Post by Rick Majors on Feb 2, 2018 21:33:48 GMT -5
Pure Class Wrestling Trauma
Thursday, February 1st, 2018
Thursday, February 1st, 2018
As the crowd is just starting to die down from the introductory pyro and the hoopla of opening match announcements, and get into mental preparation for the show they're about to see, the distinctive intro vocals of "In The Morning and Amazing" by Circa Survive call out from the PA, and out onto the stage bursts a highly energetic, motivated and fired up figure. The crowd comes unglued by the music and appearance of Kyle Shane, who's wearing skinny jeans, a pair of Toms, and a buttoned shirt. And, around his waist, glittering in gold... the Pure Class Wrestling World Championship belt?!
That can't be right.
The physical World title belt was stolen by two old, yes Justin Michaels, OLD, and to Kyle highly annoying clownshoes, in their bid for notoriety. It's part of a game show that Kyle doesn't even want to think about, being jetted off to sit in fanciful locales and have those two smirking jackholes try a game of keepaway.
Kyle's grin is broad and terribly sarcastic as he walks with a spring in his step to the ring, carrying a mic. And the crowd is starting to get behind him with a "God of Game" chant as he walks down to the ramp. He brings the mic to his lips, still smirking.
Kyle Shane: I told you this wasn't going to go how you thought.
With his thumb and forefinger he plucks at the belt strapped around his waist, and once you get close up the glint of gold can be seen to be of a much lesser quality metal, the strap doesn't have that worn leather weight and hatching... but it is a very nice replica. The kind you can get on shopzones for a couple hundred bucks.
Kyle Shane: When Justin Michaels and Johnny Matthews attacked me and stole my title belt they were saying something to me, and they were saying something about each and every one of you. They tried to make themselves into something bigger than Pure Class Wrestling. They tried to make a mockery of our establishments, our authority figures, and every single person who comes through those doors looking to make this company the most cutting edge, progressive and highest quality show on the market. We call ourselves Pure Class, but Matthews and Michaels are anything but. They're lowest common denominator, sleazy, grating, and not at all as controversial as they think... but in their actions every single week they insult this company, and as much as you all cheer along for some certain spots they throw in there every week --
Sheepishly, almost embarassedly, a couple people in unison shout "HELL-BOW!" with Kyle, as he raises the mic up to receive this call and response, nodding along that they've proven his point.
Kyle Shane: -- They're insulting you all too. They don't give a damn about you. If they cared about anything other than stroking their own egos in a Dutch rudder action, they'd give this company and you all the respect you deserve. You didn't come here to watch two past their prime 40 year olds trying to reinvent themselves as some kind of edgy badasses. You didn't come here to watch Notorious jump people from behind week after week, stealing titles, using cheap tactics. And you didn't come here to watch two GROWN ASS MEN, playing "Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego" with a title that's been held by Hall of Famers, legends, and who's honor I fought with everything I have to restore when I took on Seromine!
His sarcastic smirk has fallen away as he gets into this remembrance, his words dripping with the utmost disdain at this circus.
Kyle Shane: Now I'm a lot of things boys and girls. I'm a gamer, I'm not entirely a successful adult and I can be pretty damn childish when it comes to it myself.
And again, he uses his fingers to pluck the title belt around his waist, as the camera comes in close on it, it can be seen that it's not even a Pure Class Wrestling Championship, the cheap metal faceplate reads "World... Wrestling..." -
Annnnnd the camera switches back up to Kyle's face all in one millisecond shot, encapsulating his bitingly immature and blisteringly angry response to all of this.
Kyle Shane: - But I will be DAMNED if I let those two grandpas play their game on my watch. Nobody manipulates me to jump through their hoops. As I said, I'm always player one here.
So saying, he unsnaps the replica title, with it's stiff, cheap strap and lays it across his shoulder. Still shines under the bright lights, though.
Kyle Shane: They tried to take the symbol of my ascendance to the top level of this company from me, and both they and Seromine alike tried to rob me of the moment that I damn well deserved. But with the real belt, or without the real belt, it doesn't matter. It isn't the title that makes a champion; it's the person who put the work in to climb the mountain, who personifies what the title is, that makes the title. So when I won that, it resonated with me, the beating heart of what Pure Class Wrestling personifies.
He looks at the fake belt, lifting it up to admire it a little.
Kyle Shane: So the not so Notorious boys can hold on to it. Shit, after the past year of being held onto by Seromine and Whitey Ford, I'd say the real title NEEDS a vacation and if they want to be actual children playing a game show from the 80's, they can fly it to Bora Bora and have their fun. The real CHAMPION, is right here, standing in the ring of Pure Class Wrestling, and I carry in spirit what this company is about!
He paces around the ring, brimming with youthful, "fuck you" intensity as he holds the belt up. Doesn't matter that it's fake. Doesn't matter that the real thing is in the possession of two men that took it just because they were mad they weren't in contendership. To Kyle the belt is just a trophy, a symbol, a reminder of what he'd won. And that stays with him.
Kyle Shane: But don't get it twisted, I am still as petty and vindictive as the next wronged party and I won't pass up any chance to beat Justin Michaels, to beat Johnny Matthews, from pillar to post every time I'm put against them, LIKE I DID LAST TRAUMA, and beat them both so severely until they finally cough up the belt and contritely apologize and return what rightfully belongs to me. I am getting the real belt back, and it won't even take another lawsuit on Justin Stormm Michaels to do it - although that is an option, maybe if he's throwing a hissy fit in court he'll go away for another two years.
He chuckles darkly.
Kyle Shane: The point I'm coming to is this. I will not let my first PCW World Title reign become an afterthought, a less important subplot while Seromine and those Notorious idiots and whoever else wars for who is morally right. I won't let Seromine walk around here, bragging that last Trauma he proved his point on me and thinks of me as a threat no longer. I won't let Stormm and Vivacious distract you people by waving around a belt NEITHER ONE OF THEM COULD WIN FAIRLY. And I won't go down as a flash in the pan, transitional run. The title stays with me, because baby... we're just getting started here.
He lets the mic slip between his fingers, with that inimitable, Kyle Shanesque, smirk on his face, the kind of uber smug look that makes his enemies want to punch his face into custard, but everyone else takes as his token of confidence. Kyle raises his fake belt up to a grand reaction from the crowd, and they embrace him, returning with an ovation as Kyle poses in the ring.
Then he exits, still holding his belt, and as he comes up the ramp, he points into the camera and, although not audible as on a mic, he can still be heard under the roar of the crowd, "I've still got business tonight" as he walks through the curtain, but what that could mean, well, it's anybody's guess.
Jerry Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, we are back and allow me to officially welcome you to Pure Class Wrestling Trauma! I'm Jerry Andrews and I am joined, as always, by my broadcast colleague Ace Anderson.
Ace Anderson: Glad to be here Jerry and what a way we started things off tonight with our World Champion!
Jerry Andrews: And what a way we're going to continue, with the start of a four person tournament to name a number one contender for the Pure Class Wrestling North American Championship!
Ace Anderson: The winners of our first two matches tonight will face-off against one another on Trauma 226 to name a number one contender for that title for a match at Mass Destruction VIII! This is big!
Sasha Greene: The opening match is scheduled for ONE FALL, and it is the first match in a four man tournament to decide the number one contendership to the North American Championship!
Jerry Andrews: This four man tournament has some major potential. We've seen names like Hiroshi Yukio and Tyler Scott debut a new, hungrier, and more violent attitude in recent weeks, but we also have the potential of the new superstars on the roster, Derek Cosmos and Braddock. Both of them have a lot to prove.
Ace Anderson: You just know that if someone new like Cosmos came out of nowhere to win the whole thing and face off with Justin Michaels, it would blow the roof off the building.
Sasha Greene: Introducing first, he hails from Santa Cruz, California. Standing six feet, two inches tall and weighing in at two hundred and sixty-three pounds..... He is.... BRADDOCK!!
NOW IS THE TIME! FOR ME TO RISE TO MY FEET! WIPE YOUR SPIT FROM MY FACE! WIPE THESE TEARS, FROM MY EYES!!
Hatebreed explodes through the speakers as Braddock steps through the curtain. He pauses at the top of the ramp and thrusts his right fist into the air.
He strolls down to the ring before climbing the ring steps. He wipes his feet before entering the ring and holds a fist in the air.
Jerry Andrews: We really don't know a lot about Braddock, but he comes with a very rough aesthetic and he's returning to PCW after some time away.
Ace Anderson: We do know that he loves to fight.
Jerry Andrews: He's come to the right place, his opponent has been in a foul mood for weeks.
The crowd looks to the entrance way as "Rising Sun" roars out and they know who is coming out from backstage and they start booing loudly almost drowning out the music.
