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Post by Public Enemies on Feb 13, 2012 10:41:08 GMT -5
One long hour has passed since this diabolical contest began. GHW Management was not amused with Desperado's appearing act. Along with Kahlan Clarkson and Jerry Nate, Desperado was also escorted out of the cage, but not without resistance. It took dozens upon dozens of ring hands to pull him back, reluctantly he left before claiming that he would be back before a champion was crowned. The four of you received what little medical attention the GHW staff could give you. In a lackluster effort, only open wounds were bandaged. Nicholas Carson's crucified hands now looked like little paws for being wrapped so heavily. Any loose splinters of glass, wood, or plastic were swept away, but the original items and weapons were still left in the ring for the sake of interior design. Remember that gaping hole in the steel mesh caused by the awesome weight of Nicholas Carson, Mighty Man Millson, Jack Tracks, and Dustin Delta? Yeah, well...Management took a look at it. By taking a look, that's what I really mean. A couple guys strolled down to the ring and looked up at the hole and smoked a pack of cigarettes. They got bored after a little while and left. So, the hole is still there, unfixed. Laziness pays off today. The new round saw a new character to the mix. The most ungrateful referee entered the Tower of London to decide the winner of the most violent contest of the year to date. Behind him, a most-grateful referee locked the steel mesh door. He would have his work cut out for him to eying the four of you to determine the winner by pinfall or submission anywhere in the caged area. My advice? Get out of here with the win however you can, as soon as possible. Pray that you don't see another maniacal match like this until June 10th.
ROUND TWO RULES: - Post reservations last SIX hours.
- No leaving the cage. The mesh door has now been pad-locked and chained.
- The match has now taken the form of a Hardcore Fatal-Four-Way. The first Fighty fighty person to score a pinfall or a submission anywhere inside the confines of the cage will win the match and the title.
- There is only one referee for the four of you.
- There are no disqualifications.
As before, the Rules and Info regarding match can be found, >HERE<. As before, you'll be judged on a Strong-Foot Forward basis. DUE DATE: FEBRUARY 26TH, 2012 with the rest of the PPV matches.
Nicholas Carson (c) vs. Dustin Delta vs. Mighty Man Millson II vs. Jack Tracks BEGIN!
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Post by Dustin Delta on Feb 13, 2012 17:03:55 GMT -5
The bell rings again, calling for the start of the second round of this bout. GHW Staff called for a rapid intermission, escorting Kahlan, Jerry, and Desperado away from the complex, and bandaging the four superstars who were able to claim the Union Jacks a top the sixty foot tall structure. Now, the match would be a Hardcore Fatal Four Way. There would be no disqualification. There would be no holds barred. There would be no mercy. But in this case, stakes were much higher than any Nintendo 64 game. At this point, the ability to walk and the risk of brain damage may as well be on the line alongside the glorified King of the Deathmatch Championship. But this is where the men and the boys were divided. Whoever walked out of this one with a title around his waist would definitely have earned it and would be a definitive name in the history of the championship belt. Although the bout has been signaled to begin, each of the four men remaining takes a moment to catch their breath and dig into themselves in the search for the energy to continue. Some may speculate that the adrenaline hormone was the only thing keeping this quartet standing. Delta drops to one knee, keeping his right hand wrapped tightly around the second rope and his left arm covering his diaphragm as he takes steady, deep breaths. Carson stands in one corner, curiously observing his wrapped up hands that may as well be bear claws. He is perplexed at the notion of pain in any part of his anatomy, as it is not a feeling he has become familiar with. Millson and Tracks lean in their adjacent corners, wincing and aching from the agony of the match thus far. Triple M, looking to the man across from him, mouths a few sentences that the cameras cannot catch. Jack wipes sweat off of his brow and nods towards the Whitby native. The calm before the storm sets in within the gargantuan mew, and the silence is broken by the running footsteps of Triple M, who makes a stride towards Carson. Impulsively, the frozen eyes of Nicky switch up and meet those of Mighty Man, who is caught by the Walking Apocalypse and lifted up for a Spinebuster. But the Wrestling Enterprise in Millson simply grins, adjusting his legs as Nicky Boy lifts him so that his knees meet the chest of the current champion and locking his fingers together behind the head of the Asylum Inmate. Avoiding a facebuster of some sort, Nicholas panics and pushes Millson into the ropes. But seemingly going just as the Egotistical Englishman had planned, Triple M bounces back towards Nick and up, extending the knees that he had bent and connecting with a dropkick directly to the sternum. The Strife Slayer staggers back, and the cameras pan to reveal Jack Tracks mounted upon the most elevated turnbuckle. The audience pops as Track jumps off and drops an elbow to the head of the groggily standing Carson, who falls to the canvas as a result of the strike. The viewers come to realization that Tracks and Millson have decided to coexist in an effort to emulate the feral dog strategy made at the beginning of Round One, in which the five other superstars targeted the current champion. Yet this time, it was only two of the three combatants going up against Nicky. This posed the question, where was Dustin Delta amidst this biological warfare? Outside of the ring, the Herald of the Darkest Day has managed to drag a wooden table out from under the steel framework of the legendary GHW ring. He has also carefully brought a glass pane into the equation. Seeming like an asylum patient himself, Delta tears the wooden top off of the table, breaking it into pieces so that he can take the two legs of the table. Working methodically in tune with the gears in his head, Delta stands the legs six feet apart from each other and cautiously lifts the glass pane up and lays it a top the legs, effectively devising a glass table. The sadistic grin of the Thane of Slumberland seeps back into sight. With his new creation in place, Delta rolls back under the bottom rope to join in on the action within the confines of the squared circle. Within, Millson has delivered a second back chop to the chest of the Indianapolis Upstart. In response, Jack desperately throws a haymaker, but the Wrestling Enterprise ducks under the fist and gets behind the Red Flag Revolutionist, locking his arms around the waist in anticipation of a German Suplex. The opportunistic superstar in Delta comes up behind Triple M, clutching the waist and hitting a German Suplex of his own whilst Millson clutches Tracks, so effectively, Millson and Jack both are on the receiving end. The lift kills the arms on Double D, though, who is not known for his heavy lifting at all. Delta crosses his arms, holding each arm with the opposite arm. Tracks and Mighty Man writhe for a moment, but are able to return to their feet relatively quickly. Across the ring, Nicky Boy has used the ropes to pull himself back to a vertical base, and just like that, every superstar is standing yet again.
