Trauma 214 Results!

[Nathan Saniti]

Thursday July 6th, 2017

Jerry Andrews: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Trauma 215! I’m your host Jerry Andrews...


Ace Anderson: ...And I’m the one that matters, Ace Anderson. Man! What a way to follow up American Independence Day than with our very own powder keg of matches. This crowd is ready to EXPLODE!


Jerry Andrews: I see what you did there, Ace. I wish I hadn’t seen it.


Ace Anderson: Don’t be jealous because you didn’t think of it first.


Jerry Andrews: Yeah. Jealousy. That’s what I’m feeling.


Ace Anderson: I feel the need to poop in your shoe for some reason. I…



Jerry Andrews: Sorry folks… I’m getting told that we have something happening back stage.


The camera cuts backstage where Alexa Black is seen prowling around the area as she waits for her march to start. No one is talking to her as usual as they know well enough to stay away.


She heads over to catering and spies a nice spread of food including hot meals sandwiches cakes and drinks set out over 3 large white tables. She eyes up what she wants and starts loading up plate. Chicken beef and lamb as well as steamed veggies and rice.


"Yes that will do nicely." She sees a large chocolate pudding and takes that as well. She smiles happily and finds a chair before sitting down and starting to eat. She devours the food hungrily.


In the distance two men can be seen walking in her direction which gets wide eyed stares from those who know better. The two gentlemen, the first a sophisticated looking man with well permed brown hair and sapphire blue eyes decked out in a black Armani suit and tie and oxford loafers. His companion is less formal. A tall bearded man with a chiseled jaw emerald green eyes and gelled back black hair opts for a button down shirt and black jeans with boots.


A black shirted PCAS Security staff member stops them.


"Sir I would advise you to be careful and stay well away. That's Alexa Black. She's a evil psychopath and she'll do you serious damage if you upset her. Most people know better and stay away, but you don't look like you’re from around here."


The 1st gentleman replies, "That's correct, we aren't and as it so happens we have business with Ms. Black so if you'd kindly stand aside we will be seeing her."


The officer just shakes his head and motions to let them pass. "Ok, but it's your funeral pal."



The continue on until they arrive in front of Alexa who is still eating and pays them no mind. They stand in front of her waiting for her to speak to them but she doesn't.



"Ahem" The second gentleman clears his throats to get her attention.



"What the hell do you want? Can't you see I'm eating?" She says angrily between mouthfuls.



"Yes I can. However, I have pressing business that I need to speak to you about." His tone is firm, but not harsh as he speaks.



"What business?" Alexa asks.



"We have been sent by your friends to make sure you carry out your duties as you have promised to do."



"What the fuck are you talking about? I don't have any friends so you have 10 seconds to get the fuck outta here before I get up out of this chair and you will be very sorry you disturbed me during my meal." she growls menacingly.



The second man steps forward towards her and before he can blink she is standing as he is. To his surprise she is not a petite woman. Her 6" 200 lbs frame doesn't compare to his 6" 7’ one, but he gets the sense that if she wanted to she could do him some serious harm.



"You better back up out of my face motherfucker, cos the last person who challenged me ended up with a broken neck." her voice is cold and dripping with malice.


"That's enough you two. There is no time for this nonsense." The suited man steps between them and holds up his hand. “My name is James King, and this is my associate Steven Masters. We have come on behalf of the Freedom Council. We're the ones who put that control chip in your head and you will do as you are told."



Alexa glares a hole right through him and is most displeased by this news. "Oh. Those fuckers" she spits angrily.



"Yes. Steven and I will accompany you to the ring and while you are here and help you compile data to send back. Think of this a being a patriotic duty," he continues.


"Oh fuck off! There is nothing patriotic about this. This is government mind control. But since I can't do much about it right now, I guess I'll have to play along." she says annoyed.


King smiles and nods. "Very good Alexandra. I'm glad your on board. Now I will let you finish your meal, and then I will brief you on how this will work."



Alexa finishes her meal while they wait, and then the three of them walk off camera together.



Jerry Andrews: I wonder who these new guys are that have an interest in Alexa. I wonder if Lunatic will get jealous.


Ace Anderson: I wonder how long she's going to last in this match without puking. I mean, eating just before a match? That can't be good for the digestive system. Especially if she gets a kick to the gut.


Jerry Andrews: I don't think we're on the same page here.

Sasha Greene: The following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, hailing from Kansas City, Missouri and accompanied to the ring by the Good Doctor: The Lunatic!

A familiar smiley comes onto the PCW-Tron:

As "Make Us Insane," by Powerman 5000 blares through the speakers, blood begins to ooze from the symbol, seeming to drain down the screen, down the video wall, and onto the ramp. Yellow and blue lights scamper in an erratic pattern all around the arena. Flashes of lightning flicker brightly on the screens. Lunatic comes out, the Good Doctor leading the way. The look in Looney's eyes isn't too far removed from that of his symbolic smiley; menacing and laser focused. He stalks down the ring, picking fights with fans around the ring, eventually rolling inside the squared circle to a corner, where he rocks impatiently for the next victim to hear their last bell. His demeanor changes to puppy love when Sasha makes her next announcement. He turns to the entrance, watching with lovestruck intent.

Sasha Greene: And his partner, Hailing from Los Angeles, California. Accompanied to the ring by James King and Steve Masters: Alexa Black!

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.


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. First, coming to us from Hollywood, California: Alyce Starchylde!

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. 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.

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.

Sasha Greene: And her partner, accompanied to the ring by Horatio Mortimer. The founding members of The Chronological Order, coming from Salisbury, England: Dominator!

The lights slowly fade to black. Flashes of cameras give intermittent glimmers of the darkened surroundings. There is a moment of silence as the crowd awaits with anticipation. The Tron slowly illuminates with the image of a ticking clock as the opening rift to TRIVIUM’s cover of “Losing My Religion” echo throughout the arena. The crowd suddenly comes alive as the guitars make themselves heard. Horacio Mortimer appears on the stage, holding out his arm in an expression of beholding. As the first verse begins to play, he finally appears on the top of the stage…

…DOMINATOR…

The Zenith glares towards the crowd massed to his left, then to his right before slowly raising his left arm into the air, revealing a gold plated watch that envelopes his wrist. A shower of orange sparks begin to fall from the top of the Tron, briefly masking the Entrance Video as Dominator shows off his bulging biceps to the crowd. All the while, Horacio Mortimer is applauding his client and calling some last minute tactics to him.


He slowly walks down the ramp with a gleam in his eye, a wicked and arrogant smirk spread amidst his dark stubble. He makes no attempt to slap hands with the fans. He reaches the ring apron, grabbing the middle rope to haul him onto the side of the ring. He pushes down the top rope with his right hand, throwing one foot over the top before the other follows. He slowly makes his way to the center of the ring, turning a full three hundred and sixty degrees to admire the capacity crowd before raising his arms in the air in the exact same manner as he had done atop the entrance ramp, lifting them with malicious purpose to display the watches covering his wrists.


He cricks his neck back and forth before swinging his arms in preparation for the impending fight. All the while, that devious smile is still on his face and he looks to make eye contact with his opponent without a single hint of intimidation. Horacio Mortimer patrols the perimeter of the ring. The music slowly fades, the lights returning to a more average level of illumination as Dominator waits with masked enthusiasm for the start of the match.

Match One

Standard Tag Match

One Fall

Referee: Nigel Gale

Lunatic and Alexa Black vs Dominator and Alyce Starchylde

Lunatic blows kisses to an indifferent Alexa as he steps out to give her the ring. Dominator takes a bit of last minute advice from Horatio, allowing the considerably smaller framed Alyce to kick off the match.


Jerry Andrews: Looks like it "Ladies first."


Ace Andrews: Cat fight!


Jerry Andrews: Considering that everyone in that ring is as psychotic as they are talented, perhaps you shouldn't piss them off.


Ace Anderson: I can get away fast. I'll throw you to them if I have to.


Gale calls for the bell. Alyce and Alexa circle each other, looking much akin to a female version of David and Goliath with Alyce giving up a half a foot of height and 65 pounds. Horatio begins to give advice to Alyce, which causes her to spin suddenly and scream, "You're not the boss of me!" It's a mistake, she quickly regrets when Alexa sneaks up behind her, military pressing her high into the air and down into a powerbomb. Lunatic applauds enthusiastically from the ring apron as the Angry Amazon yanks Alyce from the mat by her pigtails, dropping her right back down with a thunderous gutwrench suplex.


Lunatic watches on in abject love, his chin in his hands and a heavy sigh escaping his lungs. The Good Doctor just pinches the bridge of his nose as he witnesses his patient lose focus. He punches Lunatic in the back of the knee, causing his leg to buckle and him to hit his chin on the turnbuckle. Looney scowls at the Doctor admonishes him back into focus on the match.


Meanwhile, Alexa clubs Alyce with several forearms, driving her to the neutral corner. She whips Alyce across the ring and charges in right behind, but the Wily Wonderlander put both feet up in time to catch Alexa in the mush. The move staggers Black back, but she quickly turns around, only to be put in a head scissors and delivered into the center of the ring via hurricanrana. Alyce rapidly bounds off of the second rope moonsaulting over across Alexa's rib cage.


Alyce hooks the leg, but barely gets a one count before Alexa heaves her assailant high into the air to break the count. The astonished Alyce screams her displeasure at the ref. She walks over to pull Alexa up, but Lunatic reaches between the ropes grabbing her leg and barking like a dog, which surprises the unsuspecting competitor, causing her to jump like she was actually bitten. Lunatic remains on all fours on the apron, growling, barking, and baring his teeth at the equally unhinged lady.


She looks a bit confused at first, but soon throws a drop kick that careens Looney off of the apron and into the barricade. Though he paid the price, the distraction was effective enough for Alexa regain her footing. Alyce turns around in time to catch a boot to the face. Alexa scoops her up and slams her back down to their corner as Looney hops back up and reaches out for the tag.


Ace Anderson: I'm not sure what the hell I'm watching, but it seems to be working for Alexa and Lunatic.


Jerry Andrews: Those two do seem to mesh pretty well. That scares me.


