Matt Violence vs. Dustin Delta -House of Horrors-

[Dustin Delta]

The arena falls silent, but a resonant sense of adrenaline and excitement stands as the night proceeds. The cameras browse through the fans, who show off their homemade signs and cheer. The signs vary in messages, such as “Because I’m Ryan Hughes…” or “Matt ULTRA-Violence”, showing support for some of their preferred superstars. The spotlights scan the crowd, and out of the blue, they begin to flash, the strobe lights activated. The lights in the audience and at ringside tint to hues that resemble flames, and the cameras turn up to the stage as the GHW Faithful erupts in enthusiastic cheers. The Dawn of Destruction graphics on the MiniTron transition to a city skyline with a blue aurora in the sky above it. A fighter jet flies across the electronic screen, and the horizon is set ablaze as silver text reading the name “Dustin Delta” fades in. The velvet curtain is thrown to two sides, and the King of the Deathmatch Champion steps out of the shadows and into the spotlight. A cover of R.E.M.’s “End of the World As We Know It” by The Suicide Machines is already playing over the P/A, and the capacity crowd in attendance cheers as the bell rings.

“The following match is a House of Horrors match, and is for the GHW King of the Deathmatch Championship! The only way to win is by incapacitating your opponent so he can no longer answer the referee’s count of ten.”

Following Delta into the limelight is Jennifer Aguilar, his valet. She reaches behind him and undoes the silver snaps on the leather strap, handing the prestigious hardcore title to the Floridian. Sporting his ever-so-confident grin, Dustin holds the gleaming and ostentatious ultraviolent championship high above his head for all to see. The strobes cease, and the spotlights point directly at the platinum and silver plate, which casts a mystique glow across the stage. The Deathmatch Majesty rests the twenty pounds of silver and leather on his left shoulder as he and Jennifer begin their descent down the ramp, the incandescent spotlight following closely.

“The night is young, as is the career of this man! Dustin Delta has been here under a year and is already a former Television Champion and the current King of the Deathmatch champion, as you can see. And tonight, he takes on the only man to ever defeat him in a deathmatch environment—Matt Violence.”

“That’s right—at H-Games 2010, Dustin Delta qualified and made it into the semifinals, where he faced Matt Violence in a Sawmill match. Dustin fought valiantly, but the Matt pulled out the win. So MV is one and zero against Delta, but how will this play into their match-up tonight?”

“Dustin defeated Hayden HardKore to win this championship, Al. If the challenge had been different, Delta might be the Undisputed Champion right now! But the point is, Dustin defeated Hayden. If he can take down one of the best competitors in GHW and EVPW alike, I can’t see him losing to Matt tonight.”

Dustin steps over to the right side of the ramp, high fiving hands of fans that are lucky enough to sit in the front row for this astounding event. Adolescents who Delta high-fives turn back excited, looking to their parents. The Everglades native steps back onto the apron, where the beautiful Jennifer Aguilar stands waiting for him with a smile. The Temptress of Temerity kisses him on the cheek and returns to the locker rooms. Jennifer obviously does not want to be anywhere near the squared circle once this is underway. Delta walks over to the dumpster full of weapons, looking through it with a brave smirk. He looks around into the cheering crowd, and then steps into the ring via the proverbial safe haven, the side of the ring where there are no flames or barb wire.

“Introducing first, he hails from the skies above Everglades, Florida, and he weighs in tonight at one hundred and ninety-four pounds. This man is the reigning GHW King of the Deathmatch Champion…The Floridian Falcon, DUSSSSTIIINNNN….DELLLLLLTAAAAA!”

“This is a deadly stipulation right here, Al. We have an Inferno match environment, with barb-wire ropes, and this gigantic dumpster full of weapons—I’m looking now, I can see ladders, tables, chairs, light tubes, sledgehammers, two by fours, kendo sticks…God knows what else.”

“Fuzz, I know for a fact that both of these rising stars will use those weapons in ways we never thought possible. Get some popcorn and a soda and sit back Colin, this is gonna be a bloody one right here.”

