The camera cuts to the ring. Cameron West and Derek Hayes—Top Notch Team—pace in their corner, shaking out arms, jawing at a few loudmouths on the rail. The Foundry buzzes, ready.

RRC: We’re set—quarterfinal action to open Monday night! Top Notch Team are in the ring and ready to go.

Angus: Tight fades, tighter headlocks. West and Hayes don’t waste motion; they waste opponents.

Dane: Fundamentals win tournaments—unless somebody finds a shortcut.

The Rich Young Grapplerz’ music hits. Jacoby Jacobs struts out, phone held high, already live. Darian Darrington stalks behind him, all shoulders and scowl. Todderick Davenport III trails in a designer jacket, sunglasses indoors, grinning like he owns the lease. They hit the apron; TD3 wipes his feet with exaggerated care.

RRC: And here come the Rich Young Grapplerz with Todderick Davenport the Third at ringside. This is flash and force against precision and pressure.

Angus: And money. Don’t forget money.

The bell rings. Jacoby steps in for RYG; West starts for TNT. West snatches a side headlock, snaps Jacoby over, floats to a cover—one, no. Jacoby slithers free, poses toward his phone. West tags Hayes—quick in, quick out—Hayes returns the favor with a clean takedown and a grinding front facelock. Jacoby scrambles to the ropes.

RRC: Clean, simple, effective—cutting the ring in half from the jump.

Dane: They’re making Jacoby wrestle a match he doesn’t like.

Darian calls for a tag and gets it. Collar-and-elbow with Hayes—Darian wins the shove, then eats a drop toehold for his trouble. Tag to West; slingshot elbow drop from West, cover—one, two, no.

Angus: Don’t blink—these two are carving the ring like a deli slicer.

West hits the ropes—TD3 flicks a fingertip at the ankle by the timekeeper’s side. West stumbles half a step. Darian crushes him with an avalanche in neutral corner. The crowd groans.

RRC: TD3 with a little insurance—and just like that the momentum turns.

Dane: It only takes one bad step.

RYG isolate West. Darian hurls him with a tilt-a-whirl powerslam; Jacoby springs in with a knee strike and a quick, smug glance to the hard cam. Fast tags, a phantom clap, the official herds bodies while RYG press the edge.

RRC: Rich Young Grapplerz staying just this side of legal—barely.

Angus: If the ref didn’t see it, it’s a magic trick, Robbie Ray.

West ducks a wild line, rolls under, dives for Hayes—Jacoby snatches the referee by the wrist as he “checks the tag,” pointing at RYG’s corner. The ref waves it off; the Foundry rumbles. West gets dragged back, bootprints on his ribs.

Dane: That’s ring placement. You don’t have to like it to admit it’s smart.

West explodes out of the corner—sunset flip on Darian—two-point-nine! Darian lunges for a corner splash—steel meets sternum. West finally dives—

RRC: Tag made!

Hayes storms in: forearm, forearm, lariat to Jacoby; back-body drop to Darian to the floor; spinebuster plants Jacoby middle of the ring—cover! TD3 vaults to the apron, finger-stabbing the ref about “illegal tags.” The count lags—two and a half!

Angus: If TD3 talks any faster, he’ll enter a new time zone.

Dane: That half-second is the difference between advancing and explaining yourself.

TNT stack the deck. West feeds Jacoby up—slingshot suplex from Hayes! West bridges into a jackknife cover—one, two—Darian blasts the pile to break it. Chaos.

RRC: That was close! Top Notch had him dead to rights!

They reset. TNT signal the spike piledriver. West sets the lift; Hayes climbs to the second rope—Darian chop-blocks West’s legs from the blind side. Jacoby spills free, gasping.

Angus: That would’ve been a wrap—Darian just saved the night.

Scramble. Hayes clotheslines Darian over the top; both spill to the floor. West snatches Jacoby—tight inside cradle—two-point-nine! Jacoby eye-rakes out, blinking hard.