Black tags in the Looney One. He hops over the top rope, driving both feet deep into Alyce's ample chest. He grapevines the arms and legs of his foe, picks her up and drives her face-first into the bottom turnbuckle repeatedly; a move he calls the Basket Case. He pulls her to the center of the ring, jumping up in the air and stomping down on Alyce's joints in turn with a loud "Woo Hoo!" One final leap into the air misses its mark as Alyce rolls completely out of the way, causing Lunatic to land square on his tailbone. He yowls in pain, leaping up and clutching his backside only to be forced to French kiss a pair of size 9 women's boots.


Alyce, feeling generous, gives Lunatic the boot that keeps on giving to the midsection, doubling him over a few times. Finally, she decides to unload a surprising display of strength with a sit-out slam that drives Looney to the mat hard. The Good Doctor is livid, smacking the apron to try and encourage his patient into action. She gathers him from the mat, sending him crashing back down with a side Russian leg sweep. Lunatic receives a split legged leg drop across the throat from the unhinged Alyce. Alexa tries to get rally behind her tag partner as Alyce drags him to her corner to finally bring in Dominator. Horatio looks at his watch, mouthing the words, "It's about time."


Alyce holds Looney in place with a foot to the throat as Dominator steps over the ropes and into the fray. He drills Looney with stomps prior to collecting him from the mat and locking in a full nelson. Dominator shakes Looney back and forth like a rag doll, the zebra checking for a submission. Looney starts to fade before snapping to abruptly. He lets out a yell, followed by a loud popping sound, slipping out of the large man's grasp like an eel.


Jerry Andrews: Did Lunatic just dislocate his own shoulder to escape?


Ace Anderson: I think I'm going to be sick.


Jerry Andrews: THAT'S NOT A TRASH BAG! THAT'S MY DUFFLE... Never mind. Nice.


Lunatic scuffles away from the mountainous assailant, his left arm drooping uselessly. Dominator pursues, but Lunatic is careful to stay out of his grasp. Dom goes to grab, but Looney ducks under it, spinning quickly to check the back of the knee on the huge monster. The big man collapses like a bunch of broccoli. Rather than go on the offensive, Looney retreats to his corner and tags in Black!


She steps in, going immediately for the leg as Dominator stands. Back in their corner, Looney re-sets his shoulder back in its socket by slamming it painfully against the ring post. The Zenith struggles to get to his feet under the constant attack to his knee. The Angry Amazon concentrates her efforts to his pin to keep the obscenely large man off of his game. Lunatic is back up to the apron, begging to be let back in, but Alexa wants to issue a bit more punishment.


She pulls the massive man to the center, applying a knee bar. Gale drops to check for a submission, but Don refuses. Black keeps up the pressure, Dominator screaming in pain. Using his 165 pound advantage, he drags both competitors to the ropes, grasping the bottom strand for dear life as the ref calls for the break. Alexa holds on clear up to the last second before releasing the hold. She pulls her victim towards the corner, tagging in her partner.


Lunatic scales the turnbuckles while Alexa keeps a grip on the leg. He leaps down across the knee with a sadistic grin. He stomps the joint a few more times for good measure before scuttling out of the ring, frantically looking under the apron for something. He finally spots something, snatching it up and rolling back into the ring. He comes under the scrutiny of the ref as he holds a framed picture menacingly at the newcomer.


Jerry Andrews: Is... Is that a scantily clad picture of Ernest Borgnine?


Ace Anderson: *retching*


Looney raises it high, but the ref admonishes him, threatening to disqualify him if he brings it down. Gale fights the weapon away finally, tossing it back out of the ring. Lunatic points at Dominator yelling, "You got lucky!" He stomps the knee one more time. Looney struggles to get the heavyweight to the center of the ring, trying to wrap the leg up in a figure four, but as he spins to lock it in, Dominator kicks him square in the backside, sending him hurtling to the wrong corner and into an all-too-familiar boot belonging to Alyce. Dom uses the ropes to muscle to standing. He limps over to his corner, dropping a knee to the back of Looney's head before tagging his partner in. He stands on the Wacky One's chest with full weight as Alyce enters with a smirk.


"Wassamatter, Loony-kins?" she taunts as she saunters into the ring. "Don't you wanna play with me?" She begins stomping the ever-loving carp out of Lunatic. Finally, she yanks him into a position as she scales the turnbuckles. She leaps off with a 360 splash, hooking the leg.


..1!


....2!


......Thre-NO!


Jerry Andrews: Lunatic barely got his shoulder up that time.


Ace Anderson: As long as he doesn't pull out that picture again…


Alyce yanks Looney to his feet, sending him to the ropes and hammering him with a handspring elbow. Unrelenting, she follows up with a headbutt to the bridge of the nose, causing blood to gush from Looney's schnoz.


Ace Anderson: Red Queen!


Jerry Andrews: Looks like she may be setting up for the Unicorn Stampede!


Alyce whips Looney to the ropes again, leaping high to nail with her finisher, but Lunatic holds the ropes. Alyce crashes down onto the back of her head. Before Lunatic can dodge, Dominator rushes at him with a boot to the face. Now both competitors are down.


1!


2!


3!


Alyce starts to show signs of life.


4!


5!


Alyce is up! She drags Lunatic to her corner, tagging in the behemoth man, but not before unleashing a leg drop between Looney's legs that causes every man in the audience to gasp audibly in unison. Dominator collects Looney from the mat, drapes him over his shoulder, and hits a running powerslam that nearly drive the man through the mat. A lackadaisical cover only earns a short two count, but Dom seems more interested in dishing out a bit more payback for his foe finding a chink in his armor.


He pulls Lunatic to full standing, cinching in a bearhug. Lunatic yowls in agony, smashing fist after fist into the big guy's head to convince him to let go. More pressure gets applied to the hold, but finally, Looney break free with a rake to the eyes. Holding his back, he tries to make it to his corner, but Dom stalks over, straddling his victim before sitting down on his back. Once. Twice. The Zenith drops an elbow across the back of Lunatic, working over his back as was done to his knee earlier.


He pulls his opponent to his corner, tagging in the Wily Wonderlander. She springs over the ropes and down in a seated position on Looney's back. She stomps the small of his back, quickly driving a knee in rapid succession. She assists him to his feet, spins him to face Dominator, who happily holds him in place, and drive her shoulder deep into Looney's spine. She tags her partner back in. He steps through as Lunatic wilts to the mat, almost comically splayed across the bottom turnbuckle. Alexa tries to get her partner rallied, her new entourage and the Good Doctor joining in, but Dominator pulls him up, whipping him to the ropes and connecting with a lariat clothesline that nearly turns the Wacky One inside out.


Jerry Andrews: Oh my GOD! That looked painful!


Ace Anderson: That's what he gets for making me redecorate the inside of that trash... Wait... Is that your duffle bag?  Why the hell are you keeping puke in your duffle, you disgusting jackass?


Dominator yanks him to his feet again, but Lunatic hits with a backflip kick that connects with the side of Dominator's face. The large man crumbles to the mat. Both competitors are down as the ref begins the count.


1!


2!


3!


4!


Dominator stirs, as does a very weary Lunatic. Alexa and Alyce both scream to get their partners to come around and tag them in.


5!


6!


7!


Dominator gets to his feet, but Lunatic is still trying to crawl to his corner for sweet release. The Suzerain of Time impatiently lurches forward, grabbing hold of a leg, but Lunatic kicks himself free of his foe's grasp. Lunatic bounds forward, finally getting the tag he desperately needed. Alexa steps in and she begins to trade blows with the much larger man. He drops the Angry Amazon with an elbow to the noggin, and then whips her to the ropes. Alexa greets a big boot on the rebound, dropping her like American Healthcare.


He pulls her up and throws her to the ropes. Horatio yells, "It's time!" to his protégé. Dominator answers by connecting with a Forces of Time on Alexa. Without hesitation, he hoists her up onto his shoulders for the Rip in Time. Alexa does what she can, but after 30 seconds of being pulled into a human pretzel, she finally taps out. Gale calls for the bell.

DING DING DING!

Sasha Greene: Your winner…

Horatio zips into the ring, ripping the mic from Sasha's hand as Dominator releases his prey to the mat. Lunatic rushes to her side, glowering at the mountainous man smirking down at them with sadistic glee.


Horatio Mortimer: Your winners in precisely fifteen minutes and thirty-six seconds, Alyce Starchylde and Dominator!


Jerry Andrews: Dominator and Starchylde pulling off a huge win today.


Ace Anderson: Yeah. Looks like Even Alexa Black and Lunatic's mean streak has met their match with this duo.


Lunatic slinks out of the ring, barely taking his dagger-filled gaze from his foes as he collects the framed picture, looks at it, and tosses it back down for something else he spots under the ring. He reaches under, pulling out his stuffed monkey. He begins to climb back into the ring, but the Doctor stops him. He tries again, and the Doc holds him back. Finally, Lunatic clocks him with the monkey and enters the ring with the weapon. Seeing red, Lunatic clobbers Alyce with the dangerous toy and then smashes Dominator in the knee, shouting "Touch my monkey!" at the top of his lungs.


Security rushes the ring, but before they can get there, the Doctor holds out his hand. Lunatic howls in pain agony, dropping to his knees, holding his head. Within a few seconds, he folds down to the mat, unconscious.


Ace Anderson: I don't know how the Doc did it, but I'm glad he got that crazy bastard under control.


Jerry Andrews: I think we need a commercial break after that. We'll be back in a bit, folks.

Jerry Andrews: We’re back, and we’re ready for our first singles match of the night. Crazy Boy will be facing the psychotic gargantuan known as Sicko.


Ace Anderson: Is it just me, or is our roster getting bigger and crazier?

Match Two

Standard Singles Match

One Fall

Referee: Joseph Buckland

Tyrone “Crazy Boy” Smith vs Sicko

Sasha Greene: The following match is scheduled for one fall!

The lights flicker and fade out as the pulsating beats of Dope Star Inc's "10000 Watts of Artificial Pleasure" pops on the PA system.

Sasha Greene: Hailing from Biloxi, Mississippi. He weighs 227 pounds...Tyrone “Crazy Boy” Smith!!

