Jerry Nate vs. Vladimir Tepes Strife: Hardcore

[Psychotic Circus]

-The fans inside the Century Link Arena were shouting their little heads off, it was almost enough to reach up to the heavens as they waited in anticipation for their main event of the evening.-

"We promised you perfection here tonight, ladies and gentlemen, and we did not disappoint! The live audience behind us is evidence of this fact!"

"Let's take one second to cock off as the early ratings reports come in. 4.5 on the Nielsen ratings early report, and all without paying off a single celebrity or B-list has been."

"It's funny. It's almost like our audience is a group of wrestling fans who tuned in for a wrestling show."

"Indeed."

-Soon enough, the spots lights that lit the arena started to shut down one after the other with a loud KA-CHUD after each glimpse of sight was taken away from the audience. They waited in anticipation before their ears with greeted with a new set of sounds pouring from the P.A system.-

"I may be many things...some might call me crazy...now I'm to far gone I don't need you to save me. I may be many things, some might call me crazy. Now I'm to far gone-I DON'T NEED YOU TO SAVE ME!"

-A hardcore strobe light show came from the darkness to beat at the eyes of the live audience as the Honor-tron light up with images of GHW's former cornfed hero, shot after shot was comprised of either a Shotgun Punch!, or a 12 Gauge being unloaded on some unknowing opponent, mixed in were reaction shots of Jerry Nate as if he was having the greatest time of his life.-

"Well, this is new..."

"Isn't this a little to upbeat for Jerry Nate nowadays?"

"I think this is a damn ploy to sell more T-shirts..."

Walk into a bar I’m already drunk, doesn’t really matter this place kinda sucksOnce again I’ll start a fight doesn’t even matter who’s wrong or rightBottles breaking tables in the air, kicked out of the bar don’t even careCause we’re on to the next stop, someone hurry up and buy me a shot!

-The Satisfying One appears at the top of the entrance ramp, clean shaven and washed hair like the days before his psyche feel into the darkness. Jerry Nate was more animated than ever before as he raised his soul shattering fist towards the sky with a defiant war cry. The brim of his baseball cap was tucked low as The Shotgun Kid ran down the entrance ramp, much to the fans utter delight. A short skip and slide later, Jerry Nate pressed up on his knee to stand inside the ring in front of his hometown fans.-

"Ladies and gentlemen! THIS! Is yooour main event! Introducing first, FROM OMAHA NEEEEEEEEE-BRRRRRASSSSSKA! He, is the most Satisfying performer in proffessional wrestling today! He, is JJJJJEEEEEEERRRRRRRY, MOTHA' FUCKIN' NATE!"

-The fans saluted their hometown hero with cheers as he raised up both fist with another roar that was drowned out by the awesome force of a full house of lungs. The microphone was snatched out of Charlie Coors' hands as Jerry sprinted past and jumped onto the second turnbuckle.-

"...my brothers, my sisters...my blood.....SPEAK TO MEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

-The marks inside the arena were playing right into Jerry's hands as another thunderous chant rained down on the cornfed contender graciously accepted the gifts of sounds from his fan base.-

"Tonight! Right here, right now, we've got a match that would sell out any arena in the world, and you're the lucky few that were chosen to see it live and in person! Tonight, the Satisfying One goes one on one with a former great one! Vladimir Tepes Strife! A man who is also plotting against my mentor, my employer, my friend! I've heard the whispers in the locker room...and I know you've got awful things planned for the one person who was kind enough to give you a job anymore! The streak is dead, the illusion is over Vlad! I know you can be beaten, broken and made to swallow that large lump of pride you have growing inside that large forehead of your's and I plan, no, I PROMISE I will lay you out for the three count! You're nothing but a damn school yard bully but with only half the height, Vlad! And I'm sick of these games, a father is grieving already tonight...and now he doesn't even know where his son is...and you had a large part to do with it..."

"We here at Satisfying Inc. won't stand, won't rest until you're taken out of the picture permanently! I've only had one damn friend in this business, one person who I could always count on to have my back no matter what the situation was...a man who is revolutionizing this business, not because people wanted him to, but because we needed him to. The larger audiences, the grander pay checks with respectable bonuses with actual options for sick days and insurance handed to us. We still get to live the dream, we still get to entertain, but now we have options and not just stitching ourselves up like animals in the back! And you...and Wolverina...you're going to undo all of his grand work, his ground breaking, pioneering work...all because you think he's gone to far with his revenge...he'll never go far enough until that harlot is six feet under, and I'll never think differently."


"I'm going to give you the courtesy you want to take away from all of us, Vladimir...I'm going to give you options...Heaven...or Hell. Let's fight, mother fucker."


