Post by Eira on Jul 24, 2016 18:18:03 GMT -5
Thursday July 21st, 2016
The camera pans out over the excited fans, the camera lighting on points of interest throughout the crowd. “WRYGHT FOR PRESIDENT”, “MICHAEL WRYGHT 2016” signs sprinkle the crowd, whereas a pocket of gritty looking punk types aggressively wave signs for Alexa Black, Baby Jenks, and the Darkness. “MARRY ME ALEXA BLACK” makes another appearance, a sign reading “Make no BONES about it - he’s HERE!” ominously references PCW newcomer who seems to have some familial relation to the Black sisters. More offerings from the PCW Faithful include such gems as “JOIN THE N. SANITI”, “TRUCKERS 4 BRENNA GORDON”, and “WINNING ALL DAY D. ELLIS”!
Just before swinging into the announcer’s table, the camera glides past a small gathering of fairy tale creatures gone wrong a la Seromine’s crew - no signs, no cheering, just creepily staring. The camera finally comes to rest on Jerry Andrews and Ace Anderson side-eyeing them with distinct looks of concern.
Jerry Andrews: WELCOME to Trauma, ladies and gentlemen, and a very special Trauma this is!
Ace Anderson: Tonight is the match for the Icey Awards, featuring Underground Champion Brenna Gordon versus challenger “All Day” Dontevius Ellis!
Ace and Jerry share a wary glance before continuing.
Jerry Andrews: You don’t… you don’t suppose they’re gonna…
Ace Anderson: They better DON’T.
Jerry Andrews: Do you even grammar?
Ace Anderson: Look, I’m just trying to interject some flavor, alright? Color commentary should be colorful, don’tcha think?
Jerry Andrews: It can be colorful without being crazy.
Ace Anderson: Has anyone told Kelli Starr that?
Jerry Andrews: Moving on. Tonight we have the battle for the Underground Championship, as well as -
Ace Anderson: Hang on, Jerry, looks like we have something happening on camera 7!
The feed switches to backstage, focusing on a figure appearing to be deep in contemplation over a travel poster. The ebb and flow of people behind her has long since faded from Brenna’s awareness.
In hindsight, she wouldn’t know how long she had stood there and stared at the poster that was just barely not large enough to count as a mural--the white text along the top and bottom both ignored alongside of the tropical greens and pinks and other such hues that lived along the edges to the left and the right. Even the nigh-electric blue of the sky wasn’t anything to write home about, not really… not directly. Science might explain its connection to the color of the waves as being a reflection of the Nitrogen in the air’s reaction to the sunlight, but all the more that matters to she who is Born of Myth is the sight of those waves.
She can recall the sound they make as they wash up upon the shore, the variance in sound from the soft whisper of sand to the crash of rocks to even that one video she saw of an artist mad enough to build an organ for the ocean to play. The memory of that haunting song, tuneless yet not entirely bereft of rhythm, seems to guide the ebb and flow of her thoughts, her very breath and heartbeat as her fears part just enough for something tinged in nostalgia to float to the surface, that bittersweet memory of a time when the ocean was filling the role of her absent father in helping her mother raise her. She swam like a fish back then--no, more like a seal, slick and effortless and swift once she was old enough to go out on her own. Of course, none of that had mattered the moment that Moira’s madness grew too large to be contained, her jealousy too far-reaching to--
“Do you miss it?”
Brenna Gordon may still be relatively new to PCW, but she knows the voice. And unlike most, were they to hear it just behind them, her fight-or-flight instinct does not kick in. She stands, lost as she was in the advertisement, but does not reply.
“Personally, I don’t think I’ve ever seen water that blue. And that whole scene is a little too…tropical for my liking,” says Grimm.
Brenna tenses. She can’t entirely get away from the pull of the water, even standing here with him… but she’s able to reach out with more than a little effort to grab hold of his voice and use it as a lifeline to drag her way back to where she can at least respond. He deserves that much.
“It’s not close to what I remember, either. I’ve never been anywhere like that.” Her voice is soft as she forces herself to at least look up at the clouds that seem almost too white and fluffy to be real. It’s a struggle, but she manages it.
The gift goes unsaid, which is how he hopes it remains. Grimm prefers to leave most things unsaid and implied, and wishes others did the same.
