The Psycho King vs. The God King pre-main event.

[Jaggeroth]

Charlie Coors stands in the middle of the ring, he raises his mic to announce the beginning of the pre-main event to the eccentric crowd.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is YOUR PRE MAIN EVENT! This match is scheduled for one fall and is under hardcore rules. Introducing first!

Before Charlie can utter out the next few words on his mind, he's interrupted by....

Twin trials of fire run down the sides of the entrance ramp as the music hits, the house lights turn an unearthly red. Fog starts emitting from behind the entrance curtain, it fans out and starts its march down the ramp, covering up the area.

Don't give them a sword and then not let them use it
Or sent them to war, and then make them lose it
This is a bomb, don't want to defuse it
Death is the answer, go forth and choose it

Strobe lights flicker on the stage revealing a single, monstrous figure standing at top of the entrance ramp, its long hair is flicked back as it starts it descent down the ramp. With fire raging at both side, the Time Killer breaks through. Jaggeroth looks around at the crowd as they vent the frustrations of the common man on him. The Time Killer gets on his knees as a spot light shines on him, the white light has a covering over it projecting a maroon pentagram which Jaggeroth kneels in the center of. A camera man gets in front of Jag as he bows to all that is evil and wrong. As the Psycho King raises his hands in the air again the lights completely go out except for the insignia of evil, a strong up flow of fire rises from both sides of the entrance ramp.

We have no need for your crippled christ
And we never lacked for your advice
We don't have to hide our genocide
They'll fear us more when they know the we don't lie

"Introducing first! He's the alpha male of the Psychotic Circus...From the haunted cornfields just north of Lincoln NEEEEEEEE-Brask-KA! THIS...IS....JAAAAAGGGER-ROTH!"

On your knees - Pray
It is your destiny
On your feet - Slay
Obedience through slavery

Don't give them a sword and then not let them use it
Or sent them to war, and then make them lose it
This is a bomb, don't want to defuse it
Death is the answer, death is the answer

Total control
We own your soul

No time for life
Time for the knife
Time for the sword
Fetus is cored
Total mutation
Necro-mutilation
The perfect life form
Born for porn

You're always calling for the sacrifice
And the body count is very nice
Lie after lie, lie, lie, lie
I do believe its time do die

Let us slay!

Jaggeroth slowly enters the ring over the middle rope. He strolls over to Charlie Coors and rips the mic out of his hand. Charlie just whimpers away like a scared little girl and pushes himself into the turnbuckle. The spot light reverts into the ring, Jaggeroth stands in the middle of the pentegram and readies himself to deliver his sermon to the unwashed masses.

"Whores and Layabouts. The time is now. One King to rule them all, that's what this match is about. Fuck it! I don't care about a bunch of women getting together and bitching and leaving and BLAH BLAH BLAH WHO FUCKING CARES! This match is about dominance! ANGER, SOUL, FRUSTRATONS, ONES BEING! I DON'T CARE! VLAD! Bring your anger! Bring your Soul! I'm the mother fucking Time Killer! The Psycho King! The Crimson Blur! I'll devour them both at the same time! One of us is leaving this arena in a meat wagon and it sure as fucking rain ain't gonna be me!"

Jaggeroth slams the mic down and angers up. With his war face smothering over his facade, Jaggeroth climbs onto the second rope and waits for the God King to make his entrance.

TBCB: Vlad

OOC: Shitty entrance after a really shitty day. Let's make this match something people will tell their grandchildren about.

[Vladimir T. Strife]

As the music Jaggeroth is waiting to hear finally begins to play, the audience starts rising to their feet in anticipation of the man they hope to see take down the Time Killer tonight.

"And his opponent... weighing in at 234 lbs and standing at 6 feet tall... hailing from Sighisoara, Romania.... VLADIMIR STRIFE!!!"

The wailing scream of Mary Magdalan belts out through the PA as the GodKing makes his way out through the entrance, his gaze shot straight down the center of the aisle to the man awaiting him in the middle of the squared circle. Donning his black steel toed boots, black cargo jeans, raven blue long sleeve and black trench, the legends wardrobe had hardly changed since the day his career began. In one hand, he carries a large toolbox, undoubtedly filled with presents (of a sort) for the Psycho King. In the other hand, a 3 foot length of thick chain is held in his grasp.

