Ultimate Wrestling Season 3 - Ch.9: Ronin Rumble Night Two: PART - 4

Suddenly, the AAPW entrance ramp lit up in crimson and gold, and “Raging Appetite” by Wagakki Band blasted through the speakers.

Takeshi Suzuki: It’s him! It’s the Gluttonous Blade—Tsurugi Yama!

Beast Bogan: Another Sumo wrestler? Brothers, you’d think Tanaka would try a different strategy.

Chris Rodgers: Tanaka is insane! Last time I checked the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result! Has this man learned nothing?

Takeshi Suzuki: Just you wait Rodgers! This man is absolute wrecking machine! The only thing greater then his ring preseance is his appetite. Hell! I bet he could out eat LuLu Biggs!

Chris Rodgers: Hah! Oh yeah? You want make a side bet on that?

Takeshi Suzuki: Your on old man!

The crowd erupted as Tsurugi Yama emerged from the stage, his imposing figure silhouetted against the lights. The former Yokozuna wore a dark robe embroidered with sumo symbols, and his expression was one of pure fury.

Yasuhiro Fujimoto: Tsurugi Yama is here to save Fuji! The Shikona Legion is rallying!

At the same time, from the Ultimate Wrestling entrance, the ominous sounds of “Voennaya March” by the Russian Army Choir filled the arena. The towering form of Viktor Zlovred, the Siberian Warhammer, stepped into the spotlight.

Scott Slade: Oh boy… it’s Viktor Zlovred!

Chris Rodgers: Now things are about to get interesting! Zlovred’s here to finish what Mordokrov started!

Beast Bogan: You’ve got two giants comin’ down the ramps, brother! This ring is about to explode!

Scott Slade: That or collapse from the sheer weight in it!

The two titans made their way to the ring, their gazes locked on the chaos unfolding inside. Tsurugi Yama marched with purpose, his fists clenched, while Zlovred cracked his knuckles, his cold eyes fixed on the bloodied Fuji. The crowd erupted as Tsurugi Yama and Viktor Zlovred slid into the ring simultaneously, and the battle was on.

Beast Bogan: Here we go, brother! All hell is about to break loose!

The four-on-two beatdown intensified as Mordokrov’s Russians ruthlessly dismantled the Shikona Legion. Every movement from the Ultimate Wrestling team was deliberate, calculated, and coldly efficient. Mordokrov directed traffic with the precision of a general, his sharp commands in Russian echoing through the Tokyo Dome.

Scott Slade: This is a masterclass in destruction! Mordokrov isn’t just a brute—he’s orchestrating this assault like a battlefield commander!

Chris Rodgers: You’ve gotta love it, Slade. Ultimate Wrestling is dominating AAPW in their own house, and the Russians are leading the charge! This is how you send a message!

With Zlovred holding Tsurugi Yama in a tight full nelson, Olga Pavlova lumbered forward, her cold eyes locked on the trapped sumo. She delivered a massive palm strike to Yama’s exposed chest, the impact sounding like a gunshot and drawing gasps from the crowd.

Yasuhiro Fujimoto: No! That’s a blow meant to shatter bones! The Shikona Legion is being torn apart piece by piece!

Takeshi Suzuki: This is insane! How can Tanaka allow this to happen? The Shikona Legion are our warriors—they deserve better than this ambush!

Beast Bogan: Last time I checked brother, Tanaka wasn’t on the wrestler roster. All he can do pick the wrestler he thinks can help turn the tide and so far he seems to be picking wrong.

Meanwhile, Nygma had Fuji down in the corner, driving his boot into Fuji’s throat with relentless pressure. The AAPW fans booed loudly, waving their fists in the air, but Nygma only grinned wider, feeding off the chaos.

Beast Bogan: Brother, this ain’t wrestling—it’s a calculated demolition! Mordokrov and his crew are working like a well-oiled war machine, and Fuji and Yama are just caught in the gears.

Scott Slade: I can’t believe how effective this strategy is! Ultimate Wrestling has turned the Ronin Rumble into — a hostile takeover!

Mordokrov barked another order, and Pavlova and Zlovred hoisted Yama off his feet. The towering sumo kicked wildly, trying to break free, but the Russian duo showed no mercy. They carried him toward the ropes with ease, their combined strength overwhelming.

Chris Rodgers: Here we go! They’re about to toss out the so-called Yokozuna!

Takeshi Suzuki: Yama, fight back! Don’t let these thugs humiliate you!

At the ropes, Pavlova and Zlovred swung Yama back and forth like a pendulum before launching him over the top rope with terrifying force. Yama’s massive body crashed to the floor outside the ring with a sickening thud, shaking the concrete and scattering the ringside medics.

Scott Slade: Oh my God! Tsurugi Yama just hit the floor like a cannonball!

