Hughes vs Strife- Mancunian Street Fight

[Ryan Hughes]

End of Innocence is almost over. Champions have been crowned, and Ryan Hughes has a new tag partner! The remnants of the innovative Countout Countdown match are cleared away, yet there is no rush, as the main attraction takes place in an entirely different area altogether. Well not ENTIRELY different, but the parking lot to be precise. As things are set up backstage, the camera focuses on the two commentators for the evening in Jimmy Pate and the now reinstated Ray White.

“Well our next match is certainly going to be one for the history books folks, and even I cannot deny that.”
“It certainly will be Jimmy, because I think this is the night where Vlad will crack! Ryan has really got in to this behemoth's mind as of late.”
“Since Lawrence Winchester shot Ryan in to the main event, the Batman has been picking away at the champ. He has questioned his motives, he has questioned his reason to be, hell- Ryan even WTG'ed Strife on to the Imperial Title Belt!”

In the ring, a smartly dressed Lizzie Morna holds a microphone in her hands, beaming a huge smile to the fans in attendance. After licking her lips, she raises the mic to her mouth, projecting her voice.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is a winner-take-all Mancunian Street Fight, and it is for the the EVPW Imperial Championship AND the GHW World Championship!”

The fans pop at this statement, making Lizzie pause before continuing when the fans shut up.

“The following match will take place in the mini arena we have set up in the car park.The two combatants will be enclosed in a circle of cars, with hooded fighters in between each one handling melee weapons. The combatants are tied together by a 15 foot long chain. No pinfalls, no DQ, no submission. The person to beat their opponent until they fail to respond to the 10 Count is the winner. Now I invite you to turn your attention to the titantron, as the match is about to commence.”

As the fans crane their heads over to the tron, the big screen flickers in to life. The scene is one of the car park as Morna described, and several hundred lucky fans have packed in to the bleachers erected specifically for this event. They begin to make some noise as they see themselves on the monitors around the vicinity. Meanwhile, in the labyrinth of corridors backstage, Ryan walks alone. The Chief Batmanite clutches the GHW Title in his grasp, and solemnly walks along the drab path focusing on nothing but his gameplan. His focus is broken however, by two men. In front of him stand Jaggeroth and Khan, two men who have had run ins with the Batman in the past.

“Ryan.”
“Not now man, I have to go.”
“Just- wait. I know we've never really seen eye to eye, but I want you to know. We are pulling for you out there, man. All the way. I mean, I want change as much as you do.”
“Wow. I didn't expect that. Thanks Jag. It means a lot.”

The two enemies shake hands, and Ryan walks on; a shout of “GO GET 'EM TIGER!” coming from behind him. Along his walk, he spots many of the new breed of EVPW. The likes of Chris Pederoso, Steve O Shaunessy, Wolverina and the Necro Armata are among others who acknowledge the GHW Champion on his walk past. Eventually, he reaches the door with the green “EXIT” sign above it. This was his calling. Taking a deep breath, he opens the door.

“Living in the thunder, driving me insane.
Can I get a witness, to take a way the pain.
Walking on water, going nowhere fast,
Feeling like I'm walking with no shoes on broken glass.
You know it.”

It isn't til part way through the chorus which Ryan becomes visible. The fans boo as usual, but there is more of a respect to it. Maybe some hardcore Batmanites got in to the bleachers first. The GHW Champion strides along the makeshift ramp, clutching his title like it was his baby. As he walks past the first camera, the back of his shirt is exposed, bearing the words “THE TRUE STRIFE SLAYER” in white print. As he nears the circle of cars, he grabs the area of the shirt with the Batmanite crest on, and thrusts it towards the camera in a show of forcefulness.

"You don't have to leave the lights on,
I'm so used to being blind.
No more goodbyes or yesterdays, so it's-
I'll see you, tomorrow. I'll see you tomorrow."

From the speakers set up in the car park, Lizzie's voice can be heard.

“Introducing the first champion, hailing from Manchester, England and weighing in at 241lbs, he is the GHW Champion, Ryan Hughes!”

“This has to be THE biggest night of the challenger's career.”
“Yea- wait. Why are you calling him a challenger? He is the champion. Vlad is as much a challenger as Ryan is here!”
“I'm getting to old for logic. Just call the damn match already, or I'll cut us off. NO PAYCHECK FOR YOU RAY!”

