Post by Matt Oliveira on Feb 24, 2008 23:33:03 GMT -5
(-- gahwo.proboards55.com/index.cgi?board=rpcontracts&action=display&thread=1177114424 --)
Darrell: "Well, kiddos, we've had another amazing night live on pay-per-view as usual. We've had a few scores settled, some feuds magnified, our first Television champ crowned and...well...up next could be one of the most violent and lethal encounters ever."
Ray: "Darrell, we've said that so many times before with so many different stars on so many different nights. But, this time, it could be in one of it's purest forms. Before we let Lizzie roll with her punches, and before we let these guys nearly kill each other, you need to realize something. Matthew Oliveira and Vladimir Strife are professionals. They've been trained. They've done this kind of stuff before and know their limits. But, my opinion and most sincerest thoughts...these limits should never be pushed. DO NOT try this at home, at a friends, or practically ever."
"Exactly. See, chances are both men will be put out from this. We've signed waivers, our cameramen have been told what could happen, and our referee has an advances lesson in First Aid. We want you to know, no matter how bad this gets, it's for the sake of entertainment. This should never be duplicated even in this business...and to confirm our sentiments, Brett Steel previously talked with us, and here is his message."
A camera pans up to the thick Asylum Cage hanging by the rafters above the ring, the Dawn of Destruction graphic cutting to the promo airing earlier in the week as a re-cap...
We cut back to a buzzing arena, in a semi-silent tone as the cage descends halfway, preparing for it's final lowering. The final trio of ring ropes fall, leaving the ring aprons barren and colorless. In the ring, however, lay a flurry of weaponry. Trash cans filled with random goodies, a pair of tables, even a pane of glass and a segment of chain-link fencing. The ring bell chimes solemnly thrice, Lizzie taking the microphone and setting the stage.
Lizzie: "The following contest is our MAIN EVENT of the evening, and is an Asylum Cage Deathmatch. In a few minutes, the cage above the ring will be desend, and will not be lifted until a winner is declared. The rules are as follows: NO disqualifications, NO pinfalls, NO submissions, NO technical knock-outs, and can ONLY end once a participant cannot answer the referee's count of ten under complete unconsciousness. There is NO set time limit, and will conclude GHW's DAWN...OF...DESTRUCTION!"
The crowd pops at the pay-per-view name, their heads beginning to turn to the stage area, preparing for the first of two damned souls.
Darrell: "Ladies and gentlemen, prepare for the fight of your lives."
SLAM!
"Matter of Time" by HELLYEAH shatters the ominous silence that fills the venue, crimson and white light flickering with each drum beat. The crowd stands and rushes the barriers, torsos leaning over the rails and eyes peering into the black curtains that shade the gloom that each man -and woman- who performed tonight exits and enters, sandwiching his or her duty of combat.
Can't touch this... we rule it with a clenched fist,
On! Top fuel with a death grip
Judged! By-a-weak-little-man with-a-pen-in-his-hand and-just doesn't-fucking-get-it
Own! Couldn't stop us if you wanted to
School! Breaking knuckles with a ruler,
Done! No more! Emergence! To dominate you..."
RUN! HIDE!...
Matt whips open the curtains as the song rounds it's first chorus, taking a few steps out as a small amount of cameras flicker. His hair is drenched in water, as is his t-shirt dampened; his old side-profile shirt from quite a while ago dawning his chest. With that is a pair of ripped jean shorts, black, as is his pads and boots. The taped wrapped around his fists glows a clean and ironic white, permanent marker scribing "NeXuS" on his left wrist and "Cage of Death" on his right, the only occurences which he's stepped into a cage surrounding, being his only experience aside from facing his opponent a few months ago. Luckily, both of those times he came out a victor, but both in the Genius's mind and everyone watching, this is more than a cage. The King of the Deathmatch proudly sits at his waist, having it's presence in good taste dispite it's lack in the wager-department. Matt stops at the edge of the stage, standing still, staring at the Asylum looming ten feet over the squared circle...this was the apex. This was it. If there ever was to be a next test in his career, albeit short, that was now. One thousand thoughts rush into his head, one being...he's going to have a headache for his birthday. Matt zones out, being brought back by Lizzie.
