry, I suggest you listen and listen carefully…I didn’t just come back for a big return. Me just showing up was enough shock value for my satisfaction. I’m coming for control, Perry, so you better be ready for when the dominos fall into place. Once that happens, there’s no fucking stopping it! There will be NO fucking dynasty in my empire! I will topple the fakes and I will topple the poor and the crippled! I fucking mean business and I will redesign 4CW in my own image! Mr. Executive is BACK and the Hollywood that was destructive and methodical is BACK! No more bullshit, no more fun! I’m taking this place one way…or another….so I hope everyone enjoys what their doing right now because soon EVERYTHING is going to fucking CHANGE and you can BET that as an EXECUTIVE FUCKING PROMISE!!!”
Hollywood looks deep into the camera as the camera captures the focused eyes of Hollywood. Hollywood looks into the camera with a serious look on his face before he cracks a methodical smile and an evil, small laugh as he walks back out of the arena as the camera pans back to a shocked and speechless Hartman as the camera cuts back to the ring.


Lights within the arena are killed as static fills the sound system and “Alpha and Omega” by King 810 begins to play subsequently.
“Welcome to the truth
God made me in his image
Who the fuck made you?
You want my voice from me?
You can have it, just know
I sound like this because the Devil has my throat.”

From behind the curtain, Cyrus Riddle emerges. With a black bandana wrapped around his face and a Kylla custom hooded leather vest decorated in blood splatter with two switchblades going through his initials designed on the back, he stands firm and examines the crowd with all to be seen on his face being his gaze. He holds up two fingers to the crowd with his arms outstretched before making his walk to the ring.
POWERS: ”Making his way to the ring. He weighs in at two hundred and thirty pounds and hails from New York City, by way of London, England! He is the ‘Archetype!’, ‘The Impaler!’… CYRUS RRIIDDDDLLEE!!!”
Cyrus approaches the ring with a confidence in his steps, accompanied only by the subtle hints of methodical approach as if to be zeroed in on a victim.
“Bitch! I am the powers that be!
I am Christ crucified on the T!
I am the alphaaaaa!
And the omegaaaaa!”

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

His trademark smirk followed by a tongue glide along his bottom lip can be seen as he looks around the arena and jumps down to climb between the top and middle ropes. In the middle of the ring, he removes his vest slowly to reveal his heavily tattooed body and physique, not without that always evident bit of arrogance. He tosses the jacket over to the ring attendant and stands in the corner calmly, awaiting.
JOHNSON: ”Jesus Christ, Vinny! Enough already!”
VASSA: ”This ain’t even about that, Steve. Up next he’s going against Bryan Laughlin and these two have quite the beef going on between them.”
JOHNSON: ”It’s been going on for a quite a while and tonight adds another chapter in their path to destruction.”
The heavy opening guitar riff from “Out of My Mind” by Mushroomhead hits over the speakers as a slight fog grows around the curtain and 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.
VASSA: ”And there is he! The Monster King, The Night King, and Mr. Broken himself… Bryan I’m not mad I’m Laughlin!”
JOHNSON: ”You think we’ll see him tonight?”
VASSA: ”See who?”
JOHNSON: ”Broken McLaughlin.”

It didn’t take any time at all before things were underway and both men were pounding into each others flesh with massive lefts and rights. Knocking Riddle off balance after landing a solid right to the side of his head, Laughlin ducked his head and exploded forward. Plowing his shoulder into Riddle’s stomach, he wrapped both arms around him before driving him backwards across the ring and slamming Riddle’s back into the corner. From above, Riddle slammed down rapid forearms to Laughlin’s back. Ignoring the assault from above, Laughlin grabbed onto the middle ropes to each side of Riddle as he pushed himself back before pulling himself back in and instantly ramming his shoulder back into Cyrus’ mid-section. Lifting Riddle off his feet, Laughlin turned his body completely around before taking a few steps away from the corner and planting Riddle onto the canvas with a spinebuster!
Mounting himself on top of Riddle, Laughlin drew his right arm back and just as he began to swing down, Riddle reached up with both hands. Grabbing Laughlin by the head, he pulled Laughlin’s head down as he popped his own up, nailing Laughlin right between the eyes with a headbutt. Still locked onto Laughlin’s head, Cyrus rolls over, throwing Laughlin to his side. The two race to their feet, Cyrus standing tall first as Laughlin was pushing himself up from one knee. Rushing in just as Laughlin began to stand to both feet, Riddle grabbed ahold of his head with both hands before dropping him back to the mat with a swinging neckbreaker.
Laughlin didn’t stay down for long, but he didn’t get up without the assistance of Riddle as he was pulled back to his feet. Locked onto Laughlin’s arm, Cyrus pulled him into a short-arm clothesline that dropped him flat on his back. Still holding onto Laughlin’s wrist, Riddle pulled him up once more, this time lifting him off his feet and onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. Backing up to the center of the ring, Riddle then swung Laughlin’s body around, dropping him on top of his knee with a neckbreaker! Laughlin bounced off his knee and hit the mat face first. Rolling him over to his back, Riddle quickly made the cover as the official slid in beside them with the count.

