Trauma 220: All Hallows' Eve Results
Oct 28, 2017 22:26:45 GMT -5
Cory Steel, The Anarchist, and 2 more like this
Post by Rick Majors on Oct 28, 2017 22:26:45 GMT -5
 Pure Class Wrestling Trauma: All Hallows' Eve Thursday October 26th, 2017
As the show opens live to a televised audience, the Pure Class Arena is completely sold-out and fully decorated for the All Hallows Eve event on Trauma. Following Deadly Intentions, while not stacked with matches, the show promises to unfold all that transpired. Everything, including the return of the most costly network liability in PCW’s illustrious history, as the Club Vivacious set sits atop the ramp. The neon lighting on the bartop, cabinets, shelving and towering “V” captivate all in attendance. As was the case at Deadly Intentions, the Matthews twins (Remy and Rebi) are working the drinks and tables and, posted on each side of the set, the Southern Renegades mean to maintain control. “NO TOR I OUS!” Appears on the PCWTron as the words echo in the rafters and the crowd goes bananas. Mr. One Night Only’s new theme, Notorious by Adelita’s Way, continues to rock the arena and the crowd gets into every word. “I thought this guy was history, Jerry,” Ace Anderson admits. “Is that why you called him a bigger douchebag than the former champion?” Jerry instigates. “No,” Anderson denies, “I said that, because he is.” “Well.” Jerry nods, “speak of the devil and he shall appear…” Johnny Vivacious rounds the left side of the Club Vivacious set, wearing his biker boots, red-lettered “NOTORIOUS” T-shirt with a BOSS pair of slacks and sport jacket, the Man in Black has arrived. The blacked-out lenses in his red-framed BOSS glasses hide his emerald greens, the Red pursed in his kisser sends ashes all over the stage as he inaudibly pumps up the crowd and, under his left arm contrasting his dark apparel, a bright orange pumpkin. “Look Jerry,” Anderson comments, “he has brought you a gift.” Vivacious, whether determined and focused or he simply forgot, doesn’t order his customary drink before heading down the ramp. His great care in holding the pumpkin against his body under his arm is noticeable as he slightly stumbles ascending the ring steps. Like he did at the pay-per-view, he wipes his feet on the apron and ducks between the top and middle ropes to enter the ring. “After what you have said about him in his absence,” Jerry disputes, “he may just tell you where to stick that pumpkin.” The ring announcer hands Vivacious the microphone and he returns to the center of the ring. As the music fades, the crowd gets louder and Vivacious stands in the ring soaking it in with a cheshire grin. “Okay,” Vivacious attempts, “okay, I know, I know. It’s okay though. Do not adjust your television sets, wipe your glasses if you must, but Johnny Vivacious is standing in the Pure Class Wrestling ring once again.” “Has he come here tonight as Captain Obvious?” Anderson snorts. “I didn’t come in costume,” Vivacious continues, “but I did bring a gift, something I carved all by myself, and I would like to give it to you. The PCW Faithful.” Vivacious holds the pumpkin in front of his chest with two hands and slowly starts to turn it revealing to the camera and all in the building the carved calligraphy letters spelling out, “SO LONG ASSHOLE!” “This,” Vivacious announces, “this is for every one of you.” “OH!” Anderson exclaims, “DAMN!” “You’re welcome,” Vivacious nods, then turns to the broadcast table, “Ace, you know where this goes, right?” “Told you,” Jerry laughs. Vivacious takes the carved pumpkin to the corner and sits it on the top turnbuckle. The crowd is hysterical and Vivacious encourages them, “Na na na na, na na na na, hey hey hey…” The entire crowd, in unison, “...GOODBYE!” For a few minutes, Vivacious has his fun before picking the microphone back up to continue, “You know, Deadly Intentions didn’t necessarily go down the way it was supposed to.” Vivacious paces the ring as he speaks, “There is a guy back there that entered the Deadly Rumble, but not quite the way he intended to so,” Vivacious leans against the top rope, looking up the ramp, “I am going to bring him out here and we are going to get to the bottom of it.” “What?” Anderson feigns shock, “Who?” “However,” Vivacious crosses the ring once again to the broadcast table, “before I bring out the very first guest,” he is interrupted as the lighting in the arena goes pitch black. "NO-TOR-I-OUS!" "SO NO-TOR-I-OUS!" A distant low-rolling thunder shakes the fans back out of their seats. In the very top of the arena, even above the rafters, strikes of lightning softly light up the arena below until CRACK! A bolt of lightning strikes down onto the outstretched “V” at the top of the stage. "SO NO-TOR-I-OUS!" "Notorious" by Adelitas Way begins to play again, and it appears as if the dreaded technical difficulty has once again reared it’s ugly face during a live PCW event. The crowd isn’t sure what to think, but Vivacious seems unphased inside of the ring, albeit a little agitated, and everyone in attendance looks towards the entrance at the same time as Vivacious turns that direction. “What kind of stunt is this?” Jerry ponders But nobody has to wait very long as Justin Michaels, STORMM, appears through the curtain and crashes onto the stage, and the crowd goes insane! “I don’t...” Ace hesitates. “I’m not sure if I feel the same way as everyone else right now.” Stormm plays to the cheers of the fans from atop the ramp, and marches back and forth while interacting with those in attendance. He nods his head and points towards the fans recognizing all the support they provide before turning his attention back to the ring, and starts to make his way towards the squared circle. “You are certainly the only one, Ace!” Jerry stands up and begins to applaud with everyone else in attendance. “Seeing Stormm back in a PCW ring was something I never thought I’d witness, and seeing him enter the Deadly Rumble was a major boost for the company.” The Force of Nature interacts with fans on his way down the ramp as the first verse of "Notorious" accompanies him, but he never gets close enough to high five those begging for them, or to let anyone in the crowd touch him. The smile on his face is ripe with condescension, but the faithful are too amped up to notice. As he makes it to ringside, Stormm patrols around to the opposite side of the ring and gives a salute towards Ace and Jerry before hopping up onto the apron, and motions to the crowd once more. “What about Vivacious?” Anderson asks. “Him too!” Jerry responds. “But what about them in there together?” He questions once more, and Jerry isn’t sure how to respond. Justin climbs through the ropes and immediately scales the nearest turnbuckle to raise his hands into the air for all to see. The flash bulbs surge throughout the dark arena, and the chorus of the song helps set the mood as the lights finally brighten back to the venue's usual lighting. Justin repeats his actions and poses on the turnbuckle in the opposite corner before hopping down from the corner as the music fades out, but the overwhelming applause does not as he approaches Johnny Vivacious. “Let’s just watch, and see.” With the lights back on and the two biggest Pure Class Wrestling aches and pains (one, a volatile loose-cannon; the other, a legal nightmare) face to face in the center of the ring, the crowd may all have heart attacks before the show even starts. Stormm and Vivacious shake hands and a couple hundred people may need medical attention. “Well,” Vivacious begins, covering his right eye and forehead with his right palm, shaking his head, “I guess they still don’t know what the fuck they are doing in the truck.” Stormm shakes his head with a half-disappointed smirk. “I wasn’t quite ready for this,” Vivacious admits, “do you mind if I finish what I was actually saying?” Stormm nods and takes position in a corner to allow his brother-in-law to continue. “As I was saying,” Vivacious glares up the ramp, “before Pure Class Wrestling production ruined yet another entrance…” “...and monologue…” Stormm adds. “Yes,” Vivacious nods, “before all of that, I was about to make history here tonight people.” “As if his presence wasn’t enough,” Jerry commends. “I am going to be the first man in PCW history to ever,” Vivacious pulls his shades slightly down his nose, “and I mean ever. No one has ever done this. Not the Elf, not the Trash Man, neither of the Assholes…” Vivacious glares down at Anderson, “Hell, not even you, Bro.” Stormm points to himself, clearly exaggerating as he holds an open hand to his chest as if to say, “Moi?!” “That’s right,” Vivacious fights laughter and