Trauma 221 Results

[Rick Majors]

Thursday November 9, 2017

As the feed opens to a live television audience, the Pure Class Arena is standing room only and each and every one of the sold out crowd are on their feet. The noise of anticipation and excitement is deafening.

The cameras pan from all angles over a sea littered with foam Grimm beards, sporadic goat head masks here and there on waves of home made posters. Posters of all colors, shapes and sentiments, some ridiculing while most support their favorite PCW superstar.

“Welcome everyone,” Jerry Andrews invites, “to Trauma in the Pure Class Arena. I am Jerry Andrews and I am joined here at ringside by my broadcast colleague Ace Anderson.”

“I can't hear you,” Anderson yells into his headset, “over all of these people.”

As if on cue, the cameras converge on a black poster board with big red letters glued to it…

“NO TOR I OUS!”

The letters also appear on the PCWTron, matching color and style, as they scream from the arena sound system.

“SO NOTORIOUS!”

Centered on the stage, the neon spectacle that has fascinated the crowd for weeks and meant the imminent arrival of the most expensive, yet highly entertaining, network liability. As the first twenty seconds of the song play, behind the bar, the Matthews twins (Remy and Rebi) juggle pricey bottles of liquor and glasses. Each side of the set is secure; with Bryan Parker on the right and Matthew Gamble on the left, standing guard with their arms crossed on their chests.

“Well, Ace,” Jerry nods, “I don't think this crowd will be settling any time soon.”

“Vivacious is back,” Anderson shrugs, “so what? All he has really done is blow hot air and ashes all over the ring.”

“Last week,” Jerry explains, “Vivacious came out and challenged Grimm.”

“Not impressed,” Anderson scoffs.

“We also learned that brother-in-laws, Vivacious and Stormm,” Jerry continues, “have returned to watch one another’s back as they stir things up.”

“Just makes two windbags to blow hot air around,” Anderson adds with a snort.

“Well,” Jerry directs, “we no sooner mention their names…”

As “Notorious” by Adelita’s Way rocks the foundations of the arena, Vivacious rounds the left and Stormm comes from behind the right side of the set. Each work opposite ends of the stage, creating an energy with the crowd that stresses the very seams of the building.

“It is pandemonium already,” Jerry exclaims. “This arena is a madhouse!”

“They will cheer for anyone that will pay attention to them,” Anderson condescends, “they won't win big matches for you though.”

Vivacious and Stormm cross in front of the set, fist bumping as they pass one another to briefly work the other sides of the stage.

“The fans have been missing and deserve this level of excitement,” Jerry claims.

“You are completely biased,” Anderson accuses.

Vivacious and Stormm meet at the bar, each order a drink, cheers and the drinks are gone before they start down the ramp. The fans rock along with the music as the duo reach ringside and walk opposite directions around the ring. Vivacious goes up the ring steps closest to the ramp while Stormm crosses in front of the broadcast table and picks up a microphone from the announcer.

“Johnny Vivacious has promised a former PCW superstar will appear as a guest tonight,” Jerry mentions.

Vivacious wipes his boots on the apron before ducking between the top and middle ropes, entering the ring. Stormm dives under the bottom rope and pushes himself up straight to his feet in fluid motion.

“Oh, no,” Anderson complains, “they both have microphones…”

Standing in the center of the ring, Vivacious holds a microphone he pulled out of his BOSS sport jacket. Stormm paces the ring behind Vivacious. Behind them, the neon light show flickers out as the music fades.

Vivacious remains in the center of the ring, arms to his side, head bowed, until the torrential show of support subsides. A huge cloud of smoke billows up around his head. He starts to tap his right foot, gently slapping the tips of his fingers on his left hand against his hip. He raise the microphone in the right.

“I am going to need each and everyone of you,” Vivacious requests, “to help me out.” He continues to hold a rhythmic beat as he speaks, “tonight we are going to show them because all week they all, in some form or fashion, have asked.” The crowd is now clapping and stomping to the beat that Vivacious is maintaining. “Tonight,” he continues, “we are going to show them why…”

“Sit down, Jerry,” Anderson is disgusted, “you're embarrassing yourself.”

Stormm assists his brother-in-law, getting the crowd behind Vivacious on beat. The entire arena pounds out a tempo and Vivacious raises the microphone high, arching his neck to look up slightly and sing out, “let’em fly in the sky, get’em all high up in the air…”

Vivacious and the entire crowd finger the sky as he continues, “let’em flip like you don't give a shit, like you mom didn't buy your ticket here…”

Stormm shakes his head as his closest ally works the entire crowd in unison to salute, with one finger, whomever Vivacious has in mind.

Then, the crowd divides itself in chant and, almost as if he had expected it, Vivacious provokes with his left hand, “GRIMM WILL KILL YOU!” and encourages with his right, “JOHNNY V!”

“That,” Vivacious attempts and fails as the crowd continue the battle, “this right here, this is why. These people deserve a show!”

The crowd erupts and Vivacious takes to pacing while Stormm is steadfast in the corner.

“So,” Vivacious continues, “why not the longest tenured, most feared superstar to ever dominate and manhandle an entire roster for years…”

“That would be Grimm,” Jerry inserts.

“...face off with the man that has no fear?” Vivacious punches, “I am one-hundred percent, all up in your face, full-throttle, ready to go, non-stop action, Man.”

“Am I to understand that he is talking about himself there, Jerry?” Anderson mocks.

Again, the crowd push the decibel limit of the arena’s construction. “So,” Vivacious immediately silences the crowd as they hang on every word, “it is clearly what they want and who cares about any other reason? I mean,” Vivacious chalks the sky as he continues, “if I somehow kick your ass, chalk up a well-earned ‘W’, but,” he reluctantly, possibly putting this together as he is speaking, chalks up the opposite, “if I get my ass kicked, that's okay, chalk up an ‘L’ because believe me when I tell you,” he stops dead center in the ring, draws hard on the Red, focuses on the camera, exhales and continues, “I will have learned something that night.”

“He has no concern,” Jerry is taken for a moment, “he doesn't care if he wins or loses.”

“He just knows his career is over and is skating around it,” Anderson claims.

“If my only part of this,” Vivacious continues in the ring, “is bringing the show, then, there is NOBODY better at bringing the fucking show, Man; and, let me tell you, all of these people watching,” Vivacious points to the crowd, then the stage, “and everyone watching from the back,” and then he points directly into the camera, “and at everyone watching at home; no one will be able to tear themselves away.”

“Grimm and Johnny Vivacious are on a Collision Course with one another,” Jerry hypes, “that could tear this entire building down from the inside.”

“Vivacious is dead, Jerry,” Anderson consoles with sharp sarcasm, “you are going to have to get over it sooner or later.”

“You have a huge opportunity tonight though, Bro,” Vivacious turns his attention to Stormm. “A match with Kyle Shane to determine the number one contenders, right?”

“That is what the brass would like for you to believe,” Stormm steps to the center of the ring, trading places and a fist bump in passing with Vivacious, “a number one contender match where,” Stormm pauses, rolling his eyes, “win or lose, you're a,” as if he were choking to even speak, “winner.”

“The actual winner will get a shot at the PCW World Championship,” Jerry explains, “the loser will get a shot at the PCW North American Championship.”

“A title that Stormm hasn't hesitated saying he has absolutely no interest in,” Anderson adds.

“Everyone knows what I went through to even be considered for a title shot the last time,” he continues, pacing the ring as he speaks, “this time, there are no stipulations to slow me down and I am going after it… right… now!”

The crowd erupts with excitement as Vivacious plays cheerleader in the ring. Again, he plays one side against the other as half or more of the crowd shout, “FORCE OF NATURE!” and the other half or less, “WINDY DRIZZLE!”

“Wendy Drizzle,” Anderson laughs, “probably an old ‘cold front’ of Stormm’s.”

“I have no idea where they got ‘windy drizzle’, Bro,” Vivacious shrugs, fighting laughter, “I thought for sure they would stick with Stormmy or some shit.”

“Look,” Stormm puts his hand up to calm the crowd, “tonight, Kyle Shane is just a speed bump on my road to redemption.” Stormm looks dead into the camera, “You brush off my experience, my time here, my struggles and you have the audacity to believe this is your time?”

“Kyle Shane has done a lot to prove himself this past year,” Anderson defends or argues. Contends.

“Why?” Stormm questions, “what exactly do you know about blood, sweat and tears? Where did you pay your dues, Kyle?” Stormm raises an eyebrow, “have you?”

“He is a former North American Champion and Underground Champion,” Anderson fills in.

“Each and every time I have tried,” Stormm returns to pacing the ring, “every drip of sweat, every drop of blood and every tear I have given,” Stormm looks up the ramp, “some paper champion in the pocket of PCW brass finds a way to duck, dodge, block or create a way around me. NOT THIS TIME!”

“Hashtag that,” Vivacious recommends, “#NotThisTimeFoN.”

“Tonight,” Stormm keeps his glare locked up the ramp, “I will defeat Kyle Shane.”

“You better believe,” Vivacious subtly warns under an upbeat tone, “I will have the best seat in the house for that one.”

“I will go into Collision Course and defeat Seromine,” Stormm continues, “I will take back the PCW World Championship.”

“Confidence,” Jerry comments, “that's what a PCW Champion is made of."

“Kyle,” Stormm addresses his main event opponent, “you were the only obstacle that they could find this time and Kyle,” Stormm grabs the lense of the camera on the apron, “you aren't going to be good enough tonight.”

“Overconfident,” Anderson shrugs.

“According to them though,” Stormm shrugs as he backs away from the camera, “you are still a winner, Kyle. Then,” Vivacious mockingly golf claps as Stormm continues, “you can go chase that second rate strap that, let's face it, nobody cares about.”

“I think he may have touched a nerve there,” Jerry comments.

“Why,” Anderson questions, “you think anyone in that locker room doesn't look past the North American title toward the top gold?”

“Maybe no one in the locker room,” Jerry shrugs.

“Hey, Bro,” Vivacious interrupts, “that red light is flashing.” Both men in the ring, everyone with a ticket and the camera overlooking the commentators’ heads, kill a full minute and some, staring at the flashing red light under the PCWTron. “I suppose,” Vivacious guesses, “that means they intend to cut us off.”

“The production truck is telling me that we will have to take a commercial break soon,” Jerry shouts up into the ring.

“I,” Vivacious hesitates maybe a full blink, “I promised these people a former superstar would be here tonight, but,” Vivacious gathers his thought into words, “somehow or another, please don't ask, this particular superstar’s travel arrangements were botched by the brass so… go figure, right?”

“I am getting really tired of all this blame being placed on Pure Class Wrestling,” Anderson groans.

“Also,” Vivacious adds, pep and zip back in his tone, “it seems the brass don't want to book me in a match.”

