Trauma 243: "The 2018 Winter Icey Awards" Results

[Rick Majors]

Pure Class Wrestling Presents Trauma 243: The 2018 Winter Icey Awards

Thursday December 20th, 2018

The show opens not in the PCW Arena as usual, but in the Peace Center where fans are seated respectfully, wearing their formal best, awaiting the awards show. The refined civility of it all is broken as the shot switches to a sold out PCW Arena, where everyone is on their feet screaming.

Jerry Andrews: Welcome everyone, to a very special night on the PCW calendar! I'm Jerry Andrews live at the PCW Arena and with me as always is Ace Anderson, welcome Ace!

Ace Anderson: It's great to be here but tonight's show isn't just taking place at one venue, it's happening at two! You saw the Peace Center all decked out a few seconds ago and that's where the 2018 Winter Icey Awards will be taking place!

Jerry Anderson: So, now without any further ado, let's take you to Michael Malone live at the Peace Center to announce tonight's first award.

Michael Malone is on stage now, ready to get things under way.

Michael Malone: Welcome everyone, tonight's first award is for the best debut or return. To present this award, welcome one of the most successful pop culture debuts in recent memory, straight from the Philadelphia Flyers: GRITTY!!!!

Best Debut or Return

Presented by Gritty

Nominees:

Dominator (Return - Collision Course 7)

Alexa Black (Return - Trauma 241)

Joey Handy (Debut - Trauma 241)

David Hunter (Debut - Trauma 239)

The bizarre orange mascot comes dancing out to the stage to present the award.

Of course, being a mascot, he can't talk, so he holds up cards instead:

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN

THIS AWARD

IS FOR THE BEST DEBUT

OR RETURN

AND THE WINNER IS

...

...

DOMINATOR

Gritty quickly leaves the stages as TRIVIUM’s cover of “Losing My Religion” begins to play. The crowd do not seem to be particularly impressed by this outcome. Their levels of angst are amplified by the arrival of Horacio Mortimer, who appears on stage to claim the award seemingly on his client’s behalf. He stands where the plinth is set and speaks into the microphone whilst staring at the Icey Award.

“Thank you, thank you,” he says over the chorus of boos, “you’re too kind.” His sarcasm is met with even more distain from the fans. “Unfortunately, Dominator is not here to claim this award, but he asked me specifically that, in the event that he should receive one of these coveted awards…” he chuckles to himself, “…as if there was any doubt.” He pauses for a moment to allow his arrogance to sink in with the fans. The subsequent boos are inevitable. “As I was saying, in the event that Dominator were to win one of the Iceys, I am to claim it at his behest. Though, I must admit, winning an award for the ‘Best Return’ is not the best reflection of the accomplishments of the greatest Underground King in PCW history.”

“But even kings need time away from their thrones to contemplate what is best for their kingdom,” Horacio purrs to himself, his choice of words sound delectable to him even though they are coming from his own mouth. “Allow me to let you in on a little secret, even though it may not come as much of a surprise. When Arsen Goodstone discredited the entire Underground division by taking it from Dominator, he… well… he didn’t take it well. Naturally. How would YOU feel if everything you worked for, every ounce of sweat and blood that you put into the most important thing in your life, is taken away from you in the blink of an eye through what can only be described as… a poor case of timing? One split second… that’s all it takes to lose everything.”

“Remember, it was Dominator who brought prestige back to the Underground division,” Mortimer continues to sing his client’s praises. “And already, we have seen the division fall into a state of decay. In the space of a mere 84 days, the title has changed hands FIVE…TIMES!” The accuracy of Horacio’s timescale, less than three months, combined with the number of new champions stuns the crowd upon realisation. They murmur with interest amongst themselves. Horacio allows them the time to do so in order to reflect on the legitimacy of everything else that he has said, as well as mentally prepare for what is to follow. “What does this tell us? To me, it speaks volumes on the capabilities of The Temporal King. He is the personification of dominance… and for such pathetic excuses for athletes to boast that they can even ENTERTAIN the idea of carrying the Underground division on their shoulders is utterly laughable.”

The crowd boos intently, despite the fact that they know in their heart of hearts that what Mortimer speaks is the truth.

“But if that’s what they want to try and do… then so be it. What is the point of trying to breathe new life into a division that is already suffering. We accomplished so much there, but to remain stagnant is just a waste of time. Instead, we should use that time to better ourselves… and what better way to improve than to pull apart the stranglehold of those being held by our alleged ‘higher tier’ champions?”

Horacio quickly looks at his watch and simply smiles, looking back up at the hard camera whilst holding the Icey Award high above his head victoriously.

“Dark times are ahead, my friends. The Temporal King has returned to expand his kingdom, seize new opportunities… and continue to DOMINATE.”

Without another word, Horacio turns around and walks away to TRIVIUM’s “Losing My Religion,” the boos resume long after he has made his exit.

The show then switches to the PCW Arena, air raid sirens begin their cry of warning and the building is plunged into darkness.

Jerry Andrews: What’s going on here?

Ace Anderson: Its like we are in the cold war again! I'm about to duck and cover under my desk like the filmstrips they used to show in schools!

Jerry Andrews: Here's the reason why!

Frank Merritt emerges from the back and stops at the top of the ramp. The crowd gives him a lukewarm reception, the last time having seen him was over three years ago when Judge delivered a piledriver on the cement floor at ringside, breaking his neck and ending his career. He strolls, casually, down the ramp and enters the ring after climbing the ring steps, gingerly. He uses a cane when he walks, all black, matching his Dickies. He sports a “Yankees” hoodie to complete his look.

Jerry Andrews: Why is he here?

Ace Anderson: It’s not to get back in that ring and compete; did you see how careful he was entering the ring?

Frank Merritt: Most of you are probably asking who I am and why I am here? Both very easy questions to answer. I am Frank Merritt, Holden Ross's Father, and former competitor here. And the answer as to why I am here is simple; to get him away from that con man, Seromine!

Once Seromine's name is dropped the arena erupts into a round of boos. Frank nods in agreement and motions with his hands for the crowd to calm down.

Frank Merritt: You see, I did encourage him to join this company and made a few calls in hope that it would get him signed. And he was. But he began to tread water, facing competition that was obviously below him. And so I went to the well, again, and told him to join the ranks of one of the stables. That’s when I discovered both Rick Majors and Tyler Scott both were among the ranks of this religious based faction in the P.C.W. and I figured, “What could it hurt?”

So I made a call and got him in. He joined up with two men I worked with years ago and a complete unknown to me. But I encouraged him, as you know. I had no idea what kind of devious scumbag Seromine was. When Rick and Tyler left, I told Holden to leave, but he refused. And after Rick put Holden down for Tyler to pin him clean two weeks ago, I haven’t heard a word from him. He won't return my calls, texts, or emails so I flew out here, just to confront him. My Son. And hopefully talk some se-

Frank is cut off as “Spiders” rips through the speakers. His attention is fixed on the curtain as Tessa steps out first followed closely by the Avatar of Wrath, Holden Ross. They waste no time heading down the ramp but Holden still takes the time to hold the ropes open for her. Frank holds his hands up, showing he means no harm, and smiles at his boy as the two stand across from each other for the first time in a wrestling ring.

Ace Anderson: Has Tessa ever met Frank?

Jerry Andrews: What does that matter?

Frank Merritt: Thank you for coming out here. First things first; it’s nice to meet you, Tessa.

Jerry Andrews: There’s your answer, Ace!

Frank Merritt: I'm getting right to the point, Holden, you’re my son and I am such a proud Dad when I watch you in this ring. The pride I had when you were crowned Underground King…I was nearly overwhelmed with it. And I told you from the beginning I would always be proud of you.

Frank nods as Holden asks of mic “Would?”

Frank Merritt: I thought I always would be but when you sided with that degenerate, that Jim Jones wannabe, I lost a lot of pride for you. Some respect too. In fact I –

Tessa lunges in and swipes the mic from Frank's hand, visibly irritating the big man and future father in law? She hands the mic to her man as she hugs him from behind.

Holden Ross: Let me take a second to clarify a few things. First, I want to thank you for being here. It's an honor to have a former No Limits Hall of Famer, right here in this very ring. Granted, we got those other two scumbags, Rick Majors and Tyler Scott…

Holden has to wait for the crowd to die down after the mention of Majors and Scott.

Holden Ross: ….but you are the man in the ring right now, standing here in front of me. And I gotta correct ya on a few things. Namely, you aren’t my Dad. You are my Father. A sperm donor. Sure, my Mom didn’t let you know I existed but, let’s be honest, would it have mattered?

Ace Anderson: Damn!

Holden Ross: Also, while you floundered in mediocrity, unable to obtain any sort of gold here in this company. Inside my first year here I have already been the Underground King! An accomplishment you couldn’t even get a whiff of, let alone, achieve.

Frank clenches his fists and Holden's hand drops to his side and he shouts “What?!” at his Father who is just a couple paces in front of him. What Frank has failed to see is Seromine hop the rail.

Ace Anderson: Seromine! Seromine is here!

He slips in under the bottom rope like the serpent he is. Holden and Frank jaw back and forth, looking as if the are about to come to blows when Seromine begins to sneak up behind Frank. Seromine raises his clenched hands in a double axe handle style attack when Frank turns at the least moment. Seromine immediately throws his hands up, pleading innocence.

Ace Anderson: Awkward!

Frank points an accusing finger at Seromine, shaking his head, and loses track of everyone in the ring. Tessa takes this opportunity to leap onto his back, raking and gouging at his eyes. Frank rrsponds by grabiing two handfuls of Mohawk and flipping forward, flinging her to the mat with a thud. Being the vetran of the ring that he is, Frank turns his attention immediately to Seromine, who still is pleading innocence.

Jerry Andrews: Oh my God!

Frank turns into a vicious, unexpected clothesline from his Son, and the arena is left speechless.

Ace Anderson: Seromine and Holden are putting the boots to him!

Tessa screams insults, orders, and accusations as Holden drops a big elbow across his Father's sternum. Holden and Seromine exchange a few words, strategy it appears, because Seromine begins to ascend to the top rope. While Tessa screams, Holden sets his Father up for a piledriver.

Jerry Andrews: They can’t do this! Frank's neck has been surgically repaired!

While the crowd watches on, and Tessa leaps in joy, Seromine takes flight and the two drive Frank's head into the canvas with a spiked piledriver!

Ace Andrews: Look at his leg! He's having a seizure after that piledriver!

Frank’s left leg and foot twitch and tremble and Tessa leaps into her mans waiting arms while Seromine grins maniacally. The last image we see of the scene is Holden with his arm raised while holding Tessa and Seromine standing with a single fist raised, and that sharklike grin curling his lips.

The show returns in the PCW Arena.

Jerry Andrews: Welcome back everyone, and now it's time to announce the winner of the 'Best Entrance Music' award....

Best Entrance Music

"Handy" by "Weird Al" Yankovic blasts over the speakers. Lights flash around the arena in various colors to the thrum of the music. The fans take interest during the opening strains at the curtain as Joey "The Handyman" Handy pops through. The crowd pops respectably at the relative newcomer. He sees the crowd's reaction and humbly waves at them as he makes his way down to the ring, accompanied by his wife, Nadine, unsure how to truly act.

