Trauma 242 Results

[Rick Majors]

Pure Class Wrestling Trauma
Thursday November 22nd, 2018

The show begins abruptly, as the doors to the arena burst open, slamming backwards as an evilly grimacing Alexa Black stomps through, her duffle in hand.

Jerry Andrews: Oh boy, welcome to the show. Alexa Black is here and it doesn't look like she's in a good mood.

Ace Anderson: You know, sometimes you say things that are so monumentally stupid I can't respond. When has she EVER been in a good mood?

The camera follows Alexa as she storms down the hallway, looking for her locker room. She finds a long, lonely hall, dimly lit in the middle, and turns. The corridor is dim because a technician is on a 15 foot step ladder, replacing burned out bulbs. Alexa approaches the backstage hand to ask directions.

Alexa Black: Hey! You! Up there! Do you know where my...

Alexa pauses as the man's face comes into full view and the lights he replaced fire into usefulness. A wretched smirk crosses her lips.

Alexa Black: I know you! You're that smartass who thought it would be a good idea to hammer on the ring while I was trying to talk. That was you, wasn't it?

The man on the ladder looks around the hallway as if trying to find help. Alexa, sensing his discomfort, smiles menacingly as she begins to ascend the rungs, shaking the ladder in the process. The guy scrambles to the top as if in retreat, which only feeds into Alexa's prey instinct even further. As he gets to the top, one of the tubes he had replaced rolls off of the top step, narrowly escaping his grasp as it plummets to the floor. On its way down, it clocks the pursuing Amazon, shattering into a million shards. Alexa lets out a small, surprised yelp as she bolts back down to the ground.

Alexa Black: YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE!

He tries to deny the accusations, but Alexa is having none of it. In a surge of anger, Alexa shoves the ladder over, but the man doesn't ride the contraption down. Instead, he grasps the "I" beam, realizing it was both a mistake and the only truly safe option. Alexa sees him dangling like a tree ornament from the ceiling and chuckles, as she brushes the rest of the glass off of her using a pair of work gloves she found on the ground. The venom in her voice is obvious as she speaks slowly.

Alexa Black: I guess you should have went down with the ladder. Now gravity is gonna make sure it hurts a lot more when you come down, and you WILL have to come down sooner or later. We'll meet again. It's bound to happen. In the meantime... Hang in there.

She cackles maniacally as she finally gathers her duffle and leaves the scene, kicking over his toolbox to add the exclamation point to her visit. The tech follows her with his eyes, glaring at her in defiance. He looks around at his situation, finding his way down in his mind.

Stage Hand: Oh, lady... You are getting too big for your britches.

The shot now cuts to ringside, where Jerry Andrews and Ace Anderson are seated.

Jerry Andrews: Well.... I'm not sure what to say about that. That guy's in a BAD situation right now.

Ace Anderson: Happy Thanksgiving, Jerry.

Jerry Andrews: Great segue! Happy Thanksgiving to you too, Ace, and to everyone watching! Welcome to PCW Trauma!

Ace Anderson: This is the take home show for Collision Course! I'm pumped!

Jerry Andrews: Isn't the last show before a big event typically called the "Go Home Show?"

Ace Anderson: Take home show! Take home show! Take home show!

Sasha Greene: The following is scheduled for one fall, introducing first, he weighs in at 265 lbs... RAZOR BLADE!!

As "Truth Reigns" plays over the PA, Razor Blade comes out from the back of the audience, walks down the steps, high fiving his fans. He walks down the top level of steps and climbs over the barricade. He stops for a minute and hops on the apron, raising both of his arms in the air. He get's down and waits for his opponent to arrive.

Jerry Andrews: It's been a number of weeks since we've seen Razor Blade.

Ace Anderson: Couldn't it be a few more? Does he have any vacation days? Maybe send him on an out of town trip?

Jerry Andrews: Very funny... but truthfully, Razor has been having a rocky road lately, and he wants to turn it all around tonight.

Sasha Greene: And his opponent, weighing in at 465 lbs, he is the Chocolate Colossus and your mom's favorite wrestler... WINSTON WILSON!! 

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.

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

The music fades out as Winston stays in the ring waiting for his opponent.

Jerry Andrews: Here's a big man who likes to have a lot of fun, he showed in his debut against Crazy Boy that he's here to entertain, but he is definitely looking to make some waves in Pure Class Wrestling.

Ace Anderson: I think he's trying to see if he can keep the party going with a win here tonight.

Singles Match
Winston Wilson vs Razor Blade
Referee: Charles Lim

Razor nods his head arrogantly as Winston steps up to him. He points at Winston, then shoves him and yells in Winston's face "THIS IS MY YARD, OOOOOOOAH!". Winston's eyes open up a bit at that. Razor tells Winston that he better lay down and just let him pin him, calling him a fat slob. Winston begins to shake his head.

Jerry Andrews: I don't believe this. Razor is demanding Winston voluntarily lay down for him.

Ace Anderson: On the one hand we'd be spared sitting through a Razor Blade match, but... I don't think Winston Wilson is liking Razor Blade's insults.

They argue for a moment, Winston just shaking his head. Razor grits his teeth and demands Winston lay down. Winston just stares back at him. Razor slaps Winston in the face. Winston slowly turns, and, with the crowd booing loudly, he begins to get down on the mat. The crowd is booing loudly, with "You suck" chants. Winston has a look of inscrutable calculation on his face, but he lays on his back, telling the minus two-hundred pounder to come on and try it. Razor Blade arrogantly drops and, and shouts for the referee to count the pin.

Ace Anderson: Razor Blade gets the first pin attempt. What frickin' Bizarro World are we in -

The referee shrugs, not understanding any of what's going on here, but he does count Razor's pin.

The referee: One...













2...

















3... Winston THROWS Razor off of him with authority.

Jerry Andrews: Oh my!

Ace Anderson: Razor, brain donor that he is, perhaps thought a little too highly of himself, thinking that Winston Wilson would bow to his demands because it's his self-proclaimed yard.

Jerry Andrews: Or, what happens when you roll for intimidation and get a 1, folks.

Razor shoots to his feet, his face turning red with rage. Winston is getting to one knee. Razor angrily begins slapping Winston in the face, insulting him and calling him a big dummy. Winston finally grips Razor by the hand, and then pulls him in to annihilate him with a shortarm clothesline. Winston gets to his feet, shouting some choice words at Razor. The crowd pops. Winston lifts Razor up, and gives him a club to the back so hard that Razor drops to his knees. Winston gives Razor several more clubs to the back, then lifts him up and flings him into the corner. He gives Razor a huge overhand chop to the chest. Razor shouts in pain. Winston hauls back and does it again. Winston lifts Razor out of the corner and walks him out in the middle of the ring onehanded, holding him in sidewalk slam position in a display of strength, then he squashes Razor in the middle of the ring with a sidewalk slam.

Jerry Andrews: I don't think Razor prepared for this circumstance, actually having to battle this monster.

Winston lifts Razor up, gripping him in a vicegrip by the temples, and squeezing. Razor shouts and flails his arms in pain. Winston begins to headbutt the back of Razor's head, until Razor goes limp. Finally, Winston throws Razor to the mat. He runs off the ropes and drops a leg across the back of Razor' head. Winston lifts Razor up and whips him into the corner, hard enough to knock Razor off his feet and flop to the mat. Winston lifts Razor again and whips him into a corner. Winston lifts Razor out of the corner and gives him a headbutt that makes him stumble around the ring. Winston clubs him across the back a few more times. He whips Razor to the ropes, but Razor stops himself and slides out of the ring to the aisle. The crowd boos, as Razor takes a moment to catch his breath. Winston follows after him, and Razor paces around the ring, with Winston following after him.

Ace Anderson: Is this a game plan, a strategic retreat, or is Razor just trying to create some separation from the absolute pasting he's been taking so far?

Razor rolls back inside, and as Winston slides in the ring Razor axe handles him across the back and starts clubbing at him viciously, and he gets up and starts booting him. The crowd is booing, as Razor paces around intensely. He lifts Winston up by the head, pulling him up and applying a side headlock and he begins laying into Winston's forehead with punches as he yells, "You should have stayed down!" He backs up a few feet as Winston pulls himself to his knees, and Razor runs in and boots Winston in the face. Razor mounts Winston again, laying into him with furious right hands.

Jerry Andrews: Razor is doing everything he can to keep the big man off balance.

