Tower of London Ending

[Cletus & Big Jim]

The four men lay strewn about the ring like discarded toys, crumpled and broken. Even after executing the Vandiver Driver, Joshua has exhausted beyond measure. He throws a stray arm over the prone body of Vince, but the Las Vegas native lazily rolls a shoulder at two. The fans know full well that after this many spots the end is near, so the await the action with baited breath. Slowly the combatants rise again, each needing the ropes to sustain them to a vertical base. There is a pause as each man contemplates his position, and that of his adversaries, while the crowd gives an appreciative clap to all four men for their showing thus far. The action starts again as Vandiver ducks a charging Jerry Nate, sending the King sailing over the ropes to the outside. Sensing an opportunity to settle things once and for all with his foe, Jim too slips out of the ring, leaving Vince and Josh to settle their differences within. Vince charges, but Josh drops down and Vince trots over him to the far ropes. The Vicious One bounces off and finds Vandiver running perpendicular to him in a criss-cross. Both men know where this is heading and after a few bounces and ducks they both go for their respective clotheslines, trying to outstep their opponent. The force of their collision picks up both men’s feet and the crash to the canvas once again. Meanwhile the battle outside has turned against Big Jim. Jerry, who’s been seemingly stronger as this match has gone on, isn’t weakening yet and the stiff shots he lays into the wild woodsman rock him backward and make him wish for the soft stained sheets of the Black Horse. He retreats onto the apron and then up the turnbuckle, but Nate is only a few steps behind him. A stunning right cross jacks Jim’s chin a bit too far and he slackens. The corn-fed prince of the dead grabs the seated logger from behind. Both men, in the high rent district launch off and land on their shoulders as Jerry executes a German suplex from the top. He bridges, but it’s sloppy, and as the referee’s hand counts the final three, Jim’s shoulder lifts from the canvas. Jerry Nate proves that only a god can defeat him, he has essentially pinned himself.

Your winner of the match, and new King of the Deathmatch, Big Jim



Holy shit! That dumb son-of-a-bitch did it!

Sweet Jesus

Oh, this isn’t going to end well. He’s gonna be pissed.

The lights flicker, and Jerry disappears in the darkness. Jim looks around, knowing that it isn’t over. The crowd is largely silent, before a mild boo washes over them. They aren’t really that angry, it was a decent showing all around and they got their money’s worth. As Josh and Vince begin to stir, realizing it’s all over, he exits the cage and is presented with the title. He looks at it, and then lets it hand from his hand. The win is more important than the belt will ever be. Maybe Mosie Doran will give him something for it, he’ll have to wait and see. Cletus now appears in the entrance way, he’s got a big bottle of Hermit’s wine; definitely the $12 bottle. He says to Jim that he’s earned it and offers the bottle. Jim pauses, nods in appreciation, accepts the bottle, and drinks greedily. All’s well for the
Logging Crew until…



Cletus and Big Jim are puzzled, wasn’t this part of Jerry Nate’s head games? Hadn’t he played this music at Blood Runs Cold six weeks ago for his own sick amusement?

Apparently not….

[privateers]

The old naval strains begin to die, to be replaced by a pirate metal piece



The Honor-tron is filled with footage of two Fighty fighty persons largely foreign to the crowd. A few smarks know them and begin to cheer.

Emerging from the curtain are The Privateers, John Blake & Bill Davidson. Smooth as a kiss, faster than the beating of any heart and with enough sex appeal that several ladies are already hooting from the stands.

The red-haired Scotsman, Davidson, begins.

CLEEEEEEE-TUS!!! No, ya aren’t seein’ things! We’re back! We’ve found you! Ya didna think that that, after what ya did…what ya did ta dear Charlotte…

The crisp and lean-cut Englishman, Blake, busts in with unforeseen rage

I’m gonna tear off your heads and shit down your necks!

Settle down John, settle down; only early days yet. He’s a little anxious. I’m a little anxious. Anxious to once again put a hurtin’ on you two big hairy bastards. So boys, go out, celebrate the big win; get drunk. Enjoy these last days, because come TNT, we make our debut and it’s only a matter of time after that….

As the Privateers depart, the Logging Crew look bewildered. Big Jim takes another long pull on the Hermit’s.