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Post by robwilkins on Oct 29, 2009 1:11:55 GMT -5
The crowd begins to calm themselves down, the night still long but also still full of surprises. The crowd tilt their heads back and begin staring at the steel cage structure hanging above the ring, as well as the circle of tables surrounding the ring. The lights suddenly black out and the Tron comes to life instantly as the heavy intro of "This Calling" by All That Remains begins to play through the Arena PA System.
"YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAH!
I secretly crave, crave that scent again
Still feel it pressing on me now
Now with the onset, my flesh is weakening
I steel my nerves for temptations at hand again
And I hear this calling still you don't seem so far at all
And I hear this calling out"
A pyrotechnics display goes off on stage in a variety of colors, the multi-colored sparks showing over the stage. The fans begin to boo as the lights return to life with Rob Wilkins standing on the stage, the King of the Deathmatch title wrapped tightly around his waist. Wilkins raises his arms in the air, the fans taking note of his new attire also, which consists of black denim shorts, black boots, black elbow pads and a Gods v. Heretics t-shirt. Another rowdy call of boos is delivered towards The Champion as he makes his way down to the ring, a cocky smirk on his face as he nods his head at various members of the crowd.
Charlie Coors: "Making his way to the ring, from Brooklyn, New York. He weighs in tonight's bout at 215 pounds. He is the current reigning GHW King of the Deathmatch Champion, Rob Wilkins!"
Colin Jennings: "This kid is ready and he's also mightily cocky. But it all comes down to the fact that HE'S the holder of that belt. Winthorp Darkrites is gonna have a bit of a battle on his hands now that he knows that Wilkins means serious business."
"Big" Al: "He's gonna mop the floor with that Italian freak, mark my words Colin. Winthorp should just give it up, he couldn't get the job done against Wilkins on TNT, he simply fought him to a draw."
After what seemed like an hour, Wilkins finally makes it down the seemingly long ramp. He slides into the ring and raises his arms once more in a cocky pose, the fans reacting with more boos as the champ unbuckle the belt and holds it up high for the world to see. As Wilkins makes for the corner, he's stopped in his tracks by the lights suddenly blacking out once more. A look of surprise on his face, although not seen by the crowd, he looks up and stands determinedly on the spot to wait for his opponent.
TBC: Winthorp
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Post by Martin Prince//Winthorp D. on Oct 30, 2009 22:54:30 GMT -5
"We will never sleep, 'cause sleep is for the weak
And we will never rest, 'til we're all fucking dead
We will never sleep, 'cause sleep is for the weak
And we will never rest, 'til we're all fucking dead
We will never sleep, 'cause sleep is for the weak
And we will never rest, 'til we're all fucking dead
We will never sleep, 'cause sleep is for the weak
And we will never rest, 'til we're all fucking...
We will never sleep, 'cause sleep is for the weak
And we will never rest, 'til we're all fucking dead
We will never sleep, 'cause sleep is for the weak
And we will never rest, 'til we're all fucking dead"
"Diamonds Aren't Forever" by Bring Me The Horizon begins playing through the PA System. The lights cutting out completely. The fans begin screaming in anticipation for the arrival of the challenger for the title; The Italian Goth.
A row of lights all light up down the ramp, each light glowing strongly as it illuminates the ramp. On stage, a smoke machine has been set up that begins releasing a cloud of gray smoke. The fans patiently wait and listen and watch out for The Goth, who is still nowhere to be seen, they begin doubting whether Winthorp is actually going to arrive though.
The crowds doubt however is put to rest, a dark silhouette figure walks out from the cloud of smoke with both arms raised in a crucifix pose, his head bowed as the crowd begin cheering. The smoke begins to subside slightly as The Goth can now be visibly seen, he raises his head and his eyes become fixated upon his opponent in the ring. The prize being held by the referee now. Winthorp begins his walk down the illuminated ramp, exchanging a few high fives with the fans.
"I refuse! I refuse!
I refuse to close my eyes
I have loved, and I have lost
I have turned, and I have tossed
I have listened, and I have watched
I've gave into this for long enough
I have lost, and I have loved
Sleep has stolen far too much
So don't close your eyes, not just yet
Sleep is just a cousin of death"
~ Charlie Coors
"Making his way to the ring, from Milan, Italy. He weighs in tonight's bout at 234 pounds. He is the challenger for the King of the Deathmatch title. He is The Italian Goth, Winthorp Darkrites!"
