Trauma 271 Results

[PCW Staff]

Pure Class Wrestling Presents: Trauma 271

Friday May 22nd, 2020

The PCW Faithful are, of course, excited as another episode of Trauma begins!

Jerry Andrews: Hello everyone, we're fresh off an incredible Living a Legacy event and we've got another amazing show for you tonight! I'm Jerry Andrews and welcome once again to PCW Trauma!

Ace Anderson: Two debuts tonight! And we're going to name a new North American Champion! I'm Ace Anderson and I'm excited!

Jerry Andrews: And while we have a great show for you tonight in the ring, we want to kick things off with a HUGE announcement!

Ace Anderson: That's right! On Friday June 19th, we will host the annual Summer Icey Awards and, on that evening, we're going to induct TWO PCW legends into the PCW Hall of Fame!

Jerry Andrews: That's right! And, without further ado, the two newest members of the PCW Hall of Fame will be.... Nathan Saniti and "Mr. Showtime " Michael Wryght!

Ace Anderson: Congratulations to both individuals and we look forward to seeing all of you there for an historic night at the Summer Icey Awards!

Without warning, the lights in the arena go out in a flash, and the sounds of rhythmic drums begin to beat like an oncoming war. Very subtle orange lights illuminate the ramp way, but where the strings and percussion to “Land of Shadows” by Audiomachine would normally pick up, instead, the drums fade out, and leave the arena in near darkness.

The World Champion has not been around much (if any) over the last couple months, and the crowd had started to get to their feet in anticipation of Stormm’s appearance, but it looks as if their excitement was premature.

Stormm: If you want me to wrestle, be someone worth stepping into the ring against.

The dim orange lighting on the ramp pulsated with each word spoken by The Force of Nature as the fans’ heads were on swivels looking for their World Champion to appear.

Stormm: If you want my reign to end, don’t fail at stopping it.

The murmurs throughout the crowd begin to rise to a small commotion as everyone tries to figure out and understand what is happening. Is Stormm there, or is he not?

Stormm: Out of obligation, I will say good show to the man who tried two times in a row to win back the World title from me. Out of obligation, I will say congratulations to the man who personally put me on the shelf for a month, trying everything he could to beat me, and failing.

Audible gasps and groans can be heard coming from the commentator’s table as Jerry and Ace just sit listening like everyone else in attendance.

Stormm: And out of necessity, I will say that nobody in the arena tonight, or watching at home, will have to endure me beating Gerard Angelo for the third time in a row. He will get his chance down the road, but there’s one person on the roster who I’ve been waiting a long, long time to beat in a high-profile match.

Jerry Andrews: It sounds like Stormm has chosen his own number one contender for the World title.

Ace Anderson: It’s probably Razor Blade, so his paper reign can continue.

The conversations happening in the crowd have all but turned to bedlam as the noise has nearly reached match apex levels. While a majority of the crowd’s reactions still sound in Stormm’s favor, there are those in attendance that are not happy with the World Champion, and they are being verbal about it.

Stormm: This man has gotten my attention in the past; but using aliases, playing make-believe, hiding behind masks, and wrestling in one-off matches were only stepping stones to our paths finally crossing after all these years. So, if he’s ready to leave the comfort of “Mommy’s embrace”, he knows where to find me… in the shadows.

Jerry Andrews: I think, Ace, I think our World Champion is calling out Jason Willard. Could we finally be seeing the build-up to a match that fans have wanted for years?

Ace Anderson: As long as Stormm loses the title, I don’t care who he faces, Jerry!

Stormm: ...because the Force of Nature is coming, and this is your warning!

With the crowd amped-up for the action of the evening, the arrival of one Buddy Winchester was hardly the starting point that the fans were awaiting. Cheers of anticipation became mixed with loud boos as he stepped out onto the stage in a suit and tie. According to his face, he didn’t quite share the same excitement or thrill of the moment, but he didn’t seem to mind their jeers.

Sasha Greene: "The following match is scheduled for one fall."

Then, a collective gasp brought an abrupt hush to the crowd. Not that Buddy killed the heat, in fact, the entire attendance drew closer to the edge of their seats in awe as a gigantic, young man joined him atop the ramp.

Sasha Greene: "Introducing first… being accompanied to the ring by his manager, Buddy Winchester, he hails from Sturgis, South Dakota and tips the scales at two-hundred eighty-five pounds..."

A red and white singlet clung to shoulders every bit of sixty inches across was topped with matching amateur wrestling headgear.

Sasha Greene: "...this is “THE KODIAK” HUNTER BENJAMIN!"

While Buddy paid them no mind, the massive wrestler following him slapped hands and bumped fists with the fans along the ramp. A bright white smile and rosy cheeks lit up the building as the two closed in on the ring.

At ringside, Buddy went up the steps while his large companion stepped right up onto the apron, wiped his boots and then sat on the middle rope. Buddy entered the ring through the opened ropes with the bear of a boy right behind him.

Sasha Greene: "And his opponent!"

"The Best" by AWOL Nation starts.

Sasha Greene: "He is accompanied by his manager, Scavenger, and his tag team partner, Les Burrows. From Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. He weighs 230 lbs, MO BURROWS!"

Laser lights, colored yellow and red, dance as Mo and Les make their way onto the stage, accompanied by their manager Scavenger. They pause and acknowledge the crowd before making their way to the ring. They stand on the ring apron and again play to the crowd and even allow themselves a few montns to dance to their entrance theme.

"Double Debut" Singles Match

Mo Burrows w/ Les Burrows & Scavenger vs "Kodiak" Hunter Benjamin w/ Buddy Winchester

Referee: Eric Russo

DING
DING
DING

Jerry Andrews: This is our first look at the fun loving Mo Burrows, but our second with Hunter Benjamin and the man who puts the con in con artist, Buddy Winchester.

Ace Anderson: I'd come out of retirement right now for the money he's offering!

The Kodiak appears to be happy knowing his match will be seen nationally by everyone. For his part, Buddy exudes all the confidence of an egomaniac at ringside as he is heard telling anyone and everyone that his client will win this match. Scavenger sticks out the steel chair he talks to in a manner suggesting a question over such a proclamation, while Les Burrows is on the apron going over how to best take on Benjamin.

Mo comes out of the corner with a somersault and a hand stretched out. Benjamin at first obliges, but then drills Burrows with a stiff clothesline. An animated Buddy Winchester loudly talks up what kind of impact that had on the neck muscles. Benjamin still has Mo clamped in a handshake which allows him to deadlift Burrows in the air.

Jerry Andrews: Impressive feat of strength!

Burrows dropkick attempt has zero effect. Winchester swings Mo around using the one arm. Burrows face plants into the canvas. Benjamin squeezes on an armbar, but he also has the arm bent at an unnatural angle. Burrows uses some speed to get himself going, Winchester shouts out instructions to Benjamin about what to watch for. Burrows leaves the door open for a double leg takedown.

