Dom vs Carson (KOTDM Title)

[Nicholas Carson]

After the Ladder match is over and the promo for next month's PPV is complete, the feed comes back to the ring. Under a thunderous noise volume from the riled up crowd, Charlie Coors stands in the middle of the squared circle, a mic to his lips as usual.

Coors: "Ladies and Gentleman it is time for the finale of the H-Games tournament. It is a Hangman's Horror match and it is for the vacant KING OF THE DEATHMATCH CHAMPIONSHIP."

The fans go bat shit crazy with applause and excited shouts, forcing Coors to raise his golden voice to a new level.

Coors: "The rules of the match are as follows. No pinfalls. No submissions. No DQs and No Countouts. It will be anything goes. In order to win, one must hang his opponent from the noose hanging from the ring ropes to the point that he is incapacitated. Innnnnnnnnnnnnnnntroducing first............"


(Killer ass video, good watch.)

On cue, "Diamond Eyes" by Shinedown begins to blare from the arena's superb sound system, which draws instantaneous jeers for the man the song belongs to. The elegant curtain is ripped aside and torn down by an enraged Nicholas Carson, who all but explodes into view of all, his face a scrunched up mesh of anger and intensity under that mask of his. Tonight he is clad in a pair of black cargo/bdu style pants, black combat boots, and a sleeveless white t-shirt that reads "I'd rather be in America" on the front, obviously drawing even more heat from the United Kingdom fan base.

Coors: "Standing 6 feet 6 inches tall and weighing 280 pounds, and hailing from None Of Your Damn Business, USA, he is Nicholas Carson!"

The Narcotic Necromancer looks in tip top shape physically for the battle at hand, with more lean muscle packed on than usual. He takes but only a few steps before his head snaps to the left then to the right, noticing two decorative United Kingdom national flags stationed either side of the aisle. Already pissed off that GHW decided to smack America in the face by not having the USA themed PPV on American soil, he snatches up one of the Union Jack flags and breaks the handle of it in half then chucks it down. Switching to the other one, he does much the same as the first, with the exception of blowing out a massive wad of rage boogers onto its prestigious fabric before discarding it so rudely.

Matt: "What a complete shitbag! This guy here could very well be the next King of the Deathmatch champion. I am so damned excited about that possibility. Pure class being put on display by Nicholas Carson already. And the UK is America's staunchest supporters, so what gives?"
Big Al: "Well at least he's patriotic. That's such an improvement from his rookie days where he hated everyone and everything and just wanted the whole world to burn at his hands."
Fuzz: "Quit defending him! There's NO excuse for the tasteless act he just committed. It may even be criminal in this land for all we know. Probably not, but you just never know. It's a good thing that Nicholas Carson is facing Dominik Santiago tonight, because there's not a man walking this earth than can give a proper beating to this type of monster, than the Assassin himself."

By the time the Artist of Atrocities makes it to the ring area itself, he is covered in drinks and various food particles, as well as rampant jeers and verbal insults to the highest degree of vulgarity. With a unstable and rather lunatic look in his eyes, Nicky Boy stomps up the steps and enters into the ring with a primal roar belting from his vocals, a bellowing so loud and full of anguish that Coors himself is scared right out of the ring.

Fuzz: "Jesus! What is up with Nicky? The past few months he's been more, I dunno, 'civilized' than usual. Now all of a sudden he bolts out from behind the curtain like he's a stark raving madman."
Matt: "He's pissed off. He's desperate. Carson knows his chances of getting past Dom here tonight are slim to none. I even think the betting line has him a 5 to 1 underdog, and Carson is rarely ever an underdog. And I'm sure the words the Assassin has spoken recently is fueling some of this hatred also, which only means one thing: ONE BAD ASS FIGHT IS ABOUT TO GO DOWN!"
Big Al: "Underdog Nick all you want, I still got his back. I don't think he's desperate, I just think he wants to rip Santiago from ear to asshole and the sooner he gets to do it the better. Either that, or he took a speedball before he came out here and is tweaking the hell out. Do we even drug screen them before matches anymore?"
Fuzz: I dunno and it doesn't matter. If he's on drugs, Dom will beat the drugs out of his system. If he is pissed, Dom will beat the piss out of him."
Big Al: "Not a chance, he's not only fighting for himself he's fighting for the Love of Kahlan. Look at him guys, he's got the eye of the tiger tonight. The EYE OF THE TIGER!"

Abruptly, Nicholas's theme music comes to a screeching halt as the monolith of a man paces hungrily inside the ring like a caged lion. By chance he happens upon the end of the noose laying inside the ring and sports a Joker face. The atmosphere then turns more pleasant as Coors prepares to announce Carson's legendary opponent.

TBCB Dom.
OOC: I hope I got the gist of the match itself down, rules wise. I tried to look up past Hangman's Horror matches that have been RP'd on here or EVPW, but can't find them.

[Dominik Santiago]

Nicholas Carson stands in the center of the ring, his face still curled in the maniacal, psychotic smile he had been known for during his days of sporting clown like facepaint in the early stages of his controversial career. His eyes dart from the noose, and then to the entryway, his hands clapping with satisfaction at the prospect of hanging his opponent and winning not only the King of Deathmatch Championship, but in his eyes, the affection of his muse. With the approval of Kahlan Clarkson hanging in the balance, Nick was wholeheartedly prepared to do any and everything necessary to incapacitate his opponent. As the lights begin to dim, a flash of silence passes through the sold out arena, the venue now being filled with a dark ambiance. After the suspense builds, the overhead tron comes a glow with life, accompanied by the slow guitar buildup of the Exies single "Ugly", capturing the the disposition and composure of the superstar behind the music. As the video fades in, and the drums and the song begins to pick up, a spotlight circles around the arena before shining down over an area in the crowd. In the far outskirts of the arena stands the man of the hour, fans flanking him as he stands above the wrestling crowd. With his blond hair damped and his head lying askew, fists glued and taped with glass shards, and the black "Thumbtack Chair" clutched tightly in his right hand, the Lord of the Flies rises his tilted dome, head snapping back, hair flying behind him, his cold blooded eyes staring forward into the ring. As his steel equalizer is hoisted into the air, the crowd comes alive, the gesture receiving a mixed reaction, with mostly cheers as the audience feels safer cheering for the Assassin than the behemoth he's taking on. Dom remains still, a frozen glare etched in his complexion, draped in his usual aura of malevolence and self confidence. His presence triggers Charlie Coors to commence his introduction, raising the GHW microphone to his lips, crying out the dynamics of the GHW Tag Team Champion vociferously, Dom descends from his throne among the spectators, stepping down from his pinnacle and down the stairs, navigating through the arena floor, the patrons, and seats alike.

"Are you ugly?
A liar like me?
A user, a lost soul?
Someone you don’t know
Money it’s no cure
A Sickness so pure
Are you like me?
Are you ugly?"

Charlie Coors: "Introducing the opponent, standing at six feet, two inches tall and weighing in at two hundred and twenty seven pounds... he fights out of Hollywood, California, and is one half of the GHW Tag Team Champions. The man you know as the "Lord of the Flies"... "The Assassin"... the leader of Legion... Ladies and Gentlemen, he is DOMINIK SANTIAGO!"

