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Post by Deleted on Aug 14, 2011 23:44:06 GMT -4
The crowd is on their feet in anticipation of the "Big Sexy" main event. The sound of feet stomping rumbls through the arena like thrunder as the fans warm their voices up for the final match of the night. Again unsure about just what shape or form the controversial Champion will be seen in tonight due to the force known as Dr. Edith Symmes, the fans around the arena voice their queries. The resulting hum sounds much like a busy railway station or a hive of honey bees preparing for their morning pollenation round. The hum is only cut when interrupted by the PA System blaring into life. The sound is not Stalker's usual censored theme, but another, deemed appropriate by Stalker's overactive manager. The music begins to play in what she would hope to be a happy, melodious harmony.
With the bizarre music of Lamb Chops blaring out of the arena'sd speakers, the arrival of Kasabian Stalker had once more taken a turn for the strange. The changing of his theme for a second week makes Rick Astley look normal, while the new theme quickly becomes stuck in the minds of the fans. The muttering around the WNG fan-base grew as they awaited the arrival of the Champion of Controversy. Finally, with no small amount of time-stalling, two figures appear against the WNG backdrop. The larger of the two wears a belt around his waist. The smaller of the pairing, clad in a pink cardigan and matching dress, complete with hair that looks like it has been recently permed, marches on ahead like a lady on a mission. She turns around and glares at Stalker, holding her finger out as if telling off a naughty child. Stalker shakes his head, the smile gone from his face. The Chicago native looks up at the Titan Tron, where his exploits once played, now replaced with a simple black screen that reads only "CENSORED" in large red lettering.
Begrudgingly, Kasabian Stalker marches on, following Dr. Edith Symmes toward the ring.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, the following is a Pick your Poison match scheduled for One Fall...
Introducing First,
Being accompanied to the ring by his handler, Dr. Edith Symmes... He is the current EVPW Imperial Champion, undefeated in almost twenty matches.
Kasabian Stalker!"[/i]
The memories of his exploits are still fresh in the minds of the crowd. However, the larger of the two negative reactions is reserved for Dr. Symmes herself. In the small time she had been present in EVPW, she had already managed to rub the crowd the wrong way. Her stern, business-like manner and her unfaltering adherence to the new rules had instantly turned her into a target of hatred for fans and superstars alike, a face to vent all the frustrations of the faceless group known only as the Company. Dr. Symmes walks briskly, with confidence and orders the Champion to enter the ring and speed the whole process up. With bitterness drawn across his face and his lips pursed with the desire to speak out, Kasabian does as he is told, rolling into the ring and handing his title to the referee.
"Oh for the love of God, would somebody please stop that infernal music!"
"Until Kasabian Stalker becomes uncensored again, I would predict a whole lot more of this type of thing happening with his entrances. Look at the poor guy, he doesn't like this any more than we do!"
"I swear to god, one more tiem through this, and I will shoot myself!"[/i]
Ready to pick his opponent's poison, Kasabian Stalker receives a mike from ringside. The Champion raises it to his lips and readies himself to speak. However, his pest of a manager holds a single hand up, stopping her client dead in his tracks. Kasabian looks at her sideways, sharing a few choice words with the lady after she asks for his mike. Shaking her head solemnly, Dr. Symmes holds up one finger, serving as a warning for a potential strike for the Perverted One. Seeing the sense in playing along, Stalker reluctantly hands the mike over. The crowd boo instantly as Dr. Symmes raises the mike to her lips.
"No Stalker, tonight, your manager will pick the stipulation. You have to EARN these types of priveledges. Now, I know that without strict control, this match will no doubt get out of hands... So my stipulation is not for Grokadoc, but for both of you. This, I think will help to ensure that this match remains within the rating that the show is designed for. This is a family show after all, and we can't go hitting each other with weapons... That's a bad look for the children.
You were in an Outside the Box Match last week Kasabian, and that gave me an idea. So, the first stipulation on this match is one that comes with two barrels. Firstly, at least one competitor must stay inside the ring at all times. And Secondly, if a person hapens to find themselves out of the ring, the usual ringside10-count will be reduced to a 5-count. There will be no time for hunting under the ring for weapons, no fighting at ringside, and you WILL both behave.
