Death From Above Ladder Match

[Ryan Hughes]

You stand in the ring, ready to go toe to toe with four equally hungry fighters. You have already heard your music played once tonight, you have already made your way out in to the arena for your first Pay Per View match (unless you are Dow Jones), you have already weaved through the slalom of set up ladders, just pleading with you to grab them and smash them in to someone's unfortunate face. Ladders in fact lay all around the ring, resting against the guard rails, propped up against the ring posts, each one ready to be used in combat, or as a way to claim the prize you seek. That's when you look up. Your eyes twitch slightly as you see the Golden Ticket, locked in it's clear plastic briefcase. The arena lights reflect from it, making it seem more like the Holy Grail than you already percieved it as. Looking back down, you can see that each of your four opponents is itching to fight, wanting to strike early, while the iron is hot. The referee notices this, and looks to you, asking if you are ready. Not waiting for your nervous body to respond, he leaves the ring, and calls for the bell.

The fans roar in anticipation, baying for blood.

The metal chimes thrice.

Let the madness begin.



TBC Anyone.

(No entrances, hence this post. Any and all post reservations last for 6 hours maximum. If it hasn't been used, then a member of staff will delete it and it will be open season once more. Remember though, it is not quantity we look for, it is quality. Heed those words as you post, and you could be one step closer to becoming a champion. Good luck, guys.)

[Freddie "Dick Fingers" McGavin]

As the last remnants of the bell chimes echo away, the six men all trade looks of hunger and readiness- each man trying in their own way to let the others know that tonight was HIS night, and no one elses. Freddy McGavin however inches closer and closer to the ropes, looking as inconspicuous as possible to the others. Eventually, all tempers reach their higher limits, and almost simultaneously, five of the six fighters charge in to one big brawl in the center of the ring- the sixth man, McGavin, slipping under the ropes and away from the eye of the storm. The other men are too busy with eachother to notice, with Freebird McCoy trading vicious blows with Jack Tracks, and Dow Jones being double teamed by the two Circus members in Sytre and Vyrus. The evil doers don't need to do much to subdue the Hardcore Hero, with one man striking the face of the millionaire, and the other connecting with stiff knees to the midsection. Dick Fingers is a little more subtle in his tactics- silently waiting until all action is based on one side of the ring before grabbing a ladder and sliding it in to the ring. Quickly getting to his feet, the Londoner raises the steel ladder, locking on to his series of targets in front of him. Letting out a bull-like snort, Freddie charges to his first set of victims, driving the ladder in to the backs of Sytre and Vyrus, the resulting momentum also slamming Dow Jones to the mat. Not taking a moment to look at the consequences of his actions, he turns to Tracks and McCoy, who are still busy slogging eachother to notice what went down. He runs straight at the warring pair, and drives the ladder in to them from the side, causing them both to topple through the ropes. McGavin takes a quick look around, before screaming in to the night: "CUUUUUUUUUUNTS!". Letting out the excess anger, the FBI member sets up the ladder as quickly as he can, fumbling as he forces the metal locking system downwards before beginning to make the ascent to a possible early victory.

Jennings: "Oh come on! This can't end now!"

Oliveira: "It won't, Dow Jones is getting to his feet. Hurry your ass!"

Mulligan: "I for one would love to see McGavin come away with this- oh never mind."

Oh never mind is right. Dow Jones was not going to let this opportunity at another title shot slip away. The Massachussets man throws himself at the ladder, letting the momentum topple the ladder in the middle of Freddie's climb. The Cockney lands on his feet, slightly shaken, but as he looks up he sees only a raised arm as Jones hits him with a hard clothesline. At this point, a few men return to their feet, with one of them being Freebird McCoy. The Blue Collared Brawler connects with a European Uppercut that sends the Rick Kid sprawling backwards. Showing surprisingly quick wit for a farmer, Freebird grabs hold of the ladder that now rests on the ropes, returning it once again to it's standing position. Now showing a lack of smarts expected from a farmer, he proceeds to climb the ladder in full view of Jones, who simply tugs him back down again. McCoy slams his elbow back in to the chest of DJ, and then grabs the back of his foes head and slams it in to the nearest rung on the ladder in front of him. The impact causes Jones to stumble backwards and fall against the ring ropes, and it doesn't take long for Freebird to finish clearing the distraction as he sends DJ over the ropes with a hard clothesline. Dow lands with a thud on the barely padded ringside area, but he isn't alone for long. Vincent Sytre sneaks up behind the fan favourite McCoy, before unceremoniously dumping him over the ropes to join the man he just assaulted. The crowd doesn't like this one bit, and they soon voice their discontent at the vile man who seems to have this match under his control.

Jennings: "Damn that Vincent Sytre..."

Mulligan: "Collin, it's not often that I agree with you but man, that guy is sick. I hope he doesn't stay on top for long."

Oliveira: "Slander all you may, but Sytre has proven himself to be a dab hand in the ring. Just look at what he did to Dow Jones last week on Live!"

Mulligan: "Trust you Canadian folk to root for the pedophile."

Oliveira was about to deck the fat announcer, but the events in the ring in front of them soon change his mind. From behind, Jack Tracks leaps in to the air behind Vincent, before landing a well executed dropkick on the twisted indiviadual. Just like Jones and McCoy before him, Sytre falls through the ropes and to the floor below. Seeing this as a chance to save face, Oliveira shouts in to his headset.

Oliveira: "YEAH! KICK THAT KIDDLY FIDDLING SCUMBAG! DOWN WITH PEDOPHILIA!"

