ADRENALINE E107 (184)



Over a black screen, the sound of a guitar is heard followed by drums. A green line travels across the screen, pulsing upward to the beat of the music. The picture then comes to life with various clips from Adrenaline’s past before transitioning to the entrance stage of the Little Caesars Arena where we are greeted with an explosion of pyro. The energy of the crowd in attendance can be felt given their reaction as tonight’s show is underway.

At the top of the ramp, the camera looks over the entire arena, showing a full house here tonight before fixating on the ring at the bottom of the ramp in the center of it all. The camera then begins to travel down the ramp and towards the ring. Looking to the left first, and then the right, the camera takes the scenery of the crowd in as it focuses on multiple signs held throughout the large body of people.



Stopping at the bottom of the ramp just in time, pyro explodes from the four corner posts of the ring, igniting the fans in attendance even louder at the sight of its glory. Circling the ring, the camera looks out to the crowd, drawing a huge reaction from the fans in the first few rows. Coming to a stop once more, the camera then turns to the booth where our long time commentator, Steve Johnson, is no longer present. In his place, is the one and only Hudson Hughes, joined alongside Vinny Vassa, a face only a mother could love. Given their queue, the two take clead as the camera focuses solely on them and we officially begin tonight’s Adrenaline.

HUDSON: ”Ladies and Gentleman, WE. ARE. LIVE for Adrenaline One Oh Seven and before you hear from who you know allow me to introduce myself. I, am Hudson Hughes and Rest In Peace Steve because I’m the captain now.”

VASSA: ”On that note, I am Vinny Vassa and we are coming to you from Detroit Rock City tonight!”

HUDSON: ”Tonight we have an action packed show beginning to end, or at least I hope so because I’ve never seen a card this long before are they all like this Vin?”

VASSA: ”Every. Single. One. But! This one promises to be unique because we will see a Scaffold match between Madman Szalinski and Mariano Fernandez tonight!”

HUDSON: ”The only match I’ve ever called where I hoped they both won and lost all at the same time. What will be higher that scaffold or Madman’s blood sugar tonight, Vin?”

VASSA: ”Not a fan of heights? Or just hate to see talent put themselves in harms way?”

HUDSON: ”I’m hoping the scaffold collapses. What will be higher that scaffold or Madman’s blood sugar tonight, Vin?”

VASSA: ”You must be new around here, Hud. Perry will be higher than all of them.”

HUDSON: ”That’s professional. Also tonight we will see Dakota Smith back in a 4CW ring and there a lot of questions swirling around that match because of his time off. Will he still have it? Or will the ring rust show and give Moxie James the upper hand?”

VASSA: ”More importantly, Dakota killed Jeb right? We can all agree on that? Regardless, I’ll tell you where there won’t be any ring rust, Hudson. That tag team match that has the potential to steal the show. Thot Chocolate…”

HUDSON: ”That’s a great name!”

VASSA: ”It is isn’t it? They’re going to try and plant their flag in the tag team division tonight when they take on Children of the Moon. I think this might be the match I’m looking forward to the most. Two teams with talent that have competed around the world and both of them held championships finally coming to 4CW to bolster our division but also steal the show.”

HUDSON: ”Bolster? Jesus Christ Vin, it was on life support and regardless of who wins between the two just having them here is a victory for Perry because if I see AJ Morales form another tag team around the word Revolution I’m going to puke.”

VASSA: ”Speaking of one half of the tag team champions, Aj and Bianca will both be in singles action tonight when he takes on Toby Wagner and she gets to welcome Maxx Bennett to 4CW. Last week Bianca was successful against the Red Jester, but Toby also picked up a win over Brax Clova. So the tag team champs in singles action could do a lot for their momentum.”

HUDSON: ”Tag team champs in singles action?”

VASSA: ”That’s what I said.”

HUDSON: ”Sure why not, by the way was that Tommy holding a sign that says Fire Tommy? I don’t think we should just pretend like that didn’t happen”

VASSA: ”Didn’t catch that, but you guys at home be sure to catch the headline and main event tonight. Four titans of the industry in two matches. The first, Ana and Devlin one on one. You picked a hell of a night to start.”

HUDSON: ”Definitely not a match to blink during. The two found success at the last Adrenaline, but this match is a little different. When you see the number one contendership on the line for the 4CW Championship you see another level that neither thought they had.”

VASSA: ”Oh absolutely, and make no mistake about it. The Champ has beaten both of them previously in singles matches and also the Warzone of Horrors but the more opportunities you get at someone you start to figure out what works and what doesn’t. So tonight I’m sure that these two both know the weight this match carries.”

HUDSON: ”You know, Vin. I really did. I feel giddy like a kid on Christmas back here getting to call Adrenaline. It could also be the fact that I could watch Madman plunge to his death or Laughlin get embarrassed by Eli in the main event.”

VASSA: ”The two had quite the war of words back and forth these past weeks and we all know Eli has beaten him before. Hell, he’s pretty much beaten everybody. But, with no titles on the line? It could be the elevation Eli had talked about for his North American Championship, it could give him the mental advantage over the champ especially if they were to meet again for more than bragging rights.”

HUDSON: ”If being up two wins to none in a series is a mental advantage then what would you call the edge that Madison has built for himself over Jason Cashe in their best of seven series. I mean, we’re talking three straight victories and you can’t think that this what Jason wanted when they went into this.”

VASSA: ”A lot could happen tonight in the kick off match you’re absolutely right. We could see the odds that are stacked up against Jason being too much, or we could see Madison take his foot off the pedal knowing that he has a big lead in the series.”

HUDSON: ”…..do you think it’s too much to wish for three deaths in one night?”

VASSA: ”For live television? Yes.”

HUDSON: ”I’ll keep my fingers crossed. Will the young god be here again?”

VASSA: ”These were probably questions for the production meeting.”

HUDSON: ”You’re probably right, but after you and Perry tried to convince me that I have to sell the Red Jester one on one with Edgar Malcovich I zoned out.”

VASSA: ”They both bring an unpredictable style to the ring, but Ed hasn’t found much luck here as of late”

HUDSON: ”That’s an understatement. He’s currently having himself a best of thirteen series with the rest of the roster, and he’s carrying a fat zero on that first number.”

VASSA: ”I thought Ed was your son?”

HUDSON: ”That’s a twitter bit, Vinny don’t bring twitter here or else we’ll have to discuss why it’s okay that Perry wears blackface during the football season.”

VASSA: ”Wait a second! The Red Jester and Eddy Poe match was cancelled last minute. As far as the blackface comment goes… on that note…”

There’s an awkward silence that lingers following the last couple statements. Both Hudson and Vassa look back and forth to each other and the camera before Vassa holds up a sheet of paper to hide himself from the cameras view.



Backstage at the Little Caesars Arena, a cameraman makes his way toward an open dressing room door. The hallway itself is littered with furniture that looks like it’s been tossed out of said room without much care or delicacy. A couple of office chairs are on their sides right in the middle of the thoroughfare, a handful of fold-out tables are leaned against the near wall with one of them having slid down to lie flat on the floor, and a dresser obviously intended to be used as a make-up/vanity preparation area has been shoved haphazardly out of the door as well.

As the camera makes its way through the mess in the hall and nears the open door, the sound of laughter and bubbling water can be heard. A man and a woman seemingly having the time of their lives as they chatter and giggle echoes out of the ajar entrance, which makes all the more sense once the POV is close enough to the door to reveal the placard hanging crookedly off of it.

Thot Chocolate.

Pushing the door even more open and stepping into the room, the camera finds the reason for all of the moved accoutrements. The entire dressing room, scant in area as one would assume it to be, is filled with a hot tub. Any remaining furnishings are shoved against the walls, crammed in between the tub itself and the drywall of the room. The tub bubbles and roils, spilling over at the edges as its occupants move about, leaving small puddles all over the floor.

In the water, the INFAMOUS duo known as Thot Chocolate, Cartier and her longtime partner SILK, are seen chilling with a couple of hot mugs of chocolate in their hands, Santa Claus hats on their heads, and most likely not a stitch else on below the surface of the water, as their ring gear can be seen hanging from hooks on the wall behind them. Also, perhaps as a way of decorating for the holidays or just keeping positive vibes flowing, the duo have all of their title belts hanging over the rim of the hot tub, encircling them in championship gold.

Cartier chuckles as she takes a sip, the steam from the tub rising around her.

CARTIER: “SILK… you ready boy? We ‘bout to go out there an’ warm up this winter wonderland wit’ a little Thot Chocolate. Bringin’ a new standard to 4CW tag team wrestlin’ wit’ two of the hottest teams in the biz today, us an’ Children Howlin’ at the Moon.”

SILK: “As ready as I’ll ever be. Nice to relax before we whoop that ass. This room got me all cheery like jolly ol’ St. Nick too.”

He says as he looks around the whole room which is decorated to the “t”.

CARTIER: “That’s why I decided to decorate for Christmas. God all these ornaments from everywhere we been, includin’ right here on Adrenaline, so I figured I might as well light this bitch up wit’ some bling. It’s ice cold outside on the streets of Detroit, so why not bring the ice here wit’ us tonight, nameen?”

SILK: “You so icy like Gucci Mane girl. Good thing I know how to warm up that heart and body like no one else huh?”

He gives her a playful nudge. She laughs and splashes him a little, flirting right back.

CARTIER: “You know SILK a lotta people wanna talk in this business, a lot in this company in particular. They love to see people like us laughin’ in they face wit’ how they like to judge folks. They don’t want people thottin’ it up in 4CW? Well too damn bad, you got a couple nekkid ass niggas on camera right now. Only thing that triggers these people more than a pair a nice titties on they screens is when people dress up in spooky ass makeup. You ever considered doin’ somethin’ like that just to piss ‘em off, mere mortal?”

SILK shoots Cartier a sideways glance and frowns at her shitty joke, but he can’t help but crack a bit of a smile when she starts to laugh. Some people just bring the happiness out of each other no matter what.

SILK: ”If I did that, ya boi feels like he’s become even more of a Nemesis to certain folk ‘round here, feel me?”

SILK raises an eyebrow directly into the camera and sips his cocoa – clearly that’s none of his business.

CARTIER: “Well maybe if spooky niggas like Viduus Morta spent some time in a hot tub like this they wouldn’t be all into Satan or whatever an then they could just be cool on Twitter instead of doin’ shit like winnin’ the 4CW Championship, I don’t know. Me? I’mma just worry about my career in this company, same as you. We ain’t never needed approval from no one, we earn our respect in the ring. Y’all can say we got a bad attitude all y’all want, we still here.”

Cartier waves as if saying hello to a friend.

SILK: “A bad attitude to a few ‘round here is just simply bein’ confident in your abilities and discussin’ your accomplishments cause you’re proud of ‘em – it ain’t exactly a logical standard set by those fools.”

CARTIER: “Fact is, you an’ me got two real pretty ladies to go make ugly out in that ring here tonight. We gonna beat they faces ‘til they look like swoled up asses… then they can really be children of the moon. I know I’m ready, how ‘bout you?”

SILK: “They gon’ be renamed the Paper Bag Gang after we through muddyin’ up those mugs of theirs. Kick a couple of craters into their cheeks so they can be twinsies with the Moon they apparently hold in such high regard.”

CARTIER: “But hold up SILK, they said you can’t eclipse the moon… as if that shit don’t happen all the damn time, I guess. Oh well. Let’s go put that work in, get that bag, then come back here to our own sea of tranquility. Deal?”

SILK: “Deal. Soon as homeboy turns off the camera an’ backs up a few more inches so I don’t put his eye out when I stand up.”

Cartier and SILK stare into the lens for a moment, smirking. Seconds tick by as nothing happens with no sound other than the steady whirring of the hot tub’s jets. Finally, Cartier leans forward dangerously, nearly showing the viewing audience her cupcakes.

CARTIER: “You heard the man! OUT!”

She splashes a handful of water at the camera, blurring everything out. As the view backs up, the blurry silhouettes both stand up as the scene fades out to black.



OPENING MATCH

BEST OF SEVEN SERIES
LION’S DEN MATCH

JASON CASHE (0-3) VERSUS CHRIS MADISON (3-0)

POWERS: ”Ladies and gentlemen, the following best of seven series Lion’s Den Match is scheduled for one fall by way of submission or knockout! Already standing in the cage at this time with three losses and zero wins in the series, he is a former three time 4CW Champion and 4CW Hall of Famer… JASON CCAASSHHEE!!!”

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

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

POWERS: ”Coming to the cage from Long Island, New York, weighing in at two hundred thirty-five pounds and standing six feet tall! He leads the series with three wins and zero losses, ‘Mayhem’… CHRIS MMAADDIISSOONN!!!”

Madison makes it to the base of the steps to the cage and places one foot down before scoping out the fans directly behind him by peering over his shoulder. He smirks as the live audience sings along to the entrance music and then marches up the steps and climbs into the cage. He immediately leaps up and pulls himself onto the top of the cage and faces out towards the crowd. He brings his fist up to his face and punches his jaw with it before shooting his arm out horizontally with his hand wide open, welcoming whatever challenge is coming his way. Madison hops backwards, bouncing off of his feet and turns towards the center of the cage, snarling and ready to go…

HUDSON: ”Vinny, I know you like to bet a little in Vegas so tell me this. What are the odds Jason Cashe can come back from being down three matches in a best of seven?”

VASSA: ”I asked my bookie and he told me it’s not great, but if you’re desperate right now you could put down a decent sized bet and pray for a miracle!”

HUDSON: ”I can’t imagine it’s going to be easy to get the ball rolling considering tonight is a Lion’s Den match which is right up the alley of the former 4CW Champion Chris Madison. I’d probably bet on him and Williams being friends again before I bet on him to come back from being down three matches.”

VASSA: ”I like to bet on the coin toss each year before the super bowl.”

HUDSON: ”Riveting.”

The official checks in with each man ensuring they are prepared to compete tonight. After getting the okay from both, the official then throws his hand into the air and signals for the bell.

DING!!! DING!!!

The two slowly circle the center of the cage, exchanging words between the two where only them can hear what the other is saying. After the formalities, the two then lunge towards each other, locking up in the center of it all. Madison quickly gains leverage on Cashe as he pushes him back a step that turns into two, then three, then four, well you get the picture. Madison backs Cashe up across the entire cage until his back is against the metal and there’s nowhere else to go. Feeling the cold metal against his back, Cashe then yells straight into Madison’s face before pulling his head back quickly and smacking the back of it against the cage. His head bounces off the cage and with a little thrust forward, Cashe nails Madison directly in the forehead with a headbutt!

Stomping down onto Madison’s foot, Cashe forces him to release his hold of him, now giving him the ability to throw both hands forward and shove Madison a few steps backwards. Cashe steps in towards Madison but is stopped instantly as Madison throws a punch for his head. Catching Madison’s wrist with both hands, Cashe pulls it in towards him and opens wide, biting down onto Madison’s fingers. Madison pulls his hand away from Cashe’s face and with his attention focused solely on his fingers he leaves himself open for Cashe to stomp down onto his other foot. Throwing a right jab, Cashe connects with a strong blow to Madison’s chin before swinging with his other hand and connecting with a straight. Stepping to the side, he then grabs Madison by the head with both hands before slinging him forward, head first into the cage!

On one knee, Madison uses the cage to pull himself back to his feet. Meanwhile with Madison’s back turned to him, Cashe unloads with alternating punches to Madison’s kidneys, powerful left and right blows. Finally to his feet, Madison lowers his arms to protect his sides, leaving his head unguarded for Cashe to extend both arms before swinging them in together and connecting with a double ear slap. Madison quickly covers both ears with his hands as the ringing begins. Wrapping Madison around the waist with both arms, Cashe then goes to lift him off his feet for a German suplex. Before getting too high off the ground, Madison grabs onto the cage with both hands, using it to pull himself towards it before Cashe is left with no other choice but to lower Madison back to his feet, but not releasing him completely.

HUDSON: ”Great ring awareness by Madison, completely illegal in any self respecting cage fighting promotion.”

VASSA: ”What about that ear slap?”

HUDSON: ”That’s a good question!”

VASSA: ”It’s little things like this that can give one of these guys an advantage. They’ve known each other for so long, the conventional ways of competition aren’t going to get the job done.”

Cashe continues to pull and pull at Madison trying to rip him away from the cage but Madison just won’t let go. Instead? He throws a single arm back, driving his elbow into Cashe’s face. The blow hurts judging by the reaction on Cashe’s face, but he doesn’t let go of Madison. Over and over, Madison throws his arm back, hitting Cashe with elbow after elbow to the face, but Cashe still refuses to release Madison. Bursting forward, Cashe shoves Madison into the cage, shoving his face in to it. The cage flexes with both men’s weight applies to it and as it springs back, Cashe uses the momentum to give it one more go at ripping Madison away from the cage. Planting both feet to the canvas, Cashe then goes to lift Madison off his feet but is instantly stopped as Madison still holds on tightly to the cage. Cashe’s grip slips as Madison’s body won’t budge any further, forcing him to fall backwards and crash to the mat behind Madison.

HUDSON: ”Our apologies to the dtf community now that the erotic part of this is over.”

VASSA: ”….and they used to think I was bad.”

HUDSON: ”Either way, this is a big break for Madison. Jason’s stubborn approach to a german suplex could have cost him a ton of energy.”

VASSA: ”Exactly, not to mention Jason is in a vulnerable spot!”

Cashe pushes himself up from the mat as Madison turns around to face the inside of the cage. Grabbing Cashe by the head before he can get to his feet, Madison holds it in place as he begins to ram multiple knees straight to Cashe’s face. After four or five knees to the face, Cashe appears to be in some sort of daze as he is barely able to remain upright on his own will. Grabbing Cashe by the arm, Madison then pulls him up to his feet before reaching underneath both of his arms and wrapping Cashe up around the chest. As his feet explode and plant to the canvas, Madison lifts Cashe off his feet and throws him over his head with a belly to belly suplex into the cage! Cashe’s back slams against the cage before sliding down against it and crashing onto the top of his head.

Positioning himself beside Cashe and sandwiching him against the cage, Madison fires at will with left and right punches to Cashe’s ribs and back. Cashe throws his arms up wildly to defend himself but it’s as if Madison is one step ahead of him the whole time as he connects with each and every single punch thrown. Holding Cashe down in place with both hands, Madison then begins to ram multiple knees into Cashe’s ribs. Over and over, Madison drives a knee into Cashe’s ribs, each one drawing an even louder grunt from Cashe than the one prior. Feeling Madison’s hand against the side of his head, Cashe doesn’t even bother to defend himself anymore as he reaches up with both hands and grabs Madison’s. Holding his wrist with one hand, Cashe locks onto a couple of Madison’s fingers and tries to snap them right then and there!

HUDSON: ”Oh god if he snaps his finger I’m going to puke.”

VASSA: ”It almost looked like Madison was going to end it with those strikes.”

HUDSON: ”Something tells me Madison won’t tap regardless. He’d walk around with a finger hanging just to finally end this.”

VASSA: ”No doubt, have you seen his cauliflower ear?”

Madison grunts in agony as Cashe continues pulling at his fingers, bending them backwards as if trying to snap them right off of his hand. The two struggle for a few short moments, Madison eventually managing to pull all but one finger away from Cashe’s grasp. Cashe cranks down even more pressure on Madison’s single finger, praying for a submission right there to end the match. Apparently no one above was listening to his prayers as Madison refused to submit to him. With sweat covering their hands, Cashe’s hold on Madison’s finger slowly begins to slip before Madison is finally able to pull it away from his hold. Swinging down with his other arm, Madison drives an elbow to the side of Cashe’s head, knocking the other side of it against the canvas.

Madison goes to cover Cashe but is met with an elbow strike to the face, Cashe repaying the one Madison gave him seconds earlier. Madison falls back away from Cashe, keeping himself upright with one hand to the mat. Throwing his arm back and turning his body with it for added power, Cashe connects with another elbow to Madison’s face, this time knocking him completely to his back. Rolling over to all fours, Cashe then leaps onto Madison as if pouncing on him and mounts himself into position. Cashe reaches down to Madison’s face with one hand but his arm is quickly trapped by Madison. Madison then pulls his legs up and around the top of Cashe’s shoulders, locking them around his head for what one could only assume is a triangle choke.

