Post by Rick Majors on Mar 29, 2019 21:06:23 GMT -5
Pure Class Wrestling Trauma
Thursday March 28th, 2019
The PCW Faithful are again on their feet as Trauma hits the airwaves.
Jerry Andrews: After a chaotic and monumental Mass Destruction event that changed the course of PCW, we are back for Trauma! I am Jerry Andrews and with me as always is Ace Anderson!
Ace Anderson: Phew! I'm still trying to come down from Mass Destruction! What a night that was! And, you're right, PCW looks a lot different today than it did a couple of weeks ago.
Jerry Andrews: And the big reason for that? We have a new world champion!
“Amazing” by Kanye West hits the PA system and the PCW Faithful give a loud pop as the new PCW World Champion steps out onto the stage. Dressed to the nines in an Armani suit, carrying the PCW Championship over his shoulder. He has his Cartier shades on and a grin plastered on his face as he walks down the ramp.
Sasha Greene: “Ladies and gentleman, please welcome your NEW PCW World Champion…… GERARD ANGELO!”
The crowd pops again as Gerry walks up the steel steps. He walks to the center of the apron, looking out over the crowd, before lifting the World title to the heavens. “The Hollywood Hero” climbs into the ring, walking over to the other side to get a mic from the ring tech. Gerard stands in the center of the ring as “Amazing” fades out, being replaced by cheers and chants of “GERRY! GERRY! GERRY!”. Gerard just smiles and lets them chant, flipping the title down before flipping it back over his shoulder, adjusting it.
Gerard: “What a difference a year makes. One year ago, I debuted at Mass Destruction. I got jumped by a bunch of goons and spent my first night here in the trainers room. Fast forward one year later and I spent the night in the trainers room. Except this time, I brought this with me.”
Gerry holds the PCW Championship up again, eliciting cheers from the crowd.
Gerard: “One full year of struggle. One full year of adversity. All the blood, sweat, and tears led me to this. Being the Pure Class Wrestling World Champion. I did what no one else could. I stopped the unstoppable force. I moved the unmovable object. I ended the most dominate championship reign ever seen in the history of this company. Now, I do have to say one thing before I go on about myself. Kyle Shane. I may not like you as a person, but I respect the hell out of you as a competitor. We went to war in that cage, and you proved you are the toughest bastard in this company.”
The crowd cheers, enjoying the respect given.
Gerard: “Buuuuuut, I walked out the champ! Which means I am now the face of the company. And what a handsome face it is. This mean that I’m the guy now. This mean I have to bring my ‘A’ game every single night. This mean that I have to support the weight of the company on my shoulders. I have to step up to the plate and deliver in the clutch. And you know what I say to that? Who better?”
Gerry lifts the title off his shoulder and stares at it.
Gerard: “I’m bringing a new age to this company. A golden age with Gerard Angelo leading the way. Time to move towards the future. A new era, if you will. The Era of Angelo. I am the best wrestler in the world, and this title is my proof. If any of you wanna try to prove me wrong, you know where to find me. At the top of the mountain. Just remember to watch your step.”
Gerard pulls his sunglasses off and stares at the hard cam.
Gerard: “Cuz it’s a long way down if you slip.”
The Hollywood Hero tosses the mic down, throwing the belt over his shoulder as “Amazing” plays once again. The Champ exits the ring and walks up the ramp, playing to the crowd. The shot then switches to prerecorded footage.
Previously Recorded
Hangtown. All Souls Hollow. The House of Dillinger. Shane Dodge.
Shane Dodge?
With all the tales of Hangtown’s veiled location, how can it be that one of PCW’s interviewers is sitting here? Was it a personal invitation? A glitch in the geomancies surrounding the place? The magic of television?
That’s for Dodge to remain troubled about ‘til the end of his days, and for none of you to ever find out.
Shane Dodge and Phinehas Dillinger sit in one of the rooms in the house. Library, kitchen, root cellar – it doesn’t matter. Early spring in Kentucky means frosty mornings leading into warmer days, so they sit on either side of a low fire. Two mugs of tea rest on a small table between them. Phinehas had referred to the tea as a proprietary mix, a “Hangtown Blend,” but hadn’t offered more explanation than that. Shane had paused before taking his first drink. Hangtown Blend? That could be anything…but his uncomfortableness with the thought of declining the drink outweighed the concern surrounding the ingredients, and so here they are. Drinking tea, in the middle of a tale about some of Phinehas’s exploits.
“…so I finished tamping down the dirt around his neck, then took the jar of honey and poured it on his head. My bees beat the ants to the punch, and, well, it was worse than he ever could have imagined.”
Shane’s brow furrows. “But…bees make the honey. How did that attract…”
“Oh, it wasn’t the honey of my bees. And my bees do not suffer trespass.”
Shane takes a sip and sits the mug on the table. A quick prayer of supplication and he settles back into his chair.
“Speaking of shovels and burying people…care to comment on the brutal assault of Seromine at Mass Destruction? That was difficult to watch, even for a Grimm match.”
“Starting right with that, are we?” Eyes narrow, pale blue orbs focusing in the glow of the fireplace.
“Well, I’m here…somehow…and I am an interviewer.”
“Fair enough. But I don’t know what to tell you, Shane. I work within the confines of the match and its stipulations, whatever those might be. If it’s one with C-4 laced turnbuckles, I bash someone’s head into one and blind him. If it’s Pain of Glass, well, you’ll have to track down Michael Wryght and ask him. If this had called for a loaded Bible or a wooden crucifix, I would have found a way to use it to my advantage. Seromine knew full well what he’d signed up for. He could have used the shovel against me, just the same. And besides, he’s done awful things to people over the years. Terrible, selfish things. Some might say he’s reaped what he sowed.”
Phinehas taps on the mug.
“Something of a harvest, if you will.”
Caught up in the discussion, forgetting where he is, Dodge leans forward, elbows on knees. “But what about all those instances of Snap. Crackle. Pop? For that matter, what about the time you paralyzed Sadistic with that power bomb on the chair? Surely you aren’t saying that’s sanctioned behavior.”
“…he got better,” says Phinehas with a shrug.
“Even so.”
Phinehas crosses a leg over a knee and rests his chin in his hand. “Look, Shane, there’s a long history of folding chair usage in professional wrestling. The Brothers Gruesome are just another in that fine legacy. We were just more…creative than most of the others, is all.”
“You have an answer for everything.”
“That’s right,” says Phinehas.
“Don’t you feel any remorse at all? Even a flicker?”
“The problem is that many people misread my intentions. They see my actions as the work of a violent person. A disturbed person. But I’m not outright hostile to my opponents. I am indifferent, and that’s what truly terrifies them. I show respect in that I don’t take any match for granted, but at the same time I am no respecter of persons. Be it Razor Blade, Stormm, Seromine, Rick Majors, or anyone else who has ever walked the halls of Pure Class Wrestling, I see that opponent standing across from me, and I know I have a job to do. And I do everything in my power to complete that job. It’s as simple as that.”
“If you say so.”
Phineas tilts his head. “I just did.”
“Fine.” A drink of tea. This really isn’t so bad. A bit earthy for Shane’s taste, but beggars can’t be choosers. “So…what’s next for the Hangtown Horror? Chasing a title, or revenge of a past wrong, perhaps?”
“Not sure. I tried reading the blood spatter after I stuck that shovel in Seromine’s face, but it was inconclusive. I guess I’ll wait and see what, or who, comes my way, and take on whomever it may be.”
