Three Way Last Man Standing

[Chris Pyro]

The fans sit, anxiously awaiting the only advertised match on the card, when out of the audience walks the Dark Jester himself, no fanfare, glaring right at Jeff Young in the ring. Young, still not wanting to cross the maniacal manager quickly exits the ring, dropping the mic.

Pyro:
Yeah, you better run you little shit... Ahem! Ladies and gentlemen, good evening! We here at EVPW are very proud to present to you the finality of the weeks entertainment! Tonight we bring you a three way last man standing match. Three of the most violent men to ever set foot in the ring will be here tonight, to massacre one another for your sick pleasure. Now to introduce the competitors! HAHA!

On cue "Carnage Rules" by Green Jellÿ begins to play, heralding the entrance for Pyro's star.



Through the crowd emerges the recently rechristened Agent Toxin, dressed in black boots, pants and underarmour shirt, gloves and mask with white accents around the eyes and a big white spider over the militaristic vest.

Pyro:
Coming to the ring first, from Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. He weighs in at two hundred and forty five pounds, this is my agent of chaos, my student, my dastardly duo in a single host body... This is Agent Toxin!

Toxin jumps the guard rail and quickly slides into the ring, taking a knee to look around him and to his boss. Toxin then slithers backwards towards a corner before again taking to a knee constantly looking around him while Pyro perches over him on the turnbuckle.

Pyro:
Alright Jeff Young, you can come out. The monsters won't bite, and the big man isn't paying me enough to pull double duty all night.

TBC

[Vladimir Strife]

Jeff Young takes his place in the ring and Pyro hands him the microphone, the Middle Eastern man cautiously looking over his shoulder time and again at the monster that Chris has promised will leave his mark on the wrestling world tonight. Jeff takes a step away from him, feeling a chill up his spine at simply being in such close proximity to Agent Toxin and focuses his attention toward the stage.

"Introducing his first opponent! He is Two-hundy and dirty floor pounds! 6 foot tall! Hail from Semi-sora, Roman-e-ah! The GodKing! The Vladimir Strife!!"



The audience take to their feet as the warlike drums pound, signalling the arrival of the biggest name in EVPW's history. Pyro and his student watch on as strobe lights flicker across the stage to the beat, the bursts of light revealing a knowing and twisted grin upon the face of the master.

Suddenly, as the instruments all come in line together on the track, the GodKing rips aside the cover before the entrance and steps out, the nigh trademark rage in his eyes and a sadistic smile stretched ear to ear on his visage. Pyro rolls his eyes at the sight of the ever cocky Barbarian Lord - the man for whom he would ensure the world saw plainly tonight. Before they can finish their spiral, however, the Romanian Scourge is rushing down the ramp. He doesn't hesitate for even a moment as he slides in under the bottom rope and presses up to his feet. In all of his training and studying of the Czar of Scars, Toxin had always seen him behave extremely deliberately with an interest upon pacing himself. The change of tactics takes him by surprise and he is unable to respond or close the distance before the EVPW co-founder is on his feet and slamming a stiff forearm across his chest. Agent Toxin is forced back into the ropes and they bow beneath his weight, stretching back until his slips over the top and down to ringside, nearly landing atop his now furious mentor in the process.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT, SOLDIER!? GET THE FUCK BACK ON YOUR FEET AND GO BEAT HIM!!! GO! GO! GO!!"

As the Demonic and near possessed Pyro barks orders at his student, he neglects Vladimir, who comes barreling toward the pair and drops down, darting a boot in the direction of each and catching them along the jawline, both members of Project Rebirth sent stammering into the announce tables.

MD: Holy fuck, what the hell is going on!?
BB: Vlad is reigning holy hell on these guys, but when have we ever seen him like this before? He's usually so.. methodical.
MO: He knows he's facing two guys here tonight who will have studied a gameplan he's used for years now.. He's changing tactics because he knows it's the one way to give himself an advantage over them. I didn't think the old dog had it in him still.
MD: AHA! "OLD DOG"! SO YOU ADMIT -
BB + MO (together): SHUT THE HELL UP!

As the men are scrambling back to their feet, Strife is still making full use of his time, grabbing Toxin by the head from behind before smashing his features into the top of Stone Orchard's desk. He scoops up a microphone from it and feels the hand of Pyro tug at his shoulder. Vlad turns toward it, swinging a hard elbow that pounds the cheek of the mastermind and knocking him down flat with an audible impact. He pulls the microphone up to chin level as he leans over Chris.