Yes, this match will be an INSIDE the Box Match!"[/b][/i]
The stipulation falls upon the arena like a brick, knowing that the limitations will drastically reduce the ability for blood to be spilt in the match. Seeing a potential slobberknocker being cuffed, the crowd begin to boo louder and louder. Kasabian glares at his manager, the pair sharing yet another uncomfortable moment while they wait for Grokadoc to appear.
TBC Grokadoc
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Post by [Grockadoc/Carter] on Aug 16, 2011 11:44:31 GMT -4
The crowd are buzzing after the entrance of the Champion. All of a sudden, the lights go out, shrouding the arena in darkness. The fans sit in silence, puzzled. All of a sudden, the titantron flickers to life, a countdown displayed on the screen.
[glow=red,2,300]10
9
8
7
6
5
4
3
2
1[/glow]
As the countdown reaches zero, flames erupt from the stage and the lights flick back own, tinged red, bathing the arena in scarlet light.
All of a sudden, music blares from the arena, a song the fans have not heard before. The countdown fades from the titantron and is replaced instead by a word, starting dull and unreadable. It gains in brightness and after several moments the word is legible.
[glow=red,2,300]Grockadoc[/glow]
I, I am the one, the one!
Who lost Control, Control
But in the end, I'll be
THE LAST MAN STANDING!
I, I am the one, The one!
Who sold his soul, his soul!
Forever gone to be
THE LAST MAN STANDING!
And here comes one of the Co Number One Contenders for Kasabian Stalker's Imperial Title, and man who must choose his poison for the match.
Knowing the sadistic Grockaodc and his borderline masochistic torture of his opponents, Kasabian could be in for a world of hurt tonight. There is no guarantee he will even make it to Madhouse! What the fuck is our general manager thinking?
Grockadoc faces a man who is renowned as being damn near invincible. He has his work cut out for him tonight against the Champion!
The fans start booing as they read this, as the word fades, and bursts into highlights of Grockadoc. All of a sudden, the Heavenly Crusader slowly strides out from behind the curtain, his trademark hooded cloak covering his face. His arms outstretched, both hands clasping onto the shaft of a bronze crucifix, roughly seven feet in height. At the bottom of the crucifix is a small base. The self proclaimed Savior of EVPW slowly strides out to the middle of the stage, music blaring and the fans booing growing ever louder. He reaches the border of the ramp and the stage and pauses for several moments. Without warning, he thrusts the crucifix downwards. It strikes the stage and, at that exact moment, flames burst from the stage again.
Glorious
Noble in my mind
Everything a fight to win
Taking all and giving
Whatever my pride would let me
Not backing down, not giving in
I wouldn't lose, I couldn't
Ladies and Gentleman, introducing first, weighing in at three hundred and twelve pounds, he is the salvation of EVPW, the Warrior of Christ, the Holy Crusader, and, along with Shawn Dreamer, he is the Number One contender to Kasabian Stalker's Imperial Championship, he is simply known as GROCKADOC!
I, I am the one, the one!
Who lost Control, Control
But in the end, I'll be
THE LAST MAN STANDING!
I, I am the one, The one!
Who sold his soul, his soul!
Forever gone to be
THE LAST MAN STANDING!
The crowd boo even louder at Grockadocs introduction. The Warrior of Christ stands, facing the crucifix for a moment, before dropping down to his knees, and clasps his palms together, and places them against his chest, and bows his head in prayer. After minutes of prayer, Grockadoc rises to his feet, and reaches up, peels his hood back and strides past the Crucifix. EVPW's resident Christian long, slow strides finally carry him to the entranceway, and he turns, and strides towards the stairs. Before he ascends them, he slides his hand into the cloak and withdraws a large black cloth bag, and slides his arms out of his cloak and lets it fall to the mat. Grockadoc steps up the stairs and pauses just before he steps onto the apron. Grockadoc slowly smiles, and strides onto the apron, steps over the top rope and into the ring, before flicking his eyes on his opponent for the night, the reigning Champ, Kasabian Stalker.
