Tyrant's Roulette Match

[Dominik Santiago]

Full Circle returns after a brief intermission to advertise GHW products, as well as build up the suspense to the next match. The said bout would be the final one of the evening, and the roaring crowd was well aware of that, still on its feet following an exceptional last match between Dustin Delta and Freebird McCoy. The camera cuts around the sold out arena, gauging that spectators' very excitement before focusing in on the announcer's table, where the commentary team of Matthew Oliveira, Al Mulligan and Colin Jennings make sure their headsets are in tact, whilst shuffling through cue cards in preparation for what should be a historical contest. The arena lights suddenly begin to dim, until the spectrum is engulfed in darkness, minus the exit signs, flashing cameras and cell phone lights of patrons. The Butcher-tron then flickers to life, likely for a promo grabbing the attention of the crowd as they are quickly captivated by the wonders it beholds.

The feed opens up in black and white to an empty arena, with the camera gradually circling around the venue and displaying the emptiness of the spectrum. It then focuses on the entryway, where a figure sits at the apex of the ramp; his legs are folded Indian style, his hands resting in his lap while his head is titled down, leaving his blond hair hanging carelessly. After a brief moment of speculation it becomes clear the identity of the figure, as his head snaps backward revealing himself to be none other than Dominik Santiago. His eyes are narrowed with resoluteness; in the Assassin's return to the main event of Full Circle he was single-minded in his determination to bring all the notions and ambitions he held to fruition. The two time New Age Champion stared into the outskirts of the desolate locale, the expression on his face remaining one of deep concentration, perhaps the focus being his immersion in his deepest thoughts. Santiago would soon allow us to enter his mind, beginning to address the captivated audience in his usual ominous tone.

"Tonight is the culmination of my long journey back to eminence, the consummation of my mission to once more obtain prominence, and the completion of my odyssey to end an era of obscurity in this establishment, and deliver this promotion into salvation."

Dominik gazes up at the rafters, taking the moment to collect his thoughts and ponder a little. His eyes close shut in that period, hissing quietly during this meditation, his hands slowly being balled into a fist. The Californian's cold-blue eyes open, his pupils being dropped to the steel surface he is seated upon. His clenched hands suddenly separate, as he gingerly strokes his miracle working hand along the aforementioned exterior.

"Tonight is the conclusion of my quest, my crusade to become World Champion, to reach the mountain's summit, to climb to the very pinnacle, and top of the ladder and grab the brass ring that has eluded many yet fallen into my possession twice before, and the finale to bring my aspiration of becoming Undisputed New Age Champion to realization. The word 'undisputed' is such an intriguing term. What does 'undisputed' truly mean? Is it being recognized, and acknowledged as the upper echelon of superstars? To be accepted as the cream of the crop and unquestioned greatest among a cess-pool filled with competitors, both has-beens and wannabees all looking to be in your shoes? Maybe to be regarded as supreme, the finest, and the unchallenged champion among challengers..."

Dominik slowly regains a full vertical base, smiling to himself as his own words reverberate through his head. His eyes drift around the godforsaken landscape. He begins speaking again, whilst commencing an elongated stride down the ramp.

"To my understanding, and let it be known that I'm a very intelligent homo-sapient, an 'undisputed' champion, is a superstar who flourishes actual wrestling skill. The victor of a bout where the environment is a straight-up traditional one, which is the only way to truly measure, and evaluate one's true ability and determine if he deserves the acclaim attributed with the title 'champion'. Aside from that knowledge, I also comprehend the fact that tonight as I walk down this ramp, on the way to the squared circle, I will be considered a tyrant. A dictator in a twisted game of roulette where my ideas become fact, and my decree is limitless. My three opponents in this contest also contain such power. Considering who they are, it wouldn't be far-fetched as to think that we might see stipulations catering to hardcore rules, or that one must be pinned outside the ring, in the parking lot, or maybe not even pinned at all to be vanquished. Such a development really wouldn't shock me. Then again, Hayden, Millson and Jaggeroth will need all the help they can muster tonight."

The Assassin grabs a nearby chair before sauntering to the set of steps. Santiago marches up the steel stairs in a methodical, rhythmical fashion, mimicking the pace he would have in an actual match. He struts along the apron, and upon reaching the center, enters the squared hell. Legion's fearless leader sets up the chair in the heart of the ring before taking a seat, peering at the camera as he does so.

"I could go the path my adversaries will likely walk, but that would be too easy. There is no triumph in an easy victory. Glory and honor cannot be obtained through the use of foreign objects, interference, or other underhanded means. To be the 'undisputed' champion, means I am the best without a shadow of a doubt, with zero skepticism, and no asterisk to diminish such a feat. It is because of this that I am waving my right, this clause so to speak. What I'm articulating is simply this; my stipulation is that I don't need and will not create any stipulations outside of the norm. I am superior to my foes, so I shall hold myself to a higher standard. I will be liable to disqualifications and count-outs. I can be defeated via submission, pinfall or knockout. I will wrestle the match that an 'Undisputed' New Age Champion would."

Dominik rises to his feet, quickly lifting the chair into the air before tossing it over the ropes, leaving it to plummet through the atmosphere. The metal clashes against the lightly padded floor as the camera focuses on the Assassin's metamorphosis of expressions. He is somewhat seething with his teeth gritted, and his face slightly reddened by his wholehearted belief in his own aptitude. The Lord of the Flies tilts his head, his cranium now lying askew in a fashion he had become renowned for. Underneath damped blond hair shrouding his mug lays a supercilious smirk of ultimate self-gratification and utter disdain toward his enemies. Santiago's hands ascend into the air, beginning to run his fingertips through his hair as he drops to one knee. His right hand falls to mat, beginning to caress the white canvas, before digging his index finger hard into the mat, as if pointing to a specific spot, as if trying to foreshadow the importance of that location.

"Tonight I'm going to send Mighty Man Millson, Jaggeroth and Hayden Hardkore into oblivion. I will end the conspiracies, destroy this chapel of lies, and overcome all the obstacles. Tonight I walk into the unknown, ignorant to the stipulations my opponents will implement, yet despite such incognizance, I will still be victorious. Tonight I will pin them all, in this very ring, in this very spot, one.... two.... three... and my Legion will finally rule GHW, and in doing so create a new image for professional wrestling. Tonight I write history, and create a new future..."

Santiago's arms cross his chest, his trademark 'X' pose being demonstrated in all its glory.

"Tonight my career comes Full Circle, and I will become the 'Undisputed' New Age Champion."

The promo ends and the feed returns back to the ringside, Charlie Coors standing in the midst of the squared circle, ready to announce the following match.

Charlie Coors: "Ladies and Gentlemen, it is time for your Full Circle Main Event!"

Big Al: "And here we go, a match for the ages, pitting GHW's four best Fighty fighty persons against one another."
Matthew Oliveira: "This will bring a new meaning to the term, 'Throwing Down The Gauntlet.' "
Colin Jennings: "I feel giddy like a school girl. I've been waiting all night for this moment!"

A pandemonium of cheers is emitted by the crowd, as they stand filled with jubilation since the unveiling of the night's card.

