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Thread: Insanity Presents: SACRAMENT RESULTS!

  1. #1
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    Insanity Presents: SACRAMENT RESULTS!

    We see Gavin O’Connor preparing backstage. He starts to wrap wrist tape around his hands, and suddenly looks up.

    O’Connor: What do you want?

    The camera pans out to reveal Caeser Osiris.

    Osiris: I just want to tell you that the first chance I get, I’m ending you. I’m ending this bullshit between us, and proving to everyone that I’m the better man.

    O’Connor: Funny, I wanted to say about the same thing. When we get into that ring, nothing is going to stop me from destroying you, and proving to the world that you’re nothing more than a coward.

    Gavin stands up to walk away, but Osiris nails him with a forearm to the head, stunning O’Connor and sending him barreling face first into the door. Osiris proceeds to trap Gavin’s head between the door and the doorway, and repeatedly slams the door on Gavin’s face, head and upper body. Gavin slumps to the ground, clutching his head and already a bloody mess. Osiris grabs a nearby chair, and pulls O’Connor’s lifeless body up to a standing position between his legs. Over top of the chair Osiris hooks the arms and drives O’Connor down into the steel with Hail Caesar. Paramedics rush to the aid of the wounded O’Connor, trying to remove, Osiris who stands tall over him.

    Osiris: I said the first chance I got! What did you expect, bitch!?

    The paramedics start to get O’Connor onto a stretcher. Osiris backs away, with his hands held up innocently. He starts to back up, but then without warning, rushes forward, grabbing a hold of Gavin, who is tied down to a stretcher. Osiris takes the stretcher, and rushes out of the locker room, pushing it in front of him as the EMTs give chase. Osiris, a demonic gleam in his eye, wheels it toward a nearby loading dock, where there is a large and sudden drop for truck loading. Osiris doesn’t break his gait, and ultimately pushes O’Connor over the edge of the loading dock. We see Gavin’s stretcher laying on the ground, with him on it.

    Osiris looks toward the referees and paramedics, and points to the edge.

    Osiris: He’s all yours.

    Osiris symbolically wipes his hands clean, and starts to walk away.


    sac·ra·ment
    ˈsakrəmənt
    noun
    - a religious ceremony or act of the Christian Church that is regarded as an outward and visible sign of inward and spiritual divine grace, in particular.
    - a thing of mysterious and sacred significance; a religious symbol.


    I ask you … what is your religion? What do you sacrifice for? Where do you place your faith?

    A god, perhaps? God, even? Perhaps Satan … nothing at all?

    Well here, in Lords of Pain Wrestling … there is only one superior deity, and its name is the LPW International Heavyweight Champion.

    Stone. Jaro. D. Hammond Samuels. Drew Michaels. NPD. White Falcon. Mass Chaos. Styxx. Ken Ryans. Tromboner Man. Eddie B. Al.

    12 Disciples have subscribed to its teachings. 12 followers glorify the higher power of professional wrestling.

    And now, lucky number 13 lurks in Steve Storme. A man without conscience, without feeling, without the ability to be redeemed … casts his lot for the right to remove a bitter rival from the throne. A bitter rival who thought himself a superior before being forced to live among the plebeians he once looked down upon.

    And now, a human cancer festers. It hungers for supremacy. It hungers for the grace of our God. They may be all-knowing, all-forgiving, and all-accepting … but he who follows and possesses LPW’s God … becomes God himself.

    May God have mercy upon Steve Storme’s soul? Or does Al become exposed as a false idol?

    Well … I guess that depends on what you believe in.

    So I ask you again… what is your religion?


    The opening piano keys of “New God Flow” by Kanye West feat. Pusha T kicks up as flashes of all scheduled competitors dart in and out of a new-age animation sequence that freezes on the event’s logo before feeding into the Breslin Students Events Center to a rabid, packed house.


    Phoenix: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN WELCOME TO SACRAMENT! MY NAME IS BLAZING PHOENIX AND I AM JOINED BY RICHARD “THE RIK” DAVIS! WE COME TO YOU LIVE FROM THE BRESLIN STUDENT EVENTS CENTER ON THE CAMPUS OF MICHIGAN STATE UNIVERISTY, AND WHAT A NIGHT WE HAVE ON TAP!

    The Rik: This is going to be one of the most telling nights in LPW history, in my estimation. And I have no idea whether to be concerned or excited!

    Phoenix: I’m sure you’re not the only man feeling butterflies tonight, and we’ve already had an explosive start to the night with Caesar’s heinous, cowardly assault on Gavin O’Connor earlier tonight!

    The Rik: Uncouth as it was, he warned the man ahead of time.

    Phoenix: When we find out a word on Gavin’s condition, as well as what it means for our United States Championship match tonight, we’ll let you know ASAP. But we’ve got three title matches tonight, none bigger than SOLITARY CONFINEMENT!

    The Rik: That won’t be for the faint of heart. Not even sure why this is being sanctioned.

    Chaos: It’s the only way to end the rivalry between Al and Steve Storme. But I’m getting word now that we’re ready to get started, so let’s go to the ring!

    Announcer: Ladies and Gentlemen. Your opening contest is scheduled for one fall!

    The crowd jumps into life as “Top of the World” from Van Halen begins to play.

    Announcer: This next match is scheduled for one fall introducing first all the way from Cleveland, Ohio weighing in at one hundred and ninety nine pounds…making his return to LPW … REECE RAAYYMMOONNDDD!!!!

    Phoenix: What an ovation for the returning Reece Raymond but you can’t help but think if he’s returned back to action too soon with that neck injury he seemed to of picked up lately Rik.

    The Rik: Neck injury or not Phoenix this Michigan crowd is lapping up to the fact that he’s actually standing on his two feet which is a little bit pathetic really.

    With Reece Raymond posing towards the crowd on the top turnbuckle. “You’re The Best Around” by Joe Esposito begins to play with a chorus of boos echoing across the arena. “The Crippled Crusader” Chris Paradise makes his appearance on the ramp with his trademark cane in hand alongside his bodyguard Enyo.

    Announcer: …and his opponent hailing from Buffalo, New York weighing in at one hundred and ninety five pounds. He is The Crippled Crusader Chris Paradise.

    The Rik: Looks like Enyo has decided to join in the fun alongside The Crippled Crusader. I wouldn’t blame her though just look at her. She looks like a beast.

    Phoenix: I wouldn’t say that.

    The Rik: I just did. Your point?

    Phoenix: The ref is trying to grab Chris Paradise’s attention, it seems he wants his cane so that he can hand it over to one of our ringside attendants.

    The Rik: I wouldn’t do that if I were you.

    An argument is brewing in the middle of the ring as both competitors and the referee try to get the match started. Meanwhile we see Chris Paradise throw his cane towards Enyo while the ref was talking to Reece Raymond. With both competitors ready the ref signals for the bell.

    Phoenix: The bell rings as immediately Chris Paradise goes straight for the neck of Reece Raymond without any consideration.

    The Rik: I hope he breaks every single bone including that stupid neck.

    Phoenix: Reece is trying to make a counter but instead pushes both himself and The Crippled Crusader towards the ropes forcing a five count.

    The Rik: If I were Chris Paradise right now I would keep that neck hold locked in and force Raymond into a submission move then end this slugfest immediately so that this show can properly start.

    Phoenix: Reece kicks the midsection of Paradise’s chest and forces him to let go of the face lock. He’s looking to set up a belly to belly suplex but can’t seem to get any grip yet. Paradise now back on the face lock and Reece Raymond is struggling here.

    The Rik: Reece is trying to protect his neck. Guess what?

    Phoenix: It’s not going to work?

    The Rik: Precisely.

    Phoenix: Enyo’s pacing right by our announce table with the cane in her hand when Chris Paradise decided to throw it towards her behind the ref’s back.

    The Rik: Hopefully this referee calls the match as it is like you should be doing Phoenix instead of looking at her with those puppy eyes of yours.

    Suddenly Chris Paradise breaks up the face lock then gesturing an apparent low blow from Reece Raymond which the ref just gives one of those looks that suggests he didn’t even make an attempt to cause a low blow.

    The Rik: Looks like Paradise is setting up for a Privilege Check hopefully to end this…

    Phoenix: …Reece ducks away from it. Goes for the top rope…HE HITS THE
    CLEVELAND BOMB!! COVER!!
    ONE…

    The Rik:
    Pfft…that was hardly a cover.

    WHACK!!

    THUD!!!


    Chris Paradise throws Reece Raymond over the top rope with Reece hitting the ringside barrier causing the crowd to murmur with concern.


    Phoenix: What a throw. It looked like Raymond was going for a Running Senton but instead Paradise countered the move by throwing Raymond over the top rope with force.

    The Rik: Never turn your back on Chris Paradise for one minute. Prior to that move Reece Raymond was stupidly arguing towards the referee over a pathetic one count.

    Phoenix: Speaking of counts. The ref is at the count of four and Reece Raymond is slowly but surely getting back on his feet.

    The Rik: Good to see Enyo mocking Reece’s neck there. With the ref count now at six I think he’s pretty much finished.

    With Chris Paradise back in the ring and showboating towards the crowd. Enyo picks up Reese Raymond and chucks him straight back into the ring with force.

    Phoenix: There’s a quick cover but Reese wisely kicks out as he looks to get his bearings back.

    The Rik: Paradise looking to man handle Raymond but instead pushes him towards the ropes for some reason. He’s looking for another Privilege Check.

    Phoenix: He hits it but only just. Quick cover and this time Reece Raymond kicks out at one and a half but only barely.

    The Rik: Enyo’s getting extremely irritated ringside. I would be if I was watching this. It’s almost as bad as watching paint dry.

