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 Posted: Mon Apr 21, 2014 9:45 pm
"The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first..."
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Posted: Fri Apr 25, 2014 9:07 pm
"I know these hills..."
"I know these hills..."
"Touch of the earth...rain in the sky..."
"Blood on the blade...hear the angels cry..."
"Remember my name...the look in my eyes, oh I..."
"Oh, I..."With the utterance of Salem's entrance music, the audience came off their feet in support of the former BBW World Champion, who was making his debut to live programming without his precious championship for the first time in his career since his debut back at Hardcore Harvest. Truly, something seemed amiss with "The Copperhead" as he stepped out onto the main stage, only the burlap sack strewn over his shoulder when it used to be resting opposite Bad Blood Wrestling's most coveted title. Nevertheless, the lack of the belt actually did seem to be a burden lifted off the young man's shoulder's as his smile while stepping down to the ring was almost chillingly calm despite the circumstances. Didn't he know that Blackjack was perhaps the fiercest competitor he'd yet come across?
With the composure of a predator, Salem slithered down the ramp from one side to the other, reaching out to slap hands with members of the audience along the barricade before reaching down to a zippered pocket near the bottom of his belted pants. Taking his wrapped hand to undo the metal teeth keeping it closed, Salem reached in and withdrew his trademark snake-styled microphone, uncoiling it to its full five-foot length before bringing the reciever up to his lips as he neared the stairs.
"I said it before...holding that belt, Freak, it wasn't keeping "The Copperhead" warm all those days...all those one-hundred and thirty-nine days that I carried that world title...see, just because I'm cold-blooded, doesn't mean I'm like "The Dragon" I had to slay for that gold...it doesn't mean that I couldn't go on living if I didn't have it around my waist..."
As he spoke, Salem started up the steel steps leading onto the apron, standing there a second before ducking the top rope and stepping over onto the canvas.The fans, meanwhile, were hanging on his every word, eager to hear more of what their favorite son had to say.
"You see...I may be cold-blooded, but the heat that kept me moving all those days, weeks, and months that I carried that strap wasn't pride from being Bad Blood Wrestling's first-ever world champion...it was the pride I had for being able to come out here, time and again, and perform for you people - you, who supported me, even when others thought I didn't deserve it! You, who defended me, no matter how badly I was put down in papers or at the rumor mill! Call me what you want - call me "The Copperhead", call me "Your Favorite Son", call me Salem Croft - but I've said it before, and I'll say it again...I AM B-B-W!"
Roaring into the microphone by now, the fans were riled up into a frenzy, repeating the last three letters in unison to let their overwhelming support for the former champion be heard, who merely nodded his head and looked around the stadium in quiet respect for his adoring public. Walking over towards the bottom-left corner, Salem sat his burlap sack down onto the apron and rolled his knuckles, balling hands up into fists as he bounced from one side of the ring to the other via the ropes. Testing their flexibility, he limbered up while waiting for his most vicious adversary yet to arrive, knowing there'd be a night of horrible delights in store for Salem once he showed up. But until then, "The Copperhead" was content to run the ropes and bask in the love of the "BBW Faithful", knowing he'd always be a champ in their eyes.
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Posted: Fri Apr 25, 2014 11:01 pm
Salem would not run the ropes completely before a booming laugh shattered the good cheer of the audience. An eerie melody began to play, distorted as though it was being played on ancient vinyl. A cheerful, voice began to sing, though the gleeful tone felt hollow and forced. Two stagehands scurried out and placed a bundle at the top of the ramp. They kicked it forward and a stark white carpet rolled down the length of the ramp. As they left, the man of the hour, Blackjack emerged from behind the curtain. He strolled out onto the stage, walking with his stone tipped cane in one hand, a cane he obviously didn't need. His other hand held a simple microphone. He stopped in the center of the stage. His bowler hat was tilted low over his face obstructing his eyes, leaving only his psychotic grin visible. As the lyrics mentioned blood, Blackjack lifted his hand and snapped his thumb and middle finger together. At the snap, a loud pop rang out in the rafters, and dozens of huge balloons filled with swine blood burst above the ramp. Gallons of blood came splashing down onto the white carpet, bathing it crimson. Several more gallons splashed out over the audience around the ramp and even onto the ring itself.