This leaves just three men in the ring for the time being, as the men on the outside seem consumed with eachother for now at least. Tracks and Vyrus are the first men to go at it, with McGavin more than happy to sit this one out once again. Tracks aims a kick in to the gut of the Circus member, which causes him to double over. Shouting over to Freddie- who has taken solace at the turnbuckle- Tracks asks for the Cockney to lay the ladder down. Cottoning on to the former TV Champion's plan, Freddie obliges. As he lays the ladder flat, Tracks grabs Vyrus around the neck, while draping his foes arm over his own neck. He lifts the gothic superstar up, and drops him- right on that unforgiving steel ladder with a blood curdling Snap Suplex. Vyrus immediately rolls around in agony, screaming at the top of his lungs after possibly suffering a slipped disc, or maybe an injury more serious. Meanwhile, Tracks arches his own back, afterall he did land on the ladder too. This leaves the sly McGavin to pick up the pieces, grabbing the ladder and raising it to a standing position once more. He begins to climb again, picking up speed as he goes along, but Jack Tracks is immediately on his tail. Climbing up the opposite rungs, Tracks catches up to the FBI lackey, greeting him with a stiff punch to the ribs. A scary trade of punches ensues, with both men being careful as to not fall to their own demise. It's one especially hard punch that deters McGavin who is suddenly doing all he can to hang on to his position here. It all comes to no avail though, asJack grabs the flailing hand of Dick Fingers, and leaps an almightly leap, sending both himself and McGavin crashing to the canvas in an act of sacrifice and sheer dimwittedness. McGavin lands with a dull thud, face first, barely moving. The crowd don't care though, they just saw their first "HOLY SHIT!" moment of what is hopefully going to be many as the night goes on.



TBC


Tracker
Tracks: Down in the ring, recovering from his drop.
McGavin: KO'ed in the ring after falling face first from the ladder.
Vyrus: By ring ropes, injured back following suplex on ladder.
Everyone else: Scattered outside the ring, fighting.

[Mr. McCoy]

The epic plight of McGavin and Tracks gave Vyrus an ample amount of time to ameliorate his physical condition. The Incurable One climbs back to his feet, hand gingerly massaging his lower back, still quite injured from his collision with the steel ladder rungs. He grits teeth to cope with the agony, before making his way toward the ladder lying across the ring. As he sets his sights on being the second man to win the Death From Above match, Dow Jones recoups on the outside, crawling toward the ring and lifting up the ring cover in a way that makes his meddling go undetected by his adversary in the ring. While Vyrus begins to set up the climbing instrument, the wealthy veteran slides out a second ladder. As he begins to slid it into the ring, his foe had already began his climb. His ascent comes to an sudden halt as Dow Jones scurries over to his position, slamming the ladder held horizontally across his chest into the already strained lower back of the Circus member. With his quick thinking attack having precluded his opponent from continuing his climb, the hometown hero sets up his ladder, slightly beside Vyrus'. He doesn't hesitate to scale the ladder, keeping his eyes pointed at the transparent briefcase dangling over him. As he reaches the halfway mark, Vyrus recuperates, slugging Jones across the chin in an effort to prevent his mount and return the favor. His distraction is fruitful, slowing Jones down, causing Vyrus to look for that specific success in succession as he begins clocking his groggy opponent with a series of stiff shots. Understanding that he won't be able to reach the pinnacle of the ladder, Dow settles for protecting his face. His nearest hand protrudes, capturing Vyrus' incoming fist, inhibiting the natural weapon from further ringing his bells. With his foe held captive, Jones leaps off his ladder, slightly turning his back to Vyrus whilst reaching back and executing a three quarter facelock with his free hand. The affluent superstar lands seated on the canvas, forcing Vyrus' jaw to clash into his shoulder thus sending a sickening shock throughout his system. The impact sends Vryus flying back before he crashes to the mat; his body trembles moderately from the benumbing maneuver.

."The Genius" Matthew Oliveira.]-:
"And that is how you vaccinate a disease, or Vyrus in this case. Is Boston literally Calling Jones ?"

.Al Mulligan.]-:
"He better hope so. He's had a career built on one failure after the other. It will end with one tonight, unless he takes fate by the balls."

.The Fuzz.]-:
"Matches like these are usually about being opportunistic. You only need to be at the right place at the right time. If he picks his spot he could very well win."

The camera scans over the pool of bodies strewn across the ring. It suddenly captures Vincent re-entering the ring, his mind solely set on climbing his way to superstardom. The degenerate throws one of the ladders out of his way, the metallic tool falling to the side in wake of his path of destruction. He ventures over to Jones, quickly grappling him by the head as he had pulled himself up in the corner. The psychotic deviant slams Jones' head into the turnbuckle padding, shifting his brain to the other side of his head and effectively leaving him dazed. In the interim, Freebird McCoy had convalesced on the outside, commencing to clamber toward the timekeeper's table. The undefeated hick quickly acquaints himself with a steel chair, first using it to bring himself to a vertical base before brandishing it over his shoulder with ill-intent. As he makes his way toward the ring, Sytre takes Jones by the arm, attempting to Irish Whip him into the ropes. The technical aristocrat turns the maneuver on his opponent, launching Vincent across the ring. As he turns to fall into the ropes, McCoy swings the chair. Vincent's back meets steel as the sound of the vicious chair shot echoes throughout the venue. The Circus member falls to one knee, his face ridden with pain. Clueless to what just transpired, Jones looks to completely eliminate Vincent from the contest. He charges with reckless abandon. Concentrating on self-preservation, Sytre climbs back to his feet before deftly sidestepping, whilst shoving a lunging Jones on the shoulder. The added momentum from the push sends Dow diving through the ropes, where the Oklahoman greets him with a metallic embrace. Jones' head careens the steel chair, courtesy of a well timed ballpark like swing from the farmer turned Fighty fighty person. The brutality had begun to rise to new levels, much to the delight of the crowd, and likely the chagrin of a motionless Jones, the first victim of the increased savagery. Though he lacked morals, Vincent was nothing short of shrewd, quickly charging at the ropes and diving to the canvas while Freebird's chair remained near his face due to previous swing. As Vincent slides out of the ring, his feet are planted into the chair, and the seat is sent back into Freebird's face, sending him to the floor from the mid-concussing attack.