Using all of his strength, Laughlin bench pressed Riddle’s body off of him before tossing him to the side. Up to his feet in no time, Riddle went back on the attack, kicking Laughlin while he was still down. Grabbing ahold of him, he then pulled Laughlin up from the mat by the arm. Holding onto Laughlin’s wrist, Riddle went to throw him to the ropes but Laughlin reversed the throw and sent Riddle racing towards them instead. As Riddle came back on the rebound, Laughlin charged straight for him, hitting him in the jaw with a European uppercut that stopped him in his tracks. Wrapping both arms around Riddle, Laughlin then exploded with energy as he lifted Riddle off his feet, throwing him over his head with a belly to belly suplex. Riddle’s body hit the mat before rolling fluidly to an upright seated position. Popping back to his feet, Laughlin raced past Riddle, hitting the ropes ahead of him and as he came back, Laughlin leaped forward through the air, grabbing ahold of Riddle’s head as he flipped over him, executing a perfect blockbuster!
Laughlin paced the ring for a short moment before turning his sights back to Riddle and closing in. Jumping through the air, he came down onto Riddle’s chest with a jumping double foot stop. He remained on Riddle’s chest for a few moments, applying all of his weight to Riddle’s chest cavity. Finally, he stepped down and rushed towards the ropes ahead. Hitting them hard and coming back even faster, Laughlin slid feet first to the mat, driving both feet into the side of Riddle’s head. Standing to his feet, he pulled Riddle up from the mat, holding him in place with his left hand as he fired away with rapid fire right forearms to Riddle’s face. Each hit backed Riddle up across the ring until his back pressed against the ropes. Taking a few steps back with Riddle in a daze, Laughlin then moved back in quickly and precisely, connecting with his BSKE to Riddle’s face (superkick, The Best Superkick Ever actually)! Riddle’s body shot into the air as he flipped over the top rope before crashing down to the floor below!
The officials ten count shortly followed as Riddle remained on the outside. Reaching five, Riddle finally managed to pull himself back to his feet by using the apron. What he didn’t see was Laughlin who was charging straight for him from inside of the ring. Just as Riddle looked up, Laughlin leaped through the ropes, crashing into Riddle with a suicide dive! Riddle didn’t fall to the mat, instead he remained on his feet as Laughlin landed to his, driving him backwards before finally slamming him into the barricade at ringside. With both men now on the outside, the official restarted his ten count, now against both.
JOHNSON: ”It was only a matter of time before this match found itself on the outside of the ring!”

Laughlin begins pounding away at Riddle’s ribs with lefts and rights. Meanwhile, the fans in the front row explode from the action being so close that they can literally touch it.

VASSA: ”Let’s just hope that they keep the fight on that side of the ring and not over here to the booth.”
Pulling Riddle away from the barricade, Laughlin slings him back towards the ring, crashing into the side of it before falling down to one knee.

As Laughlin closes in, Riddle pushes himself up but keeps his head down, driving his shoulder into Laughlin’s mid-section before lifting him into the air. Taking a few steps forward, Riddle then slams Laughlin down to the floor while mounting himself on top.

Laughlin fights to pull himself away from Riddle but catches back to back blows to the face from Riddle as he swings wildly.

Grabbing ahold of Riddle while receiving rapid punches to the head, Laughlin manages to roll him over to the side to free himself.

The two rush to their feet, standing at the same exact time. Riddle takes a swing for Laughlin’s head but misses as Laughlin ducks underneath it. Riddle’s back is facing the barricade as Laughlin grabs him by the arm. Turning his entire body and pulling Riddle around, Laughlin throws him straight to the barricade. Riddle hits the barricade, flipping over the top of it and spilling out into the crowd.
VASSA: ”The fans are getting more than what they paid for tonight!”
JOHNSON: ”Let’s just hope no kids are in the mix to catch a shot to the face as we’ve seen before in the past.”
VASSA: ”I think at this point we should worry more about Broken emerging and tagging them with red balloons.”

The crowd has cleared an area as Riddle crawls away from the barricade. The ringside crew has fled the scene, leaving only empty chairs at ringside, which just so happen to grab Laughlin’s attention. He begins grabbing them one by one and tossing them over the barricade into the cleared out area before climbing over himself.

JOHNSON: ”I’m not even sure they’re aware of where the official is with his count.”
VASSA: ”I’d guess that more than likely they probably don’t even care.”
With a chair in hand, Laughlin slowly creeps behind Riddle as he begins pushing himself up to all fours. With Riddle’s back exposed, Laughlin slowly raises the chair high above his head with both hands, a devilish grin stretching across his face from ear to ear. He swings down, but not before Riddle grabs a chair within reach and slings it up, swatting the incoming chair shot off its path.

