***
We’re back from commercial as
"Pain Redefined" plays and the crowd begins to scream, rising to a crescendo with the music until Ace Anderson appears on the stage. He's dressed in his wrestling gear but sports a 'Pure Class Wrestling' t-shirt which he points to while walking to the ring with obvious intent. The fans lining the ramp reach out for high-fives and he gives as many as he can before taking the time to double back, making sure he doesn't miss anyone.
Pure... Class... Wrestling...He holds on each word as though assigning special meaning.
Three words often used, sometimes haphazard, around this Arena. They're tossed about with little regard to their meaning. Some see the irony, like Rick Majors and Tyler Scott. Some even choose to bravely fly the flag of Pure Class: Q, Kelli Starr, Andy D, The New Breed.At the names of some of their favorites the Faithful can't help but cheer. Ace raises his arms, asking them for silence, and the pop dies down after running its natural course.
And others... others beat their drum or pound their chest, waging their wars and lining their pockets, all under false pretence and the name of Pure Class Wrestling. I know because I'm all too familiar with this sort. Before Non Compos Mentis and his Battalion of Bums, before Gabriel Cross's cocky confidence, before Whitey Ford's drunken disrespect, before Skylar Marshall's band of thieves masquerading as men of the Law, there was Ace Anderson. There was Greatness In the Flesh.He pauses to gauge the reaction, a strange mix of cheers and jeers for myriad reasons beyond measure. He lowers the microphone and hangs his head, a second of silence for the man he was. And may he rest in pieces.
For those of you unstudied in the history of these halls, I was once reborn a man convinced that Pure Class Wrestling was beneath me. I stood astride, much like Michael Wryght and his cohort Whitey Ford, and I gazed down upon the rest in loathing and contempt. I spat in the face of hard-working warriors and presumed they couldn't touch me. It took an elf I could never defeat to change my mind, and yet stubborn I remained. My arrogance retained.
It took years away from this business and tragedy beyond my control before I truly came back to earth. And still I fought against myself, tried to play the old cards from that worn-down deck with Nacho Grande. It was all I knew. It nearly cost my career. And more, I nearly lost my life. After my defeat by Mike Park in the Icemann Invitational Tournament two years ago, I truly hit rock bottom.At the mention of the Icemann Invitational the Faithful cheer him for his recent victory. Ace basks in it a moment before he continues.
For many, rock bottom is the moment you realize you have nothing left, and nothing to give. You arrive at a choice: you either fight your way back, or you die. Maybe not right away, but someday ... insignificant and without dignity. For me, this was a moment of clarity and a stunning realization. It was the beginning of my battle back.
My realization was this: I knew not the meaning of the words upon the banner I stood beneath, written upon the belts I've held in these two hands, words I've used and misused in cycles of abuse with an unclear start and an uncertain end. In that moment of clarity, I made a decision.
NO MORE AND NEVER AGAIN.Following his train of thought the fans start to smoulder, awaiting the right moment to catch fire.
No more would I stand before you and proclaim myself as Greatness in this ring, never again would I look upon fellow men and women with Pride, convinced they're less as human beings. Upon seeing myself in the mirror, measuring the man I'd become, I realized I could sink no lower. I could fly no further from the heart of 'Pure Class.' And so I returned with this in mind, to quell that old pride and to redefine, and what did I find?
Nothing. Nothing had changed. Ace Anderson left and still the principles of 'Pure Class' were cast aside. Heavy Metal disappeared. Sean Rhodes tried but its demands drove him insane. Nacho Grande became bitter and abandoned his principles. They initially made him a crusader against the villain that was Ace Anderson. When it came to Justin Kaard, however, those principles meant nothing. And why? Respect, that's why.Ace Anderson ceases his speech for a moment, looking to the crowd and gauging their reaction as he approaches his point. They're hanging on his every word, though cries can be heard from skeptics and naysayers for him to give it up.
Class, Pure Class, is built upon the back of respect. When I look to Marshall's Law, to Mr. Showtime, to Whitey Ford, and to Skylar Marshall himself, I don't see respect. Whitey Ford has no respect for me; Marshall's Law has no respect for you. Skylar Marshall aims to control us, the wrestlers. Michael Wryght aims to exploit you, the fans. And Whitey Ford...