    Phoenix: Reece using the ropes for leverage as he tries to get into this match. Paradise is grabbing Reece’s neck aggravating his injury even more.

    The Rik: Perhaps we should use our expenses to buy Reece Raymond a neck collar. He's getting slaughtered here.

    Phoenix: Chris Paradise pushing Reece towards the ropes and…HE MISSES A BOOT TO THE FACE!! ROLL UP...COVER…

    ONE!
    TWO!!
    THR…NO HE KICKS OUT!!


    Using the crowd to gain some momentum, a pumped up Reece Raymond uses this opportunity to bounce against the side ropes back and forth a few times until all of the sudden Enyo swipes Reece’s legs using Chris Paradise’s cane which causes Reece to fall flat on his face with force.

    Phoenix: Reece’s head just bounced off the matt. That’s going to aggravate his neck injury even more.

    The Rik: Quick thinking there from Enyo making sure that Chris Paradise quickly covers this idiot so that we can get onto the next match.

    Phoenix: Paradise is dragging Reece to the centre of the ring. THE CEREBRAL PALSY STRETCH IS LOCKED IN AND REECE RAYMOND HAS NO CHOICE BUT TO TAP!!

    Announcer:
    The winner of this match via Submission “The Crippled Crusader” Chris Paradise!!!

    Chris Paradise (3.76 APS + 1.2 vote = 4.96)

    Reece Raymond (3.53 APS + 0.3 vote = 3.83)


    “You’re The Best Around” by Joe Esposito starts back up as Paradise scampers out of the ring, arms raised in triumph. Enyo smirks as Paradise embraces her in celebration. Meanwhile, Reece slowly sits up, holding his neck. The ref asks if the young man is okay, and they have words while Paradise acts as if he’s won a title.

    Phoenix: Enyo’s dirty tactics by using Chris Paradise’s cane ultimately gave him an easy win heading into the next cycle.

    Rik: That was a dreadful match, Phoenix. Reece doesn’t seem as if he was able to compete full stop but there was a silver lining …

    Phoenix: It wasn’t that bad surely?

    Rik: Enyo saved it for me, thank God.



    *Reserved for a title sig*

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    Jonathan Crotchman is standing backstage, prepared to speak.

    Crotchman: Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm Jonathan Crotchman and I'm here for an update on Gavin O'Connor. As you all saw, he was viciously attacked by Caesar Osiris earlier in the evening, and I have received word that Gavin's injuries are said to be very serious. I've been told that he has a severe concussion, in addition to contusions about his face and chest, and while it has yet to be confirmed, doctors indicate that the young man may have suffered a dislocated jaw during the fray as well. Safe to say that tonight's United States Championship match will no longer be a three-way dance, as per the office of Christian G. Smitten, the match will now be a standard singles match.

    At this point, LPW United States Champion Chris Austin strolls into view, a smirk on his face.

    Austin: One on one, eh?

    Crotchman: Indeed. Although, I wouldn't be smiling if I were you. Caesar appears to have turned over a new, more vicious leaf. How will these developments affect your preparation for tonight's match?

    Austin: I have a tougher time settling on a theme song than I do planning for idiots like him. Caesar Osiris, as a result of his own ego, literally eliminated his only POTENTIAL ace-in-the-hole when he ransacked O'Connor. Good for him, but this dumb ass showed LPW's premier in-ring strategist his hand. Now I know just exactly the kind of individual I'll be dealing with. And I'm the one that should be worried ... tsk, tsk.

    Crotchman: And just what makes you so sure about that? You saw what he did to Gavin!

    Austin: I did. Must admit I didn't see that coming. But you know something, Jonathan ...

    Crotchman: What?

    Austin: I'll provide Caesar that same out. After all, his namesake once surmised that the unexpected was the sort of death most preferable to every other. Julius also said that as a rule, men worry about what they can't see than about what they can. Fitting, given his demise. I have arrived. I have seen. I will conquer. And there's not a damn thing he or anyone can do about it. Class Dismissed.

    Fade out.


    Announcer: The following contest is a Hardcore Match, scheduled for one fall, and it is for the LPW HARDCORE CHAMPIONSHIP! In this match, there are No Holds Barred; No Disqualifications; and Falls Count Anywhere!

    “The New Shit” by Marilyn Manson begins to play, signaling the challenger’s arrival as Bobino makes his way down the ramp, all confidence and swagger. He leans in close to the camera as he passes by, pausing for a moment to mug for the fans at home.

    Bobino: The Evolution of Hardcore, baby! You can’t stop it! Nobody can stop it!

    Phoenix: It’s do or die time for Bobino, whose unprecedented reign as Hardcore Champion ended in the Death Cube at Murderer’s Row.

    The Rik: Many factors playing into this one, Phoenix. Bob and DGS have faced off numerous times, but here in LPW and beck in the dying days of FMW. in all but their most recent singles encounter smith came out on top, but Bob was able to muster one over on him a few shows beck.

    Phoenix: And let’s not forget the Death Cube itself – the two were locked in combat before Sixx King threw in the towel on Bobino’s behalf, eliminating the then-champion from contention and paving the way for Smith to win the whole thing. Both men have a lot to prove going into this one, many critics to silence. As we so-often say in this sport, something’s gotta give. Question is, what?

    Bobino smugly plays to the crowd upon his arrival to the ring, but his antics are cut short as “Black” by The Enigma TNG starts up, plunging the venue into total darkness. Isolated white lights blink and strobe rhythmically as David Smith makes his way out from the back, garbed in a hooded longcoat through which the Hardcore Title can be glimpsed, and starts methodically down the ramp. In the ring, the smugness has vanished from Bobino’s face, his face now set in stone as he watches the Hardcore Champion’s approach.

    Phoenix: And here comes the champion, the Sovereign King of Murderer’s Row, and in equal measure one of the most morally reprehensible and physically domineering individuals to ever set foot in LPW.

    The Rik: That last tad’s all you or anyone else needs to concern themselves with. This is a chap who at any given time has only one thingamajig on his mind: how to utterly annihilate his next opponent, and with one admittedly notable exception that mindset’s allowed him to wreck – and I do mean wreck – everything thrown at him thus far.

    Phoenix: True enough, but he’s also a savage and a blood-knight who, as far as I can tell, doesn’t give a damn about anything other than winning.

    The Rik: I know.

    Phoenix: I get the feeling Reece Raymond would disagree with you.

    The Rik: Do you also get the feeling that I don’t really care?

    Phoenix: Quite strongly. And on that pleasant note, let’s go to Mike Announcer in the ring.

    Announcer: Introducing the combatants! First, the challenger: from Boston, Massachusetts; weighing in at 270 pounds… BOOOOOBIIIIINOOOOO!

    Bobino raises both fists to a reaction that skews positive, some of his earlier smug confidence returning. Across the ring, Smith looks nonplussed.

    Announcer: And his opponent: from Omaha, Nebraska; weighing in at 241 pounds; he is the LPW HARDCORE CHAMPION… DAVID GIDEOOOOON SMIIIIITH!

    Neither Smith’s posture nor his expression change as the crowd showers him with hate, and he doesn’t spare the Hardcore title so much as a glance before handing it off to the ref and beginning to limber up.

    Phoenix: Smith, continuing his disrespect of the Hardcore Championship that has earned him so much ire from the pYro and Insanity locker rooms.

    The Rik: Can’t say I disagree with his disregard for the legacy or prestige of the belt, as this “brand” of wrestling should be done away with. But he has stated on numerous occasions that he isn’t here for gold or accolades.

    Phoenix: Mm. Agree to disagree on that one, I guess.

    DING DING

    Phoenix: That’s the bell, and we’re off, folks. Bobino challenging DGS, Hardcore Title on the line here at Michigan State.

    Both men come out of their corners, briefly circling in the middle of the ring before closing in for a collar-and-elbow. Smith is able to catch Bobino almost immediately by transitioning into an arm wrench, but the challenger counters just as quickly by stepping through into one of his own. Smith again reverses the pressure by rolling forward onto his back and kipping up; Bobino tries the same, and would’ve succeeded were it not for DGS who, in the split second where Bob’s kip-up leaves no part of him grounded, drops down on the wrenched arm, taking them both to the mat and applying a modified keylock.

    The Rik: Wow.

    Phoenix: Excellent display of pure wrestling ability by both men, and the exchange ends with the more technically-inclined Smith on offense.

    Bob quickly struggles to his feet, Smith having no choice but to follow him up, and the challenger frees himself of the keylock with a sudden, hard shot to the jaw.

    Phoenix: OH, and the right hand has DGS stumbling!

    The Rik: That’s what Bob should to be doing here. This is a hardcore match – much to my chagrin … might as well get vicious and get it over with it.

    Bobino advances on the momentarily stunned champion, pulling him into a side headlock. DGS immediately backs them up to the ropes and tries firing Bobino off him, but the challenger drops to a knee and maintains the hold.

    The Rik: Ah, and there goes his vertical base. smart move by Bob, trying to cut that height advantage out of the equation.

    Phoenix: David Smith now, trying to fight his way back to his feet and regain some semblance of lever – WOW!

    The Rik: Jesus ...

    Phoenix: Smith, actually LIFTING Bobino off the ground and coming back to his feet before setting him down again, with absolutely NO leverage to speak of!

    The Rik: You can’t prepare for that kind of strength.

    Phoenix: Bob now, still fighting to maintain the headlock… but DGS sweeps the leg, and Bob faceplants on the mat, and now it’s the champion, grounding Bob again with that combination facelock/hammerlock.

    The Rik: Nice counter by Smith, buying himself a little time to regroup and gameplan.