No, that wasn’t right. Grimm never implies anything. He doesn’t speak in flustered abstractions. Grimm is sparse, and stark, and devastating. Sometimes a gift was just a stalk of hay in a little vase. Sometimes there were no ulterior motives. Still…
“Thank you for the vase.”
Sigh.
“You’re welcome.”
The sigh’s what gets her to turn her head to regard him with those too-large eyes, dark depths unreadable even to Grimm’s perceptions. He gets a glimpse at something swimming, something moving in those deeps--one that might make her referencing that gift a bit easier for him to bear.
“No, truly. It... it helps.”
And he knows what with, all things considered. Not mentioning the monster aloud is for the best, but its presence warrants the acknowledgement of the help she’s been given.
Grimm looks back at the poster. A message of encouragement splashed across the bottom:
Life is like the ocean. It can be calm or rough, but in the end it is full of salt and dead animals.
He scowls and blinks. He looks again. The message has shifted.
You can accomplish anything with persistence and hard work!
The scowl deepens. Not only is that not true, but it has nothing to do with the tropics or any other photogenic landscape whatsoever. But anyway…back to the subject at hand.
“I guess it goes without saying that having all eyes on you during the only match of the night doesn’t help with all…that. But you have to stay focused if you want this to end well.”
”I know.” Her hackles aren’t raised in the slightest--if anything, a faint smile is her chosen response.”And even if this doesn’t, there’ll be other fights, other opportunities. Who knows? Maybe I’ll dance with the devil in the pale moonlight again with a different outcome.”
“I know, because I’ve fought those other fights and profited from those other opportunities. Over and over again. Tonight isn’t a foregone conclusion…but regardless, if you stay with PCW long enough you’ll get to waltz with all the devils you want. We have more than our share.”
Those watching extra close would swear they see Grimm’s pinky twitch, as if, for a microsecond, he considers placing his hand on Brenna Gordon’s shoulder. But he would deny it, and anyway, he doesn’t. All he does is take a couple more breaths before turning and walking away down the hall, leaving Gordon to consider herself and her place on any number of shores.
Jerry Andrews: That was… different.
Ace Anderson: I can’t say I’ve seen much of Grimm being friendly to anyone, ever.
Jerry Andrews: You call that friendly?
Ace Anderson: For Grimm it is. I think I saw a sentiment.
Jerry Andrews: Still you with the grammar - A sentiment?
Ace Anderson: Yes. But just one.
Jerry Andrews: Well now that we have THAT vaguely uncomfortable weirdness out of the way, it’s time for the one and only match of the night! Who do you fancy to win?
Ace Anderson: You know, I really find myself hard pressed for choice here. There’s the obviously capable champion, Brenna Gordon… then we have another relative newcomer, Dontevius Ellis - who’s made a damn good showing of himself since he arrived.
Jerry Andrews: Well let’s get to it!
Main Event
Underground Championship Match
"All Day" Dontevius Ellis vs. Brenna Gordon (Underground ©)
Referee: Nigel Gale
The crowd’s murmuring noise surges into cheers as The arena lights slowly dim to black. White lights shine up from either side of the stage as "I'm So Epic" by Stevie Stone plays through the arena speakers.
I'm in a league of my own.
Don't need a crown or a throne.
Don't need a crown or a throne.
"All Day" Dontevius Ellis steps out onto the ramp and between the white lights. He's wearing a white robe with a black tank-top on underneath while sporting a pair of light blue mesh shorts and a pair of high-top Nike shoes.
They say that I'm so epic.
One of a kind.
One of a kind.
Ellis closes his eyes, leans his head back and lifts his arms out wide dropping the robe.
They say I'm so epic.
Do you hear that?
Do you hear that?
He drops his arms and faces forward as the lights return to normal. He proceeds down the ramp toward the ring. The crowd gives a mixed reaction as he gazes out at them on his way to the ring. He rolls into the ring and hops to his feet quickly before making his way to the corner of the ring. He hops up onto the middle ropes and looks out to the crowd. He then holds his arms out wide once more, inciting cheers and boos from the crowd. He hops down and cracks his knuckles in preparation for his upcoming match.