drives on, “no one has ever done this before. Ever.” “Get on with it.” Anderson demands. “You see, last week, at Deadly Intentions,” Vivacious explains, “Seromine won the PCW World Championship. Now, I know, he is probably too busy at Collision Course to pay attention to me. That’s fine. BUT…” Vivacious holds up his hand to calm the anticipating crowd, “there is someone back there with absolutely nothing going on at Collision Course because, unlike Seromine, he DID NOT win the PCW World Championship… again.” “Is he talking about…” Jerry contemplates. “Tell me he isn’t going to challenge…” Anderson leans forward, “I mean, he wouldn’t.” Stormm has already wrapped his arm around Vivacious, blocking the microphone from their huddle in the center of the ring. Stormm, clearly attempting to speak some sense, but Vivacious isn’t having any of it. He gently pushes his Notorious ally to the side and raises the microphone. “He is about to sign his…” Jerry’s eyes widen. “Hey,” Vivacious shouts into the microphone, up the ramp and into the locker room, “Rusty-Beard, I know you are back there and I know you have nothing to do in a few weeks so, I propose this…” Like the crowd, the commentators are speechless. “...you come on down here and I will kick your ass!” Stormm, as caught off-guard as everyone else in attendance, stands across the ring in absolute shock. The crowd of witches, zombies, superheros and princesses explode, not literally, but the top of the arena could have been launched into space if that sort of thing were possible based on noise. They were LOUD! “Johnny Vivacious, born whenever that was,” Anderson announces, “murdered at a wrestling pay-per-view event in December two-thousand seventeen for running his fat lips.” “Will Grimm accept,” Jerry asks, “and set himself on a Collision Course with one of the wildest challenges he has faced here in PCW?” “Doesn’t matter,” Anderson pronounces, “Johnny Vivacious is dead.” “Somehow,” Jerry puzzles, “someone is going to have to calm this crowd down.” Grabbing the microphone from his brother-in-law’s hand, Stormm holds up his free left hand to try and pacify the audience. “Now,” he begins to speak in another effort to quiet the crowd. “Now I know it might seem crazy,” he shoots a quick look at Vivacious like he knows it to be, “but I think the point he’s trying to prove is that it doesn’t matter who he steps into the ring with, or when, or where, he’s ready to go!” “It just so happens that the man he’s chosen to target is one of the longest tenured and most feared individuals to ever be on the Pure Class Wrestling roster,” Jerry affirms. “Ready to go?” Vivacious repeats in question, grabbing Stormm’s wrist and pulling the microphone to his face, “I am ready to drag that ragamuffin around this arena with a fist full of that wire mess on his chin.” Jerking his wrist free and beginning to pace, Stormm quickly glances to the mat, then to Vivacious once more before looking back out into the crowd. “With that in mind, I think the next question everyone has is, why am I standing in the PCW ring…” Vivacious taps on Stormm’s shoulder with one finger and gestures for the microphone. Stormm casts an admonishing look and denies the request. Vivacious reaches into the left side of his jacket and produces a second microphone. Reluctantly, visibly prepared for absolutely anything, Stormm allows Vivacious to speak, “...I am betting these good folks want to know why you, sorry, why I haven't put you on your ass yet.” “You were right to start with,” Stormm advises, “and besides, these great people aren’t dumb, they know better.” “So then,” Vivacious puffs, literally, leaning into the far corner, “tell’em why are you are out here.” “The thing is, I’m not really out here as a guest and I didn’t come out to the wrong theme music,” Stormm rolls his eyes before driving home, “tonight.” “See, Jerry, I told you; and I don’t like it one bit,” Ace declares! “I’m proud to announce that I am now the co-host of Club Vivacious!” The noise level of the audience begins to rise. “The Man in Black and The Force of Nature have come back to Pure Class Wrestling, not as enemies like I’m sure you were all expecting, but as allies.” Stormm and Vivacious fist bump a POP from the crowd. “This place has seen better days, and the only way to get back to that level was for us to come back and shake things up together!” The crowd is back on their feet as Stormm whacks his brother by marriage on the back, and Vivacious responds with a simple nod of his head. “I see this as a good thing, Ace,” Jerry completely smarks out. “I see this going poorly!” Anderson retorts. “We came back to give everyone of you a reason to show up, and to give everyone at a home a reason to actually turn their TVs on!” Another cheap pop for acknowledging the crowd. “NO!” Vivacious interrupts, “get your ass up off of your couch and park it,” pointing to the front row, “right there.” “Even better, come watch live as we destroy the complacency that’s littering the locker room,” Stormm promises. “It has for months,” Vivacious nods. Stormm continues to promise, “we came back to polish up the grime that’s collecting all over the gold that’s made Pure Class Wrestling shine in the past!” “Did he just call out the PCW champions all at once there?” Jerry wonders. “I hope not Jerry,” Vivacious yells down, “if he did, he’s on his own.” “Now I don’t know what the suits have in mind given the cluster…” “...FUCK…” Vivacious and the crowd finger the sky. Stormm shakes his head and presses on, “Yes, that, that was the ending of the Rumble at Deadly Intentions, and I don’t really give a damn!” Vivacious’ brow raises and he nods in agreement. “I’ve spent the last five years clawing my way around every piece of gold,” Stormm pauses, his face as if he tasted something sour, “or every piece of trash painted gold, that Pure Class Wrestling has to offer. All because of some bogus clause in my contract imposed by” Stormm reminds, if not everyone backstage, most everyone in a seat of the hot mess, “Skylar Marshall.” “One of Skylar Marshall’s last executive orders was to put a stipulation in Stormm’s contract barring him from competing for the World title until he won and defended the other championships,” Ace fills in the blanks for everyone else. “Something he nearly did, if you don’t count the Genesis title being replaced with the Underground, or that the International title has been combined with the North American title now. Technically speaking, with that in mind, he’s fulfilled the clause,” Jerry confirmed. “Johnny has his sights on Grimm, but I only have eyes for two things now that I’m back.” Holding up his index finger on his left hand, Stormm continues, “number one, for the two of us to stir this pot up as much as humanly possible,” his left middle finger joins the index, “and number two, winning the World title again for the first time since Twenty-Eleven!” Stormm isn’t done, but the crowd has lost it again, and Jerry chimes in, “it sounds like everyone is on board with Stormm going after Seromine’s title, Ace.” “A task he shouldn’t take as lightly as he seems to be,” Anderson responds. “Now I know, based on the stipulations of the Deadly Rumble, I’m supposed to wrestle Kyle Shane to determine the number one contender for the Underground. But how many of you remember that piece of trash painted gold that I mentioned just a bit ago?” Justin shaked his head. “I didn’t come back to fight for that garbage, or re-injure myself doing it, so anytime the Underground is even mentioned anywhere close to my name, you can bet your asses that I’m nowhere to be found!” “The Force of Nature has seen his share of injuries over the years, I don’t blame him for not wanting to compete in PCW’s most brutal division if he doesn’t have to.” Jerry takes Stormm’s side on the matter. “Scaredy cat.” Ace, of course, takes the opposite stance. “I don’t care what the books say, as far as I’m concerned, as the last non-champion in the Rumble, I should be facing Seromine at Collision Course. But, honestly, throw Majors,” He coughs and corrects himself, “I mean Gabriel, in there and make it a triple threat.” The crowd cheers. “Hell, put Kyle Shane in there too, make it a fatal four-way.” The decibel level rises even more. “Or, better yet, put the new Underground champion in there too, and the five us us will determine all three titles in one big, epic match!” The faithful lose their mind. “Awfully confident for a man that has only won one match in PCW in the last couple of years.” Anderson mocks Stormm. “Did you get drinks on the way down?” Vivacious asks, Stormm shakes his head, no. “Shall we?” Vivacious ducks through the ropes behind Stormm and they both drop down off of the ring apron. They reach the set and order a drink as the fade cuts to commercial.  