P:V Uprising 106
Live on the Sanctioned Violence Network
Crypto.com Arena, LA, California
11th January 2025
The camera pans over a roaring crowd packed into the Crypto.com Arena in Los Angeles, California. The energy is electric as fans wave signs and cheer loudly. The screen flashes the Uprising 106 logo before cutting to the commentary desk, where Zac Brindle and Johnny Kaos are ready to kick off the action.
Zac Brindle: *”Welcome, everyone, to Project: Violence Uprising 106, live from the Crypto.com Arena in the heart of Los Angeles! I’m Zac Brindle, here with my partner in chaos, Johnny Kaos, and folks, we’re just two weeks away from *Atlantic City Assault—but tonight, we’ve got a blockbuster show that’s sure to blow the roof off this place!”
Johnny Kaos: “That’s right, Zac! We’ve got champions, rivalries, and a lot to settle tonight. In our main event, it’s a dream match for the ages: P:V Heavyweight Champion Adam Garcia steps into the ring against IPWA Heavyweight Champion Masafumi Satake in a non-title showdown! Can you imagine the bragging rights at stake here?”
Zac Brindle: “Absolutely, Johnny. But that’s not all—tonight, Caleb Knox looks to continue his reign of terror as he takes on ‘The Wayward Traveller’ Bernard Wolfe. Wolfe is one of the toughest and most resilient competitors we’ve seen, but will that be enough to stop the juggernaut that is Caleb Knox?”
Johnny Kaos: “I have my doubts, Zac. And speaking of unstoppable forces, we’ve got a massive six-man tag match lined up. The P:V Tag Team Champions, the Starr Brothers, are teaming up with the mute monster Midas to take on TV Champion Stevie Rigg and the Masters of the Mat. That’s a combustible mix of egos and styles, and I can’t wait to see it explode in the ring!”
Zac Brindle: *”This is the last stop on the West Coast before we head to Atlantic City, and the tension is at an all-time high. Rivalries are reaching their breaking points, and tonight could very well reshape the road to *Atlantic City Assault. Buckle up, folks—it’s going to be a wild ride!”
The camera cuts to the ring, where the lights dim, and the crowd buzzes with anticipation as the opening pyro explodes. Uprising 106 is officially underway!
Single Match
Brandon Snyder vs. Chopper Anderson
Backstage
Mystery
The camera cuts to the office of GM James Von Drake, a mix of vintage wrestling memorabilia and modern elegance adorning the walls. Von Drake is seated at his desk, reviewing paperwork, when the door slams open. In walk the P:V Tag Team Champions, Darren and Simon Starr, their championship belts slung arrogantly over their shoulders.
Darren Starr: *”Alright, Von Drake, enough of the mystery. We’re sick of waiting. Who’s it going to be? Who’s stepping up to face *The Starr Brothers* at Atlantic City Assault? We’ve beaten everyone already—don’t tell us you’re struggling to find anyone worthy!”*
Simon Starr: “Or maybe that’s exactly the problem. Face it, Von Drake, the tag division’s nothing without us. So why don’t you just hand us a couple of cans to crush and save yourself the embarrassment of watching us outshine your booking again?”
Von Drake, visibly irritated, leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he glares at the brothers.
James Von Drake: “First of all, don’t storm into my office like you own the place. You might be holding the titles, but you’re not calling the shots around here—I am.”
The Starr Brothers exchange smug looks, clearly unfazed by Von Drake’s tone.
Darren Starr: “Relax, old man. We’re just trying to help you out. You know, save you from having to scrape the bottom of the barrel.”
James Von Drake: “Help me out? By acting like spoiled brats? Let me tell you something, boys. I’ve been in this business long enough to know that cocky champions like you always end up flat on their backs. But you want answers? Here’s one for you: worry about your match tonight. You’ve got Rigg and the Masters of the Mat to deal with. That’s no walk in the park.”
Simon Starr: “Yeah, yeah, but what about the PPV?”
Von Drake stands up, slamming his hands on the desk. The Starr Brothers flinch slightly but quickly recover their bravado.
James Von Drake: *”I’ll worry about the PPV, and I’ll make sure you’ve got some top-class opponents. As for you two? Get out of my office before I make you defend those titles tonight instead of waiting for *Atlantic City Assault!”
The Starr Brothers scowl but begrudgingly back out of the office, muttering to each other as they go.
Darren Starr: “Top-class opponents? Yeah, we’ll see about that.”
Simon Starr: “Whoever it is, they’ll still bow to The Starr Brothers.”
As the door slams shut, Von Drake shakes his head, muttering under his breath.
