Post by Jack Tracks on Jun 23, 2012 19:26:50 GMT -5
As the next match gets ready to begin, and with the two competitors ready to get going, Charlie Coors stands in the middle of the ring, in order to address the crowd.
"The following contest is a Bring Your Own Weapons match, for the GHW King of the Deathmatch championship! What that means is that the two competitors are allowed to use any weapon given to them by a member of the audience. Now we know that our fans are some of the craziest and most creative in all of wrestling, and we have no doubt that you've brought some great weapons in tonight! If you want them to get used, make sure to keep them held up high and proud so our Fighty fighty persons can see them!"
And the fans do indeed comply, all of them standing and cheering with their hands in the air, holding a smorgasbord of fun tools and weapons to be seen.
"Well, this lot certainly isn't disappointing! But this does beg the question of just what the hell we pay security for? Even with a match like this set up, I can't believe they were all allowed through."
"It's all in good fun, you know that. I'm more interested in seeing just what Tracks and Delta are going to actually use here."
They won't have to wait long, as the bell rings to officially begin the match, after Coors dives to relative safety outside of the ring and over to the timekeeper's table. The road clear and the match begun, the two men take this time to build up some tension, staring each other down from across the ring. With these kinds of stakes, neither man would want to make the wrong first move. Even the normally volatile Tracks stays patient. At least, until they both make a flash of movement....away from each other. The two fighters each practically jump out of the ring, facing the crowd, making right for those great weapons.
On Tracks' side, he's trying to get the crowd amped up, raising his hands and shouting, as they all respond with cheers and letting their hands up! Lots of crazy stuff is on display. Besides the usual baseball bats and chairs, Jack spots some more usual fare. Rakes, logs, and, of course, more than a couple oversized dildos! But he makes his decision, and grabs a nice, heavy cast-iron frying pan as his first weapon of choice. He gives it a few swings to test the weight, and turns back with a grin. Confident, he moves around the corner, only to be greeted by the edge of a toothed blade! Tracks jumps back in surprise as he comes face-to-face with Delta's weapon. Somehow, an audience member has brought out one of those long branch-trimmers. The kind that's essentially a cross between a saw and a scythe, attached to the end of a long pole. The weapon comes forward again, trying to impale Tracks and end this as soon as it started. However, his better-than-average reactions allow the King of the Road to bring his very tough pan up just in time, and the blade bounces right off. This doesn't discourage the Champ, however, as he begins to thrust rapidly, albeit a bit wildly. With his considerable speed, Tracks is able to avoid or block each of the thrusts, but with each one, his guard seems to get sloppier and sloppier. And Delta can tell. The somewhat slasher-like smile he's got going grows just a bit wider, and he swings the weapon, instead of thrusting. Tracks isn't expecting that, and he gets the jagged teeth of the saw end digging right into his side! Jack screams in pain at the sharp blow, his hand instinctively reaching down to grab the pole. The King of Hearts licks his lips, and tugs, raking those jagged teeth right along Jack's flesh, digging and tearing it away. When it comes back, the edge of the blade is dripping blood, and the camera zooms in on the awful gash rend into Tracks' side.
"Oh god! There's no way he won't be feeling that for the entire rest of the night. He's going to need alot of stiches here."
"I used one of those things this last weekend at my house. Did a number on those tree branches. You can see how they do much worse on flesh."
"Tracks has got to get that thing away. Any hit he takes will not only threaten to put him out here, but make his chances later tonight in the NeXuS that much worse!"
The brutal tearing of his flesh got to Tracks very quickly, the pain dropping him down to one knee and clutching the wound. Delta takes a step back to admire his handiwork, rather happy with this weapon's results. But he knows that giving Tracks too much time is practically a death sentence, even with an opening blow like that. He hefts the weapon back into position, and raises it high above his head. The champion lets out a shout of determination, and swings the weapon, blade-first, down on Tracks. But when it seems like he was going to basically commit murder right there, his swing is stopped! Tracks' hand, covered in his own blood, took hold of the shaft of the weapon as it came down, and, using his considerable lower-body strength (not to mention a load of stubbornness) starts to fight back, gradually making his way back to his feet, much to the shock of DD.
"Holy shit! A gash like that would send most men right to the hospital, but Jack Tracks is managing to keep fighting!"
"He's not going to let one hit ruin his chance at FINALLY getting that damn belt. Not after all those tries!"
Indeed, his determination serves him well, as the King of the Road stands up once more, Delta's crowd weapon in his hand. Knowing when to cut his losses, Delta just lets the weapon go, and runs to the crowd again, searching for a new weapon. He digs through, and one helpful fan hands him what looks like a shoddy walking cane. It'll do, he thinks, and turns back around...just to get smacked right between the eyes with that frying pan! The CRACK echoes through the arena, sending the crowd "OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHing" and Dustin reeling. His eyes nearly glaze over, and he stumbles to his right....then his left....before another blow rains down on his head, crumpling the champion's body right on the spot. His foe down, Tracks raises his very helpful tool, shouting good and strong, although wincing as he does so, due to that nasty wound. The crowd has tons of energy, though, and shout right back!