The chair flies from Laughlin’s hands and straight into the face of an innocent bystander just watching like everyone else at his side.

Riddle then takes a swing for the fences, aiming straight for Laughlin’s head that barely escapes the impact as he leans back. Before Riddle can adjust his footing, Laughlin grabs another one of the chairs and then takes a swing for Riddle, at the same exact time Riddle takes another swing.

Their chairs collide, echoing throughout the entire building. They take another swing for each others head and just like before, the two chairs crash together.

By this time security has made their way onto the scene, creating a barrier between the fans and the action. It’s didn’t matter where the count was at this point, these two were looking to kill each other right here in Portland. And just like that, the official shouted at the top of his lungs…

JOHNSON: ”This one is in the books folks! We have a double count out between these two here tonight.”
As Riddle and Cyrus continue aiming for each others heads, the official quickly calls for the bell, hoping that the sound will gain control over the situation.

POWERS: ”The result of tonight’s match has been deemed a double count out, a no contest!”
Hearing those words over the entire arena didn’t stop Riddle or Laughlin The two continued trying to connect with a chair shot to the other, with no concern whatsoever for the safety of the fans close by. After a few moments of even more madness pass, members of security finally take matters into their own hands, quickly subduing both men and removing the chairs from their possession. After finally getting control of the situation and separating both Cyrus and Laughlin, the aftermath of tonight’s match finally comes to an end, at least for now.
WINNER: No Contest via Double Count Out (11:05)

A television showcasing the previous match on a thirty second delay on its screen was screwed into the wall of a backstage corridor at the Moda Center in Portland, Oregon. Standing before it, wearing clothes as casual as his attitude, was Bronx Valescence. Bronx appears rejuvenated to an extent. He looks cool, calm and collected. He enjoyed his vacation, but he didn’t want to miss any more time around the sport than he absolutely had to. And he didn’t want to miss Ana. The match ended and the screen went black for a moment before the “Adrenaline” popped up, remaining stagnant in its occupation of the airwaves. Bronx shrugged and turned to leave- perhaps, he was en route to his third trip to catering that evening. Perhaps, he was en route to go try and help Ana focus. Whatever his plan was, it would have to wait.
? ? ?: “Last time I saw you, you had about ten pounds of gold strapped to your waist. What. Happened. Bronxy?”
Valescence rolled his eyes. He had just found himself face to face with a borderline psychopath, bonafide sociopath, and all around pain in his ass. The former multiple time 4CW Champion smirked, though dejectedly. The disdain in his eyes told a story he would never waste the time actually telling.
? ? ?: “Can’t win ‘em all, can you?”
Bronx took a step forward as he scratched at his curly blonde hair.
VALESCENCE: “Nope. Especially not when you can’t manage to stay healthy for longer than a month and a half, isn’t that right, Boston?”
Boston’s visage comes into view for the very first time in about six months. The troubled, unstable apple of 4CW female faithful and adult males ages 18-34’s eyes stood before the future 4CW Hall of Famer, who hung his head for just a split second. He had willingly engaged Boston in conversation- something that, in the past, he had avoided at all costs. The guy was crazy. Boston and Bronx had had one match against one another, just one show removed from the legendary Fright Night II in 2015. It was an extremely hard fought battle and a favorite among many smarks.
Bronx upended Boston, delivering, if you ask Boston, his only true loss. Any other blemishes on his record, he found ways to viably justify. Bronx, obviously, moved on from the match and went on to become the face of professional wrestling. Boston, on the other hand, did not move on. It was no secret he was obsessed with seeing Bronx again in the ring. For that very reason, Bronx abhorred interacting with who the man he saw as merely an arbitrary opponent from the past. Not because he was afraid of him, obviously, but because the guy was just…weird. Vacation must have gotten to the legend in the making, as his response could have opened a whole annoying thing.
Boston’s turquoise eyes glistened as he readjusted his trademark man-bun.
BOSTON: “Yes…Bronx. Yes, that’s correct. Between the shoulder and the drug addiction and the sex addiction and the…I don’t know, what other fucked up and terrible things about my life did you wanna bring up, champ- oh, shit…sorry. There I go again, LIVIN’ IN THE PAST, callin’ you champ.”
Bronx looked toward the floor between them with a slightly solemn countenance. At one point in time, the two had been considered equals- if even just for a couple of weeks. To see the way Boston’s career went so completely polar opposite his, Bronx didn’t see any point in escalating the situation any further. Truth be told? He felt bad for the guy.
VALESCENCE: “Well, we all mistakes, yeah? Listen, it’s been real, Boston, but I have somewhere to be. You take care alright, bud?”
Boston smiled and stretched his chiseled arms out airplane style before bringing them up behind his head.
BOSTON: “You, too, champ. You, too.”
Valescence begins to walk past the inaugural 4CW Uprising Champion, but he’s stopped by one of Boston’s granite-like pythons.
BOSTON: “Enjoy your night, champ. Enjoy the fuck out of it. Relaaaxxxx…relaaaxxxxx. You, my friend? You deserve this vacation. ‘Cause somethin’ mannn…somethin’…”
The young 4CW heartthrob nods and seethes through his smile.
BOSTON: “Finally, Bronx. Fucking. Finally. It’s a very exciting time.”
Boston reaches up and grazes the back of his hand against Bronx’s cheek.
BOSTON: “Things are gonna start to break a little more even, y’know?”
He didn’t. Bronx had no idea what this crazy asshole was referring to.
VALESCENCE: “Yeah, okay man. Take care.”
Bronx removes Boston’s hand from his face and begins walking down the corridor. The scene fades on Boston’s wide eyes and Hollywood smile, all pointed in the direction of arguably the greatest champion 4CW has ever seen. Before complete black overtakes the screen, Boston can be heard uttering one final word.
BOSTON: “Apotheosis.”