I walk alone
With my head held high
Never felt that I belonged
Stand my ground at all costs
Running through life with blindfolds
Just for the right - right to be wrong
Nothing would rule my world but-
I, I am the one, the one!
Who lost Control, Control
But in the end, I'll be
THE LAST MAN STANDING!
I, I am the one, The one!
Who sold his soul, his soul!
Forever gone to be
THE LAST MAN STANDING!
Grockadoc walks towards the center of the ring and stares at Stalker, Grockadoc seventy pounds heavier, and nine inches taller. Grocakdoc maintains his gaze and raises his right hand, slicing his throat with his left hand. Despite the obvious attempt at striking fear into him, Kasabian remains unfazed at the taunt of Grockadoc, who strides to the ropes and demands a microphone. With the instrument firmly within his grasp, he turns to face the pervert.
MY! Christmas has come early! I get to crush a sinner! I get your head on a plate! Or rather, I will get it on a plate after I am through with you!
Stalker protests to the umpire at this, and the crowd boos heavily
On second thoughts, I'd much rather destroy you in front of a full crowd at Madhouse, so that all of them shall see that you cannot escape punishment for wicked deeds. Tonight however, will be a taste of what is in store for you at Madhouse.I am resolute in my determination, unwavering in faith and my discipline is second to none. My poison is to test you on all three of your basic principles. your determination, faith and discipline. Tonight, we shall both be wearing these!
With that, Grockadoc reaches down into the cloth bag and pulls out what appears to be a thin chain shirt. upon closer inspection, there are quarter inch long spikes that are designed for religious discipline and punishment. A metal clasp is there to ensure the spikes penetrate the skin.
This, is a cilice. We shall wear these to tests whose will is stronger. Tonight, every move we make will be excruciating, and it will be more of a mental battle, as it is physical. I've lived with one of these for 22 years, I bid you good luck, you will need it.
Grockadoc throws Stalker, who is immobilized by fear, a cilice, before sliding his own arms through his own cilice, and clamping it shut, wincing slightly as the metal spikes pierce his skin,and stares at Stalker who is hesitant to follow. With the umpire ushering him into the barbaric device, Stalker lets out a snarl of pain as the referee clamps his cilice closed and rings the bell. |
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Post by Deleted on Aug 17, 2011 1:05:51 GMT -4
Stalker grunts and winces in pain as his own cilice clamps shut over his torso. Aided the the match official, Kasabian is prepared for battle, knowing that the metal shirt would add a completely new element to the match. Shaking his head despondently, he glances outside the ring to his appointed manager, Dr. Symmes. The psychiatrist looks to be enjoying the scene a little too much for a professional in her position, but gives Stalker what looks like a reassuring nod all the same. The Perverted One shakes off the fear that is gripping him as best he can and the bell sounds the start of the match. With the match officially under way, Grockadoc wastes no time in setting after the rampant Pervert. Eager to instil months of pent up punishment on the seemingly undefeatable Champion, the Holy Crusader pounces on his undersized opponent. The big man is quick to make good of the new element of the match, booting the Pervert clean in the chest and driving the quarter inch spikes of the cilice deeper into Stalker's chest as a result. Stalker lets out a yelp of pain as the Big Boot sends him to the mat for the first time in the contest. The Perverted One screams in pain, gripping at the steel shirt in desperation as he feels the full effect of its presence.
With Stalker rolling about the mat like a stuck pig, Grockadoc smiles. It is the type of smile that speaks a thousand words. The Holy One hoists his opponent up into a Military Press, showing off his strength and size over the 240lb Champion by lifting him with seemingly little effort. The Crusader then proceeds to drop Stalker back the some seven feet to the waiting mat, ensuring that the Perverted One lands on his chest again, driving the spikes into his flesh once more. Stalker's agonised cries echo out across the arena. The Pervert's antics finally seem to be catching up with him, his punishment swift and severe. Looking on, Dr. Symmes smiles at the scene, knowing that Stalker will not be the same again, win, loss or draw.
