Post by Nathan Saniti on Jun 24, 2017 18:28:41 GMT -5
Thursday June 22nd, 2017
The camera pans around the electric crowd, the Faithful excited to witness their first BattleBowl!
Jerry Andrews: Good Evening, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to Thursday Night Trauma!
Ace Anderson: Oh baby! We have something special for you tonight! We have the first ever BattleBowl right here on Trauma!
Jerry Andrews: All of this coming off of a Living a Legacy to remember? This crowd is ready!
Ace Anderson: And so am I! I’m Ace Anderson…
Jerry Andrews: ...And I’m Jerry Andrews. Ace, I wanted to start off the night with a little something unusual that happened to me before the show. I was met someone.
Ace Anderson: Congrats, buddy! I knew you’d finally find a special guy some…
Jerry Andrews: Wait, what? NO! Here’s what happened:
Even before Trauma has officially hit the airwaves, the cameras have started rolling. We find ourselves in the parking lot of the arena, where we see a black Mercedes slowly pull up and grind to a halt in a designated bay. From the driver’s seat, we see color commentator Jerry Andrews emerge. He opens the rear door of the vehicle to withdraw his suit jacket, which he slings around his shoulders sliding his arms into the sleeves before closing the doors and securing it with a depression of the key fob, the hazard lights blare confirmation that it is locked. Jerry begins to walk towards the entrance into the arena itself, which is guarded by a man in uniform. Jerry cannot help but notice that there is another man stood a few feet away, his head hung low and fixated to a watch strapped to his wrist. He walks past this man and smile at the security officer, who reaches for the door handle upon noticing the lanyard that holds his official PCW identification.
???: You’re late, Mr Andrews.
Jerry stops and pivots on his heel towards the source of the voice. The man continues to stare at his watch. He too is dressed immaculately in a suit. He is in his late twenties, possibly early thirties with thick, busy hair and a recently trimmed stubble. He doesn’t look at all familiar, not to mention he hardly has the figure of an athlete.
Jerry: Excuse me?
???: You have a tendency to arrive five minutes prior to the time that you are expected to. It is a trend that I have noticed within recent weeks of observation.
Jerry: First of all, that’s a little disturbing. You’ve been watching me? Secondly, how can I be late if I am arriving five minutes early.
???: You’re three minutes early, or two minutes late in comparison. And to answer your first question, I’ve been watching a lot people here in PCW. Observation is the first phase of understanding. Subsequent analysis is what gives birth to direction.
Jerry: Are you new here? Did speak to Rebecca in HR? You know you’re meant to pick up your lanyard before attending any PCW event.
???: Unfortunately, a lanyard wasn’t properly distributed. As such , this security guard will not grant me access to the building.
Guard: If you want to attend the event, you’re more than welcome to buy a ticket like all the other fans.
The man looks up from his watch for just a moment, staring daggers at the security guard through the very corners of his eyes. Jerry looks a little unnerved by this.
???: My friend, I am not a fan, as you so call it, although the concept of wrestling certainly does intrigue my client and I.
Jerry: Oh, so you are an agent?
???: Something to that effect.
The man extends his right arm. Jerry cannot help but notice that there is another watch strapped onto this wrist. Whereas the one on his left is the traditional analogue style, this one is digitalised in numbering. The man smiles.
???: Horacio Mortimer. Pleased to make your acquaintance.
Jerry: Jeremy Andrews. My friends call me Jerry. And likewise.
Horatio Mortimer: Right you are, Jeremy.
Jerry immediately scowls under his breath before sharing an awkward glance with the security guard, who is still holding onto the door handle reading to open it for the PCW employee.
Jerry Andrews: Well… it was nice to meet you, Horacio. I wish you well
Horacio Mortimer: Oh, don’t play so coy. You’ll be seeing more of me around here very soon, my friend.
Jerry frowns, quickly turning his head to the security guard who promptly opens the door. Jerry disappears into the depths of the sinuous corridors of the arena. Horacio Mortimer takes a couple of steps towards the door.
Guard: Like I told you before, either buy a ticket or get lost, unless you’re looking for trouble.
Horacio Mortimer: Trouble? That’s the last thing I want to cause. All I want is to open people’s eyes. And to do that, I need access to this building.
Guard: Not going to happen, punk!
Horacio Mortimer: I would have said the same thing, up until…
Horacio quickly glances at the stopwatch on his right arm.
Horacio Mortimer: …One minute and fifty two seconds ago. Everybody is accounted for. There will be no more arrivals, so there’s nobody here to see how this happens.
He suddenly glares at the cameraman directly through the lens of the very photographic device mounted on his shoulder.
Horacio Mortimer: In three seconds, the power to the arena will briefly cut out.
Guard: What? What in the…
Sure enough, the lights off the parking lot deactivate, plunging the whole area into darkness. The battery-charged camera fortunately still rolls. As the guard looks around in shock and disbelief, Horacio Mortimer snaps his fingers loudly. The cameraman suddenly pans sharply to the left and lets out a loud yell of terror. The silhouette of a MONSTER of a man can be seen charging towards the guard. This beast must be over seven feet tall and is formed of pure muscle, yet the darkness hides his face. Two consecutive swinging arms club the guard’s head, knocking him almost out cold. The guard is reeling on the ground, completely stunned. All the while, Horacio Mortimer has grabbed the security officer’s key pass and is holding it close to the door.
Horacio Mortimer: Ten seconds before the power comes on and we can finally get into this wretched place. You now have… six seconds to get rid of the evidence, my friend.
The cameraman is frozen by fright. The looming figure of the monstrous man looms over him. Not even five seconds have passed before the monolithic hands of the monster clasp either side of the lens and thrust a foot forwards behind the camera. There is a loud crash as the defenceless camera hurtles across the concrete as the scene sharply drops before converting into static. The impact of falling to the ground practically ruins the camera just as the power comes back on.
Horacio Mortimer: Excellent. Now, let us make our move. The time has come.
Amidst the static, only the image of gargantuan black boots can be seen walking away. All the while staring at his watch, Horacio Mortimer opens the door that the security officer had previously been guarding as the monster of a man ducks beneath the doorframe and into the corridors. Mortimer lets out a small, but audible chuckle as the door slams shut behind them. The static envelopes the screen before cutting to black.
???: You’re late, Mr Andrews.
Jerry stops and pivots on his heel towards the source of the voice. The man continues to stare at his watch. He too is dressed immaculately in a suit. He is in his late twenties, possibly early thirties with thick, busy hair and a recently trimmed stubble. He doesn’t look at all familiar, not to mention he hardly has the figure of an athlete.
Jerry: Excuse me?
???: You have a tendency to arrive five minutes prior to the time that you are expected to. It is a trend that I have noticed within recent weeks of observation.
Jerry: First of all, that’s a little disturbing. You’ve been watching me? Secondly, how can I be late if I am arriving five minutes early.
???: You’re three minutes early, or two minutes late in comparison. And to answer your first question, I’ve been watching a lot people here in PCW. Observation is the first phase of understanding. Subsequent analysis is what gives birth to direction.
Jerry: Are you new here? Did speak to Rebecca in HR? You know you’re meant to pick up your lanyard before attending any PCW event.
???: Unfortunately, a lanyard wasn’t properly distributed. As such , this security guard will not grant me access to the building.
Guard: If you want to attend the event, you’re more than welcome to buy a ticket like all the other fans.
The man looks up from his watch for just a moment, staring daggers at the security guard through the very corners of his eyes. Jerry looks a little unnerved by this.
???: My friend, I am not a fan, as you so call it, although the concept of wrestling certainly does intrigue my client and I.
Jerry: Oh, so you are an agent?
???: Something to that effect.
The man extends his right arm. Jerry cannot help but notice that there is another watch strapped onto this wrist. Whereas the one on his left is the traditional analogue style, this one is digitalised in numbering. The man smiles.
???: Horacio Mortimer. Pleased to make your acquaintance.
Jerry: Jeremy Andrews. My friends call me Jerry. And likewise.
Horatio Mortimer: Right you are, Jeremy.
Jerry immediately scowls under his breath before sharing an awkward glance with the security guard, who is still holding onto the door handle reading to open it for the PCW employee.
Jerry Andrews: Well… it was nice to meet you, Horacio. I wish you well
Horacio Mortimer: Oh, don’t play so coy. You’ll be seeing more of me around here very soon, my friend.
Jerry frowns, quickly turning his head to the security guard who promptly opens the door. Jerry disappears into the depths of the sinuous corridors of the arena. Horacio Mortimer takes a couple of steps towards the door.
Guard: Like I told you before, either buy a ticket or get lost, unless you’re looking for trouble.
Horacio Mortimer: Trouble? That’s the last thing I want to cause. All I want is to open people’s eyes. And to do that, I need access to this building.
Guard: Not going to happen, punk!
Horacio Mortimer: I would have said the same thing, up until…
Horacio quickly glances at the stopwatch on his right arm.
Horacio Mortimer: …One minute and fifty two seconds ago. Everybody is accounted for. There will be no more arrivals, so there’s nobody here to see how this happens.
He suddenly glares at the cameraman directly through the lens of the very photographic device mounted on his shoulder.
Horacio Mortimer: In three seconds, the power to the arena will briefly cut out.
Guard: What? What in the…
Sure enough, the lights off the parking lot deactivate, plunging the whole area into darkness. The battery-charged camera fortunately still rolls. As the guard looks around in shock and disbelief, Horacio Mortimer snaps his fingers loudly. The cameraman suddenly pans sharply to the left and lets out a loud yell of terror. The silhouette of a MONSTER of a man can be seen charging towards the guard. This beast must be over seven feet tall and is formed of pure muscle, yet the darkness hides his face. Two consecutive swinging arms club the guard’s head, knocking him almost out cold. The guard is reeling on the ground, completely stunned. All the while, Horacio Mortimer has grabbed the security officer’s key pass and is holding it close to the door.
Horacio Mortimer: Ten seconds before the power comes on and we can finally get into this wretched place. You now have… six seconds to get rid of the evidence, my friend.
The cameraman is frozen by fright. The looming figure of the monstrous man looms over him. Not even five seconds have passed before the monolithic hands of the monster clasp either side of the lens and thrust a foot forwards behind the camera. There is a loud crash as the defenceless camera hurtles across the concrete as the scene sharply drops before converting into static. The impact of falling to the ground practically ruins the camera just as the power comes back on.
Horacio Mortimer: Excellent. Now, let us make our move. The time has come.
Amidst the static, only the image of gargantuan black boots can be seen walking away. All the while staring at his watch, Horacio Mortimer opens the door that the security officer had previously been guarding as the monster of a man ducks beneath the doorframe and into the corridors. Mortimer lets out a small, but audible chuckle as the door slams shut behind them. The static envelopes the screen before cutting to black.
Jerry Andrews: That Horatio guy just isn’t right.
Ace Anderson: I dunno. He seems like a very organised guy.
Jerry Andrews: There’s just something “off” about him. I’m telling...
The Trauma feed cuts to one of the locker rooms down there in the hallowed halls of PC…um, Pure Class Wrestling Arena. And in this locker room stands the Lord of Misrule, the Hangtown Horror – Grimm.
The crowd responds with a reaction that can best be described as heavily favorable, although a smattering of boos and hisses can be detected if you listen close enough. The six-time former world champion wears his usual wrestling ensemble (with almost all trace of last week’s blood and dirt washed away) and he stands in front of a television set atop an AV cart. Grimm produces a VHS tape (from where?) and inserts it into a VCR (a what?) that sits on the shelf below the television. He holds a remote control up to his face to find the requisite buttons – PLAY, TRACKING, FF. Grimm presses the respective buttons necessary to get the tape to the important bits.