Ryan hops over a car, landing on the cold surface of the warzone. He looks around at his surroundings, acknowledging the hooded men stood glaring at him in between each car. After a deep breath, he stands on one of the car bonnets, towering over the rest of the men in the “iron circle”. After a few seconds, the Chief Batmanite speaks.

“Vladimir. This is it. No more witty comments. No more pettiness. No more denial. The changing of the guard happens TONIGHT! CHAIN ME!”

And with that, Ryan jumps down from the hood, walking towards the referee. The Mancunian is silent throughout the referee's official comments, and simply nods at the end. Stepping back, he now sits on the hood of the car he was previously on. The audience fall silent as they wait for the familiar music of the one man who can shut Ryan's mouth once and for all.


TBC Vladimir. ((Good luck, bro.))

[Vladimir Strife]

Ryan eagerly awaits the arrival of his most prolific opposition to date, stretching in place to keep from pulling a muscle in what could be the struggle of his career. His anticipation is answered shortly, 'Perfection Or Vanity' by Dimmu Borgir starting up to signify the King's entrance into the contest.

"And his opponent... hailing from Sighisoara, Romania and weighing in at 234 lbs... Standing at 6 feet even, he is the reigning EVPW Imperial Champion... VLAAAADIMIR STRIFE!!"

The Titan walks between two of the vehicles, the hooded figure in place stepping aside to make room for him. Tonight he has donned his typical attire without surprise to anyone; the usual outfit being his way of stating defiance to change. As he peels off the black straight jacket inspired trenchcoat, he hands the article off to Lizzie. Beneath, his raven blue long sleeved shirt and black cargo pants are the ever constant choice: remnants of a wardrobe hardly changed since the very start of his wrestling career. At his base, the Impaler is wearing ebony swat-style combat boots with steel toes (holding all the more agony for the unlucky stars who end up on the receiving end of one of his kicks). The unpadded fingerless gloves gave no relief to his devastating strikes and were shades of purple and green as tribute to the company that put him on the map. A final accessory hung across his collar bone - a thin silver chain with a charm in the shape of a sword. It's meaning was a mystery unraveled only by knowledge of what it was : the Sword of Mars.

As the referee took his place in between the combatants, Strife delays the match's start for a moment. Instead of moving forward to accept his tether to the Batmanite, the King paces back toward where he came from. Within second he is making his way back over, toting a duffel bag upon his right shoulder. Across the side of it is emblazoned a simple explanation: 'BAG OF TRICKS'.

JP: Well, look at that.. Vlad has literally brought his bag of tricks to this match..
Ray: That might be but all the tricks in the world can't save him from this. He's going to be strapped to Ryan Hughes with nowhere to go and no way out until the guard has indeed finally changed!

Setting his luggage down, Vladimir finally steps in toward his opponent and accepts his special bracelet. The referee secures the chain with a padlock to keep it in place before calling both men in to the center.

"You both heard Lizzie, the rules are simple: first man who can't respond to the count of ten loses and the winner takes home both titles."

The world champions nod and acknowledge what's at stake in this conclusion to their rivalry. The official steps back, motioning for the bell to ring and the bout to begin. As the resonance of the third clashing of metal on metal goes silent, Strife and Hughes are engaged in a classic lockup with each vying for the early advantage.

Jimmy: And we're underway! The only question left to answer is will we see the passing of the torch to a new generation tonight or the reaffirmation of power and status?
Ray: What? That's not 'left to be answered'. I already told you that Ryan was going to win. Geez, you men NEVER listen..

TBCB Ryan Hughes

[Ryan Hughes]

The two elitists of WNG continue their initial struggle for supremacy, as it was truly important to both men as to who won this tie up. Ryan manages to push one of Vlad's arms to the side, and leans himself into the body of the Imperial Champion before performing a well executed hip toss, much to the annoyance of the crowd in the parking lot, as well as the fans watching on the ButcherTron in the arena. Ryan roars in the style of a triumphant warrior, knowing that an early setback like this can easily add to Strife's mental torment. The Batman turns around, before grabbing a hold of the thick locks of his opponent. As soon as he does however, he is met with a thunderous right hand, which causes the GHW Champion to backtrack, shaking his head. This intervention gives Vlad ample time to get up and forge an advantage over the youngster. Wasting little time, Vlad raises his fist once more, and lands a stinging shot in to Ryan's already rocked jaw. Hughes falls back, but the descent is broken by the hood of a red convertible. This doesn't stop the GodKing though, as one by one, right handed jabs connect on Ryan's unprotected face. The King of the Bamtanites' eyes are now unfocused, and he begins to see double vision. Taking a desperate measure, the Mancunian wraps his hand around the slacking chain, before landing a stiff punch to Vlad's temple. Immediately, the Czar of Scars relents his assault, and flops from his mounted position on the hood, to the cold concrete below.

