We find today two competitors primed and ready to face each other for the first time. Although the pair had been building themselves towards this match for a month now, this would prove to be the first time Rob Chapman and Kasabian Stalker actually meet face to face. The pair had never met before, let alone square off toe to toe. Now, with the Intercontinental Championship on the line, the first meeting of the duo would prove to be a memorable one. Chapman, the Champion, beams with the confidence that entering the arena with the gold fastened around one’s waist offers as he stands in his corner for the referee’s customary dressing down, his entrance theme fading out as the match threatens to begin. He is watched intently by his opponent, the Perverted One, who judging by his outspoken words against Mr Chapman over the past few weeks is not short on confidence himself. Both men look eager to begin and determined to accept only one outcome, themselves the victor; the Intercontinental Championship raised by their hands when the dust settles.
In the final preparations for the beginning of the match, the two competitors find themselves each drawn toward the center of the ring. While the referee steps aside to check on the readiness of the timekeeper, the proverbial war of words commences inside the ring. The Champion, Chapman is the first to share his thoughts, out of earshot to all but Stalker. Meanwhile, Kasabian himself seems content to simply stand opposite Chapman and grin like a Cheshire cat. When the referee returns to check on the pair, Kasabian Stalker lets his actions speak for him. He reaches out a single hand and slaps Chapman full across the cheek for his troubles. Chapman doubles back, more out of shock than anything, bringing his own hand up to his face, reddened and welting almost instantly. Along with the markings of the slap itself are four distinct claw marks, made clearly by Kasabian’s fingernails digging into Chapman’s cheek as his slap finds home. Licking his paw, fresh with traces of Rob Chapman’s skin cells dug under the fingernails, the Perverted One continues to smile his sadistic smile while the Champion’s cheek trickles ever so slightly with blood leaking from the fresh claw marks. Kasabian is already backing away, the message sent, by the time the referee steps in to intervene. The Pervert proceeds to mockingly blow Chapman a kiss from across the ring as the match official finally calls for the bell to commence the official action.
Miles: “Did Kasabian truly just bitch slap Rob Chapman? What kind of damned man slaps another guy? Who the hell does he think he is?!” Cedar: “Not just a slap heard around the world but it looks like he drew blood. I can see distinct claw marks on the cheek of the Champion.” Miles: “He dug his nails in for good measure, tearing at Rob’s flesh. All the while, Stalker smiles his creepy smile. I don’t think Chapman is in for a regular night in the office somehow.”
*DING, DING, DING*
Rob Chapman brings his hand up to his face once more, confirming the presence of blood from Kasabian’s clawing bitch-slap. A small smile spreads over his face as his mind plays out all the possible ways of bringing punishment on the Perverted One in retaliation. The pair eventually lock horns, ending up in a Collar and Elbow tie, of which Chapman quickly gains the upper hand and transitions the hold into a Side Neck Lock. This serves as a fine launch-pad of which to spring into a variety of follow up moves. Chapman is quick to exert his dominance and control of the match by controlling the momentum. He silences the grinning Stalker with a Snapmare that takes him off his feet for the first time.
The sight of Kasabian on his rear is expectedly short lived, the Perverted One quickly scrambling back to a vertical base to try and claw back the momentum he had lost. Chapman is ready for him when he does and Kasabian winds up playing right into the arms of his opponent. In a flash, the Champion has his wrapped up and primed in a Powerbomb position. Chapman doesn’t waste any time, a quick trademark Snap Powerbomb, affectionately referred to as ‘Rage’ is soon delivered with vinegar and force stomping his mark on the match and letting Kasabian know exactly why he wears the gold around his waist.
Chapman does not let up following the Rage Powerbomb. He is quick to sit his opponent up, maintaining the momentum he had gained by tenderizing Stalker’s neck somewhat. He lands a flurry of elbow strikes to the side of Stalker’s neck following the Powerbomb, each landed with precision accuracy and bad intentions. After several elbows find their mark, Rob Chapman punctuates the assault on Kasabian’s neck by pulling him backwards and drilling the back of the Pervert’s neck into his waiting knee before he is laid to rest on the canvas.
Cedar: “It looks like Chapman is targeting the neck of Stalker. He seems utterly focused and determined not only to retain his title, but to send a message to Stalker in the process.” Miles: “What message would that be exactly? Stay away from me, you creepy disgusting bastard?” Cedar: “Something like that, I am guessing. When Chapman comes out of the gates swinging with big moves like his patented Rage, you know he is looking beyond just a simple match. This is personal, Chapman doesn’t like Stalker and he is not afraid to let him know it.” Miles: “Kasabian has that effect on people… The ability to make a person hate him with all of their heart, even before they meet in person. But, rest assured, the feeling only gets worse once you do meet him.”
Kasabian is allowed to his feet momentarily, the punishment taken to his neck serving to spark him into life somewhat. With a hand rubbing the back of his neck, giving an indication of the discomfort that Chapman’s assault had administered, Stalker hurtles off across the ring before the Champion could corner him. Rebounding off the ropes, Kasabian comes charging back with a viciously swinging arm, looking for what would prove to be one of the more brutal Clotheslines ever felt by the veteran Chapman, should it connect. However, the wily veteran ducks under the incoming swinging arm and grabs the perverted Stalker by the wrist to stop him from escaping again.
With Kasabian’s wrist firmly grasped in his clutches, Chapman pulls his opponent back towards him, locking Stalker up into a Full Nelson hold. He does not maintain the hold for very long, however, opting instead to hurl the Perverted One up and over his head in a Release Dragon Suplex that sees Stalker planted face first into the canvas and skidding to a halt just short of the ring ropes. With the Last Flight hitting home effectively, the capacity crowd roar in support of the Champion. Having hit two of his trademark moves early on in the contest, Chapman’s intentions are clear. He is not wasting time, the Champion has business in mind and a point to prove. He turns his attention to his downed opponent once more. Continuing to focus on wearing down the neck of Stalker, Rob Chapman wraps the Pervert up in a Headscissors, looking to squeeze the life out of him with his educated thighs.
Cedar: “Once again, Kasabian Stalker finds himself at the mercy of Rob Chapman and once again, Chapman is targeting the neck. The Champ is making his gameplan known right from the get-go.” Miles: “We are yet to see what kind of gameplan Stalker has in store for us tonight… In fact, we are really yet to see Stalker get off the ranks at all. At the moment, Chapman may as well be facing Dolly, because Stalker doesn’t seem to be offering up much offense.” Cedar: “Kasabian Stalker can be criticized as being a slow starter in many of his matches. But it is not the start that counts. From experience and research, it takes one hell of a lot to put the guy away so Chapman had best be ready to keep the pressure on for the entirety of the match.”