“Just like always,” says Shane Dodge, turning up the tea and finishing it off.
Phinehas raises his mug to his mouth and pauses. A grin behind it, perhaps.
Most likely.
“Exactly, Shane. Just like always.”
Sasha Greene: The following is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, he weighs in at 227 lbs... RICK "THE IMPACT" MAJORS!!
The lights go out. The crowd cheers instinctively before eventually falling silent. Suddenly the sound of guitars pierce through the silence. "Wastelands" by Linkin Park begins to boom throughout the arena, the lights in the building flashing along with the drum beat of the song. Then, from the entrance way, steps Rick Majors.
Wearing a black denim military jacket, a grey t-shirt, and jeans, Rick Majors pauses for a moment and looks down briefly. He then looks up and starts to make his way to the ring.
"This is war with no weapons,
Marching with no stepping,
Murder with no killing,
Illing every direction."
Majors walks slowly, looking out around the arena as he continues his way down to the ring.
"And no, I'm not afraid of that
Print it in your paperback
Every rap is made in fact
To act as a delayed attack
Every phrase a razor blade
That's saved until they play it back
To slay and leave em laying on the pavement
Bang, fade to black"
The lights in the arena burst on fully as the song's chorus hits.
In the wastelands of today,
When there's nothing left to lose,
And and there's nothing more to take,
But you force yourself to choose,
In the wastelands of today,
When tomorrow disappears
When the future slips away,
And your hope turns into fear,
In the wastelands of today.
Majors climbs the ring steps and pauses. He turns towards the crowd, standing on the ring apron for a moment before entering the ring. Majors stands in the centre of the ring, looking out towards the crowd, awaiting his opponent/start of the match.
Jerry Andrews: You know, ever since Majors broke away from Seromine, and has begun picking up wins like his victory over Holden Ross at Mass Destruction, I've seen a renewed energy and purpose from the former Deacon.
Ace Anderson: What are you talking about, Andrews? He's made the biggest mistake of his life. Seromine made Majors a champion, Seromine brought Rick Majors back to relevance as Gabriel. As Rick Majors, he doesn't have the same edge.
Jerry Andrews: You may see it that way, but I'm seeing a man who is on a serious comeback tour.
Ace Anderson: That little tour is fittin' to be cancelled, no refunds tonight.
Sasha Greene: And his opponent, weighing in at 383 lbs... The Demon Clown... SICKO!!
The lights start going out as if with a rolling blackout, flickering and struggling to maintain power as the first guitar chords of "Fixxxer" by Metallica starts playing over the PA. As the lights come fully up, a battered, dilapidated ice cream truck, it's paint and decals peeling in a sinister manner rumbles up on stage, it's axles shaking with effort. The entrance ramp is backlit with a hellish red lighting as the ice cream truck pulls into a spot just to the left of the entrance ramp, making this vessel seem like some demonic harbinger. As the music hits the mid-point heavy guitar break the jumbotron shows images of Sicko, walking down a long hallway, his back turned to the camera, then the screen splits and two images of Sicko, two faces, one laughing, one letting out a bestial roar.
Tell me
Can you heal what father's done
Or fix this hole in a mother's son?
Can you heal the broken worlds within?
Can you strip away so we may start again?
Tell me, can you heal what father's done
Or cut this rope and let us run?
Just when all seems fine and I'm pain free
You jab another pin, jab another pin in me
Then, as the music kicks in harder, shots of Sicko ruthlessly attacking and destroying PCW superstars flicker on the screen. Sicko steps out from behind the wheel of the ice cream truck, and as he does, he cocks an ear, listening to an unheard spoken word or command, and he responds, talking to himself. A red mist rolls out from the interior of the ice cream truck with Sicko. The Demon Clown slowly makes his way down to the ring, like a predator on the hunt. As he climbs onto the apron, James Hetfield is just getting to the "NO MORE PINS IN ME" part of the chorus and in time with that, Sicko holds his arms out at his sides and he throws his head back, letting out a guttural roar. As Sicko climbs over the top rope, he turns his head to talk to a voice only he can hear, waiting for the match to start.
Singles Match
Sicko vs Rick Majors
Referee: Manny Cruz
Jerry Andrews: Ever since he began targeting the Underground division with a sadistic vigor, Sicko has shown a mean streak unlike any we've seen before.
Ace Anderson: You've got to believe that that mean streak is in full force tonight, Sicko is hurting from the brutal battle against David Hunter.
Jerry Andrews: Well, having fallen short against Hunter, some may be asking where Sicko intends to go now.
Ace Anderson: It's the same basic crossroads Majors is at in his life after leaving Seromine behind. These two men are looking to change their fortunes and revitalize their careers in different ways.
Sicko calls for a tie-up, and as they go for a collar-elbow Sicko clearly begins overpowering Majors and shoving him downwards, forcing him back. Finally, Sicko throws Majors halfway across the ring. Majors looks at the referee. But he gets back to his feet. Sicko holds his hands out again for a tieup, but Majors slips away under his arms and begins lighting Sicko's legs up with kicks. He sweeps around his side and kicks him in the hamstring several times. Finally, though, Sicko catches Majors's leg, puts his hand on his chest and throws him down to the mat with force. Majors quickly gets to his feet, and Sicko whips him to the ropes and on the return drops him with a back body drop. Majors gets to his feet and takes a discus clothesline, then as he gets back up he is hit with a back elbow. Majors gets to his feet holding his back and Sicko lifts him up with a military press, and he drops him face first on the canvas. Majors gets to his feet one more time. Sicko runs at him for a clothesline, but Majors ducks under it and begins firing away with forearm shots to the face, and mixing in a few straight kicks to the midesction. He walks Sicko over to the turnbuckle and goes to slam his face into it, but Sicko overpowers him and elbows him off. Majors backs off, holding his face, and Sicko explodes out of the corner with a clothesline.
Jerry Andrews: Oh! What power by Sicko!
Sicko lifts Majors up by the head and goes to irish whip him to the ropes, but on the return he slides under his legs behind him, then as Sicko turns around Majors trips him with a drop toehold before floating into an illegal turtling position and begins unloading punches into the back of his head. The referee tells Majors about the closed fists, and he respectfully backs off. Majors lifts Sicko up a little and gives him a knee lift. He grips his head and starts giving him a few mounted punches, then he applies a rear chinlock. Sicko flails his arms, as Majors tightens the hold. Sicko uses all his strength the push Majors over towards the ropes, but Majors keeps the chinlock applied. Sicko tries to fight to his feet. Majors shakes his head, saying he should give up, and twists his neck. Sicko slowly fights to his feet as he grips Majors's legs and lifts him up on his back, and with a burst of strength he runs backwards and squashes Majors into the corner. He does this again, squashing Majors behind him in the corner, and finally Majors loosens the hold. Sicko hangs on, paces forward a few steps, and then comes in with a lot of velocity to crush Majors in the corner. Majors comes staggering out, and Sicko irish whips him with force into the opposite corner. When he comes staggering out, holding his back, Sicko drops him with a big sidewalk slam. Sicko keeps an arm draped over Majors for the pin.
Jerry Andrews: Oooh, and Sicko leaves Rick Majors flatter than IHOP's specialty.
Ace Anderson: If you're talking about the one by my house on Route 360, it's shitty service. I asked for those eggs over medium, Debra - OVER MEDIUM! I know you're watching at home...