Delta looks around, at the potentially lethal environment that surrounds him. Besieged by flame and thorn, with only one side of the sacred ring left open and safe, this was going to obviously be a career-shortening match-up. The Falcon gestures to some of the staff at ringside, and a microphone plastered with the GHW logo is tossed right into the hand of the One Man Regiment. He takes a few steps around the ring before stopping abruptly, standing where his championship was most lucent in the spotlight.

“Matt Violence…Matt Violence…The only man to ever defeat me in a deathmatch. And he’s come back, confident that he can do it again. Let me tell you something, Matt. I took our New Age Champion, Hayden HardKore, to the limit. Have you ever done that, MV? Have you ever even won a championship in GHW?! No. Not that history can recall. So tonight, Matt, I’m gonna raise the stakes for you. You lose, you go back to square one. No ‘GIMME ANOTHER SHOT’ or any shit like that. When I defend my championship tonight and you leave with the only shining thing on you your own crimson blood, you go back to the end of the line. I don’t wanna be fighting you month after month after month. This is your only shot. So make it count.”

Dustin chucks the microphone out of the ring, and turns back to the stage, watching anxiously as he anticipates the entrance of the ever innovative Matt Violence. Colin Jennigs and Al Mulligan look around at this environment yet again, anxiety brushing over them a bit as they take closer looks. The arena lights return to normal, and the GHW Faithful eagerly await the famous scream.

[wasted]

*SCREAM*

The mans leave their seats and jump to their feet in excitement. They cheer at the top of their lungs as the high-pitched scream fades into the intro of Avenged Sevenfold’s “Scream”, which as always leads to the arrival of the Ultra-Violent Superstar’s anticipated arrival. As M.Shadow’s voice resonates from behind the PA system, Matt Violence slowly steps from behind the draping, black curtain. His face is shows no expression, his eyes are fiery and ghost-like, unable to be read. A mic is in his hand, left at his side and his famous razorblade steel chair.

Caught up in this madness too blind to see
Woke animal feelings in me
Took over my sense and I lost control
I'll taste your blood tonight

“Cut. My. Music.”

Matt speaks slowly and looks directly down at his adversary, who has now passed his belt on to the official. Him and Jen stand close together, their elbows touching as they gaze down at the Philadelphian. The fans begin taking their seats and are all ears as Matt continues to speak, whilst slowly sauntering towards the ring.

“Dustin Delta. Tonight, marks the beginning of the end for you. Hayden said it himself, history repeats itself. And tonight that couldn‘t be more true for us! Just like in the Hardcore Games, you will lose a long fought, unforgiving, ultra-violent battle! Tonight, hardcore will be reborn. Tonight. I. Will. Conquer!”

MV drops the mic to the floor, leaving static to leak out of the PA system and Matt walks around to the bare side of the ring and slides in. He steps out to Dustin and his assistant and looks her right in the eyes.

“Leave. Now!”

Her eyes widen and she looks timidly at DD, who gives an approving nod, as he knows how violent this match will become and knows he doesn’t what her to witness it first-hand. He looks as if she wants to cry but knows she can’t disobey, then exit’s the arena. Finally, Matt “The Ultra-Violent Superstar” Violence and Dustin “The Ultra-Violent Underdog” Delta stand face tto face, ready to push each other to their limits.

“DING-DING-DING!”

[Dustin Delta]

