Post by Psychotic Circus on Dec 17, 2012 7:47:26 GMT -7
-Jerry is scene sitting down at a bar stool, a glass of bubbling brown liquid in hand as the camera men all get positioned inside the bar. It was a large, old style irish pub in the heart of Boston. A few patrons were inside along with the satisfying one as he slammed another beer and added the glass to his growing collection.-
"Remember Patty, this is all going on GHW's tab as agreed. The damage, the hospital bills and all the beer and whiskey I'm drinking....show that fuck of a GM to put his credit card in my hands! HA-HA! Another Winter Lager, I need to put more liquid enthusiasm in my ass kicking tank!"
He sat there, waiting for Vincent to stroll through that door and accept the ass kicking he had been wishing for so much.
Post by "Vicious" Vince Vegas on Dec 17, 2012 14:52:28 GMT -7
As Jerry Nate sits, slurping winter lager and chatting with the bartender, who, it seems, he's knows all too well, a GHW crew member slips behind the bar and places an Ipod on the Irish Pub's Ipod dock. The Celtic sounds of Massachusetts own "Drop Kick Murphy's" hit song "Shipping out to Boston" is interrupted. The local patrons let out a collective groan. Jerry Nate turns away from Ol' Patty the bartender, just as they were getting into a debate over which is better: Lagers or Ales, and looks at the puny young crewman,
What the hell are you doing back there?
SS..SS..Sorry Mr. Nate, just following orders.
The young crew member is justifiably terrified. Rumor has it that Jerry Nate once put a man in the hospital for turning off George Thorogood's "One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer", luckily for the crew man, Nate isn't partial to Irish music. Regardless, he fumbles though, hands shaking in fear, and presses play on the Ipod. He quickly scurries away from behind the bar as LL Cool J's "Mama Said Knock You Out" begins to play throughout the bar. An appropriate name for the carnage that is set to follow.
A few scattered GHW faithful who found out the location of the bar room brawl via internet message board, stand in anticipation for what comes next. The rest of the bar, however, are mildly annoyed by the musical selection, but sit, drowning their sorrows, laughing with friends, avoiding going home to their wives, whichever the case may be. As the line, "Boom! Explosions!" plays, the young GHW crew member, unwillingly lights two sparklers and places them on either side of the main entrance to the pub. "Vicious" Vince Vegas, dressed in his regular wrestling attire as if he were expecting tonight's match to a showcase of technical wrestling maneuvers rather than a bar room brawl, explodes through the door like it was the curtain at GHW arena.
Few barflies even bother to look up from their drinks, but the scattered GHW fans begin chanting:
Cheering the the Champ, Jerry Nate, but at the same time, mocking Vince's "Jerry Springer" style talk show gimmick. Jerry sees Vince, shakes his head and thinks "Is this Guy Serious?". He finishes his beer and stands up from his stool. Vegas continues toward the bar, until one GHW Fan, who looks as if he had been sitting in the bar since noon in anticipation for the match and had, perhaps, overindulged, throws his beer at Vince as he walks by. The Star of the Show stops in his tracks and begins to run his mouth and get into the face of the drunken fan. Perhaps he should be less concerned with fans, and more concerned with burly Nebraskan who has been itching to ring his neck.
Vegas grab a pitcher of beer at the fan's table, dumps it on the floor, and flashes that smug smile as he turns around to head back up to the bar. As he turns around, he finds himself face to face with Jerry Nate, wielding a bar stool in both hands. Vince's facial expression changes from a satisfied, smug smile to fear in an instant. Nate smiles a tobacco crusted grin as he swings the stool, nailing Vince square on his big, bald head. Vegas stumbles back, slipping in the beer that he had poured out, and falls to the ground. Blood begins to trickle from a bar stool shaped gash in his head.
Looks like we're under way and it's time for "Vicious" Vince to get the ass kicking he has been asking for.