Winston pushes Razor off with force, but Razor aggressively comes back in and clubs Winston. He goes to pull Winston up, but Winston drives an elbow into his midsection, followed by another, then another, backing Razor up as he starts firing away at him with right hands. Razor cuts him off with a thumb to the eye, and then he begins hitting Winston with a few rights of his own. Once more Razor gives him a right hand, but Winston's head just snaps to the side, he snarls at Razor, and he takes the smaller man off his feet with a stiff clothesline. Winston shakes the cobwebs out a little bit, then he looks down at Razor with a snarl as his eyes widen with intensity. He shouts "Get up!" Razor pulls himself up, and he turns, swinging at him for a right, but Winston blocks and starts peppering Razor with rights, staggering him back. Winston grips his arm and fires him into the ropes, taking him down on the return with a back body drop.

Jerry Andrews: Did you see the elevation on that throw?

Ace Anderson: See it? I bet Razor can count the number of angels up there in heaven!

Razor gets up, holding his back, and Winston clotheslines him back down. Razor gets back up and Winston whips him into the corner, then he backs up a few steps and comes in with a fierce corner clothesline. Razor slumps back in the corner, trying to catch his breath, and Winston nails him with a back elbow, then another. Razor stumbles out and Winston hooks his arms and takes him down with a vertical suplex. Razor holds his back in pain, and rolls around on the mat. Winston boots him a few times. Razor climbs to his feet, and Winston nails him with a stiff headbutt that makes Razor stagger back against the ropes. Winston gives Razor a few right hands, and then he paces back a few steps then he comes in for a clothesline. Razor tries to drop down and pull down the top ropes so that Winston will fall over the ropes, but Winston steadies himself and hangs on. Razor throws a right at Winston, who blocks, elbows Razor in the face and then he grips Razor's hair and walks him over to the turnbuckle, going to slam Razor's head off of it. Razor sticks his foot on the middle rope to block it, then swiftly elbows Winston in the face. Winston teeters on the apron, but hangs on. Razor backs up to the opposite rope and comes running at Winston, looking to spear him through the ropes, but Winston moves and Razor goes sailing through the ropes to the outside. The crowd pops big for this move.

Jerry Andrews: The big dog has found a fight he can't handle.

Ace Anderson: I don't care how big your damn dog is, if it gets into a fight with a rhinoceros I don't hold much hope for it.

Razor arches his back in agony, rolling around on the concrete. Winston takes a moment to turn to the crowd and play to it. He makes a raising the roof motion with his hands, and the crowd cheers "What, what", getting behind the Chocolate Colossus. He takes a moment to do some hot stepping around the ring, to the delight of the crowd. Razor, gritting his teeth in annoyance at seeing Wilson playing to the crowd, is pulling himself up on the apron. He slowly starts getting up onto the apron, and then Winston turns, sees him getting up, and hooks him under the arm and by his hair and flings Razor over the top rope to the middle of the ring. Razor arches his back, moaning in agony.

Jerry Andrews: Winston seems like he's toyed with Razor enough, he's looking to put him away!

Razor groans, pulling himself to a kneeling position. Winston boots Razor in the gut, hooking his arms and lifting the 265 pounder up with terrifying ease before dropping him in the middle of the ring with an Angels wings facebuster! Razor Blade moves no more. Winston claps and raises the roof as he is on his knees, and then he pushes his bulk down on Razor for a pin.

Jerry Andrews: He calls that Harlem Hangover! And I don't think Razor can take any more!

The referee: One...















Two...















Three!!

Ding Ding Ding

Sasha Greene: Here's your winner... WINSTON WILSON!!

"Up In Here" by DMX plays and Winston smiles hugely, lurching to his feet and circling the ring with his arms up in celebration. He takes a dance break as the crowd cheers him on. The referee is making certain Razor Blade is still with us, but Razor just lays there with a faraway look in his eyes.

Jerry Andrews: Another victory for the newcomer, and a dominating show of power as he defeats Razor Blade.

Ace Anderson: The big man is certainly something we haven't ever seen before in Pure Class Wrestling, I have to say that.

Winston exits the ring, holding his hand up and pointing to the fans, and making motions for them to stand up. Razor Blade is still recuperating in the ring.

We head backstage of the Pure Class Arena where Shane Dodge is standing with a mic. Dressed in a nice suit, he looks at the camera.

Shane Dodge: Ladies and gentlemen, my guest at this time, the newest King of the Underground, the eponymous holder of that division's championship, David Hunter.

The camera zooms back to get both Shane and David Hunter--the latter dressed to compete--rolling his limbs and getting some final stretches in. The Underground Title is in place around his waist, hanging loosely and shaking about as David does his motions.

Shane Lodge: David Hunter, tonight, you participate in the mandatory one-on-one rematch with Holden Ross for the championship currently wrapped around your waist. What are your thoughts as we approach ever closer to the final hour?

Shane leans the mic towards David, who stops his stretches.

David Hunter: Shane, for the past few weeks, Holden and I have destroyed a lot of this building. In fact, if I look over there to that metal tote, I think I still see a dent from two weeks ago. And over there, I can see a chuck of that wall missing from last week. Speaking of last week, me, Holden, and some other asshole destroyed each other ten times over. Anybody watching and anybody participating can not deny that the three of us gave what we had to offer. If they do then I'd like to see them battle the three of us and see who walks out standing. Or walking.

David takes a brief pause to allow his words to seep in.

David Hunter: Nonetheless, last week, I walked out with this in my grasp. This Underground Title makes me the King. Now, I don't know if history has been too kind to Warrior Kings, but I know for a fact, that as a Hunter, royalty is something I've learned to live with. Whether it was the top champion of a small-time indy promotion, a supernatural house with a ghost with the most, or the owner of a multi-million dollar wrestling organization. The Hunters know what it feels like to hold championships, but more to the point, they know what it's like to run things.

David cracks a smirk, smacking his title in the front a few times.

David Hunter: This title means I run this whole damn division. And quite frankly, I'm not looking to give it up just cause Holden's going through an internal crisis with his beliefs or because he really, really wants this title back. No, I'm a Hunter. Hunters always aim for their prey. But tonight, I'm hunting a predator. And...as a...humble king...I'm putting my crown on the line against the meanest predator in my realm. So tonight, I prove why Hunters don't back down. Whether it's my father in Hell in a Cell with two other straight-up Japanese gangstas, my uncle in a 30-minute death match, my grandfather in a one-hour broadway, my sister at a 12 hour shift on Back Friday, my best friend at a three-hour shoot-out at Amity Park, or my mother at an all-day court hearing on which ghost murdered some other ghost...

The fans react to this with applause. The words might be lost to most, but it was said with enough vigor that they're into it. David glances up, staring into the camera.

David Hunter:...the only way I'm ever going to back down, especially to you, Holden...is if you cut off the King's head...and take the crown from his corpse.

With that David, walks off camera, the feed cutting to a commercial break.

Trauma returns from the commercial break with Seromine making his way through the faithful, dressed in black minus the vintage PAT BENATAR shirt he has on. Seromine hops the rail and slides into the ring.

He calmly walks around with his middle fingers pointing at the faithful. The enormously loud booing only fuels his enjoyment. He steps towards the center, removes a microphone from inside of his jacket and raises it with his right hand...

Seromine: Fuck each and every single one of you!

He feigns being shocked by their predictable reaction and chants. So much so, he emulates Hulk Hogan by doing the ear cup pose to every side of the ring. His attention turns back to the hard camera.

Seromine: Go ahead and strain those vocals on me. Everyone that follows will get to compete in silence, which I'm sure will be a blessing. You know me and you know how this works. When I say you're all pieces of shit, it's the damn truth!

Again, no fucks are given by him as he further eggs the faithful on. Seromine lowers the mic and stands still with an ear to ear grin. Growing bored with everyone, he decides to press forward.

Seromine: Has anyone seen Gabriel---excuse me, RICK MAJORS, lately? The last time I saw him, he was flat on his face with a steel chair being slammed over and over and over in a cathartic showing of payback. After two long years of carrying his weight on MY back, it felt absolutely fantastic to return him to that lonely place of defeat that has become his default over the years!

Seromine walks to where he put his former associate down at, mockingly drawing the outline of his body with invisible chalk.

Seromine: He said a lot last Trauma, didn't he? For example...

[Rick Majors: 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, clearly annoying Seromine in the process. With a snap of his fingers, more Trauma 241 footage is shown, but this time from Holden Ross.

[Holden Ross: 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.]

Seromine laughs maniacally. The boo birds come flying back out, but that only makes him laugh that much more. Wiping "tears" from his eyes, he switches to a deadly serious expression on the drop of a dime.

Seromine: Oh, Rick. Let's look at the facts. I made you a champion when you never held any titles in PCW! I took Tyler Scott to two shots at Kyle Shane when he was nothing more than robotic scrap going to draws with Stormm! Holden laid his case out for you, so I don't have to. You may have brought them to me, but I made them matter! I did what YOU couldn't! I did what YOU couldn't even do for yourself!

