ME: Serial vs. K. Stalker ©

[Serial]

Morna: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is for the Eagle Vision Professional Wrestling Imperial Championship.

With the rest of the amazing pay per view complete, now comes the time for main event of the evening. To the liveliness of the crowd, the famous Ranchera song “El Rey” from the legendary Vicente Fernandez begins to filter through the arena sound system. Even with the crowd’s optimism for the challenger, those who think the luchadore has a chance this evening are far and few between.

Aiding in the Mexican theme are the arena lights transition from it’s simple hue to a spectacle of red, white, and green. Before long, the challenger to the Imperial title splits through the curtains, to an upbeat retort from the crowd. The luchadore Serial, decked out in his signature mask etched in black with gold trim, makes his way to the ring. The luchadore exchanges hand slaps with the nearby crowd as he draws closer to his chance at the world championship.

Morna: Now making his way to the ring, weighing in at ninety five point two kilograms, and standing at one hundred and eighty point three four pounds… Fighting out of Reseda, California, he is the challenger… He is SSSSEEEERRRRIIIIAAALLL!!!

Serial springs into the ring on cue before climbing onto the nearest turnbuckle, raising his arm high into the air, to a deafening ovation from the spectators.

Pate: If I were a betting man, I’d say the thought of betting on Serial would have to cross my mind. He is such a heavy underdog coming into this contest, that if I bet a few bucks on him and he did win, I’d be a millionaire.

White: Serial is coming in with a lot of momentum, but Kasabian has defeated men who were bigger and better than Serial. Not to be critical, but I don’t think anyone believes that Serial can win it tonight.

Pate: Well, this may be his chance to make believers out of everyone.

Serial waits patiently in the corner, as he awaits the man standing in the way of his dream.

OOC: Good Luck Kasabian.

[Deleted]

Kasabian Stalker's Contract

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Serial stands in the center of the ring, going through the last of his warm-up in waiting for the reigning Champion. The fans around the arena, knowing who is scheduled to appear next, begin to share their views on the current Champion. Throughout the arena, signs depicting the demise of the Pervert are made present, while the noise level begins to pick up. Almost as if it had been waiting for a certain decibel reading around the arena to begin, when the din becomes almost unbearable, a familiar sound echoes out through the PA speakers. Heavy breathing is heard throughout the arena, like that which would be heard down the phone of a creepy prank caller.



”Come With Me…”[/i][/color]

A cheesy synthesiser sounds out the familiar music of “Bones” by the Killers, while the lights around the arena flash out a spastic flurry of purple, white and green lighting in rapid succession. Soon, the lights around the arena dim and the TitanTron flicks into life, showing the name of the wrestler for which the song has begun to play.

'Kasabian Stalker'[/i][/b]

The words, placed center screen amidst a black background , rotate around to show the reverse, then back toward the front of the screen again. As the face of the words come around for the second time, the text had changed, now reading:

'The Pervert'[/i][/b]

”And his opponent tonight...
He hails from Chicago, Illinois and weighs in tonight at Two Hundred and Forty Pounds.
Still undefeated and the current EVPW Imperial Champion. The Pervert, Kasabian Stalker![/i]

As the lyrics for the song begin to echo out, the video on the jumbo screen transitions to show a collection of disturbing images. Stalker's video does not show images of his in-ring prowess, but moreso his voyeuristic skills. The video shows him in a number of controversial positions, peeping in locker rooms, looking up the skirts of young ladies in the supermarket and every second or third image is superimposed with "The Pervert" bringing an rather familiar pair of women's panties to his face, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. In all of the shots, the same euphoric smile is worn across his face, the smile of one that is up to no-good, and loving it.

"Oh, god… Here we go again. Hopefully tonight is the night that Stalker is put in his place."
"Oh, he knows his place, it’s on top… I like that."
"No surprises there Ray, you sick bastard. Kasabian Stalker has been parading around here for months now, and nobody has been able to get a read on his, er, unique offense."
"And you think Serial is the man to do the job?"
"Sure, why not. He can’t do any worse than the rest of the roster, can he?"[/i]

"We took a back road.
We're gonna look at the stars.
We took a back road in my car.
Down to the ocean,
it’s only water and sand
And in the ocean we'll hold hands.

But I don't really like you,
apologetically dressed in the best,
but on a heartbeat glide.
Without an answer,
the thunder speaks for the sky,
and on the cold, wet dirt I cry.

And on the cold, wet dirt I cry."[/i][/color]

While Kasabian makes his way to the ring, Lizzie Morna remains professional, burying down the disgust she holds inside for Kasabian. He ignores the fans on his long trudge to the ring, looking as if the “End of Innocence” set-up is just another show. He wears a scowl of disgust on his face as he walks, making a beeline for the attractive woman in the center of the squared circle. He is quick to take the stairs, brushing back his imaginary hair and running a hand over his well oiled scalp. Stepping inside, he steps right over to Lizzie Morna, who desperately seeks for an escape route to rid herself of the Perverted presence of the EVPW Champion. Her eyes scream of violation as he runs his hands over her shoulder and down her back, before trailing over to his own button-up trackpants. He takes a single step backwards, just enough for Lizzie to gain a full view of him before tearing the pants off, much like a male stripper would. It is all Morna can do to avoid throwing up as she looks away, leaving Stalker to de-robe theatrically in the center of the ring, tossing his discarded trackpants and tank-top to the not so eagerly, waiting official.

"Don't You wanna come with me?
Don't you wanna feel my bones, on your bones
It's only natural..."

TBC Serial
OOC: Good luck to you too man

[Deleted]

As the pair begin circling around each other, the crowd begin to voice their enthusiasm toward the main event. The luchador, eager to get the match underway, is first to act. He moves in on Stalker, using his speed to dash across the ring at the Champion. Kasabian easily ducks under the first running clothesline, only to be caught on the rebound as the lightning quick luchador springboards off the ropes to return. Serial swings his feet around to catch the 'Champion of Controversy' with a springboarded kick to the chin, knocking Stalker backward, but without enough force to knock him off his feet. Stalker quickly shakes off the dazed effects of the kick to the head, targeting his sights back on the lightweight challenger. By the time the Champion had managed to locate the 'Immigration Sensation', Serial was already launching into a new wave of attack. Serial had hurled himself through the air at his opponent, flinging him over his hips and to the mat with an Arm Drag that sends Stalker sprawling out onto the canvas.