"God, the damage done in such a short time doesn't bode well, but if Tracks is lucky, that frying pan might've done the trick to stop this before it gets too out of hand!"
"The following contest is a Bring Your Own Weapons match, for the GHW King of the Deathmatch championship! What that means is that the two competitors are allowed to use any weapon given to them by a member of the audience. Now we know that our fans are some of the craziest and most creative in all of wrestling, and we have no doubt that you've brought some great weapons in tonight! If you want them to get used, make sure to keep them held up high and proud so our Fighty fighty persons can see them!"
And the fans do indeed comply, all of them standing and cheering with their hands in the air, holding a smorgasbord of fun tools and weapons to be seen.
"Well, this lot certainly isn't disappointing! But this does beg the question of just what the hell we pay security for? Even with a match like this set up, I can't believe they were all allowed through."
"It's all in good fun, you know that. I'm more interested in seeing just what Tracks and Delta are going to actually use here."
They won't have to wait long, as the bell rings to officially begin the match, after Coors dives to relative safety outside of the ring and over to the timekeeper's table. The road clear and the match begun, the two men take this time to build up some tension, staring each other down from across the ring. With these kinds of stakes, neither man would want to make the wrong first move. Even the normally volatile Tracks stays patient. At least, until they both make a flash of movement....away from each other. The two fighters each practically jump out of the ring, facing the crowd, making right for those great weapons.
On Tracks' side, he's trying to get the crowd amped up, raising his hands and shouting, as they all respond with cheers and letting their hands up! Lots of crazy stuff is on display. Besides the usual baseball bats and chairs, Jack spots some more usual fare. Rakes, logs, and, of course, more than a couple oversized dildos! But he makes his decision, and grabs a nice, heavy cast-iron frying pan as his first weapon of choice. He gives it a few swings to test the weight, and turns back with a grin. Confident, he moves around the corner, only to be greeted by the edge of a toothed blade! Tracks jumps back in surprise as he comes face-to-face with Delta's weapon. Somehow, an audience member has brought out one of those long branch-trimmers. The kind that's essentially a cross between a saw and a scythe, attached to the end of a long pole. The weapon comes forward again, trying to impale Tracks and end this as soon as it started. However, his better-than-average reactions allow the King of the Road to bring his very tough pan up just in time, and the blade bounces right off. This doesn't discourage the Champ, however, as he begins to thrust rapidly, albeit a bit wildly. With his considerable speed, Tracks is able to avoid or block each of the thrusts, but with each one, his guard seems to get sloppier and sloppier. And Delta can tell. The somewhat slasher-like smile he's got going grows just a bit wider, and he swings the weapon, instead of thrusting. Tracks isn't expecting that, and he gets the jagged teeth of the saw end digging right into his side! Jack screams in pain at the sharp blow, his hand instinctively reaching down to grab the pole. The King of Hearts licks his lips, and tugs, raking those jagged teeth right along Jack's flesh, digging and tearing it away. When it comes back, the edge of the blade is dripping blood, and the camera zooms in on the awful gash rend into Tracks' side.
"Oh god! There's no way he won't be feeling that for the entire rest of the night. He's going to need alot of stiches here."
"I used one of those things this last weekend at my house. Did a number on those tree branches. You can see how they do much worse on flesh."
"Tracks has got to get that thing away. Any hit he takes will not only threaten to put him out here, but make his chances later tonight in the NeXuS that much worse!"
The brutal tearing of his flesh got to Tracks very quickly, the pain dropping him down to one knee and clutching the wound. Delta takes a step back to admire his handiwork, rather happy with this weapon's results. But he knows that giving Tracks too much time is practically a death sentence, even with an opening blow like that. He hefts the weapon back into position, and raises it high above his head. The champion lets out a shout of determination, and swings the weapon, blade-first, down on Tracks. But when it seems like he was going to basically commit murder right there, his swing is stopped! Tracks' hand, covered in his own blood, took hold of the shaft of the weapon as it came down, and, using his considerable lower-body strength (not to mention a load of stubbornness) starts to fight back, gradually making his way back to his feet, much to the shock of DD.
"Holy shit! A gash like that would send most men right to the hospital, but Jack Tracks is managing to keep fighting!"
"He's not going to let one hit ruin his chance at FINALLY getting that damn belt. Not after all those tries!"
Indeed, his determination serves him well, as the King of the Road stands up once more, Delta's crowd weapon in his hand. Knowing when to cut his losses, Delta just lets the weapon go, and runs to the crowd again, searching for a new weapon. He digs through, and one helpful fan hands him what looks like a shoddy walking cane. It'll do, he thinks, and turns back around...just to get smacked right between the eyes with that frying pan! The CRACK echoes through the arena, sending the crowd "OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHing" and Dustin reeling. His eyes nearly glaze over, and he stumbles to his right....then his left....before another blow rains down on his head, crumpling the champion's body right on the spot. His foe down, Tracks raises his very helpful tool, shouting good and strong, although wincing as he does so, due to that nasty wound. The crowd has tons of energy, though, and shout right back!
"God, the damage done in such a short time doesn't bode well, but if Tracks is lucky, that frying pan might've done the trick to stop this before it gets too out of hand!"