Madison struggles with Cashe for a bit before finally locking the move in for good. Cashe fights and fights to break himself away or rip his head free from Madison’s clutches but just can’t seem to. The harder he fights, the weaker he becomes as he wastes energy trying to escape wearing himself out. Cashe’s fight finally begins to die down until there is no fight at all. Madison continues to crank down on the hold as Cashe has yet to submit.

HUDSON: ”I can’t tell why, maybe it’s just because he’s a Hall of Famer but the crowd seems to be building in support of Jason Cashe.”

VASSA: ”It’s getting pretty loud. Everyone loves a good underdog story.”

HUDSON: ”Are these people masochists? They really want this to go seven? Madison is bullying him right now and he’s going for the kill.”

VASSA: ”Wait, wait, wait!”

Cashe then began to show signs of life as the background noise grows louder and louder. It was as if he had found an energy reserve as he gained a second wind. Pulling his arm away from Madison, Cashe then dug both underneath Madison. With Madison still locked onto his head, Cashe powered down, lifting Madison’s back off the mat as he slowly began to stand to his feet. It wasn’t a quick process, it was rather slow actually but eventually Cashe manages to stand completely up as he continued to hold Madison up who still had his legs around Cashe’s head. Lifting him as high as he could, Cashe then dropped to his knees and slammed Madison down to his back in a powerbomb fashion. Madison maintained his leg lock around Cashe’s head despite the impact. Lifting Madison off the mat once more as he began to stand, Cashe then took a few steps forward before leaping forward with Madison and throwing him back first into the cage in another powerbomb fashion, this time forcing Madison to release him instantly before falling down to the mat.

VASSA: ”I have NEVER seen anything like this. I have watched these two compete for years and tonight they have pulled out moves from the bottom of the bag just to put each other away.”

HUDSON: ”You think we could put this on Worldstar?”

VASSA: ”At this rate, both men barely moving and exhausted, we might end up putting this on Faces of Death.”

The two were slow to get back to their feet, Cashe standing first as Madison appeared to be favoring his back following the back to back powerbomb type maneuvers. With his back to the cage, Madison stumbled forward, right into Cashe who charged in and speared him, slamming his back into the cage and sandwiching him against it. Pushing himself up from Madison, Cashe then began to stomp down onto his knees, alternating between both Madison’s legs. Once satisfied with targeting the knees, Cashe then turned his attention to Madison’s crotch but not in the way you would all expect him to. Instead, Cashe began stomping down onto it relentlessly and with no rules inside of the cage, it was all fair game.

Pulling Madison up from the mat, Cashe held him in place by the shoulders with both hands before pulling him in to a knee to the gut. The knee forced Madison to double over and as soon as he did, Cashe wrapped an arm around it and pulled his head against his body in a side headlock. Madison tries to pull his head away but can’t seem to as Cashe gives him a noogie which brings a toothless smile to his face. Looking ahead, an idea then pops in Cashe’s head. Pulling Madison forward by his side, Cashe jogs straight for a corner of the cage where he uses Madison’s head as a battering ram to drive into the post where two sides of fence are connected. Pulling Madison’s head and standing him straight up, Cashe then turns Madison’s head to face him before pulling his own back as far as he could. With a battle cry, Cashe then slammed his head forward, hitting Madison with a direct headbutt!

The headbutt appeared to hurt Cashe more than it did Madison as Cashe instantly releases him and began to stumble backwards. He was either seeing stars or somewhere in that little exchange Cashe managed to get himself intoxicated but with no signs of anything else in the cage, he had to of been seeing stars after the headbutt he himself initiated. This gives Madison plenty of time to pull himself back to his feet using cage. He manages to get up, but is hesitant to make his next move as he uses the time to recover a bit instead.

Madison then heads towards Cashe who catches a glimpse of him in the corner of his eye. Seeing doubles, Cashe rushes Madison as he closes in, connecting with a clothesline that knocks Madison flat on his back. Cashe continues to stumble around as Madison pushes himself back to his feet. Before he can even settle his feet, Cashe is right there to put him back on the mat with a second clothesline! Still stumbling around, Cashe levels Madison with a third clothesline, and even a fourth as Madison continues to get back to his feet. With Madison pushing himself up a fourth time, he braces himself as Cashe rushes in with a wild, half blind clothesline that drops Madison to his back a fifth time! Dropping to his knees beside Madison, Cashe can’t go on anymore as it appears he’s out of gas.

HUDSON: ”Anyone have a white towel? Someone has to end this.”

VASSA: ”Jason Cashe refused to let Chris get back up and Chris refused to stay down. Folks this is AMAZING.”

HUDSON: ”I know Jason wants, well he needs to pull this one out. But even if he doesn’t he has nothing to be ashamed of. He’s pulled out all the stops!”

VASSA: ”Almost all of them, Hudson. He needs one last burst of energy he’s going to have to dig down deep for.”

Now on opposite sides of the cage after rolling and crawling away from each other, the two slowly begin to pull themselves up with assistance from the cage of course. Again, Cashe makes it to his feet before Madison and now with clear vision, he locks his sights on Madison across the cage from him. His steps start out slow and grow faster and faster with each step until he’s within arms reach with Madison dead to rights. Leaping into the air towards an unsuspected Madison, Cashe throws his arm forward, driving a single striking elbow aimed for Madison’s face.

VASSA: ”HERE IT IS MARK OF JA-“

HUDSON: ”Chris ducked it!”

Madison ducks and spins out of the way, clearing a path for Cashe to travel as his elbow drives straight into another post of the cage holding it together!

HUDSON: ”That’s not ideal!”

VASSA: ”Madison knew it! He knew it was coming.”

HUDSON: ”One arm down, one arm to go. His arm has got to be useless.”

Cashe holds his elbow in pain with his back turned to Madison. From behind, Madison grabs Cashe in a rear waist lock before taking him down to a seated position. Swinging with his right arm, Madison hits Cashe over and over across the face with crossface forearm strikes. Wrapping Cashe up once more, Madison then lifts him back to his feet before lifting him off his feet and slamming him face first down to the mat. Placing a foot on each side of Cashe’s body, Madison then digs both hands underneath Cashe’s body before locking them with his arms around Cashe’s waist. Deadlifting Cashe up from the mat, Madison then lifts him up and over, slamming him onto his head with a German suplex!

HUDSON: ”Insult to injury!”

VASSA: ”He dumped him right on top of his head.”

HUDSON: ”After Jason struggled for what seemed like minutes just trying to get Chris to break the grip on the cage Madison lifts his deadweight and drops him.”

Pulling Cashe up from them mat, Madison turns Cashe to face the opposite direction. Wrapping him up with a rear waist lock and trapping one of Cashe’s arms, Madison then pulls him by the wrist, forcing him to spin around in place. As Cashe spins, Madison spins as well and once Madison comes full circle, he delivers a solid rolling elbow strike to the back of Cashe’s head.

VASSA: ”COMATOSED!”

Cashe wobbles back and forth before dropping to both knees and then falling forward face first to the mat as if he were a tree falling to the ground. Clinching Cashe in a front face lock, Madison forces Cashe between his legs while dropping his weight down onto the back of his head, locking in a nasty choke hold.

VASSA: ”Peruvian Necktie! God damnit Jason just tap. You don’t have anything left to prove.”

HUDSON: ”What if he dies?”

VASSA: ”Well the referee is in to check on Jason. Lifting his hand up and it’s dropped!”

HUDSON: ”THAT’S ONE!”

VASSA: ”He’s lifting his arm up again, the crowd is trying to cheer him back to life”

HUDSON: ”They better cut it out, THAT’S TWO! His arm dropped again!”

VASSA: ”The referee looks hesitant to pick up the arm a third time. I think everyone knows the implication of something like this.”

HUDSON: ”IT’S UP! IT’S DOWN!”

And with the final drop, Cashe’s arm falls straight to the mat, thus causing the official to stop the match and call for the bell.

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

Madison releases his hold, rolling Cashe’s lifeless body away from him before slowly climbing to his feet. Standing tall, Madison looks down to Cashe’s body in exhaustion as the official steps in beside him and raises his arm into the air for victory.

POWERS: ”Here is your winner, by TKO to sweep the series entirely… CHRIS MMAADDIISSOONN!!!”

HUDSON: ”I’m surprised the locker room didn’t come out here and carry Madison out on their shoulders. Jason Cashe is finally dead.”

VASSA: ”I’m no doctor, but I think his chest moving up and down is a sign that he’s breathing.”

HUDSON: ”I’ll cross my fingers for convulsions.”

VASSA: ”I’ll be honest, it’s not the outcome I wanted. I could watch these two fight forever and Jason has nothing to hang his head about. It just seems like Madison might be coming back around for another run.”



The night has just gotten underway and there’s still plenty of exciting shit on the show, but it’s time to slow everything down for a moment as the camera goes backstage to catch up with the Hellcat and member of a bunch of other failed stables, Anastasia Hayden. She warmly greets the camera with contempt and looking dead inside. Another Wednesday really.

HAYDEN: ”Nothing I’m going to say now is new. You already know how I feel about tonight. You already know what I’m setting out to accomplish. And more importantly, you already know that I’m going to do whatever it takes to beat Brennan Devlin tonight. Anything’s possible tonight. Maybe I win or maybe I don’t. In the long term, it doesn’t really matter because I was brought in to bring about change and whether it starts tonight or next year, it’s going to happen.”

She pauses for a moment; the talk of a defeat not bothering her being far from the truth, but that wasn’t going to stop her. Not this time.

HAYDEN: “Devlin’s good, if not predictable, but good. And being predictable isn’t necessarily a bad thing. You’re a safe pick. When everyone else fails, they can always fall back on you. But the issue with Devlin is that he defies that logic. Everyone knows the next move Brennan Devlin will make before he does, but that doesn’t make him reliable because he’s always got one foot out the door. He’ll say he doesn’t, but he’s done it time and time again. Like they say, throw a rock into a pack of dogs and the one that yells is the one you hit.”

A saying that is strangely familiar. And it gets a small pop from Ana as she smirks and looks away from the camera for a brief second.

HAYDEN: ”Say Devlin wins tonight, do we think he can beat Bryan Laughlin? He’s already proven earlier in the year that he can’t. Now we’re meant to believe that coming out of Fright Night and going through a match with yours truly, he’ll be healthy enough to go toe-to-toe with Laughlin? Personally, I don’t favor Devlin’s odds. Me, on the other hand, I’ve had the benefit of calling my shots. I didn’t commit to this thinking that I’d not reach the top of the mountain again.”

Ana softly shakes her head.

HAYDEN: ”Also going in my favor is that I’m always hurt and I’m still so fucking good. Now that I took a good chunk of the year off to rest, what’s that say for what’s to come in 4CW? Win or lose tonight, it’s going to be an exciting time for the return of Anastasia Hayden. Hope everyone has a miserable time tonight and here’s to killing another underdog.”

Tipping some imaginary hat, Anastasia clicks her tongue as some formal goodbye and walks off the scene as the camera transitions elsewhere in the arena.



Cut to the back of the Little Caesars Arena.

That’s some nasty looking potato salad. Not the normal looking stuff that 4CW staff chef Gemini Jones normals whips up for all the people in the back, just some putrid and obviously store bought potato salad that must have been on sale. Looking down at this monstrosity, with an empty plate and sour look on his face is none other than Christopher J. Wrigely. Wrigley in his navy blue suit with red tie slowly shakes his head as he stares towards the abortion that is that potato salad, and you know how Wrigley loves his potato salad.

Wrigley rolls his eyes to the heavens for about as long as anyone has ever seen and then just snaps.

Fucking snaps.

He flings the paper plate high into the air and then takes the serving spoon from store bought potato salad and sure enough decides to do the exact same with that as he did with the paper plate and flings that into the air, potato salad goes flying into the air as the serving spoon lands in the eating area of the backstage area.

WRIGLEY: “What the fuck is this? What the fuck is this supposed to be? Is this some kind of sick joke, where the hell is the real potato salad? Where the hell is the only reason why I still show up to these places like Detroit, Michigan?”

WRIGLEY: “I’m gonna have to sue somebody.”

WRIGLEY: “Yep. Someone’s getting sued.”

From behind the kitchen, from the otherside of the room comes out walking 4CW staff chef Gemini Jones. The portly former wrestler, complete with apron walks up to Wrigley looking over the damage that he has already caused with a look of “I’m going to choke a bitch out” on his face. However, Jones is unable to get in a word before Wrigley opens up his mouth.

WRIGLEY: “What the hell is this garbage you are trying to serve me?”

GEMINI: “Listen here, every other week I put out this spread and each and every time you show up and eat all the potato salad. All of it. Not one other single person gets their hands on even a whiff of the potato salad, it’s all you. So you know what? I skipped out on the potato salad this week. You’re just going to have to make due, Wrigley.”

Jones, who is much larger than Wrigley, finishes that whole part up with the dreaded finger poke to the chest of the lawyer. Wrigley just looks down at it and then looks back up into the eyes of Jones.

WRIGLEY: “Make due? Oh hell no. Why don’t you go back there right now and make me some of the real stuff. I can stand here all night. I ain’t got nowhere to be!”

GEMINI: “Mother–no, you know what? You want it? Maybe you should go back there and whip some of it up for yourself.”

Wrigley takes the challenge.

WRIGLEY: “Oh, don’t think I won’t just do that. I can cook circles around you, too.”

GEMINI: “I’d like to see you try.”

WRIGLEY: “I think it’s on.”

GEMINI: “It’s on.”

Wrigley produces his phone and in a matter of seconds has pushed someone’s contact information and is waiting for the other end to answer. Jones looks on a little confused as to exactly what is happening, but someone must have picked up as Wrigley begins to bark orders to the other end.

WRIGLEY: “I am going to need you to bring the box.”

WRIGLEY: “No, I’m serious.”

WRIGLEY: ”Yeah, it’s on.”

Wrigley hangs up the phone and gives a wicked looking smile to Jones as he begins to undo his jacket and tie and he begins to walk towards the kitchen.

We fade.



The camera cut to the backstage area where Perry Wallace’s temporary office for the evening is located. The door is wide open and inside, the 4CW owner is seen sitting at the edge of the desk, his cellphone held up to his ear.

WALLACE: “Yes, I am trying to get in contact with someone to make a complaint.”

He listens to the voice on the other end shortly before interrupting whoever it is he is speaking to.

WALLACE: “No, I don’t have the wrong number. I don’t have a complaint about a fucking pair of shoes or any of your clothing merchandise. I do however have a complaint about the asshole you have representing NIKE’s shit wrestling promotion!”

He listens to the voice on the other end some more and by the look on his face, you can see the frustration building inside of him.

WALLACE: “What do you mean NIKE doesn’t have a professional wrestling company?! Their logo is a fucking NIKE swoosh for Christ’s sake! I simply asked about a pair of Jordan’s and that jerkoff thought it would be a good idea to bully me, a NIKE fan for many years. My entire life in fact! What kind of shot show are you guys allowing to represent your brand?!”

Tommy barges into with a brisk walk, well more flat footed than anything and grabs the phone away from Perry.

TOMMY: “Who is this?!”

Tommy nods his head and then his eyes open wide.

TOMMY: ”Buy out my contract and let me come wrestle for you!”

Tommy scratches his head and shrugs at Perry.

TOMMY: ”What do you mean you don’t have a wrestling company? NIKE Combat Pro! Goddamn liars! You know what? Never mind! I rather wrestle in crocs than lace up a pair of NIKE boots! And let me tell you what I think about Colin Kap…”

Perry hangs up the phone before Tommy can finish.

TOMMY: ”What the fuck!!”

Shaking his head with an even more annoyed look on his face, Perry puts the phone away in his pocket.

WALLACE: “Goddamnit, what the fuck?! Do you EVER knock?”

Their attention then turns to the door which is open, still open as it was before Tommy even entered the office.

WALLACE: “Never mind, don’t answer that. Do you have any idea how long I had to wait on hold before finally getting an actual person on the phone? I was trying to file a complaint about that shitty NIKE wrestling company and you waltz right in and do this shit. Jesus fucking Christ…”

TOMMY: “Yo, fuck you. I thought I signed on to take the commentary job and next thing I know you hired Hudson! Who, mysteriously got married and didn’t even invite me that bitch. Did you get invited?”

Tommy laughs and points at Perry.

TOMMY: “Who am I kidding. You don’t get invited to shit you big dumb bitch.”

WALLACE: “Who is the bitch, his wife?”

There’s an awkward silence between the two but before it lingers on any longer, Perry holds his hand up and shakes his head back and forth.

WALLACE: “Don’t answer that either. Just forget that I asked. As for the commentary job? We never technically discussed exactly what your duties would require of you being a lifetime employee. Plus, everyone, except for maybe Vinny, doesn’t care to hear about you comment on every wrestler’s feet that performs in the ring. It’s not the end of the world, little buddy. I’m sure we can find something suitable for your incapabilities”

Tommy shakes his head before brushing off Perry

TOMMY: “That feet shit is all your doing. We both know I’m not interested in that so cut the shit. What the fuck did you con me into this time? I can never leave this place cause of your bitch ass tricked me cause if I’m wrestling or not I’m still your most profitable!”

Perry shakes his head blah blah something

TOMMY: “How much money you still making on those Kimi switch shirts? All I had to do was put a circle and a line through and they sellin’ like hot cakes. Thot Chocolate ain’t gonna sell the merch I fucking do! Race baiting fucks!”

Perry scratches his head for a moment before cocking his head to the side and asking Tommy a question.

WALLACE: “What merchandise do you have?”

Before Tommy can answer, Perry turns away from him and walks to the other side of the office to take a seat on a leather sofa.

WALLACE: “Look it, yes, we talked a couple weeks back about you doing some stuff around here. I’m not exactly sure where your wires got crossed and you figure yourself to be taking the place of Steve Johnson at the booth. Did I consider it? Yes, I really did. Unfortunately, I felt that Hudson was more qualified and had tons more experience at the booth than you did. It was a business decision, Tommy. Try not to take it so personal.”

Tommy looks at Perry’s desk and sees the candy dish he always tries to knock over the candy dish he always does, but Perry glued it down. Tommy gets frustrated and grabs a handful and throws it in his face.

TOMMY: “Hudson?! He is in love with transvestites! You’re going to lose your conservative audience you blubbering idiot. You might as well become Nike Pro Combat! You know the white man ain’t watching that shit! I’m Asian! I don’t even want to watch! Your fat pig face makes me despise coming into work. You dismissed me cause I’m a person of color huh.”

Tommy grabs another handful of candy and throws it at Perry.

TOMMY: “What did I agree too?”

WALLACE: “Dismissed you because you’re a person of color?”

Perry questions as he slowly turns his head and looks directly into the camera. It’s not like he doesn’t change races at the start of every football season, every year.

WALLACE: “It’s because of shit you say like that as to why I didn’t offer you the position. Do you think you could really be on the television feed eighty percent of the time speaking this nonsense? We’d lose viewers left and right and lose our television deal no matter who it was signed with!”

TOMMY: “We lose viewers you being you so what are you afraid of? We went from Showtime to the Battleground Network. We’ve already lost. But seriously, you haven’t answered what we agreed to. Quit passing the question up!”

WALLACE: “Technically we didn’t agree to anything in specific. Not really much to agree on according to contractual obligations but what do I know, I’m no lawyer. If you think you were, or are, so qualified for the position at the commentary booth, then tell me why you believe so.”

TOMMY: “Let’s be honest here. I get paid whether I’m here or not thanks to my Ma, but we shook on commentary. I’m money is why I should be there. Ain’t anybody ever in 4CW been as successful and as successful as I have so quick. Put me anywhere. Money. Money. Money.”

WALLACE: “Well if you’re ‘money’ anywhere then why the fuck did you come bursting in here like a toddler and crying about the commentary position?”

TOMMY: “I’m bored! Simple.”

WALLACE: “I can find plenty of other things for you to do if you’re bored besides stinking up the broadcast calling the matches.”

TOMMY: “I don’t think you realize. When I was Octane and you burnt the arena down we had more audience than your little baby. I get views. ”

WALLACE: “You get fuck all shit! That was a group effort on everyone’s part on the Octane roster, except for maybe a few that I can’t remember by name right now but I’m sure will come to me hours later. Seriously. Tell me what you’re qualified to do around here that doesn’t involve commentary, booking or catering? Please, enlighten me you fucking twat.”

