Asylum Cage Match: Dragon vs. Strife

[Metal Dragon]

The ropes have finally been removed from the ring, over which hangs a roofed cage. A multitude of objects lie in the squared battleground. Some of these things are commonplace in hardcore wrestling, those being kendo sticks, trash cans, and the beloved steel chairs. However, more macabre weapons such as scissors, lighttubes, corn skewers, and even a cordless drill also lie in the mix. Everyone in the arena anticipates the next contest, even beginning to smell and taste the blood of its two combatants before the first of them has even entered.

Fuzz: "It's time. That's all that needs to be said."

Al: "This next match won't be for the faint of heart."

The lights finally dim and Metal Dragon is visible on the big screen, sitting in a dimly-lit room wearing black wrestling tights, black boots, and his infamous "Metal Dragon: It Satisfies" t-shirt that spoofs the packaging of his favorite smokeless tobacco. MD lets out a sigh, then swallows an empty mouth, yet the feelings running rampant through him make it feel like a bowling ball is being shoved down his esophagus. The Man of Golden Words pauses for a moment, then begins singing a very fitting song.



MD: "When I die, put that bottle in my hand.
All these years on Earth, it was my only friend.
When you dig a hole and gonna bury me,
Put that bottle of Jim Beam to rest beside me."

"All my life I've been living on the run,
Hanging out in bars and hotel rooms annoying everyone.
Living on the road, running from coast to coast,
Spending many nights in jail like a gunman at his post."

"When I die, you don't have to cry.
You don't have to feel no feelings inside."

"Never cared or had no feelings for no one.
The only one I cared for was the one who made me cum.
Lived my life like a loner on the trail,
Some of the nights in jail, I couldn't afford no bail."

"No one to call, no one to see me through,
So I bought a gun one day and I came gunning after you.
Living on the road,
Playing scumfuck rock and roll.
I'm on the road and I haven't got no home."

"Never lived nowhere long enough to call home,
I'm just an outlaw scumfuck playing my rock and roll.
Never had nothing that could keep me satisfied,
'Cept my booze and my drugs and that woman by my side.
She was no woman but she's good enough for me,
She's got that cunt between her legs and that's all I need."

"So when I die, put that bottle by my side.
Bury me with old Jim Beam and I'll be on my hellride.
When I die, when I die.
Down to hell is my final destination."

"When I die, put that bottle by my side,
It's the only friend I had in life and it kept me satisfied.
Living on the run, you'll never take me out alive.
I bought a gun, I'm leaving now, bye bye, bye bye..."

A shadow appears over MD, making him snap out of his musical trance. A man, obviously a backstage worker, speaks up to the Tennessean superstar.

"Uh, Dragon... The GM says you've gotta get out there."

Dragon sighs and gets to his feet, glaring a hole through the small stagehand, who begins backing up. The former New Age Champion then walks off, but not before uttering one order to the man.

"...Don't mourn me."

The big screen turns off and the lights go back up briefly while Metal Dragon makes his way toward the entrance area, a funeral bell no doubt tolling inside his mind and heart the entire time. The crowd sits in awed silence, still shocked at the changes they've seen in a man they're still used to loving and cheering as he brings a smile to their faces. Instead, they received a shell of a self-hating monster to witness the self-destruction of. The bell sounds three times and Charlie Coors prepares to explain the ground rules - or lack thereof.

Coors: "The following is the first of two feature main events tonight, and it is the ASYLUM CAGE DEATHMATCH! There are no pinfalls, no submissions, no disqualifications, and no technical knockouts! The only way to defeat your opponent in this structure is to batter him to the point where he can not answer a 10-count with ANY reaction! Rather than the conventional standing 10-count in other matches, ANY movement or speech by a downed combatant will break the count!"

"Funeralopolis" by Electric Wizard begins to play as the lights quickly dim down again and the usual MD video shows on the tron.



"It's been talked about, it's been shown plenty of times, and we also aren't allowed to show footage of where this all started anyway... Everyone here and watching at home knows how much these two men want each others' blood spilled. What started as a sensible quest for revenge and just wanting another shot at the legendary Vladimir Strife, for Metal Dragon, has turned into a twisted psychopath not being able to get that monkey off of his back."