Eager to keep the pace up, Serial is quick to leap to his feet and charge off at the ropes once more. Before Stalker can so much as drag himself back up to his feet, his opponent was already Springboarding himself off the ropes and hurtling back through the air at him. Again, Serial brings his legs around in front of him, this time flattening Stalker back down onto the mat with a Springboard Leg Drop, catching the Pervert across the back of the head and shoulders in the process. The crowd rally behind the lightweight bundle of energy, egging the 'Protested Hero' on, if for nothing else than the fact that he is facing Kasabian Stalker

"It is always a bit of a gamble with Serial to see which way the fans will swing with him. So far tonight, he has looked impressive enough to win over the fans."

"He is always impressive in the ring JP. Serial's support comes primarily from whoever he is facing off against. In this case, it is the hated Kasabian Stalker, so naturally the fans are going to back him."

"When the alternative is cheering for that sick freak of a man, I can hardly blame them."

"I can't see why people don't like Stalker, honestly. Everybody has skeletons in their closets, it just so happens that Kasabian has his closet doors wide open for everybody to see."

Serial's Springboard Leg Drop had knocked the wind out of Kasabian's sails, and the air out of his lungs. The lightning fast luchador had not let the 'Perverted One' retaliate, keeping the pressure on him throughout the match. At a pace that seemed simply too fast for Stalker to keep up with, Serial had managed to find a loop hole in Stalker's seemingly impenetrable defenses. His speed had broken down the barrier, and now Serial was hammering home the blows. In keeping with the style of the match so far, Serial assists his opponent to his feet, before flinging Stalker at the nearest ring ropes. Instead of waiting for Kasabian, the luchador busies himself by charging off in the opposite direction, building up his own speed by rebounding off the ring ropes on the far side of the ring to his opponent. The pair seem destined to collide in a game of human chicken, to which Serial would undoubtedly come off second best. However, instead of careering straight into Stalker, the 'Immigration Sensation' veers off to the right, using the ropes to launch himself into the air. As he sails through the air, he flicks his body around and catches Stalker by the neck, flipping him upside down and drilling him into the mat in a Springboard Hurricanrana that receives a roar of approval from the fans around the arena. Powerless to combat the speed of his opponent, Stalker is once again at the mercy of his smaller, faster and lighter opponent.

"Oh no, Come on Kass... Get up!"

"Kass? You have your own pet name for the guy and everything Ray? Really?"

"I have his posters all over my bedroom walls, and every piece of merchandising that EVPWshop.com has put out with his name on it too... I'm allowed to have my favorites right?"

"Good to see you uphold your impartialities in calling the match Ray.
Now, back down here on planet Earth... Kasabian Stalker seems to be a little worse for wear after that stunning Springboard Hurricanrana by the lightning fast Serial..."

Feeling the momentum coarse through his veins, aided by the roar of the fans' approval, Serial points to the sky. As the crowd rise in acceptance of his decision, Kasabian Stalker begins to stir, ever so slightly on the canvas. It is not until Serial reaches the top of the turnbuckle that he notices the movement, and by then, too late to turn back. Throwing caution to the wind, Serial leaps off the top turnbuckle, turns himself into a Missile Dropkick position and aims for a spot in the center of Stalker's body as the Pervert rises to his feet. Seeing his opponent hurtling toward him, Stalker has little time to react to the Missile Dropkick. His instincts and reactions prove true, as he catches the lightweight luchador in mid-air, spins him around and drills him into the canvas with a bone-crushing Spine Buster. The move seems to not only deflate the momentum of Serial's attack, but seems to drive a blade into the hearts of every fan in attendance. As a collective sigh of disappointment rings out through the arena, a maniacal grin begins to form on Stalker's face.

His opponent, back arched in pain, is in no position to fight off the advances of a Perverted Champion straight away, and that is exactly what Stalker demands of him. The 'Champion of Controversy' grabs Serial's mask with one hand, much to the protests of the luchador himself, before sliding his other hand down the sweat riddled chest of his opponent. The hand continues to slide downward, working its way over his tights and in between his legs. With the two handed grasp of Serial's two most sensitive areas, Stalker clean and jerks his opponent into the air, placing him atop his shoulders in a Fireman's Carry. As the crowd begin to voice their dislikes toward the Champion, Stalker prepares his opponent for the dismount.

"It is clear, Kasabian Stalker does not care what people think of him. He does not care what the rules or etiquette are, and nothing is taboo for him. I'm starting to feel like some of his behavior in the ring needs to be controlled... He can't go around groping his opponents Ray."

"Well, why the hell not? I don't have a problem with it!"

"That only makes my point more valid Ray."

Through his mask, Serial hurls strings of violated insults at the Pervert in Spanish, while Stalker simply smiles a sadistic smile. With Serial still yelling abuse at his opponent, Stalker flicks the 'Immigration Sensation' sideways off his shoulders, before dropping to one knee. The Pervert guides the descending body of Serial, letting gravity drop his opponent onto his waiting knee. The top of Serials back is driven right into the point of Stalker's knee, right in between the shoulder blades. As if he had been shot in the head, Serial's insults are cut off mid-sentence, replaced with an eerie silence from the mouth of the masked luchador. Serial rolls over three times with the momentum the fall had given him, before coming to rest under the ring ropes, face down, his right arm dangling off the side of the ring, lifeless.

In turn, Stalker rises to his fee, running his hands seductively down the side of his own body, wiping the mixture of baby oil and sweat away. With his hands sodden with the potent mixture, he brings them up to his mouth, licking the palms of his own hands, much to the disgust of the fans at ringside. A hearty bout of dry retching from fans closest to the Pervert follows Stalker's unique posing, before Stalker lets his eyes turn back to his opponent, his mind turning back to the match at hand.

TBC Serial

[Serial]

Kasabian hurdles over his foe, before dragging the remains of his foe to his feet. The fun and games that came from Stalker are long gone, and the champion shows that playtime is over when he whims his aggressive side with a heavy Roundhouse Kick, busting away at the sternum of Serial! The velocity behind the blow is more than enough to crumble Serial to the canvas back to square one, in essence killing any hope the fans may have had for a new champion with a single strike, at least for the time being. Again, the Pervert goes through with the intricacies of scraping his opponent off the canvas before shoving him against the nearest ropes, thrusting him off the cables and sending him running like water in a bath tub with an Irish Whip! On the recoil, Serial bursts off the ropes, but does not garner the level of speed that would make the Mach 5 blush; instead the Perverted Champion stops Serial’s trail dead in his tracks with a vicious Clothesline that sends the Immigration Sensation to the canvas harder than a priest on a playground!