"The following contest is a Tyrant's Roulette Match where two men will start the match, each man with his own stipulation. The winner of that match will face the next opponent, and his stipulation, and this process will continue until three challengers have been eliminated, leaving the victor as the UNDISPUTED NEW AGE CHAMPION! "

The announcement receives a tremendous pop, the garnishment of the crowd's elation due to the mere fact that the bout had been built up for weeks, and that the GHW lifeblood had been looking forward to it since it's announcement. Even more importantly, the superstars in the lockeroom were watching intently. Tonight they were guaranteed to witness history; either the champion would retain his championship just as he did at the previous Full Circle, someone would be winning the New Age Champion for a third time, or one man would finally realize his dream of becoming World Champion and vindicate his career. Smoke suddenly begins billowing out from the stage and entrance way, whilst the stage lights begin to flicker in a bright red color. The beginning of "Ugly" by the Exies commences to creep through the atmosphere, coming alive on the P.A. system, quickly changing the demeanor of the crowd. The curtains slowly part, shriveling and waving as the man behind the music emerges, shrouded waist down by a fog, and immersed in both boos and cheers from the split audience.

"Introducing the first participant: Standing at six-foot two-inches tall and weighing two-hundred and thirty-five pounds, from Hollywood, California; "The Assassin"..."The Lord of the Flies"... Dominik Santiago!"

The two time New Age Champion stands at the apex of the ramp, a blank, ominous, foreboding expression etched on his face which veils realm of mental focus and concentration. Santiago gazes listless over the arena, swiping at his damped hair with his hand and gingerly pulling his neck to the side in an effort to crack it. He wipes the rim of his nose with his tape covered hand, before commencing his saunter to the ring. As he marches through the haze, his attire becomes visible; he is dawned in a new 2011 Legion tee, and black tights with red stars running down the leg, each one having "SKO" plastered in the middle, as well as black boots.

"Dominik waived his stipulation clause. You've got to wonder if he's making a grave mistake."
"I commend The Assassin Colin. He's looking to beat the other three in spite of not using a gimmick or stipulation in his favor. If he wins tonight, he will without a shadow of doubt, proved to be the best Fighty fighty person."
"He has to get past the Kiwi first. Hayden may have something epic brewing for Dominik as they do battle first in what will be another chapter in their historic, lengthy rivalry."

Santiago knees up onto the apron before gaining a full vertical base. He enters the ring, stepping through the middle and top rope. He leers his eyes at the official, and then at Charlie Coors, and scoffs to himself before backpedaling into the nearest corner. Ugly fades out to the buzz of the GHW fans, eager to see two rivals match wits and horns once again.

As the arena lighting returns to its normal setting, a ringside camera closes in adjacent to the Assassin, with the Lord of the Flies staring into the lens with a murderous stare, sending a message to his nemesis that will likely be well received.

TBCB Hayden

[Hayden]

Dominik stands in wait for the Kiwi, the anticipation mounting as the tension builds. Around the arena, a chant for the name of the mighty Jackass begins to gather steam, bursting through the uncomfortable, tense silence like an awkward worm popping its head out of a rotten apple. The chant fills the air of the arena, more and more of the crowd joining in with every round until the atmosphere is alive with well-wishers. However, before long, the Titan Tron erupts into life once more…

The black screen first shows a single white dot in the center of the darkness. The dot grows and grows, until the entire screen is filled with an image of Hayden’s familiar face. He looks down the lens, emotionless and without a hint of a smile. His staring, unblinking face looks as if it were a still photograph, up until the point that his lips begin moving.
”Bullies and thugs.”

[/i][/b]

The simple words echo around the arena like a gunshot, capturing the attention of the restless crowd. All of a sudden, the serious face of the Kiwi Battler cracks itself into a smile. He continues, a serious message being delivered with a slight hint of confidence and swagger.
”That is what this great place has been reduced to? Just bullies and thugs… Each with their own force to hide behind, their own group of henchmen and cronies to do their dirty work. And for what?
Supremacy, dominance?
Each wants to claim that they are the dominant force in GHW – Well, for that, you need a certain title.”[/i][/b]
The shot zooms out slightly to show the Kiwi Jackass seated on a simple stool in the center of a training ring. He wears a sleeveless training top, with a simple GHW logo on the lapel and light grey trackpants with the telltale triple stripe down the leg to signify the brand. Hayden pushes himself off the stool, standing to his feet as he launches into a new spiel, finally arriving at the destination that seals the point of his broadcast.

”Here I stand, ready to fight my way through what is essentially a glorified gauntlet of three of the businesses biggest names. Sounds difficult enough, right? Add to that the notion that behind each man stands an entourage of bloodthirsty goons, and you have a conundrum.
Jaggeroth and his psychotic Circus, ready to prey on the minds of all those who stand in their way...
Mighty Man Millson and his Outcasted team mates, ready to bitch and whine their way into the main event, perhaps maybe somehow stealing the belt out from under everybody’s noses…
And the eternal Dominik Santiago standing in the corner of the Legion – Declaring martial law on all he surveys.”[/i][/b]

Hayden motions from side to side as he mentions his three opponents, drawing attention to his views on the matter then moving on. With a shake of his head, Hayden is ready to stamp out the smouldering cigarette that is his competition. The Jackass launches into his final verbal assault.


”All three of these men would have you believe that they are the dominant force around these parts. The dye has been cast and the words have been tossed about. But the time for talking is done. The bottom line is this…
Until one of these men take the New Age Championship from my blood-riddled hands, dominance is but an empty word. They can spin all the stories and intimidate whoever they please, but this is the reality – There is ONE Undisputed Champion. One title to rule them all, and it does not belong to an Outcast, Legion or Circus-freak. One Champ to rule them all…”[/b][/i]

Hayden smiles into the camera as his rage wears off his face. With a knowing smile that only a true Champion can truly muster, Hayden utters his leaving words.

”Hayden HardKore, the Jackass - No affiliation.”[/b][/i]

With that, the screen shrinks down until it floats off into the abyss of the Titan Tron as the pin-prick of white light that it had begun. The time for talking done and the Kiwi ready to put his money where his mouth is.[/quote]

As the scene fades, a familiar song superimposes itself over the top of the fading promo. CKY’s “96 Quite Bitter Beings” blares out of the speakers around the arena, announcing the arrival of the title-less Champion. It is not long before Hayden steps into the arena, entering as a shadow against the Full Circle backdrop. He drops to his knees atop the ramp, the light missing him by mere feet. No light catches his titles, which one hung from his shoulders but his body language seems confident and staunch nevertheless. As the song plays through into the verse, an array of white pyrotechnics erupt from either side of the stage, launching the Kiwi into action.

”Introducing Secondly, hailing from Wellington, New Zealand. He walks into Full Circle as the current New Age and Charging Glory Champion.

The man known as the Jackass, Hayden Hard-Kore!”

[/center]

”Is Hayden HardKore even the Champion any more. I haven’t seen a belt around his waist in a long, long time.”

”Well, if that is your justification, then some Pawn Shop owner is the current GHW Champion. No, the title stays with Hayden until somebody earns it off him. And they just might tonight.”