Those in the know are familiar with how little patience Grimm has for bombastic posturing. How he does not suffer trash talking. And yet here he is, watching a recording of Alyce Starchylde, his tag team partner in tonight’s BattleBowl. She stands there with a baseball bat on her shoulder, actually talking into a camera. And, boy, is she laying it on pretty thick.
“I swear, you all have the IQ of donuts. Speaking of donuts, they resemble fat zeroes...and fat zeroes is probably as good a description as any of most of the folks I will wind up facing in this so-called competition. A great many of you have zero chance and should not only reconsider your entry...but hang up your wrestling boots. Sorry, you just aren’t good enough.”
Grimm gets it. He understands how difficult it can be to break into a new federation, especially one with the history of this one, and with the roster full of those whose very legacies serve as building blocks and cornerstones of Pure Class Wrestling. Given that, and given the nature of professional wrestling itself, how better to get your name on the lips of the influential folks who make the Important Decisions than to talk about how great you are and how not-so-great everyone else is.
Wait, that’s not how this federation works. At all. Guess Ms. Starchylde overlooked that part in her welcome packet.
“Most of you are like pebbles in my path...you will not only be overcome, but stepped on, a minor irritation at best. A few of you will be boulders...if you can’t be shifted you can be circumvented. One or two of you might be mountains...and mountains can be climbed.”
Grimm’s shoulders slump. He releases a long exhale. Starchylde continues on. And on. And on.
The Lord of Misrule rubs his arctic-ice eyes and shakes his head. So this is the name they drew, he thinks.
The Fast Forward can’t be fast enough.
“So, individually and collectively, I welcome you to Wonderland. It’s not the place you remember...and it gets a hell of a lot darker from here.”
That almost sounds like a catch phrase. Great. Grand. Wonderful. All the better to slap on a T-shirt.
His jaw tightens.
“She’s your partner, Grimm. Remember that.”
The video finally, mercifully, ends. The Hangtown Horror turns everything off and flips the light switch.
It’s showtime.
The feed cuts back to the announce team, Jerry and Ace looking at each other with confusion.
Jerry Andrews: You have to wonder if this will have an effect on Grimm’s partnership with Alyce in the first match.
Ace Anderson: I guess we’ll find out soon enough. I know I, for one, would not like to be on the business end of a Grimm grudge.
The sound of heavy and rising guitars begin to scream over the PCW loudspeakers, but the song isn't one of the regular superstars entrance themes. The faithful are on their feet, awaiting an apparent newcomer to the PCW universe as the vocals kick in with a guttural roar, all the while rising to a climax. White strobe lights are flashing frantically all over the arena, and the PCW-tron is only flickering static off and on.
GO!
Suddenly, the room is plunged into darkness, all but a crimson red spotlight that focuses on the center of the stage as the lyrics to "Determined" by Mudvayne tears out of the speakers. The big screens appear to be on fire, wilting like paper, as images of Whitey Ford in action shoot through in a montage. The floor itself, equipped as a screen as well, seems to be shining and shimmering with heat. That's when the man himself, Whitey Ford, strolls out onto the stage with a confidence and smile that only he can wear together.
Jerry Andrews: It's Whitey Ford, to kick off Trauma 213! New entrance music, new view of life, and of course, new PCW World Championship belt!
Whitey is dressed in his ring attire, the only notable difference is the heavy golden belt that he holds high above his head with one arm. His grin is one of cockiness, as always, but his demeanor radiates well deserved confidence. He gets a decent reaction from the crowd, albeit a mixed one at best. The occasional jeers don't seem to bother him as he suddenly jerks the title up further into the air, grabbing it by the straps with each hand. A massive pyrotechnic detonates on either side of him as the second chorus kicks in. Ford lowers the title and lets it drape over the floor in front of his feet; a symbolic challenge to the world. A stagehand tosses him a microphone as his new entrance music comes to an end, and the lights come back on.
Ace Anderson: I hate him. I hate him so much...but he went to war with Grimm and came out on top. Not even I can take that away from him.
Jerry Andrews: Thinking about another Last Chance Battle Royal or something, Ace? Because that worked SO well for you last time.
Ace Anderson: Shut up!
Whitey waits for the crowd noise to die down a little.
Whitey Ford: Well...lookit. I did a thing!" Whitey motions at the belt by his feet with a wave of his hand. "I reclaimed what was taken from my by unfair odds; my Pure Class Wrestling Championship belt. Of course, a lot of people never thought I deserved it in the first place. I was on a lot of drugs...a lot MORE drugs, I suppose I could say...and I can't even remember how I came to own this beautiful piece of golden greatness that lays before my feet in the first place. Did I beat Grimm for it last time? Does anyone remember?
Ace Anderson: Is he...is he being serious?
Ford laughs at his own jest, obviously enjoying himself. "Well, I can tell you one thing for sure...I beat Grimm for it this time, and ever since returning to PCW I've never really been able to say this with conviction. But now...I'm BACK." The last word gets a fair amount of applause for the appreciative PCW faithful. "But now that I'm here, for real and for good, there are a few things I need to clear up and address before we can continue on with the festivities for the night."
Ace Anderson: Yeah, like who has a rolled up twenty dollar bill and half a gram.
Jerry Andrews: Jesus, Ace!
Ace Anderson: Yeah, like he cares what bill he uses.
"First and foremost." Whitey holds up an index finger to start the count. "I think you've all heard enough of me droning on and on, and even vaguely insinuating that I need to prove myself as the best. That was put to an end at LaL when I did exactly what I said i was going to and I beat the Hangtown Horror, the man who makes his lessers quake in their boots. I am the best wrestler PCW has ever seen, and while that may not be a popular opinion for roughly half of you assholes in attendance..." Whitey pauses just long enough to get a chuckle out of the boos for his sarcastic remark, and to hear the other half of the audience laugh with approval. "...it's a god damned mother fucking fact. Which brings me to my second issue."
Ford holds out two fingers this time. See the pattern already? "I am not the strongest or toughest man in PCW. As soon as I set foot in the ring the other night, Grimm handed me an ass whoopin' that rivaled any the PCW universe has ever seen. I had to claw and gouge and use anything at my disposal to make sure he didn't put an end to my comeback, permanently. Three Harvests...THREE HARVESTS...and I still persevered. I might not be the toughest, but this is my god damned title belt and you'll have to kill me to take it away from me again. Which, segway into...the THIRD issue at hand..." Guess what? Three fingers, all in a row.
"When I came to PCW all those years ago, I was still learning what it meant to be...PURE. CLASS. I didn't show it very well then, but I have a good grasp on it means now. I represent this company, I am the FACE of this company, and I'll go to war with anyone in the back who thinks they can do it better than I can. I will persevere, and I WILL continue to bring back the class to Pure...Class...Wrestling."
Whitey holds up all four of his fingers and the singular thumb on one hand...as if you thought he had two thumbs per hand to begin with. "Last but by no means least, the fifth...seventh...NO, fourth, fuckit, you guys can follow along, right? The last point I'm out here to make is that I showed the world that I could get into a title shot by fighting by their rules. Not mine. THEIRS. I didn't cheat, I didn't swindle or even get hopped up on uppers to raise my pain tolerance. I got my shot at Grimm, and what did he do? Jumped me from the get-go and I was put into a situation...where I DID...WHAT I HAD...TO DO. I played fair at first, but if anyone thinks that I lured him into a false sense of security only to use a chair to defend myself..."
Whitey pauses for a few moments, and his grin becomes more mischievous. "...then if you have to ask, you'll never know. Grimm came to fight, and so did I. Just like tonight, and every other night going forward, I'm going to walk into this arena with the sole intention of FIGHTING and not proving, but REMINDING everyone who exactly the fuck I am. Tonight, I team with Alexa Black. I hate the cunt, I've never been a fan and I never will be, but SHE'S HERE TO FIGHT TOO! Grimm...Alyce Starchyld...tonight isn't about getting a win, or about anything really." Whitey makes his way to the ring, and rolls underneath the bottom rope. "Tonight...is about a fight, and we're going to start that fucking fight, right now!"
Ford hands the title over the top rope to a ring attendant, but holds onto the microphone a second longer. "So with that, I say...WELCOME, to the Whitey Ford show!"
Match One:
Standard Tag Match
One Fall
Alexa Black and Whitey Ford vs. Alyce Starchylde and Grimm
Sasha Greene mounts the steps to announce the match. Whitey holds the ropes for her with a wink.
Sasha Greene: The following contest is a tag match and scheduled for one fall. The winners will advance to the Main Event for a chance at the BattleBowl prize! Already in the ring, hailing from Leeds, Maine; “The Asshole” Whitey Ford!
The crowd cheers wildly for the newly crowned World Champion.
Sasha Greene: And his tag partner, hailing from Los Angeles, California, Alexa Black!
The crowd looks to the entrance way as “Blood On My Hands,” by The Used roars out and they know who is coming out from backstage and they start booing loudly almost drowning out the music.
Alexa Black steps through the curtain her face covered by a black mask with two Japanese Kanji in white. Death on the left and Pain on the right. Her head is covered by a hooded zip up jacket over a plain black t shirt and black tights with black wrestling boots with a red spider on the side of each boot. Her hands are covered by black gloves and around her neck a red back spider pendant.
She walks slowly down the ramp as the booing intensifies as the PCW faithful don't hold back their hatred of this evil woman.
Introducing First. Residing in Los Angeles, California. She weighs 200 pounds...ALEXA BLACK!
She looks around at the PCW faithful who pack the stands and simply glares malevolently back at them as they jeer and boo.
As she continues to walk down to the ring as the crowd grows louder and louder so even the announcers can't get a word in over the booing.
She reaches the ring and Alexa climbs up on the ring apron and enters the ring.
The music fades out as Alexa stays in the ring and removes her mask, her cold eyes silently staring up the ramp unflinchingly waiting for her next victim.
Sasha Greene: And their opponents…
The strains of K Flay’s ‘Blood in the Cut’ drifts through the air as Alyce steps out on the entrance ramp. Her head bounces softly in time to the music and then she lurches forward down the aisle towards the ring.
Sasha Greene: From Hollywood, California. She weighs 135 pounds...Alyce Starchylde!
She doesn’t seem to notice the crowd as her haunted eyes stare towards the ring. She approaches, slides under the ring ropes and slouches in a corner as she awaits her opponent.
Sasha Greene: And her tag team partner…
Lights dim and the PCW-Tron goes black. With the sound of a sharp nib scratching across a ragged sheet of parchment, a sepia-toned cursive scrawls grimm across the screen. The name flickers, wavering in and out of focus with the occasional tracking glitch as if projected from an old forgotten film canister uncovered on the bottom shelf in the cellar. Sparse percussion resonates throughout the arena and is soon joined by a droning, distorted bass line. At that, A Perfect Circle’s ”Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums” stomps out of the speakers and marches through the aisles. The drums, the distortion, the voices – all work to herald the arrival of the Hangtown Horror.
Don’t fret, precious, I’m here. Step away from the window.
Sasha Greene: From Hangtown, Kentucky. He weighs 217 pounds...Phinehas Grimm!
He walks out to a single blue-white spotlight, stops to bask in the light and shadows, and scans the crowd. The Lord of Misrule closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before making the long walk down the ramp, dead-set on the ring and ignoring the fans along the way. The spotlight follows. The words work their way up through the layers of the song.
Go back to sleep.
Phinehas climbs up onto the apron and slides in between the ropes. Hopping up onto a turnbuckle, he casts his gaze out over the crowd with his arms at his side, eyes shifting to take in the sea of faces spread out before him. Grimm then drops down. And waits.
DING! DING!