"Introducing the first participant...standing at six feet and two inches, weighing two hundred and fifty four pounds...his GHW record clocks in at eleven wins and one loss...he is the NeXuS Champion...the Silver Devil Champion...the current King of Deathmatches..."THE HARDCORE GENIUS"...MATTHEW OLIVEIRA!"
A solemn round of applause greets the steely-eyed sadist, raising his arms and posing in a crucifix and marching down the ramp, he looks at the various followers by the railings, staring at each one in the eye, looking directly into the believed soul. However, for the fans, what they saw was nothing but blank pupils. Cold, dankness, an inhospitable glare and look of uncertainty or death. It wasn't necessarily for intimidation, but still ran a chill up a sensitive man's spine if ever the case.
Ray: "Well, not much to say anymore in his case, Darrell, but I can say Matt's shared his case of epic matches. Sometimes prized as the most violent and grotesque spectacles in a twenty-by-twenty piece of hardware. Not many opponents have driven Matt to the edge quite like Vladimir, I mean, he's gone into hunger strikes just for a PRAYER of an advantage in mind games. These two will not stop."
Darrell: "Closely matched physically, closely matched charismatically, and as for psychologically...that battle hasn't stopped, nor reached a result."
Matt reaches the ring, standing a few feet from the apron and looks at the setting. So lifeless. No flare or flamboyance...except for Ray. No give from ropes. Anything in the ring can only break...and that includes his bones. Oliveira side steps the ring for a moment, listless, and walks around it, staring.
...a gun in his hand and I don't f*cking get it
Sick! Livid and my stomach aches
Rage! Boiling over, full of hate
Weak! Worthless! Spineless and we're coming for YOU!
Run! Hide! Your time is coming
Hunt! Find! Walking a fine line
Run! Hide! My time is coming
Hunt! Find! It's just a matter of time!
Matt walks to the opposite side of the ring and removes his title, folding it caringly and placing it on the timekeeper's table. He knew, as a fact, Vlad would bring down his heirs, and they too would join some of the most prestigious titles this lineage of business ever saw. Leather and gold...just leather and gold...so much blood for leather and gold. Oliveira turns around, a large and focused breath coming out of his mouth, his fingertips being pricked by neurological pins. He steps away from the tables and places a hand on the canvas, pushing up and tucking his knee in. The mat never felt as soft in his life, and the scary part...it's in comparison. He stands up, a chill, a clink of chain. NeXuS. No Man's Land. Shattered Dreams. Hangman's Horror. Cage of Death. SCW Match. Amherst Alleys. House of Horrors...and now...the Asylum Cage.
Darrell: "The cage hasn't even lowered, and it's taking it's toll. TRUST ME."
The riffs of Dimebag fade out of the speakers, growing quiet, the nose of the fans coming back. A single air horn. A soccer chant. Everything's hitting so hard and so fast. His breath whistles out his nose, Matt opening his mouth to stop it, another cold chill up his back, reflecting off of every single scar beckoning his skin. Welcome to your own personal Hell, Matthew Christopher Oliveira.
TBCB Vladimir Strife *I salute you.*
(OOC: Creds to KB again for the promo, HAD to include it.)
Darrell: "Well, kiddos, we've had another amazing night live on pay-per-view as usual. We've had a few scores settled, some feuds magnified, our first Television champ crowned and...well...up next could be one of the most violent and lethal encounters ever."
Ray: "Darrell, we've said that so many times before with so many different stars on so many different nights. But, this time, it could be in one of it's purest forms. Before we let Lizzie roll with her punches, and before we let these guys nearly kill each other, you need to realize something. Matthew Oliveira and Vladimir Strife are professionals. They've been trained. They've done this kind of stuff before and know their limits. But, my opinion and most sincerest thoughts...these limits should never be pushed. DO NOT try this at home, at a friends, or practically ever."
"Exactly. See, chances are both men will be put out from this. We've signed waivers, our cameramen have been told what could happen, and our referee has an advances lesson in First Aid. We want you to know, no matter how bad this gets, it's for the sake of entertainment. This should never be duplicated even in this business...and to confirm our sentiments, Brett Steel previously talked with us, and here is his message."
A camera pans up to the thick Asylum Cage hanging by the rafters above the ring, the Dawn of Destruction graphic cutting to the promo airing earlier in the week as a re-cap...
