ADRENALINE E105 (181)

“Adrenaline” plays over a black screen as a green pulse line travels across the screen, spiking every so often but growing at a faster rate. Faster and faster it spikes before finally flatlining, the music even silencing simultaneously. A few seconds pass before the picture comes to life of an explosion of pyro from the top of the entrance stage. Overlooking the crowd here tonight at The Pit, the camera takes in all of the energy of the fans in attendance.

Changing to a shot from ringside, the camera circles the ring, pyro exploding from each corner post as the camera turns the corner. Making a full lap around the ring, the camera then stops in front of the booth where Steve Johnson and Vinny Vassa sit patiently for their queue. Behind them, the fans in the first few rows scream and wave at the camera before the commentating due get their signal and take things into their own hands.

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

VASSA: ”And I’m Vinny Vassa! We’re coming to you all live tonight from The Pit in Albuquerque, New Mexico!”

JOHNSON: ”We have quite the night in store for you all as we’re just two weeks away from Fight Night. As you all saw two weeks ago, Elijah Carlson and Mariano Fernandez have both selected their opponents for Fright Night to defend against.”

VASSA: ”First up we have Manny picking to defend against Cartier after her challenging him publicly not that long before. And as for Eli, well Eli being the bully that he is, he went and made Eddy Po–Malcovich his opponent but not without making him pay for it first!”

JOHNSON: ”Eli attacked him two weeks ago before naming him as the opponent of his choice but tonight? Edgar has a chance for revenge as he’ll be the special guest referee when Eli goes head to head against the other person he wronged two weeks ago when naming Edgar his opponent.”

VASSA: ”A lot of people will say that Alicia had this one before Eli decided to interfere. Even though she won, she didn’t need any help from 4CW’s resident bully. Tonight though? She’ll get her chance at the North American Championship, one on one with Eli.”

JOHNSON: ”She better hope Edgar doesn’t interfere as well. He’s already slated to go head to head with Eli at Fright Night but if Alicia wins it here tonight, Eli’s not going into Fright Night with the North American Championship.”

VASSA: ”It’s a touch situation for Eddy to be in and I for one am very intrigued to see how it all plays out here tonight.”

JOHNSON: ”Earlier in the night we have a Hall of Fame Showcase match between Chris Madison and a face we haven’t seen in 4CW for a very long time. A face that many thought we would never see here again.”

VASSA: ”You mean up until Bad Company, right? No one expected to see Cashe step foot inside of a 4CW ring ever again after being fired last year. Then this year’s Bad Company rolled around and with a little controversy, we saw Cashe compete in the tournament. Now he’s agree to a best of seven series with Madison and they kick it off right here tonight!”

JOHNSON: ”Regardless of the history leading up to his departure from 4CW, this is a very good match for 4CW. We have two hall of famers going head to head in front of the fans that cheered for them as they earned their spots in the Hall of Fame.”

VASSA: ”This is only one of possibly seven overall matches to take place between 4CW and whatever scum Cashe is working at these days. If I’m not mistaken, I believe we will see match one tonight and then match two at Fright Night, so both happening in 4CW to start things off?”

JOHNSON: ”That is correct. Then they will travel to SCUM for two matches there. If we’re lucky, this won’t be a four win one sided victory and we’ll see a fifth match back here in 4CW, and then maybe even the seventh. Can you imagine?!”

VASSA: ”I can and it would be nice to see things fall like that, stretching out for the entire seven matches with it all coming down to the final match to declare the winner. People can dislike that Cashe is even showing his face around here lately but I for one am glad to see this all shake down. This is part of a match we should have seen at Fright Night back three years ago!”

JOHNSON: ”Tonight there’s nothing preventing us from seeing these two go head to head, along with a lot more action that we have in store for the night.”

VASSA: ”Opening the night, we have Brax Clova making her 4CW debut against Roman Novack.”

JOHNSON: ”Then up next Moxie James and Toby Wagner will step into the ring for some singles action, and following that A.J. Morales and Cartier will duke it out in that ring right there tonight!”

VASSA: ”With the Warzone just two weeks away, we get a sample of what I can only imagine to come at Fright Night. Jeb Fisher was to be getting in it, right?”

JOHNSON: ”That’s still to be decided but with a win over the 4CW Champion in a no holds barred setting, he would surely make a great case to be entered.”

VASSA: ”Let’s just skip over this Hall of Fame match we already talked about and move to another person I strongly feel needs to be in the Warzone.”

JOHNSON: ”I assume you’re referring to Brennan Devlin?”

VASSA: ”Abso-fucking-lutely! He made it all the way through the South Beach Brawl Cup and to the finals where he nearly beat Laughlin for the 4CW Championship. I think it’s pretty evident that he deserves a spot in this huge match right around the corner.”

JOHNSON: ”That just about covers all of the matches in store for you all tonight but let’s get back to the Warzone. Right now the seven people to enter with Laughlin are unknown. However, later in the evening we have a special announcement planned from Perry Wallace himself.”

VASSA: ”Oh, great. What does he want?”

JOHNSON: ”He’s got an announcement or two in regards to Fright Night which just may answer some of these questions we have about who will enter the Warzone of Horrors. “

VASSA: ”Not only do we have a night full of wrestling and announcements, we have so much more! We’re just moments away from getting things underway and you can all see for yourself.”

JOHNSON: ”Are you trying to rush us off?”

VASSA: ”Damn right I am! I have to make a bathroom run pronto or else I’m going to be coming out of these pants tonight.”

JOHNSON: ”Well you heard the man, folks. We’re going to cut backstage momentarily before returning right here for our opening match. Sit tight, we’ll be right back.”

Before the camera can cut away, Vinny shoots up from his seat in a hurry and runs away from the booth in a hurry.

The scene cuts away to the back parking lot of The Pit. It’s empty, for the most part, everyone else inside the building with the show kicking off just moments prior. Empty except for one familiar face standing by a few empty parking spaces with his cell phone in hand, eyes glued to the screen.

WALLACE: “Where the fuck is he, taking his sweet ass time?”

With a few swipes of his finger, Perry then presses his fingertip to the touchscreen before holding the phone up to his ear. He holds it there for a bit, then a little more, and a little more. One can only assume it’s just ringing on the other end. Gowing irritated, Perry begins to pace back and forth, hanging up the phone and then repeating the process all over from the beginning.

WALLACE: “I don’t have all night you crippled, Drew Stevenson, fuck head.”

With Perry pacing back and forth, headlights brighten up the scene as a black car slowly pulls into one of the empty handicap parking spaces. Perry holds his hand up, shielding his eyes from the lights as he continues to stare at the unknown car like an idiot.

WALLACE: “Cut your lights!”

Out of the rooftop, American Tommy appears from within the car, holding his ringing cell phone in one hand.

WALLACE: “Tommy, is that you?!”

Perry says into the phone in his hand while still staring into the bright white lights pointing directly at him.

WALLACE: “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

He yells before pulling the phone away from his ear and shaking his head while looking at Tommy standing through the cars sunroof. Tommy with his phone still next to his ear yells into it while staring right at this walrus looking mother fucker we call Perry Wallace.

TOMMY: “OF COURSE IT IS! I TOLD YOU I’D BE HERE!”

WALLACE: “About damn time! Next time I’m counting tardiness. You thought I was playing around about that lifetime contract!”

Tommy is still talking into the phone as Perry just shakes his head at the site of it.

TOMMY: “Lifetime contract these nuts you fuck. You won’t count nothing, I’m a cripple.”

WALLACE: “Who you got in there with you holding your gimp ass up?”

TOMMY: “Ronni, but I still got one good foot. I ain’t Lt. Dan yet!”

Tommy throws his cellphone at Wallace hitting him in his fat gut, before popping outta the son roof and the door slowly opens. I mean, slowly. Perry is standing there watching this door open little by little as slowly as Tommy can in an effort to piss Perry off even more.

WALLACE: “Take your time, little buddy.”

Perry looks down at the watch on his wrist growing more and more impatient by the second.

WALLACE: “You took your time getting here tonight. What’s another twenty minutes going to hurt?”

Tommy is heard yelling from the vehicle.

TOMMY: “I mean, let’s be honest. These guys going to be wrestling till 7 pm tomorrow. How many hour monologues you got planned tonight?”

WALLACE: “Eat my dick.”

Holding both arms up straight in front of him, Perry extends both middle fingers aimed right for Tommy, but more so a door instead because he’s slow.

WALLACE: “I just have one announcement I have to make tonight. Check your fucking tone you rude little shit.”

Finally the door opens and Tommy pops out with a boot on his ankle as the driver opens the trunk and pulls out a rolling scooter and puts it in front of Tommy as Ronni comes out behind him with a smile on her face. It’s blinged out, with different stickers of Perry Wallace shoving food into his mouth and even a picture of him eating one of Pam’s famous penis cookies from when Octane was still running. He kneels the booted foot onto the scooter and grabs the handle bars, that each have a seperate bell or horn on each handle bar, and rolls towards Perry.

TOMMY: “That’s not very church going finger salute you just gave me.”

Looking down at the scooter, Perry bursts into laughter at the sight of it.

WALLACE: “What the fuck is this ugly ass ride and what’s with the boot? I didn’t see that at the party last weekend.”

Tommy looks down at the scooter and gives it a love tap below the kneeling seat.

TOMMY: “She’s a beaut isn’t she. Top of the line. Even has a peg on the side for my other foot so I can do some bunny hop grinds and some other neat cripple tricks I call this one the nutter.”

Tommy proceeds to just run into Perry’s frontside with the scooter and then backs up after accomplishing his patented scooter trick.

TOMMY: “Impressive huh. It gets me to the front of the grocery line every time.”

Shaking his head, Perry places his hands on his hips, his eyes never looking away from this ugly thing he calls a scooter.

WALLACE: “You couldn’t have picked out something a little more… less retarded?”

There’s a short silence and right when Tommy goes to reply, Perry cut him off instantly.

WALLACE: “Never mind, don’t answer that. You not being a complete retard is damn near impossible. I still don’t recall you needing to have that boot last weekend but oh well. There’s plenty of work inside for you!”

Tommy shakes his head.

TOMMY: “I didn’t wear it for the sake of fashion. I put my own well being on the line to look as good as I did and you have to admit I rocked the fuck outta that suit. An Iron Man boot wouldn’t have meshed well.”

Looking down at the boot on his foot that would make Tommy’s ex girlfriend cry, and by girlfriend I mean Amanda Cortez, an idea comes to Perry’s mind.

WALLACE: “Can I be the first person to sign it?”

Tommy shrugs and looks at Ronni who shrugs as well. They both look at Wallace and Tommy shrugs at him.

TOMMY: “I don’t have a pen.”

WALLACE: “I think we might have a little problem. The locker room I got you set up in isn’t exactly handicap accessible. I hope that isn’t going to be a problem.”

TOMMY: “I’ll just take your office. That’s obviously handicap accessible, you’re in it.”

WALLACE: “Handi-fucking-capable maybe.”

Tommy shakes his head and laughs.
TOMMY: “If you say so!”

WALLACE: “I have good news and I have some bad news, well bad for you but kind of good for me. Which do you want to hear first?”

TOMMY: “The one that you tell me you are dying, so the good news.”

Reaching into his pocket, Perry then pulls out a small vaping device and extends his arm to hand it to Tommy.

WALLACE: “The good news is I got you one of these for tonight and hopefully we’ll get to see what all the health fuss is about on the news.”

Tommy reaches it for it and Perry hands it to him only for it fall underneath Tommy’s scooter tire, obviously accidentally, and Tommy not seeing it runs it over.

TOMMY: “Opps. Also, I need a new phone.”

He points to the broken one on the ground.

TOMMY: “Your fat ass broke it when it hit your stomach.”

WALLACE: “Despite how much you may annoy me, the real good news I have for you tonight is that although you’re injured, if that’s what you want to even call it, I’m not just terminating this lifetime contract. I’m still going to give you the opportunity to earn a living for yourself.”

Tommy scratches his beard, something that makes Perry insanely jealous because he grows facial hair about as well as a twelve year old boy does.

TOMMY: “I am actually injured. I have to get some more tests done when I get back to NYC, but they think I might have a small fracture in the foot. Whether or not that was caused by me not wearing my boot to the ball is a moot point.”

Slowly lifting his arms out to his side, Perry shrugs his shoulders before dropping them down.

WALLACE: “I suppose we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we? Now are you ready for the bad news?”

TOMMY: “Lay it on me.”

WALLACE: “I don’t really know how to tell you this but Harry Styles just passed away.”

Tommy slaps Perry across the face.

TOMMY: “Don’t you even joke about that! You see his new video? He invented the term bisexual!”

WALLACE: “Luckily I can say that I haven’t seen it thank you very much. And I don’t appreciate you gently tapping your fingers across my face. That wasn’t very nice or professional. Seriously though, there’s more. I think you might want to go inside for this. You might not be able to wrestle with that deformed foot but I can think of about one hundred other chores you can do around the events backstage.”

Tommy hands Perry a note written in pink crayon.
TOMMY: “Good thing I got this doctor’s note here that don’t clear me for any physical activities till Fright Night.”

Perry grabs the note and holds it up in the light to inspect.

WALLACE: “This is some serious business right here. I’m surprised your doctor even let you leave the bed in the condition you’re in. I also heard that there was going to be a wrestler’ court here tonight, whatever the fuck that is. I saw Laughlin tweet it. But with court I’m pretty sure we can find a lawyer or two inside to go over this in full detail for me so I don’t violate any of your rights as an employee or some shit, I don’t fucking know. What I do know is that I’m not standing out here all night talking to you on that stupid looking scooter you stole off some kid riding it to the short bus every morning.”

Tommy presses a button and the sound of a truck horn emits from the horn on the right handle bar as Perry jumps back in surprise and Ronni covers her ears. Tommy is grinning ear to ear.

TOMMY: “I don’t give a fuck about any wrestler court. I’m on the shelf and you yourself said I’m on chore duty. Deny me my rights and I’ll call the ASPCA on you.”

WALLACE: “I don’t know what the fuck that is and I’m not going to stand here and pretend that I do. There’s chores to be done! Come check out this toilet in the private bathroom the office I’m in has.”

Tommy rings the little bell on the side of his scooter and smiles at Perry.

TOMMY: “I’ll find someone to get right on that!”

Tommy looks back at Ronni who jumps on the back pegs of his sweet custom scooter from West Coast Customs? and Tommy hits the gas lever and accelerates towards the door, veering towards Perry, who side steps outta the way as they pass him. He turns around and sees Tommy trying to hit the backstage crew with his scooter as he is blowing his truck horn on his way through.