Al: Well, it looks like Vlad's at no loss for weapons, which comes as no surprise. He's going to need every last one of them tonight too if he hopes to step out of here in one piece!
Fuzz: You know... I'm not particularly a fan of the GodKing, but I can't see how you'd think for even a moment that he isn't going to finally give Jaggeroth the beating everyone's been waiting to see. The Circus has run amok for too long now and the Reverend knew exactly what he was doing when he called in the Hardcore King to take care of them.

Vladimir takes his time coming down the ramp, his eyes never leaving the Circus's ringleader as he does so, the mutual hatred between them plastered on their faces.

Without warning, the Psycho King takes off in a sprint, having grown weary of waiting on his opponent. Dropping the toolbox with a loud clang of metal on metal, the Barbarian Lord doubles over the length of steel in his hand and lashes out with it as he sidesteps the Nebraskan, catching him across the upper back and swatting him to the grating under his feet. The referee calls for the bell to sound off as the music fades out and Jaggeroth scrambles to his feet, catching another mighty slap of the chain across his lumbar before he's able to get up.

The Judas of GHW has no intent of relenting, however, and takes another swing in an attempt to wear the big man down early on. Showing no fear of Vladimir's signature weapon though, Jaggeroth raises his hands and wraps his fingers around the oncoming steel links. With a mighty heft, he uses the hold on it to propel the Czar of Scars into the guardrail, racking his sternum against the barricade. As Strife slumps down clutching his chest, the Masked Mastermind looms ominously overhead, some evil intentions of his owns running through his brain.

TBCB Jaggeroth

[Jaggeroth]

The Czar of Scars is up against the guardrail, Jaggeroth's mass holds him in place, the sole of the Time Killer's boot compresses Vlad's face against the barricade. Laughing fits over take Jag's emotions above the howls coming from the Resident Romanian, he should be weary of his adversary's's skill, but it was just too damn funny having THEE Vlad in his control. A pair of raven blue arms clad in leather fly up, they resist against the juggernaut like strength of Jaggy's horse leg. Vlad battles in vain against the Time Killer's hate, Jag thrusts and screws his boot against Vlady Boy's facial features before bending his knee and carcass forward after one last grinding, the sole of the boot roughly slides down against Vlad's cheek bone.

"Ha! This so called God King from the land of Eagle Vision isn't putting up much of a fight against the Glory and Honor of our Psycho King!"

"This contest has barely started! You're talking straight out of your ass, Vlad is going to show Jaggeroth the true meaning of hardcore here tonight."

Vlad collapses to the ground along his shoulder, his hands cupping over his mushed sensory organs while his brain-power races to figure out Jaggeroth's next barrage. The Nebraskan Leviathan jaunts away without a care in the world, his signature short of breathe laughter echoes in Vlad's ears while Jaggy makes his way to the ring. The Time Killer scoops down with his hand acquiring something hidden beyond the apron before shifting into the ring, he lays on one hand and his knees, one mitt elevates taunting Vlad to pursue him into the ring while the other presses down onto a crowbar against the mat. Vlad musters up the strength to stand with the help of the barricade, the lucky fans sitting in the area stand and cop a feel off the God King as he wipes away the smudge left by Jaggeroth's boot. The Romanian Impaler slowly removes the trench coat dangling from his shoulders, he holds it in a death grip at his waist. The thousands in attendance blows the roof off the arena, Vlad was going to answer the Psycho King's challenge. The Brooding Impaler creeps towards the ring, without missing a beat he bends low picking up the tool box in his free hand. Anger, embarrassment, Jag's boot mark and frustration stew over Vlad's face during his walk towards the gallows


"He's still moving, Psycho Face! Vengeance is going to be a bitch named Vlad!"

"O ye of little faith. Jaggeroth has not even begun to fight."