Benjamin wraps his limbs around Burrows waist, turning it into a a trio of rolls before working his way vertically back up for a launching hip toss that deposits Burrows in a corner with an awkward collision. Benjamin moves in but gets temporarily moved back by the official while he explains why. This has them with their backs turned away from the action and because of that, Buddy races to the scene for a good ol fashioned strangulation!

Jerry Andrews: Hey! If he wants to be part of the action, he can be booked!

Ace Anderson: That's nonsense, Jerry! You can clearly see he's just reminding him of the money he can make.

As boos greet Winchester, his newfound problems arrive in the forms of Les Burrows and Scavenger. A steel chair threat is also directed at him for his poor decision making. Benjamin looks to the faithful with confusion over the negative reception. Burrows gets in some desperation kicks to the midsection and then a series of forearms. Mo is shoved into the ropes. Hunter has his head down, expecting a leap frog, but nearly finds himself in a swinging neckbreaker.

Pumphandle backbreaker changes his fortunes completely around. Burrows is thrown backwards to the nearest corner. After he staggers forward, Benjamin throws him into the stratosphere with a biel toss! “Mow him down!” Benjamin presses Mo in the air, catching him over his right shoulder for snake eyes, but a STIFF running clothesline from behind is dodged by way of Les shoving Mo out of the damn way.

The referee (and Buddy) warn about getting involved simultaneously, but with different ways of explaining themselves. The corner collision has Benjamin clutching his chest with a pained expression. Mo may be down, but he's not out. He fights through the pain to throw a dropkick. A second. A third. None of them put Benjamin down. Here comes a superkick...it's caught and almost leads to a T-Bone. Swift elbow shots disorient The Kodiak.

Jerry Andrews: Luck has been on his side!

A second attempt hits flush, staggering the collegiate big man. Mo decides he's going to go to the top. “Strike and squeeze!” yells Buddy just before Burrows takes flight with a crossbody. Benjamin not only catches him, but he lands a stun gun right after. Continuing to follow the order, a dual pair of kidney shots immobilize Mo Burrows just before he finds himself trapped in a massive bearhug. After several rag dolls and overpowering pressure, Benjamin double underhooks Burrows arms, lifts him in a delayed Butterfly suplex and crashes him into the Earth with the Bear Trap! It leads to a count.

1!

2!

3!

The bell is called for giving Buddy yet another reason to boast.

Sasha Greene: "Here is your winner, "The Kodiak" Hunter Benjamin!"

The screen glitches, flickers, and a hand seemingly reaches in to slide the broadcast-already-in-progress out of the way. Phinehas Dillinger sits back in one of the chairs on his porch. Dusk has settled on All Souls Hollow and the faint candlelight glow from inside the house falls on the Hangtown Horror. He rocks himself with a slight push off from his toes, and looks away from the camera. Off into the trees where the shadows are darkest.

“So. Pandemonium. Birds of a feather. You three deserve one another. Gerard Angelo and Holden Ross’s shameful display last week was an insult to PCW and everyone who has ever honorably set foot in that ring. But, seeing as how they freely admit to their faintheartedness under the guise of ‘anything goes in professional wrestling,’ it would be a waste of time to dwell too long on that. There’s no shaming those who have no shame. And were I a betting man, I would put good money on Gerard strutting out at some point tonight to relate his own version of events, anyway. I mean, he finally...finally ...beat Grimm. Who wouldn't want to spin that in their favor? ”

A sigh. The porch creaks.

“But, attention spans being what they are, and in consideration of the fickle nature of this business in general, allow me to say, so lest we forget…”

“While nearly everyone ever involved in not only the tournament but PCW in general has striven to make each match their most important match, and to give each opponent the utmost attention, well, everyone saw what happened. So I’m just making sure that he knows that I know, and everyone watching knows, that the only way Angelo could have had any confidence at all about winning the IIT was if his first opponent of the night laid down and took the loss like a little twerp. And that’s even with the consideration that Gerard Angelo knows as well as anyone what a match with Kyle Shane or Grimm requires of a person. No one would ever come out of a meat grinder like that at anything resembling a respectable fighting condition...and that's including Kyle Shane and Grimm. But, anyway, lo and behold, that’s exactly how Gerard's match played out. Congratulations. We’re all very impressed. And if your past MO is any indication, we can all look forward to your lackluster performances between now and the next Deadly Rumble or IIT.”

Dusk continues on into night as the last vestige of the day’s light sinks behind the hills. The candles cast a rippling pall on Grimm’s person.

“Humility is a knowledge of our weaknesses. Confidence is a knowledge of our strengths. Ego is something dangerous, with none of the former and a skewed sense of the latter. There’s going to come a time when both Hunter and Ross are injured again, or Angelo finds himself in something like a cage match, maybe…or perhaps alone in a poorly lit hallway or parking garage, even…when he’s weighed and measured on his own merits, and those weaknesses are laid bare for all to see. If history tells us anything, it won’t be long.”

The candles burn out and the scene is left with nothing but the sound of creaking floorboards and nighttime hill noises until the commercial break.

The ring is set up for a celebration. The mat is covered with a lush blue carpet and tables are set up with a buffet of hor d'oeuvres and glasses and bottles of Moët & Chandon 2002 Dom Perignon in between the two tables, a pillar is set up where a gunmetal black briefcase is laid on a velvet pillow.

Jerry Andrews: Do you know what this is set up for, Ace?

Ace Anderson: I do! But I’m not gonna tell you, Jerry!

The crowd is a buzz wondering what it’s for having seen the ring crew set everything up. A crew member heads towards ringside and whispers something to Sasha Greene. She stands up and brings the mic up to her lips.

Sasha Greene: "Ladies and gentleman. Please welcome…"

A hush runs over the crowd.

Sasha Greene: "...The winner of the 2020 Icemann Invitational...."

The crowd starts to boo.

Sasha Greene: "...Gerard Angelo!"

The crowd starts to boo heavily as the open drum beats to “Amazing” blast out over the PA system. The booing intensifies as a laughing Gerard Angelo, dressed to the nines in a black Armani suit with his signature Ray-Bans on. Behind him the massive form of Holden Ross appears from gorilla as well, dressed in jeans, boots, a wife beater covered by his red leather jacket, and his own aviators on.

Jerry Andrews: Oh come on! This is for them?!

Ace Anderson: Hell yes, Jerry! Gerard won the Icemann the hard way. He deserves to celebrate!

Jerry Andrews: Do you hear yourself?