”Pish-pash… No title, no reign. We are a captainless ship and Hayden is merely standing in. Tonight we crown the unargumented, undisputed champion… Let’s just see how this plays out.”[/center]

The crowd erupt into cheers as Hayden pushes his way past the smoke left behind by his pyrotechnics. Picking up speed, the Kiwi hurtles into a run. At full tilt, he slides into the Squared Circle, coming up onto one knee in the process. With Dominik Santiago looking on, Hayden goes about pumping the crowd up behind him, leaving his foe stewing in his corner. With the crowd enthusiastically chanting his name, the legend proceeds to request a microphone from ringside. He wastes little time in addressing Santiago, leaving the commentary crew with little to say in reply.

”Let’s face it – We both know it. This ring is not big enough to hold a match of this intensity. This little square of canvas is not going to hold the egos of tonight’s competitors, let alone the match.

Yes – I am going to enforce a stipulation, unlike Santiago. When life hands you lemons, don’t hand them back. Squeeze them into the eyes of all who oppose you. My stipulation states that this match is now… Falls Count Anywhere”

[/center]

With that, the Kiwi drops the microphone and launches into his first offensive, looking to catch Santiago off guard with a quick sideswiping strike to the face.

TBC Dom


OOC: No count-outs is assumed, but if that counts as a second stip then we can always have a 10 count and falls count anywhere still applies within the 10 count.

[Dominik Santiago]

As the bell sounds the Kiwi releases a brisk haymaker across Santiago's face, striking him on the point of his cheekbone; the Californian's head violently snaps to the side as his brainpan absorbs the punch, meanwhile his frame trembles and recoils in retreat. Upon being lifted into the air, the New Age champ's leg protrudes, being driven into his foe's midsection. Dominik doubles over, arms gathered over his belly, his chest expanding along with the feeling of hollowness in his solar plexus. Taking advantage, the future Hall of Famer snatches the Assassin's head before sidestepping, whilst capturing it between the crook of his elbow and the side of his body. In spite of the fact his face begins to turn purple, the challenger maintains his composure. In an effort to escape the headlock, the King of Deathmatches shoots his elbow back, stabbing Hayden in his abdomen -loosening the Kiwi's grip. He follows up with a second and a third, effectively forcing Hardkore to relinquish his hold and liberating his own cranium. With his adversary momentarily stunned, Dom deftly maneuvers in front of him, before blasting the New Zealander in the chin with a benumbing forearm shot. The European Uppercut shifts the balance of the match into Santiago's favor for the first time, and from there he exploits his height and weight advantage to back the GHW veteran into the ropes. Upon contact, the Lord of the Flies grasps the aerialist's arm, and whips him across the squared circle. Hayden dashes across the ring before ricocheting off the cables. Exploiting the incoming Kiwi's momentum, Dominik bends him downward, whilst reaching around and encircling his body with his arms. In one fluid motion he proceeds to lift him into the air and spin him in front of his body. Showing mental alertness and a quick realization of his positioning, the shrewd champion wraps his legs around Santiago's head, before somersaulting forward, whilst dragging Dom toward the ropes and ejecting him out of the ring. Displaying his own acumen, the Lord of the Flies manages to grab a hold of the ring cord, pulling his body onto the apron, foiling the intent of the Headscissors Takedown by preventing himself from crashing to the padded floor. Dominik begins to regain full verticality, in the interim, Hayden springs to his feet, quickly making a bee-line for the ropes. The legend leaps onto the cables, using their elasticity to springboard himself toward his opponent. Hayden straightens his leg, stiffening them as he projects his aforementioned limbs like an adolescent on a swing set. The heel of his Chuck Taylors make first contact, clashing into Dom's trachea with a soft-crunch of crumbling cartilage. The sneak of the remaining leg is buried into the two time champion's torso, the force sending Legion's leader flying off the apron. He plummets from the atmosphere, with the back of his neck and upper back landing awkwardly on the padded floor.

Oliveira: "Haydens come out swinging. That picture perfect Dropkick is one of many tricks up his sleeve."
Big Al: "He's not wearing any sleeves."
Jennings: "What he means Al, is that these men know each other so well that we're likely to see some innovation from them in an effort to best one another."

Hayden brings himself to his feet, staring out of the ring at his sprawling rival. The Hollywood miscreant begins to stir, his eyes flicker as they peel back, slowly beginning to regain consciousness, albeit immediately feeling the effects of his fall. Meanwhile, the legendary champion begins scaling the top rope, pandering to the roaring crowd with utmost showmanship, like a daredevil being temerarious enough to attempt the high-risk maneuver he was contemplating. His feet make contact with the top rope; it bends beneath the near two hundred pound Kiwi, looking as though it might snap under the pressure. The rope shoves back, the flexibility of the cables flinging the champion toward his nemesis. The audience begins to shout and scream, as the future Hall of Famer soars through the air like a bird, preparing to swoop down at its prey. Hayden's body casts a shadow over Santiago's, alerting him of the impending danger. With a split second reaction, Dominik evasively dives forward, avoiding catastrophe, but more importantly leaving no human cushion for Hardkore to land on. The woeful plight of the defending champion concludes with a violent collision with the announce table, as his battered body bounces off upon impact. The cracking of bone is overshadowed by the gunshot kindred bang of his flesh meeting the unforgiving structure. His body collapses to the floor beside the dismayed commentary team with neither man moving; one superstar lies prone knowing he just dodged a bullet, the other in a broken and shattered heap of his former self. The patrons pant heavily in shock, breathing in the air that was now tense and apprehensive. With each breath the audience became disquieted, unsure of the champion's physical condition and how his injuries might affect him as the night progresses.

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!"
"He missed. I can't believe he missed!"
"His Leap of Faith was not answered by the Wrestling Gods."

The referee has now exited the ring, approaching the two competitors. Dominik staggers to his feet, blowing his blond hair from in front of his face, a sigh of relief escaping him in light of his new found confidence. The Assassin plods heavily to his downed foe, proceeding to lift his carcass off the floor and bring him to his feet. He opens up Hardkore's arms and reels back his hand, striking the Kiwi across his chest with a flesh wrenching chop. Hayden's body shrivels, wincing and yelping in pain, yet only to receive a clubbing blow to the top of his head. The Californian wraps his hand around the champ's skull before tossing him backward, heaving his body into the guardrail. His back cracks against the railing -grinding it back a few feet while the challenger steps back to ponder his next move. The thought process ceases as the Lord of the Flies charges at his wounded opponent. The winds of change blow through the GHW arena, as Hayden uses Santiago's momentum against him in an order to manipulate him. The Kiwi hunches over, extending his hands and grabbing Dom by the legs, before launching him upward, sending him over the guardrail. The crowd jumps back in excitement as the Lord of the Flies crashes and burns on the concrete floor, sending the audience into a frenzy as both men lie on opposite sides of the barricade. Hayden pulls himself to a stand with use from the guardrail, his face ridden with pain as he stares into the enthusiastic crowd. On the other side the former New Age Champion gradually begins to lift his debilitated frame off the concrete. The defending champion pulls back on the guardrail, before propelling himself forward in a diving lunge. With a rather instinctive reaction, Santiago hastily swings his leg across his body in a semi-circular fashion; his boot collides with the side of Hayden's cranium, dropping him out of the sky where he crashes stomach first across the guardrail. Hardkore is left suspended across the barrier, his body inert, appearing to be in a state of camatose, while his opponent scoffs to himself. A mischievous, maleficent grin spreads across Dominik's face, as malevolent schemes brew in his head about how to finish the job. Dominik begins murmuring to himself, in his head Slayer's "South of Heaven" begins to reverberate, embodying the very notion of insanity held by the Californian. "An unforseen future nestled somewhere in time." With a methodical, drawn out approach, the Lord of the Flies underhooks the Kiwi's arms. "Unsuspecting victims no warnings, no signs." As Hayden remains a lamb approaching sacrifice, the GHW icon lifts him into the air. The crazed babbling becomes audible, with the Lord of the Flies beginning to chant rather vociferously.