We go live to a special report, as a glossy, eye-catching graphic comes on and patriotic music blares. It's the type of interstitial that has risen in use in the 24/7 multimedia news world. The camera comes in to our lead anchor as the lights go on, and it has the entire package of that pro-right in your face jingoism about it, complete with a smiling, upper class WASPish white guy you really want to punch in the back of the head sitting behind the desk. The bumper running from left to right at the bottom of the screen reads: WAR ON CHRISTIANITY? "In this next segment, we are going to be taking a look at a disturbing rise in crimes against members of the faithful militant. Followers of a sect of Christianity known for it's leader, Seromine, have come under heavy criticism for both their actions and their influence as of late." Cut over to thin, WASP-y white woman with blonde hair in the next seat, the kind every news network has about five of, with the kind of grating smile and voice that makes you wish her first idea of employment hadn't been journalism. "Well Chet, I think it's ridiculous that members of Seromine's flock are under such fire simply for the message they preach. People are even saying that they hold too much influence in the company that Seromine is the World Champion of, Pure Class Wrestling, and that they exert too much of their message on the eyes and ears of the non-faithful." Cut back to the other guy. "Well I have to ask, what's wrong with that? Isn't it about time that someone spread a message of empowerment and strength through faith? Hasn't our society gone too far into lawlessness and decline since liberals started taking God out of our culture? For crying out loud, Mary, you can't even get a cup that says Merry Christmas anymore - " "I know, I know, Chet..." He clears his throat, straightens his tie , and looks back into the camera. "With us tonight is Pure Class Wrestling superstar and avowed secular humanist Kyle Shane. Kyle, you came to our segment tonight to air your grievances and shed some light about the war on Christianity." Cut to Kyle Shane, on a split screen, in a separate location from the parody news team. He appears to be standing in a graveyard. It may be just a bit, but the graves we see all have "Rick Majors, Whenever The Fuck-2017" inscribed on their edifices. Kyle nods his head in assent at the fake news anchors. "That's right, Chet, you see, there is a war on Christianity going on. It's one I intend to start. You talk about how Seromine and his followers, including the man who stole my North American title, Gabriel, are in a position of power. You talk about how they're on the rise, since they gained influence and at Deadly Intentions they grabbed the reigns. World title winner, North American title winner, Deadly Rumble winners. They control everything on top, and preach down to us from their tower. They talk about rebirth, about spiritual growth, about enlightenment. Their particular brand of bullshit they're filling the company and the fan's heads with has only grown in the past week because it vindicates them, it proves that everything they're saying is right, that you can find strength through following the word of Seromine." Kyle paces around, kicks over a gravestone. "And yet ultimately what you deem a religious right, a strong sense of morality is really hiding a bunch of bullshit lies. Seromine does not preach that you'll find strength and empowerment through the word of the one true God, he's just a cult leader that has ensnared a bunch of weak minded people into propping him up onto a pedestal, to the point where he, not any other figure is the central focal point and Messiah of his religion. It's a sad indictment of this day and age that that isn't even a special thing. We elected a creep just like that and he has an equally sad group of weak jackasses that spout his propaganda and do mental gymnastics to prove in their minds that they're in a position of being the best. Just look at Seromine's little gimp Gabriel." To prove his point, he gestures down at one of the multiple tombstones that all say the same thing. Hmmm, wonder why. "We have heard, over and over again from Gabriel that he's such a different person from when he was before Seromine, the new him is a winner, the old him is dead, to the point that he's actually shown us a fucking corpse, and yet goes back to that metaphor time and again to prove that Seromine has turned him into a winning machine. And yet, Gabriel has shown us exactly what it means to be a follower of Seromine. It is to be comfortable with taking the easy way out to cover up your own mediocrity." He kicks over yet another Rick Majors tombstone, because if we have to hear that one more fucking time... "But Kyle," breaks it the chirpy, annoying harpy of a blonde anchorwoman, "Gabriel did beat you at Deadly Intentions to win your North American title, how do you say that he's weak having done that? He showed up to a rally and had some strong words to the faithful about belief working miracles." "How can he be proud of a victory where he couldn't win on his own skill? That's all the faithful of Seromine get by on. Cheap tactics. He couldn't win without reaching his hand up between my legs like he was one of their priests and I was an altar boy." "Whoa, wow, that's inappropriate, Kyle," breaks in the blustering anchorman, "Come on, censors, gosh." "What Gabriel proved is that Serominism advocates taking the easy way. It advocates cheating. It advocates stealing, and yet if they're following the same book wouldn't it be Thou Shalt Not Steal? Gabriel... stole from me. And I am not taking that lying down. I stand here, without my North American title but with a stronger than ever sense that I was right all along. That I am nothing like Gabriel because, I advocate personal achievement. I stand for raising your own game until you reach your ultimate level, doing your own work. I don't need a cheat to win a game, I stand, and I fight each round. And I am a better man than Gabriel. So I don't even want any synonymity between me and Gabriel. I won't even be using the Pieces of Eden anymore, since that troglodyte is going around with a crappy, bargain basement finisher called Believe. But that isn't his real finisher anyway. His real finisher is calling for help like a little bitch." "Well, Kyle, that's almost all the time we have for this segment, so if you could sum things up - " "Putting it simply, there IS a war against Christianity coming. Because I am coming straight for them, armored up to level 100, with every single thing I have to bear. I am coming for that little snake that took my title and I am putting him, not his alter ego, in the fucking ground. They don't have the power just because they won our top titles and the Rumble. They don't have the power, we have the power. This isn't going to be a rule by the saved. This is going to be a holy war. And breaking bulletin, Gabriel: I am coming to get my belt back." The blonde anchorwoman puts a hand to her earpiece. "Wait a minute, Kyle, I'm getting a new report in - what is this about Gabriel having sex with Seromine's goat?" The anchorman's face goes apopleptic red and he explodes, "THAT IS FAKE NEWS! CUT IT! CUT HIS MIC! RAAAARGH!" He throws his papers and gets up out of his seat, going on a rampage and belligerently yelling at some camera crew as Kyle and the other anchor watch. The camera switches back to ringside. Jerry Andrews: Well, ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to Trauma. It seems like nearly everyone in this company is angry at Seromine and Gabriel right now. Ace Anderson: I don't blame them! Kyle Shane especially has a reason to be upset! Gabriel stole the North American Title from him! Jerry Andrews: Our President, Loki, has promised to make a statement regarding the Deadly Rumble and the status of the contendership matches, but I'm not quite sure when that will be. Ace Anderson: If he's smart, it will be pretty soon before there's a riot backstage. Jerry Andrews: Well, in the meantime, this is the All Hallows' Eve edition of Trauma and, to make this occasion, we figured we'd look back at our history of getting spooky for Halloween? Ace Anderson: "Getting spooky?" Are you serious? Jerry Andrews: ... whatever. Throughout the night will be doing a little "Throwback Thursday" and showcasing some of the most interesting clips from previous All Hallows' Eve episodes of Trauma. Here's our first clip, from back in 2014. Enjoy!
