The camera cuts to the Ultimate Wrestling locker room, the atmosphere so thick with tension it feels like the walls are closing in. The roster stands around in uneasy silence, watching the monitor as Devin Zeagal’s match highlights against Kenjiro Tanaka replays on a loop. The screen shows Zeagal stumbling, flailing, and ultimately being decimated by Tanaka’s Osaka Thunder Powerbomb. The sound of the crowd’s cheers from the Tokyo Dome echoes through the room, a cruel reminder of their humiliation on enemy soil.
Rupert Mudcock stands at the front of the room, his face twisted with a mix of rage, disgust, and disbelief. His usually composed demeanor is gone, replaced by a simmering fury barely held in check. His hand trembles slightly as he adjusts his tie, his knuckles white.
Rupert Mudcock (low, almost to himself): I knew it. I fucking knew it…
He stares at the monitor, the image of Zeagal crumpled on the mat frozen on the screen. The silence stretches, the tension unbearable.
Suddenly, Mudcock explodes.
Rupert Mudcock: FucK!
He grabs a metal folding chair and hurls it across the room. It crashes into the lockers with a deafening bang, making several wrestlers flinch. Takuma Sato doesn’t move, his arms crossed, watching Mudcock with a cold, calculating expression.
Mudcock turns to face the roster, his eyes wild.
Rupert Mudcock: I knew he was going to lose. Hell, I expected it! But that? That wasn’t a loss—that was a fucking embarrassment!
He jabs a finger at the monitor.
Rupert Mudcock: Do you know what they’re saying out there? Do you know what every journalist, every fan, every Yakuza thug is saying right now? That Ultimate Wrestling is a joke! That we can’t compete in Japan! That we’re nothing but a bunch of Gaijin clowns!
He starts pacing, his voice rising with every word.
Rupert Mudcock: I’ve spent millions—MILLIONS—bringing this company to Japan! I’ve bribed politicians, outmaneuvered the Yakuza, and crushed the only federation that stood in our way. And now? Now we’re the punchline of the f**king century!
He stops suddenly, turning to face the roster again.
Rupert Mudcock: Do you think Haruki Tanaka is going to stop now? Do you think the Yamamoto Clan is going to let this go? They’re coming for us. They want us gone. They want me dead and if we don’t win tonight, they’re going to get exactly what they want.
Mudcock takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His voice lowers, but the venom remains.
Rupert Mudcock: I built this company from nothing. I’ve crushed every obstacle, silenced every critic, and buried every fucker who stood in my way. And I’ll be damned if I let a bunch of Yakuza-backed has-beens destroy what I’ve built.
He points at the roster.
Rupert Mudcock: So here’s what’s going to happen. No more fucking around. No more stumbles. No more screw-ups. From this moment on, you fight like your lives and livelyhood depend on it—because they fucking do!
He locks eyes with Takuma Sato.
Rupert Mudcock: Sato… you’ve been whining about respect since the day you showed up in my office. Well, guess what? Tonight’s your chance to earn it. I want bodies broken. I want bones snapped. I want blood on that fucking mat.
Sato nods once, his expression unreadable behind the bandages and the strange mask over his face.
Mudcock turns to Mikhail Mordokrov and Svetlana Kazakova.
Rupert Mudcock: Mikhail. Svetlana. You’re Russian. You know how to deal with enemies. I want you to remind AAPW who the fuck we are. No mercy! No hesitation! Make them fear us.
Mikhail grins darkly, cracking his knuckles. Svetlana smirks, her eyes gleaming with malice as she flicked ash from her lit cigarette onto the floor.
Finally, Mudcock turns to Drake Nygma, who has been standing silently in the corner, his imposing frame casting a shadow over the room. Mudcock walks up to him, looking up at the towering wrestler.
Rupert Mudcock: Nygma… you’re going in first.
The room falls into stunned silence. A few wrestlers exchange uneasy glances. Shingo Hara frowns, stepping forward slightly.
Shingo Hara: Boss… are you sure? The first spot is—
Rupert Mudcock (cutting him off): I don’t give a fuck what spot it is!
He jabs a finger into Nygma’s chest.
Rupert Mudcock: I want AAPW’s very first entrant to see you standing there. I want them to look into your eyes and know they’re already dead!
Nygma tilts his head slightly, a slow, sinister smile spreading across his face. His voice is low and chilling.
Drake Nygma: Consider it done…
Mudcock steps back, addressing the room once more.
Rupert Mudcock: This isn’t just a match anymore. It’s a goddamn execution! I want every single one of you to go out there and make those AAPW pricks regret ever stepping foot in our ring.
He pauses, his gaze sweeping across the room.
Rupert Mudcock: If any of you hold back tonight, if any of you choke, I will personally bury your careers. I’ll make sure no other company touches you. You’ll be wrestling in bingo halls for the rest of your lives.
The wrestlers shift uncomfortably, the weight of Mudcock’s words sinking in.
Rupert Mudcock: Ultimate Wrestling doesn’t lose, and we sure as hell don’t lose like that!
He points at the monitor again, where Zeagal’s broken body still fills the screen.
Rupert Mudcock: That ends now.
He turns on his heel and storms toward the door. As he reaches it, he pauses and looks back over his shoulder.
Rupert Mudcock: Make them bleed.
The door slams shut behind him. The wrestlers sit in stunned silence for a beat before Drake Nygma steps forward, pulling on his gloves. He looks around the room, his voice calm and measured.
Drake Nygma: Let the battle begin.
The screen fades to black.
The camera cuts to the AAPW locker room, bursting with energy. The roster is buzzing with excitement, their cheers echoing off the walls as the replay of Kenjiro Tanaka’s dominant victory loops on the monitor. Every chop, every throw, every humiliation Devin Zeagal endured is met with laughter and applause.
The locker room feels like a victory party—one earned through pride and grit.
Suddenly, the door swings open, and Kenjiro Tanaka, flanked by his daughter Yuriko Tanaka, walks in. The room erupts into cheers and applause.