Pate: When Kasabian gets started, it’s all in overdrive, there is no slowing him down.

White: Kasabian is only three inches taller than Serial, but he outweighs him by over thirty pounds. That’s not just any thirty pounds either, that’s thirty pounds of pure muscle and power!

Even the mask covering Serial’s face can not hide the pain throbbing behind the fibers. As he remains incapacitated on his back, the luchadore rubs his palm against his hidden face, perhaps in some Mexican ritual that may (or may not) reduce the stinging sensation. Sidetracked with the torment running through his visage, Serial does not notice his opponent circling around him like a vulture going in for a feast. Eventually Stalker attempts to devour the remains of his adversary by entangling his leg around the left arm of Serial before flipping his enemy onto his stomach. With a Shoulderlock in place and both his arms remaining unoccupied, Kasabian searches for more ways to have fun. The Pervert gathers some enjoyment by molding the legs of the Protested Hero into a figure four before lifting into a deadly and unique submission. The Texas Cloverleaf and Shoulderlock combination force Serial to reconsider his thoughts of becoming Imperial Champion, as he dreadfully seeks the ropes, the pain exacerbating with each passing moment.

Pate: Kasabian has a Cloverleaf with the arm trapped! Serial has to get to the ropes with the right arm!

White: And with his entire body scissored like that, that’s even more pressure that Serial has to exert to get to that bottom rope!

As Serial struggles towards the salvation that comes in the form of a colorful cable, the crowd once again gets behind their hero. While Kasabian can easily outmuscle the luchadore, he can not overwhelm the voices of the capacitated crowd who in unison root for Serial to prevail. The undying support of the crowd could have helped the protagonist reach the ropes with even a planet on his back, so the two hundred and forty pounds of mere mortal is not too much for the SoCal Killa, who inevitably reaches the ropes! The official barges into the fray immediately requesting that Stalker break his submission hold, to which he obliges after a few supplementary moments of increased pressure, a desperate attempt to persuade Serial into giving up. Although the submission is broken and Serial’s shot at the title is still live, it is not without its costs. The human anatomy can only take so much before it just shuts down, and well Serial’s internal computer may be but a few clicks from turning off. Acting as if he has the proverbial ‘mouse’ in his hand, Kasabian grabs hold of Serial by his mask, lifting him by his tradition before tucking his head under an arm of Serial and lifting him towards the stars. Stalker snaps Serial onto the canvas from the Belly to Back arrangement with a Greco-Roman Back Drop! Kasabian follows up with a lateral press; the pin attempt forcing the official to count numbers like dominoes.

OOOOONNNNEEEEE!!!!

TTTTWWWWWOOOOO!!!!

Pate: AND SERIAL GETS HIS SHOULDER UP! Somehow, some way…

Kasabian does not even take time to wonder in amazement as to how Serial was able to kick out. With the luchadore elevated to a seated arrangement, the Pervert stalks to a standing state of affairs before unleashing a bone shattering Soccer Kick to the unguarded back of Serial, not wasting a single motion, as the cliché goes. While Serial grabs hold of his traumatized back region, Kasabian reduces himself to ridiculing and taunting his hurt foe, who at the moment tries to pick himself to his feet. Seeing Kasabian make a mockery of him, Serial bolts to his feet, playing right into the hand of Kasabian who immediately shoots in and locks his hands around the knees of his lighter foe, rushing him into the nearest corner! Once his opponent is trapped against a triad of turnbuckles, Kasabian unleashes a flurry of Knife Edged Chops and Forearm Smashes, until his Mexican foe is reduced to saturating down against the bottom buckle. Releasing a heavy sigh following his furious combination, Stalker circles the ring before stopping at the opposite end of the ring from his compadre. The Perverted One allows his opponent to climb to his feet before bull-rushing him once again, this time attacking his dazzled foe with a Diving Forearm Smash! Pressing Serial deeper into the corner with his wallop, Kasabian bounces off his foe before dashing towards the parallel set of ropes, and rebounding with his momentum tenfold. The possible force gathered by Kasabian is in vain however, as Serial meets him halfway across the ring, negating Stalker’s preemptive attack with a Forearm of his own! The champion’s head tilts backwards, the only kink in the champ’s armor, before Stalker responds with a Spinning Heel Kick which catches Serial off guard, and connects directly in the bread (perhaps tortilla) basket of the luchadore. Immediately the challenger is forced to curve forward, his wind possibly kicked out of him! Again, Kasabian hits the ropes before rushing towards his bent opponent, and again Kasabian’s plans are thwarted, as Serial springs from his sloped arrangement and into an Enziguri which slaps the Mexican heel across the temporal bone of the Perverted One’s skull, dropping him like a sack of potatoes. The challenger isn’t far off in the champion’s trail, as they both collapse upon the canvas slab.

Pate: Both men are down!

White: This could be a turning point in the match-up! Whoever gets to his feet first, will have the advantage! What does Serial have left after being controlled by Kasabian for the latter part of this contest?

As if he were answering White’s question, Serial begins to stir to his feet as Stalker does his best to get to his feet as well. Being the more seasoned ring veteran, the Pervert crawls to an edge of the ring before using the ring ropes like rongs to a ladder. The Protested Hero voyages to his feet without any sort of aide, yet still manages to make it onto the balls of his heels at practically the same time as the champion. Thinking he has more in his gas tank, Kasabian rushes down his foe, running directly into a Fireman’s Carry from Serial, who was able to duck under and scoop his foe like Hagen Daz ice cream. However, the SoCal Killa’ can not muster the strength to keep Stalker on his shoulders, allowing the Chicago Creep to slip behind him! The agility of the challenger comes into play as he reverses what seems to be a Waistlock from Stalker, before anything can be locked into place. Now located behind Kasabian, Serial presses both men to the nearest set of cables, before Serial pulls back with an O’ Connor Roll, which does not end with a pin attempt. Instead, both warriors roll back to the original arrangement, standing in the center of the ring, with Serial behind Stalker. From the belly to back arrangement, the Protested Hero fidgets his head under an arm of the Pervert and lifts him into the air before running to the neighboring edge of the ring, tossing Kasabian over the roped barricade and hurling him to the outside into a pool of padded concrete!