Rolling the tool box into the ring, Vlad slides under the bottom rope. Jaggeroth backs off with the crowbar in hand, he wanted the God King ready so the real fun could begin. The Impaler stands, the trench coat clutched in one hand, his sight sealed on the Psycho King. The wind coming from the fan's lungs could be felt howling at the two Masters of all things maniacal, the anticipation of what was to come was killing them while the brawlers stood deadlocked inside the ring. Jaggeroth is the first to make a move with the crowbar held up high, he aims for the soft spot between the God King's eyes. The Impaler had anticipated Jag going for a straight on assault, he takes the trench coat in both hands and spreads it out above his head. Jaggeroth's thirst for blood overruns his wits, he brings the crowbar down into Vlad's trap. Having caught the Psycho King's pent up frustrations, Vlad curves his knees and anchors them, spreading out the force of the blast against the rolled up leather in his hands. Vlad's hands overlap one another, entrapping the crowbar in Jaggeroth's hand inside the coat.

Vlad grabs onto the metal bludgeoning device through his coat, turning around with it in his grasp he places it over his shoulder with his back to the Time Killer, he lets loose a vigorous grunt as the crowbar ejects from Jag's palm and onto the mat. The Resident Romanian wasn't done, with Jaggeroth in awe at his forethought, Vlad flings the now empty coat into his face, temporally blinding The Time Killer. Using some sneaky movements, Vlad strolls around the Psycho King before he can get the coat off his head. Vlad stretches up on his tippy toes with his arms, one wraps around Jag's neck and the other around his forehead, The Impaler flops to his knees with Jaggeroth's mass in tow driving the Psychopathic Nebraskan onto the mat against his trapezius muscles and neck. Having answered the call of the Psycho, Vlad determines it's time to bring some serious pain.

"What was the odds I heard down in Vegas? It' 13-2 in favor of Vlad mauling Jaggeroth here tonight."

"I consulted a source before the match and I bet my entire life savings on Jaggeroth to win. The Magic Octopi has never let me down before."


The Impaler roves over to his tool box, unlocks the hinges and takes a gander inside.While Vlad weighs his options, Jaggeroth begins to hobble back up to his feet, a hand gingerly nuzzling the back of his neck. A cyclone of cheers breaks through the crowd, Vlad had pulled out a certain, battery powered weapon only to upset the fans by laying it back down and instead producing a long necked screw driver. The Czar of Scars reverts to his dazed, Psychotic opponent with the metal shaft in his hand. A clack echoes off Jaggeroth's shoulder with another coming off his rock like chin, Vlad blasts the hard, plastic handle against any exposed body part he could find on Jaggeroth. Enough was enough, Jag reaches out with his battle grip clamped onto the Serj Tankian rip off hairdo in front of him, Jaggy turns to the nearest coner and almost effortlessly sends the Impaler on a collision course with the turnbuckle. Vladimir's chest wallops into the top buckle, a weak cry bawls from his vocals after he melts across the ring's corner. The King of the Psycho's flexes low into a sloppy three point stance, prepares for impact and giggles to himself before charging his war frame off the mat towards the Czar.


Vlad tries calling back the air that had escaped from his lungs while he takes a gander behind him, he knew taking your eyes off Jaggeroth would cost him dearly here. The storming Leviathan was behind him, each step he took meant Vlad's annihilation was closer at hand. Jag casts a shadow above the Resident Romanian, his bulk drapes in the air with an impending squishing in mind, Vlad doesn't play along with this though, he turns to a side and sinks down into corner. Jaggy's barrel chest seemingly implodes against the turnbuckle on impact, Vlad trudges away from the corner with the screw driver still in hand and skips back up to his feet while the Time Killer stumbles around the ring seizing his sternum. Vladamir hatches another plan, his forearm slaps against Jaggeroth's sunken chest, the blast renders the Time Killer dormant, he hits the mat on his knees, his hand tries rubbing life back into his chest. The Impaler raises the screwdriver aiming for the back of Jaggeroth's skull, it swings across with a whiz and smacks something solid, yet there was no follow through...

"He caught it!"


"What's it matter, Vlad is still going to embarrass him here. You had best be ready to kiss your savings good-bye!"