The overhead lights dim as the opening notes of 'What The Water Gave Me' come forth from the sound system. Hidden spotlights and overhead rigs illuminate the arena in the deep blues and purples of a sky on the verge of going fully dark, a fine mist seeping its way upward through the grating of the stage and ramp as smoke of a similar weight falls from the ceiling to come as close to replicating the lands which gave rise to myths and the ancestors of the young woman that is about to emerge. Audio editing means that the song goes straight to the chorus, the ephemeral voice of Florence Welch only serving to add to the ambiance being created that is equal parts serene and unsettling.
So lay me down... let the only sound be the overflow.
Pockets full of stones.
So lay me down... let the only sound be... the overflow.
Pockets full of stones.
So lay me down... let the only sound be... the overflow.
As the song launches itself into the bridge after the chorus, the lights surrounding the curtain suddenly flash into being in time with the beat-- the ghostly shade of blue the same hue one would associate with magic suddenly gracing the world with its presence. It is amidst these flickering bursts of illumination that Brenna Gordon steps through the curtain and into view, her movements languid and slow despite the obvious tension in her frame. Purposeful steps carry her to the top of the ramp as she gazes out at the area with a carefully neutral expression, the dark-haired female coming to a stop to survey arena and audience alike.
'Cause they took your loved ones-- but returned them in exchange for you.
But would you have it any other way?
Would you have it any other way?
You couldn't have it any other way.
But would you have it any other way?
Would you have it any other way?
You couldn't have it any other way.
The mixed reaction of cheers and boos come crashing upon her, but Brenna doesn't so much as flinch.
'Cause she's a cruel mistress and a bargain must be made.
But oh, my love, don't forget me when I let the water take me...
But oh, my love, don't forget me when I let the water take me...
Advancing down the ramp with that same deliberate grace, the fans on either side of the aisle are ignored-- rather, Brenna's attention is solely focused upon the ring. It isn't until she's near the bottom of the ramp that she is breaking that control, a promise of her blinding speed revealed when she dashes forward to slide into the ring... and a glimpse at her agility revealed in how she leaps and shifts position to ensure she does so feet-first. Skidding to a stop upon her knees, Brenna climbs to her feet and makes her way over to her corner. As the music fades and the overhead lights reclaim their grip upon the arena, she remains impassive, waiting for the bell to ring.
Ace Anderson: This is gonna be good.
Jerry Andrews: Yes. Yes it is.
Nigel Gale steps forward to give his instructions to the two competitors, but suddenly ”The Truth Reigns” by Jim Johnston comes swaggering out of the PCW loudspeakers!
Ace Anderson: What the [bleep]?!
Jerry Andrews: I don’t - what is he DOING here?
The three in the ring turn to the stage as Razor Blade enters the arena! Microphone in hand, he stands there for a few moments, soaking up his own entrance music and staring intensely towards cameras.
“I am here for my match! I have asked and asked, I have performed on Traumas and been held down by the corporate establishment… but it ends now!”
At this point Nigel Gale looks bemused, Brenna Gordon looks irritated, and Dontevius Ellis is just standing there with his hand over his face, one eye staring out through his fingers as though unable to believe what he’s seeing.
“I DEMAND my Icey’s match, and I DEMAND it to be for the World Championship, and I DEMAND -”
The crowd bursts into cheers of what may actually be pure relief as ”Hail to the Chief” marches out of the speaker system!
Jerry Andrews: *tiredly* ...sit DOWN, Ace, would you?
Ace Anderson: ALL RISE FOR PRESIDENT WRYGHT.
Mr. Showtime himself comes out on stage, his charming grin in place - a smile that doesn’t reach the hardness in his eyes as he gives Razor Blade a quick top-to-bottom look. The grin widening, he holds up a hand to quiet the crowd as he brings his own mic to his mouth.
“Hold on with those demands for a minute, Razor, I’ve got something to say.”
Razor flexes subtly, giving Wryght an intense stare.
“Now, it seems you’re feeling like you haven’t been given a fair shot here in Pure Class Wrestling. I can understand that, and I can understand that you want what you feel is your fair chance.”
The crowd boos loudly, making the opinion of the PCW Faithful known.
“So here it is, Razor Blade. Here’s your chance. TONIGHT, you will get your match! I’ll book you right here, right now, for a match to take place AFTER THE ONE ALREADY BOOKED.”