I really don't know what he wants, but I have a feeling it involves getting drunk and acting tough. Don't get me wrong, there's no denying that he's one tough son of a bitch. But something tells me he's more concerned with appearances. Every chance he gets he'll tell you that I'm old, that I'm irrelevant, that I suck. That I'm not worth his time. That much is obvious; every time Ace Anderson appears, Whitey Ford finds a way to disappear.At this the fans can hold back no more, cheering wildly at the prospect of finally getting to see Whitey Ford and Ace Anderson meet in the ring. Again Ace lets them pop before he continues.
Tonight's only a sample. At Game Over, Whitey Ford will have nowhere to run. Finally, you, the Faithful, will get the match that you deserve. I'll get my chance at the International Title with next to nothing in my way. I've earned my right to even the odds.
If I win, I'll be able to represent Pure Class Wrestling as the first to hold all its gold. Whitey Ford may be the longest reigning International Champion in PCW history. For that, I applaud him. For that, I recognize him. But recognition is not respect. From all he's said and done, Whitey Ford doesn't respect me. So I don't respect him. I doubt he recognizes what I've done for this industry, or for PCW. I'm not proud of this, but I'm even the prototype for all he is and stands to be. Like it or not, Whitey ... I'm The ORIGINAL Asshole.At this the Faithful laugh, and cheer, and boo; it's a strange, cathartic mix of tremulous truth.
Whitey Ford might think he's flat-out better than me. Is he? I don't know. All I want is to find out, beyond the shadow of doubt cast by his antics and schemes. Do I want Whitey Ford's respect? His recognition? Sure. Will I get it? Doubtful. Will he come back with a witty or offensive response to this in an attempt to berate and discredit me? Probably. That's the name of his game; I know it too well, and so I can't really blame him.
Beyond all that, though, beyond Game Over... I simply want to represent Pure Class. For once I want to be a beacon, instead of the shade, cast upon Pure Class Wrestling. Over the years, through trials by fire, I've learned what it takes. Win or lose, I hope I can help restore something to Pure Class Wrestling which is sorely lacking. And I know I'm not alone.
Remember what I said about rock bottom? I still have nothing left. But now I have something to give. And that is my driving force.He drops the microphone, salutes the fans, and
"Pain Redefined" resumes. Ace Anderson leaves the ring to cheers from a hot crowd. The cheers from the crowd segue into canned cheers from a video reel, promoting PCW's newest compilation DVD: PCW'S Greatest Matches vol. 2. In stores this Friday!
Match Two
Genesis Rules
Genesis Championship Triple Threat Match
Sterling Werner vs. Andy D vs. Q (©)
Referee: Roberto Garcia
The lights suddenly black out the Arena as strobes hit simultaneously with
"YOU'VE GOT BLOOD ON YOUR HAAANNNDDSSSS!!...." jolting the un-expecting crowd from their seats as the lyrics to
"Hollow King" come alive through the sound system. The majority of the crowd hyped up when they see their newest favorite PCW star, Sterling Werner, quickly ascend through the stage floor.
Only his shadowy figure can be seen until he steps forward as the Arena lights return to their original state, keeping the strobes in-sync with the theme song. Sterling makes a straight shot for the ring, looking to be all about business as his fans reach out to touch him if they can. He glances from side to side into the audience as he walks down the ramp, then focuses his attention to the ring.
He jumps onto the ring apron on one knee, pulling himself up with assistance from the ropes. He looks over his shoulder before getting inside. The Referee checks him down and he's good to go as his theme music dies down.
The intro of 'Are You Not Entertained' hits out on the PA system, and when it asks for everybody to scream the crowd goes crazy and Andy apears from the back. As he heads towards the ring, he slaps hands with as many people of the crowd as he can. Aproaching the ring, Andy slides under the bottom rope before running up to a random turnbuckle, hopping up to the second turnbuckle and motioning for the crowd to cheer loudly. Andy jumps down and removes his bucket hat, placing it on the metal part of the turnbuckle in his corner before standing ready for the match.
