Trauma 247 Results

[Rick Majors]

Pure Class Wrestling Trauma
Thursday February 28th, 2019

Trauma opens with a pre-recorded shot, taken earlier in the daytime. It shows a bright, sunny parking lot, and a corrugated steel building identifiable as some kind of warehouse. There's no particular marking on the outside, no road sign or ownership on the front of the property, but the little tag that fills in at the bottom of the screen shows that this is "Pure Class Wrestling Logistics and Operations, 9:52 am" The camera is shot Cops style, following just at the shoulder of someone as they get out of a vehicle and start walking through the parking lot, and the cameraman shakily gets in focus and in step with his subject, the Pure Class Wrestling World Champion, Kyle Shane.

Kyle Shane: We're here today at the Operations warehouse for PCW, and this is where all the magic happens.

An edited shot of the warehouse is inserted, rack upon rack of equipment is stored here, ring aprons, lights, stage dressing, metal piping for structures, etc. In the center of it all can be seen a big, bare-bones ring. Then back to the tracking camera shot of Kyle Shane, walking up to the glass doors of the building leading into a lobby, as he looks into the camera.

Kyle Shane: And I've come here today because we're gonna make sure that the main event of Mass Destruction has no excuses.

The camera follows along with Kyle as he walks into the lobby, going right up to the big slab of desk at which a secretary, a pretty blonde girl is sitting, and beside her is an overweight man in a white security guard's shirt. Kyle isn't breaking stride as he walks past the desk, but he does acknowledge them.

Kyle Shane: Hello, I'm here on assignment this week, I'm just going to head on back to where they're assembling the ring and the cage -

Security guard: Sir, you can't just go into the back, sir, please stop walking. Stop walking now sir!

The secretary is frantically paging someone on the phone, and the security guard has now collared both Kyle and the cameraman by their arms and is pulling them back.

Kyle Shane: How dare you, sir! Didn't you know I'm a handpicked favorite of Loki? DIDN'T YOU KNOW PRESIDENT LOKI GIVES ME SO MUCH FAVORITISM?!

Cut to Kyle, outside the front doors of the building, on his cell phone, as the cameraman documents it all.

Kyle Shane: Well, I didn't think it would be a big deal if - No, I am not taking this too far, if anything it's not far enough. No, I didn't try to namedrop you in conversation, look, Loki, I swear I wasn't going to touch anything. I just wanted a tour of the warehouse. Okay? I'll see you at dinner, right baby? ... What do you mean you don't find that funny?

Loki apparently hangs up on his end, but Kyle cuts a sardonic smirk into the camera, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, mouthing the words "So moody". And from there, we cut to another establishing shot of the inside of the warehouse, where workers are screwing and bolting together large sections of chain-link fence on a frame.

Pan down, to show Kyle, side by side with a foreman with a mustache and a hanging gut, and everyone is wearing hard hats. Then, it switches back to the side view with the cameraman close on Kyle and the action.

Kyle Shane: I'm here with dock supervisor Dave Johnson, Dave how long have you been working here at Pure Class Wrestling's warehouse?

The foreman, brushing his mustache, has a thick Minnesotan accent.

Dave Johnson: Oh, I guess about five years ago now. We're in charge'of puttin' these here pieces together and getting everything ready to get sent to the arena and set up.

Kyle Shane: So you're the guy who we'd talk to if anything were to, I don't know, break mid-match.

Dave Johnson: Wellsir, my crew does put the bolts together and screw it in at the arena, don'tcha know.

Kyle Shane: That's what I thought.

Kyle grabs the foreman by the lapels, suddenly switching into bad cop mode, scowling in his face and threatening him.

Kyle Shane: So it was YOU that made the turnbuckle break at Collision Course, and the top rope snap off, and it was YOU that had it planned all along!

Dave Johnson: Cheese and crackers, get offa me, ya bozo, what are ya crazy?! I didn't rig no turnbuckles to break! That's crazy talk. What are ya talkin about then, there, yet.

If the audience needed to be reminded, our documentary inserts black and white film footage cut in here. A replay of Collision Course 2018, as it describes, . Angelo gathers himself, and he turns to look for Kyle Shane, but Shane has gotten behind him. Shane hurls Angelo a short distance into the corner, and in a freak accident, as Angelo hits the turnbuckles, the nut holding the top rope SNAPS! The top rope cables in that corner go loose, and Angelo falls back, Shane falling with him as the ropes in an entire side go limp. Shane is able to snap off a German suplex as Angelo is tumbling back from being popped by the exploding ring ropes.

When we cut back to the interior of the warehouse, foreman Dave Johnson is holding a bolt between his fingers, up to the light, as Kyle stands by, arms folded. Johnson is turning the bolt this way and that, examining it.

Dave Johnson: Ayuh, that, then, there, is a faulty bolt, ya see it had some wear and tear on it from use, probably got hit at just the right angle all night and gave way just at t'right time dont'cha know.

Kyle Shane: The bolt just gave way. And no one putting the turnbuckles, the ropes or the entire ring together, either here at the warehouse or when it was set up at the arena, sabotaged it.

The foreman, slightly irritated by the implied impugning of his work's quality, his mouth twists beneath his glorious pushbroom stache.

Dave Johnson: What'da ya think we are then, amateurs, boy, equipment breaks. Bolts break, too much use and wear and tear and eventually everything gives out. It's called the concept of entropy, don'tcha know. Fuck me if it happened at just the wrong time.

Kyle Shane looks into the camera, shaking his head, just hamming it up for the camera as he mockingly repeats the word "Entropy" to himself.

Kyle Shane: Oh just for my curiousity, I've never met you before or, like, paid you off to intentionally put a bolt in there that was going to break or sabotage the ropes, have I?

Dave Johnson: Sir, just meeting you once is enough to make me want to put in my two weeks notice.

Kyle Shane: I get that a lot. But I never asked you to sabotage shit for me, right?

Dave Johnson: Oh criminy - NO, ya blasted hoser, ya never asked operations to fudge yer blasted match for you. And I can speak for me, actually taking pride in my work, I would never WANT any of my equipment to go out knowing it would intentionally break. That's pure grade A bull cookies.

They're standing in front of a ring which, while disassembled, having no ropes, no posts, no turnbuckles at the moment, is clearly meant for use at Mass Destruction.

Kyle Shane: And this ring, for Mass Destruction... going to make sure that nothing is out of line, no wear and tear on any of the bits and pieces, nothing ready to fall apart?

Dave Johnson: I said yes, God damn you, what is it gonna take to get ya out of my blasted warehouse asking these questions.

Kyle Shane: What indeed.

Cut to, the camera pans along what appears to be a chain link fence. Link after link, row after row, repeated diamond pattern, and then a hand comes up and firmly grips the links.

Kyle Shane: I'm here with - what's your name, kid?

Warehouse worker: Mark Greene -

Kyle Shane: One of Pure Class Wrestling's many, dedicated, hardworking blue-collar employees, Mard Greene.

Warehouse worker (to someone off-camera, incredulously): ...Did he just say my name was Mard?...

Kyle Shane: This is just one of the sections of cage that Mard and his fellow workers have been assembling. Now, can you take us through the process?

Warehouse worker: Process, what process, we get a pre-made section of chain-link fence, cut it to a specific length as needed to fit into a housing, we put that section over another section, we bolt the two sections together, we -

Kyle Shane: And, there's no chance of this falling apart, breaking open, someone hitting it wrong and it busting... Right?

Warehouse worker: Chance, I mean... dude, there's a chance, if you hit something with just enough force and velocity, anything could break.

Kyle Shane: Anything... could... break. Is that what you're telling me Mard? That you don't have confidence in the work you boys do here at the Pure Class Wrestling Logistics and Operations Department? That you put together substandard, slapdash equipment that falls apart under the slightest bit of scrutiny? That you're either terrible at your jobs or you just don't care?! Is that it?

Warehouse worker: No! What are you even talking about?

Warehouse worker #2 (off-camera): Dude, I think he's doing a bit, this is just how Kyle Shane works.

Warehouse worker #1: But he keeps getting my name wrong, and...

Kyle Shane: Listen, buddy...

Kyle comes around, putting an arm over the warehouse worker's shoulder.

Kyle Shane: I'm just trying to assess whether everything is in tip top shape, top of the line, made by professionals with 100 percent American, Tonka tough, gumption, knowhow, and expertise. I'm just trying to ascertain whether everything used in this match is going to perform at it's best.

Warehouse worker #1: Uh... well... Jason Ho is Korean.

Warehouse worker #2: I've got a card, there's no need to get immigration down here...

Kyle gives the camera a full on, tilted head look in the vein of Jim Halpert.

Cut to, the interior of the warehouse's break room, and Kyle is taking a donut. Then, cut back, and Kyle is standing behind the chain link fence, keeping it between him and the camera, and addressing the camera as if he's addressing Gerard Angelo.

Kyle Shane: So what have we learned today. We learned that Pure Class Wrestling Logistics is a serious business, run by a serious man with a passion for his craft and a team of dedicated workers. We learned that they're working hard to make sure our equipment is ready and waiting to go for Mass Destruction. We learned how Jason Ho and Mard Greene make a chain link fence for the siding of a steel cage, and that the cage will be ready to go.

(Offcamera): It's Mark Greene, dammit! ...It's Mark Greene...

Kyle gives the off-camera cry a moment's bemused look, but then the breezy, hammy facade he's been affecting for the tour of the facility falls away and he starts getting serious.

Kyle Shane: But most importantly, all of this was to ensure for you, Gerard Angelo that you know who's making all of the pieces for Mass Destruction's final clash. That you know everything is up to your apparently exacting standards, and that you can find no fault in the presentation. Magician's code calls this showing the audience you have nothing up your sleeve. And I don't. I stand here, watching as our final battleground gets constructed around me, watching as they put every bolt, nut and screw into place, so that I can make sure you have no damn more excuse.

Warehouse worker #1 (off-camera): Is he talking straight to the camera now? What's up with that?

Warehouse worker #2: Yeah, wrestling terminology is he's cutting a promo trash talking his opponent.

Warehouse worker #3: But why? Isn't that so weird

Warehouse worker #1: Guys, he keeps glaring over here, I think he hears us.

Kyle Shane: On cable TV, when they show you how things are made, it's always a fascinating process to see how the pieces, that have already been pre-assembled somewhere else, all coalesce into a final product. Everything that's lead up to our clash is therefore coalescing, Gerard. Into this one moment in time. I'm going to show you how Kyle Shane works. And you are going to stand, as everyone inevitably stands, a little quietly impressed at first, and then awed by how a product is put together, how the sausage is made, how the pieces fit. Every part of it. Our clash of egos and ideology. Both of our refusal to back down. That neither one of us is willing to admit that the other could have a case. That you are not willing to admit that you are not, and never have been screwed out of anything you've been given. It's all being put together, piece by piece, assembled into this.

He rattles the chain links.