Gerard and Holden pause at the top of the ramp, soaking in the boos from the Faithful as the ring crew rolls a red carpet down the ramp for the duo. As soon as the carpet is fully rolled out, Gerard and Holden start down the ramp. Gerard just smirks as he walks past heckling fans while Holden glares at them. Gerry climbs up the steps, followed by Ross. Gerard poses as the boos keep rolling in. He goes and grabs a mic from a tech and smirks.

Gerard Angelo: Look at this amazing spread here, huh Holden? We’ve got champagne, we’ve got shrimp. Mini quiches. I’ve got all the good stuff to celebrate my improbable victory run.

Gerard grabs a glass of champagne and hands it to Holden, who immediately takes a sip.

Gerard Angelo: Good stuff, buddy? Yeah. I spent a small fortune on these bottles. In fact…

Gerard grabs another glass and gets out of the ring. He walks over to the announce table and hands Ace the glass.

Gerard Angelo: You deserve to celebrate with us, Ace. For always telling the truth and wanting to be on the right side of history.

Ace Anderson: Thank you, Gerard! See the perks you get for telling the truth, Jerry?

Jerry Andrews: Oh brother.

Gerard gets back into the ring and grabs a glass for himself. He holds it up before taking a sip.

Gerard Angelo: Ahh, the sweet taste of victory. And how sweet it is. I wasn’t even invited to the Icemann, yet I stand here before all of you, the winner of the two-thousand and twenty incarnation. PCW thought they had found a way to bring about the end of Pandaemonium. Invite Holden and David, but not me. Did they not expect me to enter?

He looks over at Holden who shrugs while biteing into a jumbo shrimp.

Gerard Angelo: And when I did they got so frightened they had to dig up MONROE from wherever he was rotting to try and stop me from winning. It didn’t matter, I still persevered. And then they thought pitting me against a man I consider a brother would derail us. No, we just proved to be smarter than every single person. Even the almighty Grimm, the uncrowned king of PCW, couldn’t stop me enroute to my destiny. It’s amazing what can happen in one year. At last year’s Living a Legacy, I lost to Grimm and went into a downward spiral. And this year I avenged myself and conquered my demon. But before anything, I want to raise a toast. To a man, who without him, none of this could be possible. Without this great man, I wouldn’t be standing here with an any time, any place, contract where I could challenge any champion in PCW. Without this man I don’t think I’d be standing here, at all. This is a man who sacrificed for the greater good. This is a man who put the needs of the many before his own. This is a man who knows that the end justifies the means.

Gerard turns and looks at Holden and raises his glass.

Gerard Angelo: To you Holden. My comrade. My friend. My brother. To you who gave up a chance for personal glory because you know that change is more important. Because you know that our mission is greater than one man. We took the first step towards our destiny last night.

Jerry Andrews: Ace put your glass down… Wait! Are you crying?

Ace Anderson: No! Something just got in my eye during that beautiful speech.

Gerard suddenly smirks as he holds his champagne flute up.

Gerard Angelo: And we pulled one over on all these hicks out here.

Holden laughs heartily before they both drink, the Faithful trying to boo them both out of the building. Gerard puts the glass down and walks over to Holden, embracing him for a moment before pulling away and bringing the mic back up.

Gerard Angelo: Pandaemonium’s bond is stronger than ever. Even with David Hunter on the shelf, we have a bond that can never be broken. And this-

Gerard reaches over and grabs the briefcase, holding it up by the handle for everyone to see

Gerard Angelo: - contains my contract, no, my right to challenge for any title here in PCW, anytime I want. Now everyone has been asking me, “When are you going to cash in on Stormm?” That’s the million dollar question. But I ask an even more expensive question. Am I even going to cash in on Stormm. Maybe I want to be the North American champion. Maybe I’ll become the Underground Champion.

Holden looks at Gerard who pauses.

Gerard Angelo: You’re right, you're going to be Underground King after tonight, my friend. The answer is still the same. And that is. I am a patient, man. I am going to bide my time, and then strike when the right opportunity presents itself. I have fifty more weeks until I lose my right to cash-in. And I’m going to make the most of that time. Because a little chaos is a great catalyst for change.

Gerard grabs a bottle of Dom and refills his glass. He offers some to Holden, who just takes the bottle and starts drinking straight from it. Gerard takes a sip before seeming to remember one thing.

Gerard Angelo: To think I almost forgot. Along with the contract, I happened to come into a few dollars. One hundred thousand of them to be exact. Now, me personally, I have no need for that money. I wipe my ass with a hundred K. But to someone else, that money could be life changing. And because I’m in such a great mood, I feel like giving that money away. And Justin Michaels, listen up because this has a lot to do with you.

Gerard Smirks and takes his shades off.

Gerard Angelo: I’m putting a one hundred thousand dollar bounty on Justin “Stormm”Michaels’ head. To clarify, anyone who takes Stormm out gets my one hundred thousand dollars. And when I say anyone, I mean AN-Y-ONE. From wrestlers, to fans to stagehands, to management, and any other mercenary for hire that wants to try his hand. You put Stormm down for good, and you become that much richer.

Gerard tosses the mic down and the crowd mostly boos but you hear a bit of murmuring along with it. Gerard pulls a set of handcuffs from his suit jacket and connects the briefcase to his wrist with it. He grabs a bottle of champagne while Holden scoops a few up in his massive arms. Gerard gets out of the ring and tells a ring crew member that the food and alcohol better be in his dressing room in twenty minutes. Gerard hands Ace the bottle and winks at Jerry before he heads up the ramp, flanked by Holden who sprays some unsuspecting fans with the bubbly, asking them what a taste of the good life is like.

Sasha Greene: "The following match is scheduled for one fall. Currently in the ring. From Parts Unknown, Weapon X!"

A masked jobber in a black body suit and white boots is all one needs to know.

Sasha Greene: "And his opponent...."

The lush, dreamlike carnival sound of "Carousel" by Siouxsie and the Banshees takes over the sound system as the dim arena is turned cotton candy colorful by blue, pink and purple lights.

Sasha Greene: "... from Anaheim, California...weighing 250 lbs, JASON WILLARD!"

He walks onto the stage with his arms raised up as a cascade of balloons falls on him. While Siouxsie Sioux delivers eerie descriptions about a child's view of the carnival and the titular ride over a pulsing synth line, the childlike Willard walks to the ring holding a balloon.

There's a moment where he stops to reach out to the hands of the jeering faithful, but recoils, foolishly thinking they could be trusted or want to be friends. He angrily informs them that "Mommy doesn't like strangers!"

Willard jumps into the ring and appears to be in a tug-of-war with his moods. He recovers in time to go shake the hands of the commentary team. He goes back into the ring afterwards to wait for the bell.