The camera cuts backstage and various people are seen milling around doing various things. Pure Class Wrestling staff are running around keeping the show going and dealing with all the tech, some of the wrestlers are backstage watching the show or helping themselves to whatever is on offer in catering. It’s hustle and bustle with activity everywhere. Among those backstage is Pure Class Wrestling's resident sumo and former Underground Champion Hiroshi Yukio who can be seen pacing up and down looking somewhat on edge. The big man has a lot on his mind and is getting mentally prepared for his upcoming match. As he is pacing he is interrupted by a tall bald heavy set man with a broom handle mustache and emerald green eyes, He is wearing a dark pin stripe Armani suit and Gucci loafers. He sees Hiroshi and swiftly walks over to him. Standing in front of him the mystery man looks at him and asks “Might you be Mr Yukio?” His deep bass booms “I am” Hiroshi replies politely. “My name is Arnold Hughes. Please come with me sir, as my employer wishes to talk with you. They are they ones who have been messaging you about your future endeavours.” Hiroshi nods and follows Mr Hughes down the corridor and off into another side corridor before coming to a single door. Mr Hughes reaches into his pocket and retrieves an electronic key from his pocket and taps it on the door before pulling the handle down and entering the room followed by Hiroshi. Closing the door behind them Mr Hughes crosses the room and flicks a switch turning on the light where only a single wooden oak table and a chair can be seen. In the middle of the table is a laptop that has been set up with Skype. “Please be seated Mr Yukio” Hiroshi nods and sits in the chair that has been provided facing the laptop. Hughes faces the laptop and says “Mr Yukio is here.” “Very good Mr Hughes. You may leave us.” The voice is not recognisable as it is being fed through a digital voice changer ad there is no video feed just audio. Mr Hughes leaves and closes the door. “Mr Yukio it is good to see you. I know you have been getting my messages over these past few weeks and I’ve arranged this meeting to talk to you further.” Hiroshi listens intently as the voice speaks. “I’ve been watching you and I have seen how you’ve been struggling over the last 6 months. Plagued by injuries. Largely ignored by management. A man of your talents and standing should be treated with much more reverence that what you are getting now. “Yes I know. But I love this job so much I’m willing to tolerate it.” Hiroshi replies “Have you ever thought of just how much money you’ve brought in for this company? I’ve done my research and it has told me that you are in the top 3 merchandise sellers not just now but for all time in Pure Class Wrestling. I’m talking hundreds and hundreds of thousands of dollars in revenue. Your t shirts DVDs autographs and other items are always a hot ticket item. Do you see any of that money?” “I do get a percentage of sales yes it’s in my contract” Hiroshi replies “You could have so much more than what you have now and all you have to do is take it. You have potential and I see that. I won’t keep you as I know you have a match. Get out there and show them why you dominated Japan. I’ll be watching...” The screen goes blank and Hiroshi rises from the chair and walks to the door pushing it open and exiting the room. Trauma returns. In the lull between beatdowns and jive talk, we find ourselves backstage. Workers fine tune special effects gadgets and wrestlers give themselves pep talks in empty corners. It’s a buzz of activity, and no mistake. Down a hallway, though, things aren’t quite so lively. A door stands in a line of other doors, but this one has a sign affixed to it which announces that it serves as entrance to the abode of one Johnny Vivacious. Beneath his name is a vertical list: “Mr. Self – Promotion,” “Major Network Liability,” and on it goes with more embellishments. As the sign and door move in and out of focus, a shadowy figure flits into view and…actually, you know what? There’s no secrecy here. It’s Grimm. Grimm, all ginger-beard and sinew with eyes of deep arctic ice, walks up to the door. He bends down to apparently leave a little something-something, then stands and raps on Johnny V.’s chamber door. Then walks away. From behind the door, the lock is undone and Vivacious appears with his cellular pressed against his head, “Hold on, Baby. Someone is knocki…” Johnny looks left, “Hmmm?” He looks right, a curious look furrows his brow, “I thought I heard someone knocking anyway.” This being Pure Class Wrestling, he looks up and scans the girders overhead. Lastly, he looks down to find a pumpkin. “What the fuck?” His eyes widen because this ordinary pumpkin is definitely no Jack O’ Lantern. NO carvings, scrapings or paintings tonight. Carefully he picks the pumpkin up and turns it in his hand. Jabbed into this ordinary pumpkin, all the way to its bone white handle, a run-of-the-mill skinning knife (complete with gut hook!). Pinned to the pumpkin with said knife is a piece of paper, on which has been scrawled in black permanent marker: His cellular drops from his shoulder, sending his wife on the other end plummeting to the floor. The telephone fell about as fast and far as his jaw. The scene fades, leaving a stunned and shocked Johnny Vivacious holding the response to his earlier challenge.
Pure Class Arena is transformed into a church. The faithful are highlighted by soft colors typically seen in stained-glass patterns. Violet further beautifies things from the stage to the ring. An angelic choir of all ages rise from under the stage holding candles. Each man, woman, and child are dressed in red robes with white accents. The moment has arrived. It is time to stand and Praise Seromine! Praise the Lord! The pipe organ beginning of “Be Still for the Presence of the Lord” fills the arena. As the choir begins to sing the hymn, Seromine and his wife Destiny enter from around the ramp in an open carriage horse-drawn buggy. Seromine halts the clydesdales, then assists Destiny out of the ride. They both show their appreciation for the vocalists. Seromine bends his arms, tilts his head back, and praises the heavens above, with an ear to ear grin plastered on his face. The World championship is secured around his waist. Slowly, the pair makes their way down to the ring, stopping to “bless” some of those close to the barrier as a negative reaction churns from the crowd. He lends Destiny a gentlemanly hand up the stairs, holding the ropes for her as she enters, while following quickly behind. The Serpentine Sermonizer takes a mic, stands center ring, and goes into a silent prayer. He then begins. “Psalms Chapter One-hundred fifty, Verses one and two. It says Praise the Lord. Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty heavens. Praise him for his acts of power; praise him for his surpassing greatness. Brothers and Sisters, God put me on a mission at Deadly Intentions. He put me on a mission to strike down not one, but TWO heathens. He put me on a mission to win THIS” the face of the World title is slapped “And cleanse the impurities from it.” Seromine lowers his head, nodding. When he lifts it back up, he’s all smiles. “AND I DID! Yes, my faithful, I did. God is so great and so worthy of OUR praise, that I went into the Deadly Rumble, fresh out of combat, and WON that for him as well! Exactly as I said I was going to do. I know that there are bruised egos in the locker room. I heard the talk earlier. Let them chirp. Let them be bitter. I forgive them for their misdirect. Because God loves them! He loves all of you!” He pauses his measured words. “And so do I.” That further draws the ire of booing fans. It doesn’t bother Seromine in the slightest. Destiny smirks, but likewise is unfazed. “There is no time for people like that, or for the brand of talk they wish to cheapen themselves with. But there is plenty of time for repentance. President Loki will have his chance to do just that. But you, my faithful, now have a World Champion to be proud of! Just like you have a new, TWO time North American Champion, to also be proud of. Brothers and Sisters, I present to you...GABRIEL!" The crowd boos as Gabriel raises his arms into the air. "My Brothers and Sisters," Gabriel shouts. "We are gathered here today to embrace the glory of the Lord! Look upon this ring and recognize his wonder. He is your World Champion and, as winner of the Deadly Rumble, he is also the number one contender for that very title. And I am honoured to be here by his side, once again the North American Champion, and also the number one...." Gabriel is cut off my the appearance, and the words, of President Loki. "Okay, enough" shouts the president as he appears in the entrance way. "You two probably think you're so smart, right? You think you've outsmarted all of us, don't you? You think you run this place now, don't you. Well, you're wrong. I run this place and I am, and will forver be, one step ahead of you. You see, I wasn't afraid to shake things up when I put all of those title shots on the line in the Deadly Rumble. And I'm not afraid to shake things up again." Jerry Andrews: What's going to happen here? The crowd starts to buzz and Loki continues to speak as he walks down to the ring. "You see," says Loki. "There's no way you can be the top contenders for your own titles. You know that just as well as I do. And so, instead of battling for an Underground Title shot, next week Kyle Shane and Justin Michaels will face off one-on-one, with the winner earning a shot..... at the World Title at Collision Course!" The crowd roars. Loki enters the ring and looks right at Gabriel. Jerry Andrews: Alright! That's better! "And, Gabriel, before you get too excited, I've thought of you, don't worry. Out of Stormm and Shane, whoever doesn't earn the World Title shot, they'll be getting at shot at the North American title." The crowd roars again. Ace Anderson: What an announcement! Gabriel just about loses his mind. He takes a step towards Loki but Seromine stops him and calms him down before speaking once more. “This is supposed to be a celebration, sinner. And every celebration needs some guests...” Seromine throws his arms into a sudden crucifix pose. The arena plunges into darkness. It feels longer than it really is, but the point is driven home. What exactly is going on? The lighting of twelve candles answers that. Lined up in pairs of three on each side of the ring apron are THE FOLLOWERS! Seromine’s congregation! Loki looks around with no place to go. Seromine flashes an unnerving smile and then motions them inside. Step by slow step, they move in. United as one big happy cult. A cult he calls Salvation. Hissing of the President’s name can eerily be heard from the even mixture of men and women. They sway ever so slightly from side to side as they take joy in their chorus. Loki is an order away from being plunged into hell. Seromine doesn’t issue one. He instead signals them to move back. “Justin Michaels. Kyle Shane. It doesn’t matter. We see through your deceit, Brandon. And we will strike them down in the name of God at Collision Course. Just like we did in the Deadly Rumble. Just like we have before.” He now gets in Loki’s face. “Praise Seromine. Praise the Lord.” His catchphrase is spoke in a serious tone. Be Still for the Presence of the Lord fills the arena again. Salvation clears the ring. Suddenly the lights go out. Jerry Andrews: It’s okay, ladies and gentlemen, I know there's a lot happening here tonight, but this time we actually know why the lights are out. Ace Anderson: Oh man am I excited for this one! Jerry Andrews: For the first time in Pure Class Wrestling history, we’re going to witness a ‘666 Match!’ Tell them what that means, Ace! Ace Anderson: There are six competitors. Surrounding ringside are six pumpkins, of various sizes. Throughout the arena are six trick or treat bags that could contain anything. The pumpkins, the contents of the trick or treat bags, and anything else you can find can be used as a weapon. There are no count outs, there are no disqualifications, and there are no titles on the line. This is going to be a FIGHT, plain and simple. Jerry Andrews: The lights are out so our production team and ring crew can stash the pumpkins and treat bags, but also so our competitors can make their way down to the ring. We know that Gabriel is already in the ring – somewhere – and the other five competitors are somewhere near the ringside area as well, but we have no idea where. Ace Anderson: At some point, hopefully soon, the lights will come on, the bell will ring, and it will be all out mayhem! Woe to you, Oh Earth and Sea For the Devil sends the beast with wrath Because he knows the time is short Let him who hath understanding reckon the number of the beast For it is a human number Its number is Six hundred and sixty six As the guitar riff starts, the lights suddenly come on. Grimm, Gabriel, Tyrone "Crazy Boy" Smith, Hiroshi Yukio, Tyler Scott, and Razor Blade surround the ring. Iron Maiden’s “The Number Of The Beast” plays for several seconds longer before it fades out and the bell rings. Halloween Horror "666" Match Six Competitors, Six Pumpkins, Six Trick or Treat Bags Non-Title Match Grimm vs Gabriel (North American ©) vs Tyrone "Crazy Boy" Smith vs Hiroshi Yukio vs Tyler Scott vs Razor Blade Referee: The Undead Referee No one is quite sure what to do at first, but suddenly Crazy Boy notices a pumpkin on the ring steps right near him. He grabs it and cracks Razor Blade in the head with it before anyone really knows what’s going on. This sets off the other competitors in the match and the brawl begins. Jerry Andrews: Here we go! Everyone’s facing off against whoever is closest to them! Gabriel and Grimm trade blows, Hiroshi and Tyler Scott do the same. Crazy Boy takes advantage of his pumpkin attack and he mounts the fallen Razor Blade, unloading on him with rights and lefts. Suddenly Grimm grabs Gabriel and throws him violently into the ringside barrier. Gabriel hits spine first with a thud. Grimm then looks over his shoulder and he sees a trick or treat bag tied to the ring post. He removes it and opens it up. Jerry Andrews: Uh oh… our first bag is being opened! Ace Anderson: What’s in it? Jerry Andrews: Oh no! Grimm smiles as he looks into the bag. Ace Anderson: If Grimm’s smiling, it must be bad. Grimm reaches into the bag and pulls out a nightstick! As Gabriel stands up, Grimm drives the baton into his midsection, doubling him over. He then cracks Gabriel in the back with the weapon. Meanwhile, on the other side of the ring, Hiroshi Yukio has overpowered Tyler Scott and he throws him over the barrier and into the crowd. Yukio turns around, but Crazy Boy comes off the turnbuckle with a flying clothesline! Yukio catches him and slams him down to the floor hard. Ace Anderson: I think Yukio just crushed Crazy Boy! Yukio stands up, but Scott is back up and he leaps off of the barrier, hitting Yukio with a double axehandle to the back. The big man staggers, but he doesn’t fall. He takes a few steps forward and he’s hit by a spear from Razor Blade! Again, Yukio is staggered but he doesn’t fall. Jerry Andrews: It’s almost impossible to knock Hiroshi Yukio off of his feet! Look at the size of him! Suddenly both Scott and Blade turn their heads and they notice an absolutely massive pumpkin sitting by the timekeeper’s table. Ace Anderson: Oh my God! Look at that pumpkin! It’s HUGE! Jerry Andrews: It’s gotta weigh two or three hundred pounds! Scott and Razor both walk towards it. Yukio follows him, but he’s cracked in the back by Crazy Boy, staggering him. Crazy Boy quickly dodges around Yukio and gets to the massive pumpkin. Scott, Blade, and Smith collectively hoist the giant pumpkin up! Jerry Andrews: OH MY! Yukio takes a step towards them and they charge, crashing into him with the huge pumpkin! He’s staggered and the pumpkin remains intact… but not for long! The three competitors throw the pumpkin at him, knocking him down, leaving him on the floor covered in pumpkin guts! Jerry Andrews: Hiroshi Yukio just got destroyed by that giant pumpkin! Ace Anderson: That’s one way to take him down! Razor Blade, Tyler Scott, and Crazy Boy celebrate momentarily, but then they quickly turn on one another and it’s a three-way brawl! Meanwhile, Gabriel is literally crawling away from Grimm, who is still brandishing that nightstick. Gabriel starts to crawl up the entranceway, Grimm stalking him. BOOM. The nightstick hits the North American Champion in the spine. And again. And again. Ace Anderson: Grimm is just decimating Gabriel with that nightstick! Suddenly Grimm is clotheslined from behind by Razor Blade! Jerry Andrews: Razor broke free from the battle and he just attacked Grimm from behind! Grimm hits the floor. Razor quickly notices a trick or treat bag tied to the barrier. He pulls it off and opens it up… pulling out a mirror. Jerry Andrews: A mirror? Razor smiles, checks himself out in the mirror for a second, and then waits for Grimm to get back to his feet. Ace Anderson: Oh no! Razor Blade is going to try and hit Grimm with that mirror! Grimm gets to his feet and Razor swings! Grimm notices at the last second and he dives out of the way… and the mirror smashes over the head of Gabriel who also just got up! Jerry Andrews: OH MY GOD! Gabriel just had a mirror broken right over his head! Ace Anderson: Talk about bad luck! Grimm takes Razor down with a tackle. He then pulls him up and drags him back to the ring. Jerry Andrews: One thing we neglected to note earlier is that pinfalls must happen INSIDE the ring, despite the nature of this match! Ace Anderson: I definitely mentioned that. Jerry Andrews: No you didn’t. Ace Anderson: I did. Jerry Andrews: No you didn’t. It’s on tape. Watch it back after the show. Ace Anderson: You’re fake news. Meanwhile at ringside, Crazy Boy slams Tyler Scott’s head into the announcers table. He then notices a jack o lantern sitting on the table and he picks it up! Ace Anderson: No! I carved that! Crazy Boy reaches inside the pumpkin and he takes out the candle! He then drips wax on the back of Tyler Scott’s neck before crushing the candle on him! Jerry Andrews: OH MY GOD! Tyler Scott could have been badly burned there! Meanwhile, Hiroshi Yukio is back up and he walks over to the ringsteps, lifting them up. He