The glacier stare from Phinehas Grimm melts like the Artic upon hearing the bell. His stare is now volcanic fire as he and Whitey Ford pick up where their blood spilled over at Living a Legacy. They trade haymakers in the center of the ring like two gladiators with a serious hatred for the other. Neither man gets the upper hand, but the fans love the early aggressive display. Both Alexa and Alyce can be heard yelling for their partner to grab the advantage and look quite enamored by the potential for a violent outbreak at any second.
Jerry Andrews: The one time these two have the chance to NOT see one another, they do and on opposite sides.
Ace Anderson: Imagine if they were PARTNERS? Co-existing would be non-existant.
Grimm introduces his knee into the ribs of the new World Champion, doubling him over almost as fast as the delivery. Before he can follow, Ford shoots up and goes full Three Stooges with a poke of the eyes. With Grimm blinded and the ref’s warning ignored, Ford drives a knee of his own to his rival. He follows this with a swift knee lift that cracks the Hangtown Horror’s jaw. Whitey mounts and starts landing shot after shot with the stitched cranium as a target. Grimm angrily wards this, catching Whitey’s fists before they land any further. Grimm launches his head straight into Ford’s nose.
With Whitey blinded and Grimm back up, he runs him face first into the turnbuckle pad, nearly vaulting him over it and to the steel connecter which hooks it to the post. Whitey staggers back into a kidney shot and gingerly is stood upright. Ford is spun around and violently shoved in the corner. Grimm charges like a shark to blood as he throttles Ford’s throat with the look of a man wanting to break someone’s neck. His digs his fingers into the muscles and practically is shoving Whitey’s head at an inhuman angle over the middle buckle. The ref interjects himself and after finding no success verbally, issues a five count to the former champion. He relinquishes at four and a half, but with great annoyance at the interfering official and the fact Whitey Ford is still breathing on his own power.
Alexa’s barking at her own partner and draws Grimm’s attention towards her. No fear is shown in either direction, but the look from Phinehas can be read as a warning towards her that she’ll be next if she wants to step through those ropes. Grimm gives no fucks about her and cares even less about his heated rival. Grimm goes to recover the deposited Ford and is met with several stiff forearms to the midsection. Then the chest and finally one right under the chin, staggering him down to a knee. Ford tries to shake off the pain and get some oxygen in those lungs before bowling Grimm over with a spear. Ford lays head butt after head butt to roaring approval. Just as he tries clawing his eyes out, Alexa Black reaches over the top rope and tags herself into the match.
Jerry Andrews: How wise is it for someone to face GRIMM when he’s this heated?
Ace Anderson: It’s Alexa Black. She would punch Satan AND God square in the face, rule both heaven and hell and spare no one. She. Does. Not. Care.
You can imagine how Whitey Ford feels about that. But, rules are rules and out he has to go. But not without a few choice words unsuitable for children. Alexa smiles at them like they are compliments. She turns her attention to Grimm, punt kicking him out of her way with a vicious boot to the ribs. She rolls him over with the same foot into the corner. As he lays prone, Alexa stomps all over him with a modified Garvin Stomp. Grimm is pulled up into the corner. Alexa delivers a combination of punches and capitalizes with a nasty european uppercut that rocks the bearded ginger for a loop. She looks to whip him into the far corner, but instead chooses to return him to the one he was in. The force staggers him out and into what looks to be the set-up for a T-Bone suplex. Grimm has enough fight left in his Kentucky bones to disrupt her equilibrium with. The sociopathic monster is dazed just long enough for Grimm to use a desperation drop toe hold. Alexa goes full impact into the top buckle.
Grimm moves towards his partner and tags in Alyce Starchylde.
“Welcome to Wonderland...it gets Dark from Here!” she screams at Alexa. The very same woman who thrives in darkness. Alyce comes flying in like a dart at her. She nails a flying forearm and then stays positioned on the middle ropes to continue hammering away with it, as she unloads on the face of her larger and stronger opponent. Sleeping on her short stature is your own peril as Alyce is capable of going at it with anyone in that very ring. She rips Alexa out of the corner by her hair and stands her upright with martial arts kicks to her sides. Looking to chop her down, Alyce spins around and lands another swift set of kicks behind both of her knees. With Alexa down, Alyce goes full sprint to the ropes, just narrowly missing an incoming knee from Whitey Ford. Alyce hits Alexa with a neckbreaker, folding her backwards with such.
Jerry Andrews: Two of PCW’s resident lunatics meeting one another for the first time.
Ace Anderson: Should I turn on the bat signal for this?
Ignoring the chance at a pin, she double stomps the midsection of Alexa, driving the air from her body. This is followed by a diving knee drop to the same region. Then stomp after stomp after stomp as if her stomach was being pumped. Alyce has no use for five counts, who did the ref think he was counting, King Kong Bundy? She pulls Alexa up onto her feet and goes for a whip. This is reversed by the is-she-or-isn’t-she-a-demon. Alyce is laid out with a sudden pop up samoan drop. She shoots Grimm an unhinged smile and repeats that HE’LL be next. Grimm is annoyed. You won’t like Grimm when he is annoyed. Alyce is sent into the enemy corner following a spinning back fist. Alexa charges like a bull in a china shop as a her shoulder meets Alyce in the gut, crushing her against the buckles with very little escape. Whitey Ford returns the blind tag, but keeps death stares Phinehas across the ring.
Alexa takes offense to being interrupted. Instead of stepping onto the apron, she military presses Alyce while staring up at Ford. Rather than a tandem move, she deposits her from the back and shoulder bumps the champ on her way out. Whitey shrugs and picks Alyce up and hits a snap German suplex, all but folding Alyce end over end. The muscular “Asshole” (have fun with that wordplay) waits for Alyce to get up. Then promptly swallows her whole with a blazing fast dropkick, knocking her clean out of the ring. Ford then gets up and decides Grimm should join her. So he gives him the exact same medicine dose to knock him off the apron and careening back to the rail. Whitey exits the ring, picks Alyce up and uses Grimm’s head for a makeshift turnbuckle.
Ford throws Alyce back inside and has just enough of an opening to further hit Grimm for good measure, before he jumps back inside for a quick pin count.
..1!
….2!
Nope. A weak two as the tough to put down down Alyce Starchylde kicks out. Ford points out Grimm to the referee, who has made it angrily into the ring with a pale blue death stare and Whitey Ford in his crosshairs. Grimm manages to power the referee back on his heels, but shows a level of calm before it can reach disqualification level. Whitey uses this time to blatantly choke, eye gouge and bite the head of Alyce before order is restored. He then prods Grimm for the fun of it, extending twin fingers in his direction. Ford picks Alyce up by the hair, who then blocks an attempted European uppercut. Showing off her resilience, she spins around and brings Ford down with a sudden Russian leg sweep. Alyce rolls herself over and tags in the outstretched hand of Phinehas Grimm.
Jerry Andrews: The Champion letting Grimm know how he feels about him. All he needs is his title to remind Grimm of what happened.
Ace Anderson: It may backfire here…
Remember what was said about not liking him when he’s annoyed? Yeah. Add angry to that.
Whitey Ford’s spine gets realigned with a nasty spinebuster. Grimm mounts with ground-and-pound-into-dust fists of fire. And only gets more aggressive by the minute. Remembering the gesture presented, he isolates each finger and comes violently down on them with a stomp. Ford writhes in pain, but finds himself being slingshot into a sudden knee from Alyce, rather than over the top as intended. Ford staggers through the ropes and to the floor. Grimm shoots an icy stare through his own partner as he meets his rival. That interruption proves costly for Whitey Ford. He is slingshot again, but into the ring post with a sickening crack. He follows him while in the background, Alexa has taken it upon herself to begin attacking Alyce. She’s pulled into the ring while Grimm clears the announce table of everything, including scaring off commentary. The fans are whipped into a frenzy as Grimm rips the cover off the table. Inside the ring, Alyce and Alexa practically trade crazy, with each goading to hit the other harder than before. But with sadistic enjoyment as only people like them employ.
Ford is speared into the edge of the announce table. Then removed and ran into it several more times with punishing effect. Grimm scoops him up and slams him onto the table. Then jumps up with him. His eyes gloss with grim intent. Chaos is the name of the game here. Whitey desperately tries to avoid what may be coming by dead weighting Grimm. He instead responds in kind with vicious elbows to the back. Inside of the ring, Alexa has just put Alyce down with a Running superkick after the referee gets between the psychopaths. Her attention then turns to Grimm and Whitey.
Ford is partially pulled up in a piledriver, but again, shifts his weight down. Grimm is not pleased. He abandons the idea, pulls Whitey upright and hits a bell clap. Ford is dropped onto his hands and knees and this time, Grimm deadlifts him into a piledriver set-up.
But Alexa Black SPEARS HER OWN PARTNER in order to drive everyone through the announce table, teams and welfare be damned. The fans unleash a torrent of “holy shit” chants as bodies lay strewn. Alexa is the quickest to her feet. She throws Whitey out of her God damn way and retrieves Grimm herself. From the corner of her eye, she spots a springboard moonsaulting Alyce Starchylde who picture perfectly connects on The Black Widow. Alexa spills over the barricade from this. Alyce grabs Ford and throws him back into the ring. She then does the same with Grimm, but keeps him near the corner so she can tag into the match.
Jerry Andrews: BEDLAM! BEDLAM! BEDLAM!
Ace Anderson: Jeez, Jerry. Spaz much? Wait, These headsets still work?
Jerry Andrews: Remind me to put in a request for us to be moved somewhere safe.
She reintroduces herself with a slingshot leg drop and a quick pin.
..1!
….2!
…...THRE_NO!
Ford kicks out around two and a half. He’s picked up and send sternum first into the turnbuckles ala Bret Hart. Whiplashed down, Alyce walks over and props him upright in the corner. She runs to the opposite side, taunts Whitey and returns with a handspring elbow. Ford staggers along the ropes and is nearly decapitated by Grimm. On the far side, an angry Alexa Black begins returning to her side of the ring, gesturing at Alyce Starchylde the entire way. Alyce brings Ford with her and for the first time in the match, an actual tag is made. Grimm blocks out whatever pain he may be experiencing as he drops Whitey Ford with a nasty savate kick. Alyce steps onto the apron and grabs the tag rope. Grimm goes for his own pin while digging his forearm across the face of Ford.
..1!
….2!
...NO! Ford gets a shoulder up. Grimm sits up and looks detached from reality as he glares Whitey. It’s almost as if he’s saying “how dare you kick out?!” Phinehas stands and without hesitation, runs and cheap shots Alexa. The referee (as before) has to keep order. This gives Grimm a chance to practically strangle Ford while he can. Alexa, not one to play nice, is forced against her will to get out of the ring. Grimm’s inner clock goes off as Ford is allowed to breathe once more. Alyce is then tagged back into the match as they “make a wish” with Ford’s legs. The World Champ sits up momentarily and then slumps back down. His legs are lifted in the air and Alyce NEARLY stomps his grapes into wine. It’s so close the referee has to warn her. Alyce laughs in his face.
Jerry Andrews: That looked cheap to me.
Ace Anderson: Are you insinuating something about Alyce, Jerry? I have a good mind to let her know just as soon as she tags out.
A snap suplex connects as wear and tear begin showing on Whitey Ford. He’s driven backwards into a corner and met first with a shoulder thrust and then several knees. If not for the ropes, he’d be sitting in the corner. As it is, he’s clinging. Alyce paintbrushes him and walks to the opposite end. Blowing a kiss, yes a kiss, towards Alexa, she goes for a second handspring elbow and hits it. Just as she begins walking away, whether by second wind or desperation, Ford cinches her from behind, spins her around so that she is facing him and annihilates her with a release Northern lights suplex. The impact bounces her off the mat and into the buckles. Whitey Ford is down, beaten, but not out. The fans try willing him to the absolutely despised c*unt of PCW. Hand over hand with the bottom rope he slooowly pulls himself.