.Al Mulligan.]-:
"Old McDonald had a farm... Old McDonald had a chair kicked into his face."

."The Genius" Matthew Oliveira.]-:
"McCoy will be counting sheep for a good minute after that."

Vincent climbs back to his feet using the ropes. In his peripheral vision he sees Freddie McGavin begin to stir, and it soon becomes clear to him that he must kill the weeds in the garden. That meant extirpating all his distractions. He advanced toward McGavin, quickly swinging wildly. His haymaker cuts through the air but misses its target as "Dick Fingers" circumvents the attack, sidestepping behind his foe whilst catching him around the waist. Upon gaining a center of gravity, he lifts Sytre off the surface, proceeding to drive his head into the canvas in a German Suplex, his twisted mind becoming a little bit more scrambled as it bounces in his skull. The Brit holds on, rolling over, whilst dragging the pedophile to a prone position. One leg, then another, and both men finally reach their feet. Vincent is still dazed from the devastating Suplex, in the meantime, McGavin peeks over his shoulder and notices the second ladder lying across the canvas. He navigates he and his adversary just enough so that the weapon is within striking distance. He proceeds to separate his hands which were clasped in the waistlock transition hold. He keeps one arm around Vincent's torso, and uses the other to hold his leg, before reclining back, heaving the middleweight overhead, sending him plummeting to the mat with the back of his head jarring the side of the ladder. The Back Body Drop had brought smiles to mothers and their adolescents as Vincent's body convulses. The FBI member takes a deep breath as he rolls to his stomach, allowing a confident smile to manifest as he senses the window of opportunity opening. But he is oblivious to the former Television Champion who skulks behind him. As McGavin climbs to one knee, Tracks charges at the ropes. Jack rebounds, quickly stepping onto the Englishman's raised knee before raising and bending his leg, drilling him in his hairline with his knee. McGavin's body quaked from the force, his eyes going shut as his body limply falls to the mat, joining Vincent in a state of dormancy. The Technicalist sprung to his feet, as the Shining Wizard left him the only man standing, giving him a free opportunity and chance to capture the briefcase. Time was of the essence, he wouldn't waste anymore posturing, as he quickly scrambled toward the ladder already set. He drags it to until it sits directly beneath the clear attache, before embarking on a short climb, and short journey that to him and anyone else ever in his position, felt like an eternity. With each rung he was that much closer to his Full Circle moment, and that much closer to official 'arriving' in GHW. With an opportunity to challenge for any title hanging in the balance, Jack extended his arm toward the rectangular case, but failed to reel it in, only able to touch it with his fingertips. The sweat began to cascade from his brow, his nerves setting in as the object swung away from him due to contact from his fingers. Tracks reached once more upon climbing another rung, and yet again failed. He climbs the last rung, now standing at the very top of the ladder, with the rest of the world perceived as ants from his flustered mind. As he thrusts his hand outward for a third time, he notices the ladder begin to tilt rapidly, as if jerked out of its stationary position. He looks down to find Vyrus crashing to the mat, having springboarded from the ropes and driven his feet into the ladder. The Dropkick had crushed Tracks' ambitions, and stifled his progress. The ladder fell across the ropes, with Jack being flung off the top and out of the ring where he unceremoniously pancakes into the padded floor which from his height, makes the collision feel like clashing into cement.

.The Fuzz.]-:
"Jacks was just a second away from getting the Golden Ticket. But that goes to show how quick one's fortune can change in an environment like this. "

."The Genius" Matthew Oliveira.]-:
"I've seen people fall from ladders. I myself have been unlucky enough to meet such a fate multiple times. Take it from me, you don't get back up too quickly after that. Not in one piece after all."

.Al Mulligan.]-:
"You don't have to tell us. You are living proof that crashing from ladders and not seeking medical attention thereafter is detrimental to one's brain..."

TBCB Whoever

Key:
Vincent/McGavin/Vyrus - Down in the ring, recovering respectively.
McCoy/Jones and Tracks- On the outside, the former down from the chair shots, the latter having fallen off the ladder.

[Millson and Simpson]

With the match having reached a 6 way equilibrium, the crowd realise that the first competitor to reach his feet will have wrested the advantage from all others and upon that realisation, The Incurable Vyrus is the athlete to gain from the other 5 men's plight and the Circus member uses the ropes to pull himself to his feet, before he grabs the ladder and begins to scale it, rung by rung. Unfortunately, the plucky Briton, McGavin, shows his toughness and clambers to a position of offence, clubbing Vyrus in the back of his spinal cord, halting the Incurable One as he makes his ascent. Thinking quickly as a Peckham-born wheeler dealer would, Dick Fingers wraps both arms around the back of Vyrus and steps onto the first rung of the ladder for the much needed leverage, before leaning backwards and extraditing the Circus member from the ladder, Vyrus hitting the canvas back and neck-first. The crowd let out a resounding gasp as the German Suplex hits home, but as McGavin gets back to his full verticality, Vyrus's teammate throws himself at the FBI member, Sytre using his punching power to good effect as he lays into McGavin with lefts and rights, forcing Dick Fingers onto the ropes. With Freddie left groggy on the wires, Sytre sees an opportunity to take the FBI allied McGavin out of the match for the short-term future, taking a step back before sprinting at Freddie and outstretching his right arm, aiming for a Clothesline. Unfortunately for Sytre, McGavin sees the attack coming and throws himself to the mat, pulling the top rope down as he does so, Sytre hitting hardly-fresh air, his momentum only allowing for him to soar over the top rope and to the concrete outside of the squared circle.