Post by Psychotic Circus on Dec 21, 2012 20:42:07 GMT -7
-The Satisfying One didn't waste his damn precious time with Vincent, he opted to beat his ass in a classy fashion tonight for the people at home. The Vicious One found himself on his knees, much like every average date with Jerry ends up being on, with his oozing head resting over a bar stool as Jerry shoved an Abe Lincoln down one of the fatter bar patron's bra and whispered into her ear. The blushing moose of a women moved over to Vincent as he laid there, wondering what kind of hell he had gotten himself into as a pair of 55 inch waist, double wide jeans plopped down over his head, wet panties and all.-
"THIS. IS. WHAT. YOU GET. FOR MESSING. WITH! ME!"
-Jerry's foot was trying to find its way inside Vincent's ass to make a new home while the fat lady sung above his head, trying to make his cranium a new fixture inside her huge mansion of an ass.-
"And like most of Jerry's bar adventures, this one has nowhere to go but down from here."
"Hey! People paid to watch this! Now you just sit there and pretend you're enjoying what you're seeing."
"I guess it's better than Vincent's spot, all cradled up there inside Satan's rectum."
-When Jerry was done traumatizing the poor lad, he grabbed him by the ankles and tugged him out with surprising, greased up ease. He left Vincent laying on the floor as he went back up to the bar and ordered another drink on GHW's tab. The Vexatious One wasn't satisfied with the way he had been left, gasping for air and laying on the floor as if Jerry thought of him as nothing but breathing trash, and he intended to show him differently.-
"You know Patty, some live entertainment wouldn't be bad for this place. A few poles, a d.j who loves White Snake way to much and some rowdy bouncers could really bring this place to life...hold on, I hear the grumblings of a shit I forgot to flush..."
-Jerry, in all his infinite and hazy wisdom, turned around just in time for Vincent to grab a bottle out of one of the near by patron's hands and had it raised above and behind his bloody head, sending it crashing down over Jerry's slicked back rocker's cut and making a makeshift rainstorm of broken glass and bud lite. Jerry looked up in an angered daze after having been soaked in the biggest joke in the beer world, but before he could react, Vincent bent his knees and latched around Jerry's waist.-
"Wow, that's a man hug..."
-The Satisfying One was turned, switching places with Vincent before being lifted with a gruff man's grunt and sent flying with some force. Jerry's shoulder blades smacked against the bar top as he tumbled over the large slab of polished wood and crashed over a collection of beer mugs and shot glasses. The Vicious One sat at a bar stool to take a quick breather after flipping Jerry like a mortgage rate to cuddle his bleeding head in his palms, only to look up a minute later to see The Shotgun Kid standing on the other side of the bar with a wide grin and two shot glasses and a bottle of Fire Pit Whiskey in hand. He poured two shots and placed on in front of Mr. Vegas-
"What's got you down kid? I can see you're in a bad spot. Your career of choice not being all it had promised it to be?"
-Jerry slurped down his shot with amazing speed and accuracy before he shuttered like a stroke victim in an earthquake from the potency of his "beverage". Vincent took one look and groaned as he sniffed it and chucked the shot glass behind him.-
"This may be the shoulder pain talking here, but I did not just see you waste good whiskey in my bar...did I?"
-Vegas grumbled as he gave Jerry the two bird salute and tried to stand up, telling The Satisfying One that yes, he did indeed commit the worst sin in bar etiquette. Jerry lifted his hand up and placed it behind the light up Guinness sign hanging above the bar and pulled down, ripping the plug from the socket as he drove it into Vincent's pretty face. The glass, neon tubing shattered as Vincent reeled back in mostly shock at the sudden thinking of the Satisfying One.-
"Matty O, you've been surprisingly quiet throughout this match...."
"Everything I know about hardcore is going to go down the drains, thanks to his redneck trained redneck."
-Jerry jumped and rolled back over to the other side of the bar and picked Vincent up, cradling his bald head under his arm and dragged him to the back door.-
"I need a break from kicking your ass. This is starting to become stressful..."