Singles Match

Weapon X vs Jason Willard

Referee: Charles Lim

DING
DING
DING

Willard sheepishly waves at his opponent and then points to the orange balloon in his left hand. His childlike charm dies a quick death after he suddenly pops it. Willard pounces on Weapon X in short, violent order, going so far as to ignore the immediate five-count during his assault.

Jerry Andrews: He should be disqualified!

Ace Anderson: He exercised the full five count. That's perfectly legal.

Willard realizes the scope of his outburst and appears remorseful about it. He offers to help the jobber up while apologizing. Weapon X takes the offer, but gets pulled into a STIFF short-arm clothesline and then a nasty DDT that spikes his head and spine. Willard sits himself up.

Jerry Andrews: This looks to be a short night for him.

"Mommy says that the past should be left in the past!" Willard says inbetween coughs right after he lands a high elevation frog splash. Willard picks himself and the opponent up. Following an Irish whip, Willard goes to the opposite set of ropes and returns to drill the masked man with KANLM.

Jerry Andrews: That should finish things!

Ace Anderson: Not so fast, Jerry. I think Willard has something else in mind.

Willard's mood deteriorates again. He proceeds to further whip the crowd into a tsunami of boos by trash talking them with language the censors will have a field day with. A devious grin plasters his face as he delivers a spinning fisherman buster in the middle of the ring.

Jerry Andrews: That's the Force of Nature! He just used one of Stormm's finishers!

Ace Anderson: And did it better! I think he just gave his reply to him.

Willard takes the pin now.

1.

2.

3.

Willard flips the camera off during the entire count and continues doing so all the way through his arm being raised.

Sasha Greene: "Here is your winner, Jason Willard!"

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.

Jerry Andrews: As you can see, Rick Majors is making his way down to the ring right now. Maybe he’s here to explain why he shook Jason Willard’s hand at Living a Legacy.

Ace Anderson: Yeah, that was certainly completely unexpected.

Jerry Andrews: I still don’t know what to make of it quite frankly and… oh! What a shot!

As Majors walks down the ramp, he’s suddenly slugged from behind by a steel chair held by the man scheduled to be his opponent later tonight, Holden Ross!

Jerry Andrews: What the hell is he doing!?

Holden drives the chair into Majors’ spine a few more times as he crumples to the floor. Holden now pulls him up and throws him over the barrier and into the crowd!

Ace Anderson: My guess is he wants to soften Majors up before the match tonight!

Majors falls onto a pile of chairs that have been vacated by members of the Faithful. Holden comes after him. Majors manages to throw one of the chairs at Ross, slowing him down. Majors gets to his feet now. With another steel chair in hand, he connects with a swing, staggering Ross. Majors swings again, but Holden tackles him to the floor!

Jerry Andrews: My GOD what a collision!

Holden Ross slowly stands up and he pulls Majors to his feet. Rick throws a right hand at him that connects. Ross counters with a big knee to the midsection. He then grabs Majors by the head and drags him through the crowd.

Jerry Andrews: Where are they…. I think they’re heading backstage!

Jerry is right. Majors and Ross temporarily disappear from view while a camera person backstage rushes into position. When the two competitors return to the screen, Holden Ross is seen slamming Majors head-first into a wall! He then sets Majors up…

Jerry Andrews: BASTARDIZED THROUGH THE CATERING TABLE!!!

Ace Anderson: Those poor sandwiches!!!!

Holden Ross chuckles as Majors struggles to breathe on the remains of the table. PCW officials rush to the scene. Some of them drag Holden away while others check on the clearly injured Rick Majors.

The scene switches to show the gorilla position, just behind the curtain, as various producers and agents are talking amongst themselves about the lighting and sound production on various screens of their feed and how to solve technical issues. It's kind of interesting, we never really get to see how the sausage is made in this way. And the crew in gorilla seems to know it, giving a few questioning glances to the camera crew that's come up on them as a producer says, "That's it, cut to commercial", but then a figure comes striding in front of the camera, shot from the back so you can only see his lanky frame and his distinctive haircut. Suddenly the intentionally meta peek behind the curtain makes sense because of course, it's Kyle Shane. We can't see it but he's cradling something between his hands.

Kyle Shane: Hey guys, I didn't know where to take this but, apparently I took this and went home... So now I'm coming to bring it back.

The camera comes around from the front, and Kyle is, sincerely, holding a kickball cradled in his hands out to the producers. Because he took his ball, and went home. Hope we didn't lose anybody there. Kyle is playing this completely to the hilt, as well. Some of the producers mutter "God fucking dammit" under their breath and slap their headsets on the desk, but a couple are eyeing Kyle wearily, the new edginess to his personality since he came back making him a bit of a loose cannon.

Agent #1: Kyle, listen, if you don't have a match, you can't be here -

Kyle Shane: Why not? I'm sincere in my intentions, I took my ball and went home before, you heard --

Agent #1: Kyle... this is... this isn't going to help your case, man...

The agent comes around to Kyle's side, trying to put his arm around him like a Dutch uncle and maybe guide Kyle off for some advice. Kyle, sensing that he's egging on the irritated backstage workers who put the show together, leans into it more.

Kyle Shane: Why not? I mean, I apparently took this when I left. And you know why I left, right... I couldn't handle the workload of Pure Class Wrestling. I was a COWARD. A person who had to take a few months off to heal physical and mental wear and tear. I was a COWARD who LEFT because I couldn't HANDLE THE WORKLOAD, so I took my ball crying and left you alllll high and dry.

He looks from face to face, and not one of the people backstage can look him in the eye suddenly. Because that's actually a super shitty message to send to anyone, and yet it was celebrated and accepted as gospel truth. Had to have been. So as Kyle stands there, holding the ball out for one of the backstage producers to take back from his hands, it is written all over his face that he wants this exchange to be remembered. He wants the idea that anybody who has to take time off as being cowardly and not fit to lace a certain someone's boots to be noted and accepted as their truth for all time. And he wants Pure Class Wrestling to hold many people to that standard. Dominator. Brenna Gordon. David Hunter. Go on. Say the same thing about them. They took their ball and went home too. Because they obviously can't handle a weekly grind, that makes them cowards, too.

Producer #2: Alright, crybaby -

Agent #3: No Alan we've talked about this, that's not the way -

Kyle, having poked the bear to this point, turns around. He just wants it to be clear, and the dialogue to be out there.

Producer #2: No! He's so childish when he doesn't get his way -

Kyle, deadpan, gets closer to the barking producer, and the tension in the room is rising.

Agent #1: Kyle, you should leave.