AAPW Roster (chanting): TA-NA-KA! TA-NA-KA! TA-NA-KA!
Kenjiro bows slightly, acknowledging the respect of his peers. Yuriko walks in confidently beside him, her face glowing with pride. She raises her fist in the air, soaking in the adulation for her father. Haruki Tanaka steps through the crowd with a broad grin—a rare expression from the stern AAPW president. He approaches Kenjiro, clasping his older brothers shoulders firmly.
Haruki Tanaka: Kenjiro-san… you’ve done more than win a match. You’ve reminded the world why AAPW is the pride of Japan.
Kenjiro bows again, humble despite the praise. But Yuriko steps forward, her voice cutting through the noise.
Yuriko Tanaka: No, no, no… he didn’t just remind the world. He embarrassed Ultimate Wrestling. He made them look like fools. The fools we know them to truly be!
The room bursts into laughter. Isao Kurosawa, a smirking menace in the corner, raises a glass of sake.
Isao Kurosawa: To Kenjiro! For showing those Gaijin what happens when they disrespect our house!
The wrestlers cheer again, pounding their fists on lockers and clinking glasses. Daichi Sasaki, leader of The Syndicate, steps forward with a sly smile. He raises his glass higher, making sure everyone sees.
Daichi Sasaki: And let’s not forget the look on Zeagal’s face when he realized he wasn’t walking out of that ring in one piece. Priceless! What an ASSCLOWN! HAHAHAHA! Master of martial arts my ass!
More laughter. Haruki raises a hand, and the room quiets down slightly.
Haruki Tanaka: Kenjiro-san’s victory is more than just a personal triumph. It’s a message. AAPW is stronger than ever. Tonight, we finish what we started. I need each and every one of you to follow his example tonight!
The wrestlers nod, their expressions hardening with determination.
Haruki Tanaka: Ultimate Wrestling came here with their arrogance, their greed, and their disrespect. They thought they could take what’s ours. But tonight, we show them they’re dead wrong.
The room falls into an intense silence as Haruki looks around, making sure every wrestler hears his words.
Haruki Tanaka: This isn’t just about winning the Ronin Rumble. This is about honor. About pride. About Japan.
He steps forward, pacing slowly as he continues.
Haruki Tanaka: When your name is called tonight, you go out there and fight like your life depends on it. Because it does. We’ve fought too hard and sacrificed too much to let anyone take what’s ours.
He stops, locking eyes with Akane Watanabe, who stands near the back of the room, her arms crossed. Her expression is guarded, her posture tense.
Haruki Tanaka: Akane…
The room turns to look at her. She raises an eyebrow, her lips curling into a faint smirk.
Haruki Tanaka: You’re going in first.
A ripple of surprise moves through the room. Several wrestlers glance at each other, unsure of Haruki’s reasoning. But Akane’s smirk widens, and she steps forward slowly, her eyes never leaving Haruki’s. She knows this has to do with be caught snooping around in his office.
Akane Watanabe: First, huh? Interesting choice.
Haruki’s expression doesn’t change, his gaze steady and cold.
Haruki Tanaka: You’ve been searching for something… perhaps looking for a challenge, haven’t you? Now you’ve got one.
The tension between them is palpable. The other wrestlers watch in silence, sensing the unspoken tension beneath Haruki’s words. Akane tilts her head slightly, studying Haruki.
Akane Watanabe: Of course. I’ll be happy to lead the charge.
Her tone is polite, but there’s a subtle edge to her words—a challenge in itself. Haruki doesn’t flinch.
Haruki Tanaka: Good. Because I expect you to show everyone in that ring exactly what AAPW stands for.
There’s a beat of silence before Akane nods slowly, her smirk never fading.
Akane Watanabe: You can count on me.
Haruki holds her gaze for a moment longer before turning back to the rest of the roster.
Haruki Tanaka: The rest of you… be ready. This is our night. Our house. And our fight!
The wrestlers pound the lockers again, fired up and ready for battle. Daichi Sasaki leans toward Isao Kurosawa, whispering with a smirk.
Daichi Sasaki (whispering): First spot’s a death sentence. Wonder what Watanabe did to piss him off.
Isao chuckles softly.
Isao Kurosawa (whispering): Does it matter? She’ll fight like hell. She always does. Too much pride in that one.
Meanwhile, Akane steps back, leaning against the wall. Her smirk fades slightly as she watches the celebrations continue. Her mind is clearly elsewhere—focused, calculating. The camera lingers on her face for a moment before cutting back to the room, where the AAPW roster raises their glasses once more.
AAPW Roster (chanting): TA-NA-KA! TA-NA-KA! TA-NA-KA!
The lights in the Tokyo Dome dimmed as a solemn drumbeat echoed through the arena, followed by a rising swell of electric guitar. Massive screens on both sides of the arena flickered to life, displaying alternating images of Ultimate Wrestling and All Asia Pro Wrestling icons. Japanese and American flags rippled on opposite ends of the colossal stage setups, each side representing a wrestling empire ready to clash in one of the most anticipated matches in history. The crowd roared in anticipation as Miyu Kojima stood center-ring, her voice amplified over the speakers. Clad in a sleek black and gold kimono, her striking presence commanded attention.
Miyu Kojima: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN… THE TIME HAS COME!
Spotlights scanned the arena, illuminating the tension-filled faces of fans and wrestlers alike. The camera panned to Rupert Mudcock and Haruki Tanaka, seated backstage in their respective war rooms, both men flanked by wrestlers and advisors. Their expressions were grim, their minds calculating every move in this strategic battle.
Miyu Kojima: THIS… IS THE FIRST AND THE ONLY RONIN RUMBLE! A HISTORIC MOMENT FOR PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING! SO LADIES AND GENTLEMEN… ARE YOU READY?! I SAID ARE YOU READY?! LET’S GET READY TO RUMBLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A thunderous cheer erupted from the Tokyo Dome as fireworks exploded from both stages, sending plumes of red, white, and gold sparks into the air. The stakes had never been higher—two rival federations clashing for supremacy, pride, and power.
