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Post by Murdoc on Mar 14, 2006 19:41:48 GMT -5
PCW Game Over Sunday, March 12, 2006 Live on Pay-Per-View from the sold-out Pure Class Arena in Greenville, South Carolina (The arena is jam-packed with a sold-out crowd here in the Pure Class Arena, awaiting the start of the latest PCW Pay-Per-View: Game Over. Game Over will be the home of such matches as a towel match between Johnny Vivacious and Non Compos Mentis for the North American Championship and a Hardcore Tag Team match for the PCW Tag Team championship. Those are just two of the matches that should make history here tonight and the PCW crowd knows that they're going to be witnessing something special. And they're just moments away, because, inside the center of the ring stands PCW Ring Announcer Mark Long. Mark, ever the professional, is wearing a tuxedo and a nice shiny black bow-tie. He reads over a few cards he has in his hand before tucking them away inside his jacket's pocket. He, being with microphone, raises it to his lips and begins to speak.) Mark Long: For those of you here a bit early before the PCW pay-per-view Game Over begins...we have a special dark match for you!(Stepping out of the ring, Mark Long returns to his seat so a special dark match can begin.) Singles Match Kri Delastano vs. Blade Lionheart Referee: Steve Shaw Match Details: This match was a debut match of sorts for both Kri Delastano AND Blade Lionheart, this being Blade's true debut, while this marked Kri Delastano's first foray into a PCW pay-per-view event. Blade started the match on the wrong foot to begin with as he began to taunt Kri with a mangled looking version of a Native American rain dance, which surely didn't sit well with Kri. Not taking any time, Kri began to tear into Blade with vicious chops, kicks...pretty much anything he can do to close Blade's mouth for him. Blade manages to stagger the onslaught of Kri with a spear that sends Kri rolling to the outside, but all in all...it doesn't do much, simply focusing Kri once more on his opponent. Wearing down the slower Blade with a blistering pace of offense, it wasn't long before Blade makes his Last Stand. Or rather, Kri gives it to him at the 6 minute and 31 second mark for the pinfall victory. Winner: Kri Delastano via pinfall at 6:31 Mark Long: Ladies and gentlemen...in roughly one minute, the PCW will present to you...Game Over!(The fans, who are already stoked, start cheering and applauding in appreciation, knowing that this historic event will about to begin. Mark takes a deep breath before he continues, and the pace in which he was speaking in originally, speeds up.) Mark Long: Before we OFFICIALLY start the event, I would like to inform you that videotaping and recording this show is strictly prohibited. Also, laser lights are not allowed in the arena. If anyone is caught with one, they'll be escorted out of the building by security and will not receive any type of refund. And last but certainly not least, the antics displayed in and out of this ring are extremely dangerous and are performed by trained professionals. You should not try this at home. All in all, sit back and enjoy the show.
(Mark takes a a quick breath and continues.) Mark Long: The show will be starting...NOW!(The feed fades from Mark Long standing in the ring to a video on the PCW-Tron hyping the event. As Blindside's "Fell in Love With the Game" plays throughout the video, the fans become more and more hyped, just ready to bust during some lucky match here tonight. The video itself features highlights of the PCW since the last PCW Pay-Per-View, which was Mass Destruction, until this past Trauma. After the video, the feed cuts to the entrance stage and fireworks and pyrotechnics begin to go off, bringing the crowd to their feet in awe. After the camera pans around the arena, pointing out such signs as, "Throw Pegasus through the LOOKING GLASS!", "DON'T CROSS THE BOSS", I WANT JOHNNY V'S TOWEL!", and "Sean Hunter = The LAW!. The feed then cuts to Jerry Andrews and Michael "The Man" Williams at ringside.) Jerry Andrews: We are live...here in Greenville, South Carolina for PCW Game Over! I'm Jerry Andrews and to my left is my broadcast partner, Michael "The Man" Williams. Mike...!
Mike 'The Man' Williams: You got that right, Andrews! It's GAME over for a LOT of the people on the card here tonight!
JA: You've got a lot of those clever wordplays don't you Mike? Every pay-per-view, it seems...you've got a new little sound bite.
MW: Got a problem with that, Andrews?
JA: No problem here, 'Man'...just wanted to know where you got them all from.
MW: 50 bucks for the first volume, then $19.95 for each additional one. You also get....
JA: Never mind, I don't wanna know! Let's get down to business, Mike. We've got some absolutely thrilling matches to call here tonight at Game Over! The one that sticks out in MY mind the most would have to be the Pain of Glass match. A FOUR-WAY Pain of Glass match, mind you, for the International Championship. Melissa Malone, Pegasus, Grimm AND Mr. Showtime...battling it out of one PCW's TOP prizes!
MW: You know it, Andrews. Though I think we ALL know who's coming out of THAT match as the winner. Mister Showtime! Did you know he was a doctor, Andrews?
JA: No, actually...I had no clue Mikey Wryght was a doctor, 'Man'.
MW: Well he is, and any man with THOSE kind of smarts will be a PERFECT choice for International Champion! Though Grimm is another FINE choice..
JA: I could see it, but as you said, the three OTHER competitors in that match will have something to say about THAT! Each of them want that title more than life itself, it seems. Stepping into that ring in a Pain of Glass match...I think it might actually MEAN more than life itself for them.
MW: The match I'm looking forward to seeing here tonight is the Towel Match for the North American championship between Johnny V and Non Compos Mentis. It's high time someone put NCM in his place once and for ALL, Andrews!
JA: Oh I'm not so sure about THAT, 'Man'! NCM is hungry for that title, he had it in his hands once before, and I'm pretty sure he'll pull out all the stops to get it back.
MW: Yeah, OKAY. Next edition of Club V, I can see it now. Wall of Shame. First inductee, Non Compos Mentis!
JA: Oh stop that Mike! We can't even BEGIN to mention the jam-packed card we have tonight without making mention of the main event. PCW World Championship Match between champion Ace Anderson and his challenger, The Prophet. Mike...I gotta tell you, this World Title match may be the most spectacular one we've seen thus far in PCW history! The Prophet's been nipping at Ace's heels for going on a MONTH now, there's SURE to be some fireworks.
MW: Not to mention, SEAN HUNTER is the special referee, Andrews! Let's not forget him, he's the wild card in this match tonight. Sean hates both The Prophet AND Ace Anderson. It all comes down to two things: who he hates more and whether or not he's gonna call it RIGHT down the middle. I have no doubts, though, that Sean will be fair and objective in the main event.
JA: There's no way to tell, Hunter's said all along he's going to remain impartial in calling the match tonight. We can only wait and see what will happen. But for now, let's get to the first matchup on the card...A Hardcore Tag Team match between the members of S.I.N...Tony Brass, The Byrd and their manager, Rage...versus the current Tag Team champions, Dominion. Lantlas and Seth Sinn.
MW: Dominion has been on an absolute TEAR the past few weeks, Andrews. Doesn't seem like anyone can even TOUCH them. Least of all the team of S.I.N!
JA: Maybe it's time Dominion get to see their first notch marked in the loss column here tonight, 'Man'.
MW: Maybe it's time for Lantlas to come out here and drag you down the Elven Path!
JA: Erm....l-let's not! In fact, let's get our first match of the evening underway, 'Man'.
MW: Finally! I was waiting for you to finish mouthing off so we could kick this thing off!
Hardcore Tag Team Championship Match Dominion {Champions} vs. S.I.N. Referee: Richard Stevens
("Crack Addict" by Limp Bizkit begins to play, blaring throughout the arena as the audience is engulfed in red and white flashing lights as The Byrd, Tony Brass, and Rage make their way down the aisle.) Mark Long: Introducing first, the challengers. Coming in at a combined weight of 515 lbs....being accompanied by Rage, the team of The Byrd and Tony Brass...S.I.N.!JA: Mike, what a way to open the card here tonight but with a tag team title defense.
MW: And a hardcore match to boot, these guys are gonna rip each other apart, and I'm gonna LOVE it!(Rage following Brass and The Byrd a step or two back, dragging with him a pair of Rubbermaid trash cans. Filled to the brim with random accessories and items, Tony Brass and The Byrd enter the ring and pose to the crowd on opposite turnbuckles as Rage slides the trash receptacles up to the apron and begins to lift them up. Brass and Byrd both moving to the ropes, helping to heft the trash cans into the ring and placing them into adjacent corners in preparation.) JA: Would you look at that, Mike? Those two HUGE trashcans nearly SPILLING over with weapons just WAITING to be used on the tag team champions! I have a feeling this is likely to get VERY brutal, VERY quick.