Kyle Shane: This altar. This final whole. Where all the excuses get left behind. Where you will finally shut the fuck up, step up, and become the star you've always claimed you were, OR, where all your excuses get shredded like orange juice pulp through the juicer that are these chain links. Where you finally, finally see how a champion was made, how Kyle Shane is made, stronger and more unbreakable than you could ever conceive. Because can't both of us claim to be unbreakable, Gerard. If you hit something with enough force and velocity, anything could break. And if you hit something hard enough, wear it down over time, and subject it to the right amount of pressure, everything will break. It's called the concept of entropy. Don't you know.

Kyle's mouth quirks upward into a hard-edged, battle-ready smirk.

Warehouse worker #1: Oooh, I like how he tied all that together with the lessons he learned on that there warehouse tour at the end.

Warehouse worker #2: Yeahhh but ya know, I think we should get back to work, Johnson is already griping about the overtime.

As the camera cuts to another view, of Kyle stepping out from behind the chain link fence, it pans across the warehouse floor, to show foreman Johnson, angrily coming from the door leading to the break room.

Dave Johnson: Dang blast it, you're a guest here in da warehouse, you ain't supposed to eat all the donuts, don't ya know!!

The camera zooms back to Kyle's face, freeze-framing on his "Oh shit" expression, and then a quick cut later of Kyle running away and the camera bouncing after him.

Jerry Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to Trauma and, well, welcome to Trauma! I'm Jerry Andr....

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

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

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

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

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

Sasha Greene: And his opponent!

"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.

Sasha Greene: From Kansas City, Missouri. He weighs 195 lbs, JOEY "THE HANDYMAN" HANDY!

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, unsure how to truly act. Once inside the ring, he stretches and pumps himself up nervously awaiting his opponent.

Singles Match
Joey "The Handyman" Handy vs Holden Ross
Referee: Joseph Buckland

DING!
DING!
DING!

Holden dismisses his opponent with a belly laugh as he mocks the disadvantages Joey has in the height and weight department. Handy doesn't take the bait, choosing instead to have Holden approach him. When that happens, Joey quickly slips around to place a swift pair of strong kicks. These don't have much effect initially, but they do grab Holden's attention enough that he has to try swatting away a nuisance.

Jerry Andrews: I didn't get to do the introduction.

Ace Anderson: It's okay, Jer.

Jerry Andrews: But I like doing the introduction!

Joey ducks back the other way, scoring with body blows to the midsection. Holden again swipes, only for Joey to latch on mid-lariat, in an attempt to take him over with a cross armbreaker. Ross has his limb pulled on, but he lifts Joey into the air with ease before having his eyes watered with a well placed knee.

Handy engages him with a flurry of knife edge chops and then the return of strikes. Holden breaks that by throwing him to the ropes. Handy stands his ground long enough that he's able to dump Holden by pulling the top rope down. He has a momentary lapse on capitalising, but there must have been a mental lightbulb that needed replacing, because he snaps out of it with a well timed baseball slide.

Jerry Andrews: Dropkicking a brick wall isn't the smartest of ideas.

Ace Anderson: Nobody will ever accuse Joey of being smart. That's how he incurred Alexa's wrath and why his estranged wife wants nothing to do with him.

Joey has in fact erred in judgment. The baseball slide left him wide open to being pulled out unceremoniously to the floor. Holden picks the right spot to trample over him like a linebacker. Ross, in showing sime arrogance, takes a victory lap around the ring for no other reason that he thinks Joey won't be getting up anytime soon..

But he did and over Tessa's warnings, stuns Holden with a running dropkick off the apron. The force is enough to send him back into the ring steps, in which Joey bull rushes him right over. A hail of open fists rain down to partial blockage. Joey puts himself in-and-out of the ring to break the count up. Holden gets to his feet, but is kicked every step of the way. Joey works around him with some MMA strikes targeting the ribs, but backs himself inadvertently against the ring post.

Ross' lariat wraps around said ring post and presents an opening for Joey to work over. After a trio of limb smashes, Holden uses his reach advantage to bring Joey face first into the unforgiving steel, planting him on the floor harder than a hospital bill without any insurance to cover it. Holden wrings out his arm as he signals to Tessa that Joey's fantasy of being a professional wrestler is about to end.

Jerry Andrews: I don't like the look in Holden's eyes.

Ace Anderson: This isn't the time to reference Dirty Dancing. We're about to see attempted murder and I'm without any popcorn to enjoy it with.

Jerry Andrews (confused): Dirty Dancing? I said Holden's eyes, not hungry.

Holden yanks Joey off his feet with a double-handed choke, leading to a transitional gorilla press slam with a throw back into the ring. Holden steps through the ropes and stomps on Joey until the count of five is nearly reached. Ross folds him like an accordion before displaying his power with a deadlift powerbomb. Joey is ran across the ring for a launched buckle bomb. Ross then crushes him in that corner with a vicious clothesline.

Handy oozes into a seated position, leaving himself wide open for a running hip attack that whiplashes his neck. A world's strongest slam buries Joey center ring and with it comes an arrogant cover from The Bastard.

1!

2!

Joey kicks out to the applause of fans who rally to him in his hour of need. Holden smirks as this match continues. Joey is pulled into a short-arm clothesline. Then a second. The third one is countered! Joey, against the odds, ducks and scores with a reverse DDT! Tessa slams her hands on the mat as the advantage has changed. Joey feeds off the chants of the fans to get himself back into this. He may not be entirely sure of where he's at, but he's not going down without a fight.

Holden is caught with a bicycle kick just under the jaw and then a pretty sweet looking european uppercut. Joey hits a spinning back kick to partially double ross over, enabling him to throw a pair of leaping elbows to the back of the neck. Joey sneaks in a swinging neckbreaker and goes for the cover.

1!

Holden presses Joey off of him without trouble. Joey looks around as he tries to map a blueprint about what to do next. He wisely steers clear of where Tessa is outside of the ring and then picks a set of ropes to launch into a shining wizard! Ross absorbs it and is quick to put Joey down with a running powerslam. That's when the boo birds return.

And grow louder.

Jerry Andrews: Well well well, I guess hell got full and spit these two back up.

Cameras pick up Alexa Black making an unwelcome appearance with none other than Nadine. They look happy with Joey being flat on his back, in pain, and on the receiving end of offense. Alexa remains facing the aisle, but Nadine splits out on the right. She gets as close as she can to Joey for some good ol fashioned taunting. Something said back draws a loud 'EXCUSE ME?' prior to Joey being dumped with a pumphandle driver.

Ace Anderson: Like a nail through wood! Maybe Joey is better off creating himself in a wrestling video game, than actually trying to be one.

Jerry Andrews: Will you stop?!

1!

2!

Joey gets his shoulder off the mat. Holden grows agitated that Joey refuses to stay down (for his own good of course), but he does have himself a three person fan section at ringside; two of whom calling for him to break Joey further. Handy swings for the fences with strikes to the midsection from a kneeled state, but without much force behind them.

Ross cranks Handy's neck at an inhuman angle while bringing him to his feet. Handy changes to throwing elbows instead. Ross winces as one catches just enough of him between the ribs. A knee lift is blocked. Joey uses a drop toe hold to put Ross in the ropes! Handy crawls away as quick as his body will allow, willing himself to ignore the noise of his enemies outside.

He uses the ropes to get back to his feet. Nadine is admonished by the referee for trying to push him off. There's an argument about that. This gives Alexa a chance to enter the ring and an open shot at Joey. He throws her over the top rope much to the delight of fans! Ross has a running clothesline ducked under. Double knee armbreaker! Handy goes full Cobra Kai with a leg sweep!

Ross is hit with alternating elbows to the sides of his head. Joey tries a kip up, but it fails miserably and leaves him embarrassed for even trying in the first place. He rolls onto his feet with a shrug and a laugh. Ross is partially picked up and then hit with an axe kick. Or...is he? Joey's leg doesn't quite clear and instead, he's shoved over the top with an awkward landing...

And into the lioness den. The referee keeps a sharp eye on Nadine and Alexa as they surround from opposite sides. Tessa lends a hand by climbing onto the apron. With the official being unable to control everyone, the bitches of Eastwick close in. Handy is forced to choose his fate.

Jerry Andrews: These two should've been sent to the back the second they made it to ringside.

Ace Anderson: Observing isn't illegal. They---

Jerry Andrews: Did you miss the part where Alexa got into the ring? Did you go deaf when hagzilla got into Joey's face?

Joey smiles from ear to ear as he approaches his estranged spouse. The sight of that alone is enough for a good paint brushing. Joey is spun towards an oncoming Alexa Black. He side steps that hot mess, which in turn causes her to clothesline Nadine INTO the crowd! Not wanting to break them up, Joey dumps Alexa with one of his own.

And is then taken out of his tool belt with one from Holden Ross. Joey is returned to the ring. The Ambassador of Ultraviolence begins to climb in. That's when the middle rope breaks from underneath him. Ross takes a tumble, scrambling to find out what the hell happened.

VOLT METER!! Joey Handy takes advantage with his finisher and a frantic rolling pin.

1!

2!

3!!

The fans go wild as Joey slips out of the ring. The referee follows him out and much to The Handyman's surprise, HIS arm is raised in victory.

Sasha Greene: Here is your winner, Joey "The Handyman" Handy! 

Ross and Tessa are beside themselves and with a reason to file a formal complaint. Joey's celebration is short-lived, however, as Alexa ambushes him. Nadine gets in a few licks of her own and before you know it, security has to rush down to break things up.

Ace Anderson: The curse of faulty equipment strikes again!

Jerry Andrews: As does the commercial break. We'll be right back and hopefully free of Alexa and Nadine.

Trauma returns with the fracas at ringside still in full swing. During the break it appeared as order would be restored, but the elements combusted and MORE help was needed. Alexa may need several tranquilizers. Nadine may need a top notch team of lawyers. Joey may need a vacation to Hawaii.

And the show needs...

Jerry Andrews: Welcome back to Trauma! I'm Jerry Andrews and....

A school bell rings....the crows claps along with the clapping of the song matching its beat. A motorcycle emerges from the back with Cory Steel on the back, the outlaw stops at the top of the ramp where he holds a fist up in the air. The massive man also lays down on the accelerator drowning out the music and the crowd!

Cory smiles until he spots where Alexa Black is. He turns off his hog, gets up, and makes a beeline for her! Cory dives into the middle of it all like a barroom fight, taking Black down with pummeling shots obscured by human walls. Eventually they break from the pack and into the ring where Cory continues to lay in haymakers. With the participants in the ring for the next match and the assigned referee navigating his way in, the bell is called for!

Singles Match
Cory Steel vs Alexa Black
Referee: Nigel Gale

DING!
DING!
DING!

A rivalry renewed. Cory hoists Alexa up in order to ram her backwards to the corner. He takes hold of the top rope and begins stomping a mudhole in her. Alexa cuts that off with a chop to the throat. Cory has his head introduced into the top turnbuckle with such authority that one wonders how the pad didn't dislodge.

Alexa batters him about the head with forearm shots, each one stiffer than the last. Cory is spun around and sent across with an Irish whip. He pirouettes out of the way which sends Alexa crashing into the corner. Cory turns his hips, lowers his shoulders and drives the wind out of her sails with a series of shoulderblocks. While partially buckled, Alexa sneaks a knee that goes dangerously low. She catches her breath and then introduces Cory to the ring post head first.