Grimm sees this and makes a mad dash to stop him. He gets to Ford’s feet, but he uses more reserve to shove him off. Whitey twists his body and just manages to tag in Alexa Black. She wastes no time in avalanching Alyce in the corner. Then a clothesline over the top for Grimm. She marches back to Alyce and drops her with a jumping headbutt. Alyce is picked up and slammed with a belly-to-belly suplex. Then an exploder. And finally capped off with a trio of gutwrench suplexes. She roars with a primal yell that one may hear inside of an asylum. Fans are actually cheering instead of booing. Something Alexa takes VERY offensively. In no uncertain terms, she let’s them know how she feels about every single paying fan.
Jerry Andrews: Alexa Black, ladies and gentleman. Gone for months, but still as classless as she always has been.
Ace Anderson: She. Does. Not. Care. You should know this. I know I do and that frightens me.
Those cheers quickly become deafening boos aka music to her ears. Throwing herself into the ropes, Grimm pulls her foot to trip her up. She slowly turns her body around and holds the ropes open for Phinehas to get in there and do something while she’s looking. He has other ideas in mind. And they involve Whitey Ford. Alexa smirks and focuses back on Alyce Starchylde. Dazed, she swings at Alexa and just narrowly misses hitting her. At the same time Alyce is met with a reverse full nelson slam, the back of Whitey Ford’s skull is greeted with a sickening ping of a certain signature shovel. After which, Grimm hides it. Not only that, he shoves Whitey Ford as far under the ring as he can get without going under himself.
Alexa has Alyce spun upside down for a Widow’s Kiss! But here’s Grimm! And he just flat out WAFFLES Alexa at the knees. Alyce is pancaked in the process, but Alexa is immobilized. Phinehas isn’t stupid. He pulls Alyce to the corner and tags himself in. Then like a vulture to carrion, he impales the head, neck and spine of Alexa Black with The Harvest. Rolling her over, he hooks the leg and counts along.
..1!
….2!
…...3!
DING! DING! DING!
Sasha Greene: Here are your winners, Alyce Starchylde and Grimm!
Jerry Andrews: Grimm picks up the win for his team, but this will be where the partnership ends. When Grimm and Starchylde are in the ring together next, it’s every person for themselves!
Ace Anderson: And she is already on the bad side of a very focused Hangtown Horror. Not. Good.
Suddenly, the opening notes of "In The Morning And Amazing" by Circa Survive hit on the PA and Kyle Shane comes walking out onto the stage. He's wearing a nice suit for once, as opposed to his ring gear, his hair is freshly gelled up into a springy coif, and despite a few ominous bandages on his neck and cheek, he looks none the worse for the wear. This is a bit of an act of bravado as he's still banged up from his night at Living A Legacy. He's carrying two important set pieces that he holds in each hand, the Underground Championship in his left, and the trophy given to him as the winner of the 2017 Icemann Invitational Tournament in his right. He flashes the ultimate cocky, shit eating grin as he comes strutting down the stage. He does a pirouette as he makes it halfway down the ramp. A massive show of respect goes up from the crowd, as they shower him with "SHANE, SHANE, SHANE, SHANE" chants.
Jerry Andrews: There he is, the man who at Living a Legacy IX called his shot and delivered on two of the biggest matches of the night.
Ace Anderson: I am amazed Kyle Shane is still standing here today. He had not just two hellacious matches, but he had to go through literal hell to stand here holding both of these prizes tonight.
Jerry Andrews: Let's not forget, Shane went through one hell of a match against Hiroshi Yukio, enduring a massive amount of punishment before he pulled himself up to the rafters and flew off with an Air Assassination... a leap of over 20 feet down on Hiroshi Yukio. It was a sight and a moment that many people will not forget.
Ace Anderson: And as if that wasn't enough, he had to come back and compete later that night in a triple threat match.
Kyle has entered the ring, and he has an overjoyed, yet smarmy look on his face as he does a lap around, holding the title on his shoulder and holding the trophy up in the air. The crowd reacts wildly and camera flash. He grins broadly, before setting the trophy in the crook of his free elbow, laying the Underground title on the mat in front of him and calling for a mic. He waits for a moment, spinning the mic in his hand as he considers the crowd, who are still quieting down, and then he speaks in a roar to fire them up.
Kyle Shane: ACHIEVEMENT... UNLOCKED, BABY!
He holds the trophy up, to get another wave of reaction from the crowd.
Kyle Shane: Heh... you know, there were a few moments after the end of Living a Legacy where I wanted to take the next few weeks off and heal. To take some time to build myself back up after breaking my body, in many ways literally, to push myself to the ultimate achievement. But the more I thought about it, the more I wasn't going to do that. I deserve the right to come out here, right again on the very next Trauma and hold these prizes up and I deserve to come and compete tonight in the exact same manner. I belong here because I get to be the one that says, to the people that thought I couldn't do it, to the people that thought there wasn't a chance, to the people who told me (Smirks) I have suuuch a big mountain to climb, facing Non Compos Mentis, the legend, in the finals of TIIT as well as defending MY Underground Championship. There were so many people who were sure that I was going to drop one of the plates I had in the air.
He looks at both the trophy in the crook of his elbow and the Underground title, grinning.
Kyle Shane: Well, to those people, I say this: I DEFENDED THE UNDERGROUND TITLE AND WON THE TIIT FINALS IN THE SAME NIGHT. Oh, what, that ruffles a few feathers, I'll say it again: I DEFENDED THE UNDERGROUND TITLE AND WON THE TIIT FINALS IN THE SAME NIGHT!! I DEFENDED THE UNDERGROUND TITLE AND WON THE TIIT FINALS IN THE SAME NIGHT!! I DEFENDED -
He pauses, and takes a few deep breaths, but the cocky smirk is still on his face.
Kyle Shane: You could go back in the history of the tournament, or the history of this belt, or what have you, and scour it for someone who did it like me, but you won't find it. I did all of that with people overlooking me, because I never have fit the mold of your precious PCW. I don't come off as brainy or cerebral or harsh as your precious Grimms, or your institutions like your supposedly high level legends like that unwashed peasant Non Compos Mentis. I am always brash, in your face, and bound to piss some people off, but I did what none of them have ever done at Living A Legacy and now that's what MY legacy will be. Whoever wins the Icemann Tournament next year, or whoever, somehow, FINALLY comes along and takes the Underground Championship after I decide I've had my run with it... they'll have a trophy for their efforts, but they will NEVER be the man who DEFENDED THE UNDERGROUND TITLE AND WON TIIT FINALS ON THE SAME NIGHT. They'll have the bronze, but I straight up hit a platinum trophy, baby!
He leans down, and picks up the Underground Championship, holding it in the same hand as the TIIT trophy under his pit.
Kyle Shane: And now? Tonight, we have a concept called Battlebowl, where a random assortment of people threw their hats in for a series of matches, and the winners will compete in the main event for ANOTHER trophy. It could be singles matches, tag matches, or triple threats, but you win your way into the main event, and you receive another achievement to unlock. So it is with that in mind that I came here tonight, because I did it at Living a Legacy, and dammit, I'll do it again tonight. I'm the Underground Champion, and my title is on the line, and I'll defend it tonight just like I did every step of the way through TIIT... all the way up to the last match. And then, I'll go on to the main event, and win me ANOTHER trophy. Unlock me another platinum. I'll show that I can do it again. Because that's what I do.
He looks right into the camera as he stands in the ring. His face is of the utmost seriousness.
Kyle Shane: I stand here, Underground King, TIIT Winner, God of fucking Game, and whether people like it or not, I'm on the rise. I've made some serious moves since I got here. I've made the Underground title mean something when before, it might have been destined for the scrap heap or being absorbed like the North American and International belts. I made this title into MY World Championship. No one can take this from me. And now that I've got a title shot through the TIIT trophy... whoever holds the OTHER World Championship when it all shakes out by the next PPV should be very, very fucking scared. Because I'm coming. I am trophy hunting. I am collecting gold. And very, very soon, Kyle Shane is gonna call his shot and hit it out of the park. And I'll be standing in this ring with a brand new shiny toy, and a very big accomplishment to add to my list.
His mouth twists upwards in a smirk.
Kyle Shane: Achievement... unlocked.
He throws the mic down and gathers the TIIT trophy and the Underground Title up, holding them in each hand. The crowd starts up another "SHANE, SHANE, SHANE" chant.
Ace Anderson: Is it cockiness or confidence? Madness or brilliance? Has Kyle Shane upset the balance of the PCW rankings, and can he do it again?
Jerry Andrews: He has a big hill to climb, but he has shown a lot of resilience to get here, so it's easy to believe he could pull off what he says, in time.
"This is Gonna Hurt" begins to play, giving the confident Underground King pause to look up at the ramp.
Jerry Andrews: You know what that music means!
Ace Anderson: Don't remind me.
Jerry Andrews: The Pure Class Wrestling President Loki is here!
Ace Anderson: Oh goody.
Sure enough, Loki pops out from behind the curtain, microphone under his armpit as he gives Kyle Shane a respectable round of applause. He reaches the top of the ramp, putting the mic to his mouth as the crowd noise dies down.
Loki: I'm glad you are so confident, champ. I truly am. It really was quite the achievement. I remember when I was as cocky and arrogant as you. I grew out of it pretty quickly around here. You wanna know how? By taking some pretty nasty bumps.
Kyle Shane: What's your point, old man?
Loki: Simple, direct. That's what I like about you. My point is that whether you realize it or not, that Underground belt you're so proud of comes with a hefty stipulation: it has to be defended once on EVERY show.
The crowd shakes the rafters with a mixed reaction at the news, but Loki holds his hand up to try and calm their enthusiasm for now.
Loki: You've had a great run with that title, so your confidence isn't unfounded. So you're going to use that confidence tonight. The Underground title will be on the line in your tag match.
The news hits Shane like a ton of bricks, flaring his anger. He stomps around the ring mouthing the words, "You can't do that to me! It's not fair!" Loki smiles as Kyle wages his tantrum.
Loki: Being the Underground King that you are comes with lots of surprises, Kyle. Let's see if you are up to this task. So just stay right where you are, because your match is next.
Loki drops the mic and starts to leave while Kyle fumes in the ring He gets all the way to the curtain before holding up a single finger as if he just remembered something. He returns to pick up the mic once again.
Loki: Oh, by the way... You don't have to be the one pinned to lose your belt. Good luck!
Loki drops the mic again and disappears into the back stage.
Jerry Andrews: WHAT? The Underground Title is on the line?
Ace Anderson: That's just not right! Shane didn't have proper time to prepare!
Jerry Andrews: He overcame insurmountable odds at Living a Legacy. He certainly wasn't afraid to let people know it. If anyone could pull this off, it would be him.
Ace Anderson: True, but still…
Jerry Andrews: We'll find out if he can pull it off after the break.
Jerry Andrews: We're back!
Ace Anderson: Everybody's in the ring for our second match. Jerry, I still have to say it was a dick move for Loki to come out and tell Shane he has to defend his title in this match.
Jerry Andrews: Well, he was right though. Injuries or not, the Underground Title is technically SUPPOSED to be defended on each show. That's what makes Shane's reign as the Underground King so much more impressive. It's not a once-per-pay-per-view event.
Ace Anderson: True, but to spring it on his unannounced was bullshit.
Jerry Andrews: Probably. It kinda adds a new dimension to the match too, because now weapons can be used. It looks like the action is about to start.
Match Two:
Standard Tag Match
One Fall
Kyle Shane and Seromine vs. Non Compos Mentis and Sicko
Ace Anderson: Kyle is playing it smart by letting Seromine kick things off for their team.
Jerry Andrews: And NCM is squaring off for his side. You know... Seromine isn't exactly in the best of shape after his battle with Nathan Saniti at Living…
Without warning, "Prognosis," by See John Hum chimes over the speakers.