The referee: One... Kickout.
Sicko lifts Majors up and lays him across the ropes, and he gives him a big open-handed slap across the chest, drawing a "WHOOOO!" from the crowd. Majors screams and jumps and holds his chest in pain. Sicko throws Majors into the corner, and gives him another big overhand slap, and Majors staggers out, holding his chest in pain. Sicko whips him into the opposite corner, and he comes running at him, looking for a big corner clothesline. Majors flings his elbow out and nails Sicko. He staggers back to the middle of the ring. Majors runs at him, but he is caught by a big powerslam from Sicko. He holds on for the pin.)
The referee: One... kickout.
Sicko stares at the referee, frustrated and a bit annoyed. Sicko motions for Majors to get up, and as he gets up, still doubled over he runs off the ropes. However, Impact attempts a running knee lift and he spins away at the last second and counters into a swinging reverse neckbreaker. Majors goes for a cover now.
The referee: One... Kickout.
Majors, clearly not expecting to get a pinfall that soon, lands a few knee stomps the the side of Sicko's head as Sicko rolls to all fours. Sicko tries to swat Majors away, but Rick locks in a side headlock. Sicko begins to fade, seemingly, as Majors wrangles him down to the mat. The referee asks Sicko if he'll give up but Sicko shakes his head no, and is even laughing a little through the pain. Sicko begins rising up on all fours, then to one knee, his facepaint running a little bit from sweat, and an angry snarl on his face. He flings Majors over his shoulder, sending Majors to the mat. Sicko shakes the cobwebs out and then looks down at Rick with a terrifying scowl. Sicko lifts Majors up from behind, going for a full nelson submission, however, Majors uses Sicko's own girth as the Demon clown is leaning over him to victory roll through into a surprise pin.
Jerry Andrews: I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it, but Majors is frustrating Sicko right now!
Ace Anderson: Key word - frustrating. This has to really be pissing him off.
The referee: One…
Two… Sicko furiously kicks out.
Majors lifts Sicko up for a rolling vertical suplex, but Sicko blocks with his foot, elbows Majors’s hold loose, then lifts him up in a vertical suplex before flipping him forward so that he lands on his stomach. Majors rolls around, holding his stomach, and then Sicko lifts him up and punishes him with a harsh backbreaker. Sicko applies a dragon sleeper hold to Majors. The official asks Majors to give up, but he waves his hand to say he won’t. Sicko has his knee dug in his back as he pulls Majors downward. Finally, Majors’s arms begin shaking with energy as he starts fighting his way up, and then he swings his leg up and kicks his in the face, twice. Sicko releases the hold. Majors takes a second to catch his breath, then he begins elbowing a rising Sicko in the stomach. He floors him with a club to the back. Sicko lifts Majors to his feet and decimates him with a dangerous DDT, then covers.
The referee: One…
Two… Kickout.
Sicko lifts Majors up, and hooks him in position for a powerbomb. But as he has Majors up over his head, Majors kick the back of Sicko’s head and floats out of his grasp behind him, and when he lands on his feet, Sicko turn around right into a standing spinning heel kick! Sicko stumbles, and looks dazed, but the monster does not leave his feet. Majors plants his heels, and gives Sicko a second spinning heel kick. Sicko falls!
Jerry Andrews: That kick caught Sicko right in the face, and the second one actually took him down!
Ace Anderson: What the hell does Majors have in that boot, it took five of Hunter's hardest shots to put Sicko down at Mass Destruction!
Majors opts not to go for a cover, but he does pace around, flinging his arms like a wild man and getting the crowd fired up. The crowd, excited to see Majors getting back to being the old him, respond with a huge reaction, and a "You still got it" chant. Sicko staggers to him feet right into a springboard crossbody from Majors. Majors gets to his feet, pacing around and getting fired up, and then as Sicko pulls himself up he hits a spinning wheel kick. Majors drops Sicko with a standing dropkick. Sicko crawls back to his feet, and Majors continues unleashing a flurry of big right hands on Sicko. He looks to irish whip Sicko into the ropes. However, the clown has 150 plus pounds on him, and so when Majors tries to pull Sicko, Sicko stops it, shaking his head, planting his feet, and staring intensely. He whips Majors instead, and as Majors comes running off the ropes Sicko catches him with a huge powerslam. Sicko picks up Majors and nails a huge knee to his stomach before irish whipping him into the opposite turnbuckle. Sicko looks to follow it up with a clothesline but Majors moves out of the way and Sicko goes crashing into the turnbuckle. Majors follows this up by waiting as Sicko turns out of the corner, groaning and holding his chest in pain. Sicko is booted in the gut, and Majors takes the Demon Clown down with a front facelock cutter! The crowd roars as Majors lays on his stomach, breathing heavily.
Jerry Andrews: Majors wants Sicko to Believe In This!!
Blinking and slightly winded from the effort, Majors crawls over a dazed monster, draping an arm for the cover.
The referee: One…
Two… Kickout.
Majors covers his head with his hands in disbelief, and he looks up at the referee, asking him if it was three. The ref replies negative, so Majors, wiping the sweat off his face, gets to his feet behind Sicko. Sicko, slowly, pulls himself up using the ropes. Majors eggs him to get up. He backs up and runs to the opposite ropes then charges Sicko across the ring, but as he gets close to him he scoops him up in a military press and lifts him high over his head, keeping his forward momentum going by throwing him out of the ring and making him splatter across the announce table, which shakes violently but does not break. The announcers vacate their chairs.
Jerry Andrews: Incoming!
Ace Anderson: Ouch, he looks rough.
Jerry Andrews: This desk has been reinforced, that did more damage to him than anything.
Ace Anderson: I’m glad, cause I’m tired of people messing up my desk, it’s where I hide my liquor.
Sicko stands on the apron, waiting for Majors to start pulling himself up on the table, and he flies off the apron himself, but Majors moves and Sicko simply smacks his face off the table and bounces off. The crowd erupts in amazement at Sicko’s attempt. Both Majors and Sicko are down for the moment by the announce table. The official tells both competitors to get in the ring, not wanting to count either man off. Majors is the first to get to his feet, and he grabs at the bald head of Sicko, his hand slipping. He plants Sicko's head off the apron a few times. Majors walks Sicko over and attempts to slam his face into the steel step, but the clown blocks and punches him. Sicko backs up, and he runs at Majors, but at the very last second Impact seems to have a Spider-sense warning, as he drop toeholds Sicko so that the monster actually falls face first across the top of the steel steps. Majors then quickly climbs in the ring, breaking the count the referee had started, springs up to the top rope and then jumps off with a double foot stomp, smashing Sicko’s face into the steel ring steps. The crowd erupts into a loud “Holy shit” chant.
Jerry Andrews: GOOD GOD, now Majors is picking up the tempo with a brutal stomp into the steel steps!!
Ace Anderson: Is he auditioning for the Underground Division, what was that?!
Jerry Andrews: I don't know, but all the blows to the head Sicko absorbed at Mass Destruction and the blood loss have to have that body part already near the red.