Hiroshi Yukio steps through the curtain his face lit up with an evil smile followed closely by Alexa Black who loudly proclaims his greatness to the camera.
He walks slowly down the ramp as the booing intensifies as the PCW faithful don't hold back for the mountain man from Japan.
Sasha Greene: And his opponent... from Tokyo, Japan, standing 6”6 and weighing in at 500 lbs accompanied by his manager Alexa Black. He is “The Destroyer” HIROSHI YUKIO!
He waves mockingly to the crowd which pisses them off even more as he walks and when he sees a kid at ringside and holds up his sign and rips it in half then laughs
As he 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.
He goes up the ring steps and steps over the top rope and into the ring After he does he does a purification ritual by throwing salt in the ring to cleanse it before the match.
Jerry Andrews: The Destroyer. Aptly named, ever since his alignment with Alexa Black, the once fan friendly big man has taken a methodical, sadistic, and unique pleasure in putting a hurting on his opponents. This is not the Hiroshi we had come to know.
Ace Anderson: I think Alexa has been telling Hiroshi, his attitude hasn't won Hiroshi any major successes, his willingness to uphold honor has been holding him back. She wants him to unleash his inner beast!
Jerry Andrews: Well she might be continuing to create a monster that few, if any, can stop.
Mini-Tournament to Name #1 Contender for the Pure Class Wrestling North American Championship
Singles Match
Braddock vs Hiroshi Yukio
Referee: Joseph Buckland
Jerry Andrews: Aw come on, Braddock wasn't ready.
Ace Anderson: It's funny, Hiroshi is more famous as a sumo champion, but it looked like he'd picked up some tactics that would get him some time in the penalty box.
Jerry Andrews: There is no penalty box here, and Hiroshi wants to keep himself from getting disqualified and bounced out of number one contendership.
Hiroshi calls Braddock out to the center of the ring. Braddock comes forward, still smarting from the shots to the head, and this time he doesn't wait for the slower moving big man, he clamps on, with Braddock latching on to a side head lock. Hiroshi powers out of it, throwing Braddock off to the mat. Braddock looks up with a sorely perturbed expression as he realizes the mountain he's going to have to climb. But again, Hiroshi is slower on the go because of his bulk, so Braddock gets between those giant reaching hands and gives with some quick strikes. Hiroshi's head snaps to the side a few times, but the receipt for this is that Hiroshi rakes the eyes of Braddock, cutting off his offensive flurry. Hiroshi's punches are sloppier than Braddock's sharp precision strikes. His massive ham fists thud against Braddock's face, the smacking of flesh on flesh loud and sickening. An elbow to the bridge of the nose dazes Braddock long enough to let Hiroshi find his feet again before hoisting the challenger to his feet. Hiroshi headbutts Braddock and whips him off the ring, chasing after his opponent and on the rebound striking with a big boot that drops Braddock like a bag of shit. The hardcore newcomer flops onto the mat but with a whole reservoir of resiliency to feed off of Braddock is back on his feet in seconds, fighting through the throbbing pain in his face and locking up with the former sumo.
Jerry Andrews: You have to figure Braddock's had his bell rung here, but he's still scrappy and tough, coming straight for the 500 pounder.
As massive and strong as Hiroshi is he digs his heels into the mat as Braddock uses his lower base to push Hiroshi from the gut. Stumbling back towards the corner, Hiroshi stamps the ground with both feet for momentum and hoists Braddock into the air by the shoulders, turning and slamming him into the corner Raising his great opened hand high above his head he brings it down hard across the chest of Braddock with an open hand slap, drawing an "OOOOOOOH" from the crowd in sympathy. This happens about four more times, with Hiroshi drawing a hand high above and back and bringing it down, Smack, "Oooooooh", smack, "Ooooooooh" in response.
Jerry Andrews: Those hits resound through the arena, it sounds like a gun shot every time.
The referee makes his first call of the match, stepping up to Hiroshi and calling the sumo off of the assault in the corner. He raises his hands in trademark heel style, pleading his innocence before glancing at Braddock and winding up for a haymaker. Spying the incoming shot, Braddock ducks and bolts forward, but as Hiroshi lunges forward he stops and delivers a startlingly accurate roundhouse kick to his opponent, the tree trunk leg of his thudding against Braddock's already stinging chest and knocking the opponent to the mat. Braddock, gasping, holds his chest, gritting his teeth, and pulls himself up on all fours. Hiroshi backs Braddock up against the ropes before shooting him across the ring, Braddock bounces off the ropes into a military press by Hiroshi. Hiroshi holds Braddock up in the air before driving him into the mat with a military press slam! Braddock bounces up off the mat, holding his chest, and back into the ropes where he's sent over the top rope and out to the floor with a clothesline! The crowd pops as Hiroshi ignores the referee and heads out to the floor after Braddock.
Ace Anderson: Hiroshi's taking it to the floor!
Hiroshi picks Braddock up before whipping him into the security railing. The crowd pops as Hiroshi hammers Braddock with a right hand before taking him by the hair where he looks to drive him face first into the steel steps. However, just before he hits, Braddock puts on the breaks using his hands before jabbing Hiroshi in the ribs with a elbow to the ribs. Braddock then countering and sending Hiroshi face first into the steps to a pop from the crowd. Braddock tries to lift the big man up, but Hiroshi's 500 pound bulk is like trying to lift actual sand bags. Braddock responds by clubbing Hiroshi across the back and keeping Hiroshi in a prone state. Braddock slides into the ring breaking the referee's count before rolling back out to the floor to a louder pop from the crowd. Running a short lap around the ring to gather momentum, the hardcore brawler comes in as Hiroshi is resting on the apron and Braddock PLOWS into him with a devastating drive by kick. Hiroshi falls onto his back in the aisle.
Jerry Andrews: Braddock has done it, Braddock has gotten Hiroshi off his feet!
Ace Anderson: Yeah, but they're out in the aisle, neither one of them can win it out there!
Braddock reaches down picking Hiroshi up off the floor, but Hiroshi meets him with a throat thrust uppercut. Braddock stumbles away, choking and holding his throat. The big man has a stern look on his face as he punches Braddock in the back of the head again, before scooping him up over his shoulder where he charges towards a ring post. Hiroshi's movement seems as slow, deliberate and ultimately doomed as the Hinderberg, but Braddock is able to wiggle his legs and push off the powerslam position, falling behind Hiroshi's back. Braddock uses all his strength to push Hiroshi on, continuing his momentum, sending Hiroshi left shoulder off the ring post! Hiroshi hits and falls back with an explosive yell, and Braddock falls into the aisle, but lifts a triumphant arm and smiles.
Jerry Andrews: And again, Braddock has caused Hiroshi some major damage.
Ace Anderson: I'm changing my mind about this guy. I hope we see more from him.
Rolling in and out again to break up the ten-count, Braddock, turns back to Hiroshi, stomping away at his body. Braddock lifts Hiroshi up, clamping a front facelock and muscling the big man's carcass up. Hiroshi suddenly breaks free with elbow shots to the gut, and then a savage headbutt the makes Braddock stumble away several steps, and Hiroshi, shaking his wounded arm out, snarls and stalks after him, grabbing Braddock by the back of the hair and walking him around the ring toward the announcers table.
Ace Anderson: Do you ever get that feeling like in Jurassic Park movies when a herd of dinosaurs is coming their way?
Jerry Andrews: My friend, I suggest we adjourn.
Braddock breaks free of the hold and grabs the arm, dashing it against the announce table, the arm that had just collided with steel. Hiroshi holds his wing and yells painfully after this move. Braddock gives him a kick to that big belly. Braddock looks to slam Hiroshi into the announcers table only to have Hiroshi put on the breaks, he drives a elbow to the midsection of Braddock before turning the tables and sending Braddock bouncing head first off the announcers table. Hiroshi takes excess camera cable, against the referee's stern yet apparently useless warnings, before wrapping it around the throat of Braddock!
Ace Anderson: I'm not sure how smart it is for Braddock to play into the strong suit of Hiroshi! Hiroshi is a fighter!
Hiroshi removes the cable from Braddock's throat before tossing him back into the ring under the bottom rope. Hiroshi slides in after Braddock where he pushes him down to the ring in a choking maneuver, also dashing him against the mat. The referee, just happy they're in the ring for crying out loud, now begins counting Hiroshi out for disqualification. One... two... three... four... Hiroshi releases the choke hold before getting to his feet where he's admonished by the referee. Hiroshi pays him little heed as he relentlessly goes back to Braddock, his mind on nothing but dishing out pain. Hiroshi reaches down picking Braddock up off the mat before whipping him across the ring, Braddock bounces off the ropes ducking under a harsh lariat attempt... Hiroshi spins around into a picture perfect dropkick by Braddock. Braddock quickly makes the cover hooking the near leg.