TOMMY: “You think Octane the only person you think of is me. And Vossler. That’s literally it. Horrible company to have, but for different reasons. Horrible company 4CW is too. Bullies all of them. I should have went to DARC. You had to retire a belt because nobody could beat me. And simply cause I’m m–”

WALLACE: “Git gud and stop bei–hold on a sec!”

The ringing of a cellphone consumes the soundwaves as Perry’s attention is immediately brought to it. At first glance he recognizes the number and pops up from the sofa.

WALLACE: “Hang tight, Tommy. I have to take this call.”

Leaving the office, Perry steps out into the hall and turns the corner. He stops before getting away from the door opening and after looking back inside once more to see Tommy distracted with his ADHD, he presses ignore on the phone and places it back into his pocket. Turning away from the door, he walks off at a quick pace before Tommy even notices which could take a while considering who it is we’re talking about here.



The feed cuts backstage and we are instantly met with Chris Madison standing alone in one of the rear corridors of the Little Caesers Arena looking dejected. Madison was sitting on one of the production cases with his legs hanging over the side. After a hard fought battle earlier in the night, Madison was winding down despite his mind racing in different directions. He unraveled the handwraps that covered his fists and placed them down by his side.

MADISON: “I have been completely immersed in this best of seven series against Jason Cashe over the last couple of months. So much so that nothin’ else even crossed my mind. But now, I can’t help but look at what’s ahead of me.”

Madison makes a fist with his right hand and looks at his knuckles, still bright read from his fight earlier in the night.

MADISON: “I’m not one to demand opportunity. But the fact of the matter is that I have been dismantlin’ a 4CW Hall of Famer over and over again and makin’ it look like child’s play. I love Jason Cashe like a brother. But if anythin’ can be taken from this series, it’s clear as day that he can’t hold a candle to me! As harsh as it may be, Cashe doesn’t belong in that ring across from me. I need a challenge. I need to face someone who is goin’ to push me to my limits.”

He tilted his head slightly and slowly began to grin.

MADISON: “There’s only a handful of guys in this company that’s capable of that. One of which has come up sporadically in conversation. Whether it was Cashe hintin’ that he was holdin’ me back from an opportunity or Frankie suggestin’ that a match between us is a no brainer. Eli… There is no debatin’ that you have carved out a decent career. Arguably the best this company has to offer. And if the prospect of facin’ a talent of that level doesn’t push someone than nothin’ will.”

Madison pushed off of the production case and jumped down to his feet.

MADISON: “You’ve got your hands full tonight. But you better believe that I’m keepin’ a close eye on every move you make.”

Madison nodded his head as he stood tall before the feed cut away.



UNDERCARD

DAKOTA SMITH VERSUS MOXIE JAMES

The lights dim down as purple and blue lights sweep the crowd and the empty ring. As “You Should See Me In a Crown” by Billie Eilish begins filtering through the sound system, Moxie James bounces out onto the stage, throwing one arm up in anticipation of victory as the crowd hypes her up.

“Bite my tongue, bide my time
Wearing a warning sign
Wait ’til the world is mine”

POWERS: ”The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Coming to the ring first, from Las Vegas, Nevada… MOXIE JJAAMMEESS!!!”

James runs down to the ring, sliding under the bottom rope and leaping to her feet. She leans back against a turnbuckle while she waits for her opponent.

POWERS: ”And the opponent!”

“Blood underneath my nails, I think I’m losing it
Dead hooker to my left, an upside down crucifix
Get my fix from fucking dead hoes and these opiates
Killin’ ’em all, I’ll never fall
I get a rush from stalking bad bitches
Collecting teeth and fingernails to add to my shrine
These voices in my head are telling me you have to die”

“Welcome to Hell” starts to vibe over the speaker system, the lights go dark for a few moments before strobe lights begin to flash light throughout the arena. Dakota Smith pushes his way out of the curtain, a look of disgust, and anger on his scarred face. He doesn’t take anytime to stop at the top of the stage instead just marching down the ramp like a man on a mission. His face twitches in an annoyed fashion as he mumbles to himself under his breath.

As he reaches the bottom of the ramp he comes to a complete halt, standing motionless with his face turned to the ground. Dakota’s breaths start becoming heavy, and erratic – his whole body moving with each and every breath. Then right when he seemingly gets to his breaking point he lets out a blood curdling roar, slamming his fist across his chest and walking closer to the ring. He slams his fist down on the mat and distorts his head to the side, looking out over the audience like a psychopath waiting to see who stares him in the eyes.
POWERS: ”Making his way down to the ring from The Depths of Hell, he weighs in at two hundred and forty pounds and stands six feet, two inches tall. He is DAKOTA SSMMIITTHH!!!”

Rolling in under the bottom rope Dakota plants his fists into the mat and pushes himself, the deranged almost animalistic snarl still firmly on his face. Dakota stalks back and forth in the ring, peering out into the audience once again until it sickens him. He jerks his face away from the audience and stares down the ref for a few moments, a devilish smile forming on his lips as he intimidates the official. A few soft chuckles slip out of Dakota as he slowly slinks back into his corner, his tongue slipping out of from behind his lips as he takes a seat in said corner.

VASSA: ”Now this is a very familiar face that we haven’t seen in 4CW or anywhere since earlier in the year.”

HUDSON: ”Familiar? Yes. Reason to give you an erection here at ringside, Vin? Absolutely not!”

VASSA: ”I don’t have an erection! Do you have an erection? Who has an erection here at ringside!”

HUDSON: ”I saw that twinkle in your eye when you first saw Dakota step through that curtain.”

VASSA: ”Funny coming from you given the type of women you have a fetish for.”

DING!!! DING!!!

Dakota and Moxie circle each other in the ring before Moxie tries to get the jump on the bigger opponent and throws a few quick punches to the face and body, quickly getting out of the reach of Dakota before he can grab her. He lunges for her again, but Moxie quickly ducks and delivers a few quick kicks to the side of the knee. Dakota, smiling, tries for a back elbow to the side of the temple, but Moxie ducks at the last second and delivers a forearm smash right to his kisser. He reaches up and touches the side of his mouth and notices a little blood on the tip of his finger and turns his attention back towards Alicia with a sadistic smile on his face.

HUDSON: ”That face isn’t creepy at all.”

VASSA: ”Tell that to the poor girl that was passed out on Brandon Banks’ couch!”

Moxie tries to dip into the same pot twice with another forearm smash, but Dakota ducks and german suplexes her right into the turnbuckle, her body crashing down to the canvas just as quickly as left his arms. He picks her up and walks over to the turnbuckles where he sits on the top one and starts violently choking the life out of Moxie who is grasping and clawing at anything she can grasp. Just as she is able to grasp of Dakota the referee counts to four and Dakota drops her on her face. Dakota stands on the turnbuckle looking down at his prey and waits until she turns to her back before jumping off and delivering a leg drop across the throat! Rolling over, he covers her for the pin as the official races over from across the ring.

ONE
.
.

Dakota wastes no time and grabs her by the hair to help her up, but Moxie delivers a kick to his head from her back that has Dakota stumbling back and giving her enough time to get up on her own. She rushes Dakota and delivers a drop kick that sends him into the turnbuckle. She runs towards Dakota and to deliver a jumping clothesline, but Dakota moves out at the last second and she goes crashing into the corner. He turns her around and pushes her back into the turnbuckle, delivering a variety of knife edge chops mixed with some elbows before finishing off the fury with a headbutt that sends Moxie on her ass.

VASSA: ”Usually when someone is out of action for as long as Dakota was there’s a little ring rust. I’m not seeing that here tonight.”

HUDSON: ”There’s a lot that you’re not seeing, like your dick every single time you look down! But I have to agree with you here. Towards the end of last year it became apparent that the bumps and bruises he’s taken over the years were finally starting to catch up with him. I have to admit, he looks like he’s actually got a little life inside of that disease infested body of his.”

Dakota pulls her away from the ropes by her foot and places his foot against her throat for a bit, before twisting her around and putting her into a single leg crab. Writhing in pain, she twists and turns as much as her body will let her to get closer to the ropes and she’s able to do just that, forcing Dakota to release his hold.

HUDSON: ”Great awareness by Moxie right there knowing where she was in the ring and getting a hand on those ropes as quickly as possible.”

VASSA: ”I’m a little surprised to see her squirm her way to get to them with Dakota cranking on that leg. There’s still plenty of fight in Moxie.”

Dakota lifts her up off the ground for a deadlift chokeslam, but Moxie is able to wrap her leg around one of his arms and tries to turn him to the ground and is unable to. He lifts as high as he can in the air and drops to his knees and slams her back first to the mat and Moxie releases instantly. Dakota starts yelling obscenities at the fallen Moxie that aren’t allowed to be aired, but I’m sure Hudson will tell you all about them as Dakota has started randomly twitching in the ring. Why? Why does Dakota do anything?

HUDSON: ”What was that you were saying a few moments ago about there still being plenty of fight left in Moxie?”

VASSA: ”I have a better question! What the fuck was Dakota saying just a few seconds ago? I could barely make out a word that he said.”

HUDSON: ”Forget about what he said! Are you seeing him break dance right now in the ring?!”

After he’s done having a seizure, Dakota helps Moxie to her feet like a gentleman only to deliver snapping overhead belly to belly suplex. Wasting no time he runs turns her and delivers a running senton, but Moxie is able to get the knees up and into the back of Dakota has he lands.

VASSA: ”There’s still a chance! Moxie hasn’t thrown the towel in just yet and she just turned things around with a counter for that senton Dakota just attempted.”

She hops up onto the top turnbuckle as quickly as her broken body will allow her. She jumps off towards the fallen Dakota, twisting and turning in the air in an attempt to deliver diving somersault seated senton.

HUDSON: ”Slaughta–“

VASSA: ”NOPE!”

Rolling out of the way, Dakota dodges the aerial assault as she crashes hard to the canvas. Dakota gets to his feet and lifts Moxie up with a full nelson lift and deliver a knee to the back of her skull!

VASSA: ”GOREWHORE!!!”

HUDSON: ”This one’s over but where’s your mother?!”

VASSA: ”More than likely she’s sitting in the–HEY!!! What the fuck, Hudson?!”

HUDSON: ”No time to argue, Vinny! Dakota just put her away for good and now it’s time to end this thing once and for all!”

VASSA: ”This is far from being ended and I will address this momentarily.”

Laying with his back against Moxie in a nonchalant manner, Dakota makes the cover as the official runs on over with the count.

ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THREE!!!

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

POWERS: ”Here is your winner, by pinfall… DAKOTA SSMMIITTHH!!!”



The camera cuts to backstage and the focus is immediately upon the Children of the Moon, Julie Miri and Rebecca Thoreau, who are standing side by side while holding onto each other’s hands. They are dressed in moon themed gear in matching shades of black and silver at the special request of Julie herself. The both of them are wearing big smiles, obviously excited for their tag team debut here tonight, and behind where they are standing on the wall is a mural painted to display moonlight across a city landscape.

THOREAU: ”Hi Hadley!”

MIRI: ”Hi Hadley!”

Both Julie and Rebecca are waving their free hand towards the camera as they send out a special greeting for their god-daughter before they turn to look at each other.

THOREAU: ”We’re ready for tonight, aren’t we?”

MIRI: ”Born ready.”

They share a quick laugh before Rebecca looks behind her shoulder at the mural hanging against the wall before she slightly scrunches up her nose.

THOREAU: ”Don’t you think the mural is a bit too much?”

MIRI: ”Are you kidding me? What’s too much is having to listen to Thot Chocolate attempt to shove every single one of their accomplishments down our throats like bad takeout. Or even worse when someone who can’t cook always insists on being the one to bring the main course to a potluck dinner.”

THOREAU: ”What the hell are you talking about Julie?”

MIRI: ”I’m not even sure to be honest. I think my brain is starting to become affected from having to listen to Thot Chocolate go on and on about themselves.”

Julie frowns as she finishes her sentence before Rebecca takes both of her hands into her own and gives them a reassuring squeeze.

THOREAU: ”Don’t worry because that nightmare is coming to an end tonight. We’re going to show them exactly why they were right to get offended about us getting more attention in regards to our 4CW debut. We didn’t come here to lift the tag team division out of the gutter to fall at the hands of Thot Chocolate, now did we?”

MIRI: ”God no.”

THOREAU: ”No we came here with one specific goal in mind and we won’t rest until we’ve made it come true. I didn’t put up with Bianca Reed’s bitchy attitude a few weeks ago just to walk away empty handed in the end. So whatever stereotype Thot Chocolate wants to throw in our faces is going to be for nothing. Their little alliance is nothing more than a joke and they need to stick to the little ponds where they can be successful. In this big ocean? They’re about to drown and we’re not throwing them a life jacket.”

MIRI: ”All I know is I don’t want to get too close to SILK because I’m pretty sure he’s got STDs that haven’t been discovered yet.”

THOREAU: ”It’s one match and one night Julie. This is our test to prove how serious we are about the tag team division in 4CW and making a statement. We came here with something to prove and we’re going to accomplish that no matter how much it pisses off Cartier to see another tag team getting attention.”

Julie nods her head with a smile on her face as Rebecca lets go of her hands so that they can share a quick high five feeling quite proud to be on the same level of thought.

MIRI: ”So let’s go out there and show them what two moon children can do. We are supposed to be more powerful now because the sun isn’t out.”

Following that comment in reference to something SILK had said both Julie and Rebecca begin to laugh as they walk away from the scene. The camera focuses in on the moonlight mural for a brief moment before we fade out.



UNDERCARD

MAXX BENNETT VERSUS BIANCA REED

We cut back to ringside where Maxx Bennett is already in the ring awaiting the arrival of her opponent and 4CW debut.

POWERS: ”In the ring at this time, please give a warm 4CW welcome to the very lovely, MAXX BBEENNNNEETTTT”

Mike Powers says while winking at Maxx across the ring from him.

The arena darkens as “Rockstar 101” by Rihanna begins to play before the camera takes us behind a woman with purple hair.

POWERS: ”And the opponent!”

She steps out onto the stage, raising her hand and making a fist as the camera looks over her shoulder. She tosses her sunglasses on her head out to the crowd as she heads towards the ring.

“Rocking these diamonds
I’m rocking this chain
Make sure you get a picture
I’m rocking my fame”

POWERS: ”Introducing from Atlanta, Georgia, this is the Princess of the Reed family and the reigning, defending 4CW Tag Team Champion… BIANCA RREEEEDD!!!”

Bianca climbs up onto the apron, drops into a split before sliding under the bottom rope to the inside. She brings her legs together and hops to her feet, already making eye contact with her opponent and running them down verbally while her music fades and before the bell even rings.

DING!!! DING!!!

A lot of mixed feelings from the audience as they continue making their voices heard at Hudson’s first night at the commentary table as the new commentator while they also focused on Bianca dragging Maxx all over the mat. No doubt that Johnson was missed, the Hudson haters wishing he’d already be replaced while the fans that welcomed the controversial figure were looking forward to more of his commentary. A smirking Bianca is elbowing Maxx in the side of the head repeatedly while keeping a firm grip on her hair, trying to knock some sense into her and was enjoying doing so until Bianca catches an elbow to the face as retribution. Maxx then swung her right fist with her all her might at Bianca as soon as she got her hair loose from her grasp and followed the punch to the nose with a hard knee to the midsection.

HUDSON: ”Now this is what I want to see in that ring!”

VASSA: ”You and me both, brother! They’re gorgeous!”

HUDSON: ”First of all, don’t ever call me brother again. And second, can you stop thinking with your dick for five goddamn seconds anytime someone of the opposite sex occupies the ring?”

VASSA: ”That’s going to be a tough one but I’m always up for a challenge.”

HUDSON: ”If that’s the case then I challenge you to eat healthier!”

VASSA: ”Hard pass, Hud.”

Too early into the match to get cocky, Maxx focused on the 4CW Tag Team Champion with keeping her close enough to continue successfully landing her hits while Bianca attempted to start evading Maxx to avoid the continuous punches. Maxx had Bianca close to the ropes and when she went for a clothesline, Bianca dipped, spun around and smirked behind Maxx before taking a step back to dropkick Maxx in the back. Maxx goes over the ropes to the apron and Bianca superkicks Maxx in the face, watching her go down and hit the floor below. The referee begins the outside count while Maxx is getting to her feet, checking to see if her nose is bleeding and doesn’t slide back into the ring until she sees with great relief that she’s not. As soon as Maxx is back in the ring and getting up from her knees, Bianca knees her really hard in the face.

VASSA: ”Did you see Maxx hesitate there for a moment before getting back into the ring?”

HUDSON: ”She was checking to see if her nose was bleeding.”

VASSA: ”She could have done that after climbing back into the ring! If she wasn’t delaying the match then the official wouldn’t have reached a full six count.”

HUDSON: ”She’s given ten seconds to get back in the ring so why not use as much as she possibly can to make sure she doesn’t get blood on her gear?”

VASSA: ”That gear does look rather good on her so I can see your point here.”

She gives Maxx room to breath as if she’s being kind with allowing her to get up on her on but she’s actually just preparing for another attack because as soon as Maxx has gotten to her knees after sitting up on the mat, a dashing Bianca makes her way towards her and Maxx is back on the mat from a sharp enzuigiri. Maxx quickly rolls away slightly to avoid falling into anymore of Bianca’s traps while Bianca takes quick steps towards Maxx, ready to attack again but Maxx has gotten onto her feet alot quicker than Bianca thought she would and ends up missing the superkick she tries to attack with. Maxx strikes back with a brutal backslap to the face of Bianca that sends her stumbling backwards and with Bianca’s back to Maxx, she attacks from behind as Bianca’s wails are heard loud and clear from the impact of the backbreaker.

HUDSON: ”Yikes!”

VASSA: ”More like ouch. Maxx just tried to snap her in half like Bane did to Batman!”

HUDSON: ”That was a costly missed superkick on behalf of Bianca that she’s now paying for.”

VASSA: ”The slap to the face was payment. That backbreaker is extra. Consider it a tip!”

Maxx pulls Bianca on her feet and gets shoved back in the process before Bianca takes a step back, her right hand sliding down to her lower back as her winces let Maxx know that she really got her good. Not feeling any sympathy, Maxx takes that step towards Bianca to let her know that her aching back isn’t her problem and gets surprised by Bianca driving her foot into Maxx’s knee to catch her off guard before Bianca dips to the mat for a leg sweep that knocks Maxx off her feet.

HUDSON: ”Maxx didn’t see that one coming!”

VASSA: ”And neither did I!”

Bianca is ready to put this match to bed as she leans down to kindly assist Maxx to her feet, knowing that it’ll be the last time before she pins her. Maxx has a few tricks up her sleeve though as she shoves Bianca as hard as she can and then drills her in the face with a superkick that almost knocks Bianca’s head off.

VASSA: ”JESUS!!!”

HUDSON: ”It was a superkick for crying out loud! One of the most overly used attacks in this sport and you’re over here acting as it if were some revolutionary maneuver that’s going to change the face of wrestling forever.”

Bianca’s body falling against the ropes saves her from hitting the mat but that’s fine because Maxx suddenly works that into her advantage and rolls Bianca up into a small package, her struggles not being enough to stop the count from occurring.

HUDSON: ”Maxx has her with a quick small package out of nowhere!”

VASSA: ”Here comes the count!”

ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THREE!!!

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

POWERS: ”And the winner by pinfall, the beautiful… MAXX BBEENNNNEETTTT!!!”



The cameras are backstage searching everywhere for something entertaining to watch. They stop in one spot as the cameras have found Toby sneaking around a corner and checking both directions of the hallway. He puts a finger up to his lips as if shushing the person holding the camera.

WAGNER: “Nobody say a fucking word. This used to be a nice neighborhood so to speak and then 4CW decided to hire stalkers.”

He checks both sides of the hallway again before looking back at the camera.

WAGNER: “I’d honestly rather be looking over my shoulders for someone to attack me but let’s be real. Nobody has the balls to fuck with me now. Not after what happened to Luke, and then Logan for doing precisely that.”

A cocky smirk comes across Toby’s face as he pops the collar to his jacket. He goes to speak again but holds a finger up as he perks his ears to listen for something he then sighs and shakes his head.