    After a brief period spent on the mat, the two begin to slowly rise, Bobino having found some traction and now forcing Smith upwards. Upon reaching his feet the challenger uses his free hand to fire a stiff closed-fist shot into the champion’s side, and DGS responds by releasing the hammerlock to bring the point of his elbow down on the base of Bob’s neck.

    Phoenix: And now look at this – trading strikes, closed fist for elbow, Bob fighting to free himself while DGS struggles to maintain control!

    The Rik: Those strikes will pile up fast.

    Phoenix: And now Smith’s just raining elbows down on Bob’s head and neck now! … and he’s fading, Bob’s dropped to a knee, DGS hauls him back up and WHAT a neckbreaker from the champion! Cover by Smith… and Bob kicks out at one.

    The Rik: Bob letting that one catch him by surprise.

    Phoenix: Bobino, trying to roll away and create some separation here, but DGS is right back on him, LUNGING and DRIVING that knee right into the small of Bob’s back. He’s got Bob up, shoves him chest-first into the corner, and now another knee to the back!

    The Rik: Despite the lack of weapons used, this is becoming quite a heated affair.

    Phoenix: DGS has Bob trapped with his back to him, he’s alternating elbows to the back of the head with knees to the kidneys, and the challenger is visibly collapsing under the pressure! I don’t know of anyone who could withstand an attack like that for long!

    The Rik: Looks like Bob doesn’t have to – take a look at this.

    Phoenix: Smith pulling him out of the corner… he’s got the hands locked, might be looking for a German – no! No, Bob catches him with the elbow, and that may have knocked a tooth loose!

    The Rik: I hate to say this, but Bobino won’t win a slugfest with David. He needs to realize he’s in a match where anything goes.

    Phoenix: Smith rattled yet again… Bob charges and FLAPJACK, Smith was ready for him! The challenger’s quick to his feet, using the ropes for support, DGS is right back on him but gets backdropped! Up… over… OH!

    The Rik: That was almost dreadfully lethal.

    Phoenix:That was still a near-vertical drop onto the ring apron! Bobino may have just caught himself the break he was looking for in this one!

    After taking a moment to recollect himself, Bobino exits the ring and begins stalking Smith, who remains thoroughly dazed and rattled after his nasty fall to the outside. He lines up the rising champion and then bulls into him, driving him back first into the apron, before turning whist maintaining his grip and executing a modified Russian Legsweep, sending Smith’s neck crashing into the edge of the apron yet again!

    Phoenix: And now look at Bobino, turning the tide in a HUGE way here!

    The Rik: Savage. Admittedly, that pit bull mentality is exactly the reason Bobino kept such a hold on this wretched division.

    Phoenix: Smith’s just writhing on those outside mats now, he may have suffered serious damage to his neck and back after that series of blows.

    The Rik: And now Bobino is armed. Ugh.

    Phoenix: Bobino, holding the kendo stick high, and for the first time since arriving in LPW David Gideon Smith may be in some real trouble!

    Bobino twirls the weapon deftly from hand to hand as DGS again rises, the champion struggling to his knees. He takes aim, choking up on the kendo stick, and steps into a home-run swing to the small of Smith’s back.

    CRACK

    Phoenix: OH!

    Smith arches his back, swearing loudly as his face contorts itself into an agonized rictus. Bobino responds by stepping in front of him and whipping the kendo stick into his midsection, doubling him over –

    CRACK

    - and then bringing it down one final time on the upturned base of Smith’s neck.

    CRACK

    Phoenix: Bobino, putting on a clinic here in East Lansing! And now a cover, cover on the outside, one! Two – and Smith kicks out right at two!

    The Rik: Exceptional resilience.

    Phoenix: No, but it looks like Bobino’s gonna see if he can’t stretch it out a bit!

    Bobino breaks the kendo stick over his knee, chucking both halves down at Smith to a light pop from the crowd. He ducks back under the ring, earning another pop when he comes back out with a garbage can and its lid.

    Phoenix: A trashcan! Bob’s got a trashcan!

    The Rik: This one’s circling the drain for Smith.

    Phoenix: He’s stirring, the champ’s getting up – but Bob sees him, he’s got the TRASHCAN LID –

    SMACK

    The Rik: Right on the button.

    Frisbeeing the lid under the bottom rope into the ring, Bobino grabs a thoroughly out-of-it DGS and drags him over to the steel steps, propping him up against him and then setting the garbage can in his lap, trapping Smith between the two.

    The Rik: Oh my…

    Phoenix: Bob looking for a home-run swing! Bob looking to SMASH the champion here! Backs up… takes a running start, looking for that Running Senton into the trashcan, but DAVID BLOCKS IT!

    The Rik: He just shoved that wastebin at him, hit him right in the face!

    Phoenix: Bobino’s stumbling, he’s dazed… and now Smith’s got him! The waistlock, the hands clasped, he wants a GERMAN ONTO THE STEPS BUT AN ELBOW STOPS HIM DEAD!

    The Rik: Again! Bobino is starting to flat out DENY DGS’ offense.

    Phoenix: That elbow caught Smith flush, he’s dazed against the ringpost now… Bob’s measuring, takes a step back, but DAVID CATCHES THE SUPERKICK! That could’ve concussed him, Richard! Put him out for the night!

    The Rik: What a chop!

    Phoenix: A one-handed Mongolian Chop to the throat of Bobino! Now Smith hooks him up, he’s GOT him this time… FALCON ARROW! BOBINO GOES SPINE FIRST ACROSS THE STEEL STEPS! … and he’s not done, DGS isn’t done just yet.

    With Bobino laid up in agony across the steel steps, his head hanging over the edge, DGS takes a few steps backwards, holding a hand to the base of his neck and glowering at the challenger to his title. After a moment he hops up onto the apron, taking another few steps back so that he stands about halfway along the side of the ring, and then takes a running start back towards Bobino and the steps.

    Phoenix: He’s… what’s he… ? OH! OH MY LORD!

    The Rik: JESUS.

    Phoenix: A SOMERSAULT LEG DROP FROM THE APRON TO THE FLOOR, DAMN-NEAR TAKING BOB’S HEAD OFF!

    A near-unanimous ‘HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT’ chant works its way through the arena as Smith arches his back in pain and presses a hand to his tailbone, writhing on the floor next to an out-cold Bobino. Eventually he recovers enough to roll Bob over and cover him, snarling at the ref to make the count.

    Phoenix: Smith looking for the win here – one, TWO… and Bob JUST gets the shoulder up! Smith looks shocked!

    The Rik: More brassed off than shocked, I’d say.

    Phoenix: He’s getting to his feet now, is the Hardcore Champion, and he’s bringing Bobino up with him… rolls him into the ring and follows after, he’s got him in the middle of the ring now, setting up for something…

    The Rik: Armbar! Fujiwara Armbar!

    Phoenix: Smith’s got it locked in! Bob’s fighting, he’s FIGHTING, but God, look at the TORQUE he’s putting on it! Bobino’s arm could be torn from his socket before this is all over! Bobino, scrambling with his free arm, looking for something, ANYTHING – look, the lid! THE TRASHCAN LID, BOB’S GOT THE TRASHCAN LID AGAIN!

    SMACK

    The Rik: Emphatic way to free himself.

    Phoenix: Bob with a cover, one! TWO! And ANOTHER KICKOUT!

    Bobino sits up sharply, yelling aloud in frustration. Snatching up the trashcan lid once more, he scrambles to his feet and begins whaling on Smith with it once more, hitting the champion again and again and again, until the lid is bent and deformed and no longer a viable weapon. Tossing it away, Bobino leans down to scream at DGS.

    Bobino: WHO’S YOUR NEW GOD NOW, HUH?! HUH?! WHO’S YOUR –

    He puts a hard stomp to the side of Smith’s head before storming over to the ropes and exiting down to the outside floor, where he unerringly reaches under the ring and withdraws a steel chair, earning another pop from the crowd.

    Phoenix: Bobino livid, just LIVID, and now he’s got a chair!

    The Rik: He’s got Smith on the ropes. This is more offense, more damage, than one single man has inflicted on the Hardcore Champion since he arrived in LPW. If Bobino keeps it up, this could be his.

    Phoenix: Bob back in the ring now, he’s measuring Smith with that chair…

    BAM

    Phoenix: … and RIGHT across the back!

    BAM

    Phoenix: And again!

    BAM

    Phoenix: And AGAIN! Bob takes off running, comes back off the ropes… and a SENTON WITH THE CHAIR BENEATH HIM, CRUSHING THE CHAMPION! Bob rolls Smith over… cover, he might have him here! One! TWO! TH – NO! NO, SMITH STILL MANAGES TO KICK OUT!

    The Rik: Alright, even I’m surprised now.

    Phoenix: David Smith, enduring HELLACIOUS punishment at the hands of the former champion! And now Bob’s stalking him, circling Smith as he rises, looking for that home-run shot with the chair! Smith to one knee… to both… now to his feet, he turns and DUCKS THE CHAIRSHOT! Grabs Bob by the head, drops the bottom out! Shoulders down, leg’s hooked, ONE! TWO! AND HE KICKS OUT!

    The Rik: David needed that more than he’d care to admit.

    Phoenix: The challenger’s come to play, that much is certain. But this here, this could be Smith’s chance to turn the tide, to retake the momentum in this contest. DGS to the outside apron, measuring Bobino… he springboards, was going for the Double Stomp to the head, but Bob caught him! STEEL CHAIR TO THE GUT, WINDS UP FOR THE GRAND SLAM –

    BAM

    The Rik: WHAT A KICK!

    Phoenix: Bob spun around by the blow, SMITH HAS HIM! GERMAN SUPLEX!

