Post by Public Enemies on May 10, 2012 14:06:22 GMT -5
GHW TRIUMPH, May 3rd, 2012. From the CROYDON GATEWAY ARENA in LONDON, ENGLAND!
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-Calling Out Graves-
The crowd erupt in cheers as their home country compadre bursts through the curtain to a slightly remixed theme, Johnny Simpson by his side as always. Mighty Man Millson throws his GHW Tag Team title into the air and smiles as his pop continues, before striding down the ramp, slapping hands with the front row members of the audience as he reaches them. The Ultimate Ego then hops onto the ring apron as he approaches the squared circle, before somersaulting over the top rope, leaping onto the turnbuckle as soon as his feet touch the floor. The Brit waits a few seconds to keep the crowd waiting, before throwing his title into the air one more time, kissing the gold as he holds it aloft. Millson steps down to the ground and Simpson passes him a microphone, Millson wasting no time in adressing the London audience.
Hello and welcome to GHW, London, England.
The fans cheer at this cheap pop reference, before settling back down to listen to their hometown favourite.
I'm out here for what I consider to be a very important reason, but what many others in the back may consider to be simply a waste of time. You see, I've been dubbed as one of the future stars in this industry and many guys in the back think I should be the GHW champion at some point and there should be nothing distracting my focus from reaching the very top. However, there is. The Television title.
You see, I made the Television title a PPV staple. It was defended in one of the main event slots in every PPV when I defended it. I almost single-handedly brought prestige to that title and to see it go down the gutter almost brings a tear to my eye. So last week, I came out to the ring and gave Jamie Graves a piece of my mind and told him that if he wanted the Television title's prestige to be raised, then he should give it to me. And although our discussion was never completed, I've given our boss enough time to think my proposition over and so I ask all of you fans in attendance this simple question. Do you want to see me as Television champion one more time?
A resounding "YES" emanates from the partisan crowd and Triple M smiles, before asking another question, this time not directed at the crowd.
Jamie, now do you want to come out to the ring and answer last week's proposition?
Millson then lowers the microphone to allow Graves the freedom of making his own choice regarding the Television title's future.
The TNT Theme "Before I Forget" begins to play as the standard installation. Jamie Graves brushes the curtain with a very contentious look upon his face as he carries the newly restored Television Championship.
Graves circles around the ring area, stopping before the commentary to snatch up a microphone on his way back to the steel steps. His leather loafers climb the diamond-plated steel steps as he enters the ring. JG gazes upon the endless sections of seating in Croydon Gateway Arena before he raises the microphone to his lips. He hesitates as the theme fades. Millson and Simpson each mirror one another in a cynical fashion.
"Is it any wonder that it's just been over a year since you held that TV title? A lot has happened in a year, hasn't it? You went from being our Television Champion, to Tag Team champion, to King of the Deathmatch Champion contender. I would like to think I was a part of this process."
"You see, you're destined to continue to do great things for this company. Two years completed, and decades to come. I'm surprised, but not upset, by your ambition for this Television Title. I'm surprised that you want it back. It doesn't hold near the value it did when it was tightly secured around your waist. And I'll tell you why."
"Last Summer, GHW re-branded from Friday Night Combat back to GHW Live. After Corrin Cobain gracefully departed, he was replaced. He was replaced by what I witnessed to be a budget cut. He was replaced by what I saw as a stain on this business. It was a fall from grace. GHW Live was to be headed by...Grimey C. Whiskey."
"He insisted on defending that Television every week like a novelty toy. In no time, a GHW's superstar first match was for the title. It was completely worthless. Despite, AJ Scally was right about his thoughts. Its just a fad, a joke. This tirade lasted for months until it finally stopped this winter."
"To add even insult, they hired Grimey C. Whiskey, over myself, to replace Smarky Smark as the General Manager for GHW Triumph! I was sick to myself. I braced for a fall from what everything was built beforehand. Oh yes, it did fall far, and it almost reached the bottom."
"That was, until I arrived. I arrived and soothed the wounds left by Grimey C. Whiskey. I unleashed carnage at Total Carnage. The overall support of GHW fans has risen once again. And now, we're on the brink of one of the greatest NeXuS PPV's yet."