Chants of “JOEY! JOEY! JOEY!” and “LET’S GO HANDY!” *clap* *clap* *clap* *clap* *clap* “LET’S GO HANDY!” almost seem to catch him off-guard. He appreciatively allows the audience to get most of it out of their system before raising the mic to his mouth.

Joey: Wow! I just can’t get over all of this. This is amazing! Thank you! I never expected to win anything for just a one-off thing. All of you cheering for a guy who basically got his head handed to him and got lucky.

Joey holds the Icey, twisting it this way and that, marveling at it like a kid that’s just been handed his first ice cream cone.

Joey: Never. Never in my life would I have ever thought I would have been put in the position that got me here. I guess the message I wanted to send got through…

Nadine (interrupting): ...In spite of your incompetence.

That comment garners a round of jeers from the peanut gallery. Handyman’s face flushes red from anger and embarrassment. Nadine just smirks at his and the audience’s reaction. Joey tries the “high” road.

Joey: I love you too, honey. As I was saying…

Suddenly, “Blood on My Hands,” by The Used echoes out of the sound system. A thunderous roar of boos shakes the rafters, as audiences prepare for what’s coming: Alexa Black. The music continues, but nothing happens.

Until…

Joey catches a glimpse of an approaching Black out of the corner of his eyes. He shoves Nadine out of the way just as a steel chair rings his bell. Handyman collapses into a heap on the floor as Nadine looks on, first wide-eyed, and then enraged. Joey is sprawled out on the floor as Black wails on him with the chair, screaming obscenities at him. As Nadine gets to her feet, Alexa tosses the chair aside, spitting on her victim before leaving the scene. However, a red-faced Nadine grabs the mic.

Nadine: EXCUSE ME! DID YOU JUST PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME?

She looks at the shocked crowd, a rising chorus of boos throughout the arena. She kicks her husband squarely in the ribs that were so nicely tenderized by Black a few seconds ago.

Nadine: I’LL HAVE YOU ARRESTED FOR DOMESTIC VIOLENCE! THAT’S WHAT I’LL DO!

Security scrambles to the scene to separate the downed Handy and his wife, as she mercilessly directs them to cuff Joey. They do as she demands, lifting a limp, and bleeding Handyman to his feet. She strides over, hauls back, and lambastes him across the left cheek with an open palm. A grimace of rage quivers on her lips as she speaks once more.

Nadine: When I’m done with you, you will NEVER see your kids again!

She throws down the mic like a linebacker spiking in celebration as she stomps away in a huff.

As the program returns, we are back in the Peace Center.

Michael Malone: And now, to present our next award for most inspirational, a woman who has inspired so many people over the years: Oprah Winfrey!

Most Inspirational

Presented by Oprah Winfrey

Nominees:

Seromine

Gabriel/Rick Majors

Kyle Shane

Justin "Stormm" Michaels

Oprah: Ladies and gentlemeeeeeennnnnnnnnnn!!!!!!! Tonight we are presenting an award for the most inspirational competitor in PCW, but if it was up to me, you would all be getting awards!

Oprah: You get an award! And you get an award! And you get an award! You! Are! All! Getting! Awards!!!

The crowd takes a few moments to calm down, and then Oprah speaks again.

Oprah: But, more accurately, Rick Majors is getting this award.

"Wastelands" by Linkin Park begins to play and Rick Majors walks out to the stage.

Rick Majors: You know... I'm not sure if I should even be accepting this award. Because, a big reason why anyone ever considered be 'inspirational' is because of what I said when I was brainwashed and acting as Gabriel. Obviously, I'm not proud of that time.

Majors takes a moment to compose himself.

Rick Majors: But, you know what? I'm going to do my best to respect this award and, going forward, I am truly going to try to inspire people the right way. Because hard work, dedication, and believing in something still matters in this world. It's a tough world, it often feels like everything is going wrong, but there is still a lot of good out there. You just have to find it and, when you do....

Suddenly Majors is cut off by the arrival of Seromine, who has apparently made his way from the PCW Arena to the Peace Center for this very moment.

Seromine: "You know something, Richard? Your award is fitting for once. You ARE inspirational. You've just inspired me to return out here in front of these toothless heathens and put YOUR SINFUL CARCASS on the shelf!"

Majors takes a step towards Seromine who walks up to him. It looks like Seromine is about to continue speaking when....

GREEN MIST!

Seromine spits the mist right in Majors' face, obstructing his vision. He then tackles him down to the floor, unloading on him with right and left hands.

PCW security rushes the stage, grabbing Seromine and pulling him away as Rick Majors staggers to his feet, still unable to see. Suddenly Seromine breaks loose and he takes Majors legs out from under him with a chop block! Seromine then grabs Majors' right leg and he slams it into the podium, sending it crashing down onto his knee. Seromine shoves a security guard away and he grabs Majors' Icey Award. He drives it right into Majors' kneecap, causing him to scream out in pain. 

Finally, security manages to pull Seromine away. The medical team tries to attend to Majors, but it's obvious that he cannot stand. The team calls for a stretcher as the show heads to a commercial break.

Jerry Andrews: Welcome back everyone! You know, Ace, we've seen a lot of great matches over the last six months, but there can only be one winner.

Ace Anderson: And here are the nominees....

Best Match

Presented by Jerry Andrews and Ace Anderson

Nominees:

Pure Class Wrestling Underground Championship

Last Man Standing Match

Dominator (PCW Underground 🤴) vs Johnny Matthews

Return to Glory IX

Pure Class Wrestling World Championship

Kyle Shane (PCW World ©) vs Tyler Scott

Return to Glory IX

PCW North American Championship

No Disqualification, Falls Count Anywhere Match

Justin "Stormm" Michaels (PCW North American ©) vs Grimm

Collision Course 7

PCW World Championship

Kyle Shane (PCW World ©) vs Gerard Angelo

Collision Course 7

Lucha Con Apuesta: Faith versus Faith

Kyle Shane vs Seromine

Trauma 239

Jerry Andrews: And the winner is....

PCW North American Championship No Disqualification, Falls Count Anywhere Match Justin "Stormm" Michaels (PCW North American ©) vs Grimm Referee: Joseph Buckland Stormm shoos the concerned referee out of the way. He paces over and grabs Grimm, and it's his turn to club Grimm over the back. He slams Grimm's head off the apron. Grimm lolls, barely able to support his own body without holding the apron. Stormm goes to the apron and stands on it, and he looks at the table sitting in the aisle and seems to have a wicked thought. He grins, and he snatches Grimm's beard. He goes to pull Grimm up by the beard hairs. Grimm groans in agony. Stormm lifts Grimm up using his greater muscle and he tries to hook Grimm from the side as Stormm stands on the apron. For a moment, they're standing side by side, and Stormm has Grimm hooked as if he is going for an elevated reverse STO. Jerry Andrews: No... NO!! Ace Anderson: He can't be going for this. He's going to take both of them off and through that table. Stormm is indeed trying to give Grimm a Flash Flood off the apron through the table in the aisle, but Grimm refuses to let the move get off, he elbows Stormm in the side of the head. He repeatedly fights it until Stormm is forced to let go, and then Stormm is tottering, slipping in his footing. Grimm is almost satisfied that he can take Stormm off the apron himself and put him through the table, but Stormm fights back with right hands, staggering Grimm. Both men go back and forth with right hands to the opponent's face, while the other hand is hanging on to the ropes... and with every single punch, both men are weakening. Their grasp on the top rope is slipping. Finally, both men hit each other with one final punch, and their fingers slip... both men start to fall, losing their footing and going backwards THROUGH the table set up in the aisle at the same time!! The crowd erupts into a standard-shaking "HOLY SHIT" chant, as both men are laid out in the aisle. Jerry Andrews: I - I don't believe it... both men had close calls on that apron, until they both knocked each other off. Ace Anderson: Mutually assured destruction, Jerry. It's the name of the game. Neither man is going to accept anything less at this point. It's gotten too violent between them. The referee is at a loss of what to do, he leans out between the ropes, checking on Stormm and Grimm, both of whom are laid out amid the rubble of table halves. The crowd is still building thunderous "THIS IS AWESOME" and "HOLY SHIT" chants. Neither Grimm nor Stormm have moved for the longest time. The referee can't count them outside of the ring, he can only check them time and again, and bit by bit they begin crawling back to life. After another few moments pass, Grimm shoves a piece of the broken table off of him, and Stormm, coughing violently, rolls onto his side. Both men throw a few weak punches at each other from their knees. They battle up to their feet, going punch for punch, throwing weak, drained right hands. Finally, Grimm cuts Stormm off, his hits gradually increasing in muster, and Stormm is staggered back from his onslaught. Stormm cuts Grimm off with a knee to the gut, and slamming his head off the apron, then he throws him into the ring. He breathes heavily, and then he snatches up the North American title belt. He walks around the ring, trying to squint and shake the cobwebs out, then he gets in the ring, holding the belt. Stormm waits for Grimm to blink and try and clear the cobwebs out of his head. Grimm slowly gets to his knees, and then he turns, dazed. Stormm goes for a title belt shot... but Grimm ducks under it. And he catches Stormm from behind before Stormm can turn and drops him with a sleeping neckbreaker. Jerry Andrews: Lament Configuration!! Ace Anderson: I have sights to show you... a new North American Champion?! An exhausted Grimm drops down for a cover. The referee and the crowd: ONE... TWO... THRE - Kickout! Grimm sits up with as much of a disturbed expression as we've ever seen on his face. He looks at the referee, his eyes questioning, and he stoically rolls to his feet, taking a glance back at Stormm. He knows it's now or never to close this match out. Grimm paces over to the ropes and he climbs up, going to the top rope and setting himself for a tornado DDT. Grimm catches Stormm by the head, but instead of dragging him down, he is turned onto Stormm's shoulders. Stormm is able to use his greater size and strength to lift Grimm back up, ith his left arm over the back of Grimm's head, and 's left arm over his left shoulder. Stormm then grabs Grimm's left leg, lifting it up close to Grimm's own torso, and then lifts Grimm up into the cradle suplex position. Stormm then jumps a little, twirls about two hundred and seventy degrees, and falls on his stomach while Grimm is forced to land on his neck, shoulders, and upper back. The crowd explodes in an awed, flabbergasted expulsion of air. Both Stormm and Grimm are laid out. Jerry Andrews: DID YOU JUST SEE WHAT I DID?! Ace Anderson: I - I did, Stormm caught Grimm while he was diving for the Harvest and he lifted him BACK UP onto his shoulders and hit the Force of Nature!! Jerry Andrews: Both men are down! Both men aren't moving! The crowd is heavily invested, some are cheering for Grimm, some, bafflingly, are cheering for Stormm. Neither man is able to move after the long, brutal war we've witnessed. It has taken it's toll. Finally, at long last, Stormm starts to move. He meekly rolls onto his side and his fingertips stretch out. He places a weak arm over Grimm's chest. Jerry Andrews: Oh no, not this way! Ace Anderson: Yes, this way, Andrews, it's Stormm!! The referee drops down for a cover. The referee and the crowd: ONE... TWO... THREE!! Ding Ding Ding Sasha Greene: Here is your winner... and STILLLLL PURE CLASS WRESTLING NORTH AMERICAN CHAMPION... JUSTIN "STORMM" MICHAELS!!! Ace Anderson: Stormm... Stormm did it! Justin Michaels overcame Grimm!! Jerry Andrews: Overcame Grimm, Stormm assaulted Grimm before the match ever happened, both men went through a grueling trial and went through chairs, tables, guardrails and bells... Stormm can't even stand up right now! Ace Anderson: But he pulled out the victory. Jerry Andrews: That he did! "Land of Shadows" by Audiomachine is playing over the PA and Stormm is handed the title, but he is still too hurt to get up. Over on the other side of the ring, Grimm is just beginning to come to consciousness and realization. Jerry Andrews: The dawning look of disappointment on Grimm's face says it all, he thought he had it. One mistake was enough for Stormm to cost him. Ace Anderson: True, but Stormm is crafty. He's held on to his title for so many days for a reason. Stormm, laughing breathlessly, and sitting up in an obviously extreme amount of pain, hugs his title to his chest. He stands, and demands the referee raise his hand. Grimm struggles to get to his feet, then falling and remaining down in the ring. Jerry Andrews: You have to give it to Grimm, he gave it everything he had. Ace Anderson: Maybe so, but that can't take away from Stormm's moment right now. Stormm, breathing heavily, continues holding his title up in triumph.