As his name echoes throughout the arena, Dominik continues his saunter through the crowd, hands grasping at his frame, many fists pumping into the atmosphere from support of the members from his fan base, which he doesn't acknowledge. His glare indicates such disregard as he continues his pace, coming up on the guard rail. As he reaches his destination, the Californian comes to a stand still, his head slightly turning to the people behind him, finally acknowledging their existence. After that brief moment, the Assassin raises his arms into the air, his trademark 'X' pose being flourished in all its glory while his body shines in the rays of the spotlight. As his arms drop back down, Santiago straddles over the barricade to the ringside area.

"We are dirt, we are alone
You know we're far from sober!
We are fake, we are afraid
You know it’s far from over
We are dirt we are alone
You know we're far from sober!
Look closer, are you like me?
Are you ugly?"

Matthew Oliveira: "A familiar entrance, and the taunt has been received Dom!"
Big Al: "Your ego is blinding you Matt. That entrance wasn't a taunt, its was symbolism. Dominik started as a fan, and has walked through the fire, ascended from the bottom, and has risen to the ranks of the greats. Tonight he intends to continue to build his legacy, by grabbing the King of Deathmatch Title."
Colin Jennings: "Nicholas Carson is the monster and the nightmare standing in between Santiago and the realization of that dream. "

Santiago knees up onto the apron, sliding the Thumbtack Chair under the bottom rope and into the nearest corner. The Assassin comes to a stand, staring into the eyes of the monstrosity standing in the center of the squared hell. Dominik enters the ring, stepping in between the middle and top rope, eyes remaining fixated on his nemesis. While the lights suddenly regain their normal fixture, Santiago's complexion remains untouched as he awaits the start of the bell and the official clearance to begin tearing into his opponent. With stare meeting stare, glare matching glare, the referee steps in between both competitors, the King of Deathmatch Championship dangling from the freehand of the official while the other stands as a barrier between the two titans. Nicholas Carson winks at the Assassin, the gesture being accompanied by a sadistic smirk, and the sliding of his thumb across his throat. The action daunts the Hollywood native causing him to stunt, but he is unable to act as he struggles with the zebra clad man in charge. A distance is then created, as space expands between the two competitors, with Carson backpedaling, and Dominik venturing over to the corner. As the Tag Champion's theme for the night reaches its end and becomes a memory, the referee hoists the coveted, prestigious King of the Deathmatch Championship into the air, prompting a perfect pandemonium of cheers from the audience. With both men reminded of what their fighting for, the referee sprints across the ring, handing the championship to the nearby ring attendant. With the arena buzzing, the tension is allowed to mount, only before the referee cuts it with the proverbial knife, signaling for the bell.

"And here we go..."
"Monster vs Lord of the Flies... Behemoth vs Assassin.. this is Carson vs Santiago...The winner of this match will usher in a new era of ultraviolence!"
"And he'll have to hang his opponent to do so..."

The ring bell chimes thrice, as the two combatants put the finishing touches on their strategies and gameplans. When the contemplation ceases, the two weapon endorsing superstars commence circling the ring before advancing toward one another, immediately locking in a collar and elbow tie up, starting off what will be a hellacious contest in the traditional fashion.

TBCB Carson
OOC: If you don't mind, I'd like to keep the post around 7-8 K, therefore we can get at least 3 or 4 posts each before deadline. Goodluck and lets steal the show.

[Nicholas Carson]

With feral rage, the Assassin puts everything he has into the fundamental grapple, his muscles bulging to the point of burning exhaustion. Dom takes a step forward, then another, a monumental feat in its own right given the 50 pound weight advantage of his nemesis. Carson appears perplexed as he is forced to back pedal under Santiago's might. Nicky vigorously shakes his head no in combination defiance and confusion as he continues to be pushed into retreat. The Lord of the Flies' confidence grows, if that were possible, and a look of utter arrogance forms over his visage as he hisses with disdain before giving one final push. Nicholas doesn't budge. Without warning, Dominik finds himself being propelled through the air as if hit with a Guile style Sonic Boom from the Street Fighter video game. The momentum rolls the former New Age champion into the corner clear across the ring, where he quickly begins to try to find his footing. It had been a game from the start, Nicholas had lured his foe into a false sense of security then snatched it away. Belting out a Joker laugh over hoodwinking the cunning Legion leader, Carson races across the expanse of the squared hell toward his slightly dazed target, the ring shaking under his massive footfalls. Luckily for Dom, the Narcotic Necromancer's size betrays him this time, alerting the Californian to his proximity. Santiago's impeccable timing kicks in and he dodges the humongous Corner Sandwich Smash that Carson had looked to serve to him.

Slamming gut first into the set of padded buckles, the Artist of Atrocities loses precious air from his lungs as he stumbles backward clutching the affected region. Ever the sly one, Dominik Santiago stoops down behind the Master of Macabre and grabs both of his shins, then pulls back with all his might. The school yard bully tactic plants Carson flat on his face, and waiting to greet his hideous mug is the Thumbtack Chair Dom had slid into the ring during his entrance. The Lord of the Flies sees to it that the acquaintance is prolonged more than Nicky would like, as he jumps into the air and brings both legs crashing down on the back of the Imperfect's head. The force smacks Nicholas's mandible into the chair again, opening up more small cuts and dotting his epidermis with many, many red pockmarks despite him wearing a mask that covers a percentage of his face. Instinctively, the Strife Murderer rolls under the bottom rope to the outside, in order to gain some distance. The former New Age champion, setting out to prove his words prophetic, exits onto the ring apron with specialty chair in tow. Tonight there would be no escape for Nicky Pooh. Leaping from the edge of the ring, the Assassin brings down the chair across Carson's back with a terrible resolve, the sound of the impact like a gun shot. A wail of agony comes from his prey, who begins to frantically crawl away on his hands and knees like a scolded dog.

Fuzz: "Nick's already bleeding! Who's the one with the yellow streak down their back now, Carson?"
Big Al: "It's just a ploy. Nicky's gonna sucker him in just like he did at the start."
Matt: "I don't think so. When Dom goes on a tear like this, it's next to impossible to stop him. I don't care who you are."

Plodding forward with the chair held high, Dom's eyes narrow with menace, a insidious look in his cold blooded orbs. Before he can administer the dose of affliction, Nicholas springs to life suddenly. Wrapping his arms around the Assassin in a bodyloock position, Nicky flips him up and over by violently bridging his own body and releasing him into orbit. The altitude gained by the powerful Belly to Belly Suplex captivates the on lookers, but their awe turns to fright as they realize he is hurtling toward them. Scattering hastily and stampeding over themselves, the fans nearest to the action vacate the area, causing their hero-of-the-night to plummet onto nothing but a sea of steel chairs and the cold, unforgiving concrete beneath them. Only minutes into the contest, the fans are eating it up, although not at all pleased with the man in control now. The Maniac Mauler wipes at his already bloodied face, then smiles, somehow finding his condition arousing, but also realizing he can not win in the stands. His opponent, writhing on the floor now, can provide no rebuke as huge, glad-happy hands heave him up to his vertical base by the scruff of the neck. Manhandling the 227 pounder like many had expected, the Narcotic One brings him back over the railing and tosses him effortlessly, like one would a log into a fireplace, into the edge of the ring upside down. A pained yelp is all that's heard from the Assassin, before he splats onto the pads in a heap. The former Imperial champion lingers for a moment, mulling over his options as the atmosphere becomes increasingly despondent.