The scene fades in from black to an empty arena, in the center is a wrestling ring, with a lone figure. Above that figure is a cage, the cage begins to lower and the camera floats forward, towards the ring before entering and revealing Brett Steel wearing his wrestling attire. The cage lowers and various weapons dangle from the roof of the closed structure. "I submit..." Brett turns to face the camera, "Those are the only two words that will get you out of this place without getting knocked unconcious. Those two words are words that I wish I uttered. Those two words are for men who cant handle the pain of this ring. Those two words have never been uttered by me or my opponent. We both knew that no matter what we did to eachother, the match wouldnt end with those two words..."
The scene fades out, showing clips of the match:
The scene fades in from the clip to Brett turned with his back facing the camera, revealing all of the scars on his back. He slowly turns around and looks above his head at the barbed wire baseball bat. "This match brings men to their very limit and pushes them further than they ever thought possible. This match breaks you, not once, not twice but many times over. This match, simply put is pain." Brett sighs lightly as he looks around the ring before leaping up and grabbing onto the baseball bat, he then grabs the top of the cage with one arm and pulls himself and the bat up before dropping down to the mat with it.
"There is no escape. There are no pins. There is only pain, submission and black outs." Brett swings the bat hard, aiming for the camera, but the bat stops an inch from the camera as the scene fades out to another clip from the match:
The scene fades in from the clip to see Brett sitting on a turnbuckle with the baseball bat in his lap. He looks towards the camera with a light shudder before holding his leg out, showing the scars from the match. "I've broken bones for this business, I've taken beatings, I've seen more things and experienced more pain than most of the men in the business today. And this match was worse than any of the things from my past. I fell off of the roof of an arena onto a parked car and survived, I've taken dives into bathtubs of thumbtacks. I know pain and this match took me further than any of that. I was lucky to make it out alive, and so was Vlad."
The scene fades out again to another clip:
Brett sighs lightly as the scene cuts to him again, "My elbow has never been the same since, I cant even LIFT anything heavy without it popping out."
Brett takes a breath and looks around the ring, "Just for you people, I broke a few promises." The cage begins to raise slowly. "I promised I'd never step foot in that cage again and I broke that promise for this little thing. Matt, I really hope you have the strength to survive this match, I know Vlad does. Because if you dont, GHW will lose another great Fighty fighty person. Dont go into anything without knowing all possible routes of victory or defeat. And you did just that, Matt."
The cage raises completely and hangs over the ring. "Good luck guys, and remember, stay alive or lose... Permanently. Also, maybe you'll gain some respect for this man finally Matt, who knows... Crazier shit has happened, like me doing the same thing." Brett turns and slowly walks out of the ring as the scene fades back to black.
Purple and green letters appear on the sceen:
The scene fades out, showing clips of the match:
Vlad cries out in pain, trying to find any way he can to get out of the move, after a while, he's able to find Bretts own hand and quickly jars his finger back, forcing Brett to release the hold. As Brett stumbles away from Vlad, he can be seen holding his hand, the camera quickly zooms in on his hand to see his finger forced in the position Vlad put it in to get out of the hold. After a couple quick breaths Brett forces his finger back into position with a loud yelp. He then moves forward to continue with Vlad only to receive a low blow before a DDT to the mat.
JP: That was disgusting! Vlad dislocated his finger then Brett put it back in place!
Ray: He's so strong and sexy!
Vlad then rolls over Brett and quickly and rakes his back, tearing at the fresh scabs, before pulling both of Bretts arms up into a double hammer lock. Brett cries out in pain as the blood begins to seep from his wounds on his back while Vlad continues to apply pressure to the hammer lock. After a bit of struggle, Vlad releases the hold and slowly stands up before stomping Brett back to the mat.
JP: He's vicious!
Ray: I'm going to cry! Goodbye my lovely 50 dollar bill!
Vlad slowly reaches down to help Brett up by grabbing his arm but Brett quickly flips over the hold and leg sweeps Vlad to the mat. But Vlad recovers quickly and as Brett is getting up, Vlad kicks him in the groin before kicking him in the chin as Brett ducks down, favoring his jewels. Vlad then jumps up and grabs Brett before he can fall back and whips him toward the ropes, Brett hits the ropes and rebounds into a clothesline from Vlad.
JP: That was disgusting! Vlad dislocated his finger then Brett put it back in place!
Ray: He's so strong and sexy!