The camera cut to the Ultimate Wrestling stage, where the towering form of Drake Nygma appeared, shrouded in a dark cloak. The eerie strains of "The Devil Within" by Digital Daggers filled the arena as he stepped into the spotlight, his piercing gaze scanning the crowd with calculated menace. Following closely behind him was Dollia Trypp, her expression cold and unreadable. Together, they made their way down the ramp, the cloak billowing behind Nygma like a shadow of death. As he reached the ring apron, Nygma pulled back his hood, revealing his chiseled features and intense eyes that seemed to glow with a predatory hunger. He climbed into the ring and slowly removed his cloak, folding it with care before handing it to Dollia.
Miyu Kojima: ENTERING AT NUMBER ONE… REPRESENTING ULTIMATE WRESTLING… ‘THE SPHINX’ DRAKE NYGMA!
The crowd’s reaction was mixed, with boos from the AAPW loyalists and cheers from Ultimate Wrestling fans. Nygma took it all in stride, smirking as he adjusted his wrist tape and straightend his mask.
Then, the lights shifted to the AAPW stage, and the haunting melody of "Warrior Woman" by Kimbra resonated through the arena. Akane Watanabe emerged, standing tall and proud at the top of the ramp. Her crimson and black attire glimmered under the lights, accentuating her powerful frame and determined expression. Akane’s eyes locked on the ring, and she strode down the ramp with purpose, her every step exuding confidence. Her gaze never wavered from Nygma as she climbed the steps and stepped through the ropes.
Miyu Kojima: AND ENTERING AT NUMBER ONE FOR AAPW… REPRESENTING ALL ASIA PRO WRESTLING… AKANE WATANABE!
The AAPW faithful erupted in applause, their chants of “WA-TA-NA-BE!” shaking the arena. Akane acknowledged them with a brief nod, then turned her full attention to Nygma. The two competitors stood face-to-face in the center of the ring, the tension between them palpable. The referees, Kazuo Nakamura and Bob Sigro, stood at opposite corners, watching closely.
DING! DING! DING!
The Ronin Rumble was officially underway. Nygma smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief.
Nygma: Ready to dance, warrior?
Akane moved cautiously around the ring, her eyes locked on Drake Nygma. She kept her stance low and tight, knowing that every second counted until backup arrived. Nygma stalked her like a predator, his towering frame exuding cold menace. He cracked his neck and raised his arms, inviting a lock-up with a cocky smirk.
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: Akane’s brave, but she’s gotta know she’s outmatched here. Nygma’s not just big—he’s ruthless. He’s calculated. And he’s got something dark driving him…I can tell just by looking at his eyes. This man isn't normal.
Beast Bogan: Brother, I’ve been in the ring with guys like this. They don’t feel pain the same way we do. Like when I took on The Gravewalker at War of the Terrirories VII! Nothing I through at the bastard slowed him down! Not even my patented SUPER BEAST leg drop Brother! That Zombifide bastard tombstone pile drove me onto a steel chair! Broke two vertabrays in my neck! These types of guys… they don’t stop comin’. Akane’s gotta keep movin’, keep thinkin’, or she’s gonna be tossed faster than a rookie at wrestling school!
Akane Watanabe circled cautiously, her eyes focused on Drake Nygma, whose predatory grin exuded arrogance. The strength disparity was undeniable, and Akane seemed to understand she needed to survive rather than overpower.
Takeshi Suzuki: Look at her poise, her focus! That’s the pride of AAPW right there. Nygma might be big, but he’s nothing compared to Akane’s heart!
Chris Rodgers: Heart? Give me a break Suzuki! This is wrestling, not a feel-good movie. Heart doesn’t count when you’re up against a powerhouse like Nygma.
Nygma lunged forward, locking up with Akane in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. The brute strength of Nygma forced Akane backward, her boots skidding on the mat as he drove her into the corner. His eye’s glowed with supernatural intencity as he drove her spine into the turnbuckle and muttered something in Ancient Egyptian to her face.
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: That’s raw strength, but Akane is a tactician. She’ll find a way to turn this around.
Scott Slade: She’d better think fast, Fujimoto. Nygma’s not going to let up!
Nygma backed up and charged the corner with a thunderous body splash, but Akane dodged at the last moment, slipping onto the apron. The crowd erupted as Nygma collided with the turnbuckles, barely fazed as he turned with a smirk. Akane sprang back into the ring, launching a flying forearm smash that connected squarely with Nygma’s chest. He stumbled back a step, laughing as though it had no effect.
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: There we go! Keep at him, Akane! The bigger they are, the harder they fall!
Chris Rodgers: Or the harder they laugh when you try to knock them down! Did she really think that would work? Someone needs to tell this little girl to go home. It’s over.
Nygma grabbed Akane’s arm mid-strike, yanking her toward him with astonishing force. With ease, he hoisted her into a military press, parading her around the ring like a trophy.
Scott Slade: WOW! Look at that! This is just raw power on display!
Takeshi Suzuki: Don’t celebrate yet, Slade! Akane’s not done!
Akane squirmed desperately, kicking her legs until she managed to slip free, landing behind Nygma. The crowd roared as she darted toward the ropes, creating space.
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: She escapes! Akane Watanabe showing why she’s one of AAPW’s finest—quick thinking and pure resilience! She’s a smart as they come!
Wasting no time, Akane charged back in, locking her arms around Nygma’s waist in a rear waistlock. She gritted her teeth, trying to shift his balance, but it was like trying to move a granite statue.
Chris Rodgers: What is she doing? Does she think she’s gonna outmuscle Drake Nygma? That’s adorable! I thought you said this woman was smart, Fujimoto?
Nygma lashed out with a vicious back elbow, catching Akane cleanly on the jaw. She crumpled to the mat, clutching her face as Nygma towered over her.