WAGNER: “Think I hear Maxx so I’m going to make this quick. I don’t have anything else to say about AJ Morales. Tonight he takes another L. Tonight I take another W. Business as usual. Give me some competition next show. I’m getting bored beating up the losers.”

Toby drops his hands and snaps his head down the hallway before walking quickly the opposite direction letting the scene fade to black.



UNDERCARD

THOT CHOCOLATE VERSUS CHILDREN OF THE MOON

Already standing in the ring, the 4CW Pride Champion, Cartier, stands in the ring alongside her partner, SILK.

POWERS: ”Introducing at this time, standing in the ring we have SILK and the 4CW Pride Champion, Cartier! Together… they are… THOT CCHHOOCCOOLLAATTEE!!!”

The two hold their arms in together at the announcement of their team name, Cartier with a little extra added 4CW gold between the two.

POWERS: ”And the opponents!”

The lights dim inside of the arena as “I’m Gonna Show You Crazy” hits and silver strobe lights dance across the audience before putting focus upon the stage where The Children of the Moon are standing. Julie and Rebecca are each wearing a black t-shirt with their tag team partner’s name upon it with a red heart over their matching ring gear. They take a hold of each other’s hand as the make their way down along the stage with the light following them to act as the moonlight.

POWERS: ”Making their way to the ring, from Chicago, Illinois, they are… THE CHILDREN OF THE MMOOOOOOOOOOOONN!!!”

Julie and Rebecca walk around the ring for a moment to draw out their entrance before they jump up onto the apron, leaning into each other with smiles on their faces, before they slip through the ropes stepping inside of the ring. They pose on the ropes for the benefit of the audience before making their way to the middle of the ring to have the spotlight focus upon them as they raise up their hands, still holding onto each other, in a showing of unity. The music fades out as the lights come back on giving Julie and Rebecca time to take off their t-shirts before their match begins.

VASSA: ”So, we all know who Rebecca Thoreau is but oh my god, where have you been my whole life JULIE?!?!”

HUDSON: ”Far, far away from you where she belongs! Standing in the ring before us tonight we have Conglomerate royalty and I hate to break it to you Vin, but you’re simply not worthy.”

VASSA: ”You take that back this instant! I am worthy and don’t you forget it!”

HUDSON: ”That’s debatable and unfortunately for you we don’t have the allotted time to listen to me ripping you to shreds in a debate.”

VASSA: ”Okay, well let me ask you a question.”

HUDSON: ”Shoot.”

VASSA: ”Why did you fire Cartier when you were slumming it down in Kong’s Load? Is it true what people say about you being a racist?”

HUDSON: ”Excuse me?”

VASSA: ”I said what I said.”

HUDSON: ”I’d like more than anything to get into that with you right now but it appears the official is ready to get this thing underway.”

VASSA: ”The exact answer I was expecting from you!”

DING!!! DING!!!

With the sound of the bell this tag team match is on its way. Julie Miri and Cartier start off the match for each of their respective teams, they lock up in the middle but Cartier quickly slips out and elbows Julie directly in the teeth, backing her up. Cartier continues on the offensive slugging out a few more elbows until Julie is backed into Thot Chocolate’s Corner. As Cartier smothers Julie’s face with her elbow SILK tags himself in and kicks her in the midsection. As Cartier exits the ring SILK grabs Julie and lifts her up in a suplex, and as Julie’s back hits the mat SILK flips over her and locks in an anaconda vice! SILK pulls the move in hard, but Julie is quick to use her flexibility to kick Silk in the side of the head. SILK is forced to break the hold as he grabs the side of his head, allowing Julie to get back to her feet.

HUDSON: ”Excellent counter by Julie right there to get herself out from that nasty submission.”

VASSA: ”Very flexible and agile. If not for those two fine qualities she posses she could very well still be on the mat slapping it over and over in submitting.”

HUDSON: ”Thot Chocolate was quick to make the first tag in the match, a great tactic for keeping both members fresh keeping one person from the opposing team in the ring.”

VASSA: ”It’s a great game plan and I’m sure they’ve used this tactic quite a few times in their very successful tag team campaign.”

HUDSON: ”Campaign? Is that what we’re calling it? Sure, thot Chocolate may be successful but so are the Children of the Moon!”

VASSA: ”I didn’t say they weren’t so throttle down there a little bit, bud.”

She scrambled to make the tag to Bex, but is caught by SILK who drags her back to the middle of the ring. The two duke it out in strikes for a few moments but SILK gets the advantage and whips Julie into the ropes and on the rebound he smacks the lights out of her with a spinning back fist! SILK hooks the leg and makes the cover.

ONE
.
.
TW–

Racing in, Bex breaks up the pin before the officials hand can even slap the mat a second time.

VASSA: ”Have no fears, Julie! Bex isn’t going to let anything bad happen to you.”

HUDSON: ”Do you have any idea how creepy that tone you used made you sound saying that just now?”

VASSA: ”What tone? This is how I always talk!”

HUDSON: ”I know and that’s exactly what I’m talking about!”

This doesn’t deter SILK however as he grabs Julie and lifts her up to her feet. He then picks her up in an electric chair position and walks over to his corner, tagging in Cartier who begins to climb up to the top rope. Just as Cartier was about to jump off, Julie hits a wicked downward elbow onto SILK’s head and flips onto his back, planting his head on the mat with a reverse hurricanrana. Cartier looks panicked as Julie gets back to her feet, Cartier flies off the top rope going for a crossbody, but Julie pivots at the last second and kicks her right in the back of the head, spinning her around like a top mid-air.

HUDSON: ”God I hope she is pregnant right now.”

VASSA: ”AND YOU TALK ABOUT THE THINGS THAT I SAY?!?!”

Julie then rushes over to her corner and tags in Rebecca, who comes out the gate ready to whoop some ass. She launches herself at SILK, who was just getting up to his feet, and big boots him out of the ring before turning back to Cartier, who was just getting back up to her feet. Rebbeca scoops her up and lays her out with a back suplex before turning over and raining down blow after blow of vicious strikes onto her head. Cartier tries her best to block the shots, but most come through, leaving the brooklyn brawler seeing stars. Grabbing Cartier by the back of the neck, Bex drags her up to her feet and delivers an almost picture perfect delayed dragon suplex, keeping the hold in as she goes for the pin.

ONE

HUDSON: ”One!”

.
.
TW–

VASSA: ”Cartier gets a shoulder up!”

Rebecca looks at the referee for a few seconds before pushing through her frustration and bring Cartier back up to her feet. She throws her into the Children of the Moon corner and makes the tag to Julie, who enters the ring and grabs Cartier by the side of her head. Julie pulls her back towards the middle of the ring and hits a kneeling neckbreaker, as Cartier’s head snaps up Bex hits her with a discus elbow straight to the side of the head!

VASSA: ”And with that one-two from Julie and Bex the Pride Champion goes down!”

Julie then goes for the pin!

ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.

But once again the reigning 4CW Pride Champion gets her shoulder up. Julie wastes no time in bringing Cartier back up to her feet and throwing her against the ropes, but on the rebound Cartier jumps up in the air and hits a lou thez press! Cartier delivers strike after strike, really getting her second wind and she grabs Julie by the side of the head and drags her up to her feet before hitting her with a hip-toss knee strike! Cartier falls back into her corner and makes the tag to SILK! SILK bolts across the ring, taking out Bex on the apron before focusing in on Julie.

HUDSON: ”It’s just you and SILK now, Julie, one on one!”

VASSA: ”One on one for SILK maybe, but Cartier could interfere anytime. Bex on the other hand… well, she’s a little incapable at the moment.”

SILK quickly hits a stunner on Julie, leaving her a little bit staggered.

HUDSON: ”B-J!!!”

VASSA: ”No thanks.”

SILK then tags Cartier back into the match immediately. Cartier slowly makes her way to the top rope as SILK lifts Julie up in a wheelbarrow position, just in time for Cartier to hop off the top rope with a codebreaker!

VASSA: ”SWEET TOOTH!!!”

HUDSON: ”It isn’t hard to tell with you. I’m sure the diabetes will come after you before too long.”

Cartier hooks the leg as the official slides in beside them with the count.

ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THREE!!!

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

POWERS: ”Here are your winners… THOT CCHHOOCCOOLLAATTEE!!!”



Soon we went right back to Brennan Devlin lying on a couch asleep. A hand from behind the camera gave him a shove and he jumped up, startled.

DEVLIN: ”Whoa, I didn’t see you there. Probably because like I, much like all of you fine people were slowly killed with the boredom that comes from that Ana segment earlier in the night. But don’t worry, someone entertaining is on screen to save all of you.”

He dusted off his outfit and sat up, smiling towards the camera. He tossed a teddy bear dressed in old lady garb aside and stretched.

DEVLIN: ”I’m sure she said something blah blah Brennan left a thing blah blah fantasy blah blah. Nag nag nag. No new content. Honestly, if you have a friend whose DVRing this show. Tell them to just fast forward her whole thing.”

Brennan stood up and took off his pants, the camera keeping just above his crotch as he walked around the room.

DEVLIN: ”I get it, there’s a lot of easy things you can say against me, a lot of bottom of the barrel shit to scrape. But here are the facts. I’ve beaten everyone but Bryan, I’ve conquered monsters like Viduus you could /not/ beat.”

Devlin pulled on his tights and continued to get ready, finally, he stretched and let out another yawn. He was trying his hardest to wake up.

DEVLIN: ”I’m another monster you can’t win against. You’ve made the wrong move and I will keep making your life hell. Regardless of what happens tonight. Regardless of how I make your little fans cry their wittle eyes out when I hurt you in that ring… I told you I’d carry you this one match… after that? After it’s all said and done, I’m going to take what should have been mine a long time ago from Bryan. That is the future, and I suggest you make yourself right with that.”

He held up a peace sign, then chuckled and wandered away. He was off to prepare for his match a bit further, though it was closing in fast.



The camera cuts backstage, where DA #TROLL GUY is gazing at the raised scaffold from the area just before the stage entrance.

FERNANDEZ: “I came into this match answering Madman Szalinski’s challenge, when I had shit to worry about first, mang. Shit to fix after everything’s gone dead wrong again. Throughout this all, however, I never ONCE wavered in accepting the god damned match, should the moment come when it would be booked. Even if Madman went from yes to no from yes with like he couldn’t make up whatever remains of his mind – if he ever WAS serious about this shit in the first place, it didn’t matter to me. Hell, MADMAN himself never mattered to me. To me he was just a guy in a mask, someone who had done something a long time AGO, that had made his name live on despite his retirement, or so I had thought.”

He stands still and gives the camera a silent stare.

FERNANDEZ: “And now that we’re here, and I went and bothered to see if there was ever ANY truth behind Madman’s words, all I found was something that COULD have been, but never was, mang. I found him coming to 4CW just to waste everyone’s time, and I don’t mean just here, but before I even joined. I found Madman Szalinski’s claim of joining to honor a promise to be at least a glimmer of hope, a redeemable quality in all of this erratic, borderline retarded journey. Because THAT’s the only reason I came to 4CW in the first place, mang. Because Perry Wallace and Jason Cashe at the time took an interest, and thanks to them, I am here, have been here ever since, and here I shall remain, come what may, until the time comes I must leave for good.”

It’s at this point that DA #TROLL GUY’s face hardens, and the words that come out of his mouth may be as hard as the fall that awaits whoever is knocked from the scaffold above the ring.

FERNANDEZ: “But even THAT reason for Madman to come back here was nothing but a god damned LIE.”

The echo of the last word reverberates all around Mariano.

FERNANDEZ: “Because let me tell you the truth here, chicos. Madman Szalinski never gave a fuck about this match. He never gave a fuck about 4CW, he never gave a fuck about ANYTHING but whatever shreds of ego he can hold on to once the realization set in that the world has moved on without him. I don’t know what it was that possessed him to look for a match against me specifically, but now that he got it… all I got is ONE sappy, miserable promo about how I’m supposed to be a hypocrite? A sad attempt at raising sympathy before I destroy him as I am meant to do? And don’t EVEN get me started about the “smoking crack on camera” part. For FUCK’s sake, Madman! How much more of people’s time are you going to waste?”

A very visible, but barely contained fury lights up Mariano’s face, as his voice lowers to a near growl.

FERNANDEZ: “The worst part about this all is that I SHOULDN’T be doing this, I shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Surely there was something more important I could and wanted to do. Surely there WAS something I could have spent my time and effort better than indulging this sad excuse for an old man. But since no one else gives a shit, I guess I’m going to have to, because unlike Madman Szalinski, I don’t run away from challenges. I don’t run my mouth online and then bail out at the first sign of trouble. And I certainly DON’T attempt to play the god damned victim when I have the entire world against me. Because I have lived with that since the moment I came to the Corners god damned Four.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh, looking away for a brief moment, before back again at the camera.

FERNANDEZ: “This is a waste of god damned time, but if it will serve to rid us of having to indulge Madman Szalinski’s drug-addled, incoherent, nearly-delusional ramblings any further, then I’ll honor his request and give him the death he asked for. But it gives me no pleasure to do this. It gives me no sympathy. It gives me no god damned satisfaction whatsoever. Madman Szalinski is simply an animal to be put down, and once we’re both in that scaffold, that task will be done. Madman gets put out of his misery, and I get to move on to whatever it is that awaits me. But make no mistake, chicos. This is not going to be a noble death. This is not going to be a mercy-kill. The only thing this is going to be…”

Mariano shakes his head, eyes closed, and when he opens them up again, there is nothing in his eyes but the metallic, uncompromising glint of the headsman poised to let the axe fall.

FERNANDEZ: “… is an execution.”

And with that, Mariano disappears from camera sight, as the feed cuts back to the ring.



UNDERCARD

TOBY WAGNER VERSUS A.J. MORALES

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

The beginning beat of “Bow Down” by I Prevail begins to play as the entrance ramp fills up with smoke from smoke machines.

“GET ON YOUR KNEES AND BOW DOWN”

As soon as the words are screamed Toby Wagner bursts through the curtains to an echo of boos. He stands on the ramp for a minute and rolls his eyes. He looks back to the curtains as if he might actually walk back through before sighing and beginning to walk towards the ramp with minimum energy and enthusiasm.

POWERS: ”Coming to the ring from Chicago, Illinois… TOBY WWAAGGNNEERR!!!”

The boos get louder upon his announcement and Toby smirks but doesn’t address a single one of them as he climbs the steps and steps inside the ring. He doesn’t pose, he doesn’t do anything, besides walk straight to his corner and wave his hand encouraging for them to get on with it.

POWERS: ”And the opponent!”

”WRATH TO THE INDUSTRY!”

After an interrupting voice clip that cuts off the challenger’s music, the opening breakdown of “King of Amarillo” by Issues hits the PA, getting a loud, immediate response of cheers from the crowd. The lighting near the entrance turns gold, vapor starts hissing out of the fog machines, and A.J. Morales’s highlight reel starts to play on the ‘Tron. The Revolution himself emerges from behind the curtain, headbanging along and playing air guitar on his 4CW Tag Team Championship belt. He keeps this up until…

“Get over yourself, they can see right through you /
We are the future like no one ever knew you…”

FWOOSH! Columns of fire go up on either side of the ramp right as the first verse kicks in, and A.J. puts the belt on around his waist and starts walking to the ring, giving fist bumps and high-fives to anyone in the crowd who reaches towards him.

POWERS: ”From San Francisco, California, standing six feet tall, weighing in at one hundred eighty-seven pounds… he is one half of the 4 Corners Wrestling Tag Team Champions… ‘The Revolution’… A! … J! … MMOORRAALLEESS!!!”

“And I can’t wait to say whatever /
And I can’t wait to shed some light /
On every little thing you’ve broken /
And get /
On with my life…”

As the chorus hits, A.J. climbs onto the apron and vaults himself over the top rope with a somersault. He pops up to his feet, takes off the belt in one quick motion, runs to climb to the middle turnbuckle of the nearest corner, and throws up a raised-fist salute to the crowd. He repeats this for the remaining four corners, ending with his own. When he gets there, he looks right into the SkyCam, mouthing along with the lyrics as he holds the belt up. Once the chorus ends, he jumps down, takes off his entrance jacket and beanie, as well as the 4CW Tag Team Championship. A.J. starts squaring up in the corner, psyching himself up for the war to come…

HUDSON: ”For those of you lazy fucks who skip entrances and are just now tuning back in, we’re just moments away from things kicking off between Toby Wagner and A.J. Morales.”

VASSA: ”What are you talking about, Hud? Entrances are like the best part of the entire match.”

HUDSON: ”And that’s why they hired someone like me when Steve finally sailed off to a retirement home.”

VASSA: ”I hate to break it to you but I’m Batman and you’re Robin when it comes to this booth, little guy.”

The ref has a very hard time starting this match formally as both AJ Morales and Toby Wagner are chomping at the bits and flapping their jaws at each other over who is the better man. Each one tries to will the other one to submit in a tense but personal trash-talking staredown.

DING!!! DING!!!

The ref gives up and just rings the bell when they start a shoving match that evolves into a flurry of knife-edge chops, knees, kicks, punches, and elbows. Just when it seems that one of them will get the upper hand, the other one comes right back answering with some stiffer offense. A break in the action comes when Wagner hits a Release German Suplex but Morales stops him in his tracks when he attacks again with a Fireman’s carry slam that sees both opponents fall out of the ring.

VASSA: ”We’re only moments into this match and things have already traveled to the outside!”

Wagner and Morales crawl towards each other with malice tattoed on their faces as they come up to their knees and trade punches. Wagner then lunges at Morales with a Lariat taking him down then mounting him to deliver an onslaught of punches. He picks Morales up by the hair and throws him into the barricade. Then he takes up a pained Morales in his arms as the ref finally stops trying to break them apart and starts the count to get back in the ring.

“One! … Two!”

Wagner runs at the corner post slamming Morales spine first into the unforgiving steel with a powerbomb.

“Three! … Four!”

Morales lies against the post in pain and Wagner takes in the heat from the crowd. He runs at Morales and hits him with a running boot to the face against the post then enters the ring.

“Five! … Six!”

Morales looks dazed as Wagner stands in the ring daring him to get back in.

“Seven! … Eight!”

Morales is willed on by the audience as he is able to get back on the apron. Wagner pushes the ref aside and drags Morales through the top and middle ropes then hits the Go To Hell dropping him on his head with the rope hung DDT. Wagner has trouble pulling Morales away from the ropes but he covers when he does.

ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.

HUDSON: ”NNNOOOOOO!!!”

Morales kicks out and Wagner can’t believe it. Wagner tries to pick Morales up, but Morales hooks a hand on the back of Wagner’s neck and hits an Uppercut. He jumps up to his feet hitting another one. This one really rocks Wagner and Morales rallies with some more flash strikes before he finishes with a Fuckin’ Slayerrrr finally dropping Wagner. Morales goes up top and shakes the cobwebs off before falling onto Wagner with an Elbow Drop. Morales bounces off and winces on the landing, but covers.

ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.

VASSA: ”Toby gets his shoulder up!”

Wagner raises his shoulder up off the ground… to put his fingers in Morales’ mouth for the Mandible Claw.

VASSA: ”Oh my god that’s disgusting!”

HUDSON: ”Since when have you ever paid attention to ninety-nine percent of the things you put into your mouth.”

Morales tries to get free from Wagner while tolerating the pain by slapping at Wagner’s face. This only seems to make Wagner more determined so Morales pulls Wagner up trying to get away. He starts hitting Wagner with some knees then as Wagner pushes Morales back, Morales jumps up to wrap his legs around Wagner and falls pulling the hold off and landing in an Armbar. Morales has all of Wagner’s arm, but Wagner is able to scramble to the ropes before Morales is able to get full extension on the submission and break his arm. Wagner retreats back to the corner to get up, but Morales runs at him to hit him with a Yakuza Kick. Wagner bounces off the corner but Wagner drops him with a striking spear!

VASSA: ”OOOHHHHHH!!!”

HUDSON: ”NINETY-FOUR BLITZ!!!”

VASSA: ”And down goes the quarterback!”

Morales is feeling it as he salutes the crowd and targets Wagner writhing on the ground. Wagner gets up looking like a wounded animal and Morales goes in for the kill. He runs at Wagner who swings a desperate punch. Morales grabs his arm and wraps it around Wagner while dashing behind him. Morales pulls the ripcord and jumps up to complete the Lethal- NO. Wagner stops Morales dead and dumps him unceremoniously with a suplex. Morales rolls through. Wagner raises his arm to lock in the mandible claw. Morales stuffs the attempt and jumps up for another Armbar. Wagner ducks and plucks Morales out of the air. He drops Morales back first with a powerbomb lungblower!