White: GOOD GOD! IS KASABIAN ALL RIGHT?!?!

Pate: Stalker gets deposited hard on the floor, almost overshooting the padding, which could have resulted in serious injury!

White: That padding doesn’t reduce much of that collision! Stalker could still possibly be injured!

The challenger looks to the outside in sympathy for nothing more than a mere moment, before planning his next maneuver. Serial bolts to the opposite set of ropes before rebounding in a direct path towards Kasabian, who obliviously tries to gather himself on the outside. Stalker’s labors to get to a perpendicular collection is futile as the Aerodynamic Assassin charges over the ropes with a Somersault Plancha, which connects with its target knocking the pair into the steel guard rail before they fade to the concrete floor, just inches away from the front row fans! After both gladiators remain motionless for the moments that follow the Tope con Giro, it Is the Immigration Sensation who plucks to his feet first, a new showing of confidence following his aerial display. Serial does not let the momentum shift get to his head however, as he quickly grabs Kasabian by his trunks and head before flinging him beneath the bottom rope, and into the ring! The challenger does not rush into the ring to follow his foe, but instead slowly climbs the apron, slapping a nearby top turnbuckle to hype up the crowd as he prepares for another skyward spectacle. Stalker lifts to his feet once more, more than likely out of instinct than strategy, as Serial springs onto the top rope before launching off with a Springboard Crossbody which unites the warriors before spiraling them to the mat; Kasabian being sandwiched between a mat and a Mexican. In other words a pin attempt…

OOOOOONNNNNNEEEEE!!!!

TTTTTWWWWWWOOOOO!!!!!

Pate: KASABIAN POWERS OUT! WE WERE ONE SECOND AWAY FROM HAVING A NEW CHAMPION!

White: Well I think Serial realized that if this contest is a wrestling match, or even an all out brawl, Kasabian has the advantage, but if he can keep this fight in the air and quicken the tempo, he may have a shot at winning the Imperial titl!

Serial shrugs his head in disappointment as Kasabian rolls onto his side, instinctively trying to avoid any further pin attempts. The Protested Hero does not grief in his failed attempt for too long, before he elevates to his feet. The Immigration Sensation grabs the Pervert by his head before hauling him up, trying to move one step closer to becoming the champion. The current champion remains one step ahead though, and he does so by using his head. A Jumping Headbutt rattles the challenger, who woozily takes a step back. Serial is not fast enough to avoid his foe on this occasion however, as the Pervert grabs hold of his smaller prey and cranks him upwards a few notches, before slamming him spine first upon the canvas with a Sit-Out High Angle Spinebuster! Effectively killing not only the momentum of the challenger, but perhaps also the challenger himself. Kasabian does not have the energy to rotate the helpless body of Serial ninety degrees and try a pin attempt. Instead the Stalker pushes the cadaver of his antagonist off of him, and uses this opening for a quick breather, and time to rethink his strategy.

White: You don’t have to like Kasabian, and God knows a lot of people don’t, but if he gets by this challenge in Serial, you have to have a higher level of respect for him. I mean he is undefeated for a reason.

Pate: That’s a big if, I mean Serial has shown that he can handle Stalker when he utilizes his superior speed, but let’s say Stalker does get past Serial… There’s still many guys in the back who will be clamoring for their shot at the Imperial title!

[Deleted]

The pace of the match had slowed somewhat, as the Main Event wears on. Weathering the worst that their respective opponent had thrown at them, both men are slow to make their feet. In the end, the pair wind up pulling and pushing against the other in order to reach the all important vertical base. The result is that both men drag themselves to their feet at the same time, while locked into a grapple with the other. Being bigger, stronger and generally more of an asshole than his luchador opponent, Kasabian is quick to work over the smaller man, planting a sneaky thumb to Serial's eye and making it look like his hand had slipped while the pair were locked together. The 'Protested Hero' busies himself inspecting his now bloodshot eye, checking to see if Stalker had managed to rip out the eyeball or not. As he does so, Stalker uses his strength to his advantage, easily lifting the lightweight challenger above his head with one hand on Serial's chest, the other grasping the man's mask. With the 'Immigration Sensation' howling in protest along the way, Kasabian Stalker takes three large steps toward the turnbuckle and tosses his opponent head first into the waiting steel.

Serial is lucky enough to bounce off the turnbuckle and land on his feet after the Snake Eyes hits home. Drunkenly, the luchador staggers away from the corner, directly back into the outstretched arms of the 'Champion of Controversy'. Stalker wraps his lighter opponent up into a Cradle, an almost embrace-like position. Serial is wrapped up tighter than a bug in a rug, his arms and legs both surplus to requirements and unable to move. Stalker holds him in the sadistic embrace for a number of drawn out, home-erotic seconds, long enough to cause a hush of uncomfortable silence across the arena. When the crowd is quiet enough to allow the full impact of Serial's skull crashing into the mat, Kasabian swings his body backward and executes the Cradle DDT without remorse.

"That, I think, was the hottest few seconds in the history of sports entertainment... Hands down!"

"Not another word from your mouth Ray. There is far, far too much gay energy in this arena right now. Let's just hope that Serial's head bouncing off the mat signals a change shall we?"

"A change, perhaps. Serial could be eating meals through a straw from now on... That'd be a change, right?"[/i][/b]

Feeling the momentum of the match shift in his favor, Kasabian Stalker springs quickly to his feet. His sick smile is once more drawn across his face, like a child at Christmas time; one who had just gotten a magnifying glass from Santa and found out how to set fire to ants with it. For what he hopes to be the last time Stalker hoists his opponent back to his feet, before driving his head in between his own legs. With a smug confidence, Stalker prepares Serial for his patented 'Stalker's Slam', yanking his arms up behind his back into a double chicken-wing. As to be expected, Stalker wastes a few moments in showing his grasp of sign language to the fans at ringside before lifting the luchador into the air, so that his doubled over body becomes almost vertical. As he goes through the motions of his finisher, Serial works his own body into a position where he can shift his own bodyweight. The lightweight throws his entire body backward while in Stalker's grasp, enough to cause the 'Pervert' to over-extend himself. As Kasabian staggers backward, Serial flings himself out of his assailant's grasp.

