As the bell rings, the combatants quickly take to the center of the ring, arms up before them in anticipation of the collar and elbow tie up. They meet in the traditional fashion, locking arms as they try to push and twist the other into a more disadvantageous position. Dereck struggles valiantly, but what he makes up for in heart is soon trumped by what he lacks in size, the GodKing bringing him down to a single knee as he hunkers down, imposing his strength upon the Technicalitist. The smaller star strains, his face contorting in a grimace as he digs deep to rally back, getting back to his feet. He steps back, slipping out of the power struggle and latches onto the right wrist of the Czar of Scars, ducking down as he slips under and in behind Vladimir, twisting the appendage in his grasp. He releases with his right, holding the torqued limb firmly in place before the bring his own forearm down across the taut elbow, a jolt of pain shooting through the body of the Barbarian Lord. He recoils from the blow, shaking his arm in an attempt to alleviate the pain.
Dereck pursues the King, looking to exploit the brief opening he's created. He grabs onto the back of Vladimir's skull and pulls it in tow as he passes by, but his opponent ducks under the hold, averting the bulldog attempt. Walters continues on into the ropes, rebounding and coming back at the Barbarian Lord, his outstretched arm slamming across the legend's biceps and sending him stumbling back. The regrettably failed attempt to take the Czar of Scars off of his feet breaks Dereck's momentum, a quick jab to the jaw stunning him for his troubles. He stops in place, his brain trying to process what has went wrong, when another blow lands across his cheek, snapping him out of his daze. The Technicalitist stumbles back into the ropes, but mount a rebuttal in the form of a large, hard slap across the pectorals of the infamous instigator. Vladimir laughs at the stinging in his flesh, then delivers an open handed slap to the jaw of his foe insultingly.
Dereck, incensed by the disrespect, drives his shoulder into the abdomen of the Romanian and pushes him across the ring, bringing him to rest against the turnbuckles. He rears back, gathering his strength before plowing into Vlad's stomach again, following up with a few more for good measure. As he goes for an encore, the Behemoth wraps his arm around Walter's neck in a three-quarters lock and squats down so he can pull the enemy's arm up and drape it across his shoulders. Locked into place for what is universally understood as the impending signs of a suplex, Strife yanks the smaller man up off of the mat before dumping him unceremoniously over the ropes. The Stretcher glances off of the apron and lands on the outside mats with a heavy plod, members of the audience standing up to see him on the floor and jeer the unconventional tactic of the sadistic Strife.
As the referee begins his count, Dereck starts to pull himself up, his body throbbing from the impromptu ejection. He rests himself against the side of the ring to catch his breath, but a sudden boot darts out between the bottom two ropes and catches him across the side of his face, sending him reeling into the announce table. The official begins to scold Vlad for this, getting into his face while his opponent recovers on the outside. Strife draws his fist back threateningly, holding off because of the inclusion of disqualifications. He finds a new target for the haymaker, firing away at Walter as he reenters the ring, but missing wildly as the Sharpshooter lowers himself under the mark and slips an arm around the waist of the GodKing, slipping in behind him. Dereck hoists the Bambi Killer into the air, both men falling to the mat as he suplexes him into the canvas. The rookie is not yet done with his catch, however, rolling him over and dragging him back up, locked firmly in place. A sharp elbow comes in from the side, but traditionalist evades this strike as well, before heaving the Romanian over head head and onto his back with a thunderous crash.
With the Czar of Scars grounded, Dereck goes back to work on the tender arm, grabbing it tightly and lifting it up before slinging it back down with full force. Vlad grunts at the pain and grimaces, but finds it's yet to get even worse as the smaller star comes down to his level and wraps his thighs around the aching appendage, taking him by the wrist and pulling it up to his chest to stretch the joint and connective muscles. Waves of agony flow up the length of the limb, Strife pulling at his hair to try to distract himself from the overwhelming misery. The sight only motivates Vladimir's opponent, who holds on for dear life in the hopes of a submission. The Hardcore King pulls back, trying to free himself, but finds it is to no avail. Swiftly changing tactics, he draws his knee closest to the enemy up and plants it against the mat as he rolls over into the armbar, raising up the legs of the technician and forcing his shoulders down against the canvas. It takes only the sound of 'ONE!' for Dereck to relent his hold, knowing that it was for nothing if he managed to get himself pinned here and now. Vladimir quickly rises up and jumps up, jutting the knee down as he crashes down where Dereck's skull had been only a second ago. Having rolled out of harms way, the American presses his luck, scrambling to his feet before lending one to his efforts, a stiff kick pounding against the weakened arm of his rival. Vlad hastily exits the squared circle, rubbing at the affected area for relief.