then charges at collides with Crazy Boy, dropping the ringsteps right on him! Jerry Andrews: This is awful! Yukio now pushes the steps aside and he pulls Crazy Boy up. Crazy Boy shoves him backwards and then clotheslines him! Yukio stumbles back over the steps, getting tripped and falling down on top of the steel! Crazy Boy hits him with an elbow as he struggles. Ace Anderson: Yukio is down again! Crazy Boy turns around and realizes that, when Yukio moved the steps, he revealed another trick or treat bag! He picks it up, looks inside, and pauses. He then turns the bag over and…. dumps hundreds of thumbtacks onto the floor. Jerry Andrews: Oh no. The crowd screams as Crazy Boy walks back towards Yukio. He pulls him up, but Yukio grabs him and hits him with a belly-to-belly suplex… RIGHT ONTO THE THUMBTACKS! “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” Jerry Andrews: Yukio just dropped all of his weight onto Crazy Boy right onto those thumbtacks! Ace Anderson: To be honest, I don’t even know if Yukio realized the thumbtacks were there when he hit that move! Crazy Boy rolls on the floor in agony, his body now a pin cushion, as Yukio slowly gets to his feet. Meanwhile, Grimm has thrown Razor Blade into the ring and he’s now looking underneath it for another weapon. He finds the fourth trick or treat bag! Jerry Andrews: What on earth could be in there!? Grimm opens it up…. and there’s a pair of handcuffs inside. Ace Anderson: With the tools his found tonight, Grimm could take up a career in policing if this wrestling thing doesn’t work out. Jerry Andrews: Look at his resume. The wrestling thing has certainly worked out. Grimm takes a few steps back up the ramp and grabs the nightstick again. Then, armed with handcuffs and a nightstick, he enters the ring to fight crime…. or something. Razor Blade responds by hitting him with a spear! Razor then stands up… and he’s hit with a big thrust kick to the throat by Hiroshi Yukio! Yukio goes for a cover and the Undead Referee counts: 1… 2… Grimm breaks up the pinfall with a nightstick shot to Yukio’s back. Grimm wastes no time in slapping the handcuffs on one of Yukio’s massive wrists. The sumo tries to fight Grimm off of him, but he’s beaten down with several more nightstick shots. Grimm now handcuffs Yukio to the ropes! Jerry Andrews: Yukio’s handcuffed to the ropes! He’s significantly compromised now! Yukio stands up and struggles to break free, but he’s attacked again by the nightstick. And again. And again. And again. Yukio is beaten senselessly and left hanging on the ring ropes. Meanwhile, Razor Blade leaves the ring and he returns with a ladder! Jerry Andrews: What is Razor doing with a ladder!? Ace Anderson: Wait… look above the ring! There’s a treat bag up there! Razor hits Grimm with the ladder. Meanwhile, outside the ring, Tyler Scott has recovered enough to go after Gabriel, who hasn’t moved much since being blasted with that mirror. Scott grabs Gabriel and hits him with a series of rights and lefts. Gabriel staggers backwards towards the entrance to the backstage area. Jerry Andrews: Scott and Gabriel certainly have a history with one another going back many years. Ace Anderson: No, Scott and Rick Majors do. Rick Majors isn’t in this match. Scott drops Gabriel with a big right hand and then he realizes that, tied to the entranceway, is another treat bag. He pulls it down and opens it up. Jerry Andrews: Oh no… what horrible tool of destruction is inside this one? Scott turns the bag over and pours it out. Hundreds of pieces of candy fall on the floor. Jerry Andrews: Oh thank God. It’s just candy! Ace Anderson: What are you talking about JUST candy!? That causes cavities! Diabetes! Obesity! It’s the most dangerous weapon they’ve revealed yet! Tyler Scott waits for Gabriel to get to his feet and then he bodyslams him down onto the candy! Scott then bends down, picks up a piece of candy, unwraps it, and pops it in his mouth. Suddenly he’s attacked from behind by someone running out from the entranceway! Jerry Andrews: Who the hell is that!? Ace Anderson: Wait…. it’s Cory Steel! Jerry Andrews: Oh my God! Cory Steel grabs Scott and he throws him over the guardrail and into the crowd! He then leaps the barrier himself, picks up a steel chair, and unloads on Tyler Scott! Jerry Andrews: What is Cory Steel doing back and why is he brutalizing Tyler Scott!? After a few hard chair shots, Steel turns and leaves through the crowd, leaving the Pure Class Wrestling Faithful energized but wondering why he’s back. Ace Anderson: I can’t believe it, Jerry! Cory Steel is back! Back in the ring, Razor and Grimm are slugging it out near the downed ladder. Suddenly Grimm scoops Razor up and he slams him down onto the ladder. Grimm then hits him with an elbow drop right on top of the ladder. Razor rolls off in pain. Grimm sets the ladder up now and he starts to climb. He retrieves the final treat bag… just as Razor Blade knocks the ladder over, sending Grimm falling to the mat! Jerry Andrews: Grimm just hit the canvas with a hard thud and now Razor Blade has the last treat bag! Razor opens it up… and it’s a spool of barbed wire. Jerry Andrews: Oh no… no no no no no! Razor smiles, but Grimm out of nowhere is up and he clotheslines him from behind. Grimm reaches down and picks up the newest weapon. Jerry Andrews: Grimm now has the barbed wire! Ace Anderson: That’s possibly the scariest sentence anyone could ever say. Grimm gives Razor a few more shots and then he starts to wrap the barbed wire around the ring ropes, covering all of the ropes on one side of the ring in sharp metal. Jerry Andrews: This is too much now! Razor Blade is back up and he attacks Grimm from behind! Grimm takes a few shots, but then returns a few of his own! Grimm then grabs Razor and he throws him right into the barbed wire-covered ropes! Jerry Andrews: OH MY GOD! Ace Anderson: Razor Blade is stuck in that barbed wire! Someone get some help down here! Grimm looks around the ring. Crazy Boy is barely moving on the outside, EMTs checking him out and pulling thumbtacks from his body. Hiroshi Yukio is barely moving and still handcuffed to the ropes. Tyler Scott is still down in the crowd after the attack by Cory Steel. More EMTs have rushed down to try to remove Razor Blade from the barbed wire. Jerry Andrews: Look at the destruction left from this match. Grimm appears to be the only one left! Ace Anderson: Wait… Gabriel slowly staggers down to the ring. His face is bloody after being struck with a mirror. Pieces of crushed candy hang from his shirt. Grimm motions for him to enter. Jerry Andrews: Grimm wants to end this right now. Gabriel very slowly enters the ring. Suddenly, Kyle Shane comes beelining down to the ring! Ace Anderson: KYLE SHANE IS HERE! Kyle Shane marches straight forward, not running, but walking with an intense purpose. Jerry Andrews: This is bad news for Gabriel! Gabriel turns around and Shane hits him with a devastating spin kick! Ace Anderson: BOOM! He calls that VATS, Jerry, and it is certainly effective! Kyle exits ring, giving Gabriel an "Up yours" gesture as he does. As he leaves the ringside area, he smugly yells "War against Christianity!" Grimm takes advantage and covers Gabriel: 1… 2… 3! “The winner of the match: GRIMM!" Jerry Andrews: My Lord what a match! Ace Anderson: I expected to see chaos, but I didn’t expect that! Winner: Grimm via pinfall
Jerry Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen we're back, and we're finally at the point where I can say WE WILL HAVE A NEW UNDERGROUND KING TONIGHT. Ace Anderson: For weeks, we have witnessed wars. There have been casualities. There have been incredible moments. And now, here we are, tied in our round robin tournament. Jerry Andrews: Dominator, who still hasn't been pinned or submitted in Pure Class Wrestling remember, will face High Tide for the Underground Title. Ace Anderson: I can't wait! I love the Underground and, given what we've seen in this tournament so far, this match is going to be incredible.  “This is the main event of Trauma and it is to determine the NEW Pure Class Wrestling Underground Champion! Introducing first...” With very little lighting and effects that simulate lightning, High Tide (in a pirate outfit) walks down the ramp slightly crouched over, as if he was sitting. “Hailing from Toronto, Ontario, Canada. He weighs One-hundred ninety-five pounds, HIGH TIDE!” He holds a large pirate flag in one hand, and in the other he is imitating steering a ship. He does this until he gets to the ring where he motions dropping and anchor and proceeds to hop on to the turnbuckle and dive headfirst over the ropes, rolling into a standing position. Then he climbs the nearest turnbuckle and pulls out a spyglass, looking around at the audience. He mimics loading a cannon and as he motions firing it, he jumps off the turnbuckle into the ring (to imitate recoil) as fireworks shoot from all four turnbuckles. “And his opponent!” 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. “Being led to the ring by Horacio Mortimer. From Salisbury, England. He stands over SEVEN feet tall and weighs Three-hundred, sixty-five pounds, here is...DOMINATOR!” 