    The Rik: He’s got the hands locked...

    Phoenix: ANOTHER GERMAN SUPLEX FROM DGS! AND A SECOND! A THIRD! A FOU – NO! BOB LOCKS HIS LEGS, VICTORY ROLL! HE’S GOT HIM! ONE! TWO!! … and Smith kicks out AGAIN!

    The Rik: Razor-thin that nearfall...

    Phoenix: Both men to their feet, Bob charges… Smith sidesteps, sends Bob to the ropes, Bob rebounds and THE LAST WORD! THE DISCUS LARIAT, DAVID CAUGHT HIM ON THE REBOUND!

    The Rik: That’s IT, Thank God. This one’s – the hell are you doing? Cover him.

    Smith stands still in the ring for a long moment, face pinched in an intense grimace, clearly wracked by pain from all the punishment he’s received. He surveys the arena, gaze panning slowly from side to side, before finally dropping down to rest on Bobino.

    DGS: No new God, I’m afraid. Just me.

    Phoenix: Cover by Smith, hooks the leg! One! Two! Three!

    Announcer: Here is your winner, and STILL LPW HARDCORE CHAMPION… DAVID GIDEOOOOON SMIIIITH!

    DGS (c) (4.29 APS + 1.3 vote = 5.59)
    Bobino (3.9 APS + 0.2 vote = 4.1)


    Phoenix: And Smith retains his title, in as convincing a fashion as I’ve ever seen!

    The Rik: A viciously valiant effort from Bobino, but David showed something tonight. He was pushed, hard, and well … he pushed back, as you saw.

    Phoenix: He’s gone through hell and fifteen opponents Murderer’s Row and won, gone up against the Evolution of Hardcore in a Hardcore match and won, and at this point, Rik, we’ve gotta start asking: who can stop DGS?

    Smith gets to his feet, grimacing as he’s handed the Hardcore Title by the official. He refuses to have his hand raised or engage in celebration of any kind, merely refastening the title belt around his waist and leaving the ring. The camera follows him up the ramp, focusing briefly on the myriad welts and bruises covering his arms and torso before zooming in on the hard, blank expression on his face as he heads to the back.
    Last edited by RCA; 09-24-2016 at 04:25 PM.



    *Reserved for a title sig*

  3. #3
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    Announcer: The following contest is scheduled for one....

    ???: Yeah, yeah, whatever, nigga. Get the fuck out of my ring, dig?

    A chorus of boos rain down as Calvin X. Carter, with a microphone in hand, walked out to the stage dressed in riot gear without music. Mike Announcer took his cue and hurried out of the ring and to the ringside area beside the announcers.

    The Rik: And out comes the gentleman who should be Pure Champion right now.

    Phoenix: You know as well as I do that he deserved to be stripped of the title.

    Carter: Nah nah nah, this is my time to vent my frustrations.

    The Rik: As he should.

    Carter: This is my ring. I'm the King of this goddamn jungle and I've been disgraced. Know that I do this fuck-shit shindig in complete protest after I was stripped of the Pure Championship that I never lost. Injustice continues to come the way of niggas like me.

    Phoenix: He did lose by countout for the title at Straight Outta Moscow.

    The Rik: That match was a draw!

    Carter: If it wasn't for Smitten, I'd be your longest reigning Pure Champion in the history of LPW. Longer than Golden and your boy Mourn Despana.I wreck the Pure divisions so-called shining stars and my reward? The belt taken from me. Niggas gettin' gunned down in the street ... mother fuckers can't even protest peacefully without having their lives threatened ... fine. I'm about to bust this honkey cracker's ass and show you what happens when we stop askin' for fair treatment and start wantin' blood.

    Boos keep raining down as Carter stepped into the ring, an extendable baton pulled out from his trousers as he turned to face the stage. By this time Mike Announcer and the ringside crew are flanked by security who are clearly disorganized and not prepared for the arrival of Calvin X. Carter.

    Phoenix: Thank goodness at least we are protected from this potential war!

    Carter: Where are you? Where are you, you little shitkicker? You've been stickin' your nose in my business for far too fucking long and now you don't have the nerve to come out now?

    The Rik: The last time he interrupted Carter, Thornridge was jumping the barricades to attack Carter.

    Phoenix: People chanting for Thornridge here...

    Carter: If you were in my ring right now, you'd be a bigger crippled Crusader than that idiot who has that Amazon watching his back. Why aren't you focused on him?

    ???: Because he's not a concern right now Carter.

    The crowd cheers as Thornridge walked out onto the stage with a microphone in his hand as the LPW graphic behind him on the screen behind him disappeared.

    The Rik: At least he's civilized enough not to come through the crowd again.

    Thornridge: This crowd, they yearn for something more than a senseless beatdown after senseless beatdown. And that is what you have been providing them over the past few months when you can be bothered to show up.

    Carter: This is wrestling. That's what I do for a living you ungrateful fuck. I get to the top how I want, when I want.

    Thornridge: Nah, not on my watch. I'm on a crusade to make Insanity better. Better for athletes who WANT to compete. That's something that nobody has the balls to do around here. And since we have this whole Supercycle coming up, I can bring that little message to a wider audience.

    Carter: Go on, keep talking smallfry. The second you come into this ring I take those teeth that belong to me, again. I know that 'Incident in Phoenix' burns your ass up!

    The Rik: Oh! That one's gunna leave a mark.

    Phoenix: He's... laughing?

    Thornridge laughed a little on the top of the stage before dropping his microphone and rushing the ring, the crowd going frantic as they watch the two lock up with Carter pushing Thornridge into the corner, his hands in his face as he spat at him.

    Phoenix: And he rushes the ring and here we go! No stopping this war now!

    Carter: I'll kick the shit out of you!

    Thornridge roared as he pushed Carter back, tripping him as he quickly mounted the downed opponent, laying into him with taped fists into Carter's face. Carter switched the position getting on top as he began to rain down taped fists on Thornridge.

    The Rik: This isn't going to be in anyone's element, these guys are just fighting each other.

    Phoenix: There's nothing pretty about making your point with your fists.

    They separated after Thornridge squirmed away to the outside. Carter getting to his feet as he stared down at Thornridge picking up the baton he had dropped earlier.

    Phoenix: Thornridge gets away from the stronger individual.

    The Rik: He should just walk away. This Aussie ingrate is going to get slaughtered if he continues.

    Carter: You're nothing! You're fuckin' nothing!

    Thornridge looked around as he knelt beside the ring, reaching underneath it to collect a weapon of his own.

    The Rik: WHAT THE DAMN HELL...

    Phoenix: It's the grand equalizer! The cricket bat wrapped in razor wire!

    The Rik: Get out of there Carter!!

    The crowd is going nuts as Thornridge slides back into the ring with bat in hand, met by a desperate Carter as he swung the baton, connecting with Thornridge's head, dazing the man as he leaned against the ropes.

    The Rik: It was self defense, all of it. That madman was going to hit him with a cricket bat wrapped in barbed wire!

    Carter quickly dropped Thornridge with a vicious DDT to the mat soon after.

    Pheonix: He spiked him Rik! He could have broken his neck!

    Carter: You ain't in my fucking league shitstain!

    The Rik: Stay down Thornridge, let it be.

    Thornridge's fists balled up as he quickly tripped a cocky Carter up, getting to his feet as he quickly slapped Carter into a sharpshooter submission hold, wrenching back on it as Carter squirmed in the ring screaming in agony.

    Phoenix: That's a sharpshooter!

    Thornridge: Fucking tap!

    The Rik: This isn't a match!

    Phoenix: It's more than that Rik. He wants Carter to suffer what happened to him and countless others since Carter debuted.

    The crowd are chanting 'TAP TAP TAP TAP' as Carter somehow pulled himself out of the ring, releasing the hold before circling the ring in a rage, kicking over both sets of ring steps.

    The Rik: And he got away! He should still be Pure Champion from that skill alone!

    Phoenix: He's taunting Thornridge here.

    Thornridge looked annoyed as he looked out to the crowd, visible signs of frustration on his face as the crowd went quiet, only to erupt again when he picked up the bat, jumping over the top rope and chasing Carter who darted into the security ridden crowd.

    Phoenix: And they are running into the crowd here. Carter's trying to escape and WHOA!!

    The Rik: Took his head right off there. Get the kids to find his teeth.

    Carter turned and delivered a vicious clothesline, downing Thornridge on the concrete before stumbling up the steps and into the back, Thornridge stirring soon after with Carter picking up the pace.

    Phoenix: You're so disrespectful! He's trying to make this place better for you and me. Oh god he's getting up again!

    The Rik: Run Carter! It isn't worth it!!

    Phoenix: Both of the men are in the back now. Someone get a camera out there!

    The Rik: It's over. This should have been contained in the ring. Someone get the police and arrest that so-called Crusader.

    Phoenix: It was Carter's fault for awakening this man like this.

    The Rik: He should have learnt his place and kept his nose clean. Then he wouldn't have that losing streak.

    Phoenix: Tonight isn't about losing or winning and you know that... oh, we have pictures again!

    It took a few seconds before the pictures resumed, Thornridge walking in the backstage parking lot area with the cricket bat in hand.

    Thornridge: Goddamn it. His car is still here, and he ain't in my motorhome otherwise the neurotoxin would have been rel...

    THUD!! Thornidge went down after getting a sickening blow to the back of his spine with a sledgehammer, Carter grinning after he is shown appearing from behind a car that Thornridge walked past.

    Phoenix: For the love of god that sneaky son of a bitch!

    Carter: Would you look at that? An asshole who doesn't know shit.

    Phoenix: He's helpless here!