The bell sounds off, and Delta extends out his right hand, palm open. Matt Violence has a skeptical look on his face, knowing Dustin isn’t one to usually give a handshake. Delta’s lips move, and it’s clear he’s saying something, but it is inaudible to the viewers at home and the live audience. The Ultra-Violent Superstar thinks it over quickly, but accepts the handshake. The two go right from the friendly gesture of respect to the opposing forces of a traditional collar-and-elbow tie up. The competitors struggle, doing their best to stay in the center of the ring. Yet at the same time, they are trying ever so hard to drive their foe to the barb-wire ropes and the blazing ring apron. Dustin staggers back towards the south-west corner, the challenger just able to overpower him. The Everglades native looks back, an expression of worry on his face. He knows that he is only a foot or so away from those barb-wire ropes, and he needs to do something to stay away from them. Lacking the muscle and brawn to push Violence back, the Floridian Falcon thinks on his feet and hops as they come to the corner. He carefully rests the soles of his boots on the second ropes. Knee pads and kick pads protect his legs from the dangerous thorns of barbwire, and Matt releases the tie up so he may throw a closed fist into the temple of the Ultraviolent Underdog. Not granting Dustin a moment’s peace, Matt steps up onto the ropes himself, underhooking both of Double D’s arms. The crowd cheers MV on as he leaps back, slamming Delta into the canvas head-first, connecting with a harsh DDT off the second rope. The Malicious Middleweight rolls over and grabs Dustin’s arm in a triangle hold. Matt holds him in the submission hold tightly, and continues an onslaught of strikes, driving elbow after elbow into the skull of the young Delta. The Philadelphian releases his opponent quickly, and stands back in wait as the Everglades Exemplar jumps back up to his feet rather quickly. Delta turns around and his opponent charges forward, attempting to nail the One Man Regiment with a Spear. Double D side-steps, and Violence stops himself by twisting over, halting at Dustin’s side. Matt remains in control of the battle, sweeping the legs of the Human Fighter Jet with a Russian flavor. The Pennsylvania native rises to one knee, coldly staring at Dustin, who writhes on the mat for a moment.

“Matt V is staying on top of Dustin right now. We’re only a few minutes into this match, and it seems like history will repeat itself…Just as Matt said.”

“You can’t count Dustin out when the match has barely started! Just because he doesn’t get a great start doesn’t mean he won’t have a spectacular ending. I’ll bet you twenty bucks that Delta leaves with the title.”

“Hold on, let me pull out my wallet.”

Delta rolls over to a prone position, and quickly rises to his feet. Matt jumps up off the canvas, bringing both feet to Dustin’s face in a dropkick motion. Double D thinks on his feet, snatching the heels of MV’s boots and tossing them up, forcing the Ultraviolent Superstar to do a cartwheel of sorts. The challenger lands on his feet, although a bit off balance. The Courier of Controversy sleuths up behind Matt, slipping his arms under MV’s and interlocking his fingers behind his foe’s neck. Delta smirks confidently, and jumps forward, slamming the contender into the mat of the squared circle with a Full Nelson Bulldog. The Floridian disconnects his hands and rises to a vertical base, grabbing Violence by the collar and bringing him up with him. Matt stands unsteadily, trying to realign himself and regain balance, but the Deathmatch Majesty doesn’t give him a chance. Dustin leaps up, swinging his legs above the rest of his body. He locks his ankles around the back of the neck of MV, locking the challenger in a scissors hold. Delta swings back, sending Matt into the barb-wire ropes with a hurracanrana. The Philadelphia Partisan’s neck rests on the barb-wire, thorns cutting into his skin as blood drips out. Thankfully for Matt, the flames arising from the apron are a few centimeters away from his face, just far away enough to keep him from being burnt and scorched—although the Airborne Assailant plans to change that. Delta stands on the right of Violence, glaring down intensely. The King steps back to the turnbuckles behind him and leaps up to the top rope, his eyes not shifting away from the hardcore veteran before him.

“This is where Dustin Delta is most dangerous. He’s known very well in the GHW locker room for his high-flying tactics and offensive maneuvers. Presses, planchas, splashes, sentons, he knows how to do and has mastered them all. “

“What does he have in mind here? Matt is in a very odd position to go for a diving attack—but then again, I’ve seen Delta do much crazier things.”