"Is this it?! You thought your secret weapon, some student of yours was on any sort of par with me!? Are you fucking serious!? I am the utter personification of rage! How on Earth could you even begin to think that some mere Shadow of ANGST could contend with the likes of me!? Hashtag Ice told, son! Hashtag CashForTold.com, hashtag Texas Told'em, hashtag Toldier of Fortune, hashtag NinjaSlayer, hashtag going once, going twice... TOLD!"

Vladimir waddles around in a mock power walk as he incites and insults the man he once handed over the tag titles to.

"And now that that's taken care of - let's get down to the real show here! Jakob, get your Russian/Slavic/Thefuckever ass out here and let's finish this! You wanted your crack at a tournament to make a name for yourself, you've got it now, boy!"

Strife gives a sharp punt into the ribs of Chris Pyro as he's pulling himself up and bends down toward his face.

"HASHTAG TWENTY FOUR CARAT TOLD!"

Before he can pull himself back up from the nonsensical comment, the hefty boot of Agent Toxin catches Vladimir across the side of the head, slamming the other side of it against the steel ringpost with a sickening crack that leaves him lying in a motionless heap next to the man that the Militant now helps back to his feet.

MO: GOOD GOD, that sounded disgusting!
MD: Fuck me, I think he just killed Vlad..
BB: Is that... is that possible? Can he die?

[Ciles Gorey]

As Pyro dusts himself off, Toxin's attentions turn back to the EVPW veteran. He proceeds to deliver a series of boots into the low back of the Barbarian Lord, finishing the sequence up with a running boot to the stomach to turn him over. The Old Soldier instructs his accomplish to hold onto the Czar of Scars, a command to which his is more than thrilled to obey. Agent Toxin cranks Vladimir's neck in a modified cravate hold while Pyro cranks his fist back. The Dark Jester unleashes all his pent up anger and rage into this one, jaw-shattering blow that lays out the GodKing. The two men stand triumphant over the revered wrestler; Pyro shaking his hand suggesting damage to his own fist from the blow, as a child's voice begins to moan through the arena.

"Everybody come to church..."


A request that is readily met. After all; everybody is at an EVPW event. Everybody is at the church of wrestling. And the sermon is about to begin. Project Rebirth's attention is drawn to the entrance way. The hairs on the back of their necks stand on end and not a single fan in the arena remains sat. No, they have all stood to attention, all trembling in anticipation. The Spirit of Vengeance is here. The duster-clad Warlock emerges out onto the stage from behind the veil, the half-face mask covering his the lower most part of his face decorated with ruby red lips and a pearly white grin. His cold, dark eyes scan the arena, his left eye highlighted by an immaculate "Eye of Horus". He slowly begins his walk down the entrance ramp. Each step with his left foot coupled with his Staff of Azazel.

JY: Introducing the second of opponents of the night. He also weight two hundred and three tens in pounds. Six foot and two pinches tall! Heiling from Azazazalelelelel-dria. The Spyro of Revengeance! Jaykube Azayzohl!!!

The dimwitted Jeff Young looks around the arena with a smile on his face, believing himself to have done a decent job. The Bastard Son has grown used to his fuck ups over the last few shows and no longer shows signs of disgust at these blatant errors. No, tonight he is focused. He seemingly ignores his two opponents and makes his way to the ring steps, ascending up them and onto the apron. He turns his back to the ring and the Shining Superstar faces out to the crowd. The Heir of Empty Breath hands his staff to the ringside crew and raises his middle finger up to the crowd, turning his body so a good coverage can be made. His disdain for the fans is reciprocated tenfold in the chorus of boos that fill the building. Underneath his mask Jakob smiles. He smiles as he enters the ring and drops to a knee. He raises his hand, the hand that has been hidden in the duster sleeve all the while and reveals his trusty cutthroat razor - "Ms. Deeds". The Magician stares transfixed at the shining blade of the razor befire snapping it shut. He hands it to the same member of staff that took his staff before removing his duster and throwing that at the same crew member, who takes the two items away, dumping them both next to the time keeper's table. In the ring, Jakob flicks both of his hands out in front of him before slowly raising his hands up behind his head, unbuckling the straps on his mask. He removes the mask, revealing a sinister smile not too dissimilar from the grin decorating the accessory. This is ritualistically placed on the ring post. Meanwhile, on the outside, the distracted Agent Toxin is blindsided by the now recovered Vladimir Strife with a hard forearm to the back of the head. Chris Pyro tries to avenge the cheapshot with a left hook, but his fist is parried away. The GodKing meets this attempted strike with a boot straight into the abdomen of the Canadian doubling him over. He is sent careening into the ringside barrier courtest of GodKing airlines. Vladimir picks up with dazed Agent Toxin and rolls him into the ring, before making his way in as the Militant is quick to get back to his feet. All three men stare each other down as the contest is about to begin.

