Hell's Playground Match. }{ Imperial Championship

[[Grockadoc/Carter]]

Grockadoc enters.

[x | S.DREAMER | x]

Title slung over his shoulder and dressed in golden pair of tights, Dreamer steps inside the cage to God is a Man by Face to Face, which is muffled by the rain of cheers from the audience.

TBC;
((Grock asked me to post first, so ya, I'll be posting first and will get it up ASAP.))

[x | S.DREAMER | x]

Seeing how both men are set to wage war, the referee calls for the bell, officially starting what could be the final chapter to the rivalry between Dreamer and Grockadoc. The tension is evident in the air, and the fans could smell it well enough, as they cheer high like a pack of blood thirsty shark would upon spotting crimson. The fan-fare and the noise, however, doesn’t really affect the combatants as they remain fazed and stares holes onto each other, sending off proverbial sparks as they do. But then, the stare down soon breaks up, and it’s the Hardcore Prince who retracts his glare, lunging forward and charging right at the Christian Warrior at a speed only a cheetah can attain, trying to catch him off guard. An angry mind is always blind, and it gets proven as the move by Shawn turns out to be not such a good idea; the Man from the Unknown well scouted the move, and rips off from his corner as well, trying to make an offense too. The two collides in the middle of the ring, and it’s the behemoth who hits his mark, smashing his mahoosive fist onto the crown of the Floridian, sending him stumbling back. With Dreamer being fresh as anything, the hard jab only manages to break a sweat off him, and the champion gets back at the Christ’s Knight with a punch of his own, hitting him square against the jaw. This ensue an exchange of fist between the two, and the crowd’s mood to deflect to and fro immensely – they cheer as Dreamer connects with a punch and the opposite when Grockadoc pulls his offence.

“This is what happens when two arch-rivals collide in the squared circle, folks, and the way I see it, we will feel the heat throughout the match. You’re now watching EVPW ‘From the Ashes’, live from Lockdown Hall in Brooklyn, New York, and this is our main event for the Imperial Championship – a match devised to destroy human being, Hell’s Playground.”

“And guess who came up with the idea? Uh-no, not me, but the monster right there – Grockadoc! The man is such a genius, I tell you, Jim; he took away every sorrow I had from having Kasabian out from EVPW, and he just might be the new Imperial champion tonight by beating Dreamer!”

“You might say that, but it isn’t quite an easy task in hand for Grock. Dreamer had defeated the undefeated King Stalker, Kasabian in a Ladder match at Madhouse to win the Imperial championship, and isn’t a pushover at all. But then, from the looks of the match, I just can’t wait to find out who wins it in the end!”

“Don’t you mention the name again, Jim; it tears my heart apart!”

It takes a while before the decisive blow is being made, and when it does, it’s from the champion, banging his quartet of knuckles for the eighth time to finally knock the light out of his adversary. Knowing well how he has the upper hand for now, the Grand-Slam champion puts it to proper use and continues to hammer onto the bald cranium of his nemesis, sending him reeling back with each shot. The rain of punches from Dreamer soon gets the monster to back up to the corner by the steel cage door, and be stuck there like a sandbag as the assault on him continues. A few more punches give the Jacksonville’s Pride the satisfaction that can subdue his aggression, and so he backs up from his foe, brushing his hair from his face as he does. But then, it turns out that the Christian Knight still has enough fuel in him to fight on; Grockadoc, though dazed to max like a midnight drunkard, stumbles forward with his fists balled, trying his best to get back to the action and make an impact. The persistent nature of the behemoth rejuvenates the dying aggression with the Uncrowned Prince, and sets him to get back to action once again, charging forward at his ultimate speed with his shoulder blade pushed forward. With his vision all blurred up, it takes a while for the behemoth to realise what’s coming his way, and when he does, it’s too late – the Floridian Extremist hits his abdominal wall with his shoulder blade like a battering ram, sending him flying back against the cage door with a huge spear. The mass of Grockadoc, that too projected, isn’t something that the weak door can restrain, and it breaks from its hinge, adding further mileage to the shooting carcass of the Unholy Crusader and land outside the ring, over the naked concrete floor.

“Would you just look at that – Dreamer took Grockadoc out of the cage with a huge spear! I doubt if there has been anyone who had manhandled Grockadoc like this before – it seemed like he just took out the trash!”

“I say Shawn would fit right in as a garbage collector after he loses the title here tonight! It’s obvious that his rage would cost him the match tonight, and it’s going to be my boy right there, Grockadoc, taking the gold home, and me along with it!”

“Much like the superstars never fail to impress me, you never fail to disgust me, Ray. I feel like puking right now.”

“Hey, you know what baby oil he uses to shine his body? It smells different than the usual ones!”

Taking his adversary out of the box, the Hardcore Prince steps out of the ring and gets out of the cage too, stepping outside to even things up. This gets a positive reaction from the crowd, especially from the ringside fans that are overwhelmed by the presence of the champion. Shawn, however, doesn’t heed out to the fans much, knowing well how playing up to them might cost him the entire match. He rather pulls up the skirt of the ring and starts to rummage through the forbidden realm of foreign objects, trying to pick out things to devise the real Hell’s Playground. Soon he finds the objects he was looking for, and starts to pull them one after the other – a wooden table first, followed by a canister of gasoline and an electric lighter – before pushing them inside the ring through the door. It’s obvious that Dreamer wants to clear the first hurdle on his way to keep the title to him, and the weapons he pulled out are the basic pieces to complete the puzzle. But then, it seems that the Floridian Prince isn’t quite done with his scavenger hunt; he continues to run his hand under the ring and keeps searching for more – this time to find something fitting to punish the Christian giant.