“Cry Little Sister begins to play as the lights drop in the arena. Smoke and fog billows from below the stage rising higher and higher as the stage and ramp begin to light up in fire in a falling dominoes pattern. The faint shadow of Viduus Morta can be seen through the smoke.
“Last Fire Will Rise
Behind those Eyes
Black House will Rock
Blind Boys dont Lie”

The Smoke disappears to reveal Viduus entirely, the Pride championship draped over his shoulder as he looks left and right scanning the crowd. As the music begins to pick up pace, Viduus starts to float his way to the ring.
“Cry Little Sister
thou shall not fall
Come Come to your brother
thou shall not feel”

POWERS: ”Coming to the ring at this time, VIDUUS MMOORRTTAA!!!”
Viduus slithers under the bottom rope and licks his championship as he crawls to the middle of the ring. Viduus rises, licking the Pride Championship once more before holding high for all to see.
JOHNSON: “Here’s the Pride champion, Viduus Morta, who survived a hellacious match at Ante Up to maintain his grasp on that belt.”
VASSA: “Not many people gave him a shot to hold on to that belt, but here we are tonight.”
“Word up, son, word, yeah
To all the killers and a hundred dollar billers
For real, niggas who ain’t got no feelings
Check it out now”

The lighting in the building darkens a bit before the opening of “Shook Ones (Part II)” by Mobb Deep starts playing and the crowd begins to boo. As soon as the intro of the song finishes, Anastasia Hayden steps out from the curtains, holding her 4CW Championship belt by its strap. The negative reception doesn’t bother her as she stands at the top of the entrance, surveying the ring and the crowd before she starts to make 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’…and the current FOUR CEE DUBYA CHAMPION… 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 more hatred from the crowd as she tosses the 4CW Championship into the ring before leaping up to the apron and climbing through the ropes. Lifting her championship off the canvas, she holds it up high for a few seconds before dragging it over to a free corner in the ring and dropping it back on the mat before she perches herself onto the top turnbuckle.
JOHNSON: “Speaking of Ante Up, our new champion was crowned and her name is Anastasia Hayden. That was one of the most incredible matches we have ever been around and to see her walk out of that match with the title was something else.”
VASSA: “And you should thank her for that.”
JOHNSON: “She’s got a chance to start cementing her legacy as not just the Grand Duchess, but also as the 4CW Champion and it starts her tonight against the Pride champion.”
VASSA: “What a great main event as we start our march toward Bad Company.”
JOHNSON: “And there’s the bell…”

JOHNSON: “Here we go! Champion versus champion, the 4CW champion against the Pride champion, it simply does not get any better than this here folks.”
VASSA: “I’m thinking Morta has the advantage here, I can’t give you a good reason, he’s just so dark. I really don’t want to bet against him or he’ll magically make my balls fall off or something.”
JOHNSON: “That might be a good plan, Vinny.”
Hayden and Morta square off in the middle of the ring doing a bit of a walk around the center as they try and size the other one up. However, had either of these two been able to see the future they probably would have spent a little more time dancing around getting a nice break. Morta start things off by going for a shoot, but instead eats a shin kick from Hayden stunning him in the process. Morta stumbles and that gives the 4CW champion an opening to unleash a flurry of right and left kicks, which causes the Pride champion to back up against the ropes. Hayden sends him across the ring with a whip which she follows into and connects with a high leaping dropkick kick knocking Viduus to the mat. Viduus gets right back up to a seated position but Ana puts him to the mat again with a dropkick to her seated opponent!
JOHNSON: “Ana with those educated feet and she’s got the Pride champion down early on here.”
VASSA: “Those are the same feet that brought home the gold, Stevie. Watch out.”
Viduus rolls back up to his feet, but Ana is waiting right there hooking on a rear waist lock, which the Pride champion is able to reverse and instead gets Hayden locked in. Ana tries for a couple of back elbows to break the hold, but Viduus holds on and instead lifts up and slams Ana down face first onto the mat. This gives Viduus a chance to lock on an ankle lock and attempt to twist the foot clean off.
VASSA: “Morta doing a little voodoo magic there and getting the advantage, I wasn’t expecting to see much mat work here in this one.”
JOHNSON: “Morta pulling out the stops here.”
But Ana is able to push up off of the mat and rolls forward causing Viduus to break the hold and stumble face first into the ring ropes. Hayden is able to spring up onto her one leg as the Pride champion turns around and…