The young champion rubs his chin, eyes locked onto his vulnerable target. The thorn-decorated ropes bounce a bit under his weight. Delta counts silently, mouthing the numbers. “3…2…1.” The Falcon takes off, spiraling as he does. He descends, knees bent, waiting for the perfect moment. Dustin’s eyes go wide, and he quickly extends his legs, heels pressing hard into the back of the Violent Vindicator. This attack has a side effect, though—it pushes Matt down and forward. Not only do the dangerous barb-wire thorns dig deeper into Violence’s skin, but the blazes reach his face, burning and toasting his skin. The Philadelphia native screams and yells in sheer agony and pain, begging the flames to cease. It is not the fire that stops, but Delta shows a bit of mercy, pulling Matt off the ropes and to his feet. The Everglades Exemplar throws a closed fist towards the face of Violence, who retaliates, capturing the fist with the palm of his hand. MV scowls angrily and drives a knee into the gut of Dustin, only beginning to exact his revenge. For only a moment, the challenger’s gaze moves away from Double D, and comes across the dumpster, filled to the brim with lethal and hazardous weapons. Matt’s rage-fueled dirty look slowly transmogrifies into an evil smirk. There is no doubt that sadistic thoughts are running rampant in his mind. Violence acts fast, grabbing Delta in a tight chancery, and moving towards the edge of the ring where they are free from fire and barb-wire—towards where the dumpster of arbalests lies in wait. Matt steps down from the apron, still holding the Floridian in the headlock. Grabbing the Human Fighter Jet by the tights, the Ultraviolent Superstar lifts Delta off the canvas, and places him down on the floor at ringside. MV calculates this attack carefully, standing adjacent and facing away from the dumpster. Dustin’s wrist is snagged and his arm is brought over the back of the neck of Matt, who hooks the leg of Delta. The challenger takes a deep breath, and bridges back, swinging the former Television Champion back with a Fisherman Suplex, his back colliding with the cold steel of the dumpster. The sound of the impact reaches all corners of the arena, bringing in a loud “OHHHHHHH SHIT!” from the audience.

[wasted]

((Writer‘s Note: The flames die down and come back to life every five minutes.))

Dustin Delta’s spine is nearly flattened after the vicious Fisherman’s Suplex into the side of the dumpster. Double D’s landing isn’t at all comfortable either as he slides down the wall of the weapon filled dumpster and lands with his head crashing into the hard, concrete floor. While his adversary writhes on the ground, his back and head aching from all that has transpired, the intrepid Ultraviolent Superstar, rolls to his stomach and pushes himself up with great ease. He now lowers his stance and grabs the Fighter Jet by his head, jerking him into a sitting position against the coldness of the dumpster. Matt stands fully erect now, and grasps the rim of the dumpster, before cocking his leg back and slamming his knee fiercely into the cranium of Dustin, coerces his head to snap back and crash into the steel. Five vicious knees to the head of Double D leaves his brain bouncing off the walls of his skull. MV takes a step back, leaving his rival to fall to his side with both of his hands wrapped firmly around his noggin.

Matt now bends over and again grasps Dustin by his head, this time dragging him to a vertical base. The Hardcore Hero forces his adversary towards the edge of the ring, where the flames have now died down, however the barbs on the lowest rope remain scolding hot. Matt takes DD’s head and forces it against the sharp barbs. A ear-piercing scream comes from Delta’s lips as the hot metal burns his skin on contact. To add to the torture MV begins running his foe’s forehead across the barbed wire laced rope, leaving the points to have their way with Delta, tearing his skin open. Blood spills out of the gashes and trickle down to the apron freely.

“Holy shit. Those scolding hot barbs show no mercy on Delta‘s skin.”
“They sure don‘t and they‘re not supposed to!”

After a few, long seconds of nonstop pain, flames shot up from the apron completely unexpected. The relentless flames show no mercy, scorching both Dustin and MV who did not anticipate the fire at all. Dustin falls to the ground, holding his burning, bloodied face, while Matt just stumbles back, coving his face and cursing into the palm of his hand. Slightly dazed, but in better condition then his unfortunate foe, Matt stumbles over to the dumpster with blood seeping into his brows. He uses the dumpster for support, holding himself up whilst digging in it, like a kid in a candy shop. A faint smile creeps across his face as he begins pulling out a barbed wire board. The fans cheer in anticipation all wanting to see MV put the Everglade Native into the dangerous wood. The middleweight simply lets the board flop to the ground, no wanting to waste any amount of energy to organize it.