Back inside the Peace Center, Justin "Stormm" Michaels is on the stage to accept the award as the winner of the match.

Stormm: I wouldn't be accepting this award if it wasn't for the other half of this match, and honestly, no matter what it says in the record books, there were no losers here. North American Championship or not, we both won.

Chants for both Stormm and Grimm alternate from the faithful as the Force of Nature holds the award out in front of him.

Stormm: Grimm and I have been trying to kick the shit out of each other for years, Collision Course was no different; and I don't think there's any arguing just how beat to hell either of us were before the bell even rang, let alone after.

Still gripping the Icey Award, he lowers it to his side, and tries to wrap thing up into a nice little bow without saying too much, so the show can move on. He'll obviously have more to say later, so he's saving it for then.

Stormm: But, you know, if PCW ever needs another match to remember, you know who to book! Thanks!

A camera goes backstage where we see David Hunter standing by a curtain. He is finishing up some preparations for his upcoming title match. He wraps some tape around his right fist. Not long after the camera comes over does Kassandra Black walk into the shot.

Kassandra Black: David Hunter, you are moments away from facing Muscles Malone. Last time you fought, you got demolished by him in a rematch a few weeks prior for the King of the Underground Title. What's on your mind going into this next match?

She pushes the mic towards David, who looks at it briefly. He rips the roll of tape off, tightening the hold around his right fist.

David Hunter: It's gonna be a fight.

It's all he says. Kassandra is disappointed, so she opts to continue talking. David begins wrapping tape around his left fist now.

Kassandra Black: Going into this week, what's your strategy for facing Muscles.

David chuckles a bit, but responds all the same.

David Hunter: Do what I can to win. No matter what.

David rips the roll of tape off, tossing it away. He tightens his left fist and cracks his neck.

Kassandra takes the mic back, and is starting to get visibly upset.

Kassandra Black: Tell me then David, what are you--

David suddenly swipes the mic from Kassandra. He glares into the camera.

David Hunter: I'm obviously not good enough. Doesn't matter what I say or what I do, because no matter who I'm facing or what I'm doing out there past all this wrestling shit, I'm always going to be seen as a joke. Just because I live a life of danger where a *BEEP*ing group of lasers allow otherwise fictional characters to come into our world? Just because I'm one of the few people in this world who decide to take matters into their own hands and actually do something to prevent this shit from being known? When there's a big bad trying to tear down the fabric of space and time, and I'm the only one trying to make a difference?

David shakes his head, a small, humorless laugh coming out. He turns to Kassandra.

David Hunter: What the hell do you want from me?

He releases another soulless laugh, before focusing on the camera.

David Hunter: What the hell do you want from me?! Long, diatribed monologues? A short and sweet message that gets the *BEEP*ing point across? A story of my reality, no matter how impossible it might seem to people too stupid to realize what's right in front of them? It won't matter what I say because it's never--*BEEP*ing--good enough. It wasn't good enough for Dad, it isn't good enough for me. So what, I should just restart, begin my career all over again?

David turns to Kassandra, offering his hand.

David Hunter: Hello there beautiful, my name is David Hunter, nice to meet you.

David doesn't let her respond, opting instead to blatantly grope her right breast. It lasts for all of a second, but is enough for her to get pissed.

David Hunter: Ohp, look at that, I just harassed some girl. Am I good enough for you Malone? Do I have to keep rambling on and on and on and on until it's reached a point where you can call it droning? Do I have to keep lechering any girl I see, get her in bed, and have a one night stand while not remembering her name? Will that please ya, Muscles? Know what, *BEEP* it. I've been in this business about six months now. I've already earned a title, low on the totem pole as it might be. Quite frankly, I'm gettin tired of givin a half-ass job...while sitll givin everybody somethin to watch that might actually be interesting, instead of whatever "change of heart" bullshit story Muscles thinks he can pull out of his ass.

David looks to Kassandra, who is doing everything in her power to refrain from slapping him.

David Hunter: So win or lose, I don't really care anymore. I got a guaranteed contract, let's see how far it goes, because clearly, I'm not good enough...for the big boys. Wish me luck Kassandra, apparently I *BEEP*ing need it.

David gives Kassandra a quick peck on the cheek before tossing the mic over his shoulder. She barely catches it, having to fall to the floor just to do so. She stands back up, fixing her hair and trying to keep her cool. We then fade back to the Peace Center for the next award.

Most Hated

Presented by Chad Kroeger

Nominees:

Seromine

Holden Ross

David Hunter

Dominator

Chad Kroeger: Okay, see, I don't get why I'm out here to present 'Most Hated.' Nickelback is the eleventh best-selling musical act of all time. We’re also the second best-selling foreign group in the United States, behind only the Beatles. Since our debut in 1995, we’ve sold 50 million albums. But *sigh* here goes.... the winner of the 'Most Hated' award is.....

SEROMINE

"Spellbound" by Siouxsie and the Banshees hits as Seromine, who has quickly returned to the Peace Center, walks across the stage to accept his award. He's wearing a tuxedo jacket over a white shirt of The Go-Go's and black pants. He pays little mind to the negative reception being received, but projects how much he enjoys hearing it. Or it could be the song he's enjoying. Or both.

Before taking the award, Chad is promptly told the only Canadians worse than his band are Justin Beiber and Rick Majors. He clasps the Icey in his right hand and dismisses the frontman. Seromine studies the award features like a forensic technician. His focus remains on the engraving while he begins his speech.

SEROMINE: Winning this award time after time is more meaningful to me than capturing any championship. Winning this award validates why I do what I do, why I am who I am, why...

Seromine turns his head towards the audience.

SEROMINE: You think MY faithful aren't around because YOU can't see them?! I know where they are and I know what wicked things WE are going to do to you, GRIMM! To you, RICK MAJORS! And to you, JUSTIN "STORMM" MICHAELS!

The lectern is shoved off the stage in an unhinged fit of rage. Seromine's wide eyes scan like spotlights and then almost as if nothing happened, his attention returns to his award.

SEROMINE: I dedicate this win to my mom, Lucy. My loving, beautiful and pregnant wife, Destiny. My four daughters, Kristen, Autumn, Nancy and Lydia.

A sense of calm has washed over the Serpentine Sermonizer. He's looking towards everyone like a man with a new lease on life.

SEROMINE: And I thank all of you for being here to remind me that the feeling of hatred is mutual. You're all wonderful pieces of trash.

He takes his leave during the chorus of Spellbound, but this time with a middle finger held out until he's off stage.

Michael Malone: Ladies and gentlemen, here to present the PCW Icey for Most Loved, a Pure Class Wrestling Legend and a past winner of the award himself... "The Fabulous One" Dan Fierce!

Most Loved

Presented by Dan Fierce

Nominees:

Kyle Shane

Gerard Angelo

Justin "Stormm" Michaels

Rick Majors

The audience is shaking the rafters with love for the former superstar!

Adam Lambert's "Shady" thrums out of the speakers, the lights flaring out in time to the music onto the audience in red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple. Dan emerges, wearing his rainbow sequined tuxedo with tails, made for him specially by the same people that make Sir Elton John's stage outfits. He sachets up to the podium, striking his signature pose: one hand in the air, the other on the hip and one leg on its toes, much to the adulation of the crowd. He blows kisses in every direction before finally settling in behind the podium.

Dan Fierce: When they asked me to be the presenter for the Most Loved award, I thought about putting a stipulation for a date with Muscles Malone in the contract. There's nothing like a beautifully sculpted manly body to get this old girl's heart racing. Mama wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crackers, you know what I'm saying?

Dan pauses to let the audience appreciate his joke.

Dan Fierce: Get your minds out of the gutter. I read the list for the nominees for Most Loved and noticed he wasn't on there. Then it hit me, "You stupid bitch. They mean the OTHER kind of love."

Dan gets another laughter and applause break. He shows off his famous grin. Finally, Dan composes himself, fanning himself with his note cards.

Dan Fierce: Well, I guess I'd better earn my paycheck. The Winter 2018 nominees for the Most Loved Icey are: Gerard Angelo!

Dan waits for the uproar to settle down before reading the next name.

Dan Fierce: Justin "Stormm" Michaels!

Another respectable pop for one of PCW's longest running members.

Dan Fierce: "The Impact" Rick Majors!

Cheers resonate through the building for another roster veteran.

Dan Fierce: And finally, someone I've known for a long time, Gawd help me, Kyle Shane! And the winner is...

Dan starts to open the envelope.

I'm so excited I could spit. Or swallow. Depends on the circumstances.

The audience gets another chuckle as he signs "call me" to Muscles Malone, wherever he may be. He yanks the card from its carrier and...

Dan Fierce: KYLE SHANE!

"In The Morning And Amazing" by Circa Survive hits on the PA as Kyle Shane comes walking out onto the awards stage. For the occasion, he is dressed up in a swank suit, dressed to the nines with a blue blazer, Italian loafers and slacks. He makes his way to the podium, and the crowd at ringside is going crazy. Shane takes a moment to acknowledge them, giving his supporters a genuine, if slightly smug, grin and gesture that they've touched his heart. Kyle comes over to the podium, standing there and looking at his award, and he holds it up to a riotous reaction from the crowd. He takes it all in for a moment before he speaks.

Kyle Shane: When they called my name to come out here just now, a lot of thoughts went through my head. The first, the voice of my anxiety, was disbelief based on evidence. It doesn't feel like I get appreciated at all around here. And I'm not going to take away from the hard work that others do, but the simple fact is that you all don't know how insane it drives me sometimes. I put out so much content, in the now two years that I have been a part of the Pure Class Wrestling family. Sometimes I don't think you all know the sacrifices that comes with it. Doesn't seem like it, anyway.

He looks down at the trophy on the podium, regarding it soberly, his mouth pulled down.

Kyle Shane: So often it feels like, even before I go out there and strap that title belt on, I have to prove myself. To the Stormms and Grimms of the world, who I don't think have ever truly gotten what I'm about. And then there are those who'll say I don't have it anymore. That's the most head scratching of all, frankly.

Kyle shakes his head, and the crowd, not knowing where his introspection is going, buzzes in confusion.