Then, with haste, Nicholas lifts the apron cloth and begins rummaging the ring's undertow. After a few suspenseful seconds, the Mauler produces a long black tote box and flips the lid open, a psychotic twinkle coming over the eyes that have no soul behind them. Sifting through the assortment of weapons he'd placed there long before the first match tonight, Carson procures a Picket Pounder and brings it into the fray, much to the crowd's odd mixture of dismay and excitement. As he holds it high and proud, the camera catches the pet-name of the device, which is "Assassin Raper." The lapse in attention proves lethal, though. Taking only a step toward the Hollywood native, the Narcotic Necromancer's head is knocked aside by one of Dom's shard-taped miracle workers. The shot is enough to stagger the monster back but not down, so it is followed up with a fast and furious barrage that rocks Nicky-Boy's head every which way but loose. Still, amazingly, the behemoth stands, teetering some but refusing to be put down. Infuriated over his inability to be David to Carson's Goliath, the Californian seizes one of the two handles of the Picket Pounder still held by Nicholas, and tries in vain to pry it free. With yet another showcase of freakish strength, the Artist of Atrocities pulls back on his handle and turns, in doing so coercing Santiago's body into a far adventure that sees him careen into the steel stairs. Tending to the new sliced up wounds sustained by Dom's glass shard fists, the Imperfect leans against the ring to recuperate, the punishment taken by him now starting to show their effect.

Matt: "Just too strong. Carson may be just too powerful and tough, as much as I hate to admit."
Fuzz: "Don't say that, Matt. Santiago has dealt with worse, you know that as well as anyone."
Big Al: "Nicky took Vlad's best and wound up killing the man, you can't fight a worse guy than him."
Fuzz: "Carson is a cruel, mindless brute who doesn't belong in a ring. He's butt ass ugly too, Kahlan will never give him the time of day."
Big Al: "Ugly people have the right to be ugly!"
Matt: "Yeah, but Nicky abuses that right."


The thought of Kahlan, and that sexy turd-cutter she's got, revives the Mauler, standing him erect in more ways than one. Clasp tightly in his clutches is the apparatus the two combatants were battling for, which he holds at chest level as he journeys forth, not yet willing to hoist it high to crush Dominik's noggin like a melon. Wherewithal is a key element for any Fighty fighty person, and the Lord of the Flies has it in spades. As the monolith of a man closes in rapidly, the downtrodden Assassin thrusts both soles into Carson's kneecap, buckling him. Limping back, Nicholas is left wide open to a fancy Kip Up Drop Kick by his nemesis, the maneuver plowing the contraption back into Nicholas's repugnant face. The crestfallen mood that had consumed the patrons the past few minutes quickly dissipates, replaced by a felicitous tone, all eyes eager to witness the clown's demise. Their man stands perched atop the ring steps, and when ready he takes to the skies, extending his right leg strongly. The Flying Thrust Kick, executed with extreme prejudice, makes contact with the Picket Pounder that the Mauler still has near his mug for some idiotic reason, pinging it off the mindless brute's face once more. The colossus timbers like a tree, the weapon departing from his custody at long last. The Hollywoodian secures the device immediately, and from there goes on a sadistic spree, relentlessly bringing it down on Carson's chest, stomach, and ribs. Each jarring stirke is accompanied by a sneer, and hisses of hatred from the Californian, whose blue eyes disappear into his skull so that only two orbs of white can be seen.

TBCB Dom.

[Dominik Santiago]

Carson was beginning to develop severe pain and distension due to the lacerations being opened by the unrelenting assault from the Assassin. The Californian was laying into the behemoth with his own weapon, each slashing of his abdominal region packed with malice and a wholehearted desire to empty the former Imperial Champion’s guts all over the arena. But when Dom retracts his arm from a recent swipe, Carson is given a window of opportunity to suppress the Tag Team Champion’s momentum and bring his suffering to a screeching halt. The Imperfect One quickly lowers his shoulder, his brute force on full display as he drives his arm into the Californian’s solar plexus, coercing him into a backpedal. Santiago impinges the barricade as a result of his momentum, causing him to relinquish the weapon, and effectively putting the ball back in Carson’s court. A twinkle of malevolence can be found in the eye of the original Strife Killer as he grasps the battered Assassin by the wrist and proceeds to launch him toward the steel steps. The winds of change gust through the arena in favor of the Lord of the Flies who flourishes his agility and tenacity, rolling forward before springing back to his feet, befuddling Carson in the process. Appalled at Dominik’s refusal to be beaten into perdition, Nicholas charges in, with his impetuous reaction playing into the Assassin’s plan. When in range, the GHW icon dexterously wraps his feet around the leg of the masked monster, coercing him forward, and forcing the monstrosity to crash face first into the unforgiving stairs. With Nick tentatively inanimate, the Assassin scurries around ringside before retrieving his Thumbtack Chair; afterward he climbs onto the ring apron, steel equalizer brandished, his eyes widened, with an aura malignity surrounding him. Without a moment’s hesitation, Santiago bolts across the apron before leaping forward, strategically placing the chair on his back as he gracefully maneuvers into a somersault. Like an anvil descending to the ocean floor, Santiago plummets down on Carson’s back, the thumbtacks wasting no time in piercing his skin, and stabbing into his flesh like a tacks on a wooden board.

Matthew Oliveira: “Its innovative moves like this that make Dominik so dangerous in the ring.”
Colin Jennings; “On the surface we see a simple, harmless Senton. With those tacks burrowing through his skin, Carson can definitely offer a different opinion.”
Big Al: “Leaping around like a Mexican jumping bean won’t aid Santiago tonight. Once Carson grounds him, he’ll be finished!”

The crowd remains enthralled as Santiago gradually regains a vertical base. The Assassin marches to the timekeeper's table before heaving a normal chair into the ring while the body of the inert colossus who remains careening the steel stairs. Upon marching back to his foe, he begins dragging Carson to his feet. Nick seemingly comes to life, escaping the clutches of defeat and quickly lifting his knee into the gut of the Assassin. As the air sputters out of his mouth, Carson cocks back his fist before protruding it forward; he lands a staggering right hand that sends Santiago stumbling back until his momentum carries him into the squared hell. Once again an artful, well timed shot had shifted the match back in Nicholas’ favor. The confidence soon began to radiate from the monster’s body as he kneed up onto the apron, slowly beginning his pursuit of his dazed prey. But his tenure in the driver’s seat would prove to be short lived however, for as he begins stepping through the ropes, the Assassin quickly climbs to a vertical base, his far leg being swung in a semi-circular motion as his foot clashes into the cranium of his adversary. The lights in Nick’s head begin to flicker due to the withering impact of the Roundhouse kick, but before the effects of the vicious kick can subside, Santiago surveys his groggy antagonist and steps forward, vigorously swinging his knee into the air and blasting the former Imperial Champion in the temple. The voices in Nick's head are momentarily silenced, his eyes clenching tightly while his body lifelessly lies suspended across the middle rope. With the Knee Trembler efficacious in incapacitating his nemesis, Dom quickly grabs the steel chair, proceeding to set it up underneath Nick's body before readjusting him, pulling his battered carcass through the ropes and resting the back of his head against the seat of the chair. Plodding heavily, Santiago reaches the nearby ropes, staring into the outskirts of the arena before leaping into the air. The leader of Legion drops his legs across the top cables, using the elasticity of the ropes to slingshot himself backward. A moment before impact, the Californian extends his legs, dropping them across the unprotected head of his rival, sending the crowd into a frenzy as Carson's body slides off the chair and drops to the mat.