“And Vlad is finally halted. That move right there shows just how lethal this match can become.”
“Yeah, one minute in, and we already got the chain being used as a weapon. To be fair, Vlad DID bring the Bag of Tricks. He had it coming to him.”

Ryan falls back, and rests against the windscreen of the convertible. He rubs his forehead with his sweaty palm, careful not to rub the rusted chain on his tender skin. After the pain subsides, he slides off of the hood, and stands over the current King of EVPW. Bending over slightly, he slaps Vlad across the back of his head, causing the champ to jerk in surprise and crawl to the nearest car, which just so happens to be a pick up truck. Strife puts his hands on the hood, and pushes himself up to a vertical base. Hughes follows, running up behind the GodKing and clubbing him in the back, causing Vlad to flop over the metal hood of the pick-up. Ryan turns his foe over, before lifting his head up, and slamming it back down on the cold metal. Vlad lets out a shout, indicating the sharp pain coursing through his body. Ryan lifts Vlad by his locks once more, but Vlad doesn't want any of it. Lifting his arms up to Ryan's head, Vlad forces his head up, clashing with the head of the Mancunian Mauler. Ryan staggers away after the headbutt, giving the Romanian enough time to get in to a standing position on the hood of the pick-up. As Ryan turns around, Vladimir leaps off the hood, and flies through the dusty air before landing on top of the Batman, hitting the cocky one with a cross body.

Vladimir rolls away, allowing the referee to begin his count. The Imperial champ rises to his feet, and watches the man he loathes writhe on the concrete. Eventually, Ryan reaches a standing position, only to be yanked across the iron circle by Vlad, who feels it is now time to play with his food. As Ryan stumbles over to his tormentor, he is grabbed by the throat by the Romanian, who throws him in to the front bumper of a nearby car; the impact breaking off the long chunk of steel. Vlad struts towards the Mauler, who cannot resist the attack that is about to be bestowed upon him. With intense brutality, Vlad sets off at a run, before planting his foot in the the head of the Batman, squashing it between his foot and the car. Once Ryan is free of the unconventional vice, he slumps sideways, resting his head upon the cold floor beneath him. The Czar of Scars sticks his boot in to the sternum of the former Outcast, causing him to splutter and cough at his feet. After dealing enough pain to the midsection, Vlad begins to gather the slack in the chain. Using the slack, he wraps it around the throat of the Mancunian, applying a frightful sleeper hold and hoping against hope that he can end this one; bringing the GHW Title back in to the light.

“Oh boy, this isn't going to last long! Innovative use of the chain there by Vlad.”
“I don't believe it. Vlad is actually using Ryan's own idea AGAINST him! This can't be fair.”
“Oh, it's fair Ray. And it's right too. Don't you remember that THIS man put us out of action?!”
“Forgive and forget Jimmy. Didn't your mother teach you that?”

As the argument on commentary continues, Vlad is in total control of this main event. He tightens the chain, cutting off even more air from Ryan's already depleting body. The GHW Champion's eyes begin to bulge as he frantically tries to get the oxygen he needs inside him, but to no avail. He slowly begins to fade, much to the crowd's sheer delight. As the Englishman falls, the hundred or so fans in the parking lot strike up a chant of “STRIFE! STRIFE!”, a chant that echoes off the stone walls; adding to the eerie acoustics. Vlad begins to slacken the hold, realising that Ryan can only lose if he is left alone, and unable to answer a ten count. This turns out to be a fatal flaw in the plan of the GodKing. Managing to take a sharp gulp of air, the cogs in Ryan's brain begin to work once more. Using the energy left in his system, he pushes upwards until he and Vlad are in a standing position. Vlad panics slightly as he hastens to tighten to hold once more, but alas, it is too late. Ryan begins to push backwards, sending himself and Vlad in to the front end of a car. Finally, Vlad releases his vice-like grip, and both men collapse to the floor. The referee makes his way in to the center of the circle, before checking both men over, and beginning a ten count.

“Ah come on! This match was made so there was a winner! What a dud.”

