4 Way/10 Count Out:/Dragon's Rage Championship

[Dominik Santiago]

Sang: "Our next bout is sure to be a barn burner. Four guys will enter, only one leaves SNK's crowned King!"
Trix: "And it's likely to be man who came in. Embrace your inner goth Sangy!"

The had been an atmosphere of anticipation the entire night, and the crowd was still bloodthirsty. Their hunger for combat would soon be appeased, as Andrew Porter marched into the center of the squared battlezone. Bringing the mic to his lips, Porter commences to satisfy the ravenous audience.

Andrew Porter: "The following contest is a 10 Count Out Match for the Dragon's Rage Championship. Any superstar on the outside during the ref's ten count will be eliminated. The final competitor remaining will be your Dragon's Rage Champion!"

As Porter's announcement reverberated throughout the arena, the lights suddenly changed from their normal fixture. As they dimmed to absolute nothingness, draping the arena into darkness, it spurred the merriment of the audience. As they cheered fiercly, "Storm To Pass" by Atreyu suddenly began blaring. As it rips through the speakers, a large spotlight suddenly shines down across the stage. The curtains slowly swayed, emerging now was the first of the three gladiators ready to do battle to the bitter end. Standing before the lively crowd was the Solid Core Champion. Dominik Santiago stood with his head titled in an askew, his long black locks standing as a refuge, protection for his mug.

With Dom's arms crossed in an 'X' formation, the spectators climbed to their feets, drowning the arena in their cheers.

"Introducing first, hailing from Hollywood California, standing at six foot three, two hundred thirtyfive pounds, he is the Solid Core Champion....THE ASSASSIN, DOMINIK SANTIAGO!"

Razorwire
Givebacks for things we've done
Afterthoughts
Of past storms weathered before

"Dominik Santiago has to be the favorite tonight. He's beaten the champion twice, and went through hell in the Dragon's Rage Tournament. An LMS Match against Alex Night, TLC against Jaggeroth-"
"And he's the favorite. He's probably less than fifty percent! He'll be eliminated first, and then we can get to the real action!"
"Your sticking to that prediction?"
"Yeah, and I'm sticking with Darkrites!"

The Assassin unstraps his championship before hoisting it into the air with utmost pride. Having the support of the ruckus audience, Dominik begins his stride down to the ring, marching with clear purpose, intending to become one of few double champions in EVPW's short history.

Oh no! Oh no!
I watch the clouds roll in
Oh no! Oh no!
It's happening again

I'll be

Watching, waiting
Tremble, shaking
Will the storm pass over us today?
Will lightning strike our sins away?

Dominik quickly slides into the ring, and springs to his feet before handing the referee his coveted championship. He quickly cracks his knuckles and gingerly rings his neck, preparing himself for the ardous task ahead of him.

TBCB

[Winthorp Darkrites]

The Hardcore Assassin paces in the ring patiently, awaiting the three other opponents. As Santiago turns his head to face Andrew Porter, the lights go out at that exact moment. Fans are left screaming in bewilderment as the only lights left active are the ones on stage, glowing an eerie purple. Silence fills the arena slowly but is immediately broken by;

"We will never sleep, 'cause sleep is for the weak
And we will never rest, 'til we're all fucking dead
We will never sleep, 'cause sleep is for the weak
And we will never rest, 'til we're all fucking dead

We will never sleep, 'cause sleep is for the weak
And we will never rest, 'til we're all fucking dead
We will never sleep, 'cause sleep is for the weak
And we will never rest, 'til we're all fucking dead"

The opening intro of "Diamonds Aren't Forever" by Bring Me The Horizon begins blaring through the PA System. The fans beginning to cheer and chant along with the lyrics of the song. The lights in the arena slowly brighten themselves up, with the Dragon's Rage Champion seen rising from the stage. The fans reveal a new changed outlook on The Goth by cheering for him, the response somewhat different but pleasing to him. He takes a step forward towards the ramp and into the light. Dressed in his usual black tights, kneepads, boots and now sporting a vest that is buttoned up. The Italian Goth undoes the buttoning on the vest and throws it off completely, revealing his Dragon's Rage title. The fans begin to cheer once more as The Goth begins his walk down the ramp, to his impending doom.