Yasuhiro Fujimoto: This is a tragedy! One of our proudest warriors has been eliminated by brute force alone! This is a sad day for Japan, Sumo, and AAPW…

As Yama lay motionless on the outside, the Russians turned their attention back to Fuji. Mordokrov grabbed Fuji by the neck and dragged him to the center of the ring, locking him in a brutal Kremlin Crossface once again. Fuji groaned in agony, his body writhing under the pressure, but Mordokrov refused to let up.

Beast Bogan: Somebody needs to get out here and help Fuji, or he’s gonna be broken in half! There’s no way he can withstand this much punishment on his own!

Chris Rodgers: What are you talking about, Bogan? This is exactly what needs to happen! AAPW needs to be humbled, and Mordokrov’s the perfect man to do it!

The beating in the ring showed no signs of slowing down. Mikhail Mordokrov, Olga Pavlova, Viktor Zlovred, and Drake Nygma continued their merciless assault on Otakebi Fuji. The AAPW legend bloodied and barely able to stand, was on the verge of being broken. Nygma shoved Fuji into the corner, driving a boot into his throat while Mordokrov barked orders to his comrades in Russian.

Scott Slade: I don't know how much more Fuji can take. This is hard to watch and I hate AAPW!

Chris Rodgers: You call it hard to watch, Slade. I call it beautiful execution. These Russians aren't just fighters—they're conquerors. They're dismantling AAPW piece by piece, and there's not a damn thing anyone can do about it. Putin is a proud man right now.

Fuji slumped to the mat, clutching his ribs. The once-proud sumo warrior looked like a shadow of himself, broken under the relentless onslaught. The Japanese announcers were visibly shaken, their voices tinged with panic and despair.

Yasuhiro Fujimoto: This is unbearable. Otakebi Fuji is one of our greatest warriors… and he's being humiliated in front of our very eyes.

Takeshi Suzuki: Where are our reinforcements? Where is our cavalry? Tanaka-san must have a plan… He has to!

Meanwhile, Beast Bogan leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.

Beast Bogan: You know, brother, the problem for AAPW isn't just the ring beatdown. It's the numbers game. Every time the clock runs out, it's not just reinforcements for AAPW—it's another Ultimate Wrestling competitor coming out to keep the pressure on. AAPW is digging itself into a hole, and there's no ladder in sight.

Chris Rodgers: Exactly! They're out of their depth. Ultimate Wrestling came prepared for war, and AAPW is scrambling to keep up.

Scott Slade: AAPW can only turn this around by digging deep and clawing their way back into this match. Highly unlikely if you ask me.

The atmosphere in the AAPW locker room was tense. Wrestlers gathered around a large monitor, watching the carnage unfold in the ring. Haruki Tanaka paced back and forth, his frustration mounting with each passing second. His fists clenched tightly, and his jaw was set in a grim expression.

Haruki Tanaka: How the hell are they still standing? Mordokrov and Nygma have been in there since the beginning. They should be exhausted by now!

Kenjiro Tanaka, seated nearby, shook his head slowly.

Kenjiro Tanaka: Mudcock’s strategy is working. He’s throwing his heaviest hitters at us early, and we’re falling for it. Our sumo wrestlers don’t have the stamina to keep up.

Suddenly, a figure rose from the shadows. Takeshi Nomura, the Neon Ronin, stepped forward. His cybenetic gaze was cold and calculating as he approached Haruki.

Takeshi Nomura: Tanaka-san, may I speak?

Haruki stopped pacing and turned to face Nomura, his eyes narrowing.

Haruki Tanaka: Make it quick.

Nomura activated a small scanner embedded in his wrist. A holographic display projected above his hand, showing biometric readouts of the wrestlers in the ring.

Takeshi Nomura: Mordokrov is not a normal man. His endurance levels are off the charts. My analysis suggests he’s been genetically enhanced—most likely by the Russian government. His stamina and pain tolerance are far beyond human limits.

The room fell silent as Nomura continued.

Takeshi Nomura: As for Nygma… I can’t explain what he is. His vitals don’t match any known patterns. He doesn’t seem human, but I can’t identify what’s different about him. There’s something… wrong. Something unnatural.

Haruki rubbed his temples, trying to process the information.

Haruki Tanaka: So what are you saying? That we’re doomed?

Nomura shook his head.

Takeshi Nomura: No. But sending in sumo wrestlers with low stamina is a mistake. We need individuals who can fight for long periods and endure punishment if were going make a comeback. People like me and my Reavers.

Haruki studied Nomura for a long moment, his expression softening.

Haruki Tanaka: You’re volunteering?

Takeshi Nomura: Someone has to dig us out of this hole. I’m the best option you have.

A slow smile spread across Haruki’s face.

Haruki Tanaka: Thank you, Nomura. Go. Show them what the Neon Ronin is capable of.

Nomura nodded, turning toward the entrance tunnel. The other wrestlers parted to let him through, their expressions a mix of hope and apprehension.

Back in the ring, Fuji was still taking a brutal beating. Mordokrov locked him in a modified crossface, grinding his knuckles into Fuji’s temple. Nygma, Zlovred, and Pavlova watched with amusement, their dominance in the match undisputed.