"Judgment day the second coming arrives....."

Sweat cascades down the Assassin's face, his cold-blue eyes bulging due to the crazed expression on his mug.

"Before you see the light.... YOU MUST DIE!"

Dominik flips Hayden's lifeless carcass like dead-weight before dropping to his knees, simultaneously thrusting him back down and driving him into the cemented surface -his spine and neck taking the brunt of the bone smashing impact. The sequence of events ends to a tumult of cheers, screams, and moans, with the crowd becoming almost as insane as the two combatants they're spectating by approving of such a display of violence.

"TIGER DRIVER ONTO THE CONCRETE FLOOR! OH MY GOD! HE JUST CRUSHED THE KIWI!
"And if Haydens a sinner, Dom just sent him to perdition."
"They've pulled out all the stops tonight. They're taking each other beyond their respective breaking points. All this in an effort to become the Undisputed New Age Champion..."

The noise level of the uproarious crowd begins to diminish, as Santiago barks at the referee who climbs over the guardrail, and with the challenger already on top of the supine, outstretched, motionless champion, the official slides down to make the count. Amidst the sea of nail-biting fans, the ref's hand cuts through the tense ambiance...

"1!"

"2!'

TBCB Hayden

[Hayden]

Santiago’s pinfall comes nail-bitingly close to putting the reign of the Jackass away, but Hayden’s shoulder rolls off the concrete at the last second, cheering from the crowd spurring the Kiwi Warrior on to continue the fight. Shaking his head, Dominik shoots an accusing gaze at the match official, who simply shrugs at the Lord of the Flies inferred message. Anger takes over as Santiago puts his attention to picking the Jackass up off the ground. Uncaringly, Dom flings his opponent onto his back in a Powerslam Position – the Kiwi helplessly bowing to Santiago’s wishes. Hayden is not given the time to recover from the brutal Tiger Driver, as Santiago looks to pile on the pressure. With more nonsensical uttering, not quite picked up by the cameras, Dominik Santiago hurls his opponent forward through the air, the crowd scattering aside in their wake.

*CRASH*

The body of Hayden is almost snapped in half, landing on top of an evacuated ringside chair with an awkward yelp of pain. Santiago revels in his handiwork, the Powerslam doing its intended job quite nicely. With the New Zealander’s night looking as if it will be shorter than he had imagined, Santiago once again closes in for the killing blow. Tossing chairs aside as he goes, the Lord of the Flies clears a path to his goal, the sacrificial lamb glancing over at him with an ambivalent look of fear and worry. Santiago simply manages a sick smile as he approaches.

”Santiago has really come out to fight in this one, and aside from an early burst, Hayden has really not shown his usual fighting spirit.”

”He’s going to need to find it soon if the Kiwi is going to stand a chance at passing the first leg of the match.”

”This could be a short night for the titleless champion, and an early upset.”

”Upset? Hayden’s whole career has been one big upset… Each of these men are at the top of their games. There are no upsets here tonight, and anybody can win!”

[/center]

Santiago nears the downed Jackass, clearing a cutting of chairs in his wake as he goes. He is not able to get near to the Kiwi, however, as the Jackass staggers to his knees, a hand clutched to his lower back. Hayden flings a discarded chair in the direction of his opponent, scoring a glancing blow off the shoulder for his troubles. With that, the defiant Kiwi is gingerly back on his feet, reeling dangerously like an injured and cornered animal. Knowing the danger that a cornered Kiwi poses, Santiago slows his approach. Looking for an opening, the Lord of the Flies waits with increasing impatience. The pair inevitably wind up locking horns, a Collar and Elbow tie causing the battle to spill over into the area earlier cleared by Dom. With a decent area of clear ground around them, the pair swing themselves from left to right. Fists are exchanged between the men, each sneaking past lack-luster defenses to hit its mark, but it is Santiago’s fist that staggers the Kiwi. Hayden reels backward, crashing back first into the back of the crowd barricade for his worries. The follow up comes swiftly, in the form of a Clothesline that spins the Jackass up and over the barricade, crashing down on the lightly padded floor of the ringside area. Santiago follows Hayden over, hoisting the New Zealander back onto his feet and flinging him toward the edge of the ring. With a resonant gong, the skull of Hayden HardKore meets the steel upright of the turnbuckle. His body slumps as the Kiwi hugs the pole, a mixture of agony and exhaustion leading him to seek a well needed rest.

Rest is not quite top of his opponent’s priority list, however, who grabs Hayden by the back of the head and wrenches him free of the turnbuckle. Again, Santiago bullies Hayden to his own will, Irish Whipping the Jackass into the crowd barricade once more. Hayden slams shoulder first into the steel barrier, coming to rest just underneath on the ringside flooring. With a confident smile, Santiago once more rolls the Kiwi onto his back, looking to hook the Kiwi’s leg for another pin.

”Here we go once more. Hayden is a hard guy to put down, but it is possible.”

”All it takes is a good solid beating. He is a tough cookie, but like all cookies, he is known to crumble.”

”But we also know that the Jackass can strike from anywhere, anytime… I really do not think that he is going to take this lying down.”

[/center]

Before Santiago can hook the leg of his opponent, Hayden boots him off, rolling out of danger. The Kiwi slinks into the safety of the ring for a moments relief. By the time Santiago had managed to pick himself up off the mat and follow the New Zealander into the ring, Hayden had slunk out the other side to his freedom, leaving Dominik alone in the ring. With a glare at his opponent, the Lord of the Flies tries to cut Hayden off at the pass, closing the gap between him and the Champion. However, Hayden continues on his way, leading Santiago away from the ring by escaping up the entranceway. By the time he had reached the stage at the top, Santiago was out of the ring, chasing him down. Hayden smiles as his opponent approaches, letting him come closer without flinching. When Hayden does move, he does so with gusto, snapping up into a Dropkick that catches the Lord of the Flies in the chest and takes him off his feet. In the wake of the momentum-shifting Dropkick, both Hayden and Santiago lie next to each other. Both chests heave in exhaustion, both men pushing themselves to the limit already. Stirring begins with the Jackass, Hayden also being the first one to his feet. By the time Santiago finds his feet, Hayden is crouching in wait for him. From the edge of the entrance stage, Hayden winds his left fist up behind his back.

Santiago turns to face his opponent, not seeing the fist come his way until it is too late. The impact is like an explosion, his knees going weak instantly. Given the precarious position he is in, Santiago topples over, falling off the edge of the entrance stage to the concrete flooring below. Dominik winds up in a pile, amongst a mess of cables and lighting rigs. Hayden is quick to follow up his Power of the South-Paw with a secondary move. Scrambling down to the lower level after his opponent, Hayden retrieves a ladder used by the lighting grips, sliding it on top of the entrance stage. Following the ladder up, Hayden wastes little time in setting the steel ladder up. He climbs the ladder expertly, surveying the whole scene. He looks out over the waves of fans that engulf the arena, looking out over his downed opponent lying more than 10 feet below him. With a smile forming on his face, Hayden readies himself to jump.