~ Andrew Porter
"And the opponent, from Milan, Italy. He weighs in tonight at two hundred and fourty-three pounds. He is the current reigning Dragon's Rage Champion. The Italian Goth, Winthorp Darkrites!"

Porter's announcement is greeted with cheers from the fans and an odd smirk from the Solid Core Champ.

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again
If you think you're alive then you're better off dead
I've said it before, and I'll say it again
If you think you're alive then you're better off-
I've said it before, and I'll say it again
If you think you're alive then you're better off dead

So throw your diamonds in the sky, we'll stay gold forever?
So throw your diamonds in the sky, we'll stay gold forever?"

The Goth continues walking down the ramp, exchanging high fives with the fans as he goes down. The new found attitude of The Goth shocking both Santiago and the two commentators at ringside.

~ Sang
"Winthorp is now actually taking his time to interact with the fans, such a new attitude!"

~ Trix
"Coming from The Revolution, he's a pretty decent guy then. Not like the others.."

The Goth slides into the ring and raises his head slowly, looking at his adversary with a glare of dislike. Santiago returning the glare with ease.

"I can promise you one thing: Death will take us all!
I can promise you one thing: You will die alone!

We're all going to Hell, we may as well go out in style!
Death is a promise, and your life is a fucking lie!"

The Goth pushes himself up to his feet and makes his way towards a corner, resting against the turnbuckle. He unstraps the title from around his waist and holds it dearly in his head. "Diamonds Aren't Forever" slowly dimming down to nothing.

TBC;

[verycreepyperson]

“What I seek is your pride. What I demand is your humiliation. What I will take is your confidence. What I am... is the quintessence of the word OVER!”

"Parabola" by Tool begins resonating around the arena, and not long after, synchronized with the grey smoke that starts drifting from the entrance curtain, which covers up the whole ramp eventually, sweeping the curtains aside, Brad Beauchamp walks out onto the stage wearing black mid-thigh long shorts with intrigued silver design, black combat boots, black knee pads, black elbow pads and wrists and hands taped with white hand tape. Brad stands on the entrance stage amidst the smoke, and looks on at the audience with a snobbish look, his nose high in the air as suddenly, sparks start falling from the ceiling above onto him and the stage as if it is rain falling. The collaboration of the rain-like sparks and the grey smoke makes a beautiful combination, and it is all the more fitting as Brad stands in the middle with his aristocratic agenda. Brad standing at the top of the entrance stage for a while and looking around the arena before him, tilts his head back so his nose becomes the peak of his framework and unbelievably discourteously slams the edges of each of his hands around the crotch of his shorts, imperiously making it clear about where he thinks the others stand in comparison to him. Then and only then, Brad begins walking down the ramp.

Andrew Porter: Introducing third, from London England, weighting in tonight at two-hundred-and-forty-pounds... he is the world’s TWO TIME Amateur Wrestling Champion... Brad Beauchamp!

We barely remember who or what came before this precious moment,
We are Choosing to be here right now. Hold on, stay inside...
This holy reality, this holy experience. Choosing to be here in...

This body. This body holding me. Be my reminder here that I am not alone in
This body, this body holding me, feeling eternal all this pain is an illusion.

Alive

Brad makes his way to and up the steel steps taking it one step at a time. He continues along the outside ring apron, and once in the middle enters the ring in between the middle and top rope. Brad’s picturesque physic stands tall like a chiselled medieval statue in the corner of the ring, proud and snobby as he stares down at his opponents with confidence.

Trix: Well Beauchamp is looking overconfident, like always I suppose, but this is no longer a duel with mid-carders, this is the Dragon’s Rage title match and the opponents are no pushovers, these are the best men this company has to offer.

Sang: Brad is undefeated so far since his debut before Mad House and he has to look confident! Have you never before paid any attention to his speech? This man is in another league compared to these inferior, and in his words incompetent wrestlers. Beauchamp is wrestling royalty, there is no man in this industry who can last long one on one with the epitome of excellence at his own game, and that is wrestling.

