P:V Uprising 103
Live on the Sanctioned Violence Network
Kaseya Center, Miami, Florida
21st December 2024
The camera pans over a sea of 18,000 screaming fans inside the packed Kaseya Center, with signs waving and chants echoing through the arena. Pyro explodes on the stage, sending sparks flying as the theme music of P:V Uprising kicks in, igniting the crowd’s energy.
Zac Brindle: (voiceover) “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to P:V Uprising 103! We are live from the Kaseya Center in Miami, Florida, where the energy is off the charts, and we are set for another explosive night of action!”
Johnny Kaos: “That’s right, Zac! After the destruction Caleb Knox has caused in recent weeks, taking out Heavyweight Champion Adam Garcia and the legendary Elijah Drake, everyone in this building is wondering—who’s next?“
Zac Brindle: “Knox has been a wrecking ball since his arrival, but there’s more to tonight than just his path of destruction. We’ve got a loaded card for the Miami faithful, and it’s going to be a night to remember!”
The match card graphics flash across the screen.
Johnny Kaos: “Rex Stone will kick things off when he steps into the ring with Chopper Anderson. Two guys with something to prove—it’s going to get physical fast!”
Zac Brindle: “Dash Diaz is looking to regain momentum after a tough few weeks, and he’ll face the always-dangerous Brandon Snyder in what’s sure to be an intense bout. And Bernard Wolfe is back in action tonight, taking on Steven Love!”
Johnny Kaos: “Plus, we’ve got a tag team showdown that’s been brewing for weeks. Teddy Rush and Dutch Ramirez join forces to take on Gabriel Cross and Maverick Matthews, who are as devious as they are dangerous!”
Zac Brindle: “It’s a night of high stakes, fierce rivalries, and the fallout from Caleb Knox’s recent actions. Who will rise, and who will fall? Stick with us as we find out—because it all starts right now!“
The camera cuts to the arena as the first competitor’s music hits, and the Miami crowd roars in anticipation.
Ringside
No One Left?
The arena lights dim slightly as the familiar, ominous music of ‘Iron Heart’ Caleb Knox hits the speakers. The Miami crowd erupts in a chorus of boos as Knox walks down the ramp with a confident smirk, soaking in the negative reaction. Dressed in his signature black and red gear, he climbs into the ring and snatches a microphone from the ringside crew.
Caleb Knox:
“Shut up! All of you! Boo me all you want, but you can’t deny what I’ve done. I told you I was the change this place needed—and I delivered. Your so-called Heavyweight Champion? Gone. Your so-called legend? Destroyed. Adam Garcia, Elijah Drake—two of the best this place has to offer—and I put them both down!”
The crowd’s boos intensify as Knox smirks, pacing the ring.
Caleb Knox:
“And now, there’s no one left. No one can stop me. So let’s cut to the chase. James Von Drake! Get your cowardly self out here and do the right thing. Walk down this ramp and crown me as the Heavyweight Champion of Project Violence, because I’m the only man who deserves it!”
Knox lowers the microphone, glaring toward the entrance ramp, as the crowd begins to buzz with anticipation. After a few tense moments, music hits—but it’s not James Von Drake’s.
The fans explode in cheers as the IPWA International Heavyweight Champion Masafumi Satake appears at the top of the ramp, championship belt over his shoulder. Dressed in his sleek ring gear, Satake exudes confidence as he walks to the stage with a microphone in hand.
Masafumi Satake:
“Caleb Knox. You talk a lot for a man who relies on sneak attacks and cheap shots. You think you’ve proven something by taking down men who weren’t at their best? Let me tell you something—you haven’t proven a damn thing.”
The crowd cheers loudly as Satake steps forward, locking eyes with Knox in the ring.
Masafumi Satake:
“I’ve fought the best in the world, in this ring and across the globe. And I don’t need sneak attacks or underhanded tactics to win. You want to call yourself the best? You want to prove you’re more than a loudmouth coward? Then face me tonight. One-on-one. No excuses, no shortcuts. Let’s see if you’re as good as you think you are.”
The crowd erupts at the challenge as Knox glares at Satake, his smirk faltering for a moment before returning.
Caleb Knox:
“You want a match with me? You’re on. But don’t blame me when you’re lying in this ring, just like Garcia and Drake. Tonight, I’ll show everyone that I’m not just the future of P:V—I’m its present.”