Chapman’s instincts allow him the gift of being able to predict when Kasabian Stalker is wriggling himself free of his Headscissors. Upon feeling the tell-tale signals that point to the early stages of a Houdini-like escape from his clutches, the veteran Chapman decides on an alternative course entirely. He releases the hold before Stalker can escape, quickly grabbing his opponent by the wrist once more and yanking him to his feet. The Champion Chapman Irish Whips his opponent across the ring and into the ring ropes. Knowing instinctively that Stalker would bound back with a flurry of his own offense, the Straight Edge Outlaw, dodges Kasabian’s incoming Discus Elbow Strike with a well-timed sidestep. This also serves the added benefit of allowing Chapman to use his opponent’s own momentum against him. A simple flick of the hips launches Stalker into the air with a Hip Toss, but his course is altered in mid-air to finish up being planted into the mat with a back-shattering Suplex.
The force of the Hip-Toss Suplex causes Kasabian to bounce off the mat before landing near the ring ropes. His continued momentum allows him to easily roll out of the ring to escape further punishment at the hands of the Intercontinental Champion, Rob Chapman. Dazed and punch-drunk, Kasabian Stalker finds himself standing on his own two feet outside of the ring, not quite knowing how he got there.
Chapman follows Stalker out to ringside, looking to follow up on his established assault of the Perverted One. His plans are somewhat thwarted as the Pervert somewhat instinctively unleashes a European uppercut to the Champion’s jaw before Chapman can even plant his feet properly outside the ring. As a result, Rob Chapman is sent reeling back first into the crowd barricade. By now, the referee is eager to get both men back into the ring, and begins a standing ten count in the hopes to persuade Stalker to direct the attention back towards the center stage. Kasabian instead pummels Chapman with a barrage of body blows, the Straight Edge Outlaw backed into the barricade and unable to escape the assault. The body blows prove to only be the soften up of Chapman’s torso, as Kasabian soon lets his true intentions follow. He lifts ‘Lionheart’ Rob Chapman up into the air, almost vertically in a Front Suplex position, before turning Chapman in mid-air and directing him as he falls dropping him onto the top of the barricade itself, back first. An unnatural crack fills the air, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd as Chapman lands back first across the barricade, much to the pleasure and delight of the man that had put him there.
Miles: “Holy crap! Rob Chapman may just have broken his damned back. Kasabian Stalker just dropped him back first across the barricade. I could hear the crack from here!” Cedar: “A brutal move that swings the momentum of this match in the Pervert’s favor. Only time will tell what kind of damage has been done to Chapman’s back.” Miles: “Kasabian is not messing around. It may have taken him a while to get started, but his intentions are clear. He comes to hurt tonight, not to frolic as we have seen in the past few weeks.”
With Chapman adopting a seated position at the base of the crowd barricade, Kasabian’s face fills with a knowing smile. His eyes twinkle as he turns his back to the crowd and to Chapman. Slapping himself twice on the buttocks for good measure, he makes a point of lowering his but cheeks towards the Champion’s head, looking for humiliation upon injury with a Stink Face. However, Chapman is having none of it. Still aware enough of his surroundings to know that staying put is a bad idea, the Champion moves out of the way and Stalker simply backs into the barricade butt first.
Chapman, in turn crawls back over to the ring and rolls in to escape the buttocks of the Pervert. Back in the safety of the squared circle, he lies on his back with both hands underneath him as to assess the damage done by the barricade. Kasabian follows Chapman in, looking to continue the assault. Chapman is forced to act and meets the incoming Kasabian with a Spinning Leg Sweep that takes him off his vertical base. Executing his ‘Fast Forward’ move, Chapman continues the sweeping motion into a Starfish Kip-up to land on his feet, ever so wearily. His hands shoot back to his back once more, Chapman’s face wrought with agony. The Kip-Up, a test to the strength of his back, seemed inconclusive in its results.
Knowing that a simple Leg Sweep would not keep the challenger down for long, Rob is ready for Kasabian’s inevitable rise. It soon follows, with Kasabian keen to get his hands on the neck of the Champion once more, however, Chapman is quick to act and wraps the Pervert up in a Scoop Slam as Kasabian rises, planting Kasabian back to the mat unceremoniously. As Kasabian falls, Chapman grabs him by the wrist and uses this grasp to hoist the Pervert back to his feet. Kasabian is then Atomic Whipped into the nearest turnbuckle, landing back first with a thud. Chapman closes in and attacks Kasabian with a corner Clothesline to soften him up for a larger move. From the turnbuckle, Chapman lifts his opponent up, sitting Kasabian atop the turnbuckle, before climbing up to the second rung himself. With his head underneath the arm of the Pervert, the Intercontinental Champion flicks his hips backwards and launches Kasabian off the top of the turnbuckle in an Elevated Northern Lights Suplex.
Kasabian crashes to the mat with Chapman following after, landing in a bridge position to position himself for a pin. The referee slides into position, ready to count the pinfall.
“One…” “Two…”
The referee’s arm had only just grazed the surface of the mat for the second time when Kasabian kicks out, letting Rob Chapman know that he will have to work harder to put him away tonight.
Cedar: “Two count, barely. Kasabian Stalker still has some life in him.” Miles: “Can’t blame a guy for trying. Any time you can get out of the ring a little bit earlier is a good thing when you are facing the likes of Kasabian Stalker. The longer you stay in there, the higher the chances of being molested.” Cedar: “I am sure that is not the reason for Rob Chapman’s pin. However, a perfectly executed variation of a Northern Lights Suplex by the Champion. He is putting on a clinic in there tonight.”
No sooner than Kasabian had kicked out, Chapman was back on top of him. Like any good veteran, he does not let his opponent breathe, but locks up Stalker once more in a Necklock, going back to the neck again. For good measure, as he applies the hold, he berates the Pervert’s neck with a variety of elbow strikes looking to weaken Stalker’s neck. After ten such elbow strikes, the Necklock is morphed into a Sleeper Hold, Chapman keen to crush the life out of Kasabian’s eyes. The pre-weakened and tender neck makes the Pervert prime picking, and the Sleeper Hold soon takes effect, with the bald head of the Butcher turning blood red and a vein popping out at his temple as he struggles to breathe. Kasabian is fading fast and the match official is in perfect position to capture the moment Stalker slips into unconsciousness. However, a simple action upsets the proverbial apple cart. Kasabian Stalker reaches out a hand with his last gasp of breath and grabs the bottom rope.
The ropebreak is enough to eventually break the hold and Chapman is forced to create distance between him and his opponent. Again, Stalker rolls out of the ring to catch a breath in the moments lapse created by the ropebreak.
Cedar: “Kasabian seems out of sorts tonight. He doesn’t know what to do; Chapman has him reeling and has an answer for everything Kasabian throws. Once more, the Pervert looks to the outside for an opportunity to rethink his strategy.” Miles: “You put a guy like Kasabian Stalker up against a quality wrestler in Rob Chapman and look what happens. His luck was bound to run out eventually.”
With Kasabian standing just outside of the ring, Chapman tries a different tactic to his earlier decision to simply follow the man outside. Taking to the air, Chapman hurls himself through the ring ropes and aims a Dropkick that hits Kasabian square in the chest with pinpoint accuracy. Kasabian, in turn is pushed backwards into the crowd barricade nearest the commentary crew..