"This is horrific, brutal. Grockadoc has really got Kasabian's number, that steel shirt idea of his really seems to be paying off right now. What was it called now, a clique?"
".. I think you mean cilice JP. I have one at home myself, but for a different type of punishment. It is almost like Dr. Symmes has made a deal with the devil known as Grockadoc. Stalker is trapped in that ring and cannot escape.
It is no secret that Grockadoc has been gunning for Stalker for months, eager to 'punish' him for all his sin. Is it too much to think that Stalker's own manager would sell him down the river?"
"Now, wait just a minute there Ray. You had better have some evidence before you start hurling around accusations. All I can see is that these two ideas seem to have worked together. This match is not going to be the technical wrestling showcase that we thought when Symmes announced the first stipulation... Stalker is going to have to take the fight back to Grockadoc. He has to beat the monster at his own game."[/i]
Stalker bounces off the mat from the Military Press Slam and subsequently claws his way to the ropes. When he reaches the side of the ring, the Perverted One does his best to escape, but winds up coming face to face with his manager, who politely reminds him of the rules to the match. With a sweet old lady smile on her face, she shoos Stalker away, instructing him to stand up and get back in the match. Stalker need not worry about standing up, however, as he is helped to his feet by a large force. Towering above him, almost salivating at the mouth, Grockadoc grabs his oiled up opponent once more. A palm strike to the chest sends shockwaves of pain rippling out though Stalker's tenderised body, stunning Stalker momentarily and allowing Grockadoc to hoist him above his head once more. However, this time, the challenger simply hurls him clear across the ring, watching him smash into the turnbuckle some sex or seven feet away for his troubles. Stalker crashes back first, the spikes lining the shirt on his back digging into the soft flesh and allowing another cry of agony to escape Stalker's lips. The Pervert seems to spasm as he comes to rest again, his body clearly not used to the added element of a spiked shirt. However, the Pervert lets out a defiant cry, enough to pierce the ears of all in attendance. The blood-curdling cry echoes throughout the arena. When Stalker's eyes open again, they do so with fire and vengeance painted on them. The Champion of Controversy looks up at his towering opponent, not with fear but with hatred. Dodging a stomp that was intended for the cilice covering his chest, Stalker rolls onto his knees and pushes himself to a vertical base.
The fire and desperation causes the Champion to ignore the pain searing through his body and ignore the trickles of blood that had started to seep down his torso from his body being treated like a human pincushion. The Perverted Champion targets his lumbersome opponent up from behind. Before the Warrior of Christ can turn around, Stalker had already lined him up for the strike. A Chop Block to the back of the big man's knee sees Grockadoc's knee buckle underneath his weight. As a result, the big man crumbles to all fours, leaving himself wide open for Stalker's next move. He does not have to wait long, as the Champion boots his opponent in his exposed ribs, feeling the pleasure of driving Grockadoc's own cilice into his own flesh. As the Holy Crusader groans in pain from the use of his own spiked cilice, Stalker's wince turns into a forces smile. The grin comes with pain in his eyes, but it is enough to let the Champion recover somewhat from his beating so far.
"Oh my, you could hear the thud of Stalker's boot meeting Grockadoc's chest in China. Stalker really let the big man know that he is not messing around."
"A little reminder as to who the Champion is, and why he is the Champion. Besides, it was more of as clink than a thud... Stalker's foot hit Grockadoc's cilice."
"Either way, it looks as though the tides are turning."[/i]
Grockadoc rolls onto his back from the punt, but does not have time to rest long, as Stalker is soon snapping him up into his clutches again. The Champion drags him to his feet and flings him into the nearest ropes with a powerful Irish Whip. Instead of rebounding off the ropes as predicted, Grockadoc topples over the top rope, and tumbles out of the ring to the ground outside. In the process, he collects Stalker's manager, Dr. Edith Symmes. The Super Heavyweight's body crushes Symme's frail frame underneath his weight, as the Number One contender has his fall broken by the manager. Both spill out onto the ground, much to the delight of the fans at ringside. With the first stipulation coming into effect, the referee calls out for Grockadoc to rejoin the ring, beginning a standing 5-Count, instead of the usual 10.