Kyle Shane: The simple fact is that from day one, I have had to continue to push my limits, dig into my psyche and boldly explore new ways of creating content that you all would want to see, sometimes having to figure out as I go what you actually like. That doesn't happen in a vacuum. I also can't afford to let myself slip. And it doesn't always feel like it gets understood what that means. Where a simple week's worth of work can just be shrugged off as "just another Kyle Shane promo." So I have to push the envelope. I have to hit the mark every single solitary time. And I don't want you all to think it's sour grapes that I say that, because at the very bottom of it, I do love a challenge. And I love Pure Class Wrestling for giving me that platform, and that challenge.

As Kyle looks up from the trophy, his face is beaming with pride.

Kyle Shane: I love that here, I can express myself in terms you don't usually see out of a wrestler's promo, and in the content I give you, I can explore what that means. Even if it means giving you independent film promos about a person's life that isn't perfect, of a champion who away from the PCW camera is a little bit broken... it may be in pieces and shards here and there, but I have always given you the best of me. And it is because I say that, is to show that I do love Pure Class Wrestling. So for everyone who voted for me for Most Loved, and gave that love back. I thank you all.

Kyle holds his hands up and the Most Loved trophy.

Kyle Shane: Don't worry, though, we have a lot of awards to get through tonight, so I'm not headed to the after party just yet.

Kyle has a cocky grin on his face as he exits the stage.

A PCW Official appears on stage. He draws breath as if to speak, when all of a sudden a stagehand rushes to his side, carrying an envelope. He whispers something into the official’s ear. A look of confusion fills his face. The stagehand simply shrugs his shoulders at him with equal perplexity and walks away. The official clears his throat.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the official says, still bewildered, “we have just received word that a new Icey Award will be unveiled this evening. This award is titled the ‘Pure Class Wrestling’s Temporal Choice Award,” and it goes to an individual whose efforts have not only been well received throughout 2018, but also those of years gone past.” He says this as he reads off a card. “Isn’t that what the Hall of Fame is for?” he thinks aloud somewhat unprofessionally, but moreso speaking to the stagehand who is still peering from behind the curtain. “Nevertheless, there is only one nomination.”

He pauses to clear his throat one more time.

“And the winner is… JUSTIN “STORMM” MICHAELS.”

It would appear that the production crew have had little to no time to prepare for this. There is an awkward pause before his music begins to play.

Justin Michaels appears on the stage mere seconds after the Tron begins to play his entrance video. He accepts the award with nothing more than a wave and a smile, waiting for the noise from the crowd to die down. Yet once the applause dies down, there is still just one person clapping. Slowly. Almost patronisingly. Stormm stops himself on the edge of the stage to look out to see the source of this uncomfortable applause. Where everybody else has returned to a seated position, one suited figure remains vertical with a smile etched across his face. To the point of awkwardness, Horacio Mortimer continues to clap.

“Well done. Well done,” he calls from several rows deep into the crowd. “I offer you my sincerest congratulations, Justin. Not only have you been inducted into the PCW Hall of Fame, which recognises your attempts over the span of your whole career, you have even been acknowledged for your triumphs and dedication throughout the year of 2018 but receiving a coveted Icey Award. It really does feel as if you can do no wrong at this point in your career.”

Somehow, Horacio has managed to captivate the crowd, along with Justin Michaels himself, into complete submission. Rather than objecting to this unwarranted intermission from proceedings, they are all ears, listening to each and every word that he says. Intently, no less.

“Believe me, I admire your abilities and your commitments to this company,” he continues swooningly. “And you deserve to enjoy the good times. Do you know why?” He pauses, the grin on his face dissipates almost immediate to reveal a stern, almost psychotic expression of seriousness.

“Because those good times… are coming to an end.”

All of a sudden, Stormm is blindsided with a vicious Clothesline to the back of the neck by a previous undetected Dominator. So fast does The Zenith appear, the North American champion has little to no chance to react. Those in attendance erupt with jeers of disapproval as Horacio battles his way through naysayers and opposition to stand in the aisle to obtain an unrestricted view of the battlefield. Stormm tries valiantly to get back to his feet of his own accord, but Dominator hoists him up with one arm in preparation to inflict even more damage.

Before he can do so, Stormm swipes The Zenith’s arm away and begins to strike him with lefts and rights that hit their mark; right against Dominator’s jaw. Dominator is knocked back inch by inch with every punch, but just as Stormm feels like he is at an advantage, The Temporal King drives his huge knee deep into The Force of Nature’s gut. Disgusted that Justin had even managed to mount a glimmer of offense, Dominator’s eyes bulge from their sockets out of rage. This, he will not tolerate. As such, he crouches slightly, like a rugby player about to hurl himself into a scrum.

Stormm is doubled over in pain from the knee strike, having stumbled back a couple of feet. The Zenith shuffles to his right, trying to keep as directly behind the North American Champion as possible. As Stormm tries to make sense of his bearings, he turns to try and locate his foe. No sooner than he has executed a full 180 degree turn, not 45 degrees into said rotation, The Zenith charges like a wild bull, connecting with a thunderous spear; The Force Of Time. The crowd winces at the sickening impact. Dominator stares down at his fallen adversary from one knee, grinning satisfactorily to himself.

Horacio Mortimer applauds with much more sincerity towards his client than that shown upon the receipt of the Icey Award by their foe. He makes his way onto the stage, bypassing anybody who tries to halt him with their jeers. Upon reaching the fallen body of Stormm, Horacio crouches down next to his head, speaking softly and methodically straight into his ear.

“We can look back at the past and yearn for the days of old all we like,” Mortimer whispers. “But one should not focus their efforts on acknowledging the past. Instead, one should look forward to what their future holds… and embrace the present…”

Horacio is suddenly taken aback by the looming Temporal King, who lowers his own head down menacingly; like a bull elephant coming face to face with a lion cub. Naturally, Horacio backs away, leaving Dominator to assume the position that his manager had just had; speaking directly into Stormm’s ear with far more venom than that of Horacio.

“If your present is bleak… then so too is your future. Your time as North American Champion… is coming to an end.”

Without another word, Dominator’s fingers wrap around the back of Stormm’s neck like a vice. As he clambers back to his feet, so too does he deadlift the champion into the air and holds him outwards with a stretched, showcasing his prey to the crowd in a terrifying display of unfathomable, almost superhuman strength. Rather than drive the point home by delivering another high impact slam, he simply releases Stormm, who drops down onto the stage with a thud. He coughs and splutters as Dominator begins to take his leave, yet Mortimer stays behind, picking up the Temporal Choice Icey Award and chuckles to himself.

“Oh, and this ‘award’ of yours,” Horacio cackles. “It is was generously donated by The Chronological Order.”

With that, Horacio snaps the statuette across his knee and tosses the two halves casually to the ground before quickly running off to catch up to his client.

The scene begins to make way for a commercial.

The show returns inside the PCW Arena.

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

Jerry Andrews: And the main event for our winter spectacular is upon us, the Underground division is on showcase!

Ace Anderson: The Underground title has been the gift that keeps on giving; jaw dropping matches, punishing brutality, and so much blood spilled. You know the Red Cross loves us.

Sasha Greene: 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 completley. 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 thinks of taking the Hawaiian shirt off, but thinks better of it and begins doing some quick warm-up stretches.

Jerry Andrews: Hunter had his first Underground title reign cut short in the elimination match at Collision Course, losing it to Muscles Malone in a three-way.

Ace Anderson: Losing out the first time to Malone was bad enough, Andrews. But that was when Hunter, and likely everyone took Malone as a joke. Despite his generally sleazy appearance, I think Malone shocked Hunter more than a little bit by showing him he could beat him at his own game.

Jerry Andrews: So as we see Hunter stretching and preparing for this match, the question becomes, how far is Hunter going to go tonight to take control of the division yet again?

Sasha Greene: And his opponent, he weighs in at 269 lbs... he is the PURE CLASS WRESTLING UNDERGROUND CHAMPION, MUSCLES MALONE!!

As the camera cuts back to the entrance ramp, see a video of an oily-skinned muscular man flexing and gyrating his hips in a suggestive manner, flexing and posing along to the smooth saxophone of The Midnight's "Vampires." 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-cMusclesed 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.

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: Muscles Malone is a disgusting, perverted, cringe inducing parody of a man, it may be said -

Ace Anderson: -Wow, go off...

Jerry Andrews: BUT, for all of that, he possesses speed and a lot of power packed into his frame. It can be easy to see why people would overlook him. But he has proven on two separate occasions, pinning the former champions Holden Ross and now David Hunter. Muscles Malone is no joke.

Ace Anderson: All of what you said is true, Andrews... but just looking at him makes me shudder and wonder if it is possible to have a contact precaution through a TV screen.

Pure Class Wrestling Underground Championship
Underground Rules Match
Muscles Malone (Underground 🤴) vs David Hunter
Referee: Eric Russo

As soon as Hunter turns to acknowledge the referee Muscles clubs him over the back and starts pounding on him with clubs to the back. Muscles lifts Hunter up and gives him a few knee lifts and clubs to the back. Muscles lays in a few more aggressive clubs and chops to the rib area. But Hunter fires back with a right hand. Muscles Malone stumbles back, and Hunter hits him in the gut with a boot. Malone drops to one knee, gritting his teeth in pain and arching his back. Hunter lifts Malone up, wrapping his Hawaiian shirt that he hadn't taken off yet around his throat and pulling back, choking him with it against Malone's throat. Malone flails his arms for a second, before he reaches around and elbows Hunter off. He begins to fight back with right hands, and he boots Hunter in the gut, making him drop the shirt. He grips Hunter by the hair and walks him over, going to slam his face off the top turnbuckle, but Hunter blocks. Malone attempts to bounce Hunter's head off the turnbuckle again, but Hunter blocks, elbows Malone off, and then he bounces Malone's head off the turnbuckle. Malone stumbles away, and Hunter grips his head, pulls him back over, and bounces his head off the turnbuckle three more times. Then, he pulls Malone out to the middle of the ring and lifts him up, holding him in the air before bringing him down with a vertical suplex. Hunter boots Malone a few times, then mounts him with a few right hands. Hunter quickly gets to his feet, backs up to the ropes and runs off, hitting a jumping knee drop across the forehead of Malone. He goes for the cover.

The referee: One... Kickout.

Hunter lifts Malone up and gives him a few right hands, backing Malone to the ropes. He whips Malone off the ropes and on the return he takes him down with a back body drop. Malone gets to his feet, and Hunter takes him down with a clothesline. Malone gets back to his feet, but Hunter walks him over to the corner and bounces his head off the turnbuckle. Hunter then fires away at Malone with back elbows, then right hands, taking Malone down to a sitting position. Hunter starts stomping Malone, but our official tries to grip his arm and pull him away but Hunter flings his shoulder away and turns back to Malone, as he lays more stomps to the midsection. Then he turns away, as he holds a fist up to the crowd, drawing a pop, and Hunter backs up halfway across the ring, and then comes in for a running corner knee strike which connects. Hunter walks over and retrieves his crowbar as Malone slowly starts pulling himself up on the ropes. As Malone turns, Hunter comes in for a swing, but Malone drops down and rolls out of the way to the outside, drawing boo's from the crowd, as Hunter's crowbar hits the top rope. Hunter, finally fed up, climbs to the outside after Malone, who rolls back in the ring on the other side. Hunter follows Malone in the ring, but as soon as he climbs in Malone axehandles him over the back of the head.

Jerry Andrews: Cheap shot!