Wasting no time at all, Chapman quickly grabs Kasabian by the neck and wrenches him over to the commentary table. As Ted Cedar and Joey Miles stand to their feet to avoid any collateral damage, Chapman slams Kasabian head first into the table, much to the delight of the fans at ringside. A second shot sees Kasabian dazed and rendered unaware of his surroundings. The Straight Edge Outlaw lifts Kasabian into the air and drops him on top of the commentary table with a Release Back Suplex, not so much as bothering to clear the table of clutter and monitors first. With the momentum of the move, Kasabian bounces off the table, continues to slide across the surface and falls into the gap between Cedar and Miles, still standing having abandoned their seats at the commentary desk.
While the ‘Chapman… Chapman…’ chants echo around the arena, the Intercontinental Champion once more grabs Kasabian by the neck and directs him back into the ring.
Miles: “I saw my life flash before my eyes. All I can say is that I am glad our table is left intact!” Cedar: “This match is getting personal. For two guys who have never faced each other, or so much as spoken to each other before tonight, this is surprisingly personal.” Miles: “I can’t blame Chapman for wanting to kick Kasabian’s ass. I am absolutely sure that half of the population shares his views.”
With both men back in the ring, Chapman looks to continue his dominance of the match. He attempts to target the neck of Kasabian once more with a Half Nelson Neckbreaker, but the unpredictable Pervert halts the momentum of the move part-way through and reverses the Neckbreaker into a trademark ‘Kasabian’s Caress’ Cradle DDT of his own out of desperation. The chanting of Rob’s name around the arena turns into a chorus of boos as Kasabian’s move hits home and the Champion’s skull is driven into the canvas. Kasabian, still reeling from the effects of the match so far and his recent trip to visit the commentary crew, is slow to his own feet and only makes a vertical base a few moments ahead of Chapman. However, they prove to be precious moments, offering the Pervert a chance to prepare accordingly.
Not to be outdone by his opponent, Stalker locks in a Half-Nelson of his own, hoisting the Champion into the air before bringing him down across his knee in a Knee-Assisted Backbreaker. He smiles as the move targets the same spot tenderized earlier in the match from Chapman’s encounter with the crowd barricade, doubling up on the damage done. Kasabian follows the Backbreaker up with a soccer punt, aimed at the very same spot. The punt connects and brings a cry of agony to Chapman’s lips, his face contorted unnaturally, enough to bring almost a tear to the man’s eye.
Stalker hears the cry of agony more as a sign of weakness than a call for mercy. Honing in on the battered back of his opponent, he twists him up into a Sharpshooter, rolling him onto his front to continue applying pressure to the back. For good measure, Kasabian drives a knee into the small of Chapman’s already tender back and growls at the Champion to yield, slapping him on the buttocks to add insult to injury.
Cedar: “Kasabian has really gone after the back tonight, the lower back specifically. Now it looks as though he is trying to capitalize on that by making Chapman tap out. It seems like a solid tactic. I am not sure how much more damage Chapman’s back can withstand.” Miles: “A lesser man would already have cracked. But Rob Chapman is no lesser man, he is one of the best this business has ever seen.” Cedar: “And he does not tap out easily.”
It is only when the Champion begins to claw his way toward the ring ropes to break the hold that Stalker decides on a different course of action. Breaking the hold momentarily, he wraps Chapman’s knees around his own legs and grabs him by each wrist. With Chapman still lying face down, Kasabian Stalker completes a rather unique version of a modified surfboard, elevating his opponent to pelvis height to pelvis height so that Chapman’s body itself seems to become an extension of Stalker’s own pelvis. The contorted nature of Chapman’s body sees the pressure applied to his back once more, but Stalker is free to move about the ring as he pleases. He marches forward with Chapman in the hold, screaming from the pain in his back as he goes. Mockingly, Kasabian walks over to the nearest turnbuckle and begins a series of pelvic thrusts. The pelvic thrusts see the Champions head slam repeatedly into the second turnbuckle, Kasabian’s trademark ‘Doggy-Style Surfboard’ making its XWA debut.
The crowd give a mixed, ambivalent response to the more; partly amusement from the sight of the move and partly disgust at Stalker’s antics. It definitely does not reflect the actions of an XWA Champion. When it becomes clear that Chapman is not going to tap out from the hold, Stalker releases his prisoner by simply letting him drop face first into the canvas.
Cedar: “What the heck was that? Some type of unique submission hold, one in the true style of Kasabian Stalker. He used Chapman’s head as a battering ram while doing goodness knows what at the other end.” Miles: “I think the less said about the other end the better. Kasabian seems to be ‘enjoying’ himself after that move.”
Stalker watches as Chapman squirms about on the canvas for a while, the agony in his back meaning that he is forced to seek assistance in getting to his feet. Chapman grabs the nearest object in the hopes of reaching his feet, not quite realizing that the object he had grabbed was the very object he was trying to escape, the Pervert. Stalker is quick to snap him up into Military Press, hoisting him high above his head before turning and tossing the Champion from ring. Chapman lands brutally with a thud on the padded concrete in front of commentary desk, much to Kasabian’s delight. The Pervert is seen visibly laughing at the sight of his opponent crashing into the concrete before he sets off after him.
Once outside the ring, Stalker Irish Whips his opponent into the waiting steel steps, dislodging the top step from its base with an almighty din and receiving a pop from the crowd in response. Living up to his name, Stalker stalks his opponent like a lion in the reeds, closing in on him with no major hurry, savoring the moment and licking his lips as he approaches, the referee beginning his standing ten count once more. When he does lay his hands on the Champion again, it is to once more lift The Straight Edge Outlaw into a Military Press, this time right in front of the first row of fans. Kasabian smiles, showing off his bout of strength before dropping his opponent onto Barricade, gut first this time. Chapman hits the barricade with force before falling onto the crowd side of the barrier. By now, the referee’s count is up to a count of 6. Being aware of each and every scenario that this match might end in, Stalker rolls into the ring then back outside to reset the count.
Cedar: “Smart thinking there by Stalker. He knows that Rob Chapman would retain the title on a count-out victory, so he resets the referee’s count to make sure his opponent can make it back to the ring.” Miles: “How do I know that he is going to ‘ensure’ his opponent gets back in time. I think he will have a hand in the matter. Kasabian Stalker is a brutal son of a bitch, we can see that from his actions tonight. While Lionheart has had the lion’s share of the offense in the early goings, Kasabian’s moves have had a certain twist of venom to them.” Cedar: “Right you are. He comes out here to hurt, to maim. It’s not just about the winning for Kasabian Stalker. We are seeing a different Stalker. One not interested in his usual antics.” Miles: “Perhaps he simply doesn’t find Chapman attractive enough to molest him. He said so last week in his creepy backstage report.”
Kasabian climbs over the barricade as well, snapping up his opponent and bringing him to his feet once more. As security guards struggle to keep the bloodthirsty fans at bay, Stalker proceeds to Irish Whip Chapman back first into the crowd side of the ringside barrier. He approaches slowly as Chapman’s body is slumped against the barricade, seated on the ground with his back against the wall. With a smile filled with untold sick pleasures, Kasabian Stalker begins Pelvic Thrusting once he comes within range of Chapman. The thrusting is directed at Chapman’s head, Kasabaian slamming his skull repeatedly into the barricade with pelvis to skull contact, right in front of the shocked crowd.