HUDSON: ”THE END!!!”

VASSA: ”It’s not over yet!”

HUDSON: ”I SAID THIS WAS THE END!!!”

VASSA: ”It will be if Toby can secure this pinfall.”

Making the cover, Toby hooks a leg as the official drops down beside them with the count.

ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THREE!!!

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

POWERS: ”Here is the winner, by pinfall… TOBY WWAAGGNNEERR!!!”



HUDSON: ”Remember fans, you still have time to take part in our poll on Twitter on who YOU think will reign victorious in our main event between 4CW Champion, Bryan Laughlin and our North American Champion, Elijah Carlson!”

VASSA: ”This is going to be close, Laughlin has his eye on reaching a year as the top dog here in 4CW but Carlson? He’s reached that landmark already and he’ll see this as a way to put an undisputed claim as the heir to Laughlin’s throne!”

HUDSON: ”Before we head to our next match, we’ve gotten word that Gabriel Hartman has caught up with a new signing to Four Corners Wrestling!”

VASSA: ”Of course he has! He’d probably offer anyone willing to let him hitch a lift to the show a chance to appear on Adrenaline!”

HUDSON: ”Don’t be ridiculous, Vinny! Besides, I have it that this contact has been signed and ratified by Perry Wallace ahead of tonight’s event.”

The camera cuts to the backstage area of Little Caesar’s Arena. Gabriel Hartman stands outside the entrance to a sky box with an excited look ahead of his breaking news story.

HARTMAN: ”That’s right, I’m just moments away from introducing a new wrestler to 4CW who has been quoted ahead of time as seeing this move as “the only logical step” in his in-ring career!”

Knock! Knock!

MAN: ”Yeah?”

HARTMAN: ”Gabriel Hartman, intrepid reporter for 4CW!”

Gabriel waits for a moment before the door swings open and a man steps outside the door. He wears a made-to-measure charcoal suit, the only extravagance in his outfit appears to be the burnt orange evidenced in his tie and pocket-square. He wears the look of a man almost bothered by what was surely a requested publicity shot. Gabriel extends a hand for the man to shake, his handshake is met with nothing but a disdainful look.

HARTMAN: ”Welcome to 4CW, I’m sure you, like the fans at home, have enjoyed seeing the action that has been on display tonight…”

RECOBA: ”Look, I’m busy scouting my competition, I don’t want to miss the opening bell for the next fight. So, be quick or be entertaining – either works for me.”

Hartman seems taken aback by the aloofness of the debuting wrestler.

HARTMAN: ”Why 4CW? What brought you here?”

Recoba cracks a quick smile to himself when he hears the question.

RECOBA: ”Look, I’ve been around the block in my years wrestling, I’ve had my eye on this place since before I stepped foot in a ring. I was born in Cicero, I live just outside of New York City but Vegas…that was the making of me, and in Vegas…it’s 4CW first and everything else is a long way behind.”

HARTMAN: ”I guess what everyone watching wants to know is this…why now?”

The follow-up question elicits the same smile, this time, however, it is paired with raised eyebrows that betrayed incredulousness.

RECOBA: ”Gabe, it was inevitable. People talk about this place as the pinnacle of wrestling, a place where names are forever written, how can I not want that? I’ve proven over the last two years that I can not only hang with the best, I can beat them. You want to know why I’m here? Ask Anastasia Hayden, better yet ask Devlin.”

Cross’ face now is all business.

RECOBA: ”Ask Devlin about me, ask about what happened when he was within touching distance of the summit and he fumbled his chance. Who do you think was on his heels and ready to take that chance away from him? Better yet, go do your homework and find out what happened when we stepped into the ring, that’ll vouch for my pedigree. I’m not here tonight to call out Carlson or Laughlin, all I’ll do with them tonight is spot weaknesses I can utilize when we’re matched up. I’m not going to put the whole company on notice, been there, done that, rewrote the handbook on it…what everyone in 4CW needs to take from my being here tonight is that I will use each one as an example for why I am seen as Box Office for every company I step in the ring for, whether that’s by out-wrestling them or outwitting them. Whoever I face in my debut match, I’ll use you like the spared enemy soldier in war, I want you to go back to the locker-room and tell them what you faced! Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got the rest of the card to take in.”

Recoba shuts the door leaving Hartman and the camera-crew on their lonesome.

HARTMAN: ”Some fighting words from a new addition to our roster, who will he face in his first match? Be sure to find out first by heading to 4CWrestling dot com!”




UNDERCARD

SCAFFOLD MATCH
MADMAN SZALINSKI VERSUS MARIANO FERNANDEZ

We cut back to ringside where there scaffold has been put in place above the ring ready for tonight’s match between Madman Szalinski and Mariano Fernandez who are both on the scaffold standing on their respective sides. The scaffold stands taller than what you would normally expect in this sort of match but here in 4CW we do things big, even when they involve tiny 8-bit individuals.

POWERS: ”Introducing first, hailing from straight out of Purgatory, he stands five feet, eleven inches and weighs in at one hundred ninety-six pounds… MADMAN SSZZAALLIINNSSKKII!!!”

The sound of his name draws a negative reaction from the 4CW crowd. Grinning from ear to ear, Madman looks over the crowd from the top of the scaffold with his arms stretched out to his sides as if taunting them.

POWERS: ”Introducing second from Miami, Florida, he stands six feet tall and weighs in at one hundred eighty pounds! He’s a former 4CW, Pride, and Tag Team Champion, ‘Da Troll Guy’… MARIANO FFEERRNNAANNDDEEZZ!!!”

VASSA: ”We are just moments away from the final showdown between Madman Saladski and Mariano Fernandez up on the top of that scaffold ladies and gentlemen.”

HUDSON: ”Imagine crying constantly and filling up your diaper online to find yourself in this sort of position.”

VASSA: ”I’m sure it isn’t the ideal situation for Madman, but it is what he wanted after all. He wanted the match with Manny and here we are.”

HUDSON: ”Fuck what he wants! He can’t have too much sugar intake but here he his, crying on Twitter all day about his health and then completely deleting everything because no one gives a flying fuck!”

VASSA: ”He wanted only the match with Manny. In a ring, not up on a scaffold after being humiliated by Brennan Devlin two weeks ago.”

HUDSON: ”Why would PErry give him what he wants right off the bat?”

VASSA: ”That’s a good point, especially considering the circumstances leading up to it.”

Down below, the official checks with both “corners” at the top of the scaffold. Unable to hear anything from above due to the surrounding noise level, he shrugs his shoulders before throwing his arm in the air and calling for the bell.

DING!!! DING!!!

The sound of the bell ignites Madman as he instantly dashes away from his side of the scaffold and runs straight for Mariano. Taking quick notice, Mariano then bursts from his side of the scaffold and charges towards Madman. Meeting in the center of the scaffold, Mariano goes to end it early with The Warhammer but misses as Madman ducks underneath his flying forearm. Wrapping Mariano up from behind, Madman grabs ahold of his before he can turn around to face him, lifting him off his feet and slamming him onto his back with a side suplex.

Mariano fluidly rolls backwards to all fours before pushing himself up from the scaffold. Before he can get up from one knee, Madman charges in, leveling him with a running knee to the face. Climbing on top of Mariano and mounting him, Madman then unloads with rapid left and right hands, connecting with two for every three thrown. Catching Madman’s arm as he throws his last punch, Mariano then pulls Madman’s body down closer to him. Mariano tries to roll Madman off of him but before he can, Madman draws his head back and then slams it forward, hitting Mariano with a headbutt right between the eyes!

HUDSON: ”He’s already lost everything inside of his head so what’s he got to worry about damaging up there with a brutal headbutt like that.”

VASSA: ”I don’t know about you Hudson, but I would be terrified to be all the way up there.”

HUDSON: ”Of course you would. Gravity would just love to bring you back down to Earth.”

VASSA: ”My arch nemesis…”

On his feet, Madman slowly pulls Mariano up from the top of the scaffold. Delivering a quick knee to Mariano’s stomach, Madman forces him to double over upon impact. Hooking an arm around Mariano’s head, Madman then goes to lift him up and over for a suplex but before he can get Mariano’s feet more than a couple inches off the scaffold, Mariano brings himself back down as he swings in from the side and drives his fist into Madman’s ribs. Ripping his head away from Madman’s clutch, Mariano then kicks his leg straight out, planting it to Madman’s stomach and forcing him to double over. Grabbing Madman by the head with both hands, Mariano then drops down to one knee, pulling Madman’s head down and slamming his face onto his elevated knee!

Standing Madman straight up, Mariano then draws his hand back as far as he can before swinging in and connecting with an open hand slap to Madman’s chest. Mariano then smacks him across the chest with a second, and then a third open hand slap. Lifting Madman off his feet, Mariano then connects with an inverted atomic drop, stiffening Madman’s entire body as he takes baby steps backwards holding both hands on his crotch. With some distance between the two now, Mariano then rushes towards him, jumping barely off the scaffold. Kicking both legs straight, he drives both feet into Madman’s knee.

VASSA: ”Be careful kicking him in the knee Manny! You’re only going to give him something else to complain about that’s falling apart on him.”

HUDSON: ”Nah, Manny can go for the legs. Diabetes is going to take them eventually anyway!”

VASSA: ”Oh no…”

Madman slowly begins to push himself up from the scaffold, favoring his knee that Mariano just punctured with an “arrow” as he calls it. Walking over to him, Mariano grabs Madman by the head, giving him a bit of assistance to get back to his feet. Swinging his arm upward, Madman catches Mariano completely off guard with a low blow! Mariano gasps for air before dropping to both knees holding himself with both hands.

Madman then grabs Mariano and pulls him up to his feet before slinging him to his side. Falling towards the edge of the scaffold, Mariano goes straight over the side but manages to grab the top of the scaffold with both hands, preventing himself from falling to the ring below. Dropping to his knees in front of Mariano, Madman then begins swinging wildly at Mariano’s head. He connects with rapid lefts and rights as he swings down on him, trying his best to knock Mariano down but somehow, Mariano keeps a firm grip on the scaffold.

HUDSON: ”I don’t know how Manny managed to catch himself there but I’m sure he’s never had to climb over any really tall walls down south where those skills may come in handy.”

VASSA: ”I kind of get what you’re hinting at but your delivery was terible.”

HUDSON: ”About as terrible as Madman’s blood sugar?”

VASSA: ”There we go!”

Madman then begins slamming his fists down onto Mariano’s fingers. Mariano struggles to keep a grip on the scaffold, even looking over his shoulder at the distance of the fall of he were to let go. Madman manages to rip one of Mariano’s hands away from the scaffold, leaving him hanging by only a single arm. Mariano then begins to swing back and forth, picking up more momentum with each swing before finally lifting himself up high enough to grab the back of Madman’s head with his free hand. As gravity pulls Mariano back down, Mariano returns the favor and pulls Madman’s head down, slamming him face down into the top of the scaffold. Madman rolls over to his back in a word of pain, giving Mariano all the time in the world to slowly pull himself back onto the top.

VASSA: ”You know, I imagine that’s how Madman looks crying up there whenever he’s throwing a fit online.”

HUDSON: ”I wouldn’t be surprised one bit but unfortunately for him, he couldn’t block that scaffold from smashing his face in!”

VASSA: ”He can block everyone else though who doesn’t coddle him.”

The two slowly climb to their feet in unison. Still in a daze from the direct blow to the head from the scaffold top, Madman doesn’t see what’s coming his way next. Charging towards him, Mariano knocks Madman flat on his back with a running clothesline. Mariano then begins to stomp down onto Madman’s chest before transitioning his attack to quick, hard kicks to Madman’s ribs. Pulling Madman up from the scaffold, Mariano then swings and connects with a European uppercut, sending Madman’s head whipping backwards as he looks directly up at the lights. Lifting Madman off the scaffold and over his right shoulder, Mariano then throws him down as hard as he can, slamming Madman down to the scaffold onto his back.

Madman rolls back and forth on the scaffold, screaming nonsense about his health as if it really would make a difference against a superior talent such as Mariano. Looking on, Mariano shakes his head before looking out to the crowd where he then throws his arms up in the air as the camera zooms in on his face to read his lips saying “I don’t know”. Out of nowhere, a small black bag flies through the air and smacks Mariano upside the head before falling down on top of the scaffold. Picking the bag up, Mariano then opens it to look inside. Reaching in, he then pulls out an insulin pump to examine. You would think by the way he was looking at it that he was trying to figure out exactly what it was. Before he finally realizes that it isn’t a handheld gaming device, Madman snatches it from his hands and screams “that’s mine!”

Before Mariano can even react, Madman draws back with the small insulin pump and swings for the fences, destroying it against the side of Mariano’s head. Mariano stumbles backwards before tripping over his own feet and falling to his back. With what’s left of the insulin pump in hand, Madman jumps onto Mariano and begins beating him senseless with it until there’s nothing left of it except for tiny pieces on the ring and floor below. Madman then begins screaming and shouting in Mariano’s face as he covers his head with both hands over a laceration from the broken insulin pump that cut him open. A chant then breaks out in the crowd.

“Di-a-be-tes!!! … Di-a-be-tes!!! … Di-a-be-tes!!! … Di-a-be-tes!!! … Di-a-be-tes!!!”

HUDSON: ”Wait, wait, wait… am I hearing this right?”

VASSA: ”You are, Hud. We’ve heard some foul things from the crowd over the years at 4CW events but I’m pretty sure this is the first time ever that I’ve heard diabetes being chanted by everyone.”

HUDSON: ”It’s just the fans giving him an early excuse to use for when Manny throws him from the top of the scaffold.”

Mariano slowly climbs to his feet covered in his own blood as Madman looks on from a distance across the top of the scaffold. You can see the anger building in Mariano as he looks down at the blood on his hands and then back up to Madman who is still shouting nonsense looking for a reaction. He wanted a reaction, well he got it. Exploding from his position, Mariano charges towards Madman, gaining speed with each step as he travels across the scaffold. Just when he’s within arms reach, Madman quickly steps in, lifting Mariano off his feet and spinning him with a tilt-a-whirl.

VASSA: ”Here comes his Scoopstone!”

HUDSON: ”His wha–you know? Never mind.”

Before Madman could wrap him up for the piledriver to finish off the move, Mariano locked both legs around his head. Using his momentum, Mariano continued to spin, lifting Madman off his feet and flipping him across the scaffold with a tilt-a-whirl head scissors. Madman crashed against the scaffold, fluidly rolling a few times before finally coming to a stop on the other side of the scaffold. Seeing stars, he pushed himself up from the scaffold and as he got to one knee, Mariano rushed in and took him completely off guard with a step-up enzuigiri!

VASSA: ”THE GADFLY!!!”

HUDSON: ”Holy shit, who helped him come up with that horrific name to call a move?”

Pulling Madman up from the scaffold, Mariano held him in place as he shouted “FUS RO DAH” in his face. Locking an arm around Madman’s head, Mariano then lifted him upside down into the air as if for a vertical suplex. Stalling with Madman hanging upside down over his head, Mariano slowly and carefully walked to the edge of the scaffold facing the crowd. With no hesitation, Mariano then drops down to a sit-out position, slamming Madman down with his vertical suplex piledriver! Here’s the catch, Madman’s head doesn’t slam down onto the scaffold. Instead, Mariano lands to a seated position on the edge of the scaffold as he releases Madman to fall straight down, head first onto the top of the ring post!

HUDSON: ”OOOHHHHHH SHIT, DOVAHKIIN DRIVER ONTO THE RING POST!!!”

VASSA: ”HOLY HELL!!! HOLY HELL!!!”

The crowd goes silent as Madman’s lifeless body falls from the top of the corner and down into the ring.

HUDSON: ”OH FUCK, MANNY JUST KILLED HIM!”

VASSA: ”THIS IS TERRIBLE, AND AWESOME AT THE SAME TIME!”

HUDSON: ”WE SHOULD BE GETTING HIM SOME HELP RIGHT NOW BUT I CAN’T STOP SHOUTING ABOUT IT!”

VASSA: ”WHY ARE WE SHOUTING?!?!”

HUDSON: I DON’T EVEN KNOW BUT THAT WAS FUCKING AMAZING!”

VASSA: ”AAAHHHHHH!!!”

The official stands close by where Madman has fallen. He hesitates for a short moment before rushing over to Madman’s aid. Checking Madman’s vitals, the official jumps back to his feet and quickly signals for medical personnel. Looking on, Mariano stands at the top of the scaffold and with another shrug of his shoulders, he looks out to the crowd and says “I don’t know”. With EMT’s rushing down to ringside, the official then calls for the bell as if it wasn’t already obvious who won.

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

POWERS: ”Here is your winner… MARIANO FFEERRNNAANNDDEEZZ!!!”

The crowd bursts into cheers for Mariano as he stands at the top of the scaffold. And at that exact moment, it was as if a storm fell over the ringside area as small glass objects began to crash down around Madman’s body.

HUDSON: ”What the hell is this?”

VASSA: ”Is that hail?”

HUDSON: ”We’re inside dummy!”

VASSA: ”You never know, man.”

HUDSON: ”Hold on one damn second! Are those pipes?”

VASSA: ”Those looks awful familiar, like the one we saw Madman use in his promotional video when he–“

HUDSON: ”OH MY GOD!!!”

VASSA: ”Hud, this is only the beginning for you. I can’t even begin to tell you about all the things this 4CW crowd has done over the years.”

HUDSON: ”This place is just as toxic as everyone says!”

VASSA: ”Ah come on now, quit being a bitch, Hud.”

The camera takes one last look at Madman as medical staff attends to him. It’s a sad, a very sad thing to witness. Our thoughts and prayers go out to all of his loved ones.

Wait a second.



The camera cuts to one of the upper sections of the Little Caesars Arena, near the sky-boxes. It’s there that we find our every eccentric, sometimes homeless, and ever intuitive interviewer Gabriel Hartman. He was looking into the camera as if he hadn’t known it was turned on yet – licking one of his fingertips and running it along his eyebrows. It’s then he notices the red light and jumps to action, turning his back towards the camera and leading it down the hallway, stopping in front door of a luxury box. As he turns the handle and opens the door, a thick cloud of smoke rushes out of the box – catching Hartman directly in the face. Hartman breathes the weed in deep by accident before entering to room.

KASSIDY: “HARTMAN! My guy what up bruh bruh?”

The camera turns to show Flash Kassidy and Jay Sinclair, better known as 2HighKru. Both men looked as if they were on another planet, eyes blood-shot red, and goofy smirks on their face. As Hartman gets more into the room, flash yell at him to shut the door behind him – this takes a few moments to process in Hartman’s brain. As Hartman closes the door, Flash snatches up a piece of Little Caesars pizza and plops down on one of the black leather couches in the skybox. Jay sparks up another blunt and moves to behind the couch – both men eyeing up Hartman like he was a comedy act.

SINCLAIR: “Take a seat buddy, whatchu need?”

2high chuckle to themselves as Hartman very slowly makes his way over to the couch and sits on the opposite end of Flash. Jay passes the blunt to Flash, who takes a few hits off it before passing it off to Hartman.

KASSIDY: “Hit this ish man.”

Hartman puts his hands up in the air, in refusal.

HARTMAN: ”No… No I… I think I’m good.”

Jay snatches the blunt out of Flash’s hands and pushes it in between Hartman’s lips.

SINCLAIR: “Mutha’ fuck we said hit that shit!”

Hartman’s eyes go wide as he quickly chokes down a hit off the blunt that was way too big for someone like him, instantly sending him into a coughing fit. Jay grabs the blunt from his hands as the Kru just sit back and laugh at Hartman’s misfortune. As Hartman’s face starts to turn red he looks at both men worryingly.

HARTMAN: ”Drink? Something to drink?”

KASSIDY: “Sure bruh, we gots you.”

Flash then grabs a forty from the table in front of them and hands it to Hartman, who without hesitation begins to chug it down.

KASSIDY: “So guy you got some questions fo’ us or some ish?”

Letting out a moan of pleasure, the fire in his throat receding, Hartman turns to Flash and Jay and nods his head, his expression looking like some who was clearly elevated, quite possibly retardified.

