Tower of London Match 2013

[Millson and Simpson]

The atmosphere is frenetic as we reach the end of the 2013 Dawn of Destruction PPV. Stagehands have been working frantically to erect the Tower of London structure as the crowd bay for blood, eager in anticipation. 'Vicious' Vince Vegas enters the structure first, followed by TV champion Jack Tracks, the two men staring at each other in the middle of the cell. Both members of the Logging Crew enter, before Joshua Vandiver, the reigning Tower of London champion makes his appearance. Then, the defending King of the Deathmatch, Jerry Nate, comes to the ring, preparing to face his toughest test. Charlie Coors gets onto the microphone.

This is the first round of the Tower of London match, for the King of the Deathmatch chamionship. The only way to progress to the second round is to reach one of the four Union Jack's at the top of the cell.

The six combatants take their positions as the bell rings and the match is underway.




- The first round will end on Sunday 24th February
- Post reservations are 6 hours
- Good luck!

[Dustin Delta]

Contracts, if needed for reference by other competitors.
Joshua Vandiver ('12w): gahwo.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=rpcontracts&action=display&thread=14736
Jerry Nate (c): gahwo.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=rpcontracts&action=display&thread=10844
Jack Tracks: gahwo.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=rpcontracts&action=display&thread=13152
Vince Vegas: gahwo.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=rpcontracts&action=display&thread=14649
Big Jim: gahwo.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=rpcontracts&action=display&thread=14629
Cletus The Lumberjack: gahwo.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=rpcontracts&action=display&thread=14628

-

The six superstars stand within the square circle, locked within the structure that made it's infamous debut one year prior. The confines live up to their namesake, as it as a jaw-droppingly horrid as the Tower itself. Arena lights highlight the clear, unwrinkled Union Jacks high above them, and the audience roars with delight as the bell rings. These six men, these six mortal men, enter their frantic and anxious battle stances, fists raised and eyes constantly shifting from man to man. Their breath is slow, paced methodically, careful to not even hint to their planned courses of action. The two brotherly woodsmen nod towards each other, making it clear as day that they plan to align and carry each other to the second round of battle. As soon as they nod, Big JIm and Cletus are ambushed by Jack Tracks and Vince Vegas respectively. Jack Tracks, outsizing Jim by three inches, quickly delivers a series of jabs to the gut of the Hermit, backing him into the north-eastern corner of the ring. Vegas, nearly half a foot petite to Cletus, is Irish whipped into the adjacent corner of Tracks and Jim, where the gargantuan lumberjack bites the forehead of the Nevada native, simultaneously driving his knee into the sternum of his opponent. Being the advantageous combatant he is known to be, Jack looks to drive the heel of his boot in Jim's head with a Yakuza Kick! The Indianan turns himself and runs the ropes behind him, wear the defending King of the Deathmatch proves to be a better opportunist, clotheslining Tracks as he attempts a rebound. Jerry Nate sadistically slaps his own cheek as a reward for sending the Cravate Specialist toppling down the floor below. Big Jim does not rest in the corner for very long though, as the man formerly known as Dustin Delta strides through the squared circle and leaps forth, attempting a jumping elbow to the corner-bound countrymen. The Black Rapids native displays his ring presence, however, by ducking down and pushing up on the hips of Vandiver, sending him over the ropes. The resourceful Joshua manages to tighten his fingers around the ropes, skinning the cat instead of falling to the outside as Jack Tracks did. The reigning Tower of London champion ascends to the top rope where his effort towards a springboard assault is cut short by Jerry Nate, who, from the opposite end of the ring, raises the third rope. Distorting Vandiver's sense of gravity, the 2012 winner is sent plummeting back-first into the concrete beneath.

Ad interim with Vandiver's collapse, Vince Vegas' repeated strikes to the ribs of the massive lumberjack manage to free him from the vise of Cletus' grimy teeth. Vince, centering his strength in his arms, firmly grasps the sides of the New Brunswick Neanderthal and jostles him, sending Cletus' staggering back into his brother, Big Jim. The Nevadan dashes and extends his right arm, delivering a colossal lariat to a colossal man in Cletus. Gripping the trap of the Lumberjack, Vince thrusts him out of the corner, and coincidentally, towards Jerry Nate. The Corn Husker drives his shoulder into the gut of Cletus, knocking the air out of the behemoth's lungs with a goring Spear. Simultaneously, Vegas draws Big Jim from the corner, and locks up the arms of the other member of the Logging Crew in a Full Nelson. The submission is transitioned into a bridging suplex, which Vince holds as if it would count towards a pinfall. This allows Jerry Nate to recuperate and run the ropes before sliding down and delivering a variant of his signature SHOTGUN PUNCH! to the chest of the incapacitated mill worker. From the slide, Jerry Nate flips his body over to be prone before he finds his verticality again. Vince almost mirrors the motions of his rival, and the two stare each other down with an intimate intensity. Their breath and their eyes seem to synchronize as the two exact opposites finally break away from their parallel paths. Just as those paths seem to come to a junction, the young and hungry Jack Tracks re-enters the fray with a kendo stick in hand. The "Vicious" superstar expects nothing as the combatant from Indianapolis strikes his spinal column with the weapon, a cringe-worthy snap echoing throughout the annals of the arena. Tracks advances towards the champion, who gladly accepts with a take-all-challengers attitude. Jack swings the cane over his head, pursuing a strike to the scalp of Nate. However, Jerry single-handedly locks his appendages about the mast, and uses his grip of the kendo stick to wrench the arms of his challenger. The two superstars begin battling over the baton, irking it back and forth and jabbing their foe's midsection with ends of the stick. While this fued is ongoing, the scheming Vandiver slides back into the ring and dashes while dropping to one knee, whipping his left arm back and smashing the light tube in his hand into the ribs of the Deathmatch Champion, as revenge for the loss he suffered and the most recent episode of Triumph. Nate instantly collapses, picking the shards of glass from his side as blood begins to pour out. The remains and the dust rises into the air as Joshua Vandiver stares down the man he scouted and brought into the company, Jack Tracks.

"These six men are wasting no time at all getting into this match! They're all excited and all of these men are in here to win the King of the Deathmatch Championship!"

"That's right, Colin! Jack and Josh here didn't waste any time collecting some weapons and getting into the hardcore festivities that come with the Dawn of Destruction season!"

"Well you know what they say, Matt! 'Tis the season to get bloody!"

"And bloody they shall - oh my. We've got a runner already!"

Matthew's eyes avert upwards, where many spectators spot "Vicious" Vince Vegas climbing the steel mesh walls of the Tower. His back remains bright red from the strikes made by Jack's kendo sticks, but only two men in the ring seem to notice the Nevada native's attempted escape - The Logging Crew. The two lumberjacks roll under the bottom-most ropes and chase after the Vicious One. While the two New Brunswick Bears begin to set-up a landing pad for Vince, Jack is armed with his kendo stick while Vandiver has no weapon to rely on, his light tube shattered. The Television Champion smirks and horizontally swings for the fences with his cane, but the agile Tower of London winner, Joshua Vandiver, crawls between the legs of Jack, managing his way behind the Indianan. Letting out a great bellow, Joshua drives his forearm into the small of the back of Jack. Arcing his torso, Tracks staggers a few steps forward as an impulse of sorts. Vandiver follows up on his forearm strike by jumping around Tracks, leaning inwards towards the reigning Television Champing. He begins to twist his body, providing additional momentum to a sickly executed uppercut to the jawline, knocking back Jack. Jerry seeks to take advantage of Jack's vulnerability now. Ignoring the blood leaking from his side, Nate mockingly locks the Indianapolis native in his own Cravate, which quickly transitions into a swinging neckbreaker. Jerry brings himself to one knee, but as he tries to create a vertical base, Joshua Vandiver approaches from behind, catching him in a lock around the gut. The man formerly known as Dustin bridges back and drags the Nebraskan along for the ride with a German Suplex! All three men in the ring are downed but breathing, but thinks aren't looking very good for Vince Vegas, as the hand of Big Jim clutches the wasitband of his trunks. Simultaneously, two feet below, Cletus the Lumberjack has a very thin pane of fragile but razor-sharp glass, actively using it as a net to catch the Las Vegas native - a wonderful display of blue collar problem solving. Big Jim angles himself above Cletus, ready to drop Vince, however he seems a bit puzzled as to how he'd like to do it. Jim doesn't want to take the fall himself by any means, but without taking the risk, it seems near impossible to toss Vince down given their current positioning. A dimly lit lightbulb goes off within the dull head of Big Jim, and his second hand, which is not holding onto Vegas' trunks, is driven into the stones of the Vicious One. This nasty low blow turns Vegas' limbs to a gelatinous state as he falls like a ragdoll through the glass pane, eliciting a good ol' southern laugh from Cletus. However, there is one miscalculation. Big Jim took both hands off of the steel mesh, the only thing holding him twenty feet above the ring. And so, the giant plummets to Earth.