Vlad then rolls over Brett and quickly and rakes his back, tearing at the fresh scabs, before pulling both of Bretts arms up into a double hammer lock. Brett cries out in pain as the blood begins to seep from his wounds on his back while Vlad continues to apply pressure to the hammer lock. After a bit of struggle, Vlad releases the hold and slowly stands up before stomping Brett back to the mat.
JP: He's vicious!
Ray: I'm going to cry! Goodbye my lovely 50 dollar bill!
Vlad slowly reaches down to help Brett up by grabbing his arm but Brett quickly flips over the hold and leg sweeps Vlad to the mat. But Vlad recovers quickly and as Brett is getting up, Vlad kicks him in the groin before kicking him in the chin as Brett ducks down, favoring his jewels. Vlad then jumps up and grabs Brett before he can fall back and whips him toward the ropes, Brett hits the ropes and rebounds into a clothesline from Vlad.
The scene fades in from the clip to Brett turned with his back facing the camera, revealing all of the scars on his back. He slowly turns around and looks above his head at the barbed wire baseball bat. "This match brings men to their very limit and pushes them further than they ever thought possible. This match breaks you, not once, not twice but many times over. This match, simply put is pain." Brett sighs lightly as he looks around the ring before leaping up and grabbing onto the baseball bat, he then grabs the top of the cage with one arm and pulls himself and the bat up before dropping down to the mat with it.
"There is no escape. There are no pins. There is only pain, submission and black outs." Brett swings the bat hard, aiming for the camera, but the bat stops an inch from the camera as the scene fades out to another clip from the match:
Vladimir gets up to his feet and climbs the turnbuckle slowly, being careful not to fall off. He reaches up high for a beer bottle, it being slightly out of his reach. Vladimir is so focused on reaching it that he forgets about Brett Steel, who finally has gotten up and comes over, climbing up behind Vladimir but facing inward. Brett hoists himself up under Vladimir and lifts him up, preparing to powerbomb him from the top rope. The audience rise to their feet as they watch, getting ready to see it. Vlad grabs onto the cage sides and pulls himself towards them, slamming Brett's head against the cage by thrusting his hips.
Ray: Ooooh! I love that move!!!
JP: Dear God.... I'm pretty sure Vladimir wasn't meaning for it to look as sexual as it did, Ray..
Ray: Sure, he didn't... sure.. Neither did I last night.
JP: Ray... even considering you are gay, what man really would ever want to sleep with you?
Ray: Your daddy!
JP just sits there with an open mouth, shocked by the insult.
Vladimir reaches up and grabs the beer bottle finally, bringing it down with a yank and smashing the bottom of it over Brett's skull. Vlad goes to stab him in the forehead with it, but Brett wearily falls forward off of the turnbuckle, hitting Vladimir with a monstrous powerbomb. Brett takes a moment to remember where he is and sees Vladimir laid out in front of him. He grabs Vlad's ankle and twists it, locking his legs around Vlad's knee for leverage. Vladimir reaches out in pain weakly, knocked dizzy from the powerbomb, and tries to pull his leg out of the move.
Ray: Wow... Vladimir just got the hell knocked out of him and already Brett Steel has him locked in a submission! Looks painful..
JP slams Ray's head against the table and shakes his head.
JP: It looks painful indeed.
Vladimir grabs the broken beer bottle and jams the shards into Brett's calf, quickly breaking the hold as Brett holds his hand over a couple of lines of blood pouring down the back of it. Vlad is still dizzy, but brings himself up to his knees and then pounces on Brett, holding him down. He rakes the edges of broken glass across Brett's forehead and digs them in hard, twisting and jabbing them into the flesh. Brett yells out loudly in pain and grabs Vladimir's hands, pulling them away from himself, overpowering Strife once again.
Brett thrusts his hips hard and sends Vladimir over head and onto the mat. He rolls backwards and sits on top of Vladimir's chest, reversing the position he'd just been in. Brett pulls the bottle from Vladimir's hands and tosses it against the cage away from them, the rest of it shattering into small bits. Brett slams his elbow into Vladimir's jaw a couple of times, then grabs his hair and pulls him up towards him. Brett then shoves him back down, slamming Vladimir's head against the ring mat and repeating the process a couple of times. Brett then stands up and looks down upon a dazed Vladimir.
Ray: Ooooh! I love that move!!!