He snaps back into a release German suplex! Alexa's sinister grin makes an appearance as she collects Cory Steel. He's sent to the corner again and this time Alexa meets him with a spear. Cory slowly moves out and is hoisted with a gorilla press slam. Alexa drops her arms, catches him and powerslams him HARD into the mat. Not one for things like rules, she assaults him with multiple knees to the side of his head, daring the referee to try and stop her.

Jerry Andrews: That woman is out of control!

Ace Anderson: From where I sit, she looks IN control.

Alexa pushes things to the brink of disqualification, but ultimately relents. Cory is pulled into an underhook punch which doubles him against the ropes. Alexa sends him across the ring, misses a clothesline, then misses another, and is bowled over with a flying shoulderblock! That is followed by a full nelson slam and a leaping elbow drop to her black heart. Cory rolls over with a pin.

1.

2.

Alexa kicks out and at first chance, gets out of the ring. Cory isn't about to let her get away that easy. Suicide dive!! Alexa is driven spine first into the barricade and nearly over for a second time. Just as she falls to the floor, Cory puts her face first with a curb stomp. Alexa pops up to a straight right hand between the eyes. Cory savagely yanks her by the hair, but she reaches his eyes with her thumbs and takes him into the ring post. The loud, groan inducing crack is head meeting post. Cory is then slammed face first into the steps without so much as a chance to pad the blow.

Alexa throws him back into the ring, joining soon after with a leaping leg drop. Cory is brought up by the pits and flung to the corner. She drives her shoulder as hard as she can into his midsection, savoring the departure of air from his lungs as he collapses down. Alexa appears to be leaving him where he is, but dings with a spinning back fist. Only then does she move him out. Pumphandle piledriver spikes Cory's head and neck with jarring intensity. Alexa follows with a pin.

1.

2.

Cory kicks out of that. So, she Garvin Stomps him, putting special focus on his left eye, ear, and hand. Then comes the taunting, which draws nothing but heated boos and R-rated language. She takes a bow and responds in kind, going so far as to making sure the first kid she sees gets a middle finger.

Alexa turns and is brought to her knees with an inverted atomic drop. Cory Steel bounces himself off the ropes and then hits a big boot to the side of her head. Sit out powerbomb is a success! Cory is slow to his feet. He shakes off some of the damage that has been done, then gives Alexa a series of stomps, elbow drops, leg drops and a standing splash!

Jerry Andrews: A house would have been better.

Cory brings Alexa to her feet, keeping control with a trio of headbutts. Alexa is then pulled into a spinebuster. A belly to back powerslam is blocked by a Judo hip throw. THE GARROTTE! Alexa goes for one of her submission finishers, but Cory has other ideas. He fights it off to a break and transitions to smashing the back of her head into the canvas. As they are down, fans rise to their feet and cheer on the reappearance of Joey Handy!

Ace Anderson: I thought Loki tossed him on the first flight out of here!

Jerry Andrews: Well let's see how SHE likes being outnumbered.

Ace Anderson: Your Anti-Alexa bias is sickening.

Jerry Andrews: It matches your face then.

Joey slams his hands on the mat in support of Cory, rallying behind him as he taunts Alexa inbetween. They get up and take to an outright brawl. Cory wins that bruiser, but it continues against the ropes. Joey gets his licks in as the referee tries to pry them apart. Alexa reaches through the ropes to grab Joey while the referee backs Cory away and he introduces her to one hell of a right hand.

Alexa staggers backwards like a woman who has just been shot. Cory lies in wait. She turns into a boot and then a lift into a massive powerbomb. Then a second. Finally a third! Each one garnering fist pumping support from Joey Handy.

Jerry Andrews: THE SICKEST KILL I!

Ace Anderson: It should come with an asterisk thanks to he-who-won't-ever-be-father-of-the-year.

Following Cory's finisher, he hooks the legs and leans back. The referee leaps into position.

1!

2!

3---KICKOUT!

Cory, Joey, and the faithful are in complete shock as Alexa BARELY survives that finisher. Cory has to cast that aside and try a different route to victory. Alexa slowly stirs, choosing to dead weight what would be powerbomb number four. Cory clubs her in the lumbar and tries again. She goes up and...counters with a HURRICANRANA!? Cory flies right into Joey outside of the ring like a pair of bowling pins. He picks himself back up, but in the process of getting back inside, takes a B.F.T.

Cory is peeled from being face down, pulled away from the ropes, and put down with THE KILLSHOT. She rolls him over and hooks a leg.

1.

2.

3.

The bell is called for.

Sasha Greene: Here is your winner, Alexa Black!

No sooner is that announced does Joey jump into the ring with a pair of brass knuckles. Alexa is CLOCKED with a swift right, but Joey is a man possessed. He mounts and proceeds to work her over to the point of blood being spilled. The fans are fully behind this and despite every official that's able to rush the ring, Joey's assault is unrelenting as the show heads to commercial.

Jerry Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to Trauma! I'm....

Ace Anderson: Come on, Jerry! Alexa and Handy are STILL brawling here in the arena!

Jerry Andrews: They're fighting their way backstage.

Black and the Handyman trade fists as they approach a set of scaffolds set up by the entrance ramp. Handy charges at them, Alexa following just a bit too close, as he braces against them and delivers a kick to the Angry Amazon's mush that sends her reeling. Handy scales the scaffold to try and escape, but Alexa is in hot pursuit. The rickety structure seems to barely be able to take the movement from the fight, but neither person seems phased by the lack of structural integrity.

Black goes for a clothesline, but Handy ducks under it, just as he had earlier in the evening. This time, he wraps Black up in a half nelson just long enough to help her head meet a crossbar. Black stumbles back a couple of steps, clutching her noggin.

Joey throws a few quick jabs, dazing her a bit more. He starts to climb down, but Black snags a handful of brown hair, yanking him right back up. She delivers a bionic elbow to the bridge of Handy's schnozola. Blinded by blood and tears, Handy backpedals, nearly falling over the edge, but again, Alexa stops him, but it's certainly not to help.

Jerry Andrews: Uh oh! What's Alexa doing?

Ace Anderson: She's lifting Handy up over her head! What power!

Jerry Andrews: She wouldn't!

Ace Anderson: Have you met her?

Alexa gorilla presses Handy off of the scaffold and onto the unforgiving, unpadded stage, his head bouncing violently on impact. Handy holds his head, but starts to get up onto his feet on spaghetti legs. He can't seem to stay standing. Medics come out to inspect him as Alexa celebrates from the higher perch.

"HOLD IT JUST ONE DAMNED MINUTE!"

Suddenly, Loki pops out from behind the curtain, a mic in hand. He strolls down to Handy, checking with the medics, assumedly asking about the Handyman's condition. He seems shaken but responsive.

Loki: "You doing okay, Handy?"

Handy nods slowly, still trying to get up. He finally manages to get his feet under him before Loki speaks again.

Loki: "The two of you will be settling this at Mass Destruction and that will be the end of it. So since you both don't seem to have any problems with heights, I'm going to suggest a match that will put an end to this and give the fans something they haven't seen in the PCW Arena in a good, long time. At Mass Destruction, it will be The Handyman against Alexa Black in... A SCAFFOLD MATCH!"

The crowd goes absolutely nuts for this idea! Even with his unscheduled flight, Handy reluctantly agrees, as does a sadistically smirking Alexa.

Loki: "The scaffolds will be twenty feet in the air, and the first person to toss their opponent off and both of their feet hit the floor will win the match! That is, of course, as long as Handy is cleared to fight by then. But count on this. It will be the last time the two of you will meet for a while in this arena. Now get him out of here and get him looked at."

Ace Anderson: Alexa looks eager to toss Handy down twenty feet.

Jerry Andrews: She's taunting Joey as he gets helped to the back by the medics.

Ace Anderson: Joey broke away from the medics!

Jerry Andrews: What's he doing?

Joey walks over to the scaffold, he and Alexa trading verbal jabs the entire time. Suddenly, Joey looks at the scaffold and smiles. with a pair of quick yanks, he pulls the support pins, causing one side of the structure to collapse, dumping Black unceremoniously onto a pile of equipment crates. Joey tosses down the pin, a smirk of his own on his face as he heads back to get medical attention leaving Black in a heap.

Jerry Andrews: OH MY GOD....

As you may or may not have figured out over the last, what, 13, 14, 15 years, Grimm does not care for certain types of surprises. In particular, those of an ambush nature. And so, having recently experienced such attacks, Grimm finds it best to go on the offensive – the hunt – before he’s subjected to yet another Bible filled with literal fire and brimstone, or a face full of mists in varying hues, or a good ol’ fashioned-yet-always-reliable forearm to the back of the head.

Grimm stalks the backstage hallways and subterranean corridors of the arena. He moves with purpose, shovel in hand, on the prowl for Seromine, Lucy, mannequins, or any other tomfoolery that comes his way.

“Let’s go, Willard. Come on out and get your whuppin’.”

Grimm peers around corners and peeks in empty rooms. A shadow flashes in his peripheral and he swings, sending poor Remy the Rat down the dark recesses of a hallway to nowhere. The Hangtown Horror adjusts his grip and moves on, mumbling to himself. Or maybe it’s an internal monologue. If a Grimm rambles in the dark and no one is around to hear it, does he make a sound?

“You make it out like I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time at Collision Course, Seromine. That’s a bit of a fortuitous excuse even for you.”

The Lord of Misrule pauses in the middle of one of those meandering corridors. He cocks his head. Sniffs. Those eyes of his dart about, and he takes a side passage.

“Speaking of wrong places at wrong times…”

Yeah, I know. Ugh.

“…you may want to consider having mommy dearest stay home from this one. Maybe watch all safe and sound from the cozy confines of the Grove or Anaheim or wherever she usually lurks.”

A pipe drips from somewhere. The physical plant should get on that. Wherefore art thou, Joey "The Handyman" Handy ?

“Otherwise…well, things get chaotic during a match. It’s easy to get caught up in the flurry of fists and feet, elbows and knees, headbutts and whatnot, if you ain’t careful.”

The heat kicks on. Ductwork thrums overhead like the roar of a crowd witnessing a beating to end all beatings.

“Just look at those poor officials. They’re neutral third parties and they get clobbered all. the. time. Call it friendly fire or collateral damage or whatever – one way or another, she’s going to regret coddling her little boy as she’s wont to do.”

A sigh. “Must you be so flagrant in your cowardice, Seromine? And so often?”

Grimm comes to a door. He slowly turns the knob only to find it locked. Stepping back, he takes the measure of things. And then a particular branch of the Science of 8 Limbs, and a heel strike forces open the door. He steps in, shovel at the ready. Two silhouettes stand motionless in a corner. Grimm surreptitiously reaches to flick a switch, and finds…

…a storage room filled with merchandise of PCW eras gone by. Stacks of “Born of Myth” t-shirts, left over from when Brenna Gordon disappeared from the roster before her goods had a chance to go to market. "The Asshole" Whitey Ford foam hands expressing that one finger (you know the one), screenprinted with all the @#*$!! symbols that would fit. Andy D bucket hats. Packets of candy emblazoned with the sugar high visage of one Dollface . A seemingly random mix of artifacts of varying quality advertising the likes of Ace Anderson , Pegasus , 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝕰𝖓𝖉 , Justin Kaard , Mr. Showtime , Sadistic …you get the picture.