“Because you are oh so entertaining on the mic,” Anderson mocks.

“So,” Vivacious continues, “I went out and hired my own opponent.” Vivacious rolls his eyes, making the money rub gesture with his fingers, “I made certain he was able to make it to the arena and in just a few minutes, I am going to show each and everyone of you what is in store for Rusty-Beard in a few weeks.”

“He is kidding,” Anderson shakes his head, “please tell me he is kidding.”

“We will find out after this,” Jerry hurries.

The feed cuts to commercial with Vivacious and Stormm exiting the ring.

Jerry Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to Pure Class Wrestling Trauma! The crowd is hot here tonight and well, we didn't get to really do our intro, so here goes. I'm Jerry Andrews and I’m joined by Ace Anderson.

Ace Anderson: Thank you Jerry, and yes, before we were very rudely interrupted, I was about to talk about the incredible program we have here tonight! We're going to find out the number one contenders for all three Pure Class Wrestling Championships!

Jerry Andrews: That's right, due the the results of the Deadly Rumble, we didn't get our number one contenders at Deadly Intentions, but we're definitely getting them tonight!

Ace Anderson: Plus, in non-title action, we have a special Champion Versus Champion match! The new Underground King Dominator will face off against the former Underground King, and Current North American Champion, Gabriel!

Jerry Andrews: Plus folks, and I know you love this, Ace, we just heard that Johnny Vivacious makes his return to competition in Pure Class Wrestling here tonight!

Ace Anderson: This isn't really happening, is it? Come on.

The stage has been cleared and the fans are ready for the opening match. A referee and a fully-bearded wrestler, in a generic singlet with matching elbow and knee pads, are going over the rules in the ring.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this opening match is scheduled for one fall,” the ring announcer begins, “currently in the ring, standing six-foot, three inches and weighing in at two-hundred seventeen pounds, from Dodge City, Kansas, Rick O’Shae!”

“NO TOR I OUS!”

Giant red letters once again appear on the PCWTRON as they echo over the cheers I the arena.

“SO NOTORIOUS!”

“From Corpus Christi, Texas, he is two-handed twenty-eight pounds on a six foot frame. Accompanied to the ring by Stormm, they are Notorious, he is Johnny Vivacious!”

“Seriously,” Anderson throws both hands up, “these two again?”

Vivacious saunters through the curtain, followed closely by his brother-in-law; they fist bump at the top of the ramp as the crowd cheers and chants.

Jerry Andrews: These two guys could probably keep this crowd on their feet the entire two hours on their own.

Ace Anderson: Sit down, Jerry.

The very controversial duo head down the ramp, Stormm straight down the center while Vivacious swaps several times, from the left to the right and then back across the ramp, fist bumping and getting into a group shot with the University of North Carolina cheerleaders at the foot of the ramp.

Jerry Andrews: Vivacious is having a great time out there.

Ace Anderson: Yeah, meanwhile, Stormm hasn't taken his attention from the ring.

Vivacious collects and shares just as many kisses before turning around and looking up into the ring. He drags hard on the cigarette, measuring up, possibly second guessing, stalling. In his own cloud of smoke, he ascends the ring steps, wipes his boots on the apron and ducks into the ring between the top and middle ropes.

Ace Anderson: I wonder where they really found this guy.

Jerry Andrews: Dodge City... didn't you hear?

Three inches, doesn't sound like much, but Vivacious is immediately chest to rib cage with O’Shae and looking up.

“Funny,” Anderson reveals the elephant, “this Rick O’Shae is about the same height, about the same weight and, come on, the beard?”

The referee separates the competitors and pushes them into opposite corners.

Jerry Andrews:You are looking way too deep into this simple one-on-one match.

Singles Match
Johnny Vivacious vs Rick O'Shae
Referee: Ed Lane

Vivacious passes his shades, T-shirt, sports jacket and watch through the ropes to Stormm at ringside. He pulls the top rope on each side of the corner, turns around and the bell sounds.

Jerry Andrews: They said it has been almost six years since Vivacious has wrestled a match.

Ace Anderson:He wasn't all that great when he was wrestling a full schedule before.

Vivacious mocks the wooly man across the ring from him, pulling on his chin as if he had a beard to match. As they close in on the center of the ring, Vivacious takes the burning cigarette from his mouth and flips it at O’Shae.

“That's not the way,” Stormm yells from ringside.

Vivacious shrugs, much like O’Shae brushed off the attempt to distract him from the start. They circle the center of the ring and slam together.

Jerry Andrews: Collar and elbow tie up, and here we go in the Pure Class Wrestling Arena.

O’Shae gets the upper hand and shoves Vivacious into the ropes before posing himself, stroking his actual beard. Vivacious jumps right back in, they circle the opposite way, and O’Shae is shoved to the ropes. As he rebounds, Vivacious runs his right hand through his left arm pit and slaps sweaty drenched open hand across O’Shae’s nose and mouth.

Ace Anderson: Distasteful!

Jerry Andrews: He actually calls that Served Dirty.

Disgusted and embarrassed, O’Shae smashes Vivacious into the corner and drives trio of shoulders into Vivacious’ core. Vivacious gets his knee up and turns things around, but the referee is there to separate them. Vivacious finches hard, causing the referee to look away and miss Vivacious shoving his thumb into O’Shae’s right eye. As the referee returns his attention, Vivacious grabs a left handful of beard, jerks down into a European uppercut.

Jerry Andrews: Unorthodox, but the big man is down.

Ace Anderson:That ain't going to do it.

Vivacious places his right foot on O’Shae’s chest, the referee doesn't even get to count before O’Shae pushes Vivacious away and is fighting to get back on his feet. Vivacious stomps, kicks, punches down as O’Shae crawls. Vivacious goes to the ropes, rebounds and crosses the ring, stepping up onto the lower back of O’Shae then Vivacious drops an elbow to the back of his opponent’s neck and head.

“HELL BOW!” The crowd shouts in unison.

Vivacious is back on his feet and viciously stomping his downed opponent. O’Shae crawls to the bottom rope and, before the referee can admonish or pull him away, Vivacious wraps his arm around the neck of the referee and they walk away to discuss the cheerleaders on the opposite side of the ring.

Ace Anderson:Blatant! He is clearly distracting this official from…

Meanwhile, behind the referee's back, Stormm pops O’Shae several times before jerking him out under the bottom rope. Vivacious continues to hold the referee’s attention, inviting a camera up onto the apron.

“My friend here,” Vivacious nods at the referee, “would you say you call every match right down the middle?”

Stormm whips O’Shae into the crowd barrier, catches him on the wobbly return, lift him over his left shoulder and rushes him into the ring post.

“So,” Vivacious continues, “one could say, you see things only as black and white, right and wrong, right?”

Stormm rolls O’Shae back in under the bottom rope and slaps the apron three times.

“With you out here,” Vivacious pats the referee’s shoulder, “I just don't understand why everyone is so worked up.”

Vivacious releases the referee and they both turn to find O’Shae sort of near where he was before they took their stroll.

Ace Anderson: Stormm just completely worked that man over on the outside!

Vivacious picks O’Shae’s limp body up from the mat and exaggerates locking on a front head-lock.

Jerry Andrews: Fisherman's Hangover!

1…

2… …

3!

Vivacious releases the pin as “Notorious” hits the speakers. Stormm is quick to join his brother-in-law to celebrate in the ring.

Winner: Johnny Vivacious via Pinfall

Ace Anderson: If these antics are what Kyle Shane has to look forward to later, his night may be over just as quickly as Rick O’Shae’s.

The camera cuts backstage and various people are seen milling around doing various things.

PCW staff are running around keeping the show going and dealing with all the tech, some of the wrestlers are backstage watching the show or helping themselves to whatever is on offer in catering.

It’s hustle and bustle with activity everywhere.

Among those backstage is PCW’s resident sumo and former Underground Champion Hiroshi Yukio who can be seen pacing up and down slower than usual looking worried. The big man has a lot on his mind and is getting mentally prepared for his upcoming match.

Suddenly his thoughts are interrupted by the presence of a man standing in front of him. He doesn’t say anything but Hiroshi knows why he is here. He is tall bald with a heavy set figure His face is filled with lines indicating years of stress and worry. His lip is hidden by a broom handle mustache and his emerald green eyes sparkle. He is wearing a white Armani suit and Gucci loafers.

The man is Mr Hughes, the representative for the mysterious messenger who had been in contact with him over the last three weeks. The messages were becoming more frequent and more insistent. Mr Hughes waits for a moment before speaking

“Mr Yukio could you please follow me? My employer wishes to speak with you again and will not take no for an answer.”

Hiroshi complies and follows Hughes up the corridor to the key card door and waits as it is unlocked.

They both enter the room and Mr Hughes announces their arrival before exiting the room closing it behind him. As before in the middle of the table is a laptop that has been set up with Skype.

Hiroshi sits and faces the laptop waiting for the voice to speak to him.

“Hello again Hiroshi, it’s good to see you.

As you know you and I spoke of your time here and how things have been a struggle for you. It seems this has become a recirculating thing now. Last week despite all of your efforts you lost yet again.

Grimm handcuffed you and beat you like a dog. And you let it happen. You could have with your immense strength broken free from those cuffs and then proceed to beat the crap out of everyone in that match.

But that didn’t happen did it?

You just took it and didn’t fight back and that’s your problem. Your holding back. Your too nice for your own good.

Then later on in that match you belly to belly suplexed Crazy Boy into the thumbtacks. Tell me how did that feel?"

Hiroshi thinks for a moment before replying

“I didn’t feel anything I just did. I was in the moment. It was instant”

The voice continues

“And that’s the key. You didn’t think you just did. And when you did your enemies fell before you. That’s what you need. Use your instinct and power to dominate.”

“I’m not that kind of person. I don’t hurt people. This business is my passion but brutality is not. I am a peaceful warrior.”

“Then you will never truly succeed.

Join me Hiroshi and together you and I can enjoy great success. It can be yours. I will give you until Collision Course to decide. Then you WILL give me an answer. I will be there in person to hear it. The time will come

Your fate is in your hands Hiroshi... What will you do?

Back at ringside, Jerry and Ace are awaiting the next match.

Jerry Andrews: Well.... Hiroshi Yukio certainly looks like he has something to think about.

Ace Anderson: Whoever it is that's talking to him, Hiroshi had better not let it distract him. He's competing for a shot at the Underground Title NEXT!

Jerry Andrews: He's held that championship before, and I assume he'd love to do so again, but standing in his way are Razor Blade and Tyrone 'Crazy Boy' Smith, both who would love to call themselves Underground King as well.

“The following underground triple threat match is scheduled for one fall! The winner of the match will be named the number one contender to the Underground championship, and will face Dominator at Collision Course!”

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.