The Goth finally makes it to the end of the long ramp and stands at the base of the ring. Taking his trench coat off early. He allows it to drop to the floor and slides into the ring. Both men merely stare daggers at each other as the steel structure is being lowered down towards the ring. Ring side attendance maintain the tables by pouring gasoline on them, raising their matches up high and then allowing the open flames to drop onto the flammable liquid, setting the tables ablaze. The two men drop their staredown and being looking around at the dangers around them. Somewhat freaked out by this development. Winthorp backs away from the flames, as does Wilkins, both men slowly stepping towards each other. They bump into each other from behind and turn around, both throwing a punch that makes contact with both their faces. The bell rings thrice, the sound reverberating around the Madison Square Garden arena as the match has now officially begun.
TBC; Wilkins
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Post by Martin Prince//Winthorp D. on Nov 7, 2009 6:31:21 GMT -5
The two men circle around each other as the intense flames from the tables begin to rise, the flames licking the sides of the ring as well as the ropes themselves. The KOTDM Champion makes the first approach by lunging forward in an attempt to get a grappling hold over Winthorp's waist. The Goth sidesteps the grapple attempt and drives a forearm into the upper spinal region of the would-be attacker, Wilkins dropping down to a knee. Winthorp takes advantage of the moment by wrapping an arm around Wilkins' neck, lifting him up to his feet with ease and grabbing a hold of his shorts. The Goth smirks as he digs the flats of his boots into the canvas and lifts Wilkins up into the air, spinning to the side and driving his face into the mat. In an attempt to cushion some of the impact, Wilkins brings his arms forward towards his face, both men hit the canvas and the crowd erupt in cheers.
Winthorp appears to be the dominating figure in the ring mainly due to his experience over the younger Wilkins, but is proven wrong when going in for yet another attack. Wilkins drives his knee into the Goth's cheek and sends him to his side, Darkrites landing softly and giving Wilkins enough time to begin a recuperation session. The crowd begin a slow cheer, a cheer which builds up in a crescendo as the two men begin to bring themselves back up to a vertical base.
"King-of-the-Death-Match", which is followed by a repeated clap and stomp combo.
The Italian Goth is the first to make his way back up to his feet, whereas Wilkins is up seconds after. The Goth advances forward and raises his left leg, driving it into the abdominal region, which sends The Champ doubling up in pain. Winthorp takes yet another advantage over the moment by placing Rob Wilkins' head in between his legs and wrapping his arms around his waist. The Goth makes the first step of the powerbomb, but is brought to a complete surprise as he finds himself lifted up in the air and crashing down onto the mat. The crowd shocked and brought into a complete sense of awkwardness as Winthorp lays on the canvas in pain, Wilkins stumbling around somewhat in confusion.
~ Colin Jennings
"What a turnabout! Winthorp Darkrites just got a powerbomb reversed into a back body drop. To think that size would've mattered in this match, obviously I have been corrected."
~ Big Al
"You're really something Colin, you're such a bigot."
Wilkins takes a moment of his time to recover, resting up and looking down at The Goth. Winthorp tries to turn around onto his stomach but fails to do so, the surprise causing an effect on his mentality that the match would be a piece of cake. Wilkins grabs a lock of Winthorp's wet hair and drags him up to his feet forcefully, the pull tearing on the very follicles of The Goth's hair as a grunt of pain comes out from his mouth.
Wilkins kicks Winthorp in the midsection and drives his knee into Winthorp's forehead, forcing him to crash down to the canvas once more. Rob takes a run towards the ropes, rebounding off of them and making a run back towards the fallen Goth. Wilkins jumps up into the air, forcing his body to flip forward and come crashing down onto The Goth's abdomen with a standing shooting star press. Wilkins hooks Winthorp's leg and the referee rushes forward to make the count.
"One!"
"Two!"
"Th-"
Winthorp raises his shoulder and breaks the count, Wilkins gets up and punches Winthorp in anger. The referee looks up at the champion and warns him about his close fisted punch. Wilkins disregards this and gets up, turning away from The Goth completely.
~ Colin Jennings
"In a turn of events, Winthorp has had the tide turned against him. "
~ Big Al
"Because he's a damn fool, he won't be able to get this match back in his corner without resorting to some dirty tactic."
~ Colin Jennings
"Well, either way. Winthorp will have his hands full for the night."