Ace Anderson: Oh, now what in the blue hell?
The Good Doctor pops through the curtain, flanked by Lunatic. The burlap-masked man and his charge make their way down to the ring. Nigel Gale, as well as the collective combatants look at the pair with a mix of curiosity and annoyance. They stop at the end of the ramp, Lunatic smiling and unhinged grin while the Doctor cups his chin thoughtfully. The two carry on a brief conversation, Lunatic obviously itching to join the fray. The Doctor holds him back, indicating that he has a better idea.
The two split, surrounding the ring, every step followed suspiciously by the four men in the ring before heading over to the announce table. Lunatic bullies the Spanish announcers into giving up their chairs and headsets. The two make themselves comfortable, essentially joining the announce team. The Doctor, surprisingly, begins to do a fluent job of announcing in Spanish that they will be sitting in for the hapless commentary team. Lunatic just speaks in English, throwing in an "el," ending words in an "o," or reciting various Taco Bell menu items to complete an already incoherent sentence.
Good Doctor: Este será un concurso divertido, ¿no te parece?
(Translation: This should be a good contest, don't you think?)
Lunatic: Don't you cuss at me! I don't like-o anyone here. They el-suck-o, especially Kyle Shane. Stoopit chalupa-for-brains.
Ace Anderson: Why? Why are you guys out here?
The Good Doctor: The answer is simple; my patient is impatient. He has a vested interest in the outcome of this match, since he's the number one contender for the Underground Title.
Lunatic: ¡Cállate! Estos idiotas son inútiles.
(Translation: Shut up! These idiots are useless.)
Lunatic claps his hands over his mouth as if he just blurted profanity in a church. Ace, Jerry and the Good Doctor all look at him, shocked. Looney slowly grins and shrugs his shoulders.
Seromine, his hands taped from the pay-per-view damage, circles around NCM, blind-siding him from behind with a hammering forearm to the back of the head. NCM rocks forward into the ropes, whipped across the ring. Seromine misses with a clothesline. The Hobo King stops in his tracks to drill the preacher in the mush with a series of fists that drives his foe back to the ropes. Now it's the Born Psycho shoving Seromine across the ring, catching him in the gut with a knee on the rebound that drops him to all fours. Without hesitation, NCM stomps each hand in turn, gaining a yelp of pain from the Sadistic Sermonizer.
Good Doctor: NCM va tras las lesiones sufridas por Seromine en Living a Legacy.
(Translation: NCM is going after the injuries Seromine sustained at Living a Legacy.)
Lunatic: Churro, guacamole, salsa.
Ace palms his face at his broadcast cohorts.
Ace Anderson: What did I do to deserve this?
Jerry Andrews: You realize that we have a limited amount of time in this show, right?
Ace Anderson: And here's your usual, 'I hate you.' Given with love. Now die in a fire.
Jerry laughs as the match continues. NCM is on the attack, twisting Seromine's arm like a schoolyard bully, chicken winging it behind him, keeping pressure on the palm. Seromine grimaces, throwing a back elbow that connects with the Hobo King's jaw. It takes a couple more shots before NCM relinquishes the hold. Seromine bounces off of the second rope, connecting with a forearm called the Cyanide Punch. Mentis reels back, getting a blind tag from the oversized demented clown.
NCM grudgingly gets out, staring down the clown for his interjecting himself into the match before he could get in a real offense. The jester pays his tag partner no attention, grinning sadistically at the preacher.
Good Doctor: ¡Aquí viene el payaso!
(Translation: Here comes the clown!)
Lunatic shrinks back in his seat, remaining completely silent, as if trying to go unnoticed by the face-painted monster.
Lunatic: Clown. Bad.
Ace notices Lunatic's reaction to Sicko and laughs, nudging Jerry in the ribs with an elbow and pointing.
Ace Anderson: How about that crap? He's scared of Sicko. He'd better hope THAT freakshow doesn't win.
Jerry Andrews: Focus. We have a match to call.
Sicko stalks the Sadistic Sermonizer stealthily, looking for an opening to inflict pain. Seromine drops back, offering up a tag to Shane, who scoffs and slaps the injured hand away, but the ref sees it as a tag and orders Shane into the ring. Kyle looks at his hand as if it betrayed him as Seromine beats a retreat out of the ring. The ref begins to count as Shane slowly peers up at the clown with a gulp.
Good Doctor: Parece que Shane es vacilante para entrar en el ring.
(Translation: It appears that Shane is hesitant to get into the ring.)
Lunatic: I don't blame him. Stoopit clowns suck.
Lunatic's expression changes from petrified to pointed fury. He doffs the headgear, rushing to the ring to check under it as the ref reaches the count of five. He locates the God of Game's power glove and hands it to him forcibly.
Lunatic: USE IT! KILL THE CLOWN! DO IT!
Kyle looks at the glove, starting to put it on, but he's violently snapped to reality by the hair as he's yanked into the ring by an impatient jester. The glove falls to the floor while Shane is hoisted to the ceiling like a sack of potatoes. Sicko tosses him up in the air, bringing him back down across his knees, all of the air rushing out of his lungs. He rolls out of the ring, clutching his already injured ribs. Looney smacks the mat in frustration. He reaches under the ring to produce a chair. He rounds the corner where Kyle is, whapping him mercilessly with the chair.
Lunatic: I HATE YOU! I TOLD YOU TO KILL THE CLOWN!
Lunatic throws the bent chair, gathering Shane from the floor and rolling him into the ring just before the ref gets to the ten count. Sicko approaches and Looney scampers away. The jester smiles at him as he reaches down to take advantage of the gift he was given. Lunatic watches carefully from a seated position next to the guardrail, warning the behemoth joker away from him.
Jerry Andrews: Small package! Nope. He kicked out of it.
Ace Anderson: Sicko had better pay attention. Kyle Shane is a crafty little scamp.
Jerry Andrews: Who says "scamp" anymore?
While Lunatic cautiously gets back up, Shane uses the brief distraction to set a game plan, bouncing off of the ropes while Sicko has his back turned to deliver a chop block to the back of the knee that topples the bozo. The Game Changer stomps the hyperflexed knee to add damage. As he heads back to the announce table, Lunatic cheers Shane on, reaching under the ring and tossing in various weapons: chairs, a barbed wire covered baseball bat, a kendo stick, and naturally, the power glove. The ref kicks some of them out of the ring, warning Looney that if he keeps interfering in the match, he'll evict him from ringside.
Looney gives him the finger. In Spanish, of course. He resets his headgear and composes himself.
Lunatic: Where was I? Oh yeah. Gordita, nachos, el mcFlurry.
Inside the ring, Shane goes on the attack with stomps and kicks all over Sicko, concentrating mostly on the knee to keep the face painted mountain from regaining his leverage. He drums the joint with elbow after elbow, but the big man begins to get up in spite of the punishment. Or because of it. The clown rises like a nightmarish boogeyman, all while the God of Game tries to topple him. Finally to full mast, he grins at Shane, letting out a blood curdling cackle that even catches the Underground King off guard.
Sicko wraps his hand around Shane's throat, hoisting him high and back down to the mat. He yanks him up, tossing him to the ropes. Shane rebounds, connecting with a Goddess White Sword, staggering back into the enemy corner. NCM delivers a knee to the temple through the ropes. Sicko slowly stands, holding his head, shaking out the cobwebs. He begins to bend down to collect his prey, but the Hobo King returns the blind tag from earlier.
Ace Anderson: None of these guys seem to be meshing well as a team. Look at how Sicko is glaring at NCM while they trade positions.
Jerry Andrews: I don't envy Nigel Gale for having to officiate this match.
NCM picks up the kendo stick, as if feeling to see if this is what he wants to use. Shane starts to get to his feet on his own, but then he's violently assisted via fistful of hair from the clown. Sicko holds Kyle in place in the corner as the Born Psycho charges in with the weapon held high above his head. Shane holds onto the big man's hands, lifting a foot into the gut of the Hobo King. He follows up with an enziguri that doesn't quite fully connect, but he gets enough of it to make NCM withdraw and drop the stick. Thinking quickly, he performs a Pele kick to the clown that causes the larger man to release his hair hold.
The God of Game bounds off of the second rope, knocking Sicko in the noggin with an Emblem Heartless knee lift that drives the clown off of the ring apron. Shane spins to his opponent, frantically hitting the rope for added momentum. He leaps up for a cross body block, but the Born Psycho catches him, nailing a pendulum back breaker. He goes for the cover!
..1!
....2!
Ace Anderson: NO! Seromine breaks up the cover, thumping NCM with a steel chair.
Jerry Andrews: The ref admonishes Seromine for his being in the ring. Not the chair. Just him being there.
Seromine ignores the zebra, drilling the Hobo King with the furniture again before relenting back to his corner. Shane begins to crawl back to his corner, making the tag to Seromine. The self-proclaimed savior smashes NCM with the chair again, stomping his back a time or twelve while screaming "REPENT!" Just as the larger man gets back up on his corner, Seromine swings the chair onto the clown's head, dropping him back down to the ground, much to Lunatic's delight.
Seromine turns around to be greeted with a flurry of fists from a recovered NCM. Mentis connects with a short arm lariat, dropping for a pin attempt that only gets him a two count. He smacks the mat in frustration, pulling the preacher to standing by his hair. He throws Seromine to the ropes, missing with a Yakuza kick. Seromine rebounds off the opposite side with a flying forearm. He gathers the Born Psycho up, driving European uppercuts to a neutral corner before whipping him across the ring.
Seromine puts NCM in a side headlock, rushing to the center of the ring with a bulldog DDT. He continues the unrelenting attack with a Lord's Prayer that lands both men close to Seromine's corner. He hooks the leg.
..1!
....2!
NO!
NCM got his foot on the rope. Seromine starts to yank him to his feet, but then he sees HOW the foot got there. Kyle Shane put it there to prevent the pinfall. Seromine looks at his tag partner, asking what he was doing. Shane just shrugs, explaining that he didn't want to lose his belt. Out of irritation, Seromine tags Shane in. Shocked, the God of Game slowly re-enters the ring. To his surprise, Seromine simply says, "God be with you, sinner," and hops down from the ring apron.
Good Doctor: Creo que Seromine se va.
(Translation: I believe Seromine is leaving.)
Lunatic: Maybe he doesn't like-o el clowns, either. Taco.
Sure enough, Seromine heads back to the curtain, assisted by Destiny. Shane can't believe what's going on. He doesn't see NCM sneaking up behind him with a steel chair in his hand. He drops the God of Game with a well-placed shot to the ribs and back. Just for added pleasure, he brings the weapon back down a couple more times.
While Kyle screams in pain from the attack, the Born Psycho yanks him to standing, connecting with a Back to Madness that folds the Underground King in half. NCM uses the momentum to go for a pin, using a handful of tights and some second rope leverage to gain a two count before Sicko breaks it up.
The veteran scowls at the clown, his arms raised and asking what he thinks he's doing. Meanwhile, Lunatic starts throwing vegetables at the clown, jeering at him from the announce table. Sicko tires of the vitamin rich tantrum, hopping down and stalking to the table. Lunatic practically climbs over the Good Doctor to get away from the psychotic bozo, making a beeline through the crowd. Sicko turns his attention to the Doctor, but for some reason, he can't seem to bring himself to go on the attack. From the opposite side, Lunatic jumps the rail, donning Shane's power glove and drilling it into the skull of the demented clown, dropping him like a bad habit.
The ref has had enough! Gale orders the Good Doctor and Lunatic away from ringside. Grudgingly, they comply, leaving the announce table empty and abandoned, save for the prone clown draped over it like a tablecloth.