Beast Bogan: Come on, brother, give her a break! She’s out there giving it her all for AAPW.
Grabbing a fistful of Akane’s hair, Nygma dragged her to her feet, smirking as he prepared to toss her over the ropes. But Akane, still fighting, drove her knee into his midsection once, twice, and then a third time. Nygma finally released his grip, giving her a chance to stumble back into the corner.
The AAPW locker room was quieter now, the roar of the crowd from the arena echoing faintly through the walls. Haruki Tanaka stood in front of a large monitor, his eyes fixed on the live feed of the Ronin Rumble. Akane Watanabe was doing her best to survive against the sheer power of Drake Nygma, narrowly dodging elimination multiple times.
Behind him, Kenjiro Tanaka leaned against a bench, a towel draped around his neck, his breathing even after his earlier victory. Yuriko sat nearby, polishing her father’s ceremonial katana, her sharp eyes flickering toward the screen. Haruki’s brow furrowed as Nygma hoisted Akane into the air with ease, showcasing his dominance.
Haruki Tanaka: Mudcock is playing an aggressive hand. Sending in Nygma this early? He’s trying to set the tone. Break us mentally. He wants to crush our morale before the match is even halfway done.
Kenjiro stepped closer, his calm demeanor a sharp contrast to Haruki’s frustration.
Kenjiro Tanaka: It’s a bold move. But bold moves can be reckless, Haruki. Nygma is a heavy hitter, yes, but sending him in this early exposes him. He’s not invincible.
Haruki nodded slowly but didn’t take his eyes off the screen.
Haruki Tanaka: It’s not about invincibility. Mudcock knows we expect him to save his strongest for the end. By deploying Nygma now, he’s forcing us to react emotionally instead of strategically.
He turned sharply toward the room.
Haruki Tanaka: We won’t play his game.
The wrestlers exchanged glances, sensing the gravity of the moment. Otakebi Fuji, seated in the corner, tightened the wraps around his massive hands.
Kenjiro Tanaka: Perhaps a tempered response, then. Someone who can test Nygma’s endurance without overcommitting our resources too early.
Haruki paced, his thoughts racing.
Haruki Tanaka: Fuji, it has to be you.
Otakebi stood, his towering frame casting a shadow over the room.
Otakebi: You’re sure? If I go in now, I’m committed.
Haruki’s gaze was steely.
Haruki Tanaka: Nygma thrives on overwhelming his opponents. Akane can hold out, but not forever. You’re the counterbalance—unshakable, immovable. You’ll force him to expend energy, slow him down, and buy us time.
Kenjiro: But remember, Otakebi, Mudcock is likely two steps ahead. He’ll have something planned for you too.
Otakebi smirked, his confidence unwavering.
Otakebi: Let him plan. It won’t matter once he’s staring up at me from the mat.
Haruki hesitated for a moment, his hand rubbing his chin as the live feed showed the countdown clock ticking down.
Haruki Tanaka: Go now. Show them what the Shikona Legion can do.
Otakebi grinned, slapping his chest as he made his way toward the stage entrance. The remaining AAPW roster gathered around the monitor, watching as the seconds ticked away.
Kenjiro Tanaka: Mudcock’s move was unexpected, but that doesn’t mean we can’t counter it. This is a marathon, Haruki, not a sprint.
Haruki exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing.
Haruki Tanaka: A marathon Mudcock wants to turn into a demolition derby. But he doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.
The screen shifted to Otakebi’s entrance music blaring through the arena, and Haruki allowed himself a small, calculating smile.
Haruki Tanaka: "Let’s see how long his bulldozer lasts against a mountain."
The crowd began counting down as the clock ticked toward the next entrant.
Crowd: TEN! NINE! EIGHT!
Akane leaned into the corner, gasping for air, while Nygma wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth, his grin widening.
Scott Slade: Akane Watanabe bought herself a little time, but for how long?
Takeshi Suzuki: Long enough to get some backup! Nygma may be strong, but he’s got no idea what’s coming next! I bet Tanaka has answer this brute!
Crowd: THREE! TWO! ONE!
The buzzer sounded, and the arena lights flashed, signaling the arrival of the next competitors. The arena roared with anticipation as Mikhail Mordokrov and Otakebi Fuji appeared from opposite sides of the ramp, both men exuding a terrifying aura. Mordokrov, clad in a black trench coat with Soviet-era symbols etched into the fabric, stalked toward the ring with measured, menacing steps. On the other side, Fuji’s imposing frame moved with the grace of a former Yokozuna, his traditional sumo garb replaced by AAPW’s colors.
Beast Bogan: Business is pickin’ up, brother! Look at these two titans comin’ down the ramps! We’re about to see a whole lotta smash-mouth wrestling!
Before Fuji could make it to the ring, Mordokrov charged at full speed, blindsiding him with a vicious running forearm. The impact sent Fuji crashing into the barricade, his back arching in pain as the Russian agent snarled, his eyes burning with cold, calculated rage.
Scott Slade: Mordokrov wasting no time! He’s already taking the fight to Fuji on the outside!
Chris Rodgers: What did you expect, Slade? That’s how you deal with these AAPW punks—straight-up brutality! These Russians are starting to grow on me!
Scott Slade: Only an old white man like you would say something like that, Chris.
In the ring, Drake Nygma had Akane cornered again, delivering brutal stomps to her midsection, each one driving the air from her lungs. Akane clutched the ropes, trying to pull herself up, but Nygma grabbed her by the wrist and whipped her into the opposite corner with a sickening thud.
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: Hang in there, Akane! Don’t let these gaijin bullies crush you!
Takeshi Suzuki: Fuji-san needs to get his ass in the ring!
On the outside, Fuji absorbed Mordokrov’s relentless strikes, his face twisted in pain but his stance unyielding. As Mordokrov went for another forearm strike, Fuji countered with a massive palm thrust to the chest, the sound echoing through the arena like a gunshot.