Majors is on all fours, and he meekly reaches up to the apron. The referee is telling them they've done enough. The ref is counting, 1... 2... 3... 4... Majors rolls a shoulder under the bottom rope and then weakly stumbles back into the aisle, having given a lot of himself in that stomp and the fall to the floor afterwards. Majors attempts to lift a limp Sicko up, but he weakly pushes him off. He clubs him over the back a few more times and tries to lift the dead weight, but as he gets under Sicko's leg to muscle him up onto the apron Sicko comes back to life, elbowing him sharply in the side of the head like a machine gun. Sicko stumbles out into the aisle, feeling the effects of the stomp. Majors comes back after Sicko, gripping him by the back of the head. Suddenly Sicko turns, his eyes blazing, and he SNATCHES Majors by the throat and turns Majors while the choke is applied, positions Majors in front of the apron and lifts Majors high enough to chokeslam Impact back first on the POINT of the apron!
Jerry Andrews: And Sicko with a, well, sickening Pagliacci chokeslam, on the hardest part of the apron, almost driving Majors onto a triangular point.
Ace Anderson: If the ice cream vendor truck, the wrestling, and, you know, the general serial killing don't pan out, I think Sicko has a future as a chiropractor.
Sicko takes the time to bark a conversation that, the fans at ringside pick up, but he clearly is talking to someone who isn't there. Majors, arching his back goes crashing down into the aisle, and doesn't move. The crowd erupts in boos at Sicko as he snarls at them. And the referee starts his count again, 1... 2... 3... Sicko, staring a hole into the referee who keeps talking about some count, rolls into the ring to break said count, then back out into the aisle, and he lifts Majors up, clubbing him over the back with force. After a particularly sickening club, Majors falls to all fours. Sicko lifts him up and gives him a Russian legsweep into the steel guardrail. Majors falls down to the concrete. Sicko begins yelling and bellowing with rage as he begins ripping up a section of padding in the aisle, trying to expose the concrete.
Jerry Andrews: And what the hell is this?! Sicko is treating this like it's an Underground match!
Ace Anderson: Yeah, this ref has been a bit lenient with enforcing the count outs, but I don't think he's going to let everything fly.
Sicko lifts Majors up, bouncing his head off the steel guardrail. Majors falls back into the aisle. Sicko goes to lift him up, and he hooks his head for a suplex, intending to suplex him across the exposed concrete. Majors blocks it with his leg, punches Sicko in the gut a few times, and then he is able to muscle the big man over just enough with a snap suplex, dropping him back first across the exposed concrete. Sicko contorts around, holding his back. The referee is telling both men to get into the ring, and Majors stumbles over, out of breath, rolling inside. Sicko arches his back on the outside, and starts trying to get to his stomach. Majors waves at the referee, telling him to keep counting as Majors recuperates, resting on his elbows in the ring.
1...
2...
3...
4...
5... Sicko grabs the apron material and pulls on it, ripping some but hauling himself up from the dead.
Majors, winded, is on one knee, and he wearily raises his arms in a classic "Put up your dukes" gesture of weary defiance as Sicko, in true Hulk form of getting stronger now that he's aware and angry, enters the ring. Majors stands, and throws a punch at Sicko, and Sicko's head snaps to the side, then swivels back, fixing Majors with a sociopathic look. Majors throws another quick jab at Sicko, then another, and anoter. Sicko suddenly digs both of his thumbs into Majors's eyes and rakes his eyes. Majors staggers away, screaming and blinded. Sicko clotheslines him over the back, lifts him up and gives him a fallaway package powerbomb. Sicko then falls down, his enraged strength ebbing.
Jerry Andrews: That could have been it right there!
Ace Anderson: Yes, but he’s still feeling the effects of that nasty stomp on the steps. All of the blows Sicko has taken, both at Mass Destruction and tonight, may have taken a toll.
Jerry Andrews: We’ll be able to tell if she starts getting sleepy.
Ace Anderson: That’s easy to figure out, just listen to you for a while.
Finally Sicko covers.
The referee: One...
Two... Kickout.
Sicko slowly gets to his feet, checking for blood. Sicko lifts Majors up and plants him with a pumphandle lift reverse Death valley driver. Majors is lifeless in the middle of the ring, but Sicko suddenly smirks. Sicko grabs Majors’s arm and drags him over to a corner, goes over to the ropes, and starts climbing to the top rope. Sicko then tries to jump off with a sitting splash on the prone Majors, but he rolls out of the way and the clown just hits the mat butt first. Majors gets to his feet, and in one smooth motion he blasts Sicko with a buzzsaw kick. Sicko holds the side of his head, and Majors holds his hands up to the crowd and asks them to Believe. Majors turns back to Sicko, and lifts him up and, placing the giant's head in a headlock, snaps down and drills Sicko forehead first right into the mat!
Jerry Andrews: Major Damage connects!!
Ace Anderson: Blow after blow are being absorbed by Sicko's damaged head, I'll bet the NFL wouldn't like to look at him now.
Majors, riding a spike of adrenaline, muscles the dead weight Sicko onto his back and lifts a massive leg for a hook cover.
The referee: One...
Two...
Thr- Kickout.
Jerry Andrews: There's just too much fight left in Sicko!
Majors smiles to himself in frustration. He looks to the top rope and smiles, and climbs to the top. He waits for Sicko to get to his feet, and he comes off with a flying shoulder block, taking him down. Majors holds his shoulder for a second. Majors climbs to the top rope once again, and he motions to the crowd, and then he flies off with a big frog splash. He hangs on for a pin.
The referee and the crowd: One...
Two...
Thr- Kickout!
Majors stares down at Sicko like "What the hell?" then his face twists into a snarl. Sicko's facepaint is running, sweat and blood have almost completely wiped it off. Majors lifts the massive head of the clown, and he lays in a few mounted right hands to a headlock. Majors helps a dazed Sicko up, and Sicko headbutts Majors. Sicko, using the ropes to hold himself up, staggers over to the corner. Majors comes in looking for a splash, but the clown moves out of the way. He staggers out, holding his chest, and Sicko runs off the ropes and nails him with a big boot. Majors pinwheels his arms and then flops face first on the mat. Sicko peels him up and crushes him with a stalling suplex into a piledriver. Sicko attempts to lock in a lifting arm triangle. As Sicko goes to step over Majors he pushes himself backwards through his legs, sweeps out his legs from under him so that he falls forward, then he grabs an arm and quickly locks in a Lebell Lock. Sicko’s eyes bug out of his head as he tightens the hold and pulls his back. The referee asks Sicko if he gives up, but he shakes his head and refuses. Sicko reaches for the bottom rope with his free arm, but it’s just out of reach. Sicko begins pulling himself towards the bottom rope, until he’s a few inches away, then his hand shoots out and grabs it. Majors covers his face with his hands as he breaks the hold, and he looks on in consternation and angst at this match.
Jerry Andrews: Majors had the Years of Pain locked in pretty good, it might have done some real damage.
The referee checks on both men, who, having expended a lot of energy, take some time to gain lungfuls of air and recover. Majors and Sicko both get to their feet. Majors grips Sicko’s arm and twists it into an armwringer. Sicko simply pounds him in the face with a short forearm. The two exchange right hands, and Sicko starts to get the better of Majors, beating him back to the ropes. Sicko backs up a few steps, and comes running at him, looking for a big boot, but Majors ducks under it and hits another front facelock cutter.
Jerry Andrews: This time Majors got all of that Believe!
Majors covers.
The referee: One…
Two…
Thr… Kickout.