The sound of rocket ships can be heard in the background. The low ... but steadily rising rumble of engines. WHOOSH. KSSSSSSSSH. The doors open and ...
... out rolls the FUNK. Q steps out as
‘Supersoulfighter’ starts, the crowd getting into that fresh, tasty jam. He's smiling and bobbing his head as he walks to the ring in step with the beat. Slapping hands. Kissing babies. Showing off signs dedicated to him, or anything he thinks is creative or noteworthy. The lights pulsate in multi-colored hues. the music kicking into full swing as he finishes his walk to the ringside area.
As he enters the ring, he catapults himself over the top rope and rolls in, sprinting towards the hard camera and getting RIGHT in its' focus, shaking it and directing it out to the crowd in attendance ... who are engaging in a party as he waits to start.
DING DING DING!
All three men meet in the center and shakes hands, slap hands ... whatever you want to call it. Sportsmanship, I guess. The three begin circling ... Andy D and Sterling Werner on the outside, with Q taking more of the center of the ring than circling really. Andy and Sterling looking at each other ... then Q ... then each other. The trap is sprung and both men descend upon the Genesis champion! Their attack swift and violent, Q is caught unaware (although he should have known better) and driven to the mat under the fury of their strikes.
Once Q has been momentarily marginalized, Sterling takes the advantage and begins peppering Andy with stiff right shots. Jab ... chop ... he forces Andy D back into the nearest corner and begins laying some serious leather on his fellow contender. Andy D ducking some of the shots, he avoids the full brunt of the attack and is back in the fight within moments.
As is Q, who comes rushing in from the opposite corner with a HUUUUUGE Avalanche Splash that ... misses both men. Poor Q. Smacking the turnbuckle with his chest, Andy D is closest and rolls Q up for a quick pinfall attempt ... which Sterling breaks up almost immediately. You know, just in case. Sterling on the offensive now, stomping at both downed opponents. Andy is the first to his feet and catches an incoming Werner boot ... dragon screw leg whip! Sterling is down in agony, Andy has changed the momentum and Q ...
... well, Q has snuck to the side. Away from everyone. As Andy turns to find the champion, he is met with a violent shove. Andy hitting the mat, Sterling dives to make the cover. Q, however, is having NONE of this and pulls Sterling off of Andy before the referee can even count a one. Pulling Sterling off, he torQues the ankle as he drags him away to give him a lasting reminder of what NOT to do. Andy has recovered sufficiently from his trip and will not be waiting until next Fall to get his retaliation in.
Andy D rushing to Q, he zigs and zags as he moves into Q’s space and nails several body shots. Q reeling, he catches Andy’s fist on the last shot and twists as he pivots his hips ... a beautiful hip throw that sends Andy D to the mat alongside where Sterling Werner was. Where he ... WAS. A Quick scan by Q and Sterling is spied on the second turnbuckle, just WAITING for someone to turn.
Unfortunate turn for the champion, truly. Sterling hops over to the middle of the second rope and bounces backwards, throwing Q off as he twists in mid-air ... reaching up and grabbing Q by the head as both men crash to the mat. Sterling nailing a very sexy springboard falling neckbreaker, the crowd is on its’ feet as the move lands.
A pinfall attempt.
1 ...
2 ...
...
... 3-No!
Sterling is off of Q and before he can even capitalize on the sudden uptick in his own personal stock ...
... Andy D is back from the hip throw! He’s been kept from the bulk of the action thanks to Q’s momentum changing maneuvers, but he’s finally right ways and back in Sterling’s face as he rises from the mat. Exchanging blows with him, the two are swinging for the fences on this one. The champ is down, it’s now or never for these two men.
Sterling slipping behind Andy, it’s a waistlock ... and a German suplex attempt. Andy wrapping one of his legs around Werner’s, he blocks the attack with great presence of mind. Instead of allowing Werner to hoist him up and over, Andy rolls through and trips Werner to the mat. Letting go of the leg, Andy sizes up Werner but Sterling is not about to go without a fight. He throws several body shots at Andy and looks to be catching the upper hand when a BIG kick to the side of the head eliminates any steam he managed to attain. It’s all Andy now with several un-answered shots. Werner is on Dream Street as Andy backs away ...