Suddenly, the countdown clock reappeared on the screen.

Crowd: TEN! NINE! EIGHT!

Beast Bogan: Here we go again, brother. Another round of chaos is about to hit the ring.

Chris Rodgers: Let’s see who it is. I’m betting it’s more firepower for Ultimate Wrestling.

The buzzer sounded, and the Ultimate Wrestling entrance lit up. The pounding beats of "Sgori" by Stvore blasted through the speakers as Dasha Ivanova strode out, her expression cold and determined.

Crowd: SEVEN! SIX! FIVE!

From the Ultimate Wrestling stage, Dasha Ivanova emerged first, her piercing gaze locked on the ring. Her composure was stoic, her movements precise as she strode toward the chaos. The cold blue light from the stage reflected off her raven dark hair, making her look like a ghost walking toward her fate.

Scott Slade: Here comes Dash Ivanova!

Simultaneously, Takeshi Nomura, "The Neon Ronin," stepped onto the AAPW ramp. His Shibuya-inspired entrance robe shimmered under the lights, neon circuitry patterns running through the fabric like a living thing. His steps were purposeful, his eyes scanning the ring with machine-like precision. Nomura reached the ring first, sliding under the bottom rope with smooth, calculated movements.

His cybernetic enhancements gave him a fluidity that seemed almost unnatural. As he rose to his feet, his gaze locked onto Olga Pavlova, who leaned against the ropes, catching her breath after dominating much of the match. Without hesitation, Nomura exploded into action, charging across the ring with a burst of speed that defied human limits.

Chris Rodgers: Look out! Pavlova doesn’t see him coming!

Nomura’s clothesline struck with the force of a freight train. The impact was brutal, sending the 425-pound Siberian Behemoth tumbling over the top rope. Her body twisted in midair, crashing to the concrete floor with a sickening thud that made the audience gasp in shock.

Takeshi Suzuki: He did it! Nomura just eliminated Pavlova in seconds!

Yasuhiro Fujimoto: That’s the power of the Neon Ronin! He’s here to turn the tide for AAPW!

Pavlova writhed on the floor outside the ring, clutching her ribs as medics rushed to check on her. Nomura straightened his robe, his expression calm, showing no emotion as he turned his attention back to the remaining wrestlers in the ring. Drake Nygma’s eyes narrowed as he locked onto Nomura. His lips curled into a sinister grin as he stalked toward the cybernetic warrior.

Scott Slade: Uh-oh… Nygma’s got his eyes on Nomura now.

Without warning, Nygma lunged, throwing wild punches. Nomura dodged each one with uncanny precision, his movements fluid and effortless. He ducked under a swinging right hand and countered with a spinning back fist that caught Nygma across the jaw. Nygma stumbled but quickly regained his footing. He wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth, his grin widening.

Beast Bogan: Look at the speed and accuracy of Nomura. brothers! It’s like he knows what Nygma’s gonna do before he does it!

Meanwhile, in a shocking twist, Mordokrov and Zlovred suddenly turned their attention to Dasha Ivanova. The two Russians moved with cold, calculated intent, their expressions devoid of emotion as they closed in on their target.

Scott Slade: What’s going on? Why are Mordokrov and Zlovred attacking one of their own countrymen?

Chris Rodgers: I have no idea, Slade! This wasn’t part of the plan! We all supposed be working as a damn team God Damn it!

Ivanova realized the danger too late. Mordokrov caught her with a brutal knee to the ribs, doubling her over, while Zlovred delivered a vicious forearm strike to her back. They worked in tandem, overwhelming her with their combined strength.

Yasuhiro Fujimoto: This is national betrayal! Hahaha I love it! Never trust a Russian!

Takeshi Suzuki: These men have no honor! They’re disgraceful!

Ivanova fought back, throwing stiff punches and elbows, but the sheer power of Mordokrov and Zlovred was too much. They drove her into the corner, delivering relentless stomps and strikes.

Beast Bogan: Brother, something tells me this is personal. There’s more to this story than we know.

Rupert Mudcock paced the plush confines of his war room, his face twisted in a mix of anger and confusion. The live feed from the Tokyo Dome played on a massive screen, showing Mordokrov and Zlovred mercilessly assaulting Ivanova.

Rupert Mudcock: What the hell are they doing? Why are Mordokrov and Zlovred attacking Ivanova? They’re supposed to be working together! I was clear on this!

Seated on a leather couch, Devin Zeagal nursed a whiskey glass in one hand and rubbed his bandaged ribs with the other. His face was bruised and swollen from his earlier match against Kenjiro Tanaka, but his eyes were sharp and calculating as he watched the screen.

Rupert Mudcock: Zeagal! Explain this to me. What’s going on out there?

Zeagal took a slow sip of his whiskey before setting the glass down with deliberate care.

Devin Zeagal: Maybe it’s political.