Smoke fills the arena as a figure stands in the middle of it. All the sudden, Crazy Boy comes out of the smoke and pumps a fist in the air. He walks down the entryway and climbs the ropes of the ring. He bounces around the ropes a few times, pumps his fist in the air one last time and waits for his opponent to come.

Sasha Greene: And his opponent…

The opening circus calliope intro of "Greasepaint and Money Brains" by White Zombie starts playing as a battered, dilapidated ice cream truck, it's paint and decals peeling in a sinister manner rumbles up on stage, it's axles shaking with effort. The entrance ramp is backlit with a hellish red lighting as the ice cream truck pulls into a spot just to the left of the entrance ramp, making this vessel seem like some demonic harbinger.

Sasha Greene: From Death Valley, California. Weighing 383 pounds...SICKO!!

As the music distorts and twists into the driving guitar riff the jumbotron shows images of Sicko, walking down a long hallway, his back turned to the camera, then the screen splits and two images of Sicko, two faces, one laughing, one snarling.

Death is on the midway

Gambling with souls

Roulette on the wire

Ace is in the hole

I sink beneath the feeling

Moon is in my hands

A crooked wheel of twenty-one

I just don't understand - NO!

Laugh - YEAH! - drown and laugh

Your life is over

Then, as the music kicks in harder, shots of Sicko hitting various high impact signature moves on opponents. Sicko steps out from behind the wheel of the ice cream truck, looking around with a sickening smile. A red mist rolls out from the interior of the ice cream truck with Sicko. The creep clown slowly makes his way down to the ring, like a predator on the hunt. As he climbs into the ring, he kneels on the apron, taking a look around at him with a depraved look in his eye. He then takes his fist and bashes himself over the forehead a few times, and then he begins getting fired up. His demeanor changes to one of frightening intensity as the smiling mask drops away, and he stands in the ring, screaming and flexing his muscles as he awaits the match to start.

DING! DING!

The sound of the bell may as well be a requiem for the less than one-hundred percent ring veteran. Crazy Boy may not be facing his attacker tonight, but the challenge in front of him is just as opposing and prone to violence. Sicko cranks his head to the side, surveying his smaller opponent while carrying a sadistic grin across his painted mug. Crazy Boy doesn’t care. He’s crazy. He puts both of his combat boots to that painted face with a sudden dropkick. He bounces right off the staggered big man, who seems amused by the futile move. Crazy Boy spins to his feet and unloads a second one, but with more force behind it.


Jerry Andrews: Sicko wasn’t expecting this!


Ace Anderson: The man feels no pain, Jerry. No. Pain. Or Pity. Or Remorse.


It’s enough to make Sicko take two steps backwards but nothing more. The resident psycho clown laughs at this as well, practically asking for more. Crazy Boy sees this challenge and accepts it. Bouncing himself off the ropes, he fakes out Sicko by appearing to throw a third dropkick, but he anticipated being swatted away. Instead he rolls around and kicks out the back of his knees to chop the big man down to size. Crazy Boy returns forward and drops Sicko with a DDT. Mounting him, he gets his fists some of that clown white by reigning down fists of fury as if it were Dominator he was punching. Sicko absorbs all of this and proceeds to shove Crazy Boy the hell off of him.


He’s not laughing anymore.


Jerry Andrews: Crazy Boy may want to rethink his plans before.


Ace Anderson: Crazy may be in his name, but Sicko legitimately is. There is a world of difference there.


Jerry Andrews: Crazy Boy does bring plenty of ring experience to the fight!


Crazy Boy is relentless. He may be bandaged, but he’s relentless. Just as Sicko sits himself up, his face becomes a target for a hellacious big boot to put him put right back down in his place. Sicko clutches his jaw while having his chest worked over with high elevation elbow drops. He wisely rolls his massive self right out of the ring to regroup. The laughs have returned. But soon are stopped as he turns around to find a suicide dive in his immediate future. Sicko collides with the railing and drops to a knee . The hall of famer grabs him by the head and introduces him personally to that very railing. Then introduces him to mr floor with a surprising russian leg sweep.


Crazy Boy is back into the ring, soaking up the cheers from his fans. He never takes his eyes off Sicko, who at the moment is death gripping the ring apron and shooting a wide eyed gaze through the ropes. Crazy Boy looks for a baseball slide to neutralize things further. No chance this time as Sicko wraps his arms around the legs, yanks Crazy Boy out and while on his knees, sends him flying into the same railing he was just worked over with. Crazy Boy goes back first and then splats into the mat. Sicko punches the canvas and gets himself onto his feet. Fuming. He turns around and pulls Crazy Boy up. From under the armpit, Crazy Boy is hurdled head over feet into the nearest ring post, landing on the back of his head and neck with a sickening crunch.


Jerry Andrews: He may need a chiropractor after this one is over. Good lord!


Ace Anderson: I’m surprised he didn’t break the ring post!


The referee’s instructions to bring things inside go ignored. Sicko has no time for rules because he doesn’t care about them, both in the squared circle and society. There are people to be maimed. Crazy Boy is hoisted up to his feet and short whipped front first into the post. Sicko backs up and avalanches him into the unforgiving steel. Crazy Boy slumps down, but Sicko doesn’t give him any chance to breathe. He presses him over his head and throws him unceremoniously back into the ring. Sicko follows in pursuit. He allows Crazy Boy to get to his feet and the very second he turns around, levels him with a clothesline from hell. Sicko roars with laughter once more. He mockingly puts a foot on his chest and DEMANDS a pin count.


1.


Nope. But only because Sicko moves his foot. The ref looks up at the frightening Ephrain Ortiz and backs away. Sicko leans down and violently pulls Crazy Boy up by the head and launches him into the corner. Crazy Boy springs into the air and keeps himself upright by having his arms draped in the corner. Sicko stalks over and unloads with a series of three boxing punches to work over the taped ribs, each one forcing more air out of the lungs of the crazy one. Sicko backs up, charges like a bull and spears Crazy Boy in the corner. He falls and quickly holds his midsection. Sicko brushes the referee out of the way, preventing him from checking on things. Crazy Boy is drug to the center of the ring and is dumped with a massive pump handle slam. He sits on his knees and puts ONE finger on Crazy Boy and again asks for a pin count.


1.


Nope. Sicko moves his finger off and wags it at the referee. All the while laughing to himself. He cranks his head to the side like he did prior and studies the hurting Crazy Boy like a wounded animal. Sicko is unfazed by the boos of the crowd. If he had it his way and it was legal, each one of the ticket holders would be silenced by violent means. No delicious ice cream for them! Sicko puts his meathook of a hand over the face of Crazy Boy and pulls him up while returning to his feet. He keeps it that way with a vice grip, squeezing those fingers into the cranium like one may check to see how ripe a melon is. He is then dropped with a Napalm Cone!


Sicko decides to return to the face grip after pulling him back up. Crazy Boy’s efforts to pry it go nowhere, so he turns to foot stomping. Sicko’s head spins around with an annoyed expression on his face. But his grip doesn’t loosen much and Crazy Boy shows signs of fading soon. That is until the chants of “CRA-ZY BOY!” are heard, brother. He uses his elbows like knives to the forearms of Sicko and FINALLY gets himself free. The taller and heavier foe isn’t stunned long as he returns with a bearhug. Perhaps looking for the Coulrophobia? No, he decides to convert this into a samoan drop before long. Crazy Boy flings off the mat and slowly cradles into the fetal. Sicko looks up at the referee, giving him the look of a requested pin count. Just as he gets down to follow through, Sicko shakes his head from side to side and returns to his feet.


Jerry Andrews: Now he’s just toying with the referee! The match could have been over, but Sicko would rather play games.


Ace Anderson: He’s enjoying himself, Jerry. Is he not entitled to inflicting pain? Is there a RULE against it? Don’t answer that. You’ve never competed in your whole life.


Crazy Boy is pulled by the arm and flung into the ropes. On the return he is dropped with a massive big boot. Sicko looks down and smiles with a toothy grin. He bounces himself off the ropes once, twice, three times and leaps into the air. But he MISSES a leg drop! Crazy Boy has BY GAWD found enough fight left in him to move at the last second. The chants and cheers seem to fuel this second lease on life as he wills himself up through the punishment. He notices Sicko’s predicament and greets it with a scissor kick to put him right back down. Sicko is partially moved up off his hands and knees and spun back down with a nasty neckbreaker. Crazy Boy pounds the mat with frenzied energy, and although clutching his ribs, decides to scale the buckles and come crashing down with a frog splash. He remains over Sicko for a pinfall.


1.


2.


Sicko presses him backwards no sooner than he hears two. He may be down, but he’s not out by a long shot. Crazy Boy scales the buckles a second time, but not nearly as quick as he was able before. With Sicko still down, Crazy Boy soaks the cheers in one more and launches off with an attempted second frog splash. It hits!


1.


2.


Nope! But this time he got himself a little over a two count and Sicko had to actually get his shoulders off the mat. Crazy Boy grounds and pounds for good measure and decides third time is the charm. The top turnbuckle is perched once again, but Crazy Boy noticeably made it with even less speed. He inhales sharply and gets the crowd roaring with approval. He looks for ANOTHER frog splash...and it HITS!


Knees that is. Crazy Boy dangles off them like someone who has just hit rocks. Sicko shoves him off and takes time to catch his breath and regain a sense of a balance. He storms to Crazy Boy, irish whips him and meets his return with the FCS! Crazy Boy is peeled, yes peeled, off the mat, hoisted vertical and following spins and stalls, is driven straight to hell with a ring-shaking jackhammer, or as Sicko calls his finisher, Under The Big Top!


1.


2.


3.

DING! DING! DING!

Sasha Greene: Here is your winner….

Instead of the winner’s music being played, the metal cover of “Losing My Religion” by TRIVIUM begins to play. Sure enough, Horacio Mortimer, the founder of the so-called “Chronological Order” steps onto the stage dressed immaculately in a blue suit with a microphone in his hand whilst checking his wristwatch... a common pose for the man.



Horacio Mortimer: Here is your winner after twelve minutes and thirty-seven point two-five seconds… SICKO! ...What a shame!


The fans in attendance boo at the sight and sound of Mortimer rather the actual result itself. Horacio smirks at Tyrone Smith, who has managed to roll onto his side and glares at the man who orchestrated that horrific attack against him just one full week ago. Mortimer proceeds to walk and talk from the top of the stage and down the entrance ramp to the ringside area.



