KotDM Title: Gore vs Fitzpatrick

[TPK]

The audience is still on their feet from the conclusion of the last bout when suddenly Otherworld by Nobuo Uematsu blats over the PA getting a flurry of boos. Collin Fitzpatrick slowly appears from behind the curtain and starts down the ramp as he soaks in the anger of the Summer Ritual crowd.

Coors: The following match is for The GHW King of the Deathmatch Title, and is a ten weapon match! In order to win you must hit your opponent with ten different weapons. Introducing first, from Killkenny, Ireland COLLIN..."IRISH STOOOOOOOOORM FITZ...PATRICK!

Collin speeds down the ramp and enters the ring, he paces back and forth looking eager to get this match started so he can have a chance to reclaim the title he held not long ago.

TBC
(Yeah I know the entrance sucks but I just wanna get this puppy a going)

[feezah]

Jennings: "Fitzpatrick should be feeling confident. He had an opportunity to scout his opponent in their tag match and he's a former champion himself."

Mulligan: "Many people have held the King of Deathmatches title, but Khristian Gore might be one of the best champions yet."

Jennings: "He'll be tested against the fiery Irishman, that's for sure."

Mulligan: "Ten weapons, ten different ways to inflict pain. This is sure to be a great contest, *cough*, one that Khristian will win!"


Colin remains dormant in his corner before the lights go dark, "Vendetta" by Slipknot hits the p.a. system, a steady, unfiied chorus of boos ignited throughout the sold out venue. On cue with the guitar riffs that quickly begin to pick up is sudden force bursting through the curtains, the defending champion. The Canadian snatches his championship off his shoulder and immediatedly charges to the ring, wasting no time, itching to meet his adversary face to face for the first time in their careers.

The title is thrown to the nearby ring attendant, the ring shifts slightly as the weight of the Ontario resident slides across the ring, finally entering the squared hell. The bell chimes three times, the two talented individuals quickly meeting in a collar and elbow tie in the midst of the ring.

TBC (I Thought The RP Side Was Dead Lol... Short Entrance though. Let's get this going shall we)

[TPK]

The two men struggle against one another neither one having much of an advantage over the other, as the tie up drags on however Collin begins to get the edge over his opponent. Just when it looks like the struggle is almost over Gore musters up a burst of energy and forces Collin down onto his back. Gore stands over Collin for a moment before laying into him with a couple of decent stomps that shake the ring.

Big Al: Well Fuzz, no matter who the hell wins this one the fans are in for a treat. Collin Fitzpatrick great former champ, Khristian Gore great current champ...anyone say win win?

Fuzz: Well, these guys aren't exactly fan faves but I do admit they do know how to work a ring. So it could very well be a good matchup.

Khristian Gore stops his assault on the downed Irishman and bends at the waist, Gore gets a hold of Fitzpatrick's right arm and slowly pulls him up to a stand, once standing though Collin strikes Gore in the jaw with a clenched left fist. Khristian reels back from the shock and Collin quickly jumps at his chance, The Irish Storm wraps his arms around his opponent's midsection and hoists him quickly up before dropping to a knee and driving his opponent's tailbone down onto the outstretched knee. Gore howls in pain and stumbles around as Collin stands again, Fitzpatrick then scoops Gore up, but as he gets to the height of his move Gore manages to slip behind him and hook his arm around Collin's neck, Gore floats down onto his back and slams the back of his opponent's skull into the dusty canvas with force. Gore, rather than get to his feet, rolls under the bottom rope, once outside of the ring Khristian picks the easiest accessible weapon available, Gore quickly snatches a chair from a stack that had been piled up by the time keepers table and returns to the ring. Gore lays in wait for his unknowing opponent, Collin quickly stirs to his feet and turns right into Gore's trap, he sees the chair coming at him but is only able to get his arms up which only serves to keep the chair from smashing into his skull but floors him none the less.

Big Al: And that my friend, puts Khristian Gore in the lead. Now, all he has to do is get nine other weapons and use them and that's game, set, match.

Fuzz: Gotta say, the chair would have been my first choice. They seem to be all over the damn place, and while Collin did somewhat manage to stifle the shot it still counts so yeah, one to not here in the early stage of this contest.