The audience screamed, some cheered, for despite his nefarious nature; Blackjack's talent and eccentric antics had garnered him a small following. Fair-whether fans joined in at such a dramatic display. Blackjack reached up lifting his bowler hat off, blood dribbled from the rim as he did, not even the dashing dealer was safe from the sacrificial blood. He flung his hat into the crowd, they cheered even louder some jumping in an attempt to grab it mid flight. Blackjack's forehead and neatly combed hair were still free of blood, but his face dribbled with it. Then, he lifted his mic.
"B. B, W." His voice was dispassionate, and hollow. "You pander to these fools, and you strut, and they cheer. You think this makes you unique, or special?" Then he locked eyes with Salem's. His mismatched eyes had a piercing stare, even from across the bloody distance of the ramp. "You're not. They clearly will cheer for anything. Most of them are so drunk and drug addled you could get them to cheer with a puppet snake, let alone a trained pet." His demeanor suddenly shifted. His emotionless wall shattered and Blackjack began to speak with smooth charisma.
"See I've got you figured out. At Monday Massacre 9, you got your top of the world a** kicked by my PROTEGE," He shouted the final word mockingly."and you can't function without the gold. You know it's true. You come out here pandering to the fans, acting like you're the same now as you were then. You get them cheering like the drunken mob, and maybe you can even lie to yourself then. But the truth is it's killing you. Now you want an excuse for why you're such a failure. So you seek out a match against me, the man who trained and released the Most Hated. You know you don't stand a chance, and you're counting on the fact that you're not going to walk out of here on your own tonight. Then as you continue to lose, and continue to exist as a failure; you can blame me, and I'm ok with that."
As he spoke the same two stage hands returned, this time they were pulling a pallet wrapped in cellophane on a jack. Blackjack shrugged his bloody jacket off and dropped the mic. As the pallet passed him, he reached onto it and pulled out a burlap sack of his own. He followed the men down to the ring, though they stopped at ringside to set the pallet down and cut the cellophane off, revealing dozens of boxes of florescent light tubes. The men pulled the jack free and started back up the ramp. Blackjack however climbed the steps. His gaze never left Salem's, not even as he hung the sack from the ringpost. It was clear Blackjack's sack was filled with something different than a snake. Hard flat surfaces, and sharp edges poked at the burlap in various locations.
Blackjack stepped into the ring, cracked his neck once, and lifted his fists; just as the bell rang.
DING
DING
Blackjack took a sharp step forward and then stopped, extending a finger towards Salem in the gesture of asking for a minute. He turned and rummaged through his pocket, digging for a moment before he ah-hahed, and pulled a small foot long black tube. He turned to Salem and flicked his wrist extending the impact baton to it's full 2.5'.
With a casual shrug of unconcern, Blackjack charged at Salem, swinging the baton like a baseball bat only one handed, right for Salem's midsection.
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Posted: Mon Apr 28, 2014 10:47 am
Just as he'd bounced off the ropes following his entrance to the ring, a manic laugh would interrupt Salem's arrival, his feet skidding to a stop as all eyes turned to face the entrance ramp. Of course, that was typical when the sounds of Blackjack's music rang out across any BBW arena, no matter where or when the 'hardcore connoisseur' might show up. Tonight, though, Salem's opponent was heralded by a pair of stage hands, who proceeded to roll out the white carpet for the future challenger to one of BBW's championship titles. Stepping out onto the stage in his bowler hat and cane, the winner of the first-ever Sanguine Invitational stood with a smirk on the main stage as the first-ever winner of the BBW World Title watched on from the ring, all eagerness having washed away from Salem's face. Instead, memories of Freakshow and his similarly snazzy attire flickered around in The Copperhead's mind, his attention only brought back to the present by the snap of Blackjack's fingers and the sudden explosion of pig blood that bathed the ramp, ringside, and even Salem himself as he stood on the center canvas.