Horacio Mortimer: Now, I figured it is only fair that I clear the air and address the elephant in the room. Tyrone, you seek answers, do you not? All you have been thinking about for the last seven days is ‘why did it have to happen to you.’ You’re probably thinking about revenge; the most typical thing to resort to when one’s ego is as bruised as his flesh.



Tyrone pulls himself to his feet using the ring ropes for assistance, clearly still weary yet not exhausted from his confrontation with Sicko. He stares daggers through Mortimer, who now has one foot planted on the steel ring steps ready to ascend. Crazy Boy has a fist balled at the ready. The statement about seeking vengeance rings true.



Horacio Mortimer: In what possible way can I justify the actions of one Dominic James Atkinson last week? It could simply be that My Zenith wanted to make an impact the fastest way we could conjure. It may have just been the unfortunate coincidence that you were in the wrong place at the wrong time and happened to cross paths with a savage beast. Yet... there is no real “reasonings” for these scenarios. The ends do not justify their means.



Showing no indications of feeling threatened by one another, Tyrone at least grants Mortimer the opportunity to step into the ring to plead his case. It would seem that Crazy Boy wants to hear Horacio out at the very least.



Horacio Mortimer: Believe me, “Crazy Boy,” we have our reasons... The only thing that “The Chronological Order” wants is for people to know the truth and abandon the false ideals that they have created for themselves. How can anyone tell you that God is always watching when time itself is literally all around us, right now, in every atom and every cell. If people like you could only realise the inanity of the lives you lead and accept that time itself is the greatest balancer of the world, Dominic and I would have no reason to be here and you would not have had to lay in bed all week holding bags of ice against your cranium.



Crazy Boy suddenly snatches the microphone from Mortimer’s hands, receiving a pop from the crowd. Mortimer looks a little insulted by this rude gesture, but he merely uses one finger to push his glasses back up to a more suitable position over his eyes, taking a quick look at his wristwatch.



Tyrone “Crazy Boy” Smith: Just what are you trying to prove, huh? Are you basically trying to form a new religion or cult of some sort? I hate to break it to you, but Gabriel is already ahead of you on that one. So why don’t you head to the airport, have a cup of tea, and piss off back to England where you keep your drawing board?



The crowd cheers in approval of Crazy Boy’s message. Horacio simply chuckles to himself.



Tyrone “Crazy Boy” Smith: You come out here, trying to talk all noncey-poncey with your British accent and fancy words to convert people to your way of thinking. Let me tell you right now, I’m not here to listen to a lecture, I’m here to fight! And I don’t care if I have already fought Sicko here tonight, but I think there is still a little bit of pent-up aggression that I have left to take out! And if that seven foot snake without a tongue isn’t going to come out here, I guess I will just have to make you eat your own words right here and...



Crazy Boy suddenly stops as Horacio Mortimer pulls a bored expression on his face, bringing his watch up closer to his face whilst let out a sigh, even going so far as to tap his foot as a means to entertain himself. The crowd boos as Mortimer smirks at the sight of Tyrone’s face starting to fill with anger. He slowly reaches out and slowly plucks the microphone out of Crazy Boy’s hand as if he were pulling a loose carrot from the ground.



Horacio Mortimer: Are you quite finished? I find it rather amusing that you think this way. Firstly, “The Chronological Order” is not a religion. You cannot “worship” time, but you can appreciate it with every fibre of your being. This is the truth that needs to be realised by people. And yet... some people choose not to be true to themselves, let alone the people they supposed are meant to care about, don’t they Tyrone?



Horacio Mortimer: Just because I am new to the Pure Class Wrestling scene doesn’t mean that I haven’t done my research. In fact, I’ve excavated through the archives of old and new alike, and you’ll be surprised at the secrets that I have unearthed... such as the circumstances surrounding a recent Wellness Test of yours...?



There is a moment’s pause, before Tyrone suddenly clenches both fists around the collar of Horacio Mortimer’s shirt. The crowd erupts as Horacio’s face is suddenly consumed by dread. Crazy Boy spits and seethes inaudible words towards the founder of The Chronological Order. The fans are desperate to see Crazy Boy kick the crap out of this windbag! When suddenly...



Mortimer jerks his leg forward, kicking Tyrone Smith straight between the legs. Crazy Boy immediately releases Mortimer, who stumbles backward into the ropes for a moment as Tyrone clutches his groin area and dropping to his knees in agony. What were deafening cheers just moments earlier have now morphed into a chorus of unrelenting boos as Horacio Mortimer hunches over the fallen Crazy Boy and cuffs him across the side of the head with a couple of mocking slaps. Tyrone gets back up to one knee and suddenly sends a wild, stray punch that clocks Mortimer’s left cheek, catching him by the surprise. The crowd roars as Mortimer is thrown backwards in shock. He scrambles to crawl under the bottom rope to safety. Crazy Boy tries to grab Mortimer’s ankle before he can flee, but fails. Refusing to relent, Crazy Boy follows Horacio Mortimer out of the ring, who is running up the entrance ramp whilst looking at his watch. Crazy Boy does not move with the same speed and grace as normal. He runs more like somebody who has just been kicked in the balls...



Mortimer reaches the stage atop the entrance ramp, looking back at Crazy Boy to gauge the distance between them while panting heavily due to his lack of fitness in comparison to the wrestler. As Crazy Boy reaches the top of the stage, Mortimer and Crazy Boy look each other in the eyes, before Mortimer quickly glances at his watch before letting out a wicked smirk...



...Breaking Benjamin’s “Evil Angel” begins to play. No sooner than the guitars begin to play, Crazy Boy suddenly freezes as the towering figure of Dominator slowly emerges from behind the curtain and onto the stage, glaring venomously at Crazy Boy with destructive intent plain to see on his face. The stand-off is intense. Crazy Boy refuses to back down and suddenly takes a run up and pouncing at Dominator with a forearm and a flurry of punches as Dominator plants one foot behind him to maintain his vertical base. Dominator throws one of his huge arms out, swatting Crazy Boy away as if he was a fly, but Crazy Boy comes right back with more kicks and punches. Dominator takes the brunt of the attacks well, but is able to put a stop to them by wrapping his colossal fingers around Crazy Boy’s neck.



He lifts Crazy Boy into the air with one arm, pinning him against the set of the stage and choking the life out of him for a moment, malice in his eyes, before pulling him away and slamming him spine first into the concrete with a chokeslam!



What a sickening impact!



Tyrone’s face creases up with the pain, but Dominator is not done. After spending a moment to admire his handiwork, Horacio Mortimer shouts for his protégé to deliver even more punishment. Reaching down, Dominator scoops up Crazy Boy’s body and plucks him into the air across his shoulders, locking in a Torture Rack that he refers to as the Rip In Time. Tyrone can be heard screaming in agony as Dominator tries to snap Crazy Boy’s body in two. Mortimer is shouting profanities at their helpless victim all the while.



It takes a hoard of referees to try and appease with Dominator to release Crazy Boy. Initially, he does not, a far-gone expression appears on his face as he immerses himself into the glee of this destruction. After twenty seconds or more, he is finally forced to show mercy, allowing Crazy Boy to drop to the stage with a head thud. Paramedics rush past The Suzerain Of Time once he has paced away, raising his arms powerfully into the air with his own wristwatches on display to a chorus of thunderous boos. Horacio Mortimer adopts the same pose. Finally, the two members of The Chronological Order disappear backstage



In spite of the carnage, Crazy Boy is refusing medical assistance; he is trying to get back up on his own two feet. Tense minutes pass, smears of blood from gashes in his back made by the rough steel have spread to various parts of his body, his face included. In spite of the referee’s intentions for Tyrone to accept their help, he pushes himself onto his knees after a few more agonising moments. The crowd cheers as he staggers to his feet, the referees try to support him.



“I’M NOT FINISHED WITH YOU!”



Suddenly, Dominator charges from behind the curtain and ploughs straight into the cluster of referees, knocking each every one of them down, Crazy Boy included. They fall like bowling pins as Dominator picks himself back up, sneering and huffing at the mound of rubble left in his wake. As Dominator paces into the backstage area once more, the camera zooms in on the carnage, then to Crazy Boy’s exhausted and bloodied face before cutting to commercial.

Jerry Andrews: Back from the break. Man, Dominator is making one helluvan impact on tonight’s show.


Ace Anderson: Considering the size of that guy, I don’t know if anyone will be able to stop him until he and that Horatio guy gets what they want.


Jerry Andrews: He’s been on a tear and we haven’t even gotten to the bloody match yet.


Ace Anderson: That’s about to change right now as we have our Underground Kind defending his title against the impressive newcomer Alexandra Tamora!

Match Three

Underground Rules Match

Underground Title is on the line

One Fall

Referee: Eric Russo

NCM vs Alexandra Tamora

Sasha Greene: The following is scheduled for one fall and it is for the Pure Class Wrestling Underground Championship! Introducing first, weighing in at 255 lbs, he is the Pure Class Wrestling Underground King, NON COMPOS MENTIS!!

Jerry Andrews: Here comes the man who overcame some may say one of the strongest runs with the Underground title, stopping the momentum of Kyle Shane in it's tracks and winning the Underground title on the way to the Battlebowl finals last week.


Ace Anderson: SHANE WAS ROBBED DANGIT!!


Jerry Andrews: You, uh, you know we're supposed to be impartial observers, right?


Ace Anderson: I can impartially say whatever I want!

“SCUM OF... THE EARTH... COME ON!”

The heavy beat of drums and harsh guitars kick in immediately after hearing the voice of Rob Zombie screaming over the PA system. The arena lights pulsate with red strobe to the music and out of the crowd emerges a ruckus of fans clamouring at the body of the 'Born Psycho', Non Compos Mentis. NCM pushes past the fans in the stands and charges to the security barrier.

“YEAH! RUN AND KILL, DESTROY THE WILL, A HERO THAT DOESN’T EXIST! YEAH! SMOKING GUN, WELL I AM THE ONE, A BULLET HOLE IN YOUR FIST! YEAH!”

