Trauma 239 Results

[Rick Majors]

Pure Class Wrestling Trauma
Thursday September 27th, 2018

Jerry Andrews: Welcome everyone to the Pure Class Arena once again! As always, I'm Jer.....

“NO TOR I OUS!”

Large red letters light up the PCWTron as each syllable echoes into the rafters. Despite recent announcements regarding the status of a certain pair of trouble-makers, the crowd loses its collective mind. One cannot fight years of conditioning and instinct.

“SO NOTORIOUS!”

“Ugh. I thought we were done with these two,” says Anderson, even though the expected neon spectacle is nowhere to be seen.

But at that, the sound of a record scratch resounds throughout the arena and the image of NOTORIOUS…well, it melts. The letters drip off the screen, and the announcing team will have none of it.

“Oh God, what is happening?” says Jerry.

Ace answers, “I don’t know, but I’m about to freak out over here.”

Is it their ego dissolving? Has the collective unconscious of those in attendance shattered, have their minds been blown apart?

Pfft. Nothing of the sort.

A different scratch rises up, and an unseen hand jots the word grimm across the screen. A single light shines on the entrance and shows a recreation of a wooden bar at the top of the ramp. Those in the know recognize it as the one from The Owl & Eel. But even those who are not can still discern the form of one Hangtown Horror sitting with his back to the ring. He finishes a pint glass of something very dark, leaving behind a stratum of foam which marks his progress. Grimm sets down the glass, nods at the faceless barkeep, and stands from the stool. Turning, he begins the walk down the ramp, accompanied by the light and nothing more than the sparse percussion and clicks from the opening of “Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums.”

Jerry says, “Ah ha. I guess that explains it. I was buying it for a second.”

“Well, maybe,” says Ace, “but I doubt Justin Michaels found that very entertaining. He seems to me the type that would take his intellectual property pretty seriously. Grimm’s people may be hearing from an attorney or two. Or eight.”

“I don’t think Grimm has “people,” and I don’t think he’s too concerned about any legal wrangling mumbo jumbo,” says Jerry.

“I suspect you’re right. And anyway, here he comes.”

Despite not being booked in a match Grimm wears his familiar wrestling getup, from his well-worn black boots to the tree silhouette on a brown t-shirt.

That dead tree.

That Hanging Tree.

He steps into the ring, microphone in hand…

Yeah, yeah, left hand clad in a black leather glove, and all that.

…and raises it once he reaches the center of the ring.

“Now, I know there are certain expectations when it comes to Club Notorious. Harassing the announcing team, playing up to you fine folks…”

A cheer. Woo, he acknowledged us! Huzzah!

“…verbally abusing and / or inviting down my current feud for a nice fireside chat.”

A mishmash of Johnny Vivacious and Stormm catchphrases ring out, along with several middle fingers waving in the air. Like they just don’t care. Grimm nods his head in agreement.

“Yes, just like that.”

Then he shakes his head.

“We’re not having any of that tonight.”

Boo. Hiss.

“No, I’m not doing any of that, and in all honesty I’m not going to keep you long.”

“I’ve heard that before,” says Ace.

Grimm says, “I’m dead serious.”

“Oh, well, alrighty then,” Ace says.

Grimm turns ever so slowly in the center of the ring, from one point on the compass to the next. “I’m just here to say that I want you to listen carefully, Stormm. I want you to hear me. And really understand. We’ve all seen how you have somehow managed to work yourself into something of a love triangle with Kyle Shane and Seromine. Despite that, and despite the possible repercussions of such an…arrangement, I’m out here to say I really and truly hope you are bringing your full attention and all your faculties into Deadly Intentions. I would hate for there to be any doubt, any questions, as to the legitimacy of the outcome of our match.”

The Lord of Misrule stops moving and stands facing the entrance.

“I want your undivided attention that night, Justin. No NOTORIOUS, no Black Hand, no Chronological Order, none of these other people you’ve managed to upset recently. Just you and me, Stormm. Vintage Pure Class Wrestling, if you will. Two of the longest standing members of this federation out to give each other a good old-fashioned beating. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Grimm cocks his head, crosses his arms, and, oh dear, focuses that arctic gaze towards the back.

“Looking back over our careers, we have no real statements left to make. No validation left unfulfilled. No demons to exorcise or ghosts to chase, other than the idea of a title not yet held.”

He uncrosses his arms and sighs.

“I think you get my point, and you have my word: despite what you may think you hear, or believe you may have seen, be it a creak on the stairs, a shadow in the hallway, or a knock in the closet, it won’t be me. There will be no boogeyman lurking on the Michaels estate.”

“This time.”

“So stay healthy. And remain focused. It’ll be over soon enough.”

Grimm climbs out of the ring and lays the microphone on a table. He exits to that same bare-boned version of his tune, up the ramp to where the bar, now gone, had been, and through the curtains.

“There you have it, folks. You know Stormm is chomping at the bit now, but Grimm has said his piece and set the table for their clash at Deadly Intentions,” says Jerry.

Ace replies, “And it’s gonna be a doozy! We'll be right back!”

Coming back from the commercial break, we see a video of an oily-skinned muscular man flexing and gyrating his head in a suggestive manner to Jon LaJoie’s “Show Me Your Genitals.” On the entrance ramp, this same chiseled individual is cavorting along the entrance ramp, eying up virtually every single female of legal age in the front few rows, showing off his physique as if hoping for one sex-crazed fan might succumb to testosterone and endorphins and leap over the barricade to jump all over him. It doesn’t happen. The fans seem a little uncertain of this seemingly random performer’s behavior.

Sasha Greene: Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome; from Toronto, Canada, weighing in at 238lbs… MUSCLES MALONE!

Muscles eyes the ring in which Sasha is stood. He runs by shuffling his feet up the steel ring steps before hopping over the top rope to show off his agility. He flexes his biceps to the fans one more time, who do not provide much in terms of admiration. He looks across to Sasha Greene and puffs out his shoulders, strutting like a cockerel with full plumage on display. He motions with his tongue. As usual, Sasha recoils.

Sasha Greene: And his opponent…

The arena goes dark and the hook to Kanye West & Jay-Z’s “Who Gon Stop Me” starts to play and lights start to flash from the stage before a red carpet is rolled out down the ramp and a big spotlight appears on the stage, out walks the Hollywood Hero, Gerard Angelo. Dressed in his wrestling gear and his trademark shades, he extends his arms and does a spin as he soaks up the cheers from the fans.

Sasha Greene: From Hollywood, California, weighing 221lbs, he is “The Hollywood Hero” GERARD ANGELO!

Gerard walks down the red carpet, smirk plastered on his face. As he gets to the bottom, Gerry slides into the ring and leaps onto the second turnbuckle and extends his arms again, soaking up more cheers. He repeats this on every turnbuckle before he lays across the top turnbuckle like a hammock awaiting his opponent.

Singles Match
Gerard Angelo vs Muscles Malone
Referee: Nigel Gale

DING!
DING!
DING!

Muscles pays little attention to his highly skilled opponent as he continues to suggestively gesture towards Sasha. Angelo steps in the way to put a stop to his disgusting display of innuendo. Malone, offended by this, brushes Angelo aside to return to his offer. This time it draws a CENTER OF ATTENTION, one of Angelo’s signature moves. He hits it full contact and just about puts the lights out of Muscles Malone. Angelo brings him into the air with a gutwrench suplex, then transitions over to a full mount for some strikes to the head.

Malone is picked up and rammed head first into the top turnbuckle. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10! On wobbly legs, he finds himself kissing the second corner. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10! Now the third, 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10! On the final corner, Gerard changes tactics. Following a couple of well placed boots to the midsection, he stands himself on the middle ropes, pushes back Malone’s head and goes to town with closed rights. The fans, enjoying the chance to interact with the movie star and one of PCW’s fast risers, count along once again.

1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10!

Gerard steps down, allowing Muscles Malone the chance to stagger from the corner and take a face first spill like he would if a bouncer were throwing him out of a night club. Angelo decides to forgo a cover, instead he continues to teach the vulgar curtain jerker a lesson. Malone catches a European uppercut which knocks him into the ropes like a boxer who’s taken a haymaker. Angelo charges with a clothesline, dumping him clean to the floor. He then picks his spot to deliver a picture perfect, Youtube highlight, suicide plancha! Malone is drug the length of the ring on two sides where Angelo holds him up to issue Sasha an apology for everything he did. But not just her, EVERY woman in the arena tonight.

Jerry Andrews: Gerard Angelo is taking a stand tonight! A true role model.

Ace Anderson: Oh, please, Jerry. He’s an actor. You think he’d be doing this if he wasn’t being paid?

Malone is rolled back into the ring with Gerard following after. Muscles is able to somehow get a knee into Gerard’s midsection to stop him from hitting any more offense. Rushing him backwards into the corner allows Malone to go celebrate like he won a major award. Malone charges and finds himself hoisted up on Gerry’s shoulders, LOOK ALIVE hits dead center in the ring. Angelo rolls himself up to his feet as he gestures towards the cheering fans. The reception for him grows loud as he garners full support. Gerard waits patiently for Muscles to get to his feet…

HOLLYWOOD STUNNER!

Malone sells it to perfection, Gerard rolls him onto his back and hooks the legs for the pin.

1!

2!

3!

The bell is called for as “Who Gon Stop Me” plays.

Sasha Greene: Here is the winner, Gerard Angelo!

After Angelo has his arm dropped he exits the ring to go slap extended hands on his way to the back. His night may have been quick, but a win is a win as Angelo continues to build momentum in PCW.

The crowd in the Pure Class Arena begins to rumble as the show returns.

Jerry Andrews: As always, it’s been a hell of a night here in Greenville, but the night’s just getting started.

Before Ace can bring up a retort, a new song to the Pure Class audience—“Hopes and Dreams” by TobyFox—starts to play on the PA system. The crowd isn’t sure what to make of it, but those that are aware of this music start letting some cheers shine through.