James Von Drake: “They’ll get what’s coming to them… just wait.”
The camera lingers on Von Drake’s determined expression before fading out.
Single Match
Teddy Rush vs. James Mendoza
Ringside
A Reminder
The bell rings, signaling the end of the match. Teddy Rush stands victorious over James Mendoza after an exciting back-and-forth contest. The fans cheer as Rush helps Mendoza to his feet, offering a handshake in a display of sportsmanship. Mendoza accepts, and the two men exchange a nod of respect. The crowd roars with approval at the moment of camaraderie.
Zac Brindle: “What a great match and an even better show of respect from Teddy Rush and James Mendoza! This is what P:V is all about!”
Johnny Kaos: “Yeah, yeah, it’s all very heartwarming, but let’s not get too soft out here.”
As the cheers continue, a sudden commotion breaks out in the crowd. Gabriel Cross leaps over the barricade with a steel chair in hand, sliding into the ring before either Rush or Mendoza can react.
Zac Brindle: “Wait a second! What’s this?! It’s Gabriel Cross!”
Johnny Kaos: “Oh, business just picked up!”
Without hesitation, Cross swings the steel chair with brutal precision, striking Teddy Rush across the back. Rush crumples to the mat, clutching his spine in agony. The crowd erupts into deafening boos, but Cross is relentless, turning his attention to James Mendoza and delivering a vicious chair shot to his midsection, dropping him to his knees before smashing the chair across his back.
Zac Brindle: “This is despicable! Gabriel Cross has just ambushed Teddy Rush and James Mendoza out of nowhere!”
Johnny Kaos: “It’s called making a statement, Zac, and I think Cross just wrote it in bold letters!”
With both men down and writhing in pain, Cross plants the steel chair in the center of the ring and stands tall over his fallen victims. He smirks arrogantly, soaking in the chorus of boos raining down from the audience.
Zac Brindle: “This is absolutely disgusting! Teddy Rush just earned a hard-fought victory, and this is how Gabriel Cross chooses to respond?!”
Johnny Kaos: “I’m not condoning it, but you can’t deny the impact of this attack. Gabriel Cross just sent a clear message to everyone in the locker room—and the fans.”
Cross raises his arms in triumph, the boos growing louder as he soaks in the hostile energy of the crowd. He glares down at Rush and Mendoza, sneering before exiting the ring, the steel chair in tow. The camera lingers on the scene of devastation in the ring—Rush and Mendoza struggling to recover, and Gabriel Cross walking up the ramp with a sinister grin.
Zac Brindle: “There’s no excuse for this behavior, and you can bet there’s going to be hell to pay for Gabriel Cross after this!”
Johnny Kaos: “Maybe, but for now, Cross is the one standing tall. Love him or hate him, that’s a statement if I’ve ever seen one.”
The show cuts to commercial with the fans still booing and the image of Gabriel Cross on the stage, holding the steel chair high above his head.
Backstage
Not Even on the Same Book…
The camera cuts to the backstage area where the Masters of the Mat, George Lanchester and Mike Donovan, are standing next to Stevie Rigg. Lanchester, in his usual tailored jacket and scarf, looks down his nose at Rigg, while Donovan adjusts his perfectly coiffed hair. Rigg, clad in his signature leather jacket, leans casually against the wall, visibly unimpressed with his teammates.
George Lanchester:
“Now listen here, Rigg. We are not just any team. We are the Masters of the Mat—technical perfection, ring generals, and quite frankly, wrestling royalty. So, if you follow our lead out there, we might just secure a win against those ruffians.”
Mike Donovan:
*“Might? George, darling, there’s no ‘might’ about it. If this… *brawler”—he says the word with disdain—“does exactly as we say, then victory is assured. Strategy is everything, Rigg. We’ll control the pace, and you can… I don’t know, throw a punch or two if absolutely necessary.”*
Rigg narrows his eyes, clearly biting his tongue as the pompous duo continues.
Stevie Rigg:
“Oh, I see how it is. You two wanna draw up your fancy little game plans while I’m just supposed to stand there and look pretty, yeah? Well, newsflash, mates—Midas and the Starr Brothers don’t give a damn about your so-called strategy. They’re gonna come out swinging, and if you two can’t handle that, maybe I’ll just do this on my own.”
George Lanchester:
“Do it on your own?* That kind of brutish thinking is exactly why you need us. You’re lucky to even share a ring with us, let alone be on our team.”*
Mike Donovan:
“Exactly. We’ll show you how professionals handle things. Try not to embarrass yourself, Rigg.”