"This audience is absolutely sadistic! Vince Vegas and Jimbob Whatshisface just collapsed twenty feet from the steel mesh walls of this complex directly into the concrete floor! They could've died right there, and the fans are eating it up!"

"I know! I love it!"

Upon the absolutely unrealistic impact of Big Jim's body, Cletus scrambles to check on his brother, as he feels their cooperation is necessary to make it through the first round. Vince Vegas lay in a the remnants of the glass pane, blood beginning to seep its way out of his back. In the ring, Jack Tracks is up again, his energy not lacking whatsoever as this match is only just beginning. Seeking to make a statement, his hands lock around the chin of the previous Tower of London winner, Joshua Vandiver, and brings him to his feet rather quickly. Vandiver's verticality is temporary, however, as Jack quickly snatches the chin again and brings him down with a snapmare. Standing behind Joshua, Jack chops the back of the neck, stealing a move commonly executed by Vandiver, before running the ropes which the New York native is facing. Before he can swipe down and attack Joshua again, the King of the Deathmatch shows why he is holds and defends the strap, intercepting the high-intensity racer with a lungblower that stops his engine short. The match continues, seemingly a stalemate as no superstar has been able to reach the top of Tower and retrieve one of the four coveted Union Jacks.

-

Joshua Vandiver: Sitting up in the ring.
Jerry Nate (c): Just gave a Lungblower to Jack Tracks.
Jack Tracks: Downed in the ring.
Vince Vegas: Writhing about outside the ring on top of broken glass.
Big Jim: Incapacitated on the concrete floor.
Cletus: Mourning his brother's fall.

[Cletus & Big Jim]

Jerry Nate looks with twisted pleasure at the recumbent form of the King of the Road and quickly turns his attention to the dazed Vandiver. Pulling the seated man’s head back, he drops a calculated fist into the former Dustin Delta’s brow, then a second, and third, and on and on until his knuckles rip an ugly gash along the young man’s scalp. Blood trickles from the hard-way juice and dribbles down Joshua’s face. Such a perfunctory wound is only an aperitif for the King of the Deathmatch and he retires to the outside, to retrieve something more substantial to carve the main course. Elsewhere on the outside, Cletus broods over his fallen fellow feller, as Big Jim emits moans usually reserved for animals in their death throes, which is more than what Vince Vegas is doing, as the pool of blood around him begins to coagulate into a sticky mess. What vexes the lumberjack is what he ought to do next. Jim is his partner, and dare-he-say friend, but he owes him no brother’s bond, whatever the others might think. Regardless what they agreed prior to the bell ringing, neither man knew what this match had in store. It might be time to reassess the situation. There can be only one winner after all, and it makes no sense to stand about aimlessly, like a duck in thunder.

Cletus is taking a chance here, just standing around.

In a match like this, there’s no time for indecision.

Then again, a moment of calm reflection amidst the chaos isn’t such a bad thing. You can go nuts in there and hit everything that moves, but that kind of strategy won’t get you far.

If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs you'll be a man my son.

Something like that.

Dear Lord, what has Jerry Nate got in his hands?!

Jerry Nate re-enters the ring armed with a chair wrapped in a towel. He jabs the rounded metal end into the guts of Jack Tracks, causing him to slump into the corner and sputter. Vandiver, however, is not about to be caught unawares and dodges a wild shot by the Nebraskan, before heaving a flailing kick into the champion’s solar plexus. The blow lands with barely enough force to stun the corn-fed prince of the dead, but it’s enough for Joshua to scamper out of the ring to safety. Nate is unfazed and drops the chair just long enough to squirt some lighter fluid on the towel, strike a paper match and send the whole thing bursting into flames. He grasps it once more, the rapidly warming metal seeming to have little, if any, effect on him, and challenges Joshua to enter and take what’s coming to him.

Where’s all that tough talk we heard on Glory and Gossip Joshy? “The Tower of London is my hell that you're entering, and I'll damn you from it like I did Vladimir Tepes Strife from the world.” What a crock!

C’mon Al, there’s a big difference between being gutsy and stupid. Vandiver won’t take a head-on charge, that’s suicide.

You’re right Colin, he’s smarter than that, but Al’s got a point, tonight is the night Joshua has to prove he’s as good as his word and that he’s still got what it takes to be the man in the Tower of London.

Wolfie’s companion is no coward, but he’s also keenly aware that discretion is the better part of valour. He turns his attention to the supine Vince Vegas, while Jerry turns to deliver a shot to his erstwhile tag partner, Jack Tracks. His other-worldly sensibilities are keenly attuned though, and detecting danger, he spins, swinging the chair into a charging Cletus. The lumberman, having thought he had found the opportune time to strike, now is lambasted with the flaming seat and falls to the mat, his hair and beard smoldering. Having seen that, the King of the Road isn’t anxious to meet the same fate, so he springs to action as Jerry makes to return to their business. A dropkick to the knees forces the King to buckle and fall forward, his face enveloped by the flames. Holding his seared visage, Jerry rolls away, letting the expletives fly, and Jack kicks the chair to the outside and out of harm’s way. He then lays into the fallen logger with a few stiff kicks, before hooking Cletus into the camel clutch.

I think it’s fair to say that the fall by Vince and Jim has smartened everybody up.

Positively, no one is going to take a run at those flags until they know that the opposition is good and tired.

The TV champion making certain that Cletus will be just that.

Yep, it’s had to climb with an achy-breaky back.

The thing is, you can’t waste time; wear down your man and start climbing. Even if you’re in control, you’re expending energy.

On the outside, Vandiver has the run of both Vegas and Jim, both of whom are only just now regaining some measure of mobility after their great fall. Before either can get into full working order, the former Tower of London champion descends on both with a series of strikes, which pummel them to the ground once again. Then, after a brief struggle with the ring steps, Vandiver jerks the corrugated steel into the launch position, but, in an arresting flash, tumbles backward; once again the fireball serves Big Jim well and spares him a painful exchange. The perverse pulp peeler now stalks his blinded foe with halting steps and lands a double axe handle that staggers the Floridian and inaugurates a brawl as both men close ranks and Jim aims to open Vandiver’s head wound with his teeth. Vince Vegas too is beginning to rise, clearing the cobwebs after his ill-fated trip up the cage. He staggers to his feet, but is greeted by the wicked grin of his old adversary Jerry Nate. A few bombs to the side of the Vicious One’s cranium and he’s being forcibly introduced to the cyclone fencing which forms the structure. The King of the Deathmatch presses his opponent’s face into the crosshatching, bringing back memories of an episode involving Baron Von Raschke and a tomato; it did not end well for the latter. Vince may have been watching back then, because he fires back elbows and flailing kicks in order that he might free himself. At last, a mule kick strikes home and frees Vegas, but he’s not anxious to dispense with his rival. He turns the tables, using the fencing as he would a grater; running the Satisfying One’s face back and forth across the steel mesh, and ending with an emphatic dropkick that presses Nate’s pulpy visage further into the metallic ties.

Vicious Vince is trying to show you why he’s got the name.

He’ll need to keep it up, if he wants to walk away with the title tonight.

He could always just buy another fake belt….

Well, we all saw what Vegas did six weeks ago in the barroom brawl, but tonight we see if it was just a fluke or only the tip of an iceberg that will sink the Psychotic Circus.

I think that’s a touch too far, Jerry Nate is, as Big Jim might say, tougher than a boiled owl. It’ll take a helluva lot more than a few strokes against the steel to upset him tonight.

Back in the ring, Jack Track’s camel clutch has broken down significantly, but he still manages to keep control of Cletus with a chinlock. The level-headed motorist releases the hold and, after a few well-placed boots to make the logger stays put, he attempts to hook in a surfboard. However, a fifty pound weight differential ensures that Tracks doesn’t have the horsepower needed to move the inflexible island giant. Moreover, it leaves the King of the Road wide open for a running forearm smash from the insidious Vince Vegas, who has snuck into the squared circle after momentarily dismissing his hated enemy. Vegas lights into the once savvy speedster, and Cletus, regaining his feet, joins in, clearly unaware of the fact he’s working alongside a man who claimed the woodsman to be a dastardly deceiver earlier in the week. Cletus picks up Tracks in a mammoth bearhug, and, thinking quickly, Vince fires himself off the ropes and clotheslines Jack to the canvas; a textbook Hart Attack. It is only now that the two men realize their cooperation and exchange a steely glare before the talk begins. Cletus claims not to need Vince’s help, Vegas says that the lame-brained lumberjack has no business in this match, shoves soon follow and blows are seconds from being landed, when Joshua Vandiver, having given Big Jim the slip, into the ring post no less, turns Vince around and serves up a chest-cracking portion of chops, forcing him into the far corner. Cletus, with a moment’s hesitation, leaves Vicious Vince to his fate and returns to Jack Tracks. The King of the Road snaps a quick small package, to no effect other than forcing the big man to instinctively kick out. As both men scramble to their feet, the pine island powerhouse resorts to an eye gouge, before wrapping his massive hands around Jack’s throat and choking him the canvas. On the outside, a convalescent Big Jim stalks the ringside area and finds a rising Jerry Nate ready to do battle.