“Introducing First. From Biloxi, Mississippi. He weighs two-hundred twenty-seven pounds, TYRONE “CRAZY BOY” SMITH!”

Smoke fills the arena as a figure stands in the middle of it. All the sudden, Crazy Boy comes out of the smoke and pumps a fist in the air. He walks down the entryway and climbs the ropes of the ring. He bounces around the ropes a few times, pumps his fist in the air one last time and waits for his opponents to come.

The crowd looks to the entrance way as Rising Sun roars out and they know who is coming out from backstage and they start cheering loudly almost drowning out the music.

“From Tokyo, Japan. He weighs FIVE-HUNDRED pounds, here is HIROSHI YUKIO!”

Hiroshi Yukio steps through the curtain his face lit up with a smile

He walks slowly down the ramp as the cheering intensifies as the PCW faithful don't hold back for the mountain man from Japan.

He waves to the crowd as he walks and when he sees a kid at ringside and holds up his sign and takes a selfie with him.

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

He goes up the ring steps and steps over the top rope and into the ring After he does he does a purification ritual by throwing salt in the ring to cleanse it before the match.

The music fades out as Hiroshi stays in the ring waiting for the final opponent.

The Truth Reigns echoes across the arena.

“And from Orlando, Florida. He weighs two-hundred sixty-five pounds, RAZOR BLADE!”

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

Underground Title Number One Contender Triple Threat Match
Tyrone "Crazy Boy" Smith vs Hiroshi Yukio vs Razor Blade
Referee: Nigel Gale

DING!
DING!
DING!

With a championship opportunity on the line, all three men are sure to bring their A-game to this contest. But given the nature of the division, does anyone really win? That is a question looking for an answer at a later point in time, so perhaps to the victor goes a Delorean to find out what it is. There is a triple stare down taking place as each competitor sizes up their competition. Razor gives a slight nod to Crazy Boy. He returns the favor. They charge in at the former Yokozuna…

And are met with a double clothesline from the mountain of a man. Yukio spins around to level Razor with a chop to the throat. Crazy Boy takes a savate kick to the chin for his returning troubles. Yukio grabs himself a handful of Razor’s hair, using it to toss The Big Dog the hell out of the ring. Yukio gets clubbed between the shoulders. Crazy Boy is dropped once again with a headbutt. This time, Yukio puts his five-hundred pound self on top of his chest, by unceremoniously stepping on and over in one fell step. Crazy Boy immediately grasps at the area, gasping for air as he rolls towards the corner. The sumo turns around just in time to no sell a hard clothesline from Razor Blade.

Yukio dares him to try again. Razor does, using the ropes this time for added momentum. It has next to no effect, but does give Yukio something to laugh about. Razor hits the ropes once more. He charges under an attempt from Hiroshi. He ducks a second. On the rebound he leaps high in the air and connects with a flying clothesline that staggers the big man. Razor nails a stiff uppercut. Crazy Boy returns to the fray with a running dropkick. Yukio begins to waver back to the corner, but doesn’t go down. The smaller foes link arms and run him backwards into that very corner! From there they take turns with chops and clotheslines. Razor heads to the opposite end. Crazy Boy meets him there. An Irish whip...big splash! Crazy Boy comes in with a charging spear to the rotund midsection. Yukio slumps.

Jerry Andrews: Crazy Boy and Razor Blade have found success in working together against their much larger adversary!

Ace Anderson: I know an easier way to take care of Hiroshi.

Jerry Andrews (sighs): I’m afraid to ask.

Ace Anderson: Well, you know how farmers yell sooie to pigs? Just yell BUFFET to Yukio, and he’ll be gone faster than--

Jerry Andrews (interrupting): Will you STOP?

While Crazy Boy stomps away at Yukio, Razor Blade has fetched a pair of steel chairs. Crazy Boy smirks as he reaches out for one. Razor Blade drops one chair, and then smashes the other on the outstretched hand. Crazy Boy quickly retracts it and then takes a shot to his head, dumping him against the ropes. Razor Blade jams the edge of the chair into Yukio’s stomach, keeping him trapped in the corner. Only...he doesn’t relent. Yukio gets worked over from the middle. Razor then throws Crazy Boy forward and unloads on his back. By the time he is done, the chair is bent and broken, rendering it useless. It’s discarded. But wait! There’s one more. Razor unfolds it in the middle of the ring. Crazy Boy is scooped up and power slammed right through it. It breaks on contact. Crazy Boy arches and does his best “Curly Shuffle” as the pain radiates. Razor Blade turns to Yukio. He goes charging in, but is wrapped up and spun around with a sudden belly to belly suplex. Yukio lays Crazy Boy next to him, so that he is facing down, with Razor looking up. Yukio hits those ropes and returns with a MASSIVE splash across both men! The crowd feels for both men as it hurts them inside. Yukio brings both up at the same time. They get placed against the ropes and are double clotheslined over the top. Yukio, while still favoring his midsection, has begun to turn on the aggression. He joins them outside of the ring.

Jerry Andrews: I think Yukio has had enough of playing it nice!

Ace Anderson: Nice guys finish last, Jerry! Yukio is a former Underground champion. He knows what he has to do to win it again.

Yukio introduces Razor Blade to mister ring post. He then makes a charge for Crazy Boy who is near the steel steps. He misses! Hiroshi separates the stairs, sending the top half flying across ringside. He rolls onto his back, grimacing in pain. Crazy Boy pulls himself onto the apron. Frog splash on Yukio! He then uses the rail to pull himself up. Crazy Boy slaps some reaching hands as he slowly stalks Razor Blade. Neckbreaker! Crazy Boy pulls out a bag of thumbtacks, scattering them across the floor, and getting loud praise for introducing them. Because you know it was coming sooner or later. He pulls Razor Reigns up and runs him back first into the guardrail. Crazy Boy keeps hold, dragging him over to the awaiting pile. He folds Razor down. Lifts him up for a powerbomb...but finds resistance. He tries again to no avail. Razor back body drops him into the thumb tacks!!

Crazy Boy yells in agony as he rolls off of them. Razor turns right into a pop up powerbomb from Hiroshi Yukio into the tacks himself! Yukio snuck around the ring and picked his moment to strike. With his opponents turned into pin cushions, Yukio takes a moment to savor his handiwork. He also takes the chance to slide a table into the ring. His opponents follow after. Yukio props Razor Blade in the corner, then sets the table upright against him. Crazy Boy is laid back against it. Yukio hits the opposite corner, comes in with a bull rush and SPEARS Crazy Boy, a breaking table, and Razor Blade, all at one gigantic sandwiching time.

The fans love it.

Crazy Boy falls out of the corner with splintered pieces of wood. Razor Blade slumps into a seated position. Big mistake. His head is snapped against the bottom turnbuckle with a running hip attack! Razor flops over, then a slowly descent to the floor. Yukio drags Crazy Boy out to the center for a pin.

1!

2!

Kickout. Yukio sits up and shakes his head. The big man gets up and sets his sights on Razor Blade. Yukio makes his way over. No sooner does he step through the ropes, does he get blasted in the head with a studded glove. Hiroshi stumbles from surprise. Razor gathers his wits about himself, trying to work through the embedded tacks and punishment. He rolls under the rope. Getting up, he measures Yukio for a “Superman punch” with the weaponized glove. He lands it! Yukio stumbles against the ropes. What pushes him out of the ring is one more massive punch, further opening up his cranium like a coconut. Razor turns around to eat a big boot for his troubles. Crazy Boy has found a sudden second gear. He hits the ropes, springboards, 450 splash hits Yukio on the outside of the ring! Crazy Boy goes for a tumble into the aisle, but the damage was done.

Jerry Andrews: These three men are putting the hurt on one another!

Ace Anderson: Glorified violence at its finest. Don’t try this at home, kids. And if you do, make sure you get your parents permission, because they are going to have to send you to the hospital.

Razor Blade is the recipient of a ladder to the face when Crazy Boy returns. Razor Blade is deposited across the metal rungs with a Russian leg sweep. His pained reaction tells the whole story. Crazy Boy nails a springboard moonsault to further inflict damage, then transitions it into a pin.

1!

2!

Razor gets a shoulder up. Crazy Boy peels him off of the ladder, then drops him with a one armed DDT. Tyrone picks up the ladder and gets it placed. He looks up to the top, then out to the faithful for their roaring approval. The high-flying daredevil starts to climb. Rung after rung until he nears the top. Out of nowhere he is clubbed from behind by a revived Hiroshi Yukio. Maybe it was adrenaline, but Crazy Boy made a mistake by not checking to make sure he was still incapacitated. Even worse? There is a table on FIRE outside of the ring where Yukio should’ve been. Yukio prods Crazy Boy up to the last rung. He comes around to the front, but doesn’t climb. Yukio shoves the ladder into the ropes. Crazy Boy awkwardly flies off the ladder and into the awaiting table from hell! Pure Class officials race at top speed to put out the fire, both from the table, and Tyrone’s ring attire.

HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT!

Yukio relaxes against the ropes and appears to be in conflict about the tactic. The news is bad for Crazy Boy, as EMT’s have been called for. Yukio snaps out of it and turns into a running forearm smash, dropping him to a knee. Razor Blade gets up to connect with a short DDT. Yukio’s head hits, but he sits up with no effect given. The following palm strike rocks him against his feet. Razor loads up for another DC named punch with his studded glove...SUCCESS! Yukio topples over onto his stomach. His head is sticking out just enough that it is past the ring apron.

You know what’s coming next.

Razor Blade wraps barb wire around his boots. He doesn’t have to run very far to hit the drive by! The barbs further shred an already bloodied Yukio. Razor undoes the wires, then pushes them under the ring. Meanwhile, cameras show Crazy Boy being wheeled to the back to an awaiting ambulance, making this triple threat a one on one.

Jerry Andrews: With one less opponent to worry about, this match is up for grabs. If we receive any word on the condition of Crazy Boy, we will pass it along.

Ace Anderson: No we won’t. You shouldn’t lie like that, Jerry. You should be fair and balanced, unlike some poor excuse for a news network that uses that catchphrase.

Yukio finds himself being run head first into an exposed steel connector in the corner. The removed turnbuckle pad nowhere to be found. He pulls himself along the top rope, but is returned for the same shot. Razor Blade gets in there and starts to unload on the source of the blood. He scrapes the studded glove across like a paint brush. Having enough of that, Razor pulls him away from the corner. He POWERS a semi-samoan drop! Holy cow. Razor favors his back immediately, but the show of strength was impressive. Razor rolls out of the ring carefully. He drops to a knee while favoring his lower back.

Razor fights through it all to reach under the ring. He pulls out a small white box. Razor returns with it. He opens the lid and pulls out...a pumpkin pie?

