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((champ calls last entry))

While Big Mack was acting the fool in the ring, this image appeared on the titantron as the arena was filled with the sound of banjos and snare drums as Doc Holliday by Volbeat began to play.



When the guitar joined in the mix, the Crimson City Champion emerged from the tunnel in a slow, methodical pace. The drunken cowboy was met with a decidedly mixed reaction after his shenanigans at Spring in the Ring. Seems the crowd only likes them when the joke is on someone else...go figure. As the tempo of the guitar sped up, J. W. shot both arms skyward with both hands making the signature "TOO SWEET" gesture that the Sharpshooter Society is so fond of, revealing the Crimson City Championship wrapped around his waist.

An outlaw walking through the Valley of Men
Glared with a sunken eye of death
Moved his head from side to side and said
"Come on you gutless slugs, FIGHT LIKE A MAN!
State your name and business, let's see what you got
Another body for the Hangman's count
Show me the bar and show me the cards
Hold on to your guns!" Yeah!

Caliber paused on stage for a moment to take in the reaction of the crowd, which grew even more hostile as it was quickly revealed that the champ wasn't coming by himself. The other members of the Sharpshooter Society soon joined J. W. on stage, with Ishikawa toting a rolling cooler filled with, presumably, imported Japanese beer. Once joined by his comrades, the Dirty South Outlaw began his leisurely stroll down the ramp.

Filled with bug juice, the moonshine in his hand
Hot headed with a temperament
The speediest, deadliest man with a gun
A bloody gambler, but a gentleman dog
A frontier vagabond who charms all the dames
"Hello ladies, how's your day today?
Let me introduce you to myself...
Doc Holliday."

"And introducing his opponent...being accompanied to the ring by the Sharpshooter Society...weighing in at 235 pounds, from the Big River Valley of Deep Down Dirty South Texas, the BBW Crimson City Champion...he is the Dirty South Outlaw, J. W. Caliber!"

THE OUTLAW MAN'S ROAR

As the entourage reached the bottom of the ramp, the Society took up positions surrounding the squared circle as Caliber made his way up the steel steps and stepped between the top and middle ropes to enter the ring, quickly unfastening his belt and scaling the ropes once he did so, holding the gold high for all to see. Caliber then hopped down and removed his bandana, sunglasses and black Stetson, handing them over to the Sharpshooter Stunnas at ringside with his shirt, duster coat and title belt following right after.

Yeah, like Caliber hadn't heard that crack before. The cowboy, who was a bit lighter on his feet than Big Mack, quickly stepped out of the way of his opponent's kick before attempting to deliver one of his own to the back of Mack's knee.

Mack might have backed J. W. into a corner, but the Crimson City Champion was beginning to really live up to his moniker of the Dirty South Outlaw and had a few aces hidden up his sleeve. The super-heavyweight might have been a giant wall of muscle, but what good was that going to do against an attempted pair of fingers to the eyeballs? NYUK, NYUK, NYUK!!!* If his gambit worked, Caliber would try to back up his opponent with a few strong style forearm strikes to the jaw!


*That's a classic Three Stooges reference, ya knucklehead!

Caliber's tactic might not have been overly sportsmanlike, the referee couldn't do anything about it, and the crowd didn't care for it...not that the Outlaw really gave a crap, anyway.

After repeated blows to the jaw from J. W.'s elbow and forearm staggered Big Mack, the champ quickly slipped out of the corner, giving himself some breathing room out in the relative openness of the center of the ring.

The cowboy chopped mack down like a redwood, the mountain of man called big mack dropped to his knee from the impact, howling in pain

((auto hit))

A hellish crack rang out through the arena over and over as leather belt met flesh again and again, each lash drawing a howl of agony from the large African-American known as Big Mack. The heavily racist undertones of a white man with the moniker of the Dirty South Outlaw literally whipping a person of color were readily apparent, and the crowd (along with all the Social Justice Warriors on the internet) were in a frenzy!

Of course, the truth of the matter was that Caliber was simply using the closest equalizer on hand to neutralize Mack's massive size advantage, taking full advantage of the no-disqualification environment.

Having driven Mack down to all fours from the lashes, his back arched from the blows with visible welts starting to form, J. W. couldn't resist adding a bit more insult to insult and injury by stepping into his opponent's line of sight and throwing a crotch chop taunt that ended with the Outlaw's hands in the finger gun pose he, and the Sharpshooter Society as a whole, was so fond of. With a loud shout of "GET SHOT!", Caliber hit the ropes, using the rebound to add momentum to his charge as he looked to put the final nail in Big Mack's coffin by attempting to deliver the .44 Caliber!