It takes till the referee's count of "3.." before Grockadoc can make it to his feet, the big man rolling back into the ring on "4.." and coming to rest at the feet of his opponent, his chest heaving from the strain of the spikes digging into his body as he rolled into the ring again. Stalker has no problem taking advantage of his opponent's predicament, swooping the Warrior of Christ up into his clutches once more and looking to pick up where he left off. This time it is Stalker's turn to show the Super Heavyweight who is boss. He does so by flinging the Big man onto his shoulders in a Fireman's Carry. Encumbered from the heavy load on his shoulders, the Champion's movements seem to slow as he prepares for the next step of the move. With a grunt of effort, the Champion swings his challenger around, off his shoulders and sailing back first to the canvas. As he does so, Stalker drops down onto one knee, as if proposing marriage to the match official. Instead, Stalker's knee intercepts the flight of Grockadoc's body on its way to the mat. Stalker directs his opponent's flight to his knee, letting his back slam into the knee. The Backbreaker causes a collective gasp to be held around the arena, as Crockadoc's own metal cilice is met with the point of the Champion's knee. The spikes are driven into the big man's body and the Warrior of Christ howls in agony as a result. Stalker, in turn stands to his feet, gingerly testing out a knee that had endured more than any knee should have to. The Champion weathers the pain with a smile on his face, made wider as he looks down on his opponent, Grockadoc flailing about at his feet, completely at the Pervert's mercy.
"My god, what a backbreaker. Stalker's knee just drove itself right into the metal shirt of Grockadoc. Who knows how far those spikes just drove themselves into Grockadoc's body!"
"This is turning out to be a particularly brutal match, mainy due to the introduction of the cilice. But the more subtle element of it being an 'Inside the Box' match seems to play effect too. There is no escape, no way out and no rest for these men."
"They will bludgeon themselves to death if they have to, but one man will walk away the victor. The other will be left bloodied and broken, and I am happy to pick up the scraps JP."
"Oh, I bet you are Ray, I bet you are..."[/i]
TBC Grock
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Post by [Grockadoc/Carter] on Aug 20, 2011 0:38:57 GMT -4
After that devastating and bone jarring backbreaker, the Imperial Champion's opponent, the three hundred pound monster, Grockadoc, rolls around on the canvas, groaning in pain, clutching his back. The metal spikes of the cilice the source of the pain. Kasabian Stalker stares down at his opponent, writhing in pain on the mat and starts to laugh, revelling in the damage he is causing. Grockadoc starts to crawl towards Stalker, and grabs his shin, trying to hoist himself up, which stops Kasabian's laughter. The Pervert swiftly raises his forearm up, and slams it down hard, whiplike, across the shoulder and torso of the Salvation of EVPW, sending him crashing to the mat face first, this time sending the cilice spikes into the chest and sternum of the largest man in EVPW, eliciting more groans of pain. Content with himself, Stalker slowly raises his foot and drives it down sharply, sending the flat of his foot into the exposed point of Grockadoc's hair covered cranium. Stalker continues to stomp away at Grockadoc's head, trying to knock the big man out cold, but despite his efforts, the Salvation of EVPW continues to stir. Frustrated that he can't keep the Holy Crusader down, the Pervert lets out a snarl and reaches down, wrapping his mitts around Grockadoc's massive head and hauls him to his feet with tremendous difficulty. Grockadoc seems dazed, and wobbles about. Stalker smiles slightly at the effect he had on the big man, and curls his right hand into a fist, swings it outwards and thrusts it forwards, driving it far square into the jaw of the Co Number One Contender for his Imperial title. Grockadoc wobbles violently, but still doesn't go down. Stalker again throws a right hand, and still Grockadoc doesn't go down. Fed up, Stalker charges at the ropes, and uses the elasticity to fling himself back at Grockadoc. Stalker thrusts his arm out, and aims it for the chest of Grockadoc. Without warning, Grockadoc thrusts his arm out and drives it into the throat of Stalker, and tightens his grip. Stalker's eyes flair in horror as he struggles to free himself from the vice like grip of God's chosen one. He fails to do so, and the referee moves behind Grockadoc, to walk to the other side. With the ref blindsided, Stalker, thinking quickly kicks his leg out, driving his shin between Grockadoc's slightly spread legs, and upwards into the genitals of Grockadoc, who immediately releases his grip, and drops down to one knee. Pleased with himself, Kasabian Stalker, The Pervert, charges at the ropes one more time, and rebounds off, jumping into the air, and placing his feet together, thrusting them outwards. Stalker's dropkick connects to the bended right knee of Grockadoc, making it hyperextend rather grotesquely. The force of the dropkick is enough to take the three hundred pounder to the mat, one hand cradling his genitals, the other his knee. Stalker gets to his feet and rushes over to Grockadoc, dropping down and covering him, hooking a leg at the advisement of Dr. Edith Symmes.