-He dragged the so called Vicious One like a dog out the backdoor and out onto the smoker's patio. Before he could reach into his pocket and pull out a pack, Vincent's fist clobbered the Satisfying One in his most treasured of area's, dropping Jerry onto his knees. A swift kick into the ribs later and Jerry was laying over the concrete ground of the smoker's lounge as Vincent's eyes looked around the area for something to show Jerry how damn hardcore he could really be. Sadly, all he found were a few tar lunged smokers and a park table, but he would make due as he climbed atop the table and stood over the creaking boards as a chorus of insults rained down on him from the drunken smokers, but it wouldn't deter him as he made a pose and prepared to finish off the boozy redneck below him.-
-He flipped the bird as he went air born at the man, his real target below him as his bent his elbow, exposing the good stuff before driving it right in Jerry's barrel chest and splattering himself over the concrete. A new chorus erupted, one of cheers this time as Jerry's body rolled over with his hands over his chest and his feet kicking the ground while he cursed like a pissed off sailor. Vincent rose up, a smile over his face as the patron's cheered him. He winced as he took a bow and thanked them for coming out tonight, calling them all the beautiful people for their harm-onus cheering.-
"....that dude's the reason they put Nickleback on the jukebox!"
-The small group stopped cheering as Vincent looked up with some confusion as the happy crowd went sour on him in an instant. Beer glasses and ash trays went flying at Vincent, one cracking over his head and dropping him. The patrons grew more unruly as they flipped the park table he had used to fly, lifting it up and smashing it over his body as Jerry tilted his head and laughed in his pain stricken face.-
"You're in my world, BOI! Don't you forget it! HAHAHAHAHA!"
Post by "Vicious" Vince Vegas on Dec 24, 2012 12:03:55 GMT -7
"Vicious" Vince lies motionless under the park table. Sand, old cigarette butts and wooden shards of the busted park bench stick to the sweat on Vince's shirtless torso. The once crimson red blood on his face and head, has turned almost black as it dried and cut began to close. As he struggles for breath on a cold night in December, several thoughts race through Vince's mind, the most pressing of which is the fear that several ribs may be broken from the collision of wood and flesh when the table confronted his rib cage.
"I don't know if Vince is going to be getting up from that one. Where the hell is the ref to start the ten count!"
"He can't count yet! Nate didn't even hit him with the table! This should be a DQ!"
"You know just as well as the rest of us Al, there's no DQ's in this one. "
"If they get that upset by Nickelback on the jukebox, just imagine what they'd do if Carson Schraeder showed up."
The Hardcore Genius raises a good point, where is the ref to make the count? The fans at GHW arena, watching a live feed on the big screen, begin to count. Jerry Nate, beginning to recover from the elbow, slowly gets to his feet, still looking quite satisfied with the fate Vince suffered at the hands of the local patrons. The ref, distracted by the inebriated Bostonians, trying to get even more involved int he match, gets some help from the bouncers and finally begins his count. As the ref shouts "1", the fans count has already reached "5". Jerry slowly walks over to the locals yokels being held back by the bouncers and accepts a beer and a cigarette being offered to him. Nate takes a slug of the beer and a nice long drag, taking nearly an inch worth of the cigarette in one breath. As the ref's count reaches "8", and the fans count reaches "13", the match should be over. Jerry exhales the smoke through his nose and smashes the beer bottle on the ground.
"I ain't done with you yet Boi"
He interrupts the ref's count, and most likely a chance at victory, by bringing the motionless Vegas to his feet; pieces of the broken park table fall from Vince's body onto the cold ground. As Nate drunk tosses "Vicious" Vince into the bar door, it flies open and the fight returns inside the bar. Vegas, stumbles and stutters into the bar and flops down beside the pool table, holding his ribs and cringing his face in pain. In control of the match and none too worried about a downed Vince, Jerry takes his time following Vegas into the bar and over too the pool table.
"Back into the bar we go. Inside, Outside, Tables , Stools and unruly fans. This Match has it all. But it's not over yet!"