Non Compos Mentis vaults over the barrier and throws himself into the ring under the bottom rope. Immediately he pulls himself up onto the middle turnbuckle and stretches out his arms with menacing confidence as the refrain hits.

“I’M BREATHING! I’M BLEEDING! I’M SCREAMING! SCUM OF… THE EARTH… COME ON! I’M BREATHING! I’M BLEEDING! I’M SCREAMING! SCUM OF… THE EARTH… COME ON!”

The powerful, frenzied beat goes on as NCM climbs back into the ring and sends a deviously focused look toward the referee before removing his black, sleeveless coat and handing it over, then retreating to his corner in readiness for the match to come.

Sasha Greene: And his opponent, weighing in at 86 kg, ALEXANDRA... TAMORA!!

The arena goes dark as the lights pulse in time with the music. With the lights pulsing a form can be seen kneeling on the ramp with one fist pressed against the stage floor. As the tempo increases and the lyrics begin the stage explodes in light and smoke as Alexandra Tamora leaps to her feet and raises an arm in the air.


As she strides confidently down the ramp she reaches out to the fans, slapping hands as she goes. At the bottom of the ramp she speeds up and leaps from the floor to the ring apron. The turnbuckles launch silver and blue streaks of fire as she lands on the apron. Turning to face the ramp, she stretches her arms out and rolls backwards into the ring.


Once in the ring she gives the far ropes a quick test bounce and comes back to the front of the ring, once more raising her arm with a confident smirk. As the music begins to fade she slides out of the ring to wait for her opponent.


Jerry Andrews: Alexandra Tamora burst onto the scene in the Icemann Invitational Tournament with some key wins, and made it all the way to the finals. Her star is definitely on the rise here.


Ace Anderson: Very true, but she is for all intents and purposes an untested rookie, and she's in there with a PCW legend in NCM.


Jerry Andrews: Fun fact, now with the Underground title win, NCM may have held every eligible title in Pure Class Wrestling history.


Ace Anderson: Oh, that's a very interesting little nugget, and it still calls to attention the fact that SHANE WAS ROBBED!


Jerry Andrews: ...Sigh…


Eric Russo orders the bell rung and Alex and NCM circle each other warily. Alex moves towards NCM, who attempts to shoot in for a takedown, but Alex dodges to the side and nails his injured arm with a straight kick. NCM grits his teeth and shakes his arm. He grapples Alex again, but Alex wrings his arm and snaps off several more kicks. Alex wrings NCM's injured arm, twisting it into a wristlock. NCM grunts in pain. He reverses into a hammerlock on Alex. Alex twists and tries to escape his grasp, then stomps on his foot and elbows him with her free arm. NCM finally releases the hold. Alex goes for a kick, but he catches her foot, plants a hand on her chest, and shoves her away with force. Alex simply rolls back into a crouched position, and the two of them come towards each other again. They grapple, and NCM twists Alex's arm into a wristlock. Alex is able to perform a cartwheel to relieve the pressure on her arm, then she drops down for a leg sweep kick. Alex applies a keylock on NCM's arm. NCM shakes his head in pain and attempts to elbow Alex off. Alex floats over into a front facelock, trying to choke him out, then she readjusts the hold and applies a rear chinlock with her knee in NCM's back.


Jerry Andrews: Great use of chain wrestling by Alex to wear the bigger NCM down. She's attempting to soften up NCM's injured arm as well as take his breath away, as if she's chipping away at the stone wall of his defenses.


Ace Anderson: It seems counter-intuitive in an Underground, all out, no disqualification match to bring wrestling holds, but hardcore is definitely more NCM's element and this takes him out of his element.


Jerry Andrews: Not to mention that Tamora identifies as a lawful good. I asked her this afternoon what weapons she would bring to influence the tide of this match and she said, "But... that's cheating!"


Ace Anderson: So... she's an idiot?


Jerry Andrews: Or a dreamer, Ace. Or a dreamer.


As the crowd starts getting behind Alex and NCM, clapping for them, NCM begins pulling himself up to a vertical base. He pushes Alex off with force. Alex comes right back at him, lighting him up with several kicks to the midsection, and then she grabs his arm and springs to the ropes, springing up onto the second rope and then hopping over the top rope while holding NCM's hand, and as she comes down she yanks his injured arm on the top rope with force. NCM stumbles back, and holds his arm. NCM comes back to the ropes to grab Alex, but she gives him a shoulder thrust. NCM drops to one knee, and Alex runs off the ropes and as she comes back, she performs a short modified reverse hurricanrana to the doubled over NCM that drives him face first into the canvas. Alex then locks on a Fujiwara armbar, yanking NCM's injured arm and shoulder as she wrenches it upwards. Eric Russo, asks NCM if he gives up. NCM refuses. Alex bends his arm back at an uncomfortable angle, but NCM still refuses to give up.


Jerry Andrews: Strangely, so far, Tamora's no weapons, no cheating rule is paying off.


Ace Anderson: I wanna see blood, dammit!!


Tamora breaks off the hold, and using her boot, she pushes NCM over to the corner under the bottom rope. Alex walks to the outside, and she grabs NCM's arm, flinging it with force under the bottom rope into the steel ringpost. NCM yells with pain. Alex gives him several more of these attacks with the ringpost. She places a boot on the ringpost itself and bends NCM's arm so that it is being pulled back against the post. NCM actually lets out a loud scream of pain. Alex screams for him to give up. Finally, Alex releases NCM's arm. NCM, grimacing in pain, crawls away from the corner, as Alex gets back in the ring. Alex stomps on NCM's fingers. She grips his arm, trying to lift him up and twist the arm at the same time, but NCM explodes with a clothesline from his free arm that flips Alex completely over. He drops down for a one armed cover.


Jerry Andrews: First cover of the match!


1...



2... Kickout.


Jerry Andrews: One thing I must say, is Tamora has always shown a good deal of heart.


NCM gets to his feet, shaking out his injured arm. NCM lifts Alex up and performs a vertical suplex, then in a display of power lets his injured arm drop to his side as he holds her up in the air for several moments, before making Alex crash back to the mat with force. NCM lifts Alex up and whips her off the ropes, giving her a one-armed version of a back body drop on the return. NCM paces around, a determined expression on his face. Alex gets to her feet, and NCM boots her in the gut and goes to give her a DDT. Alex spins out of it and wrings his arm. Alex floats behind him with a hammerlock, but NCM elbows her until she loosens the hold. NCM runs her backwards until she is rammed into the turnbuckles with force. Alex releases the hold, and NCM pulls her out with one arm and plants her with a sidewalk slam. He covers…


1...



2... Kickout.


NCM then nods to Eric Russo, and he turns Alex over and applies a modified camel clutch, wrapping Alex's arms around her throat and pulling back. Alex lets out a choked yell of pain.


Jerry Andrews: Despite the fact that his arm must be killing him to even move it, our champion still fights on.


Ace Anderson: Haven't you heard? The Hobo King doesn't quit. He's only said it fifty times.


Eric Russo asks Alex if she gives up, but Alex refuses. NCM finally releases the hold after several more moments. He brings his backside down with force across Alex's lower back. Alex tries to get to her feet, but NCM lifts her up, clubbing her relentlessly over the back with his good arm. He lifts her up on his shoulders, going for an air raid crash. Alex wiggles her legs and slides off his shoulders, then as he turns around and charges at her but Alex sweeps his legs from under him with a drop toehold, rolls through and maneuvers as if to lock in a rolling single leg Boston crab, but then she repositions the legs and applies a grapevine inverted bridging STF, or sickle hold. NCM's eyes bug out of his head at being caught in this unexpected submission. The ref asks if he gives up, but NCM refuses.


Jerry Andrews: For what is basically a no rules grudge match we've seen a great deal of technically sound wrestling as both of these two want to literally make the other quit.


Ace Anderson: Exactly, no chairs or kendo sticks or blood or good stuff!


Jerry Andrews: Sorry to disappoint you?


Ace Anderson: I blame you, Jerry.


Alex releases the hold, only to float over and bend both his arms back into a scissored armbar. NCM yells in pain as his shoulder is wrenched. Alex shouts that he has to give up. NCM yells that he won't. Alex simply tightens the hold. Several moments pass by. Finally, Alex releases the hold. She shakes her head in frustration. Attempting to lift NCM up, but he's too heavy. Alex pounds on his injured shoulder. NCM shoves her away. Alex comes running back in and boots him viciously in the side of the head. NCM stumbles and falls to the mat, face down. Alex stomps on his hand and then gives his arm a knee drop. NCM yells and holds his arm in pain. Alex motions for him to get up. As he gets to his feet, Alex doubles NCM over with a spinning back kick to the midsection, then she runs off the ropes and hits a running Codebreaker. Alex then lifts NCM up and plants him with a two-handed Baldo Bomb!


Jerry Andrews: There's the Time Bomb! Alex is just raining down punishment on Mentis.


Ace Anderson: To be fair, they've had two different interactions before, in the TIIT brackets, and Tamora nearly had NCM beaten at Living a Legacy, so it's clear the young lady is someone that studies her history. A suspicious amount, you might say…


Jerry Andrews: That was insightful commentary, Ace, thank you.


Ace Anderson: Probably studying how to ROB KYLE SHANE AGAIN!


Jerry Andrews: GIVE IT A REST!!


Alexandra Tamora, instead of going for the pin, attempts to lift NCM up. She starts to go for a reverse STO but NCM elbows her off with his good arm. Alex turns around and gets a back elbow. Alex stumbles again, right into a back suplex. NCM peels Alex off the mat and gives her a harsh snap suplex. Alex arches her lower back in pain. NCM then applies a single leg Boston crab, bending Alex's leg back as far as it'll go. Alex shouts in pain. Alex tries to grab the bottom ropes out of instinct, but Eric Russo tells her that by her own rules there are no rope breaks. NCM pulls her back out into the middle of the ring anyway and sits back on the hold. Alex screams in pain, and flails her arms. She grits her teeth to keep from shouting any more. NCM finally gets back up, lifting Alex up, and plants her with a double underhook powerbomb. NCM rolls his injured shoulder to try and get some feeling. He lifts Alex up and starts to go for a backdrop driver, but Alex breaks free and brings both of her fists down on his injured shoulder. NCM yells in pain and grips his shoulder. Alex boots him in the gut to make him double over and drop to his knees. Alex then runs off the ropes and goes for a shining wizard, but he ducks the swing of the kick and before her momentum can carry her around, he lifts her up on his shoulders and grabs on, then drops her with a reverse Death valley Driver. NCM then rests against the ropes, trying to get some feeling back in his arm, before dropping into a cover.