Walter starts off after Strife, but the man in the zebra striped shirt interjects himself, admonishing him for this. He backs off and the official begins counting once again, but Vlad is more than ready to get back to the action with plenty of time to spare. He slides into the ring on his stomach, a stomp to his shoulder from the North Carolina native punishing this poor mode of entry. The boot rains down time and time again until the GodKing retreats to the outside for another moment of recuperation, the XWA fans bursting with applause for the efforts of the Barbarian Lord's opposition.
Dereck ignores the pleading of the referee this time as he determines to go after the Behemoth, poking his head out under the top rope near the corner. Strife reminds the rookie of the danger he poses, stepping forth and planting a foot firmly behind him, directing his energy into a massive ball of knuckles near identical to the shot that fell the Bulldawg in his debut. The wiley Walter withdraws, darting back into the comfort of the ring as the Lights Out passes by and into the steel post. Vladimir howls out with pain while his opponent sprints across the ring, building momentum. He comes rushing back before recklessly leaping through the ropes, using his own body as a battering ram to drive the Barbarian Lord into the guardrail. While Strife tends to his miserable lumbar, the Technicalitist rises back up to his feet to a fresh round of cheers, himself a bit dazed from the maneuver. When the sound of numbers drifts to his ear over the crowd, he finally stops soaking in the praise and works to pull his sore rival back to his feet. Dereck rolls Vladimir into the ring, following closely behind and hooking a leg to initiate a pinfall.
"ONE!"
The Czar of Scars, still quite lucid and unwilling to concede the contest, pops up, shoving the smaller man off of him. He takes the Sharpshooter by the back of the cranium and drives a hard right into the middle of his forehead, trying to build up some leverage in the bout. As each man takes their time returning to their base, the almighty GodKing begins to show signs of wear, shaking out his arm once more of pain induced by even his own offense. The display is not lost on Walter, who swiftly swoops in, taking control of Vlad's arm and stepping in under it and behind, twisting the appendage. Strife quickly rolls himself in the opposite direction, an ungraceful and uncharacteristic flip onto his back relieving the tension. With his free arm, he reaches up and grabs onto the wrist of his attacker, then pulls him forward and down into a hard knee that rises to greet the American across the bridge of his nose. Dereck falls into a heap next to the Barbarian Lord, finally allotting some breathing room in the fierce contest.
Vladimir is the first to return to his feet, his opponent still on all fours as he tries to pick himself back up. Strife is quick to capitalize on the situation, delivering a hard punt to the ribcage that rolls Dereck over and leaves him clutching his midsection. The North Carolina native gasps and coughs as he tries to regain his wind, the Barbarian Lord looming ominously over him. Vlad bends down and takes Walter by the hand, tugging and guiding him upright as well. The Technicalitist springs a surprise tactic on his veteran foe, wrapping an arm around the upper thigh as he darts behind him, using it to roll the GodKing backward and plant his shoulders firmly to the canvas.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"TH-!"
The referees hand hovers in the air as though petrified by the sight of the kickout. Dereck gets back to his feet, ready to continue the battle, but Vladimir slips out of the ring unexpectedly. He paces past the announce table and up to Laura Watts, taking the microphone from her station and turning back toward the ring.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
Dereck is dumbfounded by the question, shooting a strange glance at his opponent. Vladimir starts walking back to the ring, making his way up the steel steps and crossing over into the squared circle while Walter backs away, hands up and ready to defend himself from whatever the Romanian is planning.
"Look, I get it. You barely know me from one of these god damn fans. You never saw me wrestle before, never held my name in reverance, never grew to fear me. But I am a ten time champion... you know what a championship is? I've won three of those for every time I've lost a match. I have a loss to championship ratio of .3. Does that even register in that worthless little skull of yours?"
Having no interest in talk, Dereck fires off with a sharp jab at the nose of the Czar of Scars. Vladimir shows no fear, expertly batting the punch aside and stepping in, lifting his knee into the solar plexus of the Stretcher. Walter doubles over, nearly loosing his footing.
"I have dropped, defeated and devastated one man after another for over 7 years.. Brought entire companies to their knees.. been the name that none dared speak beyond a whisper.."
A huge kick fires up and across the pectorals of the Technicalitist, sending him reeling back into the corner of the ring.