He looks ready to snap as his mood unravels.

Seromine: You said you helped me win as much as my former followers did, which is to say, never! Know why? Because I never needed them! He said that he spread my LIES!

Seromine nods.

Seromine: Well, I hate to break it to you. The bible is a book full of them, from start to finish. Like you said, you were desperate. Now you're just pathetic. Still weak and now pathetic. Just like every single one of them!

Seromine points to the crowd, mocking their boos for the fun of it, before continuing to speak.

Seromine: I KNEW that I could string along the easily fooled like yourself. All I had to do was pretend like I had seen a HOLY LIGHT--he puts his hand in the air--Recite scripture and praise the ultimate C-O-N. I knew what I was doing and I was a master of doing it to you. But...you said something I agree with. You said I wasn't a GOD. You're right. I'm not.

Seromine pauses to shoot a smile.

Seromine: I'm an ANARCHIST!

He pauses.

The Anarchist: Did you miss me, PCW?!

Jerry Andrews (answering): NO!

Ace Anderson: I kind of did. No fine or suspension was big enough to stop him.

Jerry Andrews: And that's good, HOW?!

The Anarchist: I have no lowest point, Richard. I manipulated you right into a trap. I was willing to sacrifice myself so that you could feel like you got one over on me for ONE night...and you took the bait. You celebrated like you had been awarded a participation trophy, lulled into this sense of accomplishment that you took the head off the snake. But all you did was put yourself in the crosshairs...

Willard points an air gun to the camera and squeezes the trigger, mouthing BANG at the same time.

The Anarchist: With as much shit as he said, you'd think I had already kicked his asshole into his mouth! You couldn't beat me before as Rick Majors, you couldn't beat me in the Deadly Rumble and the ONLY reason I got myself disqualified in the Icemann Invitational, was so I could feed you to Grimm!

Jerry Andrews: Has anyone checked on the blood pressure of President Loki?

Ace Anderson: Does he still hold office?

The Anarchist: There are seven bones in the human neck and four 'major' ligaments in the knee. How many of yours are still healthy? How many of those haven't gone under the knife? Your answer really makes no difference. I know your medical history and by the time I am done with you, the answer to my questions will be ZERO! You should've slit your wrists much deeper when you had the chance, because you're looking at the reason for your future bleed out! Rick Majors---the man who couldn't even attempt suicide right!

Willard breaks away to further antagonize the faithful, stopping only to confront Sasha Greene and the assigned referee for the next match. Then a wave of calmness overtakes his instability.

The Anarchist: Referee...I want you to ring the bell. I'm challenging Rick Majors to a match, right here and right NOW!

He jaws with the reluctant official. Willard holds his hands up like he's accepting the denial. That is until he grabs him by the shirt with a tight grasp. He pulls the mic in close.

The Anarchist: Miss Greene...make the introduction.

His eyes slowly turn towards her frightened direction.

The Anarchist: I'm not joking. Make the introduction...or I'll send this innocent bystander to early retirement at the local hospital!

Sasha, fearing he'll keep good on his word, tries to find her composure as she does as requested.

Sasha Greene: From Toronto, Ontario, Canada...he weighs 219 lbs...R-R-Rick Majors. 

"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 nobody.

The Anarchist (looking at the ref): Now COUNT!

Fearing for his safety, he starts to administer a ten count. When it gets to 8-9-10, Willard counts along. Once again, a state of calm appears. He orders his arm get raised in victory at the same time he wants to hear his name announced as the winner...

Sasha Greene: Here is your winner, "The Anarchist" Ja---

She's cut off by having the microphone moved away. The referee is released and both are told "See how reasonable I can be?"

The Anarchist: The smartest decision he ever made. But...he's not the only person I need to address...

Willard points to the tron where a clip from Trauma 238 rolls.

[Kyle Shane: It's funny, a man named Jason Willard, who used to be called the Anarchist, an unpredictable anti-establishment terrorist would allow himself to degenerate into being this. A pompous, over-inflated cult leader propped up by a collection of weaklings.]

Willard is shown giving an unenthusiastic clap with his eye-roll.

The Anarchist: I played that sound bite over and over in my head ever since that night. But this isn't about Kyle. No. This is about someone I've known for years. I heard the pleas of Justin "Stormm" Michaels show after show, begging for me to return and bury PCW under my God damn feet, clearly forgetting my legacy. The same Stormm who paraded around as a scarecrow in order to grab my attention. Well some people should've been careful what they ask for.

Willard takes possession of the camera.

The Anarchist: You screwed me over, Justin, and while I thank you for helping me remember who the fuck I truly am, you have welcomed a monster looking to eat you alive. You haven't been able to beat me a single time in the fifteen years of any company we've been in. So after I end Rick Majors, I'm going to end YOU!

He shoves the camera out of his face. Pausing to gather himself, he pretends like he wasn't just dripping venom by appearing more like a happy camper for his last words.

The Anarchist: Okay! Well I'm tired of you idiots wasting my time. Enjoy the rest of the show---but before I go, allow me to introduce to you the HUMAN WRECKING BALL and the man I'm damn proud to have helped, HOLDEN ROSS!!

Willard throws the microphone into the crowd as he exits the ring.

Sasha Greene: The following is scheduled for ONE FALL, and it is for the Pure Class Wrestling Underground Championship!

Synthesizers blast through the speakers for roughly eight seconds before the guitar riff kicks in. Moments later the drums begin their assault. The arena is blanketed in red flood lights and as Holden emerges from the back, followed by Tessa, a single spotlight shines down, illuminating “The Bastard” on his trip to the ring.

For his entrance, besides his leather bikers jacket, he also sports a leather mask which covers the bottom half of his face. It is made to look like a grinning sharks maw or the nose of an A-10 Warthog.

Sasha Greene: Making his way to the ring, accompanied by Tessa, he stands six foot-five inches tall and weighs in at just over three hundred pounds! He hails from the S.L.O.! He….is... HOLDEN ROSS!!

He climbs the ring steps and wipes his feet on the mat before sitting on the middle rope to help Tessa get into the ring. He follows her in and takes a seat in his corner, leaning against the turnbuckles with his elbows resting on the middle rope.

Jerry Andrews: It's not for nothing that Ross is called the Bastard, a super heavyweight nightmare of rage and aggression, he has been a force to be reckoned with in the Underground division.

Ace Anderson: You said it, partner. Ross has been looking for a one-on-one match for the Underground title since he took the fall in the six way match at Halloween Trauma. Now he finally gets his hands on the man who has his title.

Sasha Greene: And his opponent, weighing in at 247 lbs... he is the Pure Class Wrestling Underground Champion... 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: There he is, the new Underground champion, having put a premature end to the title reign of Muscles Malone last Trauma.

Ace Anderson: This kid has shown he is a natural fit for the Underground division, and he has a lineage of history, he's... related? Somehow? To former XWF and PWE great Hawaiian Hardhead.

Jerry Andrews: He's come to make a name for himself right here, right now. And if he can prove two Traumas in a row that he belongs on top of the Underground division, he'll do just that.

Pure Class Wrestling Underground Championship
Underground Rules
David Hunter (Pure Class Wrestling Underground 🤴) vs Holden Ross
Referee: Eric Russo

Both men come together in a collar-elbow tieup, but Hunter immediately twists out of it and wrenches Ross's arm. Hunter bends Ross's arm in a wristlock, applying pressure, and then he applies a hammerlock behind Ross's back. Holden is immediately able to elbow his way out of it, and he tries to grip Hunter around the waist in a bearhug, but Hunter begins boxing his ears. Hunter takes Holden down with a hiptoss into an armbar.

Jerry Andrews: Hunter has a game plan here, he's trying to eliminate Holden Ross's strength advantage.

Ross quickly fights to his feet and he rakes Hunter's eyes. He goes for a whip to the ropes, and when Hunter returns he swings for a clothesline. Hunter ducks and hits a reverse neckbreaker. Then, Hunter applies a sleeper hold with the arm trapped. Holden begins to fade, seemingly, as Hunter takes him down to the mat. The referee asks Holden if he'll give up but Holden shakes his head no, and is even laughing a little through the pain. Hunter tries to tighten the hold, but Holden is getting to his feet, and he pushes up to his knees and then a standing position with Hunter on his back. In a great display of strenth, Holden runs into the corner with Hunter on his back, squashing him. Hunter releases the hold, and Holden flattens him with a sidewalk slam out of the corner. Holden covers.

The referee: One... Kickout.

Holden drops a leg across the throat of Hunter after jogging a few steps away. Then, Holden covers again.

The referee: One... Kickout.