…

Razor Blade puts the Thanksgiving dessert in his right hand and when the moment presents himself, pumpkin pie-faces a bloodied Yukio. Some in attendance find it amusing. Hiroshi does not and responds in kind with a nasty looking clothesline. Yukio wipes his face clean of everything. He throttles Razor Blade by the throat. Showing his own display of power, he raises Razor into the air and smashes him with a choke slam onto the previously used ladder.

He isn’t done.

Yukio grips Razor Blade and a pair of the upper/lower rungs. He GORILLA PRESSES Razor Blade while he is laying on top of the ladder. Then drop to the floor is high and hard. The Big Dog who had been bringing the big fight lands with big impact. The ladder itself lands on top of him. Yukio exits the ring. He rolls Razor onto the ladder. The Bombs Away! The ladder is cracked in places from all of the damage done. Yukio powers Razor Blade up into his massive arms. He marches him to the ring, dumping him inside. Yukio climbs in after him. Razor Blade is sent halfway across with a lunging throw. Yukio charges in. He eats a European uppercut from out of nowhere! Razor Blade works himself up with a second wind. He lets out a mighty roar, one in which the fans join in with.

Another European uppercut! Yukio is staggered and almost put down. Razor calls for it! Razor’s Edge on the way...there’s the wind up and...the lariat is caught! Yukio traps Razor Blade’s arm. He hoists him high in the air with a rotating belly to belly. Yukio muscles his way back up. Razor Blade is powered up in the process on his shoulder. Yokohama Driver! The impact of the sit out piledriver is devastating. Rather than go for the potential win, Yukio motions to the back. In a matter of seconds the sound of an approaching forklift is heard. Then seen. It moves down to the ring. A wooden palette is slid over the forks. The operator shifts the gears to raise the carriage. Whatever Yukio was asking for is lifted over the top rope. Yukio carefully pulls the palette off and when he puts it down…

A bed of razor blades has been produced. Yukio gives a thumbs up to the driver. The beeping noise is heard once more as they begin backing up.

Jerry Anderson: Oh my god...Yukio has gone sadistic!

Yukio feeds off the energy of the crowd. He sets his new found toy as close to the corner as he can, without trapping himself. Sure enough, rows of razor blades protrude out of the crevices in the wood. Razor Blade is drug right on top of them. His shoulders and back take up most of it. Yukio steps into place. He grabs the top rope. One step onto the middle rope. A second step. Fans wait in antici…

Ace Anderson (sarcastically): You aren’t Bobby Brown, Hiroshi, Don’t be Cruel!

...pation!

MT. FUJI DROP HITS!

The massive sumo squeezes Razor Blade down onto razor blades while also breaking the wooden palette in the process. He remains seated on his chest as the referee dives in for the count.

1!

2!

3!

The bell is called for. Rising Sun begins playing for the victorious Japanese legend.

“Here is the winner of the match, Hiroshi Yukio!”

Yukio hoists himself onto his feet. He has an arm raised. Yukio takes a moment to survey the carnage. He is pleased about it and now has secured an Underground title match at Collision Course with Dominator. Yukio may hurting, but the win makes up for it. He exits the ring and makes sure to interact with fans on his way to the locker room.

Trauma returns and the fans are definitely ready for the next match.

Jerry Andrews: Well, we have a champion versus champion match coming up next. No titles are on the line, but a hell of a lot of pride is.

Ace Anderson: Gabriel was stripped of the Underground Title after winning the North American Title and he feels like that championship was stolen from him.

Jerry Andrews: Has anyone told him that's a pretty standard process?

Ace Anderson: Probably not.

"The following is a champion versus champion match scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, he weighs in at 365 lbs, he is the Pure Class Wrestling Underground King... DOMINATOR!!"

The lights slowly fade to black. Flashes of cameras give intermittent glimmers of the darkened surroundings. There is a moment of silence as the crowd awaits with anticipation. The Tron slowly illuminates with the image of a ticking clock as the opening rift to TRIVIUM’s cover of “Losing My Religion” echo throughout the arena. The crowd suddenly comes alive as the guitars make themselves heard. Horacio Mortimer appears on the stage, holding out his arm in an expression of beholding. As the first verse begins to play, he finally appears on the top of the stage…

…DOMINATOR…

The Zenith glares towards the crowd massed to his left, then to his right before slowly raising his left arm into the air, revealing a gold plated watch that envelopes his wrist. A shower of orange sparks begin to fall from the top of the Tron, briefly masking the Entrance Video as Dominator shows off his bulging biceps to the crowd. All the while, Horacio Mortimer is applauding his client and calling some last minute tactics to him.

He slowly walks down the ramp with a gleam in his eye, a wicked and arrogant smirk spread amidst his dark stubble. He makes no attempt to slap hands with the fans. He reaches the ring apron, grabbing the middle rope to haul him onto the side of the ring. He pushes down the top rope with his right hand, throwing one foot over the top before the other follows. He slowly makes his way to the center of the ring, turning a full three hundred and sixty degrees to admire the capacity crowd before raising his arms in the air in the exact same manner as he had done atop the entrance ramp, lifting them with malicious purpose to display the watches covering his wrists.

He cricks his neck back and forth before swinging his arms in preparation for the impending fight. All the while, that devious smile is still on his face and he looks to make eye contact with his opponent without a single hint of intimidation. Horacio Mortimer patrols the perimeter of the ring. The music slowly fades, the lights returning to a more average level of illumination as Dominator waits with masked enthusiasm for the start of the match.

Jerry Andrews: This match was set up last week after a grueling finals bout in the Underground Round Robin tournament. Dominator took home the gold in a, well, dominant performance.

Ace Anderson: Yeah, but then the former Underground champion showed up to remind him that, well, he never officially lost that title. Let's look at last Trauma.

Pure Class Wrestling Trauma: All Hallows Eve Thursday October 26th, 2017 “Here is the winner of the Round Robin and NEW Pure Class Wrestling Underground Champion, DOMINATOR!!” The referee is handed the championship. He wades past his colleagues, whom are gathered around High Tide. Horacio rips the gold from the referee’s hand. Before he can award it himself to Dominator, GABRIEL of all people has arrived! He takes the title himself, raises it high over his head and proclaims directly in the face of Horacio Mortimer, “THIS SHOULD STILL BE MINE!” Jerry Andrews: Oh come on now! What is wrong with this man!? Ace Anderson: That's no doubt a jab at President Loki, who had forced a relinquishment upon Gabriel winning the North American championship the first time! Jerry Andrews: Ummm.... Gabriel..... pay attention. Horacio smirks. Then motions for Gabriel to turn around. He forgot somebody… Gabriel is clubbed from behind with enough force to throw him onto the floor. Dominator is finally handed HIS Underground title. The Chronological Order are off to celebrate and get some much needed rest and possibly medical treatment, leaving nothing but ruin in their wake.

Cutting back from the recap, Dominator is waiting in the ring, and conversing with Horacio Mortimer, who advises him confidently.

"And his opponent, weighing in at 218 lbs... he is the Pure Class Wrestling North American Champion... GABRIEL!!"

The lights go out. Suddenly the arena is completely lit up with white light as the opening notes of "There's a World" by Neil Young play. Gabriel emerges, wearing a tan button up shirt, brown overalls and heavy dark boots. He clasps his hands together and smiles widely before walking down to the ring.

"There's a world you're living in
No one else has your part
All God's children in the wind
Take it in and blow hard.
Look around it, have you found it
Walking down the avenue?
See what it brings,
could be good things
In the air for you.."

Gabriel climbs the ring steps and pauses. He then enters the ring, says a quick prayer, and wait.

Jerry Andrews: Gabriel certainly looks confident in the face of the massive Dominator.

Ace Anderson: You know in Gabriel's mind he has proven himself after regaining his title from Kyle Shane. And now he wants to make a statement to the man who took his other gold.

Jerry Andrews: Yeah but you know... he was forced to give it up. I'm not sure if that helps or hurts his case.

Non-Title Match
Dominator (Underground 🤴) vs Gabriel (North American ©)
Referee: Manny Cruz

The combatants approach each other and face off in the center of the ring. Gabriel is certainly in a high dander being face to face with the person who he believes has stolen his title. Jeers have begin springing up around the arena, and as the Deacon of Serominism launches into a finger-pointing tirade at a bemused Dominator. The accusing finger makes its way from chest prodding to a point blank hover between the giant's eyes. Dominator's ire is immediate and he swats Gabriel's hand away mid-bollocking which prompts the Deacon of Serominism to pause, dumbfounded, before rearing back and slamming both hands into the giant's chest, staggering him.

Jerry Andrews: Damned if Dominator can't believe that.

The Zenith's features contort into a comfortable rage and as he shoots back with a raised right hook his mouth suddenly comes into contact with the back of Gabriel's heel, the impact driving his head back and sending him pinwheeling into the ropes as he arcs up from the savate kick. Giving the giant no time to gather his senses Gabriel charges forward and leaps into the air and spiking his full weight into a dropkick aimed at Dominator's right knee. His leg buckles on impact and sends him collapsing onto both knees, and Dominator howls in pain as Gabriel picks himself up off the mat and cracks a roundhouse off the side of the big man's cranium sending him parallel to the canvas.

Jerry Andrews: Dominator's down and the match has barely begun. Gabriel is aggressively taking it to the knees of the big man.

The boots come thick and fast and Dominator quickly curls up and tries to hide his head between shots all over his body. With each shot the giant shifts a little further back into the ropes until Gabriel delivers a final jarring toe kick to the knee and takes off across the ring, hitting the ropes and firing back with enough momentum for the resulting second dropkick to cause Dominator to lurch over the apron and tumble to the arena floor. With room to breathe the giant flexes his sore joints and shakes off the birds spinning over his head and uses the announce table to pull himself back up to his feet.

Jerry Andrews: A short sharp shock in the early going here for Dominator who until a few seconds ago was more than happy to be facing the premier follower of the Lord and Messiah.

Ace Anderson: Speaking of shocks!

Dominator dusts himself off and looks to the ring in time to see Gabriel's body come hurtling over the top rope on the crest of a massive ovation from the crowd, connecting with the cross-body and sending the giant crashing back into the announce table. Ace Anderson and Jerry Andrews scatter like roaches as a combined six-hundred-odd pounds of angry muscle comes rolling over their desk colliding into their chairs and ending up in a twisted heap on the floor. Gabriel is the first to his feet though, and puts the boots to Dominator once again while the giant halfheartedly swats at him while holding his other arm across his aching abdomen. With a final kick to the gut Gabriel grabs Ace Anderson's chair and slams it into the Zenith before taking off for the ring. The referee motions to start a ten count but the Deacon of Serominism stops him before the count of one and orders him not to continue. Giving him a once-over then flitting a look to Dominator still tangled in the mess of chairs behind the desk, the shrugs his shoulders and holds his hands up signifying his cooperation.