Trix: This is no longer a one on one match Sang, and pin falls and submissions no longer apply. The cleverest and the most aggressive competitor will have the edge no matter what. This is where it gets so exciting; I can’t wait for the match to officially begin.

This holy reality, in this holy experience. Choosing to be here in...

This body. This body holding me. Be my reminder here that I am not alone in
This body, this body holding me, feeling eternal all this pain is an illusion...
Of what it means to be alive

TBC

[Cameron Massey]

As the fans wait for the prospects of what it to come, a young man stands behind the curtain. Snarling and with his fists tightened at his sides, the Young Gun snaps his head towards the backstage sound guy, giving him the simplest of nods. The tech-head flips a switch and "Behind Blue Eyes" by Limp Bizkit begins to play. On cue, the rookie swipes away the flimsy cloth and steps onto the top of the ramp.

Lizzie: The final entrant, hailing from Wickmore, Kansas. He stands 6'1" tall and weights in at 228 pounds, Cameron Massey.

The Kid from Kansas walks slowly down the path to the ring. His pretty-boy features remain poised on the ring, no badgering the fans, yet no catering to them either. Near the ring he turns to the left and swipes a few hands before being pulled into them by a group of swooning teenage female fans. Security swoops in quickly but Cameron motions them away as they rub on his body a little bit and give miss-aimed kisses along his cheeks. Massey finally pulls himself away and steps up the steel stairs sporting lipstick kiss prints on his face now. Parting the ropes away from each other, he steps into the very place he will continue his legacy.

Ray: Damn, what a MAN! Come on Cammy, please come through for me.

Jimmy: Wow, mark much? We're supposed to call this match down the middle, you do know that right?

Ray: I'm sorry, JP. He is just so talented and handsome. The perfect combo. Yeah yeah, blah blah, I know he doesn't stand a chance in this match, but I can wish. At least he and his teacher, Dominik, will team up. Awww look at his shirt, so cute.

The shirt in question would be a Starsky and Hutch themed design of Dom and Cameron doing the signature Starsky and Hutch pose. The rest of Cameron is dressed in a pair of black and gold wrestling trunks, matching boots and pads, with wrists taped to perfection. He slides into the ring and makes a beeline for his mentor, pointing at his shirt and interrogating Dom about where his shirt is. After having god like words spoken to him by Santiago, the Kid takes his shirt off and tosses it to the fans and gets ready to fight side by side with his hero; a honor and glory he'll never forget. His music ends and the bell ding-dings, bitches.

TBCB whoever.

[Cameron Massey]

Eyes dart suspiciously, nervous hands ring with anticipation, and strategies begin to form in the minds of all - except for Brad Beauchamp. In stark contrast to his three foes' on-guard stance, he appears the least affected. Standing far away from them, the Epitome of Excellence looks on smugly with an expression of excess arrogance, a conceited look so profound that it immediately eats away at the other three. To further get under the skin of the trio of inferior wrestlers, Brad cockily runs his hands along his perfectly trimmed waist in a prophetic proclamation of what will be the final outcome of the match. This level of snobbishness will not go unchecked, and the three lunge at him like a pack of wild dogs. Beauchamp manages a quick jab to the hot blooded rookie, Cameron Massey, knocking him to the mat. The rest of his defense is sequestered by the ridge-line of knuckles that suddenly bombard his face and head.

The crowd cheer loudly at seeing the only heel in the match getting his ass handed to him by Winthorp and Dominik. As Brad is backed into the corner, he starts to wilt under the slew of knees and stomps being added to the knuckle bombs, until he is finally seated at the bottom buckled pad. The two assailants reach down at the same time and grab each of his wrists, pulling him up. They look at each other and seem to have a brief, competitive tug-of-war over claim of the prey. The small matter is settled by a hungrily charging Cameron Massey, who heaves his body into the air and thrusts both soles out, careening them into Beauchamp's pectoral region. The force rips the man from their collective grip, leaving him to propel backward into the buckles he'd just been plucked from.