Satake nods confidently, raising his championship belt high as his music hits again. Knox stands in the ring, staring down Satake with an intense glare as the crowd roars in anticipation for the main event.
The screen fades out, teasing the epic clash to come.
Backstage
Call Yourself Champion?
The camera cuts to the backstage interview area, where Elena Cruz is standing with the P:V Television Champion, Stevie Rigg. Rigg, dressed in his ring gear with the TV Championship draped proudly over his shoulder, is all smiles as the fans cheer loudly from the arena.
Elena Cruz:
“Stevie, congratulations again on your victory to become the P:V Television Champion. You’ve been riding a wave of momentum, but I have to ask—what’s next for you as champion?”
Stevie Rigg:
“Thanks, Elena. You know, it feels amazing to hold this title, and I’ve got to say, it’s just the beginning. I’m ready to take on anyone who thinks they can step up and take this from me. I want to be the fighting champion this title deserves, and trust me—”
Suddenly, a sharp, mocking laugh cuts through the air, interrupting Rigg. The camera pans to reveal Katya Roux, the devious manager of the mute, masked Egyptian monster Midas. Roux strides into the frame, smirking as she surveys Rigg and his championship.
Katya Roux:
“Fighting champion? Really, Stevie? Is that what you’re calling yourself now? Because from where I’m standing, all I see is a coward clinging to a title he knows he doesn’t deserve.”
Rigg’s smile fades as he turns to face Roux, narrowing his eyes.
Stevie Rigg:
“A coward? That’s rich coming from someone who hides behind a seven-foot monster. What exactly are you trying to say, Katya?”
Katya Roux:
“Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m saying. If you were truly a fighting champion, you’d have already stepped into the ring with the most dominant force in P:V—Midas. But instead, you’ve been dodging him. Avoiding the inevitable. You’re afraid, Rigg, and you should be.”
Rigg chuckles, shaking his head as the crowd buzzes in anticipation.
Stevie Rigg:
“Afraid? Katya, I’m not afraid of anyone. If your boy wants a shot at this title, he’s going to have to earn it like everyone else.”
Katya Roux:
“Earn it? Earn it?! Stevie, Midas doesn’t need to earn anything. He’s already proven that he’s unstoppable, while you… you’re just a placeholder. A pretender. And you know it.”
Rigg steps closer to Roux, holding up the TV Championship as he glares at her.
Stevie Rigg:
“If Midas wants a shot at this title, tell him to step up and say it to my face. Oh wait—he doesn’t talk, does he? Guess that leaves you to do all the barking.”
Roux’s smirk turns into a scowl as the crowd cheers Rigg’s retort. She regains her composure quickly, leaning in with a sly grin.
Katya Roux:
“Careful, Rigg. You don’t want to provoke a monster like Midas. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt you too badly when he takes that title off your hands. Enjoy it while you can, champ. Your days are numbered.”
Roux turns and walks away, leaving Rigg standing tall, though the tension lingers in the air.
Elena Cruz:
“Stevie, do you have any final thoughts after that confrontation?”
Stevie Rigg:
“Yeah, Elena. If Midas wants a piece of me, I’m not hard to find. Katya can run her mouth all she wants, but when the bell rings, it’s a different story. I’ve faced monsters before, and I’m still standing. Let’s see if Midas can say the same.”
Rigg adjusts the TV Championship on his shoulder and walks off, the crowd cheering in support as the segment ends.
Single Match
Rex Stone vs. Chopper Anderson
Backstage
To the Back of the Line
The camera pans to the backstage interview area where Elena Cruz is standing by with ‘The Standard’ Dash Diaz. Diaz, dressed in his vibrant ring gear and radiating energy despite his recent setbacks, receives a loud cheer from the fans watching on the big screen.
Elena Cruz:
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m here with one of P:V’s brightest stars, ‘The Standard’ Dash Diaz. Dash, it’s no secret that you’ve faced a few tough losses recently. Tonight, you’ll step into the ring with Brandon Snyder, someone who has made it clear he’s looking to capitalize on your recent struggles. How are you feeling going into this match?”
Dash Diaz:
Smiling confidently, but with a hint of determination in his eyes.