... and turns to the crowd who erupts into cheers! They know what’s coming.
DRAGON’S BITE!
Or not. Sterling ducks out of the way ... and there’s Q with a QFT! Barreling into both Sterling and catching Andy D in the bull rush, Q has taken both men down and judges Sterling to be the more weakened of the two as he drops onto him for the pinfall attempt. Hooking the leg, the referee is in the perfect position to make the count.
1 ...
2 ...
...
.... 3!
Winner: Q via pinfallMatch Three
Singles Match
Dillon ‘The Legacy’ Durst vs. Non Compos Mentis
Referee: Steve Shaw
Trauma returns from a commercial break to the sound of
‘Good Man’ by
Devour The Day and in the middle of the ring stands ‘The Legacy’ Dillon Durst. He is preparing for the match ahead with some light stretches and casting his eyes to the top of the ramp while his few supporters cheer for him. There is a somewhat dulled atmosphere among the PCW Faithful until they are unified by…
“SCUM OF…THE EARTH… COME ON!”The heavy beat of drum and harsh guitar kick in immediately after hearing the voice of Rob Zombie blasting over the PA system. Instinctively the crowd boo as the images of the notorious ‘Born Psycho’ flash across the Tron. The PCW Faithful waits with no lack of vocal attacks for the man himself to arrive but he holds back until Mr Zombie’s voice erupts once more.
“YEAH! RUN AND KILL, DESTROY THE WILL, A HERO THAT DOESN’T EXIST! YEAH! SMOKING GUN, WELL I AM THE ONE, A BULLET HOLE IN YOUR FIST! YEAH!”Non Compos Mentis walks out onto the stage and the chorus of jeers grows to an even higher level. The man himself merely grins a sadistic smile and holds his arms out in a cross, welcoming the hateful shouts all around him. Revelling in the chaos he begins to make his way down to the ring, striding down the ramp with confidence and purpose as the refrain hits.
“I’M BREATHING! I’M BLEEDING! I’M SCREAMING! SCUM OF… THE EARTH… COME ON!”He reaches the ring and hops onto the apron as the second refrain smashes through the sound system, raising his arm into the air to infuriate the fans further, still grinning.
“I’M BREATHING! I’M BLEEDING! I’M SCREAMING! SCUM OF… THE EARTH… COME ON!”The powerful, frenzied beat goes on as NCM climbs into the ring and sends an evil look toward the referee before removing his tattered denim jacket and handing it over, then retreating to his corner in readiness for the match to come.
Referee Steve Shaw checks on both competitors (hesitantly in NCM’s case) and signals for the bell. The clang brings both men forward and Durst looks to keep his distance and make Mentis take the first move. NCM is more than happy to oblige and he barrels forward with explosive, unexpected pace, firing off a series of brutal punches before Durst can engage his trademark adaptive technique. Quickly he is pushed back to the ropes and NCM takes the chance to whip him hard across the ring. He follows swiftly and charges straight into a shuddering shoulder block. Durst hits the mat hard and struggles back to a knee, staring back at NCM as the ‘Born Psycho’ merely throws his head back and releases a sickening laugh into the rafters of the arena.
Pushing himself to his feet, Durst begins to circle again but his mistake is duplicated. He gives the initiative to Mentis who lunged forward. Durst tries to lock him up but he is powerless to stop the unconventional opponent from blundering through with a lifted knee to the gut. Mentis hammers a collection of ruthless blows down on Durst’s back and drops him to the mat again, this time keeping him there with an elbow drop across his spine. Knowing his history of right leg problems, NCM ruthlessly goes straight for that limb, stomping violently on the knee time after time.