Beast Bogan: BOOM! That’s sumo power right there, brother! Reminds me of the time I took the reigning Yokzuna years ago here in Japan at an AAPW event! It took all the agility I had to come out on top! Mordkrov is one bad cat, brother, but even he can’t stay in close forever with a Sumo superstar like Fuji!
Mordokrov stumbled back, clutching his chest, but he wasn’t deterred. He lunged forward again, this time aiming for Fuji’s legs, attempting to take the larger man down with a double-leg takedown. But Fuji spread his stance, planting his feet like a mountain, and hoisted Mordokrov into the air with a surprising show of strength, slamming him onto the steel ramp with a modified Sumo Throw.
Scott Slade: Good lord! Fuji just planted Mordokrov on that ramp like a sack of potatoes!
Chris Rodgers: Damn it! Come on Mordo! Show the world you can handle this fat bastard!
Back in the ring, Akane had managed to dodge a charging Nygma, who hit the turnbuckles hard. Seizing the moment, she leapt onto the second rope and delivered a flying knee strike to Nygma’s back, causing him to stagger forward. But Nygma, ever the predator, turned and caught Akane mid-air as she tried to follow up, lifting her into a military press.
Chris Rodgers: That’s it! Toss her out like yesterday’s trash!
Nygma walked toward the ropes, preparing to dump Akane to the floor, but Fuji, having finally shaken Mordokrov, slid into the ring just in time. He charged at Nygma with a running shoulder tackle, forcing the big man to drop Akane before he could eliminate her.
Takeshi Suzuki: There we go! Now it’s a fair fight!
Nygma stumbled back, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Fuji. He cracked his neck and took a step forward, clearly ready to throw down with the sumo legend.
On the outside, Mordokrov wasn’t done yet. He grabbed a the steel steps, his eyes locked on Fuji, and slid back into the ring, brandishing the steps like a weapon.
Beast Bogan: Hold on now, brother! We’ve got some heavy artillery in the ring! What is this mad Russian thinking!
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: He can’t do that! Someone disqualify him now!
Chris Rodgers: Last I check Fujimoto the rules were pretty simple. Anything goes, just don’t get thrown over the top rope onto the floor!
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: You Americans and you garbage hardcore wrestling! You’ve ruined the sport!
Beast Bogan: Hey now, Brother! Watch your mouth! Last time I checked that’s a Russian with the steps in his hands down there! I won’t have you bad talking Americans!
Fuji turned just in time to see Mordokrov charging with the steps. He dodged to the side, and the steps crashed into Nygma’s chest, sending the Ultimate Wrestling star sprawling to the mat.
Scott Slade: Collateral damage! Mordokrov just took out his own teammate!
Takeshi Suzuki: Buw-Hahahaha! Oh man! That was great!
Chris Rodgers: At the end of the day Slade, all 60 of these men want to be the last one standing in the ring and in all honesty we know Mordkrov’s only allegiance is to mother Russia. He could care less about AAPW or Ultimate Wrestling. He just wants a shot at the undisputed championship!
Beast Bogan: Are you saying that was on Puropose, brother?
Chris Rodgers: Anything is possible, Bogan!
Takeshi Suzuki: Hah! For a Russian he sure thinks like an American! You Gaijin are all the same! It’s all about me! Me! Me! AAPW’s teamwork will by your down fall!
Mordokrov shrugged, showing no remorse, and turned his attention back to Fuji. The two titans stood face-to-face in the center of the ring, the tension palpable.
Beast Bogan: This right here, brother, is what the Ronin Rumble is all about! Two massive forces, ready to tear each other apart!
As the crowd roared in anticipation, Fuji and Mordokrov exchanged blows, each strike echoing like a cannon blast. Meanwhile, Akane, still gasping for air, crawled toward the corner, trying to regroup. But Nygma, despite the earlier hit, was already back on his feet, his eyes locked on her with predatory intent.
Chris Rodgers: She’s not outta the woods yet! Nygma’s still got her in his sights!
Scott Slade: Akane needs to be smart here. She’s tough, but she’s taken a beating. She can’t go toe-to-toe with Nygma or Mordokrov!
The chaos in the ring escalated as Fuji and Mordokrov’s brawl spilled into the ropes, each man vying for dominance. But the crowd’s attention shifted back to Akane and Nygma, the tension mounting as the two circled each other once more.
Beast Bogan: Brother, this ring is a powder keg, and it’s about to blow!
Scott Slade: Akane Watanabe bought herself a little time, but for how long? She's barely standing, and Nygma is still smiling!
Takeshi Suzuki: Long enough to get some backup, Slade! But I’ll tell you this—Akane is fighting for all of Japan right now! Every fan in the Tokyo Dome is with her!
Nygma stalked toward Akane with methodical precision. His movements were slow, deliberate—like a cat toying with a wounded mouse. The crowd roared for Akane to fight back, their chants echoing throughout the arena. Nygma cornered her, grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her to the center of the ring. He hoisted her up with ease, lifting her into a gorilla press position. The Tokyo Dome erupted in shock and disbelief as Nygma paraded her around the ring, holding her above his head like a trophy.
Chris Rodgers: Yes! Do it!
Takeshi Suzuki: Disgusting! Absolutely disgusting! He’s trying to humiliate one of Japan’s finest!
Beast Bogan: Nygma’s sending a message to everyone in the AAPW locker room, Brother! Beware brothers! I’m a bad! Bad! Man!
Nygma smirkrf as he turned toward the AAPW banners hanging from the rafters. With a mocking nod to the crowd, he suddenly launched her out of the ring with a thunderous gorilla press slam. Akane soared through the air and crashed over the guard rail, smashing into a bunch of Akebi 360 VR cameras set up for the live broadcast. The impact was thunderous, and flash photography lit up the arena like fireworks as rolled to a stop unmoving.
Scott Slade: Good God Almighty! Someone call Baron Vendredi! Akane Watanabe has been launched into the fifth dimension!