Ray: This isn't fair at all, it's like a 3 on 1 handicap match. But I guess that is what needs to be done in order to take a sexy beast like Brad out. One on one with any of these men, he'd destroy them. I just hope he is as cunning as he is talented, because cunning is what you need in this type of match.
Jimmy: I don't see Brad lasting long at all. He may be great as you've said, but he has three pretty damn good opponents in there, and each want to tear his head off. His only chance is to weather the storm and wait for the others to turn their attention to each other.

The words spoken by Jimmy don't seem to be anywhere near fruition just yet. Winthorp takes the initiative, grabbing and pulling the arrogant Beauchamp up. The Italian Goth spins him around real quick and begins an old school face to pad pummeling, over and over again, well past a ten count that would normally bring about a disqualification. Greedily stepping in like a Ethiopian fighting over a piece of food, Dominik brushes the Goth aside and continues what Winthorp had started. Moving to the second buckle, Santiago continues to bang Brad's face off of the buckle and shows no sign of stopping. Poor Cammy, all alone and feeling a bit left out due to Darkrites and Dominik's little contest, decides to end it prematurely. Scampering from the middle of the squared hell and toward the three, Massey takes to the air, pumping his knees into his chest. As he descends between Winthorp and Dominik, he mushroom stomps Beauchamp dead center of the back, coercing him to smack face first harshly against the southern most turnbuckle.

They leave no room for Brad to suffer, and expunge him from the ring unceremoniously. The rowdy, blood lusty loyalists shower them with praise for their teamwork; especially Dom and Winthorp, whom both have a clear dislike for each other. It is that disdain that suddenly makes its entrance. The referee barely yells out "ONE" when the Kid from Kansas drops to his knees and grinds his feet while wrapping his well built arms around the Italian Goth's legs - plowing him down with a basic wrestling take down. The somewhat bitterness that was put on hold in the opening moments, is swiftly swung into gear.

Several well placed boot-sole imprints are found on Winthorp's mug soon and remain until the Solid Core Champion is satisfied. Reaching down and grabbing Winthorp by the roots of his follicles, the Lord of the Flies yanks him up while Cammy keeps his legs captive. Darkrite's head is fitted by Dom's arm being looped around it, and by a simple head nod as communication, Cameron stands up transitioning the Goth's legs into a wheelbarrow hold at either of his sides. With the Dragon's Rage Champion suspended and helpless, Massey sends a boot skyward, the toe section slamming into Darkrite's sternum. The spurt of burning pain that joins it is replaced in a split second by Dominik snapping to the canvas, spiking Milan's favortie son hatefully into the surface.

Ray: Holy shit, teacher and student are kicking major ass in the early going here. Absolutely brilliant strategy by the always unpredictable Dominik Santiago.
Jimmy: This is his style of match. He can use his sheer genius tactics and even send the kid to do a little dirty work if needbe. I'll be damned, this match was basically custom made for Santiago. That assisted DDT was just nasty!!!

As the ref's on-going count, albeit slow, increases to "FOUR", Winthorp rolls along the canvas spasmodically, his neurons sputtering while his scrambled brain tries to send out frantic messages to the rest of his body. He too is effortlessly hoisted up and over by the kick ass teacher-student combo, netting him a elimination slot right along with Brad. Unfortunately, this restarts the count as per the rules of the bout, and even more discouraging is the fact that the arrogant ass is rumbling back to the ring, now recovered enough to at least roll back in. If it was only that easy. The unified front thwarts the aristocrat's repeated attempts to get back inside the four sided ring. At each turn he is met with a boot, a punch, a elbow or two, and he becomes visibly frustrated at the rising count, which now reaches "SEVEN".

The fanatical EVPW'ians endear the despised Beauchamp with an amusing chide of "Bye-Bye, Bitchchump", as the next number is called out. Brad makes one last effort, lurching toward the edge of the ring. He does a running back style juke move and, instead of dealing with Dom and Cammy again, hastily grabs the ref by the feet and trips him down before pulling him out of the ring speedily. The last resort pays off, but to make things a little better for himself, Brad hefts the tiny zebra clad official up and blasts him a single time across the head with a punch - knocking him down for the count, how ironic.