Ace Anderson: And if this is who I think it is…

Jerry Andrews: We saw the interview that aired last Sunday. We knew it was only a matter of time. By the sounds of it, it looks like it’s a done deal.

When the music begins its drop, David Hunter steps out of the curtain. The crowd gives off a modest reaction. Of those who are aware, they like what they’re seeing. Of those who aren’t, they begin to clap in earnest at this new face.

Jerry Andrews: David Hunter is making his first appearance at the Pure Class Arena.

David looks out at the crowd, his mouth straight with his eyes moving around to see all the different faces.

Ace Anderson: I’ve been following this guy for a while. He’s got a big upside. Third generation superstar, son of an icon, grandson of a legend in the Tampa wrestling area. He’s been making big names in the Georgia scene, and now, it looks like he’s going national.

David cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders. What he’s loosened up a bit, he lowers his head and bows.

Jerry Andrews: Such respect shown to this crowd. A rare sight to see nowadays.

Ace Anderson: That’s David Hunter in a nutshell. He may not be the nicest guy. Hey, I know a lot of guys who think he needs some lessons in humility, but the guy loves this business and will show it the amount of respect it and these fans deserve.

When Ace ends his sentence, David straightens up and begins to walk to the ring. He’s got a nice suit on, all black barring the red tie and white button-up shirt. He ignores the fans around ringside looking for a high-five, opting to place himself at ringside.

Jerry Andrews: Ace, you obviously know more about him than I do, but by the looks of things, everything was only recently finalized. I’m being told this wasn’t a scheduled segment, so it sounds like David was given this opportunity at the very last minute.

David turns to the left to approach the steel steps, before veering right. He hops onto the apron before placing himself on the top rope, his left foot up top while his right sits on the middle rope. He points towards the camera, giving it a wink and a brief smirk. Almost as fast as it vanishes, he leaps down to the ring.

Ace Anderson: You see that Jerry? That’s a message to his family. It tells them that if they’re ever watching, he’s doing alright.

David looks out at the crowd once more, relishing in the environment around him. He unbutton his suit jacket and loosens his tie. He approaches the ropes nearest the announce table. His hand exits the ring, allowing Sasha Greene to hand him his mic.

The music fades away and the crowd’s rumblings can be heard being mostly positive. David raises the mic to his lips.

David Hunter: I’ll make this fast because I know there’s still wrestling to go on tonight, but I just wanted to come on out here and see the Pure Class Arena and its fans face-to-face.

This elicits a positive reaction.

David Hunter: Most newcomers would come out here and make a bold statement on their first day. Some kind of…mission statement about how they’re going to tear down this place, defeat everybody in their path, and stake claim to all the gold this company has. Most newcomers say a lot of things. I know I’ve only been wrestling for about seven months now, but I’ve learned enough to know that most newcomers…soon become new-goners.

The crowd gives this a smaller set of cheers.

David Hunter: Now as a newcomer, it’s up to me to prove why I deserve to be here. Not any of you…me. My job isn’t to get you people to cheer as loud as possible. My job isn’t to sell merchandise, kiss babies, or sponsor my name for Lucky Charms. I’m in this business not to become an actor in Hollywood or a musician for Interscope. Money is nice, but I’d do this for free if it was viable. Simply put…I’m here for one thing and one thing alone…wrestling.

Despite the paragraph’s laundry list of claims that last sentence is what gets the crowd to applaud.

David Hunter: If I’m cheered or booed by all of you, that’s your prerogative…but I don’t care who you are. If you’re the big dog in the yard like Kyle Shane or the simplest referee like Ed Lane. If you’re in this ring with me, I just want you to know that I will give you everything I have with one goal in mind: victory. I know, bold claims from a newcomer, right? But hell…I’m 23 years old, I’ve learned by following in footsteps, and quite frankly, my goal isn’t to win favors. My goal is to win matches. My goal is to have my hand raised at the end of the night. I’m not stupid, I know there will be losses, but I’m the son of a dumb-ass with the heart of one too, and I want anybody listening to know that it will take more than cheap talk, more than a Ted Talk, more than whatever history you might have to stop me.

Once again, the crowd applauds his words.

David Hunter: My name is David Hunter. I’ll only mention this once, but I’m the grandson of Luke Hunter, Tampa legend. I am the son of Hawaiian Hardhead, XWF and PWE Icon.

This gets a loud reaction from the crowd. David looks down, shaking his head and releasing a sigh. He soon raises it back up, sending it home.

David Hunter: But above all else, I am David Hunter. Real names, no gimmicks, all non-fiction. Whoever my first opponent is better beware, because…as history will show…it takes more than one…to kill a hunter.

David hands the mic back to Sasha. David heads out of the ring, making his way towards the back as the crowd continues their positive reaction.

Ace Anderson: Keep an eye on this guy Jerry. He might talk a big game, but trust me, he’s got more than enough skill to back it up.

Jerry Andrews: David Hunter is PCW’s newest signee. What kind we expect from him? We’ll find out very soon.

With that, the feed fades to the next segment, the final sight being David Hunter staring off at the crowd, his nondescript face never changing.

Scene switches backstage to show Kyle Shane in his locker room. It's dark, and he's by himself, concentrating and hyping himself up. He stands up, and it's seen then that he's not in his ring gear... not yet. He's wearing a simple black hoodie with white strings, sleeves rolled up, and the hood up. And he looks into the camera meditatively, before he finally begins to speak to the camera. He holds up a prop. It's a simple, unadorned luchador mask, the kind from down Mexico way, the kind that men have plied their trade in for decades, more, possibly.

Kyle Shane: There's a simple tradition, that really started south of the border. Mexican wrestling is big on Aztec iconography, on symbolism, where they channeled ancient warriors that wore masks into the fields of battle. Where men going out to kill each other wore masks patterned after the gods they worshiped, took power from wearing their symbols and making their faces look like the god's faces. That stuck with their people. So when wrestling became part of their culture, they incorporated it. They incorporated wearing the masks. They incorporated the idea of wearing, of holding a cloth on you that was a symbol of you transcending mortal man.

He looks at the mask in his hands, and the camera looks at it too.

Kyle Shane: And in time, the idea of putting those masks up for grabs came into vogue as a way to settle a score between two rivals. I mean, think about it. If you take an opponent's mask, you strip him of all of the totemistic, ritualistic power his mask gives him, you dent his aura. This idea, Lucha Con Apuestas, War With Wagers... it makes sense to me.

He holds the mask up next to him, sort of like a second head, his hand filtered up through it's neck hole like a puppet, his fingers through the eye sockets.

Kyle Shane: The bets don't HAVE to be masks. It can be anything of value. It could be two men putting their hair on the line. They could put their job on the line. They could put their wife, dog, pair of pants on the line. But the real idea of it... the real beauty of it, is that someone puts up something that is totemistic, no... invaluable, to the essence of their being up for grabs, and if they lose it, they lose more than just some item. They lose something that's part of them.

He strips the mask off the sock puppet hand, throwing it away with his free hand, letting the sock puppet hand stand bare.

Kyle Shane: But what it means is, you are going all in. That's kind of a big deal in wrestling right now, to say you're going all in... and it's what appeals to me. The idea of putting everything on the line, of putting a totem of yourself out there and being up for grabs.

He gestures, the understood one moment finger up, and as he stands the camera shows that he has two outfits laid out on the bench in his locker room. One is his pair of trunks, boots, kick pads and the Witcher cosplay chest piece underneath. The other is a pair of slacks, dress shirt and suspenders that look just like Gabriels'. The implication is clear.

Kyle Shane: When you talk about totems... when you talk about cloth that has been cast in the mold of gods you worship... when you talk about the masks that you're willing to put on in your War of Wager, I'm looking at two right now. Two possibilities. Either I win and I keep my usual ring gear, or I lose, and I lose my sense of self. I lose what makes me Kyle Shane, I have to admit that Seromine was right, and that I was wrong and if I did that, I would have to - I would be FORCED to stand by his side, wear those ugly, Quaker yard sale clothes him and Destiny Willard and Gabriel trot out there wearing. And you know what? If I lost, I would do that happily, because it would mean my way was never right in the first place.

He shakes his head, as he considers the two costumes before him.

Kyle Shane: I am aware I'm taking a big risk in this War of Wager but I'm perfectly accepting of that. I am going all in. Because if my faith, in ME, means anything, then I'm going to have to take my stand here and now, tonight. I am my own God damn totem. That ring gear, right there, I wear out there every single week isn't just a mask I wear, it is my identity, it is me being my own source of power, it is me that I draw my own strength from. If I can't win using that then I don't want to be me.

And then he looks sternly into the camera.

Kyle Shane: I'm confident in what I've wagered because I am always giving a hundred percent of me. I am always giving you the source of my power, I am always espousing the strength to be your own God Mode Enabled and rise above what was defined. It's you, Seromine, that's wearing a mask. That's hiding behind something. And the thing is that your mask isn't even something you believe in, or something you really get your strength from. Your ring gear, your identity as a man of faith, a man of confidence, who has answers from God, is a lie. And I'm going to expose that.

He begins picking up his ring gear.

Kyle Shane: Lucha Con Apuestas. Mask versus mask. Gear versus gear, faith versus faith. All of it. I am bringing this war right to your doorstep, and I am going to win. This is not blasphemy, this is holy war, motherfucker. I started this, and tonight... I am going to bring you down. Bailamos, dickweed.

Shane turns the camera off, and the scene switches to a commercial break.

Sasha Greene: The following match is scheduled for one fall and is for the Underground Championship! Introducing first…from Orlando, Florida, weighing 265lbs, RAZOR BLADE!

He comes out from the back of the Audience in walks down the steps in high fives his Fans in walks down the stops in Climbs over the barricade in stops for a min in hops on the apron in raise both of us arms in the air in get's down in waits for his Opponent to arrive.

Sasha Greene: And his opponent...

The grinding guitars and drums begin their assault. After a few moments Holden steps of from the back. He surveys the crowd and lifts both fists into the air before beginning his trek to the ring.