Vegas & Vandiver – in the corner, with Josh in charge
Cletus & Tracks – On the mat, with Cletus giving the blatant choke
Jim & Nate – Ready to go at it on the outside

TBC…

[Psychotic Circus]

"HEAVEN OR HELL, BIG JIM!? LET'S END THIS!"

-The Shotgun Warlock had surfaced, his facade presently sporting the flesh that had selected to stay there after Big Jim tried to broil the demon from him, he was going to desire a mask now just like his mentor. Fists were escalated and began to engulf the two opponents from every conceivable angle they could project them at each other before the desperate Peeler caught the champ off guard with a light-footed knee against Jerry's tender innards. Normally this would be something that could be shaken off by the Death King, but fate has a nasty habit of being a bitch. Big Jim tended under and over as Jerry tried to stand, placing his head between the Champ's legs before amassing Jerry off his footing. Jerry's face got awkwardly close to Jim's buttocks as he went over his back but stayed their as the Perverse Peeler found his chance to Perma-Kill his Jerry Nate sized plight with only a couple of strides up the steel steps. The fans all held out in anticipation as Big Jim kicked his legs out from underneath himself, conveying him and Jerry into a free fall with nothing but unforgiving steel to greet them upon landing.-

"Hermit's Hangover! He's dead! Big Jim has finally done away with that rotten, body stealing bastard!"

"He's dead, Jim."

"Jerry Nate isn't dead...I can see him sputtering right now."

-Jerry's flesh was wiggling around as he laid over the steel steps, the red life force starting to emerge under his hair line and dripping against the padded safety mats below. Joshy Boi was busy giving the boots to Vince inside the square circle, literally. Josh had positioned his sole against Vincent's throat and was angrily extending his leg while clutching the top rope for leverage to choke out his foe with authority. Jack had found himself in an eerily similar position as the less educated of the Lumberjack's duo had an arm encased over his neck to make like a python and force Jack's life from him. All four men were unaware of Jerry's fate while the Speed Freak quickly shifted paradigms to go into survival mode, Cletus howled like a wolf in a bear trap while Jack's head slunk down in the big man's arms, his teeth bisecting into the lumberjack's bicep. The Indianan got his footing in a rush while turned momentarily to the mad dog in Jim's care, his hips gyrated rapidly as he felt Cletus' hands try to reach for his neck yet again. The force Tracks' gave birth to was enough to drop the hillbilly in disguise, the energy of his elbow crushing Cletus' nose under the pressure, leaving the hog fed simpleton to clasp over his bleeding sniffer. Vince was still struggling under Josh's rule, reduced to a simple peasant against the reigning ToL king and was in need of saving. Superman came in the form of Jack Track's bending the opposing ropes underneath his mass before sling-shooting his was across the ring, delivering justice with another discus elbow, forcing the walking identity crisis known as Joshua to flip all of his shits over the top rope to crash and burn over the safety mats himself.-

"The Speed Freak is on fire! Two high class threats have just crumbled from elbow smacks!"

"That's not going to win him the match. Sad to say, it might cost him everything if he continues to waste his energy on small fries."

"But aren't his chances better now? Nobody else is moving, he should be in the clear. No one is going to get up and stop him now...."

-Matt O. was busy re-teaching Big Al about the basics of our great sport while Jack exited the ring, leaving the gasping Viscous Vince alone, all of his Viciousness had seemed to die down a bit anyways. In a sudden rush, Jack had seen his biggest opportunity in the form of a wounded Canuck, Cletus' other half, Big Jim. The Pulper was resting with one ass cheek on the floor and the other elevated with a hand rubbing what could have been a broken tail bone, who knows? It didn't matter to Jack, it was time for violence. A table was dragged out from underneath the ring and set up in a crazed hurry by Jack while Big Jim started to rise from his hurtin' ass, the table behind the Speed Freak while he hunched down with pleading hands for the Lumberjack to turn and face justice, Nascar style. We'll never know what Tracks had in mind though, because Vince had to be an ungrateful dick, jumping from the ring apron to club Jack square in the back. Tides were turned, and ready to keep changing in Vince's favor with a downed Jack Tracks wobbling on the floor. The Viscous One decided to forego giving Big Jim a bust to the chops in favor of jumping onto the cage with the sights of a Union Jack gleaming off his eyes. He was six feet off the ground and ready to go the distance before he had the sudden feelings of regret grow to a burning inferno inside his nether regions. Two hundred and forty five pounds of logging fury had attached his grabber to Vince's Nutz, and was about to get him some sweet Deez, but not necessarily in that order. The Sin City Sucker was stuck in his own personal hell while more hell rose up, and helped Jim. Jack placed his hands underneath Vince's thighs to add more stability while the Pulp Peeler peeled Vegas from the cage, Jack's yelled something out, getting a nod from Big Jim before the two scurried with their nut pained package towards the ring post, crashing Vincent's spine against the reinforced metal post to land limp over Jerry Nate's still corpse on the steel steps.-

"Oh! That was just damn painful to watch. I almost feel sorry for poor Vince Vegas..."

"Oh man up, ya' pansy. I've had worse done to me in Tijuana."

"...Goooo ooooon."

-Jack and Big Jim were sharing a laugh at Vince's expense, even drooping arms over shoulders as they giggled at the priceless sour faces coming from the False King laying above the Real Death King. Jack should have known better than to trust a weird Canadian, but we all make mistakes. Big Jim overtook the breathless Tracks in a rage fueled instant, the arm over Jack's shoulder went stick, forcing the Speed Freak to butt heads with Vince before being shoved away to the cage wall. A swift kick to the gut was followed up with a fist coated in another fist across Jack's already aching back.-

"Alright Matt, you were right..."

"You never question the damn Genius, Fool!"

"...yes sir."

"Enough of this! Big Jim is about to make his move into the realm of GHW legends!"

-Indeed, Big Jim's gazed upon his stack of carcasses, and he knew it was good. Cletus was still shaking off his broken nose as his partner conceived to rise up to grab destiny. Big Jim was confident in his ability as he placed one hand over the other against the steel cage with his feet following suit. The unmistakable chill in the air told him something was wrong though, along with Cletus screaming out that a certain shit house rat was doing something, but suddenly cut off. Jim knew he shouldn't do it, but he was compelled by some sort of foolish and weak emotion to look over his shoulder to see his Brother in Axes suffering at the hands of Joshua Vandiver, the two were fighting over a broken light tube with Cletus looking to be on the receiving end of a Compton style blepharoplasty soon.- (it's a real thing, look it up.)

"Don't do it Jim! I've learned that they'll always forgive you in the end!"

"The stars are aligned, and they are not in this man's favor tonight...."

"...oh shit, not again..."

-While Big Al was busy being possessed, Big Jim's mind was possessed with fear. He could see Jack was still down, and that Vince was still stroking the pain from his crotch, like his usual date night habit, but there was an unholy element still missing from this puzzle. He decided to do the painful thing and turned his back to his team mate, hoping he could help him later, and just continued to climb, the union jack still in his sights. He cared not if Cletus would chew him out later for abandoning ship on their cause, it would just be less painful to put him down for the belt in the long run. It was his time to grab his piece of the pie, his time to ascend above the realm of mortals he told himself as he passed the halfway mark of the tower. A quick "Sup, Buddy." snapped the Pulp Peeler back into reality. He slowly turned his head to be greeted by a bloody, charred mess in the form of his Immortal Corrupter. -

"That was a really shitty thing you did to me earlier..."

-Jerry Nate's second degree burns and hair full of caked blood sneered at Big Jim's side with a demonic anger that couldn't be quenched in mortal water. The Lumberjack was shocked to say the least at the stealthy climb Jerry had made, almost unable to put up a fight as a flurry of elbow shots smashed against his rib cage, ringing like an out of tune bell. The two exchanged blows as the crowd wavered, ready to pee themselves because this fight could only end in a certain way they were all hoping for. Flesh was ripped from the hand of the Death King, his shit lifting gloves weren't enough to protect his mandibles from the low quality steel used to make the cage. Desperation creates the best memories in this sport, and Jerry was desperate as hell to not look like a fool again to this simpleton. Jerry slapped at the old weed whacker scar he had given Big Jim in their first outing against one another, thanks to dumb luck it was still sore and made the Peeler cringe, leaving on hand off the cage, and his chest open for a knife edge chop from his Demonic opposition. Big Jim teetered away from the steel wall for only an instant before trying to latch back on, but it was in vein, the salt to all his wounds was coming. Jerry rotated his hips and wrapped an arm underneath Jim's chin and locked his hold in, prepared to let gravity do all his dirty work.-

"NO!"