Majors lands a few knee strikes to the grounded Sicko’s head before floating over into an armbar. Sicko flails his arms around, and it looks like he's about to fade. Majors nods his head in a cocky manner and smiles. Suddenly Sicko starts to show signs of strength, he starts to drag towards the ropes, and he makes his way to the ropes and the referee forces him to break it up. Majors releases the hold and he gives him a few clubbing blows across his back, as he tries to whip him off the ropes, he reverses, sending him to the ropes. On the return, he bends over as if for a back body drop, but Majors suddenly kicks him. The Demon Clown straightens up, and he glares at him, pissed. His eyes open wide in shock.
Jerry Andrews: Oh, no, it looks like Majors hit a nerve!
Ace Anderson: I think the full fury of the Demon Clown is gonna be unleashed.
Majors swings at Sicko for a clothesline, but Sicko blocks it, and drops him with a big right hand. Majors gets to his feet, and Sicko boots him in the gut, and has him hooked as if for a vertical suplex. As soon as he lifts Majors, Majors knees his way out of it and drops down behind Sicko's broad back. Majors then kicks Majors in the knee, and then comes around front, kicking Sicko in the big gut. Sicko's head drops down, and Majors tries to clasp his hands, he's trying to double underhook for a double underhook DDT but he can't... quite... get it across Sicko's massive back, and then... Sicko flexes his shoulders, breaks free of the hold, and stands up, and furiously jerks Majors into a vertical lift before twirling him around and bringing him in with ring shaking force into a Jackhammer, with a leg thrown over his midsection for a cover.
Jerry Andrews: And now Sicko is calling for it - No, Majors fights out of Under The Big Top, Majors is fighting with everything he has - Majors is trying to hook the arms for Major Impact but - NO! SICKO BREAKS FREE!
Ace Anderson: Under The Big Top, with authority!!
The referee and the crowd: One...
Two...
Three!!
Ding Ding Ding
Sasha Greene: Here is your winner... SICKO!!
"Fixxxer" by Metallica starts playing on the PA. Sicko flops to the side off of Majors, his thick chest heaving like a bellows, his face paint scrubbed off due to the exertion. Majors is laid out on his back, staring up weakly and incoherently. Sicko pushes himself up on one arm, and lets out a bestial, triumphant roar.
Jerry Andrews: Sicko gains a hard fought victory over Rick Majors to get himself back on track tonight.
Ace Anderson: I think both of these men used tonight to really prove their toughness and will to get themselves out there.
Sicko gets to his feet, his face a terrifying mask of rage as he holds his arms up and roars again. Majors is being helped to a sitting position by the referee, who's telling him what happened, and Majors covers his face. Sicko has exited the ring, and now he walks over to his ice cream truck, holding his arm up and roaring.
Majors very slowly stands up, using the ropes to hold himself on his feet. He demands a microphone. Breathing heavily, he takes a few seconds to recover from the brutal match before speaking into the mic, his breath still heavy.
Rick Majors: I'm still..... here.... I'm still here. And I'm coming for you.
Majors doubles over in pain for a moment.
Rick Majors: I'm coming for you.
The drops the microphone and kneels down on the canvas. He takes a moment and then rolls under the bottom rope and hobbles his way to the back.
Suddenly, the opening notes of "In The Morning And Amazing" by Circa Survive hit on the PA, and after a few seconds pause, the curtains part and Kyle Shane comes out onto the stage. He's wearing a Beartooth t-shirt, skinny jeans, and some black Chucks, and his hair isn't gelled to it's usual perfection, his stubble is more noticeable. Kyle looks frankly rough. And as he walks down the ramp, there's none of his usual theatricality, he isn't playing to the crowd or posing, pivoting down the aisle with his arms out. Despite his low-key appearance, as he is going up the steps, the crowd at ringside are beginning a growing "Shane, Shane, Shane" chant, which he acknowledges with a smile, genuinely touched.
Ace Anderson: Kyle Shane looks completely naked without the usual cosplay, the pomp and circumstance, and the World title raised over his head.
Jerry Andrews: We'll be hearing from the now former World Champion for the first time since Mass Destruction.
Kyle passes from one side of the ring to the other, and he grabs a steel chair from the ringside area. Someone in the timekeepers area hands him a chair, and Kyle looks at it with a deadpan expression, then he sits it down in the middle of the ring and opens the seat. Mic now in hand, Kyle sits down in the chair, props his elbow on his thigh and chin in hand, and looks down at the mat, pensive, his mood heavy. The fans at the ringside area, still cheering him on, he takes a few deep breaths, as if he doesn't know where to start. He fidgets the mic in his free hand.
Kyle Shane: Can you guys just bear with me, because I've got some emotions to unpack after Mass Destruction, and as I've worked through them I came to two or three conclusions, and I've got a few things to say.
He nods to himself, and then he rolls his eyes skyward with a smirk, addressing everyone and no one.
Kyle Shane: And I know it's become a meme at this point, "Oh, ha ha, Kyle Shane has a FEW things to say and he goes on to give a monologue for ten paragraphs," whatever, like I don't know and even hang a lampshade on the fact I talk a lot.
He sighs, and he thoughtfully covers his mouth with his hand while he pauses, then starts again.
Kyle Shane: Going into Mass Destruction I talked a lot. I said I was going to finish things with Gerard Angelo. I said that I wasn't happy with the non-finish at Collision Course, and that the cage match, our last match was going to be no excuses, no bullshit, I was going to do what I thought I had in the bag back in December. I was going to beat Gerard Angelo. Cut through all the talking, cut through all the accusations that I was President Loki's boy, through the weird digressions about pants... at the end of it all I was going to put it all on the line against Gerard Angelo, I was going to erase a black mark on my record of title defenses, I was going to pass 450, 500, 1000 days, Achievement Unlocked.
He smiles faintly, bittersweetly, looking down at the mat between his feet.
Kyle Shane: I took pride in those number of days because I felt like I was giving it all to you, the fans. Remember, all the wars against Seromine, where I spoke about using the platform of being World Champion to give you people in the stands something to aspire to, to believe in. I talked about being a showcase of a DIY work ethic, that if you believe in yourself and raise your game to the highest level, you can succeed at anything, and I was here to inspire you.
Kyle chuckles, but his smile has his tongue run around the bottom of his lip as if he's picking something out. When he speaks again, his voice is rising, angry, outraged.
Kyle Shane: I used my platform as World Champion because I wanted to fight for people, and uplift them, and inspire them... and THAT bitch back there has openly said that he only wants the World Title because he wants the fame and the status being champion brings. Oh no, no, no, don't think this is sour grapes, people, I'm not mad at Gerard Angelo for winning the match, because I can't be MAD that we both went out there with everything on the line, and no excuses and he came up with the victory because I made one - ONE - stupid little mistake --
Kyle's venom and invective now seems to be turning inward, his tone is filled with such anger and loathing that you know he's been kicking himself over and over, watching that tape.
Kyle Shane: So as I first worked through all of this, I felt anger, and damn right I STILL feel angry about that, because I have given -- EVERYTHING... EVERYTHING, to this company, to you people... to, to entertain you. To provide you with innovative content that you don't see anywhere else, to give you moments in the ring, pieces of wrestling skill and moments like you've never seen anywhere in your lives, and I pushed a message that was meant to inspire you to work hard, and fight hard, and level yourself up and push your own life skills until you could be like me. I drove myself fucking crazy trying to think of new and exciting ways I could film promos for you people, putting off sleep, putting off hanging out with other friends that aren't in my Pure Class Wrestling circle, putting off getting on with my life and doing anything else because I wanted to be there for you people, be your champion, be a hero -
He stands, no, shoots out of the seat, his voice rising like thunder.
