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[J.W. Caliber] (c) vs Dion Necurat - C.C. Championship Goto Page: 1 2 [>] [»|]

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Punkology
Captain

PostPosted: Thu Oct 30, 2014 5:15 pm


"The following contest is for the BBW CRIMSON CITY CHAMPIONSHIP! Before we begin, the General Manager will have to spin the Wheel of Massacre!"

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Temperature: 55 degrees Fahrenheit.
PostPosted: Mon Nov 03, 2014 3:59 pm


Prior to the match getting underway, Dion was met by a backstage reporter, as he was mentally preparing himself for the upcoming match. "Dion!" the reporter said, moving closer to him. Dion, being broken from his concentration, looked over grumpily at the reporter. He knew he would need to answer at least a few questions prior to his match, but the match was fixing to begin soon. "I know you don't have a lot of time, but could you answer one question for me before you head out there?"

Dion stood, turned to the guy, smirked, and said, "Sure thing." Having said that, he started heading toward the stage entrance.

"...Wait a minute!"

"...Yes?" Dion said, turning back around.

"I didn't ask my question!"

"...You asked a question. And I answered it. One question."

The reporter rolled his eyes; it wasn't the first time he had that reaction from people. "You've had a whirlwind couple of weeks; having been assaulted by an unknown assailant, then defeating Jake Roman in a sound fashion, and now you are competing for the Crimson City Championship. I have to ask; what are your thoughts?"

Dion looked at the reporter again. He felt bad; Dion was really only messing around with the kid, but he knew better than to be sarcastic with others. "Well, that's how it goes in the business. You start from the bottom, watching the chaos and thinking, when you get there, that won't happen to me. But then you're thrust straight into the chaos. Some who enter are spit back out, never to be seen again, others are forever changed by the experience of the chaos. Me?" Dion thought about it for a moment. "I thrive in the chaos. Let the winds break against me; let my enemies toss me back into the maelstrom. For I am the Pillar of Justice, a last stand of Order in a sea of uncertainty. And I have waited too long to re-enter the chaos. Time I go collect."

"One other question." The reporter was insistent. "Do you have any words for your attackers?"

Dion looked at him, fully knowing what he was to say.

"It felt like nothing at all."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hail to the King began to play throughout the PA. If the music were not enough, the flames that began to rise from the ramp to the stage were an even bigger indicator of who was to come. A wall of flames blocked sight from the entrance, no one knowing who would stride out.

Of course, not many people were Dion Necurat...who could walk through fire.

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"Introducing the challenger; from Minneapolis MN, weighing in at 270 lbs.; he is the Pillar of Justice, DION NECURAT!!!"

As always, the crowd went into a frenzy at the sight of Dion walking through fire. He walked down the ramp, the flames dying down to knee-height. The heat never really bothered him; instead, he was soaking in memories from his past. His first match; first title match; first tournament. A long line of firsts for the man who, not long ago, was ambushed like a rookie. He still had no idea who had done it, but justice would be swift should he ever meet them.

He slid into the ring, turning to look back at the stage. With the flames having died down, an attendant ran out with Dion's gear; his signature shield as well as an old weapon of his; the modified kendo stick. He motioned the attendant to set them aside, as he addressed the audience by raising his fist in the air. He looked back down the ramp, waiting for "Mr. Texas Two-Step" to arrive.

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PostPosted: Mon Nov 03, 2014 8:12 pm


Punkology


((Yeah...still waiting on the Wheel before making my entrance...just in case))
PostPosted: Fri Nov 07, 2014 6:21 am


Punkology
ninja


((we can haz spin nao plz?))

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Punkology generated a random number between 1 and 10 ... 2!

Punkology
Captain

PostPosted: Fri Nov 07, 2014 8:53 am


Pre-Spin
[Sorry. Life's a b***h right now.]

Without any fanfare, the fabled Wheel of Massacre appeared on screen. The various pie-slices could be seen; "Shanahan", "King", Champion", and "Contender" could be read imprinted onto the wheel. As if on its own, the wheel began to spin ominously, fitting the theme of the show.

[Winning numbers:
Dion Necurat (Inferno) - 1, 5
J.W. Caliber (Bar Room Brawl) - 2, 6, 8
Kelly King (Dion's Shield on a Pole) - 3
Matt Shanahan (???) - 4, 7, 9, 10 ]


Post-Spin
As the wheel spun, it came to a halting stop on a "Champion" slice. A loud drum resonated through the air as a deep voiced boomed, "BAR. ROOM. BRAWL."

The match had been decided. Tonight, this contest would be taking place in the closest bar in Salem, Massachusetts.
PostPosted: Fri Nov 07, 2014 4:49 pm


After submitting his choice of stipulation for the Wheel of Massacre, J. W. crossed the road and settled into the closest bar to indulge in his favorite recreational activity...getting s**t-faced drunk! One would think that with such close proximity to the event, the local watering hole wouldn't need to order the PPV, but it was a real pain in the a** to see what was going on through the window and the view sucked, so BBW Hardcore Harvest got ordered.