Ray: Well, that's one way to stop the count.
Jimmy: RAY! He just abused the referee and you almost sound impressed by it.
Ray: Not impressed, just thought it was a crafty little way to stop the count. Winthorp and Brad are both at a plain-as-day disadvantage here, so both are going to have to do things appalling and unorthodox. You can only win this match by getting your opponents to not make the ring count, so the ref is kinda "fair game" if you wanna call it that.
Jimmy:... I just don't get you sometimes, Ray. I honestly don't.

With his ass salvaged now, Brad is spurred into a sprint around the ring, being chased by the two pissed off warriors he'd just screwed over. He makes it around to where Winthorp is, and Cameron, the fastest of them all, is right on Beauchamp's heels. Massey and Brad pass by Darkrites unabated, but Dominik is lured into a on-the-spot snare. The wily Dragon's Rage Champion explodes to his feet as Santiago is in full run, then uses his momentum against him by dipping down and draping the startled Solid Core Champion across his shoulders in a Fireman's Carry position. Then, the Goth from Milan turns so that his back is to the fans, and falls backwards, thrusting and depositing the Assassin ruthlessly into the steel partition that separates the pleased from the pain-stricken.

The barrier moves back, striking the laps and knees of those in the front row, but the affliction that greets the Lord of the Flies gives the crowd no room to complain about their steely brush with the railing. Several grunting yells resonate from Dom's lips as pain and a burning sensation ripples across the expanse his back, followed by a temporary numbness and tingling in his limbs and digits. Meanwhile, Santiago's protege, Cameron, makes the error that not only rookies, but veterans alike make - rolling into the ring after your opponent has just went in ahead of you. The Young Gun literally runs into the waiting arms of the bigger man. Beauchamp, with the expertise he is so noted for, quickly wraps his arms around Massey's in a bodylock position and flips him up and over with a snap fashion, violently bridging his own body so that Massey lands stiffly on his back. The damage done is instantly visible through a loud wail and grimaced expression plastered along Cameron's cute facial features.

Ray: And just like that, the tide turns. I told you something like this would happen if that beauty Brad got one of them alone.
Jimmy: That was the most savage belly to belly plex I've ever seen. But don't count Cameron out just yet. He's proved how tough he is by making it through the tournament. I think that Winthorp took a little out of himself with that huge Samoan Drop into the security railing.
Ray: He'll be fine, so will Dom, they're both tough as hell. Cameron though, although cute as hell, those guys he beat were not in any one of these guys' leagues. Cameron isn't Drew Breese, he can't pull off the upset with the talent set against him especially with Brad alone... just imagine when Winthorp's crazy ass gets ahold of him.

On the outside, Darkrites saunters up to a stand and shakes out the plethora of cobwebs before crouching in wait, fully aware of the ref being out and looking to take full advantage of it. His target, a big rival due to his victory over him in the past, slowly rises to the vertical base. In a bid for a small sliver of vindication, Winthorp measures things up flawlessly and side steps towards Dom suddenly. The Lord of the Flies is oblivious to what is going on and is swept away from the realm of consciousness by the tumultuous superkick that crashes into his chin - right on the button. Santiago's frame goes limply tumbling over the top of the security barrier, and makes a detour into the laps of his adoring fans before dropping fully to the gym floor. Chants of "Holy Shit"[/color] crank up, not only for the authority in which the hellish kick was landed, but also the sound that emitted from the point of impact - more of a gun shot sound than a boot to flesh one.

