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It is often said that an angry fighter is a sloppy fighter. An emotionally charged wrestler will often be able to channel there energy in ring, but they generally fall victim to the more strategic minded perpertrators. Freakshow knew these facts darn well. He'd nearly made a career out of mind games, trickery, and deceit. Some would argue that this, rather than his athletic or wrestling skill, got him the majority of his success.

It is for these reasons that one should not be surprised that ironed into the crotch of Freaks neon purple trunks is a photo of Kayla King.

To the pulsing creep of Q Lazarus Goodbye Horses Freakshow slithers out onto the gorilla position, hands up behind his head casually, letting everyone take in the chill inducing sound and vision. The lights are dimmed, dimmed in a sex light kind of style. "Get a shot of this!" Not chill inducing in the Undertaker way. Chill inducing in the worst possible way. The blonde gyrates awkwardly ontop of the ramp for a few moments before taking the slope down to the ring.



"This is it King! No more running, no more backstabbin', no more shenanigans," He directs into the camera before nudging it out of the way. Up the stairs he climbs before going to the middle of the apron and facing the fans. Slowly, suggestively he zips down his track jacket, revealing a oiled up chest and a bad spray tan. Surprisingly he had gotten himself into halfway decent shape for this particular contest. On the wrestling physique scale of 1-10, he is about a 5, which is Jeff Hardy on a bad day, or Roddy Piper in his prime.

If it hasn't been mentioned that he is being showered with boo's, let it be evident now. He is being showered with boo's. A meteor shower. A nuclear holocaust of boo's. Once in the ring he stands up on the second rope, conducting the reactions of the fans as a composer conducts an orchestra. Smirking he drops down from the second rope and slides out of his pink track jacket with relative ease.

He stands in the corner, stomping at the barely padded, much louder ring floor with his feet. As if suddenly acutely aware of the danger he has himself in, his attention turns to the ramp, his gaze darkens as he begins doing his stretches.

DING DING

Freakshow stares across the ring at his rival. A rival that he had never been in the same ring with in a 1 vs 1 scenario. The man had backed the blonde into a corner, plotted against him at every turn, the normally savvy rudo had fallen into almost every possible trap. He grabs at the ropes, pulling and testing them, not even trusting the men he'd bribed weeks ago.

Pulling up his elbow pad, he cautiously steps towards Kelly. The fans are glowing with anticipation for the beginning of a match between two of the greats, one of which they had trouble bestowing the said status upon. "C'mon.. Lets tango ya geek.." Slowly he circles in for a lockup offer.

"You fu-!" Freakshow is easily and quickly maneuvered into the side headlock. "Gaaah!" Frustrated he wraps his arms around the waist of King and tries tilting the momentum of the both of them towards the ropes. Upon hitting them he'd thrust his arms forward, letting out a dramatic, "Yaah!" to try launching his opponent across the ring into the opposite ropes.

"Haha" Freakshow feels pretty proud about his nifty counter. Seeing King hit the ropes, he begins tensing up his pectoral muscles for a shoulder block. He did not seem to realize that going for such a move against an opponent twenty pounds heavier, and careening straight for him was not such a dandy idea. Not matter how long he wrestle'd there were certain things the blonde just did not pick up on.

Freakshows is struck hard with the shoulder block. In any other situation he would have taken a flat back bump, this was by no means a normal situation. Instead, in a desperate effort to keep on his feet, he goes bumbling awkwardly backwards towards the ropes. Just as he loses his footing and falls back, expecting to hit hard plywood, he is instead caught on the middle rope.

"s**t.." He links his arm over the rope and angles half of his body outside of the ring to force a break in the action.

Freakshow pushes up from the ropes, more than a little shaken by his close call with the floor. He brushes at his chest, turned just a bit raw by the collision with King. "Lucky hit.." The blonde mutters to himself as he once again works up the courage to approach 2.0. Again, he puts his arms up as if going for a lock up. However, if King took the bait, he would duck down at the last minute and slip behind to get his opponent in a waist lock.

Freak is feeling pretty brilliant. He shoves his forehead into the back of King, hoping to put his on noggin out of elbowing range. The new yorker would follow through by throwing his weight forward, rushing King towards the ropes. If permitted by 2.0 hitting up against the target, Freakshow would fall back to try craddling his opponent up in an O'Connor Roll!