-The microphone was flicked, spiraling in the air as an overjoyed Charlie Coor's caught it like the days before. The chants were near deafening as the Satisfying One grabbed his cap and sunglasses with different hands and sent them flying into the crowd. His eyes seemed to return to their former youthful luster while the grin of over confidence spread across his lips. His arms folded while awaiting the arrival of the Bambi-Killer.-

"Powerful words from the Shotgun Kid! The crowd is eating it up as if he were hand feeding them savory meats right into their mouths!"

"I don't know if he can be trusted, but I think the judgment has been passed down by the fans!"

-TBCB: Vladdy-

[Vladimir T. Strife]

Sporting a new sound for himself as well, attention turns toward the entrance and the expected GodKing as the sounds of Strapping Young Lad begin to pour through the P.A. system.



While the slow bassline plays through, Charlie introduces a man who rarely needs one while Jerry Nathan prepares himself in the corner.

"And his opponent, out of Sighisoara, Romania.. weighing in at 234 lbs and standing at 6 feet even... VLLLLLLADIMIRRR T. STRRRRRIFE!!!"

"Young machines, Machines they burn for war
Bring on the young, my God
Bring on the babe, my Lord
Bring on the young
Bring on the young
Bring on the dumb
Bring on the young"

Vladimir bursts out of the back with the next line to a huge round of applause and cheers, the GHW fans happy to see him back in action and coming out to take the fight to the Shotgun Kid and knock some of the wind from the Circus's sails. He dons his typical attire from the black denim trenchcoat and long sleeved blue shirt down to his black pants and steel toed boots and the small charm on a chain about his neck. Time had only seemed to touch the face of the GodKing, the youthful vigor and fire in his eyes betraying the light creases time has etched into his flesh.

"The machine, Machine that burns for war
Bring on the pain, my God
Bring on the burn - burn - burn
Bring on the young
Bring on the young
Bring on the dumb
Bring on the young"

With slow and deliberate strides, the Barbarian Lord makes his way down the steel ramp. He, for once, neglects to mind attention to the hands stretched over the barricade, hungry to touch the legend. He's much more focused than he has been in the past, his eyes locked on his opponent in the ring and mind already running a gauntlet of ways to inflict pain and suffering upon him.

"The machine, machines they pay for war
Bring on the hate, my God
Bring on the BURN- BURN- BURN
BRING ON THE YOUNG
BRING ON THE YOUNG
BRING ON THE YOOOOUUUUNNNNGG
BRING ON THE YOUNG
BRING ON THE HATE - HATE - HATE
BRING ON THE HATE - HATE - HATE"

The choice of music was a message from the legend to the man he faced once more on this night, but much like the man himself, there was little subtlety to be found within it's words.

"Both of these men look primed and ready to tear one another apart tonight. I'm going to go ahead and caution any parents with young children at home to put them to bed."

"That is a good call. Anytime you have either of these men involved in a match, particularly when there's no rules, it's not a family friendly affair. Both of them in the same match may be the most vicious thing you see all year.."

Reaching the end of the ramp, the Bambi Killer takes a right and continues around the ring, pulling his jacket back and taking it off with great care. He hands it off to a ringside attendant and passes the announce table, reaching over to receive a microphone from the bell keeper along the way. This in hand, he finally makes his way to the nearest set of steps and climbs them up to the apron. He slips into the ring through the top two ropes and closes the distance between himself and the Nebraskan with only a couple of step. Again he moves hastelessly as he raises the microphone up to the level of his mouth, the audience and music hushing as he does so. He patiently waits until they do, Jerry respectfully doing the same.

"Hell it is."

The Romanian Scourge flings down the microphone, spiking it against the canvas, before the hand that grasped it flies back up. The clenched fist at it's end crashes across the jaw of Jerry Nathan and rocks his head back. His body turns with it and he stumbles a few steps into the ropes as the crowd against comes to life with fervor for the Titan.

The Shotgun kid briefly consoles the area of impact with the open side of his fingers, pulling them away to see a few droplets of blood smeared on them. The first blood drawn brings a smile to the American's face and he turns around to face his foreign foe once more as the bell rings out to make it official.

[Psychotic Circus]

"Nein, ich madchen apfel!"

"....What?"

"I've been educating myself so I can talk to Vlad in his native language someday."

"...I don't even...how did this...I..."