Holden lifts Hunter up from behind, going for a full nelson submission, but Hunter is fighting it off by flexing his arms and chest, keeping Holden from locking his hands. Hunter elbows his way clear of the hold and turns around, unloading on Holden with a flurry of right hands. Hunter drops Ross with a clothesline. Ross gets back up and Hunter continues unleashing a flurry of big right hands on Holden Ross. He looks to irish whip the Bastard into the ropes but Ross reverses it, and as Hunter comes running off the ropes Ross catches him with a huge powerslam. Ross picks up Hunter and nails a huge knee to his stomach before irish whipping him into the opposite turnbuckle. Ross looks to follow it up with a clothesline but Hunter moves out of the way and Ross goes crashing into the turnbuckle. Ross is clutching his chest in pain as he rests by the ropes where Hunter follows up with a big clothesline taking Ross all the way to the outside.

Ace Anderson: That was a big opening for Hunter.

Jerry Andrews: So far Hunter has been trying his best to make sure Holden doesn't get a weapon in his hands. It's an unconventional approach for an Underground title defense.

Ace Anderson: True, but a man with Holden Ross' size wielding a baseball bat is a terrifying prospect.

Climbing to the outside after Ross, Hunter grabs his arm and whips him hard into the steel steps. Hunter follows it up by running in and delivering a big boot to the seated Ross's face, smashing it into the steps. Hunter hits with a loud crash, and Ross looks to be out cold. Hunter rests on the apron, and he finally decides it's time to start breaking out the weaponry. He slides a table out from underneath the ring, and is in the middle of unblocking the legs when a recovered Ross gets up to his feet and gives him a double fisted sledge to the back, staggering Hunter. Ross then snarls, lifts the table up and paces a few steps away, before watching Hunter stagger around and Ross jabs the end of the table into Hunter's gut the hard way. Hunter falls. Holden Ross holds the wooden table over his head in the aisle, and he raises it over his head like a board and brings it down across Hunter's back!!

Jerry Andrews: Holy Mother!!

Ace Anderson: Ross swung that table like most people swing a steel chair!

Jerry Andrews: I have never in my life see someone get so innovative with their violence.

Ross sees the table is cracked over Hunter's back, and he hurls one piece of it aside. Ross takes the remaining half of the table and slams it over Hunter's back a few times, then finally discards it. Hunter groans, as he is on all fours, and he holds his back which has bad welts on it, possibly from the metal pieces of the table. Holden then he wraps his arms around Hunter's waist and drives his lower back into the ring apron with a lot of force. Hunter screams, and arches his back, which had already suffered at the table shot, as Ross pulls him out and does it again. Hunter staggers out, and Ross grips him by his hair, and then drives him back into the ring apron with a Russian legsweep. He rolls Hunter right into the ring and just reaches a hand in the ring experimentally, pushing down on Hunter's chest. The ref counts this pin.

The referee: One... Kickout.

Ross smiles, and he pulls Hunter back out onto the apron head first. He pulls the apron cloth over Hunter's head and shoulders so he gets trapped in it and begins beating him with clubs to the back. Finally, he ceases the assault. Hunter, gasping, pulls his head out from under the apron cloth, trying to get some energy back. Holde Ross reaches under the apron and pulls out a cookie sheet for baking. He waits for Hunter woozily slide off the apron into the aisle, he smashes it over Hunter's head. Hunter stays on his feet for a moment, then falls back. Ross walks around, stomping Hunter for a moment.

Jerry Andrews: That blow to the head was sickening!!

Ace Anderson: Nobody tell Bennet Omalu about Ross' conduct here...

Jerry Andrews: ...Your references lose me sometimes.

Ace Anderson: Hello? 2014 movie with Will Smith? Doctor who warns the NFL about CTE? Jeez you need a Netflix account...

Ross lifts Hunter up to his feet. He grips Hunter's arm and goes for an irish whip into the steel steps. Hunter resists being whipped for a moment by setting his feet. Ross tries again, but again Hunter is able to resist being whipped, and then he reverses, sending Ross crashing into the steel steps himself. Ross hits the steps shoulder first with a loud crash, hard enough to dislodge the steps. Ross screams in pain. Hunter rests for a second, checking his forehead for blood, then he walks over and lifts Ross up, punishing him with a few clubs to the back. Ross fights back with a vicious rake to the eyes. Hunter groans and drops down, and Ross rests, trying to blink some feeling back into his head. As he does so, Hunter slides his hand under the apron and seems to grip something. Ross comes back over to Hunter, holding a kendo stick in his hand, and he goes to lift Hunter up, but as he pulls Hunter up Hunter brings out what he had in his hands under the apron, a fire extinguisher. Hunter sprays Ross in the face with a cloud from the fire extinguisher. Ross shouts in pain and stumbles back, holding his face.

Ace Anderson: I've never understood why the fire marshall is cool with us using those in these matches. I just hope this building is still safety compliant.

Hunter then retrieves a trash can lid from under the apron and smacks it over Ross's face. Hunter takes the one trashcan lid in his hands, gets a look of consideration, then he pulls out another one from under the apron. He looks at them both with a grin, one in each hand, and as Ross gets up Hunter hits him on one side of his head with one trashcan lid, then hits him on the other side with the second trashcan lid, then he clashes both trashcan lids together with Ross's head sandwiched between them. The collision makes a loud CRASHHHH. Ross shouts in pain and grips his head. Hunter then takes one trashcan lid and smacks it over his head. He holds a fist up to the crowd, receiving a pop, then he lifts Ross up and rolls him into the ring. Hunter paces around outside for a moment more, then he hunts around under the apron. Hunter pulls out a large steel trashcan, and throws it into the ring, then Hunter climbs in after it. Hunter then motions for Ross to get up, and he places the trash can over Ross' head and torso, blinding the big man. Ross is on his knees with the trash can over his head in a daze. Hunter then comes in with a bicycle kick to the kneeling opponent, leaving his feet and sending all of his foot connecting solidly with the trash can and Ross. The impact is like a car wreck and it propels Ross backwards. Hunter pulls the dented trash can off him, and covers.

Jerry Andrews: He calls that Ode To Frank!!

Ace Anderson: I'm not even remotely sure who Frank is, but... Damn, I'll bet he's looking down with a tear in his eye!... Or up, if he's in hell or something.

The referee: One...















Two... Kickout.

Hunter waits for the bigger man to start trying to pull himself up to his knees, before clamping on a waistlock. In a jaw dropping feat of strength, he muscles him over for a slow but effective German suplex. Hunter can't bridge for the pin, but Ross is gripping at his neck awkwardly, and Hunter rolls over for the pin.

The referee: One...















Two... Kickout.

Hunter lifts Ross up, but is cut off by a throat thrust uppercut. Hunter stumbles back a step, holding his throat, and Ross is quick to lift him up onto his back in torture rack position, before dropping him with a harsh backbreaker. Ross doesn't waste any time, as he lifts Hunter up, sticks his head between his legs, and gives him a powerbomb over the top rope to the outside. Hunter goes crashing down into the aisle, and doesn't move. The crowd erupts in boos at Ross as he looks up from his spot on the mat, and the well named Bastard snarls at them. Ross climbs out into the aisle, and he lifts Hunter up, clubbing him over the back with force. After a particularly sickening club, Hunter falls to all fours. Ross grips Hunter's legs and Giant swings him into the guardrail, then switches directions and blasts him into the apron! The crowd gives an "Oooooh" of sympathy at the hard impact and Ross flings Hunter's legs down. Ross begins yelling and bellowing with rage as he begins ripping up a section of padding in the aisle, trying to expose the concrete.

Ace Anderson: I don't think Ross is checking for mold under those mats.

Jerry Andrews: He's going to try and drive Hunter right through the God damn concrete!!

Ross lifts Hunter up, bouncing his head off the steel guardrail. Hunter falls back into the aisle. Ross goes to lift him up, and he hooks his head for a suplex, intending to suplex him across the exposed concrete. Hunter blocks it with his leg, punches Ross in the gut a few times, and then he gives Ross a snap suplex, dropping him back first across the exposed concrete. Ross contorts around, holding his back. The referee is leaning out, trying to check on both competitors out of concern, not like he can do anything about it. Ross spasms a little bit. Hunter shakes the cobwebs out with a dazed expression on the aisle, before limply pulling himself up on the apron cloth and rolling in. Ross is crawling around, trying to catch his breath, as Hunter lays out in the ring.

Jerry Andrews: The Underground division competitors have been laying it all on the line, week after week, providing some of the most wince inducing, bone jarring matches of the evening.

Ace Anderson: Nobody else does it like we do, bay-bee!