Jaggeroth's free paw reaches up, it clenches onto Vlad's raven blue shirt, a sudden tug brings the screw driver wielding maniac to his knees, another jerk sends him across his stomach. The Psycho King makes a throne out of the prone God King knocking the tool out of his hand, one leg on a knee and the other bowed across Vlad's back. The screw driver is Vlad's only hope for escape against the Time Killer, it lays just out of his clawing hand's reach. A massive demon's paw spreads over Vladamir's face, the fingers scoop inside the walls of the Impaler's mouth. Vlad shrieks bloody murder, his upper lip was at the mercy of the Time Killer. Jaggeroth lays spread across his back pulling up on the flap of skin the Impaler used to speak with.


TBCB: The God King.

[Vladimir T. Strife]

As the GodKing's fingertips brush the side of the screwdriver's handle, he feels the pressure upon his spine subside. Jaggeroth stands up, relieving the strain so that he could make use of his foot to kick the weapon. As it rolls away and disappears over the side of the apron, it seems that all hope is lost for Vladimir. The Behemoth, however, is not at a loss for ideas. The Psycho King, in his attempt to seal a short and sweet victory, has made a momentary mistake. The end of his own digits have wandered close to Strife's teeth and rest against the bottom edge of the enamel. The Romanian clamps shut tightly and gnashes his incisors onto the fingers, his towering foe letting out a pained cry before pulling his hand away. As he retreats into a corner to inspect the damage, the Impaler presses himself up and back to a vertical base.

Al: "You know, there's been so much talk about how great this man is in the past, but from what I've seen of him, he just seems really lucky!"
Fuzz: How can you even begin to say that? This man is a Hall Of Famer, Al, that doesn't just happen by luck!

Noting that he still had all of his digits and in decent shape, then Nebraskan Leviathan goes back on the offensive. Strife's back is turned to him, but the booming clops of 280 lbs against the canvas alert him to the incoming attack and he jabs an elbow behind him, expertly catching the cheekbone of the Circus Ringleader and stalling him. The opening gives him the chance to dart forward, propelling himself toward the ropes before turning and slinging his weight onto them, the extra bounce building his momentum as he barrels back toward Jaggeroth and straightens his arm. Swinging the limb wildly, Vlad catches the heavyweight across the chest and knocks him back a step. His masked opponent gives no more than a step, however, his mass rendering the clothesline near impractical.

While the Czar of Scars is stunned by his failure to floor the heavyweight, the master of the Bile Driver grabs his arm and pushes it up, stepping under and stretching his arm across Vlad's torso. Before the GodKing can respond or fight it, Jaggeroth hooks his thigh and hoists him into the air. As he drops back, Strife is slung overhead to the mat and the men crash with a thunderous clap. The Midwestern Mastermind rises back to his height with little downtime, while the Barbarian Lord lay splayed out across the canvas. Jag bends down and methodically takes hold of his legendary opponent by hair, taking a handful of follicles and using them to leverage the European to his feet.

Al: "See, odds are just what is popular thought. Being smarter than the average person is about to pay off big time tonight. After this, you're going to see me coming to work in my own limo!"
Fuzz: "I don't know about that one, I was actually just thinking that I'm looking forward to seeing you arrive on the bus."

Stepping in behind the Romanian, Jaggeroth holds him up with an arm across the length of his shoulders, almost buddy-like. With his closest leg, he steps in forward before slipping it back and hooking it onto the calf of the Judas of GHW. Forcing Vlad into position like a playtoy, the Psycho King hunches down with and whispers into his ear. "This one's for Haven, you son of a bitch!" Thrusting himself back down to the mat and swiping Strife's leg from under him, he tows the Impaler alongside him and plants him into the canvas once more with a hellacious crash. While the GodKing gazes at the arena's ceiling with a faroff stare, the Nebraskan figures it's time to make this a true hardcore bout and heads to the outside, looking for a weapon.