“You know, Elena, wrestling is all about highs and lows. Yeah, I’ve hit a bit of a rough patch lately, but that doesn’t mean I’m out of the game. If anything, it’s made me hungrier. Brandon Snyder might think he can use me as a stepping stone, but he’s about to find out why they call me ‘The Standard.’ I set the bar in this ring, and tonight, I’m proving that I’m still the future of this company.”
Elena Cruz:
“You’ve mentioned before that every match is a learning experience. What have you learned from your recent losses, and how will that help you against Snyder?”
Dash Diaz:
Pausing thoughtfully before answering.
“I’ve learned that you can’t let setbacks define you. Every time I step into that ring, I give it everything I’ve got. And yeah, sometimes things don’t go my way. But tonight, it’s about reminding myself—and everyone watching—that Dash Diaz doesn’t quit. Snyder’s been running his mouth about how I’ve lost my edge. Well, tonight, I’m shutting him up and getting back on track.”
Before Elena can ask another question, Brandon Snyder appears in the background, clapping sarcastically. Snyder, with a smug grin plastered across his face, saunters into the shot, dressed in his entrance jacket and oozing arrogance.
Brandon Snyder:
“Oh, isn’t this just heartwarming? The ‘Standard’ giving another one of his inspirational speeches. Newsflash, Dash: nobody cares about your excuses or your sob stories. The only thing people remember are winners. And guess what? That’s me.”
Diaz steps forward, the tension between the two palpable.
Dash Diaz:
“You got something to say, Snyder? Why don’t you save it for the ring?”
Brandon Snyder:
Smirking.
“Oh, don’t worry. I plan on saying a lot in the ring—right before I leave you staring at the lights. Face it, Dash, your time has come and gone. Tonight, I’m sending you straight to the back of the line where you belong.”
Dash Diaz:
With fire in his eyes, leaning closer to Snyder.
“You talk a big game, Snyder, but talk is cheap. Let’s see if you can back it up when the bell rings. See you out there.”
Diaz walks off toward the ring, leaving Snyder smirking at Elena Cruz.
Brandon Snyder:
“Did you see how rattled he was? This is going to be easier than I thought.”
Snyder adjusts his jacket and confidently struts away as the camera focuses on Elena Cruz, who looks unsettled by the rising tension.
Elena Cruz:
“Well, there you have it, folks. Dash Diaz versus Brandon Snyder—next!”
The segment ends, cutting to the arena as the fans cheer in anticipation of the upcoming match.
Single Match
Dash Diaz vs. Brandon Snyder
Backstage
A European Adventure
The scene opens in the locker room, where Masafumi Satake, the IPWA International Heavyweight Champion, is meticulously taping his wrists and preparing for his high-stakes main event match against the unstoppable Caleb Knox. Satake exudes calm focus, his championship belt neatly draped over a bench next to him. The door creaks open, and James Von Drake, the General Manager of P:V, steps in, a concerned expression on his face.
James Von Drake:
“Masafumi, I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Masafumi Satake:
Without looking up, continuing his preparations.
“Not at all. What is it, Mr. Von Drake?”
James Von Drake:
Taking a step closer, his tone measured.
“I wanted to have a word with you about tonight’s match. Look, I know you’re one of the toughest competitors in the business. You’ve faced legends, dominated on multiple continents… but Caleb Knox is something else entirely. He’s dangerous, unpredictable, and he’s already taken out two of our top stars in Adam Garcia and Elijah Drake.”
Satake looks up, his calm demeanor unwavering.
Masafumi Satake:
“I know what Caleb Knox is capable of. That’s why I accepted his challenge. I’m not afraid of him.”
James Von Drake:
“I respect that, Masafumi. But as your GM, I have to look at the bigger picture. You’ve got a responsibility as the IPWA International Heavyweight Champion, not just to yourself but to this company. That’s why I wanted to tell you personally—I’ve secured your next challenger for the title.”
Satake raises an eyebrow, intrigued.
Masafumi Satake:
“Oh? And who might that be?”
James Von Drake:
With a hint of excitement in his voice.
“The winner of the ‘European Cup’ tournament, taking place on Christmas Eve in Berlin next week. You’ll face whoever emerges victorious. And, Masafumi, you should know—P:V Heavyweight Champion Adam Garcia is part of the tournament, as is the reigning champion of the European Wrestling League.”
Satake nods thoughtfully, the weight of the announcement sinking in.
Masafumi Satake:
“A worthy challenger, then. Good. I welcome the opportunity to face the best.”