-From twenty feet in the air, one solid second of free falling, the two bodies fell with Jerry Nate leading the way and dragging Big Jim down from heaven like the spited angel he was, just like how the Death King had promised. The table Jack Track's had set up to finish Jim off earlier was finally used for that purpose, offering little resistance to the almost six hundred pounds of pressure that had broken through it.-

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

"...the angel was taken from his perch and cast down into the pit!"

"I don't care what you call it, you freak! I call that a display of Jerry Nate's Big Demon Balls!"

TBC
Vandiver is ontop of Cletus, above to shove the broken end of a light tube into Cletus' face.

Vegas and Jack Tracks are on the outside, trying to stroke off their injuries.

Jerry Nate and Big Jim: They dead.

["Vicious" Vince Vegas]

As "Vicious" Vince Vegas writhes in pain on the floor holding the precious family jewels, blood oozes from several small cuts on Vince's back and chest from the brutal fall through the pane of glass earlier in the match. Perhaps knocking him through a windshield, then attempting to neuter him with the aid of Jack Tracks was a message from Big Jim that the solidarity between the Loggers need not be questioned. As the feeling begins to return to Vince's dingle-berries, he looks around at the carnage that lay before him. Big Jim and Jerry Nate, both laying among splintered shards of what used to be a table after a devastating maneuver that dazed Jerry just as much as Jim. He looks to his other side to see Jack Tracks holding his back outside the ring. Vince takes a quick glance inside the ring just in time to see Joshua Vandiver jam the broken light tube into Cletus' eyelid (I looked it up). As Cletus screams in agony, Josh makes several twists of the broken florescent light tube with the precision of a Hollywood surgeon. As Vegas looks around at the destruction and slaughter around him, he begins to regret his decision to become a professional Fighty fighty person. He regrets buying the fake KOTDM title and parading around claiming to be the champ; He regrets trying to sow doubt in the brotherhood of The Logging Crew; He regrets attacking Jerry Nate with a steel chair weeks earlier;but most of all he regrets hiding that damn pane of glass under the ring. He was supposed to use that! All of those decisions brought him to where he is at this moment: battered, bloodied and nearly emasculated. After deciding he has had enough, Vince considers alternate career paths as he get to his feet and, still holding his groin, slowly heads toward the mesh exit, fully intent on removing himself from further bloodshed.


Looks like Vince has had enough, he's heading toward the door and it doesn't look like he plans on coming back. Vince has got the spine of a Jellyfish, and only half the brain!


That would make him the only one in there with half a brain Fuzz, he's getting out of there is the smartest thing I have seen any of these men do tonight.


I wouldn't be so sure he's going anywhere, looks like he caught the eye of Joshua Vandiver. Vince isn't going to get out of here that easily.

Just as The Hardcore Genius predicted, Vandiver, the only man in the structure still coherent, spots Vince trying to leave the tower. Ol' Dusty isn't about to let Vince off that easy, not after calling him out the way he did last week on "Glory and Gossip". It's time to teach Vince,what Josh knows all too well, what it takes to be the Tower of London Champion. Last year's TOL champion makes one final twist of the broken light tube into Cletus' eye, before smashing it on his skull, denigrating it into pieces and knocking Cletus to the mat. Josh heads out of the ring after Vegas, picking up the Kendo Stick along the way.

You were right Matt! Vandiver is going after Vince Vegas. After some some harsh words last week on the set of "Glory and Gossip" with Josh calling Vince "dreadfully average" He is not about to let him just walk away from the tower!.

How can something be both dreadful and average at the same time? That doesn't even make sense!

Be quiet Al, you're missing the point of what Vandiver was saying, but I think he summed it up nicely by stating that Vince was nothing special.

That's not true Fuzzie, Vince is special! I have it on good authority he was even in a special class in high school!

As Vince heads up the ramp toward the back, holding his groin, Vandiver storms toward him from behind, landing the butt end of the Kendo stick in the brain stem of the cowardly talk show host. As if Josh had just hit his off switch, Vince immediately crumbles in a pile on the floor. Not one to pass on an opportunity, Vandiver slaps the Kendo stick across Vince's back several times, causing it to turn immediately red and reopening some of the cuts. The contempt Vandiver has for Vince becomes painfully obvious as the Kendo stick smashes do not satisfy his animosity. As the adrenaline pours throw his veins like beer through a tap, Vandiver clears the announcers table of paper and places the 235 pound prone Las Vegas Native on top. Just like the God he claims to be, Joshua Vandiver ascends toward heaven by beginning to climb to the top of the Tower of London from the outside.

What is he doing! Get down Josh! You'll kill yourself!

Meanwhile, inside of the tower, "The Shotgun Kid" Jerry Nate begins to rise from the debris. Although dazed and confused from his fall with Big Jim, Nate sees Vince laying prone on the announcers table outside of the tower like a sacrifice placed before him from the peasants. Nate licks his chops at the irresistible sight, not noticing Vandiver making his way to the top of the tower, and exits through the mesh door to inflict some torment upon Vince Vegas.

The two Loggers, almost simultaneously, awake from their pain filled slumbers to see the action is now happening on the outside, as Jerry Nate rains a few blows to the cranium of a prone Vegas on the outside. Cletus, beard singed from fire and eyelid bleeding from a broken light bulb, looks toward his partner. Big Jim, possibly concussed from breaking through the table, makes eye contact with Cletus. Both look toward the union Jacks above them, acknowledging the opportunity to assure victory by climbing the cage toward the union jack. Without words, The Loggers agree to pass on the opportunity and join in the fun outside. Despite what Vegas had said earlier in the week, The Logging Crew are on the same page now more than ever. Both Cletus and Big Jim Exit through the mesh door, neither noticing Joshua, now almost at the top of the tower.

As The Loggers start exchanging blows with Jerry Nate and a very dazed Vince Vegas on the outside Matt Oliveriera begins to speak.

In a match like this, you always have to know where every man is, an it looks like these men have forgotten about an opponent or two

That's right Matt Vandiver is now at the top of the tower!

Vandiver has now reached the top of the cage, and as he looks down, the men in the scrum below him seem to resemble ants. Josh leaps off the top of the cage head first. Sixty feet from the floor is a long way, and as Joshua's body flips, the seconds before he flies through the air seem like an eternity. According to plan, Vandiver's back hits Vegas, Nate and both Loggers on the outside of the Tower with a textbook Swanton Bomb from the devastating 60-foot cage. The high risk maneuver leaves 5 men prone on the outside, none of whom seem to be moving anytime soon.

OH MY GOD! GET THE PARAMEDICS TO RINGSIDE!


Wow! You called it Matt! You said they need to be aware of all of their opponents, and they had clearly forgot about Joshua Vandiver climbing to the top of the Tower!


I wasn't talking about Vandiver. I was talking about Jack Tracks.

On cue, Jack Tracks comes to his feet, still inside the tower. He looks to the outside to see the Holocaust of bodies piled up, and begins his ascent toward the Union Jacks.


TBC...

Vegas, Vandiver, Nate, Cletus and Big Jim - in a pile on the outside

Jack Tracks- climbing toward a sure union jack.

[Millson and Simpson]

The fans are pumped as Jerry Nate, Joshua Vandiver, Big Jim and 'Vicious' Vince Vegas march wearily into the second stage of the Tower of London match 2013. Jack Tracks and Cletus the Lumberjack are escorted backstage by officials as the remaining 4 men stare the less complicated stage of the contest. The only way to win is by pinfall or submission and anything goes. Who will come out as the King of the Deathmatch?

[Millson and Simpson]

EDIT: OK, guys, Tracks hasn't posted so carry on. You now have until Tuesday to win/retain the King of the Deathmatch title.

[Psychotic Circus]

-The four remaining combatants centered in the square circle, each holding their Union Jack flag in their palms. Big Jim, Joshua Vandiver, Vince Vegas and the Death King Jerry Nate all held their claims while Cletus and Jack Tracks were all dragged away like lifeless corpses. The atmosphere was electric amongst the live crowd as the four remaining souls all stared deep into each other's eyes, the tension amongst them all could be cut with a knife, that is, except for Jerry Nate. The current King was having a giggling fit to himself as he raised his flag up above his head, the eyes in his skull sputtering along as he did this and concentrated all of his will into his palm.-

"Jerry Nate has to be feeling it, there's no way he can overcome the odds anymore. The blood loss he has suffered already could bring even the toughest military men down for the count..."

"...your reality means nothing to a god...."

"Damn it! Who keeps possessing Big Al!?"

Jerry Nate- "Your accomplishments are only your tickets to an early grave!"


-The Shotgun Satanist raised his palm again, this time a flash coming from the flag and ignited the fabric into a quick blaze. The other three watched in amazement before releasing their Jack's, all had started on fire by themselves. Jerry had gone into his own little world, a world of pain and suffering, spouting his dark prophecies.-

"No one leaves here alive!"