JP: Dear God.... I'm pretty sure Vladimir wasn't meaning for it to look as sexual as it did, Ray..
Ray: Sure, he didn't... sure.. Neither did I last night.
JP: Ray... even considering you are gay, what man really would ever want to sleep with you?
Ray: Your daddy!
JP just sits there with an open mouth, shocked by the insult.
Vladimir reaches up and grabs the beer bottle finally, bringing it down with a yank and smashing the bottom of it over Brett's skull. Vlad goes to stab him in the forehead with it, but Brett wearily falls forward off of the turnbuckle, hitting Vladimir with a monstrous powerbomb. Brett takes a moment to remember where he is and sees Vladimir laid out in front of him. He grabs Vlad's ankle and twists it, locking his legs around Vlad's knee for leverage. Vladimir reaches out in pain weakly, knocked dizzy from the powerbomb, and tries to pull his leg out of the move.
Ray: Wow... Vladimir just got the hell knocked out of him and already Brett Steel has him locked in a submission! Looks painful..
JP slams Ray's head against the table and shakes his head.
JP: It looks painful indeed.
Vladimir grabs the broken beer bottle and jams the shards into Brett's calf, quickly breaking the hold as Brett holds his hand over a couple of lines of blood pouring down the back of it. Vlad is still dizzy, but brings himself up to his knees and then pounces on Brett, holding him down. He rakes the edges of broken glass across Brett's forehead and digs them in hard, twisting and jabbing them into the flesh. Brett yells out loudly in pain and grabs Vladimir's hands, pulling them away from himself, overpowering Strife once again.
Brett thrusts his hips hard and sends Vladimir over head and onto the mat. He rolls backwards and sits on top of Vladimir's chest, reversing the position he'd just been in. Brett pulls the bottle from Vladimir's hands and tosses it against the cage away from them, the rest of it shattering into small bits. Brett slams his elbow into Vladimir's jaw a couple of times, then grabs his hair and pulls him up towards him. Brett then shoves him back down, slamming Vladimir's head against the ring mat and repeating the process a couple of times. Brett then stands up and looks down upon a dazed Vladimir.
The scene fades in from the clip to see Brett sitting on a turnbuckle with the baseball bat in his lap. He looks towards the camera with a light shudder before holding his leg out, showing the scars from the match. "I've broken bones for this business, I've taken beatings, I've seen more things and experienced more pain than most of the men in the business today. And this match was worse than any of the things from my past. I fell off of the roof of an arena onto a parked car and survived, I've taken dives into bathtubs of thumbtacks. I know pain and this match took me further than any of that. I was lucky to make it out alive, and so was Vlad."
The scene fades out again to another clip:
Brett jumps off of his turnbuckle before moving to the center of the ring and waiting for Vlad. They exchange nods before moving closer into a tie up, Vlad uses his strength and weight to his advantage and quickly brings Brett into an arm drag. As Brett hits the mat Vlad continues to hold the arm and drops to the mat with an arm bar on Brett, weakening the arm of Brett moreso. Vlad continues to wrench the hold unmercifully before reaching for the bat and placing the bat under the elbow of Brett to add more leverage to the hold. After a while Brett begins to pound the mat, after hearing a pop come from his elbow, tapping out to the modified arm bar, but Vlad doesn’t realize the ref was still out cold when he releases the hold.
JP: Oh god… I think he just dislocated the elbow of Brett Steel. This wont be good folks..
Ray: I think I’m gonna be sick again.
Vlad glances around the ring before beginning an early celebration and realizes the ref was still out cold from the powerbomb. Vlad begins to curse and stomp around the ring before moving back over to Brett who is still favoring his arm. Vlad glances down to see Bretts elbow dislocated and sighs lightly before grabbing the hand of Brett and yanking as hard as he can. Brett screams out in pure agony when his elbow pops back into place from the yank, causing Vlad and the entire arena to almost instantly feel sick to their stomachs.
Ray vomits at the sound of the scream.
JP: For once, I’m about to do the same… Brett really is a tough son of a bitch I guess. And I think Vlad has found himself a newfound respect for Brett Steel.