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. Pure Class Wrestling Underground Championship No Time Limit, No Referee Stoppage - There Must Be A Winner High Tide vs Dominator Referee: Joseph Buckland DING! DING! DING! As a reminder, David slayed Goliath, so despite being at a significant disadvantage on weight, height, and power, High Tide has a fighting chance to capture the vacant Underground title. The giant stomps his way towards his prey. High Tide is ready to turn on the jets. OHHH! The devious smile that had been plastered on Dominator’s mug is wiped off. High Tide has got things going with a kick straight to the BAWLS! Dominator obviously has been caught by surprise, and is in no position to mount a defense just yet. He is keeled over, allowing High Tide to go to work on the vulnerable knees of Dominator. High Tide unleashes a ruthless attack as he equally targets them, further chopping The Zenith down to size. He works them over, front to back, and then double stomps the grapes to further incapacitate him. Dominator roars in pain. Tide rolls out of the ring and already is gathering some plunder. He throws in the starter pack for these matters; chairs, tables, kendo sticks, assorted lids...AND THE KITCHEN SINK! Jerry Andrews: OH BABY! Dominator is being razzed at ringside by Horacio as it pertains to how much time he has before High Tide attacks again. It won’t matter. High Tide swings like batters in the World Series with the kendo stick. Each shot cracks off the well defined neck, back, and legs of Dominator. He hangs onto the ropes and tries his best to absorb these punishing shots. High Tide snaps the kendo across his knee, breaking it in half. Dominator is spun around, tied up in the ropes like he was Andre the Giant, and left wide open for the onslaught to target his chest, stomach, and again, then knees. High Tide unloads with all he has and punctuates it with a tandem shot to Dominator’s head. He snaps back in the ropes as the pain he’s in becomes evident. Tide discards the broken pieces. He decides he wants to grab a metal trash can lid. High Tide spins it like a ship’s wheel. In the process he turns his body in the direction of Dominator, who has since been freed by Horacio. He again warns him on the window of time, because High Tide is headed his way. Ace Anderson: Look out! The lid is punched back with a massive dent in the center. Tide’s face is introduced to the other side of that dent, immediately dropping him on the spot. Dominator picks himself up. He exercises his limbs. Takes a couple of practice walks to work out the limping and rages from the surprise kick that started matters. His raw power is shown as he one hand lifts High Tide off the mat, propelling him in the air by his neck. He doesn’t let him go; He keeps him hoisted like that while squeezing the air from his lungs like he were a constrictor. High Tide tries to get himself freed. He does manage to swing his body around, folding it just enough to get his legs around Dominator’s neck. The two men slowly begin to waver. Each having the other in a choke. Dominator fights this off as he roars with a MASSIVE powerbomb onto the kitchen sink. High Tide lets out a loud groan. His legs unwrap themselves as he is forced to grab at his back. Dominator stands upright. He still has Tide’s throat in his right handed grip. His left hand is used to check on his own. Jerry Andrews: A fast start for High Tide has given way to the raw power Dominator is known for. Ace Anderson: Dominator just dropped High Tide like he was a dirty dish into the kitchen sink! High Tide is ripped into the air again. This time he meets the end of a one-handed chokeslam THROUGH the God damn sink! Dominator lets go of him, kicks out the pieces, and shoves High Tide out like a sack of garbage. A more than pleased Horacio Mortimer barks out instructions on what to do next. Dominator pushes down the top rope, stepping over, then dropping to the floor in one swift motion. He picks High Tide up by the ears. The Pure Class veteran lands on the ring apron. He gets in a quick flurry of knees to the jaw, further straining his back. It’s effective just enough to prevent Dominator from doing anything. Tide rolls through the ropes, scoring with a baseball slide to drive Dominator away from the ring. He grabs a steel chair, hits the ropes again, and comes flying through like a bullet. The steel chair is shielded in front so that when his suicide dive hits, it cracks Dominator in the face. The big man is halfway over the railing following a loud crash. High Tide grits his teeth and works to move on from the previous punishment. He threatens a nearby Horacio, sending him scurrying away. High Tide sends two shots behind both knees of Dominator. This drops him down onto his side facing the railing and a raucous faithful. Dominator is rolled onto his back. High Tide keeps hold of the chair as he stands on the apron. He moonsaults WITH it in his hands! The impact of such is across the chest of Dominator, further keeping him grounded. Jerry Andrews: Ouch! Tide rages up to his feet. The chair’s night isn’t over. Shot after shot find their way up and down Dominator’s body until the weapon is bent and nearly broken apart. High Tide pulls out a spyglass. He sits Dominator up on his worked over knees. High Tide takes a peek and then BLASTS him right between the eyes. Dominator nearly avoided contact, but was unable in the end. Instead, he is relegated to being down on his hands. Tide backs up. He discards the spyglass for his jolly roger flag. Tide holds it out so that the end is facing Dominator. CHARGE! Dominator drops flat. High Tide passes by and from out of nowhere, Horacio makes his presence felt on behalf of his client with a sudden clothesline. With High Tide down, Horacio races over to Dominator and does his best to get him back on the attack. So much so...he gifts him one of the remaining pumpkins from the opening match! Dominator picks it up, walks towards High Tide and picking the right time to use it, does so. High Tide gets his bell rung with a violent shot. Dominator raises it in the air and breaks it over High Tide’s face, spilling pumpkin seeds and sticky goop everywhere. Jerry Andrews: Both men have introduced some violent shots to this match. I have a bad feeling that it is only going to get worse. Ace Anderson: You think? The Underground is KNOWN for it’s brutality. These two are the last ones standing. They know what is at stake. Jerry Andrews: Yeah. Medical bills. Dominator flings High Tide over the top rope from the floor like a rag doll. Enraged, he climbs back inside with a purpose. Some lucky fan will get to go home with the pirate’s teeth (not literally) as Dominator big boots him. He scans the ring and gets the weapons High Tide brought in. In turn, with a twinkle of sadistic glee in his eyes, Dominator brings in a very large Grandfather clock. High Tide is pulled into a stalling suplex...it gets turned into a JACKHAMMER on the Grandfather clock, splintering the wood and caving in glass. The crowd lets out an OHHH from the disgusting sound it makes. High Tide is hurdled off. Dominator picks up the fractured antique. He picks his spot and WHAM! It gets run through the body of High Tide, leaving the object in two jagged halves. High Tide crumples to the mat. Dominator discards the remains. He contemplates a pin, but decides against it. High Tide is sent flying with authority into the corner, crashing back first against the buckles. Dominator sets himself opposite. Here he comes….SPEAR! But into the ring post! The impact shakes the squared circle. High Tide slipped through the ropes out of desperation. Dominator was coming full speed ahead and was unable to hit the brakes. He falls into a seated position, clutching his right shoulder in pain. It takes some time for High Tide to properly find his bearing as he has been worked over. He seizes the moment to capitalize. A springboard 450 splash! He shakes off the landing, studies Horacio and pays him back for earlier with a springboard plancha! The fans love the sight! High Tide is up, albeit not as fast as he may be used to. He throws the apron back. Out come TWO wooden treasure chests. Both are pushed into the ring. Tide rolls back in. Noticing Dominator is almost onto his feet, he puts him back down with a jumping heel kick! Tide moves over to his treasure chests. The first lid is opened. Inside is… PLAYBOYS?! High Tide has a weakness for the ladies. Even the ones in print. They are scattered inside like gold. The males in the crowd are applauding his taste and some of them may be sleeping elsewhere tonight. High Tide halts his enjoyment. The magazines are thrown back in and the trunk disposed of. Trunk number two has some weapons for him to play with. And it starts with THUMBTACKS. The never quenched thirst for blood from the fans becomes prominent as Tide decorates the center of the ring. He semi-pulls Dominator by the hair over. A front face lock and...NO. Dominator is having none of the DDT. He stands upright with High Tide wrapped in a bearhug. High Tide is having none of that. He hits repeated bell claps to disorient Dominator. He eventually is freed. Tide hits the springboard for a third time. TORNADO DDT INTO