The PCW Faithful boos wildly at this show of pure violence but that doesn’t stop NCM from continuing his assault. He drags a kicking Durst to the ropes, paying little notice to the repeated hits to his chest, and wraps his injured leg around the middle rope. Referee Shaw warns NCM about the rope break, but Mentis pulls hard on his foot, stretching the knee. It takes a four count for Mentis to release and when he does he goes straight back on the attack, pulling Durst to his feet.
Mentis hits another combo of strikes to the forehead and follows it by lifting his opponent up into a Fireman’s Carry. It looks like he is about to his a huge Flapjack but Durst shows some fight and lashes out with a flurry of strikes to the head, weakening NCM’s grip and allowing him to fall out of the back door. Before NCM can react, Durst grabs him around the waist and looks for a German Suplex, trying to lift the heavier man off his feet. NCM resists however, and with his unconventional style he pushes ‘The Legacy’ back toward the ropes. He struggles hard to stop the momentum of NCM but he only stops to land a back elbow that stuns Durst dead. With his grasp weakened, Mentis transitions into a Russian Leg Sweep and throws himself and Dillon straight back, bouncing Durst’s head awkwardly off the middle rope.
NCM makes the pin quickly with a lateral press and Shaw moves into position.
One…
Two…
TH..NO!
Durst just kicks out and reels from the hit, trying to roll evasively to the outside but only reaching the apron. Once there he tries to recover and climbs to his feet just in time to see Mentis rushing toward him. His opponent goes for a Spear through the ropes but Durst escapes to the side and lands a vicious kick to the unprotected skull of Mentis who recoils, allowing Durst to latch of for a Suplex attempt to the outside. Again he tries to lift the heavier Mentis but cannot manage it. Instead the momentum slides to Mentis who tries his own lift, getting his opponent into the air only for Durst to resist and crash back down onto the apron. The impact, however, travels straight into the injured knee of Durst and he flinches, losing his grasp of Mentis who smells blood immediately.
With Durst distracted, Mentis retreats a couple of steps and bursts forward, launching his boot through the middle ropes and connecting with a Kenka Kick straight to the knee. Durst collapses to the apron clutching at his knee while Mentis sends another sadistic grin beaming around the arena. The Faithful respond with another wave of boos and jeers but Mentis goes about his business, dragging Durst up and setting him up for a suplex of his own. This time he manages to lift Durst over the top rope but he struggles and falls out again, this time landing on his healthy leg and teeing off of Mentis before he can react.
Durst’s adaptive style is abandoned as he realizes he can’t rely on it against such an unpredictable opponent and itself he takes the quick, blunt option in a Reverse DDT. He hooks the leg and Shaw goes in for the count…
One…Kick Out!
It is nowhere near enough to keep NCM down for the count and Durst pulls him back to his feet quickly. Needing to capitalise on the chance he has, Durst grabs NCM and pulls him up. Unable to rely on strength with his injured leg preventing leverage, Durst goes to his natural submission ability and locks in a tight Abdominal Stretch. As he does, Shaw moves closer to check for a tap out but Mentis sends him away furiously and tries to fight back. The hold is cinched in though and NCM begins to fade.
Out of desperation, Mentis uses his free arm and swings it wildly, connecting with the eye of Durst who gasps in pain and pulls back, releasing Mentis from the hold. As Mentis recovers, Durst shakes the grogginess from his vision and sees the angry form of his opponent lurching forward. Just in time he reacts and catches him with a vicious European Uppercut that rocks him and sends him backwards. Through the haze of the strike, Mentis rushes forward blindly and walks straight into a Drop Toe Hold, sending him neck first into the bottom rope!
Mentis bounces back, clutching his throat, and Durst sees his one and only chance to put Mentis away. He lifts NCM onto his shoulders in an awkward looking Fireman’s Carry and tries for ‘The Solution’… but his knee gives way under the weight!
NCM drops out of the back door this time and, when Durst finally wheels around on his injured leg, unleashes a shuddering Spinning Back Fist to the temple! Durst collapses in a heap on the mat and tries labouredly to get up but only manages to sit up. Seeing his opponent completely defenseless, the ‘Born Psycho’ rebounds off the ropes and dives to the mat elbow first, driving it into the unprotected face of Durst in a horrifying Sliding D! With the Psychotic Break hit, NCM shines a toothy blood-curdling smile at the crowd and nonchalantly hooks the leg.