Vlad steps back away from Brett as he rolls on the mat in pain, holding his elbow and nearly crying before forcing himself to his feet. Vlad stares on at Brett, amazed that he’s actually getting up before shaking off his surprise and focusing in on the match again. Brett quickly lunges forward, using only one hand and delivers a quick punch to the face of Vlad. Vlad stumbles slightly, allowing Brett time to deliver a kick to his ribs and a second punch to the stomach. Vlad begins stumbling more as Brett continues to use his feet and fist to push Vlad back into the turnbuckle.
JP: Oh god… I think he just dislocated the elbow of Brett Steel. This wont be good folks..
Ray: I think I’m gonna be sick again.
Vlad glances around the ring before beginning an early celebration and realizes the ref was still out cold from the powerbomb. Vlad begins to curse and stomp around the ring before moving back over to Brett who is still favoring his arm. Vlad glances down to see Bretts elbow dislocated and sighs lightly before grabbing the hand of Brett and yanking as hard as he can. Brett screams out in pure agony when his elbow pops back into place from the yank, causing Vlad and the entire arena to almost instantly feel sick to their stomachs.
Ray vomits at the sound of the scream.
JP: For once, I’m about to do the same… Brett really is a tough son of a bitch I guess. And I think Vlad has found himself a newfound respect for Brett Steel.
Vlad steps back away from Brett as he rolls on the mat in pain, holding his elbow and nearly crying before forcing himself to his feet. Vlad stares on at Brett, amazed that he’s actually getting up before shaking off his surprise and focusing in on the match again. Brett quickly lunges forward, using only one hand and delivers a quick punch to the face of Vlad. Vlad stumbles slightly, allowing Brett time to deliver a kick to his ribs and a second punch to the stomach. Vlad begins stumbling more as Brett continues to use his feet and fist to push Vlad back into the turnbuckle.
Brett sighs lightly as the scene cuts to him again, "My elbow has never been the same since, I cant even LIFT anything heavy without it popping out."
Brett takes a breath and looks around the ring, "Just for you people, I broke a few promises." The cage begins to raise slowly. "I promised I'd never step foot in that cage again and I broke that promise for this little thing. Matt, I really hope you have the strength to survive this match, I know Vlad does. Because if you dont, GHW will lose another great Fighty fighty person. Dont go into anything without knowing all possible routes of victory or defeat. And you did just that, Matt."
The cage raises completely and hangs over the ring. "Good luck guys, and remember, stay alive or lose... Permanently. Also, maybe you'll gain some respect for this man finally Matt, who knows... Crazier shit has happened, like me doing the same thing." Brett turns and slowly walks out of the ring as the scene fades back to black.
Purple and green letters appear on the sceen:
Asylum Cage
Matt Oliveira
vs
Vladimir Strife
DAWN
OF
DESTRUCTION!
Matt Oliveira
vs
Vladimir Strife
DAWN
OF
DESTRUCTION!
We cut back to a buzzing arena, in a semi-silent tone as the cage descends halfway, preparing for it's final lowering. The final trio of ring ropes fall, leaving the ring aprons barren and colorless. In the ring, however, lay a flurry of weaponry. Trash cans filled with random goodies, a pair of tables, even a pane of glass and a segment of chain-link fencing. The ring bell chimes solemnly thrice, Lizzie taking the microphone and setting the stage.
Lizzie: "The following contest is our MAIN EVENT of the evening, and is an Asylum Cage Deathmatch. In a few minutes, the cage above the ring will be desend, and will not be lifted until a winner is declared. The rules are as follows: NO disqualifications, NO pinfalls, NO submissions, NO technical knock-outs, and can ONLY end once a participant cannot answer the referee's count of ten under complete unconsciousness. There is NO set time limit, and will conclude GHW's DAWN...OF...DESTRUCTION!"
The crowd pops at the pay-per-view name, their heads beginning to turn to the stage area, preparing for the first of two damned souls.
Darrell: "Ladies and gentlemen, prepare for the fight of your lives."
SLAM!
"Matter of Time" by HELLYEAH shatters the ominous silence that fills the venue, crimson and white light flickering with each drum beat. The crowd stands and rushes the barriers, torsos leaning over the rails and eyes peering into the black curtains that shade the gloom that each man -and woman- who performed tonight exits and enters, sandwiching his or her duty of combat.
Can't touch this... we rule it with a clenched fist,
On! Top fuel with a death grip
Judged! By-a-weak-little-man with-a-pen-in-his-hand and-just doesn't-fucking-get-it
Own! Couldn't stop us if you wanted to
School! Breaking knuckles with a ruler,
Done! No more! Emergence! To dominate you..."