"I have no problem with handing you this Television Title right now. But, there's something you have to do for me if this belt will be yours. Acknowledge me for what I am doing for you, and this company. Make me a believer that you'll restore the prestige. Make me a believer that you'll acknowledge me as the gatekeeper for your success. Remember, that it was Jamie Graves who restored this company."
"All you have to do is take it." Jamie Graves holds out the belt in offer to Millson.
Triple M thinks about the proposition for a second and even confers with Simpson, before turning back to Graves and nodding his head. The Ultimate Ego then raises his own microphone to his lips for one final retort.
You know what? I have absolutely no qualms in saying what you want me to say because quite simply, I don't care who's on charge around here. If they're doing a good job, they're doing a good job and whether you like it or not, Jamie Graves is doing a good job. So yes, I acknowledge you for the job you're doing here in GHW, long may it last. And long it will last, especially with me carrying the GHW Television title.
Millson lowers the mic and Simpson takes the title, placing it around Millson's shoulder, the now double champion wearing one on each side of his neck. The crowd cheer a little as they see a new champion crowned and Millson extends his hand for Graves to shake. (( Jamie Graves reluctantly shakes his hand. ))
MATCH ONE
SINGLES MATCH
Blizzard vs.Gorilla
Tale of the Tape: The first match of the night will be between two of GHW's newest stars to see what their made of.
Winner: Gorilla. Be sure to avoid 'Powerposing' in your next few matches, even though this was purely meant for squash. If you want further improvment beyond your weekly matches, take a gander at the GHW Academy board.
-Burning It Down-
Sometime early on in the most recent episode of GHW Triumph, the camera switches to ringside where Collin and Big Al sit.
"Earlier today, before we even went on the air, Wolverina struck again in her quest to topple Dominik Santiago. This time she hit him in the area of money. She's messing with the man's lively-hood now."
"I doubt the famous Assassin is hurting monetary wise, but the fact she would stoop this low to press her agenda will surely unnerve the Lord of the Flies. He's not going to take too kindly to it."
"Without further adieu, let's take you back to earlier this evening, before the show went on the air."
The scene opens up with Wolverina standing in view of the camera, her arms up and held in her trademark pose w/ GHW Championship around her waist. A big smile is plastered on her flawless features as many fans, young and old, men and women are seen all around her cheering wildly. The Queen of GHW allows her loyal to praise her a few more moments before quieting them with a simple, regal motion of her hands.
"I know what you're thinking you people at home and in the building watching right now. Oh no, here's come a long winded rebuttal from the Queen, in response to Santiago's meanie butt words last week. Don't worry, this segment is for something different. I'll save the big time yammering for a later time, but it's definitely coming. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, it's time to move onto why I'm out here. Well, it's simple. At Total Carnage I promised to dismantle every facet of Dom's life. On that night I destroyed his most precious moment. Tonight I will put a dent in his wallet, no matter how small it may be in the long run. So, follow me. Join us on this journey."
The camera follows Haven as she walks to her left, with a mob of her minions following her, hanging on her every word and foot step. A gigantic almost literal mountain of merchandise comes into view as her subjects fan out and encircle it, chanting like hooligans moreso than civilized wrestling fans.
"I'm sure some of you watching are clueless, so let me explain. This here is a big pile of garbage, and by garbage I mean Dominik Santiago themed merchandise. Obviously every time you buy one of his items he gains a monetary profit. Well not anymore. From now on and until the Lord of the Lies is no more, I will confiscate and publicly burn his merchandise. Heck, people, even if I wasn't mad at the man would you blame me for doing this? Look at it... look at this here..."
Miss Cassady pulls up Dom's new "Champion. Icon. Legend." shirt.