The camera cut to the crowd, where fans were screaming and crying, waving Japanese flags and shaking their fists in the air. The emotional devastation was palpable as the first elimination had be taken by AAPW.
Takeshi Suzuki: This is a disgrace! A travesty! How dare these gaijin come into Japan and treat our heroes like this!
Chris Rodgers: Do you ever shut up? Nygma is here to do what needs to be done. We didn't agree to this crazy rumble to let you win. Were here to prove a point! Ultimate Wrestling is the greatest wrestling promotion in the world!
Medics rushed to Akane’s side, but the action in the ring continued. Nygma stood by the ropes, staring down at the wreckage he had caused with an eerie calm. His lips curled into a wicked grin as he wiped more blood from his mouth.
Beast Bogan: Brother, there’s makin’ a statement, and then there’s just plain brutality. This ain’t right. Someone’s gotta step up and stop this.
**Chris Rodgers: Oh give me a break Bogan! The name of the game is toss you opponent over the top rope! They never said how far!
Back in the ring, Otakebi Fuji tried to regroup, adjusting his stance and preparing to charge. But before he could move, Mikhail Mordokrov exploded into action. Mordokrov, the Russian super-soldier, barreled toward Fuji with a clothesline from hell, sending the sumo giant crashing to the mat like a chopped redwood tree.
Scott Slade: Here comes Mordokrov! The Russian wrecking machine is tearing through the competition!
Fuji rolled to his knees, shaking off the impact, but Mordokrov wasn’t finished. He grabbed Fuji by the face, applying an iron claw that made the Tokyo Dome gasp in horror. Otakebi waved his arms around and screamed like a banshi as he tried to fight through the pain of the hold.
Chris Rodgers: Oh yeah! Crush him, Mikhail! Show these AAPW chumps what happens when you step into our ring!
Fuji struggled against the claw, trying to break free with palm strikes to Mordokrov’s wrist. But Mordokrov’s grip was unrelenting. He forced Fuji back into the corner, slamming him against the turnbuckles.
Beast Bogan: Look at the inhuman strength of Mordokrov, brother. This guy’s a freak of nature.
Takeshi Suzuki: Nature? There’s nothing natural about that scarred and tattooed psychopath! He looks like he was designed in a lab by Putin himself! Our government needs to deport his ass back to the motherland! How the hell did he end up here anyway! That’s what I want to know!
Mordokrov twisted his grip, transitioning the iron claw into a flapjack slam that sent Fuji crashing to the mat once more. The Russian rose to his feet, towering over Fuji like a grim specter of death. It was clear by the look on Fuji’s face he’d never been man handled by anyone outside of Sumo like this. Meanwhile, Nygma casually leaned against the ropes, watching the carnage unfold with a smirk.
Scott Slade: My God the strength of this man! Fuji’s in a world of trouble right now. He’s outnumbered, outgunned, and there’s no help in sight!
Takeshi Suzuki: Don’t count Fuji out yet! The Shikona Beast has survived worse, and he’ll survive this too!
Fuji groaned, pulling himself to his feet using the ropes. His face twisted in pain, but his eyes burned with determination. He squared his stance, motioning for Mordokrov to bring it on. Mordokrov charged again, but Fuji sidestepped at the last second, sending the Russian crashing into the corner. Fuji followed up with a massive sumo palm strike, the impact echoing through the arena.
Beast Bogan: There it is! That’s the sumo strength we’ve heard about, brother!
Fuji unleashed a flurry of thunderous palm strikes, driving Mordokrov back. The crowd erupted, rallying behind the sumo legend. But Nygma was there to cut the celebration short. Like a snake striking its prey, Nygma blindsided Fuji with a big boot to the back of the head, sending the sumo crashing to the mat once more.
Chris Rodgers: Beautiful teamwork! Nygma and Mordokrov are a deadly duo and finally seem to be on the same page!
Nygma and Mordokrov stood over Fuji’s fallen body, their dark alliance taking shape as they exchanged a brief, wordless glance. Without hesitation, they unleashed a brutal assault, stomping down on the Shikona Beast with relentless, synchronized strikes.
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: This is despicable! Two men, both giants in their own right, ganging up on one of AAPW’s proudest warriors. Otakebi Fuji deserves better than this!
Chris Rodgers: Better? Please! Fuji knew what he signed up for. He wanted to play gangster with the Yakuza—well, welcome to the real underworld! Mordokrov and Nygma don’t play by any code of honor.
As Fuji tried to roll to his side, Mordokrov seized him, wrenching him into a Kremlin Crossface, while Nygma ruthlessly stomped on his exposed back, driving his boots into Fuji’s spine with sickening force. Meanhile
Takeshi Suzuki: Fight back, Fuji! You’re the leader of the Shikona Legion—don’t let these gaijin humiliate you!
Scott Slade: Fuji’s being tortured out there!
Beast Bogan: Come on, brother! Get up, Fuji! You gotta shake it off and make these guys pay!
Fuji writhed in agony, his face twisted in pain, but he refused to submit. His hands clawed at the mat as he struggled against the overwhelming assault. Suddenly, Nygma leaned in toward Mordokrov, grinning.
Chris Rodgers: Look at this—these two are strategizing! They know exactly what they’re doing. This isn’t a random beatdown; it’s a calculated message to AAPW!
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: Message or not, it’s cowardly! Two-on-one isn’t dominance—it’s desperation!
Chris Rodgers: Last time I checked this was a team game at the end of the day. Are you saying your side wouldn’t do the same thing?
The camera cut to the massive countdown clock positioned above the stage, and the crowd’s energy surged as the numbers ticked down.
Crowd: TEN! NINE! EIGHT!
The atmosphere in the AAPW locker room was tense. Wrestlers stood huddled around a large monitor, watching the brutal beatdown unfolding in the ring. Otakebi Fuji writhed in agony under the relentless assault of Mikhail Mordokrov and Drake Nygma. The mood had shifted from excitement to concern. Haruki Tanaka’s jaw clenched tightly as he observed the carnage. His typically calm demeanor was cracking. His fingers drummed impatiently on a wooden bench, his mind racing. Kenjiro Tanaka, seated beside him, shook his head slowly.