"Disqualify him ref! That was a blatant low blow! Stalker should be disqualified and Grockadoc declared the victor in this match!"
"Shut up Ray! The ref didn't see it and so he cannot possibly disqualify the Imperial Champion. It was smart Stalker, as he made sure the ref wasn't in a clear line of sight, and then he blasted Grockadoc where it hurts the most. Champion ring awareness, that was."
"No it wasn't! It was a blatant cheap shot from a man incapable of dealing with the superior strength of a man that will defeat him at Madhouse for his title."
"Wash your mouth out Ray!"
"What? Why? That was disrespectful of Stalker, and painful for Grockadoc. If I could, I would kiss his genitals better."
"I'm sure you would."
The referee drops to the mat and raises his hand, before lowering it, slapping the canvas. ONE! Dr. Symmes starts counting with the referee. TWO! The referee's hand strikes the mat for a second time. THR! Just as the referee's hand is about to strike the mat for a third time, Grockadoc catches it, preventing him from ending this contest. The solid Core Gym erupt into a boo and Stalker gets off of Grockadoc, a look of triumphant pleasure on his face. He raises his hand, as if in victory, blissfully unaware the contest is still going. Edith Symmes tries to warn Kasabian the match is continuing, but he ignores her, revelling in what he believes is victory. Grockadoc slowly gets to his feet, rather gingerly, unable to put all of his body weight onto his right leg. Stalker, unaware of the threat that looms behind him, strides rather arrogantly to the ropes and ascends the turnbuckle, peering out at the Solid Core Gym, and raising his hands. The Salvation of EVPW limps over to the champion and swiftly ducks between the Pervert's slightly spread legs and turning around. Stalker tears his eyes away from the crowd, to peer down, looking right into the cold, dead, sharklike eyes of Grockadoc, who stands up fully, reaches up, wraps his arms around the thighs of Stalker and walks forward, Stalker perched rather precariously on his shoulders. The Imperial Champion realises the danger he is in and tires to break free, but is interrupted when Grockadoc leans forward a little bit, and tugs Stalker's thighs downward, sending the Pervert crashing to the mat with a sickening powerbomb. A bloodcurdling scream is heard around the Solid Core Gym as the powerful powerbomb of Grockadoc sends the metal cilice spikes into the back of Kasabian Stalker, who is clutching his back in agony. Dr. Edith Symmes is stunned and shocked at the display of power of Grockadoc, and the painful position her client now finds himself in.
"You should never count your chickens before they hatch. Kasabian Stalker must have missed the memo, because he has now felt the sheer power of Grockadoc, and the pain he can inflict."
"The pain Grockadoc can inflict? I thought it was the cilice that was causing our imperial Champion pain, not Grockadoc."
"It was the powerbomb that caused the initial pain of Kasabian Stalker, and then the metal spikes of the cilice sent further into his flesh after said powerbomb. And after all, Grockadoc did introduce the cilice as his poison of choice, so essentially Grockaodc is causing Stalker pain."