”Hayden has turned this first match around on its head, now taking the advantage from Dominik.”

”But this could be too much of a risk. Even if Hayden manages to land this move and beat Santiago, his body has to get through two more matches without falling apart.”

”I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Hayden has more guts than brains. Jackass… Very aptly named.”

[/center]

With a signal more appropriated by his once identity – Santo Masceras, Hayden crosses his chest in a catholic cross before taking to the air. The old-timer reaches a fair amount of hang time before coming back down to earth. Hayden lets out a blood curdling war-cry as he falls, twisting his body around into a Leg Drop. All around the arena, the crowd wait for the impending impact, knowing that Hayden’s hitting or missing the move would have a huge impact on the match itself.

TBC

[Ryan Hughes]

The winner of the fall is Dominik Santiago, which means we will see a new GHW New Age Champion! Well done to the both of you, because it was amazingly close. Next man in is Mighty Man Millson, who gets first post, seeing as he has a stipulation to name.


TBC MMM.

[Millson and Simpson]

The crowd give a mixed reaction, some members of the audiencegiving out the usual boos with others giving Millson cheers for his off-script goodbye to Dustin Delta earlier in the night. The Ultimate Ego strides into view and spreads his arms wide, holding a microphone in one hand, before walking slowly down the ramp. Millson raises the microphone and adresses a weary Santiago with his stipulation.

I have to say, I did not expect to be facing you. However, it means that the game is now as open as it can be, we have a new New Age champion. So out goes the Falls Count Anywhere stipulation and seeing as you refused to enter a stipulation, the ball's now in my court. You know how good I am when it comes to technical mat wrestling and so I'm going to force you to play my game. We're having a Submission match. Good luck with that, Dom, you're gonna need it.

Millson drops the microphone and sprints into the ring, the referee ringing the bell to start the second match of the Tyrant's Roulette.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eager to press his already god-sent advantage into the contest, the Daddy's Boy barely waits for the official to signal for the opening bell, launching himself at the battle-weary Assassin and clubbing the Californian's back with closed fist punches. With a frenetic salvo of strikes, the Ultimate Ego sends Santiago to his knees, before sprinting to the adjacent set of ropes and returning to thrust both boots into the cranial lobe of the kneeling Assassin, the low Dropkick flooring the KOTDM champion. As the Lord of the Flies rolls onto his sternum in a vain attempt to protect himself from the Englishman, Millson spots a vulnerable limb, grabbing the unprotected right knee of Santiago and lifting the body part into the air, before slamming it to the canvas with all the force he can muster. Dominik immediately clutches his knee and rolls around in agony on the unforgiving mat, desperately attempting to alleviate the pain shooting through his leg. Millson smiles a cunning smile, knowing the match is in his control if he keeps it at his pace, knowing that the New Age title is only two steps away if he remains calm and collected. As the Lord of the Flies reels in pain, the Whitby Wonder formulates his next plan of action, grabbing the right leg of the veteran and viciously stomping on the injured body part, not once or twice, but thrice, each stomp drawing a grunt of pain from the leader of Legion. Continuing his methodical offense, Triple M grasps the same limb and hoists it into the air, before dropping his entire body weight on top of it, keeping his hands interlocked around Dominik's leg as he does so, Millson attempting to force the submitory words from Santiago's lips as he utilises the basic leg lock.

It might be basic, but this is a difficult hold to escape from because Santiago has no leverage to assist him.
But Santiago has experience. He'll know a counter to this, I promise.
Matt, I'll hold you to that when Millson gets the victory with this manoeuvre.

Santiago lets out a howl of pain, frustration and desperation as all his technical awareness is thrown out of the window, the Assassin instead relying on brute force to escape the leg lock, throwing wild fists at the back of his antagonist. However, having anticipated this response, the Daddy's Boy braces himself for the lusty blows and they don't faze the Briton, who only wrenches Santiago's leg further, the Lord of the Flies quickly relinquishing this simple approach. The Legion Leader drops his back to the mat to reduce the pressure slightly, only for the man in the zebra stripes to slide in and slap his hand to the mat, recognising the inadvertant pin cover. Santiago immediately sits up to break the pinfall, only to repeat the pain he's suffering, realising his vulnerability in this position. Desperate to break free of the hold, Santiago resorts to what brought him to the dance and he reaches around the head of the Ultimate Ego, grabbing a fingerful of hazel eyes and raking downwards, forcing Millson to break his submission attempt.

Triple M rolls away from Santiago to earn himself some valuable seperation whilst his eyes recuperate from the stinging induced by the eye rake as Santiago crawls towards the nearest ropes and grabs the bottom rope, dragging his injured knee as he does so, a brief interlude in the match occuring as both men try to ease their respective ailments. The stinging in Millson's eye soon stops and his focus returns to the task in hand, the Ultimate Ego striding purposefully over to the Lord of the Flies. However, having reached the bottom rope, Santiago proceeds to pull himself awkwardly to his full verticality, trying to escape placing his full weight on the incapacitated right knee. Seeing his advantage slowly dissipate, Millson speeds up and charges at the Assassin, throwing his right arm to the side as he does so, aiming to Clothesline Santiago over the top rope, but, showing his veteran instincts, Dominik drops to the canvas and pulls the top rope down with him, momentum playing Millson for a fool, the Ultimate Ego sent tumbling over the top wire and to the concrete outside the squared circle.

An act of recklessness from the youngster and that could come back to bite Millson.
Of course it could, but let's be honest, with that bullseye on his right knee, how can Santiago defeat Millson, let alone make him submit?
That's a good point, Al. But Santiago knows all the tricks. This match isn't over just yet.

The crowd let out a mixed reaction as the brash youngster makes his first miscalculation of the contest, some rooting for the Daddy's Boy, some rooting for the Assassin, all enjoying the Tyrant's Roulette match as it unfolds. Dominik slowly slides out of the ring, softly stepping off the ring apron as the Tyrant of Technique clambers to his feet, turning into a stiff boot to the mid-section from Santiago. The Legion leader wastes no time in grabbing Triple M by the scruff of his neck as Millson is doubled over, the Lord of the Flies throwing Millson into the barricade back-first, to another mixed reaction from the GHW fans. Not wanting to relent in his attack, Santiago walks over to the propped-up Daddy's Boy and throws right hands onto the unprotected head of Millson, the Ultimate Ego unable to cover up, soaking up 10 strikes to the skull before Santiago ceases his onslaught. Dominik proceeds to the ring apron and whips the curtain away, before fishing underneath the squared circle and pulling out a chair, swinging it in a circle to test the capabilities of the implement.