Jerry Andrews: But just look at the toll this is taking on both men.

Ross finally is able to pull himself up. He looks around, spotting Hunter, who is pushed up on one elbow, and Ross' face looks like a devilish mask of anger. He climbs onto the apron, getting in the ring, and charges Hunter. He lays in with some heavy right hands. Hunter, beaten down from the punishment on the outside, throws a punch. Ross retaliates with a right of his own, and the two exchange fists for a moment. Ross suddenly digs both of his thumbs into Hunter's eyes and rakes his eyes. Hunter staggers away, screaming and blinded. Ross clotheslines him over the back, lifts him up and gives him a front powerslam aka Worlds Strongest Slam.

Jerry Andrews: Ross is like a damn machine, he just keeps coming.

Ross covers.

The referee: One...















Two... Kickout.

Ross climbs to the outside and he roots around under the apron, before finding something he could use, a section of glass window. He climbs into the ring, and teases using it to smash Hunter with, before he turns and walks over to turnbuckle. He wedges the window pane in longways between the middle and top rope. He walks over to Hunter and lifts him up, and grips his arm. He goes to whip Hunter into the corner with the pane of glass, but Hunter reverses, sending Holden into the corner. Ross stops himself by gripping the ropes before he hits the turnbuckle. Hunter comes charging at Ross from behind, and Ross spots him out of the corner of his eye, and he quickly turns and boots the incoming Hunter in the stomach, making Hunter halt his momentum and drop to his knees. Ross then grips Hunter by the hair and the back of his pants and walks him out a few steps, then he runs Hunter forward, sending him flying forward with force. Hunter goes sailing through the middle and top rope, smashing face first through the window pane and shattering the glass. Hunter's shoulder connects with the steel ringpost as well, and Hunter dangles between the second and top rope for a second, holding his shoulder in pain. Blood is starting to leak from his forehead where he connects with the glass.

Jerry Andrews: Hunter might as well have been mangled in a car wreck, with how he's looking after meeting that glass and steel!

Ross pulls a bloodied Hunter out of the ropes, throwing the wooden frame of the window pane out of the way, as he lays a few boots to Hunter's injured arm and shoulder. Ross then goes to the outside and grabs a kendo stick, smiling at it. He gets in the ring via the the steps, holding the kendo stick. He swings it in both hands back and forth to test it out, then leans in to the wounded and hurting Hunter, taunting him. However, Hunter swings his leg up from an on his back position and kicks Ross right in the face! The stinging kick makes Ross stumble back, but doesnt' floor him, but it does make him mad enough to try and go back down and pick Hunter up and Hunter kicks back up, kicking him in the face again, and kicks again, kicking the kendo stick out of his hands! Ross shakes his head, and he turns, trying to get a bead on Hunter, but Hunter takes him down with a drop toehold. Holden groans, and holds his nose from where he hit face first. Hunter comes in with a jumping knee Fameasser, bringing Ross down face first!

Jerry Andrews: Hunter surprised Ross enough to take him off guard... the Hunter Suite! He hit the Hunter Suite!

Ace Anderson: Very impressive.

Hunter, exhausted, tries a cover.

The referee: One...

















Two...















Th- Kickout.

Hunter uses the kendo stick between Ross's legs to lift Ross up and plant him with a harsh back suplex. He starts to go for a cover, but then thinks better of it. He goes to the outside, picking up a fresh table, and he goes to slide it in the ring, coming in after it. He lays the table like a slab in the corner, then he goes back to Ross. He pounds on Ross's back with some clubs, and then he grabs Ross by the hair, trying to walk the big man over and lay him on the table in the corner. Hunter jogs to the other side of the ring, and he comes in, trying for a splash in the corner that would put them into the table, but Ross rolls off the table at the last second. Hunter, frantically putting on the brake, holds his arms out to the ropes and stops himself with a hand on each top rope and a foot against the table. He breathes a relief. Then he turns, and Holden Ross boots him in the gut, lifts Hunter up on his shoulders, spins him around in Alabama Slamma position and then gives him a modified spinebuster, crashing him into the table laid in the corner. Both men are down, and breathing hard. The referee moves a half of table off of Hunter in the corner.

Jerry Andrews: Good LORD!!

Ace Anderson: I did not like the way Hunter hit that table or the turnbuckles it was sitting against.

Holden Ross, bleeding on cuts from his arms thanks to his spinebuster into the table, pulls Hunter over and covers him.

The referee: One...















Two...















Th- Kickout!

Ross breathes deeply, and tries not to get too frustrated, but the tension on his face is palpable as he shoots a look to the referee. He grits his teeth through the pain, and lifts Hunter up by the hair to lay a few punches in to the cut and bloody forehead. Hunter is like a ragdoll while Ross grips his hair. Ross gets to his feet and brings Hunter up with him. Ross irish whips Hunter into the corner, following it up with an avalanche, and as Hunter stumbles out Ross follows it up by grabbing him around the throat for a chokeslam and hitting it, but Ross hangs onto Hunter's throat, pulls him back up and hits a second chokeslam. Ross hangs on to Hunter's throat still, pulls him back up in chokeslam position, and finishes the combo off by lifting Hunter up for a third chokeslam, this time dropping Hunter over his knee with a chokeslam backbreaker.

Jerry Andrews: Relentless, dominating, destructive are all words that define Ross in this match.

Ace Anderson: He wants that Underground title back in a big way.

Ross pins, hooking the leg.

The referee and the crowd: One...















Two...















Thr- Kickout!!

Jerry Andrews: Somehow, Hunter is still in it!

Ace Anderson: This kid has an impressive pedigree, he seems to be taking to the Underground division like a duck to water.

Jerry Andrews: But how much more can he stand?

Ross snaps, yelling "God dammit" and shooting a look at the referee, eyes blazing. Ross gets up, trying to intimidate the ref. A weak, lifeless Hunter rolls out of the ring, holding his bleeding back. Ross climbs out of the ring, and he begins slapping Hunter over the back of the head, yelling for him to get up. Ross paces over to the steel steps which he had dislodged earlier, and he lifts up a section of steps. He looks at Hunter, who is on all fours and trying to get to his feet. Hunter is trying to pull himself up, and as he does Ross comes charging at him with the steel steps. Suddenly, as Ross gets close, Hunter drops down into a drop toehold, and Ross falls face first onto the steel steps. Ross is laid out across the steps for a moment. Hunter lifts Ross up, clubbing him over the back, and he grips him by the hair and the back of his pants and walks him over to the announce table and throws him into the side of it. Ross hits back first, and arches his back in pain. Hunter shoos Jerry and Ace out of the way.

Ace Anderson: Back up, man, you're too close!

Hunter takes a laptop computer that was sitting on the desk in front of Jerry and he grips it by the keyboard, and as Ross gets to his feet Hunter swings it, smacking Ross over the head with the screen and nearly taking his head off. The glass is shattered, and there's a large bloody smear on the screen. Ross flops back onto the concrete, and the blood is starting to flow more freely from his wounded forehead. Jerry looks at his now ruined laptop in astonishment.

Ace Anderson: Dude, now it's going to take forever for those God damn Windows updates to load now.

Jerry Andrews: That's company property!!

Hunter pulls a now badly bleeding Ross over to the table, and he yanks one of the monitors out of the desk. He rips out the cords from the screen and wraps them around Ross's throat, and pulls back with all of his might, shouting choice words at Ross as he chokes him out. Ross flails his arms. Hunter continues to choke Ross out with the cables. After a moment, Hunter releases Ross. Ross slumps into the aisle and begins gasping, trying to catch his breath. Hunter groans, trying to lift the 300 pound super heavyweight's dead bulk up and muscle him into the ring, and finally pushing him up onto the apron. Ross, blood in his eyes and with a far away and possibly concussed look on his face, rolls away out of Hunter's grasp. Hunter tries to get in the ring, but Ross retreats out the other side of the ring, getting on the apron and wiping the blood out of his eyes. Hunter, angrily comes around the ring towards Ross, sitting on the apron, and he tries to grip Ross and give him a few right hands. However, Ross' muscled legs piston out, shoving Hunter the hard way and sending him across the aisle. Hunter comes forward again and Ross comes off the apron and boots him in the face. Ross gets to his feet. He walks over and unfolds the table from earlier and sets it up in the middle of the aisle. He spots Hunter, and he begins peppering him with right hands. Hunter blocks, and fires back with a right hand of his own. The two men begin exchanging right hands back and forth, but Ross breaks it up by jamming his thumbs into Hunter's eyes. Hunter stumbles away, towards the table, scrubbing at his eyes. Ross backs up, then comes charging towards Hunter. Suddenly, Hunter scouts it and he takes Ross down with a back body drop, sending him high into the air and tossing him onto the unfolded table. Amazingly, despite the big man being flung onto it, this table does not break.