There isn't much of a response by either man, until the count of five. At this moment, Ryan crawls away, making sure there was a couple of yards space between him and his opponent. If Ryan wanted to live up to the promise he has talked about many a time since his comeback, he needed to get a new game plan. After a few moments of thought, something clicks in his mind- he needs to go on the attack, right now. Looking over at his opponent, Ryan steadies himself and rubs his leg in anticipation of what was to come. Vlad stands up using help from the car behind him, and Ryan sets off at a run. The crowd know what is coming, and apparently so do the commentators.

“BIG FUCKING KICK TO THE- CAR WINDOW?!”
“YES! He missed!”

Jimmy was right, Ryan had indeed missed. Vladimir scouted the potentially brain-damaging manoeuvre and dropped to the floor, allowing Ryan to follow on with the kick. This, of course, led to Ryan putting his foot through the window of the car Vlad was propped up against. Ryan was trapped, and seriously hurt. Vlad takes advantage of this and begins kicking the Chief Batmanite in the back of the knee several times. Ryan screams in sheer agony, while the Romanian begins to laugh maniacally for possibly the first time in a match in months. Leaving Ryan in his precarious position, Vladimir walks around the car, coming face to face with one of the hooded characters surrounding the war zone. After a brief, yet tense stare-down, Vlad asks for the weapon in possession of the hooded man, and receives it without descent. Clutching his new crowbar with his right hand, he strolls around the car once more only halting to test the capabilities of his new toy; using it to smash the wind-shield of the already blemished car. Vlad walks up to his opponent. It was time for the man that has been getting in Vlad's mind to be whacked back out again. Vlad raises his crowbar, and slashes through the atmosphere. Ryan only just manages to evade the shot at his head, and quickly grabs the swinging arm of the Imperial champion. Snatching the weapon out of Vlad's reach, the battle-scarred Batmanite takes a desperate swing at his foe. Luckily for him, the shot connects to Vlad's outstretched arm, and he staggers away whilst clasping his wound. In an act of insanity, Ryan begins to swipe away at the glass which traps his leg in the car window. “SMASH!” Ryan winces in pain as he destroys the car window completely. Pulling away from the unusual trap, he holds his leg, almost in tear with the surge of pain in that region. As he stares across from his adversary, he realises something. Both men now have big weaknesses, and he must exploit Vlad's before Vlad exploits his.

“Look at the state of Ryan's leg. That's nasty.”
“Yes, but both men have injuries now, it's just a case of who strikes first.”

Ryan looks down at his own injury, and his stomach churns as he sees the amount of lacerations that the window has caused. This is a lot worse an injury than Vlad's in his opinion, yet Vladimir must be thinking the same thing. Knowing that he had to work quickly, he begins to limp across the circle of steel towards the behemoth before him. Ryan clenches his fists and his teeth, steeling himself for an imminent slugfest. Vladimir however, has other plans. As Ryan comes charging all guns a-blazing, Vlad coolly sidesteps the weakened Mancunian, before sweeping his leg in to the back of Ryan's, causing the self proclaimed “New School” the collapse helplessly to the ground in intense pain. Vlad smiles to himself, knowing that the ball is well and truly in his court. Heaving his opponent up, Vlad sizes up the Mancunian before kicking him in the stomach, and locking him in a three quarter facelock. Using a large part of his energy bank, he lifts Ryan up in to the air so he is at a right angle to the ground once more. After suspending the Maniacal Mancunian in the air for a few seconds, he falls back, and Ryan slams against the unforgiving concrete as a result of the suplex. Ryan shouts out in to the night, but it can heal him. He arches his back in an attempt to release the pain from the prison which is his body, but to no avail. Vlad knows he has done the damage here, and things were looking up for the man from Sighisoara.

“Vlad in in the drivers seat here, and Ryan's back has just taken a hammering, not to mention the cuts to his leg.”
“Ryan needs to shape up if he wants that second win. Don't they always say you should fight fire with fire? Well it looks as though Ryan is trying to fight fire with Cool-Whip.”

The referee begins his count for the second time of the night, though it looks as though it will only apply to the Batman, who is still writhing on the cold concrete.




TBCB Vladimir

[Vladimir Strife]

With eight numbers down and merely a couple left, the Raging Romanian disrupts the count to victory, stamping the gut of the Batmanite with the sole of his boot. The Outcast rolls onto his side, clutching the midsection that would soon bare a welted imprint of the footwear it had met unceremoniously. The official scalds Strife, reminding him that he can only win by a successful ten count, but the Impaler is preoccupied by bigger plans. He paces the handful of steps between himself and the luggage he towed into the contest and squats before it, unzipping the tote bag open and rummaging through it's contents in search of a particular item. It takes him a moment to find it, lending time for Ryan to make his way to all fours, a small start in his recovery. The King furnishes the results of his hunt at last, raising a foot-long strip or duct tape into the air. Across it's surface, dozens of tiny metal spikes protrude hazardously - the result of thumbtacks pushed through it's backside by the foreigner. He looks over to the recuperating Hughes and quickly peels the makeshift paper backing off of the tape, revealing the sticky side before wrapping it around the knuckles of his right hand - careful to make sure the thumbtacks are positioned on the outer side.

