Trauma 137 Results!

[Murdoc]

We open with Skylar Marshall sitting in his office ... shuffling through some papers, lost in whatever task lays in front of him. His office door suddenly slams open and in storms “Mr. Showtime” Michael Wryght. Skylar is taken a bit off guard, but not as much as when Showtime flips Marshall’s desk, sending paperwork everywhere. Luckily for Marshall he had slid back to the wall so the desk missed hitting him in the process.

Skylar Marshall: You didn’t knock.

The sarcastic comment doesn’t sit well with the Frickin’ Superstar as he scowls at his boss. With all of his effort Showtime composes himself and is able to get himself together to form words.

Michael Wryght: Do I have your attention? It seems these days that only things that directly affect you can pull your head out of Kaard’s ass long enough to see the daylight.

Skylar Marshall: Now wait just a minute.

Michael Wryght: Shut up! All of these games that you are playing made us just lose the most dominant wrestler PCW has seen since Lantlas and still you pander to that nobody. Did you even know that Ford has left the group?

Marshall doesn’t respond but instead pulls out his cell phone and plays back Ford’s voicemail; the expletives being bleeped by the censors.

Michael Wryght: And yet you are in here and not in Ford’s dressing room begging for him to come back. If this was Kaard you would be on your knees trying to blow this over. What is your agenda with that brat? Because of you we have our first Pure Class Wrestling Champion that has never beat any former champion. When Phinehas and Sean’s match was a draw the current champion retained. Even before I was champion I was able to score some victories over former champions. How many does your little toy have? NONE!

Skylar Marshall: How dare you come in here trying to physically assault me and question my motives? Need I remind you that this is Marshall’s Law not Showtime’s Law? This has always been my group and the leeway that I have given you is only because you helped me get back to where I belong as head of PCW. Without me, you’d still be the biggest under-achiever in PCW history. You’d still chasing Grimm around like you have something to prove as he beats you over and over, or wallowing at the mean ... but true ... insults that Ace Anderson shoots your way. Without me, you’d be nothing.

Michael Wryght: Without you, all I would have needed to do was win the Icemann Invitational Tournament and I would have needed to clean up your mess. I wouldn’t have Stormm all over me and I certainly wouldn’t be worrying about Kaard. The only thing I would need to worry about is how to deal with a longtime friend that I’m sure now hates my guts. All you did was speed up the process that should have been expedited in the first place.

Skylar Marshall: Are you going to start crying again about what you deserved, Showtime? You got your title and I’m sure everyone is tired of hearing about it. So save it for someone who cares.

Michael Wryght: You see? This is exactly what I am talking about. If I were Kaard, you wouldn’t dare speak to me like that. If you want to talk about who would be where without whom, then you’d be collecting an unemployment check without me. After Stormm fired you…

Skylar Marshall: Correction: I quit.

Michael Wryght: Regardless, after Havoc you would have had nowhere to go. I sought you out and give you a second chance at running PCW. I set you up with allies that would not let you down, unlike the lot you chose last time that got you fired. They say history repeats itself and to me, it looks like you are choosing the losing team again.

Skylar Marshall: Is this where you quit my stable too, like your boyfriend Ford?

Michael Wryght: Not necessarily. I feel like I owe the Flying Freebooters more than deserting them with the likes of you, but since Marshall’s Law has always been my stable, this is where I give you a choice. You can either clean up your own mess and get rid of Kaard ... or the two of you can be very happy without the rest of us.

Skylar Marshall: What makes you think that Tide and Wasp will choose you over me?

Michael Wryght: I don’t, but I do think that they are better men than you and Kaard. If I remember correctly that when we were outnumbered four-to-two last week, the Freebooters came to our aid. Of course, you knew that because you and Kaard were out there too. Oh wait. You weren’t. I just don’t get what your game is here. Are you trying to discredit the title or just ruin PCW?

Showtime’s face goes white by his comment as he starts to think that he is seeing Marshall for the first time. Marshall sees this as Showtime just abruptly heads for the door.

Skylar Marshall: You know that my goal has always been to bring PCW back to its former glory. We saved it from Luis, and now it is better than ever.

Showtime doesn’t answer but when he gets to the door Skylar shouts out one last time.

Skylar Marshall: Where are you going now?

Michael Wryght: To see if I can talk Whitey back into the group, which will be impossible unless you fix your mess.

Marshall says a few more comments, but Showtime is already out the door and unable to hear anything else from his boss as the feed switches to the crowd in attendance, ready to go for the first match of the evening.

***

Match One

Genesis Rules

#1 Contender’s Match for the Genesis Championship

Arica ‘Trouble’ Lewitt vs. Anson

Referee: Marcos Cruz

A grinding guitar riff explodes from the speakers before a symphony of chaos takes its place.

Screams and drums harmonize with the raging guitar chords that make up "Bonehead" by Naked City. The assault on the ears continues for a moment when Anson emerges from the back with Suende in tow. He stops at the top of the ramp and waits for Suende to catch up. When she does, the duo head down together in tandem. She climbs the ring steps and waits on the apron while Anson slithers in under the bottom rope. He uses the top rope to pull himself to his feet before sitting on the middle rope. Suende bends over and slinks one leg into the ring before slipping into the ring.

“I Knew You Were Trouble” begins to play over the speakers the lights cut out completely, leaving the arena cloaked in darkness. A spotlight flashes on Trouble each time her name is sung and the crowd can barely make out Trouble standing in the middle of the ramp as the spotlight flashes. Eventually the lights come back on, and she is standing in the middle of the ring, staring down not Anson, but pointedly glaring in the direction of Suende, who is now carefully making her way out of the ring. Trouble climbs a turnbuckle and without warning leaps off of it, catching Anson unexpectedly with a flying cross body!

Marcos Cruz motions for the bell to signal the beginning of the match, and Trouble doesn’t back off the offensive. As Anson is getting back to his feet, she bounces off the far ropes and sends Anson right back into the mat with a running DDT! She quickly goes for the cover, but Anson still has lots left in him and kicks out at one and a half. Trouble pulls Anson back to his feet, and bounces off the far ropes again. Anson predicts this perfectly and she runs into a sit-out spinebuster!

Now it is Anson’s turn to attack. He lifts Trouble up by her hair, and the referee warns him about it. However he is already on the offensive, He unleashes three quick and powerful right hands, before irish whipping her into the ropes. As she bounces back he hits her right in the face with a spinning back elbow. Trouble falls to the ground and Suende raises her arms on the outside, seeking revenge for their altercation in the last match.

Anson drops down to make the pin, but Trouble manages to kick out at two and a half. He picks her off the ground easily, and lifts her up. Trouble manages to throw a few punches, but is still dazed and they land softly. Anson looks over at Suende who gets the message, and moves out of the way. Then. with no remorse, Anson powerbombs Trouble over the ropes and on to the floor below!

The referee begins to make the ten count, but at three he notices that Anson is beginning to untie the padding on the turnbuckle. He goes over, putting himself in the path of the wrestler, but Anson doesn’t care. It was only a distraction, and Suende begins to stomp down on the fallen Trouble, backing off before the referee turns and begins to count again. At six she manages to shakily get to her feet and enters the ring at nine. Anson is waiting and attempts a running clothesline, which she manages to duck under. Both hit the opposite ropes and Anson goes for a Yakuza kick! Trouble sees it coming and stops it catching Anson’s foot before it connects with her face.

A look of fear can be seen on the face of Anson, remembering his last kick attempt and Trouble proceeds to kick his other leg out from underneath him, and puts him in the Sharpshooter! Anson struggles and looks to be near the point of submitting when Suende climbs on to the outside of the apron. Trouble immediately releases the submission and goes for Suende who hops off the apron, her role as a distraction served. However she hadn’t counted on Trouble speeding after her and as she makes it to the foot of the ramp, she is bulldogged into it! The referee is counting again but Trouble beats the count back into the ring.

Anson is on his feet again and attempts to hit a running clothesline but Arica ducks, forcing Marcos Cruz who is standing behind her to throw himself to the mat to avoid being taken out. This also means his eye is off the action, for no more than five seconds but it is enough to make a difference. Anson stops his momentum by grabbing on to the ropes and Trouble, who is behind him, delivers a low blow!

The referee who is now focused back on the action can only see that Anson is down on the ground, and has no idea the illegal maneuver has occurred. Trouble goes to the opposite corner and begins to stomp her foot on the ground. 1.2.3…Anson is slowly rising. 4.5.6.7, Anson is up before Trouble can get to her preferred ten and charging across the ring she unleashes her devastating superkick. Super Trouble!

Trouble drops down to make the pin hooking the leg. The referee goes for the count.

1 …

2 …

3!

Winner: Arica Lewitt

[Murdoc]

***

We’re back from commercial as "Pain Redefined" plays and the crowd begins to scream, rising to a crescendo with the music until Ace Anderson appears on the stage. He's dressed in his wrestling gear but sports a 'Pure Class Wrestling' t-shirt which he points to while walking to the ring with obvious intent. The fans lining the ramp reach out for high-fives and he gives as many as he can before taking the time to double back, making sure he doesn't miss anyone.

Pure... Class... Wrestling...

He holds on each word as though assigning special meaning.

Three words often used, sometimes haphazard, around this Arena. They're tossed about with little regard to their meaning. Some see the irony, like Rick Majors and Tyler Scott. Some even choose to bravely fly the flag of Pure Class: Q, Kelli Starr, Andy D, The New Breed.

At the names of some of their favorites the Faithful can't help but cheer. Ace raises his arms, asking them for silence, and the pop dies down after running its natural course.

And others... others beat their drum or pound their chest, waging their wars and lining their pockets, all under false pretence and the name of Pure Class Wrestling. I know because I'm all too familiar with this sort. Before Non Compos Mentis and his Battalion of Bums, before Gabriel Cross's cocky confidence, before Whitey Ford's drunken disrespect, before Skylar Marshall's band of thieves masquerading as men of the Law, there was Ace Anderson. There was Greatness In the Flesh.

He pauses to gauge the reaction, a strange mix of cheers and jeers for myriad reasons beyond measure. He lowers the microphone and hangs his head, a second of silence for the man he was. And may he rest in pieces.

For those of you unstudied in the history of these halls, I was once reborn a man convinced that Pure Class Wrestling was beneath me. I stood astride, much like Michael Wryght and his cohort Whitey Ford, and I gazed down upon the rest in loathing and contempt. I spat in the face of hard-working warriors and presumed they couldn't touch me. It took an elf I could never defeat to change my mind, and yet stubborn I remained. My arrogance retained.

