As the bell rings, signifying the start of the contest, Eric makes his way to the center of the ring and raises his hands before him, seeking the test of strength he's seen many matches before start off with. Vladimir calmly paces over to meet him, slipping his fingers through Goodman's before forcing them back, the manager struggling to keep himself from being overpowered. His resistance is futile against the veteran who has stood in this position against far larger and stronger men. All the same, however, the Barbarian Lord lifts a knee, jamming it between the thighs of his opponent and dropping him to the mat, refuting any notion of chivalry that may linger. The audience jeers while the Romanian bends down and takes Goodman by the back of the head, guiding him back up to his feet while he coughs and sputters, grasping at his tender crotch for relief. Vlad takes the still hunched over mouthpiece by the back of his shirt and pants and twists him around in a circle, shoving him toward the mat and releasing. Eric slides across and out of the ring on his stomach, disappearing over the lip in a style reminiscent of a penguin.
TC: "You know, we've seen it before, that Eric Goodman isn't just some guy off of the street. He knows his way around this business and he's the kind of guy who isn't afraid to jump into the fray to help Maddox, but he's NOT a wrestler. He has no business being in a match, much less a Texas Deathmatch against someone like Vladimir Strife."
JM: "Well, he shouldn't have challenged him then."
TC: "Oh, come on, we all know better than that. Goodman was issuing a challenge on behalf of Maddox and this.. this.. coward uses it to dodge a fair fight on some technicality."
At ringside, the Czar of Scars now joins the Eric as he is slowly getting back up, the Romanian allowing him to do so without interference. Vladimir instead makes use of his time by gathering a steel chair from aside the announce table and shutting it flat. He cooly lifts it over head before bringing it down across the lower back of his foe with a hearty slap of steel and flesh that drops Goodman back to his knees with his back in a deep arch, face twisted in an expression of pain. Strife puts a few steps between them before swinging down with the chair again, this time letting it go so that it flings forth across the skull of the manager. The impact rings out like a gunshot through the arena as steel deforms from the blast and the seat rolls over the cranium and flips off into the barricade, leaving a motionless heap in it's wake.
TC: "Oh my god! He just threw that damn chair into Eric's head! He could be seriously hurt!"
JM: "Yeah... no shit. I think that was kind of the point."
Vlad peels Goodman off of the mats once more as he slips his arm around Eric's head and latches onto one of his belt loops. Using the leverage, he whips Eric into the air before turning and sending him down through the announce table, Ted Cedar and Joey Miles just dodging out of the way of the incoming manager before their station collapses into a pile of pressed wood debris. They attempt to vent their excitement, but no feedback comes from it, some degree of damage having been done to their electrical equipment. Strife watches the displaced commentators as they fidget with their headsets before it dawns on him what has occurred. A smile comes to his face and he makes his way over to Laura Watts, who quickly vacates her seat to ensure she doesn't get in his way as he takes up her microphone.
"Well, fuck me! It looks like my little punching bag just disrupted the broadcasting equipment. After all those times I've seen Ted Cedar sit there and work up a sweat shouting out to people what they can clearly see with their own fucking eyes, wondering what it would take to shut him the fuck up finally, it was that simple.."
Ted Cedar's face grows red as he protests something, his mouth continuing to go despite being unheard, until the GodKing takes a step toward him. The commentator, seeing the proof before him of how Vlad regards collateral damage, sits down and pipes up, knowing wiser than to press his luck.
"The only problem though is that there are probably deaf people and shit at home who really want to know what's going on here, so... I guess it's up to me to ensure that all two of them are entertained. This shit can't be that hard."