…is hit by an enziguri!! Morta hits the mat hard and rolls to the outside ring apron!! Hayden gets back up to her feet, showing the effects of the ankle lock Ana shakes off of the pain in the leg as Viduus pulls himself back up on the outside of the ring. Hayden springs up on the bottom rope and connects with a vicious snap kick right to the side of Morta’s head which sends the Pride champion to the floor below!!
JOHNSON: “Big time kick and the Pride champion is out of the ring!”
VASSA: “Wow, nearly took his head off.”
JOHNSON: “What’s Ana got in mind here? She’s sizing up the situation on the outside!!”
Hayden charges the rising Morta from the inside of the ring and leaps through the top and middle ropes with a suicide dive crashing into the Pride champion and once again taking him out on the outside of the ring. This gets the crowd to their feet as the 4CW champ wipes out the Pride champ.
JOHNSON: “Suicide dive to the outside by the 4CW champion onto the Pride champ!”
VASSA: “Not a good place to be, however, when you’re facing Viduus Morta. A man known for taking things to the extreme and the outside is the perfect place to do that.”
The 4CW champion is first to her feet on the outside after taking out her opponent with that suicide dive, she leans up against the guardrailing which allows some of the fans to get up and close and personal even taking some attempted selfies with the champ. As this is happening, Viduus Morta begins to stir on the outside as well, but before he’s able to get to his feet Ana unloads with a couple of stiff kicks to the legs and ribs. Hayden grabs Morta by the top of the head and goes to throw him back towards the ring, but Morta is able to put on the breaks and instead sends Hayden back first into the ring apron! Morta charges in and hits a forearm shot before grabbing the champion by the back of the head and sends her…

…crashing into the steel steps!! The top part separates from the bottom part as Ana’s shoulder takes the brunt of the steel. Morta, seemingly at home here on the outside of the ring, just waits as the 4CW champ pulls herself back up to her feet clutching that shoulder. Morta unloads with some stomps onto that shoulder causing more pain. Morta pulls her up by that arm which causes her to yell out in pain and in one motion slams her arm across the ringpost!!
JOHNSON: “The champion’s arm could be broken from that impact!”
VASSA: “See? I told you. Outside is Viduus-land. Everyone needs to avoid the outside.”
JOHNSON: “A little too late for that advice now, Vinny.”
Morta again pulls Hayden up to her feet, and this time he clutches her head and arm and in a show of power tosses her…

…right into the guardrailing!! Ana Hayden connects shoulder and back first into the railing which sort of gives way from the impact, the crowd in the front row clears out as Morta heads over and pulls the guardrailing completely off from the others! Viduus is now armed with steel on the outside of the ring!
JOHNSON: “Viduus grabbing hold of that section of guardrailing! I can’t see how the referee is going to allow this match to continue… but he’s not making any motion to the bell right now.”
VASSA: “Maybe he’s under a voodoo spell or something.”
JOHNSON: “I highly doubt that, perhaps more of a sense of letting this one go. Let the champions do what they want here tonight.”
Just as soon as Ana Hayden gets up to her feet she catches the end of the steel guardrailing right into the chin by Morta!! The crowd recoils in pain as the 4CW champion hits the concrete padding on the outside once again. This gives Morta a chance to toss the guardrailing up and over the top ropes and into the ring, Morta turns his attention to his opponent and tosses her into the ring. Viduus gets an earful from the referee, but Morta just laughs in his face and the referee backs down. Looks like this one is going extreme here quickly. Morta picks up the guardrailing and sets it up into the turnbuckle corner, much like you would if it were a table. Viduus then turns his attention back towards the 4CW champion as she tries to pull herself back up to her feet, Morta charges in before she gets fully off of her knees…

…slamming her head to the mat after connecting with kneeling DDT!!
JOHNSON: “Viduus Morta connecting with incredible move there and the 4CW champion is in a lot of trouble right now.”
VASSA: “But he’s not going for the pin here Stevie, his eyes are too focused on that guardrailing that he brought into the ring. He’s looking for the killing blow here. He’s not just looking to win, he’s looking to make a statement.”
JOHNSON: “And this crowd is starting to get that statement alright, Vinny.”
Viduus pulls Ana up to her feet by use of the hair, in a single motion he slips behind her and moves over towards the guardrailing as he grabs her in a standing reverse suplex position. The crowd gets to their feet as Viduus runs his finger across his throat slowly, he goes to lift Hayden up into the air for an ‘Awakening’…

