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 Posted: Sat May 04, 2013 3:12 pm
Salem Says match! Have fun! Quote: A "Salem Says Match". Two or more contestants, cage hanging above the ring, as is the title (if its for a belt) and one microphone. The match starts as a normal match, but should either man get the microphone, they can declare a new match type and the rules will change accordingly from that moment.
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Posted: Sat May 04, 2013 4:51 pm
How lucky can one guy be
I kissed her and she kissed me
Like the fella once said
Ain't that a kick in the head
The big brass sounds of Dean Martin's Ain't That A Kick in The Head swells throughout the arena. The event was drawing to a close, the main events were coming up. No pyro, no lights, as is usual for the man whose presence alone elicited a strong negative reaction. Out from the curtains steps Freakshow, bright, neon track jacket over his shoulders, a towel clenched in the southpaws left hand. With a wide smile he throws his arms out to his sides and turns around slowly, basking in the jeers and boo's of the packed audience. "Introducing first.. Making his return, from Manhattan, New York, standing in at 5'10, weighing in tonight at 204 lbs, Freaaaaakshooooow!" The strongly disliked vet does a little jig and boogie as his name is announced, "Hah hah! Number one baby! No one better!" He gestures to himself with his thumb while marching down to the ring. It was a classic battle, a familiar one, at that. The oily vet vs the hot commodity, the old guard vs the new, a cautious strategist vs a daring athlete. Adding to Freakshows confidence was his attack only a few days prior in the parking lot, which had ended with the opponent injuring a shoulder. "Not a snowballs chance in hell punk! Not a chance!" He remarks towards the camera before going up the ring steps. Across the ring apron he glides until he reaches the middle, where he turns to the audience and singles out the least unattractive female on that side of the audience. His tongue hanging out the side of the mouth he makes some lewd pelvic motions at her, before throwing the towel over his shoulder and getting into the ring through the ropes. He springs off the middle rope into the ring, doing a few Bob Backlund knee walks around in the center of the ring before popping up at looking over towards the ring entrance. While waiting he runs his hands through his greased up hair, a nervous habit. The fans, whipped into a frenzy, and not the good kind, patiently wait the beloved superstar, anxious in a different way. It'd been over a year since Freakshow had shown his face in a wrestling ring. He was a little older, not in much better shape, but still the same mean, mean man. Would his wits and his venom alone be enough to take down Croft?
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Posted: Thu May 09, 2013 3:05 pm
"Gimme fuel, gimme fire, gimme that which I desire! OOH!"While Freakshow postured to the agitation of the audience, Salem's music thundered across the speakers and provoked a series of cheers from the stands with its thumping kick-bass and catchy guitar riff. The fans eagerly turned their attention towards the main stage, trying to catch a glimpse of the emerging Salem Croft while glimpses of Salem in action flashed across the Titantron. Rather than stepping out from behind the curtain, however, the ground would quake with the roar of a racing engine as Salem's beloved Mustang rolled towards the ramp from the service entrance next to the main platform. Blacked-out from rims to windows, the car's carburetor sputtered in similar time to the pace of Salem's entrance music, the muscle car crawling onto the ramp with its nose pointed at the ring. "Turn on, I see red!"People were caught by surprise as the vehicle suddenly pitched forward aggressively, back wheels spinning in place as smoke and rubber started to choke the air, Salem executing a burnout on the ramp before cutting the engine. The squeal of the Mustang's tires caught the entire arena's attention, including the referee standing at center ring with the designated microphone for tonight's match. But as the door opened and the driver stepped out onto the middle of the ramp, Freakshow would find that it wasn't Salem behind the wheel of his Mustang, but rather someone completely anonymous - a slightly pudgy looking fellow of middle-age wearing khakis and a polo shirt. "...And I see red!"Then, from behind Freakshow, a figure would slither into the ring out from under the squared circle, itself. While the audience, official, and opponent were distracted with the flashy arrival of Salem's car, the man in question had actually been lying in wait under the ring the entire time, ducking out from under the opposite side of the apron as the Mustang peeled out midway down the ramp. Salem's eyes were wide as he crept up on Freakshow, a menacing scowl on his lips that was as firm and imposing as the black aluminum bat he had brandished in his hand. Before the referee could catch notice of him, Salem would double-fist the taped grip of his steel club, knuckles white as he attempted to bring the length of his weapon across Freak's back, hoping to kick things off with some payback before the bell could ring.