Razor crosses his arms and stares with intensity.
“Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, we will see Razor Blade face off against an opponent of MY choosing to challenge for the number one contendership…”
He trails off for effect, the entire arena waiting with palpable suspense.
“...of the Pure Class Wrestling World Championship title!”
The crowd’s silence ends in a burst of mixed cheers and boos, Razor giving a curt nod of agreement.
“But only -” Wryght pauses to let the crowd settle down, one hand up to quiet them. “- but ONLY if you clear the stage RIGHT NOW and allow the ALREADY BOOKED match to continue!”
Razor Blade turns on his heel and returns backstage, Showtime tossing a jaunty wave towards the ring before following suit.
Ace Anderson: What the [bleep] even just happened?
Jerry Andrews: I don’t know, but I do know that if we don’t let this match get going, Brenna may kill everyone in the arena with her brain.
Ace Anderson: *audible gulp* Wow, she does look pretty pissed off.
Back in the ring, Brenna does indeed look less than amused, Ellis shaking his head with something that looks like pity as Nigel once again steps forward to give his introductory remarks. A short list considering the nature of the Underground Rules, he makes short work of it so the match can get underway. He signals for the bell - and the match begins!
Brenna Gordon launches into a lightning fast attack, backing the Ellis towards a corner in the first few moments of the match. Ducking and dodging under her swings in an impressive display of his own agility, Ellis forces Gordon to keep on the move. Brenna attempts to lock up with Ellis, going for an arm drag but Dontevius locks himself in place to step in with one leg, going for a trip and dropping the Brenna to the mat! He peppers her with a flurry of mean-and-quick strikes to keep her off her guard, tangling up with her to wrap her up into a tight package that seems to surprise even him!
- Kickout!
Not even a one count and Gordon kicks out, Dontevius backing himself towards the ropes as both competitors rise, but no sooner does Brenna gain her feet than she immediately goes in for an armbar, Ellis going along with the move and countering with his own, but she counters the counter! Landing on her feet, she hits the ropes, using the rebound to charge at Ellis who drops to his knees and ducks forward - the running clothesline flying past overhead! Brenna Gordon uses her momentum to rapidly scale the ropes, throwing herself in a picturesque moonsault - but Dontevius rolls to the side!
Brenna crashes into the mat, Ellis quick to capitalize on the situation and lay into Brenna with another series of brawling blows, retreating to a corner as Gordon surges out with a few heavy strikes of her own! Quickly shaking off the rest of the cobwebs, Brenna follows Ellis into the corner, the two competitors exchanging blows - Dontevius’ superior strength against Gordon’s out and out ferocity. The ultra-quick Brenna dodges a thrown punch, grabbing the attached arm and wrenching it into an uncomfortable armbar, using it as leverage to hiptoss Ellis to the mat! Gordon hastily attempts to wrap Ellis in a pin, barking at Gale to come make the count!
...1!
...2 - kickout!
Ellis kicks out at the two-count, Brenna backing off to let him rise, no sooner letting him gain his feet than she absolutely hammers him with a brutal dropkick! Both combatants wrestle around on the mat, struggling to gain the upper hand. Ellis can’t seem to power the resilient Gordon into a pinning predicament, and even the tehcnical Brenna can’t seem to keep ahold of him! They separate of their own accord, Ellis stands first and manages to catch Brennaoff guard, stepping for a quick soccer kick directed at Gordon’s head and dropping her to the mat! Slipping in for a hasty pin, Ellis’ eyes are on Gale as he goes to make the count!
...1!
...2!
.. -NO!
Jerry Andrews: Oh my god, I thought that was it!
Brenna Gordon POWERS out of the hold, using preternatural flexibility to escape the pin! Both competitors scrambling to their feet, Gordon is just a few seconds quicker to rise and blasts Ellis in the sternum with a superkick! Dontevius flies back-first into a turnbuckle and collapses to the mat, Gordon following him down and tying him up savagely with an extra rough pin attempt.
...1!
...2!
... - NOT YET!
Ace Anderson: I don’t know how much more of this I can take!
Jerry Andrews: Me either - and we’re not even in the ring!