It took years away from this business and tragedy beyond my control before I truly came back to earth. And still I fought against myself, tried to play the old cards from that worn-down deck with Nacho Grande. It was all I knew. It nearly cost my career. And more, I nearly lost my life. After my defeat by Mike Park in the Icemann Invitational Tournament two years ago, I truly hit rock bottom.

At the mention of the Icemann Invitational the Faithful cheer him for his recent victory. Ace basks in it a moment before he continues.

For many, rock bottom is the moment you realize you have nothing left, and nothing to give. You arrive at a choice: you either fight your way back, or you die. Maybe not right away, but someday ... insignificant and without dignity. For me, this was a moment of clarity and a stunning realization. It was the beginning of my battle back.

My realization was this: I knew not the meaning of the words upon the banner I stood beneath, written upon the belts I've held in these two hands, words I've used and misused in cycles of abuse with an unclear start and an uncertain end. In that moment of clarity, I made a decision.

NO MORE AND NEVER AGAIN.

Following his train of thought the fans start to smoulder, awaiting the right moment to catch fire.

No more would I stand before you and proclaim myself as Greatness in this ring, never again would I look upon fellow men and women with Pride, convinced they're less as human beings. Upon seeing myself in the mirror, measuring the man I'd become, I realized I could sink no lower. I could fly no further from the heart of 'Pure Class.' And so I returned with this in mind, to quell that old pride and to redefine, and what did I find?

Nothing. Nothing had changed. Ace Anderson left and still the principles of 'Pure Class' were cast aside. Heavy Metal disappeared. Sean Rhodes tried but its demands drove him insane. Nacho Grande became bitter and abandoned his principles. They initially made him a crusader against the villain that was Ace Anderson. When it came to Justin Kaard, however, those principles meant nothing. And why? Respect, that's why.

Ace Anderson ceases his speech for a moment, looking to the crowd and gauging their reaction as he approaches his point. They're hanging on his every word, though cries can be heard from skeptics and naysayers for him to give it up.

Class, Pure Class, is built upon the back of respect. When I look to Marshall's Law, to Mr. Showtime, to Whitey Ford, and to Skylar Marshall himself, I don't see respect. Whitey Ford has no respect for me; Marshall's Law has no respect for you. Skylar Marshall aims to control us, the wrestlers. Michael Wryght aims to exploit you, the fans. And Whitey Ford...

I really don't know what he wants, but I have a feeling it involves getting drunk and acting tough. Don't get me wrong, there's no denying that he's one tough son of a bitch. But something tells me he's more concerned with appearances. Every chance he gets he'll tell you that I'm old, that I'm irrelevant, that I suck. That I'm not worth his time. That much is obvious; every time Ace Anderson appears, Whitey Ford finds a way to disappear.

At this the fans can hold back no more, cheering wildly at the prospect of finally getting to see Whitey Ford and Ace Anderson meet in the ring. Again Ace lets them pop before he continues.

Tonight's only a sample. At Game Over, Whitey Ford will have nowhere to run. Finally, you, the Faithful, will get the match that you deserve. I'll get my chance at the International Title with next to nothing in my way. I've earned my right to even the odds.

If I win, I'll be able to represent Pure Class Wrestling as the first to hold all its gold. Whitey Ford may be the longest reigning International Champion in PCW history. For that, I applaud him. For that, I recognize him. But recognition is not respect. From all he's said and done, Whitey Ford doesn't respect me. So I don't respect him. I doubt he recognizes what I've done for this industry, or for PCW. I'm not proud of this, but I'm even the prototype for all he is and stands to be. Like it or not, Whitey ... I'm The ORIGINAL Asshole.

At this the Faithful laugh, and cheer, and boo; it's a strange, cathartic mix of tremulous truth.

Whitey Ford might think he's flat-out better than me. Is he? I don't know. All I want is to find out, beyond the shadow of doubt cast by his antics and schemes. Do I want Whitey Ford's respect? His recognition? Sure. Will I get it? Doubtful. Will he come back with a witty or offensive response to this in an attempt to berate and discredit me? Probably. That's the name of his game; I know it too well, and so I can't really blame him.

Beyond all that, though, beyond Game Over... I simply want to represent Pure Class. For once I want to be a beacon, instead of the shade, cast upon Pure Class Wrestling. Over the years, through trials by fire, I've learned what it takes. Win or lose, I hope I can help restore something to Pure Class Wrestling which is sorely lacking. And I know I'm not alone.

Remember what I said about rock bottom? I still have nothing left. But now I have something to give. And that is my driving force.

He drops the microphone, salutes the fans, and "Pain Redefined" resumes. Ace Anderson leaves the ring to cheers from a hot crowd.  The cheers from the crowd segue into canned cheers from a video reel, promoting PCW's newest compilation DVD: PCW'S Greatest Matches vol. 2.  In stores this Friday!

Match Two

Genesis Rules

Genesis Championship Triple Threat Match

Sterling Werner vs. Andy D vs. Q (©)

Referee: Roberto Garcia

The lights suddenly black out the Arena as strobes hit simultaneously with "YOU'VE GOT BLOOD ON YOUR HAAANNNDDSSSS!!...." jolting the un-expecting crowd from their seats as the lyrics to "Hollow King" come alive through the sound system. The majority of the crowd hyped up when they see their newest favorite PCW star, Sterling Werner, quickly ascend through the stage floor.

Only his shadowy figure can be seen until he steps forward as the Arena lights return to their original state, keeping the strobes in-sync with the theme song. Sterling makes a straight shot for the ring, looking to be all about business as his fans reach out to touch him if they can. He glances from side to side into the audience as he walks down the ramp, then focuses his attention to the ring.

He jumps onto the ring apron on one knee, pulling himself up with assistance from the ropes. He looks over his shoulder before getting inside. The Referee checks him down and he's good to go as his theme music dies down.

The intro of 'Are You Not Entertained' hits out on the PA system, and when it asks for everybody to scream the crowd goes crazy and Andy apears from the back. As he heads towards the ring, he slaps hands with as many people of the crowd as he can. Aproaching the ring, Andy slides under the bottom rope before running up to a random turnbuckle, hopping up to the second turnbuckle and motioning for the crowd to cheer loudly. Andy jumps down and removes his bucket hat, placing it on the metal part of the turnbuckle in his corner before standing ready for the match.

The sound of rocket ships can be heard in the background. The low ... but steadily rising rumble of engines. WHOOSH. KSSSSSSSSH. The doors open and ...

... out rolls the FUNK. Q steps out as ‘Supersoulfighter’ starts, the crowd getting into that fresh, tasty jam. He's smiling and bobbing his head as he walks to the ring in step with the beat. Slapping hands. Kissing babies. Showing off signs dedicated to him, or anything he thinks is creative or noteworthy. The lights pulsate in multi-colored hues. the music kicking into full swing as he finishes his walk to the ringside area.

As he enters the ring, he catapults himself over the top rope and rolls in, sprinting towards the hard camera and getting RIGHT in its' focus, shaking it and directing it out to the crowd in attendance ... who are engaging in a party as he waits to start.

DING DING DING!

All three men meet in the center and shakes hands, slap hands ... whatever you want to call it. Sportsmanship, I guess. The three begin circling ... Andy D and Sterling Werner on the outside, with Q taking more of the center of the ring than circling really. Andy and Sterling looking at each other ... then Q ... then each other. The trap is sprung and both men descend upon the Genesis champion! Their attack swift and violent, Q is caught unaware (although he should have known better) and driven to the mat under the fury of their strikes.

Once Q has been momentarily marginalized, Sterling takes the advantage and begins peppering Andy with stiff right shots. Jab ... chop ... he forces Andy D back into the nearest corner and begins laying some serious leather on his fellow contender. Andy D ducking some of the shots, he avoids the full brunt of the attack and is back in the fight within moments.

As is Q, who comes rushing in from the opposite corner with a HUUUUUGE Avalanche Splash that ... misses both men. Poor Q. Smacking the turnbuckle with his chest, Andy D is closest and rolls Q up for a quick pinfall attempt ... which Sterling breaks up almost immediately. You know, just in case. Sterling on the offensive now, stomping at both downed opponents. Andy is the first to his feet and catches an incoming Werner boot ... dragon screw leg whip! Sterling is down in agony, Andy has changed the momentum and Q ...

... well, Q has snuck to the side. Away from everyone. As Andy turns to find the champion, he is met with a violent shove. Andy hitting the mat, Sterling dives to make the cover. Q, however, is having NONE of this and pulls Sterling off of Andy before the referee can even count a one. Pulling Sterling off, he torQues the ankle as he drags him away to give him a lasting reminder of what NOT to do. Andy has recovered sufficiently from his trip and will not be waiting until next Fall to get his retaliation in.

Andy D rushing to Q, he zigs and zags as he moves into Q’s space and nails several body shots. Q reeling, he catches Andy’s fist on the last shot and twists as he pivots his hips ... a beautiful hip throw that sends Andy D to the mat alongside where Sterling Werner was. Where he ... WAS. A Quick scan by Q and Sterling is spied on the second turnbuckle, just WAITING for someone to turn.

Unfortunate turn for the champion, truly. Sterling hops over to the middle of the second rope and bounces backwards, throwing Q off as he twists in mid-air ... reaching up and grabbing Q by the head as both men crash to the mat. Sterling nailing a very sexy springboard falling neckbreaker, the crowd is on its’ feet as the move lands.

A pinfall attempt.

1 ...

2 ...

...

... 3-No!

Sterling is off of Q and before he can even capitalize on the sudden uptick in his own personal stock ...

... Andy D is back from the hip throw! He’s been kept from the bulk of the action thanks to Q’s momentum changing maneuvers, but he’s finally right ways and back in Sterling’s face as he rises from the mat. Exchanging blows with him, the two are swinging for the fences on this one. The champ is down, it’s now or never for these two men.

Sterling slipping behind Andy, it’s a waistlock ... and a German suplex attempt. Andy wrapping one of his legs around Werner’s, he blocks the attack with great presence of mind. Instead of allowing Werner to hoist him up and over, Andy rolls through and trips Werner to the mat. Letting go of the leg, Andy sizes up Werner but Sterling is not about to go without a fight. He throws several body shots at Andy and looks to be catching the upper hand when a BIG kick to the side of the head eliminates any steam he managed to attain. It’s all Andy now with several un-answered shots. Werner is on Dream Street as Andy backs away ...

... and turns to the crowd who erupts into cheers! They know what’s coming.

DRAGON’S BITE!