TBC:
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Post by robwilkins on Nov 7, 2009 11:05:37 GMT -5
The KOTDM Champion turns back to face The Goth, who merely lays on the canvas in pain. Wilkins eyes The Goth carefully and finds the look of a demon inside of Darkrites, who slowly makes his way back up to his feet. Rob smirks as his opponent gets back up to his feet, the flames surrounding the ring becoming stronger. The Brooklyn-born superstar takes a step forward and raises his left leg up, driving his shin into the pectoral region of The Italian Goth, who merely shrugs the blow off quietly. Wilkins is shocked at this sudden development and makes another attempt at halting The Goth in his tracks, although to non-avail as the kick is once again shrugged off as if it was nothing. Winthorp now regains a vertical base but keeps his head lowered, a sinister look etched on his face but unknown to his hapless opponent. The Hardcore Kid keeps his distance from The Goth momentarily, waiting to see if The Goth will strike first, but is proven wrong instantly. Winthorp is fixated on the spot in the same position, not thinking to even move a muscle. Wilkins moves forward and attempts to drive his elbow into Winthorp's cheek but the blow is blocked, The Goth reacting almost instantly to the attempted strike. Wilkins steps back in shock and makes for a lower dropkick to Winthorp's shin, but finds himself quickly grounded as The Goth sidesteps. With his opponent now on the ground and open to attack, The Goth re-awakens and drives many boots into the chest and shoulder of The Hardcore Kid.
The intense heat continues to burn as the crowd continues to cheer for The Goth. Wilkins can feel the sweat rolling down his body as he is dragged back up to his feet by the enraged Gothic Superstar. Winthorp wraps an arm around Wilkins' neck and throws his arm over his shoulder, taking a hold of his shorts. The Goth lifts Wilkins up into a suplex position and keeps him held up in the air for momentum, the crowd taking snapshots with their cameras to preserve the memory. The Goth falls back and brings both himself and his opponent crashing into the canvas with a loud thud, the sound itself reverberating throughout the arena. Winthorp quickly covers his opponent and hooks his leg, the referee sliding onto his knees to assume the position to make the count;
"One!"
"Two!"
"Th-"
Wilkins raises his own shoulder this time to break the count, the crowd booing in disapproval. Winthorp looks rather displeased and pins Wilkins' shoulders to the mat, the referee going for the count but it is broken almost immediately. Winthorp lifts up his opponent's head and begins pummeling the grounded victim with vicious right fists. The referee tries to pry The Goth off of The Champion but his attempt is futile, The Goth is unable to be stopped at this moment. In an attempt to break up the attack, the striped official begins yet another count, this time as a DQ count.
"One!"
"Two!"
"Three!"
"Four!"
The attack is stopped immediately after the fourth count, Winthorp rises up to his feet as if nothing happened. The fans slightly confused by The Goth's attitude, but still enjoying the beat down that he is delivering. A closer inspection of Rob Wilkins' face shows a rather large cut on his forehead, most likely caused during the vicious punching spree by The Goth. Blood begins to flow from Wilkins' wounds and The Goth walks over towards a corner.
Colin Jennings: "Rob Wilkins is now officially busted open. It's about time this punk gets a taste of his own medicine, especially after his recent bouts of disrespect towards Winthorp and Martin Prince."
Big Al Mulligan: "Get over it Colin, the kid is just sticking up for himself. If it wasn't for Khristian Gore, Rob Wilkins wouldn't be champion and Winthorp wouldn't be facing him."
Winthorp takes his time for a breather, while Wilkins remains on the canvas with blood leaking from his wounds. The Goth looks down at the tables and merely stops to watch the flames burning brightly and powerfully. The Goth turns back and takes a chance, wanting to end the match early now that he has an advantage over Wilkins.
The Goth moves closer towards his fallen prey and grabs him by the hair, pulling him back up to his feet forcefully and in a state of mild pain. Winthorp drags his weakened opponent towards the side of the ring where the tables burn ferociously, setting Wilkins up in yet another suplex. The Goth lifts his opponent up and steadies himself, wanting to savor every moment in the match thus far. Winthorp makes for the fall back, but Wilkins lands on his feet on the canvas. Winthorp is dumbstruck to find his opponent still in the ring, but Wilkins is able to reverse the entire attempt into a variation of a sit out neckbreaker. Winthorp hits the mat with a thud and suddenly Wilkins finds himself as the better man, blood pouring down his face and the pain coursing through his entire body but the cocky smirk remains. Wilkins drops to the canvas in pain, his energy begin to drain itself quickly as the blood continues to leak out from his body. The crowd chanting and clapping as well as stomping now that the match is slowly proceeding.
Colin Jennings: "Both men are down, but it looks like Rob Wilkins is feeling the effects of the match hitting him. If he doesn't keep himself on guard, he may find himself either pinned, tapping out or driven into a table of flames."
Big Al Mulligan: "But I'm loving the whole damn thing, this is starting to get interesting.. real interesting."
TBC:
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