Malone starts laying the boots to Hunter. He lifts Hunter up, and starts dirivng some knees into his face as he clubs him over the back, knocking Hunter down to one knee. He bends over, giving Hunter some choice words as he slaps him over the head. Hunter suddenly grabs Malone around the throat, as if to drop him with a chokeslam him, but Malone violently rakes his eyes. He lifts Hunter up, and drops him with a delayed vertical suplex. Malone lifts Hunter to his feet and whips him to the ropes, but hangs on to Hunter's arm and when Hunter comes back off the ropes Malone follows him in with a knee to the midsection. Hunter flips to the mat, and holds his midsection. Malone runs off the ropes and hits a leg drop across the throat of Hunter. He rolls to the outside, and he looks under the apron, and pulls out a hammer. He looks over at Hunter with a slight smile. He slides back in the ring, and raises the wrench in the air, measuring Hunter, and Hunter turns around as Malone starts to swing the hammer at him like he's driving in a nail. Hunter ducks under the swing, then he boots Malone in the gut, cutting him off, and then he grips Malone's arm and whips him to the ropes. Malone stops himself by grabbing onto the ropes. Hunter comes charging at him, but Malone stops him by jamming the metal end of the hammer into his sternum. Hunter is doubled over resting against the ropes, and Malone drops the hammer and runs to the opposite ropes and then comes in and takes them both over the top rope with a big clothesline.

Jerry Andrews: Both of these men are willing to put everything they've got on the line tonight!

Both men start to get to their feet slowly. Malone is first to his feet, and he clubs Hunter over the back a few times, 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, as Malone pulls him out and does it again. Hunter staggers out, and Malone grips him by his hair, and then drives him back into the ring apron with a Russian legsweep. Malone reaches under the apron and pulls out a cookie sheet for baking. He waits for Hunter to get up and he smashes it over Hunter's head. Hunter stays on his feet for a moment, then falls back.

Ace Anderson: The most basic but effective tactic in the Underground, metal meeting bone.

Malone walks around, stomping Hunter for a moment. He 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. Malone tries again, but again Hunter is able to resist being whipped, and then he reverses, sending Malone crashing into the steel steps himself. Malone hits the steps shoulder first with a loud crash, hard enough to dislodge the steps. Malone screams in pain. Hunter rests for a second, checking his forehead for blood, then he walks over and lifts Malone up, punishing him with a few clubs to the back. He throws a dazed Malone back in the ring and follows suit. Malone cuts him off with a fist to the side of the head. He rises to his feet, aggressively laying the boots to Hunter. Malone lifts Hunter up like a sack of potatoes and dumps him in the corner, then walks to the opposite corner, turning to the crowd and giving a fist pump to them to get them fired up and ready to party, I guess. But suddenly, Hunter charges forward spearing Malone through the ropes and back out to the floor. They both topple to the floor with Muscles landing on top of Hunter, and just lay there, dazed by the unplanned spill. Malone, though dazed, recovers first and he begins laying in punches to the forehead of Hunter.

Ace Anderson: It's weird to say this because I don't even think he would pass the questionaire they give you when you go to donate blood, but I think Muscles is looking for some color here.

Jerry Andrews: He certainly is tapping in to a more aggressive side of himself tonight.

Muscles looks to deliver another right hand to the forehead, but it is countered into a triangle choke!

Jerry Andrews: Hunter employed something Muscles wasn't expecting in a brawl on the outside.

For a scant few moments, Muscle's free arm waves frantically as he flails in pain, struggling in the hold. Finally, Muscles manages to clasp his hands together before hoisting Hunter up off the floor before driving him back down into the floor with a modified powerbomb which causes Hunter to break the triangle choke. Muscles reaches his feet where he makes his way to the time keepers table. Muscles takes the steel chair that Sasha Greene's ass was firmly planted in. He then cocks a head at Sasha, looks at the chair, and sniffs the seat, and he can be heard to comment, just in range of the audio, "Mmmm, still warm".

Ace Anderson: What in the name of every deity there can be is wrong with this man.

Muscles measures Hunter, who uses the ring apron and the ropes to help himself to his feet. Malone comes forward lacing Hunter across the back with a chair shot that echoes throughout the building. Hunter screams in pain as he spins around, leaning against the ring post. Muscles comes forward swinging the chair at Hunter's face! David manages to duck out of the way at the last possible second which causes Malone to smash the chair into the ring post. Malone's hands are shaking and red and he yells in pain. David drives a knee to the midsection of Malone causing him to drop the chair. Hunter takes Muscles and bounces him head first off the announcers table.

Jerry Andrews: They're right out in front of us!

The Hunter smashes Muscles face first into the announcers table a second time before looking to whip him into the security railing! Malone reverses and Hunter who's back hits the security railing. Hunter bounces off the railing and into a superkick by Malone. Malone takes a breather. Muscles reaches down picking Hunter up before tossing him back into the ring. Malone then turns to the crowd, flexing his muscles. Muscles turns towards Sasha Greene, tipping her a sleazy grin and a wink.

Ace Anderson: Oy, I smell a mandatory meeting about workplace sexual harassment that we'll have to attend, I just hope there's coffee and donuts...

Jerry Andrews: Ever fixated on the, um, feminine element at ringside, Malone can't take his eye off this match.

Malone turns to Sasha, gyrating his hips. He turns away from Hunter, fixated fully on impressing Sasha, who winces and looks around her. In the ring Hunter is shown reaching for the steel chair. Sasha cuts around the corner of the ring before sliding into the ring! She's followed by Malone. Sasha reaches her feet where she runs past Hunter who's working his way to his feet, chair in hand. Malone takes off after Sasha where he's drilled across the skull by a vile chair shot by Hunter! The crowd roars as Sasha is shown sliding back out to the floor as the referee checks Malone.

Ace Anderson: That's what you get for playing Pepe Le Pew in today's society. When a woman shows you no interest, you don't chase her around ringside, creep.

Jerry Andrews: This is turning into an after school PSA.

Hunter tosses the chair to the side before mounting Malone where he begins driving hard right hands above the right eye. Hunter continues to hammer away at the head of Malone before finally getting up off him. The crowd pops for Hunter as he reaches down to pick Muscles up where he's met with a low blow. Muscles reaches down where he picks Hunter up off the mat. He measures Hunter before driving a straight right hand into the forehead, sending Hunter staggering back. Malone explodes with a clothesline which sends Hunter over the top rope and back out to the floor.

Jerry Andrews: Malone is all over Hunter tonight.

Muscles walks towards the ropes where he latches on to the top rope. David starts working his way to his feet, once he's near a vertical base Muscles slingshots his self over the top rope looking for a flying crossbody. Hunter side steps Malone which sends Muscles crashing into the floor. David snatches a television camera off the shoulder of a cameraman. Muscles Malone starts working his way back to his feet where David smashes him in the face, shattering the camera upon impact. Hunter toss the ring apron back where he pulls out a table. The crowd roars as Hunter slides the table into the ring. David kneels back down where he tosses the ring apron back and pulls out a ladder as well.

Ace Anderson: Hunter is re-arranging furniture!

David makes his way towards Malone before reaching down and taking both legs of Malone before falling backwards and catapulting Malone into the ring post where he bounces face first off the ring post. Malone bounces off the ring post and crumbles back to the floor. David reaches down picking Muscles up and tosses him back into the ring. Hunter slides into the ring where he reaches his feet and makes his way to the table. David reaches down opening the legs of the table before setting it up in the center of the ring. David makes his way back towards to Malone, he reaches down picking Muscles up and clubbing him over the back viciously, grabs him by the hair and walks him over to lean him against the table. David begins hammering away at the head and face of Malone to a loud ovation from the crowd. Finally David stops hammering away at the skull of Malone before turning and pointing at the ladder to a louder ovation from the crowd. David walks over where he picks up the ladder and opens it up before setting it back against a neutral corner opposite the ring entrance. David steps out to the ring apron before making his way towards the corner that houses the Ladder. David starts scaling the buckles, he reaches the top rope before stepping over to the Ladder where he climbs towards the top of the ladder. The crowd is buzzing in anticipation.

Jerry Andrews: What is Hunter going for?

Ace Anderson: The ascent to the top has been slow.

At length, slipping on his footing as he does due to the strenuous match so far, Hunter looks down at the prone Malone. (Heh.) He comes off the top of the ladder with an attempted splash, but Malone waits until he comes down and sticks a boot up, so the incoming face of Hunter connects right with it. Hunter bounces off and falls in a way he wasn't expecting. Malone rolls off the table and flips it over the top rope, then he lifts the smaller man on his shoulder, runs a short distance across the ring with Hunter in position for like an Oklahoma Stampede and then he lawn darts Hunter RIGHT into the ladder! Hunter crashes upside down, and the ladder shuts and tips over. Malone rests on one knee, catching his breath and scrubbing at his eyes. Hunter contorts in pain after the car wreck of being tossed into the ladder.

Jerry Andrews: Good lord, that impact!

Malone kicks the ladder out of the way and lays it flat. Then he jerks the challenger up and reaches around him to put in a hammerlock before tipping Hunter over and giving him a hammerlock body slam onto the closed ladder. As Hunter pulls off the ladder, he arches his back in pain from the impact. Now Muscles hoists his challenger up again, and he sets the ladder back between his legs. He axehandles Hunter over the back, and Hunter flinches in pain. Malone hooks the head and lifts Hunter up in a stalling vertical suplex. At length, he frees one arm, showboating with a display of strength and keeping Hunter upside down in a stalling one handed vertical suplex position. He turns from one side of the crowd, then the other, motioning with his free arm and pumping Hunter in the air a little bit.

Jerry Anderson: All of the blood has to be rushing to his head right here!

Ace Anderson: I don't ever... ever want to hear about the "blood rushing to his head" in a sentence connected to Muscles Malone.

The intention had been for Muscles to finish the one handed vertical suplex by dropping Hunter back first across the ladder, but while Malone was playing to the crowd and curling his free arm into a bicep pop that would surely make the ladies swoon, Hunter gathered himself enough to start wiggling his legs and lowering his center of gravity. He pulled himself down enough to spike a knee into the side of Malone's head, once, twice, three times, and then the hold was loosened enough that Malone let Hunter fall behind him. Hunter then took Malone down with a falling neckbreaker, and they connected across the broad side of the closed ladder. A metal step bent under impact, and Malone especially cracked off. Malone groaned in pain and rolled off the ladder, twisting and holding his neck in pain. He rolled out of the ring for the third time. Hunter sits on the mat, gasping and taking in lungfuls of air to get some feeling back in his midsection. Then, he grits his teeth and goes out after Malone. Hunter drags Malone up to his feet and locks him by the right wrist, running backwards and launching him head first into the ring post. Malone bounces off with a thud, backing into the barricade. Hunter is all too happy to be taken for the ride, clobbering Malone with a clothesline to the throat. Malone drops, but gets taken back to his feet and slammed again into the ring post. Hunter grabs Malone's head and puts him into the post again. Malone's legs wobble while Hunter rushes forward and plants him face first into the ring steps with a bulldog.

Jerry Andrews: Hunter is showing pitbull tenacity in his offense tonight.

Ace Anderson: Let's hope it's not anything else to do with Pitbull, because that cover of "Africa" by Toto was... not good.

Jerry Andrews: As ever, your references are lost on me.