The cold, thick downpour of crismon bathed Salem's shoulders and chest, the sticky, coppery-tasting substance giving the arena a sick and twisted veil of color. Extremists in the crowd were riled up, in the kind of fashion that only Blackjack had been known to provide with his flashy entrances in the previous weeks, while more the more modest and conservative of the audience were left shocked or disgusted at the sickening, over-the-top spectacle. But if that wasn't enough, the ominous lifting of the rookie's mic to verbally address Salem's presence took the tension to a whole other level.
Though his mind had been in a thousand places over the past week, Salem couldn't ignore the sharp, verbal daggers being heaved at him from afar, criticising Salem's commitment despite losing his coveted championship belt. Though he'd remained still despite Blackjack's imposing presence and unexpected bloodbath, "The Copperhead" couldn't stay idle...eagerly curling his fingers into fists to flex his hands and test his circulation against the snakeskin wraps that protected his palms and forearms. Salem had been up nights thinking about Ryan, about Freak, about Hiro, and even about Blackjack - the sting of those three cuts still painful and visible on the back of Salem's shoulder. It was true - the fan favorite had seemingly only just started to hit his stride, when his historic reign came to an abrupt end. The upset of last week had left many questioning just how Salem would respond, but it was the task of "Wrestling's Favorite Son" to leave no doubts behind as he glared and gritted his teeth from inside the ropes. He'd make them all pay for their hands in his defeat. One at a time.
Still, Blackjack was at home in this element of depravity, this edgy line that he walked much like the bloody carpet that led him towards the ring. And Salem knew it. Though he'd considered himself a hardcore fan, Croft couldn't say that he'd ever met a man with the outgoingness and penchant for hardcore wrestling than the one who waited across the arena from him, this instant. But even since before the Invitational had ended, Salem had wanted a shot at the winner of the tournament, and he was glad to be getting just that - even if it wasn't under the circumstances Croft would have preferred, with his title on the line. In a way, though, Salem had so much more riding on this match than just his belt. It was his name, his very stake in Bad Blood Wrestling being challenged by Blackjack, this evening. Could the former world champ prevail against the rising star of the rookie class? Or would this be another moment that "The Copperhead" couldn't overcome, a confirmation of those fears and doubts that'd been sparked when he'd first found himself in Freakshow's crosshairs?
The audience wasted no time waxing philosophical like that, instead preoccupied by the return of Blackjack's butlers who were now wheeling down a wooden pallet stacked with boxes, wrapped in plastic and garnished with a sack so obviously meant to mock the one Salem had brought to the ring. Taking the sack in stride on his way to the ring, the current contender looked like a bloody joker, his smirk giving chills to those along the barricade as he made his way towards the steps with his bag in tow. Salem's blood couldn't get any colder in this instant, though, "The Copperhead" looking tense and ready to strike at a moment's notice, despite BJ's apparent lack of urgency in getting inside the ropes. But once he had and the bell finally chimed, Salem took a step forward as though to charge - only to have himself halted by an unassuming gesture from Blackjack, seemingly unprepared for the exchange. With his opponent turning his back to him, Salem huffed and reached up, running a hand incredulously through his hair at the blatant attempt at insult. So, to add a little injury into the mix, Salem would snap a leg up as Blackjack charged forward, looking to land a strike of his own with a boot into the sadist's sternum as he went to swing the nightstick!
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Posted: Mon Apr 28, 2014 11:16 am
As Blackjack turned into the strike he'd aimed at Salem, he witnessed his opponent charging at him. The strike came at him sudden and lightning fast, like a strike from Salem's totem. Blackjack's body relaxed in that moment, he clenched his grip on his baton as Salem's knee crashed into his chest, canceling out his own momentum. Blackjack hit the canvas with a crash laying sprawled out. His fingers clenched, conforming that he'd managed to keep his grip on the baton.
Blackjack struck quickly, he was accustomed to pain, and he knew that having a former world champion, no less one with a grudge, as his opponent would mean that no matter how much it would hurt, Blackjack could not afford to let up, not even for a second. So despite the heavy throb in his chest, Blackjack jerked himself up and swung the baton again, this time aimed to strike across Salem's groin and hip.