Ace Anderson: I think Alex may have finally found the chink in NCM's armor.


Jerry Andrews: I wouldn't count him out just yet, Ace. He is a fighting champion.


1...



2...



3 - Kickout.


NCM lifts Alex up and ruthlessly crushes her with a spinning backfist, before catching the wobbly legged Tamora and dumping her with a uranage suplex. NCM shakes his injured arm. NCM then grabs Alex's legs and tries to turn her over into a Sharpshooter. Alex resists with everything she has to keep him from locking her legs together. She reaches up and pounds on his head, then kicks him in the face a few times. NCM simply stops trying to lock in the submission, then he grips both of her legs and falls back with a catapult, throwing her up into the corner. Alex, however, is able to spring up at the last second and hop onto the second rope, then she resets herself and springs off the ropes, but she runs right into a big boot from NCM that catches her in midair and nearly decapitates her. Alex does a flip in midair, then flops to the mat. NCM then grabs hold of her legs and locks her in a Mexican surfboard submission. Eric Russo asks Alex if she gives up, but Alex refuses.


Jerry Andrews: You have to admire this girl's tenacity.


Ace Anderson: I am admiring many things on her, but where is her tenacity located? Her ass?


Jerry Andrews: Do you even know what "tenacity" means?


Ace Anderson: No, I do not!


NCM pulls back on the hold until he is on his back, and Alex's back is arched. He tells her to give up, but she frantically shakes her head as her mouth is stretched in a grimace of pain. Finally, NCM breaks the hold. He lifts Alex up and gives her a lifting t-bone suplex. Alex lands on her lower back, and lets out a scream of pain. NCM walks over, and clubs Alex a few times, then gives her a vertical suplex, holding on as he rolls his hips and lifting her up for a second vertical suplex. He holds on and rolls to his feet a third time, lifting her back up, and he resets himself and pops off a rolling Northern light suplex. Alex is flung across the ring. NCM walks over and lifts her up with his good arm, and he goes to lift her up on his shoulders again for the air raid crash, but Alex elbows him in the side of the head again and again, until he loosens the hold. Alex slips down from the front and counters into a sit-out, X-Factor like facebuster. The crowd pops for Alex at this sudden reversal. Alex then rests for a moment, catching her breath. After a few moments, she simply wraps her legs around NCM's throat with a headscissor submission. She squeezes his throat tightly.


Jerry Andrews: Tamora surprised the champion!


Ace Anderson: I wonder if that's some kind of greeting in the world she comes from... I might want to go say hello sometime…


Jerry Andrews: Ace, you're so crude.


Alex shouts for him to give up. NCM, although being choked out, refuses. Alex tightens the hold on her legs, and shouts at him again. Then, Alex turns over on her stomach as she keeps his head between her legs, facedown. Alex begins bouncing her hips up and down, giving him multiple facebusters into the mat and repeatedly driving his face into the canvas. Russo asks NCM if he will throw in the towel, but NCM refuses yet again. NCM begins tiwsting himself around and trying to pull Alex's legs apart. Finally, he is able to power his way up to his knees, as he is between Alex's legs and he stands, gripping them, and he turns her over into a Boston crab. Alex's eyes shoot open wide as NCM sits back on the hold. Alex yells in pain and reaches for the ropes, for anything. NCM puts all his weight on the hold. Alex's face is twisted in agony. NCM tells her to give up.


Ace Anderson: Her back must be killing her.


NCM lifts Alex up and gives her a belly to belly suplex. Alex rolls to the outside, holding her back. NCM follows after her. Alex crawls in the aisle, trying to get to her feet. NCM lifts her up in a military press and drops her straight on the guardrail. Alex falls back, holding her face in pain. NCM lifts Alex back up and clubs her a few times, then he hooks her from the side and gives her a harsh Russian legsweep into the guardrail. The back of Alex's head cracks the steel. She falls into the aisle. NCM, his jaw set in determination, walks over and grabs a steel chair, and he begins setting it up in the corner where two portions of the guardrail intersect. He lifts Alex up and sits her in the chair. He backs up to the middle of the aisle and then gets a running start, attempting to give Alex a boot while she's in the seated position, but she dives out of the way. NCM's leg is hung up with the guardrail. Alex scoops up the steel chair, folding it shut, and before NCM can bring his leg down where it was hung up on the guardrail, Alex takes the chair and cracks it across his knee. NCM shouts in pain, and brings his leg down. Alex slams the chair into his shoulder. NCM screams in pain and holds his shoulder, and Alex whacks it again. Then, she tosses the chair to NCM, who catches it one-handed in a dazed manner, and Alex performs a spinning heel kick to blast the chair into NCM's face.


Jerry Andrews: No disqualifications, meaning it's all legal.


Ace Anderson: Finally, some hardware, this is awesome!


Jerry Andrews: The only thing Alex's concerned with is making NCM give up, nothing else matters, not even what she has to do to get that.


Ace Anderson: Hey, she sees that it's fine to bend her little rules from time to time, if the ends justify the means.


Tamora goes for a pin.


1...



2...



3... Kickout!


Cursing, Alex lifts a barely conscious NCM up and gives him a leaping reverse STO right onto the steel chair for good measure, before she floats over and locks in a crossface chickenwing. NCM groans in pain as his injured arm is worked in the submission. Eric Russo asks him if he submits, but NCM will not give in. Alex tells Russo just to throw in the towel for him, but Eric Russo refuses, saying NCM has not given up.


Jerry Andrews: Eric Russo wants this to be a fair match, to ensure no controversy in this title match.


Alex holds the chickenwing submission in for several more moments. Finally, seeing NCM isn't ready to give up, she releases it. She tries to lift NCM up, but he is barely conscious and dead weight. She gives him a few straight kicks to the shoulder. She pulls his arm by twisting the shoulder in it's socket and tries to pull him up that way. NCM yells in pain, and he reverses it into an irish whip that sends Alex flipping over the steel steps and spilling to the other side. Alex recuperates in the aisle, as NCM leans on the apron and tries to get some feeling in his arm. NCM finally walks over to Alex and throws her in the ring, throwing the chair in for good measure. He walks over and lifts the chair up, going over to the corner. He wedges the steel chair between the top and middle rope, then he lifts Alex up. He irish whips her with a lot of velocity. Alex hits the turnbuckle and does a flip over it to the apron, a la HBK. NCM pulls Alex back in the ring, and goes to throw her into the wedged chair, but Alex drop toeholds him and makes him run face first into the chair. NCM pulls himself up, holding his jaw, and Alex turns him around and runs right into a Kiss the Sky uppercut. She covers...


1...



2...



3... Kickout!


Alex rests for a moment, then she attempts to float in to an anaconda vice submission on the injured shoulder of NCM. NCM pounds on her head, making her release the hold. Alex gets up, and NCM slowly starts to pick himself up. Alex gets a running start at him and gives NCM a hurricanrana, before twisting it around into a flying headscissors and armbar submission. NCM's eyes open up wide at being put into this excruciating hold, as he stands, with Alex hanging onto his shoulders and tearing at his injured arm. NCM shakes his arm to signify he's not done. NCM's strength looks to be fading as Alex steals his breath and bends his arm painfully back. NCM screams with effort, as all her weight on his shoulders is pushing him down. He slowly starts fighting his way to his feet. Alex hangs on to the submission. Eric Russo asks NCM if he gives up, but he refuses. He finally is able to pull himself completely up to his feet. NCM then flings himself and Alex backward, trampling her with a modified Samoan drop. Alex releases the hold. Both NCM and Alex are down on the mat, recovering and trying to catch their second wind. NCM shakes his arm, trying to get some feeling into it. Alex shakes the cobwebs out of her head. Both of them get to their feet around the same time. NCM lays into Alex with a right hand, but Alex fires back with a forearm shot and a Muay Thai kick to the ribs. NCM goes for a clothesline, but Alex ducks and then drops down, swinging her leg up to connect with a Pele' kick. NCM stumbles back, but does not fall, and Alex hooks his head and attempts to drop him with a lungblower. NCM powers her off and throws her across the ring. Alex gets to her feet and NCM boots her in the gut, attempting to give her an inverted rolling cutter, but she spins out of it and boots him in the gut in return and drops him with a standing shiranui. Alex eggs NCM to get to his feet again, and as he gets up she goes for a straightjacket lungblower, but he pulls his head away at the last second. Alex hits nothing but the mat. She gets to her feet holding her butt and when she does he whips her around and plants her with a spinning side slam!


Jerry Andrews: Dum Dum Drop connects!!


Ace Anderson: Maybe he called it that because it kills brain cells dropping her on the back of her head!


NCM has had enough, and he grips at his arm wincing with pain, but he goes to the corner and stomps his leg, getting in a ready position, and rushes in to smash a woozy Tamora right over the back of her head with a KINSHASAAA- or, rather, Psychotic Break Mk 2! Tamora falls forward, and NCM, as inexorable as the tide, the remorseless champion sinks down, and Russo counts the pin.


Jerry Andrews: Tamora put up the best fight she could, but she's done.


Ace Anderson: Agreed, partner, this is academic.


1...



2...



3 - FOOT ON THE ROPES!


Ace Anderson: WHAT.


Jerry Andrews: A last spasm of life from Tamora!!


Ace Anderson: I think NCM is in shock she was conscious enough to even lift a limb, let alone that. But he didn't reposition her for the pin, so that may have been an oversight on his part.


Jerry Andrews: Very true, partner.


Ace Anderson: But, on the other hand, WHAT.