Hunter gets up and walks over to the other side of the steps, drops a knee onto Malone's neck. Backing up, Hunter charges ahead, puts his foot into Malone's back and leaps off, coming straight down with a diving double knee drop to the spine. Malone lets out a keening whistle of pain as all the air is driven out of his lungs. Keeping the pace of the match frantic, Hunter rises up again, grabs a Stop sign from the treasure trove of weapons, and waits for the complaining Malone to start staggering up, holding his back and cringing. Malone backpedals into Hunter's waiting arms. The next move that comes isn't pretty or flashy. Hunter locks his arms around the waist and throws Malone backwards in a German suplex, and Malone bounces off the Stop sign which had been laid in the aisle like a damn target! He cracks off the metal! With the sickest thud of the night, Malone bounces off the concrete and clutches his neck in pain.

Ace Anderson: Muscles Malone just got put down, full Stop.

Jerry Andrews: You are so proud of that one, aren't you.

Ace Anderson: In my head, I'm putting on sunglasses and walking away while The Who plays on the soundtrack like the guy from CSI Miami.

Hunter continues to press the action, stalking to Malone and kicking him mercilessly in his now injured neck. Hunter punts Malone in the head. Malone's head bounces and bobs around like a bobblehead. Hunter demands a chair from someone in the crowd and gets his wish. The chair is stabbed like a sword down into Malone's spinal column.

Jerry Andrews: This is just straight up violent. Hunter finally has the source of his agony and is beating him to a pulp.

Hunter pulls the chair away, and grabs Malone's arm off the floor. Hunter drags his rival back to the ringside area. A kick to the top of the head alerts Muscles and somehow brings about his survival instincts. One fist finds Hunter's package and doubles him over as he twists the testicles rather uncomfortably. Hunter's eyes fly open wide and he squeals in pain as he's put in a wringer. Malone summons the strength to rise up, grab Hunter, and with so much force that both competitors go down, slams Hunter head first into the ring post.

Jerry Andrews: As ever, when his opponents go high, Malone goes low... uncomfortably low

Ace Anderson: You can bet Hunter's forehead is cut open. Did you HEAR the velocity of that shot?

Jerry Andrews: Malone could enhance a few major league ball club lineups with that kind of raw power.

Muscles Marinara needs a moment to recover from all the wounds he's received; unsure of where to put his hands and start self-massaging. His neck gets a little treatment, back of his head, top of his head, and back. He can feel a little pull on the rope and grinds his way up to a standing position, reaching underneath the ring and grabbing a steel pipe. He cradles the weapon behind his back and lets Hunter come to him. With one brutal swing, Malone lands the pipe on Hunter's skull, effectively turning off his lights and kicking everybody out of the home.

Jerry Andrews: That one is definitely going to leave a mark.

Ace Anderson: One the size of fucking Texas.

Wrapping his free arm around Hunter's waist, Malone lifts up and headbutts Hunter, making both competitors groggy. Malone recovers faster and clobbers Hunter with an elbow. He violently takes a hold of Hunter’s arm and sends him into the barricade. Back flipping over the barricade with the most unflattering grace seen since Donald Trump tried to speak Spanish, Hunter lands in the front row on his face. Charging from a three-point stance, Malone doesn’t give him any room to breathe, leaping onto the soft covering of the barricade and dropping all 269 pounds onto his back. Hunter grimaces while Malone takes a hold of his neck and once again continues the offensive agenda.

Jerry Andrews: I don't like these two being in the crowd with the amount of violence they are creating.

Ace Anderson: They're just lucky Malone's herpes isn't communicable by airborne contact.

Malone delivers another grueling shot to Hunter’s chin, staggering Hunter back. Moving deeper and deeper into the crowd, Hunter tries to create some distance from this suddenly volatile competitor, but he gets pulled back by a firm grip in his hair. Backpedaling, Hunter tries walking down an aisle of fans that are all too eager to pat Muscles on the back.

Jerry Andrews: Hunter could be laying a trap here.

Ace Anderson: Malone just got a perplexed look on his face. I think he knows.

He's had this trick pulled on him once before and isn't falling for it twice. With a big tug on the arm, Malone pulls Hunter back, grabs a pitcher of beer from an unfortunate fan, and slams it over Hunter's head. Bits and pieces fly in all directions and those within shard range hit the deck to avoid getting cut. Hunter's legs go out from underneath him, giving Malone perfect range to lock his arms around Hunter's neck and start pummeling his chin with knees. Nasty describes Malone in both his general physical appearance and his malicious attitude in hitting these knees. One rocks Hunter's world. Another almost puts him face first into the canvas... but a low blow saves Hunter from that incapacitating third knee. A cut has caused some blood flow to come from the chin, but a doubled over Malone gives Hunter new life and he goes to work. Hunter takes a hold of Malone’s wrist and astutely shin kicks him in the arm. Incapable of masking his pain, Malone winces and receives a duplicate kick. Ingenuity takes a moment to set in, so Hunter rifles off one more kick before Malone moves forward, leaning into Hunter, and belting his rival with a stiff elbow that catches the ear. Both competitors stand in the aisle trying to regain their wits amidst a screaming and frantic crowd eager for more blood and brutality. A giant "This is Awesome" and "Fight" crowd roars through the crowd like a wave.

Jerry Andrews: The fans have come to embrace this hard hitting, insane style of the Underground, and lately they have been getting all they want.

Hunter recovers first by a half second, hooks Malone by that damaged wrist, and swings him ahead, indifferent of what he actually hits, which is the barricade sternum first. Malone screams out profanity on the way down, clutching at his chest and flailing about like an upside down turtle. Some fans cheer wildly but most just let out an "OOOOOOOOH" of sympathetic pain felt. Hunter senses victory is near and brings his opposition up to a vertical base. Extending his palm forward, Hunter unleashes a strike on Malone’s injured upper torso that makes the knees buckle. When he follows through with a 100 percent shin kick, Malone is literally thrown back into the crowd and topples a few fans that get a little too close to the action.

Jerry Andrews: Our crowd reluctantly becoming involved in the contest.

Ace Anderson: Alright, this is a "make your bed, lie in it" proposition, if you catch something coming into contact with an open sore, that's on you.

Hunter stalks down the aisle and kicks Malone in the abdomen, pushing his legs aside and bringing a knee down on the bloody forehead. Hunter acquires a steel chair from one of his loyal fans, winds up, and cracks it over the back of Malone. A grimace in pain sends delight throughout the Pure Class Wrestling arena. Another swing of the steel equalizer send Muscles Marinara scurrying away from the scene with Hunter following. The two are so close to the ring but no matter how far away Malone goes; Hunter is always going to be right there with him. Hunter readies himself, flinging the chair back and forth; he is winding up for a home run in the bottom of the 9th. However, Muscles turns and just as the chair is in perfect positioning, Muscles comes up and big boots it into Hunter's face, sending it in with deadly force to crack against Hunter, sending the chair flying, sending Hunter falling onto his back. Muscles rests against the guardrail, breathing heavily.

Jerry Andrews: Muscles fighting back with everything he has!!

Muscles lifts Hunter back up and throws him by the back of his hair and his pants across the aisle, sending him into the steel steps with force. Muscles then aggressively stalks over, kicking Hunter in the side of the head. He throws a stunned Hunter into the ring, and he stalks over to ringside, yelling at the bell ringer, not even bothering to flirt with Sasha. He finds a stack of steel chairs set against the barricade for extra seating. Like a man possessed Malone grabs a chair and sends it arcing high in the air over the ropes and into the ring. He tosses another chair in there, with reckless abandon and no care if it hits Hunter or the referee. Then a third, and a fourth. He paces over and climbs in the ring, and he stomps on Hunter's chest, then he snaps a chair seat open and sets it down. Hunter is shaking the cobwebs out of his head, and pulling himself up on one side, and Malone walks over and lays a heavy right hand into his forehead, stunning him and sending him staggering. Malone grabs Hunter by the hair and walks him to the center of the ring, lifting him in a back suplex before switching it in midair into a flatliner that drops Hunter face first across the seat of the chair!!

Jerry Andrews: Innovative move!

Malone shoves the chair with the bent seat out of the way and pins Hunter, mashing his face down with a forearm.

The referee: ONE...















TWO...















THRE - Kickout!

Jerry Andrews: I am amazed that we have had so few pin attempts in this match, but so much damage.

Ace Anderson: This has grown a little bit more heated between Hunter and Malone. Especially, for Hunter. He is sick of Malone.

Jerry Andrews: I can see that Malone's costing him the title twice has stuck in his mind. But Malone is just as aggressive, with as much to prove tonight.

Ace Anderson: The Underground Title has been moving around a lot lately, largely between these two men. They both want to make a statement tonight, and firmly put their stamp on it.

Malone peels Hunter off the mat, firing him into the corner. He follows it up with an avalanche in the corner, crushing Hunter beneath the splash and throwing him down limply to the mat. Then, Malone follows up by getting on the middle rope and coming off with a fist drop. Malone covers again.

The referee: ONE...















TWO...















THRE- Kickout!

Malone slaps the mat and yells "COME ON, BRO!" at the referee, but the referee, who's face clearly says I'm not your bro, friend, tells him it was a two count. Malone lifts Hunter back up and murders him with a belly to belly suplex that would make a Steiner proud. He makes a "that's it" motion with his hands and he lifts Hunter up. Hunter is slow to get up, staggering and dead weighting as much as he can, but Malone does get him up to his knees, then his feet, and Malone yells in his face, then he swivels his hips as a taunt. He goes to double underhook Hunter's arms, and succeeds in slowly rotating him around until he's in position for a Killswitch, but before he drops down for the move that would drive Hunter's face into the mat he taunts and swivels his hips a little more, blowing a kiss out at the audience. This gives Hunter time to push him off, and Malone bounces chest first into the ropes and stumbles back a step into a snap German suplex that gets less than a foot off the mat before driving him down neck first! Malone gasps and groans, holding his neck as he rolls over, complaining of the sudden pain. He is on all fours, when Hunter comes in, leaving his feet, sending all of his foot into Malone's face with a short bicycle kick. Malone drops to his back, and Hunter falls with him, but scurries into the cover.

Jerry Andrews: Malone calling for the G-Spot, taking his time to - no! Hunter counters!

Ace Anderson: And there's an Ode to Frank, Frank, wherever you are looking down from, I hope it did you proud!!

The referee: ONE...















TWO...















THRE- Kickout!

Cranking his neck from side to side to ensure that everything is still in tact, Hunter starts the arduous process of rising to a vertical base. He searches around the ring, finding the steel chair with the dented seat. That not satisfying him, he discards it. Other chairs, the steel pipe, the hammer and assorted other items from earlier are in reach. He searches for and selects a chair. He goes to start wedging it into between the top two turnbuckles. Then, he turns again, sorting out his prey, and he turns right into Malone, who lifts him up in a military press and crushes him with a powerslam. Hunter hits the mat like a ton of bricks, arms down to the side and head looking straight into the lights. Muscles Marinara tauntingly puts his foot over Hunter's chest, getting a llittle too cocky.

The referee: ONE...















TWO...















THRE - Kickout!

Malone grabs a hold of Hunter's neck, brings an elbow on top of the head and walks back toward the ropes, practically carrying Hunter there with him. Muscles hops onto the first rope and receives a forearm across the side of the jaw from Hunter. Malone fights back with a harder strike that sends Hunter backwards. Malone gets Hunter forward, booting him in the midsection and going up to the top rope. Malone reaches the second rope when a mighty yank from Hunter moves the unwilling Malone off the ropes and into his arms. Hunter hooks Malone's arms and drops him straight down on his head.