Freddie once again eyes the golden ticket, the object gleaming as he sees a chance to shape his GHW future, but before he can act on these thoughts, Freebird McCoy drags himself slowly under the bottom rope, forcing McGavin to relinquish any ideas of scaling the ladder, instead driving a boot into the back of the prone Freebird and following the blow up by kneeling down and laying in punches onto the exposed cranial lobe of the Blue Collar Brawler. McGavin picks up McCoy once his blows have reached the desired level of concussive force, dragging the Barefoot Brawler to the turnbuckle and ramming the already injured skull of McCoy into the padding. As the Freebird holds himself in place on the turbuckles, the FBI athlete takes a few steps back, before charging the Blue Collar Brawler, only for the wily McCoy to lift his right boot into the air and force the momentum of Dick Fingers to cease in an instant, McGavin's jaw meeting boot and flooring the FBI competitor.

As McCoy floors the second Mc of the match, Vincent Sytre slides back into the ring, having recovered from his missed Clothesline and envisioned the action occuring in the squared circle. Sytre aims to sneak the win and begins to climb the ladder as the Freebird mounts McGavin and begins to unload punches, not thinking to look up and protect the ladder, the Psychotic Circus member climbing the steel structure easily and without opposition. That is, until Vincent's teammate, Vyrus, finally manages to break the bells ringing inside his head from the German Suplex and reach his feet, grabbing the leg of the Dark Warrior and ceasing his ascent. Sytre tries to kick Vyrus away but the Incurable One's grip holds, Vyrus's face etched in desperation as he tries to prise Sytre off the unsteady ladder.

Two Circus members, locked in battle as they try to earn the chance of a lifetime. This is what Full Circle is all about.

I couldn't agree with you more, partner. Allegiances mean squat in this match.

But look, McCoy's climbing the ladder now.

As Oliviera notes, Freebird McCoy, having dealt enough damage to Dick Fingers McGavin, tries to take advantage of the situation between Sytre and Vyrus, ascending the opposite side of the ladder as Sytre holds onto The Incurable One. Realising that the match is over if he leaves McCoy to do his dirty work, the Dark Warrior releases Vyrus, who quickly climbs the remaining rungs of the DIY implement, while Vincent hops onto the side partition of the ladder and clocks the Blue Collar Brawler with a stiff right to the chin. As McCoy reels from the unsuspecting blow, Vyrus reaches for the ticket, but is once again halted by his Circus stable-mate, who lets fly a left fist to the nose of The Incurable One. Sytre throws one more right at McCoy and one more left at Vyrus, before reaching up and clutching the golden ticket with his bony fingertips. As the crowd boo at the paedophile's attempt to earn a historic victory, the former TV champion, Jack Tracks, drags his limp carcass into the squared circle and with a desperation move, Tracks sprints to the ladder. JT throws his entire body weight into the spine of the Dark Warrior, the force enough to send the ladder toppling to the side, throwing McCoy and Vyrus to the canvas. Vincent comes out of the collision with visibly greater battle scars, however, as he lands face-first on the side of the ladder, wedged in between the running Tracks and the metal, letting out a scream as the bridge of his nose flattens, an obvious broken nose the only outcome in his predicament. As Sytre rolls out of the ring to earn some separation and feels around for the remnants of his nose, Tracks picks himself up and dusts himself off, hauling the ladder back to a vertical position and placing the implement underneath the prize, before painstakingly attempting to scale the rungs and reach his dream.

With three of the competitors down after the ladder tackle and McGavin on the canvas with a probable concussion, Tracks seems to have the match sewn up and as he climbs the ladder, the fans watching all the way, everybody forgets about the Hometown Hero, who has recovered from his ailments and stood outside the squared circle, a keen onlooker. Seeing that nobody can halt Tracks, Dow sprints into the ring and begins to climb the opposite side of the ladder, both former champions meeting at the top and exchanging wild haymakers, both men sent reeling by each other's blows, until Tracks misses a right hand and the veteran instincts of Dow Jones kick in. The Boston Brawler has no time to think after he ducks the fist, instead taking Tracks's momentum as a given and grabbing the waist of Jack, throwing the already moving competitor over to his side of the ladder, Tracks someraulsting in mid-air and landing back-first with a thud on the cold, hard canvas. As the crowd light up in cheers for their favourite as he reaches for the golden ticket, nobody seems able to stop the Hardcore Icon and Dow's dreams of being the New Age champion seem to have come back to life.

Dow's got rid of Tracks and this is the moment he's been waiting for. Can Jones reach the golden ticket?

He needs to do it quickly. McGavin's starting to stir.

TBC-

Tracker

Dow Jones- On top of the ladder
Freddie McGavin- On his feet in the ring
Jack Tracks- Unmoving next to the ropes after being thrown off the ladder
Vyrus/McCoy- On the mat after falling off the ladder
Vincent Sytre- On the outside with a broken nose

[Jack Tracks]

The entire arena fills with the sound of screams and cheers, drowning out any chance of even being able to hear oneself think. Their hometown hero, the veteran Dow Jones makes his way up, rung by rung, each footstep deliberate, making a clanging noise each time. Not that anyone could hear it over the audience. The creaking ladder looks to be sagging under his weight, as it has already taken quite a beating in this match as is. But it holds long enough for Jones to get to the top. Reaching up with his right hand, the already sore veteran swipes once, trying to get a hold of the briefcase. But his aim isn't quite on. The momentum of his reach threatens to send him too far, his torso nearly falling right over the top of the ladder. But with better instincts than that,Jones corrects himself, using his left hand to hold his body up. Dow straightens up again as best he can, and tries once again. This time his reaching appendage hits the mark, and the Boston crowd manages to reach a new volume, the heavy bass of wildly stomping feet thrown in for good measure. With one hand securing the case, Jones pulls himself up,using his body's momentum to bring the left one up, as well. With both hands on the case, it looks as though the veteran will finally get his big break. Right when the world falls out from under him.

