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Round up, round up, round up, round up
Round up, round up, round up, round up...
No matter how hard you try, you can't stop me now
No matter how hard you try, you can't stop me now



Through the curtain comes Freakshow to the instrumental version of You Can't Stop Me Now by RZA, dressed his best in a gold ribera steakhouse jacket, a towel wrapped around his neck. His entire career had been building up for this moment. And it was a slow build. Nearly fourteen years in the industry. Started at the bottom of the barrel, nearly killing himself in death-matches in front of fifty people in a gym. Working in Mexico, Puerto Rico, Independents, living out of his car, in motels, before finally breaking through to places like NAW, RWA, PAW.. Then to EEW, EWA, WWFG, where for the longest time he struggled and floundered under the proverbial glass ceiling. Four more years, he struggled, cheated, clawed, lied, and eventually backstabbed to finally get where he was right now. His methods, certainly questionable, but he did what he had to do, and was now about to get his first serious shot at a major world title in his long career.

The fans, understandably, didn't care for this. Freak could have cured AIDS and it they'd still hate his guts. He walks up the ring steps, then struts across the edge of the ring, before slipping into the squared circle through the ropes. He throws his arms out and spins around, soaking in his own greatness, as well as the fans negative reactions. Tonight was his night, he wasn't gunna let these swine get to him. He backs into the corner, removes the towel from around his neck and drops it over the top rope, then starts to unzip his track jacket while waiting for Malice.

"And his opponent, from New York, New York, He stands at 5'10 and weighs in tonight a-,"

The announcer is cut off as Freakshow pulls him over into his corner and whispers something into his ear, hands him a slip of paper, before shoving him away to finish his announcement real quick.

The man reads off from the paper, almost sounding as if he was held at gunpoint "...And weighs in tonight at 205 lbs of.. Pure, rock solid muscle," The announcer looks up from the paper at Freak like he was a retard, then looks back down at the paper "He is the future WWFG Undisputed Champion, Freakshow!"

Freak steps out of the corner, sheds his steakhouse jacket and is showered with boo's, "Booyah!" He flexes a bicep and points at it, "This is where the power lies chump!" He seemed quite proud of himself and his personalized ring announcement. Of course, all this machismo would disappear in an instant, when the bell would sound.

DING DING

And with that Freak would quickly try and roll to the outside of the ring.

"Yeah keep telling yourself that," Freak says, not really able to think of an intelligent response. He also wasn't quite ready to get back into the ring. After a couple of hindu squats to loosen the muscles up, Freak puts knee up on the edge of the ring as the ref gets further into his count, now at five. He stands up on the apron, "Alright alright, I will not enter this ring...," He points dramatically at Malice, "Until you make sure this man does not attack me," Understandably, Freak wanted a clean entry.

"I got it, I got it," Freakshow puffed his chest up, grabbed the top rope, pushed it down, and put one leg over the rope.. Then the other, getting into the ring giant style, despite being 5'10. It really looked kinda silly. "Alright, lets do this chump," He slaps at his pecs a couple times, and waits for Chrono to make the first move..

Normally Freakshow would accept a lockup at the beginning of a match, as he was a somewhat competent technician, however, given the drastic size difference, he felt that this wouldn't be necessary. He'd feign interest in the tie up, that is until he got near Malice, in which he'd throw a kick to the gut.

It was like kicking a brick wall. Malice was right about that jackhammer thing... Well, he wasn't totally right, because if he was, Freak would be dead and there'd be no match to speak off. But whatever. He hits the floor upon getting nailed with the hard punch! Quickly he tries to scamper away towards the security of the ring ropes.

"s**t!" Freakshow puts a palm at the side of his face while leaning on the bottom rope. He has little time to lick his wounds, shortly after, he's grabbed by the legs, "No, no, no!" and is dragged from the ropes, then flung damn near across the ring! He hits the ground with a bounce and a skid. Once again, he found himself near the ropes, the opposite ropes this time. Again, he'd try to clutch for them for dear life, even though it hadn't seemed to work last time.