    Thornridge is splayed on the floor, holding his back and grimacing in pain as Carter picked up the sledgehammer, resting it against the back of Thornridge's head.

    Carter: You know what? I think I'll try talk some sense into that stupid head of yours one last time. Give up. You don't belong 'ere bitch. Get gone already. You ain't gunna survive while I am in the picture. Either that, or...

    Thornridge: Fuck you!

    Carter: Fine, bitch!

    Carter raised the sledgehammer up before letting out a bloodcurdling growl, falling to his knees as the barbed wire cricket bat is shown to have hit him in the groin.

    The Rik: No! You never go low like that!

    Phoenix: He had to do what he needed to survive there! He would have had his career ended! Wait... Thornridge. No, this is too much!

    Thornridge sensed the opportunity as he stumbled to his feet, looking down at a kneeling Carter holding his groin before striking Carter's head with the Hit for Six!

    The Rik: Oh... my... god...

    A wicked cricket bat shot to Carter's head as he fell to his side, knocked out. A bruised yet triumphant Thornridge knelt down beside him, placing a hotdog on his chest.

    Thornridge: Let me know when you wake up, if you wake up. I'll pay for the hospital bill. We're done here.

    Thornridge dropped the bat beside the fallen man, standing up and looking into a nearby camera before walking off to the back.

    Phoenix: This is emphatically over folks... before it even officially started!

    The Rik: Get some help out there!

    Steve Storme stands in an undisclosed location, dressed for a street fight. He appears to be nearing a prison of some kind, although it doesn't look like anybody's home.

    Storme: And so it's come to this. I smell it in the air... the need successor, the heir to the throne... ready for you to be sacrificed. You ducked and dodged me for far too long, ever since I took the Western States Title off your hands. You claim you couldn't face me, when they sent CraZe directly to you for the title shot he was owed.

    No more excuses from the likes of you, vermin. You've willingly chosen to lock yourself in a place like this, with a man like me? A few months as somebody's prison bitch doesn't prepare you for the Human Cancer, Al. Being all cozied up and locked away from the real world doesn't prepare you for a man whose entire life has been nothing but carnage, tragedy, destruction. Nothing you have been through prepares you for someone like me.

    So you choose this path. You choose this as the stage of your execution. You choose this as the moment of my coronation. You chose this.

    And well, you know me. Anytime someone wants to be ripped from limb from limb, I oblige. Your title is mine, Al. And your health? Your faculties? Your career? Well, I'll decide what to do with that after I leave you in a puddle of your own vainglorious, broken, beaten carcass. You asked me what I have done to institute change around here, and now ... tonight, you get my answer.

    I put an end to your fallacy of a championship reign.



    *Reserved for a title sig*

  4. #4
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    DING! DING! DING!!

    Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, I have just received word that Gavin O’Connor will not be able to participate in the next contest, so the following is set for one fall, and it is for THE LPW UNITED STATES HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!

    “Never Learn Not To Love” by The Beach Boys picks up on the PA system as Caesar Osiris emerges to a chorus of boos. Osiris, arms outstretched, drinks it all in before heading to the ring, making a title belt gesture around his waist while jawing with the fans.

    Announcer: Introducing first, the challenger. From Gasport, New York weighing in at 225 pounds, CAEEEEESARRRR OOOOOOOOSIRIS!!

    The camera pans out in the audience to witness the fans’ disgust. Osiris merely smiles.

    The Rik: He showed a new side of himself earlier tonight, completely throttling Gavin O’Connor earlier.

    Phoenix: Despicable actions are what they are, but we’ll see if that betters his chances in a one-on-one contest against someone who has yet to lose such an encounter.

    The Rik: I’m as much of a fan of Austin as anyone, but with his recent appearance in Mexico to taunt new World Champion Golden … well, if his head isn’t in the game, THIS Osiris could upset him.

    You’re the only power, power, You’re the only power that can …


    Kanye West’s “Father Stretch My Hands Pt. 1” begins to play as the arena dims. The wails of a choir accompany the buzzing of blue lights before Future interrupts…


    If Young Metro don’t trust, I’m gon’ shoot you…


    “Holy Ghost” by A$AP Rocky feat. Joe Fox abruptly thumps through the speakers as LPW U.S. Champion and Mount Vesuvius Torch holder Chris Austin – clad in a sleeveless hoodie and an Al-themed muscle shirt – slowly swaggers into view, right hand tucked inside his hoodie, close to the chest. He stops at center ramp and turns to the side, whipping his head back to throw the hood off of his black and blonde locks. Austin then reveals his right hand – which holds the neatly folded U.S. Championship belt – then mimics a pump-action and points the title toward Osiris, closing one eye and imitating the firing of a gun, making an animated “POW!” noise.

    Austin: Dead Man Walking.

    Austin then heads to the ring, his face becoming one of no light-heartedness.

    Announcer: And form San Jose, California, weighing in at 218 and one-quarter pounds, he is the LPW United States Heavyweight Champion … CHRISSSSSSS AUSSSSSSTIN!!

    Phoenix: He looks ready.

    The Rik: Again, when isn’t he?

    Inside the squared circle, both men entered a stare down before Austin hands over the U.S. Championship to the ref and removes his entrance attire. Austin begins to limber up as the official displays the prize for all to see. Before the ref hands over the title to the timekeeper, Osiris grabs the belt and thrusts it in the air to a resounding amount jeers. Austin raises an eyebrow to this but continues his pre-match stretching, while Osiris shoots a smirk toward the champion. The bell rings.

    Phoenix: And we are under way ladies and gentlemen, Caesar Osiris and "The Radical" Chris Austin, the latter of whom who intermittently refers to himself as "The Student of the Game.”

    The Rik: He doesn’t say it lightly, let me tell you.

    Phoenix: Right. Well anyways, they're circling each other, Osiris motioning for a collar-and-elbow tie up… AUSTIN CHARGES IN AND IMMEDIATELY PLANTS CAESAR WITH THE GUERRILLA-PLEX!! OSIRIS RECOILED HIGH THERE AND HAS NO IDEA WHERE HE-AUSTIN AGAIN! BLASTS HIM WITH A BICYCLE KNEE BEFORE OSIRIS COULD EVEN TRY TO GET UP! AND THERE GOES OSIRIS TUMBLING OUT OF THE RING!

    The Rik: Good. God. Did you see the explosion? That kind of … that sort of twitch and foot speed is not of this earth.

    Phoenix: Osiris looks like he’s seen a ghost while he’s trying to get his bearings, and Austin merely peers over the ropes to see his fallen challenger!

    The Rik: That is devastating suddenness. Scarily devastating. Disturbing, even.

    Phoenix: ... The referee’s count is up to four, and Osiris is just now getting to a knee. He’s standing up trying to seemingly make sense of what just hit him, and Austin is merely pacing calmly, waiting.

    The Rik: A hunter personified.

    Phoenix: Osiris back in, and he doesn’t look quite there. This time they get the tie-up and Austin switches into an arm wrench; Osiris reverses, and look at him try to drive those elbows to the shoulder, setting up for the Fall of Rome, maybe!

    Austin doesn’t spend too much time in this predicament, executing a forward roll into a quick handspring before a fast yank of Osiris’ wrist flips him to the mat. Osiris scrambles to the corner and sticking his head through the ropes for a break, but when he looks up, Austin is right in his face, crouching in an aggressive position before backing off and motioning for more.

    The Rik: It is very clear to me that Osiris is going to have to find a way to slow down Austin to have a chance. The champion isn’t working by the hour and while Osiris likely has a strength advantage, if Austin continues to employ his speed like this along with his savant-level technical skill, Caesar won’t beat him. In fact, I don’t think anyone would. I must say it’s refreshing to see.

    Osiris asks the ref to back up Austin, and the ref goes over to admonish the champion. Austin, annoyed, pays little mind to it, but the conversation is enough for Osiris to get to his feet and strike an unsuspecting Austin with a high forearm over the head of the ref.

    Phoenix: Osiris heard you, as he just dropped Austin! Austin back up and he goes right back down with a clothesline from Caesar. And a second one, and a third one connects!

    The Rik: That was the opening Caesar needed to get.

    Phoenix Osiris picks Austin’s leg and there’s a kick to it! Grounded dragon screw has the champion reeling now as that is just what the doctor ordered!

    The Rik: Definitely, but from what I’ve seen of Caesar’s repertoire, he doesn’t really target the legs often. We’ll see if he can keep it up.

    Phoenix: He senses blood in the water, dragging Austin to the ring post and sliding out. Austin kicks Osiris away, but Caesar responds with a vicious eye rake! He’s got the leg now and throws it into the post!

    Austin barely stifles a yelp of pain as he falls to the outside, flexing his knee and leg to try and keep it from stiffening. Osiris smiles, sensing the advantage. He takes Austin to his feet and rams him face first into the steps, which sends Austin stumbling away trying to gain distance.

    The Rik: This is surprising. Austin showed his speed early, but Osiris appears to be formulating a plan of attack and so far is executing it.

    Phoenix: Indeed! Osiris looking to catch up with Austin with the ref’s count up to five, AUSTIN WITH A PELE KICK that flattens Osiris!!!

    The Rik: Austin is not the one you want to allow that kind of space. Austin is back in the ring, but he’s feeling that early assault.

    Phoenix: Austin is right back out, breaking the ref’s count. He’s got Osiris again, and the challenger fires a clubbing blow to Austin’s knee to buckle him! Now both men are back in the ring, but Osiris is up first and he slaps on an Anklelock!

    The Rik: Smart.

    Phoenix: Austin clawing for the ropes, Osiris is wrenching viciously here, and is keeping him grounded!

