GHW Championship: Santiago (c) vs. Barta Bull

[Ryan Hughes]

Dawn of Destruction has more than lived up to it's moniker this year, with the Tower of London match providing the paying audience with blood, sweat, tears and one man (or woman) standing tall as the King (or Queen) of the Deathmatch Champion. Luckily for the fans, there is one match left, and it is the one that will decide the fate of the GHW Championship. The camera pans around the sold out bleachers, with many a fan trying their hardest to grab the cameraman’s attention and have the rare honor to lift their novelty signs towards the screen for the folks back home. As soon as Charlie Coors is ready to fulfill his ring announcing duties in the center of the ring, Charlie Coors licks his lips before raising his mic to them.

"The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is for the GHW CHAMPIONSHIP! Firstly, allow me to introduce the special guest enforcer as per the orders of General Manager Grimey C. Whiskey... the Mancunian Mastodon, RYAN HUGHES!"

Charlie finishes announcing for the time being, and James Hetfield's "Don't You Think This Outlaw Bit Has Done Got Out Of Hand?" begins to play through the speakers. On cue, Ryan Hughes slinks his way through the curtains at the top of the stage, clutching that briefcase which was dented after Ryan clocked Barta Bull over the head with it on Triumph. He looks out to the crowd who don't know how to react, because they - just like everyone watching, and especially Dom and Barta - don't have a clue who's side he is on. Needless to say that is the least of the Englishman's worries as he struts down the ramp.

"This stinks of controversy. I honestly do not see Ryan leaving here without affecting the result somehow."

"Oh come on Colin. You heard him last week, he wants this to go down fair. That's exactly why he took Freddie McGavin out of the picture!"

"What, and you don't think Ryan will cash that ticket in himself?"

"He's a man of his word, and besides- what legal grounds would he have? The ticket still technically belongs to McGavin, it just so happens to be held by someone else right now."

Wearing a blazer over his unique t-shirt and jeans, he seems dressed for a casual outing rather than enforcing. This doesn't matter though, because Hughes can fight in anything, as he has shown over the years, and most recently, last Thursday. The former GHW Champion jogs up the steel steps with a smile on his chops, even giving the crowd a little wave before he steps through the ropes. There's no turnbuckle tomfoolery for him tonight though- that would be out of place for a man in this position. Instead, he heads over to the referee, and gets in to an inaudible conversation over what can only be assumed as talk about the duties for the match in front of them. Rubbing his hands together in anticipation, Ryan turns around awaiting the first of tonights combatants.



TBC Either Dom or Barta

[Public Enemies]

BACK IN THE SADDLE AGAIN by Aerosmith rings out to signal the arrival of the common man's hero. Working class, the blue collar Fighty fighty person, not to be confused with Dominik Santiago's last opponent, Freebird McCoy. No, Barta Bull is much different than The Blue Collar Brawler, oh yes. Barta Bull is much more lethal, more lethal than a poisonous rattle snake native to parts of Texas where he hails from.

I'm back
I'm back in the saddle again
I'm back
I'm back in the saddle again

The championed Toro responds to his people by bursting, cutting, and twisting through the black-jade curtains like a torn up GHW-brand poster of Dominik Santiago posing with his GHW Championship on the concrete floors of GHW Arena. To the curiosity of most, his past former manager, Sabrina, follows him out of the tunnel, >decked out with stone-washed denim jeans, a sleeveless button down shirt made up of the legitimate one-starred flag of Texas, and freshly donned snake-skinned boots<. As for Barta Bull, he's sporting a new run-of-the-line >T-shirt<.

"The challenger, as you see him!"
"I didn't expect Barta Bull to be named #1 contender by a long-shot. But I've got to say, I have a good feeling about this match."

Barkeep gimme a drink
That's when she caught my eye
She turned to give me a wink
That make a grown man cry

"Now introducing the challenger...from El Paso, Texas...weighing in at 264 pounds and being accompanied to the ring by SABRINA...He is 'The Son Of The South'...BARTA BULL!"

"And indeed, it appears Barta Bull has brought his own "Special Enforcer"...in the form of Sabrina!"
"Essentially we could have ourselves a Fatal Four Way here Al."

Barta Bull reaches the steel ring steps and takes his first bounds to becoming the GHW Champion. He shuffles one foot in front of the other as he steps across the peak of the ring apron on his way to the southern-most turnbuckle. He casts a ghostly glance to Ryan Hughes, who's currently rolling shoulders and smirking, before mounting the three-level with both hands. The Terrible Toro raises himself to the top turnbuckle and peers into the cheap-seats of GHW Arena and salutes the audience as a good soldier would. BB plops down from the turnbuckle and returns to center-ring, jarring words with Ryan Hughes under the audacity of his entrance music. Sabrina circles to the opposite side of the ring to the left of the announce table, opposite the entrance ramp.