"Monkey off of his back? Yeah, if you wanna call it that, he's getting it off his back tonight. This is the Metal Dragon that rose from a nobody in GHW to a main event megastar over the course of a summer due to letting his mean side dominate."

After a minute and a half, a heavy and distorted guitar riff kicks in. Red lights illuminate the entranceway, in which Metal Dragon appears. Some fans cheer the icon, while some boo the new leaf he's turned, yet meanwhile many sit in silence, still having no idea what to think of the man. MD begins his journey down the aisle, facing down, not acknowledging the fans one bit. His mind set on one thing, that being the dismemberment of Vladimir Tepes Strife, the Metallic One begins circling the ring upon reaching it, taking a quick lap while breathing heavily.

"...I don't want to know what's going on in his head right now."

"We're going to find out once Vlad gets out here."

"Introducing first, from Nashville, Tennessee, weighing in at 220 pounds, he is a former holder of FIVE different GHW championships... This is Metal Dragon!"

MD climbs onto the ring apron and steps over a few weapons, looking around at a few as he gets into the center of the squared battleground that he and another man are about to turn into their own version of hell. Saying nothing, Dragon sits down in the center of the ring, then grabs a lighttube that lies next to him. The Man of Golden Words puts the weapon between his legs, one end resting on the ground while he leans his head forward, resting his forehead against the cold glass cylinder. "Funeralopolis" fades out and a shade of quiet falls over the entire venue, building suspense for the arrival of the GodKing.

"...Metal Dragon, may God have mercy on your soul."

TBC Vlad

[Vladimir T. Strife]

As a strobe light begins to flicker burst of light across the entrance stage, everyone turns their attention toward it, knowing full and well what it signaled. The GodKing is preceded by a different tune tonight, one more befitting of the bout at hand.




"Eins"

"Zwei"

"Drei"

"Vier"

"Fünf"

"Sechs"

"Sieben"

"Acht"

"Neun"

"Aus."


The music and the strobe cut off and the arena is momentarily plunged into darkness. As the song continues, it is replaced by an eerie shade of red, revealing the Legendary Hall of Famer standing at the top of the entrance ramp. The Titan slowly begins making his way toward the ring, donning his usual attire from the steel toed combat boots to the black trenchcoat to the Sword of Mars trinket around his neck. He holds his hands out to each side, tagging the palms of the fans who stretch them out.

"And his opponent... weighing in at 234 lbs... hailing from Sighisoara, Romania... he is the Hardcore King.... VLADIMIR STRRRRRIFE!"

"I have to be honest, I've got a bit of goosebumps, Al!"
"Well, that's perfectly natural, Fuzz, what we're about to see is one of those matches where you just know someone is leaving on a stretcher, but you can't bear to cover your eyes."
"I couldn't have put it better myself."
"Of course you couldn't! Where's Metal Dragon going?

Now halfway up the ramp, the Metallic One meets Vladimir with a forearm across the side of his face, knocking him down to the grated steel. Almost as soon as the Impaler connects with it, MD is on top of him with a flurry of rights to head, pounding him with shot after shot as Strife does what he can to cover up. The striped in-ring official runs after the men, hoping to break up the action and get them back to the squared circle so the match can begin. Yelling at Metal Dragon, however, yields him nothing more than a stiff push.

"Awe, come on! At least wait for the start of the match, this is just cowardly!"
"Cowardly? Did you see how slow Vlad was going down that ramp? He was obviously stalling the inevitable! Metal Dragon has done nothing more than ensure that this match is going to happen and you want to criticize him for that.. Unbelievable."
"Yeah, I'll say - every bit of what you said was downright unbelievable!"