…but Hayden breaks free of the inverted suplex and after landing on her feet she connects with a Yakuza kick right to the face of the Pride champion! Both wrestlers hit the deck, Morta from the impact of the kick and Ana from sheer exhaustion.
JOHNSON: “Big counter there by the 4CW champion, Ana’s got a chance to follow this up, but she’s still showing signs of a possible head injury after taking that guardrailing to the jaw earlier.”
VASSA: “Could you imagine if our champion had to have her jaw wired shut?”
JOHNSON: “That would be awful. Truly awful.”
VASSA: “I’m sensing sarcasm, Stevie. Lots of sarcasm.”
Hayden gets back up to her feet first, still holding the jaw in some pain, but she turns her attention towards Morta who is starting to stir as well. However, just before Viduus can fully get back up to his feet, Anastasia charges in leaps up…

…connecting with a hurricanrana driver that drives the Pride champion face first into the mat from a kneeling position.
JOHNSON: “Wolf Down by the 4CW champ! Here’s the cover on Morta…”

VASSA: “Morta powering out of that one at two and a half.”
Hayden doesn’t seem to enjoy the speed of the count as she shoots the referee a glance, but isn’t about to waste anymore time on that as she turns her attention back to her opponent. Grabbing and wrapping the arm of Morta she uses that as leverage as she pulls him back up to his feet. She is able to keep him under control with a twist of the wrist, she turns it into a side headlock but Morta counters by sending her for the ride into the ring ropes. On the return, Hayden ducks the clothesline attempt by Morta and she leaps up onto the middle ropes looking for a springboard…

…something that wasn’t meant to be, because Viduus is able to counter it into a modified brain buster looking suplex from midair!!
JOHNSON: “Huge counter there by the Pride champion and now he hooks the leg for the cover…”

JOHNSON: “And now it is Ana’s turn to just get the shoulder up at the last possible moment!”
VASSA: “Incredibly close there, Stevie. You can now see both of these champions are starting to pull out all the stops in this one.”
JOHNSON: “Morta giving the referee an eye… that man doesn’t even have to say a word honestly.”
VASSA: “Morta probably just cursed the poor guy and his family. Welp, should have counted faster asshole.”
Viduus gets back up to his feet and pulls the 4CW champion back up to her feet as well. In a single motion he boots her in the midsection and then locks on a standing headscissors hold, and then hosits her up onto his shoulders looking for a powerbomb! Morta turns towards the corner with the guardrailing still propped up in the corner and charges towards it…

…but the 4CW champion counters with a flip powerbomb of her own sending Viduus shoulders crashing onto the mat. Ana holds the seated position for a pinning combination as the referee slides in…

JOHNSON: “Morta gets the shoulder up at the last moment. Ana Hayden showing that skill in the ring that has earned her the top prize in the game today and she just nearly pinned the Pride champion.”
VASSA: “And you should thank her for that.”
JOHNSON: “I’ll pass.”
Hayden is now the one back up to her feet and she’s got her eye on the guardrailing propped up in the corner as she pulls Morta back up to his feet. Hayden connects with a kick right to the midsection of Morta and does a quick go behind move locking on a reverse waist lock, she goes for a German suplex but Morta is able to block it and reverses as well going for a German suplex of his own dangerously close to the guardrailing in the corner, however, Hayden counters that with a back kick catching Morta below the belt!!
VASSA: “Oh, that’s gotta hurt. Right in the Little Mortas.”
JOHNSON: “Ana Hayden preventing herself from being dumped onto that guardrailing again.”
Morta is doubled over in pain, which allows for Hayden to leap up and connect with a leaping knee strike which sends Morta stumbling back and falling onto the guardrailing himself!! Hayden charges towards the ring ropes near the corner and leaps up onto the middle one…

…dropping a leg across the throat of the Pride champion on the steel guardrailing!! Both Hayden and Morta bounce off of the railing causing it to fall to the mat along with the both of them, it does look like Ana took some of that, but not as much as Viduus!
JOHNSON: “Hayden rolling Viduus over to his back now, here’s the cover…”

VASSA: “How the hell did he get his shoulder up?! That’s some level four wizard spell usage right there!”
JOHNSON: “I have no idea what that means, Vinny. But Viduus is still in this one.”
Hayden rolls to her feet in a little bit of disbelief that he got his shoulder up, she puts the boots to Viduus and pulls him back up to his feet once again. She sends the stunned Pride Champion into the ropes and takes off running towards him as well, she leaps up into the air…

…missing the single leg running dropkick as Morta ducks under!! On the rebound the 4CW champion gets up just in time to be ran into at full speed by a gore from Viduus!! Hayden is folded in half and crashes to the mat, both champions are down on the ground recovering from this one now.
JOHNSON: “Soul Reaper by Morta!!”
VASSA: “But he can’t follow it up right away.”
JOHNSON: “Morta rolling over and now drapes his arm across the 4CW champion…”