"No love lost between these two men."
"I'm positive that's how McGavin went down too."
"Enough of your accusations! Ryan Hughes is a gentleman! There is nothing that anyway saw that would suggest such a thing!"

I'm riding, I'm loading up my pistol
I'm riding, I really got a fistful
I'm riding, I'm shining up my saddle
I'm riding, this snake is gonna rattle

"I'm just sayin', the briefcase has been used once this past Thursday on that man there, Barta Bull. Who's to say it won't be used again?"

TBCB - Dominik Santiago

(( Love your shirt Ryan. ))

[Dominik Santiago]

Barta Bull stands in the corner of the squared circle, the one closest to the ramp, hard camera side. His chest was pumping rapidly and very noticeably, his post match jitters very apparent as he was about to compete in arguably the biggest match of his young GHW career. The challenger slaps the side of his face and begins jogging in place in an effort to psyche himself up and eliminate the restless sensations plaguing his nervous system. The anticipation continues to mount with every passing second, with the spectators seated in silence. However that silence is soon and suddenly shattered as the riffs of a familiar entrance tune causes the patrons to empty their seats with a hatred fueled vigor. This type of vehement response could only signal the impending arrival of the Texan's iconic adversary. Slipknot's single, "The Blister Exits" rips and blares through the P.A. system, eliciting an immense pandemonium of boos and jeers, as those in attendance begin to stand in a violent uproar. Ryan Hughes stands on the outside, briefcase clutched in his his fingertips, an apathetic expression plastered on his face in a display of complete indifference to the emerging superstar.

Big Al: "Business is about to pick up folks. I almost feel unworthy to see how this will unfold."
Jennings: "And as much as you believe he won't, Ryan Hughes will definitely have a say in the outcome."
Oliveira: "I second that notion."

The velvet curtains slowly part, as the defending champion makes his way onto the stage, greeted by a wave of detestation. The living legend stands tall, his GHW Championship glistening in the limelight as it sits firm around his waist. The Assassin remain still, the expression on his face a blank one, with his cold-blood eyes and a spirit breaking glare fired in the direction of his opponent, the tumultuous Texan. As his theme begins the first, the triple crown champion slowly raises his arms overhead, crossing them in an 'X' formation, executing his trademark pose, garnishing another wave of enormous heat from the enraged crowd.

"Bones in the water and dust in my lungs
Absorbing archaic like a sponge
The ultimate way is the way you control
But can you stay if you detach your soul?
Bury the present and squeeze out the past
The ones you endear to never last
Chemical burns and the animalistic
I'm just another headline pseudo-statistic"

The champion's arms descend back down to his side, before transitioned behind him where he slowly begins to unstrap his coveted championship, the prize at stake, at jeopardy and to be defending in this highly anticipated contest.

Charlie Coors: "Now introducing the opponent, standing at a height of six-feet and two-inches and weighing in tonight at two-hundred and thirty-five pounds. The man known as "The Assassin" and "The Lord of the Flies" and the reigning GHW Champion...., he is...DOMINIK SANTIAGO!!!"

As his name echoes throughout the arena, Santiago hoists the GHW Championship into the atmosphere with utmost pride. The negative response received is merely causes a cocksure grin to manifest along the Californian's mug. The Lord of the Flies begins his saunter toward ringside; the shirtless champion's brilliant tapestry of ink are on full display, much like his ego and aura of confidence which oozes out of each of his cavities. The rest of his entire consists of his usual black tights, and complimentary boots with the "SKO" logo and the word "Pefection" running stitched on the legs of the former. Moisture from his dampened blond hair cascades down his shoulderblades as he passes by the Bostonians, ignoring both those who continue to voice their displeasure, and ones reaching out to him.

"Can you feel this?
I'm dyin' to feel this
Can you feel this?