Turning his focus back to the GodKing, Metal Dragon is rewarded with a face full of steel as Vlad grabs him by the shirt and pulls him forward into the guardrail. As the men make their way back to their feet, a nearby fan begins to taunt the Tennessee warrior with a cold reminder of his last encounter with the Titan - a noose. Offended by the very sight of it, MD grabs the rope and rips away from the teenager, met with some heavy jeers as he does so. He turns and finds the Czar of Scars still turned away, trying to recoup from the unexpected assault. He slips the loop over his head and quickly tightens it, cutting off the flow of air to Strife's body. He fights back, swinging a sharp right elbow for the temple of his attacker, only to have it dodged. The Dragon ducks down and swiftly plants his shoulder into the Hall Of Famer's gut, thrusting into it and forcing Vlad's lower back into the barricade. As the Romanian Scourge slinks to the floor, the American grabs onto the end of the rope and pulls it over his shoulder. He uses the leverage as he makes his way back to the ring, now dragging Vladimir behind him, the Titan clawing at the noose all the while.

Once at ringside, Metal Dragon lifts Vlad up to his feet long enough to roll him into the ring. He follows in, quickly picking back up where he left off. With the GodKing face down, the Pride of Tennessee stands over him now, tugging the rope with all he's got, his strength lifting the upper half of Strife's body off of the mat. The Titan's face is slowly taking on a blue tint, which only seems to encourage the 5x champion. Moments later, the King stops fighting, his arms falling to the mat. The Metallic One, who'd never cared to much for the concept of 'enough', lifts his leg and stomps down onto the back of Vlad's skull, relinquishing the rope as he does, so that he can drive the Romanian's face into the canvas.

"Come on! This is just low! Metal Dragon's trying to kill him and the match hasn't even started! Do your job, ref!"

Metal Dragon, seeing his opponent motionless in the middle of the ring, now yells for the referee to get in the ring and start the match. As he does so, the cage slowly begins to lower, the time it takes making him more and more impatient by the second. The end of it's descent is audible, the metal structure making a loud clang against the concrete floor. The American forgets about his opponent for the moment, entranced by the beast that now surrounds them. It was over 1000 lbs of steel mesh, the kind of caging perfect for the paranoid. Wire cutters would do nothing to it, it would take a person with good strength and a lot of time on their hands to get through it with bolt cutters, and trying to get it to buckle from a full body's weight hitting it was nothing short of a joke. The pristine white coat of paint seemed to beckon the Dragon, who runs his fingers across the rhombus diamond's.

The sharp rings of a bell snap him out of his wonderment and MD turns back towards Vladimir, who remains where he was left, face down and motionless on the canvas as the referee begins his count.

"ONE!"

TBCB MD

[Metal Dragon]

Vladimir takes another moment to recoup from the assault he received, waiting for the referee to make his next utterance.

"TWO!"

The Czar of Scars then sticks out his arm, raising a middle finger and spitefully making an obscene gesture in MD's direction. The count is broken, Dragon simply scowling at the way it was ended while he picks up a kendo stick that lies next to him. The Tennessean saunters over to his opponent and grabs him by the hair, pulling Strife's upper body up so that the GodKing now sits on his knees. MD then immediately raises the wooden martial arts weapon overhead and delivers a hard swing to the Romanian Scourge's forehead, causing a loud crack and making Vladimir drop right back to his face-down position. Strife is caught in a daze from the blow, and the referee makes his way around to stand beside the downed European and check on him. The official sticks one finger out on each hand and brings his arms in, but is quickly interrupted.

"I'm not done yet."