The referee and the crowd: ONE...

















TWO...

















THRE- Kickout!

Jerry Andrews: Malone kicks out at the last possible second. He saved himself from sure disaster!

Ace Anderson: These skills on display are without a doubt indicative of the toughest brand on the roster.

Jerry Andrews: This is a match about suddenness and melee, neither man going to give an inch and want the win so badly.

Hunter sighs in disbelief. Malone was not supposed to kick out of that move. It was supposed to be the end all to be all. Hunter slumps over in exhaustion, clearly on his last whim. He goes to lift Malone up, but Malone stops him short with a hot shot across the top rope. Malone then waits for Hunter to stop flopping around the ring, holding his throat, and Malone, with a grin of malice on his face, lands another ball shot. The blatant low blow doubles Hunter over, he coughs, it's a miracle to those sitting ringside that one of his balls didn't come out like the hairball of some demented cat to splat on the canvas, but even so, they stay in this tableau of Hunter arched over, wheezing and holding his midsection as Malone has his hand uppercutted between his legs for a good few seconds before Hunter collapses.

Jerry Andrews: Any other night, in any other division, that would be super illegal.

Ace Anderson: I still have to say, it's a party foul. You just... you don't do that. And he takes so much joy in it, ugh.

Malone pushes Hunter over for a cover.

The referee and the crowd: ONE...















TWO...















THREE - Kickout!

Malone explodes, shouting "WHAT?! BRO, WHAT?!" And rising up angrily, gripping the referee's shirt. He tries to intimidate the ref, demanding he give him a better answer but the ref assures him it was a kickout. He shoves the ref aside. He exits the ring, seething, and he walks over, grabbing his title and yelling "gimme that" from Sasha. He parades around ringside, and gets in the ring, before he grips the title and readies to smash Hunter over the head with it. Hunter is groggily pulling himself up on the ropes. Malone comes in with the title, ready to smack Hunter with it, but Hunter swivels out of the way and the title bounces off the ropes. Hunter gives Malone a step up enziguri, making him drop the title and stumble away. Malone then stumbles over to the exact corner where Hunter, before had wedged a steel chair between the top and middle turnbuckle, remember that? Well, Hunter, seeing Malone in the corner, goes for a desperation spear in the corner, more Bo Dallas style, but now it's Malone's turn to Ole out of the way and Hunter goes CRASHING into the corner, connecting like a car crash with the steel chair as he goes head first into it between the middle and top rope!

Jerry Andrews: Oh! No! Hunter went for the Hunter spear but Malone had it scouted!

Ace Anderson: We spend so much money testing for CTE symptoms thanks to all of this.

Jerry Andrews: These two men have given it all for the Underground title tonight!

Seeing a weak Hunter fall out of the corner, holding his head and neck, Malone takes a breath and tilts his head as he hangs on to the ropes beside the turnbuckle, and he can visibly be seen going through his options to close this battle out. A focused look passes over his face as he looks from Hunter, to the top rope over where Hunter is right now laying. Muscles Marinara drags Hunter over, clubbing at his back, and he keeps a grip on Hunter's hair as he himself begins scaling the ropes. The buzzing crowd is building in anticipation, knowing something special is coming. Malone makes it to the second rope before all of the head blows sustained throughout the evening take their toll and slow him just a bit.

Jerry Andrews: I think it may be a mistake for the bigger man to go high risk.

Ace Anderson: Isn't Malone's entire persona, life and existence defined by mistakes?

Muscles Malone reaches the top rope and balances himself. Hunter's eyes open up, and he measures what's going on. He takes the opportunity of balance as his cue. The kip up alerts Malone to trouble. Hunter showing freakish athletic ability and resolve to leap on the top rope and makes him realize that he's got nowhere to go. He goes for a right hand but the second generation star blocks the punch, delivers a headbutt, locks in the facelock and grips on with all of his might.

Jerry Andrews: They are both fighting on the top rope!!

Malone tries vehemently to remove himself from the hold but Hunter's grip is too powerful. He's straining and his muscles are shaking to prevent any kind of escape. This is a victory that Hunter desperately seeks. Hunter pushes off as he grips the head of Malone in a cutter, taking them BOTH OFF THE TOP ROPE with a leaping one armed stunner!! As Hunter's butt hits and absorbs a jarring impact, Malone's jaw hits too, and he flies up and back, whiplashing with force.

Jerry Andrews: THRILL OF THE HUNT!! THRILL OF THE HUNT FROM THE TOP ROPE!!

Ace Anderson: I... I have never seen anything like that.

Both men are laid out now, Hunter is holding his back and meekly trying to push himself over, Malone is laid out by the ropes as if he's dead. Several long seconds tick by.

Jerry Andrews: Hunter had to absorb a lot of impact on the way down, can he make a cover, can he do it -

He does! Hunter, crawling as if every part of him has been broken, turns on his stomach and slithers over, pulling Malone closer. He gathers Malone for a pin.

The referee and the crowd: ONE...

















TWO...

















THREE!!

Ding Ding Ding

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

"Hopes and Dreams" by Tobyfox begins playing on the PA and Hunter, breathing heavily, sits partway up, the referee holding his hand.

Jerry Andrews: Hunter has done it, Hunter is a two time Underground King!

Ace Anderson: One more time in this year, the Underground Title has brought us an insane car wreck of a match, a brutal contest that brought blood, sweat and adrenaline flowing from the pores of these competitors, and one more time, it brought us a new champion.

Hunter gets to his feet, obviously in a lot of pain from the wounds of the match, but holding the title up. Malone is still recuperating, the referee checking on him.

Jerry Andrews: Well, you have to give it up to Malone, as well, Ace, he stepped his game up and came out to show he is not a joke.

Ace Anderson: As loathe as I am to give Malone any sort of credit, tonight I will, Malone brought a hell of a fight. But the real credit tonight belongs to Hunter.

Hunter smiles at Malone, who is starting to come to consciousness. Malone yells "Bro!!" at Hunter, who exits the ring, holding the Underground title.

Jerry Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, we've got a lot more coming up, including our Hall of Fame inductees and the award for Best Singles Star!

The image splices into a split-screen view showing both Grimm and Sadistic (*gasp* there he is!) walking backstage. Grimm, sporting a green and red plaid wool blazer with a sprig of holly poking out of a button hole, strides with purpose down a hall. Sadistic, looking quite snazzy in a black three-piece suit that can only be described as “uber vintage” and a faded purple neckerchief, heads down a separate hallway. His once midnight black hair has turned almost completely gray, but is still pulled back into a neat ponytail, and, as always, his face is framed by a pair of majestic mutton chops. As they walk, the screens start to merge.

You know where this is going.

And, there we have it. Both turn a corner and come face-to-face. For the first time on screen together in years.

Grimm. The Lord of Misrule. The Hangtown Horror.

Sadistic. The Carnivore of Hardcore. The original Phenom.

The Dillinger Boys. The Brothers Gruesome.

Grimm’s pale blue eyes freeze an even colder sheen. “William.”

Sadistic’s green eyes flicker a deeper puddle of antifreeze. “Phinehas.”

Two ghosts of grins unravel beneath the stares. And they unload on one another.

Thus begins the Dillinger Christmas Brawl, 2018 edition.

Headbutts. Gnashing of teeth. Fists and feet, elbows and knees. A baseball bat. A shovel. Crashing through gingerbread houses. Upending bowls of Christmas punch. Scattering chestnuts when they tumble into open fires. Stopping beneath the mistletoe only to slap the taste out of one another’s mouth over and over, the impact of which spins each around only to add furor to the blows. They eventually return to closed-fisted strikes, which drive them through the curtain and into the audience.

The audience cheers.

The brothers work their way down the aisle. Treating those in attendance and those watching at home to their own special version of the Gifts of the Magi in the form of a Yuletide Spectacular of Violence. A gingerbread-spiced Lament Configuration. A peppermint-sprinkled thumb to the eye followed by a snap suplex. On it goes, through the festive bloodthirsty crowd, up the stairs, onto the stage. They come to the podium, collars in one hand, fists clenched and cocked for a knockout blow in the other, when they realize where they stand. They glance askance at the audience. Arms slowly drop. They straighten their respective jackets, adjust ties, and wipe away each other’s wrinkles. A handshake, a pat on the shoulder, then…

“Brothers don’t shake hands. Brothers gotta hug.”

And so they do, after which Grimm steps away with a flourish and a loving-yet-very-much-solid pat on the cheek, to allow his brother to accept his award in a manner suitable to the occasion, but only so much as it is suitable to the elder Dillinger.

2018 Pure Class Wrestling Hall of Fame Inductee: Billy Sadistic

Before taking the podium, William allows himself a moment of disgust in assessing the damages. His neckerchief nearly torn free. The stitching on the right shoulder of his vintage coat ripped and torn (Phinehas would pay for that one. Literally. William had dropped GOOD MONEY for that suit at Hangtown Various and Sundry, Hangtown's quality second-hand shop). His nearly silver mane yanked disheveled and shabby. Taking a moment to unruffle his feathers, Sadistic spits in each of his hands before smoothing the hair along the sides of his head. There! All better!

"I guess it's been awhile," Sadistic mutters in his gravelly, backwoods drawl.

Despite running as a "heel" for the majority of his PCW tenure, the nostalgia warrants a crowd pop. Sadistic uses the moment to take in the audience. Physically, the years have not been kind to a ruffian of the elder Dillinger's sort. A man well into his forties, his body reflects each year harshly: Worn skin, crooked posture, dulled hair, and every scar imaginable. But those warm green eyes known to attract with a false sense of sincerity and safety...those eyes continue to glow with the youth of immortality.

Just then, a Pure Class staff member sneaks onstage with a package of Wet Ones and offers one of the wipes to the former World Champion. William takes one and gives his face a good scrub for his annual brotherly brawl had produced a number of cuts and lacerations about his person. No sooner then he's sanitized the blood away do the wounds begin to trickle once again. No matter.

"I've been in this business for a long, loooong time. And I've committed several acts of atroc… Several acts of atroshi… I've done lots of bad things. Both in and out of the ring. Some of them I'm proud of. Some of them I'm REALLY proud of. Like when I broke my dear brother's back..."

An overzealous fan shouts from the comfort of anonymity, "No, he broke YOUR back!"

"Did he?" Sadistic questions with feigned sincerity. Or perhaps legit sincerity...who knows? "I s'pose in the grand scheme o' things, it don't really matter. Whether we was at each other's throats, or whether we was paradin' around as the most dominant tag team in Pee Cee Dubya's history..."

This elicits a roar from the crowd and somewhere in the darkness a "Hangtown Horrors" chant tries to materialize before eventually evaporating.

"But if I can be honest and truthful, whether we was breakin' necks Snap, Crackle, Pop. Or winnin' championships. It was all in the name of entertainin' y'all."

This leads to a sustained applause for perhaps the lone heartfelt sentiment the Phenom will willingly divulge.

"I'd like to thank, and congratulate my fellow Hall of Fame inductee and former Black Hand runnin' mate, Justin Stormm. I'd also like to thank one of my closest friends in this business, Mikey Wryght. I'd like to thank Luis Malave for giving me a chance to paint on his canvas all those years ago..."