Or not. Sterling ducks out of the way ... and there’s Q with a QFT! Barreling into both Sterling and catching Andy D in the bull rush, Q has taken both men down and judges Sterling to be the more weakened of the two as he drops onto him for the pinfall attempt. Hooking the leg, the referee is in the perfect position to make the count.

1 ...

2 ...

...

.... 3!

Winner: Q via pinfall

Match Three

Singles Match

Dillon ‘The Legacy’ Durst vs. Non Compos Mentis

Referee: Steve Shaw

Trauma returns from a commercial break to the sound of ‘Good Man’ by Devour The Day and in the middle of the ring stands ‘The Legacy’ Dillon Durst. He is preparing for the match ahead with some light stretches and casting his eyes to the top of the ramp while his few supporters cheer for him. There is a somewhat dulled atmosphere among the PCW Faithful until they are unified by…

“SCUM OF…THE EARTH… COME ON!”

The heavy beat of drum and harsh guitar kick in immediately after hearing the voice of Rob Zombie blasting over the PA system. Instinctively the crowd boo as the images of the notorious ‘Born Psycho’ flash across the Tron. The PCW Faithful waits with no lack of vocal attacks for the man himself to arrive but he holds back until Mr Zombie’s voice erupts once more.

“YEAH! RUN AND KILL, DESTROY THE WILL, A HERO THAT DOESN’T EXIST! YEAH! SMOKING GUN, WELL I AM THE ONE, A BULLET HOLE IN YOUR FIST! YEAH!”

Non Compos Mentis walks out onto the stage and the chorus of jeers grows to an even higher level. The man himself merely grins a sadistic smile and holds his arms out in a cross, welcoming the hateful shouts all around him. Revelling in the chaos he begins to make his way down to the ring, striding down the ramp with confidence and purpose as the refrain hits.

“I’M BREATHING! I’M BLEEDING! I’M SCREAMING! SCUM OF… THE EARTH… COME ON!”

He reaches the ring and hops onto the apron as the second refrain smashes through the sound system, raising his arm into the air to infuriate the fans further, still grinning.

“I’M BREATHING! I’M BLEEDING! I’M SCREAMING! SCUM OF… THE EARTH… COME ON!”

The powerful, frenzied beat goes on as NCM climbs into the ring and sends an evil look toward the referee before removing his tattered denim jacket and handing it over, then retreating to his corner in readiness for the match to come.

Referee Steve Shaw checks on both competitors (hesitantly in NCM’s case) and signals for the bell. The clang brings both men forward and Durst looks to keep his distance and make Mentis take the first move. NCM is more than happy to oblige and he barrels forward with explosive, unexpected pace, firing off a series of brutal punches before Durst can engage his trademark adaptive technique. Quickly he is pushed back to the ropes and NCM takes the chance to whip him hard across the ring. He follows swiftly and charges straight into a shuddering shoulder block. Durst hits the mat hard and struggles back to a knee, staring back at NCM as the ‘Born Psycho’ merely throws his head back and releases a sickening laugh into the rafters of the arena.

Pushing himself to his feet, Durst begins to circle again but his mistake is duplicated. He gives the initiative to Mentis who lunged forward. Durst tries to lock him up but he is powerless to stop the unconventional opponent from blundering through with a lifted knee to the gut. Mentis hammers a collection of ruthless blows down on Durst’s back and drops him to the mat again, this time keeping him there with an elbow drop across his spine. Knowing his history of right leg problems, NCM ruthlessly goes straight for that limb, stomping violently on the knee time after time.

The PCW Faithful boos wildly at this show of pure violence but that doesn’t stop NCM from continuing his assault. He drags a kicking Durst to the ropes, paying little notice to the repeated hits to his chest, and wraps his injured leg around the middle rope. Referee Shaw warns NCM about the rope break, but Mentis pulls hard on his foot, stretching the knee. It takes a four count for Mentis to release and when he does he goes straight back on the attack, pulling Durst to his feet.

Mentis hits another combo of strikes to the forehead and follows it by lifting his opponent up into a Fireman’s Carry. It looks like he is about to his a huge Flapjack but Durst shows some fight and lashes out with a flurry of strikes to the head, weakening NCM’s grip and allowing him to fall out of the back door. Before NCM can react, Durst grabs him around the waist and looks for a German Suplex, trying to lift the heavier man off his feet. NCM resists however, and with his unconventional style he pushes ‘The Legacy’ back toward the ropes. He struggles hard to stop the momentum of NCM but he only stops to land a back elbow that stuns Durst dead. With his grasp weakened, Mentis transitions into a Russian Leg Sweep and throws himself and Dillon straight back, bouncing Durst’s head awkwardly off the middle rope.

NCM makes the pin quickly with a lateral press and Shaw moves into position.

One…
Two…
TH..NO!

Durst just kicks out and reels from the hit, trying to roll evasively to the outside but only reaching the apron. Once there he tries to recover and climbs to his feet just in time to see Mentis rushing toward him. His opponent goes for a Spear through the ropes but Durst escapes to the side and lands a vicious kick to the unprotected skull of Mentis who recoils, allowing Durst to latch of for a Suplex attempt to the outside. Again he tries to lift the heavier Mentis but cannot manage it. Instead the momentum slides to Mentis who tries his own lift, getting his opponent into the air only for Durst to resist and crash back down onto the apron. The impact, however, travels straight into the injured knee of Durst and he flinches, losing his grasp of Mentis who smells blood immediately.

With Durst distracted, Mentis retreats a couple of steps and bursts forward, launching his boot through the middle ropes and connecting with a Kenka Kick straight to the knee. Durst collapses to the apron clutching at his knee while Mentis sends another sadistic grin beaming around the arena. The Faithful respond with another wave of boos and jeers but Mentis goes about his business, dragging Durst up and setting him up for a suplex of his own. This time he manages to lift Durst over the top rope but he struggles and falls out again, this time landing on his healthy leg and teeing off of Mentis before he can react.

Durst’s adaptive style is abandoned as he realizes he can’t rely on it against such an unpredictable opponent and itself he takes the quick, blunt option in a Reverse DDT. He hooks the leg and Shaw goes in for the count…

One…Kick Out!

It is nowhere near enough to keep NCM down for the count and Durst pulls him back to his feet quickly. Needing to capitalise on the chance he has, Durst grabs NCM and pulls him up. Unable to rely on strength with his injured leg preventing leverage, Durst goes to his natural submission ability and locks in a tight Abdominal Stretch. As he does, Shaw moves closer to check for a tap out but Mentis sends him away furiously and tries to fight back. The hold is cinched in though and NCM begins to fade.

Out of desperation, Mentis uses his free arm and swings it wildly, connecting with the eye of Durst who gasps in pain and pulls back, releasing Mentis from the hold. As Mentis recovers, Durst shakes the grogginess from his vision and sees the angry form of his opponent lurching forward. Just in time he reacts and catches him with a vicious European Uppercut that rocks him and sends him backwards. Through the haze of the strike, Mentis rushes forward blindly and walks straight into a Drop Toe Hold, sending him neck first into the bottom rope!

Mentis bounces back, clutching his throat, and Durst sees his one and only chance to put Mentis away. He lifts NCM onto his shoulders in an awkward looking Fireman’s Carry and tries for ‘The Solution’… but his knee gives way under the weight!

NCM drops out of the back door this time and, when Durst finally wheels around on his injured leg, unleashes a shuddering Spinning Back Fist to the temple! Durst collapses in a heap on the mat and tries labouredly to get up but only manages to sit up. Seeing his opponent completely defenseless, the ‘Born Psycho’ rebounds off the ropes and dives to the mat elbow first, driving it into the unprotected face of Durst in a horrifying Sliding D! With the Psychotic Break hit, NCM shines a toothy blood-curdling smile at the crowd and nonchalantly hooks the leg.

One…
Two…
THREE!

Winner: Non Compos Mentis

Having been outclassed for most of the match, Durst is spent and possibly unconscious on the mat as Mentis climbs to his feet and takes in the vast jeers of the PCW Faithful. He seems to bask in their hatred of the result and of the man himself… but the evil grin on his face does not look satisfied with just that.

Turning from the crowd, the ‘Born Psycho’ looks down at his beaten opponent who, all through the match, had struggled to cope with the unpredictable and brutal nature of his opponent. The impossibly growing boos from the crowd are ignored as Mentis bends down and takes Durst’s head in his hand. Before he can do anything untoward Referee Steve Shaw interjects, ordering Mentis to move back and leave Durst to the medical personal at ringside… but Mentis is having none of it. Instead he lets go of Durst and walks toward Shaw with a slow and imposing stride.

Before Show knows it he is backed into the corner with nowhere to go. He begins to plead with Mentis not to do to him what he did to Tyrone Little, but Mentis is deaf to his calls. He reaches out and grasps the black and white shirt of the official, clutching it in his tightening fist until…. The crowd roars!

Out from the back explodes Tyler Scott, sprinting down the ramp at break-neck speed to protect both Shaw and Durst who are both in the firing line of NCM. The Hobo King realizes what is happening and he turns around to see the British blur sliding into the ring, arms already poised for a fight.

Scott scrambles to his feet and is ready to brawl with his rival but when he looks around, NCM is nowhere to be seen. Shaw is cowering in the corner, his shirt still crumpled, and NCM has escaped to the outside of the ring, wanting nothing to do with the British Lion. Tyler takes a moment to check on Shaw and finally Durst who is starting to come back to consciousness in the center of the ring.

Just as Durst makes it to his feet ...

... the lights are exterminated.

Every single one of them. Not a single light is shining. Even the lighters of the fans seem to be swallowed by the blackness. The crowd hoots and holler for a few moments before finally dying out. Waiting. The announcers claim a possible technical difficulty with a truck in the back. Maybe a generator blew and technicians are scrambling to repair it.

All these theories and ... the PCW-tron lights up.

Old-timey film reel countdown. 4. 3. 2.

BOOP.

Black and white news reel footage, the opening frame reading ‘Al Capone receives 11-year jolt!--Notorious gangster sentenced to Leavenworth for tax evasion’. The crowd murmurs its’ confusion; what do Al Capone and tax evasion have to do with Tuesday Night Trauma?! A 1929 Ford Coupe with suicide doors pulls up, out hops Capone ... and a deep voice pierces the murky waters of consternation.

In 1931, Alphonse 'Al’ Capone was convicted on charges of tax evasion, bringing down one of the most powerful and CORRUPT empires of recent times. The men behind this take-down? A team of men personally selected by Andrew Mellon ... Secretary of the Treasury and President Herbert Hoover ... were charged with raiding the breweries and distilleries that afforded Capone the money that protected him from prosecution.