Rigg takes a step closer to the two, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Stevie Rigg:
*“Oh, don’t worry, boys. I’ll let the *professionals* handle it. But if you step outta line, don’t expect me to clean up your mess.”*
Lanchester and Donovan exchange smug smirks, completely dismissing Rigg’s words.
George Lanchester:
“We’ll take it from here. Just try to keep up.”
Rigg shakes his head, clearly frustrated but unwilling to waste any more energy arguing. He brushes past the Masters of the Mat and heads toward the entrance area.
Stevie Rigg:
“Let’s just get this over with.”
The Masters of the Mat adjust their gear one last time, exuding confidence as they follow Rigg.
Mike Donovan:
*“Honestly, George, working with these *commoners* is exhausting.”*
George Lanchester:
“But necessary, Mike. After all, someone has to teach them how it’s done.”
The scene fades as the trio heads toward the ring, their uneasy alliance teetering on the edge of collapse before the match has even begun.
Backstage
The Standard
The camera cuts to the backstage interview area, where Elena Cruz stands in front of the Sanctioned Violence backdrop, microphone in hand. Beside her is Dash Diaz, the young, energetic high flyer, known to fans as “The Standard.” Diaz is dressed in his vibrant ring gear and a branded hoodie, exuding confidence as he smiles at the camera.
Elena Cruz:
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome one of the brightest stars in Project Violence, ‘The Standard’ Dash Diaz! Dash, the Atlantic City Assault PPV is just two weeks away, and fans have been wondering—what’s next for you?”
Dash Diaz:
“Thanks, Elena. You know, it’s crazy—we’re just two weeks away from one of the biggest events in P:V history, and here I am, without an opponent. Atlantic City Assault is all about celebrating our new home, and what better way to do that than with the best match on the card? And let’s be real, nobody brings it quite like ‘The Standard.’”
The fans can be heard cheering in the background, clearly behind Diaz’s enthusiasm.
Elena Cruz:
“That’s true! You’ve wowed audiences with your high-flying style and unforgettable matches. So, what’s the plan, Dash? Are you issuing a challenge to someone specific?”
Dash Diaz:
*“That’s the thing, Elena. I don’t care who it is. Whether it’s a veteran trying to prove they’ve still got it, or one of the younger guys looking to make a name for themselves—I’m calling on *anyone* in that locker room to step up. Let’s tear the house down at Atlantic City Assault. No excuses, no holding back. Let’s make it a night to remember.”*
Diaz turns to the camera, his expression shifting from playful to determined.
Dash Diaz:
“So, who’s it gonna be? Who’s ready to step into the ring with ‘The Standard’ and show the world what they’ve got? Atlantic City deserves the best, and I’m ready to deliver. Now, all I need is someone with the guts to take the challenge.”
Elena nods, impressed by his confidence.
Elena Cruz:
“Bold words, Dash! Let’s see if anyone from the roster has what it takes to answer your challenge. Fans, stay tuned—because whoever steps up, you can bet Dash Diaz will be ready to set the standard!”
Diaz flashes a confident grin and holds up his hands in the shape of a diamond, his signature pose, before walking off camera. Elena watches him leave and turns back to the audience.
Elena Cruz:
“The challenge has been issued! Will anyone rise to the occasion? We’ll find out soon enough!”
The segment fades out as anticipation builds for who will answer Dash Diaz’s call.
Six Man Tag Team Match
The Starr Brothers & Midas vs. Masters of the Mat & Stevie Rigg
Backstage
A Lesson in Respect
The camera cuts to Adam Garcia, the reigning P:V Heavyweight Champion, in a private locker room. Dressed in his signature “Mad Bull” jacket, with his P:V Heavyweight Championship and XWF X-treme Championship belts displayed prominently nearby, Garcia is wrapping his hands in preparation for the highly anticipated main event. The intensity in his eyes shows his focus and determination.
The door opens quietly, and in walks Masafumi Satake, the IPWA Heavyweight Champion. Satake, dressed in his ring gear with a towel draped over his shoulders, bows slightly out of respect before stepping further into the room. Garcia notices him and smirks.
Adam Garcia:
“Masafumi. Glad you’re here. Ready to give these fans the show they deserve?”
Masafumi Satake:
“Always, Garcia-san. Tonight is about respect. You’re one of the best in the world, and I look forward to testing myself against you.”
Garcia nods, the mutual respect palpable.
Adam Garcia:
“Same here. You’ve done it all—Japan, America, everywhere. And now, here we are, two champions, one ring. Let’s give ‘em a match they’ll never forget. But let’s get one thing straight—if that snake Caleb Knox tries to stick his nose in our business…”
Masafumi Satake:
(Interrupting with a calm but firm tone)
“We take him out. Together.”