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Posted: Thu May 09, 2013 3:29 pm
Freakshow stands in the ring, clenching and unclenching his fists as his hears his opponents entrance music. He smirks to himself, getting in an interesting headspace. This kid ain't nothing, Freak thought to himself as he stared up at the curtain. He squints his eyes as it takes quite a little while for anything to come out onto the ramp. Did Salem no show? This was best case scenario for Freak. It didn't take an expert to tell that the man was in over his head, it also didn't take an expert to say that the former tag champion was most dangerous when backed into a corner.
A familiar looking Mustang rolls down the ramp. Freak gives a droopy looking frown, his eyesbrows raising as he gestures to the car, "Huh? Your not impressing anyone kid! Yer a ham 'n egger!" He snarls over the loud entrance music, his insults inaudible to most. It was an entrance of flair, pomp and circumstance compared to the old school, minimalist minded Freak. The door swings open and someone underwhelming steps out. A look of confusion turns to a look of amusement on the new yorkers face, he flashes his canine teeth.
"What is this some kinda joke?" He cackles to himself at the unassuming, business-casual looking man who drove Salems vehicle. He fully expected him to go to the back door and open it up, but he didn't, he just walked off. This was the first red flag. The second red flag was the strange ovation that occured as the man headed back up the ramp. Was he that over? Probably not. Freak was well aware of this fact, something had to be up.
Something most certainly was up as he turned around over his shoulder and saw Salem Croft staring him dead in the eye, weapon raised, heading straight towards him to knock his block off. "Oh!" He lets out a shrill yelp, his flight instincts kick in and he makes a bolt straight for the ropes. Ungracefully he dives through the middle, planting a hand on the apron and landing sloppily at ringside on his feet. Immediately he turns around and back peddles, only to bump right into the car that he forgot was there. Paralyzed with fear, the palms of his hands on the hood, he looks up at Salem in the ring, wide eyed and sweating.
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Posted: Thu May 09, 2013 3:39 pm
Salem slinked towards Freakshow with the stealth of a jaguar on the prowl, heart thumping as he was mere inches away from delivering a small slice of retribution to the cocky corpuscle that had drawn his scorn. Lurching forward, the bat descended upon Freakshow's back with a woosh! noise, but Salem's strike found only air, the referee catching sight of Salem and calling for the bell to ring as Freak backed away through the ropes in a frightened hurry. What his opponent lacked in athleticism, he made up for in perception - a crafty fox disguised in the aging body of a once-lauded Cruiserweight. Despite his appearances, Freak would prove to be a wily adversary for Salem to overcome, and the intrepid rookie silently cursed himself as he got back to his feet following the failed swing.
Salem huffed angrily, glaring down at his retreating opponent before approaching the referee, who was already trying to grasp for Salem's bat with a nervous complexion. The match had officially begun, and thus remained a normal match until otherwise designated by one of the wrestlers - meaning Salem's weapon was presently illegal. This wouldn't be the issue for very long, however, as it was instead Salem who snatched the microphone from the referee's spare hand, drawing it to his lips to growl down at the official as he spoke into the device.
"Extreme rules." Salem whispered menacingly, thrusting the mic back towards the stripe-wearing judge as Salem stormed towards the ropes, ducking to the dusty canvas so he could slide out of the ring in the direction of the startled Freakshow.
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Posted: Thu May 09, 2013 3:55 pm
Freakshow leans up against the muscle car. He clutches at his chest, breathing heavily, it didn't exhaust as much as it frightened him. His eyes dart from Salem, to his weapon, Salem, back to the weapon. There was a familiarity to the aluminum bat in his hands that added to the nervousness of Freak. He looked down at his own hands briefly, they were shaking. "s**t.." He mutters to himself, clearing his throat and slowing his breathing down, the adrenaline was getting to him, not in the good way either. He needed to pace himself, his opponent was young, a risk taker, a maverick, yet not to the point of being unpragmatic, as seen in his well orchestrated sneak attack.
Extreme rules. The words send a shiver up the slimy veterans spine. He had, for a few precious seconds, been safe on the outside of the ring. The first shot had missed, in any other event the first shot would have been the last shot, unless Salem was willing to get himself disqualified. This was not any regular event, and in all the excitement Freak, a relic of the old death-match scene, had lost track of that. One would think his experience in deathmatches would accord him some sort of advantage but this was untrue, like an old, traumatized troop it was part of him had hoped to put behind him after he broke into the mainstream.
"Wait-!" His feet grind up against the floor as he sinks down a little bit, the base of his spine against the bumper of the car. Desperately he wanted to run the hell out of there, but he was frozen in place, like one of those bad dreams where something big and nasty is after you, where you want to get away.. But you can't.