As Vladimir wastes his time on the microphone, Eric is slowly regaining his strength and not pulls himself up with the barricade. He stumbles a few steps before throwing a huge right that plants the Barbarian Lord across the jaw. Strife backs into the guardrail and Goodman unloads on him, throwing punch after punch into the face of the Hardcore King. The fans go berserk with cheers as the scrappy manager starts to rally back into the fight, but it's short lived. A mighty hay-maker grazes the crown of the King as he ducks under and Eric spins around, thrown for a loop by his momentum. Vlad is happy to assist him in stopping, clutching his arms around the waist of the foe before hoisting him up and over the rail. Fans scurry out of the way as Goodman comes down across the front row of seats, a crunch of folding chairs announcing his landing. The GodKing lifts the microphone back up to his lips as he rushes toward Ted Cedar, stopping just shy of him as the commentator nearly tumbles out of his chair in shock.
"OH MAH GAWD!!! MAH GAWD!! HE JUST THREW 'EM OVER THE GUARDRAIL!! THE HUMANITY!! THERE WERE CHAIRS THERE, DAMMIT! THE CHAIRMANITY!! THAT PLUS SIZED WOMAN ALMOST GOT TRAMPLED!! THE HUMAN MANATEE!!"
Ted Cedar begins to grow rosy once more at the mockery, but sits there quietly, knowing that standing up for himself will get him no further than it has Eric Goodman. Having had his fun, the GodKing leaves Ted alone, moving back to the ring and flipping up the apron as he looks for something to have fun with.
"Table, ladder, chair.."
A faint call of "OH MY!" rings out from a few of the fans.
"kendo stick, broom.. Fuck, is this seriously it? This is what you guys keep under the ring? Where's the weedwhackers or the lighttubes? You have a shitty flimsy aluminum garbage can you had to have imported from the fucking 90's but you can't go down to the hardware store and get a staple gun or some barbed wire?"
The GodKing looks around and gets a shrug from some of the ringside staff for his inquiry. He rolls his eyes at them and turns toward his faithful companions, still standing by.
"Crystov, would you be a pal and fetch my war chest?"
The Reaper gets a sadistic grin as he heads off toward the back. While he does, the Barbarian Lord reaches over the guardrail where he dumped Eric Goodman, who has now worked his way back up to his hands and knees, and grabs a steel chair. He then, puzzlingly, walks away from his opponent, towing the weapon over to the cage where Maddox still slumbers from the Lights Out Vlad hit him with before the contest got underway. The Czar of Scars reels the weapon back before slamming it against the cage, causing the Toughest of the Tough to come to with a jolt. He glares at the man who had him put there with eyes full of contempt, wanting nothing more than to get at Vladimir and tear him to shreds.
"Wakey, wakey, Princess.. I wouldn't want you to miss the show."
Maddox's arm darts out from between bars, but stops shy of the Romanian, who looks on with a smirk. On the other side of the ring, Eric has pulled himself up on the guardrail and now tumbles over as he attempts to make his way toward the ring, headstrong to show Vladimir that he won't stay down so easily.
"Oh, it looks like Goodman still has a bit of steam in him as he pulls his sorry ass out from the crowd and flops across the outside mats like a fucked fish. One has to wonder what it will take to keep him down. ...Well, maybe not quite so much.. I've got a few pretty fucking good ideas on what will keep him down. Still, you have to admire such a display of courageousness in the face of adversity from a man who makes his wages gargling marbles."
Vlad paces over to Goodman as he gets back up to his feet and ducks under another wild punch before raising his knee into the gut of the manager and causing him to drop onto his bottom, back resting against the guardrail.
"OH! He misses with another just fucking awful shot. This is starting to look less like the Revolutionary War and more like Israel bombing the fucking shit out of Gaza!"
The crowd's mixed reaction seems rather uncomfortable with the jest about recent relations in the Middle East as Vlad steps away from his prey.
"It looks like Vlad is about to go for the HeartStarter and demolish this little shit-weasel's ribcage!"
He turns back toward his opponent just in time to see Razetti coming down the ramp with a shopping cart filled with some of his favorite weaponry.
"Well, maybe not just yet.."