-While the commentators were busy not doing their damn jobs, Jerry Nate was busy dodging incoming strikes from the Mad Romanian. The two locked up, classic elbow and tie style, in the middle of ring. Jerry dug down deep with calf muscles bulging, giving Vlad no choice but to be driven with his back against the buckle padding. Knifehand chops splashed against Vladimir's chest as the power of youth took the advantage back from the aging GodKing. Opportunity in hand, Jerry fell across his wide back and rolled out from the ring before getting down on a knee, his master plan was starting to come together. A large bath tub liner was dragged out from underneath the ring, and it was filled halfway with flesh piercing thumbtacks.-

"Ladies and gentlemen! Send the children to bed, and without supper if need be!"

"I'd just like to quickly tell everyone at home that our newest sponsor, Sprint, does not support these kind of actions."

"... Verizon would."


-The Shotgun Kid soaked in all the chants coming from every corner of the arena, the fans were demanding their toll be repaid in blood. The area was gazed upon, as it seemed Vlad had fled back into the shadows. Jerry stalked about the outer rim of the ring, asking fans along the way where his quarry was but to no avail until he passed the ring steps where the sneaky short stack was preparing his counter offensive. Vlad's body came jump skipping off the steps and upon terminal velocity delivered the focal point of his knee across Jerry Nate's unguarded face. Piles of flesh and bone flopped and rolled across the safety mats. Jerry tried to regain his composure while crawling at first before walking hunched over towards his tub of tacks. Vladimir struck like a lubed up veteran of the porn industry and planted a few, firm inches into Jerry's backside, driving the Satisfying One over the brim of the tub liner by the waist. Seconds of uneasy squirming went by before Jerry lifted himself up from the tub with a howl of dissatisfaction. The right side of his face looked like a google map of all the Mcdonalds locations in the Omaha area.-

"No! Not his face!"

"He can go an play the good guy all he wants, this is just karma kicking him in the teeth for siding with Jaggeroth."

"But the man needs to make a living!"


-Jerry reached up with a gloved hand to tug at the thumbtacks riddling his face, but it was to no avail as they were in there good. Vlad's stiff, open palm slapped against the Shotgun Kid's cheek to drive them in further, the resulting blow causing the tacks to scratch up against the cheek and jaw bones. The pain flashes going through Jerry didn't allow him much brain power to fight back against the stinging across his facade as the Bambi Killer pushed and slapped the Redneck Hero over towards the security fencing. The annoying bee buzzing around Jerry Nate was suddenly lifted up by the waist and tossed like a sack of human garbage over the Kid's back overtop the barricade, crash landing against the laps of those who paid for front row seating. Security descended upon the scene as fast as their slapping thighs would let them, fans were removed from the area and told to back up or away from the performers as Jerry lifted himself up to stand on top of the barrier. The Impish Impaler was crawling his way up a folding chair to regain his footing and unaware that the first four rows in front of him has all left their seats and had moved away to his sides. As the Bambi Killer rose up on uneven footing, Jerry Nate struck like a Thai Hooker in the alley behind an A&W's as he jumped off the barricade. Two soles were planted into Vlad's back before he could turn himself around, the first four rows were quickly revamped from a neat stacking of seating into a complete mess as Vladimir went crashing through the rows.-

"No one is safe here tonight! Even the fans sitting in to enjoy tonight's main event can watch this spectacle in peace!"

"A missile drop kick from the security barrier...*yawn* Never seen that before."

"It was effective. And with more hardcore tidbits in it than most of your sickly porn."


-The Bambi Killer couldn't regain his footing as he tried to claw his way back up, an arm was latched between the seat and backrest of a chair, along with body mass from the crowd being in the way. Jerry Nate had landed from his improv flying session against his side, but he was still in a better position to stand first with a huff and a puff. A chair was grabbed from Jerry's side as he slowly strolled towards his trapped opponent, rubbing his side a bit while the blunt piece of metal hung from his side. A look of insanity could be seen moving up the side of Jerry's lips, a look Vladimir could see had come from his twisted mentor as he tried in a hurry to undo himself from his makeshift binds. Only one option was left for the Impaler, and he had to act quickly as Jerry began to raise his chair.-

"NUT GUN, PUUUUNCH!"

"DAAAAWWWW, SHIIIIIT, SHIT!"


-Vladimir's fist roared out through the air like a raging beast, his pre-determined target of Jerry's satisfying tiddly winks were almost squashed upon impact. Jerry stumbled backwards as the steel chair dropped, his palms now holding himself and praying everything would still work after all this blunt trauma. Like a bad horror movie, Vladdy was able to pull his arm out after the threat of a lobotomy had passed. Jerry was leaning against the security barrier, rubbing DEEZ, as The Bambi Killer came up to side swipe the Cornfed Hero across the head with a chair, forcing the Shotgun Kid to tumble right back over and land limp across the ground. The steel chair in Vlad's possession was raised above his head and chucked downwards and out of his possession, slapping Jerry's back on the other side of the security fencing.-

"Vladimir Strife, the so called God King has finally gotten in some serious offense against Jerry Nate. That chair to the back had to sting like a bee."