-The ref who had the distinct honor of having to call the final pin or submission had entered the cage, the door locking behind him almost by itself as the other refs hurried and chained it shut. Finally, the bell had rung and this spectacle, a literal buffet of flesh, each dish of discernible taste and texture. The baptism of fire began as the simple lumberjack, Big Jim, struck out against his otherworldly foe, clubbing Jerry Nate's chest with a closed fist from the side, letting it thunder off against his black heart. The Viscous One had the misconception that his chances were better to just stay away from all of that noise over there and center his focus on Josh. The former Falcon had turned his attention over to Jerry to help put the biggest threat down by himself before his legs had unexpectedly been kicked out from behind him. A flurry of quick kicks were suffered in fast rotation between legs from Vincent into Josh's guts before he stormed away and began undoing the turnbuckle padding. Big Jim had overtaken Jerry Nate during all of this, a flash of light in the form of a clothesline sent the two polar opposites scrambling over the ropes and across the floor in a solid puddle of shattered glass from earlier in the match.-


"No one is safe. This cage is only an illusion, it will break and the horrors will escape from within the shell..."

"Can I bring you back to normalcy if I give you a Big Al treat?"

"I don't think he'd come back even if you unzipped your pants right now. Just leave him, we've got a match to call!"

-Jerry was shrieking in pain from the sharp edges of glass in gravel form that was breaking into his already tender skin. Big Jim had escaped most of the prickly poking by landing over his knees after bouncing off the apron. The Peeler saw he was all alone in the Jerry beat down, and that was fine by him. Long locks of blood caked hair were tugged upon as Jim lifted Jerry from the floor to stand and answer for his crimes against the woodsman. Another chop propelled Jerry over to the cage wall a little to fast for the force Jim had applied, but he followed Jerry over their non the less. The Death King had jumped against the wall, using the chain to propel himself back at Big Jim with a a flying elbow he had been cooking so the Peeler could know exactly what he was cooking. The two bodies collided with Jerry's mass focusing at the tip of his elbow and plowing Big Jim over with the sudden assertion of power against his forehead. From his prone position, Big Jim wasn't much a threat, but the death cries Jerry Nate could extort from his simpleton rival wasn't something he could just give up on. A long metal pole was grabbed from underneath the ring, but it was only the end of something else, something with an engine on its back.-

"The weak grow like weeds. Extermination is the only choice..."

"Ok, I can not work in these conditions..."

"Will you two just shut up for a minute? I can't see what Jerry Nate has up his sleeves....ok, now I don't want to know."

-Jerry Nate pulled on the cord and revved up the weed whacker as he prepared to Big Jim back down memory lane. The burly woodsman decided he wanted nothing to do with this and tried to make a hasty escape while Vince Vegas plotted to end this all early. Vandiver was brought up to his vertical base in a sloppy hurry and dragged over to the exposed turnbuckle. A slick placement of the hips and back found Josh stopping Vincent's plan as the Former Alice grabbed a forearm and a leg, lifting Vince's mass off of the mat. Vandiver gyrated in a whirlwind motion with his cargo and planted Vegas' un-guarded back against the exposed turnbuckle and left the man from Nevada there. The Falcon's attention was taken from his easy prey and over to Jerry Nate who had stopped Big Jim's escape with a swing of the weed whacker across the back of the Lumberjack's calf, sending shreds of pants, blood and flesh flying from Jim's body and into a fine mist through the air, Josh had to act now. With hurried feet he went stomping across the ring and towards the opposing side before bouncing off the ropes with eyes locked onto Vince's ribs as Josh came flying back to drill Vince's side with his elbow of justice. Before the Viscous One could suck back in a single breath he found Vandiver climbing the ropes and using him like a damn foot stool to look over the situation, Jerry was still wielding the weed whacker as Josh looked up from his perch atop Vince's chest. He could smell that something was wrong, the entrance ramp had gone dark, and something smelled of fire. That's when he saw it, three figures were at the entrance ramp, all of them dealing with a forth figure who came rolling down the entrance ramp, it was poor Cletus and he looked like he was mauled by a rabid animal.-


"...Master has come to watch the events in person. He's offering his power..and we accept it with pride..."


"Matt, this is when we hide underneath the table.."

"Is there enough room!?"

"Only if we cuddle, big guy!"


-Josh's eyes flared open, he had to hurry after seeing Cletus roll into into the light with a mark across his neck. His knees started moving up and down in rapid succession as he tried to get some bounce on top of Vincent's chest before he flew up and twisted a few degrees in the air and snapped before his elbow came plummeting down across the Viscous One's stomach to make Vince fold up like an accordion as the two plummeted past the ring posts and down across the mat. Josh hurried without looking for Jerry and pulled the ref down with him as he spread over top of Vince and hooked his leg. The man in the zebra print started to count, each slap bringing him closer to victory, but before the third hand could come down and plant his victory, a motor revved up as the weed whacker went flying through the air and landed on top of the ref. The engine was still sputtering and the wheel at the end where the cutting strands were was still going as it sliced the ref, cutting up the official's hands and back to end the count. The whacker continued on as Josh rolled away just in time, the ref had pushed it aside towards them, letting it land over Vince's stomach and sliced him up like he was butter. Josh and Vince had both rolled out of the ring, still unsure of Jerry's whereabouts, but saw Big Jim laying face down over the safety mats, he had gained a few more knicks and cuts. Josh turned as he heard a heavy grunt coming from behind him, seeing Jerry with the ring steps above his head before he tossed it, the flat metal surface slamming into Josh's small frame. Vandiver slapped against the floor while the steps bounced off his body, yelling out in frustration and incredible pain as Jerry came and lifted him up, then lifted him up again into a gorilla press position above the Death King, a moment later sending Josh's carcass hurling over the ropes and back into the ring.-

"Father says it's time for the baptism of fire..."

"Can't we just jump over the security railing and run away from this?"

"Just shut up and hold me!"


-Someone was dripping from the top of the cage, leading to an unpleasant smell around the cage. Small drops of liquid were coming down as the figures hiding in the darkness surrounding the entrance ramp all raised their hands towards it, soon the liquid ignited, it was as if fire was coming from the heavens themselves and dripping into the cage. Josh tried to crawl from the ring while he held his ribs after his sudden landing in the ring. His escape was cut short though as the ring steps were chucked inside the ring as well and landed right in front of him. The Falcon looked on in disbelief, he was sure of his victory a few moments ago, but now it seemed as if his life was about to come to a grinding hault as he felt the heavy footsteps of a predator behind him.-

"...what's that smokey smell?"

"Don't look up, Matt! Just stay down here where it's safe."

"A public execution, a popular form of entertainment back in the days of old..."


-Jerry bent over and lifted Josh by his golden locks, dragging him over to the steal steps and laying his top half over them. The fans were in an uproar as Jerry slowly walked up both steps and titled his mass over again, slowly lifting him up for his date with the end. Josh found himself hanging upside down soon enough, then his arms suddenly locked behind Jerry's legs. The man formally known as Alice did what you should never do and looked down, the only thing he saw below him was cold, hard steel. Jerry let out a battle cry fit for a viking as his legs kicked up and bent at the knees, the plummet seemed to last an eternity in Josh's mind before the unmerciful end came in the form of his head being planted into the ring steps.-

"I heard something loud. I'm just going to go ahead and say someone just died...right Big Al?"

"The execution is complete. Yes..."

"You two are the worst announcers ever..."


-Josh's body was allowed to fall off the steps and huddle in a puddle of broken flesh and ego. Jerry walked down the steps and kicked Josh over, slamming his foot down over the Floridian's chest as the ref started to crawl over. The Shotgun Kid raised his fist up into the air as the small sprinkles of fire fell from the sky, the baptism was now complete.-

1......2.....

TBCB: Whoever.

[Cletus & Big Jim]

The stench of sulphur is all too apparent as the referee’s blood-caked hand descends for the final time, and the napalm raining upon the combatants does not seem to be letting up. Inches from counting the final three, the official, Waylon Women, is bowled over by Vince Vegas. The Nevada native didn’t pay $99.95 for an imitation King of the Deathmatch title, then splurge for rush delivery, only to waste this chance to steal the real deal. Moreover, he didn’t spend countless hours in the gym, sculpting his abdominals, and trying to catch the attention of the girls on the elliptical machines, only to have this nasty weed whacker scar ruin his carefully crafted physique and his chances of scoring simultaneously. Having trampled the man in stripes, Vince now lights into Jerry with lefts and rights, which put the champ on the back foot, but seem only able to stun him while cloaked in his dark miasma. Vegas decides not to let up and maintains the attack, fearing that any respite given to the champion will end rather messily. Desperately he kicks and chops, but now the tables are beginning to turn as Nate has taken the initiative, stalking his quarry around the ring, as Vince throws everything he has into slowing him down. The corn-fed prince of the dead twists his tattered visage into a sadistic grin, supremely confident that his opposition is not only losing ground, but energy to boot. He bats away a feral right hand that had little or nothing on it, and then lands a left of his own. Vince crumples under the impact, and throws a wild shot that hits nothing but air, his lacerations now lacing his body with agony. Bowed, he is wide open to a crushing DDT from the Nebraskan. With Vegas on the floor, Jerry reaches into his boot and produces a straight razor. Intent upon realizing the sick vision implanted in Vegas’ brain some weeks ago, he is only given pause by the rattle of chains…rusted chains…logging chains. As Big Jim’s links lash his back over and over, Nate’s knees buckle and he falls to the mat.