JP: Well, I have to say that this is a new one. It seems the King has made himself a ragtag spiked gauntlet.
Ray: What!? He can't do that! He's going to mess up my baby's beautiful face!
JP: Yes, he is, Ray. And it's perfectly legal in this match, so he can do it.
Ray: You love crushing my spirit, don't you, you prick?
JP: More than I could ever convey..

At this point in time, the Mancunian has mustered the strength to make his way to the nearest bumper and make leverage of it enough to get to his knees. This, however, was as far as he would make it for now; the GodKing moves in for the proverbial kill, wielding the newfound construction proudly. He grasps the hair of his opponent and pulls back to shift his view toward the ceiling and slams a ball of knuckles due North of the browline. The strike is devastating: the spikes tear deep into the flesh and liberate the crimson contained beneath it. The liquid beads up slowly across the skin, the droplets welling up slowly as the Behemoth takes note before becoming heavy and coming down across his face in streams. Enthralled by what he's seen, the Titan lands two more jabs across the forehead of the Batmanite in succession. The scarlet creeks have now meshed together, a torrent of Ryan's life force coating his features with a glossy finish.

JP: My god, I don't believe I've EVER seen Ryan Hughes this bloody! The King has just ripped right through his skin with this brutal creation of his!
Ray: It's horrible! Someone has to stop him, Jimmy! What if that scars!? I'll never forgive him if he's ruined the TRUE champion's good looks!

With the Titan rearing up and ready to lash out with another blast of the spikes, the Batmanite has little time to prevent it. He swings his arm up and slips it in between the legs of Vladimir. Hughes' upper arm slams into the crotch of the Imperial Champion and racks his body with agony. The dirty tactic is more effective than Ryan could have hoped as Strife's arm lowers and he backs off a step before submitting to one knee in an effort to cope with the pain. The Outcast wastes no time in pushing back up to his feet and exploiting the vulnerability. He grabs the Behemoth into a 3/4 facelock and flings himself back with all of his weight. The veteran is lead with the crown of his head into a headlight, the aimed DDT seeing him used as a battering ram to smash out the thick plastic covering. The duo collapse to the concrete with the GHW champion clutching his lower back from having slammed against the vehicle and his fabled opponent laying temporarily unconscious beside him.

Ray: Oh hell yeah! Show him how it's done! The Revolution will be televised... and it will be sexy.
JP: I wouldn't get my hopes up just yet, Ray. That was a hell of a blow to the GodKing, but Ryan has still lost a lot of blood and that might be the difference maker in the end.
Ray: Psht! My Batmanite is going to crush this joker and no matter how much blood he loses, he's not going to stop until it's done!

The referee now begins his count, but Ryan wants nothing to do with it, scrambling to his feet and clarifying that he's still in this contest. His opponent, meanwhile, is still down with a mere 5 seconds left to stave off defeat. In light of this fact, a smile plasters across the face of thee Mancunian. A second later and the King begins to stir, and the grin loses a bit of it's luster. A couple of more seconds and Vlad is on all fours and the smirk is barely visible. As the Behemoth plants his feet down and raises up to his full height the only expression left on his younger adversary's face is fatigue and stubbornness. Every second closer to the Messiah's contention in the bout seemed to have made him wearier, but the Batmanite had never lost the fight, hopes and dreams of a new age that was fueling him through the battle.

JP: They're back up, but like I said before, I have to question the shape Ryan is in. Both men have taken heavy abuse here tonight, but the Batmanite has been busted wide open.
Ray: He'll be fine, Jimmy! I think it's stopped bleeding anyhow. Besides, how dare you question him? This is a Mancunian Street Fight! He MADE this match! On top of it, Vlad has zero experience in it. As a matter of fact, I'm not sure I've seen Vlad in ANY kind of a street fight before. You're always talking about experience playing a role, well, Ryan has the edge on that tonight. What more could you need?
JP: He has more experience in this style of match, but you should know it's never a wise idea to underestimate the King in any sort of a hardcore environment.
Ray: He's washed up, Jimmy, face the facts. Then again, maybe that explains why you're rooting for him!

