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 Mar 16, 2013 15:12:32 GMT -5
Triumph comes back on the air, with the now-familiar opening to "Don't Stop Me Now" by Queen hitting the speakers, the lights shifting for the always welcome entrance of Jack Tracks.
When it hits the up-tempo, Jack Tracks bounds out from the back as he always does.
Jack dashes to the ring, and hops right up to the apron. A quick vault over the ropes, then Tracks ran to the turnbuckle and climbed up to the second rung, throwing off his jacket and shouting to the ground, who cheers right back.
"Currently in the ring, from Indianapolis, Indiana....Jack....Tracks!"
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Post by Cletus & Big Jim on Mar 17, 2013 16:58:21 GMT -5
His opponent hails from Black Rapids, New Brunswick Canada and weighs in at 245lbs. He is the Perverse Pulp Peeler, and the King of the Deathmatch, Big Jim!
The voice of Tom Waits warbling Don't Go Into That Barn fills the arena.
Big Jim emerges from behind the curtain, clothed in moose skin and his trademark chains. He pays no heed to the decidedly negative reaction of the crowd, and carries the KotDM title just above the floor.
The TV champ isn't showing a hint of fear, proving he's got more guts than brains. That said, let's not forget it was Jack who slapped the Red Flag on Cletus at the ppv, and we haven't seen the brute of bonnie Beaubears Isle in the ring ever since. Maybe he knows something I don't ...
TBCB - Jack
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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 Mar 19, 2013 7:22:45 GMT -5
The bell rings, and both men take a step out of their respective corners and get in a good old-fashioned collar-and-elbow. The two men push against each other, with Tracks' slight height advantage cancelling out the extra weight on Big Jim, at least for the moment. The two end up circling around while locked in tight, before it seems that the momentum tips in the favor of the Logger. He begins to push Tracks back, putting his opponent into the corner. Jim presses his advantage once in there, putting all of his weight against Jack Tracks' body. Of course, this prompts the ref to come in and give the lumberjack a warning, telling him to lay off the pressure. Jim complies, raising his hands up as he takes a couple steps back, before lunging forward again with some heavy blows to the head. Tracks' head reels with each big fist coming across his jaw, even as the ref starts to count to 5. Not wanting to get disqualified already, Jim backs off at the count of 4, his hands raised again as he creates some distance. The referee admonishes Jim, warning him to watch it. But the person who should be watching anything is the ref himself, as Cletus has found his way over to the same corner, and reaches up to get a nice tug at Tracks' long hair as it dangles down the post. As soon as he gets his hands on those locks, the crowd erupts in boos, and it seems they aren't the only ones who disapprove.
"Jesus Christ, they're doing this already?! Cletus is wasting no time making himself a known factor in this match."
"Well they're a team. You can't blame them for taking advantage of a good opportunity like this one. After all, that's the TV Champ in there. You want to make sure he doesn't even get out of the gate, and if it means a little extra hand, then so be it."
"And I'll take this moment to remind our viewers that no titles are on the line in this matchup. Which makes this even more inexcusable! The ref will have to keep his eyes open on this one, as this also is a standard one-fall matchup. Disqualifications are in effect."
Finally, while Big Jim had been doing a good job getting the ref to stay talking with him, eventually Jack Tracks' yell of pain got the official to turn around. Cletus was quick to release the hair and make as much distance as possible when he saw the ref start to move, and ended up close to the next corner before the referee saw anything. Surprisingly fast for a guy his size in this situation, it would seem. Jim went back for his prey, pulling a smarting Jack Tracks out of the corner by his head, getting some of that hair in there, as well. Just enough to hurt, but not enough for the ref to notice. Back in the center of the ring, Jim tucks Tracks' head under his arm, and drapes Tracks' own arm behind his neck. Grabbing a handful of tights, the lumberjack flips back for a solid snap suplex. After hitting it, Jim jumps back up to his feet and guns it to the ropes. He comes back with a big leap into the air, which ends in a very old-school, but effective, legdrop. Jim goes right for the cover after hitting it.
"1...
2..."
And that's all it gets, as Jack Tracks kicks right out, and into a sitting position. While he tries to shake the cobwebs out, Big Jim gets right back on the TV Champ, cupping his hands around Tracks' chin and pressing a knee into his back to complete a chinlock. Tracks fights it, though, and rocks himself back and forth to weaken Jim's position. It works, and before the lock can do too much, Tracks begins to force them both to their feet. Jim won't let go of the hold, however, so Tracks decides to loosen it for him. He reaches up and gets a hold of Jim's head, so the chin rests against Tracks' skull. With a swift motion, Tracks kicks his feet out, driving them both down, and cracking Big Jim's chin nice and hard, sending his head snapping back and his whole body stumbling.
"Some quick thinking finally lets Jack Tracks break Big Jim's momentum, and got him out of that hold before it could do any real damage."