OPENING MATCH
BRAX CLOVA VS. ROMAN NOVACK

Brax Clova doesn’t hesitate to rise up to the challenge that is Roman Novack. Brax squares up with the larger Roman and goes to lock up. Roman steps back and throws a few punches at her midsection. Clova takes a few hits but covers up and sides steps the last few punches. Every time she tries to engage and grapple with Roman he swerves away from her and dodges her advances. He gets a few quick shots in until he finally takes her down hard with a crescent kick that makes everyone go: ‘Ain’t that a Kick in the Head?” Brax Clova looks like she is out and Roman leans on the ropes with a smirk waiting for the ref to make sure she is still in the match. Clova nods and rushes at Novack.

Clova moves under Novack’s kick then grabs his leg to bring him down with a Dragon Whip. She gets on top of him before he can get up and locks in a quick Stomach Claw before working her way up to try for a Scissored Arm Lock. Novack powers out of this and gets up. Clova doesn’t let him go keeping a Front Chancery. She pulls him forward for a Bulldog then quickly scrambles up the ropes to hit a Diving Stomp. She drops down to pin Novack but he throws her off him at the one count. She shrugs at his annoyed face and extends her hand for him to shake.

Novack slaps it away and puts his hands around her neck. Clova looks like she is panicking but tears him off her to lock on an Arm Wringer then goes into a Stepover Arm Lock. Novack pulls his arm off and she pops up and spins around for a Tilt-A-Whirl Arm Drag. Novack recovers from this and Clova runs the ropes and hits him with a Running Leg Drop to keep him down. It is somewhat of a clinic after this as Clova wows the crowd with her grappling and submission prowress as she succeeds in keeping Novack down. Each time he escapes and attempts to get up, either through skill or power, Clova is right there with an answer and a hold.

Novack manages to power out and take Clova with him at one point as he runs to the corner looking to crush Clova against the turnbuckles in a desperate attempt to turn the tide in his favor. Clova slips out of his grasp at the last second and Novack hits the corner hard. He stumbles back and Clova climbs up to hit him with a Topé. Novack flies back to the middle of the ring. Clova goes up to him to hit A Right Mare. She rolls him forwards and rolls with him to… Nocak looks around sitting on the mat until Clova kicks him in the chest.

Novack turns into his stomach and Clova stomps on his back from the second rope then locks on the Kingston Klaw. She bends his legs back onto her hips and grabs his arms to pull him up and rock him back and forth in the painful rocking chair. Novack nods to the ref after a while in submission. He immediately rolls out of the ring to collect himself as Clova celebrates her win. He watches her as he slowly walks out to the back and waves the ring away.

WINNER: Brax Clova via Submission (10:56)

SECURITY: ”Is that smoke? FIRE! Someone call the 9-1-1!!”

Heading out to the parking garage where Production Trucks and employees working the show have their vehicles. There was a thin line of smoke rising somewhere off in the distance. Security had been called to handle a disturbance and right away, the smoke was noticed. On the wall by the entrance door was a Fire Extinguisher. He breaks the seal and pulls it from the wall before rushing towards the smoke. Darting and sliding past cars and trucks, he gets to the clearing.

SECURITY: ”What the hell?!”

There was nobody in sight. Yet in the opening was a small BBQ grill with hotdogs grilling above the open flame. Next to it was a cooler that had ice and beverages inside. From one of the Production Trucks was a clothes wire that connected to a pillar in the parking garage and on the line were some hanging clothes. Underwear, a shirt and a pair of socks with a big hole in one of them. The security guard had never seen anything like it, not in his time being security for a wrestling show. Next to the Pillar where the clothesline stood was a Port A Potty. Inside there was movement.

SECURITY: ”Who’s there? Come out here right this instant!!”

The door opens and in full ring gear comes Jason Cashe. The door shut behind him, he nods and smiles at the security awaiting his appearance.

SECURITY: ”Cashe? What are you doing out here? What is all this?! You can’t make a fire in the parking garage!”

CASHE: ”Well NOW you tell me!”

Moving to the grill, Cashe rotates the hotdogs. Nobody likes a burnt hotdog and Cashe had to get his energy up for tonight’s match. Even if he was told he couldn’t get dressed for it inside the building.

SECURITY: ”I’m gonna need you to put that out.. And clean up this mess! This is not your locker room!”

CASHE: ”It kinda is though.. I had called a lawyer to represent me for this ‘Court Hearing’ but Michael Pettis never got back to me.

Cashe stares crookedly into the cameras as if it were a scene from a movie and he was breaking script. He checks on his clothes to see if they were drying and even smells the underwear hanging from the line.

SECURITY: ”Court Hearing? This is 4CW Adrenaline, what are you talking about?”

CASHE: ”Apparently 4CW has a judge now! I mean it makes sense.. The ever presence of people who pass judgement on anything and everything is what this company was founded on right? The days trashing Boardwalk, Fight One, etc, etc and it has finally grown to having a Judge on the payroll! I am impressed even! I am just without representation.. Did you go to law school by chance?”

SECURITY: ”No, I did not. If I had, I wouldn’t be out here attending to this..”

CASHE: ”True, true! I mean let’s be real.. If I needed the approval to be here from a Champion or any of their ‘surrounding parts’ I probably wouldn’t be booked on the card at all. Much less, first match back and I’m booked above that said Champion! Let me not make drags though. Wanna do me a solid?”

SECURITY: ”I am security. Top Flight Security at that, I am not a messenger!”

Giving the Security Guard a stern glance. Cashe swallowed half a hotdog and chewed with his mouth open. There was some smacking as he chewed and food shot out as he spoke with his mouth full.

CASHE: ”Top Flight? Really? Okay DayDay, could you please go find Mariano Fernandez? Pride Champion? Tell him to come see me out here? I’ll give you a hotdog for your troubles?”

SECURITY: ”Ehh I don’t want a hotdog! They are burnt! Why do you want Mariano?”

CASHE: ”Cause if I’m gonna need anyone’s ‘permission’ it should at least be the guy who has an IT factor and isn’t just Champion because a whole era decided to pull out of the roster… Now hurry along, I gotta take a pre match poop.”

He wasn’t joking. Cashe grabbed some baby wipes he brought with him and hurried back to the Port A Potty. The security guard shaking his head, turns and heads back towards the entrance.

SECURITY: ”Fuck. My. Life.”

Backstage of The Pit, the scene fades in to find Cartier standing in her ring gear, shaking a pair of maracas and wearing a sombrero with a sarape around her shoulders. She stands with a big smile on her face, shaking her noisemakers and doing a little dance, rolling her hips rhythmically in a seductive fashion. She sticks her tongue out while continuing to do a few moves reminiscent of the Jarabe Tapatio, laughing as she gyrates.

Suddenly, Cartier stops in her tracks and drops the maracas. She shoves the sombrero off of her head and tosses the sarape off of her shoulders, then stands with her hands on her hips and a serious expression on her face.

CARTIER: “This what Andrew Jones think of me. That I’mma just walk out here an’ make a mockery out his ethnicity, as if that ain’t somethin’ I despise people doin’. Remember, my whole issue wit’ him stem from the way he conveniently remembers where he come from when it’s useful to him, not the blood in his veins or the color of his skin. Like I said before, I’m black 24/7, I don’t get to turn that shit off an’ blend in when it suits me… but Andy? He like to white-pass when he can. He like every soft-ass lightskin out there in the streets who wanna play like they gang right up until 12 pull up, then they speak real clear an’ got a lawyer on speed dial. Andy mighta had a tough childhood but I know plenty that had it tougher. Oh he got called a wetback? Cool. I got called every name in the book an’ watched half the kids I grew up an’ went to pre K wit’ either get gunned down in the streets or get locked up. We both made it out, me an’ Andy, an’ we both here… that’s what matters.”

She holds her hands in front of her, palms out, as she walks a few steps toward the camera and shakes her head.

CARTIER: “It’s all fun in games online, Andy. An’ yeah, I’mma use your government name until I feel like you deserve to name yourself somethin’ cool. Y’all already know I don’t follow the script. I don’t accept people based on rep or based on who the hot new shit on the scene is… when you in the ring wit’ me? You gonna earn me callin’ you A.J. Morales by bein’ more than what I see when I look at Andy Jones. An’ hopefully that starts wit’ you takin’ less time doin’ your hair than I do, rather than that silly-ass scene kid bleach job. You out here lookin’ like Cruella Deville wit’ a leave out.

She cracks herself, clapping her hands as she cackles and snickers. Cartier then composes herself with a wink.

CARTIER: “Don’t forget what you learn ‘bout me tonight, Andrew. You been treatin’ me like I’m someone’s sidekick, but you about to find out I’m a starter, I ain’t no bench player. No more talk, Andy… let’s get it.”

Walking off, the camera just focuses on the discarded Mexican items on the floor as Cartier leaves the area.

Backstage, the camera shows the 4CW Pride Champion Mariano Fernandez, already in his wrestling gear, sitting on a stack of equipment crates. He looks at the camera and raises his head up high.

FERNANDEZ: “‘Tis funny that Brennan Devlin had to change his tone so drastically, mang.”

The focused, metallic stare in his eyes betrays the intent almost barely concealed by the chuckle he releases.

FERNANDEZ: “He was so eager to bring up the gaming in his first message, talking about how I persevere, how I rise to any challenge and take on any boss as if somehow being a gamer HAS to do anything with it. My compliments for that Tiger Drop shit too, even though it’s obvious you didn’t go past the first Yakuza Kiwami, but that’s beside the point.”

DA #TROLL GUY makes a handwave, then addresses the camera once more.

FERNANDEZ: “I mean, though I am the best at it, I ain’t – or wasn’t – the only one in this god damned company that plays video games. You see them now, getting kicked out of wherever they walk in once they fail to get anything worthwhile. You see them now trying to regain a relevance they’ve NEVER truly fucking had. Sound familiar, Devlin? It should, because even though you are not the person I have in mind when saying that… you’re not all that different, mang.”

A smirk begins to creep into his lips.

FERNANDEZ: “It’s a god damned PATTERN with you too, Devlin. Every time you come in, you pretend you’re the next biggest fucking thing, then if you don’t alienate enough people to hate your guts first, once you fail to do anything of import, you end up leaving the place. But hey, at least you ALMOST beat the 4CW Champion, so you’ve decided to stay to see how long he lasts. Now you’re hopeful that you can beat him as I did, so NOW, for once, you seem to want to break out of this pattern.”

He raises his eyebrows, trying hard not to erupt into laughter after that message.

FERNANDEZ: “I’m gonna PRETEND there’s some measure of truth in that, so what the hell, mang, I’m gonna indulge you. You asked me to let loose and show you what happens when I drop the videogames. You wanna know what happens when I do that?”

DA #TROLL GUY cuts his smile, and his face turns serious.

FERNANDEZ: “Every time we get to THAT point, it’s usually me winning a title match. Hell, you’ve seen it happen with Bronx, but what the hell, that’s two years ago now. You should go back to January and see it happen with the Sadboiz. You should go back to February and see it happen with Dakota Smith. You should go back to April and see what happened with Jett Wilder. Not ONE of them remains with these Corners Four after I was through with them.”

He nods, and clenches his fist.

FERNANDEZ: “And you’ve seen it, right after you made the mistake of thinking you could use my style against me. You’ve seen it and that alarm hit your brain, and that’s what made you go the classic shit-talking Devlin. That’s why you just HAD to throw whatever you could find at me to see if SOMETHING would stick. What do I care about my 4CW Title reign now? Every single god damned one of these people get into that because they have nothing else, because they could NOT ever even get it and it rankles them. Because they CAN’T even compare whatever they did with what I’ve accomplished just this year alone. Because they simply CAN’T get on my level when I finally want to let loose. You’ve seen it happen with the VERY 4CW Champion last show, and now, after all this speech about not devaluing me and how I’m important, you SERIOUSLY want to follow in his footsteps?”

DA #TROLL GUY shakes his head slowly, closing his eyes, then opening them again.

FERNANDEZ: “I mean god damn, Devlin, you want to talk about what you’ve done on the outside like Laughlin did? Hell, at least he HAD the good sense to paint himself as big, given that he’s a champion in Japan or whatever. But since you don’t have that to your favor, haven’t had it since 2016, you simply HAD to come at me for Southside and Seattle. At least I’ve HAD gold there too, mang. At least I’ve STAYED there for more than you did in your entire first 4CW run. At least I’ve HELD a title everywhere I am in and didn’t need to hang on to being ALMOST there as a consolation prize. But hell, that’s what you do, I suppose. If you can’t prove your worth in the ring you have to prove you matter some other way. After all, you fucked Cosmo’s grandma, you had the UNSTABLE bawling!”

The Pride Champion scoffs.
FERNANDEZ: “You couldn’t take down the Valor Pro Apex Champion, OR the 4CW Champion, I beat the latter just last week. You had the UNSTABLE bawling, I have a W over most of them. Cashe and Riddle last year, Dakota this one, Madison with Tommy in the Bad Company tournament. So spare me the scary speeches and the eldritch abominations, because in the end, it’s smoke and mirrors. Spare me the creepy sex talk, I’ve had enough from Dakota. Spare me the endless tweeting, I’ve already had that with Bronx and every one of his bootlicks, and here you see me being better than them. Being BIGGER than them. Being the ONLY person in this company to triumph despite not fitting the mold. That’s what you’re coming to face tonight, Devlin. You wanted me to at you, and here I am. Now it’s my turn to tell you.”

Hopping down from the stack of crates, DA #TROLL GUY gestures to come at him.

FERNANDEZ: “Come at me now, Devlin. And see what happens when DA #TROLL GUY lets loose.”

And with that, he starts walking away, the final shot of the camera at his back, as the feed cuts back to the ring.

UNDERCARD
MOXIE JAMES VS. TOBY WAGNER

Toby wears a cocky, if not agonistic smirk on his lips as he pushed off the ropes and made his way towards Moxie. Though Toby is the larger opponent in this fight, their weight difference was only off by forty pounds. Moxie doesn’t let Toby make his way completely across the ring, instead she charges going for a forearm smash, which Toby avoids. When Moxie turns back around she eats a big boot to the face which sends her to the ground. Toby slams his foot down onto Moxie’s neck and begins to choke her. Wagner drives his boot deep into his neck, the referee giving him a little bit a lead way but eventually starts the count.