Jerry Andrews: We've gone through a lot of wood tonight.

Ace Anderson: I'm too engrossed in this match to make an innuendo, but just know, I had one on file there.

Hunter looks around, then he climbs up onto the apron.

Jerry Andrews: What does Hunter have in mind here?

Hunter walks over to a turnbuckle, and he begins to climb up. Ross is laid out on the table, trying to regain his composure. Hunter sets himself on the top turnbuckle then comes off, from the top rope all the way down to the aisle, putting them both through the table with a gigantic leg drop. The crowd erupts into a "HOLY SHIT" chant, and as David Hunter and Holden Ross are both laid out in the ruins of the table. Hunter takes a moment to recover, then he pushes some of the wrecked table off Ross.

Jerry Andrews: OH MY GOD!!!

Ace Anderson: And again, the Underground division raises the bar, and again, both of these men are completely wiped out.

Hunter is doing his best to recuperate after that big move. He tries to hook his head under Ross's arm and firearms' carry him up, but the relative bulk of Ross isn't making it easy. Ross isn't doing much, but he is stirring and limply trying to push his way off. Finally, he elbows his way off Hunter's shoulder, and drops to his knees in the aisle. Hunter turns and Ross fires up, giving him a Pounce like shoulder tackle that knocks him across the aisle. Hunter, gasping for air, grits his teeth and tries to pull himself up on the guardrail. Gathering all of his strength, Ross steadies himself, grips Hunter by the hair and flings him into the ring. Hunter flails like a drowning man and flops for a moment, the blood in his eyes making him blinded with every heart beat. He is on all fours, and he wipes his face off, trying to recover. Ross re enters the ring, looking as implacable and remorseless as a horror movie villain, and as Hunter starts getting up Ross backs into the ropes, gathers steam and comes at a cross section to plow into Hunter with a full force Pounce this time, sending Hunter flying out of his damn boots.

Jerry Andrews: Ross just Steamrolled right over top of Hunter.

Ace Anderson: I think he's gotten a second wind!

Ross covers.

The referee and the crowd: ONE...















TWO...















THRE- NO!!

Hunter kicks out!

Ross sits up with a frustrated scream. He snarls, laying a series of knee drops against the back of Hunter's head and not letting up. He pulls Hunter to his feet, lifts Hunter up, pulls him in position and crushes him with a pumphandle driver. He covers again.

The referee and the crowd: ONE...















TWO...















THRE - NO!!

Hunter kicks out again!

Ross falls on his side, face in his hands as if he can't believe it, and he sits up screaming that that is bullshit. His face is cut from the laptop and he is beaten from the grueling match. Hunter is even more bloodied and laying on his stomach, his mouth gaping open and his eyes in shock. Ross snarls, shouting for Hunter to get his ass up, and he has the kendo stick from earlier in his hands and he waits for Hunter to gingerly start trying to pick himself up. He readies the kendo stick, getting set to tear Hunter's head off with a kendo stick shot, when Hunter stumbles around in a circle, dazed... Ross swings the kendo stick... NO! Hunter surges forward with desperate, blinding speed and passes under the kendo stick, going to the ropes, bouncing off, Ross turns, Hunter pierces him with a sudden and shocking spear. The crowd is on it's feet. Hunter, his head spasming, rolls over, gasping and groaning, then he pushes Ross onto his back for a pin.

The referee and the crowd: ONE...















TWO...















THREE - NO!!

Ross kicks out!

Jerry Andrews: What a match!

The crowd is behind both men, chanting "This is awesome" uproariously. Hunter looks completely spent after the spear, but he grits his teeth, trying to will some life back into his limbs, if they were on the HUD system in WWE 19 both men would be solidly in the red. Hunter gets to one knee, then pulls himself up, he grips Ross by the hair and pulls him up. He hooks his head on to his shoulder slowly, going for a leaping single arm stunner, the same way he got Ross last week, only he's more worn down and not able to hit it quickly or out of nowhere. He has Ross up to a base and has him hooked on his shoulder in a 3/4 facelock, but Ross pulls his head out of it, crushing Hunter's head in a Kona clutch submission and squeezing his head like a grape! Hunter groans in agony as he is being pushed left and right while his skull is being squeezed like a vice.

Jerry Andrews: Is this it?! Is Hunter fading?!

Ace Anderson: He has to be! He doesn't have anything left in the tank!

The referee asks Hunter if he gives up. Hunter refuses, but the pressure of the two hands squeezing his skull have forced him down onto his knees. He is starting to fade out, his hands just dipping limply and waving in the air, his expression going slack. But then, his body begins trembling. Natural response, fight or flight activating, survival mode going into effect, however you word it. He begins shaking with effort, and despite the bruiser squeezing his head until it's fit to pop, he begins pushing his way up. Hunter slowly transitions from both knees, to one knee, and Ross snarls and says "No!!" Hunter begins stomping on the instep of Ross's foot. He does this until Ross' fingers loosen their prying grip on his skull and he can make some separation between their two bodies. Then he kicks his leg back and up in a brutal low blow into the nether regions of Ross! Ross is doubled over, yelling in agony as his midsection suddenly blooms into the fire that all men can sympathize with. Hunter completes this by dropping down with a quick leaping stunner, and as he hits the move Ross's jaw bounces off his shoulder and he falls back like a gun shot!

Jerry Andrews: And again!! The Thrill of the Hunt connects!

Ace Anderson: This move brought Hunter the Underground title last Trauma! It may just have saved him again!

Completely done and broken, Hunter pushes his way over and gives an exhausted and lackadaisical cover on Ross.

The referee and the crowd: ONE...















TWO...















THREE -



NO!!!

Hunter lays on his back, his eyes squeezed shut, he's gasping from effort. Ross is blinking, slowly. He has no idea what's going on. Both men are down. The referee has to check on both men, seeing if either is willing to keep competing. While they're in the breathing spell, suddenly the PA cuts through the air and the hot crowd reacts with a roar as "Switchblade Smiles" by Kasabian comes on. TYLER SCOTT walks out onto the stage, an enigmatic smile on his face, and he makes his way quickly but confidently down to the ring.

Jerry Andrews: What the hell?! What's Tyler Scott doing out here?!!

Ace Anderson: I have no clue... this is a complete curve ball, and you can see it as both Hunter and Ross realize they have a visitor.

Tyler Scott comes around the ring, getting onto the apron and wiping his feet. He looks down at Hunter and at Ross, both of whom are pushing their way up to glance up at him.

Jerry Andrews: Well Tyler Scott does have history of partnership with Holden Ross... but what is his business out here?

Tyler Scott locks eyes with David Hunter, but Hunter is still too weak from the punishment he's absorbed and the energy he's expended, Hunter can do nothing but sit there pushed up on his forearms looking up at Scott. Scott has a malevolent look on his face. Holden Ross asks Tyler what he's doing. Tyler looks back, cocking an eyebrow at Ross, then he turns his focus back on Hunter like a cobra eyeing prey. He grips Hunter by the head, mooshing his cheeks and lifting him up to a kneeling position with his hand under Hunter's chin. Ross is picking himself up, tensed and engrossed in Scott's actions, but seeing Scott's focus on lifting Hunter to his feet he circles behind Scott.

Jerry Andrews: Oh no...

Suddenly, Tyler Scott lets Hunter slump down to all fours, turns around to focus on Ross, and before anyone can react strikes out and thumps Ross with a hellacious superkick that completely floors him!

Ace Anderson: Betrayal five!!

Jerry Andrews: What the hell is going on!? He just- He just superkicked Ross out of his shoes!

Moving slowly and deliberately, but his dead calm expression of malice not changing, Tyler Scott slithers between the ropes to the apron. A confused and bewildered David Hunter stares at him, too weakened to do anything else.

Jerry Andrews: I don't believe what we just saw!

Ace Anderson: It seems whatever tenuous bond Scott and Ross had is now over.

Jerry Andrews: Holden Ross sided with Seromine on the last episode of Trauma... but I guess Tyler Scott isn't choosing that same path!

Still keeping his eyes on Scott for any funny business, Hunter decides not to waste any more time and scrambles over to go pin Ross. Tyler Scott just watches. The referee, at length, drops down for a cover.

The referee: ONE...















TWO...















THREE!

Ding Ding Ding

Sasha Greene: Here is your winner... and STILL PURE CLASS WRESTLING UNDERGROUND CHAMPION... DAVID HUNTER!!

"Hopes And Dreams" by Tobyfox plays on the PA as a beaten, battered and sorely vexed David Hunter sits up, and has to be helped up by the referee. Hunter cuts a confused look outside of the ring at Tyler Scott, who is still watching Holden Ross.