[M BISON]

MD: "Here we go. All competitors are set; let's do this!"

Matt: "Agent Toxin and Jakob Azazel both seem to be looking at Vladimir Strife, who obviously is going to be the center of attention here."

Brian: "You two have wrestled Strife before. I haven't had the privilege. What's it like?"

"It's a privilege until you actually have to do it."

The bell rings, and as the announcers suspected, Toxin and Azazel immediately go to work on the GodKing with hammering blows, working together despite having absolutely no personal allegiance. Strapping Young Vlad is sent reeling back to the ropes nearest to the commentary crew, bouncing off of them, but delivering a kick to Jakob's gut and an elbow to the Canadian's face give him a second to gather himself. Vladimir grabs a handful of Azazel's hair and drives a hard punch into his scalp, sending him to the mat, but before he can follow up, the outstretched arm of Agent Toxin greets his jawline and both competitors volley over the top rope. An unforgiving floor greets the torsos of the both men, forcing them both to gasp for air. As Pyro looks on, inching toward the combat that his student has already impressed in, Azazel climbs to his feet.



The guitar of one Nameless Ghoul tickles the arena, chilling the spectators as they await to see whose music just hit.

"What's going on here?"

"We're standing here by the abyss,
And the world is in flames,
Two star-crossed lovers reaching out,
To the beast with many names."

Reverend Vortigern appears from behind the curtain, his familiar red robe and sinister grin dressing him for the evening. In his right hand is a rather thick wooden walking stick, something he usually carries, although something about this one seems a bit off. The greediest false prophet since Joel Osteen cackles loudly, almost giving a Tidus-like cheesiness in his forced laugh.

"Everybody come to church, Azazel! THE PASTOR HAS ARRIVED!"

"I hope Kahlan said 'HAI!' to him already."

Vorty then wastes no further time in closing distance to the ringside area, not once losing his focus on Chris Pyro, whose attention has successfully been diverted to him. The mastermind of Project Rebirth steps between Vortigern and the two men outside of the ring, drawing the ire of all three commentators, who waste no time rising from their seats.

"Don't you damn do it..."

Vortigern spreads his arms to the side, showing no intention to harm Chris, simply sidling up next to Brian Breme at the commentary table. Oliveira slides a headset toward the minister, and it is graciously accepted. Pyro stands down, backing up to his place at ringside while Toxin, now to his feet, rolls Strife into the ring before going under the bottom rope himself. Jakob Azazel approaches to make his move.

"Reverend Vortigern joining us here at the table. I see you swapped out your usual walking stick."

"Yes, I needed a... hollower one. Don't mind me, I'll mostly observe."

TBC

(OOC: Talked to Vlad about getting Vortigern involved in the match. Was gonna do it later as a post-match thing, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to get things going for you guys. Carry on. He'll just sit in on commentary.)

[Vladimir Strife]

As Agent Toxin slips in under the bottom rope and begins to press himself up, he is caught across the side of his cranium by a pair of boots courtesy of a dropkick from the Master of Majik. The trio are all back to their feet with little time wasted, all of them still rather fresh in the contest. The Punisher rushes after Jakob in pursuit of revenge, but the Warlock is too sly for him, ducking under a massive bicep meant for his neck. Toxin runs into the corner and turns around quickly, but finds the GodKing instead of Azazel, who brings a stiff elbow up and into his jawline, rocking him back against the pads. He takes the former soldier by the back of the head, reigning him into the next blow. Before he can make it a trifecta, a pair of arms wrap around his waist, prompting Vladimir to fire back with an elbow for Azazel. The Wizard of Wrestling is fully expectant of this, however, and again hunkers down to evade an attempted decapitation. He raises himself quickly, the Barbarian Lord in tow as he chucks him into the air overhead and down onto his back with a thunderous boom.