Oh, and a life-sized cardboard cutout of Nacho Grande and Heavy Metal – Los Dos Amigos. Standing there all grins and thumbs-up and lousy with energy. Grimm frowns. And swings for the fences.

Lifeless images sufficiently demolished, Grimm switches off the light and pulls the door closed behind him. He continues on his way.

The shot the switches to the backstage area where Holden Ross is walking, clearly still showing the ill effects of his match earlier in the evening. Shane Dodge rushes to catch to to him.

Shane Dodge: Holden! Holden Ross! Can I have a moment to get your thoughts on what happened during your match tonight?

Just as Holden Ross turns around, he's suddenly attacked from behind by someone wearing a hooded sweatshirt! The unknown assailant strikes him in the back with a baseball bat, knocking him down to the floor. The bat is then driven into his back again and again. Finally, the hooded figure stops the assault, looks up, and reveals their identity to the crowd.

It's....

Rick Majors.

Jerry Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to Trauma! I am...

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

…DOMINATOR…

The Zenith glares towards the crowd massed to his left, then to his right. Horacio presents him with Stormm’s championship, which Dominator looks at longingly as if it were his own. He grins before slowly raising his left arm into the air, revealing a gold plated watch that envelopes his wrist. A shower of orange sparks begins to fall from the top of the Tron, briefly masking the Entrance Video as Dominator shows off his bulging biceps to the crowd. All the while, Horacio Mortimer is applauding his client.

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

Once Dominator has completed his taunt, Horacio Mortimer raises his hand as if signalling for silence. They receive the complete opposite; unfathomable boos and jeers from the capacity crowd. Horacio looks appalled by this reaction, waiting for the hecklers to quieten down. He lets out a sigh when he realizes that the ruckus will not stop. Instead, he raises his voice to somehow try and drown out the sea of negativity surrounding them.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he begins. “My name… is Horacio Mortimer.”

Normally, the crowd would speak in tandem with The Chronological Order’s founder. However, the boos are so monumental that they almost drown out his voice before he has even started speaking. He continues regardless.

“And stood before you today is the most powerful man in Pure Class Wrestling today,” he gloats. “Dare I say that, at “Love Hurts,” this man overcame not one, but TWO World Champions…”

Ace Anderson: There’s no denying that. Dominator beat both Gerard Angelo AND Kyle Shane last week.

Jerry Andrews: I seem to recall it was Stormm who picked up the win for his team, Ace.

Ace Anderson: Details, details.

“Since June of 2017, there has been no other man who can say that they have impressed within the confines of this very ring with such a level of magnitude as that of The Zenith. He is revered as the most brutal Underground King that this company has ever seen, so prolific that he is able to stake the claim of joining one of the most infamous groups that PCW has ever seen, becoming a highly regarded member of The Black Hand. And you cannot deny that this man is on the warpath to glory. Nothing will stand in his way. It is therefore only fitting,” Horacio continues, “that such a man were to carry one of this company’s top prizes for his very own.”

Jerry Andrews: He does. It’s Stormm.

Ace Anderson: Jerry, I feel like you’re ruining an important moment here.

“And yet, our victory feels… incomplete,” Horacio laments. “It is one thing to carry the North American title in our possession, but it is a triumph that feels unearned. That changes at Mass Destruction. What you see before you now; The Zenith holding the North American Champion, will made that much more legitimate when he defeats Stormm in the middle of this very ring.”

The crowd are abhorred by this sentiment. “WE WANT STORMM!” chants begin thundering throughout the arena. Horacio lifts

“Fear not, friends,” Horacio smiles. “If you are so eager to witness the evisceration of your beloved Stormm, the hour of his downfall draws ever nearer. All one requires is a little patience…”

Before Horacio can further his sentiments, Dominator snatches the microphone out of Horacio’s hand, tired of listening to his droning voice. The cries for Stormm to appear only continue to grow in volume.

“You know what?” Dominator smirks. “I want Stormm too! Why wait until Mass Destruction when I am here right now?” The crowd roars! They want to see the confrontation “So why don’t you come on out from the shadows and we settle this… right… now!”

As if an answer had been predetermined before the question was even asked, the lights go out. With anticipation, the crowd lets out a deafening cheer, their eyes trying to lock on to something amidst the darkness that might give some sort of indication as to what is happening. Moments pass. Once the lights finally come back on, Dominator pivots on his heel in the center of the ring, looking to see from which angle Stormm might appear from.

Unfortunately for him, Stormm is nowhere in sight. Instead, a plethora of championship belts have emerged; scattered across the canvas, draped over the turnbuckles and even secured to the ring ropes, all of which bear the PCW North American Championship insignia. Dominator glares at these illegitimate copies, slowly lifting the true North American title that he holds in his hand to take a closer look at it.

Jerry Andrews: Even in the face of adversity, The Zenith remains steely-eyed and well grounded. But I’m sensing a little bit of concern from his expression.

Ace Anderson: Stormm has got to be playing mind games. He’s salty that Dominator took the North American Title from him. I n fact, I’d go as far as saying that Stormm is just throwing his toys out of the pram!

Jerry Andrews: How can you say that!?

The sound of thunder rumbles hollowly throughout the arena. Dominator suddenly thrashes his head left and right as if something has impacted his skull. He wipes his hair with his hand and looks at it… seeing some droplets of moisture. Within seconds, a downpour of water begins to fall from the rafters.

Somehow… some way… it is RAINING inside the arena!

Ace Anderson: Does this place have a leaky roof or something? I’m getting drenched here!

Horacio huddles himself into his jacket, rolling out of the ring and scampering up the entrance ramp in a bid to escape the torrential rain. Dominator, however, is undeterred. He looks up to the heavens with a sneer. He knows who is behind this manmade act of nature. The championships around him slowly begin to deteriorate, losing their structural integrity as a result of the damp falling on them. Horacio screams at Dominator, noticing something horrific happening in the ring.

To the horror of The Zenith, the championship he holds in his hand is also beginning to crumble. The gold plating at the front of the belt begins to lose it’s… gold, dribbling feebly onto the canvas in a puddle that looks reminiscent of King Midas’ tears. The Temporal King drops the belt. It lands with a wet thump. The crowd is laughing at his plight, or rather, the look of pure rage that has formed on his face. So red is his skin that it seems to evaporate the rain from his face.

As quickly as it had started, the rain stops. Sodden and sour, The Zenith stamps on the phoney championship belt that he has been carrying with him for the last fortnight. He suddenly stops dead in his tracks as he looks up the entrance ramp. The crowd erupts as Stormm has appeared on the stage seemingly out of nowhere.

Jerry Andrews: It’s Stormm! Stormm is on the stage!

Storm shows no signs of smugness or cerebral triumph. His face is stern and

Slowly, Stormm unfastens his long, black jacket that stretches down as far as his knees. Methodically, he reveals something that lies beneath the thick article of clothing; the TRUE North American Title, safely secured around his waist. Dominator is seething in the ring.

Jerry Andrews: Dominator has been hoodwinked by Stormm! After weeks of relentless torture, Stormm has ultimately had the last laugh!

Ace Anderson: I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Jerry.

Immediately, Dominator barrel-rolls out of the ring and charges up the entrance ramp. Stormm remains motionless, letting Dominator ascend three quarters of the way up the ramp. Within an instant, the lights cut out once again. When they return, Stormm has vanished, but in his place lies another pile of fake championship belts. Dominator lets out an enraged cry of war, booting the belts out of his way as he heads off in search of Stormm. Horacio Mortimer feebly follows behind him, having watched on at this spectacle in utter disbelief.

Jerry Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, wel....

We then cut to the backstage area where Shane Dodge is rushing to catch up with Rick Majors.

Shane Dodge: Rick.... Rick! I've been chasing you for what feels like half the show now! Can you please... can you please give me a moment!?

Rick Majors stops and turns around.

Rick Majors: Fine, Shane.

Shane Dodge (out of breath): Rick... Rick. What are you doing here tonight? And why did you attack Holden Ross?

Rick Majors: What am I doing here? Shane, I'm a professional wrestler. I have been for more than 20 years. Yeah, I'm getting up there in age but wrestling is what I do. A few months ago, Seromine tried to end my career. He tried to take out my surgically-repaired knee and get me out of his life - and out of this business - for good. But he doesn't get to decide when my career ends. So I'm back. On my terms.

Shane Dodge: But why attack Holden Ross? Why not Seromine?

Rick Majors: Have you forgotten how Holden Ross, a man I brought to Seromine personally, turned his back on me? I haven't. So tonight I got my revenge. If he wants any more, he knows where to find me. But don't worry, Seromine isn't off the hook. I want him to know I'm back. I hope he saw what happened to Holden tonight, because what he gets is going to be a hundred times worse. And Holden Ross got a few good baseball bat shots to the spine. But Seromine, don't worry, it's not coming yet. No, I want to worry about me for a while. I want you to know that I'm coming... one day. But you'll never know when. I want you to live with that fear. Any day, any moment, it could be your turn. Seromine....

Suddenly Majors is attacked from behind! It's Holden Ross and David Hunter! The two men slam Majors into the concrete floor and begin stomping away on him.

But their assault is cut short by Tyler Scott! Scott, holding a steel chair, cracks Holden in the back. Having suffered several attacks to his spine already tonight, he collapses to the floor. Scott swings at Hunter, but Hunter avoids it and here come PCW security officials to break up this situation. EMTs are on hand as well to check on the fallen Holden Ross. Then we return to ringside.

Jerry Andrews: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WELCOME TO TRAUMA! I AM....

Sasha Greene: The following is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, he weighs in at 227 lbs... TYRONE "CRAZY BOY" SMITH!!

The lights flicker and fade out as the pulsating beats of Dope Star Inc's "10000 Watts of Artificial Pleasure" pops on the PA system. Smoke fills the arena as a figure stands in the middle of it. All the sudden, Crazy Boy comes out of the smoke and pumps a fist in the air. He walks down the entryway and climbs the ropes of the ring. He bounces around the ropes a few times, pumps his fist in the air one last time and waits for his opponent to come.

Jerry Andrews: Well we once thought that this was scheduled to be a triple threat match, but no one has stepped up to fill the third slot. Surprising no one, given who's across the ring.

Ace Anderson: Well, I've given that a lot of thought, and I have to say, I think that's inaccurate. You see, the third spot is left Vacant. And do you know who Vacant is? Do you know how many titles have belonged to Vacant? Vacant is probably the dark horse to win this match, or any match.

Jerry Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize, it seems Ace Anderson is hitting the cough syrup too hard once again.

Ace Anderson: It's not cough syrup, it's the power of Vacant!!