"What an explosive start to kick off the second round of the Tower of London Deathmatch! If you missed the ending to round one, Kahlan Clarkson and Jerry Nate were not able to retrieve a Union Jack and Desperado was forced out of the complex by GHW Staff Members. We allowed a short intermission in which medical staff bandaged any open wounds and now Delta, Tracks, Millson and the current champ, Carson are fighting for the King of the Deathmatch title."
"By logic and statistics, this is the four we expected to advance--the current champion, the only former Deathmatch champion, one half of the current tag champions, and a former Television Champion. Every man encased in that cage has tasted the god's nectar before and they aspire to feel heaven on their taste buds again! But to do that, they'll have to pin one of the other three competitors, or win by way of submission."
"Right now, Delta seems to have evil intentions in mind for that glass pane and table conglomerate--but as we saw earlier, those plans could easily backfire. If you remember, Double D fell twenty feet into his own shopping cart of light tubes due to Jack Tracks!"
"That's right, Matt. And if somebody could put Dustin--or any of the other competitors in this match-- through that glass table, they could win the King of the Deathmatch Championship! This is no longer a test of strength--it's a matter of survival and creating opportunities to grab by yourself."
Carson goes for Tracks, stalking the young future victim of a world-ending hunt. Jacks shake his daze away and turns around, not suspecting the presence of the monstrous Nicholas Carson. The Indianan walks right into a headlock by Nicky Boy, who plants his head into the mat with a DDT. The Walking Apocalypse shows no means of relenting, grabbing the collar and the tights of Jack, lifting him into a backbreaker clutch. Nicky Boy spins him out of the clutch and drops him into a supine position, and Track stiffens the back in an attempt to relieve himself of the pain and agony. Nicholas laughs and drops to his hands and knees to cover the smaller superstar. The referee slides down onto the mat to count the pin, but Millson runs onto the scene and drops a double axe handle to the upper back of Carson to break the pin. Following up on his defensive offense, Triple M steps to the feet of Nicholas, keeping the beast down by initiating an ankle lock on the colossus. With Carson subdued momentarily, Jack is able to roll away and escape to the apron. Making the decision to help wither the Champion, Double D walks to the head of the slain beast named Carson. Dustin drops to all fours before the Strife Slayer, and locks Nicky Boy in a normal headlock, but then turns over from the prone position to supine, twisting the abdominal area of the Asylum Patient in the process. The monster screams in agony, pleading for a release from the burden, but receiving nothing but continued pain. Carson's hand raises above the mat, as he is tempted to tap out and submit. But the realization sets in that two people have him in submission maneuvers--even if he tapped out, the match would not end because there would be no clear victor. Carson screams as the mutilation and brutal torture continues, tearing his form apart. Millson releases the ankle of Carson, and drives the heel of his boot into the left temple of Delta, who lets go of Nick's head and tries to evade Triple M, but the Whitby Wannabe locks his hands around the collar of Double D, pulling him up to his feet, and from behind, engaging the former King of the Deathmatch in a headlock. Triple M takes two large steps forward and jumps, driving the face of Dustin into the canvas via Bulldog. Delta holds his face in pain and rolls over to a supine position. The Mighty Man grins and runs the ropes, coming back with two somersaults. He propels himself up and drops a senton on Double D, hitting Rolling Thunder, much in vain of the capacity crowd.
"People here in the GHW Arena tonight may not be fans of Dustin Delta--but they hate Millson's guts! And it seems like Mighty Man is the constant man with dominance in this round thus far. If he can keep it up, he may be able to win the Deathmatch Championship, which is kind of ironic, considering the guy doesn't use weapons."
"If Triple M could win a deathmatch without using any weapons, that would really speak to the Fighty fighty person and champion he is and may be. It would be interesting to watch--would Millson cave and use a weapon at one point?" "Don't call it as if Millson has won just yet! Tracks, Delta, and Carson have all been through worse before. I count on them just getting warmed up now. This match is just starting and the carnage has not begun."
Millson smiles and looks up to the spotlight, extending his arms out in a manner of boasting. The heat from the audience just grows more intense, and that serves as motivation for the English Egotist to turn Dustin prone and drive his left knee into the back. While a sinister smirk crosses the face of the Brit, he reaches down and grabs the largest bandage on Delta's back from the drop into the light-tubes and shopping cart from Round One. His fingers grasp it tightly, and Mighty Man counts to himself. "3. 2. 1." And with swift ferocity, Millson rips the bandage off as blood flows freely out of the Kingship Courier's back again. Triple M pulls the Sleepwalker up to his feet again and tries to toss him over the top rope, which would lead to a crash-landing through the glass-pane table that Dustin himself had set up on a little while earlier. Fortunately for the Thane of Slumberland, he is able to lock his hands around the top rope and skin the cat in the lost moments possible. Delta tries to catch his breath as Tracks goes after one half of the Tag Team Champions. Tracks delivers a fast dropkick to the knee, disrupting Millson's balance. The Indianan follows it up by grabbing Triple M and hitting his signature Cravate Suplex, much to the enjoyment of the audience, who pops huge. Almost instinctively, Jack brings Triple M back up and Irish Whips him towards Delta. As soon as Double D realizes Millson has collided into his back, Dustin raises the Whitby native onto his shoulders and the crowd suprisingly pops as the Sleepwalker jumps off the apron and spins Millson out of an Argentine Clutch, hitting Malice in Slumberland through the glass table--but not without a price. Dustin hits the concrete hard, sacrificing himself in order to do damage. His head disturbingly lands on a glass shard and bounces off the concrete, and he begins to bleed, as the small piece of the pain has pierced the skin.