"Moonsault, with Nick's head taking the brunt of the impact."
"Now that's called beating the head properly!"
"Classless commentary as usual Matt. Sadly it's what I've come to expect from you Canadians. The only things you can articulate are booze and hockey!"

The exhaustion can be seen setting in as Dom staggers to his feet, panting heavily due to both fatigue and the excitement created by the prospect of vanquishing his foe. The fallen monster slowly but barely begins to stir, showing signs of life as his sprawled frame begins to convulse. The Tag Champion kicks the chair away before lifting Nicholas to a kneeling position. At this point, the desperation had set in for Carson, whom seemed to be on the cusp of oblivion. As a means to stifle the Assassin’s onslaught, the Imperfect drives his forearm in between Dom’s legs, testing his testicular fortitude as the low blow, and usual illegal maneuver but obliviously irreprehensible in such circumstances, leaves Santiago wincing in pain and suddenly enervated. Nick releases a sigh of relief and twisted satisfaction while the devitalized degenerate collapses into the ropes. Climbing back to a vertical base, Nicholas leans over and grabs the steel chair by its handle, playfully twirling it in his fingertips with a deep rooted, psychotic fascination. The abominable one’s evil intensions become clear as he stalks his adversary like a predator ready to pounce on his wounded prey. As Santiago begins pulling himself up using the ropes as leverage, Carson cocks the chair over his shoulder, while the Assassin’s hisses through his teeth and winces in preparation.

*CRACK*

The steel instrument of destruction descends from its apex over Carson, and slices through the electric atmosphere to careen across the side and top of Dom’s crown with a resounding ruckus. The patrons gasp and groan, sympathizing for the victim of one of the most adept chair-swingers in the business. Carson shrugs a glare at his opponent who remains standing, almost in defiance despite his knees beginning to buckle. The Imperfect One scoffs slightly at the image of Dom’s competitive spirit before raising the chair again.

*CRACK*

Nick beans Dom once more with the chair, the second time being the charm as Santiago collapses through the ropes and onto the apron; the camera on the hardside of the ring focuses in on the freshly inflicted wounds on the peak of the middleweight’s head, the blood beginning to cascade down the side of his head and parting over the crest of his ear. Slamming the chair aside, Carson approaches the ropes before reaching overtop and seizing the bloodied Californian by his blond hair and gradually lifting him to his feet. In spite of the fact he just participated in the morbid game of human whack-a-mole, Santiago wraps his hands across Carson’s head before dropping to his knees, whiplashing him over the ropes, dropping his windpipe across the cables. The maneuver successfully stuns Carson, sending him falling to the canvas. Climbing down from the apron, Dominik lifts up the ring cover, slowly pulling out a barbedwire board before sliding it back inside the squared hell. As Nick begins to recuperate, the legend knees back up onto the ring before grasping the ring ropes. When Carson reaches his feet, Santiago leaps onto the ropes, before launching himself into the air. In mid air Dominik lunges at his foe, but his attempt to take down the goliath monster are thwarted as Nick lowers crouches slightly, capturing the Assassin across his shoulders. Like a fly in the arachnid’s web, Dom is at the mercy of the callous Imperfect, who holds Santiago in position, preparing to drive Dominik into a pit of despair. After a brief moment of suspense, Nick falls to the side, slamming the Lord of the Flies neck and shoulder first into the barbed wire board.

"Walking through the valley of death.. forget it. He's no religious zealot, he's an ultraviolent machine!"
"That could very well spell the end for Dominik Santiago folks!"
"Death Valley Driver onto the barbedwire board! It might just be academic at this point."
"Yep, and schools in session. The Assassin is taking his final exam. It's graduation through eradication for the Legion leader!"

TBCB Carson

[Nicholas Carson]

Carson gets up to one knee, his chest heaving wildly, lungs burning from the profound exertion he's used to finally trump the Lord of the Flies. And it does appear to be the case. After a bout of thrashing in the quagmire of wire and wood, Dom's oculars had slammed shut, his soma inert. A eerie calm has cast itself over the viewing audience, as they stand horrified. Nicholas gets up and stumbles like a blind drunkard in a rock quary, yet finds the noose hanging from the ropes and takes it. The Mauler, feeling that time is nigh for the end, reaches down and plucks Santiago from his interment, then places the loop around his neck. But his heinous contrivance is cast asunder by the Assassin, who throws a desperate slew of back elbow smashes into the Imperfect's face. The revitalized spurt of offense rattles the Agent of Chaos enough to relinquish his hold on the astute Californian, allotting Dominik some breathing room. Removing the slave-hanger from his neck, the Tag Champion bolts to the ropes and uses their elastic embrace to sling him back into the direction of the disorientated monster. The former New Age Champion takes to the air, like he's done all match, and spins through the empty space before him brilliantly, a leg thrusting out and primed for Carson's kisser.

What he knocks out is nothing but the air itself, the colossus having circumvented his attack by stepping out of the way. The Assassin lands on his feet with cat like reflexes and spins back around, hoping to still get the jump on the barbaric buffoon he's battling. What he encounters, though, is something that causes frantic distress. Dominik's head is wrapped tightly into a Three-Quarter Facelock by his ultra-strong adversary, who jumps upward with the Californian in his possession. The Blond haired 22 year old scrambles to figure out a solution, but finds none, the Mauler had done his homework, for once. Only one thing could be done, call it a lesson learned from Santiago's past. Weaseling his arm quickly through the space between Carson's massive arms while snagging him around the throat with the other, he secures a move of his own as they slam into the canvas with wicked velocity. The counter to his own finisher sends the middleweight rolling torpidly onto his back, while his nefarious foe is rendered supine not far from him. The amplification of the crowd's effervescent approval becomes hazardous the the ears, with many covering them.

"HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!"[/b]

Fuzz: "DEATH METAL! Dom just pulled off a miracle reversal to his own SKO!"
Big Al: "The Miracle in Manchester, I can hear it now! That lucky sum-bitch!"
Matt: "That was not a miracle nor luck, it was sheer irony. The Assassin just STOLE the move that has plagued him for years now, but I guess who better to replicate it than the man who has been hit with it so many times. I should be surprised, but somehow I am not."
Fuzz: "You may not be, but I sure am. Not only did he just pull off something breath taking, a highlight reel worthy move, he did exactly what Dragon did to him in their classic Singapore Cane Match, only with him in MD's boots this time around."
Big Al: "Ha! Yeah, so I guess he feels like a winner now, huh?"
Matt: "OHHH! Burn, I like. Good one."