MW: Shut UP, Andrews! A war's about to get underway, and I sure as hell don't wanna miss the opening salvo!("Crack Addict" begins to wane and the flashing red and white lights give way to "Elven Path" by Nightwish. The arena lights turn to a blue hue and from behind the entrance curtain steps the team of Lantlas and Seth Sinn.) Mark Long: And their opponents...coming in at a combined weight of 555 lbs....the team of Seth Sinn and Lantlas...DOMINION!(Stalking down to the ring, bad intentions gleaming in their eyes...and in their hands. Seth Sinn holds onto a single leg of a sky blue folding chair, entangled in a messy web of barbed wire. Carrying it with purpose, he walks side by side with Lantlas who...is carrying in his right hand a MEDIEVAL FLAIL!) JA: Oh my GOD! Mike, what the HELL is Lantlas carrying?!
MW: Looks to me like a hellacious paddle-ball toy! You know the kind...
JA: I don't think so, Man! In fact...that's a FLAIL! LANTLAS IS CARRYING WHAT APPEARS TO BE A 15th CENTURY FLAIL!{Lantlas and Seth Sinn breaking out into a full on run, they slide into the ring underneath the bottom rope as the team of S.I.N bails from the ring, the bell ringing to signal the start of the match.) *DING DING DING!*(The team of Dominion taking full control of the ring, S.I.N begins to back out of the ringside area and seem to want NOTHING to do with the team of Dominion, who abandon the ringside area and begin to give chase to S.I.N, who disappear behind the curtain at the entryway.) JA: S.I.N. wants no part of Dominion here tonight, Mike. And I can't say I much blame them, who wants ANYTHING to do with a 15th century flail?! That is the FIRST time, and probably will be the LAST time I'll ever see THAT particular weapon brought to the ring!
MW: You know it, Andrews! I'm ordering a tape of this match just to say "Hey, I once saw a guy bring a FLAIL to the ring!"(Dominion bursting through the backstage curtain with a cameraman not too far behind in tow, Lantlas and Seth Sinn are ambushed by the challengers, who were lying in wait on either side of the entrance. Pounding now on Lantlas and Sinn, an all-out fist fight begins to ensue. Tony Brass on top of Seth Sinn, punching him a few times before throwing him down the hall to the floor. Lantlas and The Byrd going at it fiercely, Lantlas is right at home in this type of match it would readily appear as Lantlas throws The Byrd into the nearest wall. The Byrd sliding to the floor and landing on one knee, Lantlas is right on the attack again as he begins to drag the Byrd back towards the entranceway.) (Seth Sinn and Tony Brass battling deeper into the bowels of the building as Lantlas and the Byrd begin to make their way towards the ring again, as this wasn't a falls-count-anywhere match...a camera follows Seth and Tony as they battle into the parking lot area of the building. Seth Sinn quickly getting a reversal on Tony Brass, he whips him into the side of a nearby parked tractor trailer. Seth spying the cameraman, he rudely grabs the camera from the guy and points the lens at the staggered Tony Brass. Grunting heavily, Seth aims the camera at Tony and rushes towards him, camera first as the feed cuts off, leaving the audience to wonder what happened.) (Meanwhile, in the ring Lantlas and The Byrd have finally made it back into the confines of the ring, where Lantlas is getting the upper hand on The Byrd, managing to drop The Byrd with an incredible German Suplex that leaves The Byrd in pain on the mat, crawling towards the ropes. Lantlas looking to do some serious damage, he picks up...of all things, a toaster..and begins to stalk towards the Byrd. Lantlas holding the toaster high above his head, The Byrd reacts quickly and pulls out a miniature fire extinguisher, aiming it at the big man's eyes and squeezing the trigger. The white frothy foam exploding into the air, Lantlas staggers back as he clutches his eyes.) MW: Well, if that didn't extinguish the Flame of the West, I don't know what will Andrews!
JA: You may be right there, Mike. Lantlas and The Byrd battling it out in the middle of the ring...all these weapons scattered around...and STILL no sign of Seth Sinn OR Tony Brass!
MW: Maybe Seth Sinn got too close a shot of Tony Brass and the camera exploded on them?
JA: I don't think so.(The Byrd regrouping in the middle of the ring, Rage hovers around the outside of the ring and shouts encouragement to The Byrd, though why he wasn't jumping in the middle of the ring at this primo opportunity was a mystery. The Byrd looking around and grabbing a can of Lysol, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter, flicking it once or twice. The flame steady now, the Byrd aims the Lysol at Lantlas and sprays the liquid straight through the flame, creating a massive stream of fire that Lantlas just BARELY manages to duck under. The lighter flicked off for just a brief moment, Lantlas nails the Byrd with a throat thrust that sends the Byrd flying back against the ropes.) JA: The Byrd just nearly cooked Lantlas' goose, 'Man'!
MW: The Byrd better watch out so he doesn't end up on the receiving end of that modified flamethrower...he may not work for the Captain. much longer. Instead, he may be working for the COLONEL! (The Byrd lying against the ropes, Lantlas on the attacking end as The Byrd craftily maneuvers Lantlas into the ropes, grabbing him and holding him in place as Rage jumps onto the apron and pays dividends, nailing him with what appeared to be a spatula. Lantlas grabbing his head in pain, he takes a few steps back as The Byrd rushes him, nailing him with a flying lariat that takes the big man down.) (Lantlas on his back, The Byrd quickly drops on top of him for the first pinfall attempt of the match, however only able to manage a barely there two count. Rage finally sliding into the ring once Lantlas is down, The Byrd drags Lantlas to his feet and struts aroudn behind Lantlas for a few moments before hooking his arm around Lantlas' head and signaling to the crowd as he drops The Elvish One to the mat with a resounding reverse DDT that leaves Lantlas sprawled on the mat.) (Rage wanting to get involved in the match more prominently now, he orders The Byrd to lift Lantlas to his feet. Not rather happy with being ORDERED to do something, The Byrd grudgingly accepts and lifts Lantlas to his feet. Holding him in place, Rage grabs an item from the mat and shows it off to the crowd. The item? A rolling pin. Smiling, he rears back and milks it for all it's worth, putting out the idea that he thinks he very well may be Babe Ruth as he swings the pin and nails Lantlas right between the eyes.) (The impact sending Lantlas careening to the mat, Rage and The Byrd play to the crowd and Rage tells The Byrd to pick him up again, he wants another shot as he doesn't think he 'got all of that one'. The Byrd acquiescing, picking Lantlas up once and again. Another swing, and another clunk as the wooden pin bounces off of Lantlas' skull, dropping him to the mat once more. It was looking to be a two on one affair.) JA: Lantlas is just being picked apart by Rage and The Byrd. It looks as if it's all over for Dominion's title reign.
MW: You're right about THAT, Andrews. Who knew Rage had such an affinity for baseball?(Rage dipping into the same well once again, The Byrd picking up Lantlas, who just barely knows where he's at by now. Rage looking on rather proudly, he raises his hand once again to bring the rolling pin down onto Lantlas' skull...) (...only to be stopped by Seth Sinn. Seth holding Rage's wrist tightly, Rage turns in time for Seth Sinn to grab him up for Hell's Fire, holding him in the air for a few seconds before slamming him unceremoniously onto the mat. Lantlas breaking free of The Byrd's grasp, he dodges out of the way as Seth Sinn nails the Byrd out of NOWHERE with a beautiful Heaven's Grace, a superkick that knocks Byrd right back into Lantlas' waiting frame. Lantlas bending the Byrd backwards sickly by his side, he lifts him much like a reverse powerbomb until the Byrd is facing towards the mat and the ring is rushing up to meet him.) (The twisted version of the Elvish Tale sounding out, Lantlas and Seth Sinn both drape over The Byrd's fallen body for the pinfall attempt.) 1..
2...
...3!JA: What an Elvish Tale! Seth Sinn and Lantlas have retained the PCW World Tag Team championship! What a hard-fought matchup, Mike!