"But maybe it should be Fuzz, Nate had Vegas down for, what should have been, a 10 count. You gotta wonder about his decision to keep the match going."
"Apparently he's not finished with Vince Vegas yet, and he's willing to risk his KOTDM championship to satisfy his need to knock some common sense into Vegas. That's the mark of a confident man"
"Or a stupid one, depending on how this plays out."
As Vince holds his wounded ribs on the floor, Jerry Nate looks at the pool cues lined up one the wall. His face gleams as sadistic thoughts of what he could use them for flow through his head. He picks up one cue, puts it up to his eye as if he were looking down the barrel of a shot gun, to check to see if straight. He checks the weight by tossing it back and forth from hand to hand, but decides to put it back on the rack. He picks up another, and knows immediately that this cue meets his standards. The tough Nebraskan steps over Vince, lying on his stomach, sits down and places the cue beneath his chin, and begins to yank on the ends of the cue.
"A camel clutch with a pool cue? That's a first! If the Iron Sheik could stay sober long enough, even he would admire it!"
But the clutch is not Jerry's end game. Not by a long shot. He intends to inflict far more sadistic avenues of pain with the pool cue before the night is through. He releases the hold with far more excruciating ideas flowing through his mind, like child dreaming sugar plums and candy canes on Christmas Eve. "The Satisfying One" stands up from Vince's back and chalks up his cue. "Are your technical wrestling moves helping you now, Vincent? This is my house, so let me be a gracious host and introduce you to my friend!"
Nate rushes toward Vegas, as he attempts to stand up, using the nearby pool table to aid his accent and just as Nate is about impale Vegas with the cue, "Vicious" Vince grabs a 9- ball from the table and swings it blindly in Nate's direction.
"Only my Grandmother calls me Vincent!"
As Vince mutters the words, the 9-ball strikes Jerry in the temple, so hard that even Patty the bartender, a man who has seen bar fights on a regular basis for years since he opened the bar, has to look from the sickening sight. Nate falls to the beer stained floor into a pile peanut shells, both hands over his temple. Scattered GHW fans throughout the bar hear Vince's comment about being called "Vincent" and begin taunting the superstar.
"Hey Vincent! I heard you're grandmother was so fat she eats wheat THICKS!"
"Does your grammie still send you a $10 cheque on your birthday, VINCENT?"
and finally they begin chanting,
Vegas's blood begins to boil underneath his skin. He recollects vivid memories of children on the schoolyard chanting the same words; pointing, laughing and calling him "Vincent". He remembers his older brother holding him down ground, forcing him to hit himself while singing, "Quit hitting yourself Vincent". He recalls all of the college rejection that began, "We're sorry to inform you, Vincent", but, most of all, he remembers the heartbreak from from his high school sweetheart as she said, "This just isn't working Vincent".
"Vicious" Vince's face becomes flush, and his eyes begin to glaze as he recalls what came next in each of those scenarios. Losing his temper and fighting in the school yard; breaking free from under his brother and knocking his last baby tooth out; tearing up the college rejection letters and destroying his own bedroom; and finding his sweethearts new boyfriend, and putting him in the hospital for Christmas. Despite recent his recent talk show gimmick which brought into question is ferociousness, but the truth is: Vince has always been "Vicious". No matter what angle any wrestling promotion has tried to fit him in, the savage irritation always pokes through. It is this anger management issue that caused him to grow up without friends. It caused him a meaningful relationship with his family. It caused him the opportunity to meet his full academic potential. But most importantly, it caused him any chance at a lasting relationship with any woman.
Ironically enough, the ferocious anger which has cost him so much and hindered so many dreams, may just be necessary to become the KOTDM champion. In blind anger, Vegas picks up Jerry Nate's pool cue, breaks it over his knee and uses the splintered end to word his own face. He jams the jagged cue into the gash he received at the beginning of the night, courtesy of a bar stool, reopening the cut. As, the warm, crimson blood flows over his face, Vegas smiles and begins smashing the broken cue over Nate's back, again and again.