Now wearing a horrid crimson mask, the Ultraviolent Innovator stride over to his recovering adversary, assisting him to a full vertical stance with a mean, vicious tugging of the hair. Dustin, coerced to his feet is now forced over to where the barbed wire board lays. Matt peers over his shoulder as he walks backwards, making sure not to trip and fall into the board himself, but turn into a left hook from Delta right in the jaw. Matt drops his hands off of DD’s head and get rocked with another malicious hook, this time coming from Double D’ stronger hand. With his foe reeling back, waving his harms in tiny circles to keep from tipping over, Dustin takes a step back before running full speed towards MV. The Fighter Jet kicks off of MV’s knee to elevate himself and then brings up a knee of his own, rocking the Philadelphian Fighter in the jaw. The Enziguri leaves MV falling back from his precarious stance, falling back first into the sharp, barbed wire boards. Dustin avoids all contact with the board himself and hit’s the concrete lightly, before swimming away to the safety of the guardrail where he begins to regain much needed stamina. Matt on the other hand yells out in pain, as the points digger deeper and deeper into his flesh with every breath he takes and every move he makes.

“OH MY GOD! Matt just fell into that nasty, painful jungle of barbed wire!”
“I feel no remorse. He‘s the dumb one who called out the KING of the Deathmatches. What did he except.”

“ONE”
“TWO”
“THREE”

The Deathmatch Majesty takes his time getting to his feet, knowing he is ten times more likely to recover before his opponent does. But around the ref’s scream of “six” DD recovers and walks over to his adversary, giving him a stomp, breaking the ref’s count. Dustin doesn’t want all the fun to be over so soon, he wants to prove a message after all the talk of his title win being a fluke. He digs in the dumpster and pulls out an exact carbon copy of the barbed wire board MV brought out. With just a flick, DD flips the board barded-side down and slams it down on top of Violent, turning his foe into a Ultraviolent Sandwich. Muffled screams arise from under the top layer, as Matt’s feet twitch vigorously underneath the mess . Dustin smiles, this time looking under the ring for a weapon. He quickly pulls out a large, 16 foot ladder and sets it up a few feet away from MV’s sandwiched body. Dustin takes his time climbing to the peak of the ladder, looking into the sea of fans as he sits at the top rung. They all have horrified looks on their faces, clearly knowing what DD’s intentions are. The high-flying hardcore superstar takes a leap of faith, jumping from about 17 feet in the air. Gravity brings him down fast, where he lands on top of the sandwhich ass-first, leg dropping the plywood into Matt. High-pitched screams escape Matt’s mouth from under the wood as the barbed wires mercilessly eat away at his flesh. Dustin rolls off, to the concrete floor to deal with the pain he has just put upon himself. “HOLY SHIT” chants resonate from the audience, as the ref begins his count for both superstars.

“ONE!”
“TWO!”
…

[Dustin Delta]

“THREE!”

The arbiter is hardly heard over the roaring audience, chanting encouragements and supporting words in an effort to get the superstars to their feet. The two combatants at ringside lay unresponsive, the only signs of consciousness being agonized groans and horrid cries of pain. Delta writhes on the solid concrete floor, while Matt furiously tries to escape the clutches of the thorn-embellished barb wire.

“FOUR!”

Dustin rolls over to a prone state and reaches his arms forward, snagging the bottom of the hanging apron for aid. The Everglades native grasps a higher point on the ring apron and pulls himself up to one knee. His breathing is heavy and slow as he reaches a vertical stance. His balance is off, and he can barely stand up straight, but he doesn’t back down. Double D staggers forward, stopping unsteadily at the barb-wire sandwich which carries Matt Violence as its main ingredient. Realigning himself, the Floridian gets a hold of the top board, unmercifully prying it off of his middleweight disputant. Violence yells as the thorns rip through his skin. A sigh of relief releases itself from the mouth of MV when the barb-wire finally pulls out of his tegument. He has no time to rest though, as Dustin reaches his arm around behind the collar of the Philadelphian, pulling him up to a vertical base. The King goes to deliver a closed fist to the temple, but the contender counters, pushing him back into the steel ring frame. Dustin arches his back in torment, but the onslaught is ceasless, as Matt Violence rams his shoulder into the abdomen of the vulnerable underdog.