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Posted: Thu May 09, 2013 4:05 pm
Salem slithered from the ring and onto the arena floor, a steady, smooth stride to his walk as he started up the ramp, towards the car parked midway between the ring and the stage. Tapping the end of the bat to his opposite palm, Salem's scowl would grow into a fiendish smirk from the sight of Freakshow's fear, feeding the animosity brewing behind Salem's dark eyes. Freakshow wanted to talk...but the only reply Salem offered was the tap of his bat against the metal ramp with every other step he took, until finally he was only reaching distance away from his cowering counterpart, who had backed himself up against the front-end of Salem's vehicle and left himself with nowhere to go.
Pausing, Salem would nod with an almost sympathetic smile as Freak called for him to halt...but anger would tear through Salem's paper-thin sentiments a mere second later, the unpleasant scratch of metal against metal echoing off the ramp as the bat was swiftly drug against the steel grates in a path for Freakshow's genitalia, Salem trying to bring the end of his bat up into Freak's crotch for a vicious low-blow. Though Freakshow was pleading for mercy, Salem had no plans to negotiate or reason with his enemy, tonight. Stirring like a dark cloud in the depths of his mind, a storm of vengeance was brewing, brimming with a flash of lightning inside Salem's stare.
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Posted: Thu May 09, 2013 4:19 pm
His nails dig into the front of the car as his opponent gets nearer. Move, move, he repeats to himself in his head as Croft gets closer and closer. He grits his teeth together as the man stops infront of him. To his surprise he offers a friendly looking smile. What was this? Was he going to call this thing off? Maybe they could draw it even, at a draw? Lulled into a false sense of security, Freakshow eases up a little bit. He puts a hand up defensively, meekly. "Heh.. We good-?"
They were most certainly not good. Freak had conveniently forgotten that he assaulted the man with a motor vehicle. That he had a made a mockery of the mans finishing maneuver against a woman. Things were pretty damn far from good. He realized that as the tip of the bat bumped up against his groin. There were a lot of things Croft could have done with the bat, and perhaps aiming for the skull would have been better, it could have even ended the match. But as far as pain goes, not much tops his decision. The crowd erupts into a frenzy, although some have too much empathy.
Freakshow lets out a sound normally reserved for vomiting. His arms flay out to the side and he takes two baby steps forward before falling straight to the ground, his legs closed together around one his hands, the other on the floor. "Uh- ********- Ah- Ugh-" He wheezes, barely any air coming out his lungs as he coughs up his words, voice knocked up a few octaves. If permitted he would start scooting towards the ring post.
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Posted: Thu May 09, 2013 4:29 pm
As the end of Salem's bat struck Freakshow in the family jewels, the audience would burst into a chorus of gasps and cheers from the sight as it was replayed on the Titantron above the stage for those further away to see. Even in instant replay, the blow was gruesome to watch, but Salem simply stared up with amusement as his fiendish attack was retold for the audience. This wasn't a typical match, anymore - it was Extreme Rules, and that meant anything was fair game. Chivalry hadn't been thrown out the window, but through it, rather...and onto a pile of thumbtacks that waited on the other side of it. If it could be imagined, it would be allowed - and oh, the thoughts that brewed in Salem's mind as he watched with satisfaction as Freakshow clawed his way down the ramp, crawling back towards the ring following the crippling blow he'd been dealt.
Appearing content for the time being, Salem rapped the bat's end against the ramp with playful swings of his arm, whistling a jolly little tune as he paced leisurely behind Freak, not looking too interested in attacking the man while he was down. Instead, Salem simply trailed behind his injured opponent, casually observing what the man had in mind as the pair once again worked their way back down to ringside, leaving the car on the ramp while Freakshow started towards the ring post.
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Posted: Thu May 09, 2013 4:39 pm
"I-I.." Freakshow inches down the ramp at a slow pace. He would get to his ringside destination only because his opponent permitted him to do so. "I'mgunnadie.." His knees drag against the grating, then onto the thinly padded ringside floor. With his one good hand, the other cupping at his junk, he reaches up towards ring post, hugging himself against it for a moment. His eyes water as the pain rises to his stomach, his cheeks puff up, trying to prevent stop from puking his guts out.
Frantically, desperately, hardly able to keep still enough to maintain his grip on the post, he slowly starts pulling himself up. His arm, tight around the metal would do most of the holding up as he got one foot underneath the ground. Forehead pressed hard up against the steel, his voice still reedy and high, he stays there for a few moments, Salem out of his head. As the opponent casts his shadow over the wounded Freak, with shakey knees rises up to his feet, both arms now wrapped around the pole, as if it were some sort of safety blanket.