Gore holds the chair over his head like a trophy as he glances down at his opponent who is fighting to get back up, Gore quickly raises his eyebrows up and down and readies his chair once again, this time however he swings and misses as Collin leans to the side making the chair whiff past him. Collin reacts quickly and kicks the chair up into Gore's face, the ref signals a point and Collin smiles as Gore drops the chair and spins around. Collin rushes quickly in and wraps his arm around Gore's waist, he tries to power his opponent over his head but Gore counters with a stiff right elbow that catches Collin in the temple getting him to loosen his grip. Gore turns on his heels and bolts forward before throwing a stiff kick into the back of Collin's right leg taking it out from under him and knocking him onto his back.

Fuzz: Well, almost saw a German there but Khristian Gore wasn't having any of that. So far we've seen a pretty good counter fest, only question now how long can it last?

Big Al: They are both fairly young, they can go at it like this all night. But I really am hoping to see a little less tech and a lot more weapons, after all that is what THIS match is all about.

Gore slowly and methodically makes his way to Fitzpatrick's legs, when he reaches Collin's midsection he nudge him with the tip of his boot rolling him onto his stomach. Once at his adversaries feet Gore grabs Collin's left foot and glances to both sides, Gore then quickly raises the foot into the air and slams it back down driving the knee of Collin Fitzpatrick down into the canvas with authority. Gore releases the foot and backs away from Collin stopping once he reaches the ropes, Gore then steps through the ropes and hops down to the padding below. Gore assesses his surrounding before nodding and making his way to the time keepers table once again, Gore then picks up the ring bell and holds it up in front of his face admiring the weapon. Gore gets back into the ring bell in hand and walks to the area where Collin is still laying on his stomach, Gore drops the bell and once again grabs the left foot, Gore lifts up and pulls in the direction of the bell before slamming down again driving his opponent's knee cap into it getting an "OOOO" from the crowd.

Fuzz: Oh man, Collin's left knee being absolutely destroyed in this match! Khristian Gore just slammed his knee down onto that bell!

Big Al: I know, and you know what that means? Two to one Fuzzy. Gore is making this look like a walk in the park, at this pace he'll be done with this match before even breaking a sweat!

TBC

[feezah]

Khristian Gore bends over and clutches the ringbell before lifting it into the air. He watches Colin struggle to regain a vertical base, the strategic and maliciou attacks to his legs diminishing his speed and stability. Colin makes it to his feet using the ring ropes for leverage. The former King of Deathmatches grabs his knee and winces, the pain just about excruciating and unbearable. As he begins to turn, Gore charges forward and lunges with the ring bell. The astute and crafty Irishman ducks, dodging the shot by just a hair. Before Khristian can mount another attack, Colin drops down and grabs the nearby steel chair. Now on one the Irish Storm seemed to be at a great disadvantage, especially considering the fact that Khristian has regained his composure and is advancing to his position. As Gore leans, Colin swings the chair through the atmosphere, all his weight and might put in the motion, the steel passifier clashing against the forehead of the King of Deathmatches. The shot sound throughout the arena and resonates through out the Canadian's head, as he drops the ring bell and staggers into the ropes.

Colin Fitzpatrick drops to his side and rolls toward the fallen ringbell, grasping it tightly with both hands and slowly making it to his feet. He stumbles back at first, and turns his body slightly away from his adversary, the undefeated Khristian Gore who lurches forward, still stunned by the withering shot before. Colin swings his body forward, the ring bell cutting through the air and meeting the head of the groggy Khristian Gore, the shot chimes throughout the arena, while Khristian Gore is coerced back, where he falls through the ropes and crashes unceremoniously on the concrete below with a thud.

Jennings: "Colin hit the champ with two weapons in that sequence, but only one of them counted. Still, quite effective and Gore has been floored!"

Mulligan: "The feeling of the chair shot hadn't even sunk in, before he got leveled with that ring bell. The brutality seems to be picking up!"

Jennings: "And I bet your happy now!"

Mulligan: "Damn straight, business is picking up!"

Fitzpatrick drops the ring bell before falling to the canvas, slowly sliding out under the bottom rope. Now on the outside, he peers at Khrisian Gore who commences to slither toward the guard rail. As Gore tries to make it to his feet and regather his bearings, Irish Storm plods over to him. Colin seizes Gore around the neck, almost strangling him with his hands before jerking him to his feet. The nearby camera man zooms in, getting a good look at the crimson flowing profuesely from the new gash across Khristian's forehead. Colin lifts his good leg up before bending his knee, maliciously driving it into the gut of the Ontario resident, stripping the air from his lungs and leaving the champion gasping for air like a dying fish. Colin grabs the nearest arm of Khristian Gore, and pulls him forward.