Sasha Greene: Making his way to the ring, standing six foot-five and weighing in at three hundred and twenty-five pounds and hails from SLO; he is PCW Underground Champion, "The Bastard" Hoooooool-den Rrrroooossssssss!

He launches himself onto the apron from the floor in one quick leap before climbing into the ring. He heads to his corner in anticipation of the start of the match.

Pure Class Wrestling Underground Championship
Singles Match - Underground Rules
Holden Ross (Pure Class Wrestling Underground 🤴) VS. Razor Blade
Referee: Eric Russo

DING!

DING!

DING!



“The BIG DOG” and “The Bastard” size one another up as they eventually go face to face with both trading barbs. Holden is the first to strike as he gives Razor Blade a forceful shove. He smirks and returns with a strike to the head. Holden isn’t given the chance to retaliate as he takes a succession of volleys. The challenger gets him on the ropes and goes for an Irish whip. Holden hits the brakes on that and uses his strength to pull Razor into a powerslam! Holden stands up with Razor still held sideways, allowing him to execute a fallaway slam. Razor Blade goes tumbling out of the ring while Holden remains inside to show off his muscles.

Ross turns his attention towards the direction Razor Blade was last seen. He power walks over and is BLASTED with a tire iron to the cranium. Holden staggers back, half in shock, half from being hit. Razor returns inside as he swings the weapon into Holden’s midsection, doubling him over. The tire iron is jammed in the lower lumbar to bring Holden partially down but not off his feet. Razor throws himself off the ropes and returns with a tire iron clothesline! Or...so it would seem. Holden Ross puts a death grip on it and sends Razor FLYING across the ring!

Razor Blade takes an iron clothesline himself, dropping like a ton of bricks as soon as contact is made. Holden then goes to work on the body with the weapon before he decides to discard it. Razor is picked up by the vest and shoved forward into the corner. Avalanche! Razor staggers into an Argentine backbreaker. Holden walks out to the middle of the ring and attempts a swinging neckbreaker, except in the process of turning, Razor Blade scores with a bulldog!

Jerry Andrews: Razor Blade with a counter to take the big man off his feet.

Ace Anderson: Notice how it was a mistake that did and not the ineffective use of a weapon? Bic called. They’ll be looking for a new spokesman in the morning.

Razor Blade delivers a boot to the midsection to halt Holden. He hits those ropes again and delivers a flying shoulder tackle. Ross staggers, but doesn’t go off his feet. In fact, he DEMANDS Razor to try again. He does and the result is the same. Only this time Holden laughs in his face. Razor turns to run the ropes a third time. Holden doesn’t wait as he goes the opposite way. STEAMROLLER! NO---Razor shocks Holden with a quick knee lift to the jaw, spinning him into the ropes. He charges and takes them both outside the ring with a running spear!

Holden is down on his hands and knees, catching his breath, while Razor reaches under the ring to pull out his favorite weapon: a steel chair! Holden gets worn out with shot after shot after shot, first absorbing them, then succumbing. Razor relinquishes the weapon and proceeds to fist bump some front row fans as Holden starts to crawl away. Ross is pulled to his feet, but he manages to shove Razor into the ring steps. Gaining his composure and shaking off the chair shots, he notices his luck and goes full bore. Razor is tackled OVER the ring steps and onto the floor. Ross mounts him and lays in some stiff forearms like an angry bear. 

Razor is assisted to his feet and slammed head first into the ring apron. Ross disassembles the steps, bringing the top half with him. He turns it sideways and drives the divide into the back of Razor, which also drives him front first into the side of the ring. Razor is picked up from behind and pancaked into the remaining portion of the steps with a nasty splat off the impact. Holden backs up against the rail and with a quick two step run, lands a massive splash on Razor and against the steps. Holden taunts his opponent while he retrieves a bull rope from under the ring. The protective vest is ripped off and sent flying into the tenth row. The rope becomes a massive whip as Razor writhes in pain. 

Jerry Andrews: You never know what’s under a PCW ring!

Ace Anderson: That’s right, Jerry. We import objects from a warehouse and place them underneath. I once heard a half eaten ham and cheese sandwich was under there from five years ago…

Razor Blade is driven through the barricade and into the front row faithful as fans take a tumble from the collision. Holden has no designs on brawling into the masses, instead choosing to drag Razor Blade around ringside until he decides to hurdle him back into the ring. Ross brings the ring bell AND time keeper inside. He gives precise instructions on what he wants done...or else! Razor is sent into the corner with Holden charing in…CLOTHESLINE!

DING!

The same process happens to the other side.

DING!

Now back to the original corner.

DING!

And once more to the opposite.

DING!

Holden looks at the time keeper with a stern look. He MOWS him out of the ring with a lariat and then takes control of the ring bell himself. Razor is given the chance to stand on his own while Holden calmly picks his spot. THE BIG DOG turns around to the charging rhino...DUCKS THE BELL SHOT, hits the ropes and SUPERMAN PUNCHES the bell right into Holden’s face! The champion staggers into the corner with the ringside object dropped at his feet. Razor finds a second wind, takes possession of the bell, and then repeatedly bashes Holden about the face. It’s tossed out of the ring before Holden is powered into a samoan drop! Razor gets a pin…

1.

2.

Ross powers out of that. Razor uses the ropes to regain his balance. Ross pulls himself up and takes a palm strike to the face. His lariat misses and gives Razor the chance to hit another palm strike. These continue until Ross shoves him away like a pesky fly. Razor returns with a running forearm smash! Holden finds himself tied in the ropes, leaving himself open for a series of running shoulder tackles. Razor Blade brings out some loose barb wire! He wraps it around his shoulders. Holden shakes his head, pleading not to do what he thinks Razor is going to...BARB WIRE CANNONBALL! Out of the adrenaline from taking such a spot, Holden manages to free himself to get out of the ring. Once on the floor, he cradles his body while checking for any signs of blood trickling out. Razor Blade unwraps the barb wire, but soon ties it around a Louisville Slugger! With the full support of the faithful and the larger champion in trouble, Razor Blade readies his home run shot.

Jerry Andrews: HOLDEN ROSS JUST TOSSED A KITCHEN SINK!

Razor Blade takes the full force of the strongman toss to his back, having just enough time to turn from the incoming impact. Holden uses the ring skirt to get back up. Razor Blade pulls himself up under his own power, but takes a discuss clothesline that lands the back of his head into that barb wire baseball bat. His eyes widen, his mouth is wide, and now Razor has his scalp pinned to those pointy barbs. Holden lifts his foot in the air and brings it down onto the face of Razor Blade, forcefully shoving him even further onto that bat. Ross puts his entire weight into it and because of the rules, doesn’t have to stop at five.

But he does anyway. Rookies.

Holden lifts Razor Blade off his feet with the barb wire bat still stuck to his head. He lines him with the ring post and then rams him into it! The fans groan at the sight of the crushing effect of head, steel, and the nasty weapon in-between. Holden hip tosses him into the ring, which finally dislodges the barb wire, but it’s evident he’s bleeding. Holden pulls out two items from under the ring: A wooden table and a twenty foot ladder! The table is propped up facing the aisle. The ladder is set inside of the ring. Ross climbs inside to rip off the padding from a turnbuckle pad, which in turn exposes the steel underneath it.

Razor Blade is heaved into a powerbomb and sent flying into that exposed steel. He BOUNCES BACK WITH A BRASS KNUCKLE SUPERMAN PUNCH! What Holden didn’t see for obvious reasons, is that Razor Blade slipped them on while he was busy with the ladder and table. Holden spins around and falls face first into the barb wire, with NO protection to block the impalement. Luckily for him and everyone else, the barbs didn’t stick him in the eyes. 

Jerry Andrews: This match is becoming hazardous to their health!

Ace Anderson: The Underground demands sacrifices and tonight it has two of them.

Fans rally behind Razor Blade, willing him to follow up on the newly crowned Underground Champion. He carefully peels Holden off of the barb wire. Blood drips off of his face, coating the scene of the crime. With brute strength and determination, Razor Blade powers Holden onto his shoulders and then goes up that twenty foot ladder. Fans rise to their feet as it wobbles. Razor Blade takes his time on the ascension. Ross is carefully sat on the top rung. Nerves are on edge as Razor takes one extra step up, making him waist high with Holden’s head. He puts his left hand behind his head and pulls his brass knuckled right, looking for one good clean shot…

LOW BLOW!

Razor tumbles forward onto Holden’s shoulders. Ross gets him into a fireman’s carry. He stands but is unable to get his feet set...BOTH MEN FALL HEAD FIRST THROUGH THE TABLE AND ONTO THE FLOOR!! There’s a loud OOOOHH from how ugly that landing looked. The table splinters all around them like a bomb went off, but they are both down and motionless. The referee races out to check on both of them. Getting no favorable signs, he waves off the match and calls for the bell over a chorus of boos. Medics are immediately called for as this one is halted.

Sasha Greene: Due to Razor Blade and Holden Ross being unable to continue, the referee has stopped this match and declared it a DRAW! 

That just makes the booing worse. Medics go about their job as champion and challenger are looked over. A good ten minutes pass during the process...when all of a sudden, they both show signs of disoriented life. THE FIGHT RESUMES THROUGH STAFF AND MEDICAL! Razor Blade and Holden Ross engage in a partial brawl to the back with no one being able to control them!

A live shot of candles on an altar is shown. Centered between them in a shattered picture frame is a photo of Kyle Shane. Micro fragments of glass lay beside it. The shot pulls back to show Seromine and Destiny. But they aren’t alone. PCW Interviewer, Shane Dodge, has been summoned for this occasion. 

Seromine: What are you doing here, Dodge?

The question is asked with irritation. 

Shane Dodge: Well, I---

Destiny pulls the microphone in her direction. Her glare turns into a malicious grin.

Destiny Willard: He asked you a question. Allow me to repeat it. What are YOU -she points at him- doing here? -now she points to their location.-

Shane Dodge: Well, I---

Seromine pulls the microphone back in his direction, then places an arm over the interviewer’s shoulders.