Meanwhile, behind the champion’s back, the Giant from the Unknown is seen to slowly stir up to his heel. The spear had certainly taken a lot from him, and it’s quite evident in his motion as he clambers up to his heels, wobbly all the way. It takes him a while to regain vertical base, and once he does, he shakes his head to his sides, brushing off the cobwebs and get set to wage war once again. Done with his recuperating process, Grockadoc sets his eyes onto the rummaging Floridian, glaring ever so menacingly as he does. He then slowly starts to proceed forward, as alarmed as a cat, so that his foe doesn’t have a single clue that he’s high-tailing him. While the Christian Knight is at his cat-walk, Dreamer pulls a thumbtack chair out and turns around, intending to further assault his opponent. But then, as the Floridian turns, he finds his worse nightmare standing right behind him; it’s Grockadoc standing behind him with a sick smile on his face! Completely awestruck, Shawn simply can’t move a muscle, and the behemoth takes complete advantage of that, sending his boot up and kicking the tack-embedded chair, causing it to smash against the face of the champion. The blast sets a gunshot to echo around the arena as the Hardcore Prince falls to the mat, much like a man would after being shot from a point blank range, with the chair held over his face. The crowd, completely not okay with the act of the behemoth, breaks out a heavy round of jeers as the Unholy Crusader smirks sinisterly, taking pride in how he took Dreamer down from the driver’s seat.

“Peel your eyes out, Jim; that’s our new Imperial champion right there! I feel sorry for you, man; I know how you love Dreamer and always wanted him to retain tonight. Tsk, tsk…”

“Ray, I wish you were sensible once in your life. It’s a shame how you take pleasure out of other’s pain, and…”

“YES, I DO LOVE IT WHEN I PENETRATE THOSE ASSES!”

Done gloating, the Christian Warrior sets his feet on work once again and hits the chair welded over Dreamer’s skull once, sending it smacking against the visage of the champion once, adding further insult to the injury. The second shot to the face sets the frame of the Floridian to shake vigorously, with jolts of pain needling down his neuron ends and taking over his skull. Though the state of the champion would draw line of sympathy on anyone’s heart, it reminds Grockadoc how he’s only attaining his satisfaction by punishing Dreamer and is drifting away from victory. So he gets back to his prime goal, and thus starts to yank Dreamer up by his raven locks, clambering him up to vertical base. With his soul somewhere between unconsciousness and life, the Hardcore Prince isn’t able to make a statement and gets up to his spaghetti limbs subjected to immense force, facing the monster face to face. This reveals the Jacksonville native’s face for the first time since being hit; multiple deformed tacks clings pierced onto the soft skin of Dreamer, with narrow lines of crimson flowing down from the punctures. Like a sadist looking at his crafty work of mutilation, the Unholy Crusader stares at the scarred face of Dreamer for a while, devouring what he sees, before throwing him inside the ring, sending him rolling in and come to rest right next to the folded table. He then follows the champion’s suite, sliding under the bottom rope, and enters the ring – this time with the controls of the match in his hand.

Back between the cross-stitch walls, the Christian Warrior collects himself up to his heels and decides that it’s about time he puts a big blow to the chances of Dreamer retaining his gold. He runs his eyes over the fallen carcass of the Hardcore Prince, ensuring that he’s out for long enough, before turning his attention to the table that lies over the canvas. Knowing the stipulation of his match well enough, Grockadoc slowly walks up to the table and pulls it up, before walking over to the centre of the ring with it and setting it up right there. He then picks up the canister of gasoline from the floor and nearly pours the entire content over the top, trying to light a fire that would at least give his adversary third degree burns all over. Done pouring, the ICW alumni throws the can aside and starts to look out for the lighter, only to be caught by shock; even though the champion threw in the lighter, it’s nowhere to be seen! Flabbergasted to the fullest, the behemoth starts to romp around the ring and runs his eyes all around on his way, looking for the objects desperately. But alas for the giant, the lighter seem to have vanished in thin air, with no trace of its presence evident in his surrounding – not a single trace. The crowd, amused how the missing lighter has set Grockadoc ballistic and act like a monkey in a cage, starts to laugh out and cheer, spreading salt all over the proverbial wounds of the Christian Warrior. This gets the giant to be infuriated and fume like a backfiring engine, unable to hold the fire of anger that’s brewing inside him. But then, it turns out that anger is the only friend Grockadoc may even have; frustrated and desperate to make a step closer to victory, the Crusader of Christ decides to unload his frustration upon the Floridian, and pulls him up to his heels, only to discover that his stagnant foe isn’t quite dead in the end – it’s Dreamer who holds the lighter tight and hide it from the behemoth. The sudden discovery literally blows the fuse in Grockadoc and sets him to be blinded by anger, as he kicks the champion in the mid-section and pulls his head between his legs, setting him up for a move that would punish him for his action. He then locks his arms along the waistline of the Uncrowned Prince and pulls him up on his shoulder, before throwing him down onto the oiled table that stands next to him, dispatching him into a pit of despair. Shawn, still not recuperated enough, isn’t able to make a move or anything to defend himself, and rather falls into the pit of fate that has been dug by his adversary, crashing over and going through the wooden furniture with a huge thud.

TBC;

[[Grockadoc/Carter]]

Will get a post up in the next 24 hours, still adjusting to the different timezones and job hunting atm.