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Posted: Mon Apr 28, 2014 11:28 am
Though it was Blackjack who'd strolled into the arena with more bravado, it seemed that Salem was letting his opponent pick up the tab early on in this match - his snap kick, succeeding in catching the extreme enigma at bay, with force enough to drop the contender back into the canvas! The crowd popped for the burst of aggression out of "The Copperhead", but before Croft could capitalize on the opportunity he felt the swift smack of Blackjack's baton bruising his hip with a hard blow from off his back. Stumbling in pain in a circle around his enemy, Salem felt his knees tremble from the aftershock, sensing that the ground was about to come out from beneath him. As he fell to his knees, though, Salem made sure to try and drop one across the face of his opponent, hoping to hurt Blackjack on his way down!
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Posted: Mon Apr 28, 2014 12:14 pm
Blackjack laughed delightfully when the baton impacted with Salem's hip. He watched for a moment as Salem stumbled forward, but his look of glee vanished, replaced by surprise, as Salem's course changed and he fell towards Blackjack's face. The dashing dealer saved himself by the hair on his neck. He rolled out of the way just as Salem's knee crashed where Blackjack's head had just been. In the panic of scrambling away, Blackjack left his baton behind.
He pushed himself up to his feet, scrambling across the ring in the process. He leaned into ropes, and jeered at Salem. "How do you kill a serpent? You club it in the head. That's one down!" Then he bolted forward using the ropes to propel himself forward. Blackjack aimed a running heel stomp at the side of Salem's head.
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Posted: Mon Apr 28, 2014 12:27 pm
Though Blackjack was laughing, Salem was not - in fact, the former champ was silently fuming at his failed attempt to turn his drop to a knee into an attack on his adversary's face. But instead, the crafty, hardcore newcomer rolled shoulder-over-shoulder out of the way, evading the attack, leaving behind his baton in the process. Wincing as he felt his knee hit empty canvas, Salem looked over at Blackjack with a snarl - not needing to wait around and see what his opponent had in store by the way he was draped across the ropes. Thus, as Blackjack ran in for his kick, Salem would lower a shoulder and execute a Judo Roll underneath the attack, trying to sweep up the baton as he did so! If he were successful, Salem would plant his spare hand against the mat as the contender's kick missed, bringing up from the crouched position into a lunge for Blackjack's back with the nightstick!
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Posted: Mon Apr 28, 2014 2:35 pm
Blackjack's kick missed, of course it did, he telegraphed it from across the ring. Against an opponent as seasoned and experienced, Blackjack would need to inflict much more damage on Salem before the former champion was stunned enough for Blackjack to get such a devastating shot in. But he intended to miss, the kick was a distraction. It forced Salem to dodge and left him to retaliate exactly where Blackjack expected him to be.
Blackjack stomped his foot on the ground pivoted on that same foot, top spin hours momentum around into a devastating right hook for Salem's advancing face. Blackjack wasn't counting on Salem taking up his baton, and was jabbed in the gut wroth the blunt steel end. The blow staggered him and forced Blackjack several paces back. He stood up and reached into his left pocket, grinning at Salem. "Righty you little snake. You want to test your luck against mine, in my own game?" Then Blackjack pulled a second baton from his pocket and extended it with a flick of his wrist. He lifted a hand and motioned for Salem to come at him.
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Posted: Mon Apr 28, 2014 2:51 pm
Salem wasn't expecting Blackjack to whip around with his brutal hook, but the baton he brandished against the Hardcore Connoisseur's gut helped create some separation enough to let the grazing fist merely knock "The Copperhead" back a couple steps. Still, it was enough to make Salem reach up and grasp his jaw, working it side to side as his opponent pulled out another collapsible baton to test Croft's mettle with more metal. But even though the rookie was daring Salem to come at him, Salem smirked, a twinge of blood showing in his teeth from a slight cut inside his mouth after eating that hook. Actually, his blood didn't taste so bad when it was spiced with a bit of swine, Salem thought, shaking his head with a grin at the impressive upstart. Crouching with the baton in an imposing fashion, "The Copperhead" whipped his head back - letting a spray of blood fly off his hair and through the air in a captivating fashion as his eyes bulged, urging Blackjack forward with a hungry stare and a wave of his free hand.