HARTMAN: ” Yeah… Like… You’re TwoHighKru… What are you doing here in the 4CW?”

Flash takes a few more puffs off the blunt before passing it back to Jay, the room once again getting pretty damn smokey. Flash ponders the question,, bobbing his head to the rumble of the attending crowd.

KASSIDY: “Fo’ dem straps of course! Watchu think we here for? Hang out with the homeless hero Gabey baby Hartman? Nawh… We here because we ain’t appreciate how Bad Company turned out, we ain’t appreciate that after all was said’n’done everyone forgot bout the 2high! Bout the Kru! Know what I’m sayin’? See… Beat us once, you got us fucked up! Beat us twice? That shit just don’t happen ya’ feels me? Jay! Tell this man what the fuck is up!”

Jay laughs as he puts his arm around Hartman.

SINCLAIR: “Why do people do anything on another level, Gabby? To get on another level, riiiiiiight? That’s what we are here for. Next level competition, next level titles, next level notoriety. Like my man said, we didn’t appreciate the Bad Company story, so we gotta come back and create our own story. Tournaments are fun and all, but man, that shit just hit different when commit to a bad bitch and play daddy, ya dig? We…want…4CW…Tag…Titles…period. Bring em all out, line em up, and watch em roll like a Fronto leaf.”

Gabe, who hadn’t really been paying attention to anything either man has said reaches his hand out, and runs it down the side of Jay’s cheek.

HARTMAN: “How do you get your beard so straight?”

SINCLAIR: “Oh you like that shit?”

Jay runs his fingers over his facial hair to show it off.

SINCLAIR: “Best barbershop in Vegas, baby, style and finish.”

Flash pushes his hair back before playfully slapping Hartman in the face, trying to sober him up a little bit as he remains mesmerized by Jay’s beard. After a few moments Flash snaps his fingers, finally gaining Gabe’s attention, who is now fixated on Flash’s finger which was pointed directly at his face. Flash chuckles as he moves his finger left and right, Gabe’s eyes slowly following it like an old dog, waiting for it’s a treat.

KASSIDY: “Pay the fuck attention… You gots yo’ Bianca Reeds and AJ’s… You gots ya’ Girls Next Door, you gots the Walgreens Rick James with his stank ass Tanya Hijazi. Got all these teams, and who the fuck even cares? They all keep sayin’ the same damn thing bout how they gonna’ make the 4CW Tag division something, they gonna’ rise it up and make it mean somethin’! Cause thas what they do, they talk and talk and talk and ain’t no one got nothin’ when it comes fo’ action! But we too damn high above all these ma’ fucka’s, straight lookin; down on the competition like they beneath us… And it’s cause truly they is.”

SINCLAIR: “Facts! Because we can be as articulate and wordy as we want, Gabe, but when it gets down to the get down, you gotta back it up. That’s what we do, we talk shit and put in work. So while everyone else is yappin’, Jay and Flash will be clappin’. The hustle gets the victory, real ones move in silence, and before anyone even realizes it, we are gonna have those titles over our shoulders. We got the glow, son.”

Hartman smacks his mouth together a few times as he looks around the room.

HARTMAN: ”I’m hungry.”

Flash lets out a sneering chuckle as he shakes his head, he takes a few more bites from his little caesars pizza, brought to you by little ceasars. Before handing the crust over to Hartman, who inhales the shit like he hadn’t eaten in days.

KASSIDY: “Ya’ got cha’ boy the Royalty Among Rats, The brightest burnin’ flame no matter where he go! Flash Kassidy! And then you got the baddest man in all the lands, Mr. Fix-it himself! Can he do it? Yes the fuck he can! Jay the last ma’ fuckin’ dragon sinclair! And the two of us combined? We make up the Two-Two-TWO! High Kru… And the way we comin’ in? We just gonna’ bulldoze our way through’ ya feel me!”

SINCLAIR: “Word.”

Flash smacks Gabe on the back as Jay grabs him by the shoulders, lifting him up to his feet. Hartman gets a confused, yet somewhat entertained look on his face as he chuckles to himself.

KASSIDY: “Now it’s time fo’ you to get the fuck on outta’ here Gabey. We gots some bitches comin’ and we ain’t want ya’ pissy pants scarin’ em away.”

HARTMAN: “I didn’t piss myself.”

He says as a dark spot starts to form on the crotch of his pants, which cause Jay and Flash to erupt in a hysterical laughter. Jay starts to push Hartman out of the door, struggling a bit as tears of joy ran down his cheeks. As Jay finally gets Hartman out of the room, he slams the door on his face and the camera cuts to the ring.



HEADLINE

4CW CHAMPIONSHIP
NUMBER ONE CONTENDER MATCH

ANASTASIA HAYDEN VERSUS BRENNAN DEVLIN

HUDSON: ”Now this one should be interesting, Vinny what do you have on this matchup because on the surface it could be an instant classic or it could be an absolute car accident.”

VASSA: ”There’s no doubt Devlin and Ana are in the top five of this company right now.”

HUDSON: ”Oh god, did Perry bring back those stupid fucking rankings?”

VASSA: ”No, thankfully. Can you believe that… nevermind. Ana and Devlin are two savages in the ring with equal wit and sarcasm to match.”

HUDSON: ”I’ll be honest, as much as I enjoy watching them in the ring I’d almost rather have the two of them sit in the center on folding chairs and sarcastically tweet insults to each other.”

VASSA: ”Yeah, but do we even know if Ana has a grandma?”

DING!!! DING!!!

POWERS: ”Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one call and will determine the number one contender for the 4CW Championship!”

“Word up, son, word, yeah
To all the killers and a hundred dollar billers
For real, niggas who ain’t got no feelings
Check it out now”

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

”I got you stuck off the realness, we be the infamous
You heard of us, official Queensbridge murderers
The Mobb comes equipped for warfare, beware
Of my crime family who got ‘nough shots to share”

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

”Rock you in your face, stab your brain with your nose bone
You all alone in these streets, cousin
Every man for they self in this land we be gunnin’
And keep them shook crews runnin’, like they supposed to
They come around, but they never come close to”

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

POWERS: ”And the opponent!”

“Low Life” by Crobot blared throughout the arena as the lights went dim. Neon pink and blue lights began to flicker on the stage while a form became visible in the flashing lights…

“Baby they say I’m a low life because I sold my soul to the devil…
Gave up my life for the right price, but I survived.”

A negative reaction erupting from the crowd. Brennan soaked it in as he stood on the stage, chewing his gum as he gave an unamused look to the audience as the lights began to brighten, revealing him standing on the stage.

POWERS: ”Ladies and gentlemen, making his way to the ring, he hails from San Andreas, California, weighing in at two hundred twenty-five pounds and standing at six foot two inches tall… He has requested to be announced as the following… He is the Cornerstone of 4 Corners, the Sultan of Schlong… He is also known as the King Kong of Dong…”

In-ring, Powers brandished a piece of paper, comically large and read off the nicknames. Devlin walked down the stage casually, ignoring the various hands reaching for him as he made it to the ringside area, Powers, as usual, having a hard time getting out all of his monikers. Brennan soon walked his way towards the steps, climbing up onto the apron and standing on it as he surveyed the crowd.

POWERS: ”He is the… Pinnacle of Penile Perfection, the Saint of the Taint, he is the World Class of Ass, and in some circles has been called the Big Dog of Hog, whatever that means. He is the Face of Professional Wrestling… This is… BRENNAN DDEEVVLLIINN!!!”

Brennan chuckled as he stood on the apron, then he stepped over the second rope and into the ring he went, removing his jacket and tossing it aside before throwing his arms into the air in the center of the ring. Once his music faded out, he walked to the corner, resting back against the turnbuckle with a smile on his lips as he awaited the match to begin.

HUDSON: ”Do you hear that?”

VASSA: ”The fans anticipation? The crowd is ready for this one”

HUDSON: ”No, I mean I have Wallace in my headset telling me to fu-“

VASSA: ”Oh that? I’ve been there before.”

With both competitors in the ring, the official checks in with each of them and after getting the okay from both corners, he throws his hand into the air and calls for the bell.

DING!!! DING!!!

Things start off slow as Ana and Devlin both creep away from their corners and slowly head towards the center of the ring. Circling each other, the two size each other up before taking the plunge and locking up in the center of the ring. Ducking underneath Devlin’s arms, Ana steps in behind him, pulling back one of his arms and locking onto it to secure it behind him. With his other arm, Devlin throws it back, aiming for Ana’s head but missing as she leans back just enough to avoid contact. He tries again and again to clock her with an elbow to the face but misses each time as she continues to dodge each blow. After another miss from Devlin, Ana then releases his arm from behind him and delivers a stiff forearm shot to his back.

Before Devlin can turn around to face her, Ana unloads with a series of kicks to the side and back of Devlin’s thighs. Connecting with one last kick to the side of his leg, Ana then spins around and takes off towards the ropes. Getting himself turned around after the attack from behind, Devlin is lit up as Ana flies in and levels him with a high angled dropkick out of nowhere. Stumbling backwards, Devlin crashes into the corner, hitting it with his back before being taken down to one knee from the impact of the collision. Popping back up to her feet, Ana charges straight towards Devlin as he pulls himself back up to both feet. Kicking her leg up before he can fully stand, Ana closes in and connects with a vicious yakuza kick to Devlin’s face!

VASSA: ”Oh my god!”

HUDSON: ”What?! Did she bust him open?”

VASSA: ”No, but how dare Ana go after the money maker?”

HUDSON: ”She kicked him in the face, Vinny not his dick.”

VASSA: ”I said the money maker, Hudson not his spirit taker.”

HUDSON: ”Rest in Peace Ms. Cooper.”

Devlin leans against the corner in an upright seated position with his back against it as Ana stands over him, kicking and stomping any open area he isn’t defending that she can strike. Devlin uses his arms to block a few of the strikes but eventually he is overwhelmed as Ana’s kicks are just too fast for him to defend against. Delivering a stiff blow to the side of Devlin’s head, Ana then backs up to the center of the ring where she then bursts forward and takes off towards Devlin. Closing in on him in the corner once more, Ana then jumps into to air and kicks both legs straight out, aiming her feet for impact upon Devlin’s face. Rolling out of the way at the last possible split second, Devlin dodges a dropkick to the face as Ana crashes into the corner, her legs shooting through the ropes and extending to the other side.

HUDSON: ”A huge miss by Ana! This could be the exact opportunity Devlin needs to get back into this.”

VASSA: ”Even if Ana can recover you have to wonder what kind of Damage has been done, she relies on those kicks to wear her opponent down.”

HUDSON: ”Brennan is UP! This is NOT good. Mama Lisa, turn the Skull Kids away from the TV!”

VASSA: ”Are those actually her kids?”

HUDSON: ”It’s twenty nineteen, Vinny don’t be so close minded.”

With Ana trapped in the ropes, Devlin stands over her, a smile creeping across his face as his next move comes to mind. Lifting his knee as high as he could, he then stomped straight down onto Ana’s face, slamming the back of her head down against the canvas. Moving his foot from her face and across her throat, he pinned her head to the mat with the rest of her body elevated due to her legs still sticking through the ropes. Grabbing the ropes with both hands, Devlin then used them for leverage as he applied all of his weight to a single leg and began to choke her with his foot. Ana fought to break free from the choke for a few short seconds before the official rushed in beside Devlin and began shouting for him to let up on the illegal choke. With no other choice, the official then began his five count, shouting in Devlin’s ear the entire time.

“One! … Two!”

HUDSON: ”Vintage Brennan here, bending the rules but never breaking them.”

“Three! … Four!”

VASSA: ”He’s going to cost himself the number one contendership!”

The official then grabs Devlin by the shoulder and attempts to pull him away from Ana himself.

“Fi–“

Devlin threw his shoulder towards the official, bumping into his chest with it and knocking him backwards a few steps before pulling his foot away from Ana’s throat. Before the official could even grasp what had just happened, Devlin reached down and grabbed ahold of Ana, taking her by the shoulders and dragging her entire body back into the ring. The official takes a step towards them to give Devlin a warning and separate the two but before he gets any closer, Devlin pulls Ana up to her feet and begins clocking her over the forehead with multiple right hand punches. Ana shows that she’s clearly able to defend herself as she throws her arms up, thus changing the officials mind to interfere and continue to call the match.

Taking Ana by the wrist, Devlin then pulls her in as hard as he could with a short-arm clothesline, dropping her flat to her back! Still holding her by the wrist, Devlin pulls Ana back to her feet and this time he pulls her in towards him before releasing her to whip to the ropes. After Ana hits the ropes and bounces off, Devlin runs straight for her, meeting her halfway between where he was and the ropes before flipping her completely over to her back with a kitchen sink. Ana bounces from the canvas and immediately begins pushing herself up but before she can stand, Devlin jerks her by the arm up to her feet.

He goes to whip her to the ropes once more but before he can release her, Ana plants her foot and pivots, pulling him in and sending him racing towards the ropes instead. Upon Devlin’s return, Ana aims high for his head with a superkick but misses as he ducks underneath it and continues trucking to the ropes ahead of him. Hitting the ropes a second time, Devlin then comes back on the return and leaps through the air towards Ana, connecting and wiping her out with a flying forearm!

VASSA: ”Every time Ana tries to mount a comeback Brennan is right there one step ahead.”

HUDSON: ”You have to think that after the choke that Ana just isn’t one hundred percent yet.”

VASSA: ”She better hope she can recover, because it doesn’t seem like Brennan is going to stop any time soon.”

Pulling Ana to her feet, Devlin holds her in place with his left hand before drawing back and swinging for the fences with his right. His fist crashes against the side of her head, turning her body ninety degrees from the impact. Stepping in behind her, Devlin reached back over his shoulder to grab her by the head before dropping down and connecting with a neckbreaker! Rolling backwards, Devlin mounted himself on top of Ana and began to swing away with lefts and rights to Ana’s head. Pushing himself up, Devlin circled Ana for a bit, taunting her with a pelvic thrust just above her head. Reaching down, he pulled her up from the mat and after positioning himself at her side, he took her down with an STO onto his knee to pair it with a backbreaker! Standing back to both feet and lifting Ana with him up to hers, he then locked onto her once more before taking her down in the opposite direction with a reverse STO! Rolling Ana over to her back, Devlin then made the cover as the official raced in beside them with the count.

ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THR–KICKOUT!!!

HUDSON: ”ON INSTINCT ALONE ANA KICKS OUT!”

VASSA: ”She is a former 4CW Champion, Hudson so I wouldnt count her out of this yet.”

HUDSON: ”Maybe not, but her window is quickly closing.”

Circling Ana as she remains down on the mat as if he were a shark circling its prey in the water, Devlin keeps a distance good between the two as he plots his next attack. Groggy, Ana comes to her senses and rolls over to her stomach before pushing herself up to all fours. Sneaking in from behind her, Devlin silently moved in, jumping into the air and lifting his knee as high as he possibly could. After reaching his highest point and his descent beginning, Devlin then kicked his foot straight down, aiming for the back of Ana’s head. Just when his foot came within inches of making contact with the back of her head, Ana rolled out of the way, avoiding Devlin’s Face Time as his foot stomped down onto the canvas.

HUDSON: ”OH GOD I CAN’T WATCH!”

VASSA: ”BRENNAN MISSES!”

HUDSON: ”I thought we were going to have to call 9-1-1.”

VASSA: ”Was Ana playing possum? Or did she just realize she was about to be curbstomped?”

Devlin quickly turns to face Ana but it was too late. Swinging her body around as if she were gliding over the mat, Ana swept Devlin’s legs out from under him with her own. Racing to her feet, Ana just barely made it to her first before Devlin was able to stand completely. Rising from one knee, Devlin thought he was in the clear but was instantly brought to a harsh reality as Ana’s foot connected to the side of his jaw with a stinging right kick. The kick knocked Devlin back down to one knee and from the other direction, Ana’s left leg was closing in to connect with a second stinging kick to the other side of his face! Alternating legs, Ana kicked away at Devlin’s head with no restraint until eventually tipping him over and sending him crashing sideways down to the mat.

Devlin was seeing stars from the repeated kicks to the head but it didn’t deter him from pushing himself up from the mat. Just when he roses to both feet, Ana rushed in and blindsided him, flying in from the side and wrapping both legs around his head to take him off his feet and send him flipping to crash in the center of the ring with a headscissors. Devlin’s back smacked the mat and in a fluid motion, he rolled up to his feet. Rushing in from behind, Ana swung both arms down, hitting Devlin over the back with a double axe-handle. Grabbing him by the shoulder, she then spun him around to face her, greeting him with a swift jab to the mouth. Ducking down, she then wrapped him up around the waist before lifting him off his feet and taking him up and over with a northern lights suplex. Bridging the maneuver, Ana had him shoulders to the mat and not far behind was the official sliding in with the count.

ONE
.
.

Popping a shoulder up from the mat before the official could even reach the two count, Devlin broke up the pin attempt from Ana and forced her to release him. She was back up to her feet in no time before Devlin even attempted to get back to his. Ana wasted no time and went back on the attack, stomping down onto his shoulder with quick, rapid stomps with her right foot. She then lifted her knee as high as she could before stomping down onto his stomach with all of her strength. The impact of the blow to the stomach forced Devlin to lean to an upright seated position. Taking a step back, Ana then kicked and swung her other leg around, planting her foot to the back of Devlin’s head. Positioning herself behind him, Ana then exploded with a fury of kicks to Devlin’s back, each kick landing with a smacking sound that cut through the high noise level of the crowd in attendance.

VASSA: ”You can hear those kicks echoing throughout the arena!”

HUDSON: ”She can’t waste any time here, Vin. Not even a second. Those kicks are vicious!”

VASSA: ”Brennan is wearing the pain of each one of those on his face.”

Pulling Devlin up from the mat, Ana hit him with back to back knee strikes to the ribs before locking onto his wrist and whipping him to the ropes behind her. Taking off behind him, she followed suit and just as soon as his back crashed against the corner, she was right there to light him up with a running European uppercut. The blow whipped his head back, forcing him to look up at the lights as he held onto the top ropes at each of his sides. Firing at will, Ana then began to pound away at Devlin’s chest with thunderous palm strikes. With each landing blow, her strikes grew faster and faster, until she was swinging at a very rapid rate. Connecting with over a dozen palm strikes to the chest, Ana began to show signs of fatigue as the swings grew slower and eventually she ceased fire.

Seeing a window of opportunity, Devlin then swung for Ana’s head, stepping into it and failing to connect as she ducked underneath the passing blow. The force behind the throw paired with Devlin’s fatigue cause him to stumble forward out of the corner as he missed the punch. Ana then runs in behind him and leaps as high as she can into the air and lands on his shoulders. With a leg over each shoulder of his, Ana goes to execute a reverse Frankensteiner but before she can pull it off, Devlin begins to quickly shuffle backwards with her on his shoulders. Jumping slightly off the mat but backwards, Devlin falls down to the mat, causing Ana to crash backwards into the nearby corner!

HUDSON: ”WOW! Did you see the way Ana’s head hit the corner?”

VASSA: ”It was a last ditch effort by Brennan, but with both of them down and not moving the referee is counting.”

HUDSON: ”Who becomes the number one contender if they don’t answer the ten count?”

VASSA: ”With the effort both of them have put forward tonight it’s hard to deny either one of them number one contendership if something like that were to happen.”

HUDSON: ”So, another multi-man cluster fuck match? The 4CW Special.”

VASSA: ”look! Ana is showing signs of life! So is Brennan, but can either one of them use the ropes to get to their feet?!”

HUDSON: ”What if we started a slow clap? Are you with me?”

VASSA: ”Absolutely not!”

As the official shouts eight at the top of his lungs, Devlin finally climbs back to his feet and ends the double count out. Devlin drags Ana away from the corner and up to her knees before kneeling down and applying a front face lock to Ana. She struggles with Devlin trying to break free from the hold but isn’t getting anywhere as Devlin keeps it in tact. He then stands to both feet, still keeping Ana in the front face lock. With his right knee, he begins popping it up into her face over. He then raises her head and turns his back to her, holding onto her head in a three-quarter facelock. He then goes to finish it off with a front face bulldog.