"Really, Dom? Seriously? You speak and write with a vocabulary that would confuse a college professor. You dazzle people with creative uses of a thumbtack chair and a SKO. Yet for some inexplicable reason you have without question the most unoriginal shirt in the history of this business. You wanna know how sad this shirt is, Dommie? It's not worth wiping my perfect little queenly sphincter with. That's right. If I was out of toilet paper and had only one of your shirts as my last saving grace, I still wouldn't use it. I'd wipe clean with my bare hand or not wipe at all before I'd ever use your boring, less-than-half-thought-out shirt. You know what, Dom? Since you were oh so generous by 'letting' me carry around 'your' GHW Championship, I'll return the favor. New shirt idea. Dominik Santiago: Liar. Fraud. Cheat.. Hot dayum I amaze myself. That's a 60 dollar shirt right there. Oh, what's this? Hmmm..."
The Queen of Queens sifts through the items and procures a semi thick book with Dom's face on the front.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this here is one of Santiago's collector's items. Top of the line. One of his most expensive tools to pull the wool over your eyes. Dom's Thesaurus, the very one he uses to go off script and butcher words by speaking them in terms not conducive to what they are meant for, is yours for only $49.99. To you, the buyer of this outlandishly over priced doohickey, a world of sounding smart and being way more cool awaits you, or so you think. In REALITY it will only make you ramble on incoherently and look like a fucking jackass, pardon my French."
Haven places a hand over her mouth in a cute "opps, did I just say a bad word" pose, then shrugs and goes about scouring for the next product. What she finally comes up with is the mask he's worn down the aisle here and there. The People's Princess calmly places it on her face then suddenly bursts forth with an energetic mock pose of Santiago's famous crossed arms over chest and head hung in askew.
"Look everyone, I'm Dominik Santiago. I'm a bad to the bone because I wear a mask sometimes even though I once bludgeoned every masked Fighty fighty person in this company because I hated them for wearing one, and I can hang my head in askew! Champion. Icon. Legend. FTW! Woooohooo!"
The only thing that can out match Wolfie's severe sarcasm is the overly less-than-impressed way she removes the mask and tosses it asunder like its a food wrapper going to the rubbish bin.
"Dom, next time you wear a mask to the ring keep it on, please for the love of God keep it on. You're butt azz ugly. Hate to break it to ya. I'm sure nobody has ever had the guts to tell you because they probably didn't want to get clobbered, but it's true. Think about it, dude. You had access to Kahlan Clarkson, the literal town bicycle whom everyone gets to ride, for over a year and you still couldn't hit it. Also, in regards to that mask, stop giving it away to little kids at ring side you unoriginal doosle-dorph. I've been doing that with my vintage sunshades for over three years now. You stole the Thumbtack chair, you stole the DKO and renamed it SKO, and now you've stolen my intro.. please Dom, before I retire you at NeXus, stop running your fraud flappers and give us something original and genuine from you."
Wolverina turns away from the camera without warning and just gazes at the humongous pile of merchandise worth tens of thousands of dollars, if not more. Then, with a single motion of her hand, the minions assembled around douse the pile with gasoline, and before long the enormous mound is set ablaze. The fire intensifies rapidly, sending a few into alarm mode, but the Queen remains unaffected and merely watches. When the fire reaches its most fiery moment, the People's Princess looks over shoulder at the camera, with a wicked little smile formed.
"Dom, you love symbolism, so I'll leave you with this........ At NeXus, just like your pile of garbage here, I'm going to burn... you... down."
Scene cuts to black.
MATCH TWO
SINGLES MATCH
Lucius Sexton vs. Alexander Clyde
Tale of the Tape: Much of the same!
Winner: Lucius Sexton
-Interview With The Prostitute-
Kahlan is leaned back into a plush armchair situated just to the left, in front of a big television screen. A short distance away, facing her is a simple wooden table with an empty chair behind it. Pacing around the table is a young man in his teenage years, with messy brown hair and dishevelled casual clothing. He is biting on the end of a pencil when Kahlan’s soft voice brings him to attention.
“Send her in.”
A moment later the door at the far end of the room is swung open and the teenager steps out only for a blond eastern European sweetheart to walk in. She is wearing a tight pink halter top and an extremely short schoolgirl’s miniskirt. So short in fact, it barely covers her nickers while putting on a show for the teenager following her footsteps back inside.