Will you come out from under there.

It isn’t safe up there, trust me…

Man devises, but he shall not prevail. All will be cleansed in blood and all flesh to see His glory…

Shut up Al! Stop grabbing my leg Colin! I’m sorry folks… We’ve got Jerry Nate down on the outside, and he’s in a world of hurt.

Honest?

Those blows from Big Jim with the chain testify to why they call this guy the Sou’West Savage.

The perverse pulp peeler isn’t nearly that excited, and he urges Vince to get to his feet. Vegas is on rubber legs but the sight of a prone champion stiffens his sinews and he begins to lay in the boots with renewed gusto. The man from the Black Rapids hooks the chain around Jerry’s throat and stands astride his foe’s supine form, resolved to apply some variation on the camel clutch. The Satisfying One has other plans however and lifts the 245 pounds of logger, as he rises to his feet, once again undaunted. Jim tumbles unceremoniously backward, landing awkwardly. Vince waves his hands in acquiescence, no title is worth mangling his features and risking career-ending injury. Before Nate has a chance to turn his full attention on his erstwhile rival, the Vicious One climbs the outside corner of the ring, to the second strand, and drops an elbow on the troublesome timber cruiser, before presenting him as an offering to the true King. Yet the gift, such as it is, does little to intercede on Vince’s behalf. Whether because he distrusts his adversary, simply longs for further bloodshed, or, more likely, both, Jerry resumes his chase and this time ‘the star of the show’ wastes no time in putting distance between himself and a potential ass-whipping. Yet, as the chase rounds the far corner, a shrill whine announces to one and all that the recently mobile Joshua Vandiver has managed to get his hands on the weed eater. Vince ducks under the whirling whips, suffering a slash to the shoulder, but missing the worst of the potential carnage, which is more than can be said for Jerry Nate. Slices of beard and shirt and flesh take to the air as the spinning lashes land in the champion’s chest. An areola sails like a discarded piece of salami. Vince grabs Jerry’s legs, cutting off any retreat, and, acknowledging the greater threat and casting aside thoughts of vengeance against Vegas, Big Jim too arrives, looping the chain around Nate’s throat and hauling him to the ground. As Vandiver readies himself to turn the eerily smiling countenance of the champion into a jagged collection of gashes, an unholy scream fills the arena, like the monster Bennings before he’s barbequed in the John Carpenter classic The Thing from 1982. Everything stops at the sound and in an instant everything is dark.

His enemies will submit and ALL earth will worship!

Oh my God, he’s coming!!!!

Well, we know what this is. It sounds like all Hell is breaking loose in there.

Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do Thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host - by the Divine Power of God - cast into hell, Satan and all the evil spirits, who roam throughout the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.

I can’t see much, but the weed eater is gone and the chain ain’t rattling. That silence is speaking volumes to how this match has shifted.

The fans reaction drowns out any noise from the ring, some cheer in anxious anticipation of what the lights will reveal, while more decry the obvious attempt at subterfuge and insist that this is not what they paid their money to see. Camera flashes part the darkness just enough to reveal that the ring is unexpectedly filled with people. As the crowd settles into the darkness, some of them no doubt wondering if they have crossed the line between theatrical blackout and genuine power failure, the sounds of savage combat are heard and though the voices are indistinguishable the collective consciousness is well prepared for what they see when illumination is restored and Jerry Nate stands alone in the ring.

Not an unexpected outcome, but you still have to be impressed with Jerry Nate doing away with three of the top contenders for his title in mere minutes. Whatever he’s got, it damn sure works.

Your land shall become desolate; for thou hath rebelled against thy God: you shall fall by the sword: your infants shall be dashed in pieces, and your women with child shall be ripped up

Maybe I’m going to have to hang up the headset and beat this guy myself

Vicious Vince lays broken in a corner of the cage, Big Jim is tied fifteen feet up the side of the structure with his arms outstretched, and Josh Vandiver is once again crushed under Nate’s boot. Disoriented and back in the ring, Waylon Women is slow to make the count, and the former ToL winner rolls his shoulder at the last second, sparing himself the shame of defeat. The crowd gives a thunderous note of amazement and Nate gives the crumbled form an incredulous look, uncertain how this temporal being could defy his dark divinity. Yet, Jerry isn’t out of the woods yet. From outside the structure comes another bellow, far less sinister, but no less audible. Broken, bloody, but oh so bitter, Cletus has risen again and somehow, in the darkness, managed to get his hands on his favourite double-bitted axe, which he swings into the chains holding the cage door shut. The ring of steel on steel awakens something primal in the predatory brain of Big Jim and he begins to struggle against the fetters that bind him. For a fleeting second, the gleeful gaze on the champion’s face flickers, betraying that his masterful plan may now be starting to fray.

Even now the ax of judgment is poised, ready to sever the roots of the trees, so that every tree which fails to yield good fruit will quickly be hewn down and thrown into the fire.

TBC...

[Dustin Delta]

Jerry Nate's stance widens, fists raised beside his visage while his eyes rocket about in their sockets, shifting to and fro between Big Jim, who is stirring and beginning to rise, and Cletus, who, despite the gash and bite marks running along his neck, is swinging away at the chains of the Tower's door in hopes of breaking back in. The enormous Lumberjack lets out a mighty bellow, before delivering a fatal swing to the chains, splitting the bind into pieces, which fall apart as the door is released from its place of rest. Within seconds, a squadron of referees are on the Beaubears native in what may be a futile effort to prevent his re-entrance to the structure. While the zebrashirts are unable to hold back the gargantuan combatant, there is one man who can - Jack Tracks. Cletus' colleague in elimination sprints down the aisle, taking a short leap as he approaches, and delivers a dropkick to the back of the knee of the Pinebender, sending him downward to his back on the cold hardened surface of the arena. The capacity crowd erupts enthusiastically for Jack, uses his considerable size to turn Cletus over prone and mounts the small of his back, twisting both arms as he applies his signature submission maneuver, which renders the Lumberjack as bent as his ol' pines. The Red Flag is waved, courtesy of Tracks, and the pay-per-view feed refocuses on the Tower of London structure and more importantly, the men inside of it.

Jerry Nate loads his double barrels, loosening his wrists up and tightening the clench of his fists as his attention is turned to Big Jim, who is now on bent knee and cemented flooring. Snarling, the Nebraskan strides forward and descends into a slide, exiting the ring, in which Joshua Vandiver lay motionless. The King of the Deathmatch shifts his focus to the Timberland Tank, who, upon seeing his foe, unleashes a set of blind punches and shots in the dark, most of which Jerry sidesteps or dodges with ease. After the sad happening drags on for a series of pitiful seconds, The Shotgun Kid captures a closed fist thrown by Big Jim while in mid-flight, and quickly wrenches the arm about his elbow and transitions into an arm trap, holding the limb of Jim twisted behind his back, but remains standing in front of his larger adversary. The one-armed man from the Beaubear Islands is defenseless as a series of knees are driven into his gullet, repeatedly, seeming to never cease. After an approximate dozen strikes or so, Big Jim is exasperated and the colossus is left gasping for air. Nate does not relent, however, as he springs from the surface on his toes, launching himself upward while also digging the joint of his knee into the diaphragm of the lumberjack, who reacts surprisingly quickly and uses his free arm to catch the champion at the calves. Jerry shakes his head in a panic, trying to escape, but before he can attempt such a movement, the Heavyweight Hermit delivers the Omaha native to the frame of the squared circle with a modified powerbomb. The audience jeers the Woodlander, who rebuts with a roar. While he shouts, Jim turns himself and spots the downed bodies of not only Cletus, but Jacks as well, who now hosts a similar gash in his neck. An unexplainable sentient darkness seems to almost swallow the two, drawing ever closer to the mesh structure.

"Two more appetizers for the hungry, wonderful. Young and ripe, too. His Ungodliness will be most amused."

"Are you still going on about that? What's going on in the match?! We've got a job to here, don't we, Al?"

"The deed has been delayed, if you must inquire. His Ungodliness' warrior has faltered, but it is only temporary! The limbering fool shall soon pay his debts!"

"Could you decipher any of that?"

"Big Jim just took down Jerry Nate somehow."

"...Bravo, bravo."