With nobody to hold him in place in mid-air, Serial begins falling to the canvas once more. On his way down however, the 'Immigration Sensation' catches Stalker's head between his legs and whirls around him in a Tilt-a-Whirl Hurricanrana. Before Kasabian can even figure out which way up is, he finds himself on his back on the mat, the once silent and disgusted crowd seemingly finding their voices once more. His opponent, in turn, had kipped up quickly onto his feet once more and was proceeding to launch himself off the ring ropes again. Serial springboards off the ropes nearest the downed 'Pervert', Moonsaulting off the middle rope before landing plush over the torso of the battered Champion. With the wind knocked out of him, Stalker once again seems to be at the peril of his sprightly opponent.

"What a reversal by the 'Protested Hero'. Stalker had this match signed, sealed and delivered, and Serial just snatched it out from under his nose."

"I'm sure that Stalker still doesn't know what exactly has happened. He looks like he doesn't even know where he is right now."

"And Serial will capitalize on that confusion. He has to Ray.[/i]

True to Jimmy Pate's prediction, Serial's eyes flicker with delight as he looks at the situation before him. With the crowd cheering him on, he points to the sky, as if to ask permission to take to the air. The capacity crowd roar in approval of the luchador risking his all, if it only means the end of the reign of Perversion that they had endured. As quick as a hiccup, Serial is on his feet once more and eying up the turnbuckle. With three quick steps and not bothering to use his hands for support, Serial clambers up the turnbuckle till he is standing on the top, looking out over the crowd. Adjusting the mask on his face, the lightweight high-flier signals to the crowd with a half-wave, half-salute before taking to the air.

The crowd wait with bated breath as Serial Moonsaults and Corkscrews through the air at the same time. His body seems to move impossibly through the air as it lines up its descent. Stalker is still on dream street when the move hits, Serial landing plush across his torso once more. As soon as the Chicano Genocide hits, the crowd erupt into a hearty round of cheering, chanting and high-fives, while the 'Protested Hero' takes the time to hook Stalker's leg and position him for the pin again.

"1..."

"2..."[/i]

The ref's hand once more almost grazes the canvas before the Perverted Champion kicks out of the pin. He does so without as much gusto as last time, but the result is the same. The referee is forced to, once again, hold two fingers up in the air and direct them in Serial's direction. Dejected and unbelieving, Serial simply sits on the canvas next to his battered opponent. He adjusts his mask, trying to fathom the fact that the match is still underway and that Stalker had managed to kick out of the best he could have thrown at him.

"Kasabian Stalker kicks out again, and from a Chicano Genocide! The question remains, what the hell does somebody have to do to beat this guy?"

"Oh, I can think of a few things that I'd like to try JP. I don't know if they will help me beat him, but they sure will be fun!"

"I think I'm going to be sick..."[/i]

TBC Serial

[Serial]

Serial looks to the sky, beginning not only to doubt his faith, but himself. Definite signs of frustration become obvious from the EVPW rookie, who begins to pick himself off of the canvas, as his opponent remains glued to the canvas, Chicano Genocide’s lingering effects taking their tow on Kasabian’s framework. With a glazed look in his eyes, practically drooling, and on the midst of fainting, Serial finally arrives to his feet, nodding his head, trying to revive a sense of confidence within himself. Slowly but surely, the Protested Hero stumbles towards his adversary, curving over him before bracing him to his feet by his head. Serial places one hand on the chin of Stalker before allowing the lifeless body of Stalker to dribble to a kneeling arrangement. The SoCal Killa’ looks to finish the job by stepping in reverse before shooting forward with a Superkick, the target being the jaw of Kasabian. However before the death of the Pervert era can come to fruition, Kasabian musters up the vigor to place his hands in front of his face and catch the throttling heel of Serial, much to the dismay of the crowd.

Pate: Kasabian probably saw his life flash before him!

White: You can never ever, by any means ever, count the champion out.

With a foot in hand, Kasabian has a new lease on life, and another chance to prove why he is the best Eagle Vision has to offer. The Pervert spins the enslaved leg of Serial’s inwards, throwing the luchadore off balance and twisting him in the air, before sending him into a wreckage as he hits the canvas in a turning motion. The Dragon Screw legwhip while effective in reversing the roles of predator and prey, is nothing more than a precursor for the champion, whom intelligently maintains control of Serial’s leg before clutching the opposite crutch of the Mexican American. Stalker pretzels the legs of Serial into a figure four, before flipping the anatomy of Serial into a prone arrangement and locking in a Texas Cloverleaf! As Kasabian stifles backward in order to apply more pressure to the lower back of his enemy, his look of determination tells the story. The fans have come to expect moans and groans from the Pervert, but these are vastly different. These noises are coming from the aching pain that is triumphant in his anatomy, especially as he tries to submit his scrappy challenger. The champ’s face of grit can only be matched by the fortitude shown by Serial, who immediately seeks for the ropes, but as he digs deep into the back of his mask, he can not help but tease the idea of submitting. Still though, the deed of tapping out has not occurred, as Serial pushes upward, trying to relieve the stress on his back.

Pate: Serial is trying to branch out towards the ring ropes!

White: Do you hear these fans? They can sense that Serial may be finished, they’re trying to give it all they have for their hero! But will it be in vain?

What was probably meant to be a rhetorical question, may soon have an answer as Kasabian lifts almost to a complete vertical arrangement before dragging the party back to the center of the ring, eradicating any effort previously done by the challenger. The spectators begin to lose hope, but just as they do, Serial shows his golden heart once more as he lifts off the canvas and hand walks towards the ring ropes, which all of a sudden do not seem so far off! Before Serial can save his aspirations from being murdered, Kasabian tries to clinch the victory by anti-climatically moving towards the center once more. While Stalker tries to configure himself over Serial yet again, the luchadore sees his small window of opportunity, and like any potential champion, Serial takes advantage of the circumstances. The luchadore swiftly twists onto his back, throwing a wrench in the Chicago Creep’s plans for victory, before catching Stalker by surprise and reaching upward, clutching a handful of Stalker’s short hair and rolling back into an arrangement that leaves both of Stalker’s shoulders against the canvas, a Small Package! The official throws himself into position, like a pornstar ready to make a dollar, before throttling his hand into the air…

OOOOOONNNNNNNNEEEEEEE!!!!

TTTTTTTWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOO!!!!!

Pate: NO HE KICKED OUT! ONLY TWO!!!

White: And the fight continues, even though both men look like they’ve been in a car wreck!

With both men surviving the opposite’s attempts at victory, the pair scramble towards opposite ends of the ring, each looking for aid in the process to their feet. Inevitably, both reach a bottom turnbuckle, before scaling the corner as if it were Mount Everest, slowly and with caution. Practically simultaneous in the arrival to a vertical arrangement, each release a form of deep exhales before exiting their corner and turning towards their foe, for what could be the final exchange. Like heavyweight boxers chiming into the twelfth and final round, the competitors give it all they have! The fight continues with Serial charging towards Kasabian, in an attempt to overwhelm his muscular foe with speed. The Pervert, knowing full well that he cannot juke out the much more agile luchadore, Stalker simply lurches back into his corner, grasping the top ropes before pulling his feet into the air. The Protested Hero eats a pair of boots, and while this would be a great climax for Rex Ryan, it does not knock Serial off of his feet. That is not to say Serial is unaffected by the boots to the face, as the Immigration Sensation makes a hundred and eighty degree spin and reels away from his opponent! With some distance created between the two, Serial has enough guts to turn back and face his foe, whom at this point is already mere paces away. Serial hastily rebuttals with a Big Boot which rocks the mandible of Kasabian enough to send him pacing in the differing direction. In the company of both gladiators having been victim to the dreaded heel, the fighters compromise their differing distance with lifted boots once more. Neither has the zest to lift their respective heels high enough into the air to smash any face in, but shots to the sternum are painful too! Once again, both are pushed back, only to reignite their flames of war yet again. The more enthusiastic to exchange strikes, Kasabian, the natural brawler, begins his attack with an Overhand right that breaks past Serial’s guard and connects with his hidden face. Although not as precise or technical, Serial responds with an Overhand right of his own, which goes unnoticed by Kasabian.

Pate: This is Kasabian’s realm. I’m sure the champ would prefer a fist fight, than a flight fight.

White: You have to consider the fact that Kasabian has much more muscle mass, which means that his heart has to work much harder to pump blood into all those muscles than the smaller Serial. Long story short, their levels of power may not be too far off at this point in the game.

Stalker simply grabs a handful of threads that make up Serial’s mask before bending the luchadore forward and continuously striking his opponent’s hidden façade with a series of Shin Strikes! Serial pulls himself away, drunken from the blows, but still eager to fight. The Immigration Sensation proves the latter statement by unleashing a barrage of Open Handed Palm Strikes, which overwhelm the champion to the point of defense. Not able to break away at the muscle tissue laden wall, Serial dashes backwards coiling off the nearest ropes and towards his foe with a Diving Forearm Smash! However, even with the levels of speed that Serial contains, a combination of fatigue and intelligence on the part of Kasabian, make Serial’s efforts almost futile, as the Pervert telegraphs Serial’s maneuver and catches him in the air, before hurling him towards the clouds! With Serial shooting towards the stars, the champion takes a step back, awaiting the luchadore’s arrival back in this stratosphere. Upon arrival from his meeting with the ring lights, the Protested Hero manages the land on his feet. It is anything but a graceful landing as the fans have come to expect from Serial, and the time it takes the luchadore to balance himself… may just be his undoing. Stalker does not a moment, revealing some of that killer instinct, as he practically decapitates Serial with a gruesome Lariat, which sends Serial backflipping in the air before crashing and burning on the canvas. Stalker does not droop over his lifeless foe for a pin attempt, but instead hurriedly drags the remains of his adversary to a half risen arrangement, placing the masked head of Serial between his legs. With the standing headscissors in tact, Kasabian hooks each arm of the luchadore behind his back, before pulling in reverse and spinning ninety degrees, adding to the momentum of the inevitable collision with the canvas. The crowd looks in awe as Serial awkwardly lands face first, deep into the mat. The sheer momentum of the drop causes the body of the luchadore to roll a few tmes before it comes to a halt. An exhausted Kasabian’s eyes light up as he drags himself on top of his comatose opponent, not even bothering to hook any legs, as it is academic, isn’t it? The official slides into position to make the count, as the crowd looks on, stunned…

OOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

TTTTTTTTTTTTWWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

TTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRR----

Pate: AND KASABIAN RETA---- WHAT?!? SERIAL GOT HIS FOOT UNDER THE BOTTOM ROPE!

The crowd roars as the referee points to Serial’s boot, the shadow of the bottom rope hovering over the incapacitated challenger’s leg. Kasabian looks on, completely and utterly stunned. To think, it could have all been prevented if Kasabian would have hooked the leg. Instead, the match somehow, someway, continues…

[Deleted]

Every person in attendance had risen to their feet, the din around the arena deafening as the crowd share their voice on the quality of the match. With so many near misses, and so much of both of these men poured into the match, the fans had even begun to show a softer side toward Kasabian Stalker, if just for the sake of applauding the quality of his bout.

"This is awesome..."
"E-V-P-Dub..."

The chants echo and bounce back at each other as the gladiators come to the realization that the match is not yet over. Stalker, so sure of himself in his lethal finisher that his face had begun to beam into a premature grin, simply crawls against the turnbuckle and sits down, his back resting against the padding. Stalker's chest heaves heavily with every breath that he draws, not yet finding the strength or energy to continue with the match. The Champion simply sits dejectedly, shaking his head quietly and wondering what went wrong. Serial, however, still lies in the place where he had landed after Kasabian's 'Stalker's Slam', the only movement he had made in the last minute being his foot dangling almost with the momentum of his body underneath the bottom rope. He still draws breath, as noted by the rise and fall of his torso, but that, it appears is all. There is no zeal, no fire left in his body. Both men sit in a bath of their own and their opponent's sweat, the canvas stained in places from a mixture of spittle, sweat and other undistinguished fluids.

Ever so slowly, Kasabian Stalker drags himself once more to his feet.

"These men have given this their everything. I actually can't believe what I am seeing, in that Stalker is still going. This is the kind of match that defines a person's career, win, draw or loss."

"Can I be the one to say that Stalker looks especially sexy when covered in sweat... He shines, it's like he's glowing!"

"Ray, you can say whatever you like. I'm not going to guarantee that anybody is listening to you though."