Seromine: It’s funny that you are here with us; uninvited I might add. Funny that you share a name with Kyle. Tell me. Did you talk to him about how he’s going to cope with joining my side after tonight?

Shane Dodge: Well, I---

Destiny jerks the microphone back towards her, nearly pulling Shane’s arm out of socket from force. 

Destiny Willard: Did you ask him what prayer he recited? Did you ask him what lies he’s told himself in preparation? Did you look him in the eyes and ask him if he’s repented?

Shane Dodge: Well, I---

Seromine: WHY ARE YOU HERE, SHANE?!

Shane Dodge is forcefully turned around to face his LORD AND SAVIOR. Destiny’s smile widens as she comes around to join Seromine’s side. 

Seromine: You’re XIII. Aren’t you? Aren’t you?! AREN’T YOU?! Say “Nevermore” now! NEV-ER-MORE. NEV-ER-MORE! NEV-ER-MORE!!

He doesn’t know it, but the faithful have latched on to the chant.

Seromine is seething by this point. Destiny whispers something in his ear. He whispers “you’re right” in response. It’s like his outburst never happened following this. 

Seromine: GOD has shown me the downfall of Kyle Shane, tonight. I tried to warn him. I tried to save him. I tried offering SALVATION to him. But all he did was sin, sin, sin, sin, SIN! 1 John 1:9. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. GOD will not place me in loss. But he will bring Kyle Shane to the crusade. Then he will praise. 

Seromine again places his left arm around an understandably confused Shane Dodge. At the same time, he places his right arm around Destiny. Her left hand swims around his hair as she showers him with a loving glance.

Seromine: Why are you here, Shane Dodge?

Shane hesitates to answer, but moves far enough away from Seromine and Destiny to finally respond without interruption.

Shane Dodge: Well I---(he pauses) President Loki wanted me to inform that due to the high stakes here tonight, Destiny has been BANNED from ringside!

Out in the arena LOUD cheers have broken out. As have chants of KYLE! KYLE! KYLE! The smiles of Seromine and Destiny slowly disappear as the news sinks in. Shane Dodge, feeling bold, decides to shoot a question of his own.

Shane Dodge: What are you going to do out there, Seromine? Destiny, you have a good evening!

There’s snark behind his laughter as he leaves them to discuss the ramifications among themselves. The final shot before the commercial shows them angered.

Jerry Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen... we've taken our last commercial break of the evening, and that means it's time. It's time for a match of such staggering implications that it's been brewing through promos and shots taken for most of this year. The main event, Faith versus Faith. 

Sasha Greene: The following... is scheduled for ONE FALL!

The crowd: ONE FALL!!!

Sasha Greene: Introducing first, he weighs in at 240 lbs... He is the Serpentine Sermonizer... SEROMINE!!

The pipe organ of “Be Still for the Presence of the Lord” echoes throughout the arena. As the Beverley Minster Congregation begins to sing the hymn, Seromine enter from around the ramp in an open carriage, horse-drawn buggy. He halts the clydesdales, and exits the cab, looking meanly around the arena. Destiny is nowhere to be found. Slowly, he makes way down to the ring, stopping to “bless” some of those close to the barrier as a negative reaction churns from the crowd.

Seromine, dressed in preacher’s garb straight out of the 1800’s, looks around him with a look of mixed revulsion and a sneer of arrogant pride. His wide brimmed black hat and black coat lend a severity to his appearance as he makes his way to the ring steps.

He slowly makes his way around the ring, “blessing” the audience to a somewhat ungrateful reaction. Finally, he removes his hat and coat, handing them to his dutiful wife, while leaving his white button-up shirt and black ribbon bowtie on. He waits for his opponent with a dark look in his eyes.

Jerry Andrews: As you can see, Destiny Willard is NOT out at ringside. She is NOT at Seromine's side as he makes his entrance, as per orders from PCW management.

Ace Anderson: Maybe it's just me, but that makes me more nervous than having her out here in plain sight. Now I'm worried about where she is and what she's up to.

Jerry Andrews: Regardless, Seromine is out here with a game look on his face, he has been prodded by Kyle into accepting his stakes. Now we have only to see who comes out on top.

There is a lull as Seromine's music fades, and the arena goes dark again, before Sasha Greene announces the second gladiator. In that pregnant moment the crowd is chanting "PCW" and building the electricity in the atmosphere.

Sasha Greene: And his opponent, he weighs in at 217 lbs... he is the Pure Class Wrestling World Champion... the God of Game... KYLE SHANE!!

The opening notes of "In The Morning And Amazing" by Circa Survive begins to play. A video game drop down menu opens and the cursor hovers over the options, "LOAD GAME, SAVE GAME" before coming to the first option, "START GAME" and highlighting it. Kyle Shane steps slowly out onto the stage, wearing a mail and leather overcoat in the style of the Ursine School Gear. Shane tilts his head back with a broad, cheese-eating grin, holding his arms out and taking in the reception of the crowd with a smile. The distinctive voice of Anthony Green hits the bridge:

"And how could anyone

You are in my dreams

Half human, half machine

You with someone else that I have felt and seen

I cannot rest, or my consciousness contest

Looking right through the lens

From winter brings the spring again"

There are some that react negatively, annoyed by the flippy, arrogant, self-absorbed so-called Game Changer, but the vast majority of the fans in the aisle, having seen what he can do, rise to their feet in appreciation. Some on the sides of the aisles even make a fanning bow motion as Kyle walks by. 1/2 the way down the aisle, Kyle pivots, holding his arms up to either side of him. He climbs onto the apron. Kyle balances on the ropes for a moment, points to himself and smirks, holding his arms out, and then he hops down, removing the mail and leather coat over his ring gear, and stretches a few times to get ready.

Jerry Andrews: Listen to the fans on their feet for Kyle.

Ace Anderson: Like him or think he's an arrogant little shit, you have to admit... putting up this challenge took guts.

Jerry Andrews: This isn't about the World Title. It's bigger than that. It is a matter of who's will and faith is stronger. Whoever wins this is a man with serious bragging rights.

Ace Anderson: The smirk on Shane's face as Seromine is boring his eyes into him says it all. Shane is feeling confident.

Despite there being a clearly demarcated heel/face dynamic going into this, the crowd cheers them both on raucously as they step up to each other. The God of Game, the new breed of the World championship, meets the Messiah in the center of the ring. Neither man flinches. Neither man backs away from the other's haunting glower. Both have broken others through mere stares. In the face of the other monster, neither can afford even a fleeting moment of doubt to enter their mind. 

Jerry Andrews: Shane and Seromine meeting in the center of the ring and neither man giving an inch. 

Ace Anderson: No words being spoken by either. This is beyond words. Professional wrestling's finest are in that ring right now. 

Lucha Con Apuesta: Faith versus Faith
Kyle Shane vs Seromine
Referee: Tyrone Little Jr.

If Kyle Shane loses, he will join Seromine's Followers.
If Seromine loses, he will admit Kyle Shane is right and shave his head

At length, the referee orders the bell rung. Seromine extending his arm above his head, calling for a Greco-roman knuckle lock and Shane locks hands with him and now they meet. Now we see who the better man is. Both men go shoulder to shoulder, nobody giving a damn inch. Shane swings his foot up and breaks the left knuckle lock; Seromine does the same with the right they collide in a collar and elbow tie up. Arm drag by Seromine and Shane scrambles back to his feet. Shane quick to go for a collar and elbow tie up and he quickly gets a hammerlock on Seromine. He wrenches up on the hold but Seromine is quick to power his arm and step through and get a hammerlock of his own. Shane obviously looking to damage that shoulder of the Messiah and now Shane trying to deal with the arm being wrenched up steps through and trips Seromine to the canvas. He snatches on a side headlock and grinds it in, smirking and shouting abuse at Seromine. 

Jerry Andrews: Shane is using his abrasive tendencies to goad Seromine on.

Ace Anderson: Remember, Shane has been calling for Seromine's head since their last meeting, Shane wants to humble Seromine in front of all his Followers.

Seromine is fighting to stand up, however, Shane flings him over with an elementary side headlock takeover, resting the armpit on Seromine's chest and ensuring Seromine is pinned to the canvas. He still has the hold in when Seromine twists around, scissors his leg over Shane’s neck and pulls him over to break the side headlock. Shane struggles in the sudden leg scissor around his throat, then he nips up out of it. He goes to lift Seromine up but Seromine lights Shane up with a chop to the chest with such force that Shane winces back, holding his chest, and pacing to the ropes. Seromine comes up to his feet, firing a few more chops at Shane and then Shane reverses, laying Seromine across the ropes and firing a knife edged chop to the chest. Shane cackles and turns to play to the crowd, and when he turns back Seromine chops him across the chest very, very hard, making Shane groan and hold his reddened pec muscle as he's bent over, and Seromine grabs Shane by the hair and throws him out of the ring to the outside. Shane bounces a few times, then comes up on the guardrail, holding his chest. Red welts have spread, and he takes a few breaths. Someone at ringside yells "Yo Shane, you good??" and he nods shakily.

Jerry Andrews: Never let it be said that Shane doesn't know how to put a brave face on.

He looks back into the ring, rubbing his chest after kicking the nearest guardrail.

Ace Anderson: I can’t believe Shane is already flustered.

The ref is now to four on his count, but the God of Game doesn’t notice. He growls, climbing onto the apron and stepping through the ropes to engage his opponent once again, this time with a collar and elbow tie up. Shane is eager to engage the Messiah and the tenor has been slow and methodical in the early going. Shane gets the advantage, twisting and getting a hold of Seromine’s right wrist and he violently jerks down on it. Shane goes to yank back down, but this time it is Seromine who gets him side headlock takeover and Seromine has him pinned to the canvas.

The referee: One... Kickout. 

Jerry Andrews: Kyle Shane is in the ring with a man, whether you hate him or not, who is one of the most cunning and devious men in the world. He saps your stamina and he hounds you throughout the match.

Ace Anderson: Seromine is grinding Shane’s head with that side headlock. Kyle can’t stay there forever because, eventually, Seromine will pop his head like a zit.