Blood on the paper and skin on my teeth
Tryin' to commit to what's beneath"

The Assassin knees up onto the apron and gradually comes to a vertical base, one hand protruding and grasping the ropes, the other holding the GHW Championship which dangles beside him. The self proclaimed "Perfect Fighty fighty person" takes a moment to lock eyes with Ryan Hughes, one of his storied rivals. Hughes simply raises the breifcase, reminding the champion what could possibly transpire and effectively planting a seed in his mind. His eyes then dart toBarta Bull, and then back to the Englishman. The three time heavyweight champ's condescending grin disappears, now replaced with a more serious, stern expression. He then poses with his belt once more, one time facing Hughes, and one toward his challenger, signaling another chorus of boos which merely deflects off his arrogant aura. Dominik slowly ducks through the middle and top rope and enters the ring, before handing his championship to the official. His complexion remains the same as he stands in the corner. As his theme tune begins to end and become a distant memory in everyone's mind, the referee raises the GHW Championship into the air, garnishing cheers from the crowd as they realize their only mere moments away from witnessing what should be a highly competitive contest. The challenger and the champion continue to lock eyes with one another, the tension mounting to enormous proportions as their fists clench and muscles tighten, both men intimating belligerent dispositions. The referee hands the championship to the timekeeper before making his way between the two individuals. Over the zebra clad's shoulder, does the manipulative champion look to exploit his foe's inexperience, and eagerness to fight, quickly releasing a wad of saliva from his mouth which lands square in the Texan's mug. Dominik retracts slightly, scoffing to himself as Barta begins to shunt toward him, yet unable to do to the referee restraining him.

"What a cheap display. This man has no class!"
"This referee is a fool. Let him loose!"

With air firing out of his nostrils, Barta wipes his face and suddenly tosses the referee aside, charging at his opponent who's demeanor quickly changes. The one laughing, chuckling champion immediately changes his expression, now serious and grave, and quickly meets his adversary in the middle of the ring. The two match horns in a collar and elbow tie up, forcing the referee to call for the bell. It chimes thrice, signalling the official start of the contest.

TBCB Barta

[Public Enemies]

The elbow tie-up takes its hold as both combatants seem almost evenly matched. Despite the slightly larger Barta Bull, Dominik Santiago is able to hold his own in the battle of canvas territory. As the battle continues, The Assassin slides his wicked grip from the forearms and shoulder of The Texan to his neck and shoulders. Santiago's left shoulder now clamps down on Barta Bull rear neck like a scorpion's pincer. The two competitor's feet now stand abreast as well as their differing postures; with Barta Bull doubled-over in the side headlock. The Terrible Toro downs himself to his knee as he expands his arms out, prepared for flight. His finger-tips flutter as he ignites a spark of static in the GHW audience. The juices again begin to flow throughout Barta Bull's body as he returns to a standing basis. The Texan's arms return to base as he feels out his opponent's side-torso. Despite being virtually trapped by the scorpion's pincers, Barta Bull thrusts his hands into the near side of the Assassin's torso like the bulldozer that he is. The very body weight of Barta Bull is enough to cause the grip of the champ to snap, sending him galloping toward the ropes. Dominik slingshots back from the ring ropes to come face-to-cranium-cap with a doubled over Barta Bull. The kniving champion drags the toe of his leather boot to adjust his direction skew to Barta Bull as he continues his charge. The Assassin hooks his hands around the underside of The Terrible Toro's face, diving forward in a clockwise rotation, twisting himself and the hefty frame of Barta Bull simultaneously. Both sets of shoulders hit the cream-colored canvas at the same time, with the initial velocity of Santiago's strength causing the most crucial damage to The Son of the South's neck and head. The Lord of the Flies pounces on his downed challenger like a rabid cat and awaits the referee's count.

"Great innovation by the GHW Champion!"

O N E!
. . . . .
T W O!
. . . . .

"...But just a near fall!"

Barta Bull's right shoulder shoots up toward the sky like a faint flash of lightning. Ryan Hughes drums his fingertips on his suitcase as he waits for the oh-so anticipated result. Sabrina slaps her hand down on the ring apron as she witnesses Dominik Santiago go on the offensive yet again. The Assassin wraps his arm around the front of The Terrible Toro's throat with his other arm comfortably rest against his side-temple. Santiago manages to keep the hold locked in as he returns the savaged challenger to a sitting position, tugging and pulling on the windpipe, waiting for the right melodious note. Barta Bull rotates his arms forward, his fingers searching and seeking for any crack or crevice in the rock solid grip of the champion. No such place is found and the challenger resorts rocking back and forth on his buttox, struggling to gain any momentum whatsoever. The Son of the South tucks his leg inward to his inner thigh and attempts to stand with the Champion still hung tight like a serpent. BB gains his footing from one foot to the next, raising himself and the interest of the GHW faithful in the process. The Terrible Toro now stands upright, balling his hand and fist together in the form of a mace. He rears back his elbow into the kidney of the also upright Dominik Santiago like a steel batting ram. Shot after shot, the champion retains his tight grip on the challenger's throat. At last, the shots appear to be weakening the champion. Dominik starts to loosen his grip, but then tightens it again as he lifts the Bull by the head and neck, rotating himself 180 degrees, dropping Barta Bull on his back, letting gravity do most of the heavy lifting. The GHW fans exhale deeply in a sigh of disappointment as the GHW Champion, Dominik Santiago, once again appears to be in total control of this matchup.