Kyle Shane: I never said I couldn't be childish, in fact, it was the cornerstone I'm built on... And while I've worked on being the bigger man maybe some parts of me always will be, but you know that this show actually needs me. And not one of you has ever wanted to admit it. "I can't handle the workload", supposedly, because I don't walk around snap crackle popping people every week bloviating about generic, one sentence bullshit. No, actually, I proved I can handle workloads just fine, in fact I more than handled a much harder workload every single week I was champion. I performed tirelessly. I created ORIGINAL CONTENT - original, not the same terse boring sentence every week, not just standing silently in the crowd. I handle a motherfucking workload.

He jabs a finger in the face of the naysayer.

Kyle Shane: You just never appreciate it. Since day one, you have not appreciated what you have with me, or how hard I'm willing to work. Fact is, I'll outwork anybody I'm put against.

So saying, Kyle checks the kickball like a game of HORSE, throwing it right into producer #2's waiting chest/hands.

Kyle Shane: But anyone who can't do that doesn't live up to some bullshit standard? Who decides whether or not that's fair?

Trying to keep the peace, another TV agent comes to Kyle, trying to talk sense to him.

Agent #3: Kyle, I like to think that your efforts are seen by people around here. You do produce original works nobody has seen. Remember the TIIT betting pool? Or when you and a camera crew toured the Pure Class Wrestling warehouse? Content like that just doesn't get filmed regularly, you do have something special to bring to the show...

Kyle Shane: And yet you continue to give prime spots to grandfathered in has-beens who rarely if ever contribute anything new to the fucking proceedings. You give main events to people who DON'T EVEN SHOW UP UNTIL CURTAIN CALL. You gave two - TWO North American championship spots away, what did the people involved even do to deserve being North American champion? You give main event exposure, bullshit accolades and fawning praise to men who have not evolved their style or contributed even a fraction of humor, panache or even just creative content to an episode of Trauma in years. And yet THEY want to talk about workload?

A couple heads turn together, eyes meeting. Maybe some people are willing to relent that Kyle is raising some points. But one producer, sour grapes and all, looks sickened, arms folded over his chest.

Producer #2: Jeez I thought that when he came back and allied with Brenna Gordon he was gonna chill out... maybe she stopped giving him a piece of that cobwebbed Goth booty...

Agent #1: ALAN!!

Agent #2: Inappropriate!

Agent #3: - And unfair, we have talked about this.

Kyle Shane: Nah, that's what I'm talking about. Just disrespect, snarky side comments and bullshit is all I ever get instead of the consideration I probably deserve for my capacity to be your most loyal and hardest worker. But if I am that, then you have to say the same of many other people, and I want you all to say that to my face instead of muttering it under your breath.

Agent #2: Hey, what happened with Bren, anyway? I thought we had a cute little thing going with y'all.

Producer #1: Yeah, there's actually a reddit thread shipping you two.

Kyle Shane: Really? What's it called?

Producer #1: ....BrenShane.

Kyle Shane: Oof.

Producer #2: LOOK, WE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE BACK FROM COMMERCIAL, THERE'S DEAD AIR OUT THERE IN THE RING.

Kyle turns serious, and he turns back to the hostile producer, ready again to defend his work.

Agent #1: Kyle... look... best advice, dude... you can't get mad about it. It is just bullshit. A lot of it is just talk, and sad as it is, there's always going to be talking.

Kyle rolls his eyes and puts on a voice that falls somewhere between a hollow Demi Moore rumble and gargling mayonaisse.

Kyle Shane: "So much talking."

Producer #1: Yeah, like that, but... not.

Agent #3: You really can't rage at the crowd for liking some stupid promo that you thought was lackluster, or for coming up short in a match you put a lot of training into for... It's Pure Class Wrestling, man... wacky, head scratching shit like that happens all the time... you just have to roll with it...

Kyle Shane: I hear you, and I accept your words. But I offer you this counter. Why in God's name would I ever stop being angry that the crowds cheer for... mediocrity?

Agent #1 (shrugs): PCW is always going to be PCW?

Kyle scoffs, and shakes his head, blinking back irritation. He starts to walk away, the camera not following him out of the shot, but then he comes right back into focus, bending down and jerking the rubber kickball back up into his hands.

Kyle Shane: You know what I'm taking this back.

Producer #2: Fuck, finally, let's get the match started... Kyle, if you're not going to contribute anything, go home.

Kyle's eyes narrow, and the camera catches a dark look passing over his face. He tucks the ball under the crook of his arm and walks off down the hall, ball in tow.

We return a shot of the backstage area where Rick Majors is being attended to by the medical team. They have him on a stretcher, but he’s seated. One member of the team is looking at his neck while another seems to be asking him questions to see if he remembers what happened – or where he is right now.

Suddenly, Holden Ross comes back into view!

Holden Ross: “Oh no, you’re not getting out of our match tonight! I’m taking my title back!”

Majors stands up, but he’s hit with a big right hand by Ross and he’s sent crashing into the stretcher. The medical team quickly scampers off for their own safety as Holden pulls Majors back to his feet. Rick is dragged down the hallway for a bit, but he manages to get loose and he shoves Holden Ross from behind. As Ross turns to face him, Majors slugs him with a right hand. And another. And another. Rick Majors now grabs Holden Ross by the head and this time he’s the one who’s smashed face-first into a wall! Rick Majors picks up a nearby chair and he cracks it across Holden’s back. Ross staggers back through the hallway, with Majors following him. Another chair to the back. Holden falls. Majors pulls him up. Ross elbows him in the stomach. He then grabs Rick and throws him farther down the hallway. Majors slams ribs-first into an equipment crate.

Jerry Andrews: This is insanity! Someone stop this!

PCW officials are back on the scene, but Ross storms past them towards Majors. He grabs him, but Rick hits him with a back elbow. He then grabs Ross by the back of the head and drives his face right into the crate!

More PCW officials arrive, but Rick Majors shoves them away and grabs Holden Ross again.

Ace Anderson: He just shoved that official! Fine him! Strip him of the title!

Majors grabs Ross and he drags him down the hallway.

Jerry Andrews: Where are they now!?

Ace Anderson: I think it’s… I think they’re in the parking area!

Ace is correct. Majors grabs Holden and he slams him face-first into a parked car. He then climbs up onto the hood of the car, pulling Ross with him. He sets him up and….

Jerry Andrews: MAJOR IMPACT ONTO THE HOOD OF THE CAR!

More officials rush out. This time, there are enough of them to restrain Rick Majors. Medical staff return to the scene, but this time they’re checking on Holden Ross.

Ace Anderson: What else can happen tonight!?

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

“Tell 'em take an I.O.U.”

The deep base hits first, washing over the arena before the rest of the song MONROE is shown on the screen, flanked by three individuals on either side all clad in blank three piece suits with skinny ties. Their only identifiers being that of skeletal masks upon their shoulders, each with a certain level of subtle personal detail added to them. The group, collectively known as MURDER, slowly begin to walk forward. Giving him a wide birth, he's clad in a large black fur coat, with a long tail trailing behind. The group of uniformed individuals are first through the curtain, signaling MONROE's arrival to the PCW audience.