As Razetti rounds the corner with the arsenal, Vlad gives him a nod of his head in appreciation and reaches in, sifting through the instruments until he finds something more suiting to his interests. He removes a cloth satchel and holds it up, smiling with fond memories at it. Eric manages to pull himself up once more and Strife lashes out at him with the bag, slapping him across the cheek with it. Goodman screams with pain as he clutches his face and leans against the guardrail. As he turns back around to face his foe, he pulls his hand away and spots the droplets across him palm from the pock marks across his cheek. The GodKing opens the bag and turns it over, a torrent of glimmering silver tacks scattering about the floor as his opponent's fear begins to show in his eyes. Eric turns to run, but a large step from Vladimir cuts the distance between them enough that he can grab him by the rear lip of his pants and pull him back. He quickly ducks his head under Goodman's arm, popping it up into place so that he can leverage him up and off of his feet before crashing down onto the pile of office supply shrapnel. Maddox's friend screams loudly in pain as hundreds of sharp teeth sink into his flesh, sending him rolling away from ground zero with his back arched and face reddened from the agony inflicted upon him. His opponent rises from the impact and lifts the microphone again, taunting his rivals.
"WHEW! God, that was a rush! It's been a while since ole' Vladdy got a taste of those. Hey Maddox! Would you like a turn? Oh, sorry, forgot about your little cage. You'll get your turn with them soon enough though.."
Maddox seems to have a few choice words of his own in response, but their inaudible at the moment and his enemy doesn't seem concerned enough to ask him to repeat them.
"Oh, where is my professionalism? Here I am enjoying myself when I have a match to call! Vlad just dropped Goodman down into a pile of thumbtacks and now Eric is rolling around on the ground crying like a little bitch. Is it a defense tactic? A diversion? Is he just a pussy? I'm pretty sure it's the last one."
Stepping over the top of Goodman, Vlad bends down and slips his palm under Eric's chin, then uses it to raise him up partially.
"This doesn't look good for Goodman. The GodKing has his upper body peeled off of that mat and.. wait.. what is he doing? I'm setting my fucking foot up against his stupid face. Am I going to.. Oh my God, I think I am!!"
Vladimir pulls his support out from under Eric's jaw and stomps down at an angle, directing him face first into the heap of hardware. Tacks fling off of the pile in every direction as he hits, embedding part of them in his face like a macabre bedazzler. An inhuman and guttural cry arises from the devastation as Goodman pushes himself up and begins to desperately crawl away from the madman while his best friend watches on in horror, unable to do anything to aid him from the confines of the cage.
"OH MY GOD! I just stomped his cocksucker right into those fucking tacks! That HAD to hurt! Eric crawls away as though he has any chance of getting the fuck away from me as Vlad digs through his personal arsenal for a decent fucking weapon since, apparently, deathmatches are FROWNED UPON IN THIS ESTABLISHMENT!"
Strife pulls a weedwhacker out of the bin and slings it over his shoulder as he turns around and looks out at the crowd.
"And on that note, may I say 'What the fuck'? It is 2014, people - we've evolved beyond fondling one another in colorful spandex. I mean, have you guys even seen one of these-"
The GodKing stops to hold up the weedwhacker for emphasis.
"outside of hardware stores or in the hands of a Hispanic? This thing is a fucking brutal weapon. You can slap a guy around with a chair, throw him through a couple of tables, smack him with a ladder, and all that good shit, but this thing is a true game changer. This thing, as in this specific one you see right here, took my fucking nipple. No kidding, I have exactly one goddamn nipple because of this. You guys want to see it?"
This surprisingly gets a somewhat sizable reaction from the XWA fans, who are apparently curious about the GodKing's nipple-ectomy. He lowers the weedwhacker as he looks over at Eric again, who is stopped at the feet of Spyro, feeling about them with too much dread to look up and confirm what he believes is before him.
"Actually... I'll give you guys a demonstration.."
With that, Vlad pulls back the ripcord, a rumble emitting from the motor of the lawn tool. With no long-term success, however, he repeats this action before tossing it down and shaking his head.