Pulling up the apron's dressing, the junior of the stars sifts through a multitude of armaments, deciding which is best suiting for the job of dethroning a monarch. A cessation in his movements piques the interest of the gathered attendance, who watch eagerly to see what he's selected. Jaggeroth rises back to his feet with a barbed wired kendo stick in his possession. Slipping back under the bottom rope to a choir of jeers, the Psycho King finds his prey exactly where he had left it, the barrage of slams being more than anyone could simply shake off. As the ominous figure of the Circus's Ringleader closes in, he draws back the weapon and prepares to dole out some punishment. The Nebraskan Leviathan finds himself afflicted with pain rather than inflicting it as he planned, however. The foot of the Barbarian Lord is jammed forcefully into his crotch and the sharp agony of the blow causes him to relinquish his precious shinai and back away. He loses his balance and tumbles back, dropping onto his backside in the corner of the ring, clutching himself in hopes of a relief to his misery.

Fuzz: HA HA! Never count out the almighty King!
Al: Aww, come on! How can you support a cheap shot like that?!
Fuzz: Well, I personally don't, but this is a hardcore match and technically, it's as legal as a leg drop.
Al: Still cowardly and cheap, no matter how you look at it!

Gathering his bearings, the GodKing finally pulls himself off of the canvas and wraps an arm across the top rope to hold himself up, shooting a look to his fallen foe and baring a grin. Unable to resist, Vladimir sprints toward the Psycho King and leaps at him, bringing the sole of a boot down right onto his sternum. Simultaneously, he grasps the top rope on either side of the turnbuckle in his hands and kicks off of Jag's chest. Rising up toward the turnbuckle, he releases his hold once he finds himself in a horizontal way and lets gravity take effect. He aims and lands kneecaps first onto the pectorals of the Ringleader before pushing his weight behind him and rolling off, coming to rest in a kneeling position. The Nebraskan presses his forearms against the front of his torso and sinks down to the mat before slipping out of the ring to recoup at ringside.

Fuzz: "HEARTSTARTER!!! I feel so excited! That's the first time I've actually gotten to see it in person! What a move!!"
Al: "Impressive? Yes. Enough to keep the Psycho King down? Not a chance in hell."

Strife slaps the canvas, showing that he's fired up and ready for more while Jaggeroth leans against the steel steps, coughing and wheezing as he tries to catch his breath. Around the arena, the crowd bursts into cheers and a chant slowly rises above them.

"VLAD-I-MIR! VLAD-I-MIR! VLAD-I-MIR!"

TBCB Jaggeroth

[Jaggeroth]

The Psycho King is spread across the cold, metallic steps, each breath fetches his lungs relief, but it comes with a price tag of irritation with every exhale. The Romanian Mauler observes on, had he sealed the fate of the impeccable Psychopath? Jaggeroth's war frame slides off his perch, the monstrosities he termed his hands clenching onto his plexus before swirling out of sight and under the ring. Worry broadens over Vlad's face; he couldn't get to the ringside in the fear of a sneak attack from the ever so sneaky Leviathan. The fans hold their breath in anticipation, the apron in sight of the hard camera is lifting up. Jaggeroth slips past the ring's skirt with death in his eyes and bowel rendering pain in his hand.

“It’s the wall O' weapons! We haven't seen this in years!"


“I remember the last time he pulled this out; we haven't heard from D-Money since..."


The Demon of Elk horn Valley trudges out from beneath the ring, a barbed wire bed frame in hand, all sorts of dastardly devices hang from the frame of pain. Jaggy picks it up on the side; he places it hanging in the air between the guard rail and the ring apron. The Psycho King does his best Ordell Robbie impersonation while viewing over his personal armory, Vladimir's face turns pale, Jaggeroth chooses the AK-47 of the wrestling world, a barbed wire folding chair along with a driving iron. The Behemoth scrambles at the sight of Jaggeroth coming in for the kill, his fight or flight sends him buzzing for the tool box. Slithering under the bottom rope, The Demonic Corn Husker ascends to his vertical base with his hardcore offence in hand. Vlad is shocked; the driving iron is thrown at him only to land neatly in front of his feet. The Impaler doesn't get a moment to think, a fuming Circus freak was coming at him with death in his eyes, the Romanian curves down, his hands embrace the steel driver, swings his body around with the make shift club centered on Jaggeroth's knee cap and bashes into his target. Jag lets out a howl only a true Daimonion could produce while he holds the chair above Vlad's back, rage takes over, the pricks wrapped around the steel chair poke into the Impaler's tender back skin with authority. Hobbling away, Jaggy tries to find rest against the ropes as Vladimir drops to his knees riling in misery.