MO: Every man for himself here tonight, it looks like.
BB: I'd say so, and what quick reflexes on the part of Jakob as he tosses Vlad overhead with a belly to belly release suplex.
MD: See, this is just crazy to me. If I were in the ring, I'd team up on one guy, take my chances from 1/3 to 1/2.
MO: Well, there's always that, but in doing so, you also leave yourself vulnerable if the other guy decides it's time to go after one another before you do.

With the Romanian out of the way and the Militant before him, Jakob sharply juts both hands before him, pounding his palms onto the pectorals of the Punisher and driving the wind from him. Toxin clutches his throbbing chest, leaving himself wide open as Sir Realist leaps onto the middle rope, using it's elasticity to launch him up and allow him to wrap his thighs about the skull of the Winter Soldier. With his legs scissored tightly, Azazel flings himself back toward the ropes, grabbing onto the top one as he pulls the Mercenary over it and dumps him down at ringside in front of his master. Positioned on the apron, the fired-up Bastard Son of Babylon waits and watches anxiously as the Czar of Scars gets back to his feet. The crowd sits on the edges of their seat in anticipation of what he will do next, but the moment is ruined as the Magician's footing disappears beneath him, this trick shown to him by none other than Chris Pyro. Jakob's face slaps down where the soles of his boots had been just moments prior and he practically bounces off of it, tumbling over Toxin as he holds his visage.

MD: FUCKING PYRO!
BB: Come on! That was bullshit!
RV: Do no fret.. it is handled.

Looking to get his man back into the fight, Chris rolls Jakob off of him and begins to tug on Toxin's arm, yelling at him and trying to coax him back up. Vladimir's attention is caught by the commotion and he quickly pieces together what has happened as he looks at the scene. He heads for the announce table and drops down, rolling out under the lowest cable. Seeming to share some sort of mental link with his former partner, Strife's hand already seems open and out in expectation as Matthew Oliveira snaps his chair shut and passes it to him. He rounds the corner and raises the seat, a footstep just falling on the ear of Pyro a moment before the steel crashes down upon his spine. The impact calls out through the arena like a gunshot and the mastermind drops into a heap onto his most violent student. Several more follow, Chris rolling away with each punishing blow to try and create distance between himself and the GodKing.

MD: WHOOP! BEAT DAT ASS!
BB: Let's just hope Chris gets the message from that little interaction.
MO: Yeah, I wouldn't bet on it..

As Pyro starts toward the entrance ramp, the EVPW co-owner relents at last, turning his attention back toward the two other competitors that are actually in the contest. Agent Toxin has managed his way up to his hands and feet and a sinister grin comes to the face of Vladimir before disappearing just as quickly as the Warlock comes rushing toward them. He leaps onto the back of the Militant, using him as a launching pad and flinging himself toward the Hardcore King. Vlad quickly raises his chair to defend himself, but it does little as the boots of the Bastard Son of Babylon plow into the seat and fling it's holder back into the guardrail, knocking it back into the front row.

MD: JESUS FUCK!
MO: A huge dropkick from Azazel there just sent Vlad right into the rail and nearly into the crowd!

Jakob rises from the expertly nailed dropkick, arms stretched wide open as if to ask the crowd if they are not yet entertained. A hand slaps across his trachea, however, fingers clamping down onto his throat as his eyes go wide. The Mercenary brings his other palm to the lower back of the Master of Majik and lifts him into the air before slamming him down onto the railing he's just introduced Vlad to. The length of Azazel's spine comes down along the peak of the protective barrier and he flops over it toward the EVPW fans, arching his back at the unimaginable pain racking his body.

BB: Chokeslam! Spinefirst right onto that barricade!
MO: Lined up and everything. That does not feel good, gentlemen..
MD: BAI GAWD HE SPLIT HIM IN TWO!!

Brian and Matt look over toward their colleague with some confusion.

MD: What? Come on... he's a magician...

The pair get the reference at last, but seem to regret doing so as the sigh heavily and return to work.

((Will do the coloring later for the speech parts, I just didn't have much time to post today at work but really wanted to write something))