“It seemed like they were out, but they surprisingly got back up before a five-count. So I’d say that this is just the beginning of what is sure to be a great match, Al.”

“You’re telling me! Only the second match of the night and the GHW fans are getting their moneys worth for this exclusive Pay-Per-View again. And these two men are showing the world why this event is called Dawn of Destruction!”

The Malignant Middleweight wipes sweat and blood off his forehead, his breathing heavy. Knowing he cannot let up at all, Matt continues—most likely against his best judgment. But then again, who in GHW follows their best judgment? Violence delivers a back chop to the chest of the ultraviolent royalty. Delta groans in agony, but Matt doesn’t let up. He delivers two more chops to the already bright red abdomen before rolling Double D under the bottom barbed wire rope, the Philadelphian in pursuit. Dustin rushes up to his feet, only to be on the receiving end of a fierce lariat by Matt. After being knocked down to the mat, the Floridian is unwillingly brought back up to his feet. Violence brutally proceeds, swinging a fist up with a European Uppercut, sending Dustin faltering back into the south-east corner of the squared circle. MV steps up onto the bottom rope, and delivers a series of closed fists to the temple of the Human Fighter Jet. Showing no mercy whatsoever, Violence locks in a side chancery and runs out of the corner, looking to slam Dustin down with a bulldog. Improvising a counter, Delta swings his legs up like a pendulum, and quickly locks his legs around the neck of Matt. Sitting up on the shoulders of Matt Violence, the King swings and spirals, bringing the challenger down to the mat with a Standing Sea Fire.

Just as quickly as Matt goes down, he comes back up, courtesy of a chancery by Dustin. The young champion quickly breaks the headlock, and goes to Irish whip Matt into the south-west corner. Violence resists Delta’s pull and sends the Everglades Exemplar running towards the north-east junction. The champion shows why he is exactly that—a champion, thinking quickly on his feet. Double D steps onto the first turnbuckle, and proceeds up as if he were climbing a rock wall without using his hands. With both feet balancing on the uppermost turnbuckle, the One Man Regiment backflips, soaring over Matt. Cameras flash throughout the arena, capturing the spectacular moment. Delta lands on his feet, standing not two feet behind the Ultraviolent Superstar. Eyes widened and face bloodied, Matt turns around right into a leaping reverse STO by the Innovative Incarnate. Violence hits the canvas hard, his face bouncing up off from the intense impact of the powerful offense.

“Oh my god! Did you hear that hollow crashing sound that Matt’s head made when it hit the mat?! That was unreal!”

“How can any competitor sleep at night, knowing that he caused human flesh to make such a frightening noise? Hell, it was painful listening to it—I could only imagine what it felt like for Violence! But this is GHW we’re talking about, we’ve seen helluva lot worse around here.”

Matt Violence lies sprawled out on the mat in a prone position. His face lies in a rising puddle of crimson blood, flowing out of an incision in his forehead, which was probably worsened by the reverse STO just performed. Delta rolls forward, stopping himself whilst down on bended knee. He smiles and runs a hand through his hair, as the crowd lively cheers for both of these superstars. Double D rises to a vertical base, and instead of turning his attention to Matt, he steps down to ringside via the safe haven on the north side of the ring. The Deathmatch Majesty flips up the apron of the ring, and looks under the steel frame of the squared circle. The audience follows Dustin curiously, interested to know what he’s looking for that wouldn’t be in the provided dumpster of arbalests. Finally, Delta pulls out one of the most dangerous weapons in his arsenal—a light tube log cabin. The minuscule champion lifts the cluster of glass up to the canvas, and slides into the ring himself. Luckily, he makes it in just before the flames arise—and instead of claiming human flesh as their victim, those flames ignite the apron of the ring that Delta had flipped up. The Floridian Falcon smirks demonically as he sees the burning threads. A malicious idea in his mind, Double D locks in a dragon sleeper on his veteran adversary. Methodically, tormenting his opposition, Dustin holds Violence’s face only inches away from the blazing apron. Matt’s eyes widen and he struggles, writhing in Delta’s clutch. Finally, MV is able to strike Dustin in the side of the head with an elbow, and then a second…and then a third…and then a fourth, breaking the Human Fighter Jet’s submission hold. Dustin Delta staggers back, and Matt rises to a standing position.