"Vladimir can't give that Psychopath even an inch of breathing room. He may have caused some real damage there, but Jaggeroth could come back any second from his rest and end this."

"You're an idiot to think Vlad is going to dethrone the Psycho King. This match is nothing but a fitting funeral for the former king of hardcore."


Vlad regroups, a burning passion inside him is rekindled, Jaggeroth was truly bringing out the worst in him. The God King escalates off the mat with the driver Jaggeroth handed him as a gesture of pity and drudges at the gimping Psycho King with a new found passion for destruction. The Impaler licks his finger before pointing it straight up to check the wind direction, he takes the driver in both hands and takes a form. "FORE!" -*WOOOSH! SMACK!*-"FUCK!" The driver breaks through the air with the wedge bouncing off Jaggeroth's abdominals, the dementia suffering destroyer drops the chair before melting before the might of the God King. Vlad's paws anchors onto his hair follicles, he had the one thing keeping him from ending the life of his tormentor on the ground, and the ecstasy of these burning thoughts sets his destructive soul on fire. Lumbering around the ring, Vlad loosens up; his stiff movements turn into flowing exaggerations as he heads for the tool box.


The Psycho King trumpets in the anguish Vladimir had casted down on him, the monster's paws clench against his stomach as if his guts would fall out if he let go, a sudden clank along the side of his head sends a panic relay to his brain. Vlad takes a small running start, his toes curl upwards in his boot before the thrusting, metallic impact cracks The Time Killer's warped head. *THWANG* echoes throughout the arena, the thousands in attendance break out in a chorus of praise for the God King's actions.

"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAL!""

“MY EARS!"

Jaggeroth impersonates a stroke victim caught up in an earthquake, the King of all things sleazy twists and turns out of the ring and ends up next to the metal tool box that had just been punted across his skull. Back in the ring, The Resident Romanian conjures up a new scheme of restitution inside his unjustly punished psyche before twisting over the middle rope and onto the floor below. Jag is dragged up to his feet by the long, greasy, multicolored hair affixed to his scalp with a little help from the Behemoth, a little shove later and Jag has his back against the corner post. A flurry of green and purples plow into the Psycho King's upper body, The Romanian tells Jaggeroth about all his pent up frustrations with his fist. Spent, Vlad backs off for a breather. The corpse of the Time Killer stays leaning against the metal corner post after the assault, a small dribble of blood spouts from his lower lip. Erecting himself, Vladimir sends the tools he uses to beat em' up onto The Leviathan's shoulders, Jag's eyes blaze open, he greets the Romanian Mauler in the same fashion, only in a more violent way. The vocals of the Time Killer shreds the air in front of Vladimir's face, Jag's life force spreads out in the whirlwind from the small reservoir he collected in his mouth, spraying over the Behemoth's cheeks. Malicious intent in the form of an elbow is beaten into the side of the Impaler's jaw bone, slashing the Romanian Mauler down to size. Vlad spreads on top of the ring apron, a second later the limping war frame of the Time Killer pushes the God King's carcass back into the squared yet circular hell they both helped build. The Judas of GHW comes to a rolling stop on top of the embroidered H in the center of the ring, the Midwestern Madness glides in right after him. The Maestros of malevolence rise, Jaggeroth beats on towards his quarry through the gripping pain, Vlad was going to learn a thing or two about how to properly do away with thine enemy.