Seeing the weapon, Millson lifts his arms up in a fragile plea of mercy, but the unrelenting SKO master simply shakes his head and raps the cold, hard steel across the kneecap of the Whitby Wonder, a scream of pain erupting from the mouth of the youngster. Knowing that revenge is a dish best served cold, Dominik continues to drive the chair into the same injured limb that Millson worked on, the sustained punishment now copied onto the frame of the Daddy's Boy. The Lord of the Flies throws the chair away and as Millson rolls around on the concrete, pure agony etched on his face, Santiago moves over to the steel steps and breaks the double stacked steps into separate parts, a plan having weaseled it's way into his diabolical mind. The Assassin walks back over to the Mighty Man and clutches the right leg of the Ultimate Ego, dragging Millson over to the steel steps and propping the injured limb on the metallic structure. With the Daddy's Boy almost unconcious from the pain in his knee, Millson is powerless to resist as Santiago picks up the second segment that used to form the steel steps, the Assassin lifting the section into the air and mercilessly driving the top half of the steps onto Millson's kneecap, wedging the bone inbetween both sections of the ring steps, a blood-curdling scream emitting from the Tyrant of Technique as bone meets metal.

OH MY GOD! His leg could be broken after that.
Calm down, Matt. I know you like violence but could you remember where you are, please?
Earlier we were talking about whether Santiago could hope to win this match, but now let's reverse the roles. Can Millson come back from this?
Somewhere out there, Jaggeroth is watching this and realising that he will be facing an already injured opponent.

Santiago kicks the steps away as Millson's leg rolls out of it's metallic prison, the Daddy's Boy never having felt pain like this in his career, regretting his sadistic intent in the early exchanges of this match. Knowing the match can only end in the middle of the ring, the Legion Leader is quick to pick up the wounded Englishman and slide him into the squared circle, following with greater speed than Millson can even comprehend with his injured leg. The Assassin lives up to his name and stalks the Ultimate Ego as Millson tries to ease the pain shooting through his bones and muscles, before Millson painstakingly clambers to his knees and ascends to his full verticality. Seeeing his opportunity to deliver more pain, The Lord of the Flies wraps both of his arms under the armpits of the Daddy's Boy, forcing Millson's arms into the air and locking in a Full Nelson. Dominik waits for a mere second, before he throws his boot out in front and pushes his entire 227 pound frame forwards, pulling his leg backwards as he does so, driving the face of the Whitby Wonder onto the canvas.

A huge Full Nelson Facebuster and that could put Millson out for the count.
And with Millson already in huge pain, it looks like Santiago could just slip on a submission hold and the match is his.
You can't count out the skills of the Daddy's Boy, though. He still has a say in this match, mark my words.

TBC- Santiago

[Dominik Santiago]

The Hollywood native gets a handful of Millson's hair and uses it to pull him to a vertical base. Not deviating from the assault earlier on his foe's injured lower appendage, Dominik maneuvers behind the groggy brit before capturing his shin with his right hand. He wraps his free arm around Triple M's torso whilst bending the right leg and hoisting his adversary into the air. The Lord of the Flies descends to his left knee, coercing the Mighty One's shin into his raised right knee, leaving him in distress as he collapses to the canvas from the torturous pain in his limb. The former Television Champion crawls toward the corner, his hand gingerly caressing his leg in hopes to alleviate the trauma, meanwhile Dominik backs away slightly to gloat, apparently relishing in the fact that he may have shortened his rival's career, or at least greatly hindered his chances for victory with the Shin Breaker. Millson begins to lift himself up in the corner, prompting Dominik to charge in with intent on completely dismantling him. Triple M senses the forthcoming threat, and despite seemingly standing on one leg, has the necessary means to dodge the attack. The lunging Assassin is unable to bring his momentum to a halt, and consequently crashes shoulder first into the steel ring post. Santiago feels a rush of pain throughout his aforementioned joint as he backpedals from the corner, courtesy of his failed thrust like move. Millson hastily advances behind him, quickly grabbing the Californian's right wrist and elbow before bending it back and executing a standard hammerlock. He continues to put pressure on Dom's joints, wrenching the submission like a police officer subduing a degenerate. Affected by the slight paralysis in his arm, the King of Deathmatches leans forward, tentatively increasing the numbness in the joint, before pivoting his body slightly toward Millson. Upon liberating his arm, Dom instantly captures the Englishman in a rear waistlock, with the leader of Legion looking to bring the Daddy's Boy back for a devastating German Suplex. The catch as catch can wrestling master has other plans however, as the British Technician slips one hand down into the hold and effectively severs Santiago's grip. Holding one of Dom's hands in captivity, Millson deftly rolls to the side before dropping to a seated position, whilst pulling Santiago forward and causing him to fall onto his face. With a sense of urgency, the Mighty One scissors his legs around Dominik's arm before encircling his hands around his face, commencing to clasp his fingers together, enclosing the Assassin's mug around his palms.

"These two traded counters with Millson ending up besting Santiago at the end of the combination."
"From one submission to the other, and now he has him captured in the dreaded Crossface!"
"Dominik allowed himself to be outsmarted, and it might just cost him."

As his neck begins to develop a crook in it, Santiago pushes himself up onto his knees, before taking his hands and pushing Millson's arms up, creating a small but accessible window to escape. Santiago stabs into the Mighty One's midsection with his elbow, before taking the same elbow and blasting him in the temple.Triple M lays curled on his side, fingers brushing over his head as it assimilates the pain in just endured. Dominik creaks up onto one knee, shaking his arm held in anguish, a slight hissing sound emanating from between his gritted teeth as he inhales. From there Santiago proceeds to grab the Englishman's nearest arm, before twisting it, applying pressure to the former T.V. champion's shoulder and elbow. Millson winces in agony, the exchange of submissions continuing as the Lord of the Flies detains him with the armbar. With absolutely no intentions of tolerating the discomfort, Millson regains a vertical base before turning inward to face his antagonist, palliating the pressure being applied by the maneuver. The Imperfect One then unleashes a quick kick that impinges the Californian's hamstring tendon. Dom's knee buckles, compelling his defenses to lower, thus allowing Triple M to further take advantage. The Britton quickly raises his bent leg, maliciously driving his knee into the Assassin's solar plexus and forcing him to double over. With Santiago leaned forward, Millson smirks, totally apathetic to the suffering of his nemesis. With advancement to the final stage of the Tyrant's Roulette hanging in the balance, the Mighty One ceases his posturing, quickly grabbing Dominik's right arm. In one fluid motion, the Daddy's Boy steps over Santiago's arm and twists his body in mid-air, ending with both men landing supinely on the canvas, with the foreigner jerking the hardcore superstar's wrist upward and subsequently hyperextending his shoulder and elbow. With an exclamation of delight from the patrons, Dominik's feet frantically slap the mat, his eyes swelling with trepidation as the Mighty Man's dreams of submission victory grow closer to fruition.

"ARMBARS EVERYWHERE!"
"Millson's going to snap his arm in two if he doesn't tap out."
"Brilliant strategy from the Englishman. He worked on the leg at the start, and now he's focused on the arm!