Dane: Desperate, but legal until the ref catches it.

The official glances to the floor to separate Hayes and Darian. TD3 steps onto the apron, pointing and squawking. The ref moves toward him—one beat. Jacoby small-packages West toward the RYG corner.

RRC: Roll-up!

From the floor, Darian shoves Jacoby’s boots up onto the middle rope, hidden from the ref’s line. The official turns back—slides—

RRC: One! Two! Three!

Bell. The Foundry reacts—loud, unhappy, but respectful. TD3 drops to the floor, hands up, innocence personified. Jacoby scrambles out, grabbing his phone mid-celebration. Darian shoulders him away from danger as they backpedal up the ramp, laughing.

Angus: Somewhere there’s a physics teacher crying about leverage.

Dane: Top Notch wrestled the better match. Rich Young Grapplerz won the moment. That’s the business.

RRC: The Rich Young Grapplerz advance in the Tag Team Tournament—by a matter of inches and a whole lot of nerve. Cameron West and Derek Hayes have a right to be frustrated, but in Iron City the record book only knows winners and losers.

In the ring, Hayes helps West up. No tantrum—just steel in the eyes and a nod to the faithful. The camera follows RYG halfway up the ramp—Jacoby talking to his stream, TD3 flashing fingers that say “one down,” Darian tapping his temple.

RRC: More tournament action still to come tonight, and later on, Jack Havoc in a handicap match he asked for. Monday night in the Foundry rolls on.

The bell rings. Sunny and Tigress circle—Sunny light on her feet, Tigress low and steady.

RRC: We’re underway.

Dane: Watch Tigress’s lead hand. She’s looking for the wrist.

Tie-up. Tigress snaps a knee to the body, wrenches the arm, plants a boot on the forearm and drags Sunny down into a hammerlock.

RRC: Straight to the arm. That takes power out of Sunny’s game.

Dane: Good choice against a lifter.

Sunny works to a knee, stands, and shoves Tigress off. Shoulder tackle puts Tigress down. Another sends her to the corner. Sunny follows with a hard splash, snap mare, quick lateral press—one, two, kick out.

Angus: Tigress felt that.

Tigress slides to the apron, draws Sunny in, rope-hung kick under the jaw, then slingshots in with a knee and short-arm lariat. Cover—two.

RRC: Tigress changes the pace and makes it count.

Tigress chops the thigh, calf kick to the same leg, sweeps Sunny down, then a basement dropkick to the posted shoulder. She threads the arm, cranks it, and rolls into a grounded armbar variation.

Dane: She’s stacking pressure on the shoulder and elbow. Every lift will be weaker.

Sunny plants a boot, muscles Tigress up and throws her off. The crowd rises. Overhead belly-to-belly from Sunny. Gutwrench suplex. Deadlift running powerslam—cover—two.

RRC: Sunny answers with power and gets two.

Dane: Hips underneath, good control on the landings.

Tigress pops a quick thumb to the throat out of the ref’s line and clips Sunny with a backfist. Body kick, body kick—high kick misses; Sunny catches and turns it into a T-bone suplex. Both down for a beat. Sunny hauls Tigress for a stalling vertical—Tigress slips out the back, shoves to ropes, meets the rebound—

RRC: Predator’s Pounce!

Sunny flips and crashes. Cover—one, two—shoulder up.

Angus: Close.

Dane: Clean hit. Sunny’s tank saved her.

Tigress backs to a corner, waits, and charges for a second Pounce. Sunny sidesteps at the last step; Tigress hits the buckle and stumbles out. German suplex with a bridge—two-point-nine.

RRC: That was nearly it.

They trade: Tigress with sharp elbows; Sunny answers with heavy forearms. Tigress spins for a heel kick—Sunny ducks, clamps the waist, hoists and turns—

Dane: Center the feet—

Sunshine Bomb! Spinning sit-out powerbomb—Sunny stacks the legs deep.

RRC: Cover!

One… two… three.