Gordon pounds the mat with one fist before rising, taking a run at the ropes before rebounding off and FLYING across the ring at Ellis in a blur of porcelain and darkness -
Ace Anderson: This is IT! He’s barely to his feet!
When Ellis suddenly steps up and UNDER the attack to catch Brenna Gordon in what can only be -
Jerry Andrews: It’s the Spectacular Catch!
Ace Anderson: Is this gonna be it?!
- Dontevius catches the humanoid missile that is Gordon, hoisting her high into the air and using her own momentum to slam her down to the mat with a DDT! Taking advantage of the shocking impact of the move, Ellis wraps her up in a quick pin attempt.
...1!
......2!
.........3!
Winner: “All Day” Dontevius Ellis (Underground ©) via Pinfall
”I’m So Epic” by Stevie Stone plays out over the speakers, Nigel Gale moving to hand Dontevius the Underground Championship belt - but Ellis turns away to offer the clearly disappointed Gordon a hand up from the mat! Curtains of dark hair part as she lifts her face, the stern glare in her eyes softening to professional respect as she grabs his wrist and hauls herself to her feet. Taking the belt from Gale, Brenna hands it to Ellis with a nod, the crowd cheering wildly as the ring is cleared for the next match.
Jerry Andrews: Incredible job to both competitors!
Ace Anderson: I gotta say, I’m kind of surprised...
Jerry Andrews: Hey, earlier you said this could be anybody’s match!
Ace Anderson: Yeah, but somehow I think I expected her to hang on to it...
Jerry Andrews: Well, regardless, a huge congratulations to “All Day” Dontevius Ellis, and Brenna Gordon has NOTHING to worry about when it comes to her performance here tonight. Speaking of performance... it’s time for the next and final match!
The PCWTron flickers to life, a backstage camera catching something of interest. A heavy wooden door stands open as though flung wide by an entrant, the camera only able to see a broad, black leather clad back. Michael Wryght’s voice sounds wary as he speaks to the mystery individual before him.
“It’s simple. You get what YOU want, Razor gets what HE wants, and the fans... well, the fans get what THEY want. And that’s who I’m here for, the fans.”
A heavy sigh lifts from the unnamed individual.
“I’ll take that nod as an agreement - we have a deal.”
Jerry Andrews: Well, folks ... it seems we’ve got a special treat lined up for everyone! Razor Blade, after weeks of demanding a title shot ... is actually being given the chance to take on the number one contender at Return to Glory for that very shot!
Main Event 2.0
Singles Match
Razor Blade vs [???]
Referee: The Masked Official
"The Truth Reigns" by Jim Johnston blares out of the PCW sound system as Razor Blade comes out from the back of the Audience in walks down the steps in high fives his Fans in walks down the stops in Climbs over the barricade in stops for a min in hops on the apron in raise both of us arms in the air in get's down in waits for his Opponent to arrive.
Jerry Andrews: This will be interesting.
Ace Anderson: That’s one word for it. But who’s his opponent going to be?
The crowd waits with anticipation, all eyes on the entryway.
Ace Anderson: Um. Music or something? Sound guys, you there? *Ace winces as something sharp comes through his headset* Okay, sorry.
The crowd starts to boo and jeer, an angry Razor Blade glowering around as he waits.
Jerry Andrews: Where ARE they?
Ace Anderson: Let’s be honest here, Jerry. If Razor is getting the chance at the number one contender, he’s gotta compete against someone here tonight. But I don’t know many PCW stars that aren’t IN THE AUDEINCE! They’re fans tonight, just like everyone else.
Jerry Andrews: And to make it a decent match, it has to be someone ...
Jerry’s words are inexplicably cut off as the lights disappear. The entire arena is bathed in the darkness. Cell phone lights begin cropping up one after another, until there are nothing but pinpricks of light filling the crowd. The electricity is building in the air. Almost ... a religious experience, because the crowd certainly has an idea of what is about to happen.
Ace Anderson: Oh god. Razor, run. Use the cover of darkness and just run. NO ONE will think you a coward.
The crowd pops as a violent explosion rocks the arena! The ropes of the ring are completely engulfed in flames. The orange glow overpowers the fluorescent stars in the audience. Razor stands in the middle of the ring, non-plussed about the explosion but ... well, the heat and the fire aren’t the most comfortable thing in the world.