Before he enters the stage a bit of fog begins to cover the ground, after a moment or two, at intervals of three seconds, pillars of flames erupt from either side of the stage, similar to the MURDER grouping, three on each side and one of the members standing behind these displays. It is then that MONROE walks on to the stage. He takes a moment to bounce in place, rolling his wrist on either side of his body before extending his arms and stretching them across his chest. After a moment of two of pacing, he begins to descend the ramp.

"Levitating off the blacktop."

MURDER remains flanked on either side of MONROE as he makes his way to the ring. He doesn't interact with crowd nor does he seem too intent of creating anymore pomp and circumstance than already present. Stopping at the end of the ramp, MURDER is quick to converge upon MONROE, slowly lifting the fur coat away from his figure and allowing him the freedom of moment to climb the stairs and walk the apron. He does a slow march on the apron, navigating around three lengths before entering beneath the top rope opposite of the entry ramp.

Sasha Greene: "Standing six feet two inches and weighing in at two-hundred and seventy-two pounds, he is The Promised End, MONROE!"

Jerry Andrews: He made a surprising return in the Last Chance Battle Royal, making it to the final two! But tonight he's in singles action against a former Underground champion.

Ace Anderson: Does Razor Blade even know who currently holds that title?

Sasha Greene: "And his opponent. From Orlando, Florida. He weighs 265 lbs, 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 the bell to ring.

Singles Match

MONROE vs Razor Blade

Referee: Tyrone Little Jr.

DING!

DING!
DING!

Monroe draws an imaginary line in the middle of the ring while shooting a cold look at Razor. He backs away just long enough to wait on Razor Blade to make that lone mistake. Then he pounces in a flash. Monroe wrecks Razor with alternating European uppercuts that hit so fast and so hard that Razor is virtually a training dummy having its head and neck compromised.

Monroe cinches his fingers behind the head, pulling Razor's face into elevated knee strikes all the way to a corner. He hears the officials count, backing off only after he gets some haymakers to land in the midsection. Razor pulls himself up using the top ropes, abling himself to get a pair of boots in Monroe's face. They have little stopping power. Unlike the quick spear he delivers!

Jerry Andrews: That'll take the wind out of anyone's sails.

The problem is that Monroe allowed Razor to hit a moment of offense, but the illusion in such is Monroe has him cinched in a kimura. Razor is close enough to the ropes that he can force a break of the submission. Monroe breaks but brings Razor to his feet. An attempted belly to belly is blocked and countered with a Samoan drop! Monroe immediately captures Razor in a scissored armbar! Razor uses his strength to break out before too much damage can be done. He then rolls through to paste Monroe with a heavy forearm shot.

Monroe is slammed in the corner. A series of clotheslines crush him. Monroe is led into a short-arm clothesline, but he ducks and uses Razor's momemtum to generate a half-nelson suplex. Monroe picks himself up. Razor finds him on the receiving end of some brutal kicks to the head. One is eventually blocked with a surprise palm thrust that surprises Monroe. Razor hits him with a Superman punch, dropping The Promised End near the bottom rope.

Jerry Andrews: He has him in position for that running dropkick.

Ace Anderson: Are you sure about that?

Razor gives Monroe some well placed stomps before he pulls him under the bottom rope. Razor backs up to go for the running front dropkick. He hits it! Monroe rolls away from the ropes. Razor climbs in. Just as he goes to grab him, Monroe hits a double leg takedown which is followed with a violent ground and pound knee assault. It gets to the point the referee has to ponder stopping the match.

Monroe rips Razor to his feet in order to feed him to the ropes. No sooner does he bounce does he get annihilated with a Kenka Kick! Razor falls face first, but isn't given time to recover. Monroe shoots him to a corner and comes charging with a second Kenka Kick! Now he leads Razor to the middle of the ring. The Extinction Level Event!

Jerry Andrews: OH! That looked nasty!

Ace Andrews: E.L.E. is easy as 1-2-3.

Monroe has a leg hooked.

1.

2.

3.

The bell is called for.

Sasha Greene: "Here is your winner, Monroe!"

Jerry Andrews: That was impressive to say the least. Nobody knows how long he's back for, but however long it is could spell trouble for anyone across the ring from him.

Ace Anderson: His training along with his professional and amateur accolades tells enough of a story. Monroe is as lethal as they come.

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, slowly, clearly nursing an injury or four.

"This is war with no weapons,
Marching with no stepping,
Murder with no killing,
Illing every direction."

Majors walks slowly, having some trouble getting down to the ring due to what happened earlier tonight. Once he get there, Majors stands in the centre of the ring, looking out towards the crowd, awaiting his opponent.

Sasha Greene: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall and is an Underground Rules match for the PCW Underground Championship! In the ring right now, he is the current PCW Underground King, from Toronto, Ontario: RICK MAJORS!!!!”

Synthesizers explode from the speakers and the arena is plunged into darkness. Red strobes begin pulsating in time with the music.

Sasha Greene: “And, his opponent, about to make his way to the ring, standing at six feet, five inches tall! He weighs in at three hundred and twenty-five pounds! He is Holden Roooooosssssss!”

The music continues playing, but Holden Ross isn’t seen in the entrance.

Jerry Andrews: I would be shocked if Holden Ross came out for this match after what happened earlier this evening.

Ace Anderson: Rick Majors just took the coward’s way out! He knows he can’t beat Holden Ross in the ring, so he attacked him backstage!

Jerry Andrews: Did we watch the same thing? Holden Ross was the one who attacked Rick Majors!

Holden Ross still doesn’t appear. Sasha Greene looks at the referee, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, from the crowd, Holden Ross appears! He enters the ring and clotheslines Rick Majors from behind!

Ace Anderson: Yes! He’s here!

PCW Underground Championship
Underground Rules Match

Rick Majors (PCW Underground 👑) vs Holden Ross

Referee: Ed Lane

The bell rings as Holden Ross picks up the PCW Underground Championship. He looks at it for a moment before starting to whip Rick Majors with the belt! He then grabs the champion and throws him through the turnbuckles. Majors’ shoulder hits the steel ring post hard.

Jerry Andrews: Ouch! Rick Majors could have been seriously injured there!

Ace Anderson: Serves him right!

Holden Ross now approaches his opponent. Rick Majors kicks back, hitting Ross in the midsection. He then stands up and turns, but Ross explodes with a diving clothesline!

Jerry Andrews: He almost took Majors’ head off there!

Rick Majors hits the mat hard. Holden Ross pulls him into the middle of the ring and goes for a cover:

1…..

2….


Ace Anderson: Almost! Rick Majors got his shoulder up at the last possible moment!