"Are you fucking kidding me? Did either of you guys fill this damn thing last night like I asked you to?"
Razetti and the Crazed Clown glance over to one another and shrug their shoulders, warranting another disapproving glare from their leader.
"God damn it.. Fine, I guess Vladimir Strife is looking for ANOTHER weapon because no one can be fucked to refill the weedwhacker. Spyro, the fuck is his opponent doing?"
The Harlequin of Horror yells back to the GodKing at the top of his lungs.
"I THINK HE'S PISSING HIMSELF!"
Eric suddenly goes on the offensive in response to the insult, slamming his bicep up into the crotch of Spyro with all of his strength and doubling him over. As the Marauding Maniac clutches himself and drops to the mats with a thud, Goodman rushes up to his feet. Razetti comes rushing across the side of the ring and springs up to the apron with ease before leaping to the middle rope and using it to bound himself back. He spins through the air gracefully, jutting an elbow out toward Vladimir's opponent as he comes down. Eric quickly back out of the line of fire, allowing the Reaper to crash into the barricade as he misses his mark, a round of cheers rising through the arena for his defiance of the GodKing's will. The cacophony alerts the Barbarian Lord that something is amiss and he turns to find his victim of the night desperately prying at the steel bars of Maddox's cage, begging for them to give way. Vlad smiles at the attempt and removes a barbed-wire wrapped brick from his cart, seemingly unphased by the steel spikes over it that claw at his flesh.
"And it appears the weasel still has some fight in him! He's pathetically tearing at the cage, trying to save his boyfriend, entirely unaware that the GodKing is coming to whoop his ass... except totally aware now because he just heard him say so!"
Strife launches his creation at Eric, who stumbles back and falls onto his bottom as the mortor building block slams into the bars and falls to the floor. Maddox stands tall in his prison, unflinching as he challenges the Hardcore King to release him and seek a fair fight.
"Maddox pleads with the GodKing not to ruin his 'good friend's asshole. I guess he should have thought about that before he fucked with the greatest wrestler of all times."
As the Romanian approaches the cell of the Toughest of the Tough, Goodman suddenly pushes back up and ambushes him, catching Vlad across the cheek with a hard right enveloped in a thick metal layer of brass. The GodKing promptly crashes into a motionless mass as the manager looks at him in shock, experiencing disbelief that he has knocked him out. Maddox begins to scream at his friend to pin Strife and take the win, snapping him out of his stupor. Eric covers the Czar of Scars and the referee slips into place, the entire stadium crying out in affirmation of his words.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THR-EE!"
As the fans explode into cheers, the official clamors to his feet. He waves his arms erratically, communicating that the fall has been no good as Strife's arm remains in the air, having powered out just before Eric could get the pinfall. Their elation shifts to jeers, unsatisfied with the call despite it's accuracy. Goodman determines to finish the job as he gets back up and raises the brass knucks high into the air for the world to see. Vlad crawls to the guardrail and uses it for support as he follows suit. He turns around, only to see the implement that struck him down coming back for another go. He evades it, swiftly ducking and popping up behind Eric, who spins around and tries again to put Vladimir down for the count. Strife steps out of harms way, shooting an arm up under Goodman's and using his momentum to flip him forward onto his back. The manager presses back up, unwilling to compromise in his assault as the Barbarian Lord sifts through his pocket for something unseen. As the charming third time presents itself, the legend darts an arm into it's path and slips something out of his pocket before shoving it into the ribcage of Eric Goodman. He presses a button alongside the black box and electricity flows to the prongs at the end, sending 50,000 volts into his rival, causing him to drop in place and go into spasms. While he flops around like a fish out of water, Strife abandons the stun gun in favor of the microphone, rubbing at his tender jaw as he raises it up.