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Posted: Mon Apr 28, 2014 4:28 pm
Salem whipped his head back throwing a spray of blood along with it. He was hesitant to charge at Blackjack now that the rookie was again armed with a dangerous weapon. Blackjack shook his head at the ready to defend Salem and shrugged, "So be it. " His tone seemed almost sorrowful, but his face was masked in amused determination. Blackjack exploded into a sprint across the ring, charging his prepared opponent. Before Blackjack reached striking distance however, the dashing dealer threw the baton at Salem's face, using that as both a distraction and an attack while he carried his weight through to plow into Salem with a shoulder check.
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Posted: Mon Apr 28, 2014 4:47 pm
The crowd was responding to Salem's increase in extroversion, but Blackjack appeared unimpressed - looking quite nonchalant about the challenge before charging forward at "The Copperhead" with a full head of steam! Still, Salem wouldn't back down from the bumrush, though as he brandished the baton in preparation for an exchange of clubbing blows he was instead distracted by the sudden toss of the contender's weapon at his face, momentarily blinding Croft and allowing Blackjack to plow into him with a hard shoulder! Driven off-balance, Salem took a hard tumble through the top and middle ropes, still clenching his own nightstick as he fell to the outside!
But though he gasped for his next breath, it was with a smile - the former world champion sitting up and grasping the nearby baton from off the ground that had fallen with him to the arena floor. A steel stick in each hand, Salem sat upright and stared on, inward at Blackjack as he stood back up to his feet, approaching the apron! The fans were thrilled, not only was Salem still defying Blackjack's attempts to rattle him, but it looked like "The Copperhead" was going to showcase a hardcore side of himself that he hadn't let loose against an enemy of this caliber. The shoulder-block had stung, but this was just the warm-up...Salem knew that, as well as the devious devonaire waiting inside the ring for him. Slapping both sticks against the apron with a grin, Croft slowly started to circle the ring, continuing to crack the steel against the ring's frame while the crowd began to clap in time!
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Posted: Mon Apr 28, 2014 8:45 pm
Tonight's match was going extremely in Blackjack's favor. He'd done a great job of keeping Salem at bay, and now he'd managed to blast Salem out of the ring entirely. Blackjack's face didn't change in the slightest as Salem began flashing about with both batons. He even goaded as Salem circled the ring. "You're about as terrifying as a monkey with two sticks."
Blackjack stepped around the ring staying as far from Salem as he could his body language betraying his cool exterior. He watched Salem's display closely stepping with each of the Copperhead's. Then suddenly Blackjack would drop and roll out of the ring. He slid off the apron and stood up next to the palet. It appeared, Blackjack had used Salem's predatory nature to maneuver himself closer to the palet. Blackjack would waste no time, immediately tearing into the first box he could reach to pull out a pair of light tubes.
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Posted: Wed Apr 30, 2014 3:47 pm
Though Blackjack was running his mouth, he was also running away, making a conscious effort to keep as far away from Salem as possible. Meanwhile, "The Copperhead" kept quiet, stalking his prey with the hungry stare of a venomous viper. But suddenly, his prey slithered away - sliding outside the ring once he'd found himself closest to the pallet he'd had escorted to ringside, earlier. While Blackjack fumbled with the saran wrap that swaddled the cases of light tubes, Salem stalked closer, a snarl of a smile on his face that perhaps his foe would see reflected as the shop bulbs were withdrawn. This was a different kind of personality on display with the former champion, tonight. In weeks prior, "Copperhead" Croft had been eloquent and articulate, cool-headed even as he walked away last week empty-handed. But instead, Salem was showing a more aggressive, assertive streak - something he'd look to punctuate with an exclamation mark as he swung both sticks sideways towards Blackjack's chest, aiming to shatter through the tubes and strike his opponent with a fierce, double-fisted blow!
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Posted: Wed Apr 30, 2014 4:22 pm
The cellophane had been taken off by the stage hands Blackjack hired. But he still had to tear his way through the industrial packaging of the box. The dashing dealer managed to extract his tubes, and turned in time to face Salem; only to catch a blow from both goods batons in the chest. The steel rods exploded through the exposed tubes, sending up a cloud of razor sharp particles to float around the Copperhead. Blackjack was knocked backwards crashing onto his back and rolling over while clutching his chest. It seemed like Salem's serpentine strike had finally caught up to Blackjack.
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