Post by Psychotic Circus on Dec 28, 2012 18:16:50 GMT -7
"Someone is starting to earn his namesake. Vince is showing off why they call him "The Vicious One", and he's writing the legacy into Jerry's back."
"It's not often we see Jerry laying on the floor and taking it like this, he's usually the pitcher in this situation."
"....Maybe he's a switch?"
-The Satisfying One was taking it across his back, the pot leaf across his favorite Pantera shirt was starting to be reduced to shreds from Vince's efforts with the broken pool stick. The jagged end of the stick caught the shirt on the upswing and tettered it, boiling Jerry's blood when he felt the tattered pieces falling down over his back. The pain of losing his favorite clothing apparel, mixed with the unpleasant feelings of having a stick broken across his back, was enough to re-inspire the warrior side of GHW's drunken hero.-
-As Vegas prepared another downswing, Jerry Nate propped himself up on his forearms with a face strewn in real anger before his legs swung around in a vortex, kicking the pool stick away from Vince's hands. While "The Vicious One" looked on in shock from the sudden happenings, Jerry's legs bound together underneath him as he hauled his mass upwards to meet Vince's face with his. With two fingers at each side of his mouth, spreading his lips as if he was re-in acting last night with Haven, Jerry's mouth sputtered a large inhale before the inevitable, gust of an exhale sprayed the air with a burning brown mist into Vince's eyes. The chalky, stinging vision Vince was left with bought Jerry enough time to take a few steps backwards while Vegas tried to wipe the sneaky, sticky sneak attack from his punished eyeballs. Vince wasn't concerned with what kind of hell Jerry had planned next, only how he was going to get payback was running through his anger befuddled brain as the Shotgun Kid came running across the tile floor, stopping for only a second as he reached striking distance. Jerry's fist pounded into Vincent's chest for a brief moment before his lungs squished inside himself, the force of his muscles giving way to Jerry's assault caused him to fold almost in half as he hit the floor and skidded across the freshly mopped tiles. -
"SHOT-GUN PUNCH! Jerry just dropped Vince Vegas like a 7-11 receipt on the floor!"
"Jerry! He's not getting up, let him sit! Keep your title!"
"I! I am the true heir to the Psychotic Legacy! My anger does not blow away so quickly after a beating...your suffering has only just begun tonight!"
"Ah hell...he's talking like his mentor. Boys, I think we're in for a true, old style Jaggeroth blood fest here..."
-Jerry's mood had switch from happy go lucky to a darker persona as he slowly walked towards his gasping victim before he stopped and bent over, rising Vince's body off the stained floor.-
"You think re-opening that wound is going to get you anywhere?! You think it means you're sick in the head!? That fresh blood doesn't mean shit to me!"
-Jerry screamed into his victims face as they stared into one anther's eyes, scanning the blood tracts running down each others facade. He grunted as he began to haul the Vegas native over to a group of tables, only to be met with a series of short, well aimed head butts from Vince's bleeding cranium.-
"That's nice. GHW is already in the hole because of the damages we caused this bar during the match. Now we have to get both men tested for HIV."
"Well, we can save money and not test Jerry..."
-Vince's cranium reared back one final time, blasting Jerry in the same spot the nine ball had smacked around earlier and dropping the Drunken Hero to a knee as he held his sore spot and cursed out just fast enough for the censors to miss it. "The Vicious One" wasn't done with his half baked prey, Jerry's head was quickly placed between Vince's legs as he gave Jerry the proverbial Tea-bag to the back of his skull.-
"I don't like where this is going...."
-Vince's arms wrapped around Jerry's abs as his face contorted in a very saucy mix of anger and struggle to get the meaty Nebraskan up off the ground. Jerry Nate struggled as best her could but in vain as ultimately Vince got the upper hand in getting Jerry's lower body off the ground.-
"Don't do it...."
"He gonna do it..."