"Ok, yes, that seems rather logical."
Grockadoc stares down at his crumpled opponent, who is contorting in agony. A sick smile crosses his lips as he launches into the air extends his feet out into a sitting position and falls to the mat, courtesy of gravity. The Warrior of Christ's thighs, as big as tree trunks slam across the chest of the Pervert, who elicits another bloodcurdling cry of pain, once more attributed to the barbaric contraption of Grockadoc's, the cilice. the Salvation of EVPW peels himself off of his adversary gingerly, and manages to place most of his body weight onto the torso of Kasabian Stalker, in a rather meagre pin attempt. ONE! The referee's hand slaps the mat. TWO! It strikes the mat again. However, due to Grockadoc's lazy pin attempt, and not bothering to hook Kasabian Stalker's leg, the Pervert manages to kick out with tremendous difficulty before the ref's hand managed to slap the mat thrice to end this contest, much to the pleasure of Dr. Edith Symmes. Grockadoc slaps himself across the back of the head, not believing he made such an amateur mistake. He snarls in anger, and picks himself up, still proppy after the hyper extension of his right knee. He reaches down and with ease, hauls the Imperial Champion to his feet, and whips him into the ropes. Grockadoc waits for Stalker to bounce of the ropes, in a rather stoic pose. When Stalker is within range, Grockadoc sticks his shoulder out, and slams it into the midriff of the champion, taking him down with a stiff shoulder block. Stalker grunts, winded, as his body slams into the canvas, head bouncing of the match whiplike. Grockadoc stands over the contorted from of Kasabian Stalker and stares down, with a look of pleasure and happiness. Stalker begins to stir, and after several moments is in a seated position. A rather menacing grin crosses the Holy Crusader's features as he charges to the ropes in the direction Kasabian Stalker is facing and rebounds off, charging at the prone Pervert. At the very last second, the three hundred pounder raises his size seventeen boot, and drives it into the exposed facial features of the Imperial Champion, The sound at the moment of connection was sickening, as a crack is heard as the boot connects, followed by a thud as Kasabian Stalker's head bounces off of the canvas for a second time.
"What a sickening big boot by Grockadoc! Just listen to it! My god, If Kasabian's face is still aligned correctly, I'll eat my shoes! He must surely have a broken nose, or a broken jaw or something!"
"Or he could be dead! That was just disgusting what Grockadoc did! Kasabian Stalker is a champion of this company! he doesn't deserve to have brain damage!"
"Kasabian Stalker knew what he was in for against Grockadoc when he got into this ring! You cannot expect it to be all rainbows and lollipops, kittens and puppies in that ring Jimmy!"
"You're right, but that doesn't excuse the excessive force that Grockadoc seems to think is necessary in every single one of his matches!"
"Excessive force? He is well within his right to use as much force as he sees fit inside that ring. it is his gameplan. He relies on strength and brutal offence to defeat his opponents, no matter who they are. Kasabian is finding this out right now, and I'll be damned if he is going to be 100% at Madhouse."
"So Grockadoc may have an ulterior motive! He doesn't want Stalker to make it to the Pay Per View next week! That underhanded douchebag!"
Grockadoc stares away from Stalker, who is convulsing on the mat, eyes rolled back into his skull, and a slight trickle of blood coming from his mouht. He instead, is looking at the reaction of the crowd, and of Dr. Edith Symmes, is mortified! Grockadoc laughs and turns around, dropping to his knees and covers Kasabian Stalker, this time hooking his right leg, not making the same mistake as he did last pinfall attempt. ONE! The referee's hand strikes the mat for the first of three attempts. TWO! It stirkes the mat for the second time. TH-
"Is this it? Can Grockadoc finally be the man to Bring Kasabian Stalker down? He is less than a second from doing so, and Stalker looks completely out of it!"
"Kick out Pervert! You cannot let this sycophant Jesus freak beat you! Imagine the shame and the diminished status of your sex appeal if you lose to this ugly prick!"
TBC:
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