Well past the norms of a regular ten count, neither man has moved. As time ticks by, the fans grow impatient, vociferously demanding the warriors to arise. They do not. Instead, they wallow around, with the Tag Team Champion slithering to the outside, a trail of blood left in his wake. After plopping onto the mats for a moment, the Lord of the Flies interrogates the ring's underbelly and brings a table into the brawl, eliciting a round of cheers from the blood-lusty crowd. Dom slides it into the ring and follows suit, then busies himself with it, finding the simple task of getting the metallic legs locked in place labor-some. While he does so, his impervious adversary rises ominously behind him, completely undetected. The 227 pounder manages to only get the table's legs locked in place before his head is strafed with searing, debilitating pain, courtesy of a volley of Head Butts by the Artist of Atrocities. The former New Age Champion's pedal pillars give way, causing him to crumble under the beast's supremacy. Nicholas's bear paw wraps around Dominik's narrow neck, closing off his air supply while he looks him dead in the eyes, loving the hazy, forlorn look that is returned to him. The Imperfect One roars mightily as he heaves the middleweight into the air with one hand and spikes him like a football onto the table that had not been properly set up. Upon landing, the back of Santiago's head strikes the metal cross bar of the leg, while his right ankle smacks against the other cross bar at the opposite end. The rest of his body slams into the wood and other metal framing that supports the table, spiraling the Lord of the Flies into a whole other dimension of affliction.

Big Al: "Nicky just Choke Slammed Dom into oblivion! I've seen guys put THROUGH tables, but I can't recall ever seeing what Carson just did."
Matt: "We may tout Santiago's innovation, but let's not forget that Nicky can go that route too when it calls for it."
Fuzz: "This may be the end for real now. Nicholas went for that noose already, if he goes for it again Dom may not be able to fend him off this time."

Fuzz's words are spot on. Turning toward the Hangman's Noose, Carson strides toward it confidently, while his beleaguered nemesis remains curled into a fetal position behind him. On instinct alone, Santiago scoots his body close enough to the ropes to fall to the outside, just as Nicholas turns around with the noose in hand. The heavyweight shakes his head and drops the noose, then picks up the table, bringing it with him to the corner. The patrons stand on edge as the Master of Macabre painstakingly climbs the ropes, a totally unnatural thing for Nicky to do, but necessary according to the voices inside Carson's head. Fortunately for the Tag Champion, the time span that it takes for Nicky-Boy to ascend plays in his favor, allowing the Assassin to regain enough wits about him to snag a stray chair. As the former Imperial Champion gets situated atop the northern most buckle, with table held in a Gorilla Press Slam position, the Lord of the Flies rockets the seating instrument at him, hitting the 280 pounder in the chest. The table falls harmlessly to the black pads below, yet the Artist of Atrocities remains atop the uppermost buckle, bent over clutching his chest. Blotting out the severe pain encompassing every facet of his mind, body and soul, Dom stands again, gaining his second wind. He makes quick work of setting up the table properly, his mind clicking on all cylinders now. Then, with a burst of new found energy, he closes the distance between himself and his antagonist, meeting the Strife Murderer on the padded buckle. To stymie any possible resistance, Santiago drills Carson with a series of knees and punches, before looping his arm around the brute's massive head. Dominik's body quakes, trembling fiercely as he strains to pull off the marvelous feat to come. With a primal scream, the Assassin is able to pull the evil entity from the buckle with him, as he falls backward. The Californian braces for impact, knowing full well that his body is going to suffer some too, but the end will justify the means. Etihad Stadium comes unglued as the table is not only broken, but utterly obliterated, mainly by the Narcotic Necromancer's head.

Fuzz: "He just killed Carson! He's broken the man's neck, fractured his skull, maybe more!"
Matt: "A Top Rope DDT to the outside, through a table nonetheless, absolutely delicious. Couldn't have happened to a better guy. And with it, Dominik has once again left his indelible mark on a Pay Per View!"
Big Al: "Screw you guys, Dom just has a horseshoe up his ass. One second later and Nicky would've shattered all 206 of Santiago's bones with that table. Luckiest man on earth, that Assassin!"

The voices inside Nicholas's head have not only been silenced, but virtually slain for good. The tumultuous impact had crunched vertebrae against vertebrae, sent unfathomable pain straight through Carson's cerebral cortex, and now the colossus lays defenseless as a roofie'd girl. After a long time of laying dormant himself, Dom pulls his phlegmatic body into the war once more, swiping his hand into the black tote box belonging to his enemy. He acquires a long, thick chain for his efforts and stands vertical, sloppily. Amazingly, the Mauler had managed to roll onto his side in the splintery debris, showing resilience, something the Assassin can no longer permit. Animosity runs amok through the Lord of the Flies, who flips out, bringing the weapon down tirelessly against his copiously bleeding oppugner, beating him like a red headed step child. In doing so, his harsh onslaught penetrates the Imperfect's psyche, transporting the Mauler mentally to a different time and place. The Artist of Atrocities begins to bawl like a baby.

"NO DADDY NO! STOP! PLEASE!"[/b]

Dom perks a vexed brow at first, but then shrugs and carries on his ultra-violent maiming. More genuine tears flood the heavyweight's cheeks-o-hemoglobin, reducing the badass into a little bitch.

"I'M SORRY DADDY! PLEASE! NO MORE!"[/b]

The proverbial light bulb goes off in Santiago's head. He'd done the unthinkable. He has unlocked Carson's only fear - Pa Carson. Looking to the noose inside the ring, then back to Nicky, a plan develops. Everyone knows of Nicholas's horrid upbringing, where his parents treated him literally like a dog, and that is what he would now exploit. While swinging the chain over his head threateningly, "Daddy Dominik" points to the noose inside the ring.

"WHO SAID YOU COULD GET OFF YOUR LEASH? WHO SAID YOU COULD COME INSIDE? BOY, YOU BETTER GET YOUR LITTLE ASS BACK ON THAT LEASH AND GET THE FUCK OUT MY HOUSE!"[/b]

Obeying him, and with urine running down his leg, poor little Nicky-Pooh crawls into the squared hell running on all fours like a dog to the noose. The crowd enjoys the sight, although a bit disturbing and humiliating as it may be. With nervous fidgeting, and sobbing, Carson starts to carry out what Daddy Dom/Pa Carson had demanded, while his tormentor stands near, ready to lash him.

Fuzz: "This is the damnedest thing I've ever seen."
Matt: "Dom's broken Nicholas physically, and now mentally as well. Cue the fat lady, she's on in two."
Big Al: "Un-Fucking-believable. He's gonna MAKE Carson deliver his own ending."

TBCB Dom.

[Dominik Santiago]

Carson was quivering with trepidation; Dominik had succeeded in bringing his nightmares to fruition, and causing his inner most demons to resurface. The apprehensive behemoth frantically commences to place his head inside the noose, gradually beginning to tighten it in the process, seemingly succumbing to the demands of the Lord of the Flies. Radiating with a triumphant glow, Santiago turns his back, directing the referee to signal for the bell and make his victory official. But the referee does not oblige, as Carson’s horror induced mannerisms become calm, the Maniac Mauler freeing his head from its confinement before skulking behind the incognizant Californian. Dom was utterly oblivious, his sight and better judgment were blinded by his delusions of grandeur; his misguided belief that he had vanquished the Imperfect One impaired his vision from the obvious; that Nicholas Carson had feigned his dread and consternation, all in an attempt to catch his foe off guard. And he was successful, quickly advancing behind the Lord of the Flies before placing the noose around Santiago’s neck, attempting to strangle him into submission. Dom’s cold blooded eyes dilate with panic, his teeth gritting and his body stiffening as a result of his dismay and condition of vulnerability. Nicholas was holding on tightly and time was running out for the Assassin to free himself from captivity. Out of sheer desperation, Santiago begins burrowing his elbows into the solar plexus of his antagonist. Only after a series of stiff shots to Carson already carved abdominals does Santiago free himself. Gingerly caressing his neck whilst gasping for air, Dominik sucks in all the oxygen, burying it deep into his lungs before charging across the ring. As Santiago rebounds, Carson kicks up a thrust kick, lacing the incoming Californian’s jaw with his massive boot, and laying him out in a fashion that would even garnish the esteem of one Ryan Hughes.