Dominik extended his free arm toward the ropes, but the cables were much too far away. The sweat trickled from his brow, the gears beginning to spin in his head, as he comes to the quick realization that he'll have to concede to the pain if the situation isn't altered. Tucking his free arm into his body, Santiago shifts his weight into one quick momentum swaying motion that left his body strength pressuring Millson's submission, forcing him to relinquish the hold resulting in Dominik breaking loose. The rolling continues until Dom reaches the ropes, quickly sliding under the bottom to find refuge on the apron, all the while creating a distance between him and his foe. The Lord of the Flies pulls up to a knee, with his right arm having gone dead, and left hanging limp and benumbed. Dominik snarls to himself as Millson reaches his feet, with the Englishman quickly charging at the ropes. Instinctively, the Assassin ejects himself from the apron. He lands on the arena floor in time to make Triple M pay for his impetuousness. Santiago slides under the ropes, quickly grabbing his opponent's ankles and sweeping them, causing the egotistical Englishman to fall onto his back. With the Imperfect's feet still in his possession, Santiago drags him toward the nearby corner, pulling him forward, and slamming his pelvic area into the steel post, with his legs dangling on either side of the iron structure. Millson's interjection of writhing brings a cold smile to the Assassin who pulls his right leg outward, before swinging it inward and viciously slamming it into the post. The sound of his knee clashing against the pole reverberates through the arena, along with the Englishman's shrills of pain. The GHW legend follows up with two more shots, with Millson's already debilitated leg softening up to substantial proportions. The Assassin suddenly steps over MMM's leg, spinning and twisting it inward, executing a spinning toe hold, before taking his foe's free leg and crossing it over his own, a four formation being created as Dom reclines to the floor, draping his own leg over Millson's limbs to increase the pressure and maximize his suffering, the Englishmen full tilt with cries of pain and anguish bursting from his lips.

"He's got him in a variation of the Figure Four wrapping his legs around the steel post...."
"Dominik found an opening and has never looked back. Now Millson finds himself the one on the wrong end of the spectrum."
"His career is riding on this one moment. Can he hold on?"

The Englishman's shrill, discordant sounds continue to resonate throughout the arena, meanwhile the referee begins his questionnaire, asking the Daddy's Boy if he'll submit. Millson's pride doesn't allow him to, as he simply cringes and shakes his head from side to side. His obstinate disposition causes Dominik to relinquish his hold, as the Californian realizes he'll have to do a little bit more damage to finally finish off his opponent. The Might One slides back from the post, the anguish written on his sweaty face, his hands carefully tending to his injured leg. Millson grabs the nearby ropes, wrapping his hands around the second ring cable as a crutch to aid his pleas. On the outside looking in, the Assassin knees up onto the apron, glaring at him with a beaming expression like a shark smelling blood in the water. As Millson climbs to his feet like a wounded animal, the two time New Age Champion scales the top turnbuckle. The Englishman holds his creaking, wobbling leg, barely able to put any weight on his battered limb. Sneering down at him is the Lord of the Flies, aware of his foe's lack of stability and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Oblivious, the Mighty One stumbles and pivots, the changing of his positioning inadvertently springing Dominik into action. Santiago dives forward, leaping off the turnbuckle with his trajectory mimicking that of a torpedo being launched through the ocean. As he wraps his arms around Millson's head, he flips forward, ergo the momentum takes the brit off his feet and into the air. The Hollywood heretic lands supinely with a thud, while the Mighty One lands with an ungodly, concussive force, as his cranium is driven into the unforgiving canvas. The crowd explodes, the roof of the GHW arena being blown off in wake of they're cheers, applause and chants of "Holy Shit"; both men lie dormant, with the recipient of the DDT lying prone with his face buried into the white linens of the ring, and the deliverer sprawling, due to physical exertion and fatigue which begins to set it, the arena lights shining upon his very figure.

"GOOD GOD! BRAIN DAMAGE! HOLY SHIT...
"Dominiks able to level the Englishman after injuring his leg."
"Jaggeroth's sitting somewhere licking his chops, knowing whomever he gets next round, its gonna be easy pickings!"

TBC

[Ryan Hughes]

Dominik Santiago takes the fall again, and progresses to the last match with Jaggeroth. Millson, that was probably the best post I have seen you pull out so far, so take heart from this performance.


TBC Jaggeroth

[Psychotic Circus]

I'm going to try and get one up tonight after work, if not, I humbly ask for an extension till we both can get one in. Dom, if you'd like to go first, then do so.

[Dominik Santiago]

OOC: Jaggeroth makes his entrance sometime... and the casket is brought to ringside:P

---

The Time Killer towers over his opponent as the bell sounds around them. Santiago slowly wheels up to a point of full verticality, his face wrinkled in a grimace, his motions gradual due to the previous two battles he had successfully waged and won. He backs up into the corner, only to come to the quick realization that he had made a grave mistake. The goliath of a man, the ring leader of the Psychotic Circus began to approach him, his hands held in a offensive ready position, beginning to corner the cunning King of Deathmatches like a mouse. Jag shifts his body weight to the rear, quickly pivoting with his lead foot, allowing him to swing his fist vigorously through the electric ambiance. Proving quicker than a hiccup despite having already wrestled two grueling bouts, Dominik circumvents the right hand, evasively maneuvering out of the corner whilst causing Jaggeroth to spin in, ultimately causing both men to switch positions. Santiago wastes no time in going on the attack, walloping his nemesis with a stiff right hand that thrashes the Nebraskan's brain-bucket. He then sidesteps and rears his hand back, before unleashing a Nature Boyesque chop that wrenches the near seven footers chest. As Jag's body trembles from the agony, Dominik charges across the ring, bouncing off the ropes in an effort to gain momentum. It was the opening Jaggeroth needed, as he dashes out the corner with malicious intent, his leg being lifted into the air with absolute apathy to his antagonist's wellbeing. The Lord of the Flies is unable to halt his momentum in time to protect his cranium, the lack of prevention allowing his brains to be shattered by the former Tag champion's massive boot. Dom's feet are swept from under him, as his body flops to the canvas from the guillotine like kick. Jaggeroth chuckles to himself, showing haughty disdain as observes his opponent, the said Assassin failing to reach his feet and only able to roll his frame onto his stomach -slowly progressing to his hands and knees and crawling toward the ropes. The sadistic Nebraskan leans forward, gripping the Californian by his blond hair and attempting to lift him to up. Fueled by desperation, Santiago mightily swings his fist across his body, slamming it into Jaggeroth's kneecap. His leg buckles from the impact, his teeth and eyes gritting and squinting both respectively and instantly. Having created a window of opportunity, Dominik grapples Jaggeroth's head, and rises to his knees before cutting his forearm up and utter; it slashes through the gap between the two titans, before clashing into the protruding portion of the behemoth's lower jaw. Jaggeroth staggers back, his head violently flipping to the back of his neck meanwhile his arms faintly outstretch, the expression on his face one of a man having been rattled by a slobber knocker like blow to the facial region. Jaggeroth scoots into the ring cables, wrapping both his arms around the top rope to regain his bearings. The leader of Legion glances out into the crowd, peering at the fans who watch on intently. Looking to take advantage of Jaggeroth's groggy state, Dominik makes a bee-line toward the ropes. Having lured his victim to his demise, the Nebraskan spins off the ropes, his near arm outstretching and crashing into his opponent's clavicle, his weight swept off his own feet forthwith as he somersaults to the mat due to the ravaging Clothesline.

Jaggeroth just turned him inside out! The Assassin is reaching the end of the road!
"You have to ask yourself which one of these delinquents do you want as your champion."
"I'll take the guy who hasn't raped a woman."