    The Rik: He ought to grapevine the … well, too late.

    Phoenix: As you say that, Austin rolls through it and sends Osiris toward the ropes, Caesar rebounds but Austin used the momentum to get to his feet, HALF-NELSON HOOK! GUTBUSTER!!

    The Rik: That took the wind out of Caesar, but the impact was on the besieged knee. Austin felt it.

    Phoenix: Austin tries to shake it loose and snatches Osiris to his feet, front facelock … he tries for a suplex, but the leg doesn’t cooperate. Second time is the charm as he has him up, and he HANGS THE CHALLENGER OUT TO DRY!

    With Osiris draped on the ropes, grimacing as he tries to catch his breath, Austin steps to the side and delivers a HARD low Roundhouse Kick to the bent over Osiris, which sends him crumpling to the mat.

    The Rik: Did you hear the impact??

    Phoenix: Austin with the first cover of the night, but he only gets two. You can see in his face that he wasn’t able to plant as firmly as he’d like to in order to generate the power in the hips. But he’s got Osiris woozy. He’s got a kneeling Osiris by the arm, he twists it and raises it up … STIFF SOLE KICK TO THE RIBS!

    The Rik: The plan is unfolding now. Assault the ribs and core, make it hard to breath and try to push the pace to tire out Osiris. Osiris is feeling it, but Austin is foregoing pin attempts to keep up the pressure …

    As Austin tries to pull Osiris up, Osiris breaks free with a thumb to the eye before turning the champion inside-out with a chop block. Osiris, a wild look in his eye takes Austin to his feet and sets up for a powerbomb, which is executed into the turnbuckle.

    Phoenix: And Osiris has turned it around very quickly! Osiris covers but Austin gets the shoulder up just after two. Look at the challenger upping the viciousness, hard forearm drops to the champion’s face!

    After the third one, Osiris takes a knee, ensuring to place his shin across Austin’s throat while pleading with the referee. The official is able to get Osiris to cease his underhanded tactic after four.

    The Rik: Have to credit Osiris. He understands something Christopher tells me all the time: You only need three seconds to beat your opponent. Austin is as technically precise as they get, but he’s not perfect. Osiris is showing that right here and has timed his aggressiveness very well.

    Phoenix: Osiris scoops up Austin, might be looking for a running powerslam, and Osiris runs to the corner but Austin wriggles free and Caesar barrels sternum-first into the corner, falling to his seat! But Austin tweaked that knee during the escape!

    The Rik: So far, both men’s gameplans have been effective. But if this comes down to whoever has the better gameplan … well, he calls himself the Student of the Game for a reason.

    Phoenix: Not if Austin can’t keep up that pace of his. Osiris is in a bad way-HEY WAIT A MINUTE!

    As Osiris tries to recover, he removes the protective covering of the middle turnbuckle, exposing the steel ring. Osiris stands up, and looks to advance on Austin but is WALLOPED with The Best Damn Dropkick, Period.

    The Rik: Right to the chest!

    Phoenix: Austin covers!

    ONE!
    TWO!
    T-OSIRIS KICKS OUT


    The Rik: He usually aims for the face – but the gameplan called for a different target.

    Phoenix: Austin has Osiris now, he hasn’t quite been able to dictate the pace as he usually does… Austin setting up for a Powerbomb now, he’s got the crucifix! Could this be that neckbreaker he used on Thorny back in Hawai’i??

    The Rik: It may- NO. The knee has buckled!

    Phoenix: Osiris goes into the attack! He’s got Austin up and he charges that—MY GOD! A dart throw right into that exposed turnbuckle!

    Austin, who was able to shield some of the impact with a quick covering of his face with his arms, staggers to his feet dazed and Osiris pounces!

    The Rik: That should be a disqualification … hold on! No way…

    Phoenix: He hooks the arms …HAIL CAESAR! UPSET! UPSET!

    The Rik: Cover!

    ONE!
    TWO!
    TH-KICKOUT!


    Phoenix: Austin got the shoulder up! Osiris cannot believe it!

    Osiris begins to throw a temper tantrum, pleading as to why it wasn’t three. Meanwhile, the ref reiterates that not only was it a two count, but also that exposing turnbuckles is oddly enough, a no go in the wrestling ring. Osiris continues to argue with the official as Austin, whose face paints one of a man that is pissed off, pulls himself up while trying to shake the cobwebs.

    The Rik: He’s wasting his time here. Get back on him.

    Phoenix: Osiris is turning around and advancing on Austin, stopping him with a kick to the gut. Osiris grabs him, hooking the head … AUSTIN WHIPS HIM DOWN WITH A ROLLING NECKBREAKER! Austin gets to his feet, grimacing as Osiris is pulling himself up … and a low-angle forearm to the kidney by Austin! He takes Osiris to his feet and a Picture-Perfect Northern Lights Suplex! Bridge! But a kick out by Osiris. That bridge didn’t have enough on it, as Austin could only use one leg.

    The Rik: I have to admit that Osiris has the makings of a future champion. It may be tonight or some other time but this is his best tonight, rather resilient. Sans that little spat earlier.

    The ref, after signaling a ‘2’ count, goes to put the turnbuckle pad back on the exposed middle rung. Austin goes to pull Osiris back to his feet, but is stopped cold with a low blow! Osiris, shaking his arm somewhat curiously, collapses back down, considerably favoring his ribs while Austin favors an area further south.

    Phoenix: And Osiris buys himself some time with that dastardly low blow!

    The Rik: I don’t think you found it that dastardly.

    Phoenix: It’s cheap, but it couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.

    The Rik: At least you admit it.

    Phoenix: Osiris senses the advantage here, and he tries to set up for Hail Caesar again, but Austin spins out of it! Back Suplex lift …

    Austin quickly turns around and throws Osiris forward, sending him throat-first off the ropes while readjusting to take hold of Osiris’ legs. On the rebound, Austin violently whips backward into a slingshot Wheelbarrow Suplex.

    Crowd: OOOOOOOHHHH!!

    The Rik: What a combination … and I must say, for a man who got hit unsuspectingly below the belt, Austin looks surprisingly spry.

    Phoenix: You have a point … Austin’s going into the tights … HE HAD ON A CUP! NO WONDER!

    Austin tosses the protective device away and doubles over in discomfort while trying to shake off the fatigue as he advances on the downed Osiris, a bit of a hobble in his gait. Osiris, holding his torso, is unable to fight off Austin’s attempts to get him standing, and Austin then lifts the challenger into a Fireman’s Carry.

    Phoenix: Austin has Osiris up, what he’s going for here …

    The Rik: I don’t know, but he better do it quickly on that damaged wheel.

    Austin, now in the center of the ring, gives his damaged leg one last shake and proceeds to toss Osiris into the air. Osiris, expecting another gutbuster, keeps his hands and arms on his torso for protection as Austin goes backward …

    THWACK!!!

    A gutbuster is not what Caesar receives, as he goes flying backward onto the mat, the boot-aided impact sending him rolling onto his face.


    Crowd: OOOOOOHHHHHHH!

    Phoenix: JESUS CHRIST WHAT A OVERHEAD KICK TO THE SKULL!

    The Rik: That man is about three steps ahead of the curve… and he calls that THE WRATH OF ATHENA, by the way. A beautiful name for that technique, if I do say so myself.

    Caesar lies on his side as Austin crawls toward Osiris, rolling him over and hooking the leg.

    ONE!
    TWO!
    THREE!!!


    The Rik: It's OVER!

    Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner … AND STILL LPW UNITED STATES HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION …CHRIS AUUUUUUSTIIIIN!!!!!!!!!

    Chris Austin © (4.44 aps + 0.8 vote = 5.24 total)
    Caesar Osiris (4.23 aps + 0.7 vote = 4.93 total)


    I got my own relationship with God, Lord ...

    “Holy Ghost” by A$AP Rocky feat. Joe Fox picks up at the hook on the PA as Austin sits up from the downed Osiris, flexing his knee before gingerly standing up. The referee retrieves the U.S. Championship and hands it to Austin, who raises it in triumph as the ref displays the victor to the crowd.

    Phoenix: A valiant, if nefarious effort by Caesar, but Austin was just a step ahead.

    The Rik: More than, Phoenix. Look at this again.

    Our footage goes back to the closing moments, where Austin has Caesar in a fireman’s carry. As The Wrath of Athena replays in slow motion, Rik analyzes the proceedings.

    The Rik: Austin spent the entire match working on Caesar’s ribs and torso. Osiris had been under fire long enough to where, to his credit, he tried to shield what he thought would be a gutbuster, and then this … BOOM, right to the melon, unprotected. And look at how clean and flush the impact was. There was no kicking out. Caesar tried to make the smart play and simultaneously it was EXACTLY what Austin wanted him to do. He lured him into a situation where making the right move was the wrong decision. It’s an absolute genius piece of strategy and gamesmanship.

    Phoenix: I can’t argue that. As despicable as Austin is, he might be the most intelligent man within the confines of the squared circle, and he needed a good bit of it against a game, crafty Caesar Osiris that pulled out nearly all the stops.

    The Rik: That he did.

    Austin trudges up the ramp, an accomplished smile on his face. He turns back to Osiris, who is just now coming to after the end of the match. Austin holds his folded title to his lips and blows on it as if clearing smoke from a barrel before disappearing.



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    Phoenix: And now … the International Heavyweight Championship on the line in one of the most vile matches in LPW history. The only other soul who will be done there will be cameraman, who will record everything so we can watch the action. The winner is the first man to reach a predetermined area of escape, i.e. to escape Solitary Confinement. We’ve only had one of these before, and we saw limbs deep-fried, tazers, riot guns…

    The Rik: This match shouldn’t have been allowed. I don’t care how much they hate each other. This … is beyond the pale.

