Word Limit: 2k to 3k
Deadline: August 4th, 2015

DING! DING! DING!

The reigning Intercontinental Champ, Dante Cross, remains in his corner as his much larger opponent, Chris Dolmeth, walks to the centre of the ring. Dante isn’t about to rush into this match, he knows he has to fight smart. Dolmeth has the size and strength advantage but Dante has the smarts and speed; or so he believes. It is with this thought that he instead beckons the big man towards him with a simple hand gesture, to which the Brit merrily obliges. The Preacher of Azazel lunges at his foe but The Crucifixionist ducks under the lumbering limbs of Chris and answers his aggression with a hard kick to the side of his knee. With the big bad bearded bloke now in the corner, Dante decides to go on the aggressive by delivering multiple boots to the midsection of Dolmeth. Dante even goes so far as to lean into the top rope and lift the sole of his foot to the throat of his opposition in a blatant choking attempt which promptly gains the attention of Jack Hammer. The monochromatic referee begins his count to five as a warning that he will disqualify the Son of Sin from the match. As Hammer reaches four Cross breaks the illegal choke and raises his arms up in proclamation of innocence, much to the disgust of the arenas fans that fill the Bridgestone Arena.

Ted Cedar: “And Dante’s up to his old tricks early in this match.”
David Michaels: “Well he’s not going to stop now. He’s found success in bending the rules and is the current Intercontinental Champion. That counts for something, but he’s got to think and not get himself disqualified.”

The Strapping Young Lad bends over in the corner, a hand round his throat and face bright red as he tries to catch his breath. This respite is brief however, as the Drifting Zealot is back on the attack opening this assault with a hard chop across the bare chest of the Reverend. The slap can be heard by all in attendance, even by those in the cheap seats. This is followed up by a quick elbow that catches Chris in the chin before Dante flings Dolmeth into the opposite ring corner via an Irish Whip. The Bastard with a Beard’s back collides with the thinly padded metal of the turnbuckles and Cross charges from the other side of the ring towards the cornered fiend. Dante leaves his feet, intent on driving both of his knees into the chest of the big man but Chris dodges out of the way. Fortunately for Dante, he has the wherewithal to adjust himself mid-air and instead of crashing into the turnbuckle pads he lands with both feet on the middle ropes and his hands wrapped around the top rope. He springboards back, twisting his body in mid-air and collides with his adversary nailing the crossbody. Dante is quick to spin up to his feet, knowing full well it won’t be enough to put Chris away for the victory so not even attempting the pin. No, instead he takes two quick steps toward his supine opponent and does a backflip, his abdomen comes crashing down on Dolmeth’s chest with a beautifully executed running Shooting Star Press. Dante hooks a leg and the zebra-clad adjudicator slides into position to count the fall.

[ONE!]
…
[TW-!]

The Terror of Tyneside throws his aggressor up off of him in a somewhat impressive display of power. Jack Hammer is lucky not to get flattened by the flying Crucifixionist. Stunned, Dante lies on the mat for a brief while before coming to his senses and thus his feet. At this point Dolmeth is already on his and is now bearing down on the smaller superstar. He delivers a hard blow with both fists into the chest of Dante, temporarily dropping the Son of Sin. He is aided back to his feet by the Unorthodontist who takes a hold of Cross’ hair to do so. Still holding onto Dante’s hair – pulling it back so the chin is more exposed – Chris loads his fist back and delivers a hard jab to his foe’s jaw once again putting Dante on the mat; who clutches at his jaw with a hand, wiggling it back and forth as if he’s taken ecstasy. Dolmeth is known to be a stiff brawler and Dante just discovered that first hand. The Inglorious Bastard stands over his opponent and squats before he pulls both of the Son of Sin’s arms back and places them on his own quads. Dolmeth locks his fingers underneath the hairless chin of Dante and pulls back with all his might.

David Michaels: “Chris has Cross in a Camel Clutch here and let me tell you from experience; it’s an excruciating hold. Your neck - your chest - your back; all of it hurts. If Dante’s not careful this could be it.”