Ace Anderson: Jesus H! Did anyone get the license plate number on that drive-by? Hey someone get this big oaf out from under my God damn chair.

Moving back to the ropes Gabriel ascends the turnbuckles opposite to the corner that has steel steps next to it. Surveying the damage he offers up a half smile and turns to sit on the top turnbuckle with his body twisted to keep an eye on the giant. Jerry Andrews and Ace Anderson remain standing beside their desk while the Zenith paws at the chairs, pushing them aside and finally getting back to his feet, albeit gingerly. Glancing at his opponent perched on the top turnbuckle he listens to him berating him with regards to his demands for this match and begins to snarl, looking either side to the fans before nodding vengefully. He pauses however, and takes in his surroundings once more, most notably Gabriel's position in-ring.

Ace Anderson: Damn he must be taking this seriously. Any other time he'd just barrel right back into the fight but he seems to have clocked Gabriel's intentions.

Jerry Andrews: He's pulled the wool right over his eyes with that early offense and now seems to be goading him to get back in the ring.

Dominator looks to the mat, the steel steps then the opposite corner of the ring. With an angry stare directed at his opponent he spits on the floor and paces around to the other side of the ring. Gabriel holds fast atop the turnbuckle, waiting patiently while Dominator stamps his feet up the steel steps opposite him and swings a leg over the top rope once more. That's the moment Gabriel chooses to spring off the top and charge across the ring, firing the flat of his boot into the same knee and exciting a yelp from Dominator. Hopping up and down on one leg the giant tries to pull his hurt leg over only for Gabriel to kick his good leg and causing him to drop to the mat. His other leg pings over the top rope and he clutches the knee with both hands leaving him exposed to another round of kicks from Gabriel. The giant roars with frustration as Gabriel begins throwing punches at his face every time he moves his arms down to protect his sternum. The first few punches and chops to the neck are light and fast and only serve to annoy the Zenith, but when Gabriel finds his rhythm he begins sinking more power into each shot until every boot, punch, knee and elbow that connects does so with a blossoming sting. Taking a step back he lines up another shot to the head but in doing so gives the giant the opening he needs to intercept the ferocious roundhouse with both hands. The impact hurts like hell and he simultaneously shifts his full grip to one hand and uses the other to pull himself to his feet before Gabriel can counter.

Jerry Andrews: Very nearly lights out there for Dom but now he's got Gabriel on the back foot!

Ace Anderson: Look at his face, he's freaking out!

Gabriel's expression turns to one of horror and he tries to counter with an enziguri but just as he tenses up to execute the counter Dominator pulls his stray leg higher off the ground forcing him to hop around on the other leg to stay vertical. The Zenith holds him there like that for a few, jerking his leg each time he feels him trying to strike back before himself striking out with a massive open hand chop across Gabriel's chest. After the slap connects Dominator pushes Gabriel's leg away causing him to stumble back onto his butt clutching his chest. Dominator snaps forward extending his good knee and connecting with Gabriel's face, laying him out. A quick turn into the ropes and the giant returns with a big elbow, focusing the impact on Gabriel's sternum and flattening him.

Jerry Andrews: What impact!!

Gabriel rolls out onto the apron and wraps his arms around the bottom rope. So clinging to the rope, he is able to resist being pulled back inside by Dominator, who the referee makes back off because rope breaks mean no contact and this is the ultimate rope break since one party is wrapped around them. Dominator angrily pleads his case with the referee, only for Gabriel to slither out from underneath the bottom rope and lowbridge him, chop blocking under Dominator's legs and maneuvering him over his shoulders so the momentum takes the top-heavy big man down, and Gabriel maneuvers into a unique school boy pin. Gabriel then puts his feet on the middle ropes for added leverage...

Jerry Andrews: The first pin in this match, and Gabriel's trying to steal one!

The referee: One...





Two... but the referee spies Gabriel's feet on the ropes and breaks off.

Jerry Andrews: Nice job, ref!

Gabriel, angrily gets up and starts shouting and waving his arms, pleading a righteous cause, but the referee tells him there is no holiness in improprieties with the sport. Gabriel disagrees with a fervor that would make Martin Luther proud. While this is going on a very ticked off giant has risen to his feet, clutches the back of Gabriel's head in his palm like a basketball and gives him a coconut crush onto his knee. Gabriel rises on all fours, only to be struck down by a club to the back from a forearm like a tree trunk. Again Gabriel pushes himself up, groaning in pain while he's on all fours, which gives Dominator the opening to wrap both arms around his waist and with the greatest of ease pulls him up and executes a release German suplex. Gabriel emits a loud howl as he hits the mat hard, limbs sprawled out.

Ace Anderson: Well you were spot on Jerry Andrews, looks like the power game has stalled Gabriel, in fact he's looking pretty lifeless right now.

Jerry Andrews: We know Gabriel uses a lot of tricks to get around the law in these matches. But so far he's been out-muscled and out-gunned in his attempts to buffalo the big man.

Gabriel, complaining of severe and chronic back pain due to large quantities of suplexing, exits the ring, trying to walk around the long way and avoid Dominator, who is watching him very closely. Dominator, irritated, comes out of the ring and comes walking up to Gabriel, attempting to strong arm him back to the ring. Gabriel turns around with a vicious rake to the eyes, blinding the big man, and then shoving him about three feet forward into the steel ring steps, which Dominator hits with a bang. Dominator grips at that knee again and rolls onto his side, gripping at the knee in agony and wincing. Gabriel stomps on the knee a few times for good measure, trying to cut off the attempts to get back up. Then Gabriel high tails it back into the ring, shaking the referee and telling him that he needs to start counting Dominator out like, right now. The referee sees what Gabriel is doing here, but nonetheless obliges the countout.

Jerry Andrews: Gabriel is trying to get a win over Dominator any way he can, even trying to get him counted out.

Ace Anderson: These aren't the actions of a man looking to prove his worthiness as the previous Underground King.

The referee has counted 1... 2... 3... Dominator has made it to his feet, gingerly favoring a knee... 4... 5... Dominator rolls onto the apron and into the ring to make a count. Gabriel senses that this is his chance before Dominator can get his wheels under him, he grabs the legs and tries a jackknife pin.

The ref: One...





Two... Kickout.

Gabriel, frustrated, applies a double leg pin.

The ref: One...





Two... Kickout with enough force to launch Gabriel off his legs.

Gabriel scrambles back up and repositions himself, charging back to Dominator, but Dominator is on one knee and rising up to meet him with a stone right hand punch that just drops Gabriel. Gabriel's head lolls around in a circle and he falls back, then crumples to his side. Convinced the Deacon of Serominism is out for the count, Dominator uses his boot to shift him onto his back where the giant comes to rest on his torso as the referee makes the count.

Jerry Andrews: One foot on the chest, the ultimate act of disrespect.

The ref: One...





Two... kickout.

Gabriel wisely kicks out by twisting to the side causing Dominator to lose his footing, allowing him to hook his leg and as he continues to roll away pulls it from under him tripping him up onto his ass. Dropping his leg he carries on under the ropes until he pops up onto his feet at ringside and without missing a beat the Deacon of Serominism pulls himself straight back up onto the apron and as Dominator gets to one knee he springboards off the top rope and executes a hurricanrana that drives the Zenith's skull into the hard section of canvas near the ropes. Without hesitation Gabriel goes for the cover.

The referee: One...





Two... Kickout.

Being the Archangel of his Messiah means being able to overlook that little snafu by nipping to his feet, executing the standing elbow drop across the sternum. Gabriel is back on his feet instantly and climbs the turnbuckles closest to him, perched on the top as Dominator rises once again only for the Gabriel to leap at him, arm extended, and in one beautifully fluid motion executes a massive tornado DDT. Getting vertical fast Gabriel hits the ropes and on the rebound connects with a senton across the chest, capitalizing on that by shifting onto his side and locking his legs around Dominator's throat, squeezing for dear life. Dominator tries to shimmy out of the hold, and upon feeling Gabriel's knees crushing his windpipe goes into panic mode, kicking at the mat and gasping for air while grabbing a leg in each hand and trying to pry them apart with more struggle than he'd like. Tightening his grip around his ankles he soon has full control and with the Deacon of Serominism rolling and thrashing to get away the giant gets to his feet and maneuvers him onto his back before lifting that huge boot once again and delivering shot after shot to Gabriel's stomach.

Jerry Andrews: Now he's putting the boots to Gabriel and by God he's gonna break those arms if he doesn't move them out the way!

Ace Anderson: Better broken arms than internal hemorrhaging if you ask me. Especially if it's Dominator's doing. If that was me in there-

Jerry Andrews: It wouldn't be you in there. Not in a million years.

Ace Anderson: You don't know that.

Gazing into the crowd and looking to Horatio Mortimer, Dominator pulls his legs into position for an excruciating single leg Boston crab and crouches down for maximum effect. The effect of a giant man with a hundred pounds of muscle extra relative to poor Gabe on his knee and back is instantly recognizable; Gabriel screams and wails like a banshee and begins flailing his arms. The referee moves in and drops down with eyes on Gabriel as he claws at the canvas to get to the ropes quickly. Dominator barely budges as he pulls and pulls, and to add insult to injury the Zenith rises to standing once again and begins parading around the ring with the follower of Seromine dangling from his grip with the submission still locked in.

Jerry Andrews: He makes it look so easy, which I suppose it is when you're a seven foot tall powerhouse. Notice how he's keeping his legs in tight so that Gabriel can't free his arms and maneuver out of the hold.

As Dominator shimmies across the ring showing off the restrained the Deacon of Serominism, the referee stays at his back continually asking him if he's done. Shaking his head rapidly in response, Gabriel racks his brains for an out and as his head flops down his eyes lock onto the answer. The Zenith promptly screams in agony as rapid-fire punches are delivered to his Achilles tendons, and almost instantly Gabriel finds himself thrown to the mat allowing him time to skitter between Dominator's legs before getting up and turning to face the giant who limps over to the corner leaning all his weight on the ropes.

Jerry Andrews: He might be a giant but that just means bigger weak spots for Gabriel to exploit.

With the Zenith hurting in the corner Gabriel sizes up his target and charges forward, not noticing the big man's head is bowed facing the PCW-tron. All it takes is a bend of the knee and Gabriel's intended shoulder block aimed at the almost certainly bruised ankle of Dominator becomes a suicide sprint face first into an open sole which results in Gabriel laid out on the mat clutching his head in a painful daze.

Ace Anderson: Don't count out the Zenith yet, he's got a few tricks up his sleeve it seems.