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Post by Millson and Simpson on Feb 15, 2012 4:11:16 GMT -5
As Jack Tracks takes a moment to mull over the devastation caused by the Malice in Slumberland through the glass table, he shows his inexperience, taking his eyes of the malicious champion, Nicholas Carson. Having momentarily considered submitting to Millson and Delta, Nicky Boy stands to his feet behind the Red Flag Venturer, eager to make amends for his almost cowardly actions, grabbing the shoulder of the Indianapolis Native and turning him around. Instinctively, Tracks runs at the Strife Slayer, once again walking into the KOTDM champion's gameplan as Carson ducks down and wraps his arms around the midriff of the youngster, before using Jay-T's momentum to twist, lift and force Tracks downwards with a signature Double A Spinebuster. Not wanting to amass more hours inside the hellacious Tower of London structure, Carson drops to his knees and drapes his massive frame over the downed youngster's, forcing the official to slide in and make the cover official, slapping his hand to the blood-stained canvas not once, but twice, with Tracks raising a shoulder through sheer intestinal fortitude to avoid a notch in the loss column.
Without any wasted motion, Nicky Boy clutches the long hair of the Race Car Guru and drags the Indianan to his full verticality, before planting a boot into his sternum, doubling Tracks over. Carson takes advantage of the positioning by thrusting Jay-T's neck and shoulders inbetween his legs and with a mighty heave, Carson lifts the youngster into a seated position above his head, spinning 360 degrees and throwing Tracks to the canvas, sitting out as he hits the mat himself. The crowd start to boo as the Strife Slayer hits his patented Apocalypse Now and holds the legs of the Red Flag Venturer in the air, applying enough downward pressure to initiate a pinning procedure. Once again the man in the zebra stripes manages to count to numero dos, but instead of forcing the giant weight of the champion off his own shoulders, Tracks relies on the flying Thane of Slumberland, who drags himself into the squared circle after his spill on the outside and drops both hands down on Nicky Boy's back to break up the cover.
Where the hell did Delta come from? He must have the recovery power of our lord Jesus and the fortitude of the New York Giants to come back from that collision with the table.
And we're all thankful for it. I don't think anybody in this arena would be happy if the night ended with Carson retaining his crown.
Thank you, captain obvious. Only thing is, Carson now has his eyes on Double D and that can't be good for Delta.
Carson's eyes do indeed flick to the man from the Deepest Sleep and as Carson slowly, angrily reaches his feet, all the Thane can do is back away, pulling himself to the furthest corner of the ring and sliding underneath the bottom rope. Not allowing his future prey to leave his eyeline, the Deathmatch champion follows suit and exits the squared circle, only for Alice to dive underneath the ring and dissapear from the action momentarily. Nicky Boy kneels down and throws his hand underneath the ring mats, before pulling the Human Fighter Jet back into the view of the audience. However, expecting only to find the Herald of the Darkest Day in his grasp, Carson's eyes widen as Delta is revealed to have a baseball bat in one hand, the former champion sending the current champion's eyes into the back of his head with one hefty swing. Nicky Boy falls backwards into a supine position on the concrete and with bat still in hand, the former Floridian slides back into the squared circle and with Tracks now kneeling after the huge Powerbomb from the Strife Slayer, Delta decides it's best to rap the wooden implement across the injured body part of the Race Car Guru three times, leaving Tracks prone on the canvas.
However, Tracks is saved by a sudden movement from the almost forgotten Mighty Man, who drags himself to his feet with the help of the ring apron and slides into the ring to join Delta and Tracks. Seeing the baseball bat, Millson uses all his available energy reserves to clamber to his feet and swing a wild right hand at the cranial lobe of the Thane, only for all the damage he's taken in the contest to catch up with him, the Ultimate Ego seeing double as his punch goes nowhere near and throws him off balance, causing him to faceplant the canvas. The crowd laugh as their Tag Team champion makes a fool of himself and seeing a chance to capitalise on the drained energy of Triple M, Dustin rolls Millson onto his back and hooks the leg of the Wrestling Enterprise, the official once more coming into the action to call a two count, before the groggy Tag champ regains enough concious thought to throw a shoulder into the air and break up the cover. However, not giving up hope, and knowing that Nicholas Carson won't stay down for the duration of this match, Dustin executes the same pinning predicament on Tracks, but only for the same result to announce itself.
Clever move from Delta to try out both Tracks and Millson's state of body and mind, but both men just about passed the test.
Well, Delta's in control here with that baseball bat he's wielding and to be honest, he has all the control in this match, which is surprising, seeing as Nicholas Carson is the biggest competitor in this match.
And let's not count out the big man just yet. We know how quickly he can shake off a little thing like a baseball bat to the face.
As the Thane of Slumberland tries to decide his next move, both Tracks and Millson begin to clamber to their feet and armed with this new information, Delta makes a snap decision, picking up Tracks and locking in a front facelock with his right arm, before hooking the near leg with his left. Delta hoists the Red Flag Venturer into the skies and prepares to bring the youngster down to the canvas with his Point of No Return, only for the Race Car Guru to drive his free knee into the forehead of the Human Fighter Jet three times, the third strike loosening the grip of Delta, Tracks merely jumping back to the canvas and throwing a few rights at the nose of Double D. In response, Delta throws a right of his own, only for Jay-T to duck and hit the set of wires behind the former Floridian. Despite his preparations for a big move on the rebound, his plans and his momentum are stopped with equal suddeness as Caron grabs the top rope and lowers it, with Tracks tumbling over the lowered top rope and flying to the outside where he hits the concrete hard. Not wasting any time by showing remorse to the youngster, Carson steps up to the apron and as a desperate Delta runs at the Strife Slayer, Nicky Boy throws his head forward and without ample time to stop, Delta careens into the head of the demented champion and falls to the canvas, instinctively rolling out of the squared circle as the headbutt hits hard and hits home.
Forgetting about Delta and Tracks for the time being, the Deathmatch champion steps over the top rope and goes face to face with his former Outcast team-mate, Triple M, who slowly heaves himself into the air with the use of the nearest top rope. The Staple Gun Innovator allows himself a cruel smile as he approaches the weakened Millson and with the Tyrant of Technique backing off, Carson throws his arm out and clenches it around the throat of the Brit. Nicky positions the Whitby Wonder in the centre of the ring, but before he can lift the Wrestling Enterprise skywards, the desperate Tag Team champion plants a field goal into the groinal regions of the Strife Slayer, the low blow even managing to earn a wheeze from Carson and double over the KOTDM champion.
A low blow out of sheer desperation from the Englishman and well, you can't really blame him for that.
Millson said he wouldn't use any weapons in this match and he's stayed true to his word, but he said nothing about bending the rules, unfortunately for Carson.
That's why he's the greatest ever Television champion. Smarts and lots of it.