Big Al: “If Dom wasn’t ready to be put down beforehand, he sure is now.”
Matthew Oliveira: “As a former rival, I’m happy to see Dominik eat his own teeth. As an un-biased journalist, that hurt me just watching it!”
Colin Jennings: “That Big Boot damn near took his head clean off his shoulders!”

With his foe lying dormant, Carson drops down before sliding out of the ring. The masochistic degenerate lifts up the ring cover before pulling out a container full of tacks. With a glimmer of malice twinkling in his hate filled pupils, Carson re-enters the squared hell. With Dominik slowly beginning to stir, Nick unloads its contest across the center of the ring, the bloodthirsty crowd looking on completely mesmerized as the tacks shine in the limelight. Having aroused his sadistic fetish, the former EVPW Imperial Champion ventures over to his battered opponent, gripping him by his blond hair before jerking him to his knees. The crimson masked pugilist suddenly awakes much to the chagrin of near seven footer. Dominik carves his tapeid fist into the knee of his foe, effectively freeing himself and slowing his nemesis down in the process. As Dom rises to full vertical base, he further forces the issue with a stiffened forearm shot to the throat. The withering blow to Carson's windpipe leaving him cringing in pain, but is soon followed up with a viciously lethal European Uppercut, as Santiago clashes his forearm underneath his chin. Carson wobbles, shaking his head to keep consciousness and stay on his feet. He lurches forward with a short arm clothesline, Dom ducks the arm, deftly maneuvering before pivoting. As Nick turns, Santiago raises his foot. Despite being punch drunk, Carson catches the leg before swinging Dominik outward. Exploiting the momentum, Santiago continues to rotate before suddenly leaving his feet and swinging his leg, scrambling and shifting the brain of the Maniac Mauler as his heel penetrates the side of his head.

The Dragon Whip sends Carson staggering into the corner, his bell have certainly been rung. In control, Santiago scrambles to the corner, looking to finally extirpate his arch rival. In spite of his mental affliction, the giant bulldozer of a man circumvents Santiago's charge. As Carson spins out of the corner, Dominik leaps onto the middle turnbuckle. As he continues his ascension, Nicholas crawls toward the pile of tacks, grabbing a handful before stumbling to his feet. Dominik quickly reaches the summit and turns, only to become the recipient of flying thumbtacks to the face, courtesy of Nicholas Carson who put a considerable amount of torque on the throw. The tacks momentarily suppress Santiago's momentum, allowing Carson to take full of advantage. Climbing the turnbuckle, Nicholas quickly lifts Santiago up and holds his horizontally across his body before falling backward, tossing Santiago overhead. Both men pancake into canvas with a thud, the only difference, Nick lands safely on the mat, while Dominik meets the acquaintance of a bed of unfriendly tacks.

"Fall Away Slam from the top, and right into that tack filled hell!"
"Dominik has discovered the true nature of pain tonight."

The audience had never heard a grown man scream the way Santiago was yelping in pain, his eyes burning with agony as the tacks punctured his flesh. Having caught his breath, Nicholas once again exits the ring, once more searching the GHW weapon's depo for new means to wreak havoc on his opponent. This time he withdraws a wooden table, a pane of glass, and a arms full of lighttubes. Carson first sets up the table near the ring apron, followed the placing of the pane of glass across it and the subsequent laying of the tubes. His death trap had finally been built, and at this point it was no longer a fight for Kahlan's affection, of a battle for a cheap strap. This was Carson wholeheartedly going out of his way to end the career of the GHW legend, much like he attempted to due to Vladimir Strife. As he scans the marvelous structure, Dominik begins to stir, rolling out of the tack filled prison and crawling toward the ropes. Aware of Dom's rise, Carson climbs back onto the apron, leaning over and gripping Dom by his hair before dragging him to all fours, allowing him to regain his bearings until he befuddles him with a malicious strike straight across the back of the head. Dom twitches, and convulses on his back as a means and attempt to try and alleviate the pain. Once again Carson leans over and drags him back to a vertical base, only this time Santiago instinctively drives his shoulder through the ropes, plunging his shoulder blade into Carson's gut. As Carson hunkers over, Santiago stumbles to his feet, backpedaling both due to fatigue and his desire to build up a head of steam. After taking a brief breath, Santiago stampedes forward, flourishing his unrivaled athleticism as he leaps into the air, somersaulting over both the ring cables and the doubled over Carson. Wrapping his arms around Nick's torso, Santiago swings himself to the floor, dragging the Maniac Mauler off the apron before thrusting him downward with a vengeance. The Imperfect One crashes directly onto the monument of hell; tubes, glass and table shatter, splintering of wood, and a mist of fumes from the glass and tubes fog ringside as Carson falls through the structure, his descent finally coming to a halt as he crashes onto the floor. Santiago sits perched on the floor, back leaning on the apron, hair hanging over his face as the effects of what just transpired begin to sit in.

"That was sick. Good God Almighty!"
"He just Powerbombed that son of a bitch through the depths of hell! That was unreal!"
"I'm speechless. Holy shit!"
"Weclome to the H-Games finale folks!"

TBCB Carson (if necessary)

[Nicholas Carson]

Dom could sigh in relief now, for he had slayed the Goliath of GHW, an accomplishment that few would ever hold claim to. The camera pans into Santiago's bludgeoned face, capturing the thousand yard stare that is affixed on his countenance, an expression that will become an iconic picture to remember within the annals of wrestling lore. Willing his body to cooperate, the Californian finds his footing, and once he does, it's obvious what his next course of action will be. The Hollywood native snaps his head up to the noose that would finally, mercifully bring about the end of this conflict. Working urgently, Santiago knees onto the apron and pulls the noose to the outside. In no time he has the Nickster in a seated position and is preparing to fit the loop, but to the astonishment of all, including most of all Dominik, the monster lives. His perseverance tested, the Maniac Mauler reaches up and clamps his tormentor's wrists, almost breaking them.

The pain being inflicted causes the Lord of the Flies to dance in place, but he'd come too far to let the ball get back in Carson's court once more. Switching gears, Dom uses his knees to pound away at Nicholas's back, freeing himself in just enough time to cinch in a Sleeper Hold, a move he should've applied a LONG time ago. As if telepathically reading him, Nicky adapts to his tactics and runs full steam ahead toward the railing, drawing near it with maddening speed. The Agent of Chaos grabs hold of Dom's forearms to prevent escape and pulls off some athletics of his own by Somersaulting himself into the barricade, not over it, with his human back-pack along for the ride. The ungodly impact unhinges the rail itself, knocking it over as well as some fans, and spilling the two gladiators into the dispersed crowd.

"My God, why won't Carson just die? He's invincible, I am almost certain of it now. After going through what he just did, and coming seconds away from being hung, the son of a bitch stuns us all with athletic ability that no man his size should possess... and he purposely aimed it at the railing."
"Locking on that Sleeper Hold was a sound strategy employed by my old rival there, but he forgot one key factor: He's fighting Nicholas FUCKING Carson. You have to basically put a gun to the man's head and blow his brains out to beat him."
"At the rate we're going, we may very well see a gun introduced before the dust is settled."