Kasabian stops only to run his hands over his sweaty and oiled scalp, smiling seductively at a particularly pretty young lady in the front row who looks on in horror at the Pervert’s antics. With a hard matches worth of sweat built up on his palms now after wiping his scalp, he decides to douse the pretty lady with his pheromones; he tosses his mixture of sweat and oil at her. In turn, she dry retches, disgusted by him.
Miles: “Sick bastard… That poor girl, what did she do to deserve that kind of punishment?” Cedar: “Wrong place, wrong time. She caught the eye of the Pervert obviously. This man should not be allowed to fraternize with the fans.
Turning his attention back to the match at hand and realizing that his efforts to woo the hot girl at ringside were fruitless, Kasabian tosses Chapman back over the barricade, to the ringside area. With the referee’s count now at six, Kasabian takes the time to lift his opponent from behind. He German Suplexes Rob Chapman into the steel Steps so that he lands on the same spot on his already tender back once more.
By the time the referee is up to a count of eight, Kasabian rolls the Champion into ring and follows soon after. He wastes little time in setting Chapman up for a pin. The match official once more slides into position to count the fall.
“One…” “Two…”
Chapman manages to get a shoulder up off the canvas in time to break the hold and the crowd roar in approval.
Cedar: “Rob Chapman lives. He survives. There is life in him yet. How did he kick out after all of the punishment he has been through. Untold damage to his back, his face covered in dried blood and yet he does not give in.” Miles: “Because the alternative is Kasabian Stalker as Intercontinental Champion. That simply will not do.”
Feeling at peace and comfortable with how he had managed to grasp absolute control of the match, Kasabian lifts Chapman up once more and locks him into a Powerbomb position. However, he does not get to finish the maneuver before Chapman reverses the move. Before Kasabian knows what had hit him, he finds himself upside down in a Piledriver position. Rob Chapman looks out over the masses of fans, closes his eyes to ignore the pain searing through his body from the epicenter of his lower back region, and jumps into the air. He drills Kasabian Stalker head first into the canvas with a Jumping Spike Piledriver, enough to put most men away, but not enough for tonight. Not a man as daserving of more punishment like Stalker. Not on the grandest stage of them all. Chapman picks Stalker up again and looks to add the icing to the cake.
With Kasabian dazed, he is prime for finishing off in style. Chapman signals to the crowd that something big is about to go down and the crowd rise to their feet as one. He positions Kasabian for his patented Heathen Chemistry and the fans roar in approval once more. All looks to be inked and set in concrete, however, when he attempts to lift Stalker for the Inverted Brainbuster, his back gives way from the punishment induced over a long and gruelling match. Instead of lifting Kasabian into the air and sealing his fate, he simply grimaces in pain. Instead of finishing his opponent off, the pair simply crumble to the mat in a messy heap. Rob Chapman howls in pain, his hands clawing at his back in response. Referee intervenes, looking Chapman over to see if he is fit to continue, much to Chapman’s protest. This gives Kasabian the opportunity to recover. He finds a vertical base, slowly, still groggy from Chapman’s punishment. Both men are on the doorstep of exhaustion, both look worse for wear and neither of them are likely to forget this match in a hurry. When he had finally managed to reach his feet, Kasabian zeroes in on his target, tosses the referee aside, still attending to Chapman’s back and snaps the Champion up into his clutches once more.
Eagerly and without any wasted energy pandering to the fans, Kasabian launches Chapman into the air with a Flapjack. He waits for what seems an eternity, Rob Chapman seemingly soaring through the air in slow motion. When the Champion does return to earth, Stalker is waiting for him with a European uppercut, planting the Meat Cleaver almost in the center of the ring. The fans boo and jeer at the Pervert, trying their darndest to egg Chapman on to reviving himself, but their efforts seem fruitless.
Cedar: “Meat Cleaver, the Butcher caught him right on the chin. Chapman looks out!” Miles: “Kasabian seized the opportunity created by the referee. Chapman didn’t want the attention, he was telling him that, but the prick wouldn’t listen.” Cedar: “And now it looks like Kasabian Stalker is heading to the heavens, lord help us.”
Indeed, Kasabian Stalker had made his way over to the turnbuckle and was proceeding to climb it as fast as his exhausted limbs would allow. When he finally reached the top, he surveyed his surroundings. Rob Chapman, still lying on his back, hadn’t moved from the position he was left in. Enough to bring a smile to Stalker’s face. Kasabian stands tall atop the turnbuckle and proceeds to run his hands over his entire body, seductively. As he does so, Kasabian gyrates at the hips until his hands reach his trunks. The whole scene had brought the Perverted One to obvious pleasure and those at ringside had begun to avert their eyes. With a smile, Kasabian simply launches off the turnbuckle and aims a Splash in the direction of the current Champion. As per the Pervert’s Plunge, Kasabian aims for crotch to face impact, and he does not disappoint. The crotch of his trunks collides with Chapman’s skull, Stalker bouncing his way into an impending pinfall. The official, recovering from being tossed to the mat earlier, slides in to make the pinfall.
“One…” “Two…” “Three…”
*DING, DING, DING*
Cedar: “Kasabian Stalker has done it. He is the new Intercontinental Champion…” Miles: “God… Oh, shit!” Cedar: “My sentiments exactly. This marks a very strange day for XWA. This guy as a Champion, the mind boggles. But nevertheless, Kasabian Stalker heads away from XtremeMania 6 as the Intercontinental Champion”
”Your winner… and NEW Intercontinental Champion… The Pervert, Kasabian Stalker!”
‘Bones’ by The Killers bursts into the arena through the PA system, trumpeting the arrival of a new champion. Kasabian Stalker, exhausted from the match, is helped to his feet by the referee who then raises his hand in victory. Kasabian is handed the Intercontinental Title, raising it in one hand above his head and holding his aching and battered neck in the other hand. It was trial by fire for Kasabian Stalker, but he had proven his worth once and for all against the toughest of opponents.
Rob TeamMoose
Posts : 528 Join date : 2013-12-27 Age : 33 Location : Dartmouth, Nova Scotia
I'd like to request an extension for the last time in XWA, because I will be taking a break from full-time fedding after this match. But I've started on my post and if not for the fact that I work in 45 minutes, would be writing for the rest of today.
I've pretty much been focused solely on Christmas and trying not to get fired from my job before Christmas for the last little while, so I kept thinking the deadline was the usual Saturday until I woke up this morning and remembered it was tonight xD
I don't honestly expect to win but I at least wanna give Kasabian a fight.
Riley Williamson Main Eventer
Posts : 1919 Join date : 2013-07-22 Age : 27 Location : Orlando,FL
I prefer that to any type of hollow victory Rob. I would rather lose an extended match than win because of deadlines and work hours. Best of luck. Give it hell!
