Match of the Millennium

Description: Barcelona, Spain - Caged Arena. But for sane people, there is plenty of wrestling to enjoy. The infamous Mick 'MURDERHOUSE' made a startling appearance at the infamous Jaguar King match, and now the audiences want more. And what better way to promote the returned of the terrifying MURDERHOUSE than the world-famous lucha face Griffon Mask, otherwise known as Tizoc? But the stakes are higher than ever as Tizoc is forced to face the heel locked in the Caged Arena in Barcelona Spain. Can he prevail? Or will all the sins of the past return to consume him? Remember: Despite all your rage, you ultimately are just a rat in a cage. (WINNER: MURDERHOUSE)

[MURDERHOUSE]
Mick was stood in the center of the caged monstrosity, black mask and simple black jeans and shirt. All around the cage were people looking in, watching with mild interest even as the seven foot misery machine paced around the fighting space impatiently. All around were littered objects and half-broken 'weapons', already pre-scattered by Mick himself in preparation for this conflict to come to a head. Those unblinking evil eyes of his were set on the entranceway, the door that had not yet been locked by SNF officials. It was clear that Mick wanted to get this fight underway, he wanted to avenge his earlier loss to the disgraced Lucha. He wanted to break someone's face under his boots.

[TIZOC]
It's a giant cage in there. It rattles, it shudders, it does all sorts of little things that make people in charge of inspecting buildings nervous... but it's a cage built in leaner times that has withstood the test of time, thus far. MURDERHOUSE and his grunge-filled brand of violence is unlikely to exceed even the flimsy-looking chain-link containment while the fight goes underway, and then, even then!
The announcer is nervous. The rowdy, low-income crowd that have gathered here are quiet, as far as rowdy, low-income crowds go. The MURDERHOUSE has that effect. The dimly flickering lights cast a sinistar shade over their features as they pace, they stare, they prepare... it's chilling.
An official taps the announcer on the shoulder. Get this underway, he's told. Call in the other one.
"And now, introducing... coming all the way from," microphone intference, "Mexico!! Standing 215 centimeters tall, weighing in at 118 kilograms, I present to yoooooouuuu.... the Olympian Overlord, the Herculean Hero, the one, the onlyyyy--"
It's a marked change. Only seconds ago, the announcer was afraid. Now, he sounds like he's having fun.
"--GRIFFOOOOOOONN.... MAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSKKKK!!"
With that, the Griffon Mask rushes on-screen to middling reception. It's more impatience at this point - they want this fight to come underway! Fearlessly, the Griffon Mask leaps forward through the open door.
In reality... long before this match began, Tizoc was nervous. He had to psyche himself up to get in there. There were no less than six practice runs running and jumping into the open cage door, knowing full well who he was about to stand against.
The Griffon Mask does not back down from evil. He caged himself in that mantra long before he leapt into that cage.
The red cape that surrounds him is tossed out the door that gets shut behind him with another unconvincing rattle, as he stands with arms stretched out and in the ready. He will do this for the children...
...who aren't present at this freakin' dive...
...as his eyes, under the mask, dare to look into MURDERHOUSE's own.
It is exactly as terrifying a prospect as it looks, shielded only by a layer of bravado, its thickness indeterminate.

COMBATSYS: Tizoc has started a fight here.

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Tizoc            0/-------/------=|

COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE has joined the fight here.

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Tizoc            0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0      MURDERHOUSE

[MURDERHOUSE]
Tizoc had to psyche himself up, but Mick's preparation prior to this deadly cage match wasn't all that different. After all, Tizoc hurled him through an entire wrestling stadium last time they met, and dropped the seven foot Irish monster on his head numerous times, at sickening velocities. Mick knew this would be a war, and he knew that he would need to bring his full bag of tricks to the table if he wanted to leave this fight without a few months of physical therapy.

But Mick also lived for violence. He lived with hatred in his heart. When he saw Tizoc step through that door, the chicken-masked grappler would barely have time to throw aside his cape before the sultan of slaughter charged across the cage in the fastest brisk walk that's ever been seen. Immediately Mick could be heard grunting and yelling through that emotionless leather mask as he lifted his left leg, throwing a construction booted kick towards Tizoc's midsection, and following it up with rights and lefts from those massive MURDEROUS hands that were covered by black padded MMA gloves. This flurry lasted half a second until Mick reached around to try and grab the back of Tizoc's head, and then Mick was charging back the other direction, running at full speed and trying to lift/throw/slam the griffon's skull and/or face into that cage they were both locked in. Their last match had a slow, building psychology. Clearly Mick decided that was what got him in trouble last time. This was his version of 'improv'.