TBC
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Post by Nicholas Carson on Feb 16, 2012 17:39:45 GMT -5
Bidding to capitalize on the rare feat of having the Devil of the Deathmatch at his mercy, Millie grabs him by the hair as he drops to a knee, still wheezing. But surprise, surprise. As the Wrestling Enterprise lifts him upwards, Satan's Jester brings his lips against Mighty Man's, his tongue slipping in and down Millson's throat. The historic gay man-kiss plunges the fans into upheaval and Triple M into a deep mind-fuck. Using this to his advantage, the lethargic and gay-for-the-moment Carson drives a knee into the Whitby Wonder's penis with Rhaps like terselocity. The rebuttal low-blow drops Triple M to his knees, where the two men begin a wheezing contest as they share in the agony of being dick damaged.
"I'll be a monkey's bare assed uncle! What in the bluest hell did we just witness here?" "I think we just saw Nicky coming out of the closet." "And he did it in true Nicky fashion. He didn't just come out the closet, the kicked it down and danced out with rainbows and unicorns swirling round him! Haha. Carson and Millson sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!" "Carson is cunning as they come. It may have been him just using a psychological tool. I hope that's the case."
On the flip side of the Carson-Millson low blow marathon, Tracks and the Man with 1.8 Billion Nicknames have recovered on the outside and, thinking alike, procure a table each from the underbelly of the squared hell. They catch sight of one another and in almost comical fashion commence a sort of jousting match with the wooden eating planks, with neither gladiator yielding. It doesn't take long for the fruitlessness of the endeavor for each kicks in. Trying to be the quicker, both men toss their table at the other, the tables colliding and dropping, netting neither man with the upper hand. Jack and Delta swiftly reach for weapons around them, and once again emerge with the same item, a steel chair each. For a small moment they give one another the universal "What the fuck, man?" before rearing back to unleash hell upon themselves.
Out of the corner of their eye, however, they spot the biggest threat in the match, the King of Deathmatches crawling on his hands and knees, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. Behind him, standing laboriously and wiping his mouth by the ropes is the mightiest of the Millson lineage. Tracks and Dustin abandon their ill-will toward the other in exchange for taking Big Nicky out of the equation for good. The pair slide into the ring and approach the Mauler, each one standing on either side of him as he sits on his knees. The Epitome of Evil knows he's been had. This was it. The bullet to the brain so to speak. With nothing else left to give, Carson does as only he can do. Raising up his busted hands, he manages to stick the fuck you finger in the air to Delta and Tracks, then spits on them. Infuriated by his audacious act the two crank back and swing the chairs, sandwiching his head between the two sadistically. The sound of the impact jolts the fans back, despite them having yearned to see the day Carson gets what he deserves.
"It's almost as if Nicholas wants to be put out of his misery! The man is a anomaly." "Well his wish was just granted." "And who better to do it than Delta and Tracks! That was the biggest single act of violent valor I have seen. I'm proud of those boys."
Instead of falling as any mortal man would, the Devil's Right Hand Man torpidly gets to one knee, laughing. Defiant to the end.
"Pussies! Hit me one more again! Put some stank on it!"
Nicholas rises to a stand teetering side to side. Alarmed over their inability to conquer the impervious colossus, the chair clad temporary allies hit the ropes hastily, attaining more than enough momentum on the travel back to put the final nail in Nicky's coffin. Leaping into the air simultaneously, the duo swing their chairs with all they've got, putting their mind, body and soul into it. The super con-chair-to is a success, and to compliment it Millson, having convalesced enough to know what's going on, propels himself off the top ring rope and thrusts his pedal extremity into the base of the beast's neck with extreme prejudice. The three factors fuse together perfectly and render the mad man a ruinous heap, his war-frame timbering to the mat like a cut tree. Lying face down on the canvas, his arms and legs spread out far in the same position one would find Jerry Nate's mother on any given night of the week, Carson's demise is all but official.
His brain already calculating two moves ahead, the smartest man in the soiree, Triple M, quickly ducks out of the ring while grabbing hold of Big Nicky's ankle, pulling and tugging hard on the near 280 pounds of dead weight so that he can prevent the other two from gaining a pin-fall or submission on the vulnerable champion. The Wonderboy from Whitby manages to accomplish his task and pins the monolith, screaming for the referee to make the count even though *technically* he's supposed to be inside the ring. The ring official, wanting badly for this damn thing to end, doesn't care where they are and commences to the count. He gets as far as the two count before Delta and Jack come spilling through the ropes in a rush to break it up, with chairs still in their possession. Millie roars in frustration as he's forced to give up his attempt. Standing up, he transitions into a fighting stance as his two adversaries swing the chairs at his head like they'd done poor old Nicky-Pooh.
The greatest TV Champion of our generation allows his unrivaled athleticism to flourish, evading the con-chair-to by suddenly and explosively jumping onto the apron of the ring. The twin chairs careen against each other, a long clang reporting as they recoil back into the faces of their holders. The Red Flag Whatever'er and the Thane of Slumberland drop the weapons and stumble in place like blind men in a rock quarry, garnering some laughter from the GHW faithful. Ever the opportunist, the Wrestling Enterprise launches from his perch, spinning his body toward them horizontally. Proving his amazing talents for the umpteenth time, Mighty Man secures Jack's head with his arm and Delta's head with his feet. Using the momentum already build up from his flight, the Whitby Wonder is able to flip his foes over in cart-wheel like fashion, contorting their necks awkwardly as they land on the concrete.
"A dual Neck Breaker by ONE man! Holy shit is right!" "Leave it to the always evolving Millson to execute something so epic. The man is a damn genius, and I know genius! So I know I'm right." "You just had to add that last part in there, I see what you did. Mighty Man keeps pulling things like this out of his ass. it's just amazing what he's doing in this environment. No weapons, just sheer force of will and wrestling."