VASSA: “FACE O–”

Ana rips her head away from Devlin’s hold as she pushes him forward while stumbling backwards. Regaining her footing, she falls into the ropes and bonces off back towards Devlin who is in the middle of turning around to face her. Rushing straight for him, Ana then leaps feet first into the air, aiming one foot in particular for Devlin’s head as she connects with a running single leg dropkick!

HUDSON: “SHE WAS ONLY SEVENTEEN!!!”

VASSA: ”THATS GOTTA BE IT!”

HUDSON: ”Ana better hope it is, Vin because I don’t think she has anything left!”

VASSA: ”Can she crawl to make the cover in time before Brennan realizes it?!”

With Devlin laid out, Ana slowly crawls across the mat in his direction before crawling over him and making the cover.

ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THREE!!!

VASSA: ”SHE’S DONE IT! ANA HAS DONE IT!”

HUDSON: ”Thank god we avoided another multi man cluster fuck!”

“Shook Ones (Part II)” hits the speakers as Ana slowly climbs to her feet with a little assistance from the official. Once both are standing, he then takes her by the arm and hoists it into the air to declare her as the victor.

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

POWERS: “Here is your winner and number one contender for the 4CW Championship… ANASTASIA HHAAYYDDEENN!!!”

HUDSON: ”Let’s see the main roster follow THAT!”

VASSA: ”What?”

HUDSON: ”Nothing I’ve just always wanted to say that.”

VASSA: ”We need a moment to catch our breath here folks, but one thing is for sure. We have a NEW Number one contender for the 4CW Championship!”



Back in the kitchen area of the Little Caesars Arena here in Detroit, a crowd has gathered, the kitchen staff, a few random people, the three Von Braun brothers, Gemini Jones and of course Christopher J. Wrigley. Wrigley is no longer wearing the navy blue suit and red tie that he was wearing earlier, instead Wrigley has transformed himself in a proper chef. He is wearing a white apron, white shirt and is sporting a red bandana tied around his head.

Then, a stunning Asian woman with long black hair and a long red dress walks up to where Wrigley is standing and hands over to him a large wooden box. Wrigley thanks her with a little bow and quick saying, she walks off as Wrigley opens up the wooden kit and all the people facing the camera give a quick “oooh” to what is in the box. Gemini Jones blankly stares in disbelief as Wrigley pulls out a large knife and a twelve inch carbon steel knife sharpener. With a quick flick of the wrists, Wrigley begins to sharpen his blade. The craziest thing? Not a single person gathered is finding this to be odd, except for Gemini Jones.

WRIGLEY: “We’re going to start simple here, folks. But, Wrigley might get a little crazy as we move on… did y’all know I spent a year in Italy honing my skills under a number of world famous chefs? I learned a lot from them, but not as much as I did in France a couple of years ago.”

Gemini mouths “what the fuck?” as Wrigley begins to unload on his strangely amazing knife skills on a raw onion and a couple of cloves of garlic. One of the two Von Braun brothers, Brady maybe, who knows they’re twins cracks open a Blue Razz Four Loko and takes a swig in anticipation.

WRIGLEY: “I told myself if I ever had a bad run of luck of this lawyer stuff, I’d open a restaurant of my own. In fact, a couple of years ago I opened up a couple of places in upper state New York, but the maintenance was just too much. Sold the ‘Ribs n’ Gas’… shame too. I have a great ribs recipe, but tonight I’m going simple.”

Like a machine Wrigley throws the onions into the pan, followed by garlic and some olive oil. Wrigley looks around for something in the kitchen, but can’t seem to find what he wants.

WRIGLEY: “What I need… oh wait.”

Just then he snatches the Blue Razz Four Loko out of the hands of one of the Von Braun brothers and looks at the side of the can, and shrugs his shoulders before dumping some of it onto the onions and garlic. Wrigley snaps his fingers towards Beau Von Braun, which causes the man to produce his golden Zippo lighter.

WRIGLEY: “Here we go, like I said, a little crazy.”

With that Wrigley lights up the pan with a “whoosh!” of a flame causing everyone in the kitchen to take a step back. Wrigley hands back the light to Beau.

WRIGLEY: “A little Four Loko flambé! Just to get the pan hot. You know if Eddy Malcovich was here he’d be wondering how the hell that would be possible and then Twitter rant about it for like the next three days convinced magic was fucking happening. Am I right?”

”Motherfucker still can’t figure out a fireball.”

Wrigley doesn’t slow down, as he pulls out a pile of minced beef and dumps it into the hot pan and begins to fry that off.

WRIGLEY: “Everyone watching this? You need to brown the beef as fast as possible, trap that flavor. Now, this one is going to make all the diabetics on the 4CW roster extremely happy as we’re going to use lettuce wraps instead of tortillas.”

Wrigley begins to chop up some chilis and other things as the crowd continues to look on in amazement as to what exactly is happening. Gemini Jones still has no fucking clue how this has happened.

WRIGLEY: “Once you get all that flavor to set, we’re going to wrap the chili beef in these wraps along with this fresh sauce that I prepared earlier and we’ll see what everyone thinks. I’ll put one aside for A.J Morales, which I’ll drag my balls across a number of times before he takes a bite.”

”Make sure we save that one, and that Eli doesn’t try to ram it down his throat first.”

Wrigley begins to serve up the lettuce wraps with the chili beef and makes sure the first one goes over to Gemini Jones. Jones looks around, still confused as to how this all happened, and takes a bite. His reaction is unmistakable, that is one fucking tasty dish.

Wrigley slams the apron down onto the table in response.

WRIGLEY: “Now make me the real motherfucking potato salad!”

With that, Wrigley storms off leaving everyone else to stand there trying their best to get a helping of what he’s prepared tonight here in Detroit.



As we cut to the backstage area, we are greeted with none other than Perry Wallace making his way out of the restroom, as he wipes his hands on his expensive looking suit he starts to make his way towards his office. Before reaching his office however he takes a few moments to stop one of the staff members.

WALLACE: “Hey you, go find Feets and tell him that I left him a special present in that bathroom over there.”

Laughing at his own joke Wallace continues to his office, a cock of the walk strut to every one of his steps. He was extruding confidence, the kind of guy who thought he was the king of the world – and he very much was. Turning the corner to his office he ran his fingers through his curly hair and gave another staff member the finger guns before finally making it to his door. He places his hand on the handle and turns it, pushing it open.

SMITH: “SOOOOOIE!”

The deep, rough sounding pig called caused Perry Wallace to jump, he quickly looks up to see Dakota Smith sitting behind his desk with an arrogant smirk on him peeking through his beard. Dakota had his boots up placed up on top of Wallace’s desk, and was licking his fingertips – still tasting Moxie James on his flesh. Dakota’s eyes however never left Wallace, who was hesitant making his way into his office.

WALLACE: “Well, well, well…”

Perry says rubbing his hands together.

WALLACE: “This is quite the surprise, old friend.”

Dakota lowered his hand from his lips and chuckled underneath his breath.

SMITH: “Is it really though… Friend? I heard you got my message, I saw the look on your face when you found poor little Jebediah all strung up like a christmas ham. Glazed and delicious.”

Laughing once again, this time Perry joins him – though in an uncomfortable manner. Dakota then drops his feet from the desk and leans forward.

SMITH: “So what? You don’t offer your oldest friend a drink? Mmmm…. That’s rather fucking rude of you Wallace.”

Looking across the room at the bar, Perry then shifts his eyes back towards Dakota.

WALLACE: “To be fair, I just walked in here, but we can have that drink if you want.”

Heading over to the bar, Perry grabs a couple glasses and fills them both with his usual drink, scotch.

WALLACE: “So, is the stay at home dad life starting to get to you, finally?”

As Perry hands Dakota his drink, the butcher grabbed ahold of his wrist.

SMITH: “They’re… In a better place now.”

Dakota then lets go of Perry’s wrist and takes the drink from his hand, the butcher swishes the dark liquor around in the glass for a few moments before taking a sip. As the alcohol hit his lips, Dakota let out a rough sounding moan – his eyes closing for just a split second as he seemed to be remembering something. As he pulled the glass away from his lips he looked back at Wallace.

SMITH: “You don’t… You don’t want to walk down that path with me again Wallace, you want… You want to watch your fucking moulth…. Isn’t that right buddy o’ pal? You didn’t mean to offend… You were just making a joke, trying to have a laugh with the man who they once called your mad dog… Isn’t that right?”

Dakota downed the rest of his glass and slide it across the table towards Perry.

WALLACE: “It’s just shits and giggles, man. You know damn well that I’m happy to have you back inside of a 4CW ring. It’s been too long since you stepped away from a career that is far from dead.”

Perry takes a drink himself before slowly walking over towards the desk and sitting on the edge of it. He makes himself comfortable as he looks across the room at his longtime friend, that or he just had to take a heavy load off of those feet of his. You decide.

WALLACE: “So… let me ask you. How does it feel to be back?”

Dakota’s smirk had grown into a grin as he eyes Perry up and down, almost as if he was looking through him.

SMITH: “It feels… So fucking great, it feels like i’m home – like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Like I can finally fucking breath again… But you know what? With every single breath this hunger grows… This incurable emptiness that I feel inside of me, this carnivorous feeling that I get when I think about being inside of that ring. When I left I thought I had it all, but I don’t think I was ever more broken… Crippled by the weight of the world, the things that I thought I had to do…When I walked away I was happy, but was I really Wallace? Was I fucking really?”

WALLACE: “Well, you seemed happy given the circumstances and what you were leaving the ring to go home to.”

Perry replies with caution before taking another drink from his glass.

WALLACE: “I know you, though. I know that what you do best is out there in that ring. I know it, and so do you. I’m not taking anything away from what you left for, but we both know back home and outside this office in that ring are two completely different worlds. Despite what you had previously accomplished or what you had waiting for you outside of the ring, like I said earlier, you stepped away from something that was far from being dead. It was only a matter of time before that itch crept up on you!”

Dakota’s eyes were almost blank as his glare fell from Wallace and onto the floor.

SMITH: “Happiness is like an infection, withering you away until you are nothing left… My body started to break down, I couldn’t walk the same and every muscle in my body ached every second of every fucking day… But still I pushed on, until it was just too much to bare… too much to withstand, I retreated into a warm embrace, the promise of happiness… But it was that very thing that was killing me, every day I became less and less the Butcher of 4CW, and more Dakota Smith… More the man behind the mask, the mask that I built!”

Slamming his fist into the desk, Dakota’s fire filled eyes reconnected with Perry’s.

SMITH: “The name that I built was cracking just as my body was! I wasn’t dead…. But I may as well have been… Because I forgot who I was, what I wanted to accomplish… I forgot that the path I walk is built on blood and bodies, and any deviation from that path is just me trying to be human. And by all accounts, by everyone’s recollection… I am not that. I never was. Just a sheep in wolves clothing, so…So fucking hungry.”

Dakota let out a low growl as he reached into his pockets and pulled out a cigarette, placing it between his lips and lighting it up as he waited for Wallace’s reply.

WALLACE: “Still hungry after your first meal back?”

Perry asks as he raises the glass to his lips and takes a small drink.

WALLACE: “That’s good, because there’s a whole buffet to feast yourself on out there!”

Perry points to the television on the wall which displays the empty ring, but more importantly the 4CW logo on it.

WALLACE: “You’ve had a lot of time to heal and recover from the wear and tear you’ve put yourself through over the years. You’ve had plenty of time to let the batteries recharge so to speak. Go out there and do what you do best. Go out there and prove to the world that The Butcher still lives and breathes inside of Dakota Smith. That’s what you really want, isn’t it? You want the taste and stench of someone else’s blood on your lips by you own two hands!”

The butchers eyes linger on the floor for a few more moments, still seemingly lost in his own thoughts before hazily looking up at the TV screen.

SMITH: “I thought I had given my all to this company.”

There’s a long silence in the room, before Dakota let out a soft but chilling chuckle from underneath his breath.

SMITH: “But you’re right.”

As Dakota turned his head back to Perry his eyes had gone wide, and his grin was so stretched it looked as if it was about to tear the sides of his lips.

SMITH: “I have so much more to give this company, I have everything to give it! My everything, but not just 4CW… The wrestling world Wallace, it needs people like me, someone like me… I’m the bad guy, I’m the butcher, I’m the monster who violates your local hookers. I am… Dakota Smith… Right? That’s what you want me to say… That’s what you want from me, what you’ve always wanted… It’s why I’m your mad dog, your butcher, the knife that carves through this company separating the haves from the have nots…Moxie James was a have not.”

Finishing off the remaining liquor in the bottom of his glass, Perry stands beside Dakota, placing a hand on his shoulder.

WALLACE: “It’s good to have you back, Dakota. You’ve built a reputation for yourself over the years inside that 4CW ring and I for one am excited to see what you’re going to bring to the table next.”

Pulling his hand away, Perry walks past Dakota and out into the hallway. He stands still for a few short moments, holding his hand to his ear as if trying to hear something in the distance, but there was nothing to be heard. Only silence.

WALLACE: “It’s too quiet around here. Do you hear that, Dakota? Because I don’t hear shit! Make some noise around here. Cause a fucking ruckus like the Dakota Smith I remember seeing rule 4CW with an iron fist.”

By the time Wallace gets out those words, Dakota is already standing behind him. Did you see him get up? I don’t know. But there he stood behind Perry with his head crooked to the side and smirk upon his devilish lips.

SMITH: “Whatever you say… Boss.”

Another more disturbed giggle squeaks out from behind The butcher’s grin as he pushes past Perry, making his way down the hall. Once he gets a few feet away from Perry, Dakota starts to hauntishly whistle the tune of “ Teddybear Picnic”. The camera slowly fades to black before switching over to ringside.



MAIN EVENT

CHAMPIONS SHOWCASE
ELIJAH CARLSON VERSUS BRYAN LAUGHLIN

POWERS: “Ladies and gentlemen we have reached the MAIN EVENT of the evening. The following contest is a showcase of champions and is scheduled for one fall.”

”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. As the volume heightens, his characteristically arrogant smirk widens into a full on grin as he uses his free hand to wave to the crowd sarcastically while he begins his walk down toward the ring and the confrontation that awaits him.

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

Finally reaching the bottom of the ramp, Eli pulls himself up onto the ring apron and then quickly moves to the nearby corner, stepping up onto the middle turnbuckle, raising the championship belt high into the air once more. Simultaneously, with his free hand, he extends it outward with his middle finger jutting up into the air, 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 grows in volume he swings the weight of his body over the top rope and drops his feet down to the canvas deftly. For a split second he casts a glance back up the ramp as though expecting the 4CW Champion to be on his way down to the ring. When no one is there, Eli simply shrugs and hands the title over to the referee who presents it to the crowd before handing it through the ropes to be taken to the time keeper while the North American champion bounces on his feet, loosening up for the match to come.

POWERS: ”Introducing first, from New York City, New York, standing six feet, one inch tall and weighing in at two hundred ten pounds, he is the reigning, defending 4CW NORTH AMERICAN CHAMPION… ELIJAH CCAARRLLSSOONN!!!”
HUDSON: ”Legoboy looking confident tonight as he strolls into the main event.”

VASSA: ”Why wouldn’t he be? He’s been undefeated for twenty nineteen.”

HUDSON: ”Plus with a new kid on the way he must be pretty excited that Gen’s womb is no longer a barren womb.”

VASSA: ”Jesus Christ.”

The heavy opening guitar riff from “Out of My Mind” by Mushroomhead hits over the speakers as a slight fog grows around the curtain and Bryan Laughlin emerges walking slowly and stopping in the middle of the stage he tightens his leather gloves on his hands allowing the strobe lights that are methodically flashing to the bass thump in the music drown him in mystery.

“Judge me for what I am
The passage of death
You don’t play, you don’t win
You change nothing
You gain nothing
Everybody’s out from here on in”

POWERS: ”Coming to the ring Los Angeles, California by way of Cleveland, Ohio! Weighing in at two hundred twenty five pounds and standing six feet, two inches tall, he is the 4CW CHAMPION, this IS, BRYAN LLAAUUGGHHLLIINN!!!”

As he reaches the apron of the ring he turns to put his back on the apron and stare back at the entrance ramp that he had just walked down. Throwing his hands up in the air as the chorus hits and the lights simultaneously travel to him in a spot light that he basks in with his eyes closed. Pulling his vest open he beckons the camera to come close with his index finger and then points to his waist where the 4CW Championship is strapped. He then smiles before sliding into the ring on his stomach and makes eye contact with the nearest camera for a bit longer than most would before hopping to his feet and duplicating what he did outside on the apron by leaning against the ropes.

”LAUGH-LIN! … LAUGH-LIN! … LAUGH-LIN!”

The 4CW champion basks in the adoration of the fans as Eli rolls his eyes in disgust at the scene before him. A moment later the referee retrieved the 4CW Championship and presented it to the audience before passing it to the outside to be taken to the timekeeper for safe keeping. He then goes through the process of explaining the rules of the match to each competitor. As he does so the camera briefly switches back to the commentary table where Vinny Vassa and Hudson Hughes are waiting to provide their expert analysis.

VASSA: ”We’ve already found our number one contender tonight, but you have to think that regardless of the championship Eli holds that a victory tonight puts him right there in the running.”

HUDSON: ”These two met a long time ago when one of them was abusing painkillers and the other one was listening to My Chemical Romance, so right away I’m throwing that out the window. This one is a toss up, Vin.”

VASSA: ”Well, with Laughlin just landing from his other Battleground Network job in Japan I can only hope he’s not thinking Eli will take it easy on him because of his jet lag.”

DING!!! DING!!!

Having finished the review of the rules and ensured both men were ready to compete, the referee flourished his hands in the air and signaled to the time keeper for the start of the match. Both Bryan and Eli made their way in lock step to the center of the ring, staring each other down and jawing at each other for a moment. It would be Eli who acted first, raising his right hand up to smack Laughlin across the mouth but before he could make contact Bryan simply grasped him by the wrist and shook his head no. For a moment the North American champion’s face went a little on the pale side until Bryan reeled back and uncorked a clothesline that turned Eli inside out, flipping him head over heels before he slammed down awkwardly to the mat and from that moment things truly began to kick off.

Bending down, Laughlin retrieved the body of Elijah Carlson and pulled him back up, driving a few stiff right hands to the side of his head before whipping him into the nearby ropes. When Eli rebounds and comes dashing back across the ring he just narrowly misses the massive boot that Laughlin had aimed toward his head, ducking under it and coming to a halt a few steps behind the 4CW Champion. In one fluid motion Eli shifted his bodyweight and spun on a dime only to drop a shoulder right to the back of Laughlins left knee. Springing back up to his feet with Bryan in a kneeling position, Eli turns and runs to the nearby ropes, bouncing off of them. As he draws near to his opponent he leaps and wraps his arm around the back of Laughlin’s neck just as Bryan began to stand up once more. Using all of his strength, Laughlin interrupts the attempted bulldog and instead manages to get both of his hands underneath Elijah, hurling him across the ring where he crashes back down to the canvas. Instead of laying still, however, he smartly rolls to the outside of the ring and drops down to the floor to buy himself a few extra moments.

Not letting the crafty Carlson collect himself, Bryan slips to the outside of the ring and goes charging around the ring. He reaches his top speed just as he lowers his shoulder right as Eli stands and turns in his direction, flattening the North American champion with a wicked shoulder block. A sickening thud echoes and causes even Laughlin’s staunchest fans in the first few rows to wince as Eli’s head bounces off the thin protective mat that lay over the cold, hard concrete.

VASSA: ”Good god that Laughlin is a mack truck.”

HUDSON: ”His body never stopped, he ran right through Eli and his head bounced off the floor. That’ll even out the jet lag.”

VASSA: ”The size difference between the two is evident early. Eli’s only hope is to try and quicken the pace of the match the way we saw Manny or Bronx do in the past.”

HUDSON: ”Did….you just compare Manny to Bronx?”

VASSA: ”They’ve both beaten the champion before using similar styles.”

HUDSON: ”Vinny, this is your last god damn warning. Do not.”

Relentless, Bryan grabs Eli by the back of his head and pulls him up, rolling him back into the ring and following suit soon after. On his hands and knees Eli tries to scramble away to the opposite side of the ring. Laughlin allows him his momentary reprieve, following him slowly while tugging on the gloves that adorn his hands. As Eli uses the turnbuckle pads to pull himself back upright, he leans into the corner to catch his breath. But as he turns it is at that exact moment that Laughlin pounces, driving rapid forearms one after another into the side of Eli’s head. Bryan then steps up onto the middle rope with Carlson trapped in the corner and begins to rain down heavy right hands, the crowd counting along with each consecutive punch all the way up to the tenth.