The referee: One...
Two...
Hiroshi escapes to a gasp from the crowd. Braddock reaches a vertical base where he picks Hiroshi up before trying to muscle him over. Braddock is able to pull a dizzied Hiroshi across the ring in an irish whip. Hiroshi bounces off the buckles and into a Savate Kick which sends Hiroshi spilling out to the floor through the ropes! Braddock measures Hiroshi as Hiroshi starts working his way to his feet, Braddock bounces off the opposite ring ropes where he catches Hiroshi with a baseball slide dropkick that sends Hiroshi crashing into the security guardrail. Braddock slides out to the floor where he hammers Hiroshi with a hard right hand before whipping him into the ring steps! The referee starts laying the count to both men on the floor as Braddock makes his way over to Hiroshi. Hiroshi is down, but as Braddock approaches him, Alexa Black begins stalking over towards that side of the ring, drawing the attention of both the referee and Braddock. As Braddock's head is turned towards Alexa, Hiroshi shoots a foot from his prone position up between Braddock's thighs. Braddock lets out a choked gasp that many of the men in the audience can sympathize with. Alexa begins distracting the referee by making vociferous complaints about his officiating, so he doesn't see the aftermath of that ball shot. Then Hiroshi recovers and he rolls Braddock into the ring.
Jerry Andrews: Aw, come on, Hiroshi is using an unfair advantage!
Ace Anderson: Hiroshi using any means necessary to get the win. And, for that matter, it feels like Alexa Black has been doing some teaching.
Jerry Andrews: Yeah, but that isn't in this situation, damn it!
Hiroshi stomps his feet like a sumo in the corner, readying himself for the final assault. Braddock is in severe pain, holding his midsection as he pulls himself to all fours. Hiroshi then grips Braddock, turning him onto his shoulder, before positioning him and dropping down for a fire thunder driver, the Yokohama Driver. It hits with enough force that Braddock's head retreats between his shoulders as he's spiked into the mat. Hiroshi begins to sit up, rolling over for a pin, but Alexa begins slapping the mat, shrieking like a banshee, and she yells "Crush him!"
Jerry Andrews: Hasn't he done enough? Haven't we seen all we can?! What more does Alexa Black want?!
Ace Anderson: Unleashing the beast, Jerry. She wants a destructive, uninhibited, dominant giant. She wants the old Hiroshi to become a new man. And she wants to leave a trail of destruction on the path the the North American title.
Jerry Andrews: Come on, referee, just stop the match!
Upon Alexa's instruction, Hiroshi drags Braddock by an arm and positions him in the corner. Then, Hiroshi looks back, as he scales the turnbuckles, bringing his giant frame into a teetering position as he hops once, twice, and then he comes backwards off the turnbuckles with a Banzai drop, right across the chest and into the heart of Braddock. The hardcore brawler is swallowed beneath the bulk of Hiroshi. Hiroshi holds the ropes to affect a pin, but Braddock is still beneath his hind parts, crushed into powder, possibly. The referee checks on Braddock down there, then judges that this is a pinning predicament, academic as it may seem. He counts.
Jerry Andrews: And now the Mount Fuji Drop!
Ace Anderson: Is Braddock even alive under there?! He has all that weight sitting on his chest!
Jerry Andrews: The referee thinks so, but I don't think there's any way he can move from this as it is.
The referee: ONE...
TWO...
THREE!!
Ding Ding Ding
Sasha Greene: Here is your winner, advancing to the next round... HIROSHI YUKIO!!
"The Rising Sun" begins playing on the PA, and the crowd boos loudly as Hiroshi yells for them to shut their mouths. Alexa cackles wildly and she walks over to help Hiroshi exit the ring by holding the ropes open. The referee is still trying to ascertain whether Braddock will be alright.
Jerry Andrews: Well, Hiroshi moves on to the next round, to face the winner of Derek Cosmos versus Tyler Scott. But what a match Braddock gave him.
Ace Anderson: I'm trying to figure out if Braddock is even going to be with us again after this, he certainly took a bad beating tonight.
Jerry Andrews: I hope he will, he put up a good showing tonight. I hope we see more of him in the future.
Hiroshi and Alexa walk up the ramp, holding their arms up in triumph as the referee works on reviving Braddock.
Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
It isn’t the soothing sounds of Simon and Garfunkel singing their hit song. It’s none other than YOUR Lord and Savior, Seromine. His voice is low and slightly chilling. You don’t actually SEE him…
But he’s there. Watching you. Hearing you. Praying for your soul. For your SALVATION!
Then comes the candles. Three. Six. Nine. Twelve.
The Followers are circled around a wooden table of no real importance. It’s just a prop. Like the human mind. The flicker of the dancing fire puts a red-orange hue on their creepy animal masks. The prairie dressed men and women don’t stay for long. But you have candles to keep you company.
There are no distinguishing features of their location offered. But one could safely assume it’s a plain room somewhere. Walls. Windows. A floor. A door. The candles don’t give away anyone as being in the room. But you THINK you hear footsteps just outside of the room. Or it could just be your mind playing tricks on you.
Yes. That’s what the faithful brothers and sisters will accept.
“Don’t fret, Phinehas, I’m here. Step away from Brenna...”
The unseen cult leading preacher halts his PERFECT vocals. The room door slowly creaks open. Seromine enters. He is flanked by his followers and joined at the left by his wife, Destiny. Seromine places a wooden chair down in front of the wooden table. Just props. He has a seat. The Followers gather their candles.
“Acts 4:12. Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved.” Seromine pauses. He smiles and extends his arms out to heaven. “We’ll see you both soon enough.”
The feed goes from bright white to pitch black. The next presentation is the live feed back inside of the arena.
Sasha Greene: The following is scheduled for ONE FALL and it is a first round match in a four man tournament to crown the number one contendership to the Pure Class Wrestling North American Championship!
And again, the crowd pops big for this.
Jerry Andrews: Onto match two of this tournament, with the winner moving on to face Hiroshi Yukio!
Ace Anderson: Who is advancing and who is going home?!
Sasha Greene: Introducing first, he weighs in at 225 lbs... FROM LONDON ENGLAND... "THE TRANSGRESSOR", TYLER SCOTT!!
Can you feel it coming? Can you feel it coming?
'Switchblade Smiles' by Kasabian gradually rises in volume to announce the arrival of Tyler Scott. The lights dim and flicker as the crowd react with alternative waves of boos and cheers.
Move back this wrecking ball,
Rips through the blackest hole,
Violence is coming. It's coming. It's coming
However, as Tyler Scott appears through the curtain, the boos surpass the cheers. He pauses at the top of the ramp and takes a moment to adjust the strapping around his wrists and direct a few abusive words to the front row crowd. A quick turn of the wrist and crack of the knuckles and Tyler continues his descent down the ramp.
Jerry Andrews: Talk about a man with a new lease on life, Tyler Scott made his return and has caused no small bit of controversy.
Ace Anderson: He may be brash, and outspoken, but damn, I like this kid's attitude.
Jerry Andrews: He has been critical of Pure Class Wrestling management, and he has been increasingly aggressive in the ring, but this new Tyler Scott has shown a marked willingness to do whatever he has to to get to the top.
Ace Anderson: I like it, Andrews. His new focus has given him success, he even overturned and pinned, the freaking 500 pound sumo Hiroshi Yukio. Tyler Scott isn't here to make friends or pander to the audience, he is here to win championships!
Jerry Andrews: Well, he has to go through a string of men in the coming weeks, but if he can keep it up he will go home with the North American Championship.
Sasha Greene: And his opponent... making his Pure Class Wrestling return... from the Outer Reaches of Outer Space... DEREK COSMOS!
"I'LL FADE AWAY AND CLASSIFY MYSELF AS OBSOLETE - "
The responds with a massive ovation as Derek Cosmos walks out onto the ramp. Sparkling, futuristic showers of sparks explodes at the top of the ramp.
Jerry Andrews: Talk about a blast from the past!
Ace Anderson: Or the future, as the case may be!
Mini-Tournament to Name #1 Contender for the Pure Class Wrestling North American Championship
Singles Match
Tyler Scott vs Derek Cosmos
Referee: Ed Lane
Ace Anderson: It looks like it might be a short lived return if you ask me.
The arrogant Scott laughs Cosmos off, dusting his hands with self satisfaction, but as he turns around, Cosmos meets him from the mat, bringing his legs up to clamp on either side of Tyler's head and he performs a swinging hurricanrana of the type Kelly Kelly "perfected", culminating with throwing Tyler Scott on his butt across the ring. Scott looks up with an incensed and perturbed reaction. He shoots to his feet, and he charges at Cosmos, only for Cosmos to duck a clothesline by doing a Matrix back bend to get out of the way. When Tyler turns in a 180, he is met by an enziguri to the side of the head, almost in bullet time.
