Trauma 241 Results

[Rick Majors]

Pure Class Wrestling Trauma
Thursday November 8th, 2018

Once again, the crowd inside the Pure Class Arena is on their feet! They're loud and proud and ready to watch another exciting episode of Trauma! As the camera pans across the cheering Faithful, the announce team welcomes the audience at home.

Jerry Andrews: We are live once again, folks! Welcome to PCW Trauma! I'm Jerry Andrews, ready for another exciting show alongside my partner Ace Anderson!

Ace Anderson: Hello Jerry and hello everyone out there watching at home. I'm Ace Anderson and what a show we have for you tonight! Woo! I'm excited!

The lights go out. The crowd cheers instinctively before eventually falling silent. Suddenly the sound of guitars pierce through the silence. "Wastelands" by Linkin Park begins to boom throughout the arena, the lights in the building flashing along with the drum beat of the song. Then, from the entrance way, steps Rick Majors.

Jerry Andrews: Well..... I guess he's back!

Ace Anderson: I had a feeling we saw him return last week and now here he is!

Wearing a black denim military jacket, a grey t-shirt, and jeans, Rick Majors pauses for a moment and looks down briefly. He then looks up and starts to make his way to the ring.

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

Majors walks slowly, looking out around the arena as he continues his way down to the ring.

"And no, I'm not afraid of that
Print it in your paperback
Every rap is made in fact
To act as a delayed attack
Every phrase a razor blade
That's saved until they play it back
To slay and leave em laying on the pavement
Bang, fade to black"

The lights in the arena burst on fully as the song's chorus hits.

In the wastelands of today,
When there's nothing left to lose,
And and there's nothing more to take,
But you force yourself to choose,
In the wastelands of today,
When tomorrow disappears
When the future slips away,
And your hope turns into fear,
In the wastelands of today.

Majors climbs the ring steps and pauses. He turns towards the crowd, standing on the ring apron for a moment before entering the ring. Majors stands in the centre of the ring, looking out towards the crowd. He slowly starts to circle the ring, stopping briefly to grab a microphone from a ringside attendant. He then starts to speak.

Rick Majors: For almost two long years I stood by Seromine's side. I did what I was told. I followed his orders, I helped him win matches, I took out his enemies. I sacrificed myself for him. I spread his message - spread his LIES - around the world to anyone who would listen.

And why? ... I'm not proud of it, but the reality is that I was desperate. I was at a low point in my life and I was looking for somewhere to belong. Seromine took advantage of me.

And that's what cults do. They prey on the vulnerable and those who crave acceptance. Seromine is not a religious leader. He's certainly NOT a god. He's a man with a cult... a cult that is rapidly falling apart.

Majors stops walking around the ring and looks out at the PCW Faithful.

Rick Majors: So what changed? Why did I drive his head through the ring on the last episode of Trauma? Why now? You know.... it wasn't just one thing. It was a combination of things.

Majors starts to circle around the ring once again as he speaks.

Rick Majors: Remember when he and I were the last two men in the Deadly Rumble last year? I'd won that match before, just a year earlier, and I wanted to win it again. But I was under a spell. I was deluded. So, I followed orders. I did what I was told. And Seromine walked out of that match the victor.

Remember when Brenna Gordon came for Seromine? Again, I followed orders. Again, I did what I was told. I took her out. I injured her before she could even step in the ring with him.

Over and over again, I would help Seromine in matches, before matches, and after matches. I did what I was told. And it wasn’t enough. He always wanted more. He had my total devotion, but that wasn't enough for him. He needed more. He played little games with me. He told lies. He abused me, physically and emotionally. But whatever he did, it couldn't make up for his own flaws. Whatever physical or psychological harm he caused me wasn’t enough for him to overcome his own failings. No matter what he did or what he said or how he treated me, he could never become the god he so desperately wanted to be.

Majors stops circling and he leans on the ropes, facing the entrance way.

Rick Majors: The reality it, despite my help, he wasn’t doing very well. A few weeks ago, on this very show, you saw him lose to Kyle Shane. Again. He had his head shaved. He was publicly humiliated. He was exposed for who he really is. And yet, he still had a hold over me. At Deadly Intentions, I did everything in my power to help him regain the PCW World Championship. To help him beat Kyle Shane. And he still couldn't do it.

And then, when he was down and out, and I had my chance to do what he couldn't and pin Kyle Shane, he stopped me. He couldn’t handle the fact that he couldn’t get the job done, but that maybe I could.

Our relationship was never a two-way street. It was about doing whatever possible to help him succeed. Like all cults, he used his followers to prop himself up, to make himself seem better than he is. Of course, I had fleeting thoughts of this earlier, but I pushed them aside. I wanted to belong, I wanted to feel like I was a part of something, so ignored them. But I couldn't ignore them any longer. Reality was slowly setting in for me.

Majors takes a moment before continuing.

Rick Majors: Why did I break free from Seromine when I did? Because turnabout is fair play. Almost two years ago, he took advantage of me at my lowest point. Now he was at his lowest point. He couldn’t beat Kyle Shane, no matter what he or I did. He was humiliated. He had his head shaved. He was mocked on live TV. And then he had Stormm on his tail as well, playing mind games with a scarecrow and pushing him to the brink. This is his lowest point.

It was time. Boom. Two years of servitude ended in an instant. And it felt good.

But, while right now is Seromine's lowest point to date, it's not as bad as it's going to get. Oh no, it will get worse. Much worse. You took everything from me. You took my name. You took my identity. You took my family. You took my LIFE. And now I'm going to take yours.

Get out here right now, "My Lord" and face me man-to-man. Come on!

Majors waits, looking up at the entrance way, but nothing happens. He looks around the arena, but there is no sight of Seromine anywhere.

Jerry Andrews: It looks like he’s not coming.

Ace Anderson: Did you actually think he would?

Rick Majors: Oh, of course you're not here. Because you don't have the guts to do anything one-on-one, do you? You can't stand up to anyone by yourself, can you? Well, look around you. Your group of Followers is getting smaller and smaller.

You're not the inspirational leader you thought you were, are you?

There’s another reality that dawned on me recently. And it relates to Tyler Scott and Holden Ross. I’ve known Tyler for years. And I’ve known Holden’s father for even longer. When they joined your side, Seromine, they boosted your power. They made it look like your influence was growing. But they didn’t join because of you... they joined because of ME.

The crowd cheers.

Jerry Andrews: Ouch!

Rick Majors: I was able to do what you couldn’t. Yes, you took advantage of my weakened mental state to bring me to your side, but you weren’t able to bring anyone else aboard. But I was. You’re a cult leader who isn’t even good at running his own cult.

Suddenly, "Seizure of Power" by Marilyn Manson begins to play, and Holden Ross appears in the entrance way.

Holden emerges from the back and stops at the top of the ramp, Tessa behind him, just off of his left shoulder. He drags his thumb across his throat and brings the mic to his lips.

“Cut my music!”

The music abruptly stops and he continues.

“I’ve been listening to you from the back and you got it all wrong! True, my Father called you and pitched the idea of me joining up with you guys but it was me, it was my work and my ruthlessness that brought me into the group. He needed someone like me, an attack dog to get shit done; someone who doesn’t wallow in mediocrity like Tyler Scott. So yes, Rick, is it now? Yes, you were the middle man and played a small part in bringing me into the fold but I was only welcomed after it was proven that you and Tyler couldn’t get shit done!

You wanna know which side I fall, Rick? My Father, he says I should back you. Ethan Andrews, the NLCW Hall of Famer, a friend of yours as well, has told me to side with you. But I can’t help but think back to you turning your back on Him. He is the reason I was the Underground King. He is the reason I have gotten some of the spotlight as of late. And he is the reason I'm not stuck wrestling talent enhancement anymore like Razor! He is the side I choose, Rick, not you. Not a relic of the past like Ethan and my Father as well….”

Suddenly the arena lights cut out. They don't return anytime soon. That's not to say there isn't any light source, though...

Majors' attention is pulled towards the stage by a display of candles. He gets into a defensive stance. He keeps turning around, looking for any signs that his former leader is near.

Four young children, two of each gender and dressed in white Sunday school clothing, are standing by. Two have the ends of a jump rope swinging around the hops of their young friends. In unison they recite a familiar prayer:

Now I lay me down to sleep.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray to Seromine my soul to take.

RICK MAJORS IS CHOP BLOCKED FROM BEHIND! Seromine unloads with venom and fury, becoming increasingly violent with each passing strike. He calls for Holden to get him a chair. ABSOLUTION STOMP to the knees of Majors, making sure to make the last a double variety to his face.

Ross passes him the weapon. Seromine drives the chair into Majors’ spine again. And again. Holden Ross makes his way inside of the ring, but Seromine orders him to back off. Seromine is enraged, repeatedly slamming the chair into Majors’ prone body. He directs Ross to take out any incoming official that tries to get inside.

Jerry Andrews: Seromine has totally lost it. Management needs to get some serious help out here and fast!

Ace Anderson: Rick Majors should have expected something like this when he crossed Seromine!

Seromine throws the chair at the help that comes, forcing a scatter. His intense anger is on full display. Holden drags a beaten and battered Majors close to the center of the ring. Seromine has his arms held out like he's embracing all of the booing that's being showered. An unhinged grin is on his face.

Seromine requests Majors be fed to him. Holden does just that and watches a devastating release rolling sit out powerbomb hit with authority!

Jerry Andrews: DID YOU HEAR THAT IMPACT?!

Ace Anderson: It was major!

Seromine looks with a callous stare. First at Majors, then Holden. There are two notable things about his appearance. His attire is what the now former Gabriel wore. The left side of his face is painted white with a black ANARCHY symbol. Suddenly, Seromine's gaze sharply turns towards the press boxes. Seromine goes into a quick prayer and takes his leave through the faithful, just as quick as he arrived.

Holden looks down at the prone body of Rick Majors and then out to Him.

“Like I told Rick, I am on your side, my Lord. I live a dog's life... loyal to a fault...

Holden leaves the ring as the show heads to commercial.

Sasha Greene: The following is scheduled for one fall... introducing first, he weighs in at 227 lbs... TYRONE "Crazy Boy" SMITH!!


The lights flicker and fade out as the pulsating beats of Dope Star Inc's "10000 Watts of Artificial Pleasure" pops on the PA system. Smoke fills the arena as a figure stands in the middle of it. All the sudden, Tyrone 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 opponent to come.

Jerry Andrews: Really good to see Tyrone back in action tonight.

Ace Anderson (Squeaky voiced): Is it? Is it really?

The crowd looks to the entrance way as Up In Here by DMX roars out and they know who is coming out from backstage and they start cheering loudly almost drowning out the music.

Winston steps through the curtain his face lit up with an smile

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

Sasha Greene: And his opponent from Harlem, New York standing 6”4 and weighing in at 465 lbs... He is “The Chocolate Collosus" and Your mom's favourite wrestler! WINSTON WILSON!

He waves to the crowd and high fives them as he goes dancing down the ramp as he makes his way to the ring making them go off even more. Winston walks down sees a kid at ringside and holds up his sign and takes a selife.

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

Jerry Andrews: Are you registering the size of this newcomer, Wilson?! He just stepped over the ropes!

Ace Anderson: If you look on my chart of wrestler physiques, the scale goes from "absolute unit" to "chonky" to Wilson's size, nearly breaking my chart, which is known only as "Oh Lawd, He Comin'".

Singles Match
Winston Wilson vs Tyrone "Crazy Boy" Smith
Referee: Nigel Gale

Smith and Winston walk out towards the center of the ring. Flashbulbs flicker throughout the building as the two men begin talking shit back and forth before the big man motions for Crazy Boy to come towards him for a tie-up. As Crazy Boy does so, Wilson breaks off, turning to the crowd to get them pumped up and play to them. The crowd, reacting positively to the big newcomer, responds with a pop. Tyrone responds by stomping his foot and yelling.