During the distraction, NCM spit red mist into the eyes of the God of Game. As the ref returns his attention to the task at hand, he assaults Shane's ribcage with a bear hug, picking him up and shaking him like a rag doll. Kyle starts to fade into unconsciousness. Gale checks for a submission. The arm drops once. Twice. On the third time, it stands at half mast, Kyle trying to rally the crowd behind him. NCM spins the champion around, dropping him with a powerslam. He hooks the leg.
..1
....2!
......THRE-NO!
Jerry Andrews: Man! Despite the odds continuing to stack against him, Shane is still in this match.
Ace Anderson: At least we're rid of Lunatic. Now maybe we can have a match.
Speaking of which... NCM pulls Shane up onto his feet, nailing him with a Blunt Trauma! Kyle begins to wilt to the mat, but he's caught by the merciless Mentis, who hits him with a Pain Killer! NCM hooks the leg again.
Ace Anderson: Another cover!
Jerry Andrews: NO! He got the shoulder up! How the hell is Kyle Shane staying in this?
NCM stands bolt upright, getting right in the ref's face demanding a faster count. Kyle battles the Hobo King as he's being pulled to his feet, but there's just nothing there. Every move, every breath, seems to aggravate his ribs even more. NCM drives a knee into the midsection. While Shane is bent over, NCM drops back to set up for the Psychotic Break. He nails it! He drops for the cover!
..1!
....2!
......THRE-NO!
Sicko breaks up the pin attempt. An extremely pissed NCM grabs a kendo stick and goes to town on the clown, finally breaking the weapon over the demented jester's head and shoving him back out of the ring. He returns his attention to the God of Game, bending down to pick him up, but Shane puts him in a small package, gaining a final two count before the rage-energized Born Psycho kicks out, drilling the Underground King's ribs with stomps as he stands. He picks Shane up, placing his foe's head between his legs. He lifts him up…
Jerry Andrews: Fractured Mind!
Ace Anderson: There's no way he's getting up from that.
..1!
....2!
......3!
DING DING DING!
Sasha Green: Your winner and NEW UNDERGROUND KING, Non Compos Mentis, and his partner, Sicko!
Jerry Andrews: Now we know who the last two people in the fatal four-way main event will be It will be Grimm vs. Alyce Starchylde vs. Sicko vs. the new Underground King, Non Compos Mentis!
Ace Anderson: I’m just sick to my stomach that Kyle Shane lost his belt under these circumstances. I hope he goes for his rematch.
Jerry Andrews: It’s too early to tell right now, but Shane took quite a bit more damage to his already injured ribcage. Maybe we’ll find out after the break.
Scene switches backstage to show Kyle Shane, dejectedly sitting with his head down. He's in a trainer's office, by himself. His shirt is off and he's only in his ring trunks, and his ribs are heavily taped. He looks a lot more pensive and subdued than we saw in his entrance. A trainer comes in, holding a bag of ice to Kyle's side, and he hisses with pain and shoos the trainer away as he notices the cameraman and Shane Dodge.
Shane Dodge: Hey Kyle... tough loss out there, are you alright?
Kyle Shane: The fuck do you think?
Shane Dodge: It's gonna be alright, man...
Kyle runs a hand through his sweaty, bloody hair, his mind whirling as he considers an answer for a few long moments.
Kyle Shane: Everything I said earlier remains true. Non Compos Mentis walked out of here tonight with my -- MY Underground Championship and it hurts. It's true that things run their course, losses happen and I'm Kyle God damn Shane, but I don't think I'll ever just shrug off losing and be totally fine with it. I could have done so much more with it. I held it for 148 plus days, is that a record? Hell, I don't know. I could have taken it so much farther if I didnt st-
He's getting worked up, and he winces at the pain in his ribs. His body is still damaged after the fall from the rafters at Living a Legacy, and the triple threat, and now tonight after being worked over pretty hardcore by a hobo and a clown. He shuts his eyes, and closes his fist, making an effort to stop himself and rethink.
Shane Dodge: So you gonna get it back, or is that it?
Kyle Shane: I'm still the TIIT winner. I still have something that neither of those two big assholes can take away from me, and yeah, I'm still Kyle Shane. Tonight sucks... but I'm going to bounce back from this. I promise you.
He turns, angrily slapping the icepack out of the hands of the trainer helping him. The woman just holds her hands up with a surprised, "Okay then jeez" expression as Kyle mumbles "take that shit the fuck outta here".
Main Event:
Fatal Four-Way
Elimination Match
Pinfalls, Submissions, Count-outs, DQ's all count
The final four winners of the tag matches will fight until only one person is left.
All four competitors from our two tag match bonanzas are already in the ring, although entrances would probably just be indulgent at this point. Regardless, teams have broken down Alyce and Grimm square off while Sicko seeks to avenge his defeat in the Last Chance Battle Royale and take out NCM. As the referee orders the bell rung and all four parties stand equidistant, feeling each other out. The crowd is loving this, it's been a chaotic night, and the energy is through the roof. Over on the Alyce-Grimm side of things, Grimm has taken the upper hand with a fury of assaulting attacks on the Wonderland phenomenon. Starchylde ducks into his reach and tries teeing off with right hands. The Harvester shoots a sharp knee into the gut of Alyce, doubling her over, allowing Grimm to grab a chunk full of her hair and ram her pretty face into the unforgiving turnbuckle.
Ace Anderson: Oooh, she ain't gonna be pretty no more after this.
Jerry Andrews: As wild as Alyce Starchilde is, I think that's the least of her worries.
Things aren’t much better on the other side of the ring where NCM is laying into Sicko with some heavy right hands. With Sicko pinned against the ring ropes, NCM winds back for the motherload of all his punches…only to receive a hard, violent rake to the eyes that kills any and all of his momentum. NCM stumbles into the center of the ring, attempting to aid his burning eye…but this only opens the door for Grimm who backs off of Alyce for a moment in order to charge the center of the ring like a bulldozer and connect with a running, one leg drop kick that catches NCM square in the mouth, Kobashi style. NCM falls to the mat as he attempts to stop the blood that flows from his lip. As he reaches all fours, he finds himself with no relief as Sicko sends a sharp kick into the mid-section which nearly lifts him up off of the mat.
Jerry Andrews: Sicko and Grimm have initiated the double teaming of NCM here.
Ace Anderson: These things never last. They'll be at each other's throats soon enough.
With this double team ensuing, it allows Alyce to gain a bit of resurgence, thus allowing her to sneak her way to the top of the turnbuckle. Both Grimm and Sicko lift NCM off of the mat, Irish whipping him into the ropes and looking for a double clothesline on the rebound, but NCM ducks the double clothesline and instead greets them both with a double clothesline of his own, which sends both to the mat.
Jerry Andrews: And NCM counters! He's gained the upper hand!
Non Compos Mentis, however, doesn’t receive much time to recuperate, because right after landing the move, Alyce comes flying off of the turnbuckle with a hurricanrana that lifts him off of the mat and lands him on top of Sicko, adding more pain to the Prince of Delusion as well as to NCM himself. Sicko rolls to the outside, the giant, serial killer clown ranting and pounding himself over the head, talking to a voice only he can hear. So, in the ring, with the three that are left of Grimm, Alyce and NCM, the two tag partners from earlier tonight exchange a look and some words of strategy, and Grimm and Alyce lift NCM up and punish him with a double vertical suplex. Grimm drops an elbow across NCM's chest, then backs up as Alyce comes in and gives him a leg drop across the throat. NCM rolls around on the mat in pain. Grimm lifts NCM up, applying a modified abdominal stretch so Alyce has a clear shot at him, and Alyce lays into NCM's stomach with a few stiff martial arts kicks. Finally, Alyce punishes NCM with a knee lift to the side of the head, and NCM flops to the mat. Alyce goes for the pin, but Grimm immediately pulls her off. Alyce flings her arms out and stomps her foot like a little brat, complaining that it was all fair. Grimm snarls, having heard just about as much of this as he's gonna stand. He throws her into the corner. He turns back to NCM, but Alyce hops on his back and starts trying to apply a sleeper hold. Grimm flings her over his shoulder. Alyce gets up, and Grimm takes her down with a back body drop elevating her high into the air.
Ace Anderson: Alyce Starchilde up among the proverbial lights here!
Alyce goes crashing down the hard way and rolls around, holding her back in pain. NCM gets to his feet and spots Alyce. He begins to furiously boot her down. He starts to get down and choke her for a second, before getting to his feet and egging her to get up.. but then he backs up, and runs right into Grimm. The two former World Champions, Grimm and NCM have a momentary staredown. NCM holds his hand out. Grimm looks at it for a second, teases shaking his hand, then slaps it away, because Grimm don't play that shit. NCM, pissed off, snarls at Grimm, and slaps him in the face. Grimm tackles him down to the ground and begins mounting him with punches. NCM starts to cover up from the onslaught, but finally he is able to throw Grimm off. Grimm gets to his feet immediately, and begins clubbing NCM over the back. He throws NCM to the ropes, and as Mentis comes back, he is stopped in his tracks by a hard kick that doubles him over and has him shouting in pain. Grimm then hooks NCM's head for a DDT, but Alyce Starchilde chooses that moment to come running off the ropes, just past Grimm and NCM, and as Grimm stands there holding NCM in DDT position Alyce gives him a running reverse neckbreaker, that drops Grimm on the back of his head as Grimm falls back and finishes the DDT move on NCM. The crowd erupts into applause for this innovative move.
Jerry Andrews: It looks like Alyce found a way to help Grimm take NCM down, at the cost of some pain.
Ace Anderson: The little minx has a devious mind, you have to give her that.
With the momentum in her favor, Alyce quickly rushes over and peels Grimm off of the mat, connecting with some ferocious right hands and kicks that back him into the corner. She proceeds to whip him off of the turnbuckle, connecting with a thunderous spinning heel kick that sends spit literally shooting out of his mouth.
Ace Anderson: What in tarnation just landed on my arm?!
Alyce isn’t done, though, as she immediately pops right back up to her feet, springboards off of the middle rope and connects with a superb moonsault that catches Grimm perfectly. She stays on top of him and gets the cover…
The referee: One...
Out of nowhere, Sicko leaps up and drops a leg over the back of Alyce’s neck that breaks up the fall. The wheezing freight train of destruction that is Sicko manages to push himself up to his feet and grab a chunk full of Alyce’s hair, lifting her up as well. He irish whips her into the turnbuckles hard enough to jar her and make her grip her back in pain, then Sicko, despite weighing enough to be 3 Alyce Starchilde’s probably, charges the length of the ring and engulfs her with an avalanche in the corner. Alyce flumps out onto the mat, holding her chest, gasping for dear life. Sicko wipes some sweat off of his massive head. Sicko sees Grimm getting to his feet and he plants him with a side buster. He turns to NCM and drops him with a clothesline. The deranged clown holds his arms out and lets out a bellow of feral rage and aggression. He lifts poor, tiny Alyce up, whips Alyce into the ring ropes and plants a boot in her gut on the rebound, causing her to double over. From here, Sicko places her head in between his legs, lifts her up, runs, and sends her over the top ring rope with a powerbomb onto the outside floor, one of which causes a sickening thud upon impact.
Jerry Andrews: OH MY-...I would ask how he could do that to a woman, but this is Sicko we're talking about here.
Ace Anderson: Sicko has just cleaned house here on all competitors and completely swept the board.
Sicko stares out unto the aching Alyce with a smile upon his face, seemingly happy with what he’s accomplished. This makes him totally oblivious to the recovered NCM whom comes from behind and catches Sicko with a clothesline to the back of his head which sends him over the top rope and unto the outside as well.
Jerry Andrews: And Sicko's plan backfires! Now he's outside of the ring as well!