"Oh, well... In that case, I want to do bad, bad, naughty things to that man..."

"Oh brother, I should have seen that coming."[/i][/b]

Being that Serial looks as though he has lapsed into a coma and unable to support his own weight, Stalker is nice enough to help him to his feet. In fact, the Perverted Champion does one better, hoisting him atop his shoulders into an Electric Chair position. With the lightweight challenger towering above him, like sitting on daddy's shoulders in a crowded fair grounds, Kasabian's face contorts into its usual sadistic grin. With his cruiserweight opponent at his mercy, Kasabian heads over toward the turnbuckle. It takes the 'Pervert' an especially long time to drag both bodies up the turnbuckle, but eventually, he stands atop the mountain, Serial still seated on top of his shoulders. Kasabian faces in toward the ring, looking at the expanse of sweat stained canvas below him. With all the strength his exhausted body can muster, Kasabian launches the 'Immigration Sensation' into the air, looking to drive him straight through the mat and into the depths of hell with a devastating Top Rope Electric Chair Drop.

Both man sail through the air, Kasabian controlling the descent as best he can. The 'Champion of Controversy' aims Serial's back, shoulders and head to a spot near the center of the ring, and all seems to be going well. However, without warning, Serial's lifeless body sparks into life. His legs hook around the neck of his over-sized opponent. In the midst of what would surely be the nail in his coffin, the 'Protested Hero' flicks Kasabian Stalker's Electric Chair Drop around, flicking his head between the Champion's legs and somersaulting the Pervert into a Sunset flip to reverse the destruction in his own favor. With a slam that sounds as painful as it looks, the Sunset Flip Reversal sees the distraught crowd transported through yet another emotional roller-coaster ride as their hated Champion is drilled into the very mat that he sought his glory. The impressive, aerialist reversal had taken not only Kasabian, but the entire arena by surprise. However, in his battered and broken state, Serial simply doesn't have the strength to hold onto the larger man, as Kasabian's momentum carries him through a backward Roley-Poley. Once again, the pair wind up lying battered and broken, with a winner seemingly no closer to be found. This time it is Kasabian's turn to lie face down, Serial adopting the seated position as the effects of a devastating match continue to catch up with him.

"Jesus H. Christ!
How in the..?
What, Serial just reversed Kasabian's Top Rope Electric Chair Drop. I was sure that the guy was unconscious."

"Perhaps it was instinct JP. It still doesn't look like he is in any fit state to capitalize on his position."

"Instinct, guts and determination or just not knowing when to give up, it doesn't matter. What does it the fact that, again, this match is STILL going!"

By the time Serial had managed to inch his way over to his broken opponent, Kasabian had begun to stir. Nevertheless, the 'Immigration Sensation' covers the exhausted Pervert, looking to seal the victory. The referee only manages to record a two count, and barely that, before Kasabian grabs a hold of the rope with his hand and causes the match official to break the pinfall. Knowing that all he needs is one last move, one last push, Serial shakes off the effects of the match as best he can and stands to his feet.

Serial wastes little time in seeking out his downed opponent, not waiting until the Pervert is completely aware of his surroundings before continuing his offensive. Instead, he drags Stalker to his feet, grabbing him by the wrist as he goes and flings him toward the ropes in an Irish Whip. Stalker trundles along like a run-away train, bounding into the ropes and hurtling back across the ring uncontrollably. Serial leapfrogs the incoming Pervert-train, before dashing off to the ropes perpendicular to Stalker's path. Timing his run to perfection, Serial springboards off the waiting ropes, soaring through the air back toward the incoming Stalker-express. With Stalker still moving at pace, the 'Immigration Sensation' swings his body around in mid air, into a Spinning Heel Kick. The move connects with marksmanship precision, catching Stalker in the back of his head as he crosses the ring again. In result, Stalker sprawls out forward, sliding to a stop uncomfortably near the turnbuckle. Serial, in keeping with his impressive precision, lands gracefully on his feet, despite the exhaustion evident on his body and in his eyes.

Once more, Serial dashes over toward his downed opponent. With a gleam in his eye that shows his confidence, he is quick to roll Stalker up into yet another pinning predicament. The referee slides into position, slams his palm against the canvas to count the first of three counts. As he does so, the crowd chime in, hoping for the sake of the 'Protested Hero', that this is his time.

"1..."[/i]

Before the referee can even raise his hand for a second count, Stalker manages to roll himself over, grabbing Serial by the tights to help him do so. As a result, he turns the pin into his own advantage, planting Serial's shoulders against the canvas. The referee busies himself with the pin, positioning himself with his back to Stalker in order to capture the action as best he can. Noticing the referee's poor judgment and position, Stalker takes the small window of opportunity to give himself some all important extra leverage. He places both of his feet over the second rope, albeit illegally. The extra height allows him to put all of his weight upon Serial's shoulders, not letting the smaller man kick out of the pin fall. Oblivious to the illegal shift, the referee's hand once more slaps the canvas, amids a chorus of booing in disgust to Stalker's tactics.

"1..."[/i]

"Stalker has reversed the pin, and... Oh, come on ref. He can't win this way!"

"It is time for Stalker to stop playing around. He wants his titler and he has had enough. So he uses some questionable tactics. What the referee doesn't see, doesn't happen right?"

"After a match as damned good as this has been, if Stalker wins with an illegal pin... There is going to be a bloody riot, I can tell you that much!"[/b][/i]

True to Pate's words, the preemptive fans had already begun tossing discarded rubbish toward the ring, in the hopes of catching the referee's attention. Still oblivious, the referee raises his hand for the second time...

TBC Serial

[Serial]

The referee jolts his arm into the air for a second consecutive time, completely oblivious to not only Stalker’s illegal tactics, but also to the fans’ united cry. The thunderous voices and actions from the crowd are drowned out by the single pat of the mat by the official. With only one count left, the fans of Serial have done all they can do to save their hero from his certain defeat. As the zebra arches his hand towards the sky one last time, there is no deed that can be done.

Pate: SERIAL GETS HIS SHOULDER UPPP!!!!!

White: UNBELIEVABLE!