The noise is at its’ peak as a secondary explosion rocks the arena, this time a single burst of flame striking the center of the ring. Once the flame and the smoke dissipates, there’s nothing left but the hulking frame of The Unclean Beast standing upon the scorched canvas . Murdoc’s face raising from its’ previous gaze towards the canvas to stare directly at Razor Blade.
The Masked Official looks absolutely panicked at the fire on the ring ropes and at the arrival of Murdoc; he certainly wasn’t expecting this.
Luckily for not only those in the ring but the first few rows, the flames are dying out. Dying but not dead. The referee looking over to Razor, whose intense and focused body language signifies his readiness to begin ... Murdoc simply glances at T.M.O. to let him know that he’s ready (I wouldn’t ask him many questions, either.).
DING DING!
The bell rings and the match is underway!
Razor Blade is hot out of the corner and dashes towards Murdoc like a bull out of the chute. Their brute forms colliding with thunderous force, neither man moves an inch at the impact. Razor looking at Murdoc with impudence, Murdoc personifies that impudence as he raises a single gloved hand ... affixes it to Razor’s chiseled face ... and shoves him backwards.
Jerry Andrews: SUCH disrespect!
Ace Anderson: You should go in there and tell Murdoc to play nicely.
Razor supremely displeased with this, he rushes Murdoc and throws a big right hand. A second! A third! Murdoc actually staggers at the force of the punches, taking a step or two back. Razor is actually forcing him back into the corner! Razor’s power undeniable here, the crowd is stunned at the turn of events as Murdoc presses up against the turnbuckles. Razor turning to throw his patented Discus Lariat, Murdoc strikes! Throwing his entire upper body forward, his head is used as a battering ram and lands solidly at the base of Razor’s skull. The metal mask landing with a sickening THUNK, the man drops to his knees as his spinal column temporarily shorts at the sudden strike.
Following up with a huge boot to the back of the head, Murdoc forces Razor down into a prone position on the mat. Cracking his neck slightly, Murdoc strides out of the corner in his usual loping step, taking his good sweet time as he grabs a fist full of Razor’s hair and begins dragging him towards the center of the ring. Helping the man stand, Murdoc takes careful aim and ... BOOM. Vicious right hand that drops the Powerhouse to one knee yet again.
Grabbing him under the chin, he stands him up one more time and takes aim ... BOOM! Thunderous right hand straight to the chest of Razor Blade. The heart punch that Murdoc is so skilled, so surgically precise with.
Ace Anderson: I’ve been hit with that BY Murdoc; it literally feels like your sternum is caving in.
Razor on the mat kicking and gasping for breath, Murdoc stands his ground and watches curiously as Razor struggles to stand to his feet. After a few tense moments, Razor is standing once again and the crowd seems to ... feel some pity towards Razor. This isn’t a match; it’s a mugging. Razor staggering to face Murdoc once again, a sudden WHOOSH and Razor has taken Murdoc off of his feet with a devastating spear! Mounting the Monster (NOT a euphemism), Razor is raining blows down upon the man with reckless abandon.
Amidst the carnage in the ring, the PCW Tron again flashes out over the crowd, showing a much cozier scene. Long pink curls in high pigtails, Kelli Starr watches the proceedings in a backstage lounge - shortly joined by Dan Fierce! Tossing Kelli a bag of Skittles from the vending machine in the hall, he works on opening his own as he glances at the TV.
“Murdoc kill him yet?”
"Yeah, can't believe this is to challenge the contendership though."
"Which one?"
Kelli hesitates. "...World?"
"Oh HELL no!" Fierce leaps out of his chair, skittles flying everywhere like rainbow projectiles as he strides towards the door. Kelli is up in a flash, grabbing his arm.
Reaching the door, Dan shakes off her hand with a glare, yanking the door open as she hurries to get her words out in a rush.
"That's MURDOC out there, you REALLY don't want to - fuck. There he went."
Back to the ring, The Masked Official finishes his ridiculously slow five count - he’s giving Razor a little more leeway with this match being a special sort of situation. Finally, he can let it go no longer and he has to physically enforce the rules and begins to force Razor off of Murdoc. The only language Murdoc seems to understand is violence and Razor Blade speaks the tongue pretty well.