Big Jim tilts his head and winces, staring at the downed champion with contempt. With a scowl on his countenance, the New Brunswick native lifts the sole of his boot to the temple of Jerry, pressing into the deadweight and pushing him under the ropes and into the squared circle. Jim then steps up to the apron, his eyes unwavering as they lock on to the supposed King of the Deathmatch. Big Jim, as his name would say, is a man with some big problems, and right now, Jerry seems to be the biggest he knows of - he pays no mind to the bloodied Vandiver, who leans against the northwest corner of the ring, exhausted. As the Hermit steps through the ring ropes, The Vicious One slides into the ring just out of the peripheral vision of Jim. The Logging Crew member suspects nothing as the arms of Vincent wrap about his stomach, and Vegas heaves the weight of the Timberland Tank upwards while he bridges his midsection back, planting the upper back and trapezoids of Jim onto the canvas with authority. Vince maintains the bridge, and the arbiter drops prone, ensuring that the lumberjack's shoulders are on the canvas.

"1!"

Joshua's eyes widen and his complexion is ghostly, as he realizes he must somehow take action, as Nate is yet to fully recuperate himself enough to break the fall. Vandiver musters all the energy he can and runs the ropes adjacent to him. The rebound builds his momentum as he jogs towards the Nevadan.

"2!"

Joshua leaps onto the torso of Vince, using his abdomen as a springboard to launch himself several feet into the air. Whilst airborne, Vandiver panders to the capacity crowd that's flooded into the Bostonian GHW Arena with an impressive twist as he plummets to the mat, but he does not forget the crash down to the lungs of Vegas with his unpadded elbow, which drives the air from the Vicious One's lungs and also forces his adversary to break out of the bridging pin attempt, saving Big Jim to fight another day - or, at least to fight in a few minutes' time.

"That blasted false idol, what a jester. The time is not now! The night is young, and the night is his time to feed!"

"Now, that I could hear even with this twit shouting his pagan shit. That was a two-count, and I could've sworn that we would've heard a three with just a few more milliseconds."

"...I'm thinking it's safe to get back into our seats. This whole under-the-table thing is getting old."

"Good idea."

Vincent rolls over, managing to land himself on his knees. His left forearm covers his stomach, protecting himself from another further attacks that would deprive him of oxygen. The man formerly known as Dustin Delta smirks, his visage is sinister as he shows a brief mercy for the Nevadan. Exiting to the hardened floor at ringside, Joshua goes for a bit of an excavation under the ring, disappearing behind the ring apron on his hands and knees. Moments later, he crawls out at the opposite side, dragging a wooden ladder out with him. The Las Vegas native, his face distorted from his painful expression, his an initial difficulty making out what exactly Vandiver is wielding, but at the moment when it clicks in his head, the whites of his eyes become significantly visible and he pursues the Valhalla native to the ringside area. Almost immediately, the Cruiserweight makes an endeavor to batter the top of the ladder into the head of Vince, who manages to duck under the attack. The Macabre Middleweight, doubled over, charges into the paunch of Joshua, who has no choice but to drop the ladder as his adversary uses his own body as a battering ram. Both men are knocked down to the floor, and ad interim, Big Jim and Jerry Nate return to full verticality within the squared circle. The Shoutgun Kid sprints to his larger-framed foe, but Jim clasps the shaved head of Jerry with his abnormally meaty hands. Nate struggles, swinging his limbs, but it is delusive. The Beaubear Islander elevates the King of the Deathmatch Champion, and once at an appropriate level, releases the head while contracting his thigh and extending the knee, driving his shin into the descending crotch of Nate, who is stilled upon impact before collapsing like a rag-doll to the canvas.

"That's just plain immature. Hmph."

"Is somebody grumpy and possessed? Who's grumpy and possessed? I think Big Al is!"

"You're both children."

"...Am not."

"Regardless! The false idol is standing again, and he wields the ladder. Interesting."

"Interesting indeed! The plot thickens!"

"I'm not sure you know the appropriate application of that phrase."

Regardless of The Fuzz's lackluster semantics, Al Mulligan was correct. Vince Vegas had returned to his feet, and now he had set up the wooden ladder that the previous Tower of London winner had introduced to the fray beside the squared circle. Perhaps a yard away, Vandiver himself writhed on the cold and unforgivingly hardened flat, which was littered with blood, glass, and broken pieces of wood from the night's earlier events. The Vicious One wipes a hand from his forehead to his jawline to relieve himself of the pestering sweat and blood from the ongoing battle. Surely doubting his decision as he makes it, Vincent mounts the first of the ladder with his right foot, beginning his ascension to the uppermost platform, which causes many members of the GHW Faithful to stand up, expecting something to go horribly wrong - or rather, for them, horribly right. As he finds the peak, Vince takes a moment to seat himself at the loft of the ladder, looking out into the sea of hateful, jeering Bostonians. The mock-heroic grin that seeps across his countenance is curt, as Big Jim steps up to the second rope at the ring's edge, which makes him on level with the Nevadan, considering the wooden ladder's size. The packed audience surprisingly cheers on the man with big problems as he reaches out and delivers an axe handle to the upper back of the Number One Contender. Vince's shoulderblades impulsively contract, the pose providing short-lived alleviation from pain. Following through on the assault, Big Jim draws his hand back and uses the meat of his forearm to lash at the back of Vegas' head. In reactionary defense, the hands of the Las Vegas native retract to the back of his head, defending himself from further battering to the targeted area. The Timberland Tank steps over the third rope and finds himself placing his feet beside the braces of the ladder. He ascends, and very soon finds himself side by side with the Vicious One, who is groggily half-aware of what's going on around him. The capacity crowd perks up as they realize that the New Brunswick native is gearing Vince up for his signature Slip on the Ice maneuver. Joshua Vandiver watches this on bent knee, picking his time and Jim initiates the set-up. The former champion counts the conditions as they come to fruition. The leg is hooked, the two are shoulder to shoulder. At the moment that Jim leans Vegas and himself forward for potential additional momentum, the Floridian steps forward and draws back his weight while snatching the lower end of the ladder. The balance of Jim and Vince is completely shot, and the ladder topples over while remaining open. The bodies of the Nevadan and the Woodlander are sent into an ebb, as they rain down and find themselves bouncing off of the ring ropes and apron, eventually succeeding to the clever ways of gravity and collapsing to the cemented surface at ringside. The audience all cringes together as the gruesome decline feels it's full impact, but shortly after, breaks into a collective enthusiasm for Wolverina's right-hand man, Joshua Vandiver. Cringing himself, Joshua locks his fingers around the lower beams of the wooden ladder again, turning it over so that it's uppermost rung now meets the floor, and it's beams open at it's top, creating a bucket of sorts.

"A show of brilliance by the red-heared one, I'll admit. But I sense that he is feeding. The time is nigh."

"The time for what, god damn it?"

"Never mind that right now, Colin. Joshua was ingenious there - he almost always proves to be when he's trapped in a hardcore environment. However, if I were Al or Ja-"

"His Ungodliness."

"...Yes, him, I'd be very worried for Jerry Nate right now, because Vandiver clearly has something in mind with that over-turned ladder."

Joshua mounts his foot on the ring apron, which now drips with blood from the opened wounds of either Big Jim or Vince Vegas - at this point, there's no telling. The cameras zoom in on Vandiver's sickening visage, drowning in the proverbial crimson mask. His tongue slides down to his chin, and as the warmth of his own blood runs onto his tongue, a smile reappears. His eyes open and his midnight pupils set themselves on Jerry Nate, who is still a tad off-balance from Jim's low blow - however, he leans back with his arms wrapped around the parallel set of ropes, and his gaze meets the Floridian's. Both are exasperated, short-of-breath. The sentient darkness continues to hang over the entryway to the Tower, now seeming to press itself against the steel mesh as the two draw nearer. A round of applause, but no voices, rises from the audience in the GHW Arena. The air is terse, and the setting eerie. The man formerly known by Dustin Delta leans down and slips through the ropes, while Jerry Nate bounces off of the ropes and paces towards his opponent. Their steps seem to echo against the canvas, littered with glass and puddles of life lost. The two come face to face, mere inches from each other, and all is still. All is silent.

A beautifully silent moment, on a beautifully imperfect night.