Rob TeamMoose
Posts : 528 Join date : 2013-12-27 Age : 33 Location : Dartmouth, Nova Scotia
Still going at it. I ended up working 3 hours later than expected and having to go out for groceries afterwards. I'm soldiering on but running low on time, and I've still got the finish to get to @~@
Alright, let's go.
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DING DING DING
The bell rings to start off a very, very unorthodox contest between two vastly different individuals. In one corner of the ring, we have the Champion; the Intercontinental Champion, to be exact. Rob Chapman stands with a focused look on his face. In the opposite corner, we have one of the most uncomfortable wrestlers to bear witness to in recent XWA memory. The challenger; The Pervert, Kasabian Stalker, who stands tall with only one goal on his mind. Of course, if he should have some fun along the way to that goal... what's to stop him? Chapman will, if he has any say in the matter; as the third and final toll of the bell echoes away in the distance, Chapman explodes out of the corner to start the match, rushing at a bewildered Stalker head-on and nearly pancaking him against the corner! Kasabian barely manages to duck his head under Rob's oncoming Lariat and steps past him to avoid the attack. He expected nothing less from a brute like Chapman, after all. Grabbing the top rope to stop himself, Rob quickly gets his bearings again and turns around to see Kasabian in mid-spin. On a whim, Rob ducks his head down and narrowly avoids a hard Discus Lariat from Stalker, who tries to return the favour! As he misses, Kasabian continues to spin from his own momentum, only to be halted by Chapman's taped hands wrapping around his waist to apply a Rear Waistlock. Kasabian panics a little as Rob attempts to take the larger man up with a German Suplex, but manages to keep himself on the ground by wrapping his leg around his opponent's. And... as per the norm, it's a counter that gives Stalker ideas. As he blocks a second Suplex attempt the same way, Kasabian hastily untangles his leg from his opponent's, and then begins to push Chapman backwards, throwing all of his weight behind him and slamming Rob back-first into the turnbuckle! Taken aback by Kasabian's counter, Rob isn't able to react right away as Stalker begins to repeatedly strike him in the corner... with backwards Hip-Thrusts straight to the mid-section. And it's not until four-or-five of these blows have stricken the Straight Edge Outlaw, forcibly vacating air from his lungs, that Rob gets his bearings and is able to shove Stalker off of him. The Pervert quickly whips around and makes a beeline back toward his opponent, only to go down hard as Chapman catches him with a rare, but fierce right hand; a Haymaker that nails him right in the jaw and drops Kasabian flat on his back! Rob attempts a Lateral Press on his opponent, but much to his chagrin, only earns a one-count before Kasabian lifts his shoulder off of the mat.
|MILES| "Shit, son! Chapman just dropped Stalker 8 Mile Style!"
|CEDAR| "Well, we are in Detroit! But I don't think that has anything to do with the ferocity we're seeing early on from Chapman... I'd say that's all on Kasabian Stalker."
|MILES| Miles: "EVERYBODY FROM THE 313, PUT YA MUTHAFUCKIN' HANDS UP AND FOLLOW MEEE! CHEA NIGGA!"
Favouring his jaw, we briefly see a surprised Kasabian wiping blood away from the corner of his mouth. Before one can gauge his reaction, Rob is right back on him, lifting Stalker up by the head, only to bring him right back down with a quick Snap Suplex! What follows is an uncharacteristically fast Leg Drop across the neck of his opponent, before Chapman scrambles to cover Stalker with another Lateral Press. The ref drops to count the pin, but once again, he only hears that first call before Kasabian has his shoulder off of the mat. Is Rob rushing, perhaps? Trying to wrap this match up and get himself distanced from a man who makes just about everybody supremely uncomfortable? Or is he simply trying to assert dominance over his mind-game-playing opponent? To show that he's not just going to give the title up to somebody who feeds off the discomfort of others? It's hard to say, but there's certainly zero hesitation from Chapman as Kasabian begins to rise back up following the failed pin attempt. Rob moves quickly, latching onto his opponent and firing repeated knees into the stomach of The Pervert, continuing to try and break down the man's self-idolized body. Following the knee strikes is a Scoop Slam; Kasabian is delivered to the canvas with a ring-shaking impact, and Chapman is quick to follow with a trio of rapid elbow drops, crushing his opponent's sternum beneath the padded point of his elbow. As the third strike lands flush, Chapman rises back up in a haste, only to throw himself at his opponent gracefully, leaping into a back-flip as he comes crashing down atop his opponent with a beautiful Standing Shooting Star Press! For the third time, Chapman hooks Stalker's leg, and the referee drops to count the pin fall. "One! Tw-" Kickout! Not quite a two count. Still, progress.
|CEDAR| "The Shooting Star isn't enough to put Kasabian away, but it did keep him down a bit longer. If Rob keeps on like this, we might be seeing a very short title defense here!"
|MILES| "Maybe... but... why the fuck did Rob go for the pin on that? I've literally never seen him with with that fucking move."
|CEDAR| "Because the more you have to kick out, the harder it gets every time."
|MILES| "I know that. I'm also a wrestler, you fucking twit. I just meant he pins a lot when it doesn't make any goddamn sense."
Rising back to his feet in a timely manner, Rob watches Kasabian's movements and responds like a true wrestling machine. As Stalker rolls onto his stomach, Rob quickly pivots around to his head and takes a hold of it, lifting the challenger into a doubled-over state as he reaches his feet, and thrusting Kasabian's head in between his legs in a Powerbomb setup! The crowd roars for the prospect of a big move already, as Rob wraps his arms around Kasabian's midsection, only to let go with a surprised yelp as his opponent takes a firm hold of his opponent's butt cheeks and squeezes down. A clearly-uncomfortable Chapman loses his grip on his opponent following the surprise grope, and Stalker takes advantage as he stands up straight, attempting to throw Chapman over his head with a Back Body Drop! Chapman holds on, though; re-tightening his grip, and instead somersaults over the challenger's back, landing on his own back with a Sunset Flip! The move doesn't manage to bring The Pervert down right away, however, and as Rob visibly struggles with pulling the bigger man down, Kasabian silences his opponent's resistance in a simple way; dropping straight down and sitting on his head! Rob's entire body seizes as he takes the entirety of two hundred and forty two pounds right across the head and neck, but he begins to scramble once again as Stalker remains sitting on his face, and begins grinding his hips. To make matters worse, the predicament sees Chapman's shoulders pinned to the ground, and the referee drops reluctantly to begin the count. "One! Two! T-" No! Stalker relinquishes the pin, hopping up and away from Chapman in complete surprise as the Canadian counters his pin attempt nearly the same way that he himself countered Rob's Powerbomb attempt; by grabbing a hold of Kasabian's hips and squeezing! Stalker's reaction is amusing the gauge; he seems partially disturbed, partially aroused, and partially furious as he watches his opponent, now gasping for air, rise back up to a single knee. He shakes his head, and glances out of the ring, toward the Timekeeper's table where the Intercontinental Title currently rests. His focus. As he reaffirms this, he turns his gaze back to Chapman, nearly to his feet. Hurdling toward the ropes, Stalker bounces back and targets his opponent again, charging at him head-on and then dropping low, attempting to take his feet out from beneath him with a Dropkick, only for the Champion to leap up off of the mat into a leapfrog, causing Kasabian to slide straight under him! As Rob lands on his feet, he, too, takes off into the same ropes as his opponent, and bounds back, looking for his signature Lariat again! Rearing back, he swings... and hits air, as Kasabian ducks low, and plants his hands on his opponent's torso, powering Rob up into the air and suspending him above the canvas with a Military Press! The impressive show of strength definitely earns a reaction from the capacity crowd, even if they aren't particularly fond of Kasabian. After holding Chapman up in the lights for a good seven or eight seconds, Kasabian gives a final push, pressing Chapman up into the air and leaving him to descend helplessly into the canvas... or so he thinks. The ever-persevering Chapman manages to land on his feet behind his opponent, and as Stalker turns around to observe the damage, LionHeart pushes himself up out of a crouch and decks the challenger with an agile Spinning Wheel Kick, sailing through the air to smash Kasabian right in the head! Both men hit the canvas at the same time, and Chapman crawls to his opponent to execute another Lateral Press. "One! Two-" Kickout!