Even WHEN Capone attempted to bribe and coerce these men with his blood money, there was no wavering. These men were resolute. These men were incorruptible. These men ...

... were UNTOUCHABLE.

The video abruptly stops.

The lights return to full brilliance.

It takes the crowd and the fans at home a few moments to catch their bearings. Any trace of audio or video is completely gone, like smoke on the wind. The cameras, however, are quick on the uptake. A loud gasp is heard as all focus is now directed to the ring before them ... and what is left of what ONCE WAS ‘The Legacy’ Dillon Durst.

The man is tied to the top rope, arms spread open wide ... leaving his entire body exposed for what must have happened under the cover of darkness. Rivulets of blood trickle from his forehead, pooling at his feet and sickly coagulating underneath him. He looks to be completely unconscious, but at the very least ... seems to be breathing, thank God. The crowd is stunned as security and referees hit the ring to free the victimized competitor. The camera zooms in on Dillon’s face but a quick audible is called and we go quickly to commercial.

[Murdoc]

***

Deep ... deep in the bowels of the PCW Arena, Gabriel “Archangel” Cross stalks. He moves down a hallway through a mostly-forgotten, all-but-abandoned section scheduled to be sealed off. Terrible things happened here. Stories and rumors about those terrible things and the imprints they left in the walls are still told by the workers unfortunate enough to have to perform their duties in the area. As it were, the hallway is lit by bare lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling by fraying cords. Cross reaches up and gently swipes at each bulb as he passes beneath it, muttering as he goes.

Dollface.”

“Grimm.”

“Dollface.”

“Grimm.”

The swinging bulbs cast shifting lights and shadows along the hallway. As Cross walks along, a silhouette moves just behind him. As it gets closer the silhouette takes shape and claims a name: Grimm. And as the lights move, Grimm materializes in a different location. He’s there. Then he’s here. Now he’s within arm’s reach of the Archangel. Gabriel Cross walks past and beyond the limits of our view, and as the last bulb swings, Grimm is nowhere to be seen.

***

Match Four

Singles Match

Gabriel ‘The Archangel’ Cross vs. Grimm

Referee: Manny Cruz

Gabriel Cross emerges from the back as 'Power' by Kanye West sounds over the P.A. system.  He heads to the ring wearing a black and silver knee knee length coat with the hood up. He throws the hood back while on stage and once in the ring he strips the coat off and throws it to the side awaiting Phinehas Grimm ... stretching out on the ropes and preparing himself for the match. After first stretching his arms and then his legs he hops in place, playing to the crowd as they react with mixed emotions. "Winter Shaker" begins to play and they're on their feet, craning their necks for a look at the Hangtown Horror.

A lone spotlight illuminates the entryway as "Winter Shaker" seeps from the speakers. Phinehas Grimm steps out to bask in the light and shadows, head bowed, arms limp, with rogue strands of dripping hair hanging in his face. He takes it all in for a few moments before making the long walk to the ring, ignoring the fans along the way while Wovenhand continues his serenade.

Phinehas climbs up onto the apron and slides in between the ropes. Hopping up onto a turnbuckle, he casts his gaze out over the crowd with his arms at his side, eyes shifting to take in the sea of faces spread out before him until they rest upon 'The Archangel' himself. Phinehas drops down and waits.

After a quick word for each man from Manny Cruz, he calls for the bell and the match is underway. The two competitors wade toward the center of the ring, both expecting a rush, but it doesn't come. At least, not right away. Instead they end up nearly nose to nose, Grimm staring and Cross almost frothing at the mouth through inaudible insults. It's clear Cross isn't afraid of Phinehas Grimm, and if he can claim victory he'll be riding a wave into Game Over.

And the game ends with a single right hand thrown by Phinehas Grimm which clips Cross's chin. Grimm waits. Cross checks his chin, tilts it to the side dramatically, then drives a knee into Grimm's gut. Caught by surprise, the wind rushes from his lungs and Gabriel Cross is on the offensive.

He seizes Grimm by his shoulders and drives two more knees to his abdomen, doubling him over. As Grimm bends lower Cross shifts his grip, grabbing Grimm around the waist and hoisting him up and over. Cross powers him down with a gut-wrench slam and drops to the mat for the pinfall, shouting at the crowd and obviously pleased with himself.

1...

Grimm kicks out immediately, so Cross snaps on a headlock before the Hangtown Horror can return to his feet. Each time Grimm shifts Cross counters, keeping him grounded. Realizing it won't be so simple to return to his feet, Grimm spreads his arms wide and reaches back, cuffing Cross around the ears with one of the unorthodox techniques that have come to characterize Phinehas Grimm. For a second Cross is stunned, and this loosens his grip and allows Grimm to maneuver to a knee. He plants his feet and shoots upward, sending both men reeling. The result? Grimm atop Gabriel Cross, though Cross has his back. As Cross regains awareness he looks to lock a Rear Naked Choke, but Grimm bucks and whirls, ending up in a mount.

One, two, three heavy hands from Phinehas Grimm and Cross is flat on his back. Grimm opts to leave the mount and grabs a handful of Cross's unkempt hair, hauling 'The Archangel' to his feet. An irish-whip from Phinehas Grimm and Cross is at a dead run against his will. On the rebound... big lariat by Grimm!

1...

...

Kick-out by Gabriel Cross. After a quick face-wash by Grimm to keep Cross out of sorts, Grimm once again hoists Cross up by his hair. He measures off a few straight right hands, still holding the hair with his left. Manny Cruz warns him about holding the hair; Grimm sends him off with a sneer. He lets go, however, and creates some distance with a firm shove to Cross's chest. Cross sees a chance and charges forward with a lariat. Grimm ducks, stepping through, and the two are back-to-back. They both turn, and Grimm fires a savate kick that catches Cross off guard. Instantly the Abomination of Desolation advances. Backbreaker!

1...

...

2...

Gabriel Cross kicks out just after two, and there's a considerable pop from the crowd. Presumably from both sides of the match-up. Grimm is grinning as he stands, stomping down on Gabriel Cross and measuring his next maneuver. To avoid the assault by Grimm's boots, Cross fights his way to his feet, eating stiff shots and backing toward the ropes. Once Cross gains a vertical base Grimm seizes him around the neck, alternating unorthodox shots as he trades his grip from one dangerous hand to the other. By design Grimm is yanking Cross toward the center of the ring, and once they're there Grimm releases his hold. Phinehas Grimm hits the ropes of his own accord, gathering steam for something special. Cross capitalizes! Lunging forward, Cross catches Grimm before he can pounce with a drop toe-hold! Unprepared, Grimm eats the canvas.

Cross sees an opening, and so he flips Grimm over legs first, narrowly avoiding Grimm's lunging feet from his back. Grabbing hold of one leg Cross drives two kicks into the back of Grimm's thigh and the well of his knee before hooking him in a spinning toe-hold. He plants his feet firm against the mat and forces the issue, placing pressure on the leg of Phinehas Grimm for all it's worth. The pain on Grimm's face is clear, though he tries to overshadow it with determined eyes. Grimm tries to use his free leg to break the hold, but Cross is prepared and re-directs the flailing. Phinehas looks to other means to break it, bending at the waist and reaching toward Cross, toward his own leg, but each movement is answered by Cross. It's a genuine display of impressive mat wrestling by Gabriel Cross, and he knows it as he taunts Grimm between his attempts to counter.

Eventually Cross grows tired of the game, spinning out of the hold as he spun in. Just as swift he gathers, low to the ground, grabbing Grimm by his legs and lifting him off the mat, almost above his own head. A sit-out slam drives the air from Grimm's lungs! Cross hooks the arms beneath his heels and Manny Cruz makes to count.

1...

...

2...

...

Phinehas Grimm cracks his knees around the head of Gabriel Cross just after two, stunning the young superstar and breaking the pin attempt. Both men roll backward, heels over head, and make it to their feet as the crowd cheers wildly. They rush forward. Cross leaps forward with a lunging knee! Grimm deflects and catches Cross in mid-air! Spinebuster by Phinehas Grimm! Lateral press...

1...

...

2...

...

And Grimm himself breaks the pinfall! It appears the Abomination of Desolation wants to send a message to Gabriel Cross. The crowd can only react by screaming louder and louder, and once again Grimm hauls Cross up by his hair. Cross delivers a close upper-cut which breaks Grimm's hold on his hairline, but Grimm quickly fires back with an upper-cut of his own. Cross defaults to a defensive clinch, hoping to take control of the close-quarters situation. Grimm counters by reaching underneath, closing two hands around the throat of Gabriel Cross in a blatant choke! Before Manny Cruz can call him off the illegal hold, Grimm shoots forward with a blistering Sword of Heimdall! The heavy headbutt rocks Cross and he's flat on his back. Another pin by Grimm!

1...

...

2...

...

...

And once more, Grimm breaks the pin! The arrogance of the cocky youngster clearly frustrating Grimm, the Hangtown Horror looks to inflict as much damage as possible before bringing the match to a close. Stepping away he allows Cross to rise, but as Cross makes it to a knee Grimm slaps his hand on Cross's forehead in a claw hold, his thumb and final finger applying hellish pressure on The Archangel's temples.

Fighting the pain, Cross breaks the hold with a wild sweep of his arm, closing the gap and seizing Grimm in an offensive clinch. Cross steps in, pulls downward, and catches Grimm square in the face with a knee! Grimm wheels back as Cross releases, nearly falling but somehow staying vertical. Cross moves in, whipping Grimm into the corner and calling for a high knee!

Cross takes off at a dead run. In an instant unseen, Grimm steps up to the second turnbuckle. Cross in the air...

Grimm follows suit.

The Harvest! And how?!? Lateral press by Grimm!

1...

...

2...

...

...

3!


Winner: Grimm by pinfall

We are treated to a re-run promotional ad for PCW: The Music Vol. 1, featuring the theme songs for ALL your favorite PCW stars, along with every theme song in PCW's pay-per-view history.  Act now, supplies are limited!

****



Match Five

Non-Title Singles Match

Kelli Starr vs. Crazy Boy (N.A. ©)

Referee: Eric Russo

As the rapid harpsichord music of Emilie Autumn’s 'Syringe’ sounds over the PCW loudspeakers, all the arena lights go out save for delicately strobing green lights at the stage area. Increasing in tempo with the music, they light up a single female figure standing at the top of the ramp. With the heavy pulse of the bass kicking in, multicolored lights begin to flicker and strobe in a rainbow of chaos as Dollface is illuminated in a wash of color - her arms full of several small objects!