Kenjiro Tanaka: This isn’t what we expected. Mudcock is playing a different game. He’s be extremely aggressive.
Haruki scowled, rubbing his temples.
Haruki Tanaka: He’s throwing everything at us right from the start… Nygma, Mordokrov… Those are two of his biggest threats, and he’s not holding them back. It makes no sense. Why show your hand this early?
Kenjiro remained quiet for a moment before responding.
Kenjiro Tanaka: It’s genius. He wants to crush our morale. A roster that’s depressed and lack momentum is easier to defeat.
A sharp crash echoed as Haruki slammed his fist into the bench.
Haruki Tanaka: Damn him! He wants us to panic. He thinks we’ll rush in blindly to save face.
Kenjiro Tanaka: He’s not wrong is he? This doesn’t look good.
Haruki glared at the screen, where Fuji was now locked in Mordokrov’s Kremlin Cross, the Russian’s expression cold and sadistic. Takeshi Suzuki’s voice blared from the speakers, full of frustration and desperation. “Come on, Fuji! Don’t let these bastards humiliate us!” The AAPW roster murmured among themselves. Yamato Ikari, standing in the corner, adjusted his wrist tape, his eyes locked on the screen. Unlike some of his stablemates, Yamato showed no fear. Finally, Haruki stood up and pointed at Yamato.
Haruki Tanaka: You’re next.
Yamato’s lips curled into a smirk.
Yamato Ikari: About time. Now get out of my way, Fuji needs my help.
As Yamato made his way toward the entrance tunnel, Haruki grabbed his arm.
Haruki Tanaka: Remember, you’re not just representing yourself. You’re representing the Shikona Legion and AAPW. Do not fail son!
Yamato pulled his arm free, adjusting his Storm Bearer robe.
Yamato Ikari: Don’t ever touch me like that again… I never fail. You should know that by now.
The camera lingered on Haruki for a moment as he watched Yamato disappear down the hall. His eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Haruki Tanaka (muttering): What are you really up to, Mudcock?
Meanwhile, in the Ultimate Wrestling locker room, Rupert Mudcock sat comfortably in a plush chair, sipping from a crystal glass filled with bourbon. The room was far more lavish, complete with catered food and flat-screen monitors showing the Rumble from every angle. Scott Slade’s voice echoed from the screen. “Otakebi Fuji is taking a hell of a beating! Someone needs to help this man before he’s broken in half!” Mudcock chuckled, swirling his bourbon lazily.
Rupert Mudcock: Let him break. No one is unbreakable.
He tapped the side of his glass, deep in thought. Beside him, Devin Zeagal, now bandaged and brooding after his humiliating defeat, watched silently.
Rupert Mudcock: Next up… Olga Pavlova.
An aide nodded and hurried off to deliver the instructions to the Russian behemouth. Zeagal finally spoke, his voice low and bitter.
Devin Zeagal: Why send her now? We could hold her back. Save her for later…
Mudcock smirked, leaning forward.
Rupert Mudcock: Timing, Devin. It’s all about timing. Olga’s not just muscle—she’s a spectacle. The kind of chaos Tanaka won’t be ready for. This isn’t about endurance. It’s about momentum. We keep hitting them hard, and they won’t know how to respond. Plus Russians make for good cannon fodder… every good General knows that…
Zeagal remained silent, digesting Mudcock’s strategy, before heading to the locker room to let the squad know Olga would next.
Beast Bogan: Somebody’s gotta get out here and help Fuji, brother, or this is gonna get ugly fast!
The crowd's anticipation hit a fever pitch as Fuji writhed beneath Mordokrov’s punishing Gulag Lock, while Nygma circled him like a predator, grinning sadistically. Suddenly, the ominous buzz of the alarm filled the Tokyo Dome, signaling that two new competitors were about to enter the battlefield.
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: Finally! Backup is coming for Fuji—let’s hope it’s not too late!
Chris Rodgers: Or maybe it’s more firepower for Ultimate Wrestling! Either way, things are about to get a whole lot worse for somebody!
The arena lights strobed red and blue as “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC blasted through the speakers, sending the AAPW faithful into a frenzy. From the AAPW entrance ramp emerged Yamato Ikari, the towering "Storm Bearer," with an intense focus in his eyes.
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: Yamato Ikari is here! The Storm Bearer has arrived, and he looks ready to unleash hell!
Ikari power-walked down the ramp, his massive frame cutting an imposing figure against the strobe lights. His gaze never wavered from the ring, locking on to Mordokrov and Nygma like a hunter stalking prey. But as Ikari reached the ringside area, the lights dimmed, and an eerie icy-blue hue bathed the arena. The ominous sound of "The Tundra’s Roar" echoed throughout the Tokyo Dome as Olga Pavlova emerged from the Ultimate Wrestling side.
Scott Slade: Oh boy! Here comes the Siberian Behemoth! Mudcock is relentless!
Chris Rodgers: Look at her Takeshi! That’s 425 pounds of destruction, and she’s not here to play nice!
Takeshi Suzuki: I can’t look at her Rodgers! If a look at her any longer I may vomit! What an ugly disgusting creature!
Pavlova marched methodically toward the ring, her cold, calculating eyes locked on the chaos inside. Her bleached blonde hair gleamed under the lights, and her tusk-shaped piercings added to her fearsome appearance.
Beast Bogan: That’s one dangerous lady, brother. She’s about to bring the storm—and not the good kind!
As Pavlova reached the ring apron, Ikari slid into the ring. Without missing a beat, he charged at Mordokrov, delivering a devastating Cyclone Knee that smashed into the Russian brute’s jaw, forcing him to release Fuji from the Gulag Lock.
Takeshi Suzuki: Yamato Ikari is like a force of nature! He just knocked Mordokrov halfway across the ring!