Freddie McGavin, having had enough time to recover, takes hold of the latter, grabbing both legs from the side. He begins to shake the climbing implement, throwing off Jones' balance. To even stay up, Jones is forced to reach up higher, grabbing the cord holding the briefcase in place. Once the Bostonian is put into position, Dick Fingers brings his left arm in between the two legs of the ladder.The limb dips down below the middle support and swings up, collapsing the ladder together. With a few more hits,McGavin closes the ladder completely. Now folded up, the tool is easily removed from the standing position, leaving nothing for Jones to stand on except air.

With no support, and still swinging from the prior ladder-shaking, Jones is left hanging, his legs kicking wildly, attempting to perhaps even himself out. If he works fast, he could still try to unfasten the case. But all that movement of the legs would end up doing him more harm than good. The FBI member, a wicked grin having formed on his face, stands ready with the ladder in his hands. Tilting it up, McGavin takes careful aim at the flailing competitor. Watching his spot, Freddie judges the exact right moment to strike. Bringing the head of the ladder up, he strikes at such an angle as to send the sharpest edge of the ladder's top straight up into the sky. And right between Dow Jones' legs. The Bostonian crowd has the wind taken right out of them, as every single man in the audience shares in their hometown hero's pain, each and every one of them either sucking in and holding their breath,or joining the women and children in a huge collective "OOOOHHHHHH!!!!" Jones himself cannot make even a sound. His entire body bounces from the blow, his jaw dropping, his eyes flying wide from the indescribable pain.

Jennings: "OH MY GOD! That unforgiving metal edge! Right to the...to the...."

Olivera: "Son of a bitch! We all know Dick Fingers is an opportunist, but that's just not fucking right!"

Mulligan: "Right or wrong, doesn't matter! He saw an opening, and he took it! And...oh god...it looks like he's going to take it again!"

As Jennings was talking, McGavin pulled the ladder back down about half a foot, giving himself room for one more. As the ladder was pulled away, Jones' legs go limp, draping down against either side of the ladder. But having the thighs lowered down would not protect him, especially as limp as they are. With enough space, McGavin shoots the ladder up one more time, with even more accuracy than before, as his prey is no longer fighting. The crowd "OOOOOOHHHHs" one more time as Jones' body is bounced into the air once more. For those who can see well enough, they could make out the veteran's eyes rolling into the back of his head, his jaw completely slack.

The crowd, having previously been cheering loud enough to shake the entire arena, has turned their collective voice to venom, booing and hissing at the FBI member looking up with satisfaction. In the long shot, a cup can even be seen on a flying course towards the ring, but it had come from so far back in the crowd that all it did was smack another fan in the third row behind the head. With Jones' grip rapidly loosening from the cable, McGavin drops the ladder, letting it crash to the ground, right below the veteran. Calmly, Dick Fingers takes a step back, patiently waiting as Jones finally loses his grip. His limp body falls through the air, finally stopping on the cold steel with a loud crash, his limbs splayed out.

Olivera: "That's it. There's no way he's getting back up after that..."

Jennings: "And McGavin's the only one still on his feet! If he can get the ladder up now, it's all over!"

The opportunist rolls the limp body of Dow Jones off of the ladder, so that he can take it up once more. He grabs the implement by the top,pulling it to try and bring the ladder straight up. It takes a bit of doing, his arms tired,but he gets it off the ground, at least. As he gets the ladder up, Freebird McCoy had already begun climbing to his feet, grasping the ropes for assistance. The crowd's demeanor starts to shift again, as they see that someone will be up and able to pay the tricky bastard back. McGavin, though, only seems to be focused on the ladder, figuring that there's no one able to get up in time, and that the cheers are clearly for him. He finds that he couldn't be more wrong. With the ladder at a vertical position, he suddenly sees it getting very, very close, very, very quickly. His forehead cracks into the steel side, as he's smacked in the back of the head by a huge punch from the Blue Collar Brawler. Stunned, McGavin's face looks dumbstruck, and he staggers backwards, dropping the ladder on the ground once more. He takes a few steps back, where he's caught in Freebird McCoy's grasp. Quickly,the bearded menace spins McGavin around,and catches him with a boot to the stomach. The British scoundrel doubles over from the hit, his arms out to his sides. With such an open target, Freebird scoops both arms, pulling them up behind McGavin's back. The crowd explodes once again, knowing what that underhook grip may signal.

Mulligan: "Looks like McCoy's back in this thing!"

Olivera: "And if he's about to do what I think he is, then McGavin's right back out!"

Jennings: "Thank God. If someone had won a match like this in such a way, I can only imagine what sort of champion they'd be if they won their title match."

McCoy takes a moment to step near the ladder, tugging McGavin right where he needs him. With the two men parrallel to the implement, Freebird hoists his foe up, perpendicular to the ground. Using his impressive strength, Freebird holds him up long enough to step over the ladder, straddling it,still clutching McGavin. The ladder beneath him, Freebird takes a step back, lining Dick Fingers' head up with the very top of the ladder. The same part that had just been used to disable Dow Jones. Fully in position, McCoy hefts him one last time, and finally brings his prey down. Falling into a sitting position, McGavin's head comes falling down with incredible force, the soft top of his head being driven into the metal edge. Even as the crowd erupts into a cheering frenzy at McGavin getting his due, a careful listener could hear the sickening CRACK of skull against steel.