As she happily makes her way down the ramp, she begins actively greeting fans and handing out her gifts. The camera zooms in, catching a perfect shot of Dollface handing a doll decorated like a regular Kelli in miniature to a young fan! Making her way down the entryway she pauses as the lights flicker and fade out as the pulsating beats of Dope Star Inc's "10000 Watts of Artificial Pleasure" pops on the PA system.

Smoke fills the arena as a figure stands in the middle of it. All the sudden, Crazy Boy comes out of the smoke and pumps a fist in the air. Rather than hurrying to precede him into the ring, Kelli leans back against the guard rails and watches with the fans as he walks down the entryway, offering a cheerful wave as PCW’s North American champion passes her and climbs the ropes of the ring. He bounces around the ropes a few times, pumps his fist in the air one last time and waits for Dollface to join him. Kelli bobs a little curtsy to her fans, skipping the rest of the way to the ring and sliding under the bottom ropes, popping up to her feet once inside.

Eric Russo gives the two competitors the usual “good, clean match” spiel, Kelli bouncing impatiently on the balls of her feet and Crazy Boy’s expression becoming stonier by the second at Dollface’s apparent total lack of taking the match at all seriously. Russo finishes up his words and calls for the bell - the match begins!

Crazy Boy rushes forward immediately, Kelli darting ahead to meet his attack rather than dodging, ducking under a feinted right hand into a solid chop from the left! Startled, she stumbles back, Crazy Boy following up to full advantage with a series of blows that back her up as she tries to catch her footing, finishing it off with a shove that bounces her off the ropes and into his waiting grip.

Slinging her across the ring he waits for her inevitable trip back across towards him, meeting her oncoming rush with a sturdy clothesline. Dollface’s back hits the mat with a solid thud, her grey-green eyes flashing open and staring at him reproachfully. Crazy Boy draws on his heavy submission background, wrapping her up in a hold for an attempted pin!

...1!

..-kick out!

Kelli’s frantic struggling to be released pays off, her claustrophobia giving her that needed boost of strength to throw Crazy Boy off with surprising speed! She rises quickly and backs herself into a corner in an attempt to regroup, Crazy Boy advances quickly and levels a couple of kicks into her midsection followed by serving up another plate of chops! Russo intervenes, Crazy Boy relenting on the attack long enough to wrap a fistful of bright pink hair around his hand and drag back towards the center of the ring as if leading a recalcitrant My Little Pony.

Once there he pulls her hair to force her to stand, only to be met with her brightly smiling face as she lashes out with a precision placed throat strike! Crazy Boy chokes and drops her, staggering back as Kelli darts forward and delivers a brutal heart kick to the center of his chest, sticking her tongue out at him as he drops to his hands and knees on the mat, struggling to breathe - Russo rushing over to check on the fallen competitor.

While waiting for Crazy Boy to be able to move again (after all, she was only hitting him back - not trying to kill him), she prances around the ring, waving and blowing kisses like Marie Antoinette hopped up on cocaine cut with Pixy Stix. Crazy Boy nods at Russo and rises to his feet, looking more aggravated and determined as ever as Dollface gives a coquettish wave and hops off the ropes she’d been posing on. A few running strides and she’s in Crazy Boy’s face, ducking under yet another chop and surging forward to take him down with sloppy spear! Sloppy but no less effective for it, Crazy Boy going down and Dollface scrambling forward to put him in a pin!

...1!

...2!

..-kick out!

Crazy Boy rolls out from under Kelli, grabbing her by one arm as he stands and twisting it up behind her, giving her a violent shove towards the ropes, catching her on the bounce back and Irish Whipping her towards the turnbuckle! Dollface twists in mid-stride to try and avoid the obstacle, careening headfirst into Eric Russo! Both Starr and Russo go down in a tangle of limbs, Kelli shaking it off and rising fairly quickly, but Russo remains senseless on the mat! Crazy Boy slips out of the ring, coming back in with a steel chair, Eric Russo still in dreamland with other officials checking on him!

Crazy Boy grins maniacally at Kelli, taking one big step forward and winding the chair back for a massive blow, but in a truly impressive display of agility and athleticis, Dollface bounces up to the top rope and launches herself straight at Crazy Boy! He brings the chair forward to protect himself only to be BLASTED square in the face with the Sugar High!!! Kelli powers through the chair with her trademark double axe handle smash, Crazy Boy crashing to the ground Dollface kicks the chair out of the ring just as Russo is finally assisted to his feet, Kelli rolling Crazy Boy up for a pin!

...1!

...2!

...3!!!


Winner: Kelli Starr via Pinfall

[Murdoc]

Match Six

Singles Match

Rick Majors vs. Tyler Scott

Referee: Joseph Buckland

The lights go out. Suddenly the sound of guitars pierce through the silence. A spotlight shines on the entrance. The crowd starts to murmur. As the guitars get louder, Rick Majors appears in the entrance way, the spotlight directly on him and no one else. Majors pauses in the entrance way for a moment.

Majors looks down briefly. He then shakes his head, breathes deeply and stares out at the crowd.

You drink the wise blood
You're gonna hear about it
You'll be taken down brick by brick by brick
Burn the orphanage
You're gonna pay for it
They will purify block by block by block

Majors stands at the top of the ramp, looking out around the arena.

Demons
Come on
You've got a vision
You're on a mission
Demons
Live on
And when I die, hang me high

Majors then slowly walks down to the ring, as the spotlight follows him.

Majors climbs the ring steps and pauses. He turns towards the crowd, standing on the ring apron.

They're gonna bury you
They're gonna finish
They're gonna stand em up six by six by six
You pull the hood back
I wanna know
Which way will the heavenly go?

Taken down, taken down, taken down

He enters the ring, still only lit by the spotlight. He then stands in the centre of the ring, looking out towards the crowd. He slowly starts to circle the ring, stretching and loosening up his body.

Demons
Live on
And when I die, hang me high

And you will answer to no one else but me

The lights in the arena then come back on as Majors circles the ring, awaiting the arrival of Tyler Scott.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The familiar thudding introduction of ‘Galvanise’ by Chemical Brothers announces the arrival of Tyler Scott. After a momentarily pause, the curtain flings back and out strolls Tyler Scott to a mixture of cheers and jeers. Having appeared wearing a red and black leather biker jacket, he soon gives it up, sliding off and flinging it to the side of the entrance ramp.

He heads to the ring, staying his usual focused self. He climbs into the ring and walks to the centre where he stares intensely into the crowd. He mouths a few obscenities, possibly as provocation to the crowd, possibly as encouragement to himself, before beginning his few warm up moves, awaiting the opening bell. Joseph Buckland calls it and the match is underway.

The two start by circling the ring, but before the tieup they bump fists in a sign of respect which garners a nice pop from the fans. Another few seconds of circling and they're locked in a collar-elbow tie-up. Rick Majors manages to isolate one of Scott's arms, twisting it around in an arm-wrench. He attempts a high heel kick but Scott ducks it. This leaves Majors straddling Scott's arm and Scott pulls the carpet out from under him, flipping him over to his back. Majors rolls forward to his feet, but this gives Scott a chance to maneuver around into a hammerlock. Majors checks for a weakness and opts to float Scott over with a snapmare, following it up with a quick kick to the small of his back. The crowd pops and Majors backs off, allowing Scott a chance to recover.

Scott climbs to his feet, a hand momentarily on his back feeling for a bruise. He shakes it off and the two lock up again, and it's back to the drawing board for both men. This time Tyler Scott takes advantage, breaking the tie-up and whirling around into a waistlock. Majors shoots an elbow to break the hold, spinning around and planting one leg firm behind Scott's own. Majors steps forward, throwing his weight, and he takes down Tyler Scott with a hard slam. Majors covers, but Joseph Buckland can't even get to one.

Majors works Scott to his feet after the quick pin attempt, again grabbing the arm in an attempt to control Scott's direction. Scott responds with a knife-edged chop that catches Majors unawares and incites a 'Woo!' from the Faithful. Majors comes back in turn with a knife-edged chop of his own, followed by another 'Woo!', and in an instant they're trading chops. They start slow, the chops measured and aimed to deal damage. The pace picks up until they're almost chopping each other at the same time.

Tyler Scott is the first to break the mold as he sticks in an uppercut elbow, stunning Majors and stopping up his momentum. Scott bends at the waist, thrusting his head forward and floating Majors over with a Northern Lights Suplex. Scott bridges...

1...

...

And Rick Majors gets his shoulder up, rolling Tyler Scott away from him. Turning up the heat, Tyler Scott meets the rising Majors with a headbutt and another elbow strike before bringing him down with an Implant DDT. The crowd goes wild and Scott eats up their energy, mounting the top rope and waiting patiently while motioning for the crowd to get louder and louder. Majors stands and Scott takes off, bringing him down with a beautiful cross body block! Scott pins.

1...

...

2...

Rick Majors kicks out once more. Both men rise and square off, keeping their distance now instead of tying up. Once more they trade shots, roundhouse kicks this time, measuring off at all levels as the impact of each shot rings throughout the arena. And again Tyler Scott goes outside the box, blocking one of Rick's kicks and charging forward with a clothesline. Majors just barely scouts it, ducking the clothesline and stepping around behind Tyler Scott. German Suplex from Rick Majors! A bridge of his own!

1...

...

2...

And this time Tyler Scott gets his shoulder up. Slightly surprised, Rick Majors raises Scott to his feet to continue his assault. Enziguri from Tyler Scott, out of nowhere! Quick cover by Tyler Scott!

1...

...

2...

...

Kickout by Rick Majors! Tyler Scott slaps both hands to the mat, convinced he had Majors with that surprise Enziguri. Instead he's left to recalculate. As Majors is rising he grabs him in a side headlock, lining up a bulldog. As he attempts to run forward, Majors resists, stopping the momentum and reaching up to seize Scott's head haphazard. A struggle... Reverse DDT by Rick Majors!!

1...

...

2...

...

Kickout by Tyler Scott! This time Majors is the one looking frustrating, as he lifts Scott to his feet and wonders how to put him away. With Scott slightly dazed, Majors this time manages to complete his arm wrench heel kick, dropping Scott to the mat. Majors holds on, hauling Scott up with determination, and again! Scott hits the mat once more, and again Majors holds on! He lifts Tyler Scott, now thoroughly stunned, and irish-whips him across the ring. On the return Majors lines up a big martial arts kick.