“Please pull out the seat for her now Jack.” Jack of course does as commanded but not before craning his neck a little further down for one last little peek. The blonde sits herself down dropping her humongous handbag on the table. She puffs into her gum and bursts it noisily over her red lips. After regarding her with a quizzical expression, Kahlan turns to Jack. “Are you sure she is Romanian?”
Jack grins, “Of course! I've tried her firsthand.”
“Well if that is the case,” Kahlan turns to the blonde, “what’s your name honey?”
“Anica,” is all that comes out of her.
“Ok, Anica” Kahlan musters, “has this man been one of your clients recently?”
Kahlan snaps her fingers and Jack quickly produces a photograph out from under a pile of papers on the table. Anica only have to give it a quick glance, “yea so what of it?”
Kahlan smiles a devious little smile. “Well let’s just say it is of special interest to me to know some details. Do you know who this man is?”
“Nope, although he said he was famous and a big deal but I didn’t care about that. Anyway I don’t see what this has to do with you.” Anica leans forward to push back on her chair and rise up.
“Sit down hoe! I’m not finished!” Kahlan’s angry outburst added to with her sudden finger pointing, freezes Anica in place. She gives Kahlan one look and smartly sits herself right back down. “Well, he is famous. I’m surprised how you didn’t know him. Since he is your fellow countryman I conclude that either he really is not that big of a deal where you come from, or more so you’re the most ignorant whore I’ve ever seen in all of my days. That doesn’t matter though, what I’m interested in is something far more practical. Jack?” Obviously understanding the meaning behind the call, Jack walks over to the table and presents Anica with an A4 sheet of paper and a pencil.
Kahlan leans forward in her armchair, “I want you to place your thumb and forefinger on that sheet of paper in such a way to represent the length of this man’s penis and mark the respective points with the pencil."
“What?”
“I said show me the length of his penis you stupid, stupid woman!” Kahlan’s scream throws Anica into a flurry of motion and the scared woman quickly does as told, putting two dots down on the sheet of paper. As soon as she is done Kahlan beckons for Jack.
“Measure it.”
Jack casually places a ruler over the imaginary line connecting the two dots.
“Well?”
“It’s about three and a half inches.”
Kahlan takes a moment to decipher the meaning of what she is told, and then bursts out laughing. She laughs and laughs, rumbling deep down and shaking with the vibrations. Her uncontrollable spasm slowly brings a smile to Jack’s lips, however Anica looks dumbfounded. “Why is that so funny?”
“You really are stupid aren’t you?” Kahlan manages in between her shakes. “You just told me Vladimir Strife’s penis was barely three and a half inches long, and you are surprised that I find it highly amusing? But wait, how thick is it, like the girth of it?”
Still utterly confused Anica stares back.
“I said tell me how thick it was you thick slut!”
Flinching back, Anica holds her slim thumb up. “About this much, I think.”
Kahlan’s howling returns but this time it is accompanied with a cheeky snicker from Jack. “I think mine was bigger when I was born.” Jack’s eyes flicker left fixed onto Anica, “and you know how much it has grown since.” Anica shudders under the stare.
Recovering by taking in deep breaths Kahlan eventually calms down enough to carry on with her questioning. “You didn’t know he was Romanian?”
“Of course I knew. We talked to each other you know. That is why he picked me up in the first place, because I understood him.”
“And you still didn’t realise who he was?”
“No.”
“And you still don’t know.”
“No.”
“And you didn’t find it weird how this man’s penis was three and a half inches long?”
“Not really, that is the average size amongst Romanian men.”
“Get out.”
The unexpectedly nature with which this was said, catches Anica completely off guard. “What?”
“I said get out you stupid whore!”
“B-but he said I would get paid.”
“Listen here you piss-head. If you don’t get out of here at this very instant, I will get up and strip you down. I will then tie you up to this very table and peel your skin right off. Right the fuck off. So get the fuck out of here!”