Vlad tries a desperation maneuver, his arm pulls back and to the side, a war cry blasts out before Vlad kamikazes his bicep into Jaggeroth's burly pecs. The assault bounces off the barrel chest of the Psycho King with a hollow thump, Vladimir backs off twiddling his reddened skin while the Crimson Blur places one leg behind the other. Jaggeroth skips off the mat bringing his leg up, it flings back down to the earth bellow to support his weight, as it hits, the other leg snaps up, with his crotch stretching past its limit, The King of the Psychos blasts his knee into the tip of Vlad's jaw. Mr. Strife back-peddles uncontrollably and finds the ring barrier, the force of the explosion sends him tumbling over the top rope. The Thousands in attendance scream out, Vlad doesn't land face first on the ground below the ring, O no, the God King plummets unknowingly into Jaggeroth's barbed wire bed frame that had left hanging in the air. The God King smacks onto the assortment of every day house hold items, his guts land on the empty area where the chair was attached to before, the pricks poke and tear into his abdominals ripping his shirt and making a bloody mess of the joint.

"That's sick! Jaggeroth had this planned! That rat bastard needs to stop this!

"Vlad just kicked his head in with a tool box. You're telling me that wasn't going too far?"


The Psycho King yelps like the madman he is, the Godlike Fly had fallen prey to his trap, he struts around the ring to pick up his barb wrapped chair before heading to the ropes. Vlad's screams of agony beat against the Time Killer's eardrums like an angel's choir as the Nebraskan Leviathan ascends the ropes with chair in hand. A single finger rises up towards the heavens as a sign of respect for a friend long gone by the Corn Husking Tyrant, the chair raises and retained against the elbow, a moment of preparation later followed by a leap off the top rope sends the heavyweight soaring across the gap.

*THUMMMP*

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!"


TBCB: The God King

[Vladimir T. Strife]

As the Nebraskan Juggernaut plows into his Romanian foe, the aluminum frame gives way, folding nearly in half and ensnaring the combatants in barbed wire. As all motion from the heap of man and metal ceases, the pandemonium does not. The entire arena is filled with the repeated and sychronized chanting of "HOLY SHIT!", thousands standing on their feet in awe of what they've just witnessed. The referee makes his way out of the squared circle and to the wreckage, trying to gauge the condition of the GodKing and his Psycho couterpart. With hardcore rules in effect, he's helpless to do anything about the situation beyond checking that both men are still alive.

Al: That... was... AWESOME! Can somebody get us a replay of that?

Collin: While I'll confess that that was a hell of a move, but anyone who knows anything about Vladimir Strife knows that you never count him out.
Al: The man was just used to bend a bedframe by a flying heavyweight! How can you still think he has a chance at winning this?
Collin: I know it seems illogical, but if anyone can go through that and still manage to pull a win, it's, without a doubt, the GodKing.

As a stir comes from the wreckage at last, the flimsy frame is pushed back apart and the Masked Mastermind rises from the carnage to a choir of jeers. He takes the infamous Impaler by the wrist and drags him out from what remains, the barbs raked across his flesh as he's pulled against them. When Jaggeroth lifts him to his feet, the toll of this battle is brought to light. The GodKing's clothing are tattered, rips and tears galore from his encounter with the Wall O' Weapons and the majority of his once deep blue shirt has taken on a hue that more resembles violet. The Circus Ringleader rolls the Czar of Scars into the ring and he comes to rest near the middle of the canvas, a series of crimson dots trailing him. The heavyweight isn't far behind, however, slipping in under the bottom rope and crawling over to his downed prey. Pressing both palms down into the middle of Vladimir's chest, he calls for the striped official, who promptly takes his place and begins the count.

"ONE!"

Al: Here it goes, Collin! Allow me to prepare my "I fucking told you so".
Collin: Save it, there is absolutely no way... "TWO!"

The referee's wailing hushes Collin, who becomes too enveloped with what's going on in the ring to finish his statement.

"THR-"

Less than a second away from victory, the Nebraskan Leviathan feels a shift under his hands. To his shock, the Impaler has managed to lift his arm and shoulder from the mat and break the count. Unsatified and appalled at the outcome of his attempt for a pinfall, Jaggeroth tries again, this time putting a hand to each shoulder and forcing it to the canvas. The zebra striped official shrugs and starts his count again.

"ONE!"