Scott scouts it, sliding under the kick and grabbing Majors by his planted ankle. Slide-Under Facebuster!! Rick Majors falls face first on the mat, and Tyler Scott seizes his leg to apply the Reverse Heel Lock!

Majors struggles... flips to his back... gathers... and launches Tyler Scott across the ring! Scott rolls through and Majors is up, his head cloudy but still very much in the game. In an effort to catch Majors off guard Scott charges. Majors steps to the side.

Center of Attention! Majors connects with a huge spinning heel kick to the back of Scott's head! Tyler Scott hits the mat in a heap, and Rick Majors takes a second to catch his breath. He goes to make another pinfall attempt but pulls back. Scott is stirring and Majors knows he won't get the three count. He holds off and Tyler Scott starts to rise. Majors helps him along, hooking him in a double underhook. A quick knee to the sternum of Tyler Scott.

Major Impact!! The ring bounces as he plants the high angled DDT, and Rick Majors flips Tyler Scott over for the pinfall.

1...

...

2...

...

...

3!

Winner: Rick Majors via pinfall

As Majors's music plays he rolls out of the ring, victorious, saluting Tyler Scott as he heads down the ramp. Joseph Buckland is checking on Tyler Scott in the ring, asking how many fingers he's holding up. Scott's nodding as though he's alright, and the former 'Bucky' Joe begins to help Tyler Scott to his feet.

From the apparent void (but more likely the ringside barricade), three members of the Hobo Horde hit the ring! Fearing for his well-being, Joseph Buckland high tails it, leaving an exhausted Tyler Scott alone in the ring. Non Compos Mentis is nowhere to be seen, but that doesn't stop the Hobo Horde from taking pot-shots at the downed Tyler Scott with their dirty boots. Scott tries desperately to cover up, and has nowhere to go.

In moments PCA Security hit the ring, trying to bring the chaos to a close, but the damage is done. As the final vagrant is pulled off Tyler Scott, he's left panting in the ring, security barely able to hold back the Horde that somehow make it to ringside each night.

Eventually Tyler Scott struggles to a knee, looking around for Non Compos Mentis who is nowhere to be found as the feed fades to a commercial break.

[Murdoc]

Tyler Scott is at the bottom of the ramp, furiously staring up towards the three homeless mercenaries. His eyes twitch as he tries to figure out the best method of attack. Tyler is about to lunge forward when he is stopped in his tracks by a figure appearing on the stage. Out strolls Non Compos Mentis, making his way down to join his trio of comrades. The ‘Born Psycho’ ambles down the ramp, his evil smirk ever present and his eyes focused purely on Scott.

The crowd are booing wildly at the presence of one of the most hated men in PCW history and at the group of hobos beginning to spread out and surround Tyler. Still the British Lion stands tall, ready to fight off any attack that comes… and it looks like it’s coming. The hobos move in from the sides and the front, directed by Non Compos Mentis who raises his hand as if ready to give the signal to attack, and…

“Stop right there!” Skylar Marshall’s voice booms out over the boos of the crowd, commanding everybody’s eyes toward the stage where the PCW President walks out, microphone in hand and stern look on face. “Non Compos Mentis, you and your ‘family’ have gone too far without your due punishment, it’s time you got what’s coming to you.”

As the crowd seem unsure exactly what reaction they should give Skylar, sure any punishment he dishes out will meet his own needs as well as that of PCW as a whole, Scott takes the opportunity to gain himself some space. He makes a quick move back into the ring from there he keeps a vantage point on the proceedings. Mentis, in the meantime, merely stares frustrated at Marshall, like a kid kept from playing with his favorite toy.

“Myself and the other PCW Directors have met and come to an agreement on the level of punishment you should receive after your heinous attack of Senior Referee Tyrone Little.” Again the crowd jeers at the memory of the brutal events that left Little injured, while NCM merely laughs to himself as if remembering a funny joke. “What you did was truly despicable. You proved yourself to be a hazard to everybody in PCW, whether they are a wrestler or otherwise. Therefore, Non Compos Mentis, you will receive a $50,000 dollar fine and you will be suspended for Trauma 138 and the upcoming Pay Per View extravaganza, Game Over!”

While it sounds like a solid punishment on the surface, a growing unease rumbles around the arena. The fans are displeased, and sharing that displeasure is the man standing in the middle of the ring, Tyler Scott. He angrily stalks up to the ropes, microphone newly placed in hand, and stares up the ramp to the PCW President.

“Is that it?!” Marshall looks dis-respected by the question forced his way, but not shocked as if he had expected it. Scott’s face is a picture of fury as he waits for a response and the fans get behind him, wanting a heavier punishment handed down.

“Mr Scott, I know you’re relatively new here so let me explain myself… even though I don’t have to. The Icey Awards Show and Game Over are quite a big deal in Pure Class Wrestling and for Mr. Mentis to miss these events is a punishment not to be scoffed at.”. With resolve, but perhaps a hint of hypocrisy, Marshall points an accusatory finger at Scott who tries to control himself. He tries, but ultimately the calls of the PCW Faithful and the sickening grin of NCM make him fail.

“You know full well that this piece of crap should be thrown out of PCW for what he did. No matter how much publicity his attacks get you, it won’t mean a thing when he hurts someone you actually care about or costs you enough money that you can’t sweep it under the carpet anymore!” Pacing irritably around the ring, Scott is trying to stop himself from dishing out justice on his own terms and only just keeping his actions contained where his words are not.

Marshall’s sheen of professionalism fades almost visibly on his face and he raises the mic to respond to the British Lion. “Mr Scott, if I were you ... I would lower your voice…”

“And if I were you, I would have kicked this mental case out of PCW when I had the chance!” Scott bellows, kicking the bottom rope violently only feet from where Non Compos Mentis stands and laughs as if enjoying the spectacle around him like a circus. “But I’m not you, Marshall, and I see it like this; if you won’t fire Non Compos Mentis, I’ll take matters into my own hands and make SURE he never sets foot in this ring again!”

The remains of Scott’s cool seem to have evaporated and he takes one last lunge at the ropes, getting one leg outside onto the apron before a voice cuts him off. The voice is not Marshall’s, who is looking perturbed at the events threatening to take place, but is that of Non Compos Mentis who has materialised a microphone out of thin air and is holding it to his lips. “Wait, wait, wait, my dear fellow!”

Scott halts out of shock more than compliance and stares down in horror at NCM’s mock British accent. A laugh is half-caught by the microphone as Mentis stares back with equal measure of amusement and malice. Reverting back to his mildly southern accent, Mentis goes on. “Tyler Scott! You have become like an annoying fly. You have flown into my house through an open window. Even though that window is still open and I have given you every opportunity to exit at any time, you insist on repeatedly bumping into me. I have given you a chance just to fly away but now I've come to conclusion that it will be easier just to swat you.”

Scott smiles and retreats briefly back from the ropes, at least content that NCM has acknowledged him and seems ready for a fight. “I have a proposal for yourself and Mr. Marshall up there. Marshall, you want something that’s good for business, and Tyler… sweet Tyler, I know you want to tear my limbs off with your cold English hands. So I will give you want you. I will give you your rematch. However, you will have to keep to your word. You keep saying that you will destroy my army and so you will have to prove it! I challenge you to defeat these three brothers of mine you see in front of you, in consecutive matches...at Trauma 138!”

As Scott tries to figure out what NCM is proposing, Skylar Marshall stares on, looking increasingly interested. The sick grin, ever present on the face of NCM, is still there as he places a hand on the shoulder of his first brutish ‘brother’ and elaborates on his suggestion. “If you win the first fall, our dear President recinds my suspension, gives EVERYBODY the match they want to see and you get your chance to tear me asunder at Game Over!”

NCM moves on, embracing his second comrade. “If you win the second fall, I will allow you to choose the referee for our match. You may choose anyone you like. Whether it is a random stranger, wrestler or corrupt PCW official. However, if you lose the fall, the choice will be mine!”

Finally he moves to the third and final hobo, a large man of angry temperament and even worse odor. “And if you win the third fall, IF you somehow overcome these three good men turned into monsters by your ‘fair’ society, you get to pick the poison you will unleash on me in that match. You get to choose any stipulation you want! But, if you LOSE, the moment you step in that ring will be the worst moment of your God forsaken life because I will choose the stipulation and I will put you through a living hell!”

The crowd begin to chant as both Skylar and Scott mull over the proposal and NCM revels in the pure chaos of the idea. First the ‘Born Psycho’ stares up at Marshall, who is weighing up the morality of his punishment against the good business of giving the PCW Faithful a pay-per-view match they dearly wish to see. He strokes his chin for a few moments until finally he lifts his head. “If you want to put yourself in the position to get torn apart by that crazy British SOB, and these people are willing to pay to see it, that’s just fine by me.”

With the ruthless businessman’s endorsement, all eyes turn to Tyler Scott who knows that to get his chance he’ll have to run a Hobo Gauntlet and risk serious injury before he even reaches Game Over. He places both hands on the top rope as he considers his choice, but the crowd won’t let him choose in silence. They chant wildly with cheers, urging him to accept until he lifts his head. “I accept!”

The crowd goes crazy at the confirmation and all parties involved give smiles of very different meanings. Marshall sees a deal well struck and dollar signs welling up in his eyes. NCM sees the chance to rid himself of Scott without even laying a finger on him himself. And Scott sees a path to finally getting his hands on Mentis and inflicting enough pain to force him out of PCW once and for all.

As Marshall disappears through the curtain, Mentis pats his hobos on the shoulders and sends them into a reluctant retreat, having got more than they have wanted. Inside the ring, Scott soaks in the cheers of the crowd and begins to formulate his plans for the Hobo Gauntlet at Trauma 139 as we head to a shot of Ace Anderson and the New Breed walking in solidarity towards the ring for the next match ...

Main Seven

Non-Title 3-on-3 Tag Team Match

Ace Anderson & The New Breed Foundation (Tag Team ©) vs. Marshall's Law [Whitey Ford (INT ©) & The Flying Freebooters]

Referee: Eddie Lane

Blue spotlight flash to life on either side of the stage and twirls away into the crowd timed to the beat as the guitars come to life and the beginning of Two Steps From Hell’s 'Jump' begins to play. As the horns build to a crescendo, and the guitars really begin to jam, two figures are lit from under the stage in bright white spotlights as a cascade of red sparks falls behind them. Or rather ... THREE ... figures. This time, for this match ... Ace Anderson stands between the champions and as they raise their Tag Team Title Belts high, Ace throws both fists into the air.