Malave's mention draws an "Icemann" chant from the masses. Sadistic respectfully waits for it to subside.

"And last, but not least, aside from the entire Dillinger clan, I'd speficically like to thank both my staunchest ally and greatest foe...my younger brother, Phinehas Grimm. The yin to my yang. The coke in my rum. But don't let my love for you change that fact that you owe me six dollars for ruining this fine suit. Little brother...I owe you one," he concludes with a wink.

"Thank you very much," Sadistic finishes while gesturing to the PCW Faithful. He gives one final wave before heading off stage with a slight limp.

The show returns backstage at the PCW Arena, with David Hunter quickly walking down the hallway. As he approaches the locker room, his crown back where it belongs on his shoulder, he is stopped by Shane Dodge, who suddenly appears in shot.

David stops, acknowledging Shane with a nod before taking a large gulp from his water bottle.

Shane Dodge: David Hunter, you just won back your King of the Underground Title. What's on your mind now?

David is quick to respond.

David Hunter: I've got to visit the EMT's so I can make sure I don't have a concussion, so I'll make this quick.

David glares into the camera.

David Hunter: Muscles Malone, you get a rematch. Congratulations, let's do this again. Holden Ross, I owe you a match. Once I'm done with Muscles, let hook up one more time, one-on-one. And for anybody else out there who thinks they can take this crown from my head, than you need to know something. I lost this once. I'm not going to lose it again. If you really--truly--want this title back, than you'll have to take the head out...from under the crown.

David then leans forward and kisses Shane on the cheek before walking into the locker room. Shane wipes his cheek down, standing there with a look of disgust before fading back to the Peace Center.

2018 Pure Class Wrestling Hall of Fame Inductee: Justin "Stormm" Michaels

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. He is decked out in an all black tux, no tie, with an orange pocket square just barely sticking out of the front jacket pocket.

He makes his way to the podium, waving to the fans and fellow superstars, who are on their feet to congratulate the Force of Nature on his accomplishments. After several moments of applause and adulation, the noise has died down enough, and Justin steps up to the microphone.

Stormm: Wow, okay. Thank you all.

He clears his throat.

Stormm: It was almost thirteen years ago, January Tenth, Two Thousand Six, when I made my debut in the Pure Class Arena. Back when Trauma was still on Tuesday nights. A spry twenty-eight years old, I was, and I tell you what, I thought I had seen and done it all. I had been in the business for ten years already, and didn't think I had anything else to prove.

Smiling, he looks away from his notes, and out across the sea of people sitting in silence.

Stormm: How wrong I was.

He chuckles at his own joke, and brings laughter out of the faithful.

Stormm: It didn't matter that I had started my career at eighteen, wrestling in Japan and living in some hole in the wall apartment, barely able to afford rent, let alone food. It didn't matter that I had caught a break three years later, and signed a major contract that would bring me back home, wrestling out of Texas and traveling the states making more money than I would have ever needed then. It didn't matter how many main events I had been in, how many championships I had won, or how many contracts I had signed from that point. When I stepped foot into this arena here, the slate was clean.

His smile has turned down slightly as the intensity in his speech ramps up.

Stormm: That was a tough one for me to grasp initially. I had taken a bit of time off to finish college and get Havoc Entertainment started, and hadn't stepped foot in a ring for a match in a few years. My ego kept telling me that I shouldn't have to from the bottom, where I had not been in a decade. In this business, that's a tough pill to swallow, and an even tougher situation to fight out of. Especially for someone like me who wasn't supposed to be here in the first place, with the likes of Ace Anderson. Lantlas. Mikey Wryght. Loki. Grimm. Non Compos Mentis. Pegasus. Just to name a few.

He paused between each name to draw in the applause for former and future inductees. Justin then points out to Pegasus, who is in attendance, and whose smile couldn't possibly be any bigger than it is right now as he applauds with everyone else.

Stormm: I was not supposed to be here.

The crowd falls silent once more.

Stormm: A name that some of you might be familiar with, and some of you may have even seen wrestle a match or two in PCW, was originally offered the roster spot that I ended up taking. Steven Lee, buddy, tonight would not have been possible without you. You see, Luis Malave had worked with him in the IWL before, and was trying to get him over here, but his health had been declining for some time, and he had to pass; but didn't do so without telling ol' Icey to check out some of my old tapes, and to get me out of the suit I was wearing, and the office I was squatting in.

Shaking his head, a smile is brought back to his face, remembering being told what Steven had said about him in his first conversation with Luis Malave before signing his first contract with Pure Class Wrestling.

Stormm: Now then, Steven got my foot in the door, but Luis took a chance on a kid, because that's what I still was, a kid from Kansas with an attitude, and a lot of rust. Luis. The Icemann. Icey. The Icehole. We all miss you, man, and I hate not being able to shake your hand on a night like this, and telling you how much I appreciate the opportunity you gave me, and how sorry I am, again, for being a huge pain in your ass back then. Probably still would be if you were around, but not that bad. PCW will never be the same without you!

The Force of Nature pauses for several minutes, and even claps along with the audience, who have made it to thier feet to salute Luis, who PCW had lost almost one year ago, and far too soon. The ovation subsides, and Justin clears his throat once more and presses on.

Stormm: It's hard for me to talk about my wrestling career without mentioning the one man, the one family, that put me front and center in the first place. My father-in-law, Joseph Remington Matthews, Joe 2 Kool, I owe the last twenty years of my life to you, and none of it has or will ever be the same since you were taken from us. Lindsay, Linds, Sweets, you've been there for me all this time, and when I didn't think I could keep going, you were the only reason I needed stick with it. I have and always will wrestle for you, and just be the best man I can be for you and our kids, no matter what.

The camera cuts to Lindsay, who hasn't been able to hold back the tears, and is blubbering like a baby. She nervously laughs when she realizes she's being filmed. Her black gown shimmers under the arena lights, along with her baby blues that she wipes dry. The couple's children, the twins Joey and Remi, are present and looking as cute as ever. Joey in a little tux, and Remi in an orange dress. Joe is sitting in Lindsay's lap, trying to comfort her, while Remi is sitting in the lap of Justin and Lindsay's good friend, and the children's nanny, Isabella Rey, who is in a black gown as well.

Stormm: Then there's Jonathan, and he'll hate me for calling him that.

He smiles, while making the "yes" motion with his right arm.

Stormm: The man who has been a perpetual foe to me inside of the squared circle, but a constant brother-in-arms despite how much we want to tear each others heads off. Our relationship has more ups and downs than a bottle of whiskey in his hands, but there will always be the constant of loving to hate each other, and hating to love each other, something we no longer have a choice of. Thanks for being a constant pain in my ass, and the one person I will always strive to be better than.

Justin, again, joins the audience in applauding former superstar, and his brother-in-law, Johnny Matthews.

Stormm: It's been a long, long, and bumpy road for me over the last twelve years. PCW hasn't always been around, and I haven't always been around. Frustrations, lawsuits, injuries, tonight, we throw that all aside, and I hope all of PCW and the faithful are even half as appreciative of me as I have been of you all.

Doing his best, he continues to keep his emotions bottled up, preventing them from erupting in front of the world.

Stormm: I've rambled on long enough I'm sure, but there are two other men in what we'll call the "extended wrestling family" that have been along for this ride almost as long, and I couldn't live with myself, rather, they'd never let me hear the end of it, if I didn't mention them. Jason and Johnny. Willard and Loco. Jase and Da Loczter. Tha UnHoly Alliance. Sorry Jason, I won't be referring to you by that other name tonight. We've been palling around since TUF, way back in the day, and you guys are as close to me as any brothers could be without blood or relation. You helped show me the ropes in the early days, were instrumental in me developing my arsenal, and have time and time again kept getting me back into the ring when I thought I was done. Something I'm sure Lindsay appreciates you both for as well.

Justin rolls his eyes and the camera cuts to Lindsay who smiles, while still holding back and wiping away tears.

Stormm: Now, I could go on for days listing off everyone I've interacted with through the years, but I think I've covered the ones who have really been on this path with me since the beginning in some way, so to the rest, just know, I appreciate everything you've done for me as well. With all of that said, I've still got a lot left in the tank, and am hoping to make twenty nineteen just as memorable. I'm not going anywhere, and I've got a lot more to accomplish before I hang these boots up. Because the Force of Nature is coming...

The crowd takes over for him.

PCW Faithful: And this is your warning!

Stormm: Thank you, again! Thank you so much!

"Land of Shadows" by Audiomachine kicks back in, and Justin waves to everyone in attendance, doing his best to show how much he appreciates them, before exiting the arena.

The final segment of the even takes place from the Peace Center.

Michael Malone: Ladies and gentlemen, to present our final award of the evening: Kanye West.

Best Singles Star
Presented by Kanye West

Nominees:
Kyle Shane
Justin "Stormm" Michaels
Gerard Angelo
Grimm

Kanye West: Now Yeezy's a star, how could I not shine out here tonight for you? I'm one of the most famous people on the planet, but, hey, tonight I'm here for you, PCW, and to rep your heroes. So, let me announce the winner of the 'Best Singles Star' Award.... the PCW World Champion Kyle Shane!!!

"In The Morning And Amazing" by Circa Survive hits on the PA and Kyle Shane comes walking out onto the stage again. He laughs as if he's having the time of his life, and he pivots, holding his arms out to take in the reaction of the crowd, on his way up the dais. Kyle walks briskly over to the podium, and gathers up the Best Singles Star trophy.

Kyle Shane: Achievement Unlocked - I am the best.

Kyle laughs, and holds the trophy up in triumph.

Kyle Shane: It says a lot in a year where we had Justin Michaels pass 900 days as a champion in this company, where Grimm overcame everything to become the 2018 Icemann Invitational Tournament winner, where Gerard Angelo ran the field to become the 2018 Deadly Rumble Winner, where The Anarchist Seromine and his boys ran roughshod for so many months and held the landscape of the PCW hostage. Amid all of that, there was only one person who's star shone brighter than all of that. Me. And with good reason. I am YOUR World Champion, Pure Class Wrestling.

He tilts his head, looking at the trophy.

Kyle Shane: The best. That means a lot to me. Particularly after Collision Course, which didn't end with such a profitable ending for me, in fact it left everyone asking how I could still be champion, why the title wasn't stripped from me then and there... So much controversy, and questioning.

He smirks, but his eyes aren't quite smiling.

Kyle Shane: Well, you know what, I'm saying this. Gerard Angelo. i stand here, recognized by the Pure Class Wrestling faithful and peers alike as the undisputed best. Collision Course may have ended in controversy, but I have the recognition of everyone as the most superior, dominant champion in this company today. And for good reason. So come the new year, the next time I get my chance, I am going to prove this to you. I am going to live up to this trophy, and I am going to stand as the Undisputed Best. Best In the World. Best Singles Star. PERIOD.

Kyle holds up the trophy with a big grin on his face. The crowd builds to a huge "God of Game" chant for him.

Kyle Shane: And it will be another Achievement Unlocked. Undisputed... BEST.

Kyle is still holding up the trophy and basking in the adulation of the crowd, before exiting the stage.

Jerry Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, that's it for tonight's show! Be sure to check out PureClassWrestling.com for full details on all of tonight's winners, including those we couldn't present live. And, as always, thank you for watching. We hope you have a wonderful holiday season and we'll see you in 2019.

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