Sicko manages to land on his feet on the outside, which prompts NCM to climb unto the top ring rope, looking to leap off and connect with Sicko. He doesn’t manage to complete this task, however, as Grimm desperately pushes the referee from the center of the ring into the ropes, thus forcing NCM to lose his balance and fall off of the ring ropes unto the outside of the ring, where Sicko greets with a HUGE bicycle kick in mid-air.
Jerry Andrews: WHAT A KICK! My GOODNESS, did you hear the impact of that kick!?!
Ace Anderson: I heard it, alright.
Sicko staggers around on the outside for a moment, looking to re-gather himself, but Grimm isn’t having none of that as he quickly ascends the top turnbuckle and leaps off with a suicide dive that catches Sicko perfectly and sends both men crashing to the arena floor with a sickening thud!
Jerry Andrews: These two are going all out here! What a match!
Among the four competitors, Alyce is the first to regain herself and push herself to her feet. She grabs NCM by the back of the head and wipes some of the face paint off her fingers in disgust, and brings him up as well, taking the time to smash him face first into the steel ring post. NCM falls to one knee holding his as Alyce lifts him back up to a vertical base, connecting with a loud chop before quickly leaping onto the barricade (back facing NCM) and turning half way in mid air to connect with a dropkick that sends NCM backwards causing the back of his head to smack the steel ring post. As soon as Alyce is able to push herself to her feet after the move, though, she is met with a sick clothesline by a charging Grimm which causes her to cut a flip and collapse in a heap on the arena floor. With momentum in his favor, and a chance to take out the female vixen in Alyce, Grimm reaches down and yanks her up by her hair, tossing her shoulder first into the steel steps with so much force that it causes the steps to become disarranged.
Jerry Andrews: Alyce is receiving no love here in this match. These male competitors are not letting up on her one bit.
Ace Anderson: And why should they? She wants to fight with the big men, then let her!
Meanwhile, Sicko uses the ring apron to pull himself up to his feet…but not without some company. Previously, he’d reached down and snagged a steel chair from underneath the ring…now he was planning on using it. As Grimm stomps a mud-hole into Alyce, Sicko begins to approach. He reaches the area of attack and sends a lightning steel chair shot crackling across the back of Grimm…one that causes the Hangtown Horror to fall to his knees in cringing pain. With Grimm on his knees, Sicko lifts the chair above his head seeking to bring it down over Grimm’s head…but from inside of the ring the referee grabs the chair and engages himself in a tug of war with Sicko over it, having finally made some sense of the chaos on the outside to see who's gone where and who has decided to introduce foreign objects into it.
Ace Anderson: That ref may disqualify Sicko if he doesn't let go!
With the obvious strength advantage, Sicko manages to snatch the chair from the ref’s hands, but as he turns around to focus his attack upon Grimm once again, he is met with a pleasant surprise… NCM, who kicks the chair into Sicko’s face, sending him crashing down to the arena floor in a heap. NCM reaches down and picks up Sicko, tossing him back into the center of the ring. With Sicko flat on his back in the center of the ring, NCM manages to rush across the ropes, bounce off and leap, connecting with a sickening body splash. NCM stays on top of Sicko for the cover and gets the ONE…gets the TWO…OH, but the experienced Sicko manages to kick out.
Ace Anderson: NCM is going to have bring something a bit harder to the table if he plans on taking out Sicko here.
Jerry Andrews: Good observation, Professor.
Ace Anderson: Well, I try.
Upset by what was perceived to be a slow count, NCM gets into the face of the referee. Sicko uses this time to sneak something out of his trunks and push himself up to his feet. With him in a vertical base, we manage to realize that the object is none other than a lead pipe! Secretly, Sicko sneaks behind NCM and catches him in the back of the head with the pipe, causing NCM to crash forward unto the referee who (of course) falls to the mat in pain as if he’s just been shot.
Ace Anderson: Okay... we really have to do something about these referees.
Jerry Andrews: Sicko has turned this thing into his own playing field!
The joyous feel of a weapon in his hand brings a sick smile unto the face of Sicko who uses the absence of the referee in order to choke NCM with the lead pipe. NCM is riling in tremendous pain as Alyce slowly recovers and begins to make her way back inside of the ring. She notices that the referee is out as well and uses it to HER advantage, sneaking up behind Sicko and catching him with a perfectly placed kick right in the genitalia. The crowd gives a sympathetic "OOOOOOH"
Jerry Andrews: Ooooooh is right, she caught Sicko right in the plums.
Sicko doubles over in pain as Alyce runs, springboards off of the middle ring rope, turns in mid-air, and catches him with a popping tornado DDT that sends a roar through the crowd! Alyce makes the cover as a second referee runs down the aisle and slides in.
...1!
... .2!
Grimm immediately slides inside of the ring and drops a knee across the back of Alyce’s head, before she could get up off the cover. Grimm immediately lifts Alyce to her feet and whips her into the ring ropes. On the rebound, he picks up Alyce and tosses her straight up into the air. He catches her on his shoulders, looking for a powerbomb, but Alyce reverses it and instead executes a hurricanrana that sends Grimm over the top ring rope and right back unto the outside of the ring with a move that the fans highly approve of. Alyce pushes herself back to her feet after the move, only to receive a running big boot that catches her square in her face from the man who she went out of her way to save from Sicko’s attack. Grimm immediately yanks Alyce up after the attack and whips her into the ring ropes. On the rebound, he lifts Alyce up in a military press position, showing her off to the crowd before dropping her across the top rope, which causes Alyce to bounce and tumble around before eventually landing hard on the ring apron. Alyce begins to struggle, attempting to use the top ring rope in order to pull herself up to her feet on the ring apron. She manages to do so, but as soon as she does, Grimm grabs her and hooks on a front facelock. He steps onto the bottom rope and deadlifts Alyce up for a suplex and drives her down into the mat with a brainbuster. He motions that it's over, and then he lifts her back up for a wheelbarrow suplex before crushing her with a wheelbarrow facebuster.
Jerry Andrews: Foddershock connects to Alyce Starchilde!!
..1!
....2!
SICKO roars back into the match and pulls Grimm off of Alyce by the foot to the outside. He clubbers and beats Grimm down with both hands, dealing out a terrible pounding to the former World Champion, before grabbing him by the hair and slinging him across the aisle so Grimm goes sideways and cracks into the steel guardrail, sliding down. Then, the merciless, rapacious shark-like tenacity of Sicko comes back into play as he rolls into the ring, stalking a barely clinging Alyce Starchilde from behind. Sicko pounds his fist into the mat, and then he grips her from behind, lifting Alyce up by both arms in a torturous lifting double chickenwing submission. Sicko clamps his arms tight and lifts Alyce aloft, and she shrieks in agony as both shoulders are stretched to the breaking point. Alyce's back is arched from the pain.
Jerry Andrews: Sicko has the Laughing Ghost locked in, Starchilde can't stand the pain!
Ace Anderson: The size and power of Sicko is something that her body simply can't match here, there's no way for her to even break out of this.
Sicko shakes Alyce back and forth as she's held in the air, worrying her like a dog with a bone, and Alyce, screaming that she's had enough, makes a semi-tapping out motion to the referee.
Sasha Greene: ALYCE STARCHILDE HAS BEEN ELIMINATED.
Jerry Andrews: What a showing by Alyce but it wasn't enough here tonight.
Ace Anderson: First elimination of the match... now it's the three hardest of the hardcore, currently.
Sicko flings Alyce to the mat, and eyes Non Compos Mentis, who is pulling himself up on the ropes. The new PCW Underground King stares across the ring at the demented clown, and Sicko's eyes fly open wide with a mentally imbalanced rage. He runs at NCM, but NCM sidesteps the flying bicycle kick aimed at his head and when the slower, bulkier Sicko turns he eats a strong spinning backfist. Sicko stumbles off, trying to keep his footing. He looks up, eyes comically wide, and he roars at NCM, charging again and NCM ducks beneath the giant clown's outstretched hands, tattooing him with hard right hands that back the massive Sicko up. Sicko pushes NCM off, but the Hobo King is tenacious and comes right back in for more right hands, backing Sicko up to the ropes. NCM grips Sicko's arm, but Sicko is too heavy and massive. He blocks the irish whip by setting his legs and one arm around the top rope. NCM pulls again, but again Sicko resists. Finally, Sicko reverses it by pulling NCM over, and trying to dump him over the top rope. NCM grabs onto the top rope himself, and slides over onto the apron. Sicko, snarling like a wild animal, backs up a few paces. He begins getting the loco in motion for a charge on NCM as he's standing on the apron, but just before he gets there, NCM spits a foul red burning mist out into the air. How-EVER, Sicko stopped himself just in time, and he moved out of the way, and the mist connects right in the face and eyes of a rising Grimm, who was attempting to move in behind the charging Sicko. Grimm is sprayed full in the eyes by the mist, and he lets out a yell of pain, and begins frantically scrubbing at his eyes.
Jerry Andrews: The Burning!
Ace Anderson: Ah man, and it's going to be all in his beard forever, aw, gross.
Grimm, blinded, falls to all fours. Sicko turns back to NCM, who rams him in the gut with a shoulder between the top and middle rope, and then grabs Sicko's head and snaps it down across the top rope. Sicko flails his arms and falls back on his butt. NCM gets into the ring, and runs the ropes, then comes in behind Sicko with an arched knee strike right to the back of the head, plowing right through with a Psychotic Break Mk II.
NCM, exhausted, drops down for a cover.
..1!
....2!
…...Thre - Grimm breaks it up.
Grimm, still wiping his eyes with his elbows, lifts NCM up and hits a few knee lifts. The former World champ tees off with a few right hands, then he irish whips the Hobo off the ropes, and on the return he catches him in a sleeper hold. NCM flails and thrashes around, trying to push the relentless Hangtown Horror off him, but Grimm has the choke locked in hard as he shakes NCM back and forth. NCM starts to fade, falling to one knee, his arms starting to go limp. The referee checks his hand, but NCM waves him off. The crowd is getting behind the legend as his knee starts bobbing, and he starts getting a surge of adrenaline, pushing himself back up off his knees, then to his feet, and then he throws Grimm around his shoulder, just enough to dislodge him, and then he crushes him with a sidewalk slam. NCM rests, gasping for air, and he slowly gets to one knee. He walks over and lifts Grimm up, going for a backdrop driver, but Grimm flips off mid move and falls behind NCM, and it's just then that Sicko is getting to his knees... Grimm pushes NCM forward out of the Back to Madness from behind and feeds him right into Sicko, who rises from his knees, catches NCM around the throat in a goozle and CRUSHES him with a chokeslam, before falling back onto his face, all in one smooth motion.
Jerry Andrews: Pagliacci connects!!
Sicko crawls over for a cover...
..1!
….2!
…...Thre - Grimm breaks it up!!
Sicko is increasingly agitated, and beating himself over the head and talking to himself. He looks up at Grimm, who kicks him down. Sicko rolls to the apron and begins having a heated discussion with his demons. Meanwhile, Grimm turns to NCM, lifting him up, but NCM breaks free and begins firing away with bombs, pushing Grimm back. The bearded terror is irish whipped off the ropes and hit with a powerslam on the way back. NCM gets to his feet, and holds his arms up. He's calling for the end. Suddenly, Sicko, having stolen back the chair, charges into the ring and smashes NCM over the head with it. Not finished, he waffles Grimm over the back twice with chair shots that reverberate through the arena. The referee gets in his face, but Sicko throws his shoulder aggressively, saying get the hell off me. Sicko lets NCM have it with one final chairshot. The referee calls for the bell.
Sasha Greene: SICKO HAS BEEN ELIMINATED.
Ace Anderson: Sicko doesn't seem to care about the result of the match, this was only ever a means to inflict some damage.