"Santiago appears to be the more cunning competitor in this match by far."
"Indeed he is. Does Barta Bull have a solution to this complicated puzzle that is Dominik Santiago?"

TBCB - Dominik Santiago

[Dominik Santiago]

The vindictive Assassin sneers down at his challenger, a disapproving expression plastered on his face and he begins to grapple his opponent around the head. As the Texan is lifted to a vertical base he quickly and deftly maneuvers behind the champion, simultaneously encircling one arm around the Assassin's waist and the other in between his legs. He exploits the momentum to drag the condescending Californian to the canvas, with his shoulders pinned down on the mat, leaving the blue collar Texan stacked on top. Before the referee can kneel down to recognize the pinning predicament the GHW Champion escapes, rolling out of the School Boy roll up before barrel rolling toward the ring cables. Slightly dismayed, the GHW icon slides under the bottom rope. Malcontent and fed up, Santiago storms to the timekeeper's table, quickly snatching his title. The Lord of the Flies flips off the crowd, garnishing a chorus of boos, seemingly uninterested in continuing this particular contest as he begins plodding toward the ramp. However his progress is precluded by the acting enforcer, Ryan Hughes, who physically prevents the champion from leaving the premises. The two notable rivals stand face to face, eye to eye, with Hughes rotating his head from side to side, assuring the audience that a winner would be decided in this contest, if not for his own personal gain.

The Englishman's intrusion causes the champion's guard to drop, allowing Barta Bull to level him from behind. The coveted GHW Championship falls by the wayside as its current possessor stumbles across the ringside area and collapses across the guardrail. In pursuit of his foe, Don Barta seizes the Assassin by his blond hair, but before he can continue the assault, the future hall of famer scores with a blistering, and well time back elbow to the chin. The precise counter leaves the Texan slightly disoriented, giving the champion a window of opportunity to reel back his hand before striking the heavyweight across his bare chest with a flesh wrenching chop. El Toro de El Paso's body barely shrivels, perturbing the Lord of the Flies as he withstands the attack. Recoiling in fear, Dominik lowers his defenses, allowing Bull to ravage his solar plexus with a devastating knee strike. The challenger shuffles himself so that he stands next to the former King of Deathmatches and wraps his arm around his opponent's head, whilst tucking his left leg behind Santiago's right. Barta pulls both his weight and the champion's frame off the security railing, taking a small step toward the ring. With a small space now created, the Barta straightens up before leaping backward, dragging the villainous Assassin along for the ride. Both superstars impact the steel mesh simultaneously, with their backs cracking off the guardrail. As the rail grinds back a few feet the patrons follow suit, with the Bostonian's cheers and applause filling the GHW arena, meanwhile the two competitors crumble to the lightly padded floor, courtesy of the guardrail assisted Russian Legsweep.

"What a collision. You can hear the echo as their flesh hits the steel!"
"Necessary measures one must take in order to become the World Champion. Barta Bull seems to be ready to take those steps."
"Steps you yourself never took, yet you're considered one of the greats. "

The crowd favorite lifts the sapient of ultra-violence to his feet, with a handful of his adversaries hair in hand. Barta tosses Dominik back into the squared hell; as the champion rolls under the bottom rope, the El Paso native locks eyes with the former NeXus Champion. Hughes smiles cockily, making sure the Texan can see the briefcase he used to crack his cranium last Triumph. There's no love lost between the two competitors, with Barta sliding his hands across his waist, taunting and signifying his destiny to become World Champion, and the Englishman tapping his breifcase, almost insinuating that he might cash it in. The momentary lapse in focus allows the champion to convalesce as he climbs onto all fours, plotting his next move, and knowing the cunning champion, the one after that. As Barta slides back into the ring Dominik springs to his feet, quickly dashing toward the ropes. As he rebounds off the ring cables he extends his arm, looking to behead the rising Texan with a would- be debilitating lariat. Barta dodges the aforementioned maneuver, swiftly ducking his head before quickly hooking his arms. As Bull tries to lean forward, Dominik tenaciously holds his ground, planting his feet into the canvas and using all his might in an effort to prevent his foe from capitalizing. The Texan has other plans however, popping his hips and leaning forward, slowly lifting the champion off his feet and into the air. Having the wherewithal, the Lord of the Flies liberates his arms from Bull's clutches, while simultaneously sliding down his opponent's back. The Backslide is effectively countered as the agile Assassin lands on his feet, standing before his doubled over foe and in a prime position to strike. With haste the Hollywood native locks his antagonist in a front-facelock, and tosses Barta's arm across his shoulder. As he stood with his opponent in his clutches, Santiago lit up with exuberance, if only for a mere fraction of a second, before the gears began to grind. Upon hooking his nearest leg behind his knee, the triple crown champion lifts the challenger off the ground and hoists him into the air. Dominik reclines backward, and as he lands supinely, flips the Heavyweight forward and hatefully spikes him head first into the canvas with a resounding thud.