VASSA: “She gets the shoulder up!! That’s some level six wizard shit right there.”
JOHNSON: “Morta has the look of disbelief now on his face, he bent the champion in half with that vicious spear, but Grand Duchess is able to kick out!”
Morta goes to roll to his feet, but instead he slithers out of the ring and to the outside. Seemingly upset about Ana kicking out of that last move, he begins to dig under the ring and produces a table much to the liking of the crowd here tonight. Morta flips the table up and over as he sets it up on the outside of the ring. He then takes out a chair from under the ring and slides back into the ring with that, taking aim at the champ.
VASSA: “You know what they say about coming at the king, Morta! You better not miss.”
Morta waits for Hayden to get back up to her feet and then swings the chair towards her skull…

…but Hayden is able to duck under the chair shot and connects with spinning heel kick sending the chair right into the face of Morta!! Morta drops like a ton of bricks in the ring and Hayden waits for Morta to begin to stir once again. When Morta is finally back up to his feet, Ana charges towards the ring ropes leaping with a somersault catching Morta around the head…

…but Morta is able to smack Ana in the side of the head with wild chair shot as she looked for the Deadman’s Curve!! Hayden tumbles out through the ring ropes and onto the apron of the adjacent side of the ring from the impact of that chair.
JOHNSON: “What a counter to the Deadman’s Curve!!”
VASSA: “Yeah, just smack her with a chair, who didn’t think of that one before? Right?”
JOHNSON: “Ana spilling out through the ropes.”
Morta gets back up to his feet and sees Ana on the ring apron and charges at the opposite side ropes at full speed, bearing down on the 4CW champion.

…and holy shit did the crowd love that one!! Viduus Morta spears the 4CW champion through the middle ropes sending both he and her off of the ring apron and through the table on the outside of the ring!! The table splinters into pieces as the two crash through to the concrete floor below!!!
JOHNSON: “It’s absolute carnage around the ring now as Viduus Morta has taken everything Anastasia Hayden has dished out, and Anastasia Hayden has equally taken from Viduus Morta. Both are now out on the outside of the ring.”
After a couple of moments, the two begin to stir a little bit more on the outside. Somehow, Hayden is up first and begins to stumble back towards the ring as a couple pieces of the table fall from her back, however, right behind her is Morta who slides in right behind his opponent. Hayden takes a swing, but Morta is able to duck under. Both showing some wear and tear as the shots are wild and a little bit slower, Morta tries to counter with a grapple but Hayden shoots under him and counters with a double footed drop kick sending Morta stumbling into the corner with the guardrailing. Morta hits the guardrailing and falls face first into the corner. Hayden moves in from behind and lifts up Morta into the corner facing, she crawls up from behind.
JOHNSON: “What does Anastasia Hayden have in mind here for the Pride champion? What could she possibly be looking to do perched up in the corner like that?”
VASSA: “Oh, something good. Maybe something bad.”
Hayden leaps up catching her legs around the back of Viduus Morta’s head and she flips backwards which causes Morta to flip backwards as well…

…crashing down onto the guardrailing stomach first is the 4CW Champion Anastasia Hayden followed by the Pride champion Viduus Morta who hits the edge of the guardrailing head first!! The crowd roars from that incredible move there.
JOHNSON: “Black star! Black star! Anastasia Hayden connecting with a reverse frankensteiner from the top ropes and down onto the guardrailing in the ring.”
VASSA: “Holy sweet Jesus!”
Morta’s head bounces off the steel and he pops up on his feet somehow, mostly on jelly legs as he stumbles about the ring. The 4CW champion hits the guardrailing basically doing a belly flop but also bounces up from the impact clutching her stomach in the process, she also stumbles backwards and catches Morta from behind with a rear waist lock. Using what strength she has left she goes to lift Morta…

…connecting with a German suplex!! Hayden barely is able to get Morta up and over, but Hayden’s legs give out somewhat and both sets of shoulders are seemingly laying on the mat. The referee slides in and with BOTH hands begins to slap the mat…

There is a lot of confusion as the referee calls for the bell. Both Hayden and Morta collapse after the three count and neither seem to be getting back up to their feet.
JOHNSON: “I don’t know what’s going right now, the referee is talking to Mike Powers and we cannot hear it from where we are right now.”
VASSA: “No idea, Stevie. Perhaps we’re going to get a ruling here soon. This ain’t MLB, we’ve got a time limit here after all.”
JOHNSON: “Looks like Mike Powers is going for a microphone.”
Indeed he is.