Kyle Shane: What more do you want from me?! WHAT MORE DO YOU FUCKING WANT ME TO DO?!
The crowd, especially at ringside, as the camera pans around them, have shocked faces, are mostly stunned silent. Kyle, with a huff, closes his eyes and sits back down. His brow is still as tempestuous as a storm. When he speaks, his voice is strained from raising it so high.
Kyle Shane: And that anger I felt when I woke up, head bursting, still concussed from being battered around the cage, and knocking a damn hole in it was compounded - Hell, tripled, when at the end of the night, at the end of my main event, I saw Gerard Angelo locking eyes with Justin "Stormm" Michaels and I knew - I KNEW that I was done, that my time as a hero, inspiration, a DIY folk hero champion people could look up to was ending, and that the company would be moving on as quickly as possible... Justin Fucking Michaels has been sniffing around the God damn World title since I kicked his head in, back in November 2017... and he won't take "Why Don't You Shut Up And Defend Your North American Title" for an answer. No.
Kyle laughs to himself.
Kyle Shane: No, no, my second observation was that now, with them moving on, Stormm will get what he wants, and he can finally stop interfering in main events and standing there like a goof or putting in no effort on tag team matches, he'll go on and face Gerard in quite possibly the least deserving and most shoe-horned in manner. He didn't even have to pull a Tyler Scott and hit the champion from behind, hey! So my second thought was...
He tilts his head to the side, and an ironic smirk crosses his face, snickering. When he smiles, his grin has a nasty, sardonic, mean-spirited lift.
Kyle Shane: Good for Gerard, actually. No, as I think about it, I'm GLAD Gerard gets to experience this, I'm actually glad he won the World title from me now, and I'm even fucking glad Gerard's apparent first challenger is gonna be some undeserving piece of shit that a, I don't know, a Gerard Angelo would complain about getting a title shot that easily. Because now Gerard is going to have to back up all of that shit he was talking, and Gerard is going to either eat a buffet worth of crow for having to go through the same challenges, the same shoehorned, unworthy challengers who didn't win a Number One Contenders Match, the same aggravation of being a World Champion. So in that, I say, good luck. And as I sit here thinking of that, I'm thinking of where I go next.
He rubs his chin again thoughtfully.
Kyle Shane: Because in my anger I thought of protesting, I thought of refusing the result, I thought of carrying my own, Fuck The World championship and proclaiming myself the real World Champ coming out of Mass Destruction, but that... really would be sour grapes, and counter-intuitive to my message. My message in, was, and ALWAYS will be, that I AM the best in the world. Bar none. I don't need the World Title to say that, I don't NEED any titles to proclaim myself that. Titles come to me, because I have an addiction to proving myself, and testing myself against competition. I think back to when I started in this damn company. 840 days ago, at Collision Course 2016.
The crowd pops a little at Shane's reminiscing, and Shane, standing, smiles. He paces a little.
Kyle Shane: When I started here I was a mean, hungry, take no prisoners renegade, a rogue who did not do things in any way that Pure Class Wrestling had seen before. I didn't conform my content to what I thought the president, or what even the fans wanted to see, I wasn't trying to be a DIY folk hero, I was just here to craft weird, out there, never before seen moments, do things that no one had ever done before. It is that Kyle Shane I need to get back to. The Kyle Shane that pushed boundaries, that took risks. It was THAT Kyle Shane who worked his way up as one of the best God damn Underground Champions who had ever been and it was THAT Kyle Shane who won the 2017 Icemann Invitational Tournament in the same night as he DEFENDED that title! It is that Game Changer that is due for a reprisal, and it is that God of Game that is getting reborn.
Shane has now, fully, gotten the crowd, who were a little shocked and put off by his anger, successfully back on his side. They've seen him work through some of his darkest thoughts and come to terms with them right in front of them. And now, he is full of Kyle Shane energy and bravado, as he stands fully, defiant.
Kyle Shane: The God of Game, is getting a full Remastered Edition. And I don't care if I have to start my way up from the Underground title again - which I would, if I had to. Or if I have to enter this year's Icemann Invitational Tournament, after sitting out last year; and win THAT entire thing too. The God of Game, is here to stay, and there are no possibilities that aren't open; and if I put my mind to it, there is NOBODY, and nothing, that I can't beat. This game starts NOW! This Remaster starts NOW! And there's a whole new set of trophies for me to reach out and grab. Achievement... UNLOCKED, BITCHES!
Kyle starts to drop the mic, but then, smirking, he brings it in close, looking straight into the camera with a smirk.
Kyle Shane: Gerard, buddy - hold onto that title... you worked for it, you now own it, and when the time comes again, the God of Game is coming for it.
With that, Kyle does throw the mic over his shoulder, laughing, and he holds his arms out, taking in the reaction from the crowd. He exits the ring and walks over to the fans at ringside, slapping hands as the camera switches back to Ace and Jerry.
Jerry Andrews: Bold words from the former champion.
Ace Anderson: If there's anyone who can start an entirely new game and a new set of challenges, it's him. I believe in Kyle Shane.
Sasha Greene: The following match is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first.
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.
Sasha Greene: Now, making his way to the ring, weighing 225lbs, from London, England. TYLER SCOTT!!!
He heads to the ring, climbs through the ropes and walks to the centre where he stands and stares intensely into the crowd. He mouths a few obscenities before beginning warming up for the upcoming contest.
Sasha Greene: And his opponent!
A school bell rings....the crows claps along with the clapping of the song matching its beat. A motorcycle emerges from the back with Cory Steel on the back, the outlaw stops at the top of the ramp where he holds a fist up in the air. The massive man also lays down on the accelerator drowning out the music and the crowd!
Sasha Greene: From New York, New York. He weighs 300 lbs, CORY STEEL!
Cory smiles and then launches himself down the ramp on his motorcycle. He takes a few laps around the ring before coming to a stop and rolls into the ring. The large man lumbers to his corner turning his rage into focus on his opponent.
Singles Match
Tyler Scott vs Cory Steel
Referee: Tyrone Little Jr.
Jerry Andrews: This was scheduled to happen at Mass Destruction, but chaos had other intentions.
Ace Anderson: Par for the course in PCW.
Before the bell has the chance to be rung...
The lights shift to a sickly shade of yellow. A pale glow, as if the arena has been cast in the harvest moon’s reflection off the season’s first killing frost. With the sound of a sharp nib scratching across a ragged sheet of parchment, a sepia-toned cursive scrawls grimm across the PCW-Tron. The name flickers in the guttering candle light.
Thump. Clap. Thump. Clap. An incessant electric tremolo. The deep end of a piano. The ebb and flow of a dissonant wail builds to a wall of noise as Zeal and Ardor’s “You Ain’t Coming Back (Instrumental)" breaks forth upon the masses, heralding the arrival of Grimm.
Jerry Andrews (shouting): What is he doing out here?!
Ace Anderson: He's not coming to send Seromine a 'get well soon' message.
Tyler and Cory look as surprised as the announcers. Grimm is moving with purpose to the ring. His eyes burning holes through both Tyler and Cory. He steps into the ring and without so much as a second thought, Tyler is introduced to DEAD RECKONING. After he leaves him in a heap, Grimm turns his attention to Cory Steel. Grimm blocks an attempted swing, then gives Cory a taste of headbutt justice!