The champion rolls over onto his stomach, his blond hair covering his callous eyes, leaving only a sadistic smile noticeable, meanwhile his opponent's body twitches as an aftershock of the Fisherman Brainbuster reverberating throughout his body. The venomous, serpent like Assassin pushes himself up off the mat before slithering toward the man he just so happened to have crippled during the most recent exchange of counters. The self proclaimed "Perfect Fighty fighty person" climbs across Barta's sprawling carcass. The stripe-clad official slides down into position, beginning to hit the canvas.

"1!"

"2!"

Barta rolls a shoulder over, breaking up the count, ushering gasps of relief and cheers from a crowd which collectively jumps to its feet. Half befuddled, half enraged, the GHW Champion rises to his knees, a heap of sweat coagulating his skin as he looks up at the acting official, almost to ascertain what just transpired.

"If Barta knows what's good for him he'll stay down. He never had a full head on his shoulder to begin with, and Dominik won't hesitate to drop him on it again."
"Your pessimism is invigorating Al. Just think where we'd be if the world shared your attitude."
"We'd all have our heads up our asses."

Dominik climbs to his feet, relishing the tentative advantage he has over his opponent, grinning sadistically to himself. Boos begin to rain down upon him Barta Bulls supporters begin voicing their opinions and displeasure. Despite their best efforts, their cries fall on deaf ears as the GHW icon is too consumed with his own self-worth and the moves deep within his mind which he envisions executing. As he peaks at the corner, Barta's once unmoving form becomes animate, his chest convulsing while the sustained damage screams at his brain. With an expression of excitement and glee, the Lord of the Flies approaches the ring ropes, slowly stepping between the middle and top ropes. Dominik pauses for a moment, his deliberate motions coming to a halt for a brief moment, the opportunity to gloat and bask in the glory of the situation. With the arena completely turned against him, the champion continues to smile, his ego swelling to gigantic proportions due to the enormous heat being directed at him. The narcissistic champion's showboating allows Barta to convalesce, slowly climbing to his feet, a shiver of pain shooting down his spine and the nerves in his legs. His aforementioned limbs buckle due to the wait being applied to them, as the challenger struggles to support his own frame. The only thing driving him to continue, the prospect of dethroning the proverbial King of the Mountain, and capturing the industries greatest prize. The acclaim that would accompany such a feat is further incentive for the challenger to move forward. Bull's eyes dart around the vicinity, his piercing gaze sighting his adversary ascending the turnbuckles. Overcoming the overwhelming agony flooding through his body, the Texan makes his way to the corner. The number one contender gets halfway up the turnbuckle before getting for knuckles embedded in his facial region. Before his brainpain can assimilate the pain, the champion unloads with another stiff punch, the thunderous right hand threatening to send the challenger to the canvas and destroy his championship aspirations. Somehow Barta remains mounted on the turnbuckles, avoiding catastrophe. In retaliation, the tenacious grappler thrusts his fingers into the Assassin's esophagus, momentarily halting his momentum as he grimaces and gawks in pain. Barta proceeds to ascend another level, reaching the pinnacle. Further softening up his foe, Barta smashes his own head into the champion's cranium, shuffling his brain. As Dom's mind statics like a busted television, Bull locks his head in his armpit, keeping their heads side beside, beneath one another's shoulders. As the crowd climbs to their feet in anticipation, the El Paso native swings inward, diving off the turnbuckle whilst twisting on Santiago's neck. The two plummet through the air and crash awkwardly across the ring ropes, with each man's neck and back bending across the cables. The receiver of the maneuver drops to the apron before immediately crashes to the floor below, while the deliver falls back into the ring.

"HE JUST BROKE HIS NECK... SHIT... HE JUST BROKE HIS OWN NECK!"
"Swinging Neckbreaker off the top rope, and onto the ring cables."
"That had to be the worst case of worse for wear ever!"