RUN! HIDE!...
Matt whips open the curtains as the song rounds it's first chorus, taking a few steps out as a small amount of cameras flicker. His hair is drenched in water, as is his t-shirt dampened; his old side-profile shirt from quite a while ago dawning his chest. With that is a pair of ripped jean shorts, black, as is his pads and boots. The taped wrapped around his fists glows a clean and ironic white, permanent marker scribing "NeXuS" on his left wrist and "Cage of Death" on his right, the only occurences which he's stepped into a cage surrounding, being his only experience aside from facing his opponent a few months ago. Luckily, both of those times he came out a victor, but both in the Genius's mind and everyone watching, this is more than a cage. The King of the Deathmatch proudly sits at his waist, having it's presence in good taste dispite it's lack in the wager-department. Matt stops at the edge of the stage, standing still, staring at the Asylum looming ten feet over the squared circle...this was the apex. This was it. If there ever was to be a next test in his career, albeit short, that was now. One thousand thoughts rush into his head, one being...he's going to have a headache for his birthday. Matt zones out, being brought back by Lizzie.
"Introducing the first participant...standing at six feet and two inches, weighing two hundred and fifty four pounds...his GHW record clocks in at eleven wins and one loss...he is the NeXuS Champion...the Silver Devil Champion...the current King of Deathmatches..."THE HARDCORE GENIUS"...MATTHEW OLIVEIRA!"
A solemn round of applause greets the steely-eyed sadist, raising his arms and posing in a crucifix and marching down the ramp, he looks at the various followers by the railings, staring at each one in the eye, looking directly into the believed soul. However, for the fans, what they saw was nothing but blank pupils. Cold, dankness, an inhospitable glare and look of uncertainty or death. It wasn't necessarily for intimidation, but still ran a chill up a sensitive man's spine if ever the case.
Ray: "Well, not much to say anymore in his case, Darrell, but I can say Matt's shared his case of epic matches. Sometimes prized as the most violent and grotesque spectacles in a twenty-by-twenty piece of hardware. Not many opponents have driven Matt to the edge quite like Vladimir, I mean, he's gone into hunger strikes just for a PRAYER of an advantage in mind games. These two will not stop."
Darrell: "Closely matched physically, closely matched charismatically, and as for psychologically...that battle hasn't stopped, nor reached a result."
Matt reaches the ring, standing a few feet from the apron and looks at the setting. So lifeless. No flare or flamboyance...except for Ray. No give from ropes. Anything in the ring can only break...and that includes his bones. Oliveira side steps the ring for a moment, listless, and walks around it, staring.
...a gun in his hand and I don't f*cking get it
Sick! Livid and my stomach aches
Rage! Boiling over, full of hate
Weak! Worthless! Spineless and we're coming for YOU!
Run! Hide! Your time is coming
Hunt! Find! Walking a fine line
Run! Hide! My time is coming
Hunt! Find! It's just a matter of time!
Matt walks to the opposite side of the ring and removes his title, folding it caringly and placing it on the timekeeper's table. He knew, as a fact, Vlad would bring down his heirs, and they too would join some of the most prestigious titles this lineage of business ever saw. Leather and gold...just leather and gold...so much blood for leather and gold. Oliveira turns around, a large and focused breath coming out of his mouth, his fingertips being pricked by neurological pins. He steps away from the tables and places a hand on the canvas, pushing up and tucking his knee in. The mat never felt as soft in his life, and the scary part...it's in comparison. He stands up, a chill, a clink of chain. NeXuS. No Man's Land. Shattered Dreams. Hangman's Horror. Cage of Death. SCW Match. Amherst Alleys. House of Horrors...and now...the Asylum Cage.
Darrell: "The cage hasn't even lowered, and it's taking it's toll. TRUST ME."
The riffs of Dimebag fade out of the speakers, growing quiet, the nose of the fans coming back. A single air horn. A soccer chant. Everything's hitting so hard and so fast. His breath whistles out his nose, Matt opening his mouth to stop it, another cold chill up his back, reflecting off of every single scar beckoning his skin. Welcome to your own personal Hell, Matthew Christopher Oliveira.
TBCB Vladimir Strife *I salute you.*
(OOC: Creds to KB again for the promo, HAD to include it.)