Jerry Andrews: Not much has been revealed to us about the newcomer, the so-called Chocolate Colossus, but still, the crowd seems to be taking to him!

Ace Anderson: Because he's a novelty obsession! He comes out here playing to the crowd and dancing but he's just a giant behemoth that needs a few rounds of Jenny Craig.

Jerry Andrews: Ace... Jenny Craig? Really? Your self-help guru references are a little outdated.

Ace Anderson: Andrews, look at these abs... do you think I need to do pilates?

Crazy Boy snaps and shoves Wilson, not budging him much, but Wilson responds by standing in place. Finally, Wilson holds a hand out, and Crazy Boy, for some reason (spoiler: he's crazy) decides to go for a test of strength. Wilson wrenches in crushes Tyrone's hand. Tyrone hops from foot to foot, howling in pain as his hand and wrist is crushed, and Wilson gives him a Biel throw by the arm, sending Crazy Boy slinging across the ring. Tyrone lands on his butt with a thud, and rolls over, holding his back and looking outraged. Wilson takes a moment to dance and play to the crowd.

Jerry Andrews: The big man is out here to have fun, and the fans at ringside are loving it!

Ace Anderson: Crazy Boy looks nonplussed, for his part.

Tyrone shoots back to his feet and uses his speed to zoom around the massive side of Wilson. Wilson can't see Tyrone on his side due to his bulk. Tyrone tries to pick the ankle of the big man but is having trouble lifting the big ham hock up. Wilson looks down with amusement at Tyrone struggling to move him. Then he hammers Tyrone in the back of the head. Tyrone falls to his knees holding the back of his head. Wilson leads a clap with the front row, getting them into the groove, and he goes to lift Tyrone back up. He bulldozes Tyrone back into a neutral corner. The referee asks for the clean break which he's given. Wilson calls Tyrone out to the center of the ring. Tyrone comes forward where the two lock up once more with Tyrone latching on to a side head lock! Wilson backs Tyrone up against the ropes before shooting him across the ring, Tyrone bounces off the ropes into a military press, the big man holding him high over head, before dumping him to the mat.

Ace Anderson: Tyrone's gonna have to put in some work if he wants to take that big meat mountain down.

Winston again turns to dance and play to the crowd, as Tyrone gets to his feet, gritting his teeth in annoyance at being dumped so easily. Smith and Winston lock up once more where once again each man looks for an advantage only to shove off each other once more. Both men talk shit once more before locking up a third time, this time it's Tyrone who snatches a side headlock. Smith cranks on the head of Wilson before Winston backs him up against the ropes, Wilson shoots Tyrone across the ring, Smith bounces off the ropes where he's lifted up again in a military press! The crowd roars as Winston turns it into a military press dropped into a massive powerslam!

Ace Anderson: Oh Lawd, he coming!

Tyrone is quickly to both knees, yelling in pain as he clutches at his back while the crowd pops for Winston who taunts Smith. Tyrone takes a second before standing up to a vertical base. Smith and Wilson look to lock up once more only to have Tyrone takes a back waist lock before dropping down yanking both massive feet out from under Wilson sending Winston crashing down like a glacier. Tyrone quickly floats over into a front face lock before quickly paintbrush slapping Winston across the back of the head to a mixed pop from the crowd. Tyrone is quickly to his feet where he taunts Winston.

Jerry Andrews: I don't think Wilson has ever considered that an amateur wrestler would be able to find a way to take him off his feet.

Ace Anderson: Yeah, Tyrone's not gonna have good luck slamming that man, but there are other ways to take him down.

Winston starts working his way back to his feet where he and Tyrone circle each other once more before looking to lock up only to see Wilson drive a knee into the midsection of Tyrone. Wilson follows up with a clubbing blow across the back before raising Tyrone up for a hard right hand. Winston backs Smith up against the ropes before hurling him across the ring, Tyrone bounces off the ropes and into a an overhead release belly to belly suplex! Wilson quickly makes the cover on the Crazy Boy.

The referee: One...













Two...

Tyrone escapes the near fall! Wilson is back to his feet where he picks Smith up off the mat before muscling him back into a neutral corner with a shoulder block. Winston lays several stiff shoulders to the midsection before following up with a chop across the chest to a "WOOOOO" from the crowd! Winston fires Smith across the ring and into the opposite buckles, Smith bounces off the buckles where he's met with a sidewalk slam by the big man.

Jerry Andrews: With ease!

Tyrone narrowly escapes the near fall as Winston once again reaches his feet. Wilson picks Tyrone up before taking him by the throat where he looks to deliver a chokeslam! Wilson hoists Tyrone up in the air only to have Smith free himself from Wilson's grasp on the way up. Tyrone lands on his feet! Wilson spins around where he eats a boot to the midsection. Tyrone takes a front face lock before hoisting Winston up in the air with a suplex. Somewhat predictably, his back arches in agony and he can't lift Winston Wilson's giant frame any more than Wilson will let him. Tyrone releases the suplex, holding his back and turning around in pain. Winston stalks after him, ready to grab him by the head, but Tyrone instead gives him a quick and crafty Pele kick that sends Winston pinwheeling back. The big man in stunned! He falls against the ropes, looking confused. Smith runs across the ring where he bounces off the opposite ropes, he gains full speed before driving a flying double legged dropkick into the face of Wilson which sends Winston falling between the ropes to the apron. Tyrone holds his arms out, gaining a respectable reaction from the crowd. Wilson pulls himself up on the apron, shaking his head out, and Tyrone springboards onto the ropes, giving in a triangle missile dropkick that catches Wilson right on the button as he steadies himself on the apron. A stunned Wilson falls completely off the apron, the big man turning in mid air and landing sternum and chest first into the security railing!

Ace Anderson: Talk about a HUGE momentum shifter!

Jerry Andrews: That was a nasty fall off the ring apron to say the least.

Tyrone rolls out to the floor where he lays a few boots to the fallen Wilson. He holds a hand up to the crowd, getting a running start and then he lands a wicked shining wizard as Wilson tries to pull himself up, with such wild speed and velocity that both men slam into the guardrail! The crowd pops big for this move.

Jerry Andrews: This match has gone completely off the rails!

Ace Anderson: Nobody would ever predict something involving Crazy Boy would do that!

Jerry Anderson: I don't think I've seen the viciousness that's inside Crazy Boy like I'm seeing tonight.

Ace Anderson: This may be Winston Wilson's debut, and him trying to make a name for himself in his first match... but Tyrone is CLEARLY attempting to make a name for himself as well.

Both men are pulling themselves up. Tyrone looks down at Wilson, who is shaking the cobwebs out of his head. Tyrone Smith wraps both of his arms around Wilson's massive stomach, pushing him off balance and driving his lower back into the ring apron. Wilson groans and drops to his knees and Tyrone has to move in order to not be swallowed by the glacial giant. Tyrone grips Wilson by his hair, slamming his head off the apron. Wilson lays a massive flank against the apron, breathing heavily and trying to compose himself. Tyrone struggles hard to grab a massive leg, hoisting the weight of Wilson up and trying to maneuver him back in the ring. Wilson fights him off with a few elbow shots. Wilson nails a big headbutt, sending Tyrone faltering back, dazed, and Wilson gets his big self up onto the apron, lifting his leg and pulling him up, still breathing heavily. Wilson rests on the ropes, trying to get into the ring. Still breathing hard due to the effort Wilson gets halfway in the ring, head first between the ropes and then Tyrone shoots around the side, coming across the ring and gripping the head before taking Wilson down from the middle rope in a modified Famouser! The move works, Winston Wilson's own bulk worked against him as Tyrone spiked him getting in the ring. Winston hits hard and struggling, Tyrone rolls him over, going for a cover.

Jerry Andrews: I don't believe what I'm seeing!

Ace Anderson: What, that it's conceivable Tyrone can take down this big man?

Jerry Andrews: That he's coming so close!

The referee: One...















Two... Kickout.

Wilson throws a shoulder up off the mat to a pop from the crowd.

Smith reaches his feet where he doesn't waist time in reaching down picking Winston up off the mat. Tyrone hammers Wilson with a right hand followed by a european uppercut which sends Winston back into the ropes. Smith comes forward shooting Wilson across the ring with a irish whip, Wilson bounces off the ropes where he manages to duck a savate kick! Tyrone spins around where he's met with a chokeslam from out of nowhere by Wilson! The crowd roars as both men lay on the mat! The referee checks on both competitors before starting to lay the count to each man.

The referee: ONE...





TWO





THREE





FOUR





FIVE





SIX

Winston manages to roll over getting his arm on top of Tyrone!

The referee: One...















Two...















Thr- Kickout!

Tyrone throws a shoulder up off the mat to a thunderous ovation from the crowd!

Ace Anderson: If Wilson could have capitalized immediately he would have gotten his first victory!

The crowd is split with a chant for each man filling the arena. Winston starts working his way to his feet where he clutches at his ribs. Smith starts to stir as he rolls over to his chest before starting to push himself up to all fours. Wilson comes forward where he reaches down to pick Tyrone up only to have Tyrone counter with an inside cradle.

The referee: One...















Two...















Thre- Kickout.

Jerry Andrews: Tyrone tried, but he couldn't keep the mass of Wilson pinned down.

Wilson kicks out to a huge ovation from the crowd! Winston and Tyrone both look at each other from on their stomachs, across the divide, and then at the crowd. Both men are quickly back to their feet where they take each other down with a double clothesline!

Jerry Andrews: Both men hit hard!

One again the referee checks on both men before laying the count to each.

The referee: ONE...





TWO





THREE





FOUR





FIVE





SIX





SEVEN





EIGHT



Both men start working their way up.



NINE... Both Wilson and Tyrone reach a vertical base with Smith bouncing off the ropes and swinging with a right hand which Wilson ducks and counters with an TKO into an outrageous stunner, to the delight of the crowd.

Jerry Andrews: He calls that the Ace In the Hole!

Ace Anderson: I am gonna sue whatever asshole stole my name and gave it to him!

Winston places a hand on the chest of Tyrone, motioning to the crowd with his left to get them fired up.

The referee and the crowd: ONE...















TWO...















THREE - Kickout!

Tyrone throws a shoulder up off the mat to a massive gasp from the crowd!

Ace Anderson: I thought he had him! I thought Winston Wilson had gotten his first victory! (Using a move derived from me and my intellectual property!)

Jerry Andrews: It just goes to show, that when it comes down to it, Crazy Boy can go with the best of them.

A split chant of "Let's go Wilson/ CRA-ZY BOY!" filters throughout the building as Winston starts working his way back to his feet. He starts juking and jiving, and the crowd responds positively, embracing the new big man.

Winston takes Tyrone back into the ropes before leveling him with another vile chop across the chest that echo's throughout the building. Wilson brings Smith out where he latches on to a front face lock before hoisting Tyrone up in the air! The crowd roars as Wilson drives Tyrone into the mat with a brainbuster. Wilson, gripping at his midsection and sucking wind at the massive exertion, pulls Tyrone over by one arm, and he drags Tyrone to the corner. He takes a few moments for his big frame to get in position but rung by rung he pulls himself up to perch on the top rope, and then he comes off with a gigantic Vader Bomb style splash. He hits Tyrone hard enough to flatten him like a steamroller, but Wilson also begins rolling around on the mat, holding his ribs in agony.

Jerry Andrews: And he might have gotten all of that on Tyrone, but Wilson hurt himself on that move.

Ace Anderson: Be that as it may, how is Tyrone not dead?!

Jerry Andrews: Both men looking worse for the wear right now.

True enough, several long moments pass as Winston clutches at his ribs, before finally managing to make the cover hooking the nearest leg of Tyrone!

The referee and the crowd: ONE...