The master and pupil duo that was so dominant earlier on, are now looking in dire straights. While the world's most lovable Goth was dishing out the kick to Dominik, simultaneously inside the ring Brad was unknowingly one-upping him. Not allowing the kid any chance of a second wind, Beauchamp snatches him up forcefully, mumbling something about the shitty bathroom prank Cameron played on him a month ago. The Young Gun finds himself being double underhooked but can't do a thing about it. The former two-time ammy wrestling champion lifts Massey up and releases him as his back becomes parallell to the marching surface. Dropping to a knee along with the falling rookie, he sticks it out as a bit of an advance party to welcome the kid to a fresh new home filled with pain and despair. Cammy bounces off of his patella with a sickening crack and, although his mouth is agape as evidence of the unbearable pain circulating through him, nothing audible comes out.

Ray: Brad is just having fun now. If you're gonna be a funny guy and play pranks of people, you best be prepared for the backlash. Nice try, kid, thanks for playing - game over.
Jimmy: How many times do I have to tell you, Ray, DON'T count that kid out. He has alot of heart. He'll recover, I mean, hell, he is Dominik's student so you KNOW he is tough.
Ray: Dom is the reason that kid has made it this far so soon. One minute he was getting his ass kicked by Desperado, then joined up with Santiago, and presto-chango, he was suddenly in the Dragon's Rage tourney. And judging by the severity of that superkick by Darkrites, I don't foresee Dom making the save for Cammy.

Brad's eyes flicker left to right, catching the sight of Winthorp on the outside leaning over the railing, landing a few punches at what he assumes is Dominik. Seizing the obliterated Kid from Kansas up and into a Gorilla press over his head, the Epitome of Excellence walks towards the ropes nearest to Darkrite's area. The scene couldn't be any more inviting; Winthorp with his back turned towards the ring, Dom out like a light, and Cammy on the verge of involuntary flight. Brad launches the kid like a lawn dart at the Goth, chuckling slyly as the bodies make contact. Winthorp is sent sprawling against the steel, coming to a wedged rest between Cameron's body and the barrier.

A thought pops into Brad's head. Something he was going to employ later on in the match, but now, with things going so heavily in his favor, the arrogant one makes the decision to put it in motion. Rolling to the outside and yanking up the skirt of the ring, his clawing fingers rummage like a scavenger until, alas, he finds the satchel he had in mind. Pulling it out for the world to see how intelligent he is, Beauchamp proudly unties the knot and spills the contents onto the thin padding at his feet. He retrieves one last thing from the bag before discarding it. The spectators voice their extreme hate for the three sets of handcuffs that Brad picks up and tauntingly carries to his opponents. As if this was a stroll at the beach, he non-chalantly takes each man's hand, cuffs the wrist, then cuffs the other end to the upper section of the horizontal bar that travels across the entire barrier. With his marvelous plan unfolded for all to see, he gleefully receives the jeers and drinks being tossed at him upon rolling the ref, then himself back into the squared hell. The striped official conveniently starts coming to at the consoling hands of Brad Beauchamp, and the heat from the fans being livid over his actions increase 10 fold. Directing the groggy ref's attention to the three handcuffed men, Brad jumps up with a jubilant roar as the referee displays one finger, followed by a weak calling of, "ONE," to set forth the greatest highway robbery of a match since EVPW opened it's doors. More mocking from Beauchamp is viewed by way of a sarcatic display of the handcuff key that would set them free.

Ray: Oh yes, it is OVER! There's our new Dragon's Rage Champion. Look at him, Jimbo, he barely broke a sweat. Magnificent resources he went through to make sure he won. He has planned this out without a single hitch to it.
Jimmy: It can't end like this. I wanna see ANYBODY as the Dragon's Rage Champ than that arrogant prick!

TBC by opponents.

[verycreepyperson]

Posting.

[Winthorp Darkrites]

The three men on the outside struggle valiantly against the restraints of their handcuffs. All three men seem rather flustered and worried, but none more worried than the champion himself. Winthorp makes attempts to wrench his arm from his captive state, but the steel seems almost too much for him to break through. Beauchamp rests against the ropes, looking down at all of his adversaries and begins to laugh. The crowd react to the sudden outburst with a mighty jeer, as well as a chant of "Fuck you Beauchamp" that reaches a Crescendo.