As fascinating as it may have been, Jack and Delta are still in the realm of the conscious, although just barely, and begin to listlessly grab at the mesh wall, using the chainy bulwark to lend them strength to get up. Triple M is astounded by their dogged determination. His mouth grows agape as he shakes his head and blinks his eyes, not wanting to believe what he's seeing. It's real though, and he'd have to deal with it. In a agitated tizzy, the Mighty Man plods toward Jack Tracks and angrily grabs him in a waist lock from behind, before pulling him away from the cage. Not wasting a second more, Millson powerfully lofts him up and over, falling backward with a crisp snap, only letting go of the Metal Dragon'esque German Suplex when the Indianan's back smacks violently onto the steel stairs to the ring. Tracks's body bounces off and away, coming to a rest in a curled ball of searing pain. Triple M belts out a primal roar of triumph, feeling as if this is the time to take the match. Being the veteran that is, though, Millie turns to the Sleepwalker and looks to put him out of commission real quick, so he can then pin Jack or Nicky for the easy three.
Running roughshod as he has most of the battle, the Whitby Wonder approaches Dustin with zeal, and grabs at him. But in a twist of fate (pun intended), the resilient Alice grabs his antagonist's arms and falls backward while bringing his feet into the man's bread basket, Monkey Flipping him over. The Dictator of Delusionland rolls through with his maneuver, never letting his rival's arms go, eventually coming to a sit on his chest. Then, with keen expertise, the Deathmatch Majesty grabs Millson's near wrist with both hands and swings his legs into position, one across his neck, the other across his chest. Delta falls onto his back, trapping Mighty Man's limb betwixt his legs, locking him in a nasty submission move. The Thane of Slumberland raises his hips, earning a blood curdling wail from his victim who'd normally be the one issuing the submission, not caught in it.
"Now isn't this a sight! We keep tooting Millson's horn on submission wrestling, but it is him who has been put in one." "Delta is no slouch. The man can pin you, submit you, and of course clobber you about the head with a weapon until you can not get up. That's why he is in the final four here." "And we're about to see him waltz out of here with the KotDM title if someone, and by someone I mean Jack can intervene."
As the drama had played out for the last several minutes across the way, the forgotten about Necromancer had, well, not really recovered but wasn't passed out anymore. The affliction given to him had scrambled his brains so much that he is now in a state of delirium, and climbing the cage. The absence of action on him had given him a head start up the cage, even though exiting the structure would not given someone a win. Nicholas didn't know this though. He was out of his mind, literally. As he climbed he kept weeping and yelling loudly "I don't wanna go to school today mommy, all the kids make fun of meeeeeeee!" Upon reaching the top of the seemingly mile high wall the behemoth looks around, confused and wiping snot from his nose. It's only now that he snaps back into reality and realizes his snafu. Big Nicky almost falls down, but catches himself as fear engulfs him. He hated heights. Meanwhile, below him, the Race Car Guru fights his body back into the fray, the screams from Millson alerting him and prompting him to come to the "rescue". On spaghetti legs, each step a languished one, Tracks yanks up his chain from earlier and wraps it around his fist, before falling forward and letting his body do most of the work as it comes down on both men, his chain adorned fist catching Delta on the temple.
"What the fuck is Carson doing? He can't win by climbing out of the cage. He makes about much sense as a blind man administering an eye exam." "Who cares? Maybe he'll fall and kill himself. Couldn't happen to a better guy. Jack just saved the day, the match continues. Fuck yeah!" "Guys, Nicky looks frightened up there. If he slips and falls he's right above Jack, Delta and Millson. It would be a damn catastrophe."
Jack raises up and spies his two foes, seeing that they are stirring, which means they're still in the fight and won't give in to defeat. Knowing this, his resolve stiffens, coercing him into desperate measures. With a sneer and hiss, the fan favorite busies himself setting up the two discarded tables from earlier, stacking one of top of the other as the spectators chant his name gloriously. From there, he wallops each man a few good times before placing one on each table, the suspense building to a fever pitch throughout the building. If this wasn't enough, the Red Flag Something-or-another violates the underskirt of the ring, finally pulling out a weapon Nicky has used a time or two against Dominik Santiago. The crowd goes bat shit insane at the sight of the bed of nails. The Indianapolis native points to the top buckle, then to the two men, sending a clear message that the end is nigh. Having forgot about Carson, Jack strains as he lifts the bed of nails up. Many feet above him though, the Agent of Chaos peers down with great disdain at the man who was about to make off with his prestigious title like a common thief. Fear flees from the Maniac Mauler, as he acts quickly to not only wipe out Jack but all three of the no good sum-bitches.
Adjusting himself best he can directly over them, he shakily stands atop the cage with one hand supporting him, his back facing inside the hellish playground. The fans look up in horror, disbelief shrouding one and all. This is suicide! Apparently Nicky thinks the same, for his features look dangerously unhinged as he points a finger gun gesture to his head and mimes blowing his brains out a moment before jumping off. Time seems to stand still as his body tumbles into the sloppiest Moonsault ever, his arms and legs flailing hectically as if he's had second thoughts mid-way through the plummet. Jack happens to move out of the way, unknowing of Carson's impending arrival, and escapes with his life. Delta is fortunate as well, having seen the 280 pound comet heading his way and rolling off the top table in the nick of time. Millson, however, is plunged into peril the likes never before seen, as Carson and the table above him crash onto him, obliterating him. The scene is instant calamity. Not since Kingbear had something like this happened, and Kingbear had leaped from a lesser height. Dustin and Jack can only slump against the ring's apron, utterly at a loss for what had just transpired.
"OH MY..." "FUCKING..." "GOD... "
TBCB whoever. (OOC: Post edited at 10:44 PM EST 2-16-12)
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Post by Dustin Delta on Feb 16, 2012 18:00:34 GMT -5
The GHW Arena carries over 25,000 fans who travel from all over the world. Every GHW event attracts hordes of GHW Faithful. Tuesday Night Triumph never fails to fill up a vast majority of the arena's comfortable seats. The fans always have the time of their lives among the capacity crowds at a Glory and Honor Wrestling show. But nothing really draws in the people like a pay-per-view. Pay-per-views, without a doubt, bring in more than any other scheduled occurrence on the GHW's annual calendar. And when a death match is booked, the event will sell out in a matter of minutes. And some people ask why. Why is it that this senseless violence is so popular among the masses of professional wrestling fanatics? The answer has been personified. Moments such as this, which leaves the viewer with his mouth open, stammering for words that fail to form and will go unsaid. Those instances in the long void of history in which everything remains at a stand-still and not a word is spoken. Where the silence seems beautiful, but only lasts for a split fraction of a second. It's moments such as those that define this sport, the men who risk themselves within it, and the millions who have made it such a major part of their lives.