James Von Drake:
“I don’t doubt that for a second. But that’s exactly why I want you to think about whether tonight’s match is wise. You’ve got a lot on the line, and Caleb Knox… well, he doesn’t care about respect or championships. He’s out to destroy.”
Satake stands, his towering presence filling the room. He places a hand on Von Drake’s shoulder, his expression calm but resolute.
Masafumi Satake:
“Mr. Von Drake, I appreciate your concern, but I’m not the kind of champion who runs from a challenge. Caleb Knox wants to test himself against me? Let him. Tonight, I’ll show him—and everyone else—why I’m the IPWA International Heavyweight Champion. And when the time comes, I’ll be ready for whoever wins the European Cup.”
Von Drake sighs, nodding reluctantly.
James Von Drake:
“Alright, Masafumi. Just… be careful out there. We can’t afford to lose another champion.”
Satake smirks faintly, exuding confidence as Von Drake leaves the room. The camera lingers on Satake as he picks up his championship belt and slings it over his shoulder, a picture of poise and determination as the scene fades.
Single Match
Bernard Wolfe vs. Steven Love
Backstage
The Unlikely Duo
The scene opens in the locker room where Teddy Rush, the charismatic superstar, is hyping himself up, throwing a few shadow punches in front of a mirror. Nearby, Dutch Ramirez, the rugged and gruff biker, adjusts his fingerless gloves and tightens the laces on his boots. Despite their starkly different personas, there’s an undeniable air of camaraderie between them. The tension of their upcoming match against the devious duo of Gabriel Cross and Maverick Matthews lingers in the air.
Teddy Rush:
Grinning as he turns to Ramirez.
“Yo, Dutch, you ready to send those jokers back to church and detention? ‘Cause I’m about to put on a clinic out there!”
Dutch Ramirez:
Chuckling as he rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck.
“Relax, Rush. It ain’t about style points—it’s about breaking bones and collecting wins. Cross and Matthews think they’ve got the edge, but they don’t know what’s coming.”
Teddy Rush:
“True, true. But you gotta admit, Dutch, I’m bringin’ the flair while you bring the fire. We’re like peanut butter and jelly out there, baby. Unlikely combo, but damn if it don’t work!”
Dutch Ramirez:
Smirking, crossing his arms.
“Yeah, and I’m the peanut butter—thick, tough, and sticks to your ribs. You’re just the sugar rush.”
Teddy Rush:
Feigning offense, putting a hand to his chest.
“Oh, you wound me, bro. But alright, I’ll take it. Sweet and slick—that’s my brand. Now tell me, you got a plan for handling Cross and his whole holier-than-thou shtick? ‘Cause I swear, if he starts preachin’ in the ring, I might need a translator.”
Dutch Ramirez:
Leaning in, his tone serious.
“Plan’s simple: you keep Cross moving—don’t let him find his rhythm. He likes to talk big, but once he’s winded, he’s all bark and no bite. Me? I’ll make sure Matthews doesn’t stick his nose where it doesn’t belong. We keep ’em on the back foot, hit hard, and finish strong.”
Teddy Rush:
Nodding, punching his palm.
“I like it. Straightforward, no-nonsense. Kinda like you, Dutch. Alright, let’s go show ’em why this odd couple’s about to steal the damn show!”
Ramirez grabs his leather vest and throws it on, giving Rush a fist bump.
Dutch Ramirez:
“Just remember, we’re out there to win. Leave the jokes at the curtain.”
Teddy Rush:
Grinning wide.
“Can’t promise that, man. But I can promise we’re takin’ them down.”
The two exit the locker room together, the unlikely duo clearly on the same page despite their differences. The camera lingers as they stride confidently toward the curtain, the roar of the crowd faintly audible in the background as the scene fades.
Tag Team Match
Teddy Rush & Dutch Ramirez vs. Gabriel Cross & Maverick Matthews
Backstage
Circus
The camera follows the Starr Brothers—Darren and Simon—storming down the hallway toward James Von Drake’s office, their P:V Tag Team Championship belts slung over their shoulders. Darren is fuming, while Simon looks equally annoyed but tries to maintain his composure. They burst into the General Manager’s office without knocking, startling Von Drake, who is seated behind his desk, reviewing paperwork.
Darren Starr:
Slamming his hands on the desk.