MW: Hard-fought and well-deserved. It looked for a while there like The Byrd and Rage had Lantlas beaten. If it hadn't been for the untimely re-emergence of Seth Sinn, we may have had new tag team champions.(Dominion retreating to the back quickly to see about getting some ice for Lantlas' head, Rage and The Byrd slowly stir and, once they get to their feet...begin to argue. Rage shoves The Byrd, saying he's had enough of managing a loser. Byrd laughs a bit before placing a well-deserved right hand dead into Rage's mouth before jumping on him, beating him senseless until referees come pouring out of the back to separate the two.) JA: It seems as if S.I.N. is dissolving before our very eyes, Mike! That happens a lot I've noticed, you know. Teams get frustrated when they just can't get the job done...and then all hell breaks loose!
MW: I don't think anyone will much care in this case, Andrews. S.I.N. wasn't doing much in the way of being a threat to the Tag Team titles, except here tonight. Maybe The Byrd will find success as a singles star.
JA: Maybe so, Mike...maybe so. But for now, let's get our next match underway. Johnny Vivacious vs. Non Compos Mentis for the North American championship!
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Post by Murdoc on Mar 14, 2006 19:42:31 GMT -5
North American Championship Towel Match Johnny Vivacious {Champion} (w/Chrissy Johnson) vs. Non Compos Mentis (w/Benjamin Banks) Referee: Tyrone Little Mark Long: Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for our second match of the evening. This match...is for the PCW NORTH AMERICAN CHAMPIONSHIP and it is a TOWEL MATCH! This means the match can only end when the cornerman...or woman....of one of the participants throws in the towel to stop the fight!(The familiar sound of Non Compos Mentis theme tune echoes throughout the arena as the man himself appears on the stage. He slowly walks to the ring as he is introduced my Mark Long.) Mark Long: Hailing from Louisville, Kentucky, weighing in at 270 lbs....this is Non Compos Mentis!(NCM begins to enter the ring, but stops before he can do so as he looks back to the entryway. His theme song beginning to fade, it is replaced by "Blow Me Away" by Breaking Benjamin. Benjamin Banks steps out onto the stage and begins to hype the fans up, pumping his arms up and down, telling them to stand up as he begins to slowly stride down the rampway. A black towel draped innocently over his broad shoulders, Benjamin and NCM both enter the ring and walk across to the far side of the ring. There NCM sits in the corner, waiting for his opponents to arrive while Benjamin Banks steps through the ropes and crouches, speaking to NCM and getting his adrenaline pumping from outside the cornerpost.) JA: NCM getting some last minute pep talks from his corner man, Benjamin Banks. NCM has sworn that Benjamin Banks will not throw the towel in for him, Mike.
MW: I think Benjamin Banks...THINK, mind you...is smart enough to know that if there's no other choice then there's no other choice, and that he'll HAVE to throw the towel in. Which I see happening, myself.
JA: I'm not so sure, Mike. You may be right, but I wouldn't count NCM out yet...he's itching to get that belt back.
MW: Not to mention just plain ITCHING! Did you see the lice in his hair?!
JA: MIKE!(The lights in the arena dim; not to complete darkness, but only the lights above the stage, entrance and ring offer any illumination. Above the stage the PCW-Tron lights up with a humming buzz with a “CLUB V” replica neon sign.) “Here’s another one! Vivacious edition muthaf*ckas! Rap and roll!”(A cloud of smoke rolls out from behind the jet-black curtain and from under the stage as a multicolored spectacle awes the fans from above. Get Back by Ludacris, with a stellar rap and rock backing, thumps the arena at it’s foundation as the crowd boo loudly. On the stage a silhouette appears within the smoke. The camera pans from his feet past a gold reflection from his right shoulder, a red hot speck where his mouth would be, the reflection of the light above with a silver tint to the erratic spikes atop his head.) Mark Long: Ladies and gentlemen… making his home right here in Greenville, South Carolina!(The pop was weak to give it any credit at all. Could be because as the smoke dissipated the man in black stood, steadfast, at the top of the ramp with a smirk.) Mark Long: Standing an exact six feet and weighing in this evening at the two-hundred and thirty pound mark… he is the reigning North American Champion of Pure Class Wrestling!(The North American Championship sparkled at rest on his right shoulder as he glared from behind his silver tinted sunglasses with a cigarette pursed in his kisser.) Mark Long: Accompanied to the ring by Chrissy Johnson....(With a slight turn to his right he extends his right hand to the curtain inviting the curvaceous Chrissy Johnson to join him. She answers his invitation to the disapproval of the red-hot crowd. The both of them soak it in, seemingly enjoying every boo, as they make their way down the ramp. Vivacious rounds the ring bad mouthing the fans as Johnson goes up the ring steps. She ducks through the ropes and he hops up onto the apron, turning around to give another verbal lashing to a front row heathen and playing around suggestively with the fluffy pink towel over her left shoulder before ducking into the ring between the top and middle rope. He bounds up to the second rung of the nearest corner and turns his berating to another group of fans below him.) Mark Long: ...this is Johnny Vivacious!(Both of them continuing to berate the fans as they strut around the ring, they finally make it to the corner across the ring from Benjamin Banks and Non Compos Mentis, where each of them engage in an intense staredown with their counterparts across the way.) JA: Both of these men look primed and ready to take it to the next level, Mike!
MW: Consider it taken, Andrews. Johnny V is all business once that bell rings, NCM just doesn't stand a fighting chance!
JA: Well, let's see if that assumption holds true, Mike...cause we are UNDERWAY!*DING DING!*(Both NCM and Johnny V meeting mid-ring, a bit of trash talking going on before NCM finally has put up with Johnny's mouth for far too long, taking the opportunity to slap the taste out of it. Johnny V holding his mouth for a second, he nods a bit and checks for any sign of blood...finding none. Snapping his attention back to NCM, he rushes forward with his fist cocked back ready to unleash. However, NCM is ready for it with a well placed Yakuza kick that sends Johnny V sprawling to the mat and back into the corner where Chrissy Johnson is waiting to comfort him.) (Kneeling for a moment in the corner, rubbing his jaw a bit before he hops to his feet again, this time starting off by circling the ring across from NCM. Johnny V sizing NCM up, he waits for it...waits for it...waiting for the exact right moment before descending upon NCM with a flurry of punches and kicks. Each of them answered by NCM rather violently, trading blows back and forth as NCM yet again gets the upper hand on Johnny V, backing him into a corner and raining down blow after blow after blow upon him.) (Johnny V slumping in the corner at the unabated onslaught of NCM, NCM hesitates for simply a moment to shoo Chrissy Johnson from the apron, only to turn back and be met with a thumb to the throat by Johnny V. Johnny V shaking the cobwebs out, he advances on the backpedaling NCM and pounces on him with a Lou Thesz press. Both men on the mat now, Johnny V on top as he takes HIS turn raining heavy hands down on NCM.) MW: This is quickly turning into a brawl, Andrews. At this point, the match will be over in a matter of a few minutes!
JA: Not likely, Mike, Johnny V and NCM have both demonstrated potential for great stamina and endurance.(Johnny V jumping up as NCM scrambles to crawl to his feet, a stiff jab with his left hand thrown at NCM, great resiliency shown by NCM as he dodges the left hand and takes hold of the wrist, driving Johnny V down shoulder first into the mat. Johnny V letting out a shrill howl, NCM wrenching in a Fujiwara armbar in the middle of the ring. Chrissy Johnson hopping up onto the ring apron without fail.) (NCM wrenching the hold heavily, Benjamin Banks cheers him on from the outside as Chrissy Johnson stomps her feet and does all she can to get the referee's attention. However, she is doing nothing of the sort and is only giving a free show to the audience at ringside.) JA: Chrissy Johnson trying to give Vivacious a bit of help, but it doesn't seem to be working. In fact, the only thing it's doing is giving the audience a peek at her curvacious body. Not to mention it's causing Benjamin Banks to get a little fed up with her antics.