THE TACKS!! Both men are on the receiving end of that, as their bodies become instant pin cushions! Neither one of them are enjoying how that feels, but the crowd LOVES the sight. High Tide crawls his way over to the corner. He carefully makes his way to the top, but not before having to fend off the advance of Horacio Mortimer. MAN OVERBOARD! IT MISSES and High Tide frog splashes a whole pile of tacks! The fans are sympathetic to his plight, but boy is he hurting. Dominator doesn’t even bother pulling out the ones that are in him. His temper is beginning to come out. Dominator collects himself as he returns up to his feet. In one fell swoop, High Tide is lifted in a military press slam. Dominator fakes dropping High Tide out of the ring. He has something else in mind. AIR PIRATE! Dominator spins on his heels, runs the length of the ring, and LAUNCHES High Tide into the third, fourth, and fifth row of the crowd like he was a paper airplane. Some of those not-so-lucky fans are taken out of their seats, but upon being checked on, are ok. Some of the hardcore faithful are even proud that they have something to brag about on Youtube. Chants of HOLY SHIT have broke out. Dominator rips the security railing out of his way. Fans scatter like ants. Dominator buries High Tide in whatever empty seats are around. He then stomps away as hard as he can to inflict maximum damage. Jerry Andrews: OH MY GAWD! Ace Anderson: It’s a bird! It’s a plane! NO! It’s High Tide flying into the crowd! Dominator drags a beaten down High Tide from under the steel. He reaches down and picks him up sideways. With a mighty roar, High Tide is sent flying onto the unforgiving and cold concrete via fallaway slam. Dominator charges over. A limp High Tide again is viciously powered off the ground, flung over the right shoulder now like a sack of Idaho potatoes. Dominator begins a march up the stairs, making his way to level ground. He “gently” puts High Tide down on his wobbly legs and then backs into the tunnel. With a wicked smirk, The Zenith comes charging out...FORCE OF TIME! High Tide is LAUNCHED in the air. He hits the last ten steps with a tumble and it only continues with a roll across the concrete. Dominator shows off a stunned capacity crowd his bulging biceps while moving down each step. Again, HOLY SHIT chants break out. The referee is shown checking on the damn near broken pirate, but is powerless to do anything because there can be no stoppage! Dominator yanks Tide by the wrist. He drags him across the floor, past the opening in the rail, and back into the ring. He has everything strategized according to time. A plated wristwatch has been slipped over the knuckles of his right hand. High Tide is picked up from the left. His eyes are glazed. So much so, the body of Dominator has to be used just to keep himself up. Dominator reaches back with his weaponized fist… YO HO BLOW! An extremely exaggerated low blow connects...with a surprise pair of BRASS KNUCKLES. Dominator is brought down to his knees. Horacio barks at him. High Tide buoys back against his heels. He almost is daring Dominator to try swinging at him now. They punch each other the eff out! Plated wristwatch hits High Tide. Brass Knuckles hit Dominator. Both are down. Hurt. Wounded. Seeing tweety birds. All for the honor of winning the Underground Title! There is zilch the referee can do about this! Blood is showing across the heads of both men. Fans are rabid for this prize fight! Horacio jumps in to stir Dominator. It’s still several minutes before there is any action. Tide slides himself slowly out of the ring, landing with a thud to the floor. Horacio nearly had him kept inside. When he goes to look between the ropes, High Tide has disappeared underneath. Dominator is up to a knee. Now a crouch. He finally rises like Frankenstein’s monster, but with a crimson mask. Wiping his head and seeing the red stuff himself sends him into overdrive. Horacio quickly gets out of the way. Dominator looks everywhere for the man that busted him open. He will destroy the ring if he has to. There is a High Tide sighting from behind. BARB WIRE CLOTHESLINE! It only rocks Dominator, but further cuts his body. High Tide hits the ropes and tries a second time! Down to a knee! High Tide dropkicks Dominator in the head. He wraps the barb wire around The Zenith. Then picks his spot. He hits the ropes...LAY WITH THE FI—COUNTERED INTO ANACHRONISM! The barb wire is pushed into the body of Dominator, preventing an immediate cover. His eyes are wide. His face is bloodied. His body will hate him in the morning. He pulls out the barbs. He untangles the wire. He throws it out of the ring and finds his way to making the FIRST (and possibly only) cover of the match. Horacio counts along. 1! 2! 3! HE GETS A SHOULDER UP!! There is a stunned shock fallen over The Chronological Order! Dominator cricks his neck before looking at Horacio. The man is speechless as he was expecting that to be the final cannonball in sinking the ship. THIS IS AWESOME chants now. Dominator stands up. He no longer steps OVER the top rope. No. He RIPS THE ROPES OFF! Dominator steps down to the floor. He searches underneath. A GLASS table is pulled out and pushed into the ring. Dominator finds something to wipe the blood off his face. He dismantles the steel stairs, bringing the top half in with him. He vice grips High Tide’s head, yanking him into the air. LAY WITH THE FISH! Dominator’s head smashes off the steps! High Tide finds that extra something left in him to drag his carcass across the fallen giant. Here’s a pin! 1! 2! 3! NO! Dominator KICKS OUT!! Horacio lets out a HUGE sigh of relief. From the depths of Davy Jones’ locker, High Tide finds himself needing a new way to put his much larger opponent down once and for all. He has no ropes to cling to. He is slow to get to his feet, and like Dominator before, manages to get the blood off of his face. High Tide motions like he is waving a flag. From high above in the rafters comes...a platform?! What the...High Tide staggers to his feet like a drunken sailor inebriated on rum. He sees the glass gift before him. He gets it into position. He patiently waits for Dominator to stand semi to his level. A trio of headbutts! Dominator is laid halfway across the glass! High Tide glares up into the lights. He looks out at the fans. He blows a kiss to Horacio. HE RIDES THE PLATFORM UP! High Tide goes some twenty-twenty five feet in the air before things come to a stop. The crazy pirate keeps a hold of the connected cables. It isn’t the most sturdy thing to perch on. But High Tide has come to prove this is HIS division and that the title is HIS to win! Get your cameras ready...High Tide jumps off!! 630 SPLASH! THE RING COLLAPSES!!! The posts blow up from their mounted position at the corners, tumbling like columns. The turnbuckles and ropes fall loose. The ring is no longer supported. The referee is out on the floor. PCW officials race down, but again, can NOT do anything! The fans are molten with thunderous trades of THIS IS AWESOME, HOLY SHIT! THIS IS AWESOME, HOLY SHIT! THIS IS AWESOME, HOLY SHIT! Jerry Andrews (speechless): … Ace Anderson (exaggerating): FOR THE LOVE OF RUM, HIGH TIDE MAY HAVE JUST COMMITTED MURDER-SUICIDE! Horacio is in the middle of the fray, frantically trying to get to Dominator. It is at LEAST ten-fifteen minutes before either man is moving. Dominator grips what he can as he slooowly powers his way up. Everyone scatters out of the damn way. Using Horacio as a crutch, Dominator grabs High Tide, who has stagged into another ANACHRONISM! He rolls through. 1! 2! 3! And THAT is the official end. TRIVIUM’s cover of “Losing My Religion” is scarcely heard thanks in part to a still buzzing crowd, but Horacio has himself something to celebrate! “Here is the winner of the Round Robin and NEW Pure Class Wrestling Underground Champion, DOMINATOR!!” The referee is handed the championship. He wades past his colleagues, whom are gathered around High Tide. Horacio rips the gold from the referee’s hand. Before he can award it himself to Dominator, GABRIEL of all people has arrived! He takes the title himself, raises it high over his head and proclaims directly in the face of Horacio Mortimer, “THIS SHOULD STILL BE MINE!” Jerry Andrews: Oh come on now! What is wrong with this man!? Ace Anderson: That's no doubt a jab at President Loki, who had forced a relinquishment upon Gabriel winning the North American championship the first time! Jerry Andrews: Ummm.... Gabriel..... pay attention. Horacio smirks. Then motions for Gabriel to turn around. He forgot somebody… Gabriel is clubbed from behind with enough force to throw him onto the floor. Dominator is finally handed HIS Underground title. The Chronological Order are off to celebrate and get some much needed rest and possibly medical treatment, leaving nothing but ruin in their wake. Winner & New Pure Class Wrestling Underground Champion: Dominator via Pinfall Jerry Andrews: Dominator is our new Underground Champion and what a fearsome champion he is! He still hasn't been beaten inside a Pure Class Wrestling and now he's holding gold! Ace Anderson: What a match! What a night! Happy Halloween everyone! - CLICK - |