Toby breaks the hold at three and glares down the ref. After a few moments he reaches down and grabs Moxie by the hair. As he goes to bring her up to her feet, Moxie shoots forward, driving her head into Toby’s gut – releasing his hold. As she gets to her feet, she delivers another shoot kick straight to his gut, toppling him over. Moxie then grabs a hold of his mid-sections and flips over! Planting Toby’s back into the mat with a yoshi tonic! She goes for the pinfall, but Toby kicks out early at the two count.

Moxie wastes no time in bringing Toby back up to his feet and hitting a swift neckbreaker, she then turns her back and hypes up the fans a little bit. When she turns back around Toby is just barely making his way up to his feet, Moxie is quick on the sprint as she hops up to the top rope. Once Toby gets completely up, Moxie dives off with another neckbreaker! This one looking rather brutal, as Toby’s body twists in a very awkward way. Moxie hooks the leg once again, but is only able to get a two count.

Moxie, ever determined, grabs ahold of Toby’s wrists and locks his legs into hers, going for a surfboard – but Toby’s larger size is quite difficult to get up. Toby realizing this is his time to strike, quickly turns over – completely fucking creaming Moxie with a elbow to the face. With Moxie’s back on the mat Toby gets into mount position and starts to reign down a vicious flurry of blows. Moxie tries to block some of them, but most get through. This goes on for longer than it probably should have as the ref pulls Toby off of a limp Moxie.

There’s a little bit of blood on Toby’s knuckles, and it would appear that it came from Moxie’s head. Toby grins grows wide as he notices the, holding his fist up into the air before flicking the blood off onto the mat. He grabs ahold of Moxie and hoists her body up into the air, he throws her head between his legs and lifts her up hitting a devastating snap powerbomb! Toby goes for the pin, but Moxie gets her shoulder up at the very last second.

Once again Toby glares at the official, his smirk turning into a scowl as he places one hand on the mat and pushes himself up. He then grabs Moxie by the hair and drags her up to her feet, turning her around and wrapping his arms around her waist, he goes for a german suplex! But Moxie lands on her feet, with the desperation she leaps, throwing herself at the ropes going for a springboard dropkick! But Toby insticulally turns out of the way! Mid-air he grabs ahold of her arm, as she slams onto the mat he flips over her, locking in a bridging armbar (OBLIGATORY SUBMISSION)! The hold is locked in deep, in the middle of the ring, Moxie has no choice but to tap out!

WINNER: Toby Wagner via Submission (8:45)

Backstage, Jason Cashe is seen sitting in one of the locker rooms. He has his belongings altogether now, most of it shoved in a duffle bag. Already dressed to compete, he wasn’t here to get approvals or goto court in order to be here. The OWNER opened the door for him to be and anyone saying otherwise can do like his Eskimo Brother told him to do once. Go. Fuck. Themselves.

? ? ?: ”Hear Ye! Hear Ye!”

In comes the 4CW Pride Champion. The former 4CW Tag Team Champion, former 4CW Champion and the ONLY person to beat Bronx and Laughlin during their ‘Untouchable’ reigns as Champion.

CASHE: ”Manny, Manny, how the hell are ya?”

The two shake hands. Cashe always being a fan of the guy. Remembering how they hung out the night Manny beat Bronx. The advice he gave him. The matches they’ve had as well. The lock of hair Manny gave Cashe, the two had a respect for the other. Both heavily having been riddled with hate in their own way.

FERNANDEZ: ”Hey yo. Welcome back, mang. Heard you wanted to see me?”

CASHE: ”Nothing in particular really.. You hear about this ‘Wrestler’s Court’ nonsense?”

DA #TROLL GUY swiftly points his index finger, arm fully stretched.

FERNANDEZ: ”OBJECTION! This is the house you helped build, chico! What right has anyone to tell you what to do? You do what the fuck you want to, mang! And what is this Wrestler’s Court anyway? The nerve of these people.”

CASHE: ”Ohhh speaking of ego flexing…”

Turning away from Manny, Cashe reaches down and lifts from the top of his duffle bag, his Seattle Pro World Television Title. Placing it over his shoulder, he turns back to Manny. A man he fought and challenged twice for this very Championship when Manny was it’s Champion.

CASHE: ”I know 4CW doesn’t really welcome promoting other company Championships but if anyone has a problem with it.. Heh..”

FERNANDEZ: ”Then I guess it’s Wrestler’s Court, mang. Or whatever that is.”

Both of them gave it a laugh. The both of them also had big matches tonight. Opponents that could not be overlooked. Manny checks the clock on the wall behind Cashe and nods to the 4CW Hall of Famer.

MANNY: ”Good luck tonight, DiOGee… Tonight has a great amount of matches, but Cashe and Madison? For the very first time? That’s history in the making!”

CASHE: ”Appreciate that. I’ma try to catch that glimpse in his eyes when he knows he made the wrong move. Checkmate the Mayhem! And lookie here, tonight? You go show everyone that Any Given Match is one to win or lose. The fame of the name, the popularity of a title reign never matters if the dedication is on your side. You know what’s up, get em Manny!”

The two again shook hands, leaned in and gave the other a bro hug. Manny with his Pride Championship around his waist and Cashe with his Television Title over his shoulder. Manny leaves the locker room. Cashe smiles until Manny is gone, his smile disappears as he turns to face the camera.

CASHE: ”I done said this ain’t got SHIT to do with anyone but Chris Madison. For the last 2 years, most of ya’ll have made drags. Insults to my name. I took it to the chin because it was deserved by how I WAS at the time.. Let’s not get it twisted though, this ain’t UWF and you sure as shit are not the Ricky Stanton here just as you weren’t there, near your boy Glenn Legend. Ain’t nobody gonna understand that and that’s fine.. You understand it. I have been off for so long and now that I’m not? Shit.. You gonna see me less likely to respond in tweets because that’s a contest in who likes you most. I can’t win that. Ain’t out there trying too anymore.”

Pulling the Title from another promotion off of his shoulder. He had won titles elsewhere even when with 4CW before and didn’t need to promote them in 4CW. Cashe pulled his wrestling sweat pants down, one foot after another is pulled from the leg holes. He foots one boot off and lifts leg, grabbing the other and pulling it from his foot.

CASHE: ”So you want to hold Wrestler’s Court for me? Yet here I stand getting BUCKED naked in the locker room. In the motherfucking building! I don’t see anyone stopping me.. I don’t see anyone gathering to hold enough arrogance to think you can hold a gavel. Bronx wouldn’t have done it because fuck him AND his Daddy! Same Daddy that is putting money back into MY pocket to be here cause you sure ain’t! So.. Laughlin? Anyone else who wants to involve theyself in MY time here? I got something for you to Court..”

The camera pulls away and Cashe was standing in the locker room naked. No underwear, no nothing but some socks. A big toe hanging out getting some fresh air. His hands cupping his caaawk n’ balls, he lifts and nods to the viewing audience.

CASHE: ”Court these! I am as Foul as I want to be, as Nasty as I choose. Keep talking to me, at me or about me when me being here or doing what I do won’t be about you. I don’t want your spot, had it. I’m here for ONE and You. Are. Not. It.”

Pulling off his right arm elbow pad, Cashe makes his way to the showers. Having yet to do that and having already had his pre match poop. A shower was probably needed. Ass free for the cameras to see, he stops and looks back over his shoulder.

CASHE: ”Now if you’ll excuse me. I am gonna shower and then.. I’ma change backstage at The Pit. Adrenaline 105. We here.”

Throwing a peace sign, he disappears around the corner and enters the shower area.

Backstage Gabriel Hartman seems to grow impatient as he adjusts his communicative ear piece. He’s standing by the backstage talent entrance as if he’s anticipating big news.

HARTMAN: ”…this better be worth it. Perry has authentic Mexican food in catering.”

It’s like he’s talking to the viewers, but in reality he’s talking to whoever in the production truck that’s currently in his ear piece.

HARTMAN: “….sure. Yeah. When the 4CW Champion says he has an announcement to make upon his entrance what am I supposed to do? Not be h-“

Suddenly Gabe is cut off by two police officers who swing the double doors wide open and nearly knock him off his feet.

OFFICER: “Clear…”

The first man through puts a walkie talkie, up to his mouth to reassure the safety of the premises before standing off to the side and making sure the doorway is clear. Breaking the awkward moment of silence we hear a man clear his throat. Apparently that was a signal to the man with the walkie talkie to hold his phone up and begin to play “Hail to the Chief” as Bryan Laughlin walks through the door flanked by men in identical suits.

The Champ-Champ appears very put together and as he shakes peoples hands and waves to absolutely nobody telling them to “Make 4CW Great Again”.

Hartman tried to step forward reaching into his pocket to grab the microphone but Bryan’s security team immediately takes Gabriel down hard because this was obviously an assassination attempt. Okay maybe not, but Bryan still gets a kick out of it before clearly MF his security team off the backstage announcer.

LAUGHLIN: “You know what? This doesn’t feel right…..hold on a second”

Bryan beckons his security guys back through the doors they entered through and as Hartman stands back up again the doors fly back open from a front kick and, once again, in walks Bryan Laughlin. Except this time there are no secret service guys and he’s decked out head to toe in Hellcat Spangled Deathsquad merch again.

Gabriel reaches for his microphone again resting inside of his suit pocket, but stops for a moment and looks around nervously hoping nobody tries to tackle him. Once he realizes the coast is clear he goes to pull out the micropho–.

LAUGHLIN: “GUNN!”

That son of a bitch. The security team dives through the door again and tackles Hartman as the microphone falls to the ground. While the men press poor Hartman’s face down onto the cold concrete floor Bryan bends down slowly and picks up the microphone.

LAUGHLIN: “Sorry, guys. Jason and Chris were here and for a minute I thought I had to try and Make 4CW Great Again…. Luckily this time we know they’ll disappear soon.”

Hartman screams out for help as Bryan turns for a second to wave to his old pal.

LAUGHLIN: “Oh man, get a close up on that. Look familiar Jebediah? Three men holding you down? Only difference is this isn’t a shower and Gabriel isn’t calling them daddy….”

Yikes.

LAUGHLIN: “Tonight you won’t have to worry about that though, bud. Only one guy will be holding you down. On the mat. For the three hand slap.”

With his creepily gloves hand he points up towards himself, but really in his mind he’s pointing at his mustache.

LAUGHLIN: “…and that’s me. Your 4CW Champion and Battleground Network God. Don’t worry though, I’m sure there’s a spot for you somewhere on the King’s Road comeback show. At least before your matches there you won’t have to film videos of yourself making you look like a bald retard”

Bryan winks into the camera and flips the microphone towards Gabriel before mentioning that he doesn’t even know those security guys and wishing Hartman the best of luck.

UNDERCARD
A.J. MORALES VS. CARTIER

From the moment the bell rang you could tell that these two competitors do not like each other. They slowly walk towards the middle pointing and jawing at one another, which I honestly feel sorry for everybody in attendance that they have to listen to them talk even more, but what do you do? Anyways, Cartier says something about titles and AJ brushes her off and is met with a slap across the right side of his face causing him to turn around and brace his face. Cartier, using this to her advantage runs at him and ass checks him into the corner. Literally made the man fly feet just by bumping him with her ass like it was an airbag. A butt bag? We need to start checking her for inflatables.

Cartier tries to dip into the honey jar again by coming at him with another, but AJ being the savvy veteran that he is moves out of the way at the last second and Cartier goes ass first into the corner. He quickly grabs her and delivers a vertical suplex as Cartier holds her back in pain. AJ, wasting no time, grabs a handful of hair and drags her to the feet and then unleashes a few straight rights and lefts to her temple. Shaking the cobwebs out of her ear, Cartier is in trouble as AJ runs to the ropes and uses them as a springboard, but is caught in mid air by Cartier and her thunder thighs! Cartier tries to go for a samoan drop, but AJ reverses it and delivers a Crucifix Driver and goes for the pin only to get a two count!

AJ gets up and claps his hands together to tell the ref he needs to counter faster and it gives time for Cartier to regain some strength as she is seen trying to get to her feet. AJ rushes her and lifts his leg to deliver a kick, but Cartier ducks at the last minute and AJ completely misses her. Cartier gets to her feet before AJ is able to turn around and she grabs him by the back of the head and delivers a running bulldog to AJ, who then slides out of the ring to catch his breath. Cartier sees this and runs into the back rope and then towards AJ and delivers a baseball slide right into the face of AJ that sends him into the barricade. Cartier wastes no time and pulls AJ to his feet and irish whips him shoulder first into the ring steps. Cartier rolls herself into the ring and slaps her ass a few times at the fallen AJ as a chorus of boos reign down on her, which doesn’t faze her at all, she just sticks her tongue out at them as the ref continues his ten count.

Realizing he’s going to get to his feet in time, Cartier once again goes for the baseball slide only for AJ to dodge it. He hops up onto the ring apron with one foot and then launches himself off it and delivers a swift kick right to Cartier’s pearly whites, sending her to the ground dazed and confused. AJ takes a few brief moments before his veteran instincts kick in and he picks up Cartier and slides her into the ring as quickly as he can. He climbs as quickly as he can to the top ropes and smiles at Cartier as she looks lifeless, but not too creepily, he isn’t Brandon Banks. He raises his fist and salutes the crowd as they return the favor and he jumps off the top rope to deliver a Latern’s Flight (Moonsault) but at the last minute Cartier spins out of the way! She has the grace of a baby deer getting back to her feet, but she does and takes a few steps back and hits herself a few times upside the temple to help her focus. As AJ gets to his feet, Cartier runs at him and delivers an Empire State of Mind (Kinshasa) and covers AJ for the three count.

WINNER: Cartier via Pinfall (9:41)

The sound of tape being stretched and ripped echous out through the backstage area, Jeb sits dressed in his wrestling attire atop a large black crate. He has just finished wrapping up his fingers and wrists, placing the tape down next to him he then throws his arms up and smacks them down on muscular thighs before hopping down off of the crate. He looks up into the camera, with his head tilted down, and a shit eating smirk peaking through from the corner of his lips.

FISHER: ”Tonights the night Laughy boy… Tonights the night that me and you finally have are number two, but me and you are far different men from before. I think we’ve proven that, well… Maybe you don’t think I have, because with every sentance you fucking drop all you gots to say is how i’m livin’ in the past. That this ain’t the yard Jeb, this ain’t prison! And that’s true, because the shit that I wanna’ do to your ass, would only get my fuckin’ head cracked in and some alone time. But in 4CW it’s gonna’ get me something so much more. A legitimization of the fact, that Jeb Fisher… Is the new breed of 4CW.“

Jeb lifts his head, as he starts to make his way across the backstage area, a cock of the walk strut to his movements. He raises his chin up, and continued speaking.