JW: Her antics? Christ, you're dim Andrews. IT'S GREAT! I love it!(NCM spotting Chrissy on the ring apron, he releases the Fujiwara armbar and jumps to his feet as he stalks to the ropes. Chrissy jumping down from the ring apron, she backs away towards the barrier as the referee and NCM both advance, telling her to keep her distance from the action. NCM the first to turn his attention back to Johnny V, he's met with a Flap Jack mat slam, nailing NCM in the gut as he crashes down to the mat.) (NCM clutching his breadbasket, Johnny V wastes no time in pouncing on NCM, stepping rather rudely on his back as NCM raises to his hands and knees. Hopping into the air slightly, Johnny V makes use of his position as he drops the infamous Hell-Bow, NCM's face smashing to the mat as he reaches back and clutches at his neck.) (Johnny V staying on the mat, kneeling on NCM's back as he reaches under NCM's chin and pulls back, a modified Camel Clutch being applied as the referee looks to NCM's cornerman to see if there was a towel to be thrown in. Banks doing no such thing, simply encouraging NCM to fight his way out of it. Johnny V managing to release a hand to flip Benjamin Banks the bird, he laughs and reapplies the hold as Benjamin Banks storms into the ring, taking offense to the gesture.) (The referee standing and moving to prevent Banks from getting involved, Johnny V laughs as he pulls NCM up from the mat and without looking(or maybe he WAS) and Irish Whips him into the corner, effectively sandwiching the referee and Benjamin Banks together.) JA: The referee's down! Referee's down, and it's all Johnny V's fault!
MW: If Banks hadn't gotten involved, then it never would've happened now WOULD it Andrews?!(The referee falling to the mat, Chrissy takes this opportunity to jump into the ring and begin laying the boots to NCM. Benjamin Banks taking rather great offense to this, he stalks over to the frenzied Chrissy Johnson and grabs her by the arms, stopping her from doing any more damage to NCM. Acting on pure instinct, Johnson pulls out a miniature bottle of perfume and spritzes some directly into Banks' eyes. Howling in pain, Johnson pulls a bit of a switcheroo and grabs the towel from around Banks' shoulders, swapping it out for her fluffy pink one instead. Grabbing the towel, Banks attempts to clear his eyes of the foul perfume while Chrissy, always looking ahead, throws the white towel down to the mat and slides from the ring.) (The referee looking along the plane of sight afforded him, across the surface of the mat, spots the white towel laying motionless on the mat as NCM is struggling to get to his feet to continue. Banks still furiously wiping his eyes with Chrissy's pink towel, the referee clambers to his feet...and signals for the bell to end the match.) JA: What the hell is THIS?! Banks didn't throw that towel in, Chrissy JOHNSON threw Banks' towel in! Don't you tell me the match is going to end on a sour note like this!
MW: Oh you better believe it, Andrews! What a clever move by Chrissy Johnson! My god, that was brilliant! BRAVO for Club V!(The referee calling for the belt, he takes it and awards it to Johnny V, who...arm in arm with Chrissy Johnson, is laughing his head off as he quickly retreats from the ring to avoid NCM's wrath. NCM petitioning with the referee rather angrily, NCM looking to the towel on the mat and Benjamin Banks using Chrissy's towel to clear his eyes...he puts two and two together...and knows a royal screwjob when he sees it.) Ladies and gentlemen...your winner and STILL North American champion...Johnny...VIVACIOUS!(Johnny V and Chrissy Johnson hightailing it out of the ring, all the while laughing as NCM unleashes his wrath ringside, throwing chairs and monitors, knocking down cameramen and otherwise pretty much rough-housing the referee, who certainly wasn't in any place to defend against such an outpouring of emotion.) JA: We have to get someone out here to take control of this situation, but I'm being told we've got a cameraman in the back with Mikey Wryght, so let's go to him while things are taken care of ringside...
MW: He's gonna destroy and rip up EVERYTHING Andrews, someone stop him! HEY! The Show Must Go On... (The scene opens up in the private dressing room of one “Mr. Showtime” Mikey Wryght. Leaning back in his chair sits Showtime. He is wearing a black pinstriped suit with an orange dress shirt beneath it and his brown and gold aviators. As he is leaning back he is just tossing what seems to be almost a full deck of cards one by one into a trash bin. His normal happy expression is missing from his face and all that seems to be on his mind is that trash bin and these cards. Mr. Jason Lasky, Showtime’s agent, steps out into the camera’s view. He is also dressed nicely in a suit but this one is rather plain. Lasky has a worried look on his face and is pacing back and forth.) Jason Lasky: Okay...enough is enough. Why don’t you get yourself out of this funk and get ready for tonight. You understand that this is one of the most dangerous matches that you have ever been apart of and you moping around wont help anything. “Mr. Showtime” Mikey Wryght: Excuse me? Jason Lasky: See, you’re not even listening to me! Snap out of it Mike! “Mr. Showtime” Mikey Wryght: What does it matter? She is usually here... Jason Lasky: You're being ridiculous! Can’t you see that there is nothing that can be done. Not here...not tonight! There is plenty of time... “Mr. Showtime” Mikey Wryght: But if I wait.... Jason Lasky: That's all you CAN do. You can’t go near her... you can’t. “Mr. Showtime” MIkey Wryght: What did I actually do? Jason Lasky: You were yourself... if that’s hard enough for you to grasp. Showtime, I just don’t want you going out there tonight in this...daze. Shit man!!! Do you want to get yourself seriously injured? You’re fighting in GLASS tonight!!! “Mr. Showtime” MIkey Wryght: It doesn’t matter...I’ll go out there and I’ll take care of my business. Don’t you worry. Now if you don’t mind, I’d rather get ready on my own. Jason Lasky: Okay buddy. I will be up in my box watching over everything, and if there is anything that you need...let me know. (Showtime just waves off his agent sending him out of the room. Showtime, still not moving, just sits there tossing card after card. There is nothing more that he could do but just sit back and wait...)
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Post by Murdoc on Mar 14, 2006 19:43:48 GMT -5
Four-Way International Championship Pain of Glass Match Melissa Malone vs. Grimm vs. "Mr. Showtime" Mikey Wryght vs. Pegasus Referee: Eddie Lane JA: What an explosive North American championship match, Mike. Never mind that Johnny V and Chrissy Johnson royally shafted NCM, who had just as much a chance to win the match as Johnny V did.
MW: Hey, Johnny V said he would do ANYTHING to keep that title. He never said he would do 'anything except bend the rules a little.'
JAL I'm sure...that NCM will have something to say and DO about this GROSS injustice in the next few days. But for now, let's get to our next match.Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for our next match of the evening. It is scheduled for one fall, with no time limit and is for the PCW International Championship!{Mark Long's voice reverberating, the arena darkens and a heavy fog fills up the entrance way. A whisper is then heard, "Now is the time for me to rise to my feet...wipe your spit from my face, wipe these tears from my eyes." Just then "I Will Be Heard," by Hatebreed blares over the loud speakers and Melissa walks out onto the ramp. She stands there...the fog engulfing every inch of her, with a hood hiding her face. She slowly makes her way down the ramp to the ring followed by four armed police officers.} Introducing first, standing at five feet, nine inches and weighing in tonight at one hundred and thirty five pounds...MELISSA MALONE!{Getting into the ring she stands in the middle with her head down, the cops standing on the outside watching her closely. The strobes go off heavily and Melissa slowly removes the hood from her head, revealing herself to all of these unknown people. The ring side announcer slides a microphone into the ring but instead of picking it up, she simply kicks it back out of the ring and strides over to the nearest corner to her.} JA: Melissa Malone is a last-minute entrant into this match, Mike. You think that's gonna make any difference here tonight?
MW: Of course it will, Andrews. They've been preparing for WEEKS for this match and now one of the MAIN threats for the win is gone, and in his place is a person they've had NO chance to scout or prepare for. However, the thing they've got in their favor is that she's a WOMAN battling against three men. This is a PAIN OF GLASS match. Her disadvantage cancels her advantage out, so it's gonna be interesting to say the least.