Jerry Andrews: Did you see those futuristic moves by Cosmos?! Have we ever seen him do something like that?!
Ace Anderson: Well... it's been a while since we've seen him and we don't really know his moveset... so maybe? *cough cough*
Cosmos nips up to his feet, and he paces around, letting out a yell to the crowd to get them fired up. Cosmos turns back to lift Tyler Scott up, but as he goes for the irish whip Cosmos is met by a flurry of right hands which backs Cosmos up against a set of buckles. Tyler, aggressive and not kidding around with the spaceman now, gets in his face and pushes his forearm against the cheek, hauling back with his teeth gritted as he pushes Cosmos into an uncomfortable position. The referee starts to lay the count to the Transgressor before Scott fires Cosmos across the ring and into the opposite buckles. Cosmos bounces off the buckles and staggers out towards the middle of the ring where he’s met by a front waist lock by Tyler Scott. Scott hurls Cosmos over head with a overhead release belly to belly suplex. Tyler is quickly into the cover.
The referee: One...
Two...
Tyler raises Cosmos’s left shoulder up off the mat to some boo’s from the crowd. The referee admonishes Scott as he reaches his feet before picking Derek Cosmos up off the mat. The crowd responds with a pop as Cosmos counters the pickup attempt with a jaw breaker Scott clutches his jaw has he falls backwards into the ropes. Cosmos reaches his feet where he ducks a running clothesline from the Transgressor. Scott spins around and walks into a superkick by Cosmos! Scott falls to the mat! Cosmos breaks out into a short Robot and backwards slide before making his way towards the ropes. He steps out to the ring apron. The crowd roars as Cosmos starts to climb up to the top turnbuckle.
Jerry Andrews: I think the Eagle is about to land!
Ace Anderson: That's such a retro, space age reference, you're in 1967, he's in 2217!
Jerry Andrews: Whatever it is, it's about to hit Tyler Scott like a comet.
Cosmos leaps off the top rope looking for his top rope Leg Drop! There’s a massive gasp from the crowd as Tyler Scott rolls out of the way well ahead of contact being made which sends Cosmos crashing on his ass. Tyler rests against the ropes, taking a few deep lungfuls of air. Cosmos, complaining of lower back pain, starts picking his way up to his feet and then PLOW, he eats a Switchblade Superkick. Tyler makes a throat slashing motion as he stands over Derek Cosmos, lifting the lifeless carcass of the moon man, before hooking the arm in a hammerlock and drilling him into the mat with a jumping hammerlock DDT. Tyler rolls Cosmos over to his back before making the cover.
Ace Anderson: Goodbye, moonmen... goodbye.
Jerry Andrews: Straightjacket DDT, and Cosmos is out like a light.
The referee: ONE...
TWO...
THREE!!
Ding Ding Ding
Sasha Greene: Here is your winner, advancing to the next round... TYLER SCOTT!!
"Switchblade Smiles" by Kasabian hits and Tyler Scott raises a triumphant arm. He has a snarky grin on his face as he demands the referee hold his hand, and he points into the hard camera, his mouth saying, "I told you, I told you" again and again.
Jerry Andrews: A huge, decisive win for Tyler Scott tonight, and he will go on to meet Hiroshi Yukio in what is both a highly anticipated rematch, and an opportunity to determine which of them will face Justin Michaels for the Pure Class Wrestling North American Championship.
Ace Anderson: It was fun to see Derek Cosmos again, but he came to entertain the crowd. Ironically, he did show us the future, and I have to think that future lies in Tyler Scott.
As the referee talks with Derek Cosmos, who is gripping his head in pain and delivering him some bad news, Tyler Scott goes to exit the ring when "Rising Sun" plays. Tyler has a look of disdain and bitterness come across his face as he looks towards the entrance way. Hiroshi Yukio, flanked by Alexa Black, is walking out onto the stage.
Jerry Andrews: Oh my, things are about to get combustible here.
Ace Anderson: Things already were combustible, Tyler picked up a once in a lifetime win over Hiroshi on the last Trauma. You had to know Hiroshi was itching for some payback.
Jerry Andrews: Yeah, but now you add the opportunity to win the North American championship to the mix, and we're sitting on a powder keg.
Derek and Tyler both take a few steps back as Hiroshi pulls himself onto the apron. As he begins to enter through the ropes, Cosmos and Scott both rush forward and attack the big man. Scott lands a double axe handle smash while Cosmos begins stomping and clubbing. Hiroshi stands up straight and swats both of them away like they were a couple of children.
Jerry Andrews: These two just went through a grueling match and Hiroshi Yukio is taking advantage!
From the back, Braddock sprints down to the ring and slides in under the bottom rope just as Hiroshi flattens Cosmos with a headbutt. The big man doesn't see Tyler measuring him up and, as Scott rushes forward, he is blindsided from a bicycle kick from Braddock.
Jerry Andrews: Braddock just took Tyler Scott's head off!
Hiroshi drops an elbow across the chest of Cosmos for good measure. While Alexa enters the ring, grinning like a wolf, Braddock and Hiroshi once again come face-to-face.
Jerry Andrews: What is Braddock doing out here!?
Ace Anderson: It looks like we're going to have a repeat of earlier tonight!
Braddock and Hiroshi look as if they are about to come to blows when..... they shake hands.
Jerry Andrews: What the Hell?
Alexa stands between the two and lifts a hand of each of her charges. The trio stand tall in the ring over the broken bodies of Scott and Cosmos.
Jerry Andrews: What is going on here!?
Ace Anderson: Whatever it is, it looks dangerous!
Sasha Greene: The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is a triple threat tag team match! The rules are as follows. One member from each team will begin. Tags can only be made to their partners, and the first pinfall or submission wins the match.
…DOMINATOR…
Sasha Greene: Introducing First. Being led to the ring by Horacio Mortimer. He hails from Salisbury, England and weighs three-hundred and sixty-five pounds. The PCW Underground Champion, DOMINATOR!
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.
Sasha Greene: And his tag team partner…
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: From Biloxi, Mississippi. Weighing two-hundred and twenty-seven 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 the next team…
The Wasp may be a bit older, but he certainly likes to get right into things. The fans may not like him, but he loves the attention. When they boo him, he soaks in it and they usually start as he comes to the ring, the lights flickering on and off.
Sasha Greene: From Parts Unknown. He weighs One-hundred and seventy-five pounds, THE WASP!
He walks tall and quickly and motions for the fans to get even louder, even though they are booing. He hops over the ropes and goes straight to a corner and climbs the turnbuckle and gives the fans the finger, as the booing has usually reached a deafening level.
Sasha Greene: And his tag team partner…
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. He holds a large pirate flag in one hand, and in the other he is imitating steering a ship.
Sasha Greene: From Toronto, Ontario, Canada. Weighing One-hundred and ninety-five pounds, HIGH TIDE!
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.
Sasha Greene: And the final team…
"NO-TOR-I-OUS!"
"SO NO-TOR-I-OUS!"
The arena lights dim down to a gentle glow and a dense fog begins to cover the entrance way. The fans start to rise to their feet as a sudden bright flash of light floods the crowd before a deafening crash of thunder rattles the foundation and leaves the arena in darkness. "Notorious" by Adelitas Way instigates a small riot amongst those in attendance as flashes of light, like lightning, are all that illuminate the arena for the Force of Nature, and Justin Michaels and Johnny Matthews appear through the curtain and onto the stage.
"SO NO-TOR-I-OUS!"
They play to the cheers of the fans from atop the ramp, and march back and forth while interacting with those in attendance. Club V then
starts to make their way towards the squared circle.
Sasha Greene: Introducing at this time, the team of the Pure Class Wrestling North American Champion, The Force of Nature... JUSTIN "STORMM" MICHAELS and JOHNNY MATTHEWS…
Justin climbs through the ropes and immediately scales the nearest turnbuckle to raise his hands into the air for all to see. Johnny enters on the other side. The flash bulbs surge throughout the dark arena, mimicking the lightning flashes, and the chorus of his theme song helps set the mood as the lights finally brighten back to the venue's usual lighting.
Triple Threat Tag Team Match
Dominator (Pure Class Wrestling Underground 🤴) & Tyrone "Crazy Boy" Smith vs Wasp & High Tide vs Justin "Stormm" Michaels (Pure Class Wrestling North American ©) & Johnny Matthews
Referee: Nigel Gale
Jerry Andrews: Remember the rules to this one folks: There are three competitors in the ring at one time. You can only tag your own partner. First pinfall or submission wins.