FISHER: ”You got yout Elijah Carlson, you got your Chris Madison, and Jason Cashes. And you got your Bryan Laughlins, the last remnants of the old age, the few surviving strands of a company that needed them at one point… Hell, 4CW probably still needs them, for they are the mark, the level, the etching in the concrete that marks who is the best, and who can suck a fucking dick. But y’all don’t want any part of me do you? Nawh, cause i’m a disgrace, a one hit note, something to be forgotten about. Well fuck you! And fuck every single little bitch, who thinks that I ain’t deserve to stand in the same sentance as the rest of em’.“

Scratching at his nostrils, Jeb rolls his head around his shoulders – he then punches outwards, letting go of a few combos, stretching out his joints.

FISHER: ”People like you Laughlin, thinkin’ that you know me, because you’ve seen a few little videos here and there. Thinkin’ you understand what I’ve been through, what I’ve sacrificed to make it this far! I ain’t the one living in a fairy tale, I ain’t the one who so casually changed face to suit whoever is in front of him. So many faces, so many ideas, all jammed inside one roided out fuckin’ monkey skull! I know you smarter than me Laughy, ain’t blind to my own intelligence level… But I’m a lot smarter than you given credit, a lot more devious than you would ever care to admit. You don’t fear the feral Jeb Fisher, but you fuckin’ will. I teach that shit to you boy, I will brand it on your fucking soul! Property of Jeb Fisher, use as necessary.“

As Jeb turns a corner, he smacks himself in the side of the mouth and lets out a fury filled roar, before shoving his finger into the camera – pointing at it.

FISHER: ”I’m gonna’ pimp that bulk ass of yours out after i’m done with you! Gonna’ break the legend of the Bryan Laughlin, abuse him, use him! I’ll do whatever the hell I want when I’m done… Beat you now, then in a few weeks take your fucking championship! Then maybe you’ll run off to Union, or DTW, good! This company ain’t need you no more…The transitioning period is over, and the new stock is taking over. You ain’t gonna’ be on top much longer, and I’m clawin’ my way up from the bottom! Now get the fuck out of my face.“

Jeb grabs a hold of the camera, and tosses it to the side. The camera briefly cuts to static before transitioning into the next.

“212” by Azealia Banks continues playing throughout the arena, driving the fans wild. Still in the ring, Cartier paces the ring, hyping up the crowd before calling for a microphone. Mike Powers walks to the side of the ring, handing her one before she makes her way to the center of the ring.

CARTIER: “What’s good, New Mexico? How you livin’?”

The crowd pops. Everyone knows the best way to get a reaction is to remind the people in the crowd where it is that they live.

CARTIER: “Good… now, I wanted to talk a minute about Fright Night, if y’all got time…”

Another pop. Fright Night is always a huge draw for 4CW fans, after all. But, before Cartier can say another word, she’s cut off by…

problem?

“DOESN’T TAKE MUCH AND THAT’S MESSED UP
BECAUSE THESE PEOPLE DO A LOT OF SIMPLE SHIT TO IMPRESS US!”

“Trying to Find a Balance” by Atmosphere hits the system, and out comes DA #TROLL GUY, Pride Title slung on his shoulders, and a microphone in hand.

FERNANDEZ: “Hey yo. How you doing, mang?”

One more pop by the crowd, and Mariano raises his empty hand.

FERNANDEZ: “I heard you wanted to talk about Fright Night, y’know, and well – since this PROBABLY concerns me, here I am. Now let’s hear what you have to say!”

CARTIER: “Oh good, glad you decided to get a front row seat to this one. Since you made it sound like you only pay attention to your own shit, like you ain’t got time to even scout a bitch leadin’ up to Fright Night… you might wanna pull up a chair, jus’ a word of advice.”

Cartier cocks her head and cackles off of the microphone and Manny just shrugs, not letting her get to him.

CARTIER: “Anyway… what I was ‘bout to say is… I can’t wait! Fright Night gonna mark basically a year for me on Adrenaline, since I came on at the show right after it last year. I can’t think of no better way to celebrate my 4CW Adrenaline birthday than by gettin’ my very first title opportunity against Manny Fernandez. People thinkin’ it’s because I see him as the weak link, but that ain’t it. Though Manny if I was you I might worry ‘bout why all them people think that about you. This ain’t Kingdom Hearts, bruh, bein’ cute an’ likeable ain’t gonna get it done. But I respect Manny for acceptin’ my challenge. He coulda been a bitch, after all.”

The crowd laughs, but Manny interjects in a heartbeat, not letting Cartier’s jabs at him go without a response.

FERNANDEZ: “This again, mang. Why does everyone keep bringing up what people think about me? Had I given enough of a shit in the first place I wouldn’t have LASTED here for as long as I have, right? As for the weak link – I do hope you realize that the odds ain’t exactly on YOUR side.”

Murmurs of “OOOOOOOOHHHHH!” and “AAAAAAAH!” erupt from the crowd, but DA #TROLL GUY shakes his head no, and extends a hand to his Fright Night challenger.

FERNANDEZ: “But I think I made it clear that I want to elevate this title, and the perfect way to do it is to defend it. That’s why I had nothing to say when Jett wanted to come back to Adrenaline, and in the same way, since you came directly to challenge me, I got nothing but to accept.”

Cartier backs up a step and looks to the fans to gauge their interest in a show of respect between champion and challenger. With the cheers undeniable, Cartier slaps her palm against Manny’s and gives it a shake… and then shifts her hand before shaking it in a different way. And again. And again. Cartier gives Manny a full-on hood handshake, custom made with finger snaps and fist bumps along the way, and she seems genuinely shocked that Manny managed to keep up with the different moves.

CARTIER: “Damn Manny maybe you got a little street in you after all. I respect that, an’ I respect you as well. But when it comes right down to it, respect is for outside the ring. When I get in that zone an’ I get focused, you my enemy an’ I’mma treat you exactly how I’d treat anyone who was tryina’ take food off my table. Where I come from, you fight to win or you die tryin’. But don’t sweat it… after I take this off your shoulder?”

Cartier taps the faceplate of the PRIDE Championship, causing Manny to shoot her a bit of a dirty look for daring to touch his gold.

CARTIER: “I’mma be jus’ like you was wit’ me an’ accept a challenge from you or anyone else who want it. Shit, I’d accept a challenge from you right now if you had one.”

The last sentence, though seemingly an afterthought for Cartier, causes a trollish smile to creep across the face of Manny Fernandez.

FERNANDEZ: “As a matter of fact…”

He takes his hand to his chin as if he were thinking, then swiftly drops to the mat, and performs a picture perfect breakdance windmill with his legs.

FERNANDEZ: “You think you can keep up with that?”

The crowd erupts again with a round of cheers, and Cartier laughs loudly, clapping her hands. She takes off her coat and hands it off to Powers, making sure he doesn’t wrinkle it, and then smiles wide.

CARTIER: “Oh shit, Mariano got MOVES. You must be from the ‘hood down in South America, huh? Well, here go some for you.”

She pops the mic into Powers’ hands and drops to the mat in a split, then corkscrews up onto her head and rotates with her legs akimbo. When she flips back onto her feet for the dismount she gives a little booty pop in Manny’s direction for punctuation.

CARTIER: “I don’t think you can make that skinny ass clap, Manny, but you found another way to surprise me after all.”

Mariano adopts a sly smile and cocks his head to the side, then he starts shaking. With a pelvic thrust, he squats with his derriere outward, and shakes again to a massive crowd pop!

FERNANDEZ: “You’re not the ONLY one here that can make the booty work, chica.”

Cartier’s eyes widen as Manny continues to twerk like a pro, and she then swats him on the behind playfully which makes him stand upright with a little extra red in his cheeks. DA #TROLL GUY stands in place and spreads his arms to the laughing of the crowd.

FERNANDEZ: “WHAT THE FUCK, MANG!”

Cartier then returns the favor by getting low and really making her butt jiggle right in Manny’s direction, pulling down the waistband of her pants just enough to show the whale tail of her thong struggling to maintain structural integrity while she bumps n’ grinds. Unbeknownst to her though, Manny’s raised his hand to the crowd questioningly, and the audience has given their voracious approval to what they know he’s thinking. Mariano returns Cartier’s earlier courtesy by giving her a light tap on her own derriere, and the crowd laugh again!

FERNANDEZ: “She did it first, mang. Fair is only fair!”

It’s evident by the crowd’s reaction that no harm was truly done as they roar in approval. Manny ducks out of the ring and heads to the back with a big grin on his face, and Cartier returns the expression, applauding him from the ring.

FERNANDEZ: “Sorry ‘bout that, mang. But you COULD always come at me at Fright Night!”

CARTIER: “Oh I’m comin’… bet on that!”

The cameras go back and forth between their two faces before fading backstage.

In the back, Brennan Devlin rounded the corner in what appeared to be a stolen wheelchair. He had seemingly been racing it down the halls when cameras caught up to him. He wore a leopard print suit with a pair of sunglasses, but the real point wasn’t his clothing, it was him stealing the wheelchair and causing havoc in the backstage. Eventually, he rolled up in front of the camera, grinning from ear to ear.

DEVLIN: ”Sup.”

He said as he spun the wheelchair around and then took a seat in it, leaning back.

DEVLIN: ”You know I don’t get what cripples are always bitching about, this is comfy as fuck.”

He kept spinning around in the chair, not a care in the world.

DEVLIN: ”Somewhere Manny is like, stealing wheelchairs? That was invented in Boardwalk! While everyone who was around then, paid attention, or could do basic research snickers in the corner.”

Devlin snickered at Manny and his lack of information, before eventually stopping the chair so he sat towards the camera. He leaned down, pointing towards the lens and articulating his message.

DEVLIN: ”You whine, you cry, you go into the boohoo’s about how I went hard at you after initially being reserved. I still gave you credit, dipshit. I’ve still given you credit for everything you’ve done while you sit there and cry your wittle eyes out about how hard you’ve had it. You’ve had it hard? I’ve been public enemy number one for years, even when it had seemingly blown over, you start spouting out the same rhetoric as anyone who may have had legitimate problems with Boardwalk may have. But you can’t even do that right.”

He sighed, really having expected more.

DEVLIN: ”I’m not your little pat on the back, handshake deal company wrestlers you’re used to. I’m not gonna stumble over every word like SILK, I’m not gonna let you get by saying dumbass shit that’s untrue. No, no, no. I’m going to devour you, Manny, I’m going to eat you alive because you’re fucking weak. Not once have I seen a glimpse of the man who could beat Bronx. No, all I’ve seen is Mariano Fernandez, the man with one of the worst loss records on this roster.”

Before he could continue, he saw a woman coming running down a nearby hall. Brennan quickly got away from the wheelchair as if he were guilty of something.

FEMALE VOICE: “Someone help him! Someone turned his wheelchair over and stole it! He was just here because of Make a Wish!”

Devlin glanced back and forth between the commotion down an opposite hallway and the camera.

DEVLIN: ”I hate to cut this short but, I’m gonna go ahead and run before this mess catches up to me. People are really sensitive about this stuff even though it originated in Boardwalk. I remember like it was yesterday, the backstage wheelchair races… Good times.”

The steps of someone running away echoed down the hall, only for them to come back and Brennan leaned in front of the camera.

DEVLIN: ”If it wasn’t clear, I’m mocking you, Manny.”

Soon someone yelled that Brennan had been seen with the wheelchair kid, and Brennan left the scene running as we fade into the next contest.

UNDERCARD
NO HOLDS BARRED
JEB FISHER VS. BRYAN LAUGHLIN

Awaiting the arrival of the 4CW Champion, Jeb bounced back and forth in the center of the ring, punching himself in the jaw over and over to psych himself up. He wasn’t welcomed to a wave of cheers during his grand entrance, but it didn’t bother him, despite the boos he received from various fans he remained cold blooded and focused on the big task at hand. That big task that was awaiting him? It came in the form of Bryan Laughlin, the reigning 4CW Champion, walking out from the back and stepping through the curtain. He stood at the top of the entrance stage, looking straight down the ramp and into the ring at Jeb who was champing at the bit to get his hands on the top dog in 4CW and arguably the wrestling scene itself, the 4CW Champion.

Jeb’s eyes appeared to be more focused on the 4CW Championship rather than the man carrying it around his waist. Halfway down the ramp, Laughlin removed the championship from his waist, hoisting it high above his head with his right hand. The fans surrounding the entrance ramp burst with cheers for their champion, even breaking out the familiar “Laugh-lin” chant that’s been gaining more and more traction over the last year. With his other hand, Laughlin raises his arm and points straight to Jeb, mouthing off before shifting the direction of his point towards the shiny championship he held in his right hand. Knowing the rules, or lack of, pertaining to this match, with no restraint Jeb dipped through the ropes and quickly dropped down to the outside floor. He charged up the ramp, heading straight for Laughlin and leaving the official no other choice than to immediately call for the bell and get things officially underway!

Swinging with his left as Jeb closed in, Laughlin’s fist pounded against Jeb’s forearm as he threw both up to cover his face. Laughlin swung again and again, With Jeb stopped in his tracks, Laughlin swung again and again, driving his fist into Jeb’s forearms defending himself. Firing back with a punch of his own, Jeb lunged towards Laughlin, throwing a powerful right with all of his weight behind it aimed for Laughlin’s face. Pulling the championship up in just the niche of time, Laughlin forced Jeb to punch it directly, crushing his hand against the faceplate that prevented that protected Laughlin’s face. Jeb quickly pulled his hand back in a world of pain, leaving himself exposed for Laughlin to strike once more, this time with a shot to Jeb’s face with the championship.

Jeb stumbled down the ramp and back towards the ring. In a daze from the head shot from the title, he could hardly keep his balance as he dropped to one knee a few times along the way. Each time he came to a stop, Laughlin was right behind him to get him back to his feet with a swing of the belt, cracking the strap across Jeb’s back as if it were a whip. Jeb circled the ring, turning corner to corner before stopping directly in front of the announcers booth. From behind him, Laughlin swung the championship with both hands, planting it in the center of Jeb’s back and dropping him to both knees. Jeb held onto the top of the booth with both hands, keeping himself somewhat upright. Neatly folding the 4CW Championship, Laughlin placed it on the top of the booth, in front of Jeb before grabbing him by the head with both hands and forcing him to lo0ok at it as he assured him that he would never get his hands on it.