Dragon drops the kendo stick and looks at the many choices for a next weapon available to him. Finally settling on an aluminum baseball bat, he picks it up and waits for the recovering Vladimir Strife to get up. The Metallic One hits the bat against the canvas twice, then gets in a standard batting position with shaky hands, eager to swing for the fences at the Impaler's head. Vlad stands up straight and quickly sees the metal weapon coming toward him, so he ducks under the attempt at a home run and emerges behind the Southern Suplexer. MD turns around only to receive a kick to the abdomen, which is swiftly followed up by Strife wrapping his arm around the American's head and spinning around. This forces Dragon's body to swing around as well, his neck resting on Vlad's shoulder while the Hardcore King falls to his back. The Neckbreaker causes the former New Age Champion to drop the baseball bat and immediately start holding the back of his head in pain. Vladimir wastes no time in getting to his feet and grabbing the kendo stick that MD discarded moments ago, then holding it at the ready. Dragon rolls onto his stomach and pushes up to a vertical base, then instantly receives a shot to the forehead from the cane. That attack makes the Man of Golden Words stagger backward, and is quickly followed up with another kendo stick shot to the head. The second blow makes MD spin around and fall into the cage wall, and the Tennessean grabs onto the metal links to prevent himself from falling all the way to the mat. Dragon begins pulling himself up on the cage wall, seeing double vision of the crowd through the diamond-shaped openings of the steel square that traps them together. Vladimir tosses the kendo stick to the side and approaches MD, giving him no breathing room as he grabs his fellow H-Games winner by the head and pulls him up. Strife steps back with his adversary in tow, then steps forward and throws Dragon face-first into the steel cage. As the American rebounds from the collision with the wall of the Asylum Cage, the Impaler positions himself so that his groggy opponent will stumble right into his clutches. When this happens, Vlad tucks his head under MD's arm and lifts him up under one of Dragon's thighs, then falls to his back. The former New Age Champion is dropped on his head and shoulders and lies there in a weakened state while Strife immediately gets up and looks around for a weapon to use.

"Belly-to-Back Suplex from Vladimir Strife! He's gained control of the match now that the bell's rung!"

"And what's that supposed to mean? The tide's turned. It was a fight when it was on the ramp, it's a fight in that cage, and the momentum just so happens to be on Strife's side right now. Not like that's nearly enough to keep Metal Dragon down anyway."

The referee waits a moment, then utters the first step in the ten-part incantation required to end the match. As soon as "ONE!" is shouted, the defiant MD begins stirring, the move having taken a toll on him, but not an overbearing one. Vladimir now wields a wooden plank with barbed wire wrapped around it, and he makes his way back to where Dragon squirms on the mat. Strapping Young Vlad raises the weapon overhead and brings it down, but the wary MD rolls away, then scrambles to his feet and jumps while turning his body sideways in one fluid motion. The Metallic One's foot connects with Strife's head, causing the GodKing to spin around and wobble on jelly legs. However, Vlad does not drop the barbed wire 2x4, and through instinct steps forward and swings the weapon overhead just as MD gets back up from delivering the Enzuigiri, striking him on the forehead and drawing the first cut of the match. Metal Dragon falls to the mat and rolls onto his anterior side while Strife goes down to one knee to shake off the cobwebs in his ringing head.

The ten-count never starts due to MD never actually becoming motionless, quickly grabbing a nearby weapon which Vlad is unaware and getting up to his hands and knees. The Hardcore King walks behind his opponent and sets the barbed wire board on the mat, then steps over it and pulls Dragon up by the waist. The Tennessean is then turned around before Vlad tries to kick him in the stomach, but MD catches the foot in his hand and holds up the weapon he grabbed while on the ground - a pizza cutter. The former New Age Champion kicks the founder of EVPW between the legs, a legal but unnecessary and cheap shot that forces the Impaler to double over. MD drops the leg of Vladimir that he held captive, then immediately grabs the Romanian Scourge's hair with his free hand and digs into Strife's forehead with the circular blade. The pizza cutter's wheel rolls up and down, drawing some blood, but not as much as MD had hoped due to it being somewhat dull. Vladimir lets out a scream of pain before the pizza cutter is tossed aside. Dragon's right forearm immediately swings up, catching Vlad's chin with a European Uppercut that stands him straight up on wobbly legs. The Man of Golden Words then moves in, scooping Strife up between the legs and turning him over, intent on slamming him on top of the barbed wire 2x4, but Vlad escapes by slipping over Dragon's shoulder. The GodKing then immediately wraps his arms around the American's waist and lifts him up, then throws him down toward the mat, but the wary MD slams his hands onto the canvas to avoid being slammed onto the board. Intent on turning this lemon into lemonade, Strife plants his feet and explosively lifts up his opponent, then turns around and drops the Tennessean Technician backward. Dragon's upper back hits the barbed wire board, eliciting an agonized scream that matches his wide-eyed facial expression due to the impact.