The Son of Perdition spaghetti legs his way vertical and immediately goes to work on a new scheme. He takes the defunct length of rail and sets it up in a slant position, where one end rests against the edge of the ring and the other is on the floor. Nicholas had unwittingly landed them in the area accessible mainly for the handicapped, a revelation that prompts Carson to take full advantage by grabbing two wooden crutches from a nearby fan. He places them together and trots to his sprawled antagonist with them overhead, and blasts him across his tattered back. One of them breaks in two, Santiago groaning aloud and sputtering out a mixture of blood and saliva. Dissatisfied with only one breaking, Carson discards it and slams the other one along his vertebral column, this time breaking it also. Under a shower of trash and beverages being slung at him, the Strife Murderer continues the business at hand, paying them no mind as he tosses the disabled crutch away and picks up the Legion leader. Using only one hand, he ragdoll Irish whips the Tag Champion back toward the ring, but a wheelchair bound elderly woman is in the path. She screams as 227 pounds of blood and sweat comes at her uncontrollably, yet she is pulled from her death-chair by a family member in the knick of time.

The vacancy is quickly filled by the Lord of the Flies, who comes to a sit in it with enough force to almost knock it over. The wheelchair begins to roll backward, with Dominik becoming a little more lucid. The Assassin is aware enough to know of Nick's perspicacity for using the crowds personal belongings as weapons, and quickly turns the wheelchair around to speed away as fast as his arms can spin the wheels. His getaway is short lived, however. The former Imperial Champion stops him near the rail he had set up and tries earnestly to peel him out of the chair, but Dom refuses to budge. The Hollywood native holds onto the wheels for dear life as Carson tugs at him, thwarting him at every turn. Nicky-Boy's quick temper sets in fast, causing him to abandon the dismal attempt in exchange for a new approach. Stooping down behind the seated Legionnaire, the Master of Macabre wraps his gigantic never-ending arms around the chair and traps his adversary in place with a Waist Lock from behind. From there, the colossus strategically places his broad back facing the slanted rail, and with a sudden burst of Herculean strength he lifts up his prey, wheelchair and all, while exploding at the hips. Nicholas reclines and lets go of his catch, the Released German Suplex a modern day masterpiece that would make a certain NeXus winning Tennessean cringe with envy. Steel remains undefeated against flesh as Dom hits rail and ricochets off sickeningly, the wheelchair departing from its occupier.

"How's that for technical, bitches? He organized that flawlessly!"
"ORGANIZED? Seriously? Carson couldn't organize a clusterfuck in a dildo factory!"
"Never a dull moment with you two, is there?"

Giving credence to his actions earlier, Kahlan's Crush opts out of noose'ing Santiago, and commences his ploy to end the Assassin's storied career. Eying the apron cloth like Jaggeroth would a potential rape victim, he tears into it, hiking it up and searching for a specific last resort package he hid just in case. The audience swoons as he pulls out a Bed of Nails, a medium size satchel, and a wooden table. With alacrity, Carson sets up the table directly over the Bed of Nails, then unties the satchel and removes a small container of gasoline and a book of matches. To further excite the fans, he turns the bag upside down and empties the remaining contents onto the table, which consists of nails, tacks, broken glass, screws, and other stabbey things. After evenly spreading the Trail Mix of Macabre on the table, Nick sets his sights back on his victim, who remarkably is stirring. Nicholas angrily storms to the stubborn Assassin and muscles him up him from the ground, straightening him upright to administer his due comeuppance. A defensive Bell Clap greets the Mauler, knocking him back a little bit. The former New Age Champion uses the small reprieve to crawl back into the safety of the ring, where he feels most comfortable at, and where a few chairs still remain from earlier use.

In hot pursuit, the Artist of Atrocities rolls in and hounds the wounded animal, clambering to is feet quickly and charging like a mad bull. The Lord of the Flies senses the impending arrival and pivots on his heels, brandishing a steel chair that he bashes Carson's dome with. The shot is murderous and sounds off like a small explosion, but the epitome of evil remains vertical, just barely. Santiago lets him wear the chair around his head as he picks up another one. A lackadaisical punch is thrown by the teetering giant, which Dominik ducks under easily and transitions smoothly behind the mindless brute. The Tag Champion uses the chair to deliver a equally gruesome wallop, this one dropping the psychopath to a knee, Dom letting him wear that one as well. Not getting his fill of Carson's destruction just yet, the Legion founder rushes the triad of cables that Nicholas is facing and leaps atop the uppermost one. For the umpteenth time in this sadistic swaray, his unequaled athleticism prevails. Soaring gloriously into a Back Flip, the Lord of the Flies grabs Nicky by his chair adorned cranium as he passes overhead. Then, in his downturn, the Assassin spreads his legs wide just like Momma Dom and lands in a seated position on the canvas, snapping the Imperfect One down with him.

"Dom again with the innovative offense, and those chairs, my God they may have snapped Carson's thick neck!"
"Negatory. Nick is indestructible. He's proved that tonight."
"He actually looks pretty destructible right now, truth be told."

Nicholas goes into a rolling spasm across the mat and, oddly enough, winds up at the ropes nearest the demonic structure he'd created outside. Santiago, crawling on hands and knees, links up with him and rolls under the bottom rope onto the apron, where he swiftly grabs the container of gasoline and book of matches. Putting them to good use, he unscrews the lid and douses the decorated table with the flammable liquid, then strikes a match and uses it to lite the entire book on fire. A moment of enthrallment is shared between fan and competitor, before Dom throws the matches on the table, setting it ablaze. The flames rise high, dancing across view, yearning hungrily for flesh to scorch, and scorch it shall. The Tag Champion pulls the Mauler onto the apron with him by the hair, caveman style, and lifts him up. Wasting not even a fraction of a second, he goes for the coup de gra, the SKO. His plans go askew like his head pose, Carson pushing him off then clobbering him with a stiff shot that turns him. With Santiago stunned, Nicholas capitalizes before his foe drops. He wraps his paw around Dom's skinny neck from behind, looking to plunge his arch nemesis into calamity with the same finisher that aided in the temporary death of one Vladimir Tepes Strife. Using the swath of blood covering his head and neck as a sort of lubricant, Dominik turns sharply to the left in mid-move, freeing himself from his captor. And with precision that no other can top, he secures Carson in a Three Quarter Facelock on the way down, pulling Nicky from the apron into the most feared finisher of all time. Santiago clears the flames and any dangers confined under it, but the Imperfect One takes the full brunt of it all. Like a comet slamming into a planet, the beast crashes through the conflagration he devised, coming to a slaughtered heap atop the Bed of Nails, his body riddled with many puncture wounds. Johnny on the spot ring crews step in and extinguish the fire before it can burn the Mauler, but regardless, the dastardly deed had been done. The crowd riots with glee, as the commo team stand in wide eyed wonder, speechless save for this:

"S!"
"K!"
"O!"

