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Three slowly rolls off the bed of tacks, he slowly and shakily started rising to his feet. His black back glistened with blood and silver caps of thumbtacks. Staggering he made his way towards Draze one shaky foot at a time, when he got close enough he would try to push Draze's face into the lighter fluid covered table.

Three turned after smearing Draze's face into the lighter-fluid and grabbed the ladder that he had jumped off earlier in the match. He had to shake the wreckage of the broken ladder off before he could position it next to the tables. He hung limply panting for a moment before he began the slow painful task of climbing the ladder. The fans had started chanting the countdown as the timer showed the final 30 seconds of the match. He had one chance, one shot; and he knew with a man like Draze wouldn't refuse a chance to go flying.

Three had just made it to the top of the ladder, feeling woozy. Draze rushed up the ladder, bottle in hand, making it very obvious he was carrying. When he got close enough to swing Three leaned back narrowly avoiding the bottle that would have exploded against his skull. He pulled himself back into the ladder bringing a hard right hook, aimed at Draze's face, with him.

Three took another step up the ladder, he was panting heavily, but he knocked Draze away with the last punch, another could send him into the now burning table behind him. He reached back clenching his fist and aimed to hit Draze with a haymaker. Hopefully the force would blast him off the ladder.

The bottle requires less build up and connects with the side of Three's head before the haymaker could connect. The glass explodes spraying Three's entire body with the pepper laced vodka. Every wound on his body seared with pain and he was dizzy beyond belief. It was a miracle he didn't fall from the ladder, but he hung slumped over the top of the ladder; blood and alcohol dripping down to the mat below.

There is little Three can do to stop Draze, he had been knocked senseless by the bottle of his own demon brew vodka. Three was hoisted up onto Draze's shoulders before he was slammed down off the ladder into the first burning table. The weight of both men crushed the table under him, engulfing Three in flames. They burst through the second table before Three was slammed into the mat, burning particle board piled above him as flames licked at his flesh. Slowly a blue hue covered Three as the vodka ignited, consuming the Demon of the Ring in his own hellfire.

The world was a torrent of pain, fire licked at his flesh searing the edges of countless wounds and deep gashes. Three was motionless, as amongst the rubble of the broken tables Draze shifted and rolled Three up in a pin. The timer on the clock was counting down. "4...One...3...Two...2...Three!1!!!" The counts went by simultaneously ending at a near close call. But the count made it to Three just before the last second of the match and the ref stood calling the pinfall. The score was 3-2 now favoring Draze!

The medics rushed into the ring, checking on both Draze and trying to make their way to Three. But as they pulled a large charred chunk of table away Three was already pushing himself up to his hands and knee. They tried to help him up, as well as Draze; but Three shrugged them all away. He rose as the last tongues of flames burned themselves off his shoulders.

He staggered slightly and the medics surged in again to steady him but he held his footing. Blood dripped from his back, and the wound on the side of his head was still bleeding through coagulated scabs that wouldn't stay closed with the violence. He turned pushing the medics away again to face Draze.

After a moment of staring at the bigger man he grinned; a bright bloody red grin, but he grinned and extended a hand to his victorious opponent. He shook Draze's hand and called for a ring hand to bring him his Blaze Championship. When he got the belt he fastined it around his waist, still swatting the medics away from him as they buzzed about like flies, pulling tacks from his back. He turned and slowly, limping as he walked, made his way out of the ring and up the ramp to the locker room.

Fans cheered and roared for Draze amazed by his victory, the lengths at which he would go to win a match; and they cheered for Three for anyone who could walk away from a match like that.