NCM flatly refuses to believe what he's witnessed. The aggressive champion gets to his feet, intimidating the referee, and Russo meekly tries to protest against it, but NCM is looming right in his face and threatening his life. The ref pleads with him. NCM, huffing, throws Russo aside, goes back to the apron and climbs out. He stalks over and grabs the steel chair from earlier. Fuming and practically snorting fire, the champion holds the chair with menacing intent, and he waits for Tamora to start composing herself in the ring. The crowd is stirring as two strange figures are parting through the masses like the red sea. In the ring, NCM warms up, swinging the chair back and forth, ready to lay waste to Tamora with it, but he lines up on her as she pulls herself to all fours. He starts charging for a running, swinging steel chair shot but Tamora ducks and rolls, and as she gets around the chair shot she performs a leg sweep kick that takes NCM's legs from under him. He falls face first, and plants right into the chair, momentarily stunning him and relieving him of his weapon. Tamora, breathlessly, stands, and holds an arm up to the crowd, showing that her future is coming true.


Jerry Andrews: Tamora counters! Tamora counters!!


Ace Anderson: A new future may be being born here in front of our eyes.


Suddenly, as Tamora looks at NCM, a familiar figure with a ridiculous troll doll hair cut slides into the ring, egged on by his protege at ringside. The Good Doctor shouts at his charge, Lunatic, who stands up fully behind Tamora. Tamora turns, right into a shot to the head from a lead pipe carried by Lunatic! Tamora drops like a stone, the lights going out one by one.


Jerry Andrews: Oh, come on, of all the times, why did Lunatic interfere now?!


The referee really can't do anything here, it's Underground Rules, duh. The best he can do is point at Lunatic and direct him to leave the ring. The Good Doctor holds a hand up to summon Lunatic, who looks even more erratic. NCM has pulled himself up to a crouch and is watching the whole thing with a keen eye, in case he has to thrown down.


Jerry Andrews: You notice that Lunatic isn’t attacking the champion, NCM, just yet, even though he could, conceivably cost NCM the title. I wonder why that is?


Ace Anderson: Who knows why Lunatic does ANYTHING, he'll probably just say it's because he's cah-razy and unpredictable!


Jerry Andrews: I don't think so, I think there's some sinister strategy at work.


Lunatic and the Good Doctor have given the apron a wide berth, and are both standing, staring at Non Comp. The champion snarls at them, then looks down at Tamora, who isn't going to move any time soon. Lunatic nods his head at him with a mysterious grin. NCM drops down for a reluctant cover.


1....



2...



3!

DING! DING! DING!

Sasha Greene: Here is your winner... and STILL Pure Class Wrestling Underground Champion... NON COMPOS MENTIS!!

"Scum Of The Earth" by Rob Zombie begins to play as NCM gets to his feet, and he snatches up his belt, holding it with his good arm. He winces and grips at his bad shoulder for a moment, but he looks over at Lunatic and the Good Doctor, then down at Tamora.


Jerry Andrews: The new Underground King proved something to me here tonight, too. He is going to be a strong champion.


Ace Anderson: I... I suppose he did, but the fact remains, Lunatic has to be given an assist on this, and we still don't know why he attacked Alexandra Tamora.


Jerry Andrews: Take nothing away from Tamora, she came close. The race for the Underground title is a crowded field, with NCM and Lunatic... who knows what will happen next?


Tamora is getting slowly helped to her feet, holding her head in a dazed and possibly concussed fashion as on the ramp, NCM holds his title up and raises his arms.



Scene switches backstage to show the private locker room of the World Champion, "The Asshole" Whitey Ford, with his name up on the door. The camera follows in first person perspective as the door opens with a hand pushing it open, and then, it switches to show the interior of the locker room. The World title belt is sitting on a bench, next to a towel, and the champion is getting his wrists taped up for the main event, when Whitey looks up, and a shit eating grin spreads across his face as he smirks at someone. The camera pulls back and shows that Kyle Shane has walked into the shot.


Whitey Ford: Well, it looks like I've got a visitor. Didn't anybody tell you it's rude to come in without knocking? I could have been coming out of the shower in here. Seems like you've got no respect.


Kyle is wearing his ring gear already, and his hoodie with the collar pulled down, and he knows Whitey is just trying to get under his skin. It's a game that two can play.


Kyle Shane: Trust me, if I wanted to, you would never see me coming.


He pauses, then thinks over the innuendo he's just unwillingly spilled, posthumously editing it in his head. But then he grins, taking it farther.


Kyle Shane: Or would you?


Whitey Ford: This is all really amusing, but I have to get ready for our match tonight, where I'm going to take personal pleasure in showing YOU a thing or two?


Kyle laughs.


Kyle Shane: Ah, man, you killed the banter before it even got going. But that's fine, because I wanted to get serious with you for a moment. I have so many people behind me right now, gassing me up with saying that, well I should cash in my TIIT title shot against you right now and claim my World Title match, no, I should go face Non Compos Mentis in a one on one match and win back my Underground Championship, no I think he should face established talent like Seromine and prove himself - Well I have my eyes firmly set on the horizon, Whitey, and in that future I see me, coming right at you. I want to show that I am the next World Champion, so I want you to get a good look tonight, when I'm kicking you and Nathan Saniti in the collective plums and bringing this little hype train to a grinding halt. You're looking at someone who is going to be the next Pure Class Wrestling World Champion. Bank on that.


Whitey grins, despite himself, a little bemused at this cocky little upstart.


Whitey Ford: I hate to break it to you, Kyle, but you are the last person in line that gets to come talk this trash to me. There are other men who have been around a hell of a lot longer and done more than you. And since the fact is that you LOST last week, and didn't even get into the fatal fourway in the main event, I don't think I have anything to worry about, tonight or any time soon... rookie.


Kyle Shane: Oh, it's like that?


Whitey Ford: The thing is...yeah, it IS like that. You might have that little golden ticket that lets you cash in on whatever title you want, but that doesn't guarantee a damn thing. MAYBE it gets you a little boost in popularity, but you don't really need that, do ya? You're practically "Mr. Underground Champion." Well...you WERE, at least. Too bad you couldn't have held onto that little championship a bit longer; it's better to have something to show for all of your hard work, even when your big gamble doesn't pay off the way you want it to.


Whitey waves off the attendant taping his wrists, giving each of them a solid rotation before deciding the job is done. He stands up, bringing the World Title up with him by the strap and slinging it over his shoulder.


Whitey Ford: I know, you want to be the big dog around here. You've done a decent job so far, turning heads and whatnot. Truth is, kid, I don't even dislike you, and I practically fuckin' hate everyone...ESPECIALLY people who think I'm someone who can be taken lightly. But I think you have a bright future ahead of you, once you take a few more hard knocks...y'know, a couple really big losses builds character and once that happens, I see you as World Championship material. Here's my advice: continue playing with the Underground Title and stay out of my way, or I'm going to be the one who hands you your first really, really BIG loss. An asskicking that you'll remember for the rest of your life, a beating that you might not even bounce back from.


Ford drops the belt back on the bench, and leans in a little closer to Shane.


Whitey Ford: Stay out of my way later tonight, Kyle. Gabriels the one that I want. Stay on the ring apron, go after the Underground Title again, and one day you'll be as important as me.


Kyle looks triggered by that, at first, then his lip twists into a snarky grin.


Kyle Shane: Oh, man, I should only be so lucky. Don't worry, champ, I'll be paying real close attention tonight. I hope you will too.


Kyle exits the shot, and Whitey looks after him with a scoff and a cocky smile. Then he goes back to gathering his stuff for the upcoming match.



Jerry Andrews: Two very confident men. There’s a possibility that they could meet any time once Kyle Shane decides to cash in his title shot he earned.


Ace Anderson: And when it does, I’m banking money that Shane wipes that smug grin from Whitey’s face. It will be glorious!


Jerry andrews: We’ll get a taste of what that clash will be like right after these commercial messages.

Ace Anderson: Welcome back folks! It’s time for the match I’ve all been waiting for!


Jerry Andrews: Two champions teaming against their challengers? This will be one helluva fight!

Main Event

Standard Tag Match

One Fall

Referee: Ed Lane

Nathan Saniti and “The Asshole” Whitey Ford vs Kyle Shane and Gabriel

Sasha Greene: The following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, from Toronto, Ontario, Canada… Gabriel!

The lights go out. Suddenly the arena is completely lit up with white light as the opening notes of "There's a World" by Neil Young play. Gabriel emerges, wearing a tan button up shirt, brown overalls and heavy dark boots. He clasps his hands together and smiles widely before walking down to the ring.

"There's a world you're living in

No one else has your part

All God's children in the wind

Take it in and blow hard.

Look around it, have you found it

Walking down the avenue?

See what it brings,

could be good things

In the air for you.."

Gabriel climbs the ring steps and pauses. He then enters the ring, says a quick prayer, and awaits his opponent/the start of the match.

Sasha Greene: And his tag team partner...

The opening notes of "In The Morning And Amazing" by Circa Survive begins to play. The big screen shows shots of Kyle’s matches. Kyle Shane steps slowly out onto the stage. The Assassins hood to his longcoat is pulled low over his face. The distinctive voice of Anthony Green hits the bridge:

"And how could anyone

You are in my dreams

Half human, half machine

You with someone else that I have felt and seen

I cannot rest, or my consciousness contest

Looking right through the lens

From winter brings the spring again"

Sasha Greene: From Boston, Massachusetts. He weighs 218 pounds and is the 2017 Icemann Invitational Tournament Winner, KYLE SHANE!

Kyle tilts his head back and holds his arms out, taking in the reception of the crowd. For the PCW faithful that are just getting to know him, there is a modest show of respect, but the truly dedicated that have followed his career stir mightily. Some on the sides of the aisles even make a fanning bow motion as Kyle walks by. 1/2 the way down the aisle, Kyle pivots, holding his arms up to either side of him. He climbs onto the apron. Kyle balances on the ropes for a moment, points to himself and smirks, holding his arms out, and then he hops down, takes off his longcoat and stretches a few times to get ready.

Sasha Greene: And their opponents...introducing first…

The introductory chimes of "Monster," by Imagine Dragons beckon the entrance of PCW resident Madcap Magician as lime green fog coats the runway from the ring to the entrance. Flanked by Rasputin, Naomi, and Neville, the otherwise normal (for him) looking Nathan Saniti leads the group out from the back, Nathan taking point. He and Neville wave their arms with a flourish, calling to the fog to rise and engulf the lot.

Sasha Greene: From The Land of Balance. Weighing 200 pounds. He is the International Champion, NATHAN SANITI!