Jerry Andrews: OH! These shots are having something extra put into them.
Ace Anderson: So, uh, I suppose this match won't be happening again?
The emotionless Hangtown Horror brings a pair of steel chairs with him. Both are laid out for the heads of Tyler and Cory and THE HARVEST! The referee's attempt to get things on order...well, fail. Grimm isn't done sending a message. Tyler and Cory have those steel chairs slipped over their necks. Grimm drags them to the center of the ring.
Jerry Andrews: OH MY GAAAAWD!!
A sickening double crunch has compromised the two competitors. Grimm leaves them to whatever conditions will stem from his actions, giving it no less another thought than when he entered. Officials race to the ring and before the scene cuts backstage, they are seen calling for medics.
And then we're backstage.
The hallways of the Pure Class Arena are littered with bright lights, but the only important part of it is standing next to Shane Dodge. With his lazy suit hanging off his torso, Shane begins speaking into the mic, the only one present on camera.
Shane Dodge: Ladies and gentlemen, my guest at this time, the King of the Underground Champion, David Hunter.
The camera zooms out, revealing David Hunter in his wrestling gear, complete with a tacky Hawaiian shirt and the Underground Championship around his waist.
Shane Dodge: David Hunter, tonight you are going one-on-one with Alexa Black for that title around your waist, the King of the Underground Championship. Following your victory at Mass Destruction over Sicko, you have solidified your position at the top of the Underground division. What's next for ya champ?
Shane moves the mic over to David, who begins immediately speaking.
David Hunter: Shane...since I debuted back at Deadly Intentions, I've been in match after match after match where I have had to prove myself. To these fans...to my peers...to anybody watching. They thought: this cocky kid, he's just like his dad. He won't account to anything and sucks worse than Kassandra Black at a lemon party.
Shane has to hold in his laugh. Poorly. The crowd, however, have no such notion of doing so.
David Hunter: But in every match I've been in, win or lose, I've proven people wrong. I've not only earned the right to be in the main event tonight, once again, but I've earned the right to call myself a proper...king. You see, this crown around my waist isn't just for the fun of an early death. Oh no, you see, I've beaten anybody put in my path to walk away with this championship. Sure, there's been some set backs, but at the end of it all, the statement's been the same: I am...the once...and future...king.
David takes a few minutes to catch his breath.
David Hunter: And I get it. All the talk, all the criticism, all the jealousy...all I am is just the ruler of a village. Dominator and Angelo, they're runnin towns, cities, kingdoms, countries. They're runnin with the big dogs and here I am...flirtin with interviewers.
David takes a few moments to pat Shane's cheek. He then rubs his knuckles up and down it, continuing to talk, all while Shane stands there uncomfortably.
David Hunter: It's a low bar, Shane, but somebody's gotta do it. Sure, I could abdicate and hand it over to Sicko or Razor Blade, but you see...Genghis Khan didn't glance at Mongolia and decide that raping his women was enough for him. Napoleon didn't stop at the French borders and decide that he's too small to go further. The British Empire didn't stop when they hit the waters surrounding their island and determine that they're too damn contained to ever think about owning a quarter of the fricken world. Oh no!
On that, David slams the hand stroking Shane's cheek onto his shoulder. Shane stumbles a bit, but maintains his balance.
David Hunter: They decided they wanted more. And quite frankly, I'm good at multitasking. I can...rule the Underground Division just fine. Oh no, my goal...is something bigger. You see Shane...there's a tournament...coming up.
This gets the crowd rolling a bit, beginning to cheer.
David Hunter: The Icemann Invitational. Now I realize that...invitational means that I need to be invited. But quite honestly...I don't think I need to remind everybody that I'm presently wearing one of the three championships of PCW. I am wearing, arguably, the toughest championship to maintain. Hell, I've beaten Sicko, Holden Ross, Razor Blade, Cory Steel, Tyler Scott, Muscles Malone, a who's who of undercard mainstays. I've been back and forth with them in that ring, and quite frankly, it's starting to get a bit old. So while I allow my underlings to fight over who thinks they can claim my crown...I'd like to see if the rulers of the towns, cities, kingdoms, or countries are ready to defend their land.
David lets Shane's shoulder go. He visibly relaxes a bit. David takes this time to remove the championship off his waist, putting it over his right shoulder.
David Hunter: However, the reactions to that paragraph and inherent statements are for Future David Hunter to worry about. Present David Hunter is worried about one thing: Alexa Black. Now Alexa, the last time we had words, I mentioned that you had issues with Joey Handy. I defended his honor and made it clear that he's great husband material. I was under the impression, at the time, that you were interested in a relationship with him. Clearly I was mistaken. Because if it was true, than considering where he's at now, I'd hate to see what happens if somebody actually manages to tie the knot with you.
This gets a fairly large boo from the crowd.
David Hunter: I was a fan of Joey Handy, unknown rest his soul. And quite frankly, after what Sicko did to Razor Blade, I'm starting to think that people...just don't want me to like people. So...I'll do you a solid Alexa Black, and say...I don't like you. In fact, I think tonight will be proof of....why exactly I'm not a fan of yours.
The ominous words hang in the air for a few seconds.
David Hunter: The last time my father faced off against a member of the opposite sex, it was a foregone conclusion. 300 plus pound Hawaiian guy against a white, blonde, hundred pounds soaking wet chick. It wasn't a pretty sight watching her get cut in half with a Spear. But afterwards, Dad helped her up and to the back. Tonight won't be like that. Tonight's going to be a massacre...and the blood that fills the ring will not be mine...it will be yours, Alexa. From your head. Just wanted to that make that clear.
Shane can only nod in understanding.
David Hunter: And when the guillotine falls, slicing your head clean off...the world will know that for all my arrogance, all my words, and all my actions...David Hunter might be the son of a dumb-ass...
David grabs his belt, holding it in his right hand. He holds it in front of him so that camera gets a good shot of both it and him.
David Hunter:...but you'll be one too if you ever step to me. So watch the throne and let them come from all sides. Cause while they're rolling around, trying to catch me, I'll just be watching 'em, enjoying...the thrill of the hunt.
David walks off camera. After a bit of focusing on Shane, we cut to commercial.
Sasha Greene: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is for the PCW Underground Championship!
The crowd looks to the entrance way as Blood On My Hands by The Used roars out and they know who is coming out from backstage and they start booing loudly almost drowning out the music.
Alexa Black steps through the curtain her face covered by a black mask with two Japanese Kanji in white. Death on the left and Pain on the right
Her head is covered by a hooded zip up jacket over a plain black t shirt and black tights with black wrestling boots with a red spider on the side of each boot. Her hands are covered by black gloves and around her neck a red back tspider pendant.
She walks slowly down the ramp as the booing intensifies as the PCW faithful don't hold back their hatred of this evil woman
Alexa looks around at the PCW faithful who pack the stands and simply glares malevolently back at them as they jeer and boo.
She continue 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.
Alexa reacha the ring, climbs up on the ring apron and enters the ring.
The music fades out as Alexa stays in the ring and removes her mask, her cold eyes silently staring up the ramp unflinchingly waiting for her next victim.
Sasha Greene: Introducing first, residing in Los Angeles, California: ALEXA BLACK!