Jennings: "BLUE COLLAR BUSTER TO THE LADDER! Jesus Christ, you could hear that crack for miles around!"

Olivera: "You're goddamn right you could! Serves him right,too! You just don't hit a guy the way he hit Dow Jones before!"

Mulligan: "Taking bets! How many staples will he need after that?!"

McGavin lays on the mat, glassy-eyed and twitching. A careful eye could see the beginnings of a red streak start to form out of the top of his head, which is beginning to rapidly grow larger. The damage done, McCoy sits for a moment, catching his breath. The seconds give the crowd a chance to soak in the image of bodies strewn around the ring, blood and sweat soaking the canvas. Freebird McCoy, sitting and looking about, shifts his gaze up at the prize. The title shot on the line, Freebird finds the strength to get to his feet once more. But as he rises, he realizes he's not the only one ready to end the match.

Across from him, the Blue Collar Brawler sees Jack Tracks, back to his feet. The young man had been laying out long enough to get his breath back, after taking quite a number of big falls already. But he was determined to show that his previous title was no fluke, and this was the way to do it. Tracks stands, looking over at the Blue Collar Brawler, giving him a chance to get back to his feet. Freebird rises, albeit cautiously, knowing full well that a Shining Wizard could be waiting for him if he doesn't stay on guard. When the two men both get their bearings, they look at each other for one last moment,and greet each other with a nod, before they let loose. The two men lunge at each other, meeting in the middle of the ring with a pair of big blows. Tracks with a fist across his jaw, and McCoy feeling an elbow rock his.

Olivera: "Here they go again!"

The two men stand toe-to-toe, trading their hits with one another, fists and elbows cracking across the faces of both gladiators, each waiting for something to give. The crowd rises to their feet, getting riled up like only a good old-fashioned fistfight can do. Their heavy hits slowly, but surely, begin to wind down,their bodies already worn from the rest of the brutal match. Another elbow from Tracks, and Freebird rears back for his response punch. This time, however, the attack would go different. As his blow comes forward, Tracks takesa big step back. Practically a hop, at that. With his whole body powering the strike, and only connecting with empty air, Freebird stumbles forward, toppled over by his own bodyweight. His stumbling is stopped short, as just before he loses his footing entirely, Jack Tracks catches him. But not with his arms. Having enough distance, and the perfect opening, Jack spins his body forward, his arm bent at the elbow. His body quickly picks up speed,and just as Freebird steps in range, a picture-perfect discus elbow cracks along the temple of the Blue Collar Brawler. Cameras flash right on the moment of impact, catching an image that is sure to find its way right into the japanese publications.

Jennings: "The brawl comes to a crashing halt with a BIG discus elbow from the former Television Champion!"

Olivera: "A smart way to end a brawl! Use distance and timing to full advantage! There was no way Tracks was gonna beat the big ox in a straight-up fistfight, so he found a better solution."

Mulligan: "Freebird's got a pretty thick head, but a hit like that could probably break a bowling ball in half!"

Freebird takes a few last, stumbling steps towards the ropes, before he finally falls, crashing to the mat. Tracks looks down at the surely unconscious redneck, and gives him a nod. A show of respect for the fallen,as it were. He begins to stride back towards the center of the ring, having found himself against the ropes following his dodge. He is stopped before taking even a full step, his breath suddenly cut off. Up on the apron, his nose letting out a trail of blood, Vincent Sytre had caught Jack Tracks across the neck. He uses both arms to trap the young man's throat, and with his wounds from the brawl, Tracks finds it difficult to find the energy to fight out of it. He struggles anyway, trying to pry the arm from his throat, to little avail. But even as he fights, his eyes catch another opponent coming to his feet. Vyrus, finally standing again, flashes an evil glare at Tracks, his mind racing with all sorts of awful ideas. Sytre nods over to Vyrus,as the two seem to once again be on the same page. Vyrus kneels down, taking the ladder up in his hands, the steel now stained with blood after the driver earlier. He turns it around, the bottom of the tool facing Tracks. Sytre uses his leverage to drag Tracks over to the corner by his throat, although it takes some doing, as the former TV champ still has some fight in him. He can't keep the fight up for long, however, and finds himself trapped against the turnbuckle. Vyrus hefts the ladder in his hands, and readies himself...

Mulligan: "The Circus is back in town, it looks like!"

Jennings: "Just what are these two psychos about to do with Jack Tracks and that ladder?"

Olivera: "I could think of a few things...."

Vyrus charges, the bottom of the ladder aimed straight at Tracks' midsection. The swift competitor tries to fight his way out in time, but to no avail. The steel step at the bottom of the ladder jams itself deep into Jack Tracks' stomach,the legs trapping him on either side. Normally, this would be where Vyrus would reach back for another hit, but not this time. As Tracks was still held in place by Sytre's choke, Vyrus pushes the pinning steel with all his weight, trying to squeeze Tracks like a grape. The choke was already making it hard to breathe, but with the ladder pinning him so hard against the turnbuckle, each time Tracks was able to exhale even a little bit, his stomach would be pushed in further by Vyrus and the ladder. Every deeper press would make it that much harder to take in air. He continues to struggle, one hand on Sytre's arm, and the other attempting to push the ladder away, but neither was to be. With no ability to take in any more air, Tracks' struggles began to die. His eyes slowly shut, and his arms gave up, dropping to his sides. Tracks' head tries to stay up, even for a few more seconds, but, finally, it,too falls. With Jack gone limp, the two Circus members finally let go, and the former Television champ's body falls to the side, passed out.

Jennings: "He really fought it, but there wasn't any way that anyone could've got out of a situation like that."

Mulligan: "I didn't think he was even going to keep fighting that long! That title shot was probably the only thing that kept any breath in his body at all."