COMBATSYS: Tizoc blocks MURDERHOUSE's Combo Throw.

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Tizoc            0/-------/----===|-------\-------\0      MURDERHOUSE

[TIZOC]
Mick's decision to go full bore and not stop might be one that yet pays dividends. Tizoc's adaption to the more 'real' side of fights has proven slow. There's always been a theatrical build-up, winding it up, saving the best for last. At heart, he remains an entertainer.
That first boot hits clean. The announcer didn't say 'go,' but no one would dare stop the MURDERHOUSE. The Griffon Mask staggers a step as those punches start coming in.
A quarter-second in, his own thick forearm sweeps outward to try and deflect them, leaving an opening in which the MURDERHOUSE grabs at his head - his mask - his identity.
Mick finds resistance. One arm tries to firmly grasp at the offending arm, but the Griffon Mask loses the tug of war that regards his feet as he's dragged across the beat-up cage.
The other arm slams against the cage in which to catch himself from being slammed, bending his arm inward and absorbing much of the shock of an intended face-plant with his elbow and shoulder. The opposite arm breaks the hold. The Griffon Mask only averts the worst outcome of the whole combination, but the parts that got through, they got through.
He is not demoralized for it. The MURDERHOUSE has at least 30 pounds on him. He is, in many ways, a superior opponent. This does not stop him from throwing himself, full bore, into MURDERHOUSE with a rushing lariat, looking to swing that forearm right into them.
"POSEIDON WAAAAAVE!" The Griffon Mask calls. Why would he still shout out the names of his techniques, in what has been subtly signalled to be an ugly, knock-down, drag-out brawl? Who does he look to impress? The audience here, physically here, just wants to see blood and tears, and everything.

COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE blocks Tizoc's Poseidon Wave.

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Tizoc            0/-------/----===|=------\-------\0      MURDERHOUSE

[MURDERHOUSE]
There's a disadvantage to yelling out your attack names, as it gives your opponent more than enough time to plan and counter attack if need be. Mick is backing off after ramming his opponent into that wobbling shaking cage, and is looking down at the ground to try and quickly decide what tool would be best used against a man that was quickly becoming a rival for the bishop of barbed wire.

When that attack was screamed out, however, Mick switched priorities and as the heroic bird spun around and charged, Mick...remained right where he was. Legs planted, he flexed every muscle in his body, puffing out his chest and letting that arm crash right into his sternum and pectoral muscles. The impact was that of a dull thud that echoed across the walls, causing people to suck in their breath and gasp at the display. At first nobody reacted, until Mick took a step backward. Clenching and unclenching his hands, he glared daggers at the Luchador.

In one swift quick movement, Mick reached down for anything, and managed to pick up a thick bamboo training sword. In the world of wrestling these had a few names: Kendo sticks, Singapore canes, but whatever they were called, they still hurt. Especially when they were smashed across your skull, over and over and over and over again. Mick didn't understand what 'restraint' was, he was just trying to hit a hated rival until that training sword split apart and broke from prolonged stress it was never meant to endure.

COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE successfully hits Tizoc with Enter Sandman.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-

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Tizoc            0/-------/-======|===----\-------\0      MURDERHOUSE

[TIZOC]
A low grunt of discomfort comes as Mick flexes back at the lariat, enough to even spin the face back. Those are truly mighty pectorals that Tizoc would have to come to admi--
--no, the Griffon Mask gives no inch to evil!
Tizoc comes moving in again. It looks like he might be going to try and grab Mick about the waist, daring to look into those eyes that seem to dare him. The eyes that draw him in. The eyes...
That yank the opposing pair of eyes away from the stick.
BAM!
WHACK!
SMASH!
THUNK!
CRASH!
It's brutal.
It may even be catharthic for Mick, seeing that hated rival find himself forced to a kneel. The way he fails to put a meaningful defense. The way he tries to get up and lunge at him again, only for the final hit the thick stick can take to plant him face-down against the gross, not-so-professionally cleaned floor.
Even some members of the audience gasp. Officials are considering calling it off right there. The televised broadcast does this NO JUSTICE. One has to be there to grasp and understand the horror of every smack of wood against fabric and maybe bone.
The Griffon Mask stirs, raising an open palm from his left...
...and slams it against the ground, forcing himself up to a stand. Under the mask, it's hard to see or appreciate how unfocused Tizoc's gaze is. The swirl of murky sounds and blurry lights. He staggers a ways past the MURDERHOUSE, before finding whatever wellspring of courage and/or comprehension post-concussion he has available to him to try and position himself behind the brute, to try and wrap his arms around their waist, and unceremoniously suplex the man behind him.

COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE Toughs Out Tizoc's Power Throw!