"Hopes and Dreams/Save the World" by GaMetal starts blaring on the PA speakers. The lights in the arena all go out, barring the spotlights on the stage. David Hunter comes out, adorned in his usual Hawaiian shirt. He steps to the stage, arms spread, chest exposed. He looks around at the crowd, breathing deeply and ready for what's to come, but otherwise focused on the ring in front of him. He cracks his wrist, neck, and knuckles, glancing around at the crowd before him.
As the drop begins, David pumps his fist forward, punching the air. David begins to walk to the ring, the lights in the arena coming on completely. His eyes focus on the ring in front of him, and shows heavy remnants of a scowl. He avoids the audience members looking for a high-five or some hope of touching him.
As he approaches ringside, he starts to head towards the steps, before taking a u-turn and jumping onto the apron. He climbs the nearest turnbuckle and stands tall, one foot on the top rope, another on the middle. He points towards the hard camera, giving it a wink and something akin to a smirk before resetting and hopping into the ring. He takes off the Hawaiian shirt, tossing it towards the nearest body. He begins doing some quick warm-up stretches.
Sasha Greene: And her opponent, from Tampa, Florida, he is the PCW Underground Champion: DAVID HUNTER!
PCW Underground Championship
Underground Rules
David Hunter (PCW Underground 👑) vs Alexa Black
Referee: Charles Lim
Jerry Andrews: An interesting point is that David Hunter now has the longest active championship reign in PCW.
Ace Anderson: You're right. The Underground Title has bounced around a lot recently, but while Stormm and Kyle Shane lost their titles at Mass Destruction, Hunter retained.
Jerry Andrews: From the look on Alexa Black's face, she certainly wants to make sure he doesn't retain tonight.
Ace Anderson: She definitely wants that Underground Crown.
The bell rings to start the match. Hunter and Alexa circle each other before they lock up. They have a battle of strength, one which Hunter wins as she shoves Alexa to the mat. Hunter then walks over and grabs Alexa by her hair. Alexa reaches up and digs her nails into Hunter's arm, dragging them along Hunter's skin. Hunter winces and lets go of Alexa, kicking at her. Alexa laughs and gets to her feet, saying something to Hunter. They start to circle each other again. Breaking the cycle, Alexa spears Hunter into the corner ring post, then she delivers some chest slaps to Hunter. The crowd boos Alexa.
She grabs him and slams him face-first into the turnbuckle. She then pulls her opponent out, but he stops her, grabs her by the arm, and throws her into the corner. He then approaches, but she kicks him in the midsection. Alexa leaves the corner, hitting Hunter with a strong right foream.
Jerry Andrews: Alexa Black seems to be in control in the early going here.
Ace Anderson: I’m shocked either of them are moving tonight after what they both went through at Mass Destruction!
Black clocks her with a right to the jaw. He then grabs Hunter' by the arm and tries to Irish whip him into the ropes but Hunter puts on the breaks and stops. Black comes from behind and tries again but Hunter baseball slides out of the ring. He gets to his feet just as Black comes charging in with a baseball slide of her own. Hunter moves off to the side and then back to grabs the legs of Black he pulls Black under the ropes, dropping her onto the floor.
Hunter reaches under the ring now and he grabs a steel chair.
Jerry Andrews: You know, I understand that the rules say you CAN use weapons in these Underground matches, but you don’t HAVE to!
Ace Anderson: Where’s the fun in that!?
Alexa stands up and David Hunter drives the chair into her midsection, doubling her over. He then cracks the chair across her spine. And again. And again. Hunter gets back into the ring, taking the chair with him, as Black rolls around in pain.
Ace Anderson: Alexa Black took a big beating outside the ring there!
Jerry Andrews: Sometimes I wonder about these guys and the matches they ask for….
Black gets to her feet and slides back into the ring and that’s when Hunter attacks with a barrage of stomps and kicks. Hunter pulls Black’s head up from the canvas, places the chair under it, and then slams her face-first into the chair! And again! And again! Black is busted open as the blood starts to flow freely from an open wound.
Jerry Andrews: Ugh! Brutal!
Hunter walks over and kicks Black in the face. He pulls her up, but she fires back with some strong shots before connecting with a running super kick! Alexa then connects with a Garvin stomp. She wipes the blood from her face, pulls her opponent up, and hits a t-bone suplex!
Ace Anderson: Alexa Black getting back into this now!
Black starts to stand up and she lifts Hunter up. Hunter starts to fight back but Black throws Hunter backwards, sending him through the ropes to the floor.
Jerry Andrews: Oh man that’s got to hurt!
Black goes out after Hunter. He lifts him up and slams Hunter’s head into the ring steps. Alexa Black goes under the ring and pulls out a trash can. She then reaches under and grabs a chair, throwing it into the ring alongside the other one.
Jerry Andrews: Alexa Black is planning something…
Ace Anderson: Whatever it is, it won’t be pretty! This woman is sick!
Alexa Black cracks Hunter with the trash can. She then stuffs him inside of it before heading back under the ring. She wipes some blood from her face and returns with another chair that she uses to beat the can with Hunter inside! She then pulls him up. With the can still on his head, she throws him into the ringside stairs. She then charges and connects with a double stomp onto the can, with Hunter inside, crushing him into the steps!
Jerry Andrews: Oh my God!
Alexa reaches down and pulls a dazed Hunter out of the can. She throws him into the guardrail and goes back under the ring. She has another chair now. As she turns around, Hunter runs at her, hitting the chair with a missile dropkick and sending it into her face! She falls to the floor. Hunter has he chair now and he unloads on the bloody Alexa Black.
Jerry Andrews: Hunter is just brutalizing Alexa Black again!
David Hunter now climbs up onto the top ring post.
Ace Anderson: What is he going to do here!?
Hunter dives off the ring post and onto Black as she is trying to stand. Hunter gets off of Alexa, grabbing the trash can lid and starts to beat Alexa in the face with the lid. He then throws the bloodied lid to the side rolls his opponent into the ring.
David Hunter goes for a cover, but Alexa Black quickly kicks out. Hunter rises to his feet and he walks across the ring to grabs a chair. Alexa gets up and delivers a super kick to Hunter, then she grabs him and Irish whips him into the ropes. Hunter bounces back, Alexa ducks to let Hunter pass over her and go into the other ropes. Hunter is about to hit the ropes when he grabs them and swings through them. Alexa gets up and turns around getting hit in the chest by Hunter's feet.
Jerry Andrews: Nice sequence there! These two can do it all!
Alexa falls back to the mat as Hunter exits the ring. Hunter sets up a table and then gets back into the ring. Hunter gets in the ring, only to get hit with a big boot by Alexa. She then pulls him up, sets him up, and powerbombs him over the top rope through the table he set up!
Jerry Andrews: My God!
Alexa rolls out of the ring to collect her battered opponent. She pulls him up, but he powers out, shoving her backwards into the guardrail. He reaches down, grabs a chair, and smashes her in the face with it. Hunter then waits for her to stand up and connects with a flying knee fameasser!
Jerry Andrews: Hunter Suite!
Both competitors are down on the outside. Slowly David Hunter uses the guardrail to pull himself back up. He then rolls Black into the ring before sliding back in himself. He then sets her up….
Ace Anderson: King's Throne onto a steel chair!!!
David Hunter goes for a cover:
1….
2….
3!!!
Jerry Andrews: David Hunter battles back against an aggressive Alexa Black and retains his title!
Ace Anderson: Woo! What a fight!
Jerry Andrews: These two just hit each other hard and then they hit each other hard! That kind of competition is what PCW is all about! Good night everyone!
- CLICK -