Jerry Andrews: Your mind is vacant. ...Regardless, ladies and gentlemen, this IS a one on one match, and it is a chance for these two rivals to put an issue that's been looming for weeks to bed.

Sasha Greene: And his opponent, weighing in at 383 lbs... from Death Valley... SICKO!!

The opening circus calliope intro of "Greasepaint and Money Brains" by White Zombie starts playing as a battered, dilapidated ice cream truck, it's paint and decals peeling in a sinister manner rumbles up on stage, it's axles shaking with effort. The entrance ramp is backlit with a hellish red lighting as the ice cream truck pulls into a spot just to the left of the entrance ramp, making this vessel seem like some demonic harbinger. As the music distorts and twists into the driving guitar riff the jumbotron shows images of Sicko, walking down a long hallway, his back turned to the camera, then the screen splits and two images of Sicko, two faces, one laughing, one snarling.

Death is on the midway

Gambling with souls

Roulette on the wire

Ace is in the hole

I sink beneath the feeling

Moon is in my hands

A crooked wheel of twenty-one

I just don't understand - NO!

Laugh - YEAH! - drown and laugh

Your life is over

Then, as the music kicks in harder, shots of Sicko hitting various high impact signature moves on opponents. Sicko steps out from behind the wheel of the ice cream truck, looking around with a sickening smile. A red mist rolls out from the interior of the ice cream truck with Sicko. The creep clown slowly makes his way down to the ring, like a predator on the hunt. As he climbs into the ring, he kneels on the apron, taking a look around at him with a depraved look in his eye. He then takes his fist and bashes himself over the forehead a few times, and then he begins getting fired up. His demeanor changes to one of frightening intensity as the smiling mask drops away, and he stands in the ring, screaming and flexing his muscles as he awaits the match to start.

Jerry Andrews: Let's not forget, Sicko, in his sadistic, brutal destruction of the field of competitors in the Underground division, destroyed Crazy Boy among the others. Since then, Sicko has beaten Crazy Boy down time and again.

Ace Anderson: Sicko really didn't appreciate on the last Trauma, being forced to team with Crazy Boy, and refused to tag in and face Seromine and Grimm by himself. When Crazy Boy forced the issue, Sicko destroyed him again and left him to get pinned.

Jerry Andrews: In Sicko's mind, Crazy Boy is a wasted potential, someone who has squandered the gift of the Underground division, and boy has Sicko set his sights on that prize.

Singles Match
Tyrone "Crazy Boy" Smith vs Sicko
Referee: Eric Russo

The bell rings and both men circle each other, Crazy Boy moving quickly, Sicko stalking from side to side of the ring, like a lion. The massive bulk of Sicko moves like a battleship. Crazy Boy jockeys around him. Sicko does not seem worried, or even in a hurry to get in. Crazy Boy feints to one side of Sicko, but continues skipping past him, putting space between them in the ring. Sicko turns, but Crazy Boy skip/slides to his side.

Jerry Andrews: Still, Crazy Boy has shown he has no fear of Sicko's wrath, and he refuses to take Sicko's assaults lying down. I think it's clear, Tyrone wants to fight Sicko tonight.

Ace Anderson: The usual cliche we throw out here when Tyrone is getting in over his head is, "Well, he's Crazy, Boy." And you know, hee hee haw haw, but... brave as he is, Tyrone is absolutely dwarfed by the Demon Clown right now.

Jerry Andrews: I think he's in trouble, but he still won't back down.

Crazy Boy shoots in and secures a side headlock on Sicko. Sicko backs into the ropes and tries to push Crazy Boy loose, but Crazy Boy, in a bulldog like maneuver jumps to the mat, keeping the lock sealed tight. Sicko struggles for a moment, then fights his way back to his feet in which he staggers to the nearby ropes and wraps his arm around the top rope. The referee forces Crazy Boy to break, and he obliges. Sicko looks up at Crazy Boy, then they go to lock up again, this time Crazy Boy floats around behind Sicko looking for a rear waistlock but Sicko reverses as he floats around behind Crazy Boy, clubbing him violently over the back of the head, and just standing there, as implacably as a horror movie villain. Sicko grips Crazy Boy by the back of the neck, and goes to put him in a rear waistlock. Crazy Boy moves around trying to break Sicko's grip loose but Sicko muscles Crazy Boy to the mat with an effective belly to back slam. Sicko then floats over and straps a front facelock on Crazy Boy. Crazy Boy after a moment is able to sweep Sicko's thick leg from under him. Crazy Boy goes back to locking on a side headlock. Sicko is clearly getting tired of this, and he rises up to one knee, then to his feet almost immediately with Crazy Boy still trying to hang on to the headlock, almost in a backpack position. Irritated, Sicko throws Crazy Boy over his shoulder to the mat with force, breaking the headlock. Crazy Boy recovers quickly, rolling over to look up at Sicko.

Jerry Andrews: I think all Tyrone has done is wake the proverbial giant.

Sicko stomps towards Crazy Boy, his thick, fat hands grasping, but Crazy Boy slides between his legs and kicks out, hitting Sicko once in the back of the knee, and then a second kick in the hamstring. Sicko hops on one leg, snarling, and Crazy Boy lights the hamstring up with a shoot kick. Sicko grips at his leg. He begins firing away at Sicko's forehead with rights, but Sicko, as peeved as you would be as a gnat buzzing your head, plants his flat hand on Tyrone's chest and shoves him away. Crazy Boy does a back roll, coming up squatting, and he comes in at Sicko again, furiously giving him rights and leg kicks, trying to chop the monster down. Crazy Boy then goes off the ropes towards Sicko but Sicko just flattens him with a big boot. Sicko follows it up by backing into the ropes with the force of an avalanche and coming off with an attempted leg drop. However, Crazy Boy is able to utilize his speed and roll to the side so Sicko hits nothing but landing on his butt. Sicko groans and stays in a seated position and then Crazy Boy follows it up with a flipping neck whip from a seated position, and Sicko's head snaps back. Crazy Boy, taking his chance, scoots into the cover.

The referee: One... Sicko kicks out with authority, throwing Crazy Boy three inches to the left of him.

Jerry Andrews: Crazy Boy has managed to get the monster off his feet. The crowd is stunned.

Ace Anderson: I think Tyrone should count that as a minor victory in of itself.

Crazy Boy waits until Sicko is starting to roll to his knees and he surges in, trying the headlock, or perhaps sleeper hold again. Sicko gets to his feet as he flares some elbows into Crazy Boy's midsection, breaking the hold. Sicko then runs off the ropes and on the return, Crazy Boy ducks under a clothesline. Sicko turns and Crazy Boy meets him with an arm wrench hook kick. Crazy Boy holds onto Sicko's arm as he twist it into an arm wrench. Sicko grimaces in pain, then he elbows Crazy Boy to make him release the hold. Crazy Boy yelps in pain, and flails his free arm around, and then he begins throwing elbows to the side of Sicko's head, and after a monent elbows his way loose. Crazy Boy runs off the ropes. On the return he is caught by an explosive powerslam from Sicko.

Ace Anderson: Thank god, I was beginning to think the only move Crazy Boy knew was a headlock.

Sicko paces around, taunting Crazy Boy, his fury mounting as he lets out a ferocious roar. He lifts Crazy Boy up, however Crazy Boy drops him with a quick jawbreaker. Sicko is not quite staggered enough to need help keeping vertical but Crazy Boy comes in, giving him a few knee lifts as he does, and backing him into the corner. He goes to irish whip Sicko into the opposite corner. Sicko braces his feet and stands still as a statue with a look of absolute frustration. Crazy Boy continues trying to pull Sicko for the irish whip but Sicko refuses to go that way, then he pulls Crazy Boy in, attempting to short arm him into power move, but Crazy Boy reverses, performing a revolution around Sickos' shoulders and coming down his back with a sunset flip. Sicko, taken off guard, is rolled into a pin.

The referee: One...

















Two.. Kickout.

Crazy Boy goes to lift Sicko up, but the bigger man boots him in the gut, grips him by his hair and the back of his tights and runs with him a short distance, throwing him forward so that Crazy Boy goes crashing into the steel ringpost between the top and middle ropes. Crazy Boy grimaces and yells in pain, and holds his shoulder. Sicko pulls him out, roaring defiantly at him, and as Sicko grips the hair of Crazy Boy and bends him back so that his chest is sticking out, Sicko comes across with a clubbing blow of such force and velocity you'd fear it caved in Crazy Boy's chest. Then, Sicko, keeping Crazy Boy by the hair, places that free right hand over Crazy Boy's face in a claw hold and spikes him straight into the mat with a clawhold STO. Sicko covers, slavering viciously.

Jerry Andrews: Sicko just crushed Crazy Boy with a Napalm Cone and all of Crazy Boy's momentum just went out the window.

Ace Anderson: He's hung in there as long as he can.

The referee: One...



















Two... Kickout.

Sicko lifts Crazy Boy up and gives him a few clubs to the back as he holds him in a front facelock. Crazy Boy sinks to one knee. Sicko lifts Crazy Boy up and irish whips him into the corner, following it up with a corner spear that cuts Crazy Boy in half. He then pulls Crazy Boy out and attempts to give him a lift into a jackhammer that will end it all, but Crazy Boy grabs on to the top rope to block it. Crazy Boy hangs on to the top rope, and the referee makes Sicko separate from Crazy Boy, who is still hugging the rope. Crazy Boy slowly turns around, and Sicko comes back towards him. Crazy Boy boots him in the gut, and then runs off the ropes and takes Sicko down with a bulldog. He then attempts to follow it up with an Asai moonsault, but Sicko rolls out of the way, and Crazy Boy hits the mat chest first.

Jerry Andrews: Every time Crazy Boy finds a way to put the brakes on the monster, the Demon Clown comes back.

Sicko, threatening to rip the arm off, grips Crazy Boy's injured arm and starts yanking on it, pulling it back in a rough armbar that lacks finesse, but looks as if he's just straight up trying to rip a chicken leg off. Crazy Boy groans and tries to pull himself free, or to pound on Sicko to make him loosen the hold, but Sicko refuses to let go. Crazy Boy has no choice but to pull himself over inch by inch to the bottom rope, and he reaches out and grabs it. Crazy Boy hangs on to the bottom rope for dear life. The referee tells Sicko to release the hold. Sicko at first refuses to, the Demon clown yells denials, but finally does. Crazy Boy pulls himself out to the apron as he tries to regroup. Sicko walks over to lift Crazy Boy back into the ring, but Crazy Boy pokes him in the eye. Crazy Boy then grabs Sicko's head and pulls down, across the top rope. Sicko's head flies back with a snap, and he falls into the ring, holding his throat. Crazy Boy then looks from one side of the crowd to the other, amazed that he's gotten the Demon Clown off his feet and stunned. Crazy Boy scrambles from the apron to the turnbuckle, and from the outside he scales the top rope. Crazy Boy then motions that it's over, and with a confident grin he springs to the ropes and comes off, taking Sicko down with a missile dropkick, with enough force to take the giant clown to his back.