Ace Anderson: Sasha already went over that.
DING!
DING!
DING!
You knew that from the moment the bell is rung what was going to happen. Dominator FINALLY has a chance to extract a measure of revenge on Johnny Matthews, and he steamrolls past Justin Michaels to do it. Before the former ‘Vivacious’ one can duck for safety, he’s crushed in the corner with a disgusting avalanche that deflates him like a balloon. The sheer force rattles the ring. Matthews is lifted in the air like a small child and send spiraling into both High Tide and The Wasp, of whom a representative had yet to be determined. It really doesn’t matter. Dominator is intent on dominating and needs no partner to do so. Speaking of Crazy Boy, he does his part by tangling with Stormm outside of the ring. Dominator firmly grasps Johnny by his neck, squeezing in a full rage as he elevates him in the air. This is turned into a powerbomb! Dominator is up and turns his focus onto Tide and Wasp. He stacks them both on his right shoulder, with High Tide being on top. Dominator runs the team corner to corner to corner to corner to corner before finishing with an Oklahoma Slam! He then pushes both out of the ring unceremoniously, as he now stands alone with his assailant. Stormm has just clotheslined Tyrone into the front row, spilling drinks and knocking over popcorn buckets in doing so.
Jerry Andrews: Justin, don’t try to be a hero.
Stormm rushes to the aid of his brother-in-law before any further damage can be done to his internal organs and well being. He’s outmeasured in every department, but it matters not. THE FORCE OF NATURE has come for him! He peppers Dominator with combination kicks and punches to little effect, allowing Matthews to roll himself out of the ring. With Wasp also taking to the high road, we have ourselves a person from each team. Dominator swings and misses wildly as Stormm bobs and weaves his way around the much larger adversary. He hits the ropes and comes back with clothesline after clothesline. It moves Dominator, but doesn’t take him down. High Tide springboards off the plank with a dropkick between the shoulders, pushing Dominator into a leaping variety to the face. He’s down to a knee! High Tide and Stormm take to double teaming him until they have the big man down. Stormm seizes the moment for himself (would you expect anything less?), cutting the alliance short by bodyslamming High Tide on top of the massive torso of Dominator, and following himself with a leaping elbow drop.
Jerry Andrews: Dominator finally got his hands on the one man he has wanted revenge on, cleaned house, and now finds himself in a bit of early trouble.
Ace Anderson: Stormm is showing to the world, as always, that he cannot be trusted. If I were Johnny Matthews, I would walk out and go to the local bar. The hospital doesn’t serve his kind of booze.
Stormm peels High Tide off, thus giving him a chance to shoot him to the waiting arms of Johnny Matthews. Stormm charges in with a THUNDEROUS clothesline, because every move he makes is like lighting. Matthews abuses his position by continuing to attack, while Michaels runs a quick knee to the face of Dominator before he can make it back to his feet. Pleased with himself, Stormm taunts both Wasp and Tyrone Smith, knowing they won’t do a damn thing about it. Michaels plays to the crowd as he walks calmly to his corner. He tags Matthews back in and together they score with a double suplex on Tide onto Dominator. Johnny grabs the wrasslin pirate by the hair and sends him over the top rope. If this were a battle royal that may mean something more. As such, it’s just a crash landing. Johnny now has the Underground champ where he wants him and he mocks Horacio by intimating his watch is broken. Dominator is pulled to his knees. His head is cocked back and his face is introduced to the sweaty, right armpit of Johnny Matthews, a disgusting tactic he calls SERVED DIRTY!
Once released, Dominator is gagging like someone just strangled him. The stench could be compared to Al Bundy’s feet, but that’s another odor for some other time. Johnny turns at the behest of his brother-in-law and Notorious cohort. High Tide has gone airborne as he scores with a hurricanrana! Tide is quick to his feet. He dropkicks Stormm off the apron. He dropkicks long time nemesis, Crazy Boy, off as well. The tag is made to Wasp. They tandem pull Dominator up. He’s having none of the attempted Irish whip. Instead, he sends them into the ropes together and drills both with a leaping shoulderblock. Dominator wipes his face of the indignity that was smeared there. His bull rage is turned directly on Johnny Matthews. He charges and is sent careening into the ring post with a sickening CRACK from his head meeting it. Michaels runs down his side of the ring to nail Crazy Boy with a clothesline, further keeping him out of the match. Matthews makes the tag out, and Stormm leaps in to further take down The Wasp. Belly to belly suplex! Wasp is picked up and slammed into the nearest corner. Tyrone has pulled himself back into his corner and has seen enough. He tags HIMSELF in, much to the disoriented anger of his much larger partner.
Jerry Andrews: The action has been fast and furious. The fans are getting their monies worth. Tyrone Smith did what he had to do to get himself involved and give Dominator a breather.
Ace Anderson: I don’t think Dominator wants one. He sees five targets in this match, one of whom is his own partner...
Michaels turns just in time to be squashed against The Wasp. Tyrone runs him out of the corner with a bulldog. The Wasp is met with a leaping heel kick. Tyrone spins to push Justin against the ropes. A back body drop follows! Wasp is put down with a high knee to the jaw. Tyrone pulls them both to the center of the ring, laying them side by side. Springboard moonsault! Tyrone is fired up and has the crowd firmly behind him. Crazy Boy scores a spinning neckbreaker on Justin Michaels, fighting off a reversal attempt in the process. He gets up to collect the Wasp, but is ran back into the team corner. Wasp drives a pair of shoulders into Tyrone’s midsection before tagging High Tide back in. He stomps away on his long running rival. His focus turns to Stormm now. He’s sent to the corner. High Tide eats boots for his troubles. Matthews wisely blind tags himself in. Tide ducks an incoming clothesline from Stormm. But he is nailed by Matthews. Justin gets in a couple of kicks before being forced out of the ring. Matthews cooly walks to Dominator, flashes the twin finger salute at him and blows a snot rocket at Horacio Mortimer. Matthews yanks High Tide up to his feet. Tyrone hits a missile dropkick...into High Tide, as Matthews had enough awareness to roll out of the way. Tyrone is pounced on like a predator to prey. Johnny drops him with a German suplex. High Tide is put down with a cradle piledriver. Matthews goes for the first pin of the match.
1!
2!
Kickout. He now tries one on Crazy Boy.
1.
2.
Same result. Matthews sits up. He focuses on Crazy Boy. He gives him the gift of an eye gouge just because he felt like it. Tyrone closes the one eye and DECKS Matthews across the chops. Johnny makes like Taylor Swift and shakes it off. A throat punch hits Tyrone. Gasping for air and completely turned around, Matthews waist-locks him from behind. High Tide SLICES in with diving spear to both men, the sudden momentum aids Johnny with a moonsault splash. The pirate crawls to an eager Wasp. Dominator looks ready to tear the ring apart if he doesn’t get back in soon. And Michaels tries to pump the crowd up with ‘NO-TORI-OUS’ chants. It works. But for how long? Wasp is in as High Tide exits under the bottom rope. Dropkicks are on sale tonight, because Matthews eats one. Tyrone eats one. Stormm eats one. Dominator eats a springboard variety. Wasp has brought the applesauce to the dinner party, because CHOPS ARE GETTING SERVED tonight! The knife edges slice their way across Johnny and Tyrone, each met by a WOOOO from the crowd. Wasp tells them what he thinks of their participation and that they don’t make trophies for losers like them.
Those woo’s become boo’s in a heartbeat. Wasp suicide dives his way onto Justin ‘Stormm’ Michaels. Wasp decides against further provoking Dominator as he rolls back inside. Tornado DDT on Crazy Boy. Wasp goes for a standard DDT on Matthews. It’s blocked. Johnny blocks another attempt from the opposite arm. Wasp turns the tables then. He shoves Johnny shoulder first into the gut of Dominator, temporarily taking him off the apron. This is followed up by a school boy.
1!
2!
Kickout! Michaels slides into the swing and gives The Wasp a reverse DDT. He drags Johnny over to their corner, exits, and gets tagged legally into the match. Scissor kick from Crazy Boy hits Stormm! Tyrone falls prone and starts to drag himself to where Dominator should be...but isn’t. Justin has plenty left to recover. He grabs Tyrone by the feet, hurls him mid-air and brings him down for a gut-buster. Wasp is then practically turned inside out with a clothesline as Stormm celebrates with the noisy faithful.
Jerry Andrews: Back and forth these teams trade offense and for everyone not named Crazy Boy, smartly keep the largest competitor out of the ring.
Ace Anderson: That’s a sound strategy, but Dominator rules the Underground and has never been pinned or submitted in his time here in Pure Class Wrestling. Let that fact simmer.