TWO...















THREE - NO!

Tyrone escapes at the last possible second to a monster pop from the crowd!

Jerry Andrews: Tyrone escapes again!

Winston starts to work his way back to his feet once again where he signals for the double underhook facebuster, pointing to the crowd and gesticulating for them. The crowd, sensing something coming, roars!

Ace Anderson: Wilson's SEIZING THE MOMENT!

Winston makes his way to Smith where he reaches down picking him up by his hair. He takes Tyrone back into the ropes before hurling him across the ring and into the opposite ropes, Tyrone bounces off the ropes and into Wilson who attempts to hoist Tyrone up only to have his back and ribs give! Tyrone slips behind him... and applies a Vulcan Nerve Hold to the trapezius muscle of Wilson!!

Jerry Andrews: Winston was too hurt, he couldn't make that lift but... no! Crazy Boy slides behind him, and he's trying to wear the big man down with the Crazy Nerve Hold!

Ace Anderson: It's sound in theory, that massive arm is becoming dead weight.

Crazy Boy grits his teeth and pushes down, increasing the pressure. Wilson yells and holds his free arm out, trying to reach to the ropes. Finally, Wilson, having spent agonizing seconds in the nerve pinch, reaches his free hand over his shoulder, clutches Tyrone and sends him over the shoulder and to the ground with a bone jarring judo throw. Wilson rolls his injured shoulder, trying to work the kinks out of it as it feels like pins and needles. Finally, Winston Wilson pulls himself up to his full height. Crazy Boy starts shaking the cobwebs out of his head, and he turns into a headbutt from Wilson. Tyrone is knocked back into the ropes, and then Wilson backs up a few steps and rockets forward with a clothesline. Tyrone only has a second before he's sent over the top rope and out to the floor with a clothesline. The crowd pops as Wilson ignores the referee and heads out to the floor after Tyrone!

Ace Anderson: Wilson's taking it to the floor!

Wilson picks Tyrone up before whipping him into the security railing! The crowd pops as Wilson hammers Tyrone with a right hand before taking him by the hair where he looks to drive him face first into the steel steps! Tyrone puts on the breaks using his hands before jabbing Wilson in the ribs with a elbow to the wounded ribs before countering and sending Wilson face first into the steps to a pop from the crowd! Tyrone then backs up a few steps and charges several feet across the aisle, as the big man in slumped against the steps... and Tyrone punts his head into the steel steps! There is a loud crash, and Tyrone goes down, but Wilson is also down on the floor. The referee looks astonished at the carnage on the outside.

Jerry Andrews: Both men are down!!

Ace Anderson: I don't know how Wilson even has a skull left. What is he made of?!

Jerry Andrews: He bore the brunt of that, but Tyrone is hurting too. If this goes any further, they might get both counted out.

The referee, finally snapping to, shakes his head and starts counting both men out.

The referee: ONE...





TWO...





THREE...





FOUR...





FIVE... Tyrone slides into the ring and rolls back out to break the count.

Tyrone reaches down picking Wilson up off the floor by the hair, but Wilson counters with a throat thrust uppercut. Tyrone stumbles away, and Wilson, incensed now, follows after Crazy Boy, pounding him with a clubbing blow before scooping him up over his shoulder. He gets a running start, intending to ram Tyrone into it like a lawn dart, but the quicker Tyrone wiggles and kicks his legs off, and while Wilson charges towards a ring post, Tyrone pushes off and falls behind him, shoving forward to keep the momentum going on, sending Wilson left shoulder cracking off the ring post! Wilson falls down, holding his arm and groaning. The referee again is amazed by the carnage, and tries counting them both out again.

Jerry Andrews: This one's turning into an all out melee!

The referee: ONE...





TWO...





THREE...





FOUR...

Tyrone now stomping away at his body. Tyrone reaches down picking Wilson by the hair off the floor. Wilson fights back with shots to the gut. He gives the smaller man an uppercut that makes Tyrone stumble away down the aisle, towards the announcers.

Ace Anderson: They're right in front of us!

FIVE...







SIX...

Tyrone breaks off Wilson's surge of momentum with a knee to the gut, gripping his head by Wilson's wild hair, looks to drive Wilson into the announcers table only to have the big man put on the breaks, he drives a elbow to the midsection of Tyrone before turning the tables and sending Tyrone bouncing head first off the announcers table! Tyrone falls off. Wilson, breathing heavily, rests against the table...

SEVEN...



EIGHT...

Both men start pulling themselves up, and they both realize they are in danger of a double count out. Their eyes have a comical "Oh shit" to them as they're turned to the mad, yard sprint across the aisle. Both men try to make it to the apron.

NINE...

Winston Wilson's big body takes up a big spot of the apron, and Tyrone is trying to climb past his legs. Winston rears his leg back and then like a piston, uses all of his might to shove Crazy Boy off his leg, sending Tyrone flying back. And then Wilson rolls under the bottom rope into the ring.

TEN!

DING DING DING!

Ace Anderson: I don't believe it! He just beat the count!

Sasha Greene: Here is your winner as a result of a countout... WINSTON WILSON!!

"Up In Here" by DMX begins playing, and Wilson sits up against the ropes. On the outside, Tyrone is resting in a sitting position, staring on in disbelief. He shoots to his feet, getting the ref's attention to complain that he was on the apron, but the referee explains to him that only Wilson got to the ropes in time for the ten count. Tyrone has an outraged look and starts pitching a fit.

Jerry Andrews: Winston Wilson wins his debut match, over a very game Crazy Boy, and the celebration has begun!

Wilson dances and plays to the crowd, much to their delight, as Tyrone Smith on the outside points and shouts some choice words at him. Wilson asks him if he's bothered by the decision, cackling. Tyrone stares at him.

Jerry Andrews: Going by the tension between their stares, I have to say this is far from over between these two.

The camera heads backstage in the halls of the Pure Class Arena. He jumps in place for a few moments, looking around and flinging out his arms. He's dressed to compete and is ready for action.

The cameraman approaches David, who begins to pace back and forth in the same spot.

David Hunter: What's good boo?

The cameraman doesn't respond, opting instead to just stand there. David stops moving, looking towards the man past the camera.

David Hunter: What's cookin home skillet?

Again, the cameraman doesn't say anything. David shakes his head in response before resuming his stretches.

David Hunter: What's you got for me?

Cameraman: David, you are moments away from the 3-way match for the Underground Title. Coming off last week's loss, what's your mindset going in to this huge match?

David Hunter: Guess Kass was too afraid I'd call out her secrets again, huh?

David lets off a small chuckle, which is not shared by the cameraman.

David stops smiling. He stares at the camera and cracks his neck.

David Hunter: There's been a lot of talking between the three of us this week. There's no denying that all of us want this win. But the thing that sticks with me the most is what I have to do secure it. We've got Muscles Malone who talks some big game. What, do I have to talk a bunch of allegory, mock my opponents through witty wordplay, and then not even bother to call back when a guy bothers to leave a voicemail? No. Do I have to take time out of my day to give a list of reasons why my opponent has a small penis, can't get an erection, lost their own faith, or how everybody's laughing at people? No.

David shakes his head, going back to stretching.

David Hunter: Do I have to provide a unique life story because unknown knows my life is way more interesting than having sex on a beach watching V for Vendetta or falling in love with some lady. But you know what? It's fine. As long as Muscles Malone and Holden Ross are happy, it doesn't matter what happens. All that matters is that I could do everything those two can do, whether it be talking smack about my opponent until the sun burns away into our atmosphere or it be presenting a riveting story about betrayal and heartbreak until the moon collapses on our planet. I could do both those things. I could do a lot of things my other opponents do. But do I?

David shrugs, allowing the crowd to deliberate.

David Hunter: No, I decide to have a little fun. Give my opponents a call and leave a heartfelt message or send them a mass e-mail telling them what I think about them. I decide to tell the truth about my life, providing them a look inside the world I live, but is that enough? No. Why is that? Because quite frankly...

David stares at the camera closely.

David Hunter:...none of it matters. I could talk about shitting dictionaries, I could talk about getting fined for getting into less than legal acts outside of the PCW, I could talk about dicks and faith all damn day, but none of it matters. Because at the end of the day, Muscles can have his women he's probably infecting with unknown knows what. Holden can have his heartache and pain and marijuana. Know what I've got? The ability and drive to knock both of you out and win this title. And to be honest...that's all I'm going to have...and all I'm going to need.

David looks at the floor for a few moments. Once he's readjusted, he looks backs up.

David Hunter: And if for some reason what Muscles and Holden provide are what it takes to win this title...then quite frankly....Pure Class will be fine without me.

David walks past the cameraman, exiting the room. The feed then cuts to the next segment.

The opening notes of "In The Morning And Amazing" by Circa Survive begin playing on the PA, and Kyle Shane comes walking out onto the stage. The crowd breaks into an ovation, and Kyle's smile beams out over the crowd. He's wearing the Pure Class Wrestling World Championship proudly over his shoulder and he's got on a pair of Chuck Taylors, slashed skinny jeans and a simple black hoodie over a Beartooth tee. He goes to the edge of the ramp and holds the World title up to garner a massive pop, and in the ring they're setting up a carpet, and a formal desk with two chairs. Sasha Greene is standing by with a mic in her hands.

Sasha Greene: Ladies and gentlemen, I have been asked to moderate tonight's contract signing for the upcoming World Championship match at Collision Course. Joining me first, the Pure Class Wrestling World Champion... KYLE SHANE!

Kyle grins broadly as he swaggers down to the ring, and he goes to the apron and points to himself and smirks in that way that just digs under your skin, balancing a leg on the ropes and then ducking underneath. He pivots in the center of the ring, holding his arms and the World title out. The crowd is building a strong "SHANE, SHANE, SHANE" chant. Kyle holds the World title up at an angle, then places it on the table, shining it's face plate up with the edge of his sleeve.

Sasha Greene: And introducing the man he will be facing at Collision Course, the 2018 Deadly Rumble Winner... GERARD ANGELO!!

The opening hook to “Handsome and Wealthy” by Migos blares out over the PA. The fans pop for The Hollywood Hero as he steps out onto the stages, dressed in a pinstriped, blue, Armani suit. Gerard stops in the middles of the stage and surveys the crowd from behind his Ray-Bans. A small “GERRY” chant breaks out as Angelo strides down the ramp, his Berluti oxfords silent on the ramp. The aforementioned Deadly Rumble winner climbs up the ring steps and walks to the center of the apron. He stops and looks out to the crowd again before climbing into the ring. He looks at Kyle through his shades before unbuttoning his suit jacket and sitting down.

Throughout Angelo's entrance, Kyle has been sitting in one of the leather seats at the desk, his feet propped up in the air of nonchalance. Angelo turns to look at Shane, and Shane meets his gaze with a grin so broad that it almost seems like a friendly look. Almost. Then, Shane takes one of the mics offered, and he gestures to the contract laying on the table. Gerry looks at the contract before taking one of the pics himself.

Kyle Shane: Well, we're about to make this official, for the LAST PPV OF THE YEAR, Shane versus Angelo for the first time at Collision Course for MY World Championship. But before we do, I wanted to take a little bit of time to talk about this match and let you know what's going to happen.

Gerard Angelo: Oh man. With how much you talk, I should’ve came out in my ring gear. This is gonna be the first hour of Trauma.

Gerard slouches down in the chair, propping his elbow up on the arm rest before resting his head on his fist.

Kyle Shane: Ha, that was good. See Angelo, this isn't going to be like all the fancy contract signings you see so commonplace. We aren't going to get down and personal until we get so heated that we come to blows and someone goes through this table, no. I won't even touch you. Because I'm just going to take this time to explain to you what's going to happen at Collision Course, at what's coming your way, and what you are not going to be able to stop from happening.