Mudcock’s eyes narrowed, his frustration mounting.

Rupert Mudcock: What do you mean, poltical?

Zeagal leaned back, exhaling through his nose as if weighing how much to reveal.

Devin Zeagal: Ivanova and Drago… they weren’t exactly in line with the Kremlin’s policies, were they? Publicly denouncing the annexation of Ukraine? Calling out Putin’s declaration as Tsar? That kind of thing doesn’t go unnoticed.

Mudcock’s face darkened, his mind racing back to the recent murder of Boris Drago.

Rupert Mudcock: So you’re saying this isn’t about wrestling?

Zeagal gave a faint smirk, though it was laced with bitterness.

Devin Zeagal: Never really is… is it? Boris Drago’s already dead. The official story was it was the Yakuza… but we both know better. Ivanova’s next on their list. They’re not here to win a match—they’re here to finish a job.

Mudcock slammed his fist on the table, making the glassware jump.

Rupert Mudcock: And you knew this? You hired them on knowing they were here to murder Drago and Ivanova?

Zeagal shrugged.

Devin Zeagal: Suspected. But I didn’t think they’d try to do it in the middle of the damn Rumble.

Mudcock paced again, running his hands through his hair clearly panicking and extremely angry.

Rupert Mudcock: This is bad. If they kill her on live TV—if this gets out—we’re all screwed. The PR disaster alone…

Zeagal’s smirk faded. He sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

Devin Zeagal: Relax. They’re not gonna kill her tonight. They just want to humiliate her. Make her look weak. Show there people that they’re fools. It’s psychological warfare and maniuplation of the Russian people. Not everyone is a fan of Putin… things like this keep people in line.

Mudcock stopped pacing and glared at Zeagal.

Rupert Mudcock: And if she doesn’t survive?

Zeagal stood, wincing as he clutched his bruised ribs.

Devin Zeagal: Then she joins Drago in the history books. Either way, the Kremlin wins.

Mudcock watched as Zeagal adjusted his coat and prepared to leave.

Rupert Mudcock: Devin… you brought these people into my company. If this blows up, you’re going down with me! I won’t be pawn in Putin grand chess game! This is a sport damn it! Not a God damn espionage war!

Zeagal turned at the door, his gaze cold.

Devin Zeagal: Don’t worry, Rupert. Things have a way of working out… remember I’m Devin Zeagal and I know what I’m doing.

With that, Zeagal walked out, leaving Mudcock alone in the war room, staring at the screen with a mixture of anger and unease.

Rupert Mudcock:That’s what you said about handling that bastard Kenjiro… Damn it all to hell!

The Ronin Rumble had devolved into absolute chaos, and the Tokyo Dome was a cauldron of noise and electricity. Takeshi Nomura and Drake Nygma stood locked in a brutal exchange of blows at the center of the ring. Every strike they traded was thunderous, shaking the very foundation of the squared circle. Nomura’s cybernetic enhancements gave him a speed and precision that bordered on inhuman, while Nygma’s raw power and unrelenting aggression made him a near-unstoppable force.

Nomura ducked under a wild haymaker from Nygma, his eyes glowing faintly white with an almost eerie focus. With a burst of speed, he unleashed a devastating Glitch Kick, his boot connecting squarely with Nygma’s jaw. The sickening crack echoed through the arena as Nygma staggered backward, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Yet, somehow, the maniacal grin on his face widened.

Yasuhiro Fujimoto: Nomura’s like a living weapon! It’s as if he knows exactly what Nygma’s going to do before he does it!

Chris Rodgers: And yet he still can’t put him down! Nygma’s the Devil himself, Fujimoto. It’s going to take more than what Nomura’s got to stop him! This man is a beast!

Meanwhile, across the ring, Dasha Ivanova was being torn apart by the Russians. Zlovred and Mordokrov had her cornered, delivering punishing strikes with ruthless efficiency. Zlovred, the hulking Siberian Warhammer, drove his knee into Ivanova’s midsection, doubling her over. Mordokrov followed up with a brutal forearm to the back of her head, sending her crumpling to the mat. Zlovred leaned down, grabbing a fistful of Ivanova’s hair and dragging her to her feet. With terrifying ease, he lifted her into a gorilla press, parading her around the ring.

Scott Slade: This is disgusting! She’s one of our own, and they’re treating her like a God damn ragdoll!

Chris Rodgers: I know what you mean Scotty. Whatever is going on here Mordorkov is no longer playing by Mudcocks rules. It seems he doesn’t care about the bigger picture. He and his people have their own agenda.

With a roar, Zlovred hurled Ivanova over the top rope. Her body twisted in the air before crashing to the floor outside, her limp form sprawled across the concrete. Medics rushed to her side as the Russian duo turned back to the ring, their faces etched with smug satisfaction.

Scott Slade: She’s out! Dasha Ivanova has been eliminated!

Yasuhiro Fujimoto: And by her own team!

Takeshi Suzuki: Hahahaha! Fantastic! A nice freebie for the home team!