Nygma turned to intercept Ikari, but the Storm Bearer was already in motion. With a burst of speed, Ikari flattened Nygma with a crushing Whirlwind Charge, driving him into the corner with bone-rattling force.
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: Ikari is on fire! He’s single-handedly turning the tide for AAPW!
But as Ikari stood tall, ready to continue his assault, Pavlova climbed over the top rope, her sheer size and presence drawing gasps from the crowd. Ikari turned to face her, his expression hardening as he realized he was about to collide with one of the most feared women in wrestling.
Beast Bogan: It’s a standoff brother! The Storm Bearer versus the Siberian Behemoth!
For a moment, the two towering figures stared each other down, the tension in the arena palpable. Then, without warning, Pavlova struck first, delivering a massive palm strike to Ikari’s chest that echoed through the Tokyo Dome. Ikari staggered but held his ground, retaliating with a series of rapid punches to Pavlova’s midsection. The two powerhouses traded brutal strikes, each one shaking the ring with their sheer force.
Meanwhile, Fuji had crawled to his feet, still clutching his ribs. Seeing Pavlova and Ikari locked in combat, he lunged at Mordokrov, seeking revenge for the earlier assault. Fuji unleashed a barrage of palm strikes and a thunderous Yokozuna Slam that sent Mordokrov crashing to the mat.
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: The Shikona Legion is fighting back! Fuji and Ikari are holding their own!
Takeshi Suzuki: Finally! It’s about time!
But the momentum shifted as Pavlova caught Ikari with a Behemoth Drop, slamming him to the canvas with her unreal strength and with a devastating impact. Mordokrov, regaining his composure, joined Pavlova in stomping Ikari into the mat.
Chris Rodgers: That’s teamwork! Mordokrov and Pavlova are picking apart the opposition!
Fuji tried to intervene, but Nygma cut him off with a vicious Big Boot, sending him tumbling into the ropes. Mordokrov and Pavlova dragged Ikari to his feet, holding him in place as Nygma prepared another devastating strike.
Beast Bogan: Damn! The Shikona Legion is getting torn apart, brother!
The beating continued, with Pavlova locking Ikari in a crushing Sugar Hold while Mordokrov delivered methodical, punishing strikes. The crowd erupted in boos as Nygma stomped on Fuji, preventing him from mounting any kind of defense.
Takeshi Suzuki: This is insane! Where’s the next entrant? We need help out here NOW!
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: No one whose come of the AAPW locker room has really been able turn the tide for us. Not a good Sign Takeshi…
Chris Rodgers: Hah, your right Fujimoto, Tanaka seems to be throwing all the big boys he can at Ultimate Wrestling and it doesn’t seem to be working out all that well!
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: He is right this not going well Suzuki-san…
Takeshi Suzuki: AAPW will be victorious! We will defeat the Gajin hoard! I still have hope!
Beast Bogan: You’re gonna need more than hope, brother. Mudcock’s got Tanaka by the balls right now!
In the ring, Mikhail Mordokrov and Olga Pavlova stood tall over the fallen Yamato Ikari and Otakebi Fuji, their brutal assault bringing the AAPW crowd to stunned silence. Mordokrov barked something in Russian, gesturing toward Ikari. Pavlova nodded, and together they grabbed the massive sumo wrestler by his arms and legs.
Scott Slade: Look at the sheer power of these two! This is Ultimate Wrestling dominance right here!
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: No! This can’t be happening! That man weighs almost 400 pounds! How is this possible?
With terrifying ease, the two Russians hoisted Ikari high above their heads, parading him around the ring like a trophy. The fans in attendance and the ones watching at home looked on in awe at the inhuman power of the Russians.
Chris Rodgers: Toss his ass out!
The crowd gasped as Mordokrov and Pavlova hurled Ikari over the top rope. The massive sumo wrestler crashed onto the concrete floor with a sickening thud, the impact echoing through the Tokyo Dome.
Beast Bogan: That’s gotta be 373 pounds hittin’ the floor, brother! Ikari’s done!
Takeshi Suzuki: Yamato Ikari has been eliminated! This is a travesty! A disgrace!
The medics rushed to Ikari’s side as he lay motionless near the barricade, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths as Pavlova and Mordokrov pointed and laughed at the Sumo wrestler.
Back in the ring, Otakebi Fuji struggled to his feet, but Drake Nygma was already waiting, a sadistic grin on his face. Nygma grabbed Fuji by the hair, dragging him toward the corner. With methodical precision, he ripped the padding off the turnbuckle, exposing the cold steel beneath.
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: No! Someone stop him! That’s not fair!
Chris Rodgers: That’s how you do it! You wanna win, you do whatever it takes! Nygma has what it takes to win this thing!
Takeshi Suzuki: Have you been smoking crack rocks Rodgers? No one wins from # 1!
Nygma slammed Fuji’s head into the exposed steel once… twice… three times. The sound of bone meeting metal echoed throughout the arena, and the AAPW legend’s face twisted in pain.
Scott Slade: Fuji’s head just bounced off that turnbuckle like a basketball!
Beast Bogan: His head is about as big as one too. This is hard to watch, brother. The Shikona Beast is gettin’ dismantled!
Nygma showed no mercy. He grabbed Fuji again and smashed his head into the steel two more times. Blood began to trickle from Fuji’s forehead, staining the canvas.
Takeshi Suzuki: This is barbaric! These gaijin have no honor!
As Fuji crumpled to the mat, the countdown clock appeared on the screen, drawing the crowd’s attention.
Crowd: TEN! NINE! EIGHT!
Yasuhiro Fujimoto: Come on, Tanaka! We need reinforcements, and we need them now! Send someone out who can turn the tide damn it!
The countdown continued as Nygma wiped Fuji’s blood from his hands and Mordokrov stood beside Pavlova, their eyes locked on the stage.
Crowd: THREE! TWO! ONE!
To Be Continued In Part - 4