Gerry turns to Sasha and points at Kyle, as if asking her, ‘Do you believe this guy?’. Shane smirks, but composes himself.

Kyle Shane: December 11th will mark exactly one year since I won this title, and I beat Seromine at last year's event. And this year has been a roller coaster for me professionally. I've struggled to take this title and leave a mark with it but after conquering every demon that's plagued me, everyone who's proven a stumbling block, I think I've finally come to a point where I can say that I've done nearly what I set out to do with it.

He holds his thumb and fore fingers out an inch apart.

Kyle Shane: Nearly. I've got to be honest, I'm not out to set records like Justin Michaels and rack up 900 days on a championship just sitting on it and defending it with double countouts. What I wanted to do was take the World Title, give opportunities to the best candidates and to people who haven't had their time in the sun yet, and come out on top, and test myself that way. And the real test would be if I could hold on to the belt despite that opposition that I tested myself against. Could I do it for two weeks? Could I get past one title defense? Could I hold on to it for the summer? But as Collision Course and then this year wraps up I'm reflecting. I have hit every mark I've set up to this point. Every one. Week after week, title defense after title defense, and now I'm here for one year. That's in the books.

Gerard Angelo: Do you keep a calendar like Kavanaugh? You wanna tell me where you were drinking beer on the fifth of August, too?

Kyle Shane: Cute. But cute doesn't matter. I've beaten the best, and I've done it for close to a year. Now all that's stopping that is one more title defense from a challenge I set for myself, and it's not against Seromine again, it's not against Grimm again, it's against a man who won the Deadly Rumble when nobody saw him coming, someone who went from "Ahhh he's good but he has so much untapped potential" to the Man all in one night. Yeah Gerard. You finally did something, and did enough to make a match between us interesting. And to provide just enough challenge to raise my eyebrow. And you are set down as my last obstacle to overcome before I can close the book on this year and be satisfied with an Achievement Unlocked.

Shane's face has lost it's playful, amiable smile. Shane sits forward, arms resting on the table, the contract between his elbows.

Kyle Shane: And I don't give a damn what has to happen for that to become a reality anymore, Gerard. Against corrupt assholes like the Followers, yeah, I'll stand out here and talk to the people, tell them that they should follow their dreams and be their own hero, I'll give them something to aspire to, but I never once said that I was a hero. I am nothing more than someone who is obsessed with achievement. And when the time comes if I have to, I'll become uncompromising in chasing that achievement. Because I'm chasing history here, Gerard. And to be honest, it doesn't matter how good you are. It doesn't matter to me how much "untapped potential" you have, or how many people think you're a Breakout Star on the cusp, just a fingertip away from reaching up and grasping that brass ring.

Shane's smile returns, but the arrogant smirk is hard edged, bitter, angry.

Kyle Shane: I've been called a Breakout Star everywhere I've gone, actually. I won accolades you haven't even touched yet here, I won titles and awards in my first six months that you haven't managed to sniff in a year. So while you may have won the Rumble and golf clap for that, I don't care. As good as you are, I am that much better. Collision Course, is MY pay-per-view. It is, two years in a row where I've made God damn history. And come Collision Course, that number becomes three in a row... and if I have to extinguish a Star to do it, I will.

With sharp, quick strokes he signs his name on the contract, and then he picks it up and flips it across the table at Angelo. Gerard looks at the contract and then up at the Champion. He gives Kyle a smirk.

Gerard Angelo: You know, Kyle. I’ve been waiting for this moment since the day I signed my name on my PCW contract. This was the money match I envisioned. Kyle Shane versus Gerard Angelo. The God of Game versus The Hollywood Hero. Ego versus ego. But I expected better from you, Shane. I expected you to have something more to say then the typical ego trip you like to go on every single week.

Gerard stands up, buttoning his jacket as he looks right at the champion.

Gerard Angelo: I’ve been hearing the same things said to me for years in various promotions around the world. ‘You’re good, but you’re not as good as me!’ ‘I’ve won this, I’ve won that.’ Blah, blah, blah. You know why this happens, Kyle? It’s because guys like you always get nervous about their spot when they see a talent like me come walking through the door. A star always recognizes another star when they see one. You get nervous about being replaced. You get nervous about the adulation that these people give you, being directed at someone else. Nervous about this-

Gerry points at the Championship propped up on the table.

Gerard Angelo: -eventually being worn around a different waist. Guys like you always react the same way. Try to make it seem like anything you have done is a miracle. Try to belittle the accomplishments others have achieved. You act like you’re one of a kind, Kyle. Yet, in reality, you’re a dime a dozen. I’m not saying you’re not good, Shane. You are DAMN good. You know it. I know it. And everyone watching this right now knows it. But I’ve met someone like you everywhere I’ve gone. Someone who thinks they are untouchable. And every single time, I’ve beaten them. Collision Course will be no different.

Gerard removes his sunglasses and stares at Kyle, his smirk gone from his lips.

Gerard Angelo: I do find it rather odd that this is my first championship match of any kind here, though. Hell, Razorblade has gotten more title shots then me. You would think that someone who is one of PCW’s biggest, if not THE biggest, mainstream star would at least get tosses into a multi-man match for the Underground title or something. Weird, right?

Angelo leans over the table, staring right into the champions eyes.

Gerard Angelo: What I think, Kyle, is you got so nervous that a guy like me walked into YOUR company that you used your pull as the top guy around here to keep me down. I think you’re so afraid of losing this title and your spot that you went to management and gave them the old, ‘Hey I don’t think this guy can handle it.’ Well guess what? No more hiding behind PCW brass, Kyle. I went and earned myself an opportunity. I went out and I forced myself into the main event. I’m going to be your toughest test yet, Kyle. I’m not a wrestler on the back nine of his career like Seromine or Gabriel. I’m in my prime. When was the last time you wrestled somebody that wasn’t in their forties?

Gerard smirks again, eyes still locked on the champion.

Gerard Angelo: Lets pull back the curtain a little more for everyone, shall we? I wasn’t even suppose to be your opponent at Collision Course. Everyone, from the President of the company to to some shmuck named Mark on Twitter, assumed it was gonna be Dominator. I’m playing with house money, Kyle. You’re the one walking in with ALL of the pressure. As you said, year long title reign. This is supposedly your pay-per-view. You’re trying to “unlock” that elusive achievement. All crazy amounts of pressure even if you were facing Seromine, Dominator, or even Stormm. But you are facing me. Gerard freakin’ Angelo. I am a MASSIVE celebrity. Not only is every single eye in wrestling going to be on our match, but the eyes of the whole damn world. Let’s see if you can handle a real spotlight, Kyle.


Gerard continues to smirk at the champion before he leans down and deliberately signs his name on the contract, just like he would an autograph

Gerard Angelo: I’m going to do something all these has-beens haven’t been able to do, Shane. I am going to take the World Championship from you. I’m going to bring PCW into a new era. I’m going to make this company mainstream. I’m gonna make you famous, Kyle. Because at Collision Course, It’s Game over.

Kyle Shane: Oh yeah?

Gerard Angelo: Damn right.

Kyle Shane: Then I guess we're just going to have to see aren't we?

Gerard Angelo: But Kyle, you know when you said this wasn't going to be like other contract signings and there wasn't going to be any violence? You said that, I didn't.

Shane turns around and Angelo throws a super kick right across the table, hitting Kyle right in the jaw! Shane drops like a stone, and Angelo smiles broadly, removing his suit jacket and toss it to the mat. He calmly walks around the setup table as he rolls his sleeves up, staring down at the fallen champion.

Gerard Angelo: This is what's coming for YOU at Collision Course!

Angelo grips his head and pulls Shane up, boots him in the gut, turns and drops him with a quick Stunner. Shane drops to his back. Angelo grabs the PCW title and looks at it for a long time, before calming folding it and laying its across Kyle’s chest. The boos for him are loud but a smattering of cheers still ring out for the Hollywood Hero. Angelo exits the ring, looking back with a smile as he makes his way up the ramp, as Shane starts to recover in the ring.

Sasha Greene: The following is scheduled for ONE FALL! It is for the Pure Class Wrestling Underground Championship! Introducing first, he weighs in at 247 lbs... DAVID HUNTER!!

"Hopes and Dreams" by TobyFox starts blaring on the PA speakers. The lights in the arena all go out, barring the spotlights on the stage. David Hunter comes out, adorned in his usual Hawaiian shirt. His eyes bore a hole into the ring before him. He cracks his wrist, neck, and knuckles, glancing around at the crowd before him.

As the drop begins, David simply bends his head forward in a bow to the crowd. Once the song gets going, David begins to walk to the ring, the lights in the arena coming on completely. His eyes focusing in front of him and his scowl ever-so present, he avoids the audience members looking for a high-five or some hope of touching him.

As he approaches ringside, he starts to head towards the steps, before taking a u-turn and jumping onto the apron. He climbs the nearest turnbuckle and stands tall, one foot on the top rope, another on the middle. He points towards the hard camera, giving it a wink and something akin to a smirk before resetting and hopping into the ring. He takes off the Hawaiian shirt, tossing it towards the nearest body. He begins doing some quick warm-up stretches.

Jerry Andrews: Here's a young man who has been incredibly impressive as of late, from his final four appearance in the Deadly Rumble to his strong showing in the Underground 666 match on the Halloween edition of Trauma.

Ace Anderson: Yeah, Hunter may have a lot of upside, but we can't forget that that match was won... by MUSCLES MALONE.

Jerry Andrews: True but Hunter didn't play a part in the deciding -

Ace Anderson: MUSC... LES... MA... LO-HONE.

Jerry Andrews: So you're thinking he's not too happy?

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

Sasha Greene: Making his way to the ring, standing six foot-five and weighing in at 325 lbs... and hails from SLO; he is "THE BASTARD", HOLDEN ROSS!!

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

Ace Anderson: If there's anyone who's really angry about losing that horror themed match last Trauma, it would be this man. He's the one who got pinned by - ugh, MUSCLES MALONE, and he's had to go the last few weeks seeing that meathead bro'ing it up with his title.

Jerry Andrews: It's a true test of strength here, Holden Ross is no slouch in the power department either.

Ace Anderson: ...Compared to Muscles Malone, I suppose you mean.

Jerry Andrews: Do you just have a hate on for that name?

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

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

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

Jerry Andrews: I really hope Sasha doesn't leave an open drink container near Muscles.

Ace Anderson: ...Sigh.

Pure Class Wrestling Underground Championship
Triple Threat Match - Underground Rules
Muscles Malone (Pure Class Wrestling Underground 🤴) vs Holden Ross vs David Hunter
Referee: Eric Russo

The bell rings and MUSCLES MALONE flexes his mighty biceps, telling David Hunter, not very impressed, that he doesn't have deep cuts like him. Hunter cocks a questioning look at Holden Ross, who is stewing in the opposite corner. Malone goes to turn to Holden and flex his muscles at him, taunting him in turn. Ross simply can't take any more of this shit and snakes a boot to the midsection. Malone stumbles backwards to collapse in the corner. Holden Ross then turns to try and spot David Hunter, but Hunter cuts the bigger man off with a kick to his kneecap. Trying to wear the big redwood down, Hunter laces some aggressive kicks in to the base. Ross slowly rises to his feet, but a low dropkick to Ross’s calf sends him sprawling face first in the ring! Hunter gets to the corner as Ross starts to rise once more…but here comes Hunter charging out of the corner…with a baseball slide into Ross’s face! Ross flops over backwards in pain. Hunter circles Ross as he rolls to his hands and knees. Hunter charges in and locks in a front face lock to take Ross over with a DDT…but Ross grabs the ropes and Hunter goes down alone slamming the back of his head on the canvas.

Jerry Andrews: Hunter got spiked into the mat hard. His neck vertebrae folded like an accordion on that one.