The Irish Whip by the Irishman, is averted an countered by the bloody Canadian as he contiunes to spin, simultaneously grabbing the arm of his challenger. Now facing the ring, Khristian reels Colin in, sliding out of the way at the very last moment, the eleventh hour, sending the helpless Irishman spine first into the unforgiving steel guard rail. The nearby fans cringe, recoiling and flinchng backward after watching either one of the hated, or beloved superstars take a serious collision. Fitzpatric grits his teeth in agony, slowly regaining his feet. As he stands slumed over, Khristian Gore wipes some of the abundantly flowing blood from around his eyes, before dashing forwad, the counter and the sight of his own crimson invigorating him. Gore extends his arm, his bicep smahing across the neck of the battered Irishman. The extreme force behind the blow sends both competitors tubmling over the guard rail, their bodies spilling into the audience giving the fans their monies worth.

Mulligan: "That was an authoratative clothesline, and now those biased bastards are getting a first hand look at GHW action."

Jennings: "If Gore and Fitzpatrick can deliver. They've taken it to one another thus far, and each superstar has 8 weapons to go!"

Mulligan: "You've got that right. The champion is busted wide open, and the challenger is one legged. This is Gods and Heretics at it's best."

Jennings: "It's why we are the best at what we do Al, simple as that!"

The first to stir to his feet is the bloodied champion who careens and collapses into a nearby trashcan. As his opponent begins to rise, Khristian Gore firs uses the can to get his balance before discading the lid and turning the can upside down, emptying the janitorial instruments and essentially, the once housed weaponry. Gore hoists the can over his head before stepping forward, swinging it downward with vigor, the can smashing staight onto the skull of the former King of Deathmatches. Fitzpatrick is forced to his knees, his head throbbing from the calculated shot, and his body in a bad way.

Gore tosses the trashcan aside, before leaning over, lifting up the lid. The arrogant Canadian steps to the side before swinging the lid, brutally burying it onto the side of Colin's head with reckless abandon, the mammoth shot knocking the Irishman over and leaving Khristian stading triumphant. As Gore pompously hoists his arms into the air, evoking a chorus of boos from the crowd, Fitzpatrick' arm begins to protrude, exending outward, reaching a nearby wooden broomstick. The Irish Storm slowly lifts himself up, and with the broom held in both hands firmly, he stalks his oblivious target. As Gore turns around, lid in hand, Irish Storm falls forward, driving the broomstick as well, plunging the tip of the cleaning utensil into the solar plexus of his antagonist with vengeance.

Khristian Gore is rendered doubled over, the stiff shot leaving him wincing and breathless. With the oxygen tentatively deprived from his opponent, Fitzpatrick rises to his feet, cocking the broom over head before swinging it through the air, the stick making a cutting motion through the terse atmosphere before clanking across the fragile head of his opponent. The impact forces the broomstick to break in two, leaving the fans jumping back in fear, the shot almost making them seem squeamish as Khristian Gore drops down on all fours.

Jennings: "The action has been intense. It's 3 to 4, Khristian Gore, but the challenger is closing in on the tie."

Mulligan: "Khristan Gore can take some punishment, but his brains were certainly scrambled after that. Not even the best of us could withstand such a barbaric shot."

With his bells ringing, Khristian Gore is quite susceptible to an inglorious takeover. Colin Fitzpatrick chucks the broomstick before kicking the trashcan with his foot, placing it into the middle of the aisle. He quickly pulls Khristian Gore to his feet, before capturing his head in his armpit and wrapping his arms around it, compressing it tightly with his biceps, leaving no room for error in his execution of the front facelock. The Fighting Irishman hastily reclines backward, falling to the concrete, planting the bloody Khristian Gore face first into the trashcan lid, leaving him even moe stupefied than before and ultimately nodding up the score. Following the DDT, both men remain dormat and sprawled on the concrete, before the eyes of the crowd who cheer frantically, appreciating the all out brawl despite having some bit of detestation for the combatants.

TBC