Dropping back down to the canvas, Laughlin draws his thumb across his throat as Eli stumbles out of the corner toward him. Swooping around, Bryan locks in a full nelson, tying Eli’s arms up and pressing his head forward before suddenly snapping him back overhead into the nearby corner. Dump’d! Shifting his weight, Laughlin lines Carlson up as he stumbles forward out of the corner again and a loud crack echoes around the around as Eli slams back first onto the canvas having been caught with a picture perfect Best Super Kick Ever! The crowd implores Laughlin to look for the pin but instead he seeks to put a different exclamation point on the match, first locking in a lovely camel clutch as Eli groans in agony while flailing his arms for the ropes nearby, looking for a break. However, before his hands can get there Laughlin transitions into a dragon sleeper, a series of holds that he calls Stretchem!

VASSA: ”Laughlin didn’t go for the pin?! I can’t imagine why.”

HUDSON: ”He’s a fucking meat head, Vinny. And it’s clear that tonight he’s on a personal mission regardless of him trying to always think of the company. It’s not best for business to take out one of the top drawing stars just to pat your stats.”

VASSA: ”Oh my GOD! The pressure he has Eli in right now. Look at his eyes bulging from his head!”

As Laughlin continues to wrench the sleeper hold deeper and deeper in, the referee draws near and grabs onto Eli’s arm. Raising it up into the air he lets it go and it falls back down, limp as the crowd chants “ONE!” and begins to buzz as Laughlin continues to lock the hold in even further. A second time Eli’s hand is raised and it falls back down limp, drawing a raucous “TWO!” from the live audience. Just as the referee was about to drop his arm for the third time, however, Eli finds some source of strength deep within him to drape his leg up and over the bottom rope. The movement draws the referee’s attention and soon enough he’s forced to make the 4CW Champion release the sleeper hold, much to the dismay of the crowd who thought for sure their monster king had put the North American champion to sleep.

HUDSON: ”He broke it! He broke the hold! That’s why you go for the pin in that situation Vinny. You simply CANNOT give Eli a chance to create space and catch his breath.”

VASSA: ”No doubt, and he’s clearly wearing regret on his face right now. Regardless of the punishment he does NOT look pleased.”

HUDSON: ”He probably just needs an energy drink or something.”

There’s a flash of frustration across Laughlin’s face as he releases his opponent and pushes himself back up to a standing position, discussing with the referee the decision that had been made. When it becomes clear he wasn’t getting anywhere, however, Bryan turns his attention back to the fallen Elijah Carlson and drags him back up to a standing position, though he’s forced to support most of Eli’s body weight as it seems Carlson had a lot taken out of him by the camel clutch and dragon sleeper combination. In one fluid motion, Laughlin hoists Eli up onto his shoulders and the crowd once more is up and on their feet, a ripple of tension and energy bursting across the arena as they seem to know what’s coming. With ease the hulking figure that is the Monster King tosses Eli up into the air, rotating him slightly but before he can act from there, Eli manages to wrap his arm around the back of Laughlins neck and instead of coming down onto the two knees of the 4CW Champion like the crowd had expected, Eli instead manages to counter Good Morning America with a stiff DDT that brings the pendulum of momentum to a screeching halt!

VASSA: ”WHAT A REVERSAL from the North American Champion! Thousands in attendance thought the champion was going to make short work of this one!”

HUDSON: ”And now Eli has a chance to recover while Laughlin shakes the cobwebs out.”

VASSA: ”Eli HOPES to recover, Hudson. He still hasn’t moved.”

Neither man moves for what seems like an eternity. Eli, having rolled over onto his stomach, and Laughlin laying flat on his back. But it’s the North American Champion who moves first and begins to crawl his way to the nearby corner. Slowly he drags himself up one turnbuckle pad. And then another. And then a third before looking back over his shoulder to check to see where his opponent is. Spotting Laughlin still laying there recovering from the effects of a nasty DDT, Eli decides to step through the ropes and onto the ring apron where he then begins pulling himself up to the top rope. The crowd starts to rise in volume, trying to warn their champion as Eli finally manages to make it all the way up. He steadies himself with one more glance at the Monster King before turning his back to him and committing himself to a full fledged moonsault. Just a single one. Not any of that stupid ass triple moonsault bullshit.

Flipping through the air in seeming slow motion as the flashes of cell phones and cameras around the arena ignite, everything seems to speed up as Eli comes crashing down toward the mat and, more importantly, right onto the raised knees of the 4CW Champion. Clutching his stomach, Eli rests on his knees and slowly starts to push himself upright. Meanwhile, the Monster King seems to have been playing possum and gets back to his feet much more quickly, lining up another picture perfect BSKE that flattens Eli just as he gets back to an unsteady vertical base. Quickly, Laughlin lunges and dives across the fallen body of Elijah Carlson, pressing his shoulders down to the mat as the referee slides in.

HUDSON: ”Did you see that?!”

VASSA: ”The Superkick?!”

HUDSON: ”No, I’m pretty sure he just kicked one of Eli’s teeth out. How is he going to do that retard smile now?!”

VASSA: ”I thought maybe you meant the way he slapped his leg when he kicked Eli.”

HUDSON: ”Why the fuck would he do that?”

ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THR–KICKOUT!!!

In just the knick of time Eli manages to get his shoulders up off of the mat and again Bryan Laughlin looks frustrated. He’s controlled the majority of the match up to this point and it’s one of those things that the longer it goes on the more it just seems like he can’t quite put Eli away for good. But his resolve doesn’t waiver and he bends down to drag Eli back up to his feet. After a few stiff forearms, Bryan takes a few steps back and drives a running european uppercut straight into the jaw of the North American Champion, flattening him. Yet even as he hits the canvas Eli is rolling to his stomach and pushing himself back up to his feet. Again, Laughlin takes a moment to pull on his gloves, tightening them around each of his hands as he hunts his opponent like a predator.

Reaching down once more, Laughlin drags Eli back up to his feet and spins him toward him. In the flurry of motion, Eli suddenly goes down clutching at his face, screaming that Laughlin poked him in the eye. The referee quickly steps in between the two and begins lecturing the 4CW Champion and warning him. As all of that is unfolding, Eli scrambles over to the near corner and quickly begins working at the cords that keep the top turnbuckle pad in place. Quickly he loosens and unties them and casts the pad down to the floor outside of the ring. He then turns back to the referee and Laughlin just as they’re finishing their discussion with one final warning from the referee. Bryan, in his annoyance, lunges at Eli but Carlson ducks under and takes off toward the opposite ropes. In a flash he’s rebounded and is rushing toward the 4CW Champion again and before Bryan can get his hands up defensively, the North American champion flattens him with a nasty Red Light Special! There’s no hesitation on the part of Eli as he quickly dives and hooks the leg of his opponent, the referee sliding into position once more.

HUDSON: ”THAT’S IT! THE STREAK CONTINUES!”

ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THR–KICKOUT!!!

VASSA: ”NO! The 4CW Champion kicked out!!”

The crowd erupts with glee as Bryan just manages to shift his shoulder off of the canvas in time. Unsurprisingly, Elijah Carlson isn’t happy about it at all and suddenly the roles are reversed. Where Bryan had been arguing with the referee moments before, now it was Eli who was up on his feet and screaming in the mans face. It escalates further as Eli backs the zebra striped official into the corner, jabbing his finger into the mans chest over and over again. He then slapped his hands together in a one-two-three fashion more than once, emphatically stating that it had to have been a three count. All the while Laughlin is being given time to recover and regain his bearings, and that’s exactly what the Monster King does. First he finds his way up to all fours. And then to one knee. And then to a vertical base.

From there he goes in pursuit of what he thinks is an unsuspecting opponent but Eli just manages to duck out of the way and swoop behind him. The referee smartly scurries out of harms way just as Bryan turns back to face Eli. Carlson lines up a superkick for Laughlins jaw but Bryan manages to catch Eli’s foot just a hair from making contact with his jaw, and with a smirk Laughlin shakes his head, throws Eli’s leg down hard enough to spin him around and it’s there that Laughlin catches him in a full nelson. Much like earlier, he rifles Eli over head and this time Dump’d connects but into the turnbuckle that Eli had exposed a few minutes prior! He’s too close to the ropes to pin where he’s at, though, and so Laughlin grabs him by the leg and hurriedly drags him toward the center of the ring before dropping down and pressing his shoulders to the mat for the pinfall attempt.

HUDSON: ”Jesus Christ Laughlin, the man can’t spare anymore braincells!”

VASSA: ”Live by the sword, die by the sword. Laughlin maid him pay for that one!”

HUDSON: ”Gen is going to have to feed her daughter and her husband with a bib on if this continues.”

VASSA: ”Laughlin hooked the leg!”

HUDSON: ”THIS COULD BE IT!”

ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THRE–KICKOUT!!!

HUDSON: ”OH MY GOD Eli kicked out!”

VASSA: ”I don’t know who is more shocked. The fans right now or the 4CW Champion!?”

HUDSON: ”He’s going to get desperate, Vinny. I know this guy real well. Almost better than I know myself, and I’m telling you he’s going to get desperate.”

VASSA: ”Desperation or not, the fans are on their feet right now for the 4CW Champion!”

Exasperation and shock registers on the face of the 4CW Champion and it matches that of the fans in attendance. Still, they fuel him onward with their chants and support, begging him to stay focused on the task at hand.

“LET’S GO LAUGH-LIN! … LET’S GO LAUGH-LIN! … LETS GO LAUGH-LIN!”

Nodding his head, Bryan waves spirit fingers in anticipation as he takes a step back and lets Eli begin to work his way back up to his feet. Carlson, clutching the back of his head from where he had made impact with the exposed turnbuckle, doesn’t seem to have any idea of his surroundings or what is waiting for him when he manages to get back up. It’s purely instinct that fuels him now and as he gets back to his feet he suddenly feels himself hoisted upward and onto the shoulders of the 4CW Champion. Again, on instinct, he flails his legs and manages to shift his body weight enough to slip down Laughlin’s back. Sprinting toward the ropes once more he rebounds and Laughlin spins in his direction, only to be taken down by a sling blade that Eli has worked to perfection and named The Prince’s Edict, a flash back to his time in the Royal Family years ago.

HUDSON: ”Why are the fans so surprised, there Vin?”

VASSA: ”It’s a reference to when Eli was in the Royal Family.”

HUDSON: ”Let’s hope that’s the only throwback reference in this match tonight, because I don’t do clowns.”

Laughlin bounces off of the mat but is right back up to his feet as Eli continues his run into the opposite ropes. He bounces off them again and as he returns and gets close enough to his opponent, he ducks under an attempted clothesline that likely would have decapitated him. Bouncing off the ropes once more, Eli rockets back toward Bryan and this time aims a low drop kick to Bryans knee, buckling him down to a kneeling position. In quick succession Eli rolls back to his feet and steps up onto Laughlins knee, catching him with Annointed, a vicious shining wizard that drops the Monster King down to the canvas. With all energy and adrenaline suddenly sapped, Eli collapses and falls across the body of Bryan Laughlin.

VASSA: ”ANNOINTED! THIS COULD BE IT!”

ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.

No! Laughlin manages to get his shoulder up much to the dismay of Eli, a fact that is etched into his facial expression. Exhausted. Beaten. And absolutely nothing going his way, the North American champion pushes himself back up to his feet and looks to the nearby corner once more. It’s an effort to drag himself back up to a standing position and an even greater effort to drag himself over to the corner and begin to ascend to the top rope again. Meanwhile, Bryan begins to stir yet again. As Eli climbs the turnbuckle, Bryan slowly gets back to his feet. A glance over his shoulder lets Eli knows he needs to hurry and he does. Steadying himself on the top rope, Eli doesn’t take the caution to check one final time and instead throws himself up and over in the same way he did before, arching in a beautiful moonsault off of the top rope.

And right into the waiting arms of the 4CW Champion who catches him on his shoulder, shifts Eli’s weight quickly, and then tosses him back up into the air. His body rotates and Bryan latches onto Eli to drag him downward and on to double knees straight to the gut. Good Morning America! An explosion of excitement radiates throughout the arena as Laughlin crawls across the mat swiftly, hooking the near leg of the North American Champion and in unison the crowd counts as the referee slides in.

HUDSON: ”Goodbye win streak, Hadley’s daddy is going home a loser!”

VASSA: ”Did you see the way Laughlin just caught him in mid air?! Can you even fathom the strength that takes?!”

HUDSON: ”What are you the president of his fucking fan club, Vinny? We get it.”

ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THRE–

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

HUDSON: ”THAT’S IT LAUGHLIN WINS!”

VASSA: ”NO WAIT, WAIT! Eli got his foot on the bottom rope! Bryan didn’t pull him away from the ropes. A rare mental sip from the Champion, you have to think fatigue is setting in.”

HUDSON: ”There’s a reason Eli is on this roll, Vin. He may not be the fastest or the strongest, but in that ring there’s a slight chance that he’s the smartest.”

VASSA: ”Laughlin looks absolutely stunned AGAIN!”

Just too close to the ropes again and Eli, in the pits of hell surely, somehow has the wherewithall to get his foot onto the bottom rope and stop the final three from falling. Frustration had been present on the face of Bryan Laughlin before but now it’s disbelief. This match was over. It was dead and buried. He was vindicated, finally. It was right there in his grasp and somehow it had slipped through his fingers once more. For the first time in recent memory, the 4CW Champion looks uncertain. And that uncertainty drives him to do the unthinkable.

Exiting the interior of the ring and heading out onto the ring apron, Bryan moves rapidly toward the corner and begins to pull himself up to the top rope. All round him he hears the cheers and adoration of the fans mixed in with their excitement. This was a new level that their Monster King was going to. They had seen him in death matches. They had seen him out wrestle some of the best in the world. They had seen him be ruthless. They had seen him embrace the chaos of the Warzone of Horrors and emerge victorious but this was new. He was being pushed to do something outside of his comfort zone and, in turn, to put everything at risk.

HUDSON: ”What did I tell ya, Vin? Desperation. He cannot fathom losing to the North American Champion.”

VASSA: ”The last time we saw him try to climb the ropes in desperation it was his deathmatch with Bronx. The Champion can only hope history doesn’t repeat itself here tonight.”

HUDSON: ”Uh oh…”

VASSA: ”He’s up!”

And it was a risk that wouldn’t pay off. Just as he reached the top turnbuckle the North American champion burst back to life. Adrenaline fueling him as he charged toward the corner where Bryan had just perched himself and with veteran ring presence, Eli knocks Bryan’s feet out from under him causing him to fall awkwardly down onto the turnbuckle, splitting both of his legs and connecting squarely with the monster jewels. Reaching up, Eli pulled the bigger mans shoulders down and draped him across his shoulders.

VASSA: ”OH MY GOD WHAT IN THE HELL IS ELI DOING!?”

HUDSON: ”He’s making the monster pay, Vinny. He should’ve fucking known better. Hopefully I jinxed him.”

VASSA: ”OH GOD ELIJAH, NO!”

For a moment Eli steadied the larger man and then, using what little strength he had left in his bones, tossed Bryan up into the air, rotating him and then latching onto his shoulders to pull him downward onto double knees. Good Morning America! Eli steals his opponents move again and Bryan Laughlin finds himself flattened in the middle of the ring. Everything Eli has left in him is given to crawl over to the 4CW Champion and drape his arm across his chest.

HUDSON: ”LAUGHLIN ISNT MOVING!”

VASSA: ”THE FANS ARE ON THEIR FEET! COULD THIS BE IT?!”

ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THREE!!!

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

HUDSON: ”WOW. That Holy Shit Chant couldn’t better describe the way I feel right now. Elijah Carlson has defeated the 4CW Champion!”

VASSA: ”And no doubt solidified himself in the talks of who should have the next shot, Hudson. The Champion pulled out everything he had, and in the end he went too far.”

HUDSON: ”He went into Eli’s world and paid for it dearly.”

The two men lay there, unmoving, as the fans in the arena stare on in shock. This was to be the undoing of Elijah Carlson. This was to have been the moment that brought everything crashing down around him. And yet he had prevailed. They couldn’t believe it. And, as Mike Powers looked to announce the victor, the tone in his voice said that he wasn’t quite sure he believed it either.

POWERS: “Here is your winner by pinfall… ELIJAH CCAARRLLSSOONN!!!”

The sound of his name seems to spark some life back into Eli as sits up, clutching his stomach and the back of his head. The referee tries to raise his hand to official display him as the winner of the match to the crowd but he jerks his arm away. The scene then switches to Vinny and Hudson once more.

HUDSON: ”I don’t know what to say.”

VASSA: ”Welcome to 4CW, pal. Look forward to many more main events with y-“

Cutting their conversation off is the sound of a microphone being tapped and suddenly the cameras shift back to ringside to find Eli with both the 4CW Championship and North American championship draped over his shoulder and a microphone in his hand as he stands outside of the ring.

CARLSON: “I told you that I respected you, Bryan. I told you that I respected what you had been through. I told you that I respected the grind to get back to where you are today. That you had embraced this company. I appreciate that. I appreciate your accomplishments. But at the end of the day… At the end of the day this is my company.”

Unsurprisingly the fans boo him but Eli, as he has done so well all along, brushes those boos off.

CARLSON: “Now… Now, all that’s left for you to do is to hold onto that title. Find it in yourself to pull out one of those big matches at Winter Wasteland. Hold onto it. Because this war isn’t over, Bryan. No. This war is only just beginning. I showed the world that the Monster King can be beaten. And if you manage to hold onto that championship. At Retrograde? I’m going to show the world that the Monster can be butchered and buried too. Now play my damn music.”

“Killing in the Name Of” by Rage Against the Machine bursts over the loudspeakers on cue as Eli rolls himself back into the ring, standing over the fallen Bryan Laughlin momentarily before bending down to drape the 4CW Championship across his chest. He mutters a few words to the fallen champion before standing back upright and elevating the North American championship high above his head, the cameras focusing on him once more giving the viewers at home the go home shot of the evening before switching back to Hudson and Vassa for the final wrap up and goodnight.

VASSA: ”He just called his shot.”

HUDSON: ”Eli did just call his shot, right after taking one prior and putting the 4CW Champion down.”

VASSA: ”Yeah, but this time he called it for Retrograde and the 4CW Championship.”

HUDSON: ”We still have Winter Wasteland at the start of the year where a lot of things can happen. For starters, Laughlin is already set to face Ana as of tonight as she became the number one contender.”

VASSA: ”And if you’ve been paying attention, I believe there just may be a challenger rising to the occasion to give Eli a run for his money at Winter Wasteland for the North American Championship.”

HUDSON: ”Exactly! There’s a lot of moving parts here to even think about matches for Retrograde.”

VASSA: ”I’d love to sit here and talk about possibilities with you all night, but luckily for our fans we’ve already ran over our allotted live feed time and need to get things wrapped up here and call it a show.”

HUDSON: ”I can’t think of a better way to close out a show than what we just witnessed, and hopefully I can say the same thing as we head over to the TD Garden in Boston, Massachusetts in two weeks!”

VASSA: ”Adrenaline One Hundred and Eight is only two weeks ago and then after that? Winter Wasteland is right around the corner.”

HUDSON: ”Thank you all for joining us here tonight. It’s been a pleasure calling my first of many nights with you all and I look forward to seeing you all in two weeks right here at Adrenaline!”

There’s a short pause between the two as silence lingers in the air. Turning his head to look at Hudson, Vassa stares at him helplessly.

VASSA: ”Well, aren’t you going to say it?”

HUDSON: ”Say what?”

VASSA: ”Say it.”

HUDSON: ”I don’t know what you’re talking about, Vin.”

VASSA: ”You’re…”

HUDSON: ”I’m what?”

VASSA: ”Yooouuu’rrrreee…”

HUDSON: ”Spit it out.”

VASSA: ”Your name isss…”

HUDSON: ”Hudson Hughes?”

Whipping his head around and looking back into the camera with a smile on his face, Vassa gives the viewers one final nod before closing the night once and for all.

VASSA: ”And I’m Vinny Vassa! Good fight and goodnight folks! We’ll see you all in two weeks!”