Shane keeps trying to push out but Seromine has him gripped so hard with the side headlock. He’s finally realizing that the only way to get the break is to get to the ropes and he’s motioning his legs over. Shane finally gets his leg on the bottom ropes, causing the ref to count for the break. Surprisingly, Seromine breaks the hold immediately and gets to his feet, smiling wide as he looks down at the World champ.

Jerry Andrews: A little gamesmanship going on here.

Shane, none too pleased with how the early part of the match is going. Before Seromine can respond, it’s his face that feels the sting of the God of Game’s hand.

Ace Anderson: Now it’s getting interesting?!

Jerry Andrews: Oh what a slap by the Champion! 

Seromine responds with a hard lariat that nearly takes Shane out of his boots. Shane scrambles to his feet and is planted with another hard clothesline! Oh man the pace is picking up very quickly and Shane staggers back up front chancery applied and Seromine snaps him to the canvas with a suplex. Seromine floats over and hooks the leg.

The referee: One...

Two... Kickout.

Ace Anderson: Going to need more than that. Going to need A LOT more than that.

Seromine grinds his forearm into Shane’s face as he gets up and he stomps on the canvas, demanding he gets up. 

Jerry Andrews: This is the pace Shane didn’t want to get into against the stronger Seromine.

Shane hesitates as he gets up. Seromine going for the collar and elbow Shane side steps. Mule kick to the ribs puts Seromine to a knee. He grabs Seromine and just as he has him by the hair, Seromine plants him! Seromine powered him up and dropped him right on his back with a belly to back suplex. Seromine comes in, yelling at Shane "WHERE'S YOUR FAITH, BOY?" and booting him back to the mat. Shane grimaces, holding his neck and rolling to the ropes. Seromine follows right after him but Shane is just a step ahead. As Seromine gets in to grabbing position Shane boots a wheel out from under Seromine, making him stumble, and he slides between Seromine's legs from under the ropes, then Matrix'es up in a smooth motion! Shane laughs to himself at how good he is, but Seromine nails the cocky champ with a spinning backfist.

Jerry Andrews: Ooooooh! Decks him right there.

Ace Anderson: I know Shane saw stars and little cartoon birds spinning over his head, because that was stiff.

The Messiah stands over the champion and allows himself a smile before picking him up by the back of the head and delivering a couple of forearms before whipping him into the turnbuckle. Shane crashes in back first and Seromine immediately follows up with a crushing turnbuckle clothesline and then steps back and picks up Shane as he steps forwards and hauls him up onto his shoulders, walks to the middle of the ring and delivers a fireman’s carry DDT to the champion!

Jerry Andrews: Now the power game can come into play! He just treated Kyle Shane like a ragdoll.

Seromine stands up and immediately drags Shane up to his feet and clubs him over the back of the head before grabbing him by the arm and twisting it around once causing Shane to howl out and hold his shoulder before Seromine yanks it, causing another yelp from the champion who measures up his situation and puts a foot on the middle rope and flips out of the twist and hits a springboard shining wizard to the Sermonizer, who falls to the mat. Shane uses the momentum to run to the opposite ropes and run up behind the downed Seromine and drop a running elbow to the back of the preacher's head and immediately runs to the middle turnbuckle, hops to the top rope and hits a split legged moonsault to the back of Seromine! The crowd can’t help but pop at the flow that Shane is on and he pops to his feet and beats his chest in response to the appreciation.

Jerry Andrews: What athleticism! What pure talent right there!

Ace Anderson: It’s why he’s the champion!

Seromine is already stirring though and Shane turns to his Messiah and hits a couple of quick kicks to the Messiah’s ribs before hauling the Anarchist to his feet and resting him back first over the top rope. He then reaches down for the legs and starts to lift them up... Shane holds Seromine in a wheelbarrow position while looking at the crowd who are equally confused. He then rocks backwards and slingshots the Messiah face-first into the mat and rolls through into a Boston crab.

Ace Anderson: That was unorthodox to say the least!

Jerry Andrews: Kyle Shane is many things and innovator has always been one of them.

Seromine howls in pain as the champion wrenches on both legs with his eyes wide open. Seromine pushes himself up and roars in rage and walks himself towards to ropes with Shane desperately holding on. At length Seromine gets to the ropes, causing the ref to declare rope breaks are on. Shane releases the hold, and gets distracted by the referee telling him to stay out of the ropes, which Shane replies with he knows. Seromine uses the turn of Shane's head to kick his bad leg out again, and Shane falls. Shane grimaces and holds the knee that has been targeted so expertly by Tyler Scott, among others, and sucks in a breath, and Seromine doesn't let him lay there for longer than a second before he comes in and drops a knee across the bone of Shane. Then Seromine keeps his knee pinned down across the thigh of Shane and grabs the foot, hyperextending it in a kneebar of sorts while wrenching the foot like a bottle cap. Shane howls in pain, and Seromine gets to his feet, giving Shane a few more stomps to the extremities.

Jerry Andrews: Brilliant strategy by Seromine, knowing how often Shane's leg has been targeted by others.

Ace Anderson: And who do you think gave Tyler Scott and everyone else that germ of an idea? This has been in the back of Seromine's mind for quite a while. He's trying to rip the leg of Shane off.

Shane tries to sit up, clutching at his knee. Seromine goes to lift Shane up but Shane doggedly shoves him away. Seromine comes back in with a penalty kick to put Shane down. Seromine lifts a weakened and staggering Shane up, walking him over to the turnbuckles. The Messiah lays into Shane with right hand after right hand, staggering him back into the corner, then he grips Shane's arm and irish whips him into the opposite corner with a lot of force. Shane staggers out, holding his back, and Seromine comes in, locks his hands and flips Shane with an overhead belly to belly suplex. Shane holds his back. Seromine picks Shane up, and he locks his arms around Shane's waist as he runs him back into the turnbuckle, then he hits Shane with a few shoulder thrusts. Then, he backs up, and comes in for a big running boot in the corner. Shane dangles limply by the ropes, holding on to keep himself propped up. Seromine pulls him out and hits a vertical suplex. Seromine applies a front facelock, tightening the hold. Shane flails his arms, trying to get Seromine off of him, but to no avail. shane asks if he gives up, but Shane shakes his finger no. Shane pushes himself up, and begins punching Seromine repeatedly in the stomach. Finally, Seromine releases one arm so he can give Shane a stiff club to the back. Shane sinks to one knee, and Seromine reapplies the facelock. Finally, Shane is able to push himself up, elbowing Seromine in the gut repeatedly, and then he gives Seromine a swinging neckbreaker. Shane rests for a second, then he gets to his feet. He boots Seromine several times, then he runs and hits a flipping neckbreaker.

Jerry Andrews: Shane is giving perhaps his grittiest performance since winning the gold, he's blocking out the pain as much as he can.

Ace Anderson: Well think of the stakes if he loses. Not only will he have to join Seromine's cult of Followers, but Kyle Shane will have to tell someone that he was wrong. That's against his very fiber.

Shane boots Seromine down, and he picks Seromine's head up and lays it across the middle rope, as he pulls back on the top with a knee in Seromine's back, choking him out with a lot of force. Shane tells him to cut it out, and Shane breaks it off... then he goes right back and begins choking him again. Seromine flails his arms as his face starts turning red. Shane pulls Seromine to the middle of the ring and applies a headlock. Seromine starts fighting his way back to his feet, and he begins elbowing his way free. Suddenly, Shane breaks the hold and begins clubbing him in the back of the head, then he reapplies the headlock. Seromine's arms flail, the referee asks if he gives up. Seromine says no, but he's slowly starting to fade. The ref holds his hand up once... twice... on the third time, Seromine's hand stays in the air. Seromine slowly starts fighting his way to his feet, as Shane looks down and screams "No!" Seromine begins flinging elbows back, trying to fight his way clear, and then he turns around and gives Shane a few right hands, making Shane stagger back. Seromine catches his breath for a second, and then he backs up to the ropes and charges at Shane, but Shane catches him and takes him down with a drop toehold. Shane immediately goes back to the headlock. Seromine screams, and his face is starting to turn red. He reaches for the ropes, but he can't get them. He lets out a yell of effort as he pulls himself up to his knees with Shane on his back, then, with Shane still hanging on his back, he gets to his feet and runs forward at top speed, then he squashes Shane in the corner. Shane loosens his grip, and Seromine gives him a few back elbows. He gives Shane a right hand, then another, then finally he gives him a big right that makes Shane drop limply into the corner. Seromine pulls Shane out and hits a backbreaker, then he rests. Seromine pulls Shane up and he whips him to the ropes, ducking his head and looking for a back body drop. Shane scouts it and kicks Seromine in the face just before he gets to him. Seromine stumbles back, and Shane runs off the opposite ropes. As Shane reaches Seromine this time, he's flattened by a massive powerslam. Seromine hooks the leg...

The referee: One...

Two... 

Seromine gets to his feet, holding his back. He makes his way over to the corner, and he begins ascending the turnbuckle. Seromine turns, and sets himself, but all of a sudden Shane springs to lift, runs to the ropes and hops up on the ropes. He knees Seromine in the gut on the top rope, grabs his arms in a double underhook, and quickly flips Seromine off with a top rope butterfly superplex. The crowd erupts at this spot.

Jerry Andrews: What an amazing maneuver!

Shane rolls over Seromine for the cover.

The referee: One...

Two... Kickout...

Shane looks up with a squinted eyed, "What the fuck is happening" expression, and Seromine slithers out onto the floor, completely winded. Shane can barely get up himself and uses his elbows to crawl under the bottom rope. As the pair lay on the mats outside, the PCW crowd is at a frantic pitch, the sheer energy buzzing and echoing from the rafters as Seromine and Shane begin picking themselves up off the mats, struggling to get a hold of each other. An uppercut from the Champion there and he has staggered the Messiah. He grabs Seromine by the head and he slams his forehead into the guardrail. Seromine still trying to keep himself balanced. Shane backs up, scrambles to the apron, and uncorks a diving somersault senton from the ring apron onto the guardrail! He smashed Seromine into the guardrail there!