Stormm sets himself in-between Tyrone and Wasp. Double Russian leg sweep! He rolls back and concentrates on the smaller half of the Sea Men. Wasp is sent crashing card into the buckles. Michaels halts his charge so that he can thumb him in the eye. Stormm turns around and is bulldozed by an oncoming Dominator from the apron! Michaels remains folded like an accordion. Wasp is slumped in the ropes. Tyrone hears his name being chanted and through teeth gritting determination, starts the long journey of making the tag to a reluctant partner. Wasp is attempting to do the same in his own corner. Michaels is looking to pick himself back up and stop things from getting away from Notorious. Matthews does what he thinks he needs to. He drops off the apron and has the big man in his sight. Just as he turns the corner, Horacio Mortimer surprises him with a tackle! Crazy Boy TAGS OUT.
Oh. Shit.
Here comes Dominator. A very angry Dominator. A big boot for Wasp sends him flying across the ring. He’s picked off his back by one arm, pushed high to the heaven’s and brought down to the depths of HELL with a one-armed chokeslam! Justin Michaels first takes a rib breaking spear and then a jackhammer for his troubles. As the partner of Johnny Matthews, the focus remains on him. Dominator lifts him for a fallaway slam. Michaels throws elbows to try and disorient. It fails. Goodbye Justin and thanks for playing. His body rotates across the ring from impact. Dominator is up again. Wasp is squeezed in a bear hug, looking more like a small child against the giant. High Tide won’t stand idly by and let that happen. He comes off with a double axe handle to the neck of Dominator. Much like the chairshots of Hulk Hogan and Brutus Beefcake on Zeus during Saturday Night’s Main Event, it has no effect. Dominator’s attention is had though. He further applies pressure. Tide hits the ropes and goes for a chop block. Dominator puts his boot down on his back and then goes full stand WHILE continuing to bearhug the Wasp. Fans are unsure of whether to cheer or boo. Their instinct is to boo, but they are on some sort of delay. So they resort t a tried and true method.
A chant of THIS IS AWESOME.
High Tide is being smushed under the feet of Dominator. The Wasp is being squeezed with a bear hug. Johnny Matthews is favoring his ribs on the apron. Justin Michaels is pulling himself up via the ropes. Tyrone ‘Crazy Boy’ Smith is getting a MUCH deserved breather. The Wasp fights and fights but is completely overmatched here. Michaels is position to do something about it. Dominator senses this as he flings Wasp into him. He gets off of High Tide...only to gorilla press him HIGH in the air (Dominator is over seven feet tall) and then send him flying into the fourth, fifth, and sixth rows, as a call back to their previous Underground Title encounter. Dominator turns around and locks in on Wasp and Justin Michaels. His focus also shifts on Johnny Matthews, who takes exception, and begins to taunt him any way he can. Dom cracks his knuckles and while glaring at a future challenger, points to where Justin is in the ring. He comes charging. Michaels shoves Wasp into harms way. The Wasp goes flying in the air like a car hitting...well, you know. Justin wisely brings down the top rope. Dominator’s momentum is used against him. He goes head over feet on the apron, the floor, and back into the railing. Michaels BLASTS Crazy Boy with a spinning heel kick.
Sensing TIME is of the essence, he quickly maneuvers Wasp into a HANGCLOUD DDT before tagging out to Johnny Matthews. Mr. Network Liability is all too pleased to enter the fray again. He pries Wasp into the air. LONESTAR STUNNER. There’s the pin and as the ref makes the count, Michaels aids him with..
1!
“NO!”
2!
“TORI!”
3!
“OUS!”
And that’s the match, folks. The ref calls for the bell as Michaels and Matthews stand VIC-TORI-OUS in this triple threat demolition derby.
Sasha Greene: Here are the winners of the match, Justin Michaels and Johnny Matthews, NOTORIOUS!
The crowd pleasing favorites exit to interact with front row fans. Matthews yells at Horacio something about the Underground Title will soon be his, while making the defaut ‘belt motion’ around his waist. Adelitas Way usher them triumphantly to the locker room, while the remaining four are left in the dust.
Jerry Andrews: What a victory here for.... wait.... here's Trouble and someone else making their way to the ring.
Ace Anderson: Could it be? YES! It's the one and only Razor Blade!
Trouble and Razor Blade are headed to the ring fast, making their way down the ramp. Stormm and Matthews seem to ready themselves, but the duo passes them by without even a look. They slide into the ring, Trouble catching a slow to react Crazy Boy with a hard boot to the face. Crazy Boy drops like a sack of volleyballs to the mat, as Razor Blade lays into Dominator with a huge shoulder block.
Jerry Andrews: I don't think the big man even moved half an inch! And that was no small shoulder block!
Ace Anderson: He's the King for a reason. Did you not see his match last week?
Dominator seems to smile as he reaches for Razor Blade and grabs a hold of him. Trouble is quick to leap to his aid, knowing just how dangerous the big man can be. She unleashes a flurry of kicks to his side. They don't seem to inflict any real damage, but Dominator appears at least tired enough to lose focus and turn towards Trouble. Quicker than she expects he grabs a hold of her and while still holding Razor Blade, smashes their skulls together. The duo drop and Dominator lets out a sickening laugh.
He reaches down to grab them off the floor, and it's obvious he's going to teach them a lesson. He lifts them both high into the air....
Jerry Andrews: High Tide with the low blow! Oh my god NO.
Ace Anderson: He's a pirate, that's not below him.
This is something Dominator can't quite shake off, and with Wasp joining him in the ring the two tired men work him over with fists and feet, putting the big man to the ground. Crazy Boy is out of the ring by this point, and making his way up the ramp. Trouble barely staggers to her feet, still hurting, but Razor Blade is up and has grabbed a microphone from somewhere. He slides back in the ring and hands it to High Tide, but only after catching up with the retreating Crazy Boy, beaning him over the head with it. The crowd is angry and it's noticeable as they rain boos down on the unprovoked attack. High Tide takes the microphone.
"You never even saw it coming. None of you pathetic fools who cheer and boo on a knife's edge. Pandering to your soft fragile little emotions. This is just the beginning. The four of us as you see us now. We reveal ourselves and our intentions to you, but not tonight. Tonight you will remember only the carnage. You will remember that none of us are going to be easily trifled with anymore. You will learn not to disrespect the face of this group, the one the only Razor Blade! And let it be known that your names matter not to us, nor how many of you there are. We are here. We are watching. We are ready to act. Sleep with one eye open, lest the fish bite your toes," High Tide drops the microphone to the floor and, with the help of Wasp to support Trouble who is still wobbly, the four of them leave the ring.
Jerry Andrews: What the hell is that all about Ace?
Ace Anderson: I'm not too sure, guess we'll find out. If the fish don't bite our toes off before then that is!
Jerry Andrews: Welcome back to Trauma and WHEW! what a night!
Ace Anderson: Sneak attacks and confrontations and chaos all over the place tonight! I love it!
Jerry Andrews: I'm a little concerned for my well-being.
Ace Anderson: You would be.
Jerry Andrews: I'm just saying, on a chaotic night like this one, some innocent bystanders might be hit in the crossfire!
Ace Anderson: And we're not done yet, if you're looking for chaos, this next match is almost guaranteed to bring it!
Jerry Andrews: I just said I'm NOT looking for chaos! Aren't you listening to me!?
Ace Anderson: No.
Sasha Greene: The following triple threat is scheduled for one fall!
The overhead lights dim as the opening notes of 'What The Water Gave Me' come forth from the sound system. Hidden spotlights and overhead rigs illuminate the arena in the deep blues and purples of a sky on the verge of going fully dark, a fine mist seeping its way upward through the grating of the stage and ramp as smoke of a similar weight falls from the ceiling to come as close to replicating the lands which gave rise to myths and the ancestors of the young woman that is about to emerge. Audio editing means that the song goes straight to the chorus, the ephemeral voice of Florence Welch only serving to add to the ambiance being created that is equal parts serene and unsettling.
Sasha Greene: From Boston, Massachusetts. She weighs One-hundred and fifty-nine pounds, BRENNA GORDON!
So lay me down... let the only sound be the overflow.
Pockets full of stones.
So lay me down... let the only sound be... the overflow.
As the song launches itself into the bridge after the chorus, the lights surrounding the curtain suddenly flash into being in time with the beat-- the ghostly shade of blue the same hue one would associate with magic suddenly gracing the world with its presence. It is amidst these flickering bursts of illumination that Brenna Gordon steps through the curtain and into view, her movements languid and slow despite the obvious tension in her frame. Purposeful steps carry her to the top of the ramp as she gazes out at the area with a carefully neutral expression, the dark-haired female coming to a stop to survey arena and audience alike.
'Cause they took your loved ones-- but returned them in exchange for you.