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Posted: Thu May 09, 2013 4:45 pm
Like the Grim Reaper, Salem stalked his wounded foe all the way back to the ring steps, each second bringing the inevitable conclusion only that much closer. Salem could taste the fear that was thick in the air, he could see the sweat beading down Freak's brow, his face contorted with a cocktail of pain and desperation. Salem drank it in, a fiendish grin on his lips that silently spoke of pain, and not the kind that could be suffered quietly. While Freakshow struggled to regain his composure against the support of the ring post, Salem would raise the bat towards the ceiling, brandishing it like an executioner's axe before reaching up to grip the hilt with both hands for a powerful swing down towards the crook of Freak's shoulder and neck while the audience looked on with bated breath.
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Posted: Thu May 09, 2013 4:54 pm
Freaks sweaty palms rub up against the cold steel of the post. He shuts his eyes and opens them, he was still in a world of pain, no doubt, but he was starting to come to a little bit. As such, he became more aware of the angered, vengeful man stalking him. Out of the corner of his sunken eyes he see's Salem raising the bat up for an execution style blow. A repeat of what had happened earlier, only this time his balls hurt real bad. The sight was enough to snap him back into things, just in time to swing himself out of the way.
CLUNK!
The aluminum bat makes a ringing, vibrating noise as metal connects with metal. With a hand on the bottom rope to keep himself balanced and hurry things along, the other, well, holding everything in place. Freak, hunched over, quickly starts waddling away from the bat wielding menace. In this particular moment all strategy is out of the window, with Freakshow running on the basic human instinct of self preservation, he had little reason not to believe his opponent was out for the kill. This was usually the point where the audience would begin to feel sympathy. Sympathy for Freak, however, was a precious scarce commodity in a wrestling arena.
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Posted: Thu May 09, 2013 5:05 pm
CLANG!
Salem's wrists ached with the recoil of his bat striking the ring post, nearly dropping his blunt instrument of pain as the mental and physical shock rattled Salem's frame. Once again, Freakshow had outmaneuvered Salem and rendered his pomp and theatrics hollow. Shaking off the jarring sensation of steel against steel, Salem's nostrils flared as he watched Freak hobble away in retreat once again. Freak had picked this fight, mocking Salem by using his signature submission while wrestling as a girl in the increasingly popular LESBO promotion. The sight of Salem's precious 'Hangman's Noose' being applied by a skirt-wearing Freakshow had invoked Salem's rage, but being struck by Freak's car had brought out the wrath. Despite casting the first stone, though, Freak seemed unwilling to stand his ground against Salem, a recurring trend that was rapidly infuriating the young rebel.
"Oh, no you don't!" Salem roared, his vision narrowing into a stern glare as his hand grasped the back of Freak's collar. "Get over here!"
With a firm tug, Salem would try to throw Freak back towards the apron, and hopefully into the ring, where the referee still waited. Though the match now had no disqualifications, Salem couldn't win without Freakshow once again in the ring. Though his opponent was obviously fearful at the prospect of re-entering the ring, Salem hoped his threatening posture, accented by the wicked intent with which he wielded his black bat, would motivate Freak to face one fear in lieu of another and continue the match from inside the squared circle.
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Posted: Thu May 09, 2013 5:18 pm
"Ack!" Freakshow feels a hand latch on the scruff of his neck. He freezes up, his back tensing like a cat. His eyes widening, he is easily spun around and thrown right back into the ring. Under the rope he goes, his breathing still not improving any. Perhaps it would have been a good idea to skip his prematch smoke. It was the last miscalculation in a streak of increasingly poor decisions by the Marauder. Then again, Freak had never gone into a match expecting to be struck in the testicles with an aluminum bat. Considering his ability to agitate, however, it was a more realistic event for him than anyone else.
Into the ring he goes. Freak sits up on his a**, his legs squeezed tightly together as he faces the outside of the ring, Salem in particular. He could feel the rage off his armed and dangerous opponent. Two hands on the ground he starts scooting himself back, going towards the center of the ring, wanting to create any amount of distance, however small and easily navigational, between himself and Croft. As he nears the middle of the squared circle, his hand brushes up against the microphone, previously dropped by Croft. His mouth twitches a little when this happens.
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Posted: Thu May 09, 2013 5:30 pm
Salem bullied Freakshow back into the ring, using his physique to take the fight back between the ropes, as it had started. Like a predatory animal, the black-haired brawler approached the apron and slid beneath the bottom rope, crawling sadistically on his hands and knees towards the sitting Freak. Salem's face was lit-up with anticipation, violent urges driving the movement of his muscles as he got up to his feet to stand over his prey. The referee moved in closer, standing aside between the pair to keep an eye on the action, though he would be helpless to stop any of the brutality that was expected to follow. As Freakshow sat, traumatized at Salem's feet, the young man would lift the bat high once again, the familiar sadistic grin on his lips as he prepared to christen Freak's forehead with a debilitating blow.
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