Well, except that one. Not even the fans could have imagined that Serial would manage to kick out. More astonished than the spectators applauding loudly in the background, is the luchadore’s opponent, Kasabian Stalker. Almost to the point of tears, the Pervert archways to a seated state, begging the referee to magically change his decision the count to three, and putting this war to an end. The referee does not give in to a Treaty of Versailles like offer, perhaps due to Kasabian’s evil being much greater than anything Germany could have imagined. Also, not helping Stalker’s argument is the fact that the ropes are wobbling right behind, leaving the referee to wonder. Nonetheless, the contest continues, and does so with Kasabian collapsing to the canvas, for one of reasons only known to the unorthodox competitor. Frustration? Fatigue? Some other F-word? No matter the speculation, the fact of the matter is his opponent is not better off that Stalker. Serial stirs across the mat, trying to kindle any sort of energy remaining throughout his anatomy.

Pate: A superhuman effort! In all my days of calling matches, it’s tough to compare the sheer amount of willpower displayed by bother warriors this evening.

White: Again we ask ourselves, what’s next? What’s left? What will it take to end one of these two men’s dreams.

Kasabian grinds himself back to a kneeling display, kneewalking to his supine adversary before grabbing him by his head and jawing words of motivation such as “JUST DIE” and “WHY WON’T YOU DIE ALREADY!” After a display of interpersonal communication, Stalker lifts his foe off the mat and rearranges the party to an upright state. Kasabian congregates enough energy to lift Serial onto his shoulders, the eyes of Serial looking straight towards the lights, perhaps a foreshadowing of his life as a title contender? Stalker adds to the aforementioned possibility when he hooks the head with one hand and a leg of Serial’s with the opposite hand. The Era of the Pervert looks to continue as the Chicago native pulls down on both ends of the luchadore, trying his best to flex Serial into two halves. Under usual circumstances, the Champion of Controversy would add theatrics to the Pleasure Rack, but on this occasion, it is not the case. In fact, Stalker can barely muster the energy to apply pressure across the back of Serial, practically losing his balance with every torque. The Protested Hero may not have much juice left in the tank either, but aiding him in trying to escape are the combined pounds of sweat produced between the two parties, as well as an additional lubricant in the form of baby oil from Kasabian. The mixture along with the resolve of Serial, allow for the luchadore to slick out of Stalker’s grip; landing on his feet, where he almost crumples due to the toll taken on his slender structure. The only saving grace for the foundation of Serial is the nearest turnbuckle corner, which the SoCal Killa’ occupies before being welcomed with open arms via the defending champion. Kasabian pummels Serial deep into the set of turnbuckles with blazing rights and lefts before dropping his stance and ramming the abdominopelvic region of the luchadore with a series of Shoulder Presses. Just before the Pervert can internally combust the organs tucked away, Serial counters the predictable oncoming Shoulder Press with a sudden Jumping Knee, which hammers the crown of the EVPW king.

Pate: Reversal by Serial! Even in such a physically grinding contest, it still doesn’t take away from the fact that it is still a mental chess match.

White: Wait what? I lost track after you mentioned physically grinding.

In order to avoid further harm from his challenger, Kasabian repeals his offense and backs off of the luchadore, giving the Immigration Sensation precious moments to garner a fresh set of oxygen. Instead of trading away heavy breaths, Serial decides to take a chance by ascending the turnbuckles. The crowd looks on in wonder to see if the Protested Hero can execute yet another high risk maneuver in this high stakes situation. Knowing full well how much is on the line, Serial places one foot on the top turnbuckle before he is interrupted by the fighting champion, Kasabian Stalker. With both hands of the retador occupied with grasping the top rope, Serial has no way to defend himself from a vicious Open Handed Slap, which knocks the taste out of Serial’s mouth even amidst the mask padding some of the blow. Serial remains rocked atop the turnbuckles as Kasabian decides to ascend the turnbuckles as well. Both men have trouble with their equilibrium as well as their balance, yet they still fight for dominance at the higher altitude. The Protested Hero unleashes a Forearm Smash which clocks Kasabian to the point of leaning forward (not wanting to lean back and risk crashing and burning to the canvas.) The EVPW rookie wraps an arm around the head of Kasabian as if to set up for a Superplex or a Super Brainbuster, but even at a less than stellar mental and physical capacity, Kasabian finds a way out, by hook or by crook. In this situation, it definitely isn’t the former, as Stalker jabs a thumb into an eyehole of Serial’s mask, punching at the pupil of the luchador’s right eye.

Pate: THAT IS SIMPLY DISGUSTING! Kasabian will just about do anything to leave with a win.

White: it's the richest prize in the game, why wouldn't he do whatever it takes to win?

Pate: Some people have a conscious, and such things as honor and respect.

White: But they aren't the Eagle Vision Pro Wrestling Champion, are they?

Blinded in one eye, Serial has a difficult time measuring distance, faltering from a Headbutt from the champion. No longer attempting an offense, but rather trying to protect himself, Serial’s defensive capabilities are no match for Kasabian who chops the jugular of Serial, forcing him to gasp for air. Having picked his opponent apart, Stalker pushes his opponent off the turnbuckles, towards the pool of padded concrete. Unfortunately for the champion, Serial does not plummet to the outside! Every cloud has a silver lining though, and in this case, it is not because the luchadore was able to negate his fall to the concrete, but because his leg caught in the middle rope, leaving him dangling in a makeshift Tree of Woe, his head mere feet from nose-diving into the cold, unforgiving, floor. Serial desperately tries to reach for the top rope, in hopes that he can pull himself back atop the peak turnbuckle. Instead, the devastated challenger glares upward to see Kasabian smiling down at him, standing atop the highest turnbuckle. Taking a page out of Serial’s playbook, Stalker dives off the padded fastener before stomping deep into the sternum of his prey with a Diving Double Foot Stomp! Serial’s head hits hard against the apron as his knee wrenches in rigorous angles only meant for Stretch Armstrong. The luchadore breaks from his trapped ways, only to ultimately plunge to the thinly matted concrete, joining Stalker who also fell to the ringside floor. The Pervert’s drop is miniscule in comparison to Serial, yet still both warriors remain planted against the ground, this war definitely taking everything both gladiators have to offer… and so much more… much, much more.

White: Serial could be seriously injured. Maybe the referee should stop the match?

Pate: Serial has given his heart and soul this evening, there would be a riot if it was stopped by any means other than pinfall or submission.

The official looks on from the inside, not even contemplating the idea of counting the warriors out, instead concerned with the well being of the two human beings lying across the floor.

OOC: It was an honor and a pleasure.