-Vince wrapped an arm around Jerry's thigh before his ass fell backwards lazily onto the floor and getting re-acquainted with it, only this time he brought Jerry's head bouncing off the worn down tiles with him.-
"OH SHIT! Pile Driver! Pile Driver! Right on the ground!"
"It feels so much worse when it's anywhere but a ring...That's it boys, we have a new KOTDM champion.-
-The ref, ticked-off about having to come and do his damn job again, pulls himself from his pint and hurries over to the downed Jerry Nate as Vince Vegas stood above him with his arm already raised. Jerry could do nothing but groan as he laid with wide arms and spread eagle legs over the blood encrusted tile.-
"I never wanted this match to end...now we have to call another Wolverina fiasco..."
-The ref stops suddenly as Vincent prepared to raise his arms in victory, the lights had gone out inside the bar.-
"If I can't see it, I can't count it...that's the rule..."
-Vincent tried kicking about, but no one saw it in the darkened bar. The lights over the bar began to flicker, giving light to a shadowy figure.-
"YOUR SOUL IS MINE!!!"
-A scuffle was heard, but only slightly seen as two shadows were flinging around the horribly lit area as the cameras followed it towards the dark corner where the pool tables were situated. The triangular lights that hung above the tables of ill-repute began to flicker, showing Jerry and his blood covered face standing on top of the table, a heaving Vincent now situated between his legs. Jerry bent over and squeezed with his demonic, corn fed strength and lifted Vince's body off the ground, his head pointed towards the felt lined table as his arms dangled from exhaustion only to be tucked behind Jerry's legs.-
"AAAhhhhhhh, shit! He gonna do it."
-Jerry jumped up as high as he could, knocking the triangle shaped tube light off one of its ends while he kicked back his legs for the fall. The Satisfying One's knees barreled to catch his free fall, but nothing could support Vince's landing while his head smashed against the felt lined table, splintering the soft wood of the top layer. The front of the table went crashing against the floor as the legs couldn't support the sudden blow, allowing "The Vicious One's" body to slowly slide down to the floor limp as Jerry laid over the lop sided table, batting the dangling Budweiser light away from him as he watched, panting with dark, sinister eyes.-
"Oh, that just sounded sickening. I'm pretty sure one of those cracks we heard was Vince's neck."
"And I'm pissed about it! I thought this match would drag on for another hour hopefully after that. Now we really do have to call a Wolverina match!"
-Vince's body didn't move an inch after the impact, it stayed in place where he slid off the table, unmoving except for little signs of breathing, a first after someone took a Bile Driver MK II.-
Post by "Vicious" Vince Vegas on Jan 1, 2013 14:02:40 GMT -7
As Vince lay semi-conscious and motionless on the bar room floor, in a pool of blood and beer, a team of paramedics surround him. As one paramedic shines a small light into Vince's eyes which are barely responsive, it becomes obvious that something is terribly wrong. The color commentary team begins to realize that perhaps, as Colin said,one of those cracks WAS Vince's neck. Another paramedic rushes over to the cameraman, whispers something in his ear and the broadcast from the bar is immediately cut off. The air goes black for a moment before the broadcast cuts to a close up of Colin "the fuzz", Big Al and Matt Oliveira who all seem genuinely concerned and, for once, in agreement with one another. As their earpieces buzz, receiving new information on what is occurring inside the bar, Colin begin a solemn message to the fans.
Ladies and gentlemen, as we all know, what we do here in Glory and Honor Wrestling is entertainment, but unfortunately the risks are all too real. I have the unfortunate responsibility of informing you that it looks as if Vince Vegas may be seriously injured. This is not part of the show. This is not an angle. A team of paramedics are with Vince now and will be transporting him to Massachusetts General Hospital to tend to his injuries. All of us here at GHW wish for the best, and hope Vince is OK. We will provide you with updates as we receive them.
Matt Oliveira leans over behind the desk with his hand over his ear, apparently receiving some transmission from the bar. The Hardcore Genius has a look of relief on his face as he looks up at the camera.