Razor backed away momentarily, he begins to stalk over towards Murdoc who catches him out of nowhere with a massive clothesline that levels Razor Blade. As Murdoc climbs back to his feet, he seems to be favoring his ribcage a bit but other than that no worse for the wear. Murdoc lording over the downed Razor Blade, he throws several probing boots to the side of his head as he tries to stand.
Finally letting the man stand, out of sheer spite and hatred, Murdoc rears back and connects to the front of the skull with Oblivion! The venomous Double Axe Handle strike that drops Razor to the mat like a sack of wet diapers. He even makes about the same sound after that. Murdoc not even going for the cover, he drags Razor over to the ropes and goes about entangling the man’s arms between the top and middle rope.
Jerry Andrews: All right, this is getting a little bit out of hand ...
Sizing up the nearly unconscious Razor Blade, Murdoc steps back to about mid-ring and takes off in a two step dash ... spinning and landing a SECOND Double Axe Handle strike. The force actually freeing Razor from his entrapment, Murdoc reaches down and catches hold of Razor’s ankle before his body slides out of the ring under the ropes.
Dragging him to the middle of the ring, he rolls him onto his back and drops down into a lateral press for the pinfall attempt.
1!
2!
...
3!
DING DING DING!
Winner: Murdoc[/div/]
[/i]Murdoc climbing off of the lifeless body of Razor Blade to the sound of shocked silence, he continues to throw probing boots at the man’s head and face, the flames on the ropes guttering out to smoking strands. Like a wild animal toying with a dying meal. He begins to reach down and pick up his fallen opponent when suddenly...
"Shut Your Mouth," by Garbage begins blaring over the speakers. The crowd cheers wildly as Dan Fierce strides pointedly down the aisle with more catwalk attitude than New York Fashion Week.
Jerry Andrews: Looks like the Fabulous One means business.
Ace Anderson: Is he suicidal? That's Murdoc in the ring!
Fierce gets to the ring, produces a microphone and motions for the music to be cut. He starts to speak, but before he does he "politely" kicks the convalescing Razor out of the ring and onto the floor. Murdoc watches with a tilted head as Fierce returns his attention to the behemoth. The look on Fierce's face is one of unadulterated rage.
"I almost... ALMOST... ran down here to stop you from completely crippling Razor. ALMOST. You wanna know what stopped me? It wasn't fear. It wasn't common sense. It was morbid curiosity. I wanted to see just how this train wreck would play out."
Fierce pauses for a few seconds before glaring daggers into Murdoc.
"Not that I couldn't have guessed the outcome. I mean you ARE a monster, after all. I thought it was all fun and games. Until Wryght stuck his nose in and it became a number one contender's match. How cute."
He pauses again.
" I don't know if you've and your buddy, our esteemed President, are fully aware of this, but I. AM. THE NUMBER ONE CONTENDER! NOT YOU! NOT THAT HUMAN DOORMAT DOWN THERE! ME! I. EARNED. THAT. SPOT. And in case you lost your short term memory from one too many chair shots to the head, buck-o, that means you and this overpaid jobber can sit down, shut up, and wait your turn!
I am sick to death of people coming out of the woodworks, trying to justify cutting in line for what I worked hard for! I defeated the man who knocked you out of this competition. Like it or not, that means I get the shot, NOT you! That's called a contract."
The audience provides a mix of reactions to Dan's seeming tantrum. Fierce holds up his fingers to quiet them.
"However, since you were technically eliminated under shady circumstances, I'll offer you this: unlike the majority of the locker room, you DON'T scare me. I've faced big bad bullies like you my entire life and every time I've walked away with my head held high. So here's my proposition: You want an ACTUAL shot? I'll put my money where my mouth is, right here in this ring at Return to Glory. I'll face you one-on-one for my number one contendership, and I'll even play by YOUR rules. A "no holds barred match."
Dan stands toe-to-toe with the towering Murdoc as the audience cheers.
"I'll prove to everyone once and for all that this bit..."
His words are cut short by a huge hand clamping his throat. Murdoc lifts him up and nearly chokeslams Fierce through the mat. Murdoc picks up the microphone, placing it to his mouth as he stands bolt upright.
"I accept."
-CLICK-