The reigning King of the Deathmatch lashes first, with a standard run-of-the-mill kick to the gullet. Joshua doubles over and the Shotgun Kid wastes not a second as he turns back and runs the ropes from whence he came. As he reapproaches, the Valhallan jumps upward, even going as far as to use Nate's shoulder for extra elevation. Jerry brushes the weight off and continues to the next set of ropes, rebounding off of them as well. The Nebraskan comes at the previous victor of the match similarly to a rocket, and the agile Vandiver responds by retracting his lower legs, using the joint of his knee to target the arm of Nate - which was outstretched for what was presumably a lariat. The former Television Champion gives it all he's got to connect with an Armbreaker, but the larger and heavier Omaha native uses his strength to bend the captured arm and with his elbow pointed, shoots himself down, passing by the knees and driving the end of his humorous into the chin of Joshua, planting the challenger into the canvas shoulder-first. Joshua's mouth gapes open and he bellows with a great agony, which only serves as a sadist's fuel. Jerry Nate, a man equally as sick as Joshua, slaps himself in the face and smiles, whilst his eyes fixate themselves on the uppermost turnbuckle nearest him. He breaks into a rush, jumping up to the top rope and positioning himself to pounce. Vandiver arcs his both, desperately making an effort to ease the affliction in his back. The Cold-Hearted Cornhusker's hand rises to his crimson cheek, and his fingers slowly swim through the pool of blood on his profile. His own life running down his fingers and hand, he wipes the crimson across his exposed elbow, a ritual of sorts as he prepares himself to soar. Nate bends his knees and then extends, shooting into the air much akin to a bat out of hell. As he descends, he adjusts himself to land first-and-foremost on the bone of his blood-covered elbow, which should be driven into the heart of the broken man below. In the time that The Shotgun Kid braces for his crash-landing, Joshua pushes himself up from the canvas and he scuttles to the side, removing himself from Jerry's line of trajectory at what could only be considered the perfect moment.

The defending champion lands on the end of his humorous and forthwith, his limb begins to spasm and he acts quickly to settle it and ease the stress upon it. Joshua does not provide him that chance, however, as the challenger remains on the attack. With The Shotgun Kid temporarily kneeling, Vandiver seizes the moment and dashes to him, leaping from behind and driving the back of his right leg down on the back of the neck with a picture-perfect Fame Asser. While the Floridian continues down and lands on the canvas, Jerry bounces and returns back to his kneeling position, however considerably groggy and faint. Joshua twist himself and brings himself to bent knee, facing his adversary with confidence. He draws close and extends the arm of Nate, bending over and hoisting the Omaha native onto his width. Aplomb and composed, the man formerly known as Dustin Delta begins to gyrate, whirling into the Airplane Spin which initiates one of his signature sequences. However, Nate gathers himself and focuses his weight into his lower body, causing Vandiver to lose balance. The champion turns them over completely and plants his feet down on the canvas, and shifts the body of Joshua so that the previous winner of this dreaded contest is set-up for the BileDriver MK II. The audience erupts, expecting to watch a head roll. But the Valhalla native also manages to counter, whirling back to his feet and now holding Jerry up-side down on his back. Thinking on his feet, Joshua backs into a corner, releasing Jerry to be left hanging in a Tree of Woe. After taking a slight moment to wipe the sweat and blood from his brow, the former champion and Tower of London winner steps out to the apron and uses the support that connects the turnbuckles and ring posts to ascend to the peak of the squared circle. Joshua doubles over and locks his hands around the triceps of Jerry, hoisting him up to a seated position atop the third turnbuckle. Vandiver keeps a grip on one arm and as he seems to begin twisting it in a specific manner, Nate turns his face to meet Josh's and unleashes a mist of Copenhagen long cut directly to his foe's visage. Whilst the former victor is disoriented, The Shotgun Kid is able to lift him up onto the broadness of his shoulders. His calculated eyes become infatuated with the cradle created by the inverted and ladder. The Bostonian audience live in attendance rises to their feet and look on in disbelief - millions at home undoubtedly do the same - as their King of the Deathmatch Champion, Jerry Nate, steps up onto the third turnbuckle with the man once addressed by the name of Dustin Delta in a Fireman's Carry. Both short of breath, both bleeding their lives away, perhaps ten feet above the solid and unforgiving flat of ringside; and Jerry Nate bends his knees and leaps, rolling himself over until he is completely bottoms-up. Joshua feels the impact first as his back collapses onto the wooden ladder - the weight of their two masses snapping the spreader, causing the wood to break down and the ladder to fall to bits. Shortly after, Jerry Nate's lands supine on the splints of wood and cement, feeling an agony similar to the challenger on which he inflicted it. The two lay sprawled out in a puddle of misery, splinters, and in the atmosphere of war - only several feet away from the fallen carcasses of Big Jim and "Vicious" Vince Vegas. The world - and the looming sentient darkness - watches on as the battle of all battles reaches another stalemate.

"And now, they bleed."

["Vicious" Vince Vegas]

The four fallen warriors lay batter, bruised and bloodied, scattered throughout the cage like a scene from Friday the 13th. The seconds that pass seem like and eternity for the men, but an eternity does not seem a sufficient amount of time to recover from their torture. As the ref counts, urging the combatants to get up and continue the battle, Big Jim begins to muster from his ladder induced slumber. The Perverse Pulp Peeler inches his way to his feet, stopping only for a moment to bask in the sight of blood and gore that surrounds him. Although his tally-whacker is adequately covered in denim, the smile that beams across his face is a look of pure arousal. The same look he had in his eye the day the TNT camera found him engaged in "extracurricular activities" involving a severed moose head at the Black Horse Tavern. Driven to his feet in a rousing rebirth of disturbing bloodlust, Big Jim howls toward the ceiling.


He is actually enjoying this!

I thought Canadians were supposed to polite and courteous! This is just disturbing.

Enjoying it to say the least. Like the terminator scanning for signs of John Connor, Big Jim begins to search the ring for an instrument to satisfy his urge, and hopefully provide him with a much need release. Being from the back woods of New Brunswick, Big Jim is no stranger to small engines and spots the weed whacker in an instant. But instead of pulling the chord to start the machine, Jim begins unscrewing the gas cap.


What the hell is he up to?

I don't think you want to know!

The depraved Rapider wastes no time find Vince Vegas, still laying motionless beside the ladder where he was last seen, and dumps the gas tank onto Vince. The 4:1 mixtures of gas and oil penetrates Vince's open cuts, he squirms on the floor with stinging pain. Like swinging an axe on Beaubear's Island, Big Jim swats the cowardly heel 3 times with the business end of the 4-cycle yard tool. Perverse thoughts of burning flesh arouse Jim's libido as he pulls a book of matches from his pocket. The crowd pops with a mixed reaction as many fans in the audience are unsure if this is part of the show. Big Jim may just be that crazy. But Jerry Nate has begun make his way to his feet.

Oh My God,He's going to light Vince on fire!

Tables, chairs, sadders, panes of glass even a weed whacker! This match has had it all, and as it winds down we're even going see the flesh burnt off of a man's skin. This isn't wrestling, this is a murder scene!
That's why they call it a death match Al. And how fitting. He will go up in flames, just as his so called title did last week.

The perverse Pulp Peeler fiddles with the matches, struggling to get on lit, but fully intending on burning a man alive in front of a live audience and countless fans watching at home. Unfortunately, Jerry Nate has other plans. Once back on his feet, Jerry charges over toward Jim, still trying to get his match lit, and lands several forearms to the back of his head, followed by a boot to the breadbasket. Wasting no time, Nate pulls Big Jim's head under his arm, lifts him into the air, and drops hm directly on his head with a brainbuster, shifting the momentum into his favor. Sensing the end is near, Nate signals to the crowd that it's time go home. Nate picks Big Jim up from the mat, puts Big Jim's massive work boots onto his shoulders and places his feet around Jim's arms. Nate springs into the air, dropping Jim on his face. Bile Driver MKII. As if Big Jim's face wasn't ugly enough already.


IT'S ALLLLLL OVER FOLKS! GET IN YOUR CARS NOW TO BEAT THE TRAFFIC! BILE DRIVER MKII!

The crowd erupts seeing The Shotgun Kid's signature finish, so many matches along the way have ended with that very move. Jerry Nate quickly covers the Pulp hook wielding Logger.

One...

Two..

Thr...

Just as the referee's arm is about to hit the mat for the third time, Vandiver, running on sheer will to become the first two time Tower of London Champion, breaks the pin with a drop kick to the Nate's skull. GHW arena lets out a collective, "OOOOO" as the match continues on. Josh begins slamming both hands rhythmically against the ring canvas in an attempt to gain the support of the crowd. Although the rhythm catches on with many fans, who clap along with the king of hearts, it is obvious that loyalty of the fans is split between he and Jerry Nate. But Josh intends on winning a few over. Vandiver lifts Nate onto his shoulders and slams him back down again with an emphatic Angle slam on top of Big Jim, still unconscious after a gruesome Bile Driver.

"Vicious" Vince Vegas, however, has since regained his bearings and is wings to strike. As Vandiver finishes his slam on Nate, Vince charges toward Josh to attempt a spear. Perhaps Josh is very well aware of his surroundings or perhaps he could smell the gasoline fumes from Vegas, either way, Josh is well aware of "Vicious" Vince charging toward him. Vandiver dodges the spear, grabbing Vince's wrist while doing so. Josh brings Vinc'es wrist in between his own legs, lifts him up and drops him onto his neck and back.


Vandiver Driver! It's all over but the crying. And I'm sure Vince will do his share.

TBCB The Tower Winner