Anica scrambles up and out of her chair, stumbling on her way as she escapes the room through the door she came through earlier. Kahlan then turns towards the camera which is facing her. “Listen here now. It goes without saying that this stupid man named Vladimir Strife is no longer an important figure here in GHW. Obviously the guy isn’t big enough, and he is a gimmick that has been clichéd to death over these past few years. The era of the tiny and snivelling, scheming little men behind the scenes that protected him is over. The only scheming that is done in GHW now is done through me and only me. This is my GHW now, so screw you, you imbeciles for trying to screw me here in my very own back garden. Vladimir “SMALL” Strife doesn’t hold the one thing that made him so special, and that was his streak. It is over! It has been long over! He has been defeated, and no matter how much more you fucking rodents try to keep him safe in his matches, you just cannot hide his numerous shortcomings. He cannot put on a good match, he is fat as fuck, and he is as over with the crowds as was Jeff freaking Young and his Romanian speech impairments make him sound like a retard every time he tries to speak through a microphone. You idiots screw me over in my match when I had clearly won? That’s right faggots; I’ve beaten him twice now. Two! Ice! Roll the video Jack.”
The television screen behind Kahlan comes alive. Inside the ring Vladimir Small Strife is laid out on his front and has his arm twisted clockwise, grasped in the clutches of a painful looking Arm-Bar. Kahlan’s legs are scissor-crossed over the arm, with her feet locked over just above the shoulder, pinning it to the mat. His extended limb is being pushed upwards painfully by Kahlan. Suddenly there is a jerking motion and the shoulder seems to give in as if something has torn up. Small Strife grimaces in response and starts tapping his free hand onto the canvas. Watching this closely, the referee clearly shakes his head no and turns to look the other way. The screen freezes on this very scene.
“You see, in my book that is a tap out. So it is in every other wrestling rules book. Therefore let us not hear about this insignificant dwarf of a man, because the era of him and his likes are over. This is the KGHW now, and as such I declare him to be forgotten as quite frankly nobody cares anymore. His moment of glory by facing me is over; now that he is defeated again he can fade into obscurity.”
Kahlan stands up out of her armchair.
“However, there is someone else far more cunning and daring and far bigger that I need to address.”
Kahlan walks over to where the camera is and picks it up staring directly into its lense.
“Wolverina, I applaud you for having the guts to do what you did last week. I must admit that you caught me by surprise, but you stupid bitch! You had me thrown into a street corner amongst tramps who tried to abuse me! You had me fed to them wolves like raw meat. I caught head lice! HEAD FUCKING LICE! I HATE HEAD LICE! I spent the entire week picking at them and my head is still itching! For that and everything else, I will punish you like the two-bit whore that you are. You think because you walked out of the Hell in a Cell as the victor and went on to steal away at my title shot, you’re somehow a badass? No you cunt, I pinned myself! It is all part of a plan, but I’ll let you have a bit of a warning anyway. Stay away from Dominik! Stay away from him because if you don’t, and by a shot in a billion come away with “my” title, you wouldn’t survive. This is serious business from here on Haven; trust me when I say I’m not messing with you anymore. This is the sort of game that if you start playing with me, you either win or you are forever finished. And you know your chances of winning against me? They aren’t that good darling, they aren’t that good.”
Kahlan sets the camera down in its place and walks back to her seat. Sitting down she leans right back as comfortably as she can.
“One more thing, if you’ve been Bitch-making since Total Carnage, I’ve owned them since 2007. How do you like me now?”
MATCH Three
Triple Threat Match
Kahlan vs. Jack Tracks vs. Mighty Man Millson II
Tale of the Tape: Whiskey makes my dick smell weird.
Winner: 3M2I. Has it really been ToL since Millson legimately lost a match?
MATCH FOUR
Hardcore match
Wolverina vs. Mystery Opponent.
Tale of the Tape: Someone wants to return for some vigorous competition. And Wolverina just wants the GHW title around her waist. So hows aboot' we give both people a clear road to what they desire, eh?