"I guess you could say he really used his head on that one."
"...."
The jawjacker likely did some damage to Tracks, as well, but it appeared to be a good trade, as the King of the Road recovers and gets back to his feet in no time. He pounces, rushing at Big Jim with a sharp elbow right across the mouth, focusing as much as he can on the same spot. A quick series of elbows to follow it drive Jim into the ropes. Knowing that the ropes will probably just bring the ref in, Jack stops the series there, and instead pulls Jim back towards the center with a snapmare. Now Jim is the one who finds himself sitting on his ass. Tracks runs back to the ropes he just moved his opponent away from, and dives forward with both feet, smacking Jim in the back of the head with a nasty low dropkick. The KotDM champ snaps forward briefly before recoil sends him right on his back again. Tracks goes for a cover of his own.
"1...
2..."
But the lumberjack from New Brunswick kicks out. Tracks doesn't want to let him back up, and rains down a couple stomps to make sure of it. Satisfied that his opponent will stay down for a few more seconds, Tracks goes to the ropes again. But the rebound attack doesn't come, as Tracks gets a foot caught on the way back. Jack turns around to see what happened, and there stands Cletus, trying to act like he had no part in it. Already annoyed with the big lug from earlier, Tracks shouts down at the other half of the Logging Crew, pointing an accusing finger.
"And for the second time, Cletus makes his presence known!"
"Hey, I give the big guy credit. I didn't think he had enough brain cells in that thick noggin of his to know to take advantage this much!"
"This is bad enough, but Jack Tracks won't even be able to count on his usual backup to watch for him here tonight, as both his partner Jack Flash and Missy Sippy are elsewhere tonight with prior engagements. Bad, bad timing for Tracks."
And it only gets worse. It seemed Cletus' distraction was all Big Jim needed. Just as Jack Tracks started to turn around, Jim was already not only on his feet, but charging full speed ahead. Before Tracks had time to get his guard up, a big clothesline smacks Jack right across the jaw, sending him clear over the ropes and down to the floor. Big Jim turns back to the crowd, a big, shit-eating grin on his face, fueled by the jeers of the crowd. He certainly feels mighty proud of himself, as Jack Tracks tries to stumble to his feet, with the massive Cletus standing right over him....
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Post by privateers on Mar 20, 2013 10:08:33 GMT -5
As Cletus stands over the prone form of Jack Tracks, the speedster gets some unlikely assistance from the curtain. Alestorm's Quest hits over the loudspeakers and the crowd rises to its feet, knowing what comes next. Davidson & Blake rush down toward ringside and begin to pummel their old enemy, sparing Jack from a heinous thrashing. Big Jim exits the ring and lends a hand to his tag partner. All Hell is breaking loose on the floor, as the four men brawl in the entrance way, and officials flood from the back in an attempt to break things up and restore order. The King of the Road has no dog in this fight, however grateful to the Privateers he may be. Sensing the opportunity to nab a quick count out victory, he gets back into the ring and watches the mayhem below.
Officials are getting clocked in the cross-fire here, there are going to be some hefty fines doled out by GM Jones.
Do any of those guys look like they care Colin? This is bloody personal and money's no object when it comes to settling a score.
Three referees, one restraining each arm and one having thrown his arms around the throat, attempt to remove Jim from the action. A similar force looks to do the same for Cletus. Exchanging a quick glance, the Privateers leap from their feet hitting a pair of standing dropkicks on their wide open nemeses, spilling plaid and stripes all over the floor. They then beat a hasty retreat, the Logging Crew scrambling to their feet and giving chase. The official in the ring, having been as much a spectator as anyone else to this point, is jarred into action by Jack and begins to count Jim out of the ring. The TV champ leads the crowd in counting along.
TBCB-Jim, if he can get back in time
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Post by Cletus & Big Jim on Mar 20, 2013 23:04:40 GMT -5
What the Hell is that Fuzzie?!
I call it turnabout is fair play Al. Cletus gets to interfere whenever it suits him, now let’s see how he likes being on the receiving end, courtesy of the Privateers.
Davidson & Blake had no business down here though.
Neither does Cletus, as far as I’m concerned.
His partner’s in the match!
He’s not a manager, he’s a Fighty fighty person.
So?
You’re a Fighty fighty person, you’ve got a wrestling licence. You’re a manger, you’ve got a managing licence to be at ringside. You can hold both at once.