The crowd can be heard cheering faintly from the arena in anticipation as the two champions exchange a knowing look.
Adam Garcia:
“Good. I want this to be clean, Satake. No excuses, no distractions. Just you and me. But if Knox shows up… well, he’ll wish he hadn’t.”
Masafumi Satake:
“Agreed. Let’s remind everyone what champions should look like.”
Satake extends his hand, and Garcia immediately clasps it in a firm handshake. Both men maintain eye contact, a silent agreement between warriors. Satake nods once more before turning to leave, but stops at the doorway.
Masafumi Satake:
“Let the best man win.”
Adam Garcia:
“You too, Masafumi.”
As Satake exits, the camera lingers on Garcia, who takes a deep breath and cracks his knuckles, the weight of the upcoming match evident in his posture. The segment ends with the camera zooming in on the two championship belts, a symbol of the prestige on the line in tonight’s main event.
Single Match
Bernard Wolfe vs. Caleb Knox
Ringside
Answering The Champion
The bell rings, and the fans are booing loudly as Caleb Knox, “Iron Heart,” stands tall over a fallen Bernard Wolfe, “The Wayward Traveller.” Knox, still breathing heavily from the hard-fought match, smirks as he looks down at Wolfe, who is clutching his ribs and rolling to the side in pain. The referee tries to check on Wolfe, but Knox arrogantly shoves him away and grabs a microphone from the ringside area.
Caleb Knox:
“Cut the music! Cut it right now!”
The boos grow even louder as Knox slowly circles the ring, the smirk never leaving his face.
Caleb Knox:
*”You all just saw it, didn’t you? Another so-called star in Project: Violence dropped at my feet. Another one left staring up at the lights, wondering where it all went wrong. Bernard Wolfe? *Check.* Elijah Drake? Check. Masafumi Satake? Check. And Adam Garcia… your days are numbered.”*
The crowd erupts in chants of “You suck! You suck!” but Knox seems unfazed, soaking in the jeers as fuel.
Caleb Knox:
*”Now, I hear that Adam Garcia has the audacity to call me out. *Me!* The man who has single-handedly dismantled this roster. The man who should already be standing here as YOUR rightful P:V Heavyweight Champion! But no… instead, I’m still waiting for someone with enough guts—or brains—to do the right thing and hand me that title.”*
Knox pauses, his sneer turning into a dark grin.
Caleb Knox:
*”But you know what? That’s fine. If I have to take it from Garcia’s cold, broken hands in two weeks at *Atlantic City Assault,* then so be it. I’ll pry that championship away from him myself. And when I do, I won’t just be the champion… I’ll be the face of Project: Violence. The Iron Heart of this company. The man who defines what this place is all about.”*
The boos reach a deafening level as Knox turns his attention directly to the camera, addressing Garcia wherever he might be watching.
Caleb Knox:
“Garcia, I know you’re back there, probably polishing those belts of yours and dreaming about legacy. Let me make this crystal clear for you—your legacy ends in Atlantic City. Your reign ends in Atlantic City. And the reign of Iron Heart begins. So enjoy the next two weeks, champ. They’ll be the last two weeks you’ll ever be able to call yourself that.”
Knox drops the microphone with a loud thud, raises his arms in defiance, and soaks in the hatred from the crowd as Wolfe finally rolls out of the ring, still holding his side. The camera pans to Knox standing tall in the center of the ring, a self-proclaimed king awaiting his crown.
The segment ends with a close-up of Knox’s smirking face as he mouths, “Two weeks,” before the screen fades to black.
Backstage
The Skybox
The camera cuts to a luxurious skybox high above the Crypto.com Arena. The fans immediately erupt into boos as the unmistakable figure of Jean Louis Duval, the cocky French superstar from Dynasty Wrestling and recent European Cup winner, steps into view. Dressed in an impeccably tailored suit with a confident smirk plastered across his face, Duval is flanked by his equally smug French compatriots, Royce Lacroix and HyperNova, who exude an air of superiority as they lean against the railing, looking down at the ring below.
Duval gestures theatrically to the arena floor, clearly basking in the negative reaction of the crowd.
Jean Louis Duval:
*”Ah, the sounds of mediocrity. Do you hear it, mes amis? The people of Los Angeles booing greatness! But let them boo, for tonight is not about them. Tonight is about me… and my *future prize.“
He smirks and adjusts the cuffs of his suit jacket, turning his attention toward Royce Lacroix, who nods in agreement.
Royce Lacroix:
“They boo because they are jealous, Jean Louis. Jealous of your talent, your success, and your destiny to become the next IPWA International Heavyweight Champion.”