JA: She's no ordinary woman, 'Man'. They'd better not underestimate her too much...! And now to introduce our second competitor...!{The lights in the arena shut off as the first chords begin to sound out. At the first sound of drums, a single spotlight illuminates the center of the stage with Pegasus in the middle kneeling upon one knee with his head lowered. He takes his time going into a full standing position and raises his head toward the ceiling as the drums begin to really kick in, "God Send Death" blaring through the packed house. As he looks up, the rest of the arena lights turn back on. He stares towards the ceiling for a few moments, then begins the short walk down to the ring.} Standing at five feet, ten inches tall, he weighs in tonight at 213 pounds. Ladies and gentlemen...I give you PEGASUS! {He slides under the bottom rope and quickly hops back up to his feet. Wasting no time, he travels to the nearest turnbuckle and climbs up the bottom rung and looks over the crowd before turning around and leaning into the turnbuckle, staring across the ring at Malone as his music begins to wane.} JA: Former World Champion, former Tag Team champion, former International Champion...Pegasus has nearly done it all Mike. Not to mention he is the only man in this match to have BEEN in a Pain of Glass match. In fact, he's got a perfect record in this hellish match.
MW: For ONCE, Andrews...I'll agree with you. Pegasus has a slight edge over the other competitors in this match, in that he's been here...done this. He knows what it takes to survive, and what it takes to WIN this. So he's got the mental edge...which'll go a LONG way in determining the winner here tonight.{Strobe lights begin to flicker in the entryway as ‘Reset’ by Mutemath spills from the speakers. Phinehas Grimm steps out to bask in the light and shadows, head bowed, arms limp, with rogue strands of dripping hair hanging in his face.} Next, this man weighs in tonight at 217 pounds and stands at six feet, three inches tall...he is the 'Abomination of Desolation'....this is GRIMM!
(Strobe lights begin to flicker in the entryway as 'Cancer' spills from the speakers. Some of the crowd stands up to get a better view while an almost whispering voice announces the impending arrival...) I cross the oceans I cross the seas I cross the mountains like a new disease
(Phinehas Grimm steps out to bask in the light and shadows, head bowed, arms limp, with rogue strands of dripping hair hanging in his face. He takes it all in for a few moments before making the long walk to the ring, ignoring the fans along the way, eyes focused on the stage where he plans on winning the International title, while Filter continues its serenade.) I cross the borders I cross the line Never to see the light 'Til the end of time(Grimm steps up onto the apron and slides in between the ropes. Hopping up onto a turnbuckle, he casts his gaze out over the crowd with his arms at his side, eyes shifting to take in the sea of faces spread out before him. Richard Patrick's voice grows louder and louder until he crescendos into a scream...) I'm the scum of the earth I am a cancer
I'm the scum of the earth I am a cancer
I am humanity!(Phinehas steps down and waits.) And the final competitor in this four-way dance. Weighing in at two hundred and fifty-three pounds, standing at six feet, three inches tall...he is 'Mister Showtime' himself, ladies and gentlemen...MIKEY WRYGHT!{”Jesus Walks” by Kanye West begins to play in a darkened arena. A single spotlight begins to shine on the entrance way and standing there in a black and silver long sleeveless robe. Standing the with his back to the ring and his arms crossed is “Mr. Showtime” Mikey Wryght wearing his brown and gold aviators. The back of the robe is exposed with the words in blue and silver “Mr. Showtime". Not accompanied by Perfection this evening, thanks to the violent nature of the upcoming match...she was sure to be watching eagerly in the backstage area.} {Showtime slowly walks to the beat of the music as the only light in the arena follows him to the ring. He walks up the stairs and whips off his feet on the outside apron. He jumps over the top rope and two other spotlights shoot on him he spins and puts his arms out. Then he slowly makes his way to the remaining corner...crossing his wrists with his fingers locked into a “W” shape. He pulls his arms down setting off some small pyros behind him, which also begins the lights to return to the arena.} JA: Well, all four competitors are in the ring. Now it's time...
MW: ...to bring in the glass!{With this being said, many of the PCW's staff: referees, technical assistant, even a few of the PCW superstars begin to flow down the ramp way, each of them carrying something different. Mark Long leads the way, carrying a big, lumpy bag of something in one hand with a group of about a dozen long, fluorescent lights being carried underneath his other arm.} {Two referees behind him and holding both ends of what appear to be a thick stack of thin panes of glass. The stack is rather tall, so it's safe to assume that there are a good number of glass panes in their hands. Two of the thin panes of glass are positioned on each side of the ring, each pane held above the ground a foot or two by sawhorses on either end of the panes.} {Mark Long begins generously placing the two foot long fluorescent lights all AROUND the ring, just waiting to be picked up and used. Finally, the bag in his other hand is untied, it's contents sprinkled quite liberally around the ENTIRE ringside area. Its' contents? Oh...nothing but a bag full of small Christmas bulbs, the ones the fit into the electric candles.} {The glass spread so evenly around the ring, Eddie Lane looks around as he waits for the tech people and the others to vacate the ringside area.} JA: ...my God, Mike. Will you look at this? Someone will DIE here tonight. This is...this is insane.
MW: You're not just whistlin' dixie, Andrews. But the people in this match know that desperate times call for desperate measures. Unfortunately, I don't even think GOD can save these wrestlers tonight.
JA: Well, let's get this match started so we can end it as quickly as possible.
{As if right on cue, Eddie Lane points at the official who stands in the middle of the ring, with the broadcast team sitting near the entryway for this special match.} *DING DING DING!!*
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Post by Murdoc on Mar 14, 2006 19:46:24 GMT -5
*DING DING DING!!*
(The bell sounds to signal the beginning of this match made in Hell. The super stars each coming out of their respective corners begin to circle the ring slowly, it doesn't take long before Grimm jumps the gun, meeting Mr. Showtime halfway across the ring, the two pairing off as they begin to trade thunderous blows back and forth.)
JA: Here we go, Mike...Grimm and Showtime pairing off rather quickly here.
MW: Did you expect any less?
(Showtime and Grimm still trading blows back and forth, Melissa Malone rushes across the ring at the only available competitor, Pegasus, and nails a beautifully executed missile dropkick...sending Pegasus flying off his feet at the sudden attack. Pegasus down, Malone turns her attention to the other two. By now, Showtime has gotten the upper-hand on Grimm and is pounding away on him in the corner. Melissa charging at Mr. Showtime's back, Showtime has the presence of mind to sidestep her, Malone jumping onto the cornered Grimm for what looks to be a monkey flip. However, Grimm has something to say about this as he hooks her knees and drops her back first to the mat for a scentilating spinebuster.)
(Malone landing on the mat, squirming and writhing in pain as Showtime points and laughs from afar. Grimm hopping to his feet and staring dead at Showtime, Showtime jumps and turns to exit the ring, but sees the trough filled with broken and glass setting just below him. A fraction of a second is all it takes before Grimm has pounced upon Mr. Showtime, reeling him with multiple head butts and kicks to the gut, to which Showtime answers with a rake to the eyes.)
(1....2...)
(Kick out! Both Grimm and Showtime turning to the referee, seeing Pegasus slyly and sneakily attempting to nab the easy pin fall on Melissa Malone, who kicks out to continue the match. Grimm catching Showtime in the back of the head with a bone-shattering head butt, Showtime drops to his knees as Grimm slides under the bottom rope.)
JA: Oh no Mike! Grimm's going for the glass, he's going for it!
MW: That's a bad thing, GRIMM getting some glass...someone's gonna end up sliced like a piece of bacon!
(Grimm reaching down for a white fluorescent tube, he holds it firmly in his right hand, staring in with death on his mind for Mikey Wryght. However, a tap on his shoulder and Grimm turns and comes face-to-face with Pegasus who ALSO has a fluorescent tube in his hands. Grimm instinctively swinging his lightbulb for the fences, Pegasus does the same, both tubes impacting with such force as the turn them into fine shards, the explosion almost poetic in nature.)
JA: My GOD! What an explosion! Both Grimm and Pegasus could have been ripped to shreds!
MW: That was...*sniff*...that was beautiful. Did you see that, Andrews? A futile standoff, existentially a metaphor for--
JA: What did you say?!
MW: I...I said, I hope they paid their electrical bill this month, Andrews!
JA: ....okay.
(Grimm and Pegasus now battling on the outside amidst the broken glass, Malone and Showtime are left in the ring going at it. Showtime strutting rather cockily, thinking he's got it easy now, as he grabs Malone by the hair and drags her face along the mat..hoping to rearrange her face into something reminiscent of a Picasso painting. Malone clutching her face in agony, Showtime plays to the crowd who in turn boos him for all their worth.)
(CRASH!)