Violence comes running, but Delta quickly bends back into a bridge. Returning to an upright stance, Dustin kicks back, striking Matt in the back of the knee. MV is thrown off balance, and Double D jumps at the opportunity. The Everglades native grabs the challenger by the wrist, and hoists him up to his shoulders so that he is supine. The King flips Matt over, and while he is vertically upside-down, Delta strikes MV with a animistic knee to the skull. Violence falls to the log cabin, which shatters under him after the champion strikes him with The Black Swan—the referee begins to count.

“ONE!”

“Holy crap! Not only did Matt just get a harsh knee to the back of his head, but he went through, what, twenty-five light-tubes? He’s a bloody, glass-decorated mess!”

“Many people thought that Dustin Delta’s King of the Deathmatch Championship reign would resemble his Television title reign—the shortest in history. But this kid is proving tonight just why he is champion!”

“TWO!”

[Dustin Delta]

The cameras zoom in on Matt Violence’s bloody face as he lays sprawled out and the white and crimson canvas. The GHW logo which sits on the mat is covered in blood and glass shards, just like the challenger. The referee looks down upon the fallen combatant, and holds his hands up to continue with the count, as are the rules of the match.

“THREE!”

Double D turns around and walks to the northern side of the ring and kicks the burning apron back down to the side of the ring. Hopping down to the concrete floor at ringside, Dustin continues on toward the dumpster. Reaching into the dumpster full of weapons, Dustin pulls out a black steel chair. He stares at the cold, unforgiving steel for a moment, before opening it up and sitting it down in front of the dumpster, facing the squared circle. Delta then walks over towards Al Mulligan and Colin Jennings, retrieving a microphone. The Floridian struts back to the chair and sits down, watching Matt Violence closely.

“FOUR!”

“Matt…I let you destroy me a few months back at H-Games. Not only did you get me eliminated from H-Games, but you handed me the first loss of my GHW career. It’s about time I get my retribution…hell, I already have.”

Dustin laughs a bit, and waits for the arbiter to continue the count before he speaks, avoiding a very curt interruption. Double D focuses on Matt, who is trembling and falling apart within the ring. He struggles to push himself up to his hands and knees, but only the rise to a vertical base could cease the referee’s 10-count.

“FIVE!”

“I will deny you my King of the Deathmatch Championship…and I will make sure the only thing that ‘MV’ stands for….Is ‘My Victim.’”

The Floridian laughs devilishly, tossing the mic a few feet over. He stands up, and kicks away the steel chair he was sitting upon previously. Dustin hops up onto the canvas, smirking darkly as Violence slowly but surely rises up to his feet. He reaches out to the ropes, hoping for support on his way back up to his feet. But Matt quickly remembers that they have been replaced with treacherous barbed wire, and draws his hands back.

“SIX!”

The Malicious Middleweight rises to one knee, and pushing down on his knee which is bent outward, returns to a vertical base. The crowd goes wild as the referee stops the count, making sure the other officials at ringside and the fans alike were aware. Delta’s eyes widen, and he dashes forward, towards the Pittsburgh Powerhouse. The Everglades Exemplar attempts to knock his opponent back down with a Spear, but the challenger counters, locking Dustin in a tight headlock. Jumping up and turning himself around, MV drops Delta onto the broken shards of glass—a tormenting Tornado DDT connecting! Violence isn’t done yet—he mounts himself atop the supine Double D and begins throwing closed fists into the head of the King. The Philadelphian steps back up, bringing the Falcon up with him. He grabs Dustin by the wrist and Irish Whips him towards the open side of the ring, but the champion reverses, and Matt is sent sailing out of the ring, and crashing shoulder first into the cold steel of the dumpster. The sound of the denting of metal is sent to every corner of the arena, and the audience lets out a collective “OH SHIT,” Something the GHW Faithful has become known to do.