"And Strife hits a Wheelbarrow Suplex onto the barbed wire board! The look on Metal Dragon's face tells it all! That hurt like hell!"

"They countered each others' intentions multiple times, and MD did make a grave mistake by getting rid of the pizza cutter instead of slicing Vlad up some more. He wanted the big impact onto the barbed wire 2x4 and his impatience cost him there."

Dragon simply lies down on top of the weapon, breathing heavily but none of his limbs moving. Vladimir rolls onto his stomach to collect himself, knowing how close he came to being planted onto the very object on which his foe rests right now. The referee begins the routine count once again.

"ONE!"

TBC Vlad

(EDIT: Had some of it saved in Notepad, then fucked up and pasted it incompletely. The beginning of the post should make more sense now. )

[Vladimir T. Strife]

((Sorry once again for the massive delay, but it came to the choice of either a rushed half assed post with all of the shifts I was doing [5 within 4 days times] or wait until I could give you something worth a shit. I figured there was no fucking way I could live with myself if I put a shitty post out there on this one.))

"TWO!"

Raising up to his feet, the GodKing takes another deep breath and looks around himself. A screaming audience lay backdrop to pristine white diamonds of thickened steel. Not until this moment had the weight of this structure come down upon the Behemoth's conscience. Far more than some mere standard cage, he stood tall now in the Asylum. Far more than Sighisoara, Cincinnati or Concord, this was Vladimir's home: his twisted genius incarnate. This was the one place where he could truly be himself. A rush of pride and dominance surged through his veins, empowering the Impaler as he bends down and lays claim to the discarded shinai. He raises it in front of him, his mind wandering far from the referee's count as it broke shortly following "Four". The Dragon was stirring and the Titan could hardly contain his pleasure with such as he looks beyond the bamboo to take note of the Tennesee Technician. The right half of his mouth curves up in a smirk as he patiently awaits the time to inflict his brand of justice.

"Well, Metal Dragon made his way out of the count, but I'm hesitant to feel happy for him. Strife looks like he has some plans for that kendo stick.."
"Let him! MD can take anything that Romanian bastard has to dish out and when he's done, you can bet your ass the main course is going to be made in America, if you know what I mean!"

As the Metallic One rises back up to a standing base, the King lines him up before lashing out with a sharp flick of his wrist, the crack of wood ringing through the air as the bamboo shaft crashes down across the side of his face. Dragon lets out a yelp of pain as a welt bubbles from his temple to the corner of his left eye. His hand covers the area, catching a follow up across the knuckles before pulling away. He had studied his opponent thoroughly, knowing that retreat would only lend way to further abuse. Going against normal judgement, the Southerner rushes the Hall Of Famer and ducks an oncoming swing. His shoulder jabs into the gut of the Bambi Killer and he forces him back, pushing Strife backfirst into a wall of steel.

The Romanian Scourge, in a higher sense of awareness at the moment from his mental power trip, tosses his weapon aside, realizing it's uselessness in such close quarters. He balls his now emptied hand into a fist and lands a hard strike above his opponent's right ear as he is straightening himself out. Not to be outdone, Nashville's Finest returns the favor with a stiff right of his own. He draws back his fist and moves in for another, before the steel toe of his nemesis's boot finds it way to his gut. Strife, again taking the lead in their nihilistic dance, clutches Metal Dragon's wrist and runs past him, using his hold to turn the GHW original around and fling him toward the cage wall. The Behemoth, having underestimated his younger adversary, opens his eyes wide in shock as the Orchard Alumni grabs onto him and turns the tides, using the momentum Vladimir had given him to spin around and send his senior into the unforgiving steel. The Impaler's weight sends a small ripple through the cage wall before he drops to his knees, arching his back and raising his head in a howl of agony.

"The power of this thing is just unbelievable, Al. Two hundred and thirty-four pounds of human just slammed against it and the Asylum barely shakes..."
"And more importantly, 234 pounds of foreign goodie-goodie. Don't ignore the fact that MD just rattled Vladimir's entire world!"