But would you have it any other way?
Would you have it any other way?
You couldn't have it any other way.
The mixed reaction of cheers and boos come crashing upon her, but Brenna doesn't so much as flinch.
'Cause she's a cruel mistress and a bargain must be made.
But oh, my love, don't forget me when I let the water take me...
Advancing down the ramp with that same deliberate grace, the fans on either side of the aisle are ignored-- rather, Brenna's attention is solely focused upon the ring. It isn't until she's near the bottom of the ramp that she is breaking that control, a promise of her blinding speed revealed when she dashes forward to slide into the ring... and a glimpse at her agility revealed in how she leaps and shifts position to ensure she does so feet-first. Skidding to a stop upon her knees, Brenna climbs to her feet and makes her way over to her corner. As the music fades and the overhead lights reclaim their grip upon the arena, she remains impassive, waiting for the bell to ring.
Sasha Greene: And her first opponent…
Lights dim and the PCW-Tron goes black. With the sound of a sharp nib scratching across a ragged sheet of parchment, a sepia-toned cursive scrawls grimm across the screen. The name flickers, wavering in and out of focus with the occasional tracking glitch as if projected from an old forgotten film canister uncovered on the bottom shelf in the cellar. Sparse percussion resonates throughout the arena and is soon joined by a droning, distorted bass line.
Sasha Greene: From Hangtown, Kentucky. He weighs Two-hundred and seventeen pounds, GRIMM!
At that, A Perfect Circle’s ”Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums” stomps out of the speakers and marches through the aisles. The drums, the distortion, the voices – all work to herald the arrival of the Hangtown Horror.
Don’t fret, precious, I’m here. Step away from the window.
He walks out to a single blue-white spotlight, stops to bask in the light and shadows, and scans the crowd. The Lord of Misrule closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before making the long walk down the ramp, deadset on the ring and ignoring the fans along the way. The spotlight follows. The words work their way up through the layers of the song.
Go back to sleep.
Phinehas climbs up onto the apron and slides in between the ropes. Hopping up onto a turnbuckle, he casts his gaze out over the crowd with his arms at his side, eyes shifting to take in the sea of faces spread out before him. Grimm then drops down. And waits.
Sasha Greene: And their---(audio dies).
The arena is plunged into darkness. The audio has also been cut. If a signal jam were in the area, no phones would be on. It’s as claustrophobic as can be. And it stays that way longer than it actually is. Inside the ring, the faithful catch glimpses of Brenna and Phinehas carefully watching every angle they can. An aroma of oranges perfumes the air…
Candles light.
The Followers are ringside. Creepy animal masks. Prairie clothes. Unsettling presence. They remain stoic in the candlelight. But Seromine is nowhere to be seen. Destiny is there, however. And she’s wearing the preacher garb her husband is usually sporting. There is something wicked behind her smile. She makes a motion. The audio is allowed to return. She nods. The Followers start to circle the ring like sharks to blood. Brenna and Phinehas are ready for what may come their way. Although Grimm has a hint of aggravation in his pale blue eyes. Destiny tilts her head to the side and raises the mic up to her lips. Two words.
“Get her.”
In the quickest of flashes, Brenna is yanked out of the ring by the largest of the group, Tobias. A mountain of a man who wears a Fox mask. Brenna is not going to go down quietly or easily. She swings for the fences with all that she has, but the numbers are too much, and the attack is rather aggressive. Even by Salvation’s standards. Followers pick up Brenna like they were an army of ants, elevate her, and let her drop directly on the ring steps with a nasty thud. Phinehas stalks his way over, but is SUDDENLY clipped from behind by an Owl masked, Seromine. The leader of the pack puts the boots to the Hangtown Horror. He drops to a knee and unloads mounted punches as if he were a man possessed.
And maybe he is.
Destiny enjoys the carnage happening around her. She demands the bell to be rung and explains the rules of the match to the referee herself. The house lights return on and this match, reluctantly or not, is now officially underway.
Triple Threat Singles Match
Brenna Gordon vs Seromine vs Grimm
Referee: Manny Cruz
DING!
DING!
DING!
Seromine is shown in clothing that is summed up as the ‘Classic’ Jason Voorhees attire (Part 3). Grimm is yanked up by the beard. Seromine decides to give him a taste of his own medicine. Headbutt after headbutt land with added force behind the hard plastic mask. Grimm is groggy and down to his knees. Seromine doesn’t relent. He jumps in the air, stomps his hands, and gives him a quick knee to the temple. He now turns his attention to Brenna Gordon. His one true enemy in the match. The Followers hold her up. Again, the tough as nails Irish ass kicker tries in vain to fight out of her plight. Seromine comes like a speeding bullet into her with a suicide dive. She topples down. Seromine grabs her by the hair and swings her like a pendulum into the rail. The Followers are ordered back to their side of the ring by Destiny, who continues to watch this like a giddy school girl. Her pale white make-up and complimenting cosmetics give her an eerie silent-era look.
Jerry Andrews: What a bizarre way to start this huge match-up!
Ace Anderson: Three massive stars in one match and we're already getting one HELL of a main event!
Brenna is ran back into the very ring steps she was displaced on previously. Her head smacks with authority, dropping her just as quickly. Seromine cranks his head around to a rising Grimm. He slides into the ring just in time to take a spinebuster for his troubles. Grimm pulls Seromine up and cuts into him with a knee to the midsection. He follows with a snap DDT. Seromine tries to roll out, but is denied. Grimm steps on his throat while giving Destiny and the Followers an absolute terrifying death stare. Seromine frantically tries getting Grimm’s boot off. Phinehas relents...this time. Seromine grasps his throat and is denied again from leaving to the safe haven of his allies. The Followers are split on the opponents in way of attention, but they remain behaved in dividing the ringside area in half. Grimm brings Seromine to his feet, backing him into the ropes for a pair of knife edge BY GAWD chops! Seromine is Irish whipped. He hits the brakes on a return. Brenna Gordon pulls the rug out, driving him face first into the mat. She pulls Seromine out of the ring and begins to work him over.
Seromine is whipped into the rail. The ring post. The ring steps. Anywhere Brenna can unleash her fury on him at. She wisely keeps a watchful eye on the outsiders. It’s when she goes to rip Seromine’s mask off that he turns the tide. Brenna receives a chop to the throat and is shoved into the ring. Seromine moves himself around the ring. Grimm reaches through the ropes and rips him back in by the hair, before anyone from the cult can hide him amongst the numbers. Seromine again is sent to the ropes. Back body drop! Brenna Gordon joins in the fun with a snap suplex. Quick as a hiccup, she traps Seromine using a knee lift into a spinning leg sweep. Grimm approaches and pays with a German Suplex. She unfolds him and sends him into the corner. Brenna follows with a European uppercut. Grimm staggers out of the corner and again, finds himself being tossed by the surprisingly strong, Brenna Gordon. Northern Lights Suplex. Seromine drops an elbow onto her exposed midsection to prevent even the count of one from taking place. He delivers a quick ABSOLUTION STOMP, alternating between the two with nine stomps a piece. The fans mercilessly boo him. The Followers slap the mat in unison.
Jerry Andrews: Those people are absolutely creepy. Seromine reached into his dirty bag of tricks early, and even with a new look, is still the same ol' false prophet we know him to be. There is no love loss with him and Brenna…
Ace Anderson: Grimm has no allegiances to either. He may have a modicum of respect for Brenna, but when the bell rings, that goes out the window. He has no time for antics, semantics, or cheap tactics. He’s feared for a reason, Jer.
Seromine hoists Brenna up to her feet. He spins on a dime, slamming her head into the top turnbuckle. Brenna lowers herself while taking forearms to the back. She jams Seromine with elbows, but is overpowered. Seromine bulls his way into her midsection with shoulder thrusts. He leaves her to slump in the corner with a pained expression and a clutching of her torso. Destiny appears to be contemplating whether or not to physically get involved, have a follower do it, or neither. As her husband levels Grimm with a split-legged jawbreaker, she decides to do nothing...other than skip away. Seromine brings Grimm up, only to put him back down with a spinning roundhouse kick. He charges at Brenna in the corner, catching her with a spear. He rips her away and transitions into a trio of Northern Lights Suplexes. The last of which he keeps a bridge on. The referee drops for the count. 1!
Jerry Andrews: Kickout! It’ll take far more than than, Seromine.