Though screaming out in torment XWA’s reigning Intercontinental Champion refuses to quit. He digs in deep and begins to drive his elbows into the thighs of Dolmeth. Grinding the elbows in does make Chris weaken his grip and try to reposition himself enough for Dante to get an arm free and he uses this free hand to quite blatantly turn himself around and shove his thumb into the eye of the Brit, completely breaking the hold. Reverend Dolmeth nurses his eye with the ball of his palm, gritting his teeth in anger as he does so. His nostrils flair, his lip curls and his brow drops. This man is pissed. He goes at Dante, swinging wildly. Cross has no choice but to cover up against this assault. Highs, lows, jabs and hooks. All of them raining down on the turtling zealot and backing him up against the ring ropes. The bearded brawler takes the just shy of six footer and throws him into the opposite ropes before extending his leg out in front of him, trying to take Dante’s head off with a Big Boot. The move is unsuccessful though as the Intercontinental Champion ducks under the leg of the big man and continues on into the ropes he originated from. Upon the rebound Chris turns round and tries to catch the charging Crucifixionist with a back elbow but again Dante ducks underneath before leaping up in the air and springboarding off of the middle rope into a backflip. He manages to hook Dolmeth’s head underarm and smashes the back of the Reverend’s skull against the canvas with his patented DDC. Sensing that this might not be enough to seal the deal for the end of the match, Dante marches with militant focus to the nearby ring corner and slingshots up to the middle ropes, using the bounce in these to effortlessly reach the top turnbuckle from which he performs a backflip, pirouetting in mid-air before landing in a body splash on the downed Dolmeth. Dante hooks a leg and once again the official begins his count.

[ONE!]
…
[TWO!]
…
[THRE-!]

Ted Cedar: “We saw Dante lead with the DDC straight into the Deadliest Moonsault Evermore and still he wasn’t able to put your fellow countryman away David!”
David Michaels: “Those were two of Dante’s best moves, but we Brits are made of tough stuff. Still, all it takes is for Dante to lock in the Sinner’s Sorrow or nail The Crucifixion and it’s goodnight Dolmeth!”

Dante is shocked. He can scarcely believe that his arm is not being raised by the referee and he is not being declared the victor. No, rather he sits gobsmacked upon the cold, cold canvas of the ring and plans ahead. Even if he wasn’t able to put Azazel’s thrall away, he’s at least taken some gas out of the tank. This soothing thought makes the demented Dante smirk. He slithers and slides up onto a single knee, his poison eyes staring daggers through the very soul of his woeful foe. Slowly, calculatingly the Son of Sin measures and waits, he waits for the perfect moment to strike. Groggily Dolmeth makes his way to his feet, holding his ribs. He stumbles back, and turns around only for Dante to explode from his readied positon and charge full tilt at the two hundred plus pounder. He leaves his feet in a single bound and directs both booths into the torso of his adversary, the impact of which blasts Chris back as if he was caught in a bomb blast. The back of the Reverend’s head clatters off of the middle turnbuckle and he clutches it in agony as he curls up below the corner of the ring, his brain feeling as if it may burst from his skull at any moment. Dante steps over the downed Briton and climbs up to the second turnbuckle. He shows off his athleticism by flipping in-over himself and landing back first upon the body of Chris Dolmeth he performs a back roll to return to his feet and immediately follows this up with an elbow drop, the point of his elbow striking the sternum with the precision of an eye surgeon. The Inglorious Bastard gasps and splutters for breath, that combination having driven most of the air out of his lungs. Drool leaks from the corner of his mouth and forms a small puddle on the mat. Once again, the Crucifixionist sprints into the far ropes to build momentum, only this time on the rebound he slides across the floor, baseball sliding into the face of Dolmeth; busting his lip open and knocking the majority of his upper body under the bottom rope. He balances precariously on the ring apron over the thinly padded floor outside of the ring. The Son of Sin stands on the back of the vulnerable Brash Brit, supporting himself with the top rope. He squats before slingshotting himself up and over the top rope, turning his full body around and stomping both feet into the back of the big man’s head and landing on the outside. The stunned carcass of the Dolmeth slumps and slowly flops to the cold concrete below, the double foot stomp clearly doing damage. Dante is not left unfazed though, as upon landing he stumbles back, unable to put much weight onto his right leg. He limps towards Chris’ corpse, clearly favouring that leg.