Holden Ross pulls Majors to his feet. He sets him up and drops him with a pumphandle driver! Another cover:

1….

2…..

Jerry Andrews: Another kickout!

Holden Ross pulls Majors up again. This time Majors swings at him wildly, connecting with a shot to the face that staggers the Bastard. Ross is only slowed for a moment and he comes at Majors again. Rick hits a roundhouse kick and follows it up with an elbow smash. He then grabs Holden by the head and slams him face-first into the top turnbuckle. Majors grabs Ross now and he sets him up on the top turnbuckle!

Ace Anderson: What the hell is he doing!?

Majors climbs up. He tries to get Ross into a double undertook position.

Jerry Andrews: Is he attempting a Major Impact from the top rope!?

If that’s what he was trying, it doesn’t work. Holden Ross fights free and he shoves Majors off the ropes. Holden now jumps off…

Ace Anderson: Flying clothesline off the top rope! My God!

Jerry Andrews: What a move!

Holden Ross with a cover once again:

1….

2….


Jerry Andrews: Kickout!

Holden Ross pulls Majors up once more. He then throws him out of the ring to the outside. Ross follows. He looks under the ring and returns with a steel chair. Ross measures Majors with the chair as he slowly gets to his feet… but Majors tackles him down to the floor! Rick Majors stands up, takes the chair, and starts to unload on his opponent!!!

He then pulls Ross up and throws him into the steel ring steps. Majors looks under the ring and finds a table. He sets it up at ringside and then turns back to Holden…. who hits him with a brutal Steamroller as he turns around!!

Jerry Andrews: Ouch!!!

Holden Ross sets Rick Majors up near the table.

Ace Anderson: He’s about to send him through another table with another Bastardized!

Majors battles free. He grabs Ross’ head and slams it into the table. He then sets him up on the table. Rick Majors climbs onto the ring apron now and he jumps off, driving through Ross with an elbow drop that breaks the table into splinters!

Jerry Andrews: These two guys are destroying each other tonight!

Rick Majors slowly stands up. He reaches down and pulls Holden Ross up from the broken table. He slides him into the ring and follows. Rick Majors with a cover now:

1….

2……


Ace Anderson: KICKOUT!!!!

Majors slowly stands up. He pulls Ross up, holding on to his head and hitting a headlock driver!

Jerry Andrews: MAJOR DAMAGE!!!

The cover:

1…..

2….


Jerry Andrews: HOLDEN ROSS KICKS OUT AGAIN!!!!

Ace Anderson: How tough is this man!?

Rick Majors gets to his feet once more. He waits for Ross to slowly stand. When he does, he kicks him in the stomach and sets him up in a double underhook. Ross breaks free! He then kicks Majors and sets him up….

Ace Anderson: Sins of the Father!!

Jerry Andrews: No!

Majors breaks free at the last second and drops down behind Ross. Ross turns around and he’s kicked in the midsection….

Jerry Andrews: MAJOR IMPACT!!!

The cover:

1…


2…..


3!!!!

The bell rings. An exhausted Rick Majors is barely able to sit up. Holden Ross rolls out of the ring. Majors falls back to the mat, unable to grab the Underground Championship as it is handed to him. The referee places the title on his chest as Trauma heads to commercial.

Sasha Greene: “The following match is scheduled for one fall and is for the vacant Pure Class Wrestling North American Championship!”

“You Are A Pirate!” by Alestorm begins to play.

Sasha Greene: “Introducing first, from Toronto, Ontario: HIGH TIDE!!!”

With very little lighting and effects that simulate lightning, High Tide (in a pirate outfit) walks down the ramp slightly crouched over, as if he was sitting. He holds a large pirate flag in one hand, and in the other he is imitating steering a ship. He does this until he gets to the ring where he motions dropping and anchor and proceeds to hop on to the turnbuckle and dive headfirst over the ropes, rolling into a standing position. Then he climbs the nearest turnbuckle and pulls out a spyglass, looking around at the audience. He mimics loading a cannon and as he motions firing it, he jumps off the turnbuckle into the ring (to imitate recoil) as fireworks shoot from all four turnbuckles.

Sasha Greene: “And his opponent….”

The crowd looks to the entrance way as "Blood On My Hands" 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 spider pendant.

She walks slowly down the ramp as the booing intensifies as the PCW faithful don't hold back their hatred of this evil woman

Alexa looks around at the PCW faithful who pack the stands and simply glares malevolently back at them as they jeer and boo.

She continues to walk down to the ring as the crowd grows louder and louder so even the announcers can't get a word in over the booing.

Alexa reachs 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 across the ring, unflinchingly waiting for her next victim.

Sasha Greene: “…. residing in Los Angeles, California: ALEXA BLACK!!!”

Jerry Andrews: Okay folks, the vacant North American title is up for grabs here!

Ace Anderson: I can’t wait to see this one! It’s going to be… oh man!

Vacant PCW North American Championship
Singles Match

Alexa Black vs High Tide

Referee: Nigel Gale

The moment the bell rings, Alexa hits Tide with a running super kick, that sends his head smashing backwards into the mat. She then pulls him up and throws him violently into the corner. Tide gets to his feet, but Black is on him, unloading with rights and lefts. He tries to cover up, but it doesn’t help much.

Jerry Andrews: High Tide is trying to protect himself from these shots, but Alexa Black is relentless!

Ace Anderson: She didn’t get her title match at Living a Legacy, and it looks like she isn’t too happy about that!

Jerry Andrews: Is she ever happy?

Alexa Black hits a spinning backfist that sends High Tide down to the mat once more. She pulls him up, but he manages to hit her with a wild strike. She backs up, and High Tide leaps forward, taking her down with a diving spear. He goes for a cover:

1….

Jerry Andrews: Just one!

Ace Anderson: Alexa Black kicks out WITH AUTHORITY!

High Tide pulls Alexa up and throws her through the ropes to the outside. He then climbs to the top ropes…. moonsault to the outside!

Jerry Andrews: Alexa Black caught him!

After catching her opponent in mid-air, she adjusts him and hits a gutwrench suplex! High Tide hits the ringside floor hard! She then pulls him up and throws him hard into the ringside steps. Alexa Black slides into the ring for a moment to break the count, then heads back outside.

Jerry Andrews: Alexa Black isn’t done dishing out the pain on the outside.

Ace Anderson: She likes to hurt people, Jerry.

She grabs Tide and throws him head-first into the barrier in front of the crowd. She then sets him up… Black Widow!! She smiles and breaks the count once more. High Tide can barely get to his feet…. the Concussion Special!

Jerry Andrews: This is too much now!

Ace Anderson: We’ve already seen a lot of violence tonight on Trauma, but this might be the most brutal we’ve seen anyone be in a while!