As the Russians celebrated, the crowd’s attention shifted to the ramp. Shingo Hara, the Midnight Dragon, was sprinting down the aisle, his face a mask of pure rage. He didn’t pause at the ropes or hesitate for even a second. His target was clear: Mikhail Mordokrov.

Beast Bogan: Here comes Hara! I didn’t hear the count down clock or a buzzer though what the hell is going?

Scott Slade: This looks like revenge… I think we know who he wants.

Hara launched himself at Mordokrov with a flying clothesline, the impact sending both men hurtling over the top rope and crashing to the floor outside. The Tokyo Dome erupted in cheers, the fans on their feet as Hara scrambled to his feet and immediately went after Mordokrov. The Midnight Dragon drove Mordokrov into the steel barricade, his shoulder ramming into the Russian’s ribs with bone-crushing force. Mordokrov snarled in pain, but he retaliated with a vicious elbow to the side of Hara’s head. Hara staggered back, only to lunge forward again with a brutal uppercut that snapped Mordokrov’s head back.

Takeshi Suzuki: All this over Kami Nakada? She not even that hot! Hahahaha. They’re not stopping ether! These two just eliminated each other and now it’s a straight street fight! I wond how many more of your roster will take each other out for us Rodgers?

Chris Rodgers: What the hell is going on with our team! Were self destructing out here damn it!

Scott Slade: I didn’t even hear the damn buzzer, Chris. He’s come out way ahead of schedule!

Hara grabbed a steel chair from a nearby technician, swinging it with all the fury of a man possessed. Mordokrov barely ducked in time, the chair smashing into the barricade with a deafening clang. The two men continued their brawl up the ramp, their fists flying as they knocked over equipment and startled crew members. As they reached the stage, Hara tackled Mordokrov into a stack of production crates, the impact scattering cables and monitors. Mordokrov retaliated with a headbutt, splitting Hara’s lip and leaving a trail of blood down his chin. Security personnel swarmed the scene, desperate to separate the two warriors, but their efforts only seemed to fuel the chaos.

The fans in unison: Let them fight! Let them fight!

Back in the ring, Takeshi Nomura and Drake Nygma were still battling. Nomura ducked under a spinning back fist from Nygma, delivering a rapid-fire series of elbow strikes to the larger man’s ribs. He followed up with a blistering Ronin’s Edge spinning back kick that connected with sickening force, snapping Nygma’s head to the side. Yet, somehow, Nygma stayed on his feet, his maniacal grin never wavering.

Yasuhiro Fujimoto: This is unreal! What kind of drugs is this man on?

Chris Rodgers: Drugs? Hah I told you, Fujimoto—he’s the Devil in wrestling boots! You can’t stop this man!

The countdown clock appeared on the screen, and the crowd erupted into cheers, their voices rising in unison as the seconds ticked down.

Scott Slade: Who’s next? Who’s coming to join this madness?

The arena lights dimmed, and the pounding beats of "Cyberpunk" by Lindsay Schoolcraft filled the air. Yuriko Ikeda, the Viral Vixen, emerged from the AAPW ramp, her cybernetic enhancements glinting under the flashing lights.

Beast Bogan: Woah, brothers, get a look at this one! Things are about to go nuclear!

The Viral Vixen, Yuriko Ikeda, reached the ring first, her cybernetic-enhanced movements swift and calculated, especially for her weight. She slid under the bottom rope, immediately locking eyes with Takeshi Nomura, the Neon Ronin. A sly smirk crossed her lips, suggesting she was ready to turn the match into her battlefield.

Meanwhile Nomura cracked his neck, his white hot glowing eyes narrowing as he prepared to deliver the finishing blow to Nygma. But before he could strike, Ikeda made her move. With calculated precision, she charged forward, delivering a devastating Virus Sweep low kick that took Nygma’s legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the mat. The crowd erupted, the noise inside the Tokyo Dome reached deafening levels as the two Cyber Reavers stood over the fallen Nygma. But the celebration was short-lived. Zlovred, having shaken off Ikeda’s earlier assault, slid back into the ring with a steel chair in hand. He swung wildly at Nomura, who ducked just in time, the chair smashing into the top rope with a metallic clang.

Beast Bogan: Brother, Zlovred’s back in the mix, and he’s looking for revenge!

Before Zlovred could recover, Ikeda launched herself at him with a ferocious Glitch Strike, her spinning backfist augmented by her cybernetic enhancements. The force of the blow sent the chair flying from Zlovred’s hands and knocked the Siberian Warhammer back into the ropes. Nomura seized the opportunity, grabbing Zlovred by the arm and whipping him into the corner. He followed up with a blistering Neon Strike, his knee driving into Zlovred’s midsection with bone-crunching force. The Russian powerhouse slumped in the corner, gasping for air.

Yasuhiro Fujimoto: The Cyber Reavers are unstoppable right now! AAPW finally has the upper hand!