Dominik attempts to pick himself up, his arms extended as if reaching for a helping hand that isn't there, only for Jaggeroth to snatch him up by his color-dyed follicles and lead him to his feet. Upon barking at the referee to open the casket, the Nebraskan proceeds to hoist Santiago in the air, with both arms extended in a military press like fashion. As he commences to advance to the ropes, the King of Deathmatches begins to squirm, as if detecting the impeding danger. He is able to wriggle himself free, harmlessly sliding down his adversaries back and falling into the ropes. As the cables throw him forward he approaches his rival in a full sprint, prompting Jaggeroth to maneuver in a defensive manner. The deranged psychopath hooks his arm underneath and behind Santiago's armpits, exploiting the momentum to lift the Assassin into the air and throw him forward. The Hollywooder clears the ropes and flies over the casket, his body pancaking to the concrete surface below from the bone breaking bump. A chorus of jeers surges as Jaggeroth leans over the top rope, his hand rubbing the rim of his chin as he smiles a cocksure grin, appearing impervious to the detestation of the patrons who hold him in contempt to the same degree if not greater than the superstar he's manhandling. His swollen head deflates, as the ego trip ceases and he proceeds to an equally pleasurable activity - defeating Santiago. He rolls under the bottom rope and marches toward the Assassin; the aforementioned legend slowly picks himself up off the floor, his head spinning, eyes widened with bewilderment to his surroundings as his fall apparently left him stupefied. Jaggeroth lifts Dominik to his feet before doubling over, quickly lunging forward with his shoulder and forcing Santiago backward and slamming him spine first into the guardrail. The Time Killer was parched for prominence, stepping back a few paces to deride Santiago in his state of suffering. Beneath the mocking lies the shallow understanding that to finally reach the pinnacle of GHW, he'd have to finally vanquish his long time nemesis. And he was inching closer to that feat, quickly charging forward with intent to drive his wounded adversary through the security barrier. Showing signs of a second wind, the Lord of the Flies steps aside and wraps his feet around Jaggeroth's leg before falling to the floor, whilst coercing his foe forward and sending him crashing forward into the guardrail with his gullet being smashed between the steel structure. With the Nebraskan gagging from the esophagus crushing impact, the former New Age Champion makes his way to his feet. Dom slowly climbs onto the guardail, staring down at the Time Killer like a vulture looking to swoop down on the remains of his target. As Jaggeroth staggers to his feet, Santiago comes to a full stand, briefly balancing on the structure and waiting for his adversary to turn around. As he does, the GHW Icon dives forward, stretching his body full eagle in an effort to take his rival off his feet. Jaggeroth counters, capturing Santiago around the head and shoulder, simultaneously grabbing his upper thigh before reclining backward; in one fluid motion he throws him overhead, proceeding to slam him into the concrete with his shoulders and upperback taking the brunt of the force.

What a T-Bone! He caught him in mid - freaking -air!
"Jaggeroth's freshness has catapulted him to this victory. Once he throws him in that casket, he'll bury the Assassin and his own past personal failures.

Jaggeroth ascends to his feet once more, his hands running through his locks as he contemplates his next move. Meanwhile Santiago lies sprawled, showing absolutely no signs of immediate moving. The Time Killer plods toward the commentary table, shooting a glare at the three staff members that sends Colin and Al in retreat, soon followed by the Genius who steps away as well, albeit with reluctance and without cowardice unlike his colleagues. The Nebraskan lifts up the cover of the table, tossing it aside before pulling out the monitors, leaving the table baron, and beckoning to be pulverized. He makes his way back to Santiago, ragdoll lifting him to his feet before dragging him toward the table and tossing him onto it. The Time Killer climbs on top of the ringside furniture himself, slowly leaning over and grappling the prone Assassin by the head. Dominik presses off the table with open palms, and with aid from his antagonist, slowly rocking back onto his knees at his stares blankly at the man bearing down over top of him - lethargically snapping his head back in an effort to shake the cobwebs. The fatigued covered facade of the Assassin is visible to the world, until he falls forward into Jaggeroth's lap, ostensibly ready to be put out of his misery. The Nebraskan was the chauffeur, about to take Santiago on a misery filled ride to oblivion, beginning to lift his California born opponent to his feet. The winds of change gust through the sold out arena, breathing life into the Santiago's broken soul, spurring a change of events. With the suddenness of a lightning strike, the Lord of the Flies breaks free from Jaggeroth's clutches, quickly turning around and leaping into the air. Reaching backward, Domink seizes the flesh mask dawning monster's head, quickly dragging him off feet as he plummets through the tense air. Both men come crashing down onto the commentary table to a bedlam of cheers, Santiago landing supinely, with the recipient being driven down by the three-quarter facelock. Despite the flawless, devastating execution and the force behind the abrupt SKO, the table remains erect. Dominik rolls off of the table and stumbles to his feet, chants of "This is Awesome" reverberating through the arena and building up to a nearly-unanimous mantra. The Californian takes his back hand and removes the perspiration plastered across his face before turning to the table, slowly rolling an inert Jaggeroth onto his back, and dragging him so that his upperback is slightly suspended across the edge of the said structure. Persevering through the pain and exhaustion, Dominik begins raining fists down across the Nebraskan's flesh mask, all in an effort to keep him at bay, and unconscious long enough to finish him off. After the brief series of vile blows ends, the vindictive KOTDM champion marches toward the time keeper's table, quickly grabbing a steel chair and brandishing it into the air to a bloodthirsty reaction from the audience. Working on his ultraviolent instincts alone, the two time New Age Champion makes his way back to the squared hell, sliding into the ring and hastily making his way up the turnbuckles. Santiago stares out into the arena, the chair hoisted high and pridefully into the air, receiving a positive reaction from the crowd looking for Jaggeroth to be put out of commission for past transgressions gone un-punished. Sneering down at his opponent's frail, lifeless carcass, Dominik takes his freehand and places his thumb in his mouth , before bending his index finger in a fashion that mimics the use of an inhaler. The pandering further ignites the patrons who stand on their feet in preparation for a moment that will live on in infamy. Wasting no more time to posture, Dominik suddenly leaps off the turnbuckle, soaring through the air with grace, flourishing the recklessness, and impetuousness that had made his career. As he rapidly descends through the air and nears his target, the Lord of the Flies brings his knees inward, quickly placing the steel chair underneath his feet. At the eleventh hour his legs obtrude, the steel equalizer being driven into Jaggeroth's chest like a spike. The weight of the two causes the table to give way, as it smashes with different parts of it being scattered across the commentary area.

"HOLY SHIT! ASTHMA ATTACK! RIGHT THROUGH OUR ANNOUNCE TABLE!"
"You couldn't have scripted that any better. Double Foot Stomp driving chair into sternum! What a match!"
"I'm sorry if I don't share your enthusiasm, considering the fact that we have to commentate the remainder of this contest standing up!!!"

Two broken bodies lie in the debris of the table, and despite not having spilled a drop of blood, they were pushed far beyond the limits of normal human endurance. They're threshold for pain had been trumped, and not for the fans in the arena, or those glued to television sets and internet feeds around the world, but for the chance to become the 'Undisputed New Age Champion' and bring a career full circle.

TBCB Jag