There was no time that could be spared against an opponent such as the man who went over 50 victories without a loss. Knowing as much, Metal Dragon reaches up toward the ceiling and grabs a weapon more notably suited to his foe's arsenal and gives it a hard tug, snapping the string that allowed it to dangle from the structure's roof. He steps around to the back of the GodKing and takes him by the hair with his left hand before bringing the cordless drill into sight. Pressing down on the trigger, it's sharp whir snapping Vlad out of a daze. The Metallic One points it's tip for the middle of the Behemoth's forehead, looking to perform a makeshift lobotomy as he proceeds toward it. The Impaler, not so keen on the idea, grabs onto the drill and forces the tip of it's bit away from himself. The Pride of Tennesee releases his hold on the near black follicles, utilizing his own strength to enforce his will. With Strife's head backed against his stomach and body weakened, the Dragon is able to bring the power tool in closer finally, the spiraled side of the shaft coming into contact with the wound across the Titan's crown and ravaging it. The opening, courtesy MD's attack with the pizza cutter, is spread wider, lending way to a fresh torrent of blood that rolls down over the Czar of Scars' features, engulfing his pale tone. In a moment of desperation, the Legend twists his body and pulls his arm back, jutting his elbow into the crotch of the American unceremoniously and causing him to stumble, dropping the drill in the process.

"AW, come on! Another cheap shot? What the hell? And this man is claiming to be a good person, a role model! What kind of message does that send children?"
"Al, I'm seriously hoping that no children are watching this match in general. This match is little more graphic than I think any young person should be watching.."
"True enough... but still! You don't just hit a man in the sack!"

The Metallic One backs off to recover, but the GodKing is in no shape to pursue him and collapses to the mat, his crimson life force pooling about his head. As the referee begins his count, Strife quickly ends it, pressing his palms to the canvas and forcing himself up slowly. Getting a foot below him, the fans cheer on their hero while MD watches from a corner, still wincing from the low blow. Vladimir gets his second foot into place unsteadily and the Dragon pounces, pummeling him with a ball of knuckles and knocking him onto his bottom. The Titan leans back, feeling the cage wall against his shoulder blades as he does so. As he looks up and tries to regain his bearings, he spots the Tennessee Suplex Machine rushing toward him with vengeance in his eyes. Vlad being unable to stop him, Metal Dragon leaps into the air and tucks his feet back, dropping down onto his chest knees first and crushing the Behemoth against the cage. The King wraps his arms tightly across his chest in an 'x' and rolls away from the cage onto his stomach, seething through clenched teeth.

"THE BAD TOUCH!! Almost kind of mixed with the Heart Starter in this instance, but either way, it's damned effective!!"
"Well, I'll give you that one - it was as effective as can be and things are looking grim for the GodKing right now.."
"You'd better believe it, Fuzz! MD's got him on the run now and it's only a matter of time until he dots the final sentence on Vladimir's legacy. Mark my words, we are witnessing the end of the Strife Dynasty."

"ONE!"

The start of the count is also the end of it, Vlad kicking his feet to show that despite being hurt, he's far from unconscious. He begins his ascent, slipping his fingers through the openings in the cage and pulling himself up. Behind him, a hungry Dragon stalks him, waiting eagerly. Now to his feet, Strife turns right into an oncoming punch that staggers him. He instinctively fires back, rapping his knuckles across the Metallic One's jaw and dazing him. Trading a couple of more, the Titan's strength is become ever more apparent as he gains the edge in the brawl, backing the American warrior with each shot. He cocks his arm back for a big one, looking to silence his foe with the Lights Out, until the abundance of blood dripping from his forehead runs into his right eye, stinging and blinding him. He covers his eyes and rubs it, trying to work it out so he may see again. With a sadistic grin, Metal Dragon takes notice of the situation and grabs the closest weapon to himself: the barbed wired 2x4. A MLB worthy swing plants the barbs in the Titan's gut and MD rips it back away, tearing their miniature cuts wider to the King's discomfort. Raising it above his head like He-Man wielding the Power Sword, he clobbers the back of a bent over Strife's skull and leaves him flattened against the canvas, the barbs stuck in his flesh and holding the relinquished board to the back of his head.