Jerry Andrews: The Crazy Drop! The Crazy Drop! He brought down a redwood with that one!!

Ace Anderson: If I wasn't seeing it, then I wouldn't believe it.

The referee and the crowd: One...



















Two... Kickout.

Again Sicko kicks out strongly. Crazy Boy, looking exhausted now, sweat running down his face, looks at the crowd, willing them to give him strength. Crazy Boy waits until Sicko gets to his feet, and then he tries to lift the near 400 pounder up on his shoulders, possibly attempting to get him on the airplane spin, but Sicko's size and bulk don't let him lift effectively, and Crazy Boy holds the small of his back in pain. Sicko then begins elbowing Tyrone in the side of the head repeatedly and with machine-like intensity until Crazy Boy drops to his knees under him. Sicko has an irate look on his face now. He snaps on the referee who is trying to lean in to check on Tyrone, shooing him away. Sicko boots the limp Crazy Boy in the midsection, lifts him up and drills him into the mat with a package piledriver. Crazy Boy's head spikes right into the mat and falls over Sicko's thigh. Sicko sits up, and he begins cackling maniacally and talking to himself.

Jerry Andrews: Oh come on, Sicko hit the Sweet Kamikaze, why isn't he going for the cover?!

Ace Anderson: Sicko is going to a dark place in his mind, a place that demands he feed it anguish and torment to keep it satisfied.

Sicko, talking to the demon in his head, looks down at Crazy Boy and a frightening snarl crosses his face. He grabs Crazy Boy by the arm and begins pulling him by that one arm, dragging him into the corner, and then, as he did to Muscles Malone in the triple threat match weeks ago, he exits the ring, grabs the arm of Crazy Boy and pulls him under the bottom rope until his shoulder is flush with the ringpost, and he braces his foot against the ring apron and begins pulling on that arm with all of his might! Crazy Boy wakes up howling and screaming in pain as Sicko is clearly trying to wrench and jerk that arm off.

Jerry Andrews: He's at it again!!

Ace Anderson: I'm feeling squeamish, this really is going too far.

Jerry Andrews: Crazy Boy is letting out screams like I've never heard before, and the referee isn't disqualifying Sicko!

Ace Anderson: Disqualify hell, he's trying to dismember a man!!

To his credit, the referee, put off by how fucked up that is, does collect himself and admonish Sicko, telling him he has to stop, right now or he'll get disqualified. He starts a five count, pleading with Sicko to stop, and Sicko barks at him, finally breaking on the count of four. He then winds up and dashes the arm into the ringpost for good measure. Crazy Boy rolls around on the mat, out from under the ropes, holding his arm in agony. Sicko mounts the steps and marches back in the ring, looking darkly down at the referee who is telling him he is close to having the match thrown out. Sicko, sneering, then takes a moment to pause as if listening to instructions, and Sicko paces in the ring. He stands straddled over a huddled and cringing Crazy Boy, who is still holding his injured arm. Sicko slaps his back, and then grabs the arms when they flail back. Crazy Boy's mouth stretches wide as his bad arm is pulled back into part of a double chickenwing submission, and he is lifted off the ground. Full force and pressure is put on the lifted double chickenwing, and Sicko shakes Crazy Boy around like a dog worrying a bone in the air. Crazy Boy screams that he gives up. Sicko simply let him splat on the canvas.

Jerry Andrews: Alright, enough. Enough. Sicko has the Laughing Ghost locked in to Crazy Boy, just as he did to Muscles Malone after targeting that arm, and - I can't take anymore.

Ace Anderson: Sicko, as remorseless and vengeful as the reaper, has put an end to Crazy Boy tonight.

Ding Ding Ding

Sasha Greene: Here is your winner, as a result of a submission... SICKO!!!

"Greasepaint and Monkey Brains" by White Zombie hits on the PA, and Sicko stands, flexing and screaming to the crowd. They respond with a heavy negative reaction, and the referee bends to check on Crazy Boy. Suddenly, Sicko shoves the referee away. Again, Sicko tilts his head, tuning his ears. He appears to be listening to something.

Jerry Andrews: Oh, come on, Sicko won the damn match. What else is he trying to do?!

Sicko pauses, listening, and then he looks down with a fixated expression on his face, and he becomes calm. He grips Crazy Boy by the arm and pulls him up, loading him over his shoulder. The referee orders the bell rung, but Sicko is past the point of caring. Sicko climbs over the top rope, bearing the body of the badly hurting and lifeless Tyrone. Sicko shoves another, incoming referee out of the way, and more referees are coming down the ramp, begging Sicko to put Crazy Boy down.

Jerry Andrews: Where does Sicko think he's taking Crazy Boy?!

Sicko screams at the referees blocking his way back to the ramp, to the side where his ice cream truck is parked, roaring for them to get out of his way. "I'M TAKING THIS SON OF A BITCH WHERE HE WON'T STAND IN BETWEEN ME AND WHAT'S MINE ANYMORE!!" Sicko snarls, and he decks another referee, and another. He pushes past them all, still bearing Crazy Boy on one shoulder. And then, he gets to his ice cream truck, going around the back, and he yanks open a door to the storage box in back of the ice cream truck and loads Tyrone in it. The crowd is so shocked and confused as Sicko appears to be taking Crazy Boy away.

Jerry Andrews: Can we sit here and let him do this?!

Ace Anderson: I think Sicko is deciding to do anything he wants. The only question is, is Crazy Boy going to be able to get rescued from that ice cream truck?!

Sicko, pushing more officials and agents out of the way while they try to plead with him and block his path, gets behind the wheel of his vehicle, starting the dilapidated, demonic ice cream truck up and backing it out, while referees and producers scatter. Sicko backs out of his spot and the camera follows him turning into the parking garage, with the fate of Crazy Boy unknown.

Jerry Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, welc....

A shot of President Loki's office door shows on the big screen. Given the chaos that has already transpired, one must wonder, including nosy backstage interviewer, Shane Dodge, what's happening inside. With mic in hand and cue to quit primping himself in the camera lens, Dodge goes into professional mode.

Shane: What an evening this has been and the night is still young. I'm standing outside of President Loki's office where just a few minutes ago, Seromine and Lucy Willard were summoned inside. But before that transpired, they provided this:

Somewhere earlier...

A static image of a single mannequin greets the viewer's eyes. Ordinarily this wouldn't matter all that much. But this particular prop has been dressed to look like Phinehas Grimm.

Breaking up the monotony, a waving hand emerges off-camera from the right and with it, a most pleasing voice.

"Hi Grimm! Hi! Hel-loooo! Listen, we really wanted to speak with you tonight, but decided to give you the night off instead. Wasn't that nice of us? Hmm? Don't you worry none. We'll see you soon enough, won't we, son?"

Seromine rises up into the picture as he relaxes his right arm over the plastic shoulders. He nods with approval.

"We sure will. I want you to enjoy your evening, Phinehas. I want you to enjoy it as much as I enjoyed the night that God sent me to cut you down, because history has a way of repeating itself. Stomp. Clap."

"Oh! That reminds me, I brought you a present."

Lucy passes a shovel off.

"Thank you! I know just what to do with this."

One good clean swipe later and the head is sent flying into the camera, breaking the lens and sending up a prepared TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES screen.

The image is a cartoon version of Joey Handy vigorously repairing wires.

The show returns to the live show as an angered Lucy and Seromine emerge. He slams the door so hard the echo may shatter glasses in catering.

Shane: Seromine, may I ask what just happened in there?

Lucy gently pulls him away before things blow up in Shane's face. She sternly takes the question herself.

Lucy: If you must know, Mr. Dodge, we have just been informed that due to our interactions with Phinehas Grimm, his weapon of choice has been made legal.

Shane does his best "Mean" Gene reaction to that news. She has something else to say before he follows up.

Lucy: That's not the only thing. He said that I'm not allowed at ringside! Can you believe that? I'm his mother, for pete's sake! He needs me out there to make sure nothing gets out of hand. I've done nothing wrong! I don't know what Loki's agenda is, but I don't like it. If anything bad happens to my son, I'll---

Lucy quickly cuts herself off. Her anger fades under the facade of happiness. Controlling her emotions, she projects a beaming smile.

Lucy: There's nothing to be upset about, Shane. Nothing at all.

She does an about face and exits stage left, leaving Shane to ponder what may happen at Mass Destruction when Grimm has the chance for revenge.

Sasha Greene: The following is scheduled for ONE FALL, and it is for the Pure Class Wrestling Underground Championship! Introducing first, from Orlando, Florida, weighing in at 265 lbs... RAZOR BLADE!!

"The Truth Reigns" hits on the PA as Razor Blade comes out from the back of the audience, walks down the steps. He high fives his fans and walks down the steps. He climbs over the barricade, stopping for a minute. He then hops on the apron and raises both of his arms in the air, climbing down and waits for his opponent to arrive.

Jerry Andrews: When you talk about tenacity, when you talk about spirit, it becomes obvious that Razor Blade has to be in the conversation.

Ace Anderson: I'm not sure that what you're describing are positive attributes, what you're using them as a euphemism for is that Razor Blade keeps getting put down hard and he keeps coming.

Jerry Andrews: Is that not the definition of fortitude? You may not like Razor Blade personally, but you have to admit, Razor Blade continues to show his toughness in his pursuit of the Underground title.

Ace Anderson: I just want to know who keeps giving him an Underground title shot.

Jerry Andrews: Well, ladies and gentlemen, I'm Jerry Andr....

Sasha Greene: And his opponent, he weighs in at 245 lbs... he is the Pure Class Wrestling Underground Champion... DAVID HUNTER!!

"Hopes and Dreams/Save the World" by GaMetal 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. He steps to the stage, arms spread, chest exposed. He looks around at the crowd, breathing deeply and ready for what's to come, but otherwise focused on the ring in front of him. He cracks his wrist, neck, and knuckles, glancing around at the crowd before him.

As the drop begins, David pumps his fist forward, punching the air. David begins to walk to the ring, the lights in the arena coming on completely. His eyes focus on the ring in front of him, and shows heavy remnants of a scowl. He avoids the audience members looking for a high-five or some hope of touching him.

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

Jerry Andrews: There he is, the first and only three time Underground Champion. I'll tell you, Ace, David Hunter has a lot to prove tonight.

Ace Anderson: Do you see one bead of sweat on his face? No. Because David Hunter was literally bred into this. He has it in his blood.

Jerry Andrews: Be that as it may, it has to get under Hunter's skin that he has had his struggles and slips since joining the Underground division back in October. And while it speaks to the level of competition and danger of holding on to that title, it also hurts someone's case to be a dominant champion.

Ace Anderson: That's only if they don't go in there and handle business the right way. And I have faith that Hunter is going to put on a show tonight against Razor Blade.