I've just been informed that Vince's eyes are responsive to light and he has feeling in all of his extremities. He is still unsure of where he is or what exactly happened, but has been verbally responsive with the paramedics as well.
There you go folks, Vegas does have feeling in all of his extremities and has been responsive to the paramedics, but still not out of the woods yet. We all hope he makes a full recovery.
The news of Vegas showing signs of consciousness and movement in both his feet and hands comes as a relief to the broadcast team. It looked as if Jerry Nate's "Bile Driver MKII" was almost the cause of another tragic event in wrestling broadcasted live on Pay Per View. Even so, the media is will have a field day with an accident like this, most likely finding some convoluted way to place blame on performance enhancing drugs and the affects of long term steroid use. But Jerry Nate and Vince Vegas know that is not the case. If there is any blame to be placed, it lies with each their parents for raising two mentally unstable individuals. Steroids are not the cause of this scene. The cause is hatred. Plain and simple.
Back at the bar, paramedics have braced Vince's neck and are carefully placing him from the floor onto a stretcher. Vegas sees only blurred shapes and colors and hears the echoing voice of the paramedics, "We're getting you to a hospital. You may have broken your neck". Although he is still unsure exactly where, or even who, he is, the hatred and anger are still coursing through his veins. Vegas begins to squirm around on the stretcher. He sees the paramedic's face, much clearer than before.
Hold still Mr. Vegas. Let us do our job. You may cause further damage.
Vegas pays no heed to the warning of the medically trained professional urging to remain where he is. "Vicious" Vince tears the brace off his neck and rolls off the stretcher onto the floor of the bar. Two paramedics try in vein to pick Vince back up, but he has already made up his mind. He is not going to any hospital. Not yet anyway. Vegas begins his ascent to his feet and, much like a calf learning how to walk, he is quite unstable.
Across the bar, Jerry Nate cannot believe his eyes. Blood, bruises and broken bones; What does he have to do to keep this man down?
You should have stayed on that stretcher Vincent.
"Vicious" Vince staggers over to Jerry, throwing a furious combination of lefts and rights intended for the chin of the burly Nebraskan. Unfortunately for Vince, his sense of depth perception has not yet fully returned after the devastating Bile Driver, and the punches miss Nate completely as he falls to the floor at Jerry's feet.
Back at GHW arena, the broadcast team gets word of what is happening back at the bar.
We have just gotten word that "Vicious" Vince Vegas has refused medical treatment and trying to continue the match. We're going live back to the bar to see exactly what's happening.
The broadcast returns back to the bar with Vince Laying at Jerry's feet.
What is he doing? Somebody stop this match! This man needs medical attention!
It's going to have to be a GHW official that stops it, because God knows Jerry Nate won't!
Vegas grabs at Jerry's legs from the ground, trying to bring himself back to his feet. The shotgun kid lifts his elbow high in the air and rains a hard fist down, directly into Vince's forehead, dropping him back to the floor. Nate reaches down, picks up his injured opponent, walks him over to the men's room door, and hurls face first into the door. The door flies open and Vince tumbles through to the other side. "The Satisfying One", looking to add insult to injury, grabs a urinal cake from the nearby stalls. Obviously Ol' Patty does not keep his bathrooms up to state standards, as the once blue urinal cake is now a shade of green from overuse. Nate stuffs the cake into Vegas' mouth like he was Mankind shoving Mr. Socko in for a mandible claw.
An infuriated Vince rolls on the floor spitting and wiping his tongue, as Nate washes remnants of the disgusting urinal cake off of his hands. After drying his hands, Nate again attempts to pick Vegas up by the head. This time, however, he is met with strike directly between the legs, in his burly Nebraskan Cahoonas. Nate bends over in the pain that any boy with a sister knows all to well. Vegas uses the sink to aid him to his feet, wraps his arm around the head of the bent over Nate and falls backward, driving Nate's head hard into the porcelain urinal.
Nevada Drop onto a urinal! These two are trying to kill each other!