With each man risen to a vertical stance once more, their sights settle on one another. Both stand tall, calm and composed despite their battered and bruised bodies. Within the recesses of his mind, the Batmanite's thoughts run amok with the multitude of disadvantages he could dole out upon the stockier champion if he could only take hold of the crowbar that lay idly to his left. Unfortunately for him, his eyes have betrayed his intentions and the veteran now grins deviously to him, shifting his glance and repeatedly taking stock of the weapon to goad the youngster into action.

Anxious of what might happen should he wait any longer, Hughes takes the bait and makes haste for the curved steel rod. Not to be left out of a good race, the King bolts toward the prize as well; the question of advantage seeming to have temporarily digressed into a test of speed. Strife is, however, ill-prepared for the contest and just barely comes into range of the chisel at the same time as his adversary despite initially having less of a gap to clear for it. The company's co-founder hesitates to lunge for the tool, leaving such a tactic to the lesser experienced Mancunian Mauler. Instead, the clever Titan wraps the digits of his left hand around a length of the chain and, as Ryan's fingers brush across the prying bar, Vlad reels him in with a mighty heave of he steel lings that sends the younger star stumbling and leaves him shy of his goal. The Romanian shoots in with a stiff right fist to meet the GHW champion and connects promptly, littering the side of his scalp with a series of small rivets that weep little crimson tears through his follicles. The Outcast sheepishly retreats between the closest pair of automobiles, nearly bowling over the hooded figure positioned there in his stupor.

The Czar of Scars procures the spoils of this momentary victory and seeks out his prey. As he closes in, the Batmanite desperately clutches the item in the hands of the druid before him and rips it out of his grasp. Spinning on his heels to confront the Imperial champion, Hughes swings the item as though it were a baseball bat. The surprise is extremely effective and the King is no sooner aware of the shovel's presence than he is of it's effect. The rusted metal clashes brazenly with his temple and the Titan crumbles into a heap motionlessly. The sun has gone down in the legend's kingdom as another count starts up. Throughout the parking lot and the arena, those watching give a mixed response with many silent and many others showing their discourse more vocally. Their reactions are grim hints of the night's finale and come as a relief to the Outcast who's body loosens like the weight of the world has been lifted from it.

JP: WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!? That shot came out of nowhere!! And with it, it looks like he might have actually done it!
Ray: Damn straight, he's done it! The King has been dethroned!
JP: Now, wait a minute. He's still got time to get up!

"TWO! ...THREE!"

Not a thing has changed, the scene appearing to be frozen in time despite the timely reminders from the official.

"FOUR! ...FIVE!"

The count is halfway to history now as the changing of the guard now looms 1/12 of a minute away from fruition.

"SIX! ...SEVEN!"

Their is still no response from the normally resilient monolith. The unthinkable is happening. The legendary GodKing has been laid out by the rising star and every passing moment reinforces the fact that this is one count he couldn't stop.

"EIGHT!"

JP: This is looking bad...
Ray: Really? It's looking great to me!
JP: I honestly think it's over.. I can't believe my eyes..

The atmosphere in the Concord stadium has become sullen, every man, woman and child understanding what they are witnessing in these final seconds.

"NINE!"

In the moment, Ryan has become restless, a sudden realization of what this victory could mean for him. The shot he'd leveled Vlad with was a devastating one, but could be misconstrued as a matter of mere luck. If the changing of the guard was to be complete, he couldn't let that happen.

Stepping in with his shovel, he pushes the referee back and stands next to the head of the fallen Behemoth. He sets the edge of the spade against the forehead of the Titan and looks out to the mob that has gathered around the outskirts of the circle of cars.

"Sic semper tyrannis! Thus... always... to tyrants.. A NEW AGE DAWNS HERE AND NOW!!"

The Outcasts lifts his right leg and slams his heel against the side of the shovel. The edge digs and tears through the flesh of the King and leaves an eight inch gash above his brows. As he rolls over unceremoniously, the blood begins to pool around his face. The Batmanite's message is more than clear as he drops his weapon to the ground and walks away from the Romanian Scourge, his mind at peace as he sat on the hood of a navy Chevrolet and prepared to watch the end of a legacy of old and the beginning of his own.

JP: OH, COME ON!! Was that REALLY necessary!?
Ray: Of course it was! Why add insult to injury when you can add injury to injury?

"...ONE!"

TBCB Ryan or EOT