Turning to face Gabriel, Dominator waits as he rights himself then lunges, dropping him with a clothesline. The momentum allows him to get up just as quickly however and once again Dominator catches him with a massive meat hook. Third time around when he gets up and Dominator lunges, Gabriel corrects and rolls through then jumps up behind the Zenith and delivers a vicious series of kicks to the back of the knees, bringing Dominator down a peg or two. With the giant's height advantage momentarily revoked Gabriel springboards off the ropes to execute a tornado DDT, however Dominator is quick to counter by throwing him back up into the air. With his arms locked around his neck however Gabriel finds himself momentarily balanced perfectly vertical, and upside down to boot.

Jerry Andrews: A counter for a counter but which way will Gabriel go here??

His legs sway to and fro before he suddenly kicks all his weight inwards and drives his knees in under Dominator's chin, falling to the canvas and connecting with a MASSIVE double knee face-breaker which brings the crowd to their feet in roaring applause as he defiantly pins the fallen giant.

Jerry Andrews: What a spectacular counter!

Ace Anderson: Holy crap, Dominator could've easily dropped a suplex on him there but Gabriel was too damn quick!

The referee: One...







Two...







Three - No!

The Zenith kicks out with authority, sending Gabriel flying over the referee into the ropes. Getting back to his feet Dominator looks ahead and curses under his breath at the sight of Gabriel once more springboarding over the ropes, this time flying through the air like Superman and connecting with a hard right to the temple, much to the joy of the crowd. With the giant stunned and teetering Gabriel goes on the attack with a kick-punch combo working from the ankles up the legs to the kidneys, all the time ducking and weaving as Dominator's counter-attacks hit nothing but air.

Jerry Andrews: Gabriel's cardio is incredible, Dominator just can't seem to catch up to him, and he's been fresh all night.

Ace Anderson: Won't be long before he slips. Then he's in a world of hurt.

Gabriel finally makes his move as Dominator rears back and launches an overhead right, missing him by a fraction and opening him up for a knee to the face which staggers him and allows Gabriel to send him into the corner with a little help from another big dropkick. Sagging against the turnbuckles Dominator's world becomes a blur as the Deacon of Serominism charges him, springboarding off the second rope and connecting with a brutal shining wizard causing Dominator's head to snap back. Correcting his position, Gabriel hooks the giant's neck and pushes off from the corner with both feet to deliver a bulldog that lands them halfway across the ring. Then he goes for the pin.

The ref: One...





Two...





Three- Kickout!

Again the giant kicks out, and again Gabriel is waiting for him as he stumbles to his feet. His eyes are unfocused and a sheen of sweat glistens over his features, and the cut to the lip he picked up at the start has bled into a diluted salty stain across his jaw and beard. Apart from a few stray curls matted to his forehead the Deacon of Serominism looks haunted by his opponent's lasting durability. Dominator stumbles forward with his mitts up ready to throw down, but the ache in his kidneys pulls his guard down and causes him to wobble back into the corner. Gabriel doesn't need an invitation, and again charges at the corner, leaping and spinning in the air to bring a discus elbow home to the giant's temple. Dominator dodges at the last second however, turning and slamming a massive open hand into Gabriel's back and driving him chest-first into the top turnbuckle. Gabriel lets out an explosive yell and holds his chest as he stumbles out, and then Gabriel is caught by the throat and simply CRUSHED with a one-armed chokeslam. Dominator holds his arms out and lets out a monstrous roar. Gabriel looks like a cartoon character that's been flattened into a two-dimensional sheet. Now it's Dominator's turn to hook a leg for a pin.

The ref: One...





Two...





Three- Kickout!

Dominator can't believe the slippery Gabriel kicked out of that. Dominator shouts at the referee, telling him that was three. Dominator looms over our official, getting more heated, and throwing his arms out in anger. Horatio Mortimer is trying to advise Dom that he's giving his opponent time to recover. Dominator has enough, turning back to pick up Gabriel, but receiving a thumb to the eyes, another weaselly cheating move from the master. Dominator turns around, scrubbing at his eyes and howling in rage. Gabriel clubs him over the back, and he attempts to hook him for a front facelock cutter, aka a Twist of Fate. As he does this, he taunts the crowd, shouting "BELIEVE!!!" however, Dominator forcefully shoves him off, with enough force that Gabriel goes pinwheeling head over feet over the top rope to the outside.

Jerry Andrews: Gabriel tried taking advantage of Dominator yet again, but he was thrown off by that scary power of Dominator.

Ace Anderson: Look, at a certain point, we're all just going to have to accept that the guy named himself Dominator for a reason. And I don't think it's a Fifty Shades of Grey kind of reference.

Jerry Andrews: I think I see what you're getting at, but... gross.

Dominator is still stumbling around in the ring, however, holding his eyes. He takes a few wild, half-handed swings with his free hand to try and hit any opponent that may be taking advantage in his blindness, but Gabriel is still on the outside. However, as Gabriel IS on the outside, watching this with a giddy sort of comprehension, he goes over to the timekeepers table, and begins yanking items up and telling people to move.

Jerry Andrews: Wait a minute, Dominator is still blinded, he can't see where he is!

Ace Anderson: He's still yelling at the referee to continue the match, so he thinks he's good to go...

Jerry Andrews: Yeah but it gives Gabriel an unfair advantage. And you know he likes to take any shortcut he can.

Gabriel has taken a steel chair from the timekeepers area and also his North American title belt. He holds the belt in a huddled sort of hiding manner against his side, but he lifts the chair with his free hand like he's brandishing a weapon as he marches back to the ring. He enters the ring, as Dominator, still blinking and holding his eyes wide open, has his back to him. However, he enters the ring holding up the chair, which the referee sees plain as day. Nuh uh, buddy, not happening, says the official who takes the chair straightaway and turns around to dispose of it. This is what the wily Gabriel wanted though, as the ref is taking his time making sure the chair is nowhere in the equation, Gabriel extracts the title from where he has clasped in the crook of his elbow and he readies it, waiting for Dominator to turn around as he prepares to run forward and smash the North American title belt into Dominator's face. However, as Gabriel charges forward and Dominator turns, it goes awry as Dominator sees him coming, having recovered his vision, and he lets out an enraged bellow and deadlifts Gabriel up into a gutwrench and reverses the momentum, slamming him down into a Namesake dominator. The belt flies out of Gabriel's hands as he hits.

Jerry Andrews: The Namesake!!

Dominator takes a short breather before dropping down for the cover. However he notices a few moments later that the referee isn't counting, but that's because the referee has taken a few extra moments to pick up the North American title belt he found and similarly make sure it's not in the ringside area, giving it back to the timekeeper. This, however, is time that could have been spent counting, and Dominator shouts at him in a peeved manner. The ref finally notices, and he comes over to make a count.

The ref: One...





Two...





Three- Kickout!

Jerry Andrews: Gabriel's cheating has proven a boon to him in an unexpected way, his bringing those different implements in to the ring proved a better distraction for some than a weapon for others.

Dominator yells at the referee to get it together as Horatio Mortimer begs him to keep his composure. Dominator goes to lift Gabriel up but Gabriel rolls him into an inside cradle.

The referee: One...





Two...





Three - Kickout!

Dominator kicks out with force, and again Gabriel slithers out of his grasp as the big man gets into a crouch recovering from the pin, looking over at Gabriel with his eyes blazing. Losing hold of his temper, Dominator charges at Gabriel, who has pulled himself up on the ring apron. Gabriel meets his charge by grabbing Dominator's hair and snapping him down as he drops off the apron, however, and Dominator is hung up throat first on the top rope. Dominator flings back, flailing his arm and coughing and choking as Gabriel, satisfied by his tactic paying off, slides back into the ring, coiled and ready. Then, he grabs hold of Dominator successfully hits the front facelock cutter, this time not taking time to taunt and letting the announcers say it for him.

Jerry Andrews: BELIEVE!!

Ace Anderson: He got all of that one!

The referee and the crowd: One...





Two...





Three... KICKOUT!

The crowd roars as Dominator still shows signs of life. And he isn't as winded as Gabriel would like, as he immediately begins crawling on all fours. Gabriel's turn now to shout at the referee, who he swears up and down is persecuting him for his religious beliefs. The referee isn't having this, and tells him Dominator kicked out. Gabriel snarls and says he's had enough of this. He lifts Dominator up and goes to hook him in a headlock driver for his final assault, the Word of the Lord which secured him his North American championship. However, Dominator pulls his head out of it and drills Gabriel with a rotating 360 degree side slam. Dominator falls onto his back, taking a moment of heavy breathing to rest up. Gabriel looks like he might be dead.

Jerry Andrews: Dominator countered the Word of the Lord!

Ace Anderson: Not just countered; OVERPOWERED. As in, there's something stronger than the Gospel.

Dominator gets to his feet, and he lets out the roar that has become his signature. The Underground champion lifts the Deacon of Serominism up, as a spaghetti legged Gabriel can barely even support himself. However, Gabriel has one last trick in the arsenal, one that he used on Kyle Shane. When Dominator has him up, he drops to a kneeling position and brings his fist up between Dominator's legs, attempting a low blow uppercut to the groin with jewel smashing force. However, Dominator has it scouted, and he grabs the arm on both sides coming out of his legs. Maintaining a fierce grip on the arm, he steps over it so that he's to the side, and holding on to the offending arm, and looking at Gabriel with a very tested and very ticked off expression. Gabriel's expression changes to a comical look of horror, the purest "Oh shit no" expression a human being is capable of.

Jerry Andrews: Dominator saw Gabriel use that trick against Kyle Shane, he wasn't falling for it!

Ace Anderson: Not just Kyle Shane, he used it against Dominator not that long ago.

Dominator uses the arm now to pull Gabriel in to the side catch and then smashes him backwards with the high impact lifted reverse STO that is the End of Days, or as Dominator calls it, just the end.

Jerry Andrews: And Dominator crushes the North American champion with the Anachronism!

Dominator plants both hands on Gabriel's chest and shoves down in a pin. Gabriel is out.

The referee and the crowd: ONE...







TWO...







THREE!!

Ding ding ding

"Here is your winner, the Pure Class Wrestling Underground Champion... DOMINATOR!!!"

Horatio Mortimer comes into the ring, handing Dominator his title, which a peeved Dominator snatches, and helping him to his feet. The referee is tending to Gabriel, who hasn't revived yet.

Jerry Andrews: Gabriel tried every trick he could to take Dominator off balance, but the new Underground Champion proved he wasn't going to take Gabriel's attempt to usurp his spotlight with good humor. Dominator smashes Gabriel tonight.

Ace Anderson: Dominator still has yet to be beaten one on one, and he's racking up an impressive resume. Pinning the North American Champion here tonight is really a big eye opener in my book.

Jerry Andrews: I'm starting to wonder if anyone can stop him.

Winner: Dominator via Pinfall

Gabriel is being helped to his feet. On the ramp, Dominator raises his title in the air and gives a victorious roar, as Horatio Mortimer claps his hands.