POWERS: “At the time of the three count, the referee has determined that BOTH sets of shoulders were on the mat and therefore the result of this match is a double pinfall!”
The crowd is not happy with that, nor is the 4CW champion or the Pride champion who just stare each other down in the ring.
Viduus Morta pounds the mat in frustration after hearing the announcement of a draw. He had pinned the 4CW champion even though the entire world believed that he couldn’t. He had done what he said he would do and yet so did his opponent. Just then the lights flicker out and the lights begin flashing throughout the arena to try and break through the darkness.
VASSA: “What the hell?”
The lights come back in quickly and we see the 4CW Champion Anastasia Hayden on both knees with each arm being held. Holding her left is the Speaker who still has a mic in hand while the other arm is being held by a sinister looking man whose in a blood red clergy suit, has his greasy hair slicked back and a devilish looking goatee to add even more of an eerie feeling to his look.
The crowd is buzzing though as now Viduus stands in front of Ana but he’s not alone. Next to him stands his Salvation stablemate and former Union Battleground Champion Nemesis meaning the man in the red suit is his manager Preacher!
JOHNSON: IT IS! That’s Nemesis! He would be a two time Union Battleground champion if it weren’t for Dick Devereux and he’s here in 4CW!”
VASSA: “He’s also the guy who started Salvation and he’s here with Viduus! Salvation has arrived! Those sick fucks need to let Ana go!”
The crowd quieted themselves just slightly when they saw the Speaker lift the microphone to his mouth.

SPEAKER: “Anastasia…the gods spared you tonight, however, the 4CW Tag Division will be avoided no longer. There were those who have come before us believing themselves to be greater than all. Generation Now was an utter failure. No one knew Minority State even existed. Omerta is and was a disgrace. Crooked Kingdom was built without a lasting foundation and crumbled. Salvation is needed in 4CW. Ana, consider yourself the first to be given deliverance as an example to 4CW and the Tag Division come Bad Company.”
Nemesis and Viduus move in with Nemesis taking the right arm from Preacher and Viduus taking the left arm from the Speaker. They look down at Anastasia and as she looks up, both men pull her arms simultaneously towards them, followed by both Viduus and Nemesis driving a knee each into her face at the same time. Anastasia collapses to the mat while Nemesis and Viduus stand over top of Hayden looking down at their first victim in 4CW as a Tag Team.
JOHNSON: ”Oh now, that was uncalled for!”
VASSA: ”Things might not have went in either of their favors during the match but Viduus has certainly gotten the one up on Ana here in the aftermath!”
JOHNSON: ”Not only are these men adding themselves to the mix for Bad Company and the tag division, but they’ve also made a huge statement here with attacking the 4CW Champion!”
VASSA: ”It was over for Ana the momen–“
JOHNSON: ”Here he comes! There he is!”
VASSA: ”Who?!”
The cameras cut to the entrance stage where Bronx Valescence has burst out onto the scene, racing straight down the ramp and headed towards the ring.
As Bronx continues running down the ramp, Viduus steps towards the ropes, his eyes locked on Bronx.
JOHNSON: ”They clearly have the numbers but that isn’t going to stop the two time 4CW Champion!”
Slowly, Viduus raises both arms as he stares at Bronx getting closer and closer. Suddenly, Viduus swings both arms down as the arena goes completely dark simultaneously.
JOHNSON: ”It’s complete darkness!”
A few short moments pass as the lights finally illuminate. Standing at the bottom of the ramp is Bronx and in the ring, only Ana can be seen lying unconscious on the mat.
VASSA: ”They’re gone!”
JOHNSON: ”Vanished into thin air.”
Bronx looks around the surrounding area, searching for them but they are nowhere to be seen. He then turns to Ana and slides into the ring. Crawling on all fours, he makes his way over to her where he lifts her head up, a worried look on his face.
JOHNSON: ”Things are surely beginning to heat up as we get closer and closer to Bad Company.”
VASSA: ”Things are heating up in 4CW in general. We have folks from other promotions coming in and making challenges. We have teams aligning. Cyrus and Laughlin still have unsettled business. And we have thugs attacking our 4CW Champion.”
JOHNSON: ”Well I know for certain To The Wolves will be gunning for The Salvation at Bad Company.”
VASSA: ”What about Viduus and Ana? Their match ended in a draw here tonight.”
JOHNSON: ”There’s a lot of unsettled business here tonight which means nothing but in your face action in the upcoming weeks.”
Bronx continues to check on Ana, scanning the outside of the ring for any signs of another attack by The Salvation.
VASSA: ”Things are going to be LIT in Seattle in two weeks.”
JOHNSON: ”That’s where we’re headed next. And as for now, it appears we’re out of time folks.”
VASSA: ”Talk about a happy ending.”
JOHNSON: ”That depends on who you ask.”
VASSA: ”I’m not asking your mother, that’s for sure!”
JOHNSON: ”She’s passed, Vinny.”
VASSA: ”Well look at the time folks. I think it’s time to hit the old dusty trail.”
JOHNSON: ”Be sure to tune in to Adrenaline Eighty-Nine in two weeks as we head to Seattle! I’m Steve Johnson…”
VASSA: ”And I’m Vinny Vassa! Good Night!”
The cameras remain locked on Bronx as he continues comforting Ana, worried for not only his tag team partner, but his best friend. The camera then slowly begins to fade out as the credits begin to roll.