The Serpentine Sermonizer sits up and surveys the landscape. He focuses back on Grimm. Phinehas is sent to the ropes. Discus forearm is blocked! Grimm catches Seromine with a bell clap. Phinehas steps away just before the outstretched hand of the Wolf masked follower can grab his attention. Seromine is put down with a running back elbow. Grimm turns his head to the side and finds an opening away from the mask to focus on. He stomps him on the left ear. Seromine sits upright and is met with double knees from Brenna Gordon. Grimm grabs Brenna by the neck, pulling her into a stiff headbutt. She wobbles, but fires off a straight right hand to the side of Grimm’s face. He hits her with a second one. She responds in kind, showing off the toughness she’s known for. When Grimm tries for a third, Brenna counters with a jawbreaker. While still favoring her abdominals, she captures Grimm in a triangle choke! The fans rise to their feet as he struggles with the submission. Seromine promptly hits a twisting elbow drop...into the canvas. Brenna modifies her position and turns Grimm over into a kneebar. Seromine this time stops everything dead, drawing the ire of the fans, but the support of his wife and the followers. Brenna is pulled away from Grimm. She’s thrown in the corner. Seromine’s masked face catches a quick pair of knees. Brenna has actually trapped him that way and she uses her lower body strength to toss him into the middle turnbuckle. Brenna seats herself on the top turnbuckle. When the time is right, she crossbody blocks Grimm for a pin.
1!
2!
Kickout at two and not a second over. Brenna turns and executes a baseball slide, knocking the followers wearing the Coyote and Tiger masks. The one with the Tiger is a pretty large male, but not the size that the Fox wearer was. Destiny narrows her eyes at Brenna as she walks over to help them to their feet with everyone else. Brenna has a few choice words for Mrs. Willard, and then a few rights and lefts for her husband. Seromine is thrown to the ropes. He barrel rolls under an attempted spinning back fist. He dodges a clothesline from Grimm. Seromine hits the ropes again. He dropkicks Grimm backwards into Brenna, who promptly lands a Tiger suplex. Not to be outdone, Seromine spins Brenna into a capture. But instead of a suplex, he leaps in the air and comes sitting down, the force of which sandwich her leg, jaw, and back in a contorting manner. It’s cringe worthy, really. Seromine falls onto his back, staring at the lights through his Owl mask. Brenna is down. Grimm is down. And the referee begins to count.
Jerry Andrews: This trio of superstars are really punishing one another. The referee should clear the ringside area of Destiny and the masked cultists…
Ace Anderson: And what exactly are they doing, other than lending moral support?
Jerry Andrews (in disbelief): Have you been to Lens Crafters lately? Stevie Wonder could see what the hell they are doing!
Ace Anderson: The card reads Brenna Gordon vs Seromine vs Grimm. I think you need to eat a snickers, or take a nap, Grandpa. You’re getting cranky.
One of the Followers comes close to ringside. He starts pounding on the mat, giving nonverbal encouragement and trying to get Seromine to rise up.
The trio are up by the count of seven. Seromine decks Grimm with a stiff right hand. He throws a haymaker back. Seromine shakes his head and fires one from the left, the impact of which would make Beautiful Bobby proud. Brenna joins the fray, connecting this time with a spinning back fist to the middle of where Seromine’s face would be under his mask. Grimm interjects with a headbutt for her. Then one for Seromine. Back to Brenna. One more for Seromine. Grimm takes them both in order to slam their heads together. Seromine goes spinning out of the ring and to the feet of his circling followers, who quickly form a barrier to protect. Destiny, naturally, races to his side. Gordon is thrown down with a Samoan drop. Grimm covers.
1!
2!
She kicks the eff out at TWO! Seromine is aided back onto the apron. Grimm turns his laser focus on him. SPEAR! He carries it through the ropes, knocking Seromine into his group, and in the process, taking them all down like bowling pins (Strike!). Grimm squeezes Seromine by the head like a tightening vice. He yanks him from his safety and back into the ring. Grimm rolls in after him. Brenna with a side Russian leg sweep on Grimm. She isn’t done with Seromine herself. CRASH THE SHORE! Brenna pulls Seromine to the middle of the ring, hooking the leg.
1!
2!
KICKOUT.
Seromine is pulled up and short-armed into a sleeper hold. Giving up both height and weight, Brenna hops onto his back, wrapping her legs around him, as she cranks his neck back. Seromine frantically looks for the ropes, but is struggling to keep himself upright. Fans are fully behind Brenna to put him down. She keeps a watchful eye on the potential spoiler, Phinehas Grimm. Seromine is down to a knee! Destiny races to encourage Seromine to ‘fight out of it!’. Seromine tries to roll through, but Brenna isn’t letting him go!
Jerry Andrews: She has him! Seromine is fading!
Ace Anderson: And Grimm isn’t letting this happen.
Sure enough, Grimm is there is stomp down on Brenna’s head, preventing the referee from checking on things. She releases immediately, leaving Seromine down and out. Groggy from the hit, Grimm pulls her up. She surprises him with a RIP TIDE! Brenna rolls through and hooks the leg.
1!
2!
3!
NOOOO! The Kangaroo masked follower has put Grimm’s foot ON the rope to prevent what could’ve ended the match. He may have kicked out on his own, and obviously didn’t ask for any help. She didn’t do it to help anyone but Seromine and could care less about the look Brenna is giving. Seething doesn’t quite cover the emotion. Brenna slowly gets to her feet and returns to the downed cult leader. She muscles his limp body off the mat, hoisting him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Seromine is carried to the corner and placed on the top. Brenna climbs up with him, carefully making sure she has her balance. Hurricanrana! She wraps his legs back for the pin attempt.
1!
2!
3—NO! Seromine has enough strength to kick out, but not by much. Brenna hits the mat in frustration. She picks herself up to go collect Grimm, who has nearly got back up to a vertical base. He’s sent into the ropes. Wheelbarrow kick connects. Brenna returns to her feet and as she turns back to Seromine, POISON MIST! He lifted his mask high enough to get her by surprise. He pulls it back down after. The red spray blinds her line of sight. Seromine yanks her into a package piledriver, DIVINE INTERVENTION! Seromine rolls her through for a pin fall.
1!
2!
3!--
Jerry Andrews: WHAT THE HELL?!
Ace Anderson: Why is one of the FOLLOWERS pulling Seromine out of the ring for?!
Jerry Andrews: ...Because it isn’t one! Has Nathan Saniti struck again?
Seromine is thrown wickedly hard into the ring steps. An irate Destiny gets in front of the remaining followers, ready to signal an attack on the betrayer. The assailant tosses off the Grizzly mask. It’s KYLE SHANE!
Jerry Andrews: WHAT!?
He hops into the sea of fans with a mic in hand, absolutely pleased with what he’s done. With mic in hand, he says “You proved your point about me, huh?" Destiny commands the remaining eleven to give chase while she not only checks on her husband, but must now locate the fallen follower. Meanwhile inside of the ring, Brenna is put down with LAMENT CONFIGURATION! Phinehas manages to transition the fallen ‘Born of Myth’ into a finishing HARVEST. Kyle Shane returns to spiking Seromine with a VATS on the outside!
Jerry Andrews: Seromine is down! Brenna is down! Grimm has the pin!
1!
2!
3!
A Perfect Circle’s ”Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums” lets everyone know who won the hard fought match.
Sasha Greene: Here is the winner of the match, Grimm!
He has his arm raised in victory.
Meanwhile, Kyle Shane enters the ring. He rips off the rope and goads on the followers at ringside, however, as he turns around, he is standing face-to-face with Grimm!
Ace Anderson: Oh boy.
Shane and Grimm are locked in a staredown as Pure Class Wrestling officials rush down to the ring.
Jerry Andrews: It looks like our staff have had enough of the chaos tonight and are getting in between Grimm and Shane before any more fireworks can explode!
The crowd boos as several road agents and members of security physically separate Kyle Shane and Grimm.
Meanwhile, outside the ring, Seromine breaks from his helping wife in order to attack Brenna Gordon. He takes her into the crowd to further the assault. Fans get the hell out of the way as he looks to put her down for good by any means he can. Cameras frantically try to keep up with the action, but are unable. The boos have turned to cheers suddenly, as Brenna is shown on the big screen to have the upper hand and a second wind.
Ace Anderson: With security focused on Shane and Grimm, all hell has broken loose between Brenna Gordon and Seromine!
Back to the ring now and some members of security have left to pursue the competitors brawling through the Faithful.... and that gives Shane and Grimm the opportunity to get right back into each other's faces! Kyle Shane talks some trash, and Grimm shoves him! Shane lunges at Grimm and security tries to keep the two men apart. More officials rush into the ring as the situation escalates!
Jerry Andrews: Brenna Gordon and Seromine are somewhere in this building ripping each other apart, and you can feel the fire between Grimm and Kyle Shane!
Ace Anderson: What a turbulent episode of Trauma and.... NO! Don't end the show! Give us a few more minutes!
Jerry Andrews: We're way over time folks! We'll see you next show! Good night!
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