Hunter gets to his feet but Holden is waiting with a clothesline from Hell. Bam, down goes Hunter! Hunter struggles to get to his hands and feet, but Ross is waiting with a stomp to the back that sends him face first to the canvas! And it is at that moment that Muscles Malone roars back to life, flinging Holden Ross over the top rope and dumping him outside. Muscles Malone roots around under the ring, coming out with a toolbox. Holden Ross is trying to get to his feet using the apron. Muscles Malone, showing the brilliance that he is obviously known for, takes a pair of pliers out of the toolbox and closes the pinchers around Holden Ross's fingers. Holden Ross's mouth yawns wide with a whisper/scream as Muscles wrenches the hand up, using both hands on the handles of the pliers to crush Ross' fingers.

Jerry Andrews: The toys are coming into play early!

The referee leaves a recovering Hunter in the ring to follow both men out to the floor. Malone has Ross up to his feet and runs him headlong into the barricade! Ross hits headfirst and chuckles loudly in pain. Malone grabs him by the hips and flips him over the barricade into the crowd! Malone leaps over the barricade…and lands on Ross with both feet! Ross curls in on himself protectively as Malone heads into the crowd! Ross uses the barricade to drag himself to his feet and here comes Malone with a running kick…and Ross pulls a member of the crowd into Malone’s path! Good God, Malone just took the head off a Pure Class Wrestling fan! Malone stares down, agog at hitting a totally chill bro who he had no beef with, and the referee flings his arms out, saying that they can't do that, it'll be a lawsuit.

Muscles Malone: He made me do it, bro!!

The referee shakes his head as Holden Ross bashes Muscles Malone over the head with a length of plastic PVC pipe from the toolbox! Malone flies backwards landing hard on the cold concrete floor. Ross grabs a soda from a nearby fan and dumps it on Malone as he begins to kick him repeatedly. Ross then throws the empty cup on Malone.

Jerry Andrews: First he uses some poor front row fan as a human shield, and then he dumps out another person's drink. It's not for nothing that Holden Ross is called a Bastard.

Ace Anderson: I've got another nickname for him... The "Lawsuit Waiting To Happen!!" For crying out loud...

Holden Ross pulls a wet and sticky Malone to his feet and irish whips him into the steel barricade with sufficient force to send a cracking noise throughout the arena. Malone falls to his knees, injured. Ross cackles in triumph as he begins to run towards Malone…when out of nowhere Hunter vaults over Malone to land feet first on Ross’s face! Ross drops to the concrete floor as Hunter hits Malone with a penalty kick that sends him flying backwards over the barricade! Hunter grabs Ross by the arm and drops him with an Olympic slam onto the concrete floor.

Jerry Andrews: And David Hunter is still in this.

Hunter grabs Ross by the foot and begins dragging him up the stairs. Ross’s head bounces off the steps as Hunter drags him upward, nailing every step on the way up.

Ace Anderson: At least he’s not damaging anything that he uses!

Hunter pulls Ross to a square landing at the top of a flight of steps leading up into the crowd. He lifts the bigger man up, slamming his head off the middle rail. Ross groans and holds on to the rail. Hunter pounds him a few times with clubs to the back of the head. He sets Ross up, hooking him in position to give him a powerbomb.

Jerry Andrews: He’s not!

Ace Anderson: He is! He’s going to power bomb Ross on the concrete steps!

Hunter lifts Ross into the air…and Malone hits him with a flying tackle from out of nowhere! Both men go sprawling into the next row of fans. There's a tangle of limbs for a few moments as people are knocked over top of each other. Finally, Muscles Malone is up to his feet and he paces over to Holden Ross, still on the square landing on the stairs. Malone grabs a medium sleeve of popcorn from another fan and there's an audible "BOOF" as Malone smashes the popcorn sleeve over Ross' head, spraying popcorn everywhere and not so much hurting Ross as it is just hitting him with a thing. Ross grunts. Malone flexes and poses, then grabs Ross by the hair, walking him even further up the steps towards the doorway. Suddenly, Ross reverses, slamming Malone hard down onto the metal rail. He wraps an arm around the throat of Malone and STO's him into the doorway. Then, Ross backs up, and he tackles a dazed Malone into the hall through the doors.

Ace Anderson: Quick! Let's all go to the lobby!!

Jerry Andrews: I think Ross hit his head out there against the door on the way out, he's laying there dazed.

Ross and Malone are both laid out, but Ross, shaking the cobwebs out, starts trying to get to his knees. But then, he's smacked over the back by the stinging plastic of a wet floor sign! Ross screams and arches his back as David Hunter comes back into view. Hunter turns, holding the sign up and looking for Muscles Malone... but then he slips and lands the hard way on his back, having slipped on the wet floor!

Ace Anderson: ...That is just absurd.

Jerry Andrews: Those signs are there for a reason, and it is to indicate safety hazards.

Hunter groans, rolling over and holding his back. He can't believe his shitty luck and the ridiculous circumstances. He gets to his feet and is immediately taken down by a drop kick from Malone. Malone steadies himself, sees the wet floor, and knowing where it came from, Malone scans the nearby hallway. Malone opens a nearby closet and pulls out a mop. Ross starts to collect himself and Malone whacks him across the skull with the mop. Hunter sits up and Malone shoves the mop into Hunter’s face. Hunter goes down and begins gagging.

Jerry Andrews: I'll bet you anything that mop water was dirty, too.

Ace Anderson: With the janitorial staff we hire? I'll bet it was weeks old.

Malone grins, holding up the mop, and then he takes the mop in both hands like a quarterstaff and places it under Hunter's chin, lifting him up and placing the mop against his windpipe to choke Hunter out. He marches Hunter forward, pushing him into the door, and opening it back into the arena. Hunter groans and flails his arms, trying to break free. Finally, he stomps his foot back on Malone's foot. Malone hops on his one foot for a second, and Hunter turns and kicks him in the groin, a straight punt right up the middle. Malone winces, his voice becomes a strained, ongoing whimper, and his eyes well up with tears. He falls to a fetal position.

Ace Anderson: Very satisfying, anyone who's met Muscles Malone has wanted to do that.

Confidently, Hunter pushes over Malone, looking for a cover. But after getting what in his head was a 1... 2... 3... he looks around, seeing no referee. He curses to himself.

Ace Anderson: And here, Hunter, a relative newbie's inexperience comes in to play. He just joined Pure Class Wrestling, so he may not have known the Underground rule that the match has to end in the ring with the referee.

Jerry Andrews: If this was falls count anywhere, he might have had it.

Hunter snarls and he grips Malone by the hair. Malone is still holding his poor junk, bro. He weakly allows himself to be dragged by Hunter, who decides to take him back to the ring. They reenter the arena and Hunter begins walking Malone down the steps. But it is at this precise moment that Ross comes back into the picture and clubs Hunter over the back of the head, taking him off balance. Hunter is precariously standing on the top of a step but Ross, aggressively pounds him, knees him in the face, and then kicks him in the gut then grabbing him by the back of the hair HURLS Hunter down the flights of steps! Hunter takes some bone rattling hits as he rolls down step after step. Ross is now the one flexing and screaming some choice words. Disdainfully Ross looks at the cringing, hurting Malone, then he shakes his head off in disdain. He walks down the flight of steps to find where Hunter stopped. Ross clubs Hunter over the back as he goes to the very badly damaged Hunter. He clubs him over the back. He grabs him in a front facelock and turns, then he lifts him up as in for a front suplex and drapes him the hard way over the guardrail. Hunter hits guts first, and groans. Ross then climbs over the guardrail, going to the side of Hunter that is dangling out over the aisle, then gripping the legs in a wheelbarrow suplex. He lifts Hunter off the apron, and in an innovative move, lifts the wheelbarrow up off the guardrail, then swings him across the aisle like a baseball bat, smashing Hunter into the apron!!

Jerry Andrews: Good GOD!!!

Ace Anderson: I have never seen strength on display like Ross. He just ragdolled Hunter.

Ross is stalking Hunter now. He chuckles arrogantly as Hunter weakly tries to push himself up on his elbows. Ross lifts Hunter up and throws him into the ring. Ross, taking his time, stalks by Hunter as once more tries to get to his hands and knees and again a stomp from Ross drives his face first into the canvas! A third time he gets to his hands and knees and a third time Holden raises his foot to stomp him in the small of the back... but Hunter flips over onto his spine with a quickness and kicks upwards, his foot connecting with Ross’s family jewels. Now it's Ross who's eyes fly open wide, and his mouth opens up.

Ace Anderson: And we are two for two for ball crushing!

Jerry Andrews: It's all legal, and all in the ring!

Ross drops to his knees holding himself and Hunter jams both feet directly into his face knocking him onto his back. Now it’s Ross’s turn to roll over onto his stomach…but Hunter doesn’t give him any room to get away and locks him in a modified sharpshooter, an Edgecator. Ross bellows in pain, but curls his hands into fists and refuses to tap. The ref asks if he wants to tap and Ross screams ‘Never!’ Hunter leans back, ramping up the pain in Ross’s lower back and causing him to jam a fist against his mouth to keep from yelling in pain.

Jerry Andrews: He calls that the Hawaii-cator in tribute to his heritage, and it looks severely effective.

Seconds tick by and Holden refuses to tap or to quit. Soon his eyes close. The ref lifts his arm once and it drops to the canvas. The ref lifts his arm a second time and again, it drops to the canvas. The ref lifts his arm a third time…and out of nowhere Malone tags Hunter with a penalty kick of his own sending him flying across the ring! Hunter sprawls on the canvas as Malone turns his attention to the downed Ross. Ross is slowly getting to his feet, his hand on the small of his back. Malone smiles and launches a kick to the face but Ross catches his foot…Malone smiles even bigger and lands an enziguri that sends the big man reeling backwards! Malone grabs him by the wrist and Irish whips him into the corner. Malone runs in and gives him a double jumping knee strike. Ross dangles limply in the corner by one arm, and Malone runs around, gathering up steam like a locomotive to run back into the corner, suggestively driving his pelvis into the face of Ross with a Bronco Buster! Malone exits the corner, gesturing to some ladies sitting in the front row and asking if they want seconds. Then he pushes Ross down while Ross is spitting and complaining of an odor of cheese. Pinning predicament here.

The referee: ONE...















TWO... Kickout.

Now Malone goes outside, searches under the ring, and he pulls out... a kendo stick! He smiles and walks around the ring, and then he looks over at Sasha Greene, who is sitting at ringside. Her bright eyes are focused on the ring, but the camera catches Malone's line of sight as it beelines to the hem of her top. The kendo stick in his hand begins rising to attention. Sasha Greene notices Malone staring at her creepily, and shouts some choice words to him, covering her chest with her hands. Malone tries to protest, and hides the kendo stick behind his back.

Ace Anderson: Just a real piece of trash, that one.

Jerry Andrews: He needs to stay focused!!

Malone winks as Sasha, telling her he's about to show her how he swings lumber and he cocks the kendo stick up. He gets on the apron, and he holds the kendo stick between his legs with both hands, moving his hips back and forth suggestively as he's about to tee off on Holden Ross, who is pulling himself up. Malone smirks and winks at Sasha with his phallic intent, the kendo stick starting to point up, and then, suddenly, Ross' hand shoots out, grabbing the end of the kendo stick, and he pulls it in and snaps it over his knee emphatically. It's such a pointed metaphor that the Ultimate Bro despairs at the plight of his broken shaft of wood and looks flabbergasted. Ross then grips both ends of the broken kendo stick, lacing them between Malone's legs and driving the wood right into that tender area. Malone groans as his nether regions take more abuse, and Ross grips his half of the broken kendo stick, holding it as he clutches Malone and giving him a back suplex with the broken kendo stick between his legs. Malone hits hard.

Jerry Andrews: There's a metaphor about manhood in here that's so obvious that Hemingway wouldn't dare.