"I hope Vlad comes and stings m-.."

"Shut up! Just shut up right now! I'm going to take you out back and beat you with a garden hose if you open that stupid mouth of your's mouth one more time!"


-The God King had jumped over the guard rail already and had a gasping Jerry Nate in his hands, scratching the Shotgun Kid's head across the exposed metal of the fencing, the thumbtacks poked inside Jerry's face grinding and catching against the coupling bars. A new form of rage built up inside Jerry as the pain he was nearly helpless to prevent built up, a wild elbow caught Vladimir in the side of his hip bone and two palms came up to push the God King away. Vlad stumbled backwards a few steps and tried to regain himself before he saw the sudden twitch come from the Satisfying One, an X shot up over Vlad's chest as he tried to guard himself. Nine times out of ten, he'd of been right to try and block what seemed like an oncoming Shotgun Punch, but this was that fabled tenth time. Jerry was charging in like a mad bull of madness, his shoulders suddenly coming down before one came swooping up and catching Vladimir in the rib cage and taking the Romanian for a short ride. Vladmir's corpse flung through the air like a rag doll before Jerry's shoulder blade snapped him down, forcing the God King into a baptism of metal with a satisfying crunch into the bath tub liner.-

"The Shotgun Kid just flattened Vladimir with an awe inspiring form tackle! The God King looked like he was going to try and block the Shotgun Punch, but he guessed wrong and payed for it dearly!"

"Don't kill him! I still want to try my Romanian out on him."

*SMACK!*

"OUCH!...You dick..."


-The Impaler was stuck inside the thumbtack filled bath tub, any movement would only add to his agony as the tacks poked inside his back. A few awkward moments of silence went by after the fans cheering had ceased, Vladimir could only fight through the nerve wrenching pain as he dug down deep and slowly pulled his carcass out of the tub. Thumbtacks littered his backside, most centered around his lower back and behind the knee caps, a few dotted his head and pinned the hair down. The look of pain and self imposed agony (remember, he did ask for this) were spread across The God King's face, his eyes heavy in sorrow, but soon fear. Jerry Nate had turned the corner and returned to the scene of the crime, inside his hands was a long tube of metal connected to a block of even more metal. The cord was pulled, the trigger pulled, and Vlad's expression was priceless as he tried to hobble away from the oncoming rush of madness. Jerry Nate raised the weed whacker into the air with the trigger pulled, letting the engine run at full throttle with smoke bellowing out the side. Vengeance was going to be paid in blood and flesh as the Shotgun Kid slowly walked towards his prey with the strings revving up and down to only add more excitement to this scene.-

"We all know what Jerry Nate did to Big Jim with that weed whacker! The Perverse Peeler still hasn't heeled from his last brush with Jerry's whacker!"

"He's in a hard spot...oh, Vladdy just has to make it out of this!"


TBCB: The Ripped up King.

[Vladimir T. Strife]

(Oh fuck, my sides. You used the wrong announce personalities, dude.)

[Psychotic Circus]

(No no, they're ok. I've been changing them for awhile now. Everyone knows Big Al is secretly a butthole surfer.)

[Vladimir T. Strife]

Jerry presses in with the weedwhacker, seeking to shred the abdomen of the thumbtack covered GodKing. Vlad grabs the machine by the by the head, a literal white knuckle tight grip upon is as the plastic strands whir about deafeningly mere inches from his precious intestines. The Shotgun Kid is not too pleased by the denial of his sadistic desires and puts his weight into it, inching the Romanian back until his calves rest against the porcelain. In a last ditch effort to avoid maiming, Strife diverts the weapon, flinging his end aside and toward the barricade. The front row fans back off in a rush, some falling in the chaos as they shoot away from the incoming machinery. It slams against the barrier, ripping lines into the black padding in a display of its power.

With the path between the men cleared of the weedwhacker, the Impaler sprints through the shrapnel in the tub, bedazzling his boots inadvertently, before planting a stiff shot across the Nebraskan's jaw. Jerry retreats a couple of paces, but does not relent his weapon. Instead, he swings it back around at the Bambi Killer, aiming for his head with the trigger cocked back as far as it can go. With no time to react, Strife is caught in it's crosshairs as the end slams across the side of his head with a thunderous clap, the plastic cover where his hands had been moments ago crumbling into jagged pieces at the force. The Behemoth collapses across the ring apron, blood pouring down the side of his face in a torrent. The audience goes quiet and even his opponent is frozen in shock, almost disbelieving that he hit him.