The lights slowly fade as it thickens as it envelops the Harvesters, suddenly dissipating just as rapidly as it appeared, revealing that the group has vanished! A thunderous bolt of lightning strikes the center of the ring with a blinding flash. And another. After a third bolt hits, the lights go out completely for a second. A column of spotlighted smoke begins to build at the center of the ring, snaking its’ way skyward. Lime green and purple spotlights dance around the smoke as the lights fade on and the smog evaporates, revealing the Harvesters in the center of the ring!

Sasha Greene: And his tag team partner...

The southern style guitars play over the PA system as strobe lights and the PCW-Tron flash white light to the beat of the bass drum. When the music picks up a bit, Ford slowly walks out onto the stage, arms stretched out wide to embrace the hate rained down upon him.

Sasha Greene: From Leeds, Maine. Weighing 245 pounds. He is the World Champion, “THE ASSHOLE” WHITEY FORD!

Taking great amusement at the crowds disposition, Whitey trades words and insults with the more vocal fans before rolling under the bottom rope.


Whitey climbs to the second turnbuckle and raises his championship belt high above his head with one arm, flashing a smug grin to the crowd before handing the belt over to the referee and taking his spot in his respective corner.

DING! DING!

These four men put the event in main event and waste no time to introduce one another. It’s a pier six brawl in the center of the ring with Gabriel and Nathan Saniti pairing off, while Kyle Shane and Whitey Ford collide. The fans are whipped into a frenzy at the immediate action. Not a single one of the four have a clear cut advantage as no one gives an inch. It may as well be a match in the middle of a mosh pit. The referee tries his best to get order restored, but finds tough sledding.


Gabriel is seen cutting Nathan off with a knee to the midsection, his eyes fueled with hellfire, as he tackles the man who put his leader out of action to the floor. While he lets his fists do all of the talking, Whitey Ford has gained the upper hand on Kyle Shane. The “God of Game” has been introduced to a spine buster that would make Arn Anderson proud. He looks up and sees his partner for the evening being pummeled by Gabriel. Well not for long. Ford bounces once, twice, three times off the ropes behind him, charges and catches an unsuspecting Gabriel with a springboard plancha! Gabriel staggers onto his face in the aisle, as Ford returns to the ring to mow Kyle Shane over with a lightning fast and high impact dropkick. The connection of which can be heard in every section of the arena.


Shane attempts to roll out of the ring, but the World Champ doesn’t allow him the gift of a breather. A snap German suplex folds him head over feet into enemy territory, where Nathan Saniti has positioned himself for a tag. Ford brings him in, but exposes Shane for a quick cheap shot from the International Champion. The former Underground champ is doubled over as Saniti pulls him away. Shane finds his arms hooked behind him. He squirms in a futile attempt to free himself, but is hoisted and dropped with a double underhook suplex. Saniti made sure it was in the direction of Gabriel as he gives him a wicked smile upon getting up. Gabriel is ready to jump in there, but stops himself with the POWAH of prayer!


Jerry Andrews: Is Gabriel praying? Right now? In the middle of a match?


Ace Anderson: When you’re a follower of Seromine, then you pray whenever you damned well want.


“It didn’t save your false prophet!” Saniti mockingly shouts at him. Shane seizes a chance to throw a forearm into the side of Saniti’s head once he turns around, but it has little effect. Nathan returns the favor with several of his own, an Irish whip and a hurricanrana. THIS time, Kyle gets the hell out of there...with a tag to Gabriel. He takes his time climbing into the ring, glowering at his future opponent. He points up to the sky as if to signal towards a higher power and then charges like a bat out of hell. Right into a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker. Nathan picks him up and slams him in the corner. He keeps him trapped while making the tag to Whitey Ford. Saniti starts to whip his partner, but spins him around in the right direction so that he can land a clothesline with a release Northern lights follow.


Gabriel writhes from the fall, but the champ is quick to throw him down to introduce a knee to his forehead. Ford goes for a quick pin.


1.


And a kickout. Whitey gets up and begins to bring Gabriel with him. The former Rick Majors catches Ford off with a sudden uppercut. He then pulls him into a series of half hatch knee strikes to neutralize with. Whitey is dropped after the final one. Gabriel condemns his wicked ways of debauchery, yelling for him to “REPENT IN THE NAME OF LORD SEROMINE!” Ford will hear none of it and replies in kind by making a cross with his middle fingers. Gabriel unloads with vicious stomps to the chest and stomach, forcing the champ to curl up to protect himself. Gabriel drags him over by the arm and tags Kyle Shane in. The Icemann Invitational winner steps in and takes Whitey by the very arm. From there Shane brings the point of his elbow into the bend. This happens twice before he puts it behind Ford, so he can be body slammed on top of it. Ford yells in pain and is slow to free his arm, but shakes it out to find some feeling once he does. Shane shakes his head and pulls Ford up. Again he bends the arm behind him and somehow manages to execute a trio of floatover suplexes to further weaken the right limb. Kyle stands, pivots and like the slippery bastard he is, makes a beeline for Nathan Saniti. A cheap shot to the face drops him off the apron, immediately drawing over the zebra to restrain once he gets up. Kyle waves in Gabriel, as they continue to show coexistence in throwing Ford shoulder first into the ring post. Whitey slumps back and continues to favor his right arm. Shane ungraciously puts a foot on his face and pushes back before re-tagging Gabriel into the match.


Jerry Andrews: Gabriel coming back into the fight.


Ace Anderson: Hopefully they can make Whitey give himself to God. Or something.


Ford is pulled up and finds that arm twisted in a wrench as he then gets dropped with a hook kick behind the ear. Gabriel goes for a pin.


1.


2.


And it’s a quick kickout at two. Gabriel shakes his head and brings Ford back to his feet. Whitey fires off a couple of shots from his healthy left side, but all Gabriel has to do is punch the weakened arm to stop that. Gabriel twists it around and brings Ford corkscrewing down on top of his own limb. It’s then stretched outright, so that Gabriel can land knees to the middle of it. He drags Ford over while he agonizes and tags Kyle in. The arm is kept stretched. Kyle grabs the ropes and uses it to spring off for a double stomp. Ford lets out more than a few obscenities. He is brought out for a surfboard stretch in the middle of the ring. Kyle yells in his face to keep HIS title warm, before planting him with a curb stomp. A pin follows.


1.


2.


Nope! The champ may be down, but he’s not out. Kyle looks over at Nathan, telling him to keep HIS other title warm, because he may just decide to hold both at the same time. You know, trophies! Ford is sent to the ropes, but reverses! Only to be met with the Goddess White Sword. Shane gets up and again knocks Nathan off of the apron. This time he lands on his feet and pulls Kyle’s out from under him before he can get away. This of course has the fans approval. Shane is pulled under the bottom rope and whipped into the rail. Then the apron. As he staggers away with his back smarting, Saniti plants him with a STIFF lariat. He is then rolled back inside.


Ace Anderson: SEE?! Shane is getting cheated again! Saniti is attacking him outside the ring!


Jerry Andrews: Do you need a napkin to clean up after all of that butt kissing on Shane?


Nathan slaps the buckles to get the crowd going and for a tag to be made. The one armed man that is “The Asshole” Whitey Ford starts dragging himself in that direction. The fresher Kyle Shane stands on a knee and calls Gabriel inside. Ford senses the trap and quickly rolls onto his back to kip up out of nowhere! Gabriel has no time to hit the brakes as he is met with a BIG European uppercut. Ford spins and rolls on his left, past an oncoming Kyle Shane, where he MAKES the tag to Nathan Saniti!


The International Champion comes in and cleans house from top to bottom with both men. Clothesline. Clothesline. A noggin knocker! A second! A Third! And a gratuitous eye poke for each! As they spin blindly around, Gabriel is leveled with a snap powerslam. Kyle Shane gets a snap suplex for his efforts. Saniti lays them side by side as he hits a beauty of a moonsault onto both. He remains there for a double pin.


1!


2!


KICK-OUT!


Gabriel with the shoulder, Shane actually kicking out. Saniti stands and takes hold of Gabriel first. Over the top rope he goes. Shane is allowed to get up as he swings, misses and is dumped with a sit out powerbomb. Nathan glances over at Ford, who is crouched on the apron trying to get his arm back in order. Kyle is whipped into the ropes, but gets held up and pulled to safety by Gabriel. Nathan sees this and shakes his head. He spins around and comes charging at them with a suicide dive! Gabriel shoves over the announce table. Shane catches the edge of it to his midsection. Saniti returns him to the ring and “calls his shot.”


Jerry Andrews: LOOK OUT! INCOMING!


He spins Shane around as if a backslide were to happen. It’s the start of the Unreality Check! But the resilient Kyle Shane has other ideas in mind, managing to disrupt just enough to turn things around to where Nathan is shoved front first into his own corner. Whitey Ford tags himself into the match. Shane smells blood, charges and is DRILLED with a Rehab Spear! Shane is moved over and covered.


1!


2!


3 - NO!


GABRIEL WITH THE SAVE! The match must continue! He pulls Ford off and sets up for “BELIEVE!” but finds himself pushed away from Ford’s good arm. Gabriel hits the brakes, returns and is hit with a Wasted-Land! Gabe rolls himself out of the ring. Kyle catches Ford by surprise with a Nocturne of Shadows! As if he has captured the star from a block in from Mario Brothers, Kyle cuts Saniti off with Emblem Heartless and returns to plant Whitey Ford with Pieces of Eden! The impact is spine jarring. The star power doesn’t last forever, though. Shane is slow to make the cover, but manages to do so before long.


1!


2!


3!


And this time, the match IS over.

DING! DING! DING!

Sasha Greene: Here are your winners: Kyle Shane and Gabriel!

Jerry Andrews: Just when I think there will be nothing left for Shane to brag about…


Ace Anderson: Don’t player hate! Shane showed that he can shut up that smug son of a bitch Whitey Ford.


Jerry Andrews: Credit where it is due, it was a hard fought battle for sure. That does it for tonight’s show, folks. Join us next time for Trauma 215 and the show after that is our bi-annual Icey Awards! I’ve been your host Jerry Andrews…


Ace Anderson: And I’m Ace Anderson: Hall of Famer bidding you Good Night!

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