Pure Class Wrestling Underground Championship
Underground Rules Match
David Hunter (PCW Underground 👑) vs Razor Blade
Referee: Ed Lane

Razor is staring daggers at Hunter, who simply smirks. Finally, the referee orders the bell rung. Razor goes to lock up with Hunter, but Hunter simply makes him step back with a slap to the face. Razor holds his cheek, slowly turning to face Hunter with an angry scowl. Hunter holds his arms out to beg Razor to do his worst. Razor holds his hands out to Hunter to grapple with him, but Hunter dodges around him. He rolls onto the apron and stands there, by the ropes, holding his hands out. Razor starts to come forward, but then, as Razor gets close enough, Hunter reaches over and violently rakes him in the eye. Razor stumbles away and Hunter climbs through the ropes, plowing Razor down with a forearm to the back. Hunter begins aggressively stomping away at Razor. He lifts the bigger man back to his feet and begins clubbing him over the back. Razor begins firing elbows into the gut of Hunter, and then he plants a big right hand on Hunter that drops him. Hunter rolls over to one side, rubbing his jaw with some pain. Razor gets to his feet and begins returning the stomping favor, unleashing a flurry of stomps to Hunter's midsection as he is down on the mat.

Jerry Andrews: The Big Dog is unleashing hell on Hunter now.

Ace Anderson: Are we legally allowed to say that?

Jerry Andrews: ...Big... Cerberus?

Ace Anderson: Ehhh, not your best. Plus, he's probably more of a teacup poodle.

Jerry Andrews: Let him hear you say that.

Razor grabs Hunter's arm and violently jerks him up, flinging him him to the side with an irish whip. Hunter reverses, sending Razor to the ropes, but Razor puts on the breaks! Hunter stops, tilts his head at Razor, then sneers disdainfully at him. He charges at Razor while Razor is on the ropes, but as he charges in, Razor low bridges him and sends Hunter falling over the top rope. Hunter lands on his feet, then slaps the apron, frustrated, but Razor follows up with a baseball slide dropkick to the chest under the ropes, sending Hunter across the aisle. Hunter groans, and holds his sternum. Razor climbs out after him, and holds his arms up, yelling to the crowd and proclaiming this is his yard.

Jerry Andrews: Yes, the yard of Razor, legally distinct from any other person, known or unknown's yard. Yes.

Ace Anderson: That's good lawyer talk, keep up the deniability.

Razor lifts a woozy Hunter up, and lands six or seven piston like rights to the forehead before he drags Hunter fully up. He walk him by the hair over to the side of the aisle, driving him head first off the barricade. Razor brings Hunter to ringside and as he looks to send him into the steel steps but it’s Hunter who reverses and sends Razor crashing right shoulder first into the steps! Hunter takes a moment to gather his self as the crowd boo’s intently. Hunter makes his way over to Razor where he reaches down picking him up off the floor and hurling him into the ring. Hunter drops to one knee and goes under the ring apron where he pulls out a kendo stick before rolling into the ring as we see Razor rolling over to his chest before pushing his self to one knee. Hunter comes forward raising the kendo stick in the air and as he starts to swipe down Razor, showing a burst of energy, cuts Hunter off with a spear. The PCW arena erupts as Razor takes a side mount with the head of Hunter before hammering down with even more right hands before he starts biting the forehead of Hunter.

Jerry Andrews: Is he - is Razor Blade biting Hunter's forehead?!

Ace Anderson: Hey - Underground rules say anything goes, even playground tactics. I just hope he isn't rabid.

Razor stops biting Hunter’s forehead as he gets to his feet, looking around the crowd, who are starting to give it up for the Razor Blade. Hunter breaks free with a gouge to the eyes again. Hunter comes forward lacing Razor across the chest with an open handed chop that sends Razor back against the security railing. Hunter charges forward with a clothesline attempt only to see Razor elevate Hunter over the barricade and into the front row with a back body drop. Razor climbs over the barricade where he meets Hunter with a right hand to the face as he reaches one knee. Razor snatches Hunter by the hair yanking him down to the end of the aisle where he takes a beer from one of the fans. Razor takes a swig from the cup... and spits beer in the eyes of David Hunter! Hunter yells and scrubs at his eyes, turning away. The fans rejoice as Hunter is blinded for Razor to take down to the concrete with a clothesline. Security surrounds Razor and Hunter on the floor as we see Razor reach down picking Hunter up off the floor but as he picks him up Hunter counters the attempt with a jaw breaker.

Jerry Andrews: Hunter has been taken off guard by Razor Blade, who is doing anything he can to hang in this match.

Hunter reaches his feet where he boots Razor in the midsection doubling him over. A soft drink vender happens to be nearby, and Hunter snatches the tray of drinks from the vendor before driving the steel tray across the back of Razor causing at least twenty drinks to spill all over his back, as Razor drops to his knees. Hunter begins laying in a series of boots and clubs, beating a wet and sticky Razor down. Hunter, amid the crowd, throws his arm back and snarls for the fans not to touch him. Razor is shown rolling over to his chest where he pushes himself up to all fours which allows Hunter to charge forward punting him in the ribs! The crowd roars with loud boos as Hunter raises his arms in the air arrogantly.

Jerry Andrews: Hunter has Razor right where he wants him.

Razor pulls himself to his feet at the guardrail only to be sent over the railing and back to ringside with a running boot to the face by Hunter. Hunter shifts his eyes to the kendo stick that lays on the floor. He makes his way over to it where he picks it up off the floor. Razor is shown pulling himself to his feet where he is backed against a steel ring post. Hunter comes forward swinging for Razor’s head only to see Razor duck out of the way and Hunter crack the ringpost to a huge ovation from the crowd. Razor reaches down picking the kendo stick up where he uses it to deliver a White Russian legsweep (a la The Sandman) on the floor. The crowd is building a reaction as Razor is slow but starts to get back to his feet. He picks Hunter up off the floor before hurling him into the ring! Razor slides into the ring with kendo stick in hand as he reaches his feet where he raises the kendo stick in the air to a generous reaction while Hunter rolls over to his chest and pushes himself up to all fours. Razor comes forward cracking the kendo stick across the back of Hunter. The crowd goes louder and louder for each successive hit with the kendo stick. Razor tosses the kendo stick to the mat with defiance, and then he looks down at Hunter. Hunter is groaning and holding his midsection, raising a hand up almost as if to beg off Razor. Razor then exits the ring, pacing over to ringside, and he goes to the timekeepers table, snatching a steel chair and pushing the timekeeper out of the way with a yelp. Razor gets back in the ring, sliding under with the steel chair. And Hunter pounces, kneeing him right in the eye socket, making the chair slide from his grasp. Hunter swarms over Razor, aggressively booting and stomping him.

Jerry Andrews: And now from the look in Hunter's eyes, he is done taking Razor Blade lightly.

Hunter grips the arm of Razor and knees him a few times, then irish whips him into the corner. David turns his head, and starts to gather some momentum. Hunter runs to the opposite side of the ring before coming back with a splash to the corner, but Razor charges forward lifting him up before dropping him head first across the top turnbuckle with a snake eyes. Hunter staggers around for a bit, dazed. Razor uses that to his advantage by kicking him in the gut to bend him over. Razor then lifts Hunter up above his head in a seated position, before throwing him down almost lightning quick into the turnbuckles with a snap powerbomb. Hunter grabs at his back as he staggers to the middle of the ring and falls flat on his face, still clutching his back.

Ace Anderson: Didn't Kyle Shane's trip to the Logistics warehouse show us where all the wear and tear on these turnbuckles comes from?!

Jerry Andrews: It's creating more work for the construction crew.

Razor pulls Hunter's head up into a facelock before lifting him up in a vertical position. Razor holds this for almost 30 seconds before dropping Hunter to the canvas with a vertical suplex. Hunter flops like a fish for a moment clutching at his back as Razor gets to his feet with a grin on his face. Razor grabs Hunter with another facelock, but Hunter jerks the feet out from under Razor with a basic takedown. Hunter holds on to both of Razor's legs and Razor covers his private parts. Hunter kicks each leg once behind the knee while still holding onto them before jumping forward with an overcastle performed on both legs, landing with a senton across Razor's sternum before rolling off to the side after the impact. Hunter then turns quickly around and begins laying punches to Razor's forehead, forcing Razor to use his hands to cover himself. Hunter grabs one of these arms and begins dropping knees on it whether it is straight or not with intent on breaking them. Razor eventually curls himself up into a ball clutching a damaged body part of some kind, and as he does so Hunter runs and hits the ropes. Razor gets up to one knee as Hunter goes to do a running punt to the head. But Razor ducks it and maneuvers under the swing of the kick, lifting Hunter up on his shoulders as he does so. Hunter falls down back first across Razor's shoulders. Razor quickly latches onto him and stands up. Hunter wiggles trying to get free, Razor manages to drop Hunter over the top rope to the outside with an inverted death valley driver.

Jerry Andrews: Razor pulling out more moves than I've ever seen him use tonight!!

Ace Anderson: To be fair, he only had, like, two we were sure of.

Razor leaves the ring through the ropes and jumps down beside the ailing Hunter. Razor pulls Hunter up by the back of his hair. Razor, somewhat shortsightedly, begins talking to the crowd at ringside while holding Hunter, telling them it's his time now, it is his yard, and so forth. Hunter then shoves Razor off of him with everything he has, and then follows it up with a spear taking Razor down hard against the railing. Hunter then follows that up with a series of punches to Razor's head to weaken him down, and he wraps Razor's arms around the steel guardrail, so that Razor is slumped and his arms are stretched out in a crucifix pose. Hunter continues his relentless assault until blood starts to trickle from Razor's forehead, making Razor look like a fountain of blood.

Jerry Andrews: Hunter is trying to turn Razor into a stigmata!

Hunter stops dealing the punishment with his fists momentarily to pace over to the middle of the aisle. He walks over to an area by Razor and begins peeling up a section of the padding on the concrete floor. Hard concrete looms underneath as Hunter lifts Razor, preparing to give him an Olympic slam onto the exposed floor, but at the last second Razor twists and lands on his feet and hands almost in a football lineman's stance before charging Hunter and taking him down with a spear of his own. Both men are down.

Jerry Andrews: And still, somehow, despite his vision being obscured by that blood, Razor plows into Hunter. And they're both down.

Ace Anderson: Yeah, but he needs to be pinned in the ring, and there's no count outs, so all the referee can do is watch and pick his nose.

At length, Razor, breathing heavily, wiping the blood out of his eye, pushes himself up to one knee. Hunter shakes the cobwebs out, and Razor comes in, punching him right in the face, making Hunter fall back a little into the aisle. Razor follows it up by lifting Hunter up in a military press position and dropping him quickly, with absolutely no holding back, across the steel guardrail. Hunter goes flying back, and begins holding his face, which begins to show trickles of blood. Razor isn't satisfied and lifts Hunter up, throwing him bodily into the guardrail backfirst and unleashing a vicious series of punches of his own with Hunter against the railing until Hunter is just as if not even more bloody than he is.

Jerry Andrews: Razor is trying to enact his own eye for an eye here!