Red, white, and blue fireworks shoot off down the ramp as the three men rush the ring. The New Breed slide in under the bottom ropes as the stirring melody of the horns picks up while Ace does a huge running leap to the apron .... the cornerposts explode and so does the crowd, wild with cheers as they put up their fists like they are ready for a fight, then climb opposite turnbuckles showing off their Titles to the fans before they hop down into the ring again as the music dies out and the lights come back on.

The lights of the arena slowly begin to dim, before going altogether dark. Hollow by Alice In Chains hits as the lights begin to flicker and the Freebooters enter, both just standing there, posing. The crowd booing does not faze them, as they motion for the crowd to get louder as they soak in the attention. As they make their way down the ramp and towards the ring ... we have the Freebooters’ favorite ... flipping the crowd the bird. It’s important to note the extra-large scowl on Tide’s face ... and the sudden rearing back of a fist at a fan that gets just a liiiiiiiittle too close.

The fan retreats and Tide jaw-jacks in his general direction before moving down the ramp further. What’s got Tide in a foul mood tonight?

We take a look at a female in the first row near the ring; it’s Chelsea. The ex-manager sitting next to a gentleman, with whom she shares a soft word and a laugh as they watch the Freebooters make their way to the ring. It very well may be hitting just a tad bit too close to home for John Reese. Wasp seems unmoved by the situation, but there’s bound to be some mental instabilities for such an emotionally trying situation.

As Wasp and High Tide reach the ring, their song is cut short as Critical Acclaim starts to play and the lights dim down to darkness, except for the stage.

The PCWtron plays clips of Ford hitting his finishers or any other high impact moves. Once the heavy guitars kick in, Whitey walks out onto the stage with his arms held open, soaking in the crowd reaction with an arrogant smile. He doesn't waste much time on the stage and continues down the ramp, not afraid to mouth off to the fans if they get too vocal along the way.

Johnny Veigns makes his way out behind Ford, making sure he's not in the spotlight but close enough to intervene if anything happens that isn't supposed to like the fan that got under High Tide’s skin.

All three men climb up the stairs once assembled at ringside, the battle lines clearly drawn as the referee waits for each team to designate a representative. Johnathan Cable electing to start for his team ... it’s Wasp who stands firm, keeping High Tide at bay for the obvious in the ring while Whitey and High Tide exit to the apron. The referee checking with each combatant ...

... DING DING DING!

Wasp and Cable circling, it’s almost as if we’ve seen this before. The two already well scouted, maybe it’ll just come down to the wild cards in this match: Whitey Ford and Ace Anderson. The two moving in for the tie-up, Cable drops in for a leg grab and manages to find one ... pushing Wasp back and forcing him violently to the mat. Turning him to his stomach, Cable drops down and applies a waistlock to Wasp who fights every step of the way. Wasp managing to slip to a seated position, he fights his way up and is hoisted by Cable ... but manages to alter his center of gravity enough to make Cable return him to his feet.

A second attempt and this time, it looks as though he has Wasp up until Wasp breaks the grip of Cable and rolls forward ... rolling him up for a quick two count. Both men popping back up, Wasp grabs hold of Cable via front facelock and drags him over to the Law’s corner ... where Whitey takes it upon himself to tag in while Tide is busy staring daggers at the front row. Wasp hopping out, he slaps Tide on the pectoral in an attempt to get Tide’s head into the game which seems to work. For now.

Whitey quickly forcing Cable back into the ropes, he whips him across the ring and is ready to land a clothesline. However, Cable has other things in mind and ducks the attack ... bounding off the second set of ropes and getting caught in a Whitey Ford flapjack that brings Cable face first to the mat with all the regality of a sack of wet diapers. A sickening sound, to be sure ... one that prompts Sebastian St. Paul to enter, only to have his brains rattled as he’s met by Whitey Ford’s right hand.

Cable clutching his chest, Whitey sticks his arms out to the crowd and motions ... getting the jeers he so desperately seeks before quickly bouncing off the ropes and dropping a quick dropkick to Cable’s back. Cable shoved to the outside by the force of the maneuver, Cable retreats to St. Paul who is there to help him get his thoughts together enough to make a good go of it once more.

Cable moving back into the ring, it’s Sebastian St. Paul who takes the quick tag from Johnathan Cable. Whitey just looking on in bemused glances, he waits for all of two seconds to catch St. Paul entering the ring. Kicking the middle rope and crotching St. Paul on it, he laughs and shoves SSP to the mat. Several stomps later and Whitey goes for a neck wrench on The Stunning One.

Tightening up the hold, Whitey watches as Ace enters the ring and immediately, Whitey releases the hold and begs for Ace to come in just a little bit farther. The referee is quick to act and physically escorts Anderson out of the ring again. Whitey already having worn down SSP enough for his liking, he drags him to the corner and goes for the tag.

Only to find Wasp dropping from the apron to the ringside floor. High Tide, maybe a high five from you? Nope. Tide glances only barely at Whitey before following suit and hitting the floor. Whitey looking stunned at the sudden turn of events, he watches as his teammates for the evening ... begin to play LUMBERJACK. Arms thrown out violently to the side, a SERIOUS W.T.F. face spreading across his face.

Not willing to risk losing his work in the match thus far, Whitey turns his attention back to SSP ... who nails him with a heavy boot to the gut. Only when Whitey is fully pre-occupied do The Freebooters return to the apron. Maybe a change of mind? An elbow to the back of the head from SSP and Whitey is staggering to find a brief respite somewhere in the ring. He finds it, but only momentarily as SSP tags in Ace Anderson ... who fully remembers the verbal abuse from earlier. He smiles and rubs his hands together as Whitey backs up towards his corner ...

... to find The Freebooters back on the floor again. THIS time, however, they’re watching intently at the happenings inside the ring and are making no moves to assist Whitey. Whitey turns around to find Ace right in front of him. A hard right hand. A second right hand. A THIRD right hand and Ace is putting every pound of force he can into these shots. But wait! THERE’S WHITEY! Fighting back with everything he can muster, Whitey manages to stagger Ace and backing away a few steps ... dives headfirst towards Ace’s torso.

Ace, however, is a split second too fast and sidesteps the move. Throwing Whitey by the hair into the cornerpost, he listens to the sound of flesh on metal ring out. Whitey dropping to his knees in the corner, he cradles the affected shoulder and can do nothing to stop the onslaught of Ace Anderson. That is, until Ace begins to grab him from behind. A bit of a disorienting wobble from Whitey and Ace is staggering around behind him ... clutching at his ... you know. His ‘Greatness’. Whitey pulling himself up with the determination that has marked his reign as International Champion, he bullrushes the weakened Ace Anderson and nails him with a Rehab Spear.

Unfortunately, with the wrong shoulder. The effect sending waves of pain through Whitey’s body, he yells audibly as Ace drops to the mat. Floating over for the pin attempt, Ace manages to break the count at two with a violent shove ... forcing Whitey off of him and out of the ring. The Freebooters looking at the downed Whitey, he’s struggling to push himself from the floor. Allow the Freebooters to help, Whitey. They’re going to do it anyways. As in, they’re helping Whitey to his feet ... and then back into the ring.

The Freebooters REALLY acting like Lumberjacks in this match, they stand on the outside and watch on as Whitey returns to a kneeling position ... Ace beginning to crawl towards his corner for the quick tag. Whitey jumps Ace and stops him from making the tag, flipping off the New Breed in the process. The New Breed hit the ring and Whitey rakes the eyes. In his blindness, Ace manages to throw a heavy boot into Whitey’s ... -achem- Fords ... and drop the Asshole to the mat. Live by the sword, die by the groin strike.

Whitey doubled over, he sees the ceiling lights as Ace quickly rolls him up for the schoolboy!

1 ...

2 ...

...

... 3!

The bell sounds and ....

Winner: Ace Anderson and The New Breed

The referee moves in to check on Whitey, who is suddenly hovered over by Johnny Veigns. Forcing the referee away, he begins to help Whitey to his feet as Ace and the New Breed exit to the ramp and celebrate the entire way up and into the curtains leading to the back. The Flying Freebooters watching as Whitey is pulled to his feet, he pushes from Veigns and moves to the ropes ... pointing accusatory fingers and launching an impressive verbal assault at High Tide and Wasp.

The pair simply watching Whitey, they shake their heads and begin to walk away ... figuratively and LITERALLY turning their backs on the Asshole.

The pair make their way up the ramp and towards the back, leaving Ford dead center in the ring to yell and spew vitriol at the top of his lungs to anyone who will listen and even to those who don’t feel bad for him. The anger is etched onto his features and is evident in every tensed muscle on his body as we leave ringside and head to our next commercial break.

[Murdoc]

Main Event

Non-Title Singles Match

Justin ‘Stormm’ Michaels vs. ‘The Adrenaline King’ Justin Kaard (Co-World ©)

Special Referee: Michael ‘Showtime’ Wryght (Co-World ©)

The arena lights dim down to a gentle glow and the sound of pouring rain fills the arena to the brim as an orange fog begins to cover the entrance way. Hardly containing themselves already, the fans start to rise to their feet as a sudden bright flash of orange lights flood the crowd before a deafening crash of thunder rattles the foundation and leaves the arena in darkness. The pre-chorus rift to "Crash" by Decyfer Down instigates a small riot amongst those in attendance as orange flashes, like lightning, illuminate the way for the Force of Nature, and Justin Michaels appears through the curtain and onto the stage, followed by his wife, the lovely Lindsay Michaels.

CRASH! YOU'RE GOING DOWN! WITHOUT A SOUND!

Justin plays to the cheers of the fans from atop the ramp, and marches back and forth while interacting with those in attendance. He nods his head and points towards the fans recognizing all the support they provide before turning his attention back to the ring, and starts to make his way towards the squared circle.

THEN I'LL PASS YOU UP, BEFORE I EXPLODE! BREAKING IN TWO! I'LL SEE IT THROUGH!

Having made it to ringside with his lovely wife at his side, Stormm patrols around to the opposite side of the ring and gives a mocking salute towards Al Laiman, the man who for years has mocked the "mispelling" of Justin's nickname. Justin hops up onto the apron, and assists his wife up and through the ropes before motioning to the crowd once more.

YOU WON'T KEEP ME DOWN WHEN I CRASH THROUGH YOU!

Justin follows Lindsay through the ropes and immediately scales the nearest turnbuckle to raise his hands into the air for all to see. The flash bulbs surge throughout the arena as the orange lights brighten back to the venue's usual lighting. Justin repeats his actions and poses on the turnbuckle in the opposite corner before hopping down from the corner and his music fades out, but the overwhelming applause does not as he stands the ready for his match.