Pulling Jeb away from the booth, Laughlin walked him over to the side of the ring before slinging him inside, rolling him under the bottom rope. Grabbing the ropes, Laughlin pulled himself up to the apron as Jeb rolled just once more, stopping just on the other side of the ropes on his back and looking up at the lights. Grabbing the top rope with both hands, Laughlin jumped and pulled himself over the top, launching himself in the air before coming down with an elbow drop directly to the center of Jeb’s chest! Rolling over to his side and propping himself up with one arm, Laughlin then began swinging down with his other, pounding away at Jeb’s head with rapid right hands. Pushing himself up to his feet, Laughlin then began stomping down onto Jeb, over and over, driving his foot down onto Jeb’s midsection before finally pulling him up from the mat.

Holding Jeb up, Laughlin lit him up with two more back to back rights before locking onto Jeb’s wrist and pulling him in. Attempting to whip Jeb to the ropes, Laughlin planted his foot as he turned his body to sling Jeb forward. Before he could release, Jeb planted his foot, turning back towards Laughlin to pull him into both arms. Wrapping Laughlin up with both arms, Jeb then lifted the 4CW Champion off his feet before tossing him to the mat with a belly to belly suplex. Laughlin crashed to his back but fluidly rolled over to his frontside before pushing himself up from the mat. Rushing in, Jeb connected with a running knee lift to Laughlin’s face as he rose to one knee, knocking him backwards and flat on his back.

Dragging Laughlin towards the ropes, Jeb threw him with all of his strength through them, sending him crashing down from the apron and spilling out onto the outside floor. Laughlin slowly climbed to his feet as Jeb stepped through the ropes and out onto the apron. Backing up to the corner, Jeb patiently waited as Laughlin pushed himself up before finally taking off from standstill. As Laughlin stood tall, Jeb ran along the top of the apron before leaping off and flying through the air, hitting Laughlin in the back of the head with a forearm smash! The forearm smash knocked Laughlin down to one knee, allowing Jeb a free pass to find the nearest cameraman at ringside to borrow some equipment. With a camera in both hands, Jeb rushed in behind Laughlin, slamming it down onto his back as hard as he could.

Dropping the camera, Jeb grabbed ahold of Laughlin and pulled him to his feet. Keeping Laughlin’s body bent over, Jeb then walked him along the side of the ring, picking up speed before throwing him forward and launching him shoulder first into the ring steps. The steps toppled over with Laughlin left on all fours looking down at the floor. Walking over to Laughlin, Jeb stepped in between him and the steps. Reaching down, he wrapped an arm around Laughlin’s head before hooking him under the arm with his other and pulling him to his feet. Holding Laughlin’s head against his side, Jeb swung down with his other hand, pounding away at Laughlin’s ribs. Jeb then went to fall back for a DDT to the steps, but his movement quickly came to a stop before being lifted off his feet by Laughlin who then slammed Jeb down onto the steps!

Mounted over Jeb, Laughlin swung down with both hands, driving lefts and rights into Jeb’s sides. Raising both hands over his head, Laughlin then swung down with a double axe-handle, knocking the breath away from Jeb as he slammed down onto Jeb’s stomach. Pulling Jeb up from the steps, Laughlin then lifted him into the air before connecting with an inverted atomic drop. Turning Jeb around, Laughlin then took him by the head, slamming him face down onto the steps. Positioning himself behind Jeb, Laughlin then lifted him off his feet, slamming him down to the flood with a belly to back suplex. Rolling over and pushing himself up to one knee, Laughlin’s attention was then grabbed as he caught a glimpse of the camera used just moments ago. Taking the cord to the camera in both hands, Laughlin then wrapped it around Jeb’s throat, choking him with it at ringside!

Laughlin wasn’t able to choke Jeb out due to him getting a hand between his throat and the cable, but he winded him and wore him down from the struggle. Laughlin kept the cord around Jeb’s throat for only a little longer before unwrapping it and finally allowing Jeb to breathe freely. Jeb immediately leaned to an upright position gasping for air. Grabbing the actual camera with both hands, Laughlin then swung it against the side of Jeb’s head, breaking pieces off of it as Jeb was instantly knocked back down to the floor. Rolling Jeb over to his back, Laughlin quickly covered him but only scored a two count as Jeb managed to pop his shoulder up from the floor. Grabbing the camera again, Laughlin swung it down with all his might, smacking Jeb in the forehead with it. Tossing it aside, Laughlin then made the cover again but didn’t even get a two count as Jeb kicked out.

After rolling Jeb back into the ring, Laughlin walked him to the corner before throwing him back first into it with every ounce of energy in his body. Unloading with rights and lefts, Laughlin pounded away at Jeb’s midsection with powerful blows. He then drew back and swung for the fences at Jeb’s head. In the blink of an eye, Jeb ducked underneath the headshot and unloaded with rapid fire body blows to Laughlin’s stomach and ribs. Jeb then swung upward, connecting with a solid uppercut to Laughlin’s chin, whipping his head back and knocking him backwards a couple of steps. Jeb then explodes forward, kicking and punching with attacks from all directions, walking Laughlin backwards across the ring. Laughlin the lunges towards Jeb, only to slam into a knee to the gut from Jeb as he side steps him. Clinching onto Laughlin, Jeb then forces his head down, bending him over as he pops his knees up and into Laughlin’s face and chest.

Slinging Laughlin down to the mat, Jeb then walks over to the nearby corner. He begins removing the padding from the turnbuckle, exposing the bare metal underneath. Walking back over to Laughlin, Jeb rolls him over to his stomach and kneels down beside his head. Grabbing his head with both hands, Jeb then presses Laughlin’s face against the canvas before dragging it back and forth, giving him a rug burn of sorts. Standing tall, Jeb then places a foot on the back of Laughlin’s and steps up onto it, applying all his weight to the single leg and Laughlin’s head. Stepping down, Jeb then pulls Laughlin up from the mat. Keeping him bent over, Jeb fires a few more knees to Laughlin’s chest before delivering one final knee to his face, standing him straight up. Grabbing Laughlin by the arm, Jeb then whips him as hard as he can into the corner, sending him crashing back first against the exposed metal or the corner!

Laughlin moans in agony as the pain shoots throughout his body. Stumbling forward, Laughlin looks up to see Jeb charging straight at him. Lunging towards Laughlin with both arms, Jeb goes to grab him but misses as Laughlin side steps him. Tripping Jeb up, Laughlin forces him to fall face first into the metal of the corner with a drop-toe hold. Jeb instantly drops to the mat, his face now covered in his own blood after his forehead being busted wide open from the metal. A few feet away from him, Laughlin is on all fours recovering somewhat. With both men down, the official begins his ten count. Reaching three, Laughlin finally pushes himself up from the mat, ending the count right then and there.

Grabbing ahold of Jeb, Laughlin lifts him up to his feet. Bringing both hands to his own face, Jeb rubs them all over, smearing blood over them. Reaching up, he then presses both hands to Laughlin’s face before gouging him in the eyes. Stumbling backwards in a blind state, Laughlin’s face is now covered in Jeb’s blood, more so around his eyes that Jeb had just gouged. Rushing in, Jeb quickly kicked Laughlin in the stomach, forcing him to buckle over. Lifting him off his feet and sideways, Jeb then dropped down to one knee, slamming Laughlin onto his elevated one with a powerful rib breaker. Not releasing Laughlin, Jeb stands back to his feet, holding him sideways in his arms. Walking towards the same corner with the exposed metal, Jeb’s pace picks up with each step until finally plowing into the bare metal with Laughlin’s back. Taking a step back, Jeb then drops down to one knee again, slamming Laughlin down onto his elevated one with another rib breaker!

Standing Laughlin up, Jeb slams him backwards into the corner, the metal digging into Laughlin’s back as he crashes against it. Backing up to the center of the ring, Jeb then explodes from stand still, charging towards Laughlin. Closing in, Jeb leaps into the air, raising his knee as high as he possibly could for The Sickness (flying knee). Stepping out of the way at the last split second, Laughlin grabbed Jeb, giving him an extra push. Jeb’s knee slams against the exposed metal of the corner, instantly falling backwards to the mat. Landing on his back, Jeb immediately curls his leg, bringing his knee to his chest as he holds it with both hands in a world of pain. Pulling Jeb up from the mat, Laughlin walks him towards the ropes before slinging him towards them and sending him spilling out onto the apron. Jeb slowly pulls himself up from the apron favoring his knee. Just as he Jeb stands, Laughlin moves in, kicking his foot into the air and planting it underneath Jeb’s chin with his Best Superkick Ever, launching Jeb off the apron and down to the outside floor.

Jeb is slow to get back to his feet, giving Laughlin plenty of time to climb through the ropes and step out onto the apron. Remaining at the corner, Laughlin patiently watches Jeb getting up. Once he stands, Laughlin jogs along the apron before jumping off towards Jeb. Flying through the air, Laughlin led with his shoulder, driving it straight into Jeb’s with a shoulder block that send him crashing back first into the steel barricade at ringside. Ignoring the pain, Jeb grabbed an empty chair within arms reach that wasn’t occupied with any of the ringside crew. Pulling it overhead with both hands, Jeb then swung at Laughlin with it as hard as he could. Quick on his feet, Laughlin then kicks his foot into the air again, this time connecting with the Best Superkick Ever to the chair and knocking it back into Jeb’s face.

Jeb staggered backwards, dropping the chair by his side. Ducking down, Laughlin lifted Jeb off his feet and onto his shoulders in a firemans carry. The crowd in the first few rows begins to go crazy in anticipation of what’s to follow. Holding Jeb up on his shoulders for a moment, Laughlin takes a few seconds to catch his breath. Bursting with energy, Laughlin then lifts him off his shoulders and into the air, turning Jeb’s body in the process. Grabbing him by the shoulders, Laughlin then falls backwards to the floor, pulling Jeb down with him. Curling his legs and bringing his knees to his chest, Laughlin’s back then hits the floor, stopping him instantly as Jeb’s stomach then slams against both Laughlin’s knees with a double knee gut buster. Good Morning America seemed to do the trick as Jeb rolled off Laughlin’s knees out of it. Rolling over, Laughlin then covered Jeb, even hooking a leg for good measure, as the official raced in beside them with the three count!

WINNER: Bryan Laughlin via Pinfall (16:22)

MADISON: “You wanted this…”

The familiar voice of Chris Madison is heard as the feed transitions backstage where he’s seen sitting on top of the heavy crates that are used to house 4CW’s production equipment. He smirks as his eyes connect with the camera lens in front of him.

MADISON: “When Frankie and I spoke with Wallace about returnin’ to 4CW after Bad Company as the company looked to rebound, the last thing I could have imagined was gettin’ involved in a lengthy feud with you Cashe. You were adamant that Bad Company was it. You were goin’ to see how far you could go with Redd Thunder by your side and ride that wave until its end. Afterwards, back to focusin’ on your work in other companies.”

Madison shook his head as he presses down on the case and hops down to the ground.

MADISON: “But you just couldn’t help yourself. You just couldn’t stay away. It didn’t take long for you to march down to that ring in typical Jason Cashe fashion, tryin’ to turn the spotlight onto yourself, just so that you could issue this challenge. A best of seven series between two of 4CW’s Hall of Famers… Friends… Brothers…”

Madison takes a few steps down the corridor with the camera crew following his every step.

MADISON: “Truth is, this is long overdue. I’m sure over the years we could each take our fair share of the blame for why this didn’t happen. But at the end of the day all of the finger pointin’ is meaningless. I only hope that you get whatever it is that you’re lookin’ for out of this. I don’t need to warn you about what it is that you’re up against. We’ve traveled these roads together for years. You know me just as well as I know myself!”

A few more steps and Madison comes to an abrupt stop, standing just outside of the gorilla position.

MADISON: “Once I step through that curtain, it doesn’t matter to me who comes out to stand across from me. I am goin’ to do everythin’ in my power to put you down! Only thing I ask of you Jay, remember that you’re the one who asked for this!”

It was apparent that the emotion of having to go to battle with a man that he considered family weighed on him. Yet, he lived up to his reputation, with each step he took closer towards the curtain, the more focused he became, never looking back.

UNDERCARD
HALL OF FAME SHOWCASE
JASON CASHE VS. CHRIS MADISON

In the center of the ring, two 4CW Hall of Fame wrestlers stand toe to toe, looking one another in the eyes. The crowd looks on in silence, the atmosphere entirely focused on those two particular men standing before them. Jason Cashe and Chris Madison exchange words amongst each other as the official checks in with each them, making sure they’re ready going into this Hall of Fame Showcase match. Not receiving any hold up from either man, the official calls for the bell, officially getting things underway.

The entire mood shifts as the sound of the bell travels through the air. As if a switch was being flipped on inside of Cashe, his entire demeanor changes with the first punch thrown in Madison’s direction, catching him off guard with a stiff right to the jaw. Madison fires back with a swing of his own, failing to connect as Cashe quickly throws up both forearms in defense. Swatting Madison’s hand away after smacking against his arm, Cashe pops his leg up from the mat, driving his foot into Madison’s stomach and forcing him to double over.

Swinging down with both arms, Cashe hits Madison over the back with a double axe-handle, knocking him down to his knees. Grabbing Madison by the head with both hands, Cashe holds it in place as he slams his head downward, cracking Madison directly in the middle of his forehead with a headbutt. Pulling Madison back to his feet, Cashe keeps his head pushed down, bending him over forward. Raising his right elbow as high as he could, Cashe then throws it straight down, jabbing Madison in the back of the neck! He then pulls Madison’s head between his legs, squeezing it in place as he adjusts himself.

Cashe wraps both arms around Madison’s waist and attempts to lift him upside down for a piledriver. Just when Cashe strained to lift Madison, he was taken off his feet as Madison stood straight up, lifting Cashe over his head and dropping him behind him. Cashe fell shoulder first to the canvas, hitting it with a thud as it broke his fall. Cashe hurried to his feet, but not quick enough to beat Madison from turning around to face him. With Cashe on one knee, Madison kicked his left leg up, swinging it around and planting it against the side of Cashe’s shoulder.

Pulling his right knee towards his chest as far as he could, Madison then kicked his leg straight, driving his foot into Cashe’s chest and knocking him to his back. Cashe hit the mat and continued to roll backwards fluidly, coming to all fours and bursting back to his feet. Rushing Madison, Cashe lowered his head and ducked his shoulder, aiming it straight for Madison to tackle him to the mat. Side stepping Cashe, Madison tripped him up, taking him face down to the mat with a drop-toe hold. Cashe’s face bounced off the mat and he immediately popped back up to his feet in a daze. Unnoticed by Cashe, Madison then wrapped him up around the legs, lifting him into the air before throwing him back to the mat with an Alabama slam!