Razor lifts a limp Hunter up onto his shoulder as if to be preparing for a powerslam. Hunter slides down Razor's back and kicks the big man in the back of the knee. Hunter then pulls back on Razor's head, slamming it down on top of his knee with an inverted DDT into a neckbreaker. Razor lays on the outside holding his head as Hunter climbs into the ring and heads up the turnbuckle. The crowd gets on their feet. Hunter sets himself, and jumps off in Razor's direction with a guillotine leg drop as cameras flash off from around the arena, only for Razor to roll out of the way at the last second. Hunter's backside hits nothing but hard concrete as the crowd erupts in a "Holy shit" chant, and the referee reacts at these two men killing themselves outside of the ring.

Jerry Andrews: Hunter may have had the match won until he climbed the turnbuckles. He clearly wants more out of Razor than just a victory.

Ace Anderson: Well, we know that for a fact. He wants to put his stamp on the Underground title.

Hunter leans over to one side clutching at his lower back as Razor gets up to his feet. Razor grabs Hunter in a front facelock as he pulls him up to his feet. Razor then falls back driving Hunter's head into the exposed concrete with a DDT, and Razor keeps the hold applied locking on a leg scissors around Hunter' body. Razor then pulls up with his arm trying to choke the life out of Hunter with a guillotine chokehold.

Jerry Andrews: Razor has that hold locked on tight, and we can see Hunter' body beginning to go limp already from it's affects.

Razor wrenches Hunter' neck some more while keeping the hold applied. Hunter tries fighting Razor off to release the hold, but Razor clinches on tighter and shakes Hunter from side to side to increase it's effect. Razor tosses Hunter off to the side and rolls over to retrieve the kendo stick Razor then rolls back out of the ring and goes back over to Hunter. Razor raises a dazed Hunter up to his feet, and then throws his close arm over his shoulder and tosses Hunter into the aisle with a kendo stick assisted back suplex. Razor lifts Hunter back up to his feet and applies a bearhug. Hunter fights to turn Razor's head, and as Razor taunts him Hunter jams both of his thumbs in his eyes with force. Razor shouts in pain and releases the bearhug and tries to pull Hunter hands out of his eyes, but when Razor fails to succeed he kicks Hunter between the legs, stooping him over. Hunter grimaces in pain and holds his crotch. Razor lifts Hunter up, turning him upside down before dropping him to the concrete with a One Winged Angel. Hunter's body fidgets some more as blood squirts from his open wounds.

Jerry Andrews: The way Hunter is convulsing, he may have a severe concussion.

Ace Anderson: Nothing wrong with a little blunt force trauma between friends.

Finally, Razor throws a barely conscious Hunter back into the ring. He paces around for a moment before entering himself.

The referee: One...

















Two... Kickout

Razor paces around, shouting for Hunter to get his ass up. He waits for Hunter, then as he gets up Razor takes him down again with a belly to belly suplex. Razor gets to his feet and lets out an "OOOOOOAHHHH", and suddenly, the lights go out. Razor looks around, confused, and peers at ringside, but there wasn't any obvious interference or arrival at ringside.

Ace Anderson: Did Loki forget to pay the electric bill?!

Jerry Andrews: You know if he did that, then we wouldn't be getting paid first, right?

Suddenly, Hunter comes from behind him and assaults Razor's knee from behind with a vicious kick. Razor grimaces, holding his knee, and Hunter slides onto the apron as he grips Razor's hair, and then he yanks down with force, drilling Razor into the turnbuckle. Razor's head snaps off sharply, and he yells, holding his forehead in pain, which is now hemorhagging blood copiously. Razor falls onto his back. Hunter then grips Razor's knee, the one he had been working on, and he pulls Razor leg under the bottom rope by the turnbuckle. He pulls Razor's leg out into the air, and holds it for a second, then he slams the injured knee with force into the metal ringpost. Razor convulses and holds his knee. Hunter smashes Razor's knee against the post with devastating force. Razor lets out a loud yell and rolls around, holding his knee. Hunter reenters the ring, stalking Razor, and he shoves him back down into the corner, beating him into a seated position. Hunter backs up a few paces, and then he runs in and delivers a punishingly brutal facewash style kick to the temple of a seated Razor. Hunter aggressively pushes a limp Razor down to the mat and pins him.

The referee: One...

















Two... Kickout.

Hunter, sneering down at Razor, goes over and picks up the steel chair that he didn't let Razor Blade use before, and he holds it in the air. Suddenly, the lights go out again. Hunter can be seen in the dim light of the emergency signs, looking around, his head whipping from side to side. Then the lights come back on.

Jerry Andrews: That is the second time with the lights?! What is going on??

Ace Anderson: I don't know, but it's filling me with a sense of dread.

Jerry Andrews: Hunter too, he's looking particularly edgy.

Hunter, nervously looking around, peeks down at Razor. Razor is scooting to the ropes, trying to will his body to get back into this. Hunter lifts the chair mercilessly over his head, and he brings it down across Razor's knee. Razor shouts in pain and snaps, contorting around and holding his knee, and Hunter lifts the chair up again and brings it back down. Razor yells. Hunter grips Razor by the hair and pulls him up. Razor has to favor all his weight on one knee as he kneels. Hunter backs up, comes off the ropes, and tries to go for a running chairshot to the kneeling Razor, but suddenly Razor explodes forth, coming in with a short spear right to the midsection, knocking the chair out of his hands. Both men are down. And then, as both men are down, selling the effects of the match, the lights go out a third and final time. And when light does enter the arena again, it's a nightmarish red filter coming from the left of the stage. The springs and shocks of a dilapidated, broken down ice cream truck can be heard as the demonic vessel begins slowly pulling into it's parking spot by the side of the entrance ramp. Razor Blade begins pushing himself up on his elbows.

Jerry Andrews: Oh my!!

Ace Anderson: Things just went from bad to worse, that demented clown Sicko has come to get in on the action.

Jerry Andrews: We saw Sicko carting his opponent, Tyrone Smith away earlier tonight, intending to leave him stranded in some undisclosed location... what is Sicko doing out here now?!

So far, we only see the ice cream truck, the box truck's cab is dark, opaque and the panel doors are shut. Razor Blade, squinting in confusion, is paying more attention to the truck, having suffered a devastating beating from Sicko the last time he interfered. Hunter has also used the moments of confusion over Sicko's ice cream truck appearing to recuperate, but he positions himself behind Razor. Razor is kneeling by the ropes, gripping the middle rope, staring at the ice cream truck in confusion and yelling for Sicko to show himself. Hunter comes off the ropes and hits a short bicycle kick to the side of the head, leaving his feet as he drives the boot in.

Jerry Andrews: Hunter with the Ode to Frank while Razor Blade was fixated on the truck!

Ace Anderson: I haven't even seen any movement from within it.

Jerry Andrews: Hunter is keeping one eye on the truck as well, and his movements seem to say he wants to hurry up and get this done and get out of dodge.

Hunter's unease is manifest in how he keeps looking at the ice cream truck as he lifts a lifeless Razor back up. He really does have the look of someone trying to do this as quickly as possible, while keeping a lookout for Sicko. He collects the bigger man up in a suplex lift before hooking the head and the leg, and dropping down onto the mat with a package DDT. Still staring uncomprehendingly toward the truck parked by the ramp, Hunter rolls over Razor, covering him.

Jerry Andrews: A Kings Throne seals this match, but I think everyone is still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Where is Sicko now? What is going to happen?!

The referee: ONE...

















TWO...

















THREE!

Ding Ding Ding

Sasha Greene: Here is your winner... and still Pure Class Wrestling Underground Champion... DAVID HUNTER!!

"Hopes and Dreams/Save the World" by GaMetal begins playing on the PA, and Hunter gets to his feet, casting another look at the ramp, but then he is handed the Underground title and he collects it to his chest with a possessive, relieved look. Razor is still down and out on the mat. And it is at that moment that Hunter is standing in the ring, faced one way, celebrating with his title, and the massive form of Sicko slides in behind him. Hunter senses it coming, but as he turns around Sicko pounces with relentless speed and snatches him by the throat, lifting Hunter up and crushing him to the mat with a chokeslam from Hell. Sicko stands, flexing his arms and roaring, and now he sets his sights, fixatedly, on the Underground title, which has fallen by Hunter's side. Sicko's gaze snaps back to Hunter. Sicko grabs Hunter, his fingers roughly pulling the hair of the champion as he stands him up, and he throws him into the corner between the top and middle turnbuckle so that Hunter collides with the ringpost. Hunter groans and hangs between the top and middle turnbuckle.

Jerry Andrews: And finally, Sicko makes his appearance, once again using the ice cream truck as a distraction to keep everyone's eyes off him until he struck.

Ace Anderson: Sicko is laying waste to David Hunter, there is no one who can stop this.

Sicko lifts Hunter up, grabbing him by the throat again and pulling him close to give him some choice words that are both menacing and purposeful, telling him that he has something Sicko has always wanted. Sicko paces around in a circle, leading Hunter by a hand around his throat, and he drags him to the ropes, lifting Hunter high enough to clear the top rope and dropping him back first on the hardest part of the apron with a second Pagliacci chokeslam from hell. Then Sicko's head tilts to the side, and he begins answering a conversation that only he can hear. Sicko bends down, picking up the Underground title, looking at it with greed and lust. But Sicko's mouth seems to form a question, and he listens for a second. His gaze goes from the Underground title in his hands, to Razor Blade, who is just starting to regain consciousness. Sicko looks consterned, but in the conversation only he is privy to, he admits that the voice is right. He drops the Underground title, and paces over to stand over Razor Blade, fists clenching and unclenching.

Jerry Andrews: Someone, put a stop to this!!

Ace Anderson: They tried to stop Sicko earlier tonight, he didn't let anything stand in his way.

Sicko grips Razor Blade with both hands, deadlifting him up and hauling him to his feet, and Razor is too weak to resist. Sicko crushes Razor with a package piledriver. The crowd is booing loudly, and the referee, along with various other officials at ringside, are pleading with Sicko to stop, but they're too scared not to keep their distance. Sicko has a snarl on his face, and he drags the lifeless Razor Blade up by his arm, putting him over his shoulder just like he did Crazy Boy earlier in the night, and exiting the ring over the ropes. Sicko shoves a referee out of his way, ignoring his pleas.

Jerry Andrews: This is absolutely disturbing, disgusting, and unprecedented. We still don't know where Sicko is taking them.

Ace Anderson: Sicko is fixated on removing the wasteful elements he sees in the Underground division. In his mind, he's getting rid of them.

As before, Sicko ignores the pleas of the officials that are trying to dissuade him from loading the unconscious Razor into the storage space in the back of the ice cream truck. Hunter, meanwhile, is sitting up, cringing painfully as he looks at the ramp. He holds his back in pain, blood running down his face. He meets the gaze of Sicko, who is staring at him from the ramp. Sicko points at David Hunter, too, and his intentions are clear as he shuts the door to the back of the ice cream truck.

Jerry Andrews: What in the world have we just witnessed tonight?

Ace Anderson: What a show!

Jerry Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, thanks for watching Trauma! I'm Jerry Andrews and with me, as always, is Ace Anderson!

Ace Anderson: You did it, Jerry!

Jerry Andrews: I just hate when I have something to say and I can't finish the thought. Well folks, thanks for watching and we'll see you at Mass Des....

- CLICK -