But the silence is only a part of this universe for a fraction of a fraction of a second.
The arena absolutely explodes in audible carnage, disbelief passing out of their lungs in the only way it can. Nicholas Carson, the Walking Apocalypse, the Devil's Right Man, had just cascaded twenty yards down, from the roof off the complex, and put Millson and himself through a table. Man has never devised a word fitting of such carnage, of self such-sacrifice. Delta's chest heaves, as does Jack's, both living in the realization that they could've played a role in the same tragic play as Triple M had. Fate and Carson had not felt mercy on the Wrestling Enterprise. Double D's eyes rapidly shoot up, scanning the top of the structure again. The slowly glide back down towards the fallen body of the Asylum Patient, and he pushes himself off of the ring's apron, gaining conscious control over himself again. A cold gaze emits itself from the befuddled green pupils of Alice, as he approaches what may as well be the deceased corpse of Nicholas Carson, although by some death-defying chance, the Maniac Mauler still displayed some signs of a weakened life. The Thane of Slumberland takes a moment to pace, moving back and forth over the contorted and discomfited carcass of Nicky, his feet only inches from the scalp. After the moment passes and thoughts have been processed by Delta's expansive and lethal mind, the Sleepwalker locks his hands around the bottom of Carson's jawline, and desperately uses all of his power to pose the deadweight body so that he is on his knees. The Kingship Courier bends forward, his face remaining a minimal few centimeters away from that of the Apocalyptic One's. His expression reeking of disapproval and malcontent, the former Deathmatch Champion screams into Carson's face, "What kind of freak are you? You don't belong here, you suicidal psychopath! You're not a Fighty fighty person! You're not a champion! You're a reject with brain damage!" And while these strident condemnations may echo through the famous corridors of the GHW Arena in Boston, with Nicky's senses hardly operational, they go unheard. Unfortunately, the pain that Double D has in mind for the Walking Apocalypse has yet to begin. The King of Hearts moves back, measuring up the already injured champion. He sidesteps towards him and connects his heel into the chin, knocking Nicky back onto the bed of nails, courtesy of the Superhero Slayer, a variant of superkick. The audience gives the Deathmatch Majesty a decent reaction, popping proper for the signature maneuver. With Carson left senseless, tacks piercing the skin of his back and Millson laying in the waste of wooden splinters and broken table pieces, the Sleepwalker turns his attack to the only other man with the ability to stand under his own power.
Jack Tracks.
"Jack Tracks and Dustin Delta must have made some kind of deal with Lady Luck, because she is certainly on their side tonight--had she not been, Carson and Mighty Man may not have been the only ones rendered near-dead."
"I'm still trying to pop my eyes back into my head. I couldn't believe them after that suicidal moonsault! I think we all expected some hardcore spots in this match, but nothing that could potential kill the competitor."
"Somehow, someway, Millson and Carson are still breathing in there--which is fantastic news, but it's hard to say they're still a part of this competition when they're in their current condition."
As the commentators continue to debate about the status of Millson and Carson, the scene within the Tower of London mew is fascinating--almost ironic. Dustin Delta and Jack Tracks are the only two men standing in the cage, in the main event of a pay-per-view. A first in GHW for Dustin Delta, disregarding the 5th Annual Nexus Deathmatch, but what is even more interesting about this situation is the man who stands with him. Jack Tracks, the young Red Flag Revolutionist, who had only debuted in recent months. Dustin Delta was the man who introduced Jack Tracks to the expansive creation that Glory and Honor Wrestling was. The very man who made Jack Tracks a commodity on this level of the professional wrestling industry. And here they were, the only two on their feet in Dawn of Destruction's headliner. Tracks, leaning against the apron outside the ring, grins in a friendly manner towards Delta. The Thane of Slumberland gets a kick out of it, smiling to himself as he laughs. Jack takes a step back, extending his arms out as if to invite Dustin to attack him. The Sleepwalker happily obliges as these two finally have their chance to show the world that they are more than capable of carrying this company into a new era. Dustin slowly takes two steps back into the nothern-most set of ropes, but gains momentum by bouncing off. Double D sprints forward towards the southern ropes, and jumps off with both feet, launching himself over the top rope, diving into a clothesline to Tracks, knocking both superstars down to the concrete floor. The King of Hearts seems to skid on the floor, but it doesn't keep him down very long. Both the Indianan and the man who claims to hail from 'A State of Deep Sleep' are able to reach their vertical base again in a fairly quick amount of time, and they converge towards each other, fists locked and loaded. The two trade strikes to various regions of the body--Tracks punches the temple, Delta kicks the gut, Jack uppercuts the jaw, and Dustin chops the chest--these two seem to be equally matched, able to not only come back after every blow, but deliver a stronger strike. Finally, the native of Indianapolis sees an opening and advances on the a propitious chance. Jack, using his window time extremely carefully, is able to make a quick dropkick to the knee, which forces the Deathmatch Majesty to drop and kneel, leaving him open to more offense from the Middleweight. Jack follows up his opportunity with two stiff kicks square across the pectorals. Looking to knock the former champion down for a moment, Jack hooks his arm under the arm of the former champion and tosses him over. Double D lands supine on the receiving end of a hip toss onto the hardened floor. Reacting naturally, Dustin releases an agonizing scream and stiffens the back as Track goes to work, knowing he will not be content until Delta is unable to move.
"Jack Tracks has put up a great showing so far here in the second round of this match. He's been able to survive without taking too much damage so far, but you have to wonder--when will the luck of this kid run out? It's eerie, how long he's been able to manage."
"Who says his luck will run out? Who says it's luck? Have you considered the Jack Tracks is a great, unappreciated competitor who just wants to get noticed?"
"I'm not saying he isn't one hell of a competitor, but look at the others. Carson nearly killed himself--Millson took the impact of Carson's jump--Delta fell 20 ft. into light tubes earlier. Jack Tracks hasn't had anything comparable to those yet. How long will Jack Tracks really survive?"