Lights dim and the PCW-Tron goes black. With the sound of a sharp nib scratching along a ragged sheet of parchment, a sepia-toned cursive scrawls grimm[/b] across the screen. The name flickers, wavering in and out of focus with the occasional tracking glitch as if projected from an old forgotten film canister uncovered on the bottom shelf in the cellar.

And then…that music. Sparse percussion taps out through the arena before being joined by what can be described almost as a distorted rendition of that familiar tune calling up the dead-eyed killer from the abyss. And much like the heralding of the cold pitiless creature devouring all in its path, this little ditty results in a similar response from many -- some distressing alchemy of terror and respect.

Don’t fret precious, I’m here. Step away from the window.

Grimm walks out to a single blue-white spotlight, stops to bask in the light and shadows, and looks over the crowd. He’s decked out in his in-ring finery, because you just never know. Better safe than sorry, and all that. The Lord of Misrule begins the long walk down the ramp, dead-set on the ring and ignoring the fans lining the way. The spotlight follows. The words work their way up through the layers of the song.

Go back to sleep.

Phinehas climbs up onto the apron and slides in between the ropes. Instead of mounting any turnbuckles, though, he produces a microphone from a back pocket as he roams the ring from pillar to post. His eyes (oh lord, those eyes) scan the arena as he moves. There have been far too many blindside attacks recently to let down one’s guard.

CONSTANT VIGILANCE!

As it is, the song fades away and Grimm pauses on one side of the ring. He raises the microphone to where his mouth would be were it not concealed by the Beard.

“Look what I can do, Johnny. I can go fishing for reactions, too.”

Grimm turns and feints towards the audience. The first four rows flinch in unison. A few fans throw up their hands in defense. Some involuntary whimpers escape. No doubt others pee just a little bit.

He resumes his pacing.

“I don’t know why he decided on me, and I’m not going to stand here and tell you I understand that logic. Maybe it’s how the roulette ball fell. Maybe he threw a dart over his shoulder at a PCW roster and hit me right between the eyes. Maybe he figured, what better way to attempt a comeback than to challenge the Hangtown Horror.”

Grimm holds out his hands and shrugs.

“What was it Stormm said…’the point he’s trying to prove is that it doesn’t matter who he steps into the ring with, or when, or where, he’s ready to go.’”

Those pale ginger brows knit into a scowl of the utmost severity.

“I’ve built my career proving that very point. Over and over again for years on end, I’ve unloaded on all comers while people like Johnny Vivacious have left and returned on multiple occasions. I’ve fought his kind back then, I fight them now, and I will fight them again. I’m not going to name any names lest I forget someone…”

When recounting this night later to their friends, those at ringside will swear they saw Grimm wink at Ace Anderson. But that can’t be right.

“…but suffice it to say it’s a veritable PCW pantheon laid to waste in my wake.”

“So, sure, Johnny. Bring your middle fingers and your rabble rousing and your fancy duds, and I’ll bring…well, you know.”

Grimm pauses to look towards the entry way, as one does when addressing someone who is not present at the moment.

“And we will do this.”

Having said his piece, Grimm slips through the ropes and drops to the floor. A Perfect Circle’s “Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums” picks up right where it left off. As he walks by the announcers’ table Grimm hands the microphone to Ace Anderson, then proceeds up the ramp to the loving embrace of the backstage area where hopefully nothing more than a pumpkin falls prey to that skinning knife.

Jerry Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, we are back and it's time for our main event!

Ace Anderson: Kyle Shane versus Justin "Stormm" Michaels! Both of these men have earned the right to compete for championships at Collision Course, now we're going to fine out which ones!

“The following match is scheduled for one fall and will determine the number one contenders to the World and North American championships!”

"NO-TOR-I-OUS!"

"SO NO-TOR-I-OUS!"

The arena lights dim down to a gentle glow and a dense fog begins to cover the entrance way. The fans start to rise to their feet as a sudden bright flash of light floods the crowd before a deafening crash of thunder rattles the foundation and leaves the arena in darkness. "Notorious" by Adelitas Way instigates a small riot amongst those in attendance as flashes of light, like lightning, are all that illuminate the arena for the Force of Nature, and Justin Michaels appears through the curtain and onto the stage.

"SO NO-TOR-I-OUS!"

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.

"Introducing at this time, from Kansas City, Kansas; weighing in at two hundred and fifty-two pounds..."

The Force of Nature interacts with fans on his way down the ramp as the first verse of "Notorious" accompanies him, but he never gets close enough to high five those begging for them, or to let anyone in the crowd touch him. The smile on his face is ripe with condescension, but the faithful are too amped up to notice. As he makes it to ringside, Stormm patrols around to the opposite side of the ring and gives a salute towards Ace and Jerry before hopping up onto the apron, and motions to the crowd once more.

"... The Force of Nature... JUSTIN "STORMM" MICHAELS!"

Justin climbs 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 dark arena, mimicking the lightning flashes, and the chorus of his theme song helps set the mood as the lights finally brighten back to the venue's usual lighting. Justin repeats his actions and poses on the turnbuckle in the opposite corner before hopping down from the corner as his music fades out, but the overwhelming applause does not as he stands the ready for his match.

“And his opponent... ”

The opening notes of "In The Morning And Amazing" by Circa Survive begins to play. The big screen shows shots of Kyle’s matches. Kyle Shane steps slowly out onto the stage. Kyle snaps the collar to his NCR Ranger duster upward. The distinctive voice of Anthony Green hits the bridge:

"And how could anyone
You are in my dreams
Half human, half machine
You with someone else that I have felt and seen
I cannot rest, or my consciousness contest
Looking right through the lens
From winter brings the spring again"

Kyle tilts his head back and holds his arms out, taking in the reception of the crowd.

"... hailing from Boston, Massachusetts; weighing two hundred, eighteen pounds, KYLE SHANE!"

For the PCW faithful that are just getting to know him, there is a modest show of respect, but the truly dedicated that have followed his career stir mightily. Some on the sides of the aisles even make a fanning bow motion as Kyle walks by. 1/2 the way down the aisle, Kyle pivots, holding his arms up to either side of him. He climbs onto the apron. Kyle balances on the ropes for a moment, points to himself and smirks, holding his arms out, and then he hops down, takes off his duster and stretches a few times to get ready.

DING!
DING!
DING!

Number One Contendership Match
Justin "Stormm" Michaels w/ Johnny Vivacious vs Kyle Shane
Referee: Joseph Buckland

Pure Class Wrestling fans are in for a first time treat here, as Kyle Shane and Justin “Stormm” Michaels do battle with high stakes on the line. The two men are in no hurry to lock horns, instead soaking in the moment as fans are already starting with THIS IS AWESOME chants. Indeed. This is as even as a contest can be. They circle around the ring. An interested outside party in the form of Johnny Vivacious does his part to keep the fans vocal. They lock up!

Stormm and Shane engage in a struggle for the upper hand. They both exchange fleeting moments of getting the advantage, but otherwise are in a deadlock. They disengage and back off momentarily. The dual egomaniacs are oozing with confidence in their abilities. Neither wanting to make what could be a costly error as the match progresses. Dueling chants start to electrify things even further.

JUS-TIN MICHAELS!
KYLE SHANE!

Both men halt to gaze at the sea of vocal fans. Each acknowledging them in their own way. After a pause, the two meet in the center, locking in a second grapple. Stormm immediately cuts in with a side headlock. He squeezes down on it with added force. Kyle throws forearms into his ribs, but it doesn’t change things. He pushes Stormm back on his feet until he meets the ropes. Stormm is whipped across. He knocks Shane down with a shoulder block. Stormm hits the ropes again. He leaps over a flat Kyle Shane. A leap frog from the God of Game. Stormm returns to meet a quick hip toss. He lands on his feet! Not only that, he hangs on to swing Kyle over with an armdrag. Kyle himself keeps a grip on Stormm’s right arm, so that he is pulled into a counter armdrag.

They are both up quick. Shane gets Stormm in a headlock of his own, then wrestles him over onto his back. Stormm brings his legs up, grapevining Kyle’s head. Kyle does a handstand and flips out of it. He blasts Stormm in the teeth with a forearm strike. The impact also smashing his head against the mat. The lighting quick Shane is up with Stormm being assisted. Kyle unloads with stiff kicks to the quadriceps of Stormm. Each stinging shot finds their mark. But the crafty Justin Michaels catches Shane from the left, trapping him at the knee. Justin pulls him in for a t-bone suplex! Stormm races over to scoop Kyle up, then runs him back first into the corner. Shane hits with a thud. Stormm finds himself on the defense as Kyle is quick to throw down with combination punches. Stormm is worked away from the corner. He ducks under a wild swing, turning it into a quick go behind waistlock. Shane blocks the attempted German suplex. He stomps on Stormm’s foot, throws an elbow into his ear and counters around. Shane hits a German of his own! Justin rolls out of the ring before Kyle can follow up.

Jerry Andrews: Wow! What a blistering opening we just saw. Both men are deserving to be in the World Title match, but there can only be one.

Ace Andrews: Thank you, Connor MacLeod.

While Justin has a conference with Johnny V, whom is taking a long drag of his cigarette (he blows the smoke in Kyle’s general direction), Kyle pumps the crowd up. Justin climbs into the ring, he catches a charging Shane with a knee to the midsection. Stormm flips around and scores this time with a German suplex! His sixth sense on display there. Justin brings him to his feet, burying the knee again. Kyle is hoisted at an angle with a gutwrench suplex. The impact of which has him grabbing at his back. Stormm rolls him back over. He gets up and has his foot caught before it can stomp Kyle’s guts. Shane turns his ankle around, bringing Michaels down. Kyle scores with an ugly looking bulldog. He brings Stormm up. His rapid kicks start to work over the previously injured left knee of Stormm. His speed is too much to properly halt. Justin is forced into the ropes. An Irish whip. Stormm ducks a clothesline. He spins Kyle around. Clothesline over the top rope! Stormm rolls out of the ring to keep pace. Kyle finds his face hitting the ring apron. Stormm rolls inside. He hits the ropes. Baseball slide! No! Shane catches it in time. He yanks Justin out of the ring, dumping him hard on the floor. Kyle rolls inside. At breakneck speed, he hits the ropes and comes flying like a torpedo with a barrel roll suicide dive!

Kyle slaps some outstretched hands before he deposits Stormm back into the ring. Johnny Vivacious was lurking around the corner, and got a stare from Kyle. Johnny V raises his arms as if to say he is just watching. Shane comes back in with a double jump moonsault! He remains over Stormm with his legs hooked.

1!