|MILES| "Shit, he almost kicked his fucking teeth in!"
|CEDAR| "That he did! Athletic counter by the Champion!"
Chapman clutches at his head as Kasabian kicks out, having hoped to get a quick pinfall after catching his opponent off guard, but not so. Rising to one knee, he pauses for a minute, trying to figure out his next move. He didn't have a true gameplan for Kasabian Stalker. And he was beginning to wholly regret that decision. Rising back to his feet, he settles on a temporary direction and approaches his fallen opponent, lifting him up by the arm, and proceeding to toss Stalker to the ropes with an Irish Whip, only for his opponent to put the brakes on and reverse the momentum, sending Chapman off into the ropes instead! As Rob hits the ropes and bounds back, he's cut off quickly as Kasabian advances toward him catching the Intercontinental Champion in another Press; this time, Stalker hurls Rob straight into the air, giving him no time to think as he descends and allowing Kasabian to cut him right out of mid-air with a disastrous European Uppercut! Meat Cleaver! Chapman's body is spun out by the impact before it strikes the canvas and falls still. Stalker moves quickly into a cover, shoving his opponent's dead weight aside in order to get him on his back, and the official drops to count the pin. "One! Two! Th-" No! Chapman comes back to life, getting the shoulder up just in time!
|CEDAR| "I thought that was it for sure! But then, they don't call Rob LionHeart for nothing!"
|MILES| "Actually, they call him LionHeart 'cuz he won a belt four years ago that Minkaro jacked from a Salvation Army. The more you know!"
Gasping like a fish out of water, Chapman sits up in a hurry, clutching at his throat and trying to get some air into his lungs. Unfortunately for him, this leaves him wide open to Kasabian's follow-up attack, as the man aptly also named The Butcher sneaks in behind Chapman, hooking his arms above his head with a Full Nelson! A still-seated Chapman grunts and groans in evident pain, as Kasabian forces his shoulder blades into one another, almost literally grinding his bones. Hearing this usually-rare sign of weakness from the Champion, a satisfied (and slightly bloody) grin appears on Kasabian's visage. It quickly turns sadistic as he applies even more pressure to the hold. Mockingly, Stalker begins to swing from side to side, making the hold arguably more painful, but also sacrificing his solid leverage over his opponent. As Rob unleashes what sounds like a scream of pain, it quickly turns into a roar of defiance as he begins to force his arms together! But just as Chapman is about to break free from Kasabian's grasp, The Pervert hastily halts his horrendous opponent, dropping his knee right into the arch of his opponent's back, stabbing the Intercontinental Champion in the spine and shutting him down!
|CEDAR| "Kasabian has that hold in tight, and he's just mocking Rob now!"
|MILES| "I know that look... and I don't like that look. That's the: 'I'm gonna shove a dick in your mouth and you're gonna like it' look."
|CEDAR| "Jesus Christ... why do you always have to have the most putrid descriptions?"
|MILES| "You can't tell me that isn't the exact look he has on his face right now. That's the look I get when I'm about to cum on your mother's face. That's the exact fucking look. And it's scaring me to see someone do it in a wrestling ring. I NEED AN ADULT!"
"Sssh... it'll all be over soon." goads Stalker, laughing gutterally. The next groan to come out of Rob sounds almost like a defeated whimper; and in turn, this causes Kasabian to grin even wider. Gleaming pleasure from himself, and unrest from the Champion. Rob takes a moment- his face clearly contorted with pain as he does so- to catch his breath and try to think of a way out of the hold, but Kasabian begins to rise up from a single knee, lifting Super Xero up by the armpits and putting even more pressure on his shoulders. The Nova Scotian is helpless to resist as his foe hauls him off of the ground, like picking up a toy off of the floor. And essentially, to Stalker, that's what Chapman was. A new toy to play with- and to break, as all children eventually do- until he's had his fill. And it seems that playtime is just about up. In lieu of the Canadian's refusal to submit, Kasabian swings the Champion one more time- side to side-, before holding him still and bracing himself. With a mighty heave, Stalker powers Rob up off the mat, lifting him high, before turning and letting go with one arm, shifting into a Full Nelson Slam... but as he descends, Rob manages to wrap a weakened arm around the head of Stalker, and the force of momentum brings both men down to the canvas hard! Chapman's back strikes the canvas, and Kasabian's spiked on his head with a DDT! His face bounces off of the mat with a whiplash-like snap, and both men fall still! With neither man moving, the official reluctantly begins a ten count to signify a double knockout!
|CEDAR| "Look at the way Stalker's head struck the mat! I think he's out cold! And Chapman isn't doing much better!"
|MILES| "Seeing as Rob's shoulder could have been dislocated in about six fucking ways there, yeah, he's probably not feeling too hot right now."
"One! Two! Three!" Counts the official; both men are still down, and either of them could have lost to a pinfall there. At the count of four, Chapman begins to roll over onto his stomach, rolling his shoulders in discomfort as he tries to force the ache out to little avail. Kasabian still appears to be stunned; not quite out cold, but staring blankly up at the lights as he takes in shallow breaths, to rattled to yet stand. At the concerning count of six, Chapman begins to slowly push himself to his feet. As he reaches a single knee, he turns his head to see Kasabian slowly climbing to all fours. The 'Headshot' calls to him. A second wind fills his lungs with renewed breath as he rises to his feet and wearily runs toward the ropes. He bounds back with the force of a roaring cannonball, seeking out that kill shot with his right boot, but as he swings that leg up for the decapitating Yakuza Kick, his opponent likewise springs to life, taking a step forward and catching Chapman's outstretched leg beneath his right arm! As he does so, the left arm wraps around his neck, and before Chapman knows what's going on, he's being flipped into the canvas, as Stalker executes a somersault and slams Chapman's neck and spine into the sweat-stained canvas with a Ranhei! So beautiful and yet so ugly; the spiked Chapman lays collapsed into himself, shoulders pinned to the ground as the referee drops to count the pin! "One! Two! Th-" No! A kickout by Chapman! He holds onto the gold a little longer!
|MILES| "Wait, what the fuck?! You're telling me that Rob was legit down for a 'three count' after reversing a Full Nelson Slam, but he can kick out of a fucking Ranhei done by a dude with the body of a comic book character at fucking two? The fuck kind of shit is that?"
|CEDAR| "Instinct is what that is, Joey! He felt the pin, and knew he had to kick out to retain the title. He did what he needed to do at the moment he needed to do it!"