(The sounds of glass shattering draw all the attention away from Mikey Wryght and focus it on Melissa Malone, who is on one knee now, holding the neck of a jagged beer bottle in her hand. Racing at Showtime, the sight is rather comical as Showtime runs around the ring for a brief moment to evade the pursuing Melissa Malone. Showtime taking the high road, he expertly slides out of the ring and dares Melissa Malone to follow him...who nonchalantly obliges. Showtime wide-eyed here, he begins to back up until he runs into...)
(..Grimm, who's waiting for him with a fluorescent light tube. Grimm swinging the tube like he's Babe Ruth, he doesn't even give Showtime the chance to turn around as he slams and shatters the fragile tube against Showtime's broad shoulders. The glass shards ripping into Showtime's musculature, he drops to his knees in agony as his howl of pain echoes throughout the arena.)
MW: God Almighty! Mr. Showtime is the first to taste the glass, Andrews...and UNlike another Mikey of fame...I don't think he likes it!
JA: You can say THAT again, 'Man'!
(Showtime on his knees, the crunching sound underneath him growing more and more persistent as it's apparent what the sound was: Showtime's knees grinding on the Christmas candle light bulbs so carefully spread ALL around the ring by Mark Long before the match began. Showtime crying out in pain, he begins the slow return to his feet as he kneels on one knee, beginning to pluck the broken shards of glass from his pants and kneecaps.)
(Grimm reaching down, he grabs a handful of the broken glass shards and has a bit of a standoff with Melissa Malone until, out of nowhere, Pegasus appears. Flying over the top rope, executing a BEAUTIFUL rope flip, sailing over the top and landing on both Melissa Malone, Mr. Showtime AND Grimm...all four tumbling to the ground and pressed violently into the light bulbs, although Pegasus is a bit lucky as he manages to land mostly on top of the other three.)
(Pegasus taking the chance to slide back into the ring without SERIOUS contact with the glass, he simply waits for the first wounded prey to enter so he can descend upon them. Melissa Malone is the first to her feet, though she looks as if she may have caught the worst of it. The top of her forehead is sliced open, rubicund blood trickling down the woman's head lightly. Not a gushing wound, but it was enough to have her seeing red.)
(Showtime makes it to his feet next and is met with a few stiff jabs from Melissa Malone. He's lacerated on his left arm and shoulder, the blood running down his arm in thicker torrents than on Ms. Malone's forehead. His pants were beginning to show signs of wear and tear, especially the knees where he had been kneeling in the glass. His feet crunching on the glass beneath him, Malone's as well...they both take the time to roll into the ring where they are met by Pegasus with a flying boot to the face for both of them.)
JA: It's spiraled quick, Mike...I'm not sure how much longer this match can last. Showtime's cut pretty good on the shoulder, Malone has a gash on her forehead and...her hand, it seems. We STILL haven't seen any signs of Grimm and Pegasus is the only man who seems to be uninjured by the glass.
MW: Pegasus is the veteran here, Andrews. He knows that the longer he can stay away from that glass, the more the odds favor him to pull out a victory!
(Pegasus grabbing Melissa Malone for a powerslam, she slides off his shoulder and lands behind him with a thud. Taking this opportunity, Malone kneels and absolutely LEVELS Pegasus with a low-blow, sending him to his knees clutching his family jewels. Melissa slapping her leg a few times, she spins and connects with a huge Chick Kick to the back of Pegasus' head that sends him face first into the mat.)
(However, Grimm finally makes his presence known again, as he crawls into the ring. His face is streaked with blood, and you can even see a tiny shard of glass still stuck into the flesh of his forehead. This, however, seems unnoticed by 'The Abomination of Desolation' as he grabs Melissa Malone by the hair and actually head butts her, the shard of glass in his head striking her and slicing her right between the eyes.)
(Both Grimm and Malone howling in pain, Malone falls to the mat and clutches her face and forehead while Grimm reaches up and with a sick popping sound, pulls the shard of glass from his forehead. He was already hurt, he didn't much care at this point in time. Tossing the inch long piece of glass to the mat, Showtime is waiting with renewed vigor and a flurry of blinding punches, sending Grimm reeling in the corner.)
JA: Showtime's fighting a clearly weakened Grimm, though Showtime is definitely starting to show the classic symptoms of blood loss. He looks unsteady on his feet, Mike.
MW: Who cares if he's unsteady on his feet, Andrews?! He's unloading on Grimm, and that's all that matters to him!
(Pegasus having returned to his feet now, he and Melissa Malone are battling once more on the opposite side of the ring. Pegasus striking Malone in the forehead a few times with his forearm, he reaches under her near arm and executes a textbook arm drag and sends her over the top rope towards the ground. However, Malone catches herself at the last moment and holds onto the ropes as she quickly rebounds to her feet, grabbing Pegasus by the hair and forcing him to the mat head first. Rolling under the bottom rope, both Pegasus and Malone are battling it out on the apron now)
(Showtime grabbing a reverse facelock on Grimm, he drags Grimm face first along the top rope, the lightly cushioned steel cable burning at Grimm's eyes and creating great friction. Showtime finally letting him go, he grabs Grimm's arm and pushes him back against the ropes and whips him across the ring...right into Pegasus and Melissa Malone.)
(Malone and Pegasus never even seeing it coming, Grimm crashes into them and forces them both off the ring apron. Still attempting to fight all the way down, Pegasus and Malone are entangled against each other as both bodies crash through one of the four panes of glass propped up around the ring. Their bodies sickly shattering the glass, shards flying everywhere as the shards of glass slice into flesh. The glass all underneath them, not only from the pane of glass but from the Christmas candle lights...the sight is almost unimaginable as their mangled bodies writhe and squirm on top of the broken glass.)
JA: OH MY GOD! Would somebody get some help for Pegasus and Melissa Malone?! This title is NOT WORTH THIS PAIN! The International Title is NOT worth these superstars lives...now will somebody PLEASE GET DOWN THERE AND HELP THEM, for the LOVE OF GOD!
(Grimm and Showtime still battling it out inside the ring, Pegasus and Melissa Malone were as of now almost non-factors in this match as they attempt to crawl from the glass, even if only to find a place to lay without fear of further damage. Showtime grabs Grimm from hanging on the ropes by the hair and wraps his good arm around Grimm's head and neck. Twisting to the side, Showtime rolls to the side and is in the opening stages of a Hangman's neckbreaker, but Grimm was just one step ahead as he pushes Showtime off and into the ropes.)
(Showtime bouncing off of the ropes, Grimm jumps and catches Showtime around the head...looking for the Harvest. Showtime showing off his own mental acuity, he holds Grimm in the air and falls back towards the ropes, tossing Grimm over the top rope and towards the field of broken glass beside the ring. Grimm putting the brakes on quick, he just barely manages to keep on the ring apron. Showtime pointing to his skull and showing the crowd how smart he was, he takes his time before turning around...to be surprised by Grimm's fist to his face.)
(A series of two...three...FOUR punches, Grimm has Showtime staggered and, with little regard for himself or Showtime, Grimm grabs hold of Showtime's head and takes Showtime's arm and drapes it over his shoulder, in the beginning stages of a vertical suplex.)
JA: Oh god...no...Grimm NO! You'll both be broken in half and sliced into pieces! DON'T DO IT!
MW: This is the only way, Andrews! They have to settle this once and for all!
JA: The only thing that'll be settled after this matches will be these superstars estates...who gets what!
(Grimm hoisting Showtime into the air with great power, Showtime's legs kick and flail back and forth as he luckily finds the necessary strength to reverse the suplex, landing back first on the canvas, Grimm clutching at his back as was Showtime, whose back was already injured and was staining the canvas with a few trickles of blood. Both men down, Showtime is the first to his feet, but followed not long by Grimm, who manages to throw the first punch. Showtime backing into a corner...an unusual sight manifests.)
(Both Melissa Malone AND Pegasus back in the ring...back on their feet AND still fighting. Both of them looking weary and tired, not to mention bleeding severely from several places on their bodies. Showtime dropping to his backside on the mat, grabbing Grimm's waist and pulling him into the middle turnbuckle as Showtime slides to the side. Showtime spying Pegasus and Malone, finds a hidden burst of adrenaline as he races headlong towards the pair, nailing them both with a crossbody block, all of them tumbling to the mat.)
