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 midsect