The two referees in this match have their hands full, trying to get the chair out of Sicko's hands and keep him from swinging on anybody else. The enraged clown is ranting violently, and he's not cooperating, and a team of security come marching down to the ring and start intervening between Sicko and the ring. He's pointing and shouting at Grimm and Non Compos Mentis.
Jerry Andrews: Somehow we need to get him out of here so the match can continue!
Grimm and NCM are taking deep lungfuls of air as they recuperate. Grimm pushes himself up on all fours and NCM shakes his head briskly, trying to regain his senses. Sicko is being walked up the ramp, and he gets in the ice cream truck by the stage, still shouting and screaming to the employees surrounding him. When he's out of range of the ring, the referee that remains, the first one we had, actually, goes to each man, making sure they're still fit to compete. NCM has pulled himself up to his feet and sets his sights upon Grimm next who is on his feet and looks ready to trounce NCM as well. NCM charges in, looking for a clothesline, but Grimm ducks it and catches him with three huge right hands that back him up into the ring ropes. Grimm proceeds to whip NCM into the ring rope and catch him on the rebound with a boot placed in the gut, causing NCM to double over. Grimm places NCM’s head in between his leg and lifts him up in an Outsider’s Edge position. Suddenly, however, NCM begins to kick and squirm before finally managing to slip down the back of Grimm and land behind him. From here, NCM pushes Grimm in the back causing him to bounce off of the ring ropes. Upon the rebound, NCM looks for a Stan Hansen lariat but Grimm catches his arm in mid air and wrestles him down, turning the move into an arm triangle choke, applying tremendous pressure as NCM scrambles for a way to escape the career-threatening maneuver.
Jerry Andrews: Grimm has the Winding Stair locked on! He's looking to snap it off right at the elbow!
Suddenly, NCM uses his free arm to push himself up a bit before getting to his feet and using his strength to drive Grimm into the mat in a short powerbomb. Grimm steadfastly refuses to let go, but he is picked up and driven into the mat again. Grimm relinquishes the hold after the bigger man lays all his force into it. Both men are down yet again, trying to recover. Grimm grips at his neck. NCM gets to his knees, and he lifts Grimm up... pulling him into a snap piledriver! He’s got the cover! The referee slugs over to make the count!
..1!
….2!
…...THRE - NO
Why? Because one of Grimm's legs lays across the bottom rope. NCM gets to his feet and screams some words towards the referee. The new Underground champ and the ref have a heated discussion.
Jerry Andrews: We're down to the final two men, one of these men is going home with the Battlebowl trophy and a cash prize... there's so much at stake.
Ace Anderson: Yeah, but so close to the finish line in the last lap you can't take your eye off the ball!
Jerry Andrews: You're mixing sports metaphors again, Ace!
Ace Anderson: Grrrr, stop calling for a penalty flag!!
Thus distracted by his tete a tete, NCM has his back turned just enough that Grimm reaches up and pulls NCM down into a schoolboy. The referee bumbles over and makes the count, with a "Whoops shit" expression on his face.
..1!
….2!
…...THR-NO!
Both men get to their feet after the kickout. They're beaten, battered and weary after two long matches tonight. Grimm sends a huge chop across the chest of NCM. NCM responds with a chop to Grimm. Grimm chops NCM, NCM chops Grimm, on and on they goes. From here, Grimm proceeds to whip NCM into the opposite ropes before bending over in the center of the ring. He bends over a little too quickly, however, allowing NCM to jump and flip over him, catching him with a sunset flip!
..1!
….2!
…...THRE-NO!
Ace Anderson: OH! That was close!
Grimm and NCM both push themselves up to their feet in the center of the ring, and Grimm quickly explodes out, catching NCM with a spear. Grimm gets to his feet and looks out into the crowd, who showers him with boos. Grimm does nothing but smile as NCM pushes himself up to his feet. He grabs NCM in a front facelock and looks for the tornado DDT in the corner. But NCM blocks the move and throws Grimm down to the mat, so Grimm hits chest first. NCM rushes in, clamping on for a double underhook and going for a high angle piledriver. But instead, Grimm backdrops his way out of it, throwing NCM over his head. NCM smacks the canvas, and a wounded Grimm falls to his knees. Both men are once again down. Grimm takes a few seconds, pulling himself up to one knee, and then he charges, running at NCM... only to be caught with a ferocious spinning side slam!!
Jerry Andrews: Dum Dum Drop!!
And NCM hooks the leg for the cover...
..1!
….2!
…...THRE-NO!
Jerry Andrews: And Grimm manages to get a shoulder up at the last possible second.
Ace Anderson: These people really want this trophy some kinda fierce.
Jerry Andrews: Think of what it means. To get your way back into a very crowded title picture. Non Compos Mentis already knocked off Kyle Shane tonight, making his case for contendership. Whoever gets this will have serious bragging rights.
NCM picks Grimm up by the head and holds him up with one hand, and then coming around with the other hand...... Blunt Trauma right to the side of the cheek!! Grimm falls back into the ropes, only kept on his feet by bouncing off the ropes on spaghetti legs. NCM tries again, and throws the spinning backfist to decapitate Grimm, but he ducks, goes behind NCM and takes him over with a German suplex.
Ace Anderson: What a reversal!
Jerry Andrews: But NCM is right back up!
Ace Anderson: Grimm, look up!!
NCM had rolled through the German and is back on his feet. Grimm turned around and was nailed with a vicious lariat, turning him inside-out. NCM quickly covers...
..1!
….2!
…...THR
NO!!
NCM runs a hand over his face in abject shock. He doesn't know what he has to do here. Grimm just keeps on like a machine. NCM's face paint is dripped mostly off, and both men are showing blood and signs of extreme fatigue. The crowd is chanting, split between "Let's Go Grimm / NCM" and both aren't things you'd normally hear, but these men have been giving it their all. Both men, laid out on the mat, stir and try making their way to their feet yet again, and look around at the crowd. NCM fires the first shot with a right, making Grimm back up... give some mustard on his hand, and fires a right of his own. The two fire their best right hands, slow and yet hard hitting... and then finally Grimm starts firing up with a strong series of headbutts. Finally, NCM stops resisting and throwing punches back, and Grimm irish whips him into the corner. Grimm runs in, going for a splash, but NCM moves. Grimm runs into the corner, but he stops himself, hops on the turnbuckle, and when NCM is incoming, he bell claps his ears with both hands, making NCM stop in his tracks, stunned... and then Grimm grips the head of NCM in a front facelock and he flings himself out of the ropes with a tornado DDT.
Jerry Andrews: THE HARVEST!!
Ace Anderson: His strongest weapon!
Grimm piles on NCM, hooking the outside leg and putting all his weight on his back as he leans into it. The referee counts...
..1!
….2!
…...3!
DING DING DING!
Sasha Greene: Here is your winner...
Jerry Andrews: Wait… What’s going on?
All of a sudden, someone jumps the security barrier and dives into the timekeeper’s area. There is a momentary scuffle between the man and the timekeeper himself, before the man stands up, dusting off his suit with his victim nowhere in sight, possibly laid out on the floor. It’s Horacio Mortimer, the man who was seen breaking and entering into the arena first thing this evening. He grabs a microphone and stands proudly in view of the crowd
Horacio Mortimer: Here is your winner, after 35 minutes and 6.25 seconds…GRIMM!
Those that are still in the ring show confused expressions on their faces. Horacio simply smiles.
Horacio Mortimer: I’m glad that there are so many of you here to witness this; the beginning of a new chapter in PCW lore, the first page that is now being written that will be looked back upon in years to come as the beginning of a historical period in PCW existence.
The fans begin to boo at the obnoxious nature of the newcomer, Horacio Mortimer.
Horacio Mortimer: Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Horacio Mortimer. And you might be wondering to yourselves why I had not chosen to participate in tonight’s events. Truth be told, I am no wrestler. I am sure that my bare minimum physical prestige would not be sufficient to tangle with the muscle-bound hulks of the PCW. But that does not mean that I will not rise above expectation and become one of the most prevailing names in this company, for what I lack in brawn, I believe I exceed with brains.
The fans begin to chant a “BORING!” slur directed at Mortimer, who simply chuckles to himself in amusement. The chant grows louder before eventually filling the whole arena. This perturbs Mortimer, who simply stares at the wristwatch on his left arm. This sheer act of ignorance breaks the chant into a roar of disrespectful boos and jeers.
Horacio Mortimer: You may think that this is “boring,” but what I offer to you will grasp your attention without question, even if attention is a difficult commodity to come by these days. You all get distracted by such inanity as Facebook posts and videos of cats and people popping pimples. It is such a waste of time. No wonder you are all so dumb…
This warrants the loudest boo of the night so far. The fans have been directly insulted by this man! A man who isn’t even on PCW payroll…
Horacio Mortimer: It is things like these, pointless things that are designed to do nothing but waste time that puts the world at risk. Instead of putting your full effort and undivided attention into something, you would sooner roll with the punches that everyday life throws at you and spend whatever spare time you have trying to beat that level of Candy Crush that you’ve been stuck on for the last three weeks rather than do something proactive that will not only benefit you, but the people around you and, expanding on that, the world itself.
Horacio Mortimer: This is me being proactive. This is me not wasting any more time… for it is the most valuable thing in all of our lives, the most valuable thing in the lives of everything that ever has existed and everything that ever will exist. Behold.
Mortimer looks at his watch one more time before nodding three times as if counting in his head, growing more vigorous with every second. The final and most forceful nod is in perfect union with the Tron revealing another scene… a body sprawled out across the locker room floor with a giant shadow looming over his broken body.
Jerry Andrews: That’s Crazy Boy! Someone has assaulted Tyrone “Crazy Boy” Smith in the locker room!
The crowd is booing profusely! Mortimer merely smiles at this image.
Horacio Mortimer: See there? What you are witnessing is the start of something incredible. It starts with this unfortunate soul who was at the wrong place at the wrong time…
He smirks to himself as the shadow slowly moves away from Crazy Boy’s lifeless body. The Tron cuts back to Horacio’s smirking face.
Horacio Mortimer: What I want to do is challenge everything that you perceive about the world. Do you believe in God? Where is your God when strive runs so rampant? Life? Death? They are not the only constants in our lives… the other, more prominent… is TIME.
The crowd does not boo, but instead murmur in confusion.
Horacio Mortimer: You shall see soon enough… we shall disprove everything that you believe in and introduce you to the reality. What I offer to you is salvation. Join us, my friends… for we are… The Chronological Order!
The crowd unleash their torrent of boos towards Horacio Mortimer, when all of a sudden…
THE CROWD ERUPTS!
Jerry Andrews: You’ve got to be kidding me!
Ace Anderson: Could it be!?
With that, the giant man who had been seen aiding Horacio earlier in the night steps onto the stage dressed in a large black cloak of sorts that covers his gargantuan figure from head to toe, a hood covers his head. With one movement, the cloak falls completely away from his body into a heap on the stage, revealing the truth of his identity to the world.
Horacio Mortimer: Friends, may I introduce to you, the newest member of the PCW roster. He is a former XWF World Champion and former OWNER of the XWF… DOMINATOR!
Dominator stares at Horacio Mortimer from the other end of the arena. Mortimer taunts the crowd by holding his watch up to show the crowd. Dominator rolls up one of his sleeves to reveal an identical watch over his own wrist. He mirrors Mortimer’s taunt, showing off his own watch to the crowd, whose initial cheers of excitement have turned into despising boos.
Jerry Andrews: Dominator is here in PCW! And he’s in cahoots with this madman, Horacio Mortimer.
Ace Anderson: What is this Chronological Order? And why do they keep talking about Time? And what caused that unprovoked attack on Tyrone “Crazy Boy” Smith?
Jerry Andrews: We’re fresh out of time! Maybe there will be answers on the NEXT Trauma! Don’t you miss it!
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