Winner: Jerry Nate
-I Saw Three Forms......Joint Broadcast-
*These events happened Monday, May 7th, 2010 at 6:34 PM.*
The scene begins with the EVPW camera crew walking along outside what appeared to be an abandoned church, tip toeing across the lawn that seemed more like a desert, even the weeds didn't seem far off from death's clutch. The front door was nothing more two tall, wooden slabs with metal beaming running through the sides, and the ominous cross hanging upside down. If all of this wasn't a clear enough sign to the two men that this was an area where their so called God was absent, the sky itself was about to open up from above and reign down its fury of life threatening disasters, it also didn't help that they were treading in Nebraska.
"You're a fuck face Ted!"
"You wanted into the business, Harold, and neither of us could pass the wrestling exams, so shut up and be grateful we're apart of something huge here."
"I could of been a champion..."
The two skinny, long haired and beard necked rejects looked around for a clear opening inside the demonic stronghold instead of heading straight into what would of been their final acts in the living realm. The one holding the camera pointed to his sound savvy cohort silently before raising his finger up at a shattered window. They both should of spent less time chain smoking and more time in the gym it seemed as the two tried to huff and puff their weak bodies up the ledge and up through the window before hitting the rotting wood planks that made up the floor. They laid behind a stacked up pile of broken pews that were laid their to cover up the evil doings going on inside the sinister cathedral. The air was filled with heavy grunting and what sounded like a wrestling match, then finally they heard the voice they wanted to hear shout out and beat against the cracked ridden wall. The vocals were only grunts mixed in between solid poundings being given out inside a ring. The lanky camera man props his equipment over the edge of a splintered pew while the sound tech ran along the outside line to get a better audio quality for their little inside scoop.
"FUCK-ING-FAGS-EVE-ERY-WHEEEEEERE!"
The mat beats could be heard again, body after body slapped against the mat in rapid secession. The camera man gasps, Jerry Nate was inside the lop sided ring and training his ass off as the un-dead who belonged to the Psycho King all rose up from the ground and surrounded the Shotgun Kid to do battle once more only for each to eat another Shotgun Punch and fall against the apron. Jerry only has a few moments to breathe before each one raises up again fresh and ready to do battle with the Rebellious Redneck. Jerry raises up a lit cig and takes one last puff before unleashing hell all over the zombified corpse of Seth the Damned. A black, juicy slush flies from the grey skinned Henry Cooper's raggity jaw, sending the immortal numb skull plowing face first into the ring post before Jerry spins around and gives the rotting corpse of D-money a highly concentrated spray of tobacco spit straight in the retard's eyes. D-Money hobbled about the ring while clawing at the sunken eye holes he had for a face. Jerry stopped for a moment before the groaning behind raised suspension and he turned to see the maggot dripping shell that was once Troy Meadows. The corpse tried to groan out some rap lyrics but unable since his vocal cords were nothing but dust inside the lop sided and broken neck.
"How many times do I have to break you before you finally realize that I'm the superior fighter!!!!"
With that, fists reigned down against Troy's limping, festering body and sending jolts into the re-animated soul of the deadbeat Wigger. After this round of corpse stomping, Jerry looked around in the middle of the moldy, Copenhagen encrusted ring. The Horde all just laid there with closed eyes, dead expressions and lifeless bodies...well more lifeless than usual.
"Come on! Raise them up again! I'm not done with these fucking pussies!"
Jerry had turned to the dark end of the church, the area where the pastor and the alter would be situated and shouted his frustrations towards the seemingly empty area. The Satisfyin' One's muscles were bulging underneath his stained wife beater, especially the ones in his arms from all the damaging use. The camera man let loose a little pee-pee inside his pants when Jerry finally got a response.
"What's troubling you, my son? You've been training here all weekend nonstop, but for what purpose? Is someone feeling blue? A little disrespected? Baby want his binky?"
"EAT DICK, PSYCHO CUNT!"
"Now now, Jerry. Calm those fluxing man tits there. I'm just curious what this is all about? You never come to see me anymore, then out of the blue, right after a humiliating come back so far, here you are on your off days actually doing something constructive instead of wasting away with a whiskey bottle glued to your lips. Is someone feeling a little overwhelmed? Or could it be that your dick can't get you out of trouble this time?"
