The Classic Championship
~Just a quick one for the night, lady and gents.~ {As Knightmare pounded and pounded on Voodoo, Crow rose up from the mat behind him. He was busted wide open from the catapult into the turnbuckle, and a crimson mask was slowly forming over his ghostly white face. The fans rallied up a chant of ‘LOOK BEHIND YOU’, causing Knightmare to turn around curiously. Before he could try to defend himself, Crow buried a boot into his gut and picked him up, sending him to the mat with a crushing Widowmaker! He then scooped up Voodoo and threw him over the top rope to the floor with a crash. He did the same to Knightmare and proceeded to climb the rungs of the ladder, slipping every couple of steps because of his ribs. He made it to the top of the ladder. He tried stretching out a hand but winced in pain and quickly grasped his ribs again, doubling over and spitting on the canvas. Knightmare was stirring on the outside. Crow tried extending the other hand. The glistening gold seemed miles away, though in reality he was mere inches away from touching it’s shining surface. He reached out further and further, getting closer and closer. Knightmare was up! He took a few moments to shake off the cobwebs and turned around to face the ring. Seeing Crow about to win the prize he had been chasing for months, he ran inside the ring, scowling against the pain in his legs. He slid in under the bottom rope and made a plan of attack without a seconds hesitation. He climbed the top rope of the turnbuckle and jumped. As he soared through the air, Crow’s gloved hand was caressing the gold plate of the Classic Championship. It all happened so slowly. Crow tightened his grip around the title and ripped it from it’s brace holding it above the ring. He slowly fell from the ladder just as Knightmare clipped him with a dropkick. Both men fell to the floor, beaten, bloodied and bruised.} DING! DING! DING! ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the match and the FIRST EVER XWA CLASSIC CUP WINNER… CROOOOOOOW!’ {The fans were stamping their feet and clapping their hands wildly in appreciation for what these men had done. These fans had been a part of history, just as these three superstars had been.} {After Crow summoned enough energy to leave the ring, Cory Hunter ran up to him with a microphone in hand.} Hunter: Crow, I know for DAMNED sure that I’m not alone when I say that was an awe-inspiring match! Voodoo, Knightmare and yourself put on one hell of a show, but in the end, you walked away with the win under your newly-won belt! How do you feel about being the first EVER Classic Champion and making history tonight?! {Crow raises his head. From under the blackened eyes and crimson tainted skin, he fixed Hunter with a cold, empty stare from his dead, grey eyes. Cory lowers the microphone and the smile disappears from his face. Crow shoves past, holding the Classic Championship belt. He carries it loosely by one end of the strap, allowing it’s polished surface to drag along on the floor behind him. He doesn’t even give a crap about being the Classic Champion! Perhaps it should have went to somebody more deserving after all…}