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Tizoc            1/-------/=======|=======\-------\0      MURDERHOUSE

[MURDERHOUSE]
Already, the big monster Mick was breathing hard now, sucking in oxygen through that mask of his even as he brought that kendo stick up for a final swing...and looked over to see it busted and broken, snapped in half with frayed edges. After a moment of consideration, Mick just tossed it aside lazily and stepped forward to try and grab the top of that Griffon mask, to try and force his opponent to his feet, but it seemed Tizoc beat him to the punch. Mick didn't even realize what had happened until Tizoc's arms were wrapped around his waist and thick stomach, and soon the casually-dressed brawler was hoisted up into the air only to be slammed down without any warning. Mick's shoulders, neck and the back of his skull slammed into that dirty grimy floor so hard that the sound of it echoed off across the far away walls moments later. And there Mick lay, arms and legs splayed out, eyes rolling around in the back of his head.

Until suddenly?

Until suddenly Mick SAT BACK UP, glaring right at Tizoc and almost whirling up to his feet in order to charge at the Griffon Mask almost as if he didn't even feel the devastating slam he'd been subjected to. Mick wasn't as fast as Tizoc, that was just a fact of life. But whereas the agile and theatrical Lucha slipped behind an opponent nimbly, Mick just reached out to try and spin the around manually, to try and squeeze those arms of his around the bottom ribcage of his prey. If that happened, then what happened next would be a display of raw strength, as Tizoc was hoisted in the air just like Mick was moments ago. This wasn't as pretty, but the effects, if this worked, would be just as devastating!

COMBATSYS: Tizoc endures MURDERHOUSE's Power Throw.
~ Cruel hit! ~

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Tizoc            1/----===/=======|=======\-------\0      MURDERHOUSE

[TIZOC]
With sheer hate in his whithered heart, MURDERHOUSE brings his crushing, inescapable grasp around the ribcage of the Griffon Mask, and he can feel the man squirm. One leg kicks out fruitlessly into the air in front of him as the air rushes out of his lungs. What the world witnesses in this wrestling bout is inevitability. The chorus will be sung by the cage that clatters violently as the Griffon Mask receives the same punishment he himself attempted to dole out not that long ago.
The very ground underneath is a network of spider cracks, seeing a few dangerous tools roll towards the lot of them.
"It... won't be that easy," speaks the pained, fatigued Griffon Mask as both of his arms press against the floor - no, they were doing this the whole time! Dramatically fighting his way through cruelty and unstoppable momentum, Tizoc tries to get his legs around MURDERHOUSE before he can fully release him, and through his own upper body strength...
Flip.
"DAH!"
Flip up into the air, close to the ceiling of what the shoddy cage allows them for vertical clearance, whirling so quick to re-orient himself around MURDERHOUSE's body, to bring them both inverted...
"ICARUS CRAAAAASH!" Would be Tizoc's call, if he managed to carry MURDERHOUSE into the air with him, an inverted drop awaiting them.
If he can't get a hold of MURDERHOUSE, he at least manages an impressively acrobatic escape.

COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE blocks Tizoc's Icarus Crush.

[               \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////////          ]
Tizoc            1/----===/=======|=======\-------\1      MURDERHOUSE

[MURDERHOUSE]
There were many variations of the classic suplex, and though Mick was not an innovator in any, he was an expert of many. All of them had the drawback of you coming down just like your opponent, which carried a number of disadvantages. Such as Mick having to make his own way to his feet. He was just to a sitting position when Tizoc's legs wrapped around his waist and with a sigh and a snarl the big man immediately grabbed at the Lucha's ankles. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to pry the fowl competitor off of him because Mick and Tizoc were both sent hurtling up toward the ceiling, and in fact during the flip upside down, Mick's heavy duty boots hit the top of that cage which cause the whole system to start rattling and shaking ominously.

Unfortunately, even hurtling down toward that same spiderweb that the Griffon Mask had left, Mick was still dangerous, still focused on doing damage even at cost to himself. Suddenly his elbow shot backwards, the thick black padding protecting the limb from absorbing too much shot itself, but doing very little to hide the impact that it could do. Especially when that elbow was aimed straight for the Griffon's face three times before Mick had to give up the onslaught, to put both of his forearms up. Letting them take the brunt of the impact, tilting his head at precisely the right moment, that spiderweb became a crater as concrete and plaster flew up, showering the audience who stepped backwards and some even screamed at these new developments.

And Mick, Mick was there in the center, coughing from the dust that had kicked up, but even now he was pushing from the ground, attempting to work up to his feet. Even after that, the machine kept running, and had its sights set on the agile Lucha!

COMBATSYS: Tizoc interrupts Fierce Punch from MURDERHOUSE with Big Daedalus Attack EX.