“After that Black Swan, I could’ve sworn Matt Violence was out of this match! But Matt apparently has fight left in him, even if it’s barely any. I mean, that shoulder to the dumpster gives Dustin Delta a bright red target—the left arm of Matt V.”

“No doubt. If I was in Delta’s boots, I would focus on taking out that arm. And knowing how Double D gets with weapons, he is capable of breaking Matt’s arm here tonight. If this was held under submission rules, Violence wouldn’t have a chance anymore.”

Matt reaches up, gripping the top edge of the dumpster. The Hardcore Veteran uses the hard metal as support, to rise up to an erect stance. As he returns to his feet and regains his balance, flames rise from the lethal sides of the squared circle, engulfing the apron in fire. Delta swears under his breath, as he seemed to have wanted to ascend to the top rope. Instead, the Human Fighter Jet steps down to ringside, and right into the claws of a very game Matt Violence. MV seeks redemption, charging at the One Man Regiment with a clothesline. Delta kips right back up, and runs back towards the Pittsburgh native. They prove the theory that great minds think alike, as they both go on the offensive with running elbow attempts. Both combatants are downed, but it only takes a second for them to return to their feet. Matt and Dustin lock each other in the classic collar-and-elbow tie up. The resilient Pennsylvania native backs Delta into the dumpster, and goes for his signature punch trio. He nails the first, and the crowd joins and screams "MATT!" MV connects with the second, and the audience yells "VIO--" and when the contender's knuckles blast into the temple of the champion, the GHW Faithful finishes with "LENCE!", as Delta falls down, sitting against the dumpster.

"Oh man, Colin! There were the Matt Violence trademarked punches! That means we're only moments away from seeing one of my favorites--The Ultra-Violent Suplex! But of course, it doesn't compare to the BFK2H!"

“Don’t get ahead of yourself! I’m looking forward to that huge Dragon’s Dungeon match with Ryan Hughes and Metal Dragon, but let’s focus on this match for now, Al. I mean, our fans are really getting their money’s worth tonight! Their H-Games match-up can’t even come close to this!”

Matt Violence turns away from his stricken foe, and sets his eyes on the blazing ring tarp, hanging off the steel frame and canvas. Some kind of devious thought must've registered in his head, judging by the purely evil smile that sits upon his expression. The Ultraviolent Superstar heads over to a corner of the ring, and tugs the burning apron off of the side of the ring. While he has to make the sacrifice off withstanding the heat and flames upon his hands, it will be well worth it for the reward he had envisioned--twenty pounds of silver and leather. MV tosses and lays out the flaming threads over the opening of the dumpster. Grinning demonically, Violence grabs Dustin by the collar and drags him up to an unsteady vertical base. Standing behind the Floridian Falcon, Matt hooks both of Delta's arms in a full nelson. The audience cheers in anticipation of the lethal finishing maneuver, the Ultra-Violent Suplex. It is now obvious that Matt has intentions of dropping Double D headfirst into the steel pit of arbalests, which is now topped off by a flaming tarp. Matt tilts his head up and screams "ALL HAIL VIOLENCE!", triggering a thunderous response from those in attendance. Matt begins to pull Dustin up, but Delta remains resistant and grounded. MV tried agian, but the Everglades native writhes around until an elbow knocks into Violence's temple, and his tight grip is released. Dustin swings his right leg up and around, his foot colliding with the skull of the Hardcore Veteran, who drops to his knees as a result. Double D side steps towards the challenger, and brings his foot up, forcefully driving it into the jaw of the contender. The crowd cheers wildly as the Superhero Slayer connects, knocking Matt down to the concrete floor.