But as Nomura and Ikeda turned their attention back to Nygma, the countdown clock appeared on the screen, sending the Tokyo Dome into another frenzy.

Crowd: TEN! NINE! EIGHT!

The lights flickered, and the atmosphere in the arena grew even more electric. All eyes turned to the entrances, anticipation building with each second.

Scott Slade: Who’s it going to be? Who’s coming in to shake things up next?

Chris Rodgers: Let’s hope it’s someone who can put a stop to this Cyber Reaver dominance!

Crowd: FIVE! FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE!

The arena lights flashed, and from the AAPW ramp emerged the towering figure of Yoshinobu Koshimoto, the Viral Vindicator. His entrance music, "Viral Vengeance" by Celldweller, thumped through the speakers, and the AAPW faithful roared in approval. Simultaneously, from the Ultimate Wrestling entrance, Baz Berrycloth, better known as Mr. People, made his way down to the raucous tune of "Eat the Rich" by Motörhead. The crowd erupted as the brawler from Brixton stormed toward the ring, exuding raw, chaotic energy.

Scott Slade: Here come two heavy hitters! The Viral Vindicator and Mr. People are about to take this chaos to another level!

Beast Bogan: Brother, these two aren’t here to play nice. They’re about to blow this whole match wide open!

Koshimoto reached the ring first, sliding in with an unsettling grace for a man of his size. His cold, cybernetic gaze swept across the chaos before locking onto Yuriko Ikeda. The Viral Reavers stood face-to-face for a moment, the tension palpable. Then, without warning, they clasped hands, their alliance solidified.

Chris Rodgers: Looks like the Reavers are sticking together! This can’t be good for Ultimate Wrestling.

As the Reavers turned their attention toward Drake Nygma, Mr. People slid into the ring, immediately targeting Zlovred. The Brixton brawler delivered a series of European uppercuts, each one snapping Zlovred’s head back with thunderous force. Mr. People capped off the assault with a mocking two-finger salute before unleashing a devastating windup uppercut that sent Zlovred crashing into the ropes.

Beast Bogan: Baz is bringin’ the fight, brother! That’s pure street brawling at its finest!

Chris Rodgers:That moron is attacking his own teammate! Was he dropped on his head or something as a baby? Honestly I asking a real question here. Is this guy “special” or something?

Scott Slade: Chris you can’t say stuff like that!

Nomura and Koshimoto, now working in tandem, launched a coordinated attack on Nygma. Nomura delivered a blindingly fast series of elbow strikes to Nygma’s ribs, while Koshimoto followed up with a spine-rattling Virus Slam, driving Nygma into the mat with devastating force. The crowd erupted, the energy in the Tokyo Dome reaching new heights.

Chris Rodgers: Damn it! The Cyber Reavers are dismantling Nygma! AAPW is taking control of this match!

Scott Slade: Well to your point earlier it doesn’t help that Baz is attacking Zlovred instead an AAPW roster member right now…

Yasuhiro Fujimoto: This is chaos! Where’s the Ultimate Wrestling unity? These gaijin are falling apart before our eyes wrestling fans! Hahahahaha! I love it!

As the ring continued to fill with bodies, Yuriko turned her attention to Mr. People, who was hammering Zlovred into the corner. With a calculated burst of speed, she delivered a pinpoint Virus Sweep, taking Mr. People’s legs out from under him. He crashed to the mat, but before Yuriko could capitalize, Zlovred lunged forward, grabbing her by the throat with his massive hand. The Siberian Warhammer lifted Yuriko off her feet, but the Viral Vixen countered with a sharp knee to the gut, forcing Zlovred to release her.

The crowd’s roars grew even louder as the countdown clock appeared once again, signaling the arrival of the next competitors.

Crowd: TEN! NINE! EIGHT!

The camera cut to the Ultimate Wrestling war room, where the atmosphere was tense. Rupert Mudcock was pacing back and forth, his tailored suit crumbling under the strain of his furious gesticulations. He turned sharply, his face twisted in an apoplectic rage, and jabbed an accusing finger at Shingo Hara, who stood motionless, his expression unreadable but his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

Rupert Mudcock: Do you have a single damn brain cell in that skull of yours, Hara? What were you thinking? You just went out there and blew one of our biggest advantages! Mordokrov wasn’t just a wrestler; he was an enforcer! Someone we needed to control the ring! And you—YOU—threw it all away for some petty grudge!

Mudcock’s voice echoed in the confined space, each word dripping with venom. Hara didn’t flinch but his jaw tightened, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes. Before he could respond, the door slammed open, and Cassie and Colton Hurst strode in, their presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

Cassie Hurst: Enough, Rupert. You don’t talk to him like that. Not unless you’re ready to deal with the consequences!

Mudcock turned toward her, his face a mixture of shock and fury.

Rupert Mudcock: Consequences? What the hell are you talking about?

Colton stepped forward, his tall frame looming over Mudcock as he spoke in a low, deliberate tone.