“What the hell, Von Drake?! You call that a tag team match out there? Two random guys thrown together like a bad buddy cop movie? That’s your idea of building the tag division?”
Simon Starr:
Pointing his title belt at Von Drake.
“We’re the champions, and we deserve proper competition—not this circus act! You’re disrespecting us and these belts by treating the division like an afterthought.”
Von Drake, visibly irritated, leans back in his chair and folds his arms.
James Von Drake:
Calm but firm.
“First of all, you two don’t burst into my office and start yelling at me. You may be the champions, but you’re not above the rules. Second, what I saw out there wasn’t a circus—it was a damn good match. Rush and Ramirez proved they’ve got chemistry, and guess what? The fans ate it up.”
Darren Starr:
Scoffing.
“Chemistry? Are you kidding me? They’re not even a real team! We’re the Starr Brothers—tag team wrestling royalty. We’ve dominated everyone in this division, and you’re wasting time on random pairings instead of finding us real challengers!”
James Von Drake:
Standing up, his tone sharp.
“You want real challengers? Fine. Next week, you’ll get them. Teddy Rush and Dutch Ramirez will challenge you for the P:V Tag Team Championships.”
The Starr Brothers exchange a shocked look before Darren steps forward, clearly outraged.
Darren Starr:
“This is a joke, right? They beat two guys who don’t even like each other, and now they get a title shot? That’s not how this works!”
Simon Starr:
Trying to stay calm but his voice tightens.
“We’ve carried this division on our backs, Von Drake. Giving a couple of nobodies a shot at our titles is an insult.”
James Von Drake:
Smirking as he sits back down.
“Insult or not, it’s happening. You two want respect? Earn it by beating them next week. Or maybe, just maybe, you’re worried that Rush and Ramirez are good enough to take those titles off you.”
The Starr Brothers glare at Von Drake, seething with anger but unable to respond. Darren grabs Simon’s arm and pulls him toward the door.
Darren Starr:
Under his breath as they leave.
“This is ridiculous. We’ll show him who the real champions are.”
The camera lingers on Von Drake, who watches them leave with a satisfied expression before returning to his paperwork.
The scene fades as the Starr Brothers exit the office, their frustration boiling over as they plot their next move.
Single Match
Caleb Knox vs. Masafumi Satake
Ringside
The Real Deal
The crowd in the Kaseya Center is on their feet, applauding after an incredible main event between Caleb Knox and Masafumi Satake. Knox stands tall in the center of the ring, his chest heaving, a sinister smirk spreading across his face as the referee raises his hand in victory. Satake, bruised and battered, picks himself up off the mat and grabs the IPWA International Heavyweight Championship from the timekeeper’s area. The crowd gives Satake a respectful ovation as he limps up the ramp, pausing briefly to glance back at the ring where Knox is basking in his triumph. Satake shakes his head before disappearing behind the curtain.
Knox surveys the crowd, his smirk widening as the cheers for Satake turn to boos aimed at him. He picks up a microphone, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade.
Caleb Knox:
Breathing heavily but confidently.
“Another so-called champion… another legend… falls.“
The fans erupt into deafening boos, chanting, “Garcia! Garcia!” and “Drake! Drake!” Knox paces the ring, his expression darkening with every chant.
Caleb Knox:
“You chant their names like they’re going to save you. Like they’re your heroes. Adam Garcia? Elijah Drake? They’re nothing but broken men I left lying in the dirt! Your champion is nursing his wounds somewhere, and your so-called legend can’t even lace my boots anymore!”
Knox sneers, pointing to the crowd.
Caleb Knox:
“You see, this is what P:V needs—a real fighter, a real force of nature. Not paper champions or fading stars clinging to their glory days. No one in this company, or any other, can stop me.”
The boos grow louder, but Knox revels in the hatred, his confidence only growing.
Caleb Knox:
“So chant their names all you want. It won’t change the truth. This is my era, and you’re looking at the man who’s going to run through every single so-called star until I take my place as the rightful Heavyweight Champion!”
Knox tosses the microphone aside, letting it bounce off the mat with a thud. He climbs the turnbuckle, spreading his arms wide as the fans continue to boo and chant for Garcia and Drake. The camera pans to the crowd, showing the mix of anger and defiance on their faces.
The show fades to black with a final shot of Knox standing tall in the ring, his sneer firmly in place, as the echoes of the fans’ chants for Garcia and Drake fill the arena.
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