Jerry Andrews: Oh my god!

Shane contorts on the aisle as he twerked his knee coming down, but he managed to bowl Seromine over like tenpins so, it balances. Shane breathes heavy and rolls over, holding his knee, and he walks over, lifting Seromine up. He pulls him in and he hits him with a hook, and Seromine is to a knee. Now Shane comes in with a soccer kick across the chest.

Jerry Andrews: Shane showing everyone that he can slow down the pace and hit just as hard as Seromine.

Ace Anderson: He is trying to make the crowd lose their belief in him. It's all a mental game, Jerry.

Spit flies as the World Champion snarls at the Messiah. 

Shane: Get up dammit! Get up and face me!

The glare he gets from Seromine fills him with rage. Fills him with perverse joy. Every slap causes his Messiah to quake. Shane peels Seromine off the guardrail and brings him into the ring. Shane grips the ropes, looking for a springboard off the top rope... Seromine CATCHES HIM WITH A DROP KICK!

Jerry Andrews: I have to say that's somewhat of a miracle!!

Ace Anderson: Did... did God give Seromine the strength to do that?!

Jerry Andrews: Come off it, Ace... deep down, Seromine is still as he was before... he doesn't believe... although, I think he might be trying to.

Ace Anderson: This match is really testing both men's faith.

Seromine pins Shane.

The referee: One...

Two... Kickout.

Seromine looks outraged, and his hair is now sticking up in wild shocks. He looks heavenward, mouthing "What are you doing?!" as if now, too, the God that he may or may not be paying homage to is doing something totally unexpected. Seromine grits his teeth, lifting Shane up. He goes for a shortarm into a clothesline, but Shane slips around out of it, coming up behind Seromine's back and annihilating him with a falling one legged back stabber. Seromine grimaces and holds his back in pain. Unfortunately Shane now rolls to his stomach, kicking his free leg and holding the knee he just hit the move with.

Jerry Andrews: Shane with Feast of Crows, but the kneecap had to feel like a gunshot as it connected.

Ace Anderson: That leg is not in a good way. Shane can't even capitalize!

Shane lets out some soothing breaths and groans a tiny bit, as he rolls his knee pad down to give it some air. Shane shakes his head, and grits his teeth. He looks over at Seromine and audibly says "Come on dipshit," as he lifts him up by his hair. Seromine ducks under Kyle's outstretched hands and gives him a forearm shot to the mouth, then he lights up his legs with a few kicks, including a straight stomp right on the knee. Seromine backs up to the ropes, and flings himself at Kyle for a Thesz press, landing several mounted punches to the face. Seromine rolls off Shane. Shane stumbles to his feet. He gets a running start and then dropkicks Kyle right in the knee.

Ace Anderson: It's like chopping down a lanky redwood that's like 1/4 neck and haircut.

Seromine grabs Kyle's leg and hooks his foot under his arm as if for a DDT and then drops back, slamming in on the mat. Kyle grimaces and holds his leg and knee. Seromine straightens the leg out and then drops a knee across the leg. Then he puts all his weight on it as he grabs his foot and bends upwards, twisting it. Kyle groans and tries to push him off. He reaches for him, but he moves back out of his reach. The ref asks if Shane gives up, but Kyle says no. Kyle swings at him, but again Seromine moves his head back, as he continues twisting upwards on his leg. Again, the ref asks if Kyle will give up, but he refuses. Finally, Seromine releases the hold. He gets to his feet and gives Kyle a low straight kick right to the sternum, then boots Shane in the gut and muscles him up into position so that Shane is laid across his shoulders in a crucifix position, quite symbolically for this match. He crushes him with a crucifix powerbomb, and then Seromine pins him.

Jerry Andrews: Sign of the Cross!!

The referee: One...

Two... 

Th- Kickout!

Seromine screams "Oh come on!!!" at the referee, death glaring at him.

Jerry Andrews: Seromine seems more unhinged, more wild and aggressive in this match then we've seen in a while. I really do think Shane's constant annoying badgering have gotten under the skin of the Messiah.

Ace Anderson: Well, that, but it does bear talking about that he doesn't have Destiny out here at ringside. Is that woman a... calming influence?

Jerry Andrews: I'd hate to think so, but here we are...

Seromine has taken long enough agonizing over the lack of a three-count that Shane has begun recovering. Seromine, gnashing his teeth wildly and angrily, shoots in and begins booting Shane back down. Suddenly, Kyle comes out with a European uppercut that nearly knocks his head off. Shane gets to his feet, limping a bit. He sees Seromine has rolled over to play rope-a-dope by hanging under the bottom ropes. Shane's face is deadly serious as he paces around, staring at him. Kyle pulls Seromine back up into a waistlock, and begins giving him a German suplex. Seromine scrambles over to the ropes and grabs on to the top rope, holding on for dear life and attempting to block it. Kyle clubs him across the back a few times, as he tries to suplex him, but he hangs on. The ref tells them to break it up out of the ropes. Kyle and the ref argue for a moment, as Seromine continues holding on to the ropes. Kyle finally turns back to Seromine, who slips out onto the apron and gives Kyle a kick to the midsection. Seromine then hangs grips Kyle's head and pulls it down, hanging him up throat first on the top rope. Kyle goes stumbling back, holding his throat. Seromine gets back into the ring and plows through him with a flying shoulder block. Seromine waits for Kyle to recover, and he grips the ropes and attempts to fly with a springboard flying forearm, but Shane CATCHES HIM IN MIDAIR, drilling Seromine and taking him down with a strong kick to the sternum! 

Jerry Andrews: Seromine is looking for the Cyanide Punch - NO! COUNTERED! Shane countered!

Ace Anderson: I’m really surprised by all this. Just, I thought that what was going on earlier would continue. Hold for hold. Chain wrestling. I think both excel at that.

Shane holds his leg and winces in pain, thumping his knee a few times trying to get back some feeling. Finally, Shane crawls over to the Seromine who has been breathing just the way you'd expect a person that took a cinder block to the solar plexus would, raggedly and staring eyes wide open. The ref counts.

The referee: One...

Two...

Th- Kickout!

A still surprisingly strong kickout from Seromine has Shane sitting up, clenching his knee, and looking at himself with a confused and questioning look. He isn't asking questions of the crowd, but of himself. Still holding his knee, he sits there, taking a rest as Seromine is laid out on the mat.

Jerry Andrews: I think the faces tell the story here... this test of faith, has both men digging deep and showing levels of fortitude neither one expected.

Ace Anderson: And I think that, in turn, is making the other man question everything he ever thought or believed about his own point of view. Kyle Shane as well as Seromine.

Jerry Andrews: Whoever comes out of this is going to need to dig deep. They're going to need to embrace their source of strength like never before.

Shane attempts to lift Seromine up and apply a side headlock. However, Seromine drops down onto his butt with a jawbreaker that is almost a Stone cold Stunner. Shane's head snaps back and he stumbles, barely able to keep his feet. Seromine pulls himself up, and then she runs to the ropes and when she comes back, Kyle catches him and drills him by flipping her up onto his shoulders and crushing him with a gutbuster in one smooth motion. Then, just to make it that much more fucked up, Kyle grips the legs, pulls Seromine's arms back and stretches him with a Mexican surfboard.

Ace Anderson: Look at all that weight on Seromine's back as Kyle twists his body like a pretzel.

Jerry Andrews: Shane's unexpectedly deadly submission traps caught Tyler Scott in a bad way at Return To Glory... Seromine could likewise have just fallen into a bad predicament.

Ace Anderson: If he taps out he's gotta shave his head!

Seromine shouts in pain and flails his arms around frantically. Kyle sits back on the hold, tightening the chinlock. The ref asks Seromine if he gives up. Seromine shouts "No!". Kyle increases the pressure, and he screams, then bites his hand to keep from screaming. The crowd is building a swell of support. Seromine tries to elbow his way free, but can't help but let out a scream at the pressure on his back. Seromine finally inches forward just enough and pulls himself out, and grabs the bottom rope. The ref tells Kyle to break the hold. Kyle aggressively holds on for just a moment. Finally, he gets to his feet. He and the official argue for a moment. Seromine gets to his feet at about the same time, only Seromine is holding his lower back. Kyle walks over toward Seromine, and Seromine quickly gives him a spinning back kick to the gut, then he gives Kyle a Dangerous DDT that spikes Shane right onto his head and neck. Both competitors are down momentarily, Kyle jerking and spasming and holding his neck and Seromine selling the beating from the submission. Seromine rests, grimacing and holding his lower back. Seromine then applies a falling leglock, contorting Kyle's knee painfully. Kyle screams, and flails his arms. The ref asks if he gives up, but Kyle refuses. Finally, Seromine releases the hold. Seromine gets to his feet in a bit of pain, and then as Kyle pulls himself up he eats several kicks to the hamstring, and then to the midsection. Shane shoves Seromine away, and Seromine walks forward, grabbing the leg of Shane and before Shane can slap him away, he absolutely murders Shane's leg with an inverted dragon screw.

Jerry Andrews: Good God!!

Ace Anderson: I think that leg is coming off at any moment!

Shane's mouth is stretched wide in a mask of pain. Seromine grabs a pain wracked Shane by the hair and hauls him up and forces him into the far corner. Several hard chops drill Shane. His chest already has turned a few different shades of red, and Seromine is just getting warmed up. Shane ducks under the knife edge chop. Pops a jab. Another. And another! Shane is peppering Seromine with strikes and now he grabs hold of his right arm. He brings in an arm wringer that smashes Seromine right on the point of the shoulder, and Seromine shouts as if that was dislocated. Shane keeps wrist control by hanging on to the arm, pulls it out straight and delivers a leg drop to it. Seromine contorts around, holding his injured extremity. 

Ace Anderson: Tit for tat, Shane is trying to take away a weapon of Seromine's the way Seromine has been trying to rip off his leg.