[Dominik Santiago]

Nick having taken the worst of the exchange convulses, as the effects of the flames were detrimental enough to cause serious damage to his already battered body. Dominik gradually retains a vertical base, his hand gingerly massaging the back of his neck, the most recent of limbs to be in trauma, all this coupled with a excruciatingly painful back spasm created by his unceremonious plummet to the concrete floor. The Assassin slowly makes his way to the ring, lifting up the cover and pulling out a ladder. The time it takes for Santiago to place the ladder on the apron, is an ample amount to give Nicholas enough time to convalesce, as the Maniac Mauler climbs to his feet. The sadistic giant clubs Dom over the back, before tossing him backward, sending him falling into the guardrail. As Santiago doubles over, Nick charges forward, lifting his knee into the Californian’s head and bouncing his cranium across the unforgiving railing. Carson lifts his foe off the floor, quickly connecting with a stiff clout across the cheek, before commencing to swing his free elbow, gracing the side of Dom’s head with a ferocious shot, sending the Tag Champ’s head whiplashing to the side. The benumbing shot sends Santiago staggering back into the guardrail, allowing Carson to scan the arena for a nearby weapon. He doesn’t have to go far to find a steal chair, quickly setting it up before approaching his adversary. Carson seizes Dominik around the front and back of his neck, his massive hands clasping together as he looks to go for his patent finisher. Dom reverses, elbowing Nick in his already lacerated solar plexus, and then following with another. Having been liberating from the stranglehold, Santiago turns and leaps up, his hands clawing across the eyes of the Masked Mauler, his opponent shrieking from the ocular raking, and doubling over due to his impairment. The Lord of the Flies turns around wraps his left arm around Carson's head, and then runs forward with the former Imperial champion in tow before jumping. The face of Nicholas Carson drops with force onto the seat of the chair, the pain of the Bulldog suddenly reverberating through his head, and feeling like his cerebellum had been severely cracked.

Colin Jennings: "That was a fantastic move. Bulldog onto the seat of the chair!"
Matthew Oliveira: "Santiago is digging deep, but it only seems like everything he throws at Carson, just isn't enough to put him down."
Big Al: "That's because he's both the Unstoppable Force, and the Immovable Object. He's the Juggernaut bitch!"

Dom smears the blood on his face in a futile attempt to discard his crimson mask. Rising to a vertical point, the Assassin stalks the groggy behemoth, lifting his head up before taking the glued shards of glass and unloading on the opening on Carson's forehead. The sharp ends immediately dig into Nicholas' flesh, with a grunt of pain being released from the helpless scoundrel until Dominik lurches at him again. Whatever blood that wasn't spilled begins to drip profusely from the newest gash on Nick's head. With animosity burning in his pupils, Santiago begins scraping Nick's forehead, sliding and twisting his tapei fist back and fourth to the delight and horror of the patrons. Having carved enough of an imprint in his foe's flesh, Dominik raises his fist into the air, allowing Nick to crawl away. Dom ventures over to the ring, retrieving the ladder and bridging it from the apron to the guardrail. Santiago slams his hands across the rungs to ensure the sturdiness of the metallic instrument before taking a moment to catch his breath and plot his next move.

The contemplation ceases as the recuperated masochist attacks, clacking his forearm into the back of the Assassin's head, Dominik collapsing to the knees upon his bloodied mug careening off the edge of the ladder. Nick grapples the head of the kneeling Californian before blasting him in the face with his knee, the Legion founder grimacing from the impact. Carson cocks his leg back again before driving it forward, delivering another malicious knee strike to the cranium, sending the dizzied Tag Champion rolling toward the guardrail. Nicholas plods toward the barricade, placing his hand on the top, taking a deep breath as he stares into space, the enthralled spectators slapping him across the shoulder, but getting no reaction from the diabolical competitor. Carson peers downward, staring at his nemesis who writhes in pain, displaying a callous indifference to his suffering. The Imperfect One grabs the tag champ's blonde hair and drags him to his feet. Nicky Boy climbs over the steel railing, once again joining the ranks of the audience, whilst Dominik begins rotating around. Carson unravels a stiff right hand across Dom’s check, and then a second; however as he goes for a third, Dom manages to knock it away before retaliating with a stiff haymaker catching the titan on the point of his cheekbone, inducing audible contact. Despite his cranium absorbing the impact, and his form reclining back, the heavier combatant flails his fist, the wild punch somehow connecting across Dom’s temple with a stupefying force. As the befuddled Californian begins to stagger in retreat, Carson prevents him, grabbing him by the hair to both real him in and lean him forward. Carson places Dom’s head in his armpit and spins before jumping and relinquishing the facelock. Santiago’s body is coerced into a violent rotation, his neck being twisted before it is dropped down across the steel guardrail. With the crowd looking on in amazement, yet flinching in fear, both superstars slither to the floor following the guardrail-assisted Neckbreaker. Dominik cringes in pain, blood cascading down his face, his teeth bared, while Carson creeks up to one knee, attempting to reach a vertical stance.

"He tried to snap his neck like a pretzel! Still, Santiago remains alive and kicking!"
"He's like a boxer who keeps getting up to make the count despite constantly being pummeled."
"Until his tenacity is rewarded with him being put out of his misery."

Nicholas rises up and climbs over the barricade in a swaggering motion, almost as if Carson could smell the finish, and could taste the sweet nectar of victory. His eyes dart from the ladder and the ring, the lightbulb suddenly illuminating in his twisted mind as he sets out to finish off his rival. He marches toward the ring, digging under it to get a bundle of lighttubes which just so happen to be gift-wrapped around barbedwire. A psychotic smile manifests itself on the Mauler's face as he strategically positions them across the suspended ladder. Carson seizes Dominik by the head, lifting his carcass off the cold concrete. With his sinful hands wrapped around his head, Carson pulls it backward -only to send it forward, bouncing it off the side of the ring. He then lifts his foe onto the apron before climbing up to join him. Carson grasps the top rope for leverage, walking across the apron, inching closer and closer to the ladder with every stamp of the foot. Dominik pulls himself up with the ropes as well, his face completely covered in crimson, with the blood almost in his eyes, threatening to damage his eyesight. Nick suddenly launches a boot into Dom's gut, doubling him over. Carson seizes him, executing a standing headscissors, before encircling his arms around the Assassin's torso. Dom's ascension into the atmosphere is precluded by his tight grip of the ropes, avoiding his catapult into a fluorescent apocalypse. Legion's leader drops to his knees, quickly driving his glassy fist into the knee of his adversary, only to follow up with a forearm shot between Carson's outstretched legs, coming crashing into the monster's reproductive organs. In a flooding of pain, Carson grimaces, his energy and strength diminishing long enough for Dominik to take advantage. While still crouched, the Lord of the Flies re-positions himself on the apron so that his back faces the ladder. Afterward he searches deep within himself to muster enough strength and will power to hoist the heavyweight onto his shoulders. With the crowd on its feet in shock due to the feat, Dominik simultaneously rises upward, and falls backward. Carson's lands supinely on the bundle of tubes, with Dom's frame adding the necessary weight for the ladder to buckle, as it bends like an L, leaving both men crashing into the concrete amidst a cloud of a glass.

"OH MY GOD! SAMOAN DROP INTO THE TUBES AND THROUGH LADDER! WHAT A MOVE!"
I CAN'T BELIEVE MY EYES!
"I'm in as much disbelief as you are Al. That was insane, even for me!"

Both men lie in a heap as the dust settles; Nick's body is completely motionless while Dom remains sprawled and inert from physical exertion, the fatigue fully set in as the vestige of adrenaline subsides, his weary eyes staring into the lights that shine upon his lifeless body before they close, the physical condition of both he and his foe showing no signs of immediate improvement.

End of Match, I assume...