Olivera: "Well, with everyone else just about unconscious, it looks like the Circus is gonna take this one home. But which one of them will get th-wait...what's Sytre doing?"

With Vyrus and Sytre the only two still standing, Vyrus, ladder in hand, seemed to be readying himself to use it once again. Even if they are stable-mates, there's a title match on the line, after all. Sytre, however, seemed to have a different idea. He put his hand up, asking for a moment. Stepping into the ring, he cautiously keeps his distance, both hands now up. Vyrus looks at his stablemate, curious as to what he's up to.

Sytre gives Vyrus some room,and motions to the briefcase. Pointing up to the prize with one hand, he uses the other to point at Vyrus. Emphasizing both points a couple times, he then lowers his right hand, and uses his left to point back and forth between the two of them. Vyrus straightens up, tilting his head in a bout of confusion. Sytre, seeing that Vyrus was at least listening, puts his right palm out, before striking it with his left. He does it once more, the resumes nodding, sure that Vyrus must know what he's going for.

Jennings: "Is he....telling Vyrus to go grab the case?"

Olivera: "Wait...of course! They're both members of the Circus, right? He's telling him that he'll let Vyrus get the case, and then they can both go for the tag belts together!"

Mulligan: "Wow, very smart! I can't remember ever seeing someone try to make a deal like that in this kind of match. But what does Vyrus think about that idea....?"

TBC

Tracker:
McGavin: Laid out on the mat, bleeding
Jones: Fallen near the (let's call them north) ropes. Probably a soprano now.
McCoy: KO'd near the (east) ropes.
Tracks: Passed out in the southeast corner
Sytre: Awaiting an answer
Vyrus: Pondering with a ladder in hand.

(I know this one was kinda long. I wanted to make up for the wait. Also, I hope I got your finisher right, Freebird.)

[vincent]

(ooc:Didn't think I was going to be able to make it to the party)

Vincent smiles as Vyrus finally realizes what is going on, he sets the ladder up under the prize and smiles as he begins to slowly climb the ladder. Sytre looks around as the fans can not believe what they are witnessing. His fellow circus member half way up the ladder, Vincent gets a evil smile on his face as he looks around to make sure that everyone else is out of it, before placing both hands on the ladder and pushing it over, causing Vyrus to fall off the ladder and land with his stomach across the top rope, which is followed up by him flipping over the top rope and crashing to the mat outside. Vincent looks around and smiles seeing he is the only one standing. He picks up the ladder and folds it closed as he makes his way towards the north corner where the Hometown Hero is sprawled out.

What the hell is Vincent doing now? He has a chance to win this match, all he has to do is set up the ladder and climb it grabbing the prize! I mean that is the goal of this match.

I don't know Matt, I think Vincent has other ideas in mind as he is making his way towards the Hometown Hero with that ladder in tow.

What ever Vincent has for that ladder I am sure will not be good. Remember what happened last time these two men got together.

The Dark Warrior sets up the ladder laying it down on the ground as he opens it slightly, before grabbing the right leg of the Hometown Hero and placing it between the ladder, the fans and announcers know whats coming next and they all brace themselves as Vincent places his foot on the top of the ladder and drives it down, sandwiching the Hometown Hero's shin between the ladder. The Hometown Hero screams in pain as it jolts him from state of dream street. Vincent smiles again as he places his leather bottom into the kisser of the Hometown Hero several times, before opening the ladder up, placing his foot on the top of the ladder and again driving it down, smashing the Hometown Hero's shin for a second time again the Hometown Hero screams in pain as several swear words escape his lips in the process. The Dark Warrior is wrapped up in dishing out pain to the Hometown Hero that he is unaware of McGavin who has finally got to a standing base, he looks over and seeing Vincent trying to destroy the Hometown Hero's shin, just smiles as he goes towards the second ladder in the ring and quietly as possible tries to pick it up and set it up in the center of the ring, as he slowly begins to climb, one hand over the other, grabbing each rung, as he tries not to make too much noise to alert Vincent.

That's what I am talking about, look at McGavin, being an opputuniest and going for the prize, I like how he is trying to be quiet so as not to let Vincent aware of what he is doing, as Vincent seems to be taking pleasure in trying to break the Hometown Hero's shin.

Yep I would say it is very smart. Um wait a minute...Vincent turned around and sees McGavin slowly making his way up the ladder. Vincent is making his way over will he have time to stop McGavin who is almost to the top?

McGavin has the prize in sight, he can almost taste the victory as the blood escapes from his body. He continues to will his body to go up the ladder, having only a few more rungs to go to be able to reach the prize. Unaware to McGavin the Dark Warrior has made it to the ladder and he begins to climb up the other side, he is able to make it up the ladder with a bit more ease then McGavin, who finally realizes that he has been spotted. McGavin continues to will his body to go, forcing it to push on and move beyond whatever limits he has faced before. Vincent continues to climb each hand over hand bringing him closer and closer. McGavin is on the very last rung and he reaches up trying to grab the prize and win this match. Due to the blood lose and the abuse and damage his body took he is having trouble focusing on where exactly the case is, he keeps reaching up each time almost grabbing it, he continues to reach up and just as he breaths a sigh of relief because his hands wrap around the clear plastic briefcase. McGavin begins to think to himself which title he is going to go after, when his dream is shattered, as he feels a right hand to his stomach, this causes him to let go of the case and double over as he almost falls off the top of the ladder. Vincent having made it up and having delivered the punch grabs Dick Fingers head with his hands and rams it off the top of the ladder, the big gash on his head is even bigger now as he begins to wobble and again almost falls off the ladder. Vincent gets an evil smile as he looks down at the mat from high up on the ladder before grabbing McGavin and once again for good measure bounces his head off the top of the ladder, this is followed up by The Dark Warrior locking in a double underhook, using surprising agility, he proceeds to lift McGavin up with an overhead gutwrench, before flipping sideways and locking in a DDT as he and McGavin come crashing to the mat, the Gothic Intervention from off the ladder sends the crowd into the biggest Holy Shit! Chant of the night as both Fighty fighty persons lay on the mat, McGavin having the worse of the move has his already busted open skull bounces off the canvas, leaving a big blood splatter.