Ace Anderson: Plus, that kendo stick was a little too long. Ross would have had to break it into fourths, or fractions.

Ross pulls Malone to his feet and drills him with a pumphandler driver.

Ace Anderson: Look at the strength on Ross!

Malone sits up with his hand to his lower back in obvious pain! Ross pulls up Malone once more and hits an atomic drop, sending Malone sprawling face first to the canvas. Ross advances on Malone but Hunter is up now! Hunter runs up behind Ross with a kick…Ross spins around and catches the kick! Hunter goes for the enziguri…but Ross ducks under it and spins Hunter around before he levels him with a clothesline to his back that sends him crashing to the canvas! Ross walks over to Hunter and pulls him off the canvas with a front face lock before taking him face first to the canvas with a DDT! Ross then turns to Malone who is trying to rise and takes him over with a DDT as well! Ross pulls Malone up once more and then runs across the ring with him to hit a massive bulldog! Malone is down and unmoving. Ross turns back to Hunter and pulls him up off the canvas to level her with a short arm clothesline! Ross holds both hands up in the air as he surveys both of his downed opponents.

Jerry Andrews: Holden Ross is focused on reclaiming that Underground title. He's going to rewrite the wrong of last Trauma.

Ross pulls Hunter to his feet once more and Irish whips him into the ropes…he bounces off and Holden is waiting with a Polish Hammer…but Hunter leaps into the air and lands with his legs around Holden’s head. Looks like he is going for a hurricanrana here…Holden is trying to counter… Holden stumbles backwards into the ropes and both go over the top rope to the outside!

Jerry Andrews: What a spill, both men are down!

The referee checks on both men. Neither one are moving, but it's not exactly like countouts are on. Enough time transpires that the referee probably would have been at a count of, say, six. Finally, both men start working their way up to their knees. Holden Ross is the first up, using the apron to steady himself. Hunter grabs the bigger man, whips him around and nails him with a roaring elbow that stumbles the big man but doesn't take him off his feet. Ross comes back with a european uppercut that staggers Hunter away. Both men recoup and come back towards each other, throwing heating fists at a furious exchange. Out of nowhere, Malone comes over the top rope with a corkscrew plancha and all three are down on the outside!

Jerry Andrews: Are you kidding me?!

Ace Anderson: Muscles... Malone?!

Jerry Andrews: I think the champion is putting it all on the line, he wants to show that his title win at last week's Trauma wasn't a fluke or the joke people take him as!

The ref, dismayed by the carnage, holds his hands to his head. He can't count the three men out. They're all groaning and moving around out there. After several more long moments, Malone gets up rolls Hunter back into the ring. Ross is up as Malone is getting into the ring himself. Ross grabs Malone pulling him out of the ring. Malone grips the arm and pulls Ross in for a suplex. He hoists Holden Ross upside down in position for a vertical suplex, holding him there for a DELAYED vertical suplex and freeing one arm a la Bobby Lashley. With his free arm he shows off his guns. Then, he finally drops back into the aisle, crushing Ross into the concrete with a vertical suplex. Malone rolls into the ring, then thinks better of it, rolling back out, lifting Ross by the back of his pants and throwing him in. Malone lifts Ross up, and he gyrates his hips as he hooks Ross' arms in position for a twisting double underhook, dropping down for an Unprettier.

Jerry Andrews: Muscles Marinara!!

Ace Anderson: Mama mia, that's a spicy meatball! ...Okay, I'm ashamed of myself, I still don't like Malone, but the marinara reference I couldn't pass up...

Muscles grins confidently, going for the cover.

The referee: ONE...















TWO...















TH- Hunter dives in to break it up.

Malone rolls off of Ross both arms above his head. Hunter pulls Ross to his feet and shoots him into the ropes, as he bounces off he rolls him up into a sunset flip...

The referee: ONE...















TWO...















TH- and Ross kicks out!

Ross pops up to his feet but Hunter hits a chop to the throat that sends Ross reeling backwards towards the corner. Hunter runs and hits a missile dropkick that sends Ross but first into the corner. Hunter grabs the corner ropes and hops up on the second turnbuckle. He leaps into the air and then drives both feet into Ross’s face with the momentum from his leap! Ross’s nose has been bloodied here as he sags against the bottom turnbuckle! Hunter grabs his foot and drags him to the center of the ring and snaps him into the ankle lock!

Jerry Andrews: A very aggressive side of Hunter is coming out here!

Ross writhes on the mat in pain as Hunter locks in the ankle lock. Ross shrieks in pain and places his palms flat against the mat. Pushing himself upwards, he kicks Hunter in the face with his free foot, freeing himself from the ankle lock! Hunter stumbles backwards into the ropes. Ross gets to his feet and spins around just in time to see Malone running towards him. Ross steps out of the way at the last minute. Malone dives headlong into Hunter who was running at Ross from the other direction! Good Lord, Malone just leveled Hunter! Hunter lies on the mat barely moving. Malone stares down at the tackled Hunter a look of shock on his face.

Jerry Andrews: We had a meeting of the minds!

Ross charges up behind Malone and locks him in a full nelson! Ross drags Malone off of Hunter, shaking him like a rag doll. Ross takes two steps back and then drops Malone to the canvas with a sitout full nelson slam! Ross stands up releasing Malone and Malone collapses backwards, his hand to his spine. Ross covers...

The referee: ONE...















TWO...















THR- Kickout!

Ross stands up and plants his foot on Malone’ forehead and stomps downward. Malone spasms in pain and covers up his head once more. Ross scoops Malone up and slams him back down to the canvas. His head exposed once more, Ross places his foot on Malone’ forehead and stomps down again! Again Malone spasms in pain and covers his head. Ross pulls Malone to his feet and irish whips him into the ropes. Malone bounces off and Ross lowers his head looking for a back body drop. Malone leapfrogs over Ross and runs to the opposite side and bounces off those ropes. Malone leaps into the air and Ross catches him, slamming him down with a high impact sidewalk slam! Slowly, Malone gets to his feet, but Ross hits him on the back of the head with a double axe handle blow that drops Malone back to the canvas! Ross pulls Malone to his feet and plants him on the canvas with a gourdbuster! Ross begins to circle Malone waiting for him to rise once more. Slowly, Malone gets to his feet and then Ross pulls him in to a thunderous, jumping Vertebreaker!! Good GOD, that looked like it broke Malone's neck.

Jerry Andrews: Sins of the Father!!

Ross goes for the cover.

Ace Anderson: This is it! Ross is about to take his rightful place as the Underground Champion

The referee and the crowd: ONE...















TWO...















THRE - Hunter breaks it up by BLASTING Ross on the back of the head with a steel chair shot!

Jerry Andrews: That impact echoed through the arena!!

Ace Anderson: I think it bent the chair.

Ross is bleeding profusely from a cut on the back of his head now and Hunter lifts the chair high overhead, Ross turns around, sitting up, dazed. Hunter golf swings it into his chest and face, knocking Ross back down to his back. Hunter throws the chair aside, swearing angrily, and he goes back to the outside, collecting a steel trash can and a lid and throwing it inside, as well as stop sign. Hunter walks back in the ring, and he goes to wedge the steel lid into the turnbuckles between the top and middle. He sees Ross trying to get to his knees, dazed and weakly dabbing at the blood. Hunter smacks Ross back down with a shot from the Stop sign. He lifts the big man up. He goes to irish whip Ross into the corner, but Ross, dazed as he is, out muscles him and overpowers him, throwing Hunter into the corner. Hunter lays there, shaking out the cobwebs and Ross recovers just enough to see Hunter and snarl at him. He gets set from a mid point in the ring and charges in at Hunter for a corner spear, but Hunter sidesteps and throws him head first into the steel trashcan lid, making him bounce off the metal wedged between two turnbuckles! Ross collides and bounces off violently. He stumbles around the ring. Hunter spies the steel trash can in the middle of the ring and he shoots to the ropes past Ross, coming behind him... giving him a bulldog! A bulldog taking Ross down face first onto the steel trash can! Both men are laid out in pain momentarily as the trash can is flattened, but Ross bore the brunt of it!

Jerry Andrews: This match has become a blitzkrieg of destruction and carnage.

Ace Anderson: Welcome to the Underground division on a Thursday night, baby.

Hunter recovers enough that he rolls over and pins a bleeding Ross.

The referee: ONE...















TWO...















THR- Kickout!

The crowd gasps as Ross is somehow able to throw a shoulder up. Hunter's hair is sticking out and he's gasping for breath, looking on in disbelief. Malone is nowhere to be found. Hunter asks the referee if that was three. When he gets a negative response, he has a crestfallen look of unfairness. Hunter holds his tailbone, limping a little as he starts trying to climb to the top rope. He slips, regains his footing and sets himself, waiting for Ross to get to his feet, and climbs to the top turnbuckle and going for a missile headbutt. Hunter misses! Hunter is thrown to the side of Ross instead! The camera pans back to the corner and Malone is there!

Ace Anderson: Malone gave Hunter a little extra push and he missed the mark!

Malone climbs to the top turnbuckle and leaps into the air. Ross, weakly gets to his feet and turns... and Malone spikes him into the mat with a flying DDT! He hooks the leg!

The referee and the crowd: ONE...

















TWO...















THRE- Ross gets a foot on the ropes!

Jerry Andrews: Close call for Holden Ross!

Hunter crawls towards the corner but Malone crosses over and drops an elbow on him mid-spine! Hunter rolls over and sits up in intense pain. Malone catches him in a front face lock and takes him to the canvas with a DDT! Malone turns his attention to Ross and runs into him with a harsh boot to the face. Ross stumbles back to the far corner to collapse. Hunter swings at Malone who ducks the blow. Malone answers with a european uppercut that staggers Hunter backwards. Malone hits a second european uppercut…and a third! Malone steps forward and hits Hunter with a hip toss that slams him back first to the canvas. He kips up off the canvas, but Malone is waiting to sweep his legs out from under him sending him back down to the canvas. Malone pulls Hunter to his feet and sends him into the ropes. Hunter bounces off and catches a knee to the stomach which causes him to flip over and land on his back on the canvas! He grabs his arms and springboards off the ropes slamming him to the canvas with a springboard armdrag! Malone hooks Hunter up and takes him over with a snap mare! Malone reaches down to pick Hunter up of the canvas…and he rolls him into a small package!

The referee and the crowd: ONE...















TWO...















THRE- KICKOUT!

Malone snaps, he shoots to his feet and rolls out of the ring, walking over to the timekeepers table. He grabs the Underground title belt, and says "Hell nah bro, let's get out of here". He then makes a "Call me" hand gesture to Sasha Greene. Muscles locks eyes with Hunter and says "Deuces".

Jerry Andrews: Is he trying to take a powder?!

Ace Anderson: I ... I really don't know what he's thinking. Champions advantage?

Jerry Andrews: There's technically no countouts so he can't get counted out. But he doesn't have to get pinned, so if one of these other two were to pin the other it wouldn't matter. Champions disadvantage?

Ace Anderson: Maybe we just have to explain triple threats to Muscles there?

The referee is, indeed trying to stop Muscles from walking out of the match, explaining that there aren't any countouts, and indeed he can lose. Muscles is standing by the apron, pointing and shouting and saying "Nuh uh bro, I say it isn't and I'm the champ!" Hunter, angrily, flings his arms and is having enough of this ridiculous merry go round. He leans over the ropes and goes to grab Malone by the hair. Malone's eyes go wide and then he turns, hitting Hunter in the face with the Underground title belt! Hunter falls back into the ring, and Malone laughs, pointing to his temple, saying "Outsmarted you, bro!!" And walking around the side of the ring, posing with his flexed muscle on one arm and the title belt on the other shoulder. Suddenly, Holden Ross comes in with a baseball slide dropkick, naiing Malone and throwing him into the guardrail. Malone drops the title belt. Ross exits the ring, paces over to Malone, grips him by the arm and irish whips him into the guardrail with so much force that Malone hits with a loud BANG! Ross, bleeding, holds the title over his head, then he snatches it and looks at Hunter in the ring.