The referee now on his fourth count, looks down at the situation with a grim expression on his face. Beauchamp turns around and snidely poses in the middle of the ring, flexing his toned muscles to the crowd and mouthing something that looks almost like he's saying "Bear witness to my Excellence". With Beauchamp preoccupied by his own vain activities, he fails to notice the figure moving amongst the crowd. The figure makes its way towards ringside and stands above The Goth, a pair of bolt cutters in hand. With the figure now being revealed as Martin Prince, the crowd is treated to a save. Prince parts the bolt cutters slowly and slams the two handles together, cutting through the steel chain easily. Winthorp looks up at his savior and smirks, bringing him right back into the game. While Winthorp delivers a thumbs up of appreciation to his friend, Prince takes the time to save the other two from a similar predicament. The Dragon's Rage champion slowly slides into the ring and then rolls back out as a way of restarting the referee's count. Once more, The Goth enters the ring to apprehend his foe with a thought-out sneak tactic.

Winthorp takes a step forward and dives towards Beauchamp's knee, dropping the two-time Amateur Wrestling champ with a chopblock. Winthorp rises to his feet with a grin stretched along his painted visage.

~ Ray White
"My god, it's been awhile since I've seen Winthorp grace the squared circle like he does. It's a fact that secures his position as The Menace.. The Menace from Venice!"

~ Jimmy Pate
"Ray, Winthorp is clearly noted as being from Milan."

~ Ray White
"Oh Jimmy, you're always ruining a good moment of mine."

~ Jimmy Pate
"Yeah, okay. Anyway, Winthorp Darkrites has resumed his campaign of dominance in the ring, after Martin Prince seemingly appeared at the right moment to save his colleague and his opponents with a pair of bolt cutters. Rather smart."

The Italian Goth looks over at the referee, who by now has reached his sixth count once more on the count-out for the other two. Thinking sporadically on the spot, Winthorp exits the ring and re-enters immediately again to restart it once more. Massey watches briefly at The Goth's actions and shakes his teacher's shoulder ferociously in an attempt to force an awakening on him. Santiago slowly stirs, his eyes unfocused as he looks up at Massey. The two exchange a silent conversation of eye contact and facial expressions before using the barrier as a way to get back onto their feet. Santiago and Massey both enter the ring and merely watch as Winthorp drives the sole of his boot into Beauchamp's chest cavity. A slight look of madness seen in his eyes as he continues driving his boot into Beauchamp's chest, tendering his flesh with each stomp.

Santiago and Massey exchange another look before taking charge towards Winthorp's general direction. The teacher and student combination both raise an arm, driving it directly into Winthorp's chest and sending him crashing down into the mat with a combination clothesline. The duo turn their heads towards Beauchamp and begin focusing their attention on him. Dominik grabs Beauchamp and pulls him by the hair, forcing the two time amateur wrestling champion into a standing position. Massey steps back from Brad and awaits the signal from Santiago, who drops to a knee and sweeps Beauchamp off of his feet. At the exact moment, Massey raises a leg and drives his foot into Brad's chin with a super kick. The combination of super kick and legsweep is met by an applause of approval by the crowd.

~ Jimmy Pate
"A strong display of teamwork shown by Massey and Santiago, it looks like Massey wants to prove without a doubt, that he would be suited best as his partner."

~ Ray White
"Who WOULDN'T want to be partnered up with that fine specimen. My god, the Solid Core title around his waist just gets me.. solid."

~ Jimmy Pate
"Any other person would be sick of such comments, I however, have learnt to block them out."

The duo seem to have taken a majority of the control over the match, having just taken down two major obstacles in the way of their prize. Santiago turns to look at his 'apprentice' with a smirk and nods at him, marking yet another combination of moves. Dominik reaches forward and grabs a lengthy portion of The Goth's hair, pulling him up onto his feet. The Hardcore Assassin pushes Winthorp back against the ropes and irish whips him into the opposing side. As Darkrites rebounds off of the side, the duo closer towards each other to initiate their third combination. Winthorp focuses and slides under both pairs of legs, bringing confusion into the mix. The Goth quickly recuperates and rolls up to his feet, charging forward and driving his shoulder into Santiago's back. Dom is forced forward and collides with Massey, sending both men stumbling and Massey through the middle rope.