OH MY GOD!!!! Did you see that?Holy Shit does not describe what the Dark Warrior just did to McGavin. He gave him a Gothic Intervention from off the top of the ladder! I think that may have seriously injured Dick Fingers! I think Freddie is done for the rest of the match, the rest of the night, hell it could be the rest of his life.

I have seen some down right sick and crazy stuff in my life, but I don't think I have ever seen anything like that before. Did you see the way Freddie's head bounced off the canvas from that move. I mean that could have caused untold trauma to him. Vincent tried to break the Hometown Hero's shin, and now he about killed McGavin with his finisher from off the ladder. I mean wow!

Don't look now Olivera and Jennings, but it looks like Tracks has come to his feet and is leaning on the ropes. Tracks could still be the one to grab the briefcase.

Tracks looks around and is surprised to see he is the only man on his feet, much to his chagrin he notices that McCoy has gotten up to his feet as well and is leaning against the ropes, using them to support himself as he gets his bearings on where he is. Tracks and McCoy look across at each other and the unmoving bodies of McGavin and The Dark Warrior, they begin to slowly move towards each other when out of the corner of Tracks eye he see's the Hometown Hero to his feet, favoring his right leg as he limps out of the corner. All three men make eye contact with each other and both McCoy and Tracks can see that the Hometown Hero is favoring that right leg and they both stop, turn there attention to Dow Jones and proceed to make there way over to him. The Hometown Hero see's both the Fighty fighty persons being drawn to him like piranha’s smelling blood in the water. The Hometown Hero braces himself the best he can as he throws punches trying to keep both men at bay. McCoy and Tracks slap his hands away knowing that he is preventing a very weak defense. McCoy steps in first and is rocked as the Hometown Hero catches him with a stiff jab to the jaw, stunning him slightly before falling to the mat, and rolling out of the ring, trying to get as much recovery time as he can. Tracks being the opportunist catches a slow McCoy unaware as he quickly wraps his arms around his opponents waist before falling back as he lifts up driving the shoulders of McCoy into the mat with a belly to back suplex. This is followed up by Tracks lifting up the redneck standing him to his feet before he throws him through the top and middle rope.

Tracks gets a big smiles on his face as he see's the ladder standing there in the center of the ring, two unmoving bodies and no one around to stop him. Jack smiles as he makes his way over towards the ladder. The Bostonian has hobbled around long enough to where he can put a bit more pressure on his right leg, and as quick as a cripple can he gets back inside the ring and hobbles over towards the ladder that Jack as started to climb. Vyrus slowly gets to his feet after being dumped by his circus member and makes his way into the ring, he sees the Hometown Hero and Jack each trying to climb the ladder, neither man able to climb it with ease, though Tracks has a bit of an easier time then DJ. Vyrus makes his way to the ladder and he climbs up behind the Bostonian, placing his head between his legs he takes his hands and grabs the legs of the Hometown Hero and falls backwards off the ladder, the Hometown Hero lets go of the ladder and both him and Vyrus crash to the mat together, the crowd on the edge of there seats another small holy shit chant breaks out from the electric chair off the ladder. Jacks smiles as he see's he is the only one left and he hurries with an almost reckless abandonment unaware that Vincent has gotten to his feet he climbs up after Tracks and as he catches up to Tracks he delivers an elbow to the small of the back, it causes Tracks to arch and stop what he is doing, He tries to kick at Vincent but they have little effect as he doesn't have the energy to put much force behind them. Vincent again drives a forearm across the back, this is followed up again as the crowd watches Vincent display agaility and strength as he grabs the legs of Jack Tracks and pulls him off lifting him up as he holds one leg and applies a half nelson, before jumping off hitting a vertical drop driver, planting the Tracksman into the canvas on his head as if he was putting a spike into the ground. The crowd breaks out in another even louder Holy Shit chant as they watch Vincent nail his Darkness Rising from off a ladder as well.

What the fuck is this sick bastard doing? First he tries to break the Hometown Hero's shin, then he drops McGavin off the ladder with a Gothic Intervention and now he his his Darkness Rising on Tracks driving him into the canvas like I don't know what.

I am trying to figure this one out myself, but holy shit, did you see the impact that driver had on his head, I don't think I have ever seen a ring shake as violently as it just shook there. Al man what do you have to say about what Vincent has done as well as the rest of the superstars who have put there bodies on the line for a chance to battle for any belt of there choosing?

I am not sure I really have words for what has turned into pure utter carnage, Vincent maybe a sick pervert but damn he has shown he doesn't play well with others. You are right Fuzz, he tried to break the shin of the Hometown Hero, he dropped McGavin onto his already cracked head possibily giving him a damn concussion, and then he hits his Darkness Rising Finisher off the ladder on Tracks almost killing him in the process. If I didn't know better, I would say that Vincent doesn't care about trying to win the briefcase, I think he just wants to hurt people. I don't know if we have seen another superstar outside of maybe you Matt or Vlad who took pleasure in destroying people.

You know Al, I did not mind doing what was necessary to win a match, but I don't think I have ever carried the I just wanna hurt people and don't care if I win or lose.

TBC

Vincent/Tracks/McGavin:All laying on the mat.
Vyrus/McCoy/DJ: getting to there feet respectively