The champ looked up from his bottle just in time to see the Wheel being spun, and smirked at his fortune as it landed on one of his slices of the wheel. Looks like he had time for another beer after all!

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PostPosted: Mon Nov 10, 2014 8:10 am


((Disregard entrance; will delete later))

Dion had submitted his match for the Wheel of Massacre, and stayed within earshot of the arena. When the match was announced as a bar room brawl, Dion frowned. He was looking forward to the inferno match, but a stipulation was a stipulation.

He left his gear in the arena, knowing he wouldn't need them for this particular match, and went to locate a referee. "Lets go to the bar," he said, leading the way.

After asking around, Dion was able to find Caliber at, quite literally, the closest bar to the arena. He walked up to the bar and ordered himself a beer.
PostPosted: Mon Nov 10, 2014 6:10 pm


After a few minutes of searching, Dion finally made it. By that time, there were three empty beer bottles sitting on the bar top, right beside Caliber's title belt.

The champ took a swig of the drink in his hand as his opponent ordered his own libation, remarking offhandedly, "About time you got here". Of course, J. W. would do the sporting thing, and allow his challenger enough time to consume his beverage (as well as giving the official a chance to assure the establishment's management that all damages incurred as a result of the forthcoming brawl would indeed be covered by BBW) before getting the festivities underway.

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PostPosted: Thu Nov 13, 2014 2:28 pm


((I just imagine an intern running around while we're competing, buying people drinks that we've knocked over and apologizing profusely for the damage. Oh that poor intern...))

Dion took a nice long gulp of his beer. Bitter, just the way he liked it. He turned to Caliber, saying, "I did check a few other places, after all." He stared into his drink, thinking about how he would fare in this sort of environment; while Dion had competed in cramped spaces before, he had never had the opportunity to actually brawl in a bar. He took another swig of his beer, and turned to Caliber. Perhaps some mind games would be in order here. "Lets sweeten the pot a bit more," he said, looking over at Caliber. "Winner gets the belt, loser buys the next round. We'll need it after this one, I'm sure." Dion held his hand out. "What do you say, Codburn? You in?"
PostPosted: Thu Nov 13, 2014 4:47 pm


The cowboy handed his hat to the official, who was getting a tad irritated by the delay before he chugged the rest of his beer and took Dion up on his wager. "Yer on, bub!" As Caliber shook his opponent's hand to seal the deal, he'd try to sucker punch the Hardcore Paladin to get the show on the road.

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PostPosted: Fri Nov 14, 2014 6:26 am


Dion should have expected a cheap shot right off the bat. Whether it was the surroundings or just his poor judgment, however, he did not react quick enough. The punch connected with his face, knocking his own hat off and sprawling him more into his stool. Slightly disoriented, he attempted to respond by lashing out with a kick.

((Blind kick, basically.))
PostPosted: Mon Nov 17, 2014 3:57 pm


((sorry about the late reply...busy a** weekend))

While Caliber wasn't quite able to knock Dion off of his barstool, he was able to land a solid, and rather satisfying, punch to his opponent's jaw. Of course, getting caught in the ribs by a blind kick and nearly getting knocked off of his own stool didn't feel all that great.

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PostPosted: Mon Nov 17, 2014 4:01 pm


((No sweat, Thor Bro-dinson. Also, when I said blind kick, I meant I was kicking without looking...XD))

Due to Dion's flailing, the stool which he sat on was wobbling. He saw lights, a few bewildered patrons, and the floor on which he landed on. Not too hard to knock him out, but enough to dull him for a moment.
PostPosted: Mon Nov 17, 2014 8:52 pm


((I know...ya just got lucky with it.))

Awkward positioning and slightly dulled reflexes might have prevented J. W. from avoiding a wild kick, but he managed to grab a hold of the bar before he ended up meeting the floor like the Hardcore Paladin. Of course, the champ would take the opportunity to get his feet properly beneath him and take a quick side step away from the tripping hazards before he tried to "help" Dion up...with the intention of attempting to whip him toward the pool table if it worked.

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PostPosted: Tue Nov 18, 2014 6:13 am


Stupid wobbly bar stool... thought Dion as he made sense of where he was. Caliber walked over, offering a hand to help him up. Thinking it gracious of his opponent, Dion accepted, being assisted to his feet. Of course, then the feeling of being thrown toward the pool table came next. Thankfully, he managed to catch himself against it before he collided with the solid table. Two patrons were playing a game, and with the disruption, one shouted, "OI! YOU'RE RUININ' THE GAME!"
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