Kasabian falls to one side as Chapman kicks out of the Ranhei, looking completely and utterly shattered at the fact that his music isn't playing in celebration right now. Where the fuck was "Bones" by The Killers and why was it not playing? How did Chapman kick out of that? FUCKING HOW?! The man usually known for being largely methodical, and entirely deviant begins to showcase a seldom-witnessed frustration as he rises to his feet, yanking the man known as LionHeart up with him and slicing his chest with a savage knife-edge chop! The strike causes the woozy warrior to wobble wearily into the ropes behind him. He rebounds weakly, right into the open arms of a waiting Pervert, and as Kasabian wraps both of his arms around the Champion, he can't help but get back up to his usual antics, gyrating his hips uncomfortably as he holds Chapman Belly-to-Belly. Returning back to life, the Intercontinental Champion squirms uncomfortably, but ultimately, doesn't muster the strength to escape, as Stalker lifts him up high and tosses him straight overhead with a perfectly placed Belly-to-Belly Suplex! Rob hits the mat hard and flops limply on the canvas. Kasabian, lying on the mat, continues his hip thrusting for a moment, working it out of his system before he pushes himself back to the mat quickly and whips around, staring at his prone opponent. With an ill-intentioned, bloody grin, he takes his eyes off of his prey for a brief moment to observe and admire the Intercontinental Championship again; the real prize, here, tonight. His new hood ornament. Glancing back at the Haligonian, he saunters over and casually lifts Rob up by his motley head. Another chop across the chest echoes throughout the arena with a cringe-inducing SMACK, once again causing the Champion to stagger aimlessly. Crossing his own arms, Kasabian proceeds to reach out and grab both of his opponent's wrists, before turning them both back to back, and dropping Chapman with a Straitjacket Neckbreaker! The Champion's head visibly and audibly smacks against the canvas, but there's hardly any whiplash due to the straitjacket hold... which Stalker proceeds to maintain, bridging up onto his head to keep Chapman's shoulders down on the mat with an innovative pin! The official quickly drops to count! "One! Two!" Two is as far as he gets as Chapman throws his entire lower body up just enough to get the shoulder up, breaking out of the pin and flopping over onto his side! The Lion's heartbeat quickens... but then, that's also the first stage of a heart attack.
|CEDAR| "Ingenious pin by Stalker, but it wasn't enough! He's got to stay on Chapman if he wants to capture that title."
|MILES| "I think I'll take 'Angry Kasabian' over 'Rapey Kasabian' any day. That pin was actually cool as fuck. If you're into that sorta geeky shit."
Kasabian looks to the referee in total shock; He holds up three fingers to the referee, who contests it with two. The argument is brief, as Stalker realizes how close he is to capturing the Championship. The Champion is still down, and obviously reeling. And... positioned, as well. Positioned perfectly, as a matter of fact. Glancing to the top rope, The Pervert hears a slight rise out of the crowd as he realizes that he's yet to introduce his adversary to the being known as the Little Stalker. Kasabian grins a wry grin, and rises up off of the ground, content with the knowledge that his victory is coming. And quite possibly something else. Making his way out onto the apron, The Butcher begins to ascend carefully, rising up the ropes one by one until he reaches the top. He stands looming ominously over his fallen opponent... the fallen Champion... and begins running his hands over his body, as he signals for a move unfortunately known as The People's Penis. Far more unfortunate for those on the receiving end, though... when they wake up, that is. Swinging his hips, Kasabian takes in the continued rise from the crowd as he prepares to descend... until he sees it. That final spark in Chapman's eye. The spark that kickstarts his motor, like a street racer hitting the nitrous button in a drag race. The War Machine explodes to life, bounding quickly back to his feet, diving straight at the top rope, and taking the ground out from under Kasabian Stalker! The Challenger drops straight down... and the Little Stalker is forcefully introduced to the top turnbuckle! Kasabian's expression is a literal "O" face- that is, frozen open with shock as the pain sets in and lances up through his body! Realizing it might be his only window to capitalize, Rob moves quickly, throwing Stalker's legs over the top rope to formally seat him, before rising up to the second rope. As he begins to latch Kasabian's arm around his head, in prime Superplex territory, The Butcher begins to cut away at his opponent's resistance, drilling his body with desperate blows! He's able to free his arm and quickly shove Rob off of him, and the Canadian crashes back-first into the canvas with a resonant THUD... only to roll right back to his feet! As Kasabian attempts to get back to the top rope, he steps over the turnbuckle with one leg, trying to get it under him, right as Rob lunges straight back at him and jumps up onto the second rope beside him. Before Kasabian can fire back at Chapman, the Artistic Anomaly rears his arm back and swings for the fences, slamming Kasabian's throat and driving him straight off the top rope with a Lariat down to the floor! Kasabian goes down hard, as his body collides with a sickening SPLAT! As the camera pans over Stalker's lifeless body, we can see blood once again flowing freely out of The Butcher's tenderized mouth. Spent, Chapman falls backwards off of the ropes, landing on his side in the ring. Vaguely watching, yet intently listening as the referee begins to count Stalker out.
|CEDAR| "Bah gawd, what a Lariat! Stalker might be out COLD!"
|MILES| "GODDAMN! Rob just went full Japan on that motherfucker! And I do mean mother fucker! As in one who fucks mothers. I should know."