"OH MY GOD! Metal Dragon just leveled Vlad with a clubbing blow to the back of his skull and that might do it for this one.."
"Might do it? Are you kidding!? That was baby seal worthy! I wonder if he learned that from Matt Oliveira?"

Metal Dragon backs away from his fallen enemy, giving the referee time and space to make the call that he believes will bring him victory. The zebra stripe clad official steps forward and starts, the motionless GodKing looking utterly done in.

"ONE!"

The Pride of Nashville holds out for the next count, half expecting another middle finger or a 'Fuck You' for his efforts.

"TWO!"

The second call brings no such thing, Vlad remaining still save the feint rise and fall of his chest.

"THREE!"

The attending crowd waits in silence, the majority of them quietly praying that the Romanian Scourge breaks the count. A select few, however, sit in support of their fellow American, their hearts pounding faster with every passing second as what they've come to see grows closer and closer to fruition.

"FOUR!"

MD can hardly believe he's kept the GodKing down even this long and the idea crosses his mind that this could truly be the end of the match, adrenaline rushing through his veins at the thought.

"FIVE!"

"SIX!"

"I told you, Fuzz! The era of the GodKing is over! It looks like despite being the man who created the Asylum, Vlad will fall in it's confines yet AGAIN!"

"SEVEN!"

The Southerner, watching every heave of the Titan's torso, looks on nervously as it's pace picks up. He contemplates ambushing him, but holds back, not wanting to break the count he's worked so hard to obtain.

"EIGHT!"

The word is muffled and distant upon the Behemoth's ears, but he rolls himself over in fear of what it may have been, saving himself from another disgrace in the hellish structure of his own design.

"HE DID IT! Strife broke the count!"

Metal Dragon, incensed by Vlad's resilience, looks around the cage roof until he spots a florescent light tube. He pulls it down as the King clambers to his feet and throws it forcefully aimed at his face. Strife quickly raises his arm, taking he blast across his bicep and protecting the more sensitive features like his eyes. Dragon rushes in and the Titan steps forward to meet him, swinging his arm and bashing his opponent's temple with his elbow, stopping him in place. Both men take a step back and the same idea comes to their minds. Each man arms himself, MD grabbing a trash can while the Behemoth spots and old favorite of his. Turning their attention back to one another, the Tennessee Suplex machine holds the can at each end and the Impaler smirks as he lets the chain whip unfurl, it's tip laying against the mat.

Metal Dragon makes the first move, rushing in headlong for the Romanian Scourge. With the twist of his arm and a flick of his wrist, Strife lashes forward with the whip, the force and speed of it slapping against the exterior of the can and knocking it out of the American's grasp. Surprised by this, MD scrambles to grab the can's lid and holds it up as a makeshift shield just in time to protect himself from another strike of the whip. Not happy to take a defensive role in the match, the Southern Warrior darts for Vlad again, holding the lid in front of him to focus his weight like a battering ram against the GodKing. The Behemoth quickly clears his path, however, turning as his opponent passes and swinging after him, lashing the lower back of the Dragon with the metal rods like he was a miscreant slave. The Nashville native drops onto his hands and knees, listing off swear after swear in his misery. The Romanian Scourge spins the links around a few times to build up momentum before slashing down with a powerful swipe that again punishes the lumbar of his nemesis. The Metallic One drops supine and punches the canvas, screaming wildly at another stinging welt laid across his body. Not yet finished with him, Vlad jerks the handle in a circle, spinning the weapon around again before stepping in and slapping it down on the Dragon, splitting shirt and skin in a diagonal line from his right shoulder to his left ribs.

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCKKK!!!"

MD vocally cries out in unbridled anguish, his face red with strain and veins popping out, spittle foaming from the side of his mouth savagely.

"Jesus Christ! This is little more than torture on the part of Vlad! I don't even like Metal Dragon and I'm feeling sympathy for him!"
"And that's exactly what people don't understand, Fuzz, you included. MD isn't just some prick picking a fight because Vlad is a legend. He's a man standing up against the person who bullied and tormented them!"