"Shame on you, Eric.. We were having such a good time.. I mean, don't you see how important this all is? It's simple: You take your licks, which I promise won't be TOO awful. Hell, I'll keep you out of the hospital, at least, which is a hell of a lot more than I traditionally have given any man. I get my win nice and easy, Maddox gets a little more time to enjoy his status before I show him and the world that there isn't a man or a Titan tough enough to withstand my fury, and all these lovely fucks in attendance get a little taste of what extreme actually looks like. Everyone's happy, right?"
Vlad looks around the arena and gets a return of thousands of boo's, to which he holds his spare hand over his heart with false sympathy.
"Oh, you shits are breaking my heart! It's like you don't even appreciate all of this that I'm doing for you.. See, I think what we have here is a bit of a miscommunication."
The GodKing reaches under the ring and pulls out a chair. He pops it open before rolling Eric onto his back and setting it up over his chest. As the Behemoth sits down, his weight promises to keep his opponent in place so he can express himself to Maddox and the XWA Universe.
"See, Maddox, pal - if I may.. There are some things that occur as a man grows older in this business. The injuries and the accomplishments begin to add up and eventually a man has to ask himself some hard questions. Questions like what his worth is, how these fans view him, how his colleagues view him, how he wants to be viewed, if he'll be remembered, how he will be remembered and what for.."
Vlad reaches into his pocket and digs through again, this time producing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Without hesitation, he pops one into his mouth and lights up in violation of several laws, rules and ordinances. The referee quickly reminds him that there is to be no smoking in the arena and Strife laughs openly in return.
"Or what? Are you going to disqualify me? Call the police and let them come write me a fucking ticket for it? Let them. I walk out of here tonight with enough money just to beat this shit-for-brains that I could afford to have a fucking carton. Now.."
He takes a deep puff into his lungs before blowing it out at Maddox, who coughs from the fumes.
"For weeks, Maddox, I sat my ass in a little cozy chair while they pumped my veins full of that chemo shit with nothing but time on my hands and no idea how much of it. I asked myself all those questions and more... so much more.. and do you know what I realized?"
Maddox's lips can be read stating "I don't give a damn." as the GodKing shakes his head in contempt.
"Well, I'm going to tell you what I realized.. Next Vendetta. I was going to tell you right now, but if I'm being honest, I don't much care for the reaction I've gotten from this gathering of shitsplatter that are in attendance tonight. That's right... you dicks booed me, shouted me down, got your dicks all hard when this little weasel here got one over on me and, frankly, I'm a bit fucking offended."
The jeering gets louder as Vladimir tosses around a few middle fingers to antagonize them. He presses a boot down against the tack-riddled cheek of Goodman and begins to grind it all the while, pressing them down deeper.
"Alright, time to finish this shit. I'm about sick of these UNGRATEFUL DICKS who can't even appreciate some fucking talent when they see it. You ready to be done with this, Eric?"
Vlad holds the microphone down by his mouth and Goodman lets out a guttural cry of pain, it's very sound agonizing to the soul of any good man. Strife gets off of his seat and bends down, taking his victim by the hair and pulling him up before directing him back into the squared circle. He follows him in swiftly, getting up to his feet as Eric crawls around sluggishly praying he'll stumble upon a miracle.
Vladimir circles around him like a buzzard, stalking his prey like a predator in the wild, until the sound of a familiar soundtrack breaks his concentration, particular the sound of 'Last Saloon'. Tyson Smith emerges from the back, a long slender item covered in cloth in his hands as he makes his way down the ramp.
"Oh my god! It's the BullDawg!! Do you see, Eric? How fucking awesome is this? I might actually get to fight someone with some fucking talent tonight!"
Tyson takes his time coming up the steps, mindful of the veiled object in his grasp as he steps through the ropes into the squared circle. He approaches the Czar of Scars, standing tall before him with his chest puffed out. Tyson gently sets the item off to the side, then suddenly let's fly with a huge right that downs the Barbarian Lord. Vlad quickly shoots back up to his feet, stumbling around from the blast and into the corner. He rushes in at the BullDawg, but a huge clothesline knocks him down off of his feet with a crash. Strife claws his way over to the microphone, picking it back up as he gets to his knees and begins to plead with the larger man.