David Michaels: “Uh oh. I think Dante Cross may have just jarred that knee on the landing.”
Ted Cedar: “I suppose that’s why it’s called high risk. He’s done damage to Chris, but at the same time he’s taken power out of that leg.”
David Michaels: “Exactly. And let me tell you; it’s hard as hell to get as airborne as Dante likes to when one of your legs is giving you hell. He’d better hope he can put this match to rest soon or it may play a factor in the long run.”

Dante drags Dolmeth from his downed state to his knees via two clumps of hair as the seemingly omnipresent official starts his count. Cross’ plans are put on hold however, as the Gateshead born competitor suddenly bursts into life, hooking one hand in the pit of Dante’s knee and the other on his collar bone. It is from this position that Chris throws himself backwards and Cross overhead in a quick exploder suplex, possibly saving his hide. Dante’s immediate reaction to this is to sit up  and grasp at his knee in pain as it clattered off of the thin pads at ring side; a rather odd reaction that Dolmeth takes notice off. With the aid of the announce desk he pushes himself up to his feet and menacingly marches to the preoccupied contestant. He delivers a hard but intended boot to the side of the protected knee which gives off a similar reaction from Dante as before. Chris smiles. He now sees a weakness, he knows that the knee is his target.

[THREE!]

The ref counts on, but Dolmeth doesn’t care. He takes hold of the ankle of Dante and delivers a strong hook into the side of the knee before thrusting it down to one side and bouncing it off of the floor. Dante screams out in anguish, the pain shooting up his limb like napalm down the halls of a Vietnamese family home.

[FOUR!]

Chris towers over the nomadic nuisance, stalking him as he tries to crawl back, away from the mad man.

[FIVE!]

Dolmeth stands on Dante’s ankle, stopping his escape. Jack Hammer waves at both men from in the ring, temporarily pausing his count and trying to entice them both to return to the ring. A plea which Lord Azazel’s right-hand man ignores. Instead he takes Dante’s throat in hand and begins to drag him up to his feet with the power of one arm. He stares him in the eyes and smiles. Dolmeth pulls Dante closer and drops a shoulder, hoisting the man up across his own shoulders and stands up straight. He carries the struggling Son of Sin in a fireman’s carry position and stares at the ring post.

[SIX!]

The crowd cheer. They’ve figured out what Chris is thinking, and to be perfectly honest they couldn’t think of a nicer person for it to happen to. Chris cocks his arm supporting the legs back and bends his own legs slightly, before uncoiling his body and launching Dante leg first into the steel beam with all of his might. The sound of metal and bone colliding makes a sickening thud at ring side and Dante drops to the floor, screaming in sheer agony. He rolls around the floor, howling like an injured animal, holding onto his knee which the Strapping Young Lad just wrapped around the ring post with an evil Apoptosis. Chris smiles and slides back into the ring. He rolls onto his back and sits up. Jack Hammer looks on at him in disgust but Dolmeth merely points to the outside, signalling for the referee to continue his count.

[SEVEN!]

The Crucifixionist continues to roll around in pain, but at a much less frantic pace. He seems to hear the referee count and realises that if he reaches ten then this match is over for Dante. Mustering up all that he can, he crawls toward the ring steps, intent on clambering up them and into the ring.

[EIGHT!]

Two more seconds. That’s all Dante has left. That’s all he can think of and he somehow makes his way to his feet. But no! His knee collapses underneath his own bodyweight as he stands, he stumbles forward, stopping himself from falling to the floor once again only with the aid of his hand resting on the apron.

[NINE!]

Dante pulls himself back up. He’s practically there. All he has to do is lift himself onto the apron and under the bottom rope. Even if he could slide in underneath. But that requires a little help from his legs, he needs to generate enough push to get there, to get under. He crouches slightly and gathers all of his might, all of his will into his legs, and his knee. He pushes up but…
It is not enough, he can’t bring himself up high enough to get to the apron and unceremoniously collapses to the ground. He stares up at the arena lights and that final word rings out from the referee’s mouth.

[TEN!]

Laura Watts: “Ladies and Gentlemen… here is your winner, by count-out, CHRIS… DOOOLMETH!”

Chris remains seated in the ring as Jack raises his arm in victory. He has a solemn look on his face as he does so, clearly not wishing for the match to end under such circumstances. The last thing Vendetta airs before fading to commercial, is the bloodied smile of the newest entrant in the Million Dollar Chamber.