"Just raise the damn Horde again so I can get back to the task at hand..."
"The true test of a warrior is to go it alone, but the rules change when the warrior has to face multiple opponents at once. You're not weak if you have to ask for a little...help. I'm more than ready to lend you a hand, my boy. All I need to see is you dropping that tower shield you raise up when it comes to me, and say please..."
"I don't need you! I don't need anyone to go out of their way to help me. I was embarrassed by that little slut Haven last week. She was nothing but a fucking pushover on purpose! And don't think I don't know you had a hand in making her implant burst!"
A voodoo doll with strands of black hair and a Wonder Women costume comes flying from the darkness, Jerry picks it up after the cotton filled witchcraft doll lands in the ring, hundreds of little pins are poked inside the left tit.
"Sick fuck...."
"hahahahahHEHEHEAHHAAAAAHAAAAAAAHAAAAA! The look on that stupid bitch's face when she felt her fake udder pop was priceless! I only wanted a nip slip, but once I started jamming the pins in, BAHAHA!"
"I don't need your shitty help. I can slaughter the cretins by myself and under my own power!"
"....I'm sorry? What did you just say?...Is the madness starting to finally creep up inside my pupil's tiny skull?"
"Just raise the fucking Horde again, ok? I need to train."
"Lift out your hand and raise them yourself. My power should be vibrating through you good enough to give the henchman commands..."
Jerry turns back to the piles of rotting meat he left inside the ring and raises his hand with spread fingers in a joking posture.
"Rise! Rise oh you jobbers of yesteryear, rise so that I may slap you around some more!"
To Jerry's surprise the Horde starts to twitch and move about the stained mat and begin their ascent to their feet.
"Holy shit! I'm doing it! I'm actually doing it this time!"
(Under his breath.) "Now don't ever say Daddy never taught you how to ride your bicycle..."
Jerry starts to give out Psychotic filled commands in a booming voice, he was finally learning how to command the evil powers of his twisted mentor. The zombies twitch and begin their lifeless shuffle towards Jerry before the eyes roll into the back of their heads and they all fell down into a lifeless heap in the ring again. Jerry looked on with disbelieving groans and smirks while his hand kept raising up and down.
"No! No! Come on! I had it this time! I felt the power surging with my fucking hatred!"
"....I bet Vlad could raise them..."
"YOU SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH!"
"So, that's the real problem, eh? You're afraid you won't be able to let it all go once the time comes with Vlad. Honestly Jerry, can't you quit being afraid of every little boogey man that comes after you? I won't be around every time you need someone to change your diapers, so quit pissing the bed and let your mind lose control. I'm tired of baby sitting a grown man who still wets the bed because he's such a fucking pansy..."
"I'm fed up with your crap! Why don't you quit hiding behind the dead and face me yourself!? You've yet to ever put me down for the count!"
"The result will remain the same. You'll start getting the whiskey shakes and ask for a rain check. There's no need for me to waste anymore time on a spoiled child who can't even raise the dead, the simplest act of evil there is..."
"...at least Vlad and Wolverina don't have solid wins against me, my glorious Psycho King..."
A thunderous beating could be heard over the moldy carpet of the shrine area of the church, from the darkness flew a cloaked giant, its legs tucked in tight as it jumped over the gap between the alter and the ring.
"TIME FOR YOUR SPANKINGS, BOY!"
The wavy cloak lifts up from the figure as the air from his descent rushes up. As the titan hit the mat, shock waves rumbled through the ring while the figure stood up and locked horns with the Shotgun Kid, his monstrous size dwarfing Jerry's. The large pupils screamed with their presence alone that this was a being who had beaten the grave multiple times with sheer madness alone. Around the eyes was a mask, the ripples and tint of the facade was the same as the corpses laying beside the struggling forces. The Leviathan of the wrestling world had reappeared from his satanic hiding at last.
"Is this all you've got you old goat!"
"YOU HAVEN'T THE LIFE FORCE TO DEAL WITH A BEING AS MYSELF, BOY!"
"QUIT CALLING ME BOY!"