One…
Two…
THREE!
Winner: Non Compos MentisHaving been outclassed for most of the match, Durst is spent and possibly unconscious on the mat as Mentis climbs to his feet and takes in the vast jeers of the PCW Faithful. He seems to bask in their hatred of the result and of the man himself… but the evil grin on his face does not look satisfied with just that.
Turning from the crowd, the ‘Born Psycho’ looks down at his beaten opponent who, all through the match, had struggled to cope with the unpredictable and brutal nature of his opponent. The impossibly growing boos from the crowd are ignored as Mentis bends down and takes Durst’s head in his hand. Before he can do anything untoward Referee Steve Shaw interjects, ordering Mentis to move back and leave Durst to the medical personal at ringside… but Mentis is having none of it. Instead he lets go of Durst and walks toward Shaw with a slow and imposing stride.
Before Show knows it he is backed into the corner with nowhere to go. He begins to plead with Mentis not to do to him what he did to Tyrone Little, but Mentis is deaf to his calls. He reaches out and grasps the black and white shirt of the official, clutching it in his tightening fist until…. The crowd roars!
Out from the back explodes Tyler Scott, sprinting down the ramp at break-neck speed to protect both Shaw and Durst who are both in the firing line of NCM. The Hobo King realizes what is happening and he turns around to see the British blur sliding into the ring, arms already poised for a fight.
Scott scrambles to his feet and is ready to brawl with his rival but when he looks around, NCM is nowhere to be seen. Shaw is cowering in the corner, his shirt still crumpled, and NCM has escaped to the outside of the ring, wanting nothing to do with the British Lion. Tyler takes a moment to check on Shaw and finally Durst who is starting to come back to consciousness in the center of the ring.
Just as Durst makes it to his feet ...
... the lights are exterminated.
Every single one of them. Not a single light is shining. Even the lighters of the fans seem to be swallowed by the blackness. The crowd hoots and holler for a few moments before finally dying out. Waiting. The announcers claim a possible technical difficulty with a truck in the back. Maybe a generator blew and technicians are scrambling to repair it.
All these theories and ... the PCW-tron lights up.
Old-timey film reel countdown. 4. 3. 2.
BOOP.
Black and white news reel footage, the opening frame reading
‘Al Capone receives 11-year jolt!--Notorious gangster sentenced to Leavenworth for tax evasion’. The crowd murmurs its’ confusion; what do Al Capone and tax evasion have to do with Tuesday Night Trauma?! A 1929 Ford Coupe with suicide doors pulls up, out hops Capone ... and a deep voice pierces the murky waters of consternation.
In 1931, Alphonse 'Al’ Capone was convicted on charges of tax evasion, bringing down one of the most powerful and CORRUPT empires of recent times. The men behind this take-down? A team of men personally selected by Andrew Mellon ... Secretary of the Treasury and President Herbert Hoover ... were charged with raiding the breweries and distilleries that afforded Capone the money that protected him from prosecution.
Even WHEN Capone attempted to bribe and coerce these men with his blood money, there was no wavering. These men were resolute. These men were incorruptible. These men ...
... were UNTOUCHABLE.
The video abruptly stops.
The lights return to full brilliance.
It takes the crowd and the fans at home a few moments to catch their bearings. Any trace of audio or video is completely gone, like smoke on the wind. The cameras, however, are quick on the uptake. A loud gasp is heard as all focus is now directed to the ring before them ... and what is left of what ONCE
WAS ‘The Legacy’ Dillon Durst.
The man is tied to the top rope, arms spread open wide ... leaving his entire body exposed for what must have happened under the cover of darkness. Rivulets of blood trickle from his forehead, pooling at his feet and sickly coagulating underneath him. He looks to be completely unconscious, but at the very least ... seems to be breathing, thank God. The crowd is stunned as security and referees hit the ring to free the victimized competitor. The camera zooms in on Dillon’s face but a quick audible is called and we go quickly to commercial.