Jerry Andrews: Shane keeping hold of that arm and he keeps slamming his heels into the canvas, keeps trying to jerk it out of socket. 

Another arm wringer and Seromine is wincing in pain here. Shane forces the arm to the canvas and he double foot stomps it. Shane has to hold the ropes just to stay standing, as he clutches at his bad knee, but Seromine's arm is in just as bad shape. Shane takes the arm again, and begins the work of dragging an injured Seromine back up to his feet by the arm he is keeping control of, and bringing him into the near corner. He had Seromine by the wrist and forces the arm across the ropes. Shane then hooks in a painful looking keylock and he's bending the arm unnaturally in the corner!! The referee starts a count. Shane releases that hold... only to slam Seromine's head off the top turnbuckle so that he's laying in the corner. Then Shane does even worse by pulling the arm OVER the top rope and hanging down with it, applying an excruciating looking cross arm bar over the ropes! The referee shouts at Shane again, giving him to the count of five. Shane breaks the hold, knowing the damage has been done. Seromine groans, gathering his arm in to clasp against his chest as he lays in the corner.

Jerry Andrews: That was brutal. The angle Seromine's arm got bent made me cringe.

Ace Anderson: This match has turned dark, and gritty. There's no white hats in this one, ladies and gentlemen... it's just about who is right.

Seromine is laying in the corner, gasping and holding his arm. Grabbing at the bottom ropes. Shane gets back in and smashes the point of his elbow into the Messiah’s sternum. Again. This is so intense. Both men refusing to give an inch here. Seromine trying to get away and Shane is back in the ring, and he crushes Seromine with a reverse bulldog.

Ace Anderson: Kyle Shane is at another level right now. He's pushing Seromine to the limit of his endurance, making him expend a lot of stamina.

Shane covers...

The referee: One...

Two...

Thre- Kickout.

Shane looks around, a nonplussed scoff on his lips as he rolls his eyes, saying "Ain't this some shit," and he motions for Seromine to get up. Shane scoops the squatter, thicker man up and looks to be going for a Snake Eyes back in the corner, but Seromine kicks off and falls back down Shane's shoulders, violently stomping the knee and crushing Shane with a deadlift CHAOS THEORY SUPLEX! He keeps the legs bridged!!

The referee: One...

Two...

Thre- Kickout!!

Seromine's eyes darken and he explodes, saying that he has done everything that was asked of him. He thunders to his feet, gripping the referee's shirt and telling him that it's the Will of God that he be declared the winner.

Ace Anderson: It’s like we’ve seen time and time again; Kyle Shane can take it all and he can dish it out. 

Seromine boots Kyle in the gut and grips his head for a muscle buster, but at the last second as he goes to run and bring Shane down, Shane slides down from the front with a single knee Codebreaker. Kyle then lifts Seromine up and plants Seromine with a brainbuster, falling over onto his side to take pressure off his knee. 

The ref and the crowd: One...

Two...

Thre - Kickout.

Ace Anderson: Both of these men have really shown me something right here.

Jerry Andrews: When you cut down to it, this is about who's right and who's wrong... and both men are too stubborn, and too proud, to give up their point of view.

Kyle grits his feet in frustration at Seromine and lifts him up, clubbing him over the back, which knocks him down subsequently. Kyle grips Seromine's head between his legs as the crowd is building a "Shane" chant, but as he pulls him up, he pulls his head loose in midair and twists around behind Kyle, kicking him in the back of the leg and then as he drops to one knee, the Messiah runs and uses his knee as a springboard to hit a shining wizard right to the temple. Kyle drops down to the mat. Seromine rests, using the ropes to hold himself up, and motions for Kyle to get up, and when he does, shaking the cobwebs out, Seromine comes in like a guided missile (with one working arm) and hits him with a springboard flying forearm. Seromine lays on the mat, holding his other arm against his chest, but finally he scoots into a cover.

Jerry Andrews: Cyanide Punch!!

The referee and crowd: One...

Two...

Three - Kickout!

Seromine: WHY WON'T YOU FALL?!!

Ace Anderson: Seromine looks like he is taking his inability to keep Kyle Shane down as a crisis.

Jerry Andrews: Kyle Shane has beaten some of the best in Pure Class Wrestling, but Seromine has remained a demon in the back of his mind. Just as Shane, it seems, has to Seromine.

Ace Anderson: You've got that right, Seromine said that Shane had nothing more that he wanted... but his pride and his faith on the line, tonight, that is something Seromine has no intention of losing.

Seromine gets to his feet, yelling and ranting to the ref, and pointing at Shane. Shane is still recuperating, but Seromine angrily takes his head and lifts Shane up by his jaw, fingers clawing into Shane's skin and making his mouth pucker as he yells "You are not better than me! You! Are not! Better than me!! I have FAITH!" Seromine slaps Shane with his other hand. Seromine hauls back, attempting to slap again, but Shane catches the incoming hand... OH MY!! Shane twists it around and gives it an ARM BREAKER over his shoulder! Seromine flinches back, holding his hand and crying out in pain, and then Seromine turns around and Shane scoops him up... SHOULDER BREAKER over his knee! 

Jerry Andrews: Seromine has very rarely been manhandled in his career and he’s feeling the brunt of it right now. Is the pressure getting to him?

Ace Anderson: He’s fought to maintain his position since last year's Collision Course, and the longer this match goes, the more it is starting to favor the World Champion.

Seromine falls off Shane's knee, and Shane holds his knee in pain, but he crosses the distance between them in record time.

The referee and crowd: ONE...

Two...

Three- Kickout!

Shane begins using the ropes for leverage, stomping down on Seromine’s right shoulder. He turns to the crowd and then he smirks, motioning for Seromine to get up. Shane goes for Shoryuken... NO! Seromine pulls his head out of the way as Shane uppercuts. Shane lands and grips at his knee, wincing in pain. Seromine slides behind him and tries to get in a full nelson. Seromine, trying to keep his shoulder together with the full nelson peels off a Dragon suplex! Drove him right into the canvas and on the back of his head! Seromine can’t cover him though. 

Ace Anderson: Jesus... he has had his shoulder so battered that he can’t even go after the pinfall.

Jerry Andrews: And this is big. If Shane can’t capitalize, then Seromine’s forward bursts WILL work. 

Seromine and Shane pick themselves up, meeting in the center of the ring. They’d been in marathons over the course of their lives, but each blow they sent at the other carried every bit of their essence. With Shane, it is his desire to remain peerless. With Seromine, it is frustration finding release. Seromine explodes with a European uppercut. Shane answers with a forearm to the forehead. European uppercut. Forearm. Back and forth they go. Seromine backs into the ropes and bounces off into a forearm shot. Shane tries to follow through but his knee won't let him. Seromine responds with a forearm shot with such mustard on it that Shane is completely bowled over to the outside. Shane only takes a moment to recover using the apron to pick himself up. Seromine staggers but he gets on the apron. Shane turns around into a DIVING SHOULDER BLOCK FROM Seromine!

Ace Anderson: Seromine isn't letting the pain keep him down, he refuses to believe what his senses are telling him!!

Jerry Andrews: Tonight these two men have left all the history and all the hatred out here.

Seromine lifts up the God of Game and he crotches him on the top of the steel guard rail. Then he begins battering him with a nonstop flurry of chops. Shane tries to scurry away. The Messiah is glowering over top of him, following him to the corner. Presses him against the post. Seromine winds up for one more chop, using the same paw that had been worked on so viciously before... but at the last second, PING!! Seromine cries out in agony, Shane had ducked just in time. Shane fell as he was about to be hit again and Seromine just broke his hand against the corner post. 

Jerry Andrews: Oh my lord he smashed his hand.That entire right arm has to be useless now.

Shane grabs his ravaged chest. Never in his life has someone battered him like this. It feels as though his skin is bubbling. Streaks of purple swirl through the swelling across his chest. He tries to catch his breath. His eyes are trained on Seromine, who is rolling on the ground, grasping at his hand. He needed to pick himself up and seize the moment. Shane dragging himself up and he’s got Seromine. He SLAMS his head into the guardrail. Seromine trying to keep himself upright but he’s SLAMMED again. Shane grabs his legs and makes him spill into the crowd and he’s rolling under the bottom rope to break the referee's count out. He needs to seize the moment. It is all he can think about. His legs barely can carry him, but his will is so strong. He jumps onto the top rope. Flashbulbs go off all across the stadium as Kyle Shane soars, diving into the crowd, diving into the dazed Seromine. The crowd starts an uproarious "HOLY SHIT" chant.

Jerry Andrews: OH MY GOD! SUICIDE DIVE INTO THE CROWD!

Ace Anderson: Jesus Christ Kyle! What are you doing?! 

Jerry Andrews: I think Shane just took the biggest leap of faith!!

In one moment, one of the most hated men in Pure Class Wrestling and one of the men who annoys a broad cross section of people by trade, both have the support of the crowd on their side. Their intensity, driven towards the other, has earned them a reprieve, if only for one night. The fans are witness to greatness. Every single superstar who is watching these two men is glued to their television sets. The ref doesn’t dare count. The God of Game, adrenaline bleeding out of his pores now, heaves himself over the guardrail. He lays there, spent. Seromine is also wiped out The referee is starting to count him out, now, finally...

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

Both Shane and Seromine look up, gathering their thoughts as they realize what's happening... if this goes to a count out not only will their beef never be truly settled, because it'll go to a non-finish, this war between them will be unsatisfied. It will forevermore have an asterisk. No. Too tame. Shane and Seromine both do their best to make it out of the crowd and across the aisle on wounded, non-functioning body parts.

6...

7...

8... 

9...

Both men sprint in the ring side by side, and the crowd pops. Seromine and Shane kneel side by side, breathing hard, relieved at beating the count but still in a Mexican standoff. They gauge each other with wonder, and more than a little spite. Shane starts the volley with a slap to Seromine while both men are down on their knees, and Seromine returns the slap. The two men go back and forth with heavy slaps, as they begin rising to their feet. But that isn’t enough. The will is too strong in both of them. Head on shoulder, they rise, using the other for balance. Now, they were head to head. Eye to eye. Breathing the same breath and spitting it out in snarls. They’d traveled different paths to this moment, but within it, they have become something more. 