Jerry Andrews: There is an eerie calm to Tyler Scott's presence out here, I can't explain his actions exactly, but I do know he just cost Holden Ross the Underground Title.

Ace Anderson: Tyler Scott has had a hell of a year himself. It could be that he just wanted to leave his mark on the Underground division. Or he could have wanted to make sure that Ross didn't walk out with the title.

Jerry Andrews: Or he could have just put himself in the crosshairs of the Anarchist....

Backstage, the same stage hand from earlier in the show, his tools presumably gathered back neatly into the toolbox in his hand, heads down to the boiler room to fix an issue that was reported to him over the handset. As he hits the stoop at the foot of the stairs, his ears catch a hushed conversation in the background. The hackles on his neck stand at attention and his eyes narrow, as his steps switch into stealth mode.

The various pockets of steam escaping prevent a full view of the speakers, or from fully hearing what they are saying, but the sadistic female voice is unmistakable. Squinting through the clouds, the stagehand sees none other than Alexa Black holding a smaller man up off of the floor and against the steam dampened walls. The petrified man visibly quivers in her grasp. He's an older gentleman, possibly near retirement age, and possibly near cardiac arrest from the stress of the attack.

He looks at his walkie-talkie, pondering whether or not to just follow protocol and notify security. He shakes his head.

Stage Hand: Not this time. Not yet.

He hides in the shadows, crouching down below the steam to get a better look at the situation.

Alexa Black: He'd better show up soon, or I'll cook your face on these pipes.

Older Man: Handyman is reliable. He'll be here.

Alexa snorts at the name.

Alexa Black: Handyman? What's his real name?

Older Man: Joey Handy. That's why we call him "Handyman." That, and he's good with his hands.

Alexa Black: When I'm done with him, you can give him a new nickname: DEAD.

The Older Man's breathing starts to become visibly labored. Joey has had enough. Reaching into his toolbox, he produces a pipe wrench. For a second, he seems to ponder the weight of the tool, before hurling it through the air. It narrowly misses Alexa, clanking loudly against a pipe next to her before falling to the floor. She turns a shocked and angered grimace to her attacker. Without breaking eye contact, Joey pops the "talk" button on his handset.

Joey Handy: I need security and an EMT in the boiler room NOW! NOW! NOW!

Alexa Black: YOU MISSED ME, YOU INSECT!

Joey Handy: No. I didn't.

Hot steam bursts through the crack made in the pipe, blasting Alexa right in the face. She lets out a yelp of surprise, releasing the old man to the floor, and clutching at her eyes as she back away. Using the time to his advantage, Joey slips in, does a fireman's carry roll, draping the man over his shoulders and rushes back to the entrance to meet the EMTs and security. The medics immediately get to work on the old guy as Joey and security look back into the room as an indignant scream echoes through the basement.

Alexa Black: I'LL KILL YOU!

Security guard: Uh uh. Nope. You're on your own with this one.

Joey's face flashes red with frustration at the guard's comment before he understands the need for self-preservation. Finally, he nods.

Joey Handy: Go on. Get the old guy out of here. I'll take care of this. I know this place like the back of my hand.

The guard doesn't hesitate to retreat with the EMT and old man. As the door snaps shut behind them, Joey picks up a piece of pipe stored under the staircase. Joey mutters to himself as he examines the weapon.

Joey Handy: Why did it have to be a woman?

He sighs deeply.

Joey Handy: Cat and mouse, it is then.

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

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. 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.

Sasha Greene: From Hangtown, Kentucky, weighing 217 LBS, GRIMM!

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 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 Greene: 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 mercy, 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 adversary.

Sasha Greene: And their opponents.

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 Greene: 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 Greene: He is the PCW 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.

Sasha Greene: His tag team partner...from Boston, Massachusetts, weighing 218 LBS, he is the World Champion, 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.

Tag Team Match
Kyle Shane (Pure Class Wrestling World ©) & Justin "Stormm" Michaels (PCW North American ©) vs Gerard Angelo & Grimm
Referee: Nigel Gale

DING!
DING!
DING!

Jerry Andrews: HOLY GOBBLEDY GOOKER!

Ace Anderson: The champ has just got a measure of revenge.

The faithful is buzzing with energy after Kyle Shane hits VATS on Gerard Angelo right out of the gate. The challenger was able to partially deflect, but was unable to shield the entire impact. No sooner is contact made does he take a limp tumble out of the ring! Grimm glowers at his partner for a split second while making sure he keeps tabs on the champ.

KYLE! KYLE! KYLE!

Grimm is forced into action now as a fired up Kyle Shane begins to work the body with piston fire leg kicks. Grimm covers himself the best he can, but no matter how big or spooky someone is, they all fall at the knees and Grimm is no different. Kyle pummels him from a ground position, but is suddenly knocked on his back with a sudden headbutt.

Grimm rolls himself to his feet and scores with a running knee just as fast as Kyle sits up. His cold eyes cast a glare on Stormm, who in turn dares him to come fight. Grimm drags Kyle over by the wrist, silently daring his Collision Course opponent to tag in. Just as Stormm reaches to do that, Grimm unleashes a flurry of stomps to Kyle after dragging him back away. Not forgetting the damage Stormm did with his bat the last two times, he makes sure to rush him off the apron.

Grimm turns his focus back around to Kyle only to take a drop toe hold. Grimm finds his head being slammed repeatedly off the mat, but that just forces him to pop his neck and slam Kyle's own face down over and over. Kyle is brought to his feet and sent to a far corner. Grimm comes with a charge, only to meet knees, and a hurricanrana that dumps him upside down against the buckles.

Jerry Andrews: Kyle saw a glimmer of hope and was able to get a counter there!

Ace Anderson: Grimm is no easy man to put down, as Kyle very well knows. Not even Stormm's signature weapon kept him down for long!

Kyle barrell rolls to his corner where, maybe to the surprise of some, a cordial tag is made. Michaels steps through the ropes and goes to keep control of the Hangtown Horror. A belly to belly suplex is delivered, but one where Stormm makes it a pin.

1.

Grimm has little trouble kicking out of that. Stormm flips the hips and takes Grimm over with a second. He pulls him to his feet, gives him a swift knee to the midsection, and attempts a snap suplex. Grimm jabs his elbows into the ribs which forces a quick break. A jawbreaker staggers the North American champion. From outside of the ring, Gerard trips Stormm!

Still somewhat dazed, but closer to recovery now, the Hollywood Hero is able to pull himself up into the corner. Grimm tags him in as the partners trade spots. Stormm is hit with a European uppercut. Angelo shoves him against the ropes and then nails a beauty of a dropkick. Stormm rolls himself out of the ring, but that invites a suicide plancha! Gerard tags some hands after getting to his feet. Stormm is brought up for an Irish whip. Stormm hits the breaks on that as he pulls Gerard into a back body drop! Or...does it?

Angelo actually lands on his feet. He uses the apron as a springboard. Stormm is caught by surprise with a blockbuster. Angelo rolls into the ring. He hits the far ropes, but turns and plants a flying knee into Kyle's face. After some trash talk from inside of the ring, he bounces off the ropes again and comes charging with a dive over the top rope and into Stormm!

The Force of Nature is sent back inside. Gerry hits a second springboard, scoring with a 450 splash that hits perfectly. Stormm is pulled up. He suddenly hits a Northern lights suplex, but doesn't keep the bridge. Holding his torso, he trades shots from a kneeled position with Gerard. The two work their way to their feet, engaging in a full scale brawl. Stormm takes the upper hand with a haymaker. A clothesline is ducked, which allows Gerard to hit an enziguri.

Jerry Andrews: Did you hear the sound of that??

Ace Anderson: I'm not deaf, of course I did. Everybody in this match is on par talent wise. But only two are champions.

Stormm is displaced on the apron. He lowers the shoulder into an oncoming Gerard. He pulls him out and after jockeying for position, hits a Russian leg sweep onto the floor! Both men go splat and the ten count is on. By the count of six and eight, they are back inside. Stormm manages to drag Gerard halfway across before the "Man Without Peer" shoves him away with his leg strength. Kyle tags himself into the match and enters to find Grimm waiting.

Kyle gets the crowd fired up with a rush into the corner. Grimm absorbs a series of charges before chopping between the shoulderblades. Kyle is spun around where he takes a trio of running battering rams. Grimm shoots him across, but in the process of reversal, takes the corner impact. Kyle has followed him over and almost instantaneously, hits a high knee just under the chin. A STINGING knife edge, by gawd WOOOOO, chop cuts through the pectoral of Grimm. Kyle goes for an Irish whip of his own. Countered. Grimm follows him in for a corner avalanche!