"THEN SLAY THE DRAGON, YOU SELF RIGHTEOUS KNIGHT!"
The two scuffled about the ring, their grasps on each other's bodies unrelenting as the forces fought for dominance in the land of sac religion. Jaggeroth's brutish strength began to win over Jerry's fleeting power while lightning cracked like satanic whips outside their unholy steeple. The candles inside the church began to light as if by themselves around the fighting tyrants, Jaggeroth's blood red mist spurts from the underside of the ring as Jerry goes flying against the turnbuckle. The Satisfying One hurls his body with an outstretched arm against Jaggeroth's barreled chest, only to hear a lour thud. As the Kid back-peddles away from the Tyrant, he eats a backhand courtesy of his teacher before falling against against the apron. Jaggeroth began to stalk the prey while it stroked its chin before the turnbuckle. Jerry reaches over underneath the padded buckles for what looked to be two chains wrapped up amongst themselves.
".....why would I care about some smelly corpses anyways when I can be the beast master?....Zeus and Hera have been waiting for this..."
Suddenly, two snarling beast could be heard, they howled as their master belted out his commands to rip the Psycho King limb from limb. Up from the floor, two large dogs that looked more like timber wolves entered the ring. Jaggeroth prepared himself for battle with the large dogs Jerry had brought with him, only, they had their eyes and noses set on a different prize this whole time. One dog jumped from the turnbuckle and leaped over a stack of broken pews, what followed was a mix of growls and a scream. Jerry and Jaggeroth stood in the ring wide eyed at the sudden happenings, until the screams were silenced forever with a bone crunching snap. The other wolf hybrid ran through the church with a snorting nose against the wood, he knew there was another in hiding.
"HAROLD, NO!"
The EVPW camera man stood up and gave his position away with his outburst of affection for his fallen comrade. The Hybrid dog jumped up and lashed at the man's throat, clasping its jaw's around Ted's neck the animal brought him to the ground easily. From the shadows came a clanking, hollow thud against the wood floor.
"How the fuck can a man plan his conquests around here with all the noise!?"
Grimey C. Whiskey walked over to the growling dog as it snapped away at its freshly caught meal of camera man.
"What the fuck!? Jerry! You retard! This is going to fuck up the entire plan! How can I get Jamie Graves fired now!? Aaaaaaaaah, wait. They're from EVPW, no worries. Now, you two idiots need to learn from this. What if these two had escaped from here with this footage? They'd of blown everything. Like my plans to take over both GHW, and EVPW at the same damn time, what then? Part one of the plan is already in effect by the way, Mr. Graves is getting the boot after the NeXuS. We'd of been fucked had these two released this footage."
"You're the worst type of cartoon villain I've ever seen, Grimey. This plan of yours sucks balls anyways."
"Just keep your ass in training, Boy! The finish of act one for our conquest is to beat Vlad, remember? Once he's broken, it'll be easier to get his shares....We need this, and Jaggeroth is going to take care of the second half."
Jaggeroth and Jerry Nate both walk over to the camera laying on the ground while the blood pools around it. The Psycho King holds it up with Jerry and Grimey at his sides, the camera starring blankly into their eyes.
".......well fuck."
"What?"
"Those two weren't so foolish at all....see that blinking light and the antenna on top? It's a live feed, probably heading straight to the EVPW command center...."
The three men stare into the camera, Grimey and Jerry's eyes were wide while the Psycho King grinned with a cocky slant in his eyes. The two beside the Psycho King join him in the smile along with some creepy as fuck giggling while the sound tech's body could be seen in the background being devoured between the mighty jaws of Jerry's wolf hybrid.
".....Abandon hope...violence has returned...."
The camera snaps in Jaggeroth's hands, ending the scene.
=MAIN EVENT=
Champion vs. Champion Two out of Three falls.
Dustin "The Artist formally known as Alice" Delta vs. Dominik Santiago.
"PEOPLE POWER PEOPLE POWER PEOPLE POWER DEMANDS THIS MATCH!
Winner: Dominik Santiago
This was an odd week. I'm sorry if your segment isn't above, there's just so many nowadays.