Winthorp takes advantage of the isolation of Dom's student by palming Santiago on the shoulder and forcing a turn around. The Italian Goth drives his knee into the abdominal region of the Solid Core Champion and is now grasping The Hardcore Assassin's head. The crowd begin to cheer frantically as they begin to witness the beginning of the end for Santiago. However, Winthorp releases him and takes a step back, looking at his foe with intense determination. Before the Goth is able to react though, he is met by a pair of boots that hit him on the side. Winthorp hits the canvas with a thick thud and remains face down in the dusty mat. Beauchamp stands dominantly over his Italian foe, raising an arm of triumph over himself. Brad takes a step back to bring forth the oncoming demise of his opponent, his eyes glistening with malice.

Beauchamp takes a step forward and raises his right leg slightly, hoping to punt Winthorp in the face. Winthorp looks up in time and pushes himself up to avoid the ferocious kick while Brad stumbles forward. Beauchamp stops but fails to realize Santiago, who stands vertically and jumps up into the air. Beauchamp's expression changes once more as he finds himself being caught by Dominik and being brought crashing into the canvas with the world-wide known move.

~ Jimmy Pate
"SKO! Santiago hits the SKO on Beauchamp and brings that snide and cocky bastard into the mat. That'll serve him right."

~ Ray White
"But think of Beauchamps's elite status in the wrestling world compared to everyone elses. It's almost like comparing Martin Prince to Vladimir Strife for god sake."

Dom gets back up to his feet and turns to his side, Cameron Massey standing by his side once more to complete the duo. They both turn to face the now standing Goth, both exchanging smirks of confidence as they advance towards him. Winthorp thinks smartly and moves towards Massey, stepping to his side and driving his boot into the side of his knee. Massey drops to a kneeling position as Dom turns to face him, allowing Winthorp to cock back his fist and drive it into Dom's right cheek. The Hardcore Assassin stumbles back a few paces, giving Winthorp yet another advantage over the duo.

The Italian Goth now has Massey's head resting between his thighs, wrapping both his arms around his waistline. The Goth prepares for a lift, but a sudden surge of movement from Massey forces a release. The Goth finds himself lifted up into the air and crashing into the canvas, the match becoming more intense as each superstars takes in more pain by the second. Dom advances towards Winthorp and motions to Massey to put an end to the champ. Santiago lifts Winthorp up and forces him onto a vertical base once more, with Massey standing next to his teacher once more. The duo jump up into the air and both grab the champion by the head, the crowd cheering ferociously as the dual SKO is made.

Both men crash to the mat, Winthorp not seen among them. In fact, Winthorp is seen standing directly over the two, with his familiar look of determination. The Goth stands and awaits Massey's recovery, who slowly stumbles back up to his feet. Winthorp swipes his arm and catches Massey by the hair, The Goth turns and makes his way towards the ropes with Massey in his hand. Massey is sent directly over the top rope and crashing into the padded surface outside. The crowd ushering a gasp of shock with the landing.

Winthorp turns gracefully on the spot and faces Santiago, who seems almost fatigued after his effort in the ring. The Goth raises his left leg and drives the point of his knee into the midsection of the Solid Core champion, grasping his head once more. The Dragon's Rage champion jumps up with Dominik's head in hand and allows himself to collide with the canvas, sending a shockwave through to Santiago. The point of the knee acting as the conductor of such energy. Santiago is sent flying back and crashing into the canvas, his eyes rolling back into his head as he lays spread eagle.

~ Jimmy Pate
"A shocking Cliffhanger by Winthorp Darkrites sends Santiago down like a fly. Such brutality for such a thing like the Dragon's Rage title."

~ Ray White
"Like barbarians fighting over a piece of meat."

The referee rushes to the side and looks at Massey, who appears to not be responding. He therefore throws up his hand to reveal his count of "One" as Winthorp falls to his knees. The fatigue beginning to take it's toll on his body as the match continues.

TBC;