(Grimm gathering his composure across the ring, he reaches outside the ropes and manages to grab hold of yet another fluorescent light tube. Waiting until the time is right, i.e., all the other competitors are on their feet, Grimm stalks with a purpose over to them and as soon as he is within arm's length of them, swings the light tube for the fences. Showtime able to move in time to only catch a glancing blow, Melissa Malone and Pegasus were the unfortunate souls who caught the brunt of the shot, the glass turning into fine shards as it crashes down upon their skulls.)
JA: Dear god, when will this be over Mike? How much is too much?!
MW: It's never too much for these superstars! THEY LIVE FOR GOLD, AND APPARENTLY THEY'LL DIE FOR IT TOO!
(The glass crunching sickly onto Melissa Malone and Pegasus' respective skulls, the glass manages only to catch Showtime on his other arm, slicing IT open as well. All four competitors crumpling to the mat, Grimm manages to throw a shoulder over Pegasus, while...at nearly the same time, Showtime thinks it prudent to cover Melissa Malone. The referee drops to the mat.)
1!
2!
...3!
(The crowd erupting in an explosive cheer, both Showtime and Grimm manage to stagger to their feet and throw their arms into the air. Seeing this, both men become confused and look around the ringside area for their belt. The referee returning to the ring, he holds the belt high over his head...)
(...and hands the belt to Grimm. Grimm holding it high above his head for the world to see, Mr. Showtime openly is furious. Grabbing the referee, he points out that he had the pinfall on Melissa Malone and demands to have the referee look at the tapes. However, the referee swears he didn't see Showtime's pinfall..only Grimm's and thusly, Grimm is the new International Champion.)
Ladies and gentlemen...the winner...and NEW PCW International Champion...This is GRIMM!
(Showtime rather furious, he stalks over to Grimm who is holding his belt high above his head. Turning Grimm around, Grimm lets his feet do the talking as he delivers a well placed low-blow on Showtime, Wryght bending at the waist and holding himself in comfort as Grimm signals to the crowd that he's thinking of blasting Showtime with the belt.)
JA: Grimm is the new International Champion, Mike...and it looks like since Showtime wants to keep fighting, Grimm is going to do him a favor and keep the fight going!
MW: I saw Showtime make the pin, Andrews! That referee is crooked, biased and all-in-all blind! Give the belt to Showtime, he won it fair and square!
(Grimm looking down to the ground, he gets a wicked gleam in his eye and drapes the belt over the top rope as he reaches down to the ground and grabs the biggest piece of the fluorescent light that spelt the end for Pegasus and Melissa Malone. Clutching it in his hand, Showtime turns to find Grimm waiting with the glass in hand. Grimm pouncing on Showtime, he begins to dig and slice into Showtime's face and forehead with the piece of glass until security can race to the rin to seperate the two. Grabbing his belt as he's pulled off, Grimm breaks away from the security team and begins to backpedal out of the ring and towards the back to celebrate his victory.)
JA: Oh my god! DID YOU SEE THAT MIKE?! Grimm just sliced Mikey Wryght's face into oblivion, someone get some medical attention down to the ring for Showtime, NOW! Cut to the video, cut to it now..!
(The feed cutting to a pre-packaged promotional feed for the upcoming World Title match between Ace Anderson and the Prophet while the medical team attends to Showtime and clears the ring and ringside area of any glass that may be remaining. When the feed returns to the arena, Jerry Andrews looks a bit paler than normal, while Mike Williams is just shaking his head.)
JA: Ladies and gentlemen...what you just witnessed was a war. We must insist again that NO ONE attempt to recreate or re-enact ANY of what you have just seen. We'll have updates on each of these competitors as we receive word from the back, but for now...it's time for our Main Event.
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Post by Murdoc on Mar 14, 2006 19:58:27 GMT -5
World Championship Match Ace Anderson {Champion} vs. The Prophet Special Guest Referee: Sean Hunter Ladies and gentlemen...wrestling fans watching at home across the globe...it is NOW TIME FOR THE MAIN EVENT! JA: Man oh man, Mike....can you feel it? The crowd is absolutely electric! You can literally FEEL the energy here tonight. And why shouldn't we? This match has a LOT to follow up on, but considering the people involved and the hatred between them all...I think it's going to be the icing on the cake for Game Over!
MW: You know...I hate to say it...but I agree with you. Both Ace Anderson and The Prophet DON'T mess around in that ring. These men are absolutely ruthless..vicious. I have to give the edge to Ace Anderson here though, Andrews. I think Sean Hunter hates the Prophet just a LITTLE bit more than he does Ace Anderson. That may be the key element here.
JA: You're right about that Mike. But I disagree. The Prophet, in your logic, is the underdog here tonight. He's backed into a corner. He has nowhere to go. I think he'll do what any wild animal will do when backed against the wall. I think we'll see a mean streak in the Prophet that we've not seen before, right here tonight. But let's not speculate any further, Mike! HERE WE GO!Introducing first, your special referee for this main event, ladies and gentlemen...SEAN....HUNTER!(In a corner of the ring, Sean Hunter stands propped against the top turnbuckle...decked out in a pair of black slacks and a sleeveless referee's shirt. Stepping out from the corner, he raises his arms and soaks up the crowd's adulation before moving to lean back against the cornerpost again...straightening the tape wrapped around both of his wrists.) 'YOUR...SOUL'S ON FIRE!'
(The voice of Wayne Static of Static-X screams out over the PA system inside the Pure Class arena. At the mention of the word 'Fire', a huge explosion rocks the stage area as a rather large ring of fire erupts from the floor, just in front of the entryway. And in the middle of this ring of white flame, The Prophet's form slowly but surely rises from below. As he rises, The Prophet looks out into the booing and jeering fans, smiling widely as he soaks it all up.) Ladies and gentlemen, introducing...the challenger. He weighs in tonight at 255 lbs, and stands 6 feet, 7 inches...(The Prophet finally in full view, he steps over the front edge of the fiery ring and stands there for a few moments, milking the attention for all it's worth. Behind him on the PCW-Tron, clips of him absolutely decimating PCW alumni over the past few months, clips of him delivering The Cleansing Fire being highlighted and slowed beautifully, intersparsed with clips of high spots from past matches.) ...he is a two-time International Champion, a former Tag Team Champion...and was voted the Most Hated PCW superstar of 2005...(As The Prophet walks down the rampway, pyro explosions occur on both sides of the ramp at 5 feet intervals, four explosions of white flame erupting before he makes it to the ring itself. Looking through the ropes for a brief moment, he walks over to the steel ring-steps and enters the ring. Stepping to the center of the ring, The Prophet basks in the fans' hatred as he strips to his wrestling attire and waits for his unfortunate opponent.) ...here is THE PROPHET!
(The Prophet standing dead in the center of the ring, he turns his attention only once to Sean Hunter who shares the ring with him, staring him down with icy daggers...the gaze being reciprocated before he turns back to the rampway. He doesn't move a single inch once he has stripped to his ring attire. His focus is planted intently at the entranceway, awaiting the PCW World Champion to make his grand entrance...) JA: Would you look at that, Mike? The Prophet is SO focused, he hasn't moved a single inch. He can literally FEEL the World Championship belt around his waist. And he may just do that here tonight. He certainly has the chance of a lifetime...
MW: That he does, Andrews...but Ace Anderson will NOT let that belt escape from his hands, unless through his cold and broken fingers.
JA: Amen to that, Mike.{The Prophet's theme music fading into nothingness, it is quiet for a few moments...a few eternity-laden moments before finally...) ("Suffocate" by Sevendust begins to play. When the music picks up, Ace Anderson comes firing out from the backstage area. He stops at the top of the ramp, and raises his arms, making his "Greatness" symbol. He keeps his hands above his head, and brings them down in a swooping motion across the right side of his body and a pyro goes off on his left side, he then moves his hands down across his left side and a pyro goes off on his right. He brings his hands above his head once more and then brings them down and breaks the symbol in front of him and a huge pyro goes off behind him, the length of the stage. He then puts his fingers in a "gun" and points down to the ring. He moves his thumb down to touch his fingers, and pyro explodes out of the ringposts.) Mark Long: Introducing next, the champion. Standing at 6 foot, 6 inches...weighing in tonight at 311 lbs, he is a former Tag Team champion, former North American Champion...the 2005 Icemann Invitational Tournament winner...and the CURRENT PCW World Heavyweight Champion...