Jerry Andrews: Oh my, Ross has the belt and he has evil intentions in his eyes.

Ross enters the ring again, holding the title belt in both hands. A sick grimace crosses his face. He spots Hunter, attempting to get to his feet, and Ross runs forward, about to deck him with the Underground title belt. However, as he swings the belt, Hunter ducks under it's arc, which takes the big man around in a complete circle and then Hunter catches him in a one-armed position before dropping down with a leaping single armed stunner out of nowhere! The impact flings Ross' chin backwards off Hunter's shoulder like a bullet from a gun and he flips backwards before coming to a stop, the title belt flying out of his hands.

Jerry Andrews: Ross swings with that belt and - NO! Hunter nails that stunner, he calls that- The Thrill of the Hunt! The Thrill of the Hunt connects!!

An exhausted Hunter pushes over and pins Ross. The referee drops down for a cover. Muscles Malone, on the outside, is hanging on the apron.

The referee and the crowd: ONE...

















TWO...















THREE!!

Malone springs into the ring to try and break up the pin, but is just a second too late. The referee orders the bell rung.

Jerry Andrews: What happened, Malone is in there, did he get there in time to break the count?!

Ace Anderson: I don't know, I'm waiting for his ruling.

The referee confers with Sasha Greene, and nods affirmatively. He walks over and picks up the Underground title belt, dusts it off and hands it to David Hunter, who is looking confused.

Sasha Greene: Ladies and gentlemen, your winner... AND NEWWWWW! PURE CLASS WRESTLING UNDERGROUND CHAMPION!!! ...DAVID HUNTER!

"Hopes and Dreams" by Tobyfox begins playing on the PA as Hunter shoots to his feet, triumphantly yelling and holding his arms in the air. Muscles Malone stands by the ropes, yelling at the referee "Bro?! Bro!! Come on, bro, tell me you're lyin bro!" And Holden Ross, groggily covers his face up in disappointment.

Jerry Andrews: All three men went balls to the wall tonight, but Hunter made his mark, in only his second match on Trauma he claimed the Underground title!

Hunter raises the Underground title and the referee raises his hand. Muscles Malone is still protesting to anyone who will listen in the timekeepers table. Ross sits up, snarling at Hunter as Hunter exits, putting the title over his shoulder.

Ace Anderson: I've never seen the Underground division this competitive, or this fierce. We're going to see who challenges the new champion, or if one of these men gets a rematch.

Jerry Andrews: The compete level in this company is incredible right now!

Ace Anderson: That was a hell of a match and it's a definite sign if things to come here tonight on Trauma!

Jerry Andrews: That's right Ace and still to come is...

Before he can finish he is cut off by the lights going out and plunging the arena into darkness.

Ace Anderson: Oh no, not this again!

The crowd looks to the entrance way as "Blood On My Hands" by The Used roars out and they start booing loudly almost drowning out the music.

A figure steps through the curtain her face covered by a black mask with two Japanese Kanji in white. Death on the left and Pain on the right

Ace Anderson: Wait a minute is that....?

Jerry Andrews: It can't be!

Her head is covered by a hooded zip up jacket over a plain black t shirt and black tights with black wrestling boots with a red spider on the side of each boot. Her hands are covered by black gloves and around her neck a red back spider pendant.

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

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

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

The person climbs up on the ring apron and enters the ring.

The music fades out as Alexa Black stays in the ring and removes her mask, her cold eyes silently staring into the stands filled with the PCW faithful.

Ace Anderson: It is!

Jerry Andrews: Alexa is back! And those who know her know that this psycho has been a blight on this company for some time.

Ace Anderson: But where has she been and why is she back now?

Alexa raises a mic to her lips and begins to speak

Alexa Black: "Hey everyone I'm back! Did you miss me?"

She asks mockingly she waves at the crowd and gives a thumbs up which only results in loud and long booing and a very profane chant directed at her that has to be quickly censored.

Ace Anderson: I'd take that as a no. They really do hate her. Even though she's been away for a while. It's like she never left.

Jerry Andrews: Yes Ace. Very few people in the history of PCW have been genuinely hated by the fans like her.

Alexa basks in the anger and disgust for a bit before continuing.

"Oh how I've missed you all" she says in the most disingenuous manner.

"Now I suppose your wondering why I have been away all this time and what I have been doing. Well I'll tell you what's been going on and why I chose now to come back.

You see..."

As she speaks a young man in an unbuttoned flannel shirt over a t-shirt and jeans on with a cap comes down to ringside to fix the issue with the ring that happened earlier on in the night.

He puts down his toolbox with CREW written on it in white capital letters and surveys the damage done and
considers how he will fix it.

"After my last period here in PCW I needed a break for a while so I took some time off and went on a holiday to rest and relax. It was during this time that the manager/client relationship between Hiroshi and myself soured and he decided he no longer needed me and went back to Japan"

The young man pulls out a hammer and starts pounding away on the ring trying to put something back into place.

"So he went off and..."

The hammering continues as she is speaking and Alexa is not happy about it. Dropping the microphone she slides down out of the ring to confront the crew member who dares to interrupt her.

The camera gets as close as they dare and the audio is picked up

"HEY YOU!" She shrieks

"Me?" The ring tech points at himself and smiles politely.

"Can't you see I'm talking here? Do you know who I am and what I will do to you if you don't knock that off?"

She advances on him menacingly and he backs up

"Get out of here now or I'll kick you ass"

She puts her hand in his face and shoves him down hard to the floor.

The young man looks shocked at first but glares angrily at her before gathers his things and making his way away from ringside.

Ace Anderson: That's disgusting. She's a real bitch. Bullying our ring crew and pushing them around. She honesty has no shame.

Jerry Andrews: Right Ace. I hope she gets fined heavily for it. You know management won't let this slide.

He stops at the top of the ramp to watch as Alexa picks up the mic and continues.

"As I was saying before I was so RUDELY interrupted.

After Hiroshi departed I spent a lot of time healing mentally and physically so I could get myself back in ring shape to compete. Don't get me wrong I liked being a manager but it just isn't a full time thing for me.

Therefore effective immediately I am returning to full time competition.

Take note PCW.. The bitch is back and I'm bringing hell with me!"

She drops the mic and walks from ringside up the ramp to a fresh chorus of boos. As she does she passes the man she treated so rudely earlier. He says nothing but stands defiantly just off to her left.

She looks him up and down before walking off through the curtain to the back.

Ace Anderson: Well this is unwelcome news. She's back and if last time she was active is anything to go by we'll be lucky if we are still on air...

Sasha Greene: The following match is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first...he is the special guest referee, the PCW World Champion, "The God of Game" KYLE SHANE!

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

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

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

Jerry Andrews: Listen to that loud ovation for the champ!

Ace Anderson: It's the sound of bias. His next challenger and a man he has absolutely no respect for are on the same team!

While they continue to banter back and forth, Kyle throws out some photo ops for the faithful to snap. He is rudely interrupted by a most unpleasant sound...

Lights dim and the PCW-Tron goes black. With the sound of a sharp nib scratching across a ragged sheet of parchment, a sepia-toned cursive scrawls grimm 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.

Sasha Greene: From Hangtown, Kentucky. Weighing 217 lbs, GRIMM!

Sparse percussion resonates throughout the arena and is soon joined by a droning, distorted bass line. At that, A Perfect Circle’s "Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums” stomps out of the speakers and marches through the aisles. The drums, the distortion, the voices – all work to herald the arrival of the Hangtown Horror.

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

He walks out to a single blue-white spotlight, stops to bask in the light and shadows, and scans the crowd. The Lord of Misrule closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before making the long walk down the ramp, deadset on the ring and ignoring the fans along 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. Hopping up onto a turnbuckle, he casts his gaze out over the crowd with his arms at his side, eyes shifting to take in the sea of faces spread out before him. Grimm then drops down. And waits.

Sasha Greene: And his tag team partner...

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 drum beats to Breaking Benjamin’s “Evil Angel” echo throughout the arena. The crowd suddenly comes alive as the guitars make themselves heard. 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.

Sasha Greene: From Salisbury, England. He weighs 365 lbs, DOMINATOR!

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. 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.

Sasha Greene: And their opponents!

The PCW Arena is plugged into darkness as the opening hook the "Handsome and Wealthy" by Migos blasts out over the PA. Suddenly a spotlight blasts down onto the stage, revealing Gerard Angelo down on one knee with his back to the crowd, hood pulled low over his face. He bursts suddenly to his feet, spinning around to face the PCW Faithful as the house lights come on, leading to the Faithful erupting into cheers as he pulls his hood back. Gerard smirks as he surveys the fans from behind his sunglasses, extending his arms, as if absorbing the energy from the crowd.

Sasha Green: From Hollywood, California, weighing in at 221 LBS, he is "The Hollywood Hero", GERARD ANGELO!

Gerry walks down the ramp, cocky and confident as always, pointing at the fans wearing his merch, telling them they made a solid investment. He stops at the ring stairs and slaps the top step before climbing them, and walking to the center of the ring apron. Angelo surveys the PCW Arena once more before slipping through the middle and top rope into the ring. He runs to the opposite ring post and leaps onto the second turnbuckle. Gerry points to the crowd before unzipping his hoodie, pulling it off and tossing it to the Faithful. "The Hollywood Hero" hops down and removes his trademark sunglasses as he leans against the turnbuckles, awaiting his partner.

Sasha Greene: And his tag team partner...

Without warning, the lights in the arena go out in a flash, and the sounds of rhythmic drums began to beat like an oncoming war. Very subtle orange lights illuminate the ramp way as the strings begin to accompany the percussion, and the tron flickers back on with black and white aerial shots of the Kansas City metro area. The faithful are left in total darkness, and their cell phone screens and flashlights begin to sporadically light up the crowd, like stars in the night, as a dense fog has risen, covering the ramp. Despite how little time has passed, the beat has brought the crowd to their feat.

Then, as the crescendo reaches its peak, a spotlight hits the entrance to accompany the climax of "Land of Shadows" by Audiomachine, and Stormm instantly comes into view.

Sasha Green: Making his way to the ring, from Kansas City, Kansas, weighing in at two hundred and fifty-two pounds...

The Force of Nature looks out into the crowd from underneath a black hood attached to an ankle length, black leather trench coat. The coat is covered in straps and buckles all left dangling about as the open coat sways with his movements. The crowd's reaction rivals that of the music volume, and Stormm acknowledges, looking left and then right, with a nod. His stare turns back to the ring, and he makes his way down the ramp with a black, wooden bat in his left hand, and the North American title belt hanging from his right.

Sasha Green: He is the North American Champion... The Force of Nature... STORMM!

Having made it to ringside, Stormm patrols around to the opposite side of the ring in typical fashion before nodding towards Ace and Jerry, and tapping the announce desk with his bat. In one fluid motion, he hops up onto the apron, leans back onto the ropes, and points the bat out into the crowd, which draws in another pop from those in attendance. Climbing through the middle and top rope, he immediately scales to the second turnbuckle of the nearest corner, and raises the North American title above his head, and out towards the crowd, as the arena lights slowly come back on as the spotlight fades out.

Stormm hops down, and throws the hood of his coat off of his head as he walks with purpose to the opposite corner, holding his title high for everyone to see once more, as the overwhelming adulation continued. No smile. No mouthing off. All business. The battle music fades out well before the reaction of the crowd does, but the Force of Nature waits patiently, perched from the top turnbuckle, waiting for the match to begin.