Colton Hurst: You heard her. Keep treating Hara like trash, and you’ll have our parents breathing down your neck. And trust me, Mudcock, that’s not a fight you want to pick.

Mudcock’s face darkened further, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Finally, he found his voice, though it was tinged with both anger and defiance.

Rupert Mudcock: Oh, is that supposed to scare me? Let me make one thing crystal clear—you’re not the only damn family in this company. And speaking of family, Colton, maybe you should worry less about Hara and more about proving your worth out there.

Mudcock stepped closer to Colton, his voice dropping to a venomous hiss.

Rupert Mudcock: If you want to still be part of Ultimate Wrestling tomorrow morning, you’ll march your ass down to that ring right now. Otherwise, you and your sister can join Hara in the unemployment line.

Cassie bristled, stepping forward, but Colton held up a hand to stop her. He stared down Mudcock, his gaze steady and unyielding.

Colton Hurst: Fine. I’ll go. But you better hope I don’t run into anyone who reminds me of you in that ring, or they won’t be walking out of the Dome tonight.

Colton turned and left without another word, his boots echoing on the tiled floor as Cassie glared at Mudcock. She lingered a moment longer before following her brother, leaving Mudcock alone with Hara.

Rupert Mudcock: God damn kids these days! I can’t stand these lazy zoomers! And as for you, Hara, you’re damn lucky I’m not throwing you out of this building right now. Cross me like that again and you’ll regret ever stepping into my ring. You better pray we win the Rumble tonight or you might a pink slip in your locker waiting for you tomorrow morning!

Hara didn’t respond. Instead, he turned and walked out, his shoulders stiff with restrained anger. Mudcock let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his thinning hair.

Rupert Mudcock (to himself): This damn roster is going to be the death of me…

The camera lingered on Mudcock’s furious expression as the scene transitioned back to the chaos unfolding in the ring.

Back in the ring, the Ronin Rumble had reached a fever pitch. The chaotic energy was palpable as Takeshi Nomura and Yuriko Ikeda worked in calculated unison, their cybernetic enhancements on full display. Nomura whipped Viktor Zlovred into the corner, the force of the throw reverberating through the ring. Yuriko followed up with a blistering Glitch Strike, her enhanced back fist connecting with Zlovred’s temple with a sharp, echoing crack. Zlovred slumped into the corner, momentarily stunned.

Scott Slade: Nomura and Ikeda are carving a path through this Rumble like a pair of precision instruments! Look at the cohesion—they’ve practically dissected Zlovred!

Beast Bogan: Brother, these two don’t just fight—they’re a damn symphony of destruction!

On the opposite side of the ring, Drake Nygma had recovered from his earlier clash with Nomura and was taking out his frustrations on Yoshinobu Koshimoto, the Viral Vindicator. Nygma unleashed a barrage of strikes, driving Koshimoto to his knees. But Koshimoto, the calculating brawler, capitalized on Nygma’s overconfidence, as shot to his feet catching Nygma with a sudden Vindicator’s Grip bearhug. The crowd winced as Koshimoto squeezed with terrifying force, Nygma’s face contorting in pain.

Yasuhiro Fujimoto: Koshimoto’s got Nygma locked in that bearhug! Look at the power of this man—it’s as if he’s trying to snap Nygma in half!

Suddenly, the countdown clock reappeared on the screen, and the crowd erupted into a deafening roar.

Crowd: TEN! NINE! EIGHT!

Nomura and Ikeda glanced at each other, their faces unreadable, as if already calculating their next moves. Across the ring, the Viral Vindicator released Nygma with a sadistic grin, tossing him aside like a ragdoll. All eyes turned to the stage as the countdown hit zero.

Beast Bogan: Here we go, brother! Who’s next?

The heavy beats of “Black Sheep” by Dorothy thundered through the arena, signaling the arrival of Colton Hurst. The crowd’s reaction was mixed, a cacophony of cheers and jeers as Colton marched toward the ring, his face set in a grim expression.

Scott Slade: Here comes Colton Hurst, one-half of the New Breed! And after that backstage blowup with Mudcock, you know he’s got something to prove tonight.

Chris Rodgers: He better, Slade. Mudcock doesn’t make idle threats. If Colton doesn’t deliver, this could be his last match in Ultimate Wrestling!

Simultaneously, “Obsolete” by Fear Factory blared from the AAPW stage, and Kyōki Piero, the Redline Reaver, sprinted down the ramp. Her cybernetic eye glinted under the arena lights, and her frenetic energy was contagious as she slid into the ring and immediately sprang to her feet.

Yasuhiro Fujimoto: The Redline Reaver is one of AAPW’s most unpredictable competitors, and she thrives in chaos like this!

Takeshi Suzuki: She’s a complete psychopath! …But she’s our psychopath!