The question posed by Colin is most certainly an interesting observation. Dustin, being the only man with the power to stand besides Jack at this point, is the only man who could truly inflict such carnage onto the human frame that the young Indianan calls his own. Jack's purposes and intentions become perfectly vivid--defend himself by picking off others. Do damage to prevent damage. And that is exactly what he aims for as he brushes past the underskirt of the ring and pulls out a black steel chair, wrapping his sweaty hands around the cold metal of the chair's legs. Though his grasp is the last place that the Indianapolis Icarus wants that chair. Using one hand, Track pushes the apron of the ring upon, onto the edges of the canvas, revealing the unforgiving steel frame of the squared circle. His eyes shift over to the black steel chair in his hands, and then drift back to the ring frame. Taking the innovative path in this situation, Track jams the legs of the chair into the frame, allowing the chair to point out of it and serve as a level horizontal platform. Things don't seem very safe for Double D, who uses the steel mesh of the Tower's walls to slowly rise back to his feet. The Indianan advances towards Dustin, who is too groggy to resist as the Red Flag Revolutionist engages him in a neckbreaker clutch, leaving a gap under their bridged arms and collars. Looking to deliver a swift and painful shot to the neck, Jack drags Delta along with him, moving sideways so that the chair occupies the small gap under where the two opposing forces conjoin. The camera man who is unfortunate enough to be within this complex to see the hazards first-hand moves to an angle that compliments the sinister smirk on Track's face quite nicely. The former Television Champion twists around, and drops the Deathmatch Majesty's back of the head and neck on the steel chair, which takes so much force from the cascading body of the Thane of Slumberland that it forcibly pops out of its area where it had been propped up. Double D writhes on the floor, hands holding the back of his head, trying to comfort the striking sensation retained by his medulla and far-back of his cranium, for damage to either body part could be catastrophic for his career and life. Jack crosses his arms in a slicing motion in front of his torso, signaling the end to Double D and possibly this match. Shades of the man who brought him into this promotion, Jack reaches under the squared circle again, this time retrieving a deadly weapon conglomerate that the Sleepwalker had once called his own.
A light-tube loghouse.
However, what Jack Tracks was well aware of was that this was no ordinary light-tube loghouse. This particular set of light tubes was bound together by a steel frame of slots for thin cylinders, where the light-tubes could be slid in-and-out of. This made the loghouse deconstructable, meaning a Fighty fighty person could pull a light-tube out and smash it over his foe, and it also meant a Fighty fighty person who met the grim fate of being dropped onto this assemblage would not only be meeting thousands of broken glass shards, but a merciless cold steel as well. Jack heaves this accumulation up and slides it under the ring ropes, into the corner of the ring that isn't covered by broken pieces of wood, two incapacitated bodies, and a forming sea of crimson blood. Next, the Indianan reaches down and locks his arms around the collar of the Kingship Courier, rolling him into the sacred GHW ring as well. Though the widespread members of the GHW Faithful do find it a bit odd when Jack himself does not follow into the ring. Instead, the Downforce Destroyer takes a leave, stepping out of the cage door and making a break towards the backstage area. Camera men assigned to the cage complex have no choice but to capture the moment from a distance as the kid from Indiana pushes through the velvet curtain. Dozens of cameramen who had prior been enjoying their off-time by watching the show and chatting get right on the scene, following Jack as he storms through the locker rooms. Charlie Coors approaches the determined and focus Tracks, who continues to walk.
"Jack, does this mean you're throwing in the towel for the title match?" The former Television Champion continues down the hall without uttering a word. "Jack? Jack?" "...Why is he stopping?" A camera focuses in on the face of Jack Tracks, which has gone from focused scowl to delightfully evil. The incoming signal switches to the camera peeking over Jack's shoulder, which reveals a generator and jumper cables, which are more than likely powering the stage and backstage area. The Indianan turns to Coors and asks a question of his own. "Do you want a fucking deathmatch Charlie?" "...Of course."
"Well, I'm going to give you one."
Without hesitation, Jack locks his hands onto the sides of the generator and pulls with all his might, and the signal from the camera cuts to black. The feed returns to the arena, where cameramen are all carefully watching the stage, which is now unlit and dead, much like Nicky and Triple M, waiting for the return. The crowd pops huge as the young gun returns, pulling the mobile generator and jumper cables with him. He is just able to slide it through the door and into the hellacious structure, where he guides it towards the corner of the ring where the light-tube log house in. A sadistic grin crosses Track's face, and he attaches the jumper cables to the steel frame of the log-house. Slowly, the light-tubes that make it up brighten one-by-one. Delta staggers out of the consecutive corner, gaining control of his own body--but it seems like he is about to walk right into the intricate trap Jack has set up. The Indianan boy looking to realize his dream of attaining major championship gold catches Delta and swings his head up, looking to hit Downforce--but the Thane of Slumberland persists, struggling to keep himself from eating a shockwave with the entirety of his face. Dustin writhes in Track's lock and is able to break for the split second needed to sidestep to become face to face with his foe. He hooks the right leg and captures Jack in a Fisherman's Suplex clutch. Taking a deep breath, he jumps up and twists himself and Jack into a small package, dropping both of them into the electric log-house as they both feel shockwaves pass through them, breaking the small package pin in no-time flat. Both superstars feel the rupturing carnage caused by Delta's signature and electricity. And all four of the downed men in the ring may be in the apt location, The Point of No Return, considering the maneuver that had just been executed.
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Jack Tracks
Upper Carder
[N4:War God Kratos#War God Kratos#War God Kratos#War God Kratos#War God Kratos#]
Posts: 230
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Post by Jack Tracks on Feb 23, 2012 19:55:11 GMT -5
The sea of bloody glass grows by the second, the crackling electricity sending a spark or two through the fluid, sparks getting more visible in the dimmed arena lights. On that crimson canvas, while Millson and Carson remained motionless, the scene amidst that demolished light-tubes was that of writhing pain. Tracks and Delta, impaled with glass, their bodies wracked by the electrical streams their own blood conducts, each struggle to get their bodies to listen to them, and get some distance from the source of their pain. Fortunately for Dustin Delta, being the one to hit that big finish first, he's still got a little more control over his body, as that of Jack Tracks can barely so much as turn over, before he's wracked with another shock. At the very least, the glass provides a small barrier between his skinand the coursing electricity, sparing him at least that much.
"God....there's no way anyone in this match is simply walking away. They've gone way too far at this point. The belt can't be worth this much to them to go through any more at this point."
"They've gone this far already, though. None of these men will let themselves just give up at this point. But the question is if there's even enough left in their skulls to even know what's happening anymore...."