Not quite a two count, as Justin powers out. Kyle gets up and grabs Stormm by the left leg. Justin uses his free right to kick at Kyle. Midsection, legs, wherever he can stop things from progressing. It works. Stormm rolls back so that he is on his feet. He picks a spot and hits a beauty of a dropkick! Kyle is up and introduced to a hip toss, but Stormm keeps his arm. He wraps around and brings the weight of his right knee down into the bend of Kyle’s forearm, crashing it into the mat. Stormm doesn’t relinquish. Kyle is pulled onto his feet and into a side Russian leg sweep. Stormm floats over for a pin of his own.

1!

Kyle kicks out right at the initial count. The fans applaud both men. Stormm picks Shane up. He sends him into the corner, but eats an elbow for his troubles. He shakes it off. Kyle slips through the ropes, Stormm meets buckles. Kyle high points his head from the apron with a kick. Stormm is dropped to a knee. Kyle goes for a springboard assault, but Justin is there to push him into the railing below. Kyle hits chest first as he topples over. Stormm rolls onto his hip. He puts on an act over the condition of his left knee. It’s just enough to grab the referee’s attention. Johnny Vivacious picks up on the cue. He approaches Kyle. He is forced onto all fours with kicks and strikes.

Jerry Andrews (outraged): What the---hey ref, there is a mugging going on!

Ace Anderson: Johnny Vivacious doesn’t give a (censored)!

Vivacious climbs onto Kyle’s back. He jumps in the air and brings his elbow down onto the back of Kyle Shane’s neck. A move he calls the Hell-Bow! After a snot rocket gets blown on him, Johnny V gives the “all clear” sign to Justin. Stormm returns to his feet. When the referee turns around to check on things, all he sees is Johnny rolling Kyle back into the ring. When questioned, Vivacious denies any wrong doing, instead making his case that he is just doing his part to keep things inside. But it comes with a wink wink smile. The fans, who had been neutral, have started to slowly sour. Not enough of them to be a major concern, but they aren’t happy about things. Stormm nails a snap suplex. He rolls through and pulls Kyle into an implant DDT for his troubles!

1!

2!

Kickout. The technically sound Stormm sits up and gives a look of disapproval. Kyle is introduced head first into the top turnbuckle. Michaels kicks him three times in the gut. Then resorts to a foot choke, which brings the zebra over to administer a count. Justin raises his hands and backs away. It’s just long enough for a drive by eye rake from Johnny V! Kyle sells it like a champ. Vivacious keeps his sprint around the ring until he returns to “his side” of the ring. Flicking the ashes off his cigarette, he resumes watching the match like everyone else. But he isn’t going to be on people’s Christmas lists. Stormm walks in and retrieves Kyle. Shane throws in some quick jabs. He sprinkles in a pair of leg strikes, but Stormm takes his turn to rake the eyes. With Kyle turned away, a kidney shot is next. Reverse DDT! Stormm goes for another pin.

1!

2!

Nope! The resilient Kyle Shane refuses to stay down. Justin nods to himself. He picks up on the turned fans reaction. Stormm, in making sure they are treated with respect, begins to clap and stomp. Johnny V in a show of goodwill, does the same, going so far as to slap hands to show he is “sorry” for getting involved. While not quite forgiven, the faithful do feel like they are a part of something big, so they join in on the festivities. Stormm brings Shane up. He sends him into the ropes, then gets him with a knee to the gut. Kyle is pulled to the center. Abdominal stretch! Stormm has it locked in tight as he puts the hold on lock. The referee is right there to check for any sign of calling it quits.

Kyle Shane is the ultimate gamer, do you honestly think he’s going to quit? HELL NO! But he is certainly feeling the submission. Shane declines to quit, so Stormm pushes down for added pressure. LET’S GO KYLE starts. It only annoys Michaels further. Shane feeds off those chants. He hears the people he inspires. He fights his way up and turns the tables! The damage done is a little much to really get things locked in for long, but Stormm is forced to defend. He fights his way out. Kyle is ran backwards into the corner. Kyle drapes his arms across the ropes. Stormm moves away and then turns to see the predicament. Stormm runs in…

Kyle catches him! He walks out of the corner with Michaels set for an exploder suplex. Nuka-World! Stormm is flipped hard in the corner, head and back first. Kyle collapses after executing it, but the fans roar with appreciation for the devastating signature.

Jerry Andrews: That may be the opening Kyle needed!

Johnny Vivacious slams his hands on the mat in an attempt to get his brother-in-law back on the attack. Kyle is shown crawling his way to the middle of the ring and onto a knee. Stormm is stirring after he rolls himself over. When business picks up, Kyle Shane works his way into a second wind! Stormm is met with Three amigos style suplexes, and a joined brainbuster for good measure! Kyle bursts with energy. He backs into the corner, waits, Emblem Heartless! There’s a count!

1!

2!

NO! Justin “Stormm” Michaels kicks the hell out of that. Kyle yanks him by the hair. He bridges his arms behind him, looking for a double arm DDT. Stormm fights tooth and nail. Kyle is persistent, but is unable to get things in place. Stormm runs him again in the corner, getting in a quick pair of shoulder thrusts to take the wind temporarily out of Kyle’s sails. Shane reverses course and moves things back to the center, but Justin is ready. He throws Kyle’s arms back, then surprises him with a belly to belly suplex. Or what was supposed to be. Kyle bell claps as he is picked up. Stormm is whipped. It’s reversed. Goddess White Sword!

REVERSED!

Stormm finds a way to counter. He swings his own momentum around so that he is behind Kyle Shane. Stormm wraps his left arm around Kyle’s neck, leaning him backwards. Stormm grabs a handful of tights, and with his free right hand, lifts him in the air. Stormm falls backward, driving Kyle’s head and neck onto the mat with a Hangcloud DDT! Johnny V was seen jumping in the air and stomping down at the collision point. He double fist pumps the air and then counts along with fans as a frantic Stormm goes for a pin.

1!

2!

3—KICKOUT!

Ace Anderson: Kyle Shane is still alive!

Stormm goes from jubilation to mouth gaped torment. He puts his head in his hands, then slams said hands into the mat. Stormm knows he has not a second to waste. He moves himself out on the apron. He climbs to the top and when the time comes, hits a missile dropkick. Stormm brings Kyle up. There’s a lifted reverse STO, Flash Flood! A pin!

1!

2!

FOOT ON THE ROPES!

Stormm is alerted. Anguish sets in. The ring intelligent Justin Michaels may have got wrapped in the moment, which would be understandable. Stormm looks for an Irish whip. Kyle reverses, but pulls himself into a successful Goddess White Sword! Stormm rolls himself away from any sort of pin, leaving Kyle to ponder exhaustion.

THIS IS AWESOME! -clap, clap-

Both Kyle Shane and Justin Michaels are down. Each having hit two of their signatures. Fans are loving it. Throats are going to be sore in the morning. Classes will need to be cancelled. This is an example of two men leaving it all on the line, creating a potential Pure Class Wrestling classic, that should give fans their monies worth. To the victor goes the spoils and a date with Seromine, for the World Title at Collision Course. The loser receives a shot at Gabriel’s North American Title, which is the second highest championship in the company. The referee has his count up to five before any action returns. Johnny V lights up two cigs at the same time as his nerves are fraying. Both are up and are reaching for that one extra piece of offense that will put the other down for the important three. Stormm slugs Kyle with a right hand. He wavers, and then strikes with a stiff kick to the hamstring. Stormm bullets a right forearm. Kyle sends one back from the left. Sweat blasts from the brows of these two main eventers. The strikes get closer and less spaced on return times. A slugfest! Neither grabs that all important advantage, instead absorbing shot after shot after shot. Stormm blocks one, forcing Shane to punch himself as a follow. Seeing his window of opportunity, Kyle is set in a suplex position, Stormm’s left arm over the back of his head, and Kyle’s own over his left shoulder. The self proclaimed, God of Game, senses trouble is afoot. Stormm has Shane’s left leg momentarily, but Kyle fights with everything he’s got to prevent what will be his ending fate. He buckles on going any further. Stormm tries keeping his wits about him, but is unable to continue with his Force of Nature finisher.

Jerry Andrews: Danger avoided by Kyle Shane!

Ace Anderson: That isn’t the only finisher Stormm has, Jerry!

Stormm introduces his right knee to the nose of Kyle Shane, watering his eyes. He spins Kyle around and sends him into the ropes. Shane barrel rolls under a lariat. He carries his momentum into a stand. Stormm whirls around...into a QUICK roundhouse kick. Kyle buries the bottom of his heel into the point of Stormm’s left eye socket. With the sudden strike ability, coupled with the pinpoint accuracy, it legitimately catches Justin by surprise! It’s a finisher Kyle Shane calls VATS.

Stormm topples down. Kyle crumples down himself, as if that took up his reserve. Johnny V’s head slowly lowers. Pandemonium has taken center stage. With one long lunge, Kyle Shane lays across Stormm and gets a leg hooked.

1!

2!

3!

And that’s all she wrote! Kyle propels himself up onto his knees, beyond exhausted, but well aware of what his victory means.

“Here is the winner of the match, Kyle Shane!”

There is not one fan sitting down. What there is, is sustained applause, ovations, shows of appreciation for BOTH men. This was an all out fight between two of the best to step inside of the ring, and it shows. Kyle has his arm raised as his music pulsates in the arena.

Winner: Kyle Shane via Pinfall

Jerry Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, what a MATCH!

Ace Anderson: Both of these men gave it everything they have! They both deserve the title shots they now have. And a HUGE congratulations to Kyle Shane who...

Jerry Andrews: WHAT THE HELL?!

Seromine AND Gabriel are here! They hit the ring full speed and are all over their challengers. Seromine pounds Kyle Shane. Gabriel works over Stormm. They are being mercilessly booed, but they have come to make an example of these two. Johnny Vivacious is not going to put up with that for one second. He hops into the ring, and goes to town on the two opportunists. Seromine is rocked first, then Gabriel. Vivacious fights them off as long as he can, but the numbers game catches up. They get in their licks on Johnny V.

Jerry Andrews: GET THESE TWO OUT OF THE RING! Stormm and Shane just had an exhausting match and they were attacked from behind!

WAIT! The numbers game turns to three-on-two! Stormm and Shane put their differences aside and work together with Johnny Vivacious to clear the ring of the holy rollers. The trio line up back-to-back-to-back, daring them to jump in and try again.

Jerry Andrews: This is pure bedlam! Seromine and Gabriel have no business being here!

Ace Anderson: I beg to differ, Andrews! They are the holders of the top two titles in our company. That means they can show up as they please!

Jerry Andrews: So why don’t they get in the ring then, if they are such tough guys?!

Ace Anderson (defiantly): Why does Notorious and Kyle Shane need any backup?!

Jerry Andrews (beside himself): For the love of...fans, we’ll see you at the next Trauma. Maybe by then, my partner will have no more excuses left to make.

- CLICK -

[Rick Majors]

A seg that was accidentally missed has been added to the results. My apologies.