Cashe rolled back and forth on the mat, holding the back of his head with both hands after it smacked against the canvas. Rolling over to his side, his pushed himself up with one arm, climbing back to his feet where Madison was already standing inches away ready to get his hands on him. Madison grabbed him before he could fully stand tall, holding him down and in place to deliver a few knee strikes to the chest. Positioning himself behind Cashe, Madison set him up for a pump-handle before lifting him off his feet and throwing him to the mat with a suplex! Rolling a few times across the mat, Cashe finally stopped just in front of the ropes and without delay, he began pushing himself up from the mat.

On his feet across the ring, Madison looked on for a short moment before getting back to work and heading straight for Cashe. Reaching forward with both hands to grab Cashe, Madison is completely taken off guard as Cashe stands up and reaches with both hands, wrapping them around Madison’s head and even locking his fingers together on top. Dropping to his knees, Cashe pulls Madison’s chin down onto the top of his head with a jawbreaker. The impact knocks Madison backwards, taking him off his feet before crashing to the mat.

Holding both hands over his chin, Madison rolled back and forth on the mat, paying no mind to anything else. On his feet, Cashe hits the ropes and springs off with even more speed. Jumping into the air and flipping forward, Cashe landed across Madison with a senton splash, fluidly rolling up to his feet. Continuing in stride, Cashe headed for the ropes ahead as Madison pulled both hands away from his chin and brought his arms over his midsection. Bouncing off the ropes, Cashe slowed his pace a bit before jumping as high as he could in the air and coming down with a headbutt straight to Madison’s forehead!

Standing Madison up, Cashe began swinging and connecting with boxing styled punches. Jab, jab, jab, Cashe walked Madison backwards until he had nowhere else to go with the rope against his back. Locking onto Madison’s wrist, Cashe then pushed him against the ropes before using them to thrust Madison forward as he pulled him in and whipped him across the ring. Crashing back first into the corner, Madison stopped instantly, his head whipping back. As he lowered it, his eyes lit up at the sight of Cashe charging straight for him. Leaping into the air, Cashe stretched his arms and legs, flying towards Madison with a body splash. Spinning out of the way, Madison dodged the aerial attack, leaving nothing but an empty corner to cushion Cashe’s crash landing.

Keeping Cashe in the corner, Madison began working his body with left and right body blows. His assault then transitioned to kicks, aiming particularly at Cashe’s lower leg with stinging, rapid fire kicks. Alternating legs, Madison went back and forth between Cashe’s left and right legs. Taking a step back, Madison then exploded forward, jumping straight up and lifting his knee as high as he could, planting it directly underneath Cashe’s chin with a flying knee strike. Cashe’s head whipped backwards, the back of his head smacking against the turnbuckle and bouncing off instantly.

Just when he looked forward into Madison’s eyes, Madison wrapped both arms around him, holding him tightly before slamming his head forward and returning the favor from earlier to Cashe with a headbutt of his own. Exploding with energy, Madison’s feet then slammed down to the mat, lifting Cashe off his feet and throwing him over his head with an overhead belly to belly suplex. Rolling over to his stomach, Madison crawled on all fours over to Cashe, crawling over top of him and going for the pin. The official was down to the mat instantly with the count, not even reaching two before Cashe threw his arm into the air, lifting his shoulder up from the mat.

Despite Cashe breaking up the pin attempt, Madison maintained his position on top of Cashe, quickly hooking an arm around his head and holding him down as he began ramming multiple knees into Cashe’s ribs. Each knee strike knocked Cashe’s breath away little by little. Standing to his feet, Madison then squatted down, rolling Cashe over to his stomach before reaching underneath his body and wrapping both arms around him. Deadlifting Cashe up from the mat, Madison took him up and over, slamming him back down onto his back with a deadlift gutwrench suplex!

Covering Cashe for another pin, Madison got at least a two count from the official before Cashe threw his shoulder up from the mat just like he did a few moments prior. Back on his feet, Madison stomped down onto Cashe’s stomach a few times before reaching down and pulling him up from the mat. Locking onto Cashe’s wrist, Madison pulled him into a shoulder block, not releasing his wrist after the impact. He then whipped Cashe to the ropes and upon Cashe’s return, he lifted him off his feet with ease. Rotating Cashe in the air for a tilt-a-whir lbackbreaker, Madison’s plan came to a screeching halt as Cashe wrapped an arm around his head, counting his backbreaker attempt with a tilt-a-whirl DDT of his own!

The noise level throughout the area shot through the roof as Madison’s head hit the mat, his feet going straight into the air before bounding into the air and flipping over to his back. Cashe slowly crawled over to Madison before climbing over top of him and going for the pin. The officials hand slapped the mat one. His hand then slapped it a second time. Halfway down in his swing for the three count, Madison kicked out from the pin, even lifting Cashe inches off of him before dropping him back down on top.

Remaining on top of Madison, Cashe then swung down with his right arm, slamming his forearm down onto Madison’s face with all his strength. The hard blow to the head knocked Madison in a daze, giving Cashe ample time to mount himself on top of Madison with ease. Swinging down with both arms wildly, Cashe pounded down onto Madison’s chest with gorilla style strikes. He then targeted the face, back to the body, then the face again. Knocking Madison’s head against the canvas, Cashe then raised both arms above his head together. Screaming as loudly as he could, he then swung down both fists, driving them straight down onto Madison’s chest together. To top if off, Cashe then pushing himself up on his knuckles, playing the part as if he were an actual gorilla in the ring.

Pulling Madison to his feet, Cashe positioned himself behind him, pulling one of Madison’s arms across his body and trapping the other with a rear waist lock. The noise level lowers in anticipation for what’s to follow. Pulling Madison’s arm, Cashe spins him in place and then begins to spin himself. As Madison spins a full circle, Cashe does as well, throwing his arm forward and connecting with a rolling elbow strike to the back of Madison’s head. The crowd erupts with cheers at the sight of Cashe hitting Madison with his own Comatosed, mixed in with his own trademark strike, the Mark of Jason. Stumbling forward, Madison then drops to one knee before swaying back and forth for only a moment, and then falling face down to the mat.

Cashe drops down to his knees beside Madison, rolling him over to his back. Laying over Madison and hooking a leg, Cashe goes to end it all as the official drops in beside them with the count. One! Two! Thr–NO!! Madison throws his arm straight into the air, popping his shoulder up from the mat and interrupting the officials three count. Cashe’s jaw drops to the mat, as well as everyone in the building watching as Madison refuses to stay down, ending the count and keeping the match very much alive. Cashe is quick to his feet after finally snapping out of it. He kicks and stomps down onto Madison as he tries to recover on the mat. Noticing Madison’s arm stretched out to the side with his hand open, palm up, a smile comes to that ugly face of his. Lifting his foot as high into the air as he can, Cashe then stomps down with all of his weight onto Madison’s fingers!

Pulling Madison up from the mat, Cashe then pulls him into a knee to the gut, forcing him to double over. Grabbing Madison by the head, Cashe then launches his knee upward, driving it into Madison’s face and standing him straight up. Extending both arms out to his sides, Cashe then swings them in together, slapping them both against Madison’s ears in unison with his bell clap. Cashe then grabs Madison by the arm and whips him to the ropes behind him. Upon Madison’s return, Cashe lowers his stance to lift Madison into the air for his Trouble Maker. Powering Madison off his feet, Cashe goes to execute but Madison counters while in mid air, wrapping his hands around the back of Cashe’s head and pulling him down face to knees with a codebreaker!

Cashe’s head bounces off Madison’s knees, launching him backwards through the air before crashing hard to the mat. Slowly pushing himself up to his feet, Madison circles Cashe laid out in the center of the ring holding both hands over his face. Pulling Cashe up from the mat, Madison holds him in place with his left hand while drawing back and swinging for the fences with his right. The punch to Cashe’s jaw spins him around in place, turning his back to Madison. Ducking down, Madison carefully positions his head between Cashe’s legs before lifting him off his feet to a seated position on top of his shoulders. He then pushes Cashe into the air as high as he could and just when gravity began to pull him back down, Madison wraps both arms around Cashe’s waist, pulling him down to the mat backwards with a German suplex. The entire ring shook from the impact of Madison’s End Game. Bridging the suplex for the pin, Madison had him shoulders to the mat as the official raced in beside them with the three count!

WINNER: Chris Madison via Pinfall (15:58)

The camera goes to the backstage area and for a moment, we’re just looking at a blank wall. It takes a few moments before we see the person we’re meant to be seeing. A figure in black jeans, a generic white t-shirt, and a denim jacket; a person that hasn’t been on a 4CW camera in nearly a year. She turns her head to face the camera and it is the former 4CW Champion Anastasia Hayden.

HAYDEN: ”And I oop.”

Terribly outdated meme aside, Ana faked a smile for the camera before adopting her more signature branded look of anger and bitterness for the world.

HAYDEN: ”I’m going to spare everyone the long drawn out speech. I’m not here to speak for an hour like some of these goons. You already know who I am. And you already know what I’m here for. This has been a long, long, long, long time coming. I’ve enjoyed my time away, but it’s time to get back to business.”

She tossed up her shitty little shaka brah with a smirk accompanying it.

HAYDEN: ”I won’t make the mistakes of my predecessors here. I’m not going to run my mouth any more than I have to. It’s very hypocritical of me to even be doing this, but what else would you expect from me? That’s not important anyways. You don’t care what I’ve done in my absence. You shouldn’t care about me at all. And that’s how I like it. Me standing here is the only message that needs to be sent.”

A strong nod of self-assurance from Ana followed and then a deep breath; taking in the experience for just one moment. And exhale. Her eyes cut into the camera and the look of contempt had returned to her face as she addressed the audience on last time.

HAYDEN: ”Fright Night. October 30th. The Grand Duchess comes back home.”

Another gesture with her hands, taking a sarcastic curtsey to announce her presence one more time before taking her bow from the scene and walking off. The camera holds on the empty wall for a couple more seconds before fading away elsewhere in the arena.

HEADLINE
BRENNAN DEVLIN VS. MARIANO FERNANDEZ

The glorious soccer mom hair was on the move as Manny flew across the ring with a flying forearm that collided with Brennan’s handsome face. A few stumbles back but then Brennan was back on the go once he caught his balance, ducking Manny flying towards him again before quickly grabbing hold of Manny from behind. With his arms cinched around his middle, Brennan falls back with a german suplex as the audience roars with hyping up the match. Brennan wouldnt had minded going for another german suplex but he knew how to get greedy as he instead took two steps back away from Manny instead of getting closer to him to try to grab him from the back. Manny spins around and that’s when Brennan charges him, almost taking off his head with that clothesline that puts Manny on his back while Brennan eats it up with a few pelvic thrusts in victory. Celebrating so early into the match but let Brennan tell it, anytime could be a celebration if it felt like the right time. Manny goes for Brennan’s jaw with a hard right punch once he’s close enough and it causes Brennan’s left arm to swing in a reflex as soon as Manny’s fist touches Brennan’s jaw. Now they’re both trading punches and the audience is cheering them on because who doesn’t like violence, right?

The brawl gets a bit out of control when Brennan breaks away from the fist to face fight to begin aiming his punches low with hitting Manny in his midsection in an effort to get him to double over and break away from swinging at his face. Manny does double over… and then comes up fast with an European Uppercut that nearly lifts Brennan off his feet. That spinning wheel kick puts Brennan down on the mat though and now Manny is looking for something more as he hurriedly goes for Brennan’s leg, having his mind on getting him into an ankle lock but Brennan drives his free foot into the back of Manny repeatedly until Manny lets go of Brennan’s foot. Manny fakes like he’s going to back up as Brennan is getting to his feet until he suddenly takes those first quick steps forward to wrap his arms around Brennan to go for a snap suplex. He gets bold and goes for a second after he’s gotten them both off of the mat and disappears out of Brennan’s sight. Brennan isn’t trusting it as he’s quickly on his feet while his head snaps around for Manny…. until he suddenly sees Manny in the air after charging towards him and surprises Brennan with a hurricanrana.

Manny was out here taking more flight than a superhero as he played to his strengths with relying on his feet to continue putting space between he and Brennan until he chose it was time to get close enough to Brennan. No matter how quickly Brennan moved, Manny just showed that he was a little faster but making sure he moved faster than Brennan did in order to dodge when Brennan rained blows… until Brennan thought to quickly strike before Manny laid hands on him first. Manny is then irish whipped towards the turnbuckle and was about to lift his leg up to place his foot against the turnbuckle post to stop himself from running into it but Brennan was already driving his elbow roughly into Manny’s back to force him to go into the turnbuckle. Satisfied, Brennan turns Manny around and wastes no time laying into him with a good combo of punches and gut kicks until Manny finally ends up sitting against the turnbuckle. For some reason, Brennan definitely becomes hype about it and that reason is finally made known with a Bronco Buster that draws a huge reaction out of the audience while Manny’s face reads very unsatisfied.

Walking away from that turnbuckle like a champ, Brennan’s expression shows off a gloating one as an upset Manny is quick to get onto his feet and rush towards Brennan, attacking him from the back with a dropkick as Brennan’s body flies towards the ropes but doesn’t make it there as his front side hits the mat. Brennan quickly gets a bad feeling and begins spreading his legs out fast before pulling them back in as if he’s making snow angels as he tries to keep Manny from successfully getting a hold of any of his legs. He then begins trying to crawl away as he looks behind his shoulder and when Manny gets close enough to his legs, he begins making those snow angels with his legs again. The audience erupts into laughter and Manny just shrugs before he begins stomping on Brennan’s body with going for a plan b since he couldn’t go through with the sharpshooter with not being able to grab a leg. He finally ceases on the stomping after feeling satisfied, bending down to pull Brennan onto his feet and spins him around to face him. Before Brennan could even blink or move an inch, ARROW TO THE KNEE as Manny attacks swiftly, keeping that concentrated gaze.

Brennan falls to his knees and Manny sends him to the mat with The Gadfly before dropping down to go for the cover. The referee’s hand hits the match twice before Brennan kicks out, stopping Manny from getting a three count pinfall over him. Manny being the make lemonade out of lemons kind of guy, he doesn’t allow the failed pin get him down and refuses to dwell on it as he just decides to make sure the next time is the real thing. Yanking Brennan to his feet, he realizes how easily he was able to get Brennan up without a fight until he realizes that he had just played into Brennan’s hands as Brennan suddenly attacks Manny with elbowing him in the face. That was just to catch him off guard so that Brennan could go for a neckbreaker without Manny trying to thwart the move from coming into play. But Manny was refusing to stay down as he tries to get up from the mat as quickly as he’s able to and it causes Brennan to roughly knee Manny in the midsection twice until Manny goes down on all fours. Brennan then begins pounding the bottom of his right fist repeatedly into Manny’s back but Manny still refuses to go down, even though a few more poundings and he would have been on his stomach. But Brennan had another idea… as he backed away from Manny with giving Manny the false idea that he was allowing him to get up when he was only just creating some space between them. Suddenly, Brennan charges towards Manny as his right foot lifts into the air and… FACE TIME!! Down goes Manny as well as Brennan as he quickly rolls Manny over to go for the pinfall.

ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THREE!!!

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

WINNER: Brennan Devlin via Pinfall (8:01)

The scene cuts back to ringside where we find no one other than Perry Wallace in the center of the ring with a microphone in hand. He slowly walks along the outside edge of the mat, dragging his free hand across the top rope at his side. He gets a mixture of reactions from the crowd, not as many boos as he used to get, but not quite everyone has warmed up to him yet. Making his way to the center of the ring, Perry slowly raises the microphone to his lips.

WALLACE: ”In just two weeks 4CW will travel to the AT&T Center in San Antonio, Texas for Fright Night. I’ll be up front with you all, this year’s event isn’t going to be as big as previous years with ten to a dozen matches. We’re still technically coming off of a break and truth be told, the roster isn’t as large in numbers as it normally is before taking a break over the summer. And by break I mean fuck you Showtime!”

Perry throws his free hand into the air, directing a middle finger as the cameras direction filming from the up and close angle.

WALLACE: ”We have Mariano Fernandez defending the Pride Championship against Cartier. We also have Elijah Carlson defending the North American Championship against Eddy P– Edgar Malcovich. So other than the 4CW Championship, we have both of the other active singles championships in 4CW being put on the line for your viewing pleasure.”

He turns to his left, approaching the ropes slowly.

WALLACE: ”Then we have another Hall of Fame match, another in the best of seven series for Jason Cashe and Chris Madison in which a stipulation is to be named.”

Resting his hand along the top of the rope, he looks out over the crowd for a short moment before continuing.

WALLACE: ”As far as the Tag Team Championships and the champions, Reedvolution, they however will not be defending the titles as we just simply don’t have a team for them. It’s alright though! They’ve had plenty of time to rest following their Bad Company win to ready themselves for what lies ahead.”

Turning away from the ropes, Perry walks to the adjacent set of ropes and leans his free arm on top of the rope, getting himself nice and comfortable before going on.

WALLACE: ”The Warzone of Horrors!”

He shouts as he pushes himself backwards away from the ropes.

WALLACE: ”This year we’re going to do something a little different. In years past we’ve always had eight people either trying to kill each other for the 4CW Championship, or trying to kill each other for a shot at the 4CW Championship. Whether the belt was on the line or not, there was always been eight people entered into this two ring, steel cage structure with the prize hanging high above the top of the cage.”

He looks up to the ceiling, even pointing upward as if the prize were hanging above him right this moment.

WALLACE: ”With a ladder secured to the very top, the only way to claim what’s at stake is to climb that ladder step by step, traveling up the stairway to heaven.”

He wiggles his index and middle fingers, alternating them back and forth in a walking motion.

WALLACE: ”The object of the game isn’t changing this year! Oh no, not by a long shot. The 4CW Championship will be secured high above the steel structure just waiting for someone to climb that ladder and make it their own. What has changed, or what is changing? It’s all a numbers game.”

He then turns away from this side of the ring and slowly makes his way to another side unvisited since being out here.

WALLACE: ”Now instead of picking and choosing seven individuals to climb into that structure with Bryan Laughlin, I’m going to leave it open to anyone on the roster and in the building here tonight!”

The crowd reacts pleasantly, cheers heard from the massive body of people in attendance here tonight.

WALLACE: ”Anyone who isn’t previously booked in one of the matches mentioned a moment ago can enter this thing but know, the price to pay is steep and over the years I’ve seen this match do horrible things to good people. Do I think the roster is up for it? Absolutely!”

Walking alongside the ropes, he drags his hand along the top just like before.

WALLACE: ”We all know who is on the roster and not already booked in one of the other three matches mentioned before. And let’s not forget a face we saw earlier that we haven’t seen on Adrenaline in quite some time. This year’s Warzone of Horrors has the potential to be the biggest one ever, and it’s all going down in San Antonio, Texas!”

Given the fact that they’re currently in an entirely different state, the announcement of San Antonio doesn’t draw much of a positive reaction from the fans.

WALLACE: ”And with the 4CW Championship hanging high above the cage, underneath it will sit two rings, one with regular ropes and the other with barbed wire ropes surrounding by an enclosed steel structure. And inside of that steel cage, you name it and it’s probably going to be out there. Yes! I’m referring to weapons and anything someone can put their hands on to beat the living shit out of someone else.”

With the announcement of violence, the crowds tone shifts to that of excitement.

WALLACE: ”Once every wrestler steps foot inside of the structure, the door will be closed and locked with a chain. For thirty minutes, everyone will be trapped inside to rip each other apart before a pair of bolt cutters will be introduced to the match which will then be used to break the chain and open the door. Simple enough, right?”

The crowd is hesitant to agree with him.

WALLACE: ”WRONG!!! Getting out of the cage isn’t the battle. Getting on top of it and climbing that ladder while everyone else tries to kill you in the real challenge. We’ve seen people thrown off the top through wooden tables. We’ve seen people thrown off the top through glass tables. We’ve seen cutters from the very top down onto the announcers booth! There was that time we saw someone thrown through the top of the cage. We’ve even seen the biggest wedgie of all as a certain someone was trapped in the air with his pants caught on the fencing. And if someone isn’t being thrown off the cage? Well… we’ve seen people literally bring others to near death with their bare hands.”

Raising his hand up, he extends his index finger as if telling the crowd to hold on a minute.

WALLACE: ”And this year I guarantee we’re going to see some shit that will make everyone’s stomach turn by the time it’s all said and done. But for thirty minutes, everyone must remain inside of the cage before being given the chance to escape and climb for the grandest prize in all of wrestling… the 4CW Championship!”

Taking a few steps backwards away from the ropes, Perry finally comes to a stop in the center of the ring.

WALLACE: ”And it all happens in two weeks from now at Fright Night. So for those of you in the back, and I know you all hear me loud and clear, the door to the Warzone of Horrors is wide open and if you dare enter, all you have to do is throw your name in the hat, walk out from the back, and step into the most gruesome match in all of 4CW!”

In the most corniest way ever, Perry extends his arm out to the side before dropping the mic only to amuse the crowd. Not getting the reaction he was hoping for, Perry waves them off as he exits the ring and heads towards the back a little embarrassed.

MAIN EVENT
NORTH AMERICAN CHAMPIONSHIP
ALICIA LUKAS VS. ELIJAH CARLSON ©

W/ GUEST REFEREE EDGAR MALCOVICH

POWERS: “The following contest, to be officiated by special guest referee Edgar Malcovich, is scheduled for one fall and is for the North American Championship!”

Already in the ring and wearing the usual zebra striped shirt that identifies him as an in ring official, Eddy gives a wave to the fans before turning his attention to the top of the ramp just as Mike Powers speaks again.

POWERS: “Introducing first…”

“Wild Eyes” By Parkway drive hits as Alicia steps out with a black hoodie over her upper half with the hood up over her long blond hair. She makes her way down to the ring and runs up the steps before climbing the ropes on the outside, she flips the hood back before putting her arms out, smiling at the crowd before leaping into the ring from the outside and taking off the hoodie.

POWERS: “From Atlanta Georgia, she stands five feet, eight inches and weighed in at one hundred forty pounds. She is the ‘Strong Style Southern Belle’… ALICIA LLUUKKAASS”

For a brief moment the camera crew switches from ringside to a close up of Vinny Vassa and Steve Johnson on commentary as they look to breakdown the matchup in this main event contest.

JOHNSON: ”Well, these certainly aren’t the circumstances you want to see a challenger earn a championship opportunity but..”

VASSA: ”But it’s about time BullEli learns that there are consequences for the things that he says and does!”

JOHNSON: ”Still haven’t gotten over your grudge toward him, Vinny?”

VASSA: ”Nope, and I never will. There was a time. A time when I considered him to be one of my closest friends. I felt like we had a bond, you know, having both had our faces buried in his wifes tiddies at one point in our lives. But then… then that pompous, smug son of a bitch had the AUDACITY to knock my drink out of my COTDAMN hands and THEN… and THEN… he broke my drink holder.”

JOHNSON: ”…………..”

VASSA: ”And I hope after tonight that North American championship is wrapped tight around that fat ass of Ali–.”

”Killing in the name of…”

The voice of Zack de la Rocha snaps the crowd to attention as they look to the top of the ramp as the lights dim down, shrouding the raucous crowd in a heavy shadow. On the big screen the word “Nasty” flashes in all white capitals against a black background before fading into a stream of career highlights for the reigning North American champion. Moments later, as Rage Against The Machines “Killing in the Name Of” pulsates over the speakers, the champion emerges with the belt draped over a black leather clad shoulder. His pace is slow and he strolls to the top of the ramp, the boo’s from the massive crowd growing louder by the minute.

”And now you do what they told ya…”

Pausing once at the top of the ramp, Eli shakes the title from his shoulder and raises it high up into the air which draws an even louder negative response from the crowd who clearly are hoping to see the title change hands on this evening. As the volume heightens, his characteristically arrogant smirk widens into a full on grin as he uses his free hand to point toward the ring at his opponent, wagging that same index finger to tell her it was never going to happen as he started his walk down in her direction.

”Now you’re under control, and now you do what they told ya.”

Finally reaching the bottom of the ramp, Eli pulled himself up onto the ring apron and then quickly moved to the nearby corner, stepping up onto the middle turnbuckle where he raised the championship belt high into the air once more. Simultaneously, with his free hand, he extended it outward with his middle finger extended, gesturing to the crowd right on cue as the music hit a specific part of the song that he had been patiently biding his time for.

”Fuck you I won’t do what you tell me.”

Slowly the singers voice lowered with Eli’s head bobbing to the beat. As it grew in volume he swung the weight of his body over the top rope and dropped his feet down to the canvas deftly. Quickly, he rushed toward Eden and to her credit she didn’t back down for a second, but instead swatted away his outstretched hand with his middle finger extended directly into her face. With the referee quickly stepping in between the two he forced Eli back to his designated corner while pointing at Alicia to stay where she was. Nodding his head, Eli moved to hand the belt over to the referee before quickly jerking the championship away from Eddy, wagging his finger in his face. Moments later Eli shed himself of the leather jacket he had been wearing, tossing it to the outside of the ring before handing the belt off through the ropes to the timekeeper, telling him he’d be back in a minute for it.

JOHNSON: ”And there he is, the North American champion in all of his glory, if you’d call it that. He finds himself in the unique position tonight of having to defend his championship…”

VASSA: ”And hopefully lose it.”

JOHNSON: ”… on the show before what is perhaps the biggest night of the year in 4CW, Fright Night. Should he survive and remain the champion tonight, he’ll be facing none other than our special guest referee for this matchup in Edgar Malcovich.”

VASSA: ”And Eddy is surely looking for a shot at Alicia again after nearly having her beat two weeks ago.”

JOHNSON: ”The circumstances surrounding that loss are how we found ourselves here this evening, with a championship on the line and the odds, for what might be the first time in recent memory, likely stacked against Eli.”

VASSA: ”I already bet on Alicia tonight too. She’s going to make me big bucks when she pins him and crushes his black little douchebag heart.”

As Eli settles into his corner and waits for the match to begin, Powers finally speaks up and introduces the man that everyone in The Pit already knows by name.

POWERS: ”And her opponent, hailing from New York City, New York standing six foot one and weighing in at two hundred and ten pounds. He is the reigning North American Champion… ELIJAH CCAARRLLSSOONN!!!”

A slight smirk forms on Eli’s face as he stares across the ring at Alicia, not acknowledging Eddy any further than he already had. Moments tick by and finally Malcovich signals for the bell.

DING!!! DING!!!

At the sounding of the bell Alicia bursts out of her corner as Eli starts to make his way toward the center of the ring. Instinctively she spins and aims a stiff forearm straight toward Eli’s temple but the champion ducks under it at just the right moment and stops one step beyond her, reaching back to wrap his arms around her neck bringing her momentum to a sudden stop and then reversing its direction as he brings her back first down to the mat. Wickedly her head snaps off the canvas as Eli rolls back to his feet calmly and takes a few steps away, gesturing at her to get back up. Ever the competitor, Alicia rolls herself back up to a vertical base and cracks her neck, a wry smile coming across her face before she gives a nod of respect to the champion.

Eli is quick to move in her direction and the two tie each other up in a grapple as Eli uses his height and weight advantage to bully the strong style southern belle back into the nearest corner. Malcovich is quick to intervene as Eli applies additional pressure there and the champion forces the guest referee to a count of four before he finally breaks the hold and takes a few steps back, completely ignoring the lecture he was receiving from Eddy for the time being. Instead, Carlson circles around quickly and returns to plant a boot in Lukas’ stomach but Alicia catches his foot and then snaps off a kick to the inside of Eli’s supporting leg, buckling his knee at the joint as Eli crumbles to the mat, grasping at his leg.

JOHNSON: ”Well timed kick from the challenger and now she’s got a vulnerability to exploit.”

VASSA: ”God I love it when she bends over to grab a limb when her opponent is on the ground.”

Women around the world roll their eyes at Vassa’s blatant sexism while the match continues. To her credit, Alicia does exactly what Steve Johnson had said she should and focuses her assault on the left knee of the champion. Placing her own knee right against the inside of his, Lukas grabs onto Eli’s leg and begins wrenching and torquing his knee in an unnatural direction. Malcovich, because he has seen referee’s function in the past, asks Eli if he wants to give up. In response Eli spits at him though thankfully the glob of slobber goes soaring over Eddy’s shoulder landing somewhere unseen. The moment Eddy looks away, watching the wad of spit soaring in his direction, Eli reaches up and grabs a handful of Alicias hair, yanking on it roughly to pull her into a small package pin, hooking the tights expertly out of Malcovich’s view.

ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
TH–KICKOUT!!!

JOHNSON: ”And this is exactly why you don’t want a guest referee officiating a championship match. Eli nearly stole that one out of thin air.”

VASSA: ”Ugh, get this bum out of here and get someone who actually knows what they’re doing out here.”