The GodKing's patience is thin and he doesn't bother waiting another second and a half, instead raising his head and bashing his skull against Jag's. The move wards off the Sideshow Psycho, who let's go of him and seats himself nearby, covering the impacted area. The mask has absorbed most of the blow, the Psycho King's predominant concern being for the well-being of the mask itself. While preoccupied by this, the heavyweight fails to take notice of his opponent, who is rolling away from him and back out to ringside. Once he's taken care of his precious creation, the crazed Nebraskan turns his sights back toward the man who'd almost ruined it. Not bothering to get back to his feet, Jaggeroth follows after him on his hands and knees. Making his way to the edge of the ring, he spots the unaware Impaler and reaches out between the bottom and middles ropes and grabs a handful of hair.

Strife has another surprise for the Juggernaut, however, and turns toward him as the whirring sound of a most diabolical weapon cuts through the air and turns the Psycho King's stomach. The Barbarian Lord comes at him with the drill, aiming for Jag's face, forcing the Corn Husker to defend himself in the only way he's able. He grabs onto the power tool with his mighty paw and stops it's progress instantly, having more strength than his Romanian adversary. The bit continues to spin, it's features a blur as the Circus Ringleader looks at them with sickening thoughts crossing his minds about the consequences of failing to stop Vladimir. With one hand grasping the tool and the other clutching Strife's follicles, he begins to feel his body lurching forward, slowly closer to the drill and unhands the Hall Of Famer in the sake of halting himself. In desperation, he diverts his push on the power drill and slams it against the ringpost. While no cosmetic damage is done, the sharp noise is cut off and Strife's attempts to get it functioning again prove fruitless. He settles instead, for using it as a bludgeon, smacking it's bulky base against the temple of his foe. Jaggy retreats from the ropes and brings himself to a kneeling position midring. The middleweight returns to the toolbox beside him, consulting the small armory before selecting his personal favorite amongst them and making his way up the steel steps.

Al: That fucking Barbarian tried to take a drill to Jaggeroth! There's a line between hardcore and horror movie, for Christ's sake!
Collin: You know I'm not a fan of that kind of a thing in the first place, but I believe firmly that Jag is the greater of two evils, Al. If it takes dynamite for Vlad to put him away, I'll give the man a light!
Al: Well, I just hope he understands what can of worms he's opening. The more twisted he tries to get, the more twisted Jaggeroth will get. The Psycho King is not going to let himself be outdone when it comes to brutality!

As Vladimir enters the ring again, he stands off to the side of the Nebraskan, clutching the wooden club and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. While standing back up, the Psycho King catches a glimpse of the lurking Impaler out of the corner of his eye and grins under his flesh mask. Strife draws back the staple of his arsenal, but is stopped short of delivering a lashing. Jaggeroth has leaned his body to the side and fires away with a piston-like shooting of his leg. His boot pounds against the collarbone of the Romanian, the edge of it's sole catching him across the windpipe. The super kick leaves the GodKing literally breathless and he collapses, clutching his neck and gasping for air, abandoning his club in the moment. Never one to leave a weakness unexploited, the heavyweight gets in place behind Vlad and pulls his head back, wrapping his arm around the lower portion of his face and trapping him in a Dragon Sleeper.

The GodKing struggles, but his efforts seem futile, the pain in his neck agonizing between the combination of the kick and the sleeper hold. The referee places himself nearby and asks the Hall Of Famer if he surrenders, receiving a rather vulgar negatory response. When squating further to put the pressure on doesn't seem to help, Jaggeroth gives up the idea of getting Strife to surrender and uses his free hand to grab at the waist of the Czar's pants. He stands up, his maintained hold forcing Vlad to do the same. Suddenly, with a burst of strength, he lifts the Romanian into the air and forces him over his head. As the Impaler swings down to his feet behind the Psycho King, Jaggeroth suddenly drops to his knees. The Legend is pulled along with him, coming to a sudden stop with his jaw smashing down onto his opponent's shoulder. The world goes black in the European's sights and he crumbles to the mat, the Osaka cutter ripping consciousness away from him. The Masked Mastermind hooks Strife's leg, looking to bring this matchup to an end at last as the referee pounds the dusty canvas once more.

"ONE!"