    Phoenix: It's my understanding that Al has been at the facility where this will take place for some time now -- the abandoned Detroit House of Corrections just a ways up the road. Storme arrived prior to the United States Championship match, so all men are in place to my knowledge.

    The Rik: Good. The sooner this can end, the better.

    Phoenix: Perhaps. Now there is-WAIT A MINUTE, I'VE RECEIVED WORD THAT THE MATCH HAS ALREADY BEGUN! GET US OUT THERE NOW!


    The footage abruptly changes to inside the Detroit House of Corrections in Plymouth, Michigan, where Storme and Al have wasted no time getting after it as both men trade blows. Al begins to get the upper hand, but is slowed with a thumb to the eye and a subsequent bumrush into the door that leads to a large communal area within the abandoned prison. Storme immediately ramps up the violence, managing to drag Al to a jail cell before slamming the door repeatedly on Al’s gut. The champion cries out in agony with each blow to his tensed abs.

    The Rik: I can’t watch this, Phoenix.

    Phoenix: I truly don’t blame you, Richard. Not this time … Al’s insides have to already be mush at this point.

    Storme stands over the downed Al, who writhes in pain after having a cell door repeatedly dragged into his torso. The champion tries to pull himself up, only to be struck back down by a hard yet dismissive boot to the temple.

    Storme: Now where’s your fucking talk, champ? You really though that a stint in prison all of a sudden made you tough shit? Hrm. It’s as if you’ve forgotten just how aggressive and ruthless this human cancer REALLY is.

    With that, Storme canvasses what appears to be a common gathering area of the Detroit House of Correction. He spies a rusted table and drags Al to it, lifting him up and bodyslamming him on top, which sends off a vile THUD! through the vacant building. Storme then reaches into his pocket, pulling out his trusty fork before grabbing a handful of the champion’s hair.

    Storme: Now begins what I’ve been waiting for … for so long. I’m going to flay you piece by fucking piece until all that is left is MY title, you sanctimonious pissant.

    Storme tries to drive the fork into Al’s eye, but the champion moves and floors his challenger with a short right hand. A grimace on his face, Al slinks off the table and sends a kneeling Storme snapping backward with huge knee. The splatter of blood and teeth echoes through the cavernous battlefield. Storme rolls to all fours, looking to regain his bearings. Al has since procured the fork and grabs the dazed Black Sheep by his mane, pressing the fork into his forehead and bringing about a yelp of anguish from Storme.

    Al: Only the beginning.

    Storme struggles against Al's weight, but his arms are pinned to the floor. Al’s teeth gnash as he takes a MIGHTY rake down Storme’s face with the eating utensil.

    Storme: AHHHHHHH! SON OF A BITCH! FUCK! ARGHHH!

    Al: Ever since you managed to best a less-evolved version of myself, you’ve the gall to challenge my authority. My righteous hold over LPW. The effort I've painstakingly put into place to have the GODDAMN right, to call myself Master of this domain.

    Storme gets to a knee and is disrespectfully slapped down.

    Al: Tonight, I beat it into you. Once and for all, you will know your place. Beneath me.

    Phoenix: Al’s going to take his eye out! NO! STORME WITH A LOW BLOW!

    Storme: Welcome to my level!!

    Al drops into the fetal position as Storme momentarily collapses down to buy himself a moment before he gets a gleam in his eye and crawls toward a presumed object that has enchanted him. Al, momentarily overtaken by the shock of the blow, sits up to find Storme standing over him with a jagged piece of wood.

    Storme: Eye for an eye.

    Al: You-UGH!

    Al is interrupted by the sharp thorns of wood plunged into his face. Al holds his face tightly as streaks of sanguine rush from beneath them. The cameraman switches around to Storme, who is now dragging Al toward a vacant jail cell. Instead of trying to place him inside, Storme props Al against the cell wall and backpedals, picking up that jagged 2x4. His footsteps reverberate in the damp, stale air as he roars toward Al, taking a mighty swing… Al evades as the wood shatters against the steel. As Storme shakes off the impact, he looks around, seeing no International Heavyweight Champion.

    Vanished.


    Storme: DON’T YOU FUCKING RUN FROM ME, YOU VERMIN!

    Storme cackles as the blood begins to congeal on his face. Having knocked a few of the weaker bars from the cell, Storme picks up said rods and – using some of the tape from his hands and wrists – binds them together for a makeshift baton. Storme begins to prowl, dragging the bars across the walls for an eerie rattling sound.

    RA-TANG-TANG-TANG-TANG-TANG-TANG!!!!

    Storme: COME ON OUT, AL! FACE YOUR MAKER!

    RA-TANG-TANG-TANG-TANG-TANG-TANG!!!!

    The Knave of Hearts spies the observatory deck within the common area and heads up the stairs. Upon entering, he peers around the corner, peeking cautiously, weapon at the ready. Storme slowly closes the door behind him but he then goes flying into the ground as Al has appears from thin air, tackling down the challenger and biting into Storme’s nose. Al stops for a second and nails a headbutt to the face before dropping hammerfists on the nose. Storme is trying to cover up but has the wherewithal to gouge his thumb in Al’s eye! Storme bucks Al off of him, pulling himself up but he is doubled over by a wild swing of the taped bars to the gut.

    Al: I’m definitely going to have to get tested after that. *spits disgustedly* Get up.

    Storme: Coward.

    Al shrugs, measures Storme, and WALLOPS him across the back with the baton-like item. Storme tries to stifle his pain but to no avail as Al slowly shakes his head. With that, Al slams a vicious elbow into Storme’s face and props him against the wall, pushing the bar into his throat. They both grab hold of the weapon and struggle for possession.

    Al: Fitting you choke in yet another big moment. But don’t worry, the darkness will take you soon enough.

    Storme: *through gasps of air* You’ll have to kill me …

    Al smiles.

    Al: If only it would come to that. But you’ll wilt before long.

    Storme begins to overpower Al now, getting enough space to slink from the wall while allowing the forward-pressing Al to propel himself into the wall. The bar drops to the floor as Al gets to his feet, but Storme recovers too quickly. A stiff right hand, a stiff left hand, and brutal headbutt sends Al reeling back. With one final kick, Storme sends the champion into a door. The door snaps open and Al finds himself at the edge of the staircase leading into the area. He manages to stop himself at the edge as the cameraman darts down the stairs out of harm’s way. Al turns around, and his face is introduced to the steel bars, which sends him tumbling down the staircase as the cameraman barely evades the champion’s body on the way down.

    Phoenix: Everything has to be broken in Al’s body after that! A horrific fall!

    Storme: Now, the fun begins.

    Storme confidently walks down the steps to where Al’s lifeless form resides. Storme pokes at Al’s body, making sure he’s truly down for the count. Al’s lone response is the faint rise and fall of his chest. A few seconds pass and Storme looks around for more tools of destruction, eyeing a kitchen sink in one of the vacant cells. Through near darkness, the evil still gleams in Storme’s eyes.

    The Rik: Storme should walk out of that hellhole this very moment. End this carnage.

    Storme turns around seeing Al still laying on the ground before he turns his attention to the sink. He grabs hold of it and with all his might begins to yank, twist, pull and push on the item before eventually freeing it from the wall. Storme exhales and drags the sink out of the cell. He prepares to lift it above his head, but as he turns around, his eyes widen as a charging Al comes right at him full steam, ultimately HIT-STICKING the sink-wielding Storme right through the wall of the jail cell. Both men lie broken amongst the wreckage and this display brings about faint hoots and hollers, startling the cameraman as well as Phoenix and The Rik.

    Phoenix: DID YOU HEAR THAT, RICHARD?

    The Rik: I … I did. Are they not alone in there?

    Phoenix: I don’t know. I hadn’t heard anything about that place being haunted, however.

    The Rik: Let’s not entertain…

    Phoenix: This is LPW … nothing is out of the realm of possibility for this place and you know it.

    [b]Al stands up, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small black rectangular item. He presses the sizes and an obvious electric current illuminates from it as a chilling CRACKLE-CRACKLE-CRACKLE emanates from it. Al then looks toward Storme and with no wasted motion, puts the presumed tazer to Storme’s neck, causing the Black Sheep to shiver, shake and crumple down.

    Al then throws the tazer into the wall, shattering it. Al then grabs the still convulsing Storme and lifts him onto the shoulder, lawn darting him into the wall and sending him crashing through the water-weakened concrete. Storme remains draped in the him-sized hole as Al grabs him and pulls him out, as Storme looks completely catatonic and racked in pain. Al grabs Storme by the ankle and drags him out of the cell. He then begins the arduous process of heading toward the presumed exit with Storme in tow. Storme then flickers to life, kicking Al away from him.

    Al quickly regains his equilibrium, but Storme snakes him about the head and drives him crown-first into the wall before spying a glass window. Al is then flung face-first into it, shattering the window and sending Al crumbling backward. Here, the cumulative punishment taken overcomes the challenger, who falls to his knees, chuckling as he scoots closer to the downed champion. At this point, Storme cradles Al’s head in his lap … well, it’s more of a bully choke to be frank, but not much pressure for a fight such as this is applied.[/i]

    Storme: And so here we are. Years in the making. And as I always knew – ACK *spits up blood and phlegm* – this is how it would end. Your broken body at my mercy.

    Storme then drives a vicious 12-6 elbow directly into Al’s jaw. Unbeknowst to Storme, Al is going into his pocket again as the challenger continues to toy with the champion.