HyperNova:
“Let them boo louder. Their tears will only make the champagne taste sweeter in two weeks.”
The trio laughs arrogantly as Duval steps closer to the glass, peering down at the ring as if envisioning his future victory.
Jean Louis Duval:
*”Tonight, I observe Masafumi Satake up close. I watch every move, every flaw, every mistake. He may be their beloved champion, but in two weeks, he will be nothing more than another name etched beneath mine. The Atlantic City Assault? No, no, no. It will be a *French Revolution.* And I will be crowned as the rightful king of the IPWA International Heavyweight Championship.”*
The boos intensify as Duval turns to Lacroix and HyperNova with a mischievous grin.
Jean Louis Duval:
“Now, let us enjoy the spectacle. Let Satake show us what little fight he has left, for when I step into that ring, his reign will end… magnificently.”
The trio clinks glasses of sparkling water in a mock toast as the camera zooms out, capturing their smug expressions and the disdain of the crowd. The scene fades back to the arena as the commentators speculate on how this added layer of tension will affect Satake’s main event match later tonight.
Single Match
Adam Garcia vs. Masafumi Satake
Ringside
What’s Mine is Mine
The crowd roars in appreciation as Adam Garcia stands tall in the center of the ring, sweat dripping from his brow after his hard-fought victory over Masafumi Satake in a non-title match. Garcia extends a hand to Satake, who shakes it firmly, the mutual respect between the two champions clear as day. Both men glance around the arena, their guard up in anticipation of an attack from Caleb Knox.
Suddenly, the sound of thunderous guitar riffs blasts through the arena, and the crowd erupts as Elijah Drake’s entrance music hits the sound system. The cheers grow louder as Drake, dressed in street clothes, storms onto the stage with a microphone in hand and fury in his eyes.
Zac Brindle:
“What?! Elijah Drake is here?! We haven’t seen him in weeks after Caleb Knox took him out!”
Johnny Kaos:
“Look at him, Zac—he’s fired up, and he looks ready to blow!”
Drake stands at the top of the entrance ramp, pacing back and forth like a caged lion. The fans cheer wildly, but his face is twisted in anger as he raises the microphone to speak.
Elijah Drake:
“Cut the damn music!”
The music abruptly stops, and the crowd simmers, eager to hear what Drake has to say.
Elijah Drake:
*”Adam Garcia… *Mad Bull*… you stand there celebrating like you’ve got this whole thing under control. Like you’ve got Caleb Knox handled. But let me remind you of something, hermano—you’re not the only one Knox tried to take out. He put me on the shelf, and now you’re just letting him waltz into *my* title shot?!”*
The crowd cheers, but Drake is too fired up to acknowledge it. Garcia glares back at him, clearly not appreciating the interruption.
Elijah Drake:
“You know damn well I earned that title match. I earned the right to face you, one-on-one, at Atlantic City Assault. And now, instead of fighting the man who’s supposed to be your equal, you’re letting Knox worm his way in because you’re too stubborn to keep him out!”
The crowd is split, some cheering Drake’s passion while others boo his accusations against Garcia. In the ring, Garcia shakes his head and grabs a microphone.
Adam Garcia:
*”You think I *let* him in, Drake? You think I wanted Knox in this match? Knox is a snake, and we both know it. But instead of whining about it up there, maybe you should be down here helping me deal with him!”*
Drake scoffs, stepping closer to the ring but stopping halfway down the ramp.
Elijah Drake:
“Helping you? Don’t make me laugh, Adam. You’ve been more worried about looking like the conquering hero than watching your own back. And now, you’ve dragged me into your mess. I want Knox out of this match, and if you had any respect for what I’ve done in this company, you’d go to James Von Drake and make it happen!”
Garcia steps closer to the ropes, his expression intense.
Adam Garcia:
“You think I’m afraid of Knox? You think I’m afraid of you, Drake? Come down here and say that to my face!”
The tension is palpable as the crowd is on their feet, anticipating a confrontation. Drake glares at Garcia, but before he can move, the camera abruptly cuts to the stage, where Caleb Knox is seen lurking at the curtain, smirking at the chaos he’s caused.
Johnny Kaos:
“There’s Knox! Look at him! He’s loving every second of this!”
Zac Brindle:
“This situation is out of control, and we’re just two weeks away from Atlantic City Assault! What’s going to happen next?!”
The camera cuts back to the ring, where Garcia and Drake are still staring each other down, the unresolved tension thick in the air. The show ends with Caleb Knox’s smirk fading to black as fans are left buzzing with questions about what’s to come at the PPV.
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