Well aren’t you just the fountain of information…
The referee rounds six, heading to seven, when Jim bursts from the back, like the proverbial bat out of Hell. A small trickle of blood leaks from a superficial wound on his ear and his eyes are wild with concern as he stampedes toward the squared circle. Sliding under the ropes at about nine and a quarter, he’s greeted by a heavy-duty elbow drop from the Television titlist. Jack knows full well that willful waste makes woeful want and is determined to not let the opportunity to way-lay the distracted woodsman pass without instructing him on the finer points of life in the fast lanes and the many pitfalls therein. Sure to drag his opponent into the depths of every one of them, Tracks mashes his elbow into the side of Jim’s head. When that doesn’t stem the rise of the twisted timber slayer, a dropkick to the knee buckles him and rope-propelled Yakuza kick puts him on his back. A quick cover produces a convincing two count before Jim can roll his shoulder clear of the mat. Jack doesn’t seem put out in the slightest, likely realizing that he’ll need to dish out a bit more punishment, but finding consolation in the knowledge that he’s still firmly in command of the action. He waits, brooding over his opposition, watching the lumberman raise from the mat. When the time is right, he hooks the head and applies the guillotine choke, struggling to wrap his legs around his hefty foe, while Jim fights to deny him. Spittle flying from the perverse pulp peeler’s mouth and his eyes baleful and bloodshot, he twists his body to block the scissors that he knows will spell defeat. He moves his bulk laterally and is clear of the grasping legs. A momentary pinfall sees Jack twist himself as well, removing his shoulder from the mat. When he does, the almost serpentine arm of the deathmatch champion slips into place behind Track’s head. Locking his hands together, he dips his shoulder into Jack’s throat, forcing him to relinquish the choke, lest he be rendered unconscious as well. Jim rolls free, disregarding his advantage and sucking wind for all he’s worth.
A mistake there Al, he could have put Jack away.
He ain’t thinking that far ahead Fuzz, not only did he get jumped by those scumbag pirates earlier, he just escaped from a chokehold; an illegal chokehold, I might add.
Ref never called for the break. He saw it, it obviously looked clean to him.
Official’s these days got no backbone. Ever since Buster Cherry got clipped by Wolverina, they’ve been scared and playing fast and loose with the rules.
The Black Rapids Brute hasn’t seen this many pinwheel lights before his eyes since Vancouver’s 2009 dirty needle deathmatch on East Hastings and Main. He manages to get to one knee, but that simply provokes his opponent into charging his position, and springing off the knee, intent on a Shining Wizard. Yet, before the King of the Road can connect with his devastating kick, Jim gives a mighty shove that sends him backwards, and to the canvas, in a hurry. Tangled in the ropes, Jack scrambles to all fours, but is clocked with a haphazard punt kick from the ragged rustic. Eager to regain his bearings and slow the pace of the contest, Jim opts to grab Jack’s legs, steps in front of the Indiana native’s arms, and stretches the legs backward; an excruciating stump puller. Tracks’ face is the definition of agony, though it isn’t clear whether it’s brought on by the hold, his newfound proximity to Jim’s unwashed nether regions, or perhaps a combination of both. At any rate, the Speedway Sensation manages to summon the power of his long legs to pull Jim forward, and his liberated arms to hook the birler’s legs. The brief pin doesn’t last long enough to talk about, but sets Jim on edge again. The two grapplers disengage and as they turn to face each other, Jim jams a soiled thumb into the eye of his opponent, gaining stern warning from the referee that affects him not at all. Jim rams a knee into the TV champ’s back, forcing him through the top and middle ropes. He rears back and jumps on Jack’s back, forcing him down on the coated metal. He then turns his opposition over and places his head on the bottom rope facing the middle strand. He then hooks each of his opponent's legs then falls backwards to slingshot Jack into the rope neck-first, leaving him to spasm on the mat, holding his throat. Big Jim once again receives harsh criticism from the official, the man in black and white is mincing no words, he’ll disqualify if he has to; this isn’t a deathmatch by any stretch of the imagination.
Well, I might have to take back what I said earlier, he’s really letting Jim have it.
Rightfully so, this bully has been in one too many hardcore matches lately. He’s got the crazy idea that that sort of wrestling is alright any night.
Oh yeah, it’s a crime when Big Jim pulls a few dirty tricks, but when Jack Tracks calls half the locker room out to give him a hand, that’s cool, right?
Are you still on about that?
Damn right, just because he’s one of your favourites, he can do no wrong. Try to have some integrity Fuzzie.
Please….gimme a break….
The lengthy diatribe by the ref, is wearing on Jim’s meagre patience, but before his decks the insignificant man, and forfeits the encounter in so doing, the stripe-shirted arbiter draws to a close and motions for the match to continue. Of course, the respite has allowed Jack ample time to recuperate, but he plays possum. Jim drags him upright, and receives a pair of stiff shots to the gut and a scoop slam for his trouble. Those assembled in the hallowed halls of the GHW Arena, save for those few unrepentant malcontents who insist on cheering for the heel, begin to rally around the recently revived racer. The din of the crowd gives Jack that little something extra that only the truly beloved can ever possess. He guns his engines once again and aims to ensure that the logger will have to spend ample time in the pits when this one draws to a close.
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