Both Eli and Alicia spin back to their feet but it’s the challenger who is moving a little more spryly, as Eli’s left leg seems to still be giving him some trouble. As he tries to shake feeling back into his leg, Alicia seizes the moment and charges, launching herself off of her feet to soar past him, and hooking her arm around his upper body hitting a perfect slingblade. Quickly she’s back to her feet and charging at the opposite ropes as Eli gets back up just a little bit slower. As he turns to face his challenger she again leaves her feet and nearly takes his head off with a leaping clothesline. With her agility on full display, Lukas lands deftly on the mat and then keeps running toward the opposite ropes again.

JOHNSON: ”She’s building up momentum and you can hear the fans starting to get behind her a bit. Eli’s just getting back to his feet and… HOTLANTA KI-NO!.”

Just as Eli got back up yet again Alicia aimed a running enziguri for his skull and again, seemingly on instinct at the last moment, just managed to drop down and avoid it. Lukas’ full momentum carried her toward the ropes and with her leg angled up high she finds herself caught up in them and awkwardly tumbling over.

JOHNSON: ”Uh oh that looks like it’s going to b-.”

VASSA: ”No! She just manages to grab onto that top rope and catches herself from a brutal fall down to the floor.”

JOHNSON: ”And the champion doesn’t have a clue. He thinks he’s got all day. What’s Alicia doing nowwWW OH MY GOD!”

Clearly feeling the momentum swinging heavily in her favor, and recognizing the opportunity that’s before her, Alicia Lukas looks to pull out all of the stops. With all of her might she uses the top rope to pull herself upward and then springboards off of it, catching an unsuspecting Elijah Carlson around the back of his neck to drive him face first down to the canvas with a springboard bulldog. All over the arena, and like all across the world, fans explode out of their seat as Alicia quickly rolls Eli over. Malcovich watches closely as she hooks the leg and looks for the pin. Whether or not it’s intentional it seems Eddy is just a bit slow getting down to the canvas to count the pinfall and the crowds anticipation and anxiousness heightens.

ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THR–KICKOUT!!!

VASSA: ”Oh my god Eddy Poe…”

JOHNSON: ”Malcovich.”

VASSA: ”What the fuck ever Steve he just screwed Alicia over. My grandmother moves faster to the ground than he just did and she’s dead!”

JOHNSON: ”I wouldn’t go that far. He’s not a professional referee, Vinny, you can’t expect him to react as quickly as our highly trained officals.”

Beside herself, Alicia shoots daggers at Eddy and pushes herself up to her feet. Imploringly she slaps her hands together quickly three times but Eddy, not seeming to pay her any mind, simply indicates that it was only a two count and that the match continues. The discussion lasts long enough to allow Eli to get back to his feet and as he does so he’s quick to move and grab Alicia by the shoulder, spinning her around. As she spins he looks to connect on a clothesline, which she ducks under and leaves Eli to nearly flatten Eddy Malcovich but the champion manages to stop himself just in time. The two stare each other down for a moment before a slight smirk appears on Eddy’s face as he brings up both of his hands and flips Eli the double bird. Incensed, Eli looks ready to strike but in a strange sort of reverse deja vu he gets spun around by Alicia and ducks under another attempt at a roaring forearm.

Intentional or not it’s unlikely anyone will ever know, but Alicia doesn’t stop her momentum as Eli had and instead completely blasts Eddy, who had both middle fingers jutting upward and extended outward, straight in the face.

JOHNSON: ”Oh what the hell?!”

VASSA: ”I don’t think that was on purpose Steve but even if it was can you blame her? He literally just screwed her out of the North American Championship!!”

JOHNSON: ”That’s debatable but the last thing anyone should ever want to do is to be inside of that ring with Elijah Carlson without a referee to keep things in order..”

VASSA: ”….. You’re right. Get Larry Collins or Laroy Jones out here A-S-A-P”

Alicia doesn’t waste any time bothering with the fallen guest referee but instead turns her attention right back to the champion and the two start trading blows back and forth in the middle of the ring. When Eli goes for a quick kick to her stomach, Alicia again catches it but this time instead of taking out the inside knee she moves to hoist him up onto her shoulders. And for a moment it’s a tremendous show of strength and power but she can’t quite keep Eli balanced enough to finish him off with the Georgia Drop. Slipping down her back, Eli shoves her forward into the ropes and as she adjusts and rebounds he telegraphs an attempted back body drop and receives a brutal up kick straight to the sternum from the strong style southern belle.

The force of the kick stands Eli upright and a large red welt shows from the impact as he winces in pain. Bouncing off of the ropes again, Alicia gets momentum and this time lines up a perfect Hotlanta Kick that nearly takes the champions head off. For a moment she looks to try and cover Eli for the pin but recognizing that Malcovich is still out and recovering from the forearm that she delivered, she instead desperately looks up the ramp.

VASSA: ”Send a referee out for god’s sake! Send someone! Anyone! Send Perry’s fat ass out here I don’t care!!”

JOHNSON: ”You calling anyone fat is a bit much don’t you think?”

VASSA: ”NOT RIGHT NOW STEVE!”

As Alicia waves her arms frantically, trying to get someone to come down to the ring, Eli begins to pull himself over toward the nearby corner. Pulling himself up onto his knees, he rests his hands on the bottom turnbuckle and heaves deep breaths of oxygen into his lungs. Clearly the night hasn’t gone as he expected it to up to this point. Meanwhile, Eddy Malcovich also finally seems to be getting back to his feet though not fully recovered. In a huff, Alicia turns back to him and scolds him before moving toward the champion in a hurry. It’s then that the fans notice the bottom turnbuckle pad has been removed. A sharp cry goes up in the crowd as Eli baits Alicia in and snaps her downward with a quick drop toe hold. But Alicia manages to catch herself before hitting the exposed bottom turnbuckle!

JOHNSON: ”That’s what I mean right there, Vinny. Her own carelessness in striking Edgar nearly left Eli with the opening to remove that turnbuckle pad and use it to his advantage.”

VASSA: ”But it was to no ava… hey wait a second?!”

Shaking the cobwebs free, Eddy surveys the scene before him as he sees Eli laying on the canvas and Alicia staring at an exposed turnbuckle with the pad left just under the bottom rope nearby. Assuming the worst, Eddy begins to lecture the challenger who tries to defend herself against the accusations but the guest referee is having none of it. In fact it seems that he’s on the verge of disqualifying her as Eli uses the opportunity to roll himself away from the two.

VASSA: ”She didn’t do anything you blithering idiot! It was him! It was Eli all along!”

The argument continues to devolve with Alicia jamming her finger into Eddy’s chest. He gives her another warning not to touch him to which she rams her finger squarely into his chest again. Immediately Eddy slaps her hand away to which Lukas responds by shoving him hard in the chest. As Eddy stumbles backward there’s a flash of movement, a loud crack, and then the whole body of the challenger rockets backward and down to the mat nastily.

JOHNSON: ”Red Light Special! I didn’t even… OUT OF NOWHERE!”

Sensing the end is coming, Eddy drops to his knees to get ready to count the pinfall he was presuming was coming as boo’s began to reign down heavily. On the canvas before the champion laid his challenger, motionless. For a moment Eli stared at her and then his gaze turned to Eddy and his upper lip twitched into the hint of a smile before he shook his head at Eddy and told him not yet. Instead Eli pulled Alicia back up to her feet and pulled her over to the ropes before using an irish whip to send her sprinting into the opposite set. Just as she hit them and rebounded, Eli took off in her direction and with another loud CRACK, flattened her with the same kick that he had moments ago.

JOHNSON: ”Jesus Christ, another one! Another Red Light Special. And Alicia Lukas is not moving, Vinny. I’m not even sure she’s breathing.”

VASSA: ”This is all Eddy Poe… Eddy Malcovich. Edgar whoever I don’t care. This one is on him.”

As the two commentators debate what has brought the match to this point a third loud crack reverberates around the arena as the fans boisterously disprove of the champions actions, having connected with a third red light special. Dusting his hands off, Eli steps forward and places a single boot across the chest of his challenger and then shouts at Eddy to do his job and count the pinfall. Uncertainly, Eddy hesitates but eventually drops to the canvas and his hand rises and falls as the fans continue to boo.

ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THREE!!!

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

Keeping his boot placed firmly on the fallen body of Alicia Lukas, Eli offers his arm out to Eddy and demands that he raise it and declare him the victor. Begrudgingly, Eddy obliges him as Mike Powers announces the final result.

POWERS: ”Your winner… AND STILL… the 4CW North American Champion… ELIJAH CCAARRLLSSOONN!!!”

Basking in the glow of his victory while allowing Eddy to keep his arm raised, Eli gestures for the time keeper to get in the ring and put his belt around his waist. It’s a sequence of events that unfolds over a matter of a few seconds but once the belt is buckled into place the champion jerks his hand away from Malcovich’s grasp and turns toward him to stare him down. Unphased, Eddy shifts to face Eli as well as the two glower at each other with Alicia Lukas still unmoving on her back in between them. And then, slowly, Eli’s hands raise upward and he responds with two middle fingers of his own directly into Eddy’s face. Moments pass and the stare down continues until finally Eddy nods his head and points at the North American title belt, mouthing that it might just be his soon enough before he dips out of the ring.

JOHNSON: ”Well, Alicia put up a hell of a fight and in spite of the outcome you have to think she’s proud of the effort she put in tonight against a man who may just be a future Hall of Famer here in 4CW.”

VASSA: ”Proud? Proud?? If I’m Alicia Lukas I want Eddy Poe’s head on a silver platter. And I want it right n… oh what the hell does this jackass want now?.”

The camera’s quickly shift back from the conversation between the two comentators to the man in the ring who now has a microphone in his hand. He stands all alone, with Alicia having finally rolled herself down to the outside where she is checked on by medical professionals and helped to the back. Looking rather proud of himself, Eli stares up the ramp at his challenger for Fright Night as he begins to speak.

CARLSON: ”Congratulations, Eddy. Congratulations for being able to do your job. You should feel proud of yourself and more importantly you should feel some measure of comfort. Because at least now you know when your career as a competitor in my ring fails you can continue to be a part of this company in some fashion. This company that for the past three years has been built upon my blood, sweat and tears.”

Taking a few steps forward, Eli leans against the top rope nearest to the ramp and points up toward his Fright Night opponent.

CARLSON: ”Now, I’m sure you want to know why. Why I chose you. Why I took it upon myself to interject myself into your match. Why all of this is unfolding. Why you, right? And I’ll be honest with you, Eddy. I considered coming out here and talking about how I want this company, and my championship, to be about opportunity to those who have made their bones elsewhere. Opportunity for outsiders to come in and prove that the place they’ve honed their craft deserves to be mentioned among the titan that is Four Corners Wrestling. But the truth of the matter is, I didn’t do it because I’m an opportunity giver. I didn’t do it because I don’t like you. I didn’t even do it to remind everyone that Deathmatch Wrestling is a fucking joke. That it’s an oxymoron. That it’s an endeavor for the talentless to garner attention by allowing themselves to be brutalized because they aren’t skilled enough to compete at the highest levels. All of those things are true, but they aren’t why I did what I did. Do you want to know why, Eddy? Really? Are you sure? Listen closely then.”

Laughing to himself, Eli took a moment to collect his emotions before continuing.

CARLSON: ”I did it because I can. Wallace told me to pick out my opponent, that’s true. But what do I look like? Do I look like a fucking bobblehead lapdog like Mariano Fernandez who sits there hoping for a treat from time to time? I did it because I can, Eddy. Because you weren’t going to stop me. Alicia wasn’t going to stop me. Nobody in the back was going to stop me. I interfered because I felt like it. And now… now….”

Turning away from Malcovich for a moment, Eli shushed the crowd that was growing exceedingly displeased with him.

CARLSON: ”Now you get to see what it’s like to stand across the ring from me on one of the biggest stages in the world, and you get to be made an example out of. You can bring Eddy Malcovich to the ring. You can bring Eddy Poe to the ring. You can bring any version of yourself. Hell, you can bask in the wonder of Spooky SZN that is the Fright Night experience and it won’t matter a damn bit. Because I’m going to make an example out of you. I’m going to retain my North American Championship. And I’m going to do it all simply because I can. And there’s not a damn person in this company who can stop me.”

Slinging the microphone over his shoulder, Eli patted the North American title around his waist as Edgar Malcovich stared down the ramp at him, seemingly ready for to do everything he could to prove Eli wrong. That would have to wait for a few weeks as the camera’s provide two more quick shots of both men before flashing back to the commentary team as Rage Against The Machine’s “Killing In The Name Of” blared in the background.

JOHNSON: ”Say what you want to about Elijah Carlson and the way he carries himself, Vinny. The challenge that awaits Edgar Malcovich at Fright Night is one that is unlike anything he’s ever seen before.”

VASSA: ”I hope he’s ready for it. And I hope he understands that he’s likely made an enemy in Alicia Lukas and she might just look to get her revenge at Fright Night.”

JOHNSON: ”While that may be true, she may want to focus on bigger things as it seems the Warzone looms in her future and in the futures of so many others on our roster. Unlike in previous years the Warzone will not be limited to just eight competitors.”

VASSA: ”That’s right, it will be open to anyone and everyone not defending a championship, or not named Chris Madison and Jason Cashe. So a chaotic hellhole of a match is going to be that much worse!”

JOHNSON: ”Speaking of Jason Cashe and Chris Madison, the two Hall of Famers will do battle at Fright Night yet again. And I’ve got to admit, Vinny, I’m enjoying the flashback to a time when these two were the heart of this company.”

VASSA: ”Yes, yes. Two old, broken down men trying to stay relevant. Speaking of heart, though, the Pride Champion Mariano Fernandez puts his title on the line against one half of one of the most controversial tag teams in all of wrestling. Cartier has been waiting for this moment and if she wins I hope she comes and twerks on my face.”

JOHNSON: ”On that note, folks, it’s clearly getting late and Vinny needs to get to bed. We’re glad you spent your evening with us and we look forward to seeing you in just a few short weeks time live from San Antonio, Texas.”

VASSA: ”And they better reinforce my damn drink holder. No more unfortunate accidents or I’m going to SNAP!”

JOHNSON: ”Right, anyway. I’m Steve Johnson and this here is my partner.”

VASSA: ”Vinny Vassa, goodnight everyone!”

The cameras quickly cut to one final shot, or shots, switching back and forth between Malcovich and Carlson as they continue to stare at one another with the sounds of the crowd growing louder and louder in the background. The picture then begins to slowly fade out, the credits finally beginning to roll as tonight’s Adrenaline comes to an end.