Alexa Black slowly rolls her opponent back into the ring. The referee checks on High Tide, who has a far away look in his eyes, but is dimly trying to reach for the ropes. Alexa, sensing the opportunity, returns to the ring and walks towards High Tide, measuring him and lifting him up, setting him into a Gory special hold before drilling him into the mat with a Gory piledriver.

Jerry Andrews: The Freak Accident!!!

Alexa covers.

The referee: ONE...











TWO...













THREE!!



Ding Ding Ding

Sasha Greene: “Here is your winner... and NEWWWWW PURE CLASS WRESTLING NORTH AMERICAN CHAMPION... ALEXA BLACK!!”

"Blood On My Hands" by the Used begins playing and Alexa is handed the North American title while she's still laying over a fallen High Tide, and she starts to rise up with an elated expression. High Tide rolls out of the ring, clearly dazed and confused from the brutal match.

Jerry Andrews: And there we have it! Our new North American Champion!

Ace Anderson: That was painful to watch, Jerry. Anyone who thought about going after the North American title is probably rethinking their decision after watching Alexa Black lay waste to High Tide.

Jerry Andrews: You’re right about that Ace. I…

Suddenly, as High Tide is trying to get to his feet, he is blasted over the back of the head by a figure, moving fast. As High Tide rolls halfway down the ramp, the camera pans up to see Kyle Shane standing on the ramp, looking down at High Tide with a pitiless expression. Kyle's eyes look up to meet Alexa Black, standing in the ring. Kyle looks back down at High Tide.

Jerry Andrews: Kyle Shane just attacked High Tide! He’s being brutalized from every direction now!

Ace Anderson: What is going on here!?

Kyle looks down at High Tide, crawling to his feet on the ramp, and Kyle paces forward quickly, steps up and brings his shoe down hard curb stomping High Tide onto the steel ramp. High Tide jitters. Kyle's face is a deadpan mask as he grips High Tide by the hair. He lifts him up, and begins talking intensely to High Tide, as well as looking pointedly at Alexa Black.

Kyle Shane: For too long this company has awarded unoriginality and mediocrity. Do you hear me? Men like you and Corey Steel, flakes are handed opportunities and championships.

Taking the dazed and completely out of it High Tide by the hair, he marches him down the ramp. Kyle throws High Tide into the ring, offering him up to Alexa Black. Who has not taken her eyes off of Kyle Shane. Kyle, however, is simply staring a hole in High Tide, who is still not recovered from the CRIT on the entrance ramp. Alexa Black flings her arms at Kyle, asking what in the hell he's doing.

PCW officials quickly rush into the ring, hoping to stop an elevated situation from getting any worse.

Jerry Andrews: What on earth is Kyle Shane doing with High Tide? He needs medical attention!

At almost the same moment as Jerry speaks, the PCW medical team rushes down to the ring. They have some trouble fighting through the chaos to reach High Tide. Referees and officials are tying desperately to move Alexa Black and Kyle Shane out of the ring so they can attend to High Tide.

Ace Anderson: This is madness! The medical team is trying to get to the injured High Tide, but Alexa Black and Kyle Shane are trying to get to one another and they won’t leave the ring!

Finally, officials manage to grab Alexa Black’s arms and they start to forcibly remove her from the ring. They try the same with Kyle Shane, but he manages to allude them. Alexa breaks free now, but suddenly Kyle blasts her in the side of the face with a drive-by kick. Kyle now grips her in a headlock and lays into her forehead with aggressive mounted punches.

Jerry Andrews: Oh come on! This is insane!!!

Kyle gets up, his foot jittering again, and he hits the ropes as Alexa is trying to turn over, arm flailing for guidance. Kyle steps up and crushes Alexa with a curb stomp of her own. Then, Kyle steps forward, picking up the North American title belt, and staring at it fixedly. He paces to the ropes and grabs a mic.

Kyle Shane: No more.

His breath is even, his tone is quiet but firm.

Kyle Shane: No more am I letting the toxic culture of Pure Class Wrestling reward mediocrity, award shitty hangers on of a past it will not let die, award people that stayed for them just because they've been here the longest. I will not let this federation stagnate any further, and I will not let it's championships be passed around on paper to people who don't even care like the Corey Steels, Dominators and yes, High Tides of the world. This company deserves better... the North American title deserves better. You people -

He laughs bitterly.

Kyle Shane: You celebrate heroes who repeat things they've been saying for a decade. You praise mediocrity and all along you've shunned me because my style is different, because I want to give you everything I have. And I am not turning on you, Pure Class Wrestling... nor am I attacking your beliefs or your infrastructure, but I will not... I will not stand by silently while an important championship is passed around like a poker chip between lackluster nonentities, who don't even care enough to defend it.

He drops the title at his feet.

Kyle Shane: I don't care who hears this and wants to take offense... I've been the rebel heart of this brand for three... YEARS. And I'll fight against the grain as long as I need until the message is sent. Message... Received.

Kyle stares remorselessly out at the crowd… but Alexa Black isn’t done! She crawls towards him and tackles his knees from behind, taking him down! Alexa slowly gets to her feet, using the ropes. Kyle is up as well. He rushes at her, but PCW officials manage to get in the way this time. Alexa Black tries to break through, but she’s been weakened by the assault and the officials tackle her to the floor. Kyle Shane is free again! He rushes towards her!

Jerry Andrews: And more help has arrived!

Backstage officials are out now. PCW road agents and staffers and even President Loki rush into the ring. The finally manage to pull Kyle Shane from the ring before anything else can happen. Kyle Shane desperately tries to return to the ring. The President is heard yelling at him: “ENOUGH OF THIS!!!” Kyle Shane can’t get loose from the officials, but he takes a swing at Loki and misses. Almost every official at ringside is on Shane now, dragging him away from the area.

But Alexa Black is back on her feet! She was left unattended! Alexa tries to go after Shane, but she’s grabbed by…

Jerry Andrews: LOKI!?

The President of PCW grabs Alexa Black around the waist to stop her. She fights free.

Alexa Black: “You can't touch me, Mr. President!!! You lay your hands on me again and the board will fire your ass!!!”

Loki takes a step back.

Jerry Andrews: She’s right. No matter what’s going on in the ring right now, the President of the company has no right to get physical with PCW wrestlers.

Alexa smirks at him… and he slugs her in the face!!

Ace Anderson: OH MY GOD!!!

Loki, visibly angry, now starts unloading on Alexa Black with rights and lefts. Security guards rush down to the ring now and they get between Alexa Black and the President. He’s dragged from the ring now as Alexa Black continues to fight against the increasingly large group of officials. She’s screaming at them and Loki and Kyle Shane and anyone and everyone involved as Trauma comes to an end.

- CLICK -