(Ace jogs in place while Mark Long speaks, until he finally runs down to the ring. He stops at the apron, leaps up onto it with a grand two foot leap, and as soon as his feet touch down, he leaps over the ropes and lands crouched down in the ring. ) (No sooner does he land, Ace Anderson makes a beeline straight towards the Prophet in the middle of the ring, until both are literally only millimeters from each other....nose to nose and eye to eye, staring holes straight through each other as Mark Long finishes the introduction.) ..."Greatness in the Flesh"...this is ACE ANDERSON!(Ace Anderson not even bothering to look over to Sean Hunter, he's too focused on the challenger to his belt as he unclasps it from around his waist and slowly...surely holds it into the air for the world to see. With the gaze locked between the two, they both can only see Sean Hunter walking up to them out of the corner of their eyes', Hunter grabbing the belt from Ace Anderson's hand and showing it as the prize for this matchup. Sean Hunter hefting it over the top rope, he waits for it to be placed on the timekeepers' table before calling for the bell.to start the match.) *DING DING DING DING!*(Both men looking holes straight through each other, The Prophet ocassionally looking over at Sean Hunter to dissuade him from trying anything funny. Both men begin to circle the ring now like two caged beasts. Their eyes locked onto each other, they both rush in and meet in a collar-and-elbow tie-up, neither getting the upperhand at first. After a few tense moments, The Prophet takes hold of one of Ace Anderson's wrists and Irish whips him into the ring ropes where, upon the rebound, catches the champion with a stinging chop that sends Ace Anderson right back against the ropes clutching at his throbbing pectoral muscles.) MW: Now THAT'S what I call a chop Andrews! Can you imagine the pain that the champ must be in? It's got to be excruciating.
JA: That's for sure, Mike. I couldn't take one like that.
MW: Well you're a pansy, whaddya expect?
JA: Oh shut up, Mike!(Anderson backed against the ropes, The Prophet moves in and delivers another stiff shot to the chest. With no waiting, Anderson spins the Prophet to where he was and delivers his OWN chops, perhaps even more powerful than The Prophet's chops. The Prophet moving away from Ace Anderson, he retreats to a nearby corner as Ace follows him quickly, beginning to throw heavy handed haymakers his way as Sean Hunter counts the standard five count. Upon reaching five, and seeing that Ace isn't relenting, Hunter reaches in and forcibly removes Anderson from the corner.) (Rather verbally chastising Ace Anderson, demanding that he be listened to as the referee of this match, Ace pretty much brushes it off as he races back in to capitalize on the Prophet's weakened state. However, The Prophet is lying for him in wait and when he gets close enough, The Prophet catches Ace Anderson with a drop-toe hold that drops Ace Anderson's throat across the middle rope.) (Ace sputtering and gasping for breath, The Prophet's knee placed firmly behind his head, cutting off the champion's air and eliciting a 5 count from Sean Hunter. The Prophet actually heeding Sean Hunter's count, he releases Ace Anderson and backs away from him for a brief moment before going towards him again. An act of desperation, and Ace Anderson tosses the Prophet thorugh the ropes with a THUD on the concrete floor below.) (Sean Hunter beginning the standard ten-count, actually calling it right down the middle thus far in the match.) 1...
2...
3...
4...
(Here, Ace Anderson takes the initiative and with a heave, hurls himself over the top rope and lands on The Prophet, both of them falling to the ground in a heap. The Prophet having gotten the worst of that attack, his body sprawled out on the floor as Ace slowly gets to his feet and begins to grab The Prophet by the hair and drag him up to the apron, where, with an elbow...The Prophet breaks Anderson's hold on his hair. Taking his own handful of Ace's cranium, The Prophet forces Anderson's head into the apron and proceeds to roll into the relative safety of the ring before he can get counted out.) JA: Smart move there by the Prophet. He can't win the belt on the outside of the ring, Mike.
MW: He may not be able to win, be he sure as hell can help out his cause...!(The Prophet resting for a few moments before making the next move, reaching over the top rope and grabbing Ace Anderson by the head and dragging him up to his feet on the apron. Throwing a forearm or two, Ace out of nowhere drops to the floor, hanging the Prophet out to dry throat first on the top rope. Rolling under the bottom rope, Ace stalks the Prophet and when he turns around....BAM!) (Ace Anderson delivers a beautiful t-bone suplex that leaves the Prophet on the mat, clutching at his back in extreme agony as Ace Anderson stalks around the ring like a cat awaiting a canary. Sean Hunter standing by and watching rather interestedly, Ace Anderson calls for the Touch of Greatness. Raising his hands, Ace wraps his arms around the Prophet and traps him in place, delivering one...two...three bone-jarring head butts. All the while, The Prophet is spinning round and round, trying his best to get free but only succeeding in making himself and Ace Anderson dizzy. ) (Ace Anderson still sensing victory in his grasp, he flings the Prophet headlong towards the corner. Never mind that Sean Hunter was still standing there. Unable to move anywhere out of the way, The Prophet crashes full-force into Sean Hunter, sandwiching him as Ace Anderson takes a running start at the corner post.) MW: Touch of Greatness, Andrews! IT'S OVER! Ace has this match WON!
JA: Don't be so sure, Mike...LOOK!(Sure enough, Ace manages to miss the Prophet...who sidesteps the flying Stinger Splash which now has Sean Hunter's name all over it. Ace coming down hard on Sean Hunter's chest, Ace turns backs off of Hunter, still a bit dizzy after the spinning..and runs right into The Spike of Malevolence, the bionic elbow nailing Ace right in the back of the head. The Prophet, sensing his opportunity here, turns Ace around and hooks him in a powerbomb type situation. Flipping him up, The Prophet laughs maniacally as he cinches and proceeds to LEVEL Ace Anderson, Skipping a Beat.) (Ace's lifeless body falling to the mat, The Prophet proceeds to make the pinfall cover.) JA: ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! Where the hell is the referee?! Where is Sean Hunter?
MW: Why, he's on the mat! Prophet crushed him!(This was true. Sean Hunter was still for the most part motionless on the mat as The Prophet looks over after what could be easily counted as a twenty count. Standing up FURIOUSLY, The Prophet moves over to Hunter and begins to shake him violently, hoping to wake him up. Shaking his head in disgust, The Prophet moves back over to Ace Anderson and crouches down...slinking along rather sneakily as he waits...Anderson beginning to stir and return to his feet.) (His hand outstretched...he was ready to end it all. However...it was not to be.) (With the crowd erupting into a frenzy, The Prophet turns around to see what the commotion was...only to find a steel chair swung directly at his head by none other than the Elven One, Lantlas.) JA: What the hell was that? WHAT IS LANTLAS DOING?!
MW: Whatever it is, Prophet doesn't seem to much care for it!
(It was true, for now, The Prophet was crumpled to the mat in a heap. Ace turning and spying Lantlas, he smiles proudly and extends his hand in friendship to Lantlas...only to be met with a boot to the gut and The Flame of the West. Leaving Ace AND The Prophet laying, Lantlas exits with steel chair in hand to the top of the rampway.) (Sean Hunter, NOW stirring, spots both competitors laid out and has no choice but to begin a ten count.) 1..
2...
3...
4...
5...!
6...
7...!
(Both men stirring, it's a race to the finish line as both challenger and champion struggle to make it to their feet.) 8...
9....
....10!(The referee calling for the bell, it sounds out as the PCW crowd bursts from their seats as Hunter slides out of the ring and grabs the belt, at the same time informing the announcer of his decision before sliding back into the ring.) Ladies and gentlemen....as a result of a DOUBLE COUNTOUT...
The winner...and STILL PCW World Champion...
....ACE ANDERSON!(The crowd erupting here, The Prophet and Ace are finally on their feet and...once hearing the decision, the Prophet goes ballistic and attacks Ace Anderson, both men now rolling on the mat and fighting tooth and nail. The last sight before PCW' Game Over ending, Lantlas, standing atop the PCW stage laughing his head off....) *CLICK*©2006 Pure Perfection Incorporated All Rights Reserved
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