"Even still, a belt won't do you any good if you're dead. And somebody get those jumper cables out of there, for Christ's sake!"
"...Are we even still on? I swear the lights just about died. Can you guys all hear us back there?"
As the announcers try to work out if it's even worth continuing to call the match anymore, in the ring, a bit of a break occurs, asDustin Delta is able to crawl over to the jumper cables, and gives it a good kick with his boot, the insulation protecting him as he knocks the electric current out of the ring. Almost to the second it is removed, Jack Tracks' body relaxes completely, almost as if he had passed out. Free from the electric trap, Dustin Delta starts to rise up, pulling his body over to Tracks, pulling himself over by his forearms. The crawl, not unlike a spetsnaz soldier going through his training from hell, parts the sea of blood. Taking himself even just the few feet to get over to his opponent is a struggle, though, as the crowd can clearly see the shining glass and black burns that cover him. One can only imagine how they look embedded in Jack Tracks' back as well, by comparison. But Delta gets over, finally, and drapes an arm over the shocked Jack Tracks. The ref, still in shock over what's been happening, doesn't even seem to realize there's a pin going on at first, but as his gaze hits the two men, he snaps out of his daze, and dives down right next to the pin, carefully positioning his hand to not fill it with glass.
"1...
2..."
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!"
As if the electricity was still controlling Tracks' body, his arm suddenly shoots up, although whether it was Jack doing it consciously, or his body simply using its muscle memory at hearing the hand slapping the mat, it's almost impossible to tell. Delta's body, already slick from the blood and sweat, slides away from Tracks' body, and turns over on to his back, staring up at the top of the cell. His chest heaves, and his eyes are wide open, as if in shock. His mouth moves, silently cursing in shock to the heavens. How is Tracks even able to move anymore? It can't be that Jack's still all in there. But as he continues to wonder just what's going on, the very man that took that insane hit was stirring, as jack Tracks rolls over in the blood and glass, coating himself almost entirely in red. Tracks pushes his body up from underneath, getting his elbows and knees up, clawing his way over to the ropes.
"How the hell did he kick out? You can see the look in Tracks' eyes....or lack thereof. He's not in there. There's no way."
"It's amazing what the body will do simply on fumes. It makes you wonder just what these men were doing to prepare for this match, mentally."
"Or he's still spazzing out from the electricity."
"I'm getting word in. We are indeed still on the air after that temporary power loss. We have enough time to stick with this until it ends...and at this rate, it looks like it could end any second."
A bloody, dripping hand grasps the ropes, nearly slipping right off, but holds on with its last remnants of strength. Using the nearly, but not quite useless appendage, Jack Tracks struggles shakily to his feet, holding the ropes for dear life as he waits for his blood flow to get where he needs it. On the adjacent ropes, Dustin Delta does much the same, but he seems to have already regained enough of his composure to stand under his own power. A surprisingly significant advantage at this point in the match, considering the state of the rest of the competitors. Taking careful steps over the slippery canvas, a growingly determined gaze in Delta's eyes show that he's had enough of this match. It had to end now, and he's the only one still in any position to do so. He walks over to the recovering Tracks, cutting off his momentary rest. He reaches over and takes the long hair in his hands, which had turned from its usual dirty blonde to a much more copper hue from all the blood in the ring. Delta starts to pull Tracks back into the middle of the ring, dragging the weight back with him.
But much to Delta's surprise, that tug of the hair seemed to do the trick for the King of the Road to wake back up! The grip at Tracks' head is swiftly broken, as he brings both of his hands up in between the two arms holding him, and pushing them away, using a classic style of martial arts hold break to get free. Delta's eyes go wide at the break, not expecting a burst of energy. But that moment of defenseless shock was all it took. In a flash of movement, his head gets clasped by the expert hands of Jack Tracks, his head tugged down into one of the notorious cravates. With his foe in his grip, Jack Tracks lets out a heavy bellow, met by the audience in a loud roar of their own. Using his element of surprise to its fullest, Tracks flips his entire body forward, using his momentum to spin Dustin Delta nearly a full circle in the air, and drives his head right into the ground, and more importantly, the glass, with the very move that began this whole sequence: Downforce. with the crackle of glass grinding in even further, Delta's head bouncing off the mat, landing face-first in the debris.
Normally, this would be the pin, the 1-2-3, and Jack Tracks' hand raised in victory. But they've gone too far to end it that simply. With Delta laid out, Jack fights to his feet once again, and looks down right where Dustin lands. And as he confirms the spot, that evil grin returns. Slowly stepping over to the now-prone body, Tracks casually reaches down and pulls up one of Delta's arms up and behind his back. Placing a heavy boot on Delta's spine, he reaches down to scoop up the other, and pulls back, causing Dustin's body to arch up. Pulling back a few times, he causes Double D's body to rock a couple times, the crowd "Oooooh"ing in anticipation. On one...two....
Third time is the charm, and that boot shifts up, planting itself firmly on the back of Delta's head, the entire force of Tracks' weight bearing down right on the back of the skull, sending the....well, not pretty, but not horrible...face of his opponent into the pile of broken glass, a hint of a scream of pain swelling up and snuffing out from the contact, surely knocking his victim out immediately.
"Ooooh! The Downforce and the curbstomp right after the other, and in that pile of bloody, broken glass!"
"Honestly, I don't know what's worse. That stomp will put you out fast, so maybe he should count his lucky stars he isn't awake to feel all that glass in his face."
"Yeah, I'll tell you, this one time, I was in a lightube match and I ha-OH SHIT!"
Tracks, having been looking down on his dirty work with pride, suddenly gets a glassy look in his eyes, the eyeballs rolling back in his head, before falling right on top of Dustin Delta's body. Where he stood, grinning like a maniac, was the King of the deathmatch, the giant Carson standing over his prey, a bloody wrench in his head, tapping the tool in his other palm. Chuckling diabolically, the massive shadow looms over the puddle of blood, the seemingly destroyed champion back to his feet,and wielding his pet monkeys (the actual monkey, not his butler/manservant/very illegal slave) weapon of choice, ready to use it to finally bring this match to a close, as the crowd around him spews their venom, all of which only makes Big Nicky even more proud of himself,and his impending victory in the first-ever Tower of London!
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