The lights flash in time with the intro to "Attack" as Justin Kaard takes the stage. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Justin loosens up before the match. With slow determination he walks to the ring, ignoring the cheers and/or jeers of the audience.

Coming to the ring he moves to the side and takes a running start before sliding across the apron on one knee. He grabs the ropes before hitting the turnbuckle and vaults over the ropes. Once in the ring, Kaard runs to the far turnbuckle and leaps to the second rope. He raises his arms, crossing them at the wrists before jumping from the turnbuckle.

Showtime calls for the bell and Stormm charges across the ring immediately with the much smaller Kaard locked in his sights as this episode of 'Justin's Galore' gets underway. Kaard, knowing he has to stay one step ahead of Stormm, ducks under the tie-up and drills Michaels in the knee with a hard Toe Kick and circles wide to stay out Stormm's reach. Michaels turns slowly as they circle each other, his eyes focused on the Adrenaline King intently. Special Guest Referee Micheal Wryght lounges comfortably in the corner with his elbows propped up in the turnbuckle. He seems to be bored with the show thus far, but it looks like Stormm has a mind to liven things up. Michaels rushes Kaard again who easily ducks under the Short Arm Lariat attempt and once more, drives that hard Toe Kick in to the side of Stormm's left knee! It looks like Kaard is shooting fish in a barrel here tonight, and Stormm knows he has to get his hands on Kaard before it is too late.

Stormm now, looking to the fans who want to see a real fight here as they scream their blood lust to the heavens, receives a standing ovation from the sold out crowd in this Main Event. Showtime seems taken aback by the thunderous crowd and looks around at the fans in disbelief over the top of his 'too cool for this shirt' designer sun glasses.

Kaard, moving in slowly, feints for the fated tie-up, but lands a hard knee to the top of Stormm's thigh instead driving his whole body down on Michaels left leg. Stormm stumbles, but regains his balance quickly, grabbing for Kaard. The Adrenaline King spins and nails Stormm with a well placed Spinning Heel Kick that sends Stormm face down on the canvas.

Kaard leaps onto the middle rope and launches into the air, diving onto the downed Stormm with a huge Springboard Senton that leaves him gasping for air. Kaard moves around Stormm slowly as he struggles to get to his knees. As he goes to finally get up, Kaard drives his knee into the side of Michaels head. Kaard stands up on his thigh now, holding onto Stormm's ankle, and jumps up driving the left knee of Stormm hard into the mat. Then, without pause, Kaard wraps his foot around Stormm's calf and locks his leg in place before bridging backwards wrenching the knee even further.

About now, any other referee would be asking Stormm is he wanted to submit. The pain he was enduring was monumental, and normally, by now, there would be someone in his face yelling about him throwing in the towel.

There was no one.

Showtime was watching the match intently... crouching in the corner... all for a better view of Stormm's anguish twisted face.

He was not asking if Stormm wanted to submit. He was not checking if Stormm was injured. He certainly wasn't interested in whether or not Michaels was still fit to compete.

He is just there watching... waiting.

Finally, as realization hits him, Stormm knew just how lethal this match could become, and he decided to fight... so that everything he had accomplished since his return wouldn't end in an injury at the hands of Justin Kaard on some random Trauma in Greenville.

Michaels plants his hands on the mat firmly, and with a primal screams lifts himself off of the mat, and rolls under himself in a reverse sit-out, plants his foot on Kaard's chest, and shoves him with all the might left him in his good leg.

Kaard goes sprawling across the ring as the crowd cheers wildly for Justin Michaels. Kaard and Stormm share a moment of staring at each other across the ring before Kaard gets to his feet and Michaels slowly climbs back up to his one good knee, his eyes never leaving Kaard, save a spare sidelong glace the direction of Wryght in the corner.

Suddenly, Kaard flies off the far ropes and goes for a Projectile Hurricanrana, but as Kaard rotates around Stormm's neck, Michaels locks his arms down across the thighs of the Adrenaline King and spins with his momentum to his feet. Stormm now, FINALLY getting his hands on Justin Kaard, drives him stomach first in to the top turnbuckle and hangs onto his legs. Stormm drapes Kaard over the top rope and takes a step back, then drives a huge orange clad knee right into Kaard's spine.

And about now... a normal referee would be counting the standing four count and screaming about getting the guy out of the corner and off of the ropes... but THIS referee was sliding under the bottom rope to the floor outside.

As Wryght walks calmly towards the announcers table, Stormm, realizes he isn't in the ring anymore and pauses his brutal assault on Kaard's insides with his knee cap. Stormm lets Kaard fall to the mat heavily and turns towards Showtime and the announcer's table. He seems to be shouting something at Wryght, but Showtime waves him off and grabs a folding chair from behind the tables.

Behind Stormm, Kaard manages to get to his feet and rushes across the ring at full tilt. Stormm, hearing the crowds cries of panic, turns just in time to duck a high Leg Lariat that lands Kaard crotch first on the top rope. As Kaard struggles to free himself of the painful situation he's in, Stormm comes off the ropes and crashes heavily into Kaard launching him off the top rope and hard onto the floor at the feet of Michael Wryght. Showtime looks down nonchalantly, and sets his chair up on the thin mat anyway before sitting calmly and crossing his leg over his knee.

Michaels yells something about Showtime doing his job, to which Wryght answers something about only really needing him to count the 1... 2... 3... so if he could hurry it up already he could do his job and be done for the night.

Kaard finally struggles to his feet, but Stormm drives a hard boot into his gut, and Irish Whips him into the ring apron with authority. Stormm moves towards the ring now, right in front of Guest Referee Showtime, giving him front row seats to a series of knife edge chops that back Kaard up against the apron. Stormm shifts to the side and drives a high knee into the midsection of the Adrenaline King before throwing a combo of heavy rights and lefts that leave Kaard wobbly but on his feet.

Stormm rolls Kaard back into the ring then, and slides in under the bottom rope behind him. In an act of desperation, Kaard leaps to his feet, and rebounds off of the ropes building a head of steam. Stormm springs to his feet and catches Kaard in mid-Leg Lariat, pausing for the briefest of moments as the look of pure shock sets in on the King's face before planting him with a huge Spinebuster Slam.

The crowd knows what is coming and they all cheer loudly as Stormm sizes Kaard up... waiting... waiting... and as Kaard finally makes it to his feet, Stormm slides in and tosses Kaard's arm over his shoulder, clinches in and lift Kaard up, drilling him with a Force of Nature!! The fans go wild as Stormm hooks the leg for the pin... hooks the leg... for the PIN...

THIS... is where most normal referees would slide to the mat in a frantic sprawl and slap the mat three times declaring a winner in this contest. OUR referee is casually checking the news on his latest movie deal with his agent on video chat.

Stormm is livid.

He hops up off of the mat leaving Kaard to writhe in pain and starts shouting at Showtime to get in the ring and count the match.

Showtime feigns surprise that he was finally needed, and closes the call with his manager, slowly sliding into the ring. Stormm starts to give Showtime a piece of his mind before Showtime grabs the front of his striped shirt and warns him not to overstep his bounds, or he would disqualify him on the spot.

Disgruntled, Stormm turns his focus back to Justin Kaard, just making it to his feet once more, and drives a huge boot into the middle of his chest sending him sprawling back to the mat in an abnormal show of rage from Stormm. Justin Michaels lifts the Adrenaline King to his feet by a hand full of hair, and and drops him with a perfectly executed DDT to the cheers of the fans. Slowly, Stormm gets to his feet, and lifts Kaard up once more, driving home with yet another Force of Nature.

Michaels hooks the leg and waits a moment to hear the pinfall, but there isn't one. No 1... no 2... no 3. He looks up and sees Showtime staring at him intently, tapping his chin with a huge grin on his face.

Stormm leaps to his feet and gets nose to nose with Michael Wryght, his face flush and starts screaming at him. Wryght warss him to watch it, and grabs at his shirt once more, but Stormm has had enough of this sham and drills him hard in the face with a huge right hand out of no where that sends Showtime to the mat in a heap.

Stormm lifts Kaard to his feet and nails him with a THIRD Force of Nature, dropping him right next to the limp form of Michael Wryght... hooks the leg...

… AND GRABS SHOWTIME'S ARM!

He smacks the mat with the limp arm of Michael Wryght as the crowd chants the slow count...

ONE...

TWO...

THREE!

Stormm hops to his feet as the bell rings and the crowd goes wild celebrating his win with him as he climbs the turnbuckle and raises his arms high!

Winner: Justin Michaels

The celebration is short-lived, however, as Michael Wryght has made it to his feet .... and is frothing at the mouth for Stormm. He doesn’t even wait for Stormm to climb down from the turnbuckle before attacking. A double axe handle attack to the lower back of Stormm and Showtime is on the path of vengeance. Showtime hammering away on Stormm in the corner, Stormm fights his way out and brings the fight right back to Wryght.

The two men now duking it out in the center of the ring, Stormm bounces off the ropes for a clothesline ...

... only to be met with a sudden boot to the gut from Showtime. Showtime slipping behind Stormm, he hooks the head aaaaaaand SWEETNESS! Michael Wryght hits the Sweetness on Stormm! The co-world champion standing over the fallen Force of Nature, this is the last image the feed is left with: Showtime standing over a fallen Stormm and a recuperating Justin Kaard. Is this what we can expect from Game Over 3?! There’s only two shows left until Game Over 3 .... STAY TUNED TO FIND OUT!

--CLICK!--

<sub>Arica ‘Trouble’ Lewitt def. Anson via pinfall
Q def. Sterling Werner & Andy D to retain the Genesis championship; Q pins Sterling Werner
Non Compos Mentis def. Dillon ‘The Legacy; Durst via pinfall
Grimm def. ‘The Archangel’ Gabriel Cross via
Kelli Starr def. Crazy Boy via pinfall
Rick Majors def. Tyler Scott via
Ace Anderson & The New Breed Foundation def. Whitey Ford and the Flying Freebooters via pinfall; Ace pins Whitey
Justin ‘Stormm’ Michaels def. Justin ‘The Adrenaline King’ Kaard via pinfall

Good work everyone, enjoy the upcoming break! (Except Q and your opponent for the Genesis Title. You two no can has break. See? I can be funny too.) You’ve all earned it with the quality stuff you guys have been putting out. Take the time to recharge and get your heads back in the game .... because, Game Over 3! MEEDLYMOWWWWW -guitar solo-</sub>