"Oh my god! Jerry Nate just blasted Vladimir upside the head with that weedwhacker!! I'm not exactly sure what he hit, but the GodKing is bleeding like a stuck pig!"

"Not my Vladdy!!! He may have just destroyed his face!! What kind of irresponsible prick would do that to such a gorgeous man!?"

The Shotgun Kid, seeing fresh blood pouring out from the head of his rival, takes the reaction of any reasonable Southerner and pulls at the ripcord again. It sputters and rumbles, but refuses to come back to life. Looking at the business end of it, he finds that the cutting wire has disappeared, knocked loose and come out from the collision. He discards the weapon finally, moving in and reaching forward with his right hand for a fistful of follicles. The Satisfying One pulls back suddenly though, as he catches a glimpse of part of Vladimir's ear, the top third of it hanging by a thin flap of flesh from the rest. Most men's stomach would churn at the sight, but Nate dons a smile and continues forward, taking his hated enemy by the head and waistline and rolling him into the ring. The Barbarian Lord comes to a rest after two turns, but the chunk of flesh loosened by the weedwhacker does so after only one, laying there on the canvas a few feet away from it's owner.

"Is that.... is that his fucking ear?! I think I'm going to be sick.."

"Well, folks, if you didn't put your children to bed earlier, now is a good time to note that GHW nor any of it's affiliates are responsible for any therapy that may be needed as a result of watching it's programming.. This one is all on you."

Jerry slips into the ring behind the Czar of Scars, who is now up on more for his moniker, and lays an arm across him. The referee, who has gone ghostly white, comes in beside them and has to snap himself out of a daze to make the count.

"One!

Two!

Th-"

Vladimir astonishingly kicks out of the fall, shoving a shocked Jerry Nate aside. He tries to sit up, but can't seem to find the way. He drops back down to his back, eyes dancing about as he tries to recall where he is and what is going on. To his left, he sees a what look like a blood covered slug and to his right is the Shotgun Kid and that was enough to tell him what he needed to do. He rises up again, rolling over and planting a sole down across the mat, pushing up to meet a grinning Nebraskan, cocky from what he's done. As pain begins to shoot through the side of his head, Strife nearly collapses once more, backing himself into the corner to keep from falling down. His eyes fixates on the bloody strip by the ropes and he raises his hand to the damage, the epiphany of what happened rushing even more suddenly upon him than the incoming American.

Running on instinct once more, the Barbarian Lord brings his boot up in front of him, catching it into the gut of the Satisfying One and doubling him over. He comes out of the corner with another ball of knuckles across the temple of his tormentor, dazing him mildly. The audience begins to get behind him once more, screaming "STRIFE! STRIFE! STRIFE! STRIFE!" again and again to cheer him on in the fight. With his heart pounding and adrenaline coursing his veins, the Titan takes Jerry by the back of his pants and shirt and directs him through the top two ropes, flinging him out of the ring and down into the tub of tacks. The Cornhusker comes down backfirst into them, the force throwing a handfuls over the side and onto the ringside mats. A guttural growl almost seems to echo from inside of it, the pain of so many sharp spikes piercing through his body all at once reducing him to an almost primal state of agony.

"Oooooh.. There's just no faking something like that, people. That is one of the most gut wrenching sounds I've heard and it's still not even the most sickening thing of this match.."

"Definitely the most deserved, however..."

Meanwhile, Vladimir has seemed to find his bearings once more, flying across the ring to the turnpost opposite of the one he'd just rested against. Spinning on his heels, he turns his attention back toward where he'd left his American adversary with a fire in his eyes. He comes barreling back across the ring, every pace shaking the squared circle with his heavy steps. As he closes in, he leaps up, planting his feet down onto the middle turnbuckle, almost curling up as he grips at the ropes on either side of the top one. He kicks off of his makeshift perch, raising his body into the air. He shifts his weight to the left, pivoting about the turnbuckle and out of the ring. He maintains his hold just long enough to ensure he doesn't overshoot his target, then unleashes it when he's found it. With a head of steam, intense momentum, and 234 pounds of force behind him, the Barbarian Lord comes down upon Jerry Nate with his knees pointed down as they plow into his chest, a crack emanating from his ribcage at touchdown.

Despite his efforts to put all of the damage onto his opponent, the GodKing's side racks against the lip of the tub, karma almost instantly repaying the broken bone he inflicted on the Nebraskan. His momentum causes him to practically bounce off of the porcelain before he comes to rest against the other side, both men gasping for air desperately, unable to hear themselves over the war cries of their pleased spectators.

"HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!"