"Wait, Tyson, please wait..."
Tyson picks up the object he brought with him and slowly advances upon Strife.
"I.. I don't want to fight you... All this.. it's just an act. I'm really a coward. I'm too old and too feeble to compete with someone like you or like Maddox.. you have to spare me... Please -"
The BullDawg reaches down, handing the clothed item to the Barbarian Lord. Vlad stands up, a look of confusion on his face as he looks it over. Tyson peels the fabric away, revealing a flourescent light tube wrapped lightly in barbed wire and coated in a viscous substance.
"What? Oh my god... You brought this for me?"
The fans begin to voice displeasure again at another advantage for the Czar of Scars.
"You.. you want to join me?"
Smith smiles broadly as he removes a marker from his pocket. He takes the cap off and runs it down the length of his face on the left side, mimicking the infamous scar of Vladimir Strife.
"This... this is unbelievable! It's almost as if we completely fabricated this to piss off all of these fucking twats! Like we planned out some elaborate ruse to convince them Maddox was entirely right about me and that justice would be served and ran it along just long enough to get their pathetic fucking hopes up, only to dash them! Just what are the fucking odds!?"
The jeers grow deafening as the XWA hopefuls take offense to having one pulled over on them yet again by the Barbarian Lord.
Vladimir reels back with the weapon as Eric kneels on the canvas, a look of despair in his eyes as he realizes that no one is willing or able to save him tonight. The only man who defended him was locked away only ten feet away and Eric was on his own. Suddenly, Tyson puts his hand up in Vlad's path, stalling him a moment. He reaches into his own pocket and suddenly produces a small, orange object. Smith strikes his thumb across the top, a flame lighting at the top. He brings the lighter up to the tube and, with a whoosh, the fire spreads across the viscous substance covering the top half of the weapon. The glow cast from it highlights the grin on the Behemoth's face as he mouths the words "That's more like it!", then brings the lighttube down across the skull of Eric Goodman. The tube explodes into a cloud of dust, the fire extinguished from lack of ground to hold, thousands of sand like slivers of glass embedding across the flesh of Maddox's friend as the now untethered barbed wire wraps about his head, the barbs sinking deep and clinging onto him. The manager collapses once more, tremors taking hold at the overwhelming agony that racks his body. Vlad tosses the remainder of the tube aside as Maddox pounds upon the bars of his prison, desperate for release so he can aid his friend.
The Czar of Scars takes in the silence of the hushed arena as he calmly rolls Eric onto his back and hooks his leg, not a sound about interrupting the count of three that follows. He rolls out of the ring and takes a seat near the Titan's cage once more as the referee counts in the background to cement the victory. He takes to the mouthpiece yet again in a final, chilling warning to his rival.
"Maddox... I told you that I was going to make you suffer. I told you I would devour you if you dared to underestimate me again. And I told you that Eric was a liability. I'm a man of my word. And next month, Maddox, at Endure.. I am going to step into that ring yet again and, then, it won't be against some proxy. It's going to be Paine and Strife and I am going to do what I do best and beat the fucking shit out of you.."
The referee calls out 'Ten!' and the bell rings, at last making Vladimir's 83rd victory official.
"..You have my word, Maddox."
The GodKing drops the microphone and stands up, calmly walking around the cage and toward the ramp as Crystov, Spyro and Tyson accompany him. 'Sumeria' begins to blare through the P.A. as the anger of the audience rises once more, neither the Barbarian Lord or his comrades paying them any mind. XWA goes to a replay of the events and a promotional video as technicians work upon the commentary's equipment and release Maddox Paine, who takes to the ring to console and aid Eric Goodman.
Subject: M6 | Vladimir Strife vs. Maddox Paine | Steel Cage 