As the referee reaches a four count, we see Rob beginning to stand using the aid of the ropes, whilst Kasabian remains crumpled in a heap on the outside of the ring. The referee's count is rising, and Chapman doesn't seem to be doing much about it. It seems that the Straight Edge Outlaw is going for a count-out victory, but can you really blame him? Who wants to be in the ring with someone who is essentially a sadistic rapist? Certainly not the Champion. But here they are. And as the referee's count reaches six... Chapman realizes that this match is going to stretch out a bit longer. The Pervert has begun to rise on the outside of the ring; too quickly to be left as-is. Shaking his head in disbelief, and groaning in frustration, Rob stares at Kasabian, completely aghast. As the referee's count hits seven, and Kasabian reaches a vertical base, Chapman steels his will. Stalker doesn't seem to have noticed Chapman yet, facing away from the ring and wiping the blood away from his lips. Chapman begins to hop up and down a little, firing himself up, and by the count of eight he's off into the ropes. Before the official can hit "nine", Chapman bounds back and launches himself through the ropes at his opponent, flooring a bewildered Stalker with a Suicide Dive that connects cleanly! If you can call a human-car-wreck clean! Both men are down again, and the referee restarts his count! It doesn't get nearly as high as six, this time, before at least one man is up. Chapman is up by the three count, and right back on his opponent in a clearly desperate attempt to hang onto the title... and when I say desperate, I mean desperate. Lifting Kasabian by the head, he thrusts Stalker's head in between his thighs, and then lifts The Pervert in a Belly-to-Back clutch, suspending him precariously above the floor in a Piledriver clutch! The crowd absolutely roars as the Canadian prepares to take Kasabian out completely, but much to Chapman's dismay, and especially shock, a panicking Stalker actually begins to sit up out of the clutch, putting himself half-way into position for a Powerbomb. As he sits up, wrapping his legs around the back of Rob's neck for leverage, he manages to reach behind him with one hand and grab one of the bottom ring ropes... and proceeds to pull himself close enough to wrap his other hand around it as well! Still holding Stalker tightly by the mid-section, the War Machine attempts to pull Stalker off of the bottom rope, but to little avail. At the count of seven, Rob finally yanks Kasabian away with a powerful heave, and proceeds to swing him sideways, straight into the barricade! He drops the challenger like a sack of potatoes as he falls to his hands and knees. The flame re-ignites as he hears the eight count, though; by a count of nine, Rob finds himself reluctantly rolling Stalker back into the ring under the bottom rope, and following suit, just barely avoiding a count-out.
|CEDAR| "And it looks like we're gonna go back into the ring! Given how willing Rob was to take a count-out victory a moment ago, I'm a little surprised he didn't opt to do it again there. He could have just left Kasabian there at a count of nine, but he didn't."
|MILES| "He could have also just stayed outside the ring and gotten counted out, and retained anyway, but instead he's gotta be an honourable cunt. Rob, you're too fucking Canadian for your own good."
As he rises back to his feet, Rob's expression shifts suddenly and violently; the Champion seems to be seething, and in fact, is getting himself pumped for that devastating final maneuver! Looking to deal the finishing blow, Rob lifts Kasabian to his feet in a haste, and wraps an arm around the back of his neck. As he puts his other arm around Kasabian's waist and lifts him, however, the challenger kicks off of the mat, giving himself enough momentum to flip athletically over Rob's shoulder and land standing on his feet! With the Caesura declined, Kasabian puts his arms around the waist of his opponent and falls back, putting all of his might into a German Suplex that sends Chapman flying nearly half way across the ring! As Rob lands straight on his neck, LionHeart proceeds to curl almost immediately into a ball of pain, clutching at the back of his surgically-repaired neck. Kasabian is in no hurry to cover the Champion this time; he can't even stand after having his body swung so recklessly into the crowd barricade. This match has taken it's toll on both competitors... and personal tastes aside, really... it's all been in the name of the gold. The Intercontinental Championship. It's this realization, and near-realized fantasy that brings Kasabian Stalker back to life once again. As he rises shakily to his feet, in spite of a particularly negative reaction from the capacity crowd... he could do it. And he could do it now. Hobbling over to his haggard adversary, the exhausted Stalker reaches down, grabbing another handful of Rob's hair as he attempts to bring the Canadian back to a vertical base... IT'S A TRAP! Rob slithers his arm around Kasabian's neck like a snake, wrapping it in a deadly vice as he pulls the challenger down to his doom, wrapping his legs around Stalker's body and securing a Guillotine Choke! The Fade-2-Black is locked in!
|CEDAR| "FADE-2-BLACK! FADE-2-BLACK! Rob has the Guillotine in tight!"
|MILES| "AWW SHEIT! Rob's chokin' the chicken!"
|CEDAR| "I... have no words."
With arms shaking, tensions rising, and spirit fading, Kasabian Stalker fights desperately against his foe's ploy to choke him out, restraining himself from that fatal mistake that would see the Intercontinental Champion slip away. This would not be a one night stand! This would be the beginning of a new era! He deserved that gold around his waist! Not this mongrel of a 'champion'! Grunting powerfully, The Butcher begins utilizing his immense strength, as he places his hands off of the ground and pushes down... getting his feet beneath him, and rising up... standing up with Chapman still hanging off of him! Doubled over, now, Stalker reaches down and attempts to push Chapman's legs off of him... and one by one, slowly, he succeeds, forcing Chapman to relinquish the body scissor half of his lethal submission hold! But he loses his leverage, and gives Rob back his most dangerous weapon. His feet. As Rob resumes a vertical base, he's able to lift one leg up and drive it straight into Kasabian's midsection! And again! And again! As the breath is battered out of the big butcher, and oxygen removed from the equation, Rob proceeds to take out the second half of said equation, by scrambling Kasabian's brains, falling backwards and delivering a mighty DDT! As the impact causes Stalker to bounce, rolling onto his back, Chapman rolls right along with him, straight into a mounted position over his opponent's chest, where he continues to hold onto The Pervert's head! With his vice still applied, Rob proceeds to latch both legs around the mid-section of the now-sitting Stalker and resume his deadly Guillotine Choke! Trapped, nowhere near the ropes, and unable to move, with his center of gravity pressed against the canvas, a subdued Stalker begins to tap his hand weakly against Chapman's arm. Submitting out of survival instinct. The referee calls for the bell as Rob releases his opponent, letting him fall lifelessly to the icy-cold mat. The lights resemble an arctic sun to the fallen Kasabian Stalker, as he lays defeated on this cold, December night. At 2014's XtremeMania, with staining blood running down his gullet. But is it really over? Or will The Pervert be back for his desired prize?
|CEDAR| "Rob's done it! He's retained the Intercontiental Championship at XtremeMania! What a battle with that man, Kasabian Stalker!"
|MILES| "Whoo. Thank fuck. I feel like I just played one of those rapey action sequences from Heavy Rain, and almost failed, but didn't totally fuck it up. Living to fight another day, and also to sue the fuck out of the creepy molester dude. Or not, because like video games, Wrestling usually defies any and all logic. And Kasabian will probably be back to talking about his dick by the beginning of the next vendetta."
|CEDAR| "You never cease to repulse me, Joey."
|MILES| "What can I say? I'm a regular Steven Colbert. Except I don't need writers. And one of us is actually immortal."
The ambient hum of 'Climbing Up The Walls' is swiftly accompanied by a foreboding beat; the theme of Rob Chapman fills the air as the Straight Edge Outlaw slowly stands, victorious at XWA's daddy of 'em all. His arm is raised high as the belt is passed into the ring to be placed back around the fighting Champion's waist! Exhausted, Chapman casts a brief glance at his fallen challenger's lifeless form. Kasabian Stalker. Fallen, but not likely defeated. He was almost an admirable opponent. Almost. Removing his belt, Chapman flips the gold up onto his shoulder as he begins to stumble weakly towards the ring ropes. Briefly holding up a fist in victory before leaning his head down against the rope. The scene transitions to the next segment of the evening, as we move ever closer to the peak of XtremeMania, 2014.
Subject: M4 | Rob Chapman © vs. Kasabian Stalker | Singles Match | XWA Intercontinental Championship © 