    Storme: You wanted to go the hard way with a man molded by tragedy, destruction, bloodlust. You picked a fight you never had a chance to win. I wonder … how many times did you drop the soap, Al-URGGHH!

    Storme is immediately shut up by a hard left to his nose. Al slowly gets to his feet and his left hand is armed with brass knuckles. Al then mounts the discombobulated Storme and just fires off left after left after left, the sickening sound of flesh meeting brass the only thing mattering as a spine-tingling hush falls over the East Lansing crowd watching this display.

    Phoenix: Al … it didn’t need to come to this!

    The Rik: He can’t hear you there … even if he could … he’s gone to a place where … he’s been pushed to a grisly point, Phoenix. And Storme is paying the price.

    Al stands up, sharply exhaling as his shoulder burns with exhaustion and his hands throb – whether in soreness or ravenous hunger for more is anyone’s guess – as he callously lets the now gooey brass knuckles slide from his hand onto the ground. Storme lies motionless as Al looks around, trying to decipher where the exit is. Unsure, he takes the borderline lifeless challenger to his feet, and throws him through the first door he sees – a supply closet.

    Al drags Storme on out and lifts him in a fireman’s carry. His form wobbling under what is as close to dead weight as it can get, Al moves at a snail’s pace back toward the large, cavernous common area where most of the action took place. Seeing the sink that Storme failed to use as a weapon. Al’s face twists and churns into pained defiance as he takes a running start and delivers a Death Valley Drive into the sink. Al lies on his back, completely worn out as Storme’s leg shakes involuntarily, a bone-chilling sight for all who lays eyes on it.

    Al pulls himself up, one final stiff kick to the gut curling Storme into a ball. Al glances towards the other side of the common area. He limps toward it, and the guttural sound of doors being opened rip through the atmosphere. At the floor, Al picks up the steel bars taped together and – after placing the apparatus around Storme’s throat, drags him dead center of the room. He lifts Storme up and slams him onto one of the gathering tables. Al brandishes the rods, prepared for a coup de grace ...


    Storme: you … y-you’ll have to … ki -

    Al places a dirty, bloody finger to Storme’s mouth, shushing him.

    Al: No. I’ve had enough of trash like you, ruining my moment of conquering. Your moment of truth. This is your truth. Face it.

    Al whistles sharply, and to EVERYONE IN EAST LANSING’S SURPRISE, five men, all well-built and wearing prison jumpers, show themselves. Each armed with a weapon, whether it be a bat, a chain ...

    Phoenix: Oh my God …

    The Rik: … They’re going to kill him…

    Al: Friends. This man, the thorn in my side, the constant bane of my existence … here he lies, defeated. Dominated. I could easily finish this, but my mind goes back to what you did to poor, sweet Jenna. The way you tortured her … warped her. What you did to your unborn child …

    Those last words bring obvious disdain from Al’s supposed henchmen, who grab their weapons even tighter.

    Al: They don’t take kindly to your ilk, much like I never have. I asked you what you have done, you self-admitted disease … what you’ve done to bring change, prosperity.

    Nothing. As for what I have done, well …

    Al then carelessly drags Storme off the table and onto the cold concrete, where that threatening quintet circles him. Storme JUST rolls to all fours as Al places the bent and worn steel bars, still bound together within arm’s grasp.

    Al: I’ve cured LPW of its cancer. Perish, heathen.

    With that, Al looks toward his newfound associates and nods as if to say “he’s yours” before turning to walk away. Al looks back as Storme grabs that bar before turning away and motioning to the cameraman to come with. At that point, you hear the sound of bodies being battered with steel and wood, with various profanities, yelps and grunts filling the air as a still defiant-Storme begins to wilt beneath the tempest of aggression. Al rounds the corner, limping away, a far away look in his eye. He spies a long corridor and proceeds down it, as the red glare of “EXIT” beckons him. He opens the door where the referee stands with the International Heavyweight Championship. The official hands it to the rightful owner, who drapes it over his shoulder. With the door still open …

    ???: GRRRAHHHHHHHHHH-YOU WILL HAVE TO KILL…

    Al © (4.69 APS + 1.2 vote = 5.89)
    Steve Storme (4.28 APS + 0.3 vote = 4.58)


    Al freezes and sighs, gazing into the heart of the darkness that is the Detroit House of Correction. He slowly closes the door behind him as we fade back into East Lansing, where the cameras peer over a stunned crowd, some staring on mouths covered, others asking questions with apprehension in their eyes.

    Phoenix: I … Al was pushed to a point of no return.

    The Rik: He threw him to the dogs, Phoenix … no other way to say it … but perhaps that was the only way for Al.

    Phoenix: I have no words.

    The Rik: This is the worst I have seen of LPW. A man was just sacrificed… as evil and as low down as Storme is … he’s still a human.

    Phoenix: Richard, I …

    The Rik: I know. Me too.

    Phoenix: Cut it. Just … just cut the camera.

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    All rights reserved.



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  6. #6
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    Thornridge is shown watching a television as the show finished, shaking his head a little before shrugging.

    Thornridge: Well... That was a thing...

  7. #7
    Maverick: It’s was hardly a match.

    OOC: Great show. Did not expect that Main Event

  8. #8
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    Quote Originally Posted by Mr. Maverick View Post
    Maverick: It’s was hardly a match.
    DGS: It was more of a match than most in our line of work are ever likely to have. Learn to recognize artistry when it is presented to you.

    Al... well-fought.

  9. #9
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    Thornridge: When you are backed into a corner and you are forced to act, you can't simply stand there and hold the gun. You gotta be able to pull the trigger. I understand that now.

    And it sucks hard when you have to do it.

  10. #10
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    Austin: Another day, another foolproof gameplan.

    But it appears now that the PERCs are no more with what happened with Steve and Calvin.

    Shame. And here I was itching to be LPW Tag Team champion. Class, how does one do that without a partner? Any volunteers?
    Last edited by RCA; 09-27-2016 at 01:22 PM.



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  11. #11
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    Quote Originally Posted by RCA View Post
    Austin: Another day, another foolproof gameplan.

    But it appears now that the PERCs are no more with what happened with Steve and Calvin.

    Shame. And here I was itching to be LPW Tag Team champion. Class, how does one do that without a partner? Any volunteers?
    DGS: Hmm...

  12. #12
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    Thornridge: Hmm, you're acting rather polite about it Austin. Moreso than usual.

    But alas I'm itching to become a two time LPW Tag Team Champion and I've already got a partner in mind.

    Perhaps a friendly wager is in order Austin. If you become a tag champ first, I'll make a hotdog just for you. If I get there first, I'll get nothing and like it. Because it won't matter since I'll be able to call myself Champion once again.

  13. #13
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    Austin: You know that I think very little of your cooking.



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  14. #14
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    You have no heart if you don't like his cooking.

    We knew that anyway, but still.

  15. #15
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    Quote Originally Posted by The Dude View Post
    You have no heart if you don't like his cooking.

    We knew that anyway, but still.

    Austin: My opinion of his cooking, which I've admittedly always strayed from, is directly related to my opinion of him.

    So, considering that he is, to this point, the second person I have tried to significantly injure and the only one I failed to incapacitate -- Goddamn I'd like a do-over on that neckbreaker -- for a extended period of time ... not to mention what he just did to Calvin ... it's quite obvious that I don't like the cheeky bugger. Decent wrestler, alarming cholesterol levels, probably, but I don't like the man.

    But I also know cooking is something he claims to excel at. So frankly, it's fun for me to be an asshole on the matter.



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  16. #16
    Quote Originally Posted by RCA View Post
    Austin: Shame. And here I was itching to be LPW Tag Team champion. Class, how does one do that without a partner? Any volunteers?
    Maverick: The talent pool is lacking isn't it?

    I would offer but THE David Maverick is tied up at the moment. Have we even seen our current tag team champions lately?

  17. #17
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    Thornridge: Yeah, I wouldn't mind a do-over on the whole match now that you mention it Austin. In a non title match of course, I haven't earned a shot at that coveted U.S. Championship.

    But to think that anyone would put me away for an extended period of time is somewhat of an impossibility. I wrestled the event after the incident in Phoenix with a broken jaw and managed to get three of your PERC buddies locked out. I wrestled the event after Mount Vesuvius after DDT'ing one half of the tag champs off the goddamn cell. I was spiked on steel steps and came back to give three times as much to James Sorn.

    Face it Austin. I'm fucking bulletproof. Give me another exam and I'll pass again with flying colors.

  18. #18
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    Austin: Young Metro probably doesn't trust you.

    So maybe I might actually put that whole "bulletproof" thing to the test later down the line.



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  19. #19
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    Thornridge: I look forward to the opportunity if it comes to fruition, mate.

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    DGS: You two are adorable. Truly.

  21. #21
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    Thornridge: It's all good Dave-o. Me and Austin are like two peas in separate pods. And I don't even like peas unless there is mint sauce with them. And butter...

    You know I think Austin might be onto something when he says my cholesterol is a bit too high. Meh. I'll get it checked out when someone breaks my jaw again.

  22. #22
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    Within the confines of a darkened room, the sound of a whimpering, begging former kingpin can be heard. A television plays, the only source of light in the darkness. A single chair stays stoic, but the camera meanders around to see who sits within. It's Al. His International Heavyweight Championship spread across his chest. His wounds are fresh. The blood dried but the swelling still rising in pink-purple hues. He mouths the words on the television as the camera turns again to reveal what the Champ is watching.


    The tape stops. Rewinds. And the clip plays again. The camera fades back around, where Al... again... is mouthing the words of Tony as they play out in front of him.

  23. #23
    OOC: Enjoyed the main event; a fitting end for a character I hope will be remembered as one of the better villains in LPW.

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