"I am the greatest wrestler ever to have lived!"
The clothesline that befalls Walter is nearly as big as the ego of the man delivering it, a thunderous slap of flesh ringing out and into the rafters. The legs of the smaller man buckle beneath him and he drops to his bottom, head leaned back against the second turnbuckle.
"And you... You weasely little fuck! You thought you were going to best me with a fucking schoolboy?! That you would just roll me up and steal a win against the man people have broken themselves over and over again trying to beat?!"
Vladimir drops the microphone and sprints across the ring at his opponent. He leaps into the air as he closes the gap, swinging his feet forward and planting them into his chest. He grabs the ropes on either side of the top turnbuckle and pushes off of the Sharpshooter, pivoting about his hold as he brings his body horizontal before tucking his knees up and in close. Finding his optimal position, the GodKing releases his grasp on the ropes and lets gravity do it's work, bringing him back down into Dereck's chest knees-first like a human cannonball. The Barbarian Lord shifts his weight back, rolling toward the center of the ring and stretching a leg out, the underside of his toes catching canvas and giving him traction for a smooth return to his base. The Sharpshooter convulses in agony at the edge of the ring, his compressed lungs fighting to refill themselves with precious oxygen.
As Vlad scoops the Stretcher, who looks fit for a device of the same name, off of the mat, he raises him up to his feet. The GodKing ducks him down and secures Dereck's head between his thighs, then scoops an arm up, then the other. With everything set in place for the dreaded Skesis Driver, Vladimir gives a strong heave, lifting Walter into the air. Just as soon as he does, he sets the star back down, his arm unable to handle the strain in it's current condition. The Sharpshooter is quick to make the most of this, clutching Vlad's wrist and pulling him down to the canvas, wrapping his thighs tightly in a grapevine about the tender arm.
Struggling against the agony, Vladimir's hand hovers over the mat, his brain racked with misery. He slams it down against the canvas, but only once, before pushing up and getting his knees planted beneath him. The pain intensifies, causing him to yell out, beside himself as he fights the urge to give up. The Barbarian Lord takes the bottom leg of the grapevine by the ankle with his free hand. Instead of attempting to pry it away, as his opponent suspects, Vlad pushes it forth, tucking the ankle into the crook of Walter's knee. He bends down the other leg, securing the ankle in place before hooking his arm under it and reaching around to grab his own arm. Dereck is rather confused by what his opponent is doing, but continues to squeeze and pull on the arm with all he has in search of a submission.
The Barbarian Lord pushes up to his feet and swings a leg over the Sharpshooter, rolling him over onto his front as he pulls up on his legs, locking in a Texas Cloverleaf. It's now Dereck's turn to feel the waves of pain course through his body as it's bowed back. The GodKing rears back further until the North Carolina native is resting upon his cheek, the pressure of the vicious hold being put upon his neck. As he releases his hold and lets his open palm wander, contemplating tapping out, Vladimir drops down to a single knee, planting it beside Walter's head and further arching his form. The pain becomes simply too much to bare and the rookie starts to pound the mat in search of relief, not stopping until he's heard the bell ring.
The GodKing releases the newest addition to the long list of men fallen to him as Laura Watts find a new microphone and declares to the XWA universe.
"Ladies and Gentlemen... Your winner by submission... VLADIMIR STRIFE!"
Looking to add in something of his own, Vlad picks his microphone back up and looks toward the back.
"MADDOX! I hope you got a good look.. Just like I showed Tyson Smith and now I've shown Dereck Walter... You can walk in here and go on brute strength.. you can have a gameplan.. but none of it matter. I don't need to be stronger than you. I don't need to be faster than you. I don't need to be tougher or bigger or more popular. I'm better. Nobody understands the ins and outs of this better than I do. All I need... is one second. At any given moment, my brain is flooded with hundreds of ways to hurt you and even when you've got me on the ropes, I just need that one little second where you slip up to enact every one of those things and leave you as little more than a grease stain on this mat.."
"I'm no idiot.. I am old. I don't have the speed or strength that you do anymore. I've had more surgeries on my right knee than you've had title shots. I've have more scars than you've had matches. My body has been broken down, chewed up and spit out. But when we face in this ring, you're going to slip up, even if just for that one second.. and I am going to fuck.. you.. up."
Vladimir tosses the microphone down and exits the ring as the referee attends to the tormented Sharpshooter and Vendetta goes to a commercial break.
Subject: M4. Vladimir Strife vs. Dereck Walter 