Tag Team Match: Special Guest Referee
Grimm & Dominator vs Justin "Stormm" Michaels (PCW North American ©) & Gerard Angelo
Special Guest Referee: Kyle Shane

Kyle makes sure everything is on the up and up and then calls for the bell.

DING!
DING!
DING!

Dominator and Gerard will be starting things off. You can bet The Zenith is out for blood as he squares up the man who eliminated him at the conclusion of the Deadly Rumble. Dominator has no time or fucks to give about Gerry's arrogance and oozing confidence that he is the best in the ring. He charges in like a mad bull, forcing Angelo to spin out of the way. Angelo jumps off the middle rope and with a flashy spin, collides with the chest of his much larger opponent.

Dominator doesn't budge an inch. Angelo uses his speed to avoid incoming powerful strikes, leaving nothing but air between he and Dominator. One attempt doubles Dominator over from force which presents Gerard a chance to surprise him with a bulldog! He throws in rights and lefts to the back of his head before Dominator can shove him backwards. Stormm sneaks a blind tag in, but in the process of entering, gets halted by referee Shane who didn't see the exchange.

Jerry Andrews: Stormm looking displeased as he tells Shane how a tag is made.

While this is going on, Gerard has dropkicked Dominator in the side of the head to prevent him from getting to a full vertical base. He puts the boots to him until the end of a five count. Gerard gets in a quick neckbreaker! He extends his hand and tags in Stormm. Michaels starts a series of elbow drops, each one hitting their mark with precision. Like his partner, the five count is tested before full stoppage.

Stormm tags Gerard back into the match as they work together to force Dominator to make a wish. The big man sits right up with his meat hooks positioned on the inside of his legs, pained by the stretch. Angelo runs the far ropes and comes back with a sliding clothesline. A pin follows.

1.

Angelo is pressed in the air like a parent with a small child. Unsurprised by his freakish strength, Angelo again returns to some kicks, but finds Dominator an unwilling partner. Angelo is flipped head over heels, but lands on his feet. Dominator misses with a charging clothesline, but finds double knees from Stormm on the apron. Dom staggers back a pair of steps into a leaping uppercut. A second. A third finally puts him against the ropes.

Stormm jumps into the fray and takes some of the glory for himself as he hits the ropes at full speed for a clothesline that dumps Dominator out of the ring. Gerard, not one to be shown up, throws in a suicide plancha, with the faithful roaring to their feet with applause and chants of GERRY! GERRY! GERRY! Steve Wilkos is shown sitting in the front with a smile and a bald head. Or not.

Jerry Andrews: Speed overcoming power and surprise surprise, Gerard and Justin are working together!

Ace Anderson: Egomaniacs don't know how to co-exist. You can see Stormm already showing signs of it...

Gerard waits on Dominator to get back into the ring as referee Kyle puts down a ten count. Ring steps are displaced in anger as The Zenith stalks around the ring. Grimm's eyes stare a hole through Angelo while awaiting his turn to enter. Once Dominator has climbed back over the top rope, that chance happens.

Only Stormm is going to cut him off at the pass following a second blind tag, one that was so loud, the dead rose out of the ground to complain of the noise. Grimm is worked over by his future opponent as Stormm runs him into the buckles. Grimm's head bounces back to an inhuman angle, giving him an upside down view of Stormm as he chops him in the throat.

Stormm is spun in the corner for a series of body blows. He manages to trap Grimm's arms, turn the hips and fling him overhead with a belly to belly suplex! Stormm turns Grimm's momentum on him with a picture perfect full nelson slam! Springboard moonsault from out of nowhere by Gerard repays the one up on Dominator. Stormm is told "We're even!" with a cocky grin as Gerard rolls out to go tag some hands and take a selfie with someone rocking some "Hollywood Hero" swag.

Stormm slingshots Grimm into the body of Dominator, which Kyle says constitutes as a tag. Just as Stormm goes to kick the rope between Dominator's legs, he's pie faced right on his back. Stormm rolls through to his feet and is cut in half by a Force of Time! Kyle turns with a pained expression, echoing the faithful's collective. Dominator wraps his arms around the back, lifting Stormm like a rag doll, and then proceeds to run corner to corner to realign Stormm's spine.

Dominator stomps to the center of the ring. Stormm starts jabbing him with elbows until a squeeze is put on. Dominator drops to a knee for an inverted atomic drop. Grimm is signaled into the ring. He hits the ropes and then hits Stormm with a flying neckbreaker. Not needing rules explained, Grimm shoots a look at Kyle for trying.

Dominator invites Gerard into the ring. If not for Kyle's intervention, he may have taken him up. Dominator roars with laughter before returning his attention on Stormm...who shows off his ring awareness by exiting to the floor while the challenge to Gerard was happening.

Jerry Andrews: Stormm doing the smart thing by putting distance between Dominator and himself.

Ace Anderson: The only thing Stormm is doing is waving the white flag and making preparations to hand Grimm the North American title.

Jerry Andrews: Will you stop?!

Grimm throws Stormm back inside for further punishment. Dominator lifts him high in the air by one hand, digging his fingers into the neck with wide eyes. Kyle's count appears to be falling on deaf ears. Gerard gets the fans on his side as he charges in with a dropkick to the back of the knees! He has a exchange with Kyle at the same time Stormm lands a DDT during his return to solid ground!

Kyle turns to see both Dominator and Stormm down, then back to Gerard who is returning to his side of the ring. Grimm gets the quick tag. Stormm is pulled to a vertical base. A massive headbutt is placed between the eyes, dropping Stormm in the ropes. Grimm moves in for the kill and is upended by a flurry of strikes to the head and boots to the midsection.

An attempted belly to back suplex is blocked with a bell clap. Stormm is pushed against the ropes and leveled with a Samoan drop! The tag is made to Dominator who pushes the top rope down as far as it can go in his entry into the ring. Dominator grabs Grimm by the shirt and belt, spins a few times a la shot put, and lets Grimm fly with fists stretched out in front of him like a missile weapon!

Jerry Andrews: What a tandem move there! Stormm could be out.

Ace Anderson: His sixth sense failed to pick that up. Grimm was thrown like a fastball!

Dominator lifts Stormm high in the air by a hand and drives him back into the earth with a massive chokeslam! He puts that same paw on the chest and then demands Kyle count.

1!

Before Kyle's hand is able to smack for a second time, Stormm is lifted in the air and driven with another massive chokeslam! The same pin style is presented along with the same demand.

1!

Dominator grins like a devilish beast as Stormm is held high in the air by his neck. Dominator looks square at Gerard, telling him "THIS IS FOR YOU!" before rotating in the air with a third chokeslam finish! A hook of BOTH legs now as Kyle counts the pin once again.

1!

2!

Stormm gets his shoulder up! The fans rally behind the Force of Nature as Dominator can't believe his eyes. Gerard slaps the top turnbuckle in an attempt to get Stormm over to make a tag. Dominator stands like he's going to tag Grimm, but instead bullrushes Gerard off the apron into the guardrail. Proud of himself and brushing past Kyle, Grimm is tagged in.

With Stormm standing in the center of the ring, Grimm runs to the near ropes while Dominator bounces off the far ropes. Meeting their opponent at the same off the rebound, Grimm delivers a thrusting Muay Thai kick to the side of the head while the Zenith simultaneously connects with a chop block to the knee from the other side. Stormm is flipped head over heels and knocked silly.

Jerry Andrews: SOUL REMOVAL MACHINE!

A blatant choke is administered with Grimm giving Stormm a death stare in the process. He breaks around the count of four and then grabs a pin.

1!

2!

Stormm KICKS OUT! The fans again rally behind the North American champion, chanting his name and in a mocking effort, a stomp-clap fest. Grimm will not be mocked. He doesn't play his hand, but in own Grimm-way, he's unamused by the faithful. Stormm is shot into the far corner with authority. He manages to leap over an incoming charge, but Grimm stops short of posting himself. He backs up and rises into a blockbuster!

Stormm feeds off the energy of the faithful. Digging, clawing his way back to life with everything he has inside. Grimm is not about to let that happen. Fresher than expired food, Grimm grabs Stormm by the head. Stormm flies behind, wrapping his left arm around Grimm's neck, leaning him backwards. From there, Stormm grabs a hold of Grimm's pants with his free right hand, and lifts Grimm off of the ground. He then falls backwards, bringing Grimm with him, and plants Grimm's head and neck onto the mat!

Jerry Andrews: HANGCLOUD DDT!

Stormm LEAPS across the ring to the outstretched hand of Gerard for the tag! Angelo races in hit HEADHUNTER! Grimm is pinned!

1!

2!

3--FOOT ON THE ROPES!

Kyle informs Gerard about why the count was halted, while neglecting to tell him about Dominator's involvement. Grimm is thrown into the near ropes. Back body drop! Clothesline! European uppercut! A boot to the midsection and a buckle bomb! Grimm is thrown back into CENTER OF ATTENTION! Grimm at first stands his ground. Those pale blue eyes staring through your soul like the Evil Dead were coming to swallow it. And then...TIMMMBER! Gerard is quick on the pin.

1!

2!

3! -- KICKOUT!

Mass cheers turn into mass disappointment and with Christmas right around the corner, mass disappointment will be a running theme, what with kids getting clothes instead of toys and families being destroyed over fruitcake, it'll be anything but festive.

Grimm is pulled to his feet and ran to a corner. Gerard props him on the top turnbuckle. In a single leap, he takes Grimm for a superplex followed with a falcon arrow! Dominator steps into the ring. CENTER OF ATTENTION just as Stormm gets Dominator low enough to be hit! Gerard -almost- caught Kyle in the chaos, something not lost on him while he orders Stormm back out of the ring.

Double middle fingers is the response. Gerard turns around into DEAD RECKONING! Grimm collapses into a tag to Dominator with Kyle seeing it just as it happens. This following a heated back and forth with Stormm. Dominator picks up Gerard. He pulls him into ANACHRONISM! NO! it's countered into a tilt-a-whirl DDT!

Jerry Andrews: What a counter!

Ace Anderson (scoffs): I've seen better.

Angelo seizes the moment...HOLLYWOOD STUNNER! The razzle dazzle of Angelo's second tilt a whirl barely glances against Kyle, who falls down like he's been shot!

Jerry Andrews: Kyle Shane down!

Angelo has Dominator covered.

1!

2!

3!

But there's no referee counting that. It's the faithful who take it upon themselves.

Jerry Andrews: Kyle Shane is STILL down from being bumped there... I don't know about this.

Ace Anderson: What are you insinuating, Jerry? Despite what happened earlier tonight, Kyle Shane has called this fairly the entire night!

Jerry Andrews: That he has but....

STORMM CLOBBERS GRIMM with his black wooden MLB bat! Grimm hits the floor. Stormm puts HIS North American title in his face because he feels like it. Inside of the ring, Gerard's anger is now expressed to Kyle Shane, who has suddenly decided to revive himself.

Gerard informs him he's seen better acting in stand ins than what Kyle just pulled. In the midst of this, Dominator rolls him up while grabbing the top rope for added leverage! Kyle drops down and counts---

1!

2!

3!

Calling for the bell as this will end in controversy!

Sasha Greene: Here are the winners of the match, Grimm and Dominator!

Dominator rolls out of the ring, lifting his arms in the air! Angelo is up and he gets right in Kyle Shane's face. Shane points to his chest, showing that he's the official referee for this match.

Ace Anderson: Gerard Angelo is taking his frustration out on Kyle Shane!

Jerry Andrews: Can you blame him? Angelo had this match won!

Ace Anderson: Then why didn't he win!? This is just another case of two big egos colliding here in PCW!

Jerry Andrews: This is certainly an explosive situation here, folks!

Shane and Angelo are right in each other's faces now. Pure Class Security rushes into the ring to get in between the two men as Trauma goes off the air.

- CLICK -