Colton and Kyōki entered the ring simultaneously, their presence adding another layer of volatility to the already unstable environment. Drake Nygma had fought off the Cyber Reavers momentarily, but Takeshi Nomura’s calculated strikes and Yuriko Ikeda’s pinpoint kicks were wearing him down. Nomura feinted a high kick, only to pivot and land a devastating spinning heel kick to Nygma’s midsection, doubling him over. Yuriko followed up with a flying knee strike to the back of Nygma’s head, sending him staggering into the ropes.

Scott Slade: Nygma’s on the ropes—literally! The Cyber Reavers are dissecting him like a science project.

Chris Rodgers: Come on Nygma, get your damn head in the game!

Meanwhile, in another corner of the ring, Baz Berrycloth was on the receiving end of a relentless assault from Yoshinobu Koshimoto. Koshimoto lifted Baz into a fireman’s carry and executed a rolling Death Valley Driver that sent the Brixton brawler crashing to the mat. As Baz tried to roll away, Kyōki Piero’s climbed the ropes and launched herself into a diving double foot stomp that landed squarely on Baz’s back.

Takeshi Suzuki: Baz Berrycloth is being treated like yesterday’s garbage! Koshimoto and Sapentina are relentless.

Chris Rodgers: Yesterday’s garbage? How about today’s unsung hero? Baz has more fight in him than any of your AAPW flunkies!

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

The Tokyo Dome trembled with anticipation as the final two entrants prepared to emerge.

"BLACK SHEEP" by Dorothy hit the speakers, sending a ripple of excitement through the crowd. Striding onto the stage with unwavering confidence, Cassie Hurst—Vanity—stood under the spotlight, a smirk curling her lips as she adjusted her wrist tape. She took a deep breath, rolling her neck before slowly descending the ramp, scanning the battlefield like a predator picking its first victim.

Scott Slade: Cassie Hurst—The Black Sheep of wrestling! And let’s not forget, she is a dangerous technician with a ruthless edge!

Chris Rodgers: You can feel the swagger oozing off of her! She knows this is her moment to make a statement!

Cassie reached the apron, gripping the ropes, but just as she was about to slide inside—

"SERPENT'S CALL" by Nox Arcana slithered through the arena like a venomous whisper. The lights dimmed into an eerie green glow, and from the shadows, Sapentina emerged. Her crimson eyes gleamed under the dim lights, her hooded cloak barely concealing the snake-like movements of her body.

Takeshi Suzuki: This… this is good. This is very good.

Chris Rodgers: Look at this… this thing Bogan! I swear to God, Sapentina isn't human! Look at the way she moves! She just materialized out of the shadows like a damn horror movie villain!

Beast Bogan: BROTHER, THAT AIN’T NO WRESTLER—THAT’S A LIZARD WOMAN IN DISGUISE!

With an unnatural fluidity, Sapentina slinked down the ramp, eyes never blinking, never breaking contact with the chaos inside the ring. Cassie turned to glance over her shoulder at the unsettling figure approaching, her expression shifting from amusement to grim focus. With a flick of her wrist, Cassie rolled into the ring, while Sapentina effortlessly slid beneath the ropes like a serpent coiling into battle.

Kyōki Piero, ever the opportunist, darted around the ring, striking at openings with wild abandon. She launched herself at Cassie Hurst, connecting with a monkey flip that sent the younger Hurst sprawling across the mat. Cassie scrambled to her feet, but Kyōki was already airborne, landing a picture-perfect springboard dropkick that knocked Cassie into the ropes.

Beast Bogan: Brother, Kyōki Piero’s got the moves! She’s like a pinball in that ring, bouncing off everyone.

Scott Slade: Cassie Hurst is learning that the hard way. Kyōki’s unpredictability is a nightmare for anyone trying to pin her down.

Beast Bogan: Sounds like a girl you wouldn’t want to date if you ask me, brother!

Drake Nygma, battered but still dangerous, rallied against the Reavers. He caught Yuriko Ikeda mid-kick, spinning her around and hoisting her onto his shoulders for a Samoan drop that rattled the ring. Nomura charged, but Nygma countered with a thunderous spinebuster, planting the Neon Ronin into the canvas.

Chris Rodgers: What did I tell you, Slade? Nygma’s a freak of nature! These AAPW tech-tards don’t stand a chance.

Scott Slade: I guess I got give credit where credit is due. Good call Chrs.

Across the ring, Colton Hurst had re-entered the fray, targeting Zlovred. The two giants clashed in the center, trading heavy blows that echoed through the Tokyo Dome. Zlovred gained the upper hand, lifting Colton into the air for a military press slam, but Cassie intervened with a well-timed chop block to Zlovred’s knee, causing him to drop her brother. Colton capitalized, hitting a thunderous DDT that left Zlovred stunned.

Chris Rodgers: Is the entire Hurst family retarded Slade? Or they just pulling a Valora Salinas and giving Mudcock the finger here? Just whose side are they on?

Scott Slade: I… uh… I’m at a loss for words.

Chris Rodgers: Can we get some wrestlers out here who understand team work?

To Be Continued In Part - 5