Following a disorienting bell clap, Kyle is led out of the corner. A short whip works the back over. On the rebound, Grimm hits a spineb---COUNTER---Kyle grabs himself a DDT! He rolls through and takes Grimm into the air for a brainbuster! Kyle makes the tag to Stormm. In he comes for a running clothesline. Grimm is picked up and posited with a bridging German suplex! The ref slides in for the count.

1.

2.

Grimm gets both of his shoulders off the mat. Stormm takes a handful of his fire red hair and with a running start, sends Grimm out of the ring. He jumps out after him. A sudden savate kick rattles the teeth of Stormm, which turns him right into CENTER OF ATTENTION. Grimm hits a reverse DDT as the punctuation mark. Then knowing there is no traditional five count to be had, launches into a blatant choke. Grimm gets in close so he can watch Stormm struggle for air. The internal clock in his mind tells him the count of six, maybe seven, is good enough. Stormm is sent back inside.

Jerry Andrews: Stormm may need the name of a good dentist after this one.

Ace Anderson: His loved ones may need one for an Undertaker.

Jerry Andrews: Will you STOP?!

Ace Anderson: I mean, I'm just saying, can you imagine a team of a dentist and an undertaker? Wouldn't that be weird? Imagine if they were brothers or something....

Gerard is tagged in. He goes to pick up Stormm, but he fires shot after shot after shot into the midsection. There's an even split of support between the two. Just as it appears Stormm has worked himself back into the advantage, Gerard catches him with a triangle choke! Stormm frantically fights his way into a Texas cloverleaf counter! Gerard refuses to give an inch. He pounds away at Stormm's knees, turning the tide back in his favor with a figure four! Stormm flails away in agony, but he uses that as fuel for a SHARPSHOOTER!

Jerry Andrews: Can you believe these submission-for-submission counters?!

Dueling chants for both are the soundtrack for this point in the match. Gerard is able to push himself into a roll, which spins Stormm onto his back. Gerard hooks the legs and leans into a pin.

1!

2!

Stormm rolls him over into a pin of his own. With the weight of his legs keeping Gerard's shoulders down...

1!

2!

Gerard knocks his knees into the side of Stormm's head to force a break. Both get up to their feet at the same time...DOUBLE CLOTHESLINE!! Stormm clutches the back of his head. Gerard is seeing Hollywood stars in the bright lights. The fans are on their feet with applause and a never ending wave of support. The referee begins administering his ten count.

1.
2.

3.
4.

5.
6.

7.
8.

9...

TAG!
TAG!

Kyle dodges a running back elbow, but not LAMENT CONFIGURATION. Grimm stares a hole right through Stormm, who at the moment is recovering on the apron. Kyle is picked up and thrown into his partner, knocking him to the floor. Kyle is spun around with Grimm inching up the corner...

Jerry Andrews: This could be the end right here...

Kyle is pulled in for a DDT. He breaks free! Grimm is BLASTED with AARD! Then a Shoryuken! and finally...

Ace Anderson: THE NUCLEAR OPTION!! I don't believe it!!

Kyle has just hit one of his newest finishers following two signatures! Grimm finds himself being pinned...

1!

2!

3---GERARD BREAKS THE PIN!

Kyle blocks HEADHUNTER. He finds himself going for FEAST OF CROWS. Gerard counters into the HOLLYWOOD STUNNER, getting every bit of the extra flash for those with the benefit of flash photography. Grimm is rolled over Kyle. The ref counts.

1!

2!

3---STORMM PULLS GRIMM OUT! Gerard hits a baseball slide into Stormm. With him staggered, he runs the ropes for a suicide dive. Stormm catches him in mid-air and is able to quickly sink a FORCE OF NATURE! Stormm is all kinds of fired up after that one. Grimm is rolled into the ring. Stormm reaches over and tags himself back in. Kyle finds himself being pushed out so that Stormm can have the moment all to himself.

Grimm is lifted and is told about his future at Collision Course. Stormm eats DEAD RECKONING! Staggered and dazed in the corner, Grimm spears him into the buckles. The Hangtown Horror is a man possessed and with renewed life. He cracks every single joint he has, seemingly dispersing the punishment he had been taking. With Stormm doubled over, Grimm sets him for THE HARVEST! He gets the rotation, STORMM counters with a small package...

1!

2!

3!!!

The ref calls for the bell as this one is in the books.

Sasha Greene: Here are your winners, Justin "Stormm" Michaels and Kyle Shane!

They may have won the match, but now comes the war. Kyle and Gerard have taken a quick flaring brawl into the commentary table. Inside if the ring, the referee becomes collateral damage for the fight between Stormm and Grimm. The sight of dual brawls is the last image fans at home will see, as these four are just throwing everything AND the kitchen sink out in an effort to assert their dominance ahead of Collision Course.

Jerry Andrews: All hell is breaking loose!

Ace Anderson: It's the classic 'last show before a pay-per-view' brawl! I love traditions! Happy Thanksgiving!

But that isn't it. The dimly lit basement and clouds of steam add a horrific atmosphere to the dangerous game playing out under the arena. Joey Handy claps the pipe against walls and other structures as he calls out to Alexa, who he'd been keeping preoccupied during broadcast in an essential game of hide and seek, allowing her to get frustratingly close before scuttling off in another direction. Having worked her into a frenzy, he decides it's time to end the game. He bangs the pipe a few more times to get her attention.

Joey Handy: MARCO!

Alexa Black hisses her response as she turns in the direction of the noise.

Alexa Black: POLO! When I get my mitts on you, I'm going to tear you limb from limb.

Joey Handy: So that's what it's going to take, huh? You getting your hands on me? That's what will get you to leave me alone?

Joey allows her to come to the sound of his voice, just as he had all night long, this time, not bothering to retreat as she got closer.

Joey Handy: You'd think a woman of your stature could do something better with her time than bully the people who make her look good behind the scenes. I should have expected that from someone like you.

Alexa closes in on Joey, finally making out his silhouette in the steam.

Alexa Black: I'm done playing this game. I'm going to choke the life out of you when I get hold of you.

Joey Handy: I'm done playing, too.

Joey doesn't flinch away, clutching the pipe like a bat, as Alexa bursts through the final cloud of steam between them. Alexa charges the man, but he holds up a finger, miraculously halting her charge in progress.

Joey Handy: Uh uh. Here's the deal, toots. You lay a single finger on me, I'll press charges and you'll spend a little quality "me" time behind bars.

Alexa Black: You think jail scares me? You have to be able to speak to make that call, you pest.

Joey Handy: I'm sure it doesn't. Hear me out. I don't know if it will be possible, since I'm not a wrestler, but what if you and I have a match at Collision Course? You can get your hands on me then. How does that sound?

Alexa closes in on Joey like a tigress on the prowl, readying herself to pounce.

Alexa Black: Sounds to me like you have a death wish.

Joey still refuses to back down as Alexa closes the gap. Joey turns his gaze to floor briefly.

Joey Handy: Wouldn't be the first time. Here's the caveat; you meet me in the ring, and you will never lay your hands on the backstage crew ever again, got it? Just you and me between the bells. After that, you keep your rage to the guys in the ring.

Joey sees Alexa getting ready to jump at him.

Joey Handy: I wouldn't do that, if I were you.

Again, Alexa is caught off guard, stopping in her tracks.

Joey Handy: One finger on me, the deal is off, and I'll make sure Glen, you know, the old guy you terrorized earlier to the point of a heart attack, adds assault charges, and your "comeback" will be the shortest in your career. Even PCW Corporate frowns upon felons assaulting the hired help. Last warning, lady. What will it be?

Alexa Black: I accept your challenge, you nimrod. But there's one problem: I've dealt with Corporate before and here I am, so that doesn't scare me, either.

Alexa pounces at Joey, but instead of hitting the man, glass shatters as she smashes through a mirror and into a brick wall behind it, knocking herself out cold. After a few seconds to make sure she is definitely out, Joey approaches her.

Joey Handy: Well, in spite of your predictable anger, you kept your word and didn't lay a finger on me. Who knew one of Nathan Saniti's old mirrors could have come in so handy? Guess I'll see what I can do about keeping my word.

Joey crouches down to the fallen Alexa.

Joey Handy: In the meantime, I've lead you to the deepest corner of this basement. Enjoy finding your way out in the dark.

Joey makes his way to the entrance of the basement, finding the circuit breaker for the lights in the boiler room on the panel and switching it off before flipping on a flashlight and climbing the staircase. A sudden, overwhelming sense of dread hits him.

Joey Handy: What the hell have I just done?

- CLICK -