Jerry Andrews: SOMEHOW THEY ARE BOTH STILL STANDING! 

Shane with the forearm shot!

Ace Anderson: Shane has made a living in willing himself over others. His knee is the one that gives out.

Jerry Andrews: Shane headbutts Seromine in the chest! Seromine returns with a vicious windup boot to the face that sends the champion reeling!

Shane is laid up against the ropes, on spaghetti legs, barely able to keep himself composed after the vicious match. Seromine gathers Shane in, hooking his arm and pulling him in to a STIFF short-arm clothesline that knocks spit flying out of Shane's mouth, and before the champion can even totter down to the canvas Seromine keeps wrist control by bringing Shane's head down to the mat with a DDT. And there it is. Ashes to Ashes.

Jerry Andrews: Like the sentiments of funeral eulogy it symbolizes... Ashes to Ashes means the end.

Seromine, holding his arm strapped across his chest, pushes his back across Shane and hooks a leg.

The referee and the crowd: ONE...

TWO...

THREE -

KICKOUT!!

A defiant Shane rockets a hand up, like a man desperately clinging to life!!

The crowd goes insane, and Seromine sits up, his eyes bulging and his face beet red.

Seromine: WHAT?!

Shane looks completely done, and lays in a lifeless lump on the mat. Seromine looks up at the ref, who assures him that Shane kicked out and didn't, you know, spasm or something. Seromine grits his teeth, holding his fists at his temples and shouting, "No, no no no no," and then he shouts that it's over, it has to be over, because his faith, the faith and will of Seromine HAS to be stronger than that of Kyle Shane. If there's a "god" listening, then "god" HAS to be on Seromine's side, damnit!!

Seromine holds his arms out to the crowd and says that he is dedicating this to each and every one of his Followers.

He peels Shane up off the mat, holding the wrist and yanking him around the ring as if by a leash. Shane can't even stand, he tries to but he's knocked so insensate that his wounded leg won't even support the weight. 

Jerry Andrews: I don't like the look of this. Shane is dead on his feet, and Seromine is proclaiming his intentions to the Followers in the audience.

Ace Anderson: What he is proclaiming is the supremacy of his faith. The final victory over Shane's ideology. If it wasn't over with the last one... it'll be over soon.

Seromine keeps wrist control by pulling Shane across the ring, then battering him with another short-arm that is almost an Irish whip into a brutal Clothesline from the depths of Hell. Shane falls back, stunned. Seromine does not let go of the wrist, gathering Shane back up by the arm as if they are tied, or even bound together. He hooks the head, and motions that it's over. He DDT's Shane into the mat with ever more force, ever more malicious finality, completing the Ashes to Ashes sequence yet again. Shane looks, if it were possible, even more dead than before.

Jerry Andrews: A second time, Ashes to Ashes.

Ace Anderson: I've never seen Kyle Shane get beaten so badly. No one else has ever taken this much abuse.

Jerry Andrews: That's it. It's over.

Seromine drops down for the cover and shouts for the referee to count. The crowd has been booing Seromine, and yet when the count goes down they chant along with relish.

The referee and the crowd: ONE...

TWO...

THREE - 

KICKOUT!!

Shane still throws a shoulder up!!

Seromine collapses off Shane, near tears as he can't believe what's going on. Indeed, without Destiny there he is much wilder and angrier, and he sits up, staring at the sky and asking "god" if this is his doing. 

Ace Anderson: Seromine is straight up ranting at the sky, yelling invective at god and the faithful watching him.

Jerry Andrews: His inability to put Shane down for each three count has gotten into his mind. This might be his downfall. 

Seromine gives two double birds to the sky, saying "FUCK YOU!!" to any deity that was listening that's now turned on him in his hour of need. He shouts that he doesn't need faithful, Followers or any of that crap, and the boos have become a wave of negative sound directed at him by the Pure Class fans that are booing him out of the building. Seromine, still ranting, waves them off, and turns to Shane, saying "And FUCK YOU TOO!" and he goes to lift Shane up. He puts Shane between his legs, about to put the exclamation point on his profane denunciation with a flip piledriver. However, before he can get the Stigmata off to it's next phase, Shane stands, and to the delight of everyone, he back drops his way out of it! Shane collapses to one knee as he sends Seromine flying overhead and crashing to his back. Seromine yells in anger, pain and surprise as he's caught off guard by Shane roaring back to life. Shane, from his knees, bobs his head like he's beginning to Bulk up, and as Seromine, cringing in pain and holding his lower back begins getting up he eats one of the hardest roundhouse kicks to the face anyone had seen.

Jerry Andrews: VATS!!!

Shane falls down, unable to support the weight on one leg after his bad leg was used for the kick, doesn't let himself rest. He shoots over and pushes Seromine onto his back.

The referee and the crowd: ONE...

TWO...

THREE!!!

Ding Ding Ding

The crowd erupts into a huge ovation, and Shane reacts much as he did when he first won the World Title. It's a magical moment.

Jerry Andrews: He... He did it!! Shane just kicked Seromine's head off with that VATS, Seromine - Seromine has been beaten tonight!

Ace Anderson: I... don't... believe it...

Jerry Andrews: That means that Shane won Faith versus Faith! That means that Seromine has to shave his head! That means that Seromine... has to say Shane was right!!

Sasha Greene: Here is your winner... KYLE SHANE!!!

"In The Morning And Amazing" by Circa Survive begins to play on the PA, and Shane tries pulling himself up on the ring ropes. He's still in a lot of pain and unable to put his weight on his leg, but it's a damn proud moment and he isn't going to deprive himself of it. Seromine, just coming to, lays on the mat, staring straight up as reality begins setting in. The crowd is cheering "SHANE, SHANE, SHANE" loudly as Shane holds his hands up with the referee's help. Seromine, from the mat, runs his hands over his eyes and mouth in disbelief.

Jerry Andrews: The realization is kicking in for Seromine, he realizes what just happened... and what he has to do now.

Seromine has rolled over to the apron, sitting on it dejectedly, and suddenly, security appears. They talk to him, and Seromine still has a glassy-eyed look of shock.

Jerry Andrews: I don't think Seromine knows how to handle this. If he had beaten Shane, Kyle would have to get decked out like Gabriel and become a member of his Followers... but he lost, so he has to honor the stipulation.

Ace Anderson: Security is out there to make sure that Seromine lives up to his end of the bargain.

The security members flank Seromine, who looks at them, notices that they have a barber's chair set up on the top of the stage, and then it all clicks into place. They intend to walk him (by force if necessary) up the ramp to the barber's chair and sit him in it and shave his head. Seromine shouts "No! No!!" and he tries to juke past the security, but two big gorillas aren't gonna let him get by.

Jerry Andrews: And Seromine is caught!

Another few security men come along to grab Seromine's arms and pin them, and drag him, yelling the whole time up the ramp. In the ring, Kyle Shane is laughing at Seromine and loving every minute of this. There's a bespectacled man in a barber's smock waiting up there with a pair of clippers and scissors.

Kyle Shane: Hey boys, make sure you trim the sideburns! *cackles*

Seromine's howls of "I HATE YOU, SHANE!!" can be heard over everything, the mocking cheers of the crowd, Shane's laughter, all of it. Seromine is sat down in the chair, and there's a big man on either side of him, holding his arms as he's put in the barber's chair.

Jerry Andrews: Here we go, Seromine is getting his head shaved!

Seromine's eyes widen comically as the barber starts up the electric clippers and holds them up, and he begins struggling and repeating "No, no, no, no!" He's begging and trying to plead to the men holding him, and his humiliation only intensifies when the clippers cut a strip down his head and the shorn off hair starts falling into his lap. From the ring, holding the World Title belt over his chest and drinking it in, Shane laughs. Shane takes a house mic.

Kyle Shane: Don't forget, this was only part of the bargain you agreed to Seromine... I put up my faith, against you and yours and if I lost I was gonna be one of you. But since you lost, you have to do something for me. You have to say, "I was right."

Seromine: I HATE YOU, SHANE! I HATE YOU!

More hair is dropping in curls on the stage as the two strong henchmen hold Seromine's arms down. Half of his temple is now shaved down to a buzz cut, and still Seromine struggles.

Kyle Shane: Say it! Say, "Kyle Shane was right! Kyle Shane was right about everything!"

The barber shaves down another strip of hair like a lawn-mower, letting curls fall to the ramp and Seromine's lap.

Seromine: ARGH, DAMN IT, YOU WERE RIGHT! YOU WERE RIGHT!

Shane is having the time of his life, laughing and playing to the crowd as Seromine is up there getting his head shaved. The barber is just about done.

Kyle Shane: Say "I'm nothing but a two-bit Jim Jones and I lead a cult of suck ups and sycophants." No, no, wait, say "Gabriel has sex with goats on my command while Holden Ross reads him Bible verses!" Say -

Suddenly, the crowd stirs as the camera shows that Gabriel himself is in the ring behind Kyle Shane with a steel chair. He savagely blasts Shane from behind. Shane falls to the mat, and Gabriel lays in another few chair shots to the back and arm of Shane. 

Gabriel: DON'T YOU DARE DISRESPECT US! DON'T YOU DARE MOCK THE FAITH!!

The barber has stopped shaving Seromine and the security team, the barber and Seromine all stare in shock as Gabriel furiously boots the injured Shane. Seromine squints at Gabriel and says "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

Gabriel angrily yells "I WON'T LET HIM DISRESPECT US ANY MORE!" before he grips the chair in both hands and rams it's tip into Shane's ribs with such force that Shane lets out an explosive yell.

Jerry Andrews: Gabriel has lost it! He's snapped on Shane!

Ace Anderson: I don't think this was what Seromine had in mind, either.

Seromine, now mostly shaved bald, stares at the ring, where Gabriel stands tall over a fallen Kyle Shane with the steel chair in his hands.

- CLICK -