As the Metallic One claws desperately at the cage, trying to get back to his feet, Vladimir discards the whip and begins to line him up. Timing his actions, the GodKing comes rushing in toward the Southern Warrior and raises his foot into the air, bringing it down in a vicious stomp across Dragon's face and sandwiching his skull against the steel mesh. The American abruptly drops down, unmoving as he lie against the canvas. The King backs away, pointing at the referee and then to the wreckage he's left in his wake, calling for a count to be made.

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

With a regal demeanor and hopeful attitude, Strife watches on, an eternity seeming to lie between each count.

"THREE!"

"FOUR!"

Metal Dragon remains completely unmoving, possibly suffering a concussion from the brutal trampling.

"FIVE!"

"SIX!"

"Geez... I want to believe MD's going to get up.. but I really can't remember the last time I saw somebody do something that vicious as that. Vlad just absolutely pounded him with that.. He may have fractured MD's skull with that blow.."
"That's the sad reality of this match. It's just so violent that it truly is a rarity for someone to walk out of it without some kind of a long term injury. We hate to see that happen to any of these stars, but sometimes that's what it takes to put these grudges to an end."

"SEVEN!"

Still yet to show any signs of consciousness, things seem like a worst-case scenario for the Tennessee Suplex Machine as the audience sits on the edge of their seats.

"EIGHT!"

As the referee is nearing ever closer to the dreaded ten, paramedics move in at ringside, waiting to respond to the combatants as soon as the cage raises high enough for them to do so.

"NINE!"

A groan breaks the silence lightly, the referee stopping and waiting to hear another from the American before ending the count. The few and far inbetween MD fans scream their praises as Vladimir grabs at his own hair in disbelief and frustration and leans his head against the cage.

"I can't believe it!! He's still in this! The match continues! Come on, Dragon!!"
"How can you cheer that? This man might have serious head trauma! If he had just stayed down and kept quiet, he could have made a SERIOUS improvement to his health."
"At the cost of his pride! And that's a price NO Southerner is going to pay, Fuzz."

As the American begins to stir, his European foe grabs him by the back of the neck and 'helps' him to his feet. He leans MD against the cage before giving him a hard slap, jerking his head to the side. The Southern Warrior quickly returns with a jab of his fist, catching Vlad off guard and staggering him. Before the GodKing can recover from the shock, another fist cracks him across the jaw and rocks his skull. He throws a wild haymaker, which the Orchard Alumni ducks under before popping back up with another quick jab. He grabs Strife by the shoulder and turns him away from himself, looking to go for the kill as he tries to get him in place for the Death Metal, knowing it could put the Behemoth down for the count. The Impaler, albeit stunned, has plenty of fight left in him and twist back with an elbow to the side of his opponent's cranium, drawing back and nailing him again to stop his momentum.

Vlad starts to move forward, further away from his nemesis in order to regroup himself, but the Dragon has no such plans for him in mind. He steps in after the King, grabbing him by the back of his belt. The GHW Original pulls him back before wrapping his arms around the Impaler's waist tightly. He lurches back, using all of his weight and strength to rip the Behemoth into the air, arching their bodies backward. The Tennessee Suplex Machine shows his enemy how he got his name as he abruptly releases him midair, expertly tossing him harshly with a release German Suplex. The Titan careens into the wall of the Asylum Cage like a rag doll, his head whipping forward as it crashes into the steel. His weight carries him on, his shoulders as well plowing into the unforgiving structure, folding his body up almost like an accordion. With nowhere else to go, the Barbarian Lord collapses to the mat in a near lifeless heap. To his left and further in-ring, Metal Dragon remains motionless as well, his brief second wind having passed and exhaustion crippling his body.

A collaborative cry fills the air, the fans screaming in mass. "HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!"

"OHMYGOD!!! MD just fucking chucked Vlad right into the Asylum Cage!! He's out of it! It's over!! There is absolutely, positively NO way that he is getting up from that!"

The referee begins to test Al's theory, holding up a single finger despite himself being blown away by what he'd just witnessed.

"ONE!"

TBCB Metal Dragon

(I'll spell/error check later, have a few things I have to do that I put off to get this up )