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Tizoc            0/-------/-----==|=======\===----\1      MURDERHOUSE

[TIZOC]
As the two first make contact with the ground, the Griffon Mask leaps back. Those desparate elbow shots were disorienting themselves, as he finds himself having to suck in air while his opponent enjoys a good cough.
He nearly slips on a sledgehammer handle. He neatly moves that aside with a boot, as Tizoc soaks in the surrounding atmosphere of gloom and grunge. The audience seems a bit more interested now, between the heavy slams these two have been doling at one another. None of the audience is made up of any young, fresh, innocent faces.
As if by automatic response, or some attempt to cling to what he considers normalcy in a slice of the world that cares little for such, the Griffon Mask uses the temporary distance between the two to get up to the sort of theatrics he's always made a part of himself.
"DAAAAA!" The Griffon Mask calls, pointing a finger into the air.
Some members of the crowd get caught up in the energy and do it too.
"BIIIG..."
MURDERHOUSE lunges a punch into the Griffon Mask's chest. He could feel flesh buckle and bruise under that mighty fist.
He would soon feel that this would not stop the Griffon Mask.
"DAEDALUS ATTACK!" One punch is met with a meaty forearm from on high, then low, then high again, alternating in sequence until the final seventh blow that would see the Griffon Mask plow right through the thicker, stronger, nastier, more violent MURDERHOUSE, turning about-face with arms stretched outward, fingers flexing at the ready.
Deep bruises mark his muscular torso and forearms. Tizoc coughs once, under the mask. Outwardly, the Griffon Mask still looks - and acts - as though he were ready and willing to continue to put up a fight, the numb ebbing of pain in his skull aside.

[MURDERHOUSE]
Mick was also bruised and banged up, a number of cuts and scrapes across his forearms, his shirt ripped in places and hanging off of his torso, he was in no condition to catch the speedy combination thrown out by his opponent. Forearm after forearm after forearm is launched into Mick's masked fast, as well as into his chest. Even as tough as he was, these were dazing him, the fifth and sixth each causing him to drop to a knee from the sheer force before he immediately fought back to his feet. It was an impressive show of fortitude, but it also wasn't tactically brilliant, because it meant that Mick essentially charged right into that final attack that floored him brutally.

Unfortunately for his opponent, Mick was somehow able to use that momentum, and rolled back to his feet to chase and pursue his opponent with something gleaming and hidden in his right hand. His left went, yet again, to the back of that griffon mask as if it were a head of hair. This wasn't an attempt to unmask the mysterious enigmatic inspiration to children, this was merely to hold Tizoc in place, as Mick raised his right hand high in the air.

He was holding a fork. A common dinner fork, held in a stabbing motion like a knife. This was so it could be stabbed down, toward Tizoc's forehead. Wherever that may have been beneath the mask. Admittedly, the wrestlers who usually carve each other's heads with forks and icepicks usually aren't wearing such elaborate headgear. So Mick had to stab and jab a few times, doing his best to get Tizoc's blood to run down his face. Bonus points if he could get a steady stream to flow out of that beak.

As Mick was doing this, the shocked horror of the watching crowd began to effect him. Though he didn't know it, Mick was taking the negativity of the people around him, even of Tizoc himself if there was any, and 'pouring' it out into the unlucky Luchador as Mick continued his terrible work. Suddenly this would be stopped by Mick himself, throwing the fork so that it scattered across the concrete floor, and suddenly grabbing Tizoc to hoist the big man up in a 'powerbomb' position. As far as powerbombs went this was a rather unsafe variant, with Tizoc being held almost upside down in a deadlift position. Nearby was a wooden crate, old and rickety, stiff and unyielding. Wrapped around this crate was a good 30 feet of barbwire. On top of this barbwire-covered crate were a pile of fluorescent light tubes, set up like a pyramid or a pagoda. Of course this strange construction was on fire. And of course, Mick would finish this train of horror by trying to 'throw' Tizoc back and neck-first into this horrible construction. It didn't have the same flash as leaping up to the top of the cage like a superhero, but if this worked, it would certainly contribute to a bad day.

COMBATSYS: Tizoc Toughs Out MURDERHOUSE's ODE TO BUTCHERS!

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Tizoc            0/-------/--=====|==-----\-------\0      MURDERHOUSE

[TIZOC]
There is a stabbing. The finer details of one's thoughts and movements before and during the event are unimportant. There is a fork stabbed through the forehead of the mask, and the masked wrestler's body seizes up through this clumsy, inarticulate, but fervent act of butchery.
There is silence. The mask's coloration makes it difficult to see, but there is a dark stain growing from where the dinner fork pierces