The bell rings. Sunny sits back on her hands, exhales, then rises with a quick smile. The referee raises her arm. Tigress rolls to the apron, collecting herself, eyes still on Sunny.

RRC: Sunny Holliday gets the win with the Sunshine Bomb.

Dane: Strong finish. Tigress had her close after the Pounce; Sunny adjusted and closed clean.

Angus: No shortcut there. Just got caught and planted.

RRC: Sunny Holliday victorious. We’ll reset at ringside.

Back from break. The camera finds the ring. Rich Mahogany stands at floor level in Jesse’s corner.

RRC: We’re back—made official during the break: Jesse Collins versus “Superstar” Sammy Star.

Dane: Sammy talks big. Now we see the wrestling.

Angus: Bell’s the truth.

Bell.

They circle. Sammy barks at Jesse and immediately bails to the ropes on first contact. The referee calls for space. Sammy sneaks a low kick; Jesse checks it, switches to a waist lock, standing switch—Sammy grabs the ropes again and complains about a hair pull.

RRC: Early stalling from Sammy Star.

Dane: He’s buying time to read the speed.

Reset. Jesse quickens—deep arm drag, another, then a dropkick that sends Sammy to the floor. Jesse fakes the dive; Sammy flinches and backpedals. Rich claps him forward.

Back inside at four. Sammy offers a handshake, then slaps Jesse across the mouth and dropkicks the lead knee. Chop block behind the leg. He drapes the ankle on the bottom rope and stamps the thigh until four.

RRC: Targeting the leg to ground him.

Dane: Put a flyer on one wheel and the ring shrinks.

Sammy yanks Jesse down with a dragon screw, sits into a half crab. Jesse turns his hips and reaches the ropes. Sammy milks the count, then strolls a circle jawing at Mahogany.

Jesse uses the ropes to stand. Sammy rushes—Jesse small package, two. Sammy up quick—Jesse schoolboy, two. Sammy swings wild—Jesse hits a quick slingblade and buys air. The crowd lifts; Rich pounds the apron.

RRC: Collins flips the rhythm.

Jesse strings a rally: running forearm, back elbow, leaping knee staggers Sammy to a corner. Whip reversed—Jesse hops up, turns, and hits a high crossbody off the second—cover, two.

Dane: Smart to keep it second rope with that leg.

Jesse signals for space and lines up a dive anyway. He hits the ropes, limps mid-stride, and still launches—tope suicida through the ropes, flattening Sammy at the rail. Rich urges him to bring it back in.

RRC: Collins connects big to the floor.

Back inside at seven. Jesse climbs carefully—Sammy kicks the rope, crotching him on the second strand. Sammy follows with a standing shinbreaker, then snaps a DDT onto the bad knee. Cover—two and a half.

Dane: Bad landings on the joint. It’s adding up.

Sammy gestures to the front row—“This your boy?”—then steps through for a figure-four. Jesse shoves him off with the good foot, crawls to a corner. Sammy charges; Jesse meets him with a corner back elbow, slips to the second and fires a tornillo-style press. The leg twinges on takeoff; he still covers—two-point-eight.

Angus: Half a beat short.

Both up. Sammy rakes the eyes on the break and low-kicks the knee again. He hooks for a suplex; Jesse floats over, pushes to ropes—O’Connor roll—two. Sammy rolls through, stacks tight and grabs a handful of tights on the return cradle; the referee’s view is screened.

RRC: He’s got—

—three. Bell.

RRC: “Superstar” Sammy Star steals it—handful of tights.

Dane: It reads as a win. This building saw the grab.

Angus: Scoreboard still says Sammy.

Sammy bails immediately, both hands up, shouting “Superstar!” toward the hard cam. In the ring, Rich steadies Jesse on the bad leg. Jesse nods to the crowd—frustrated more than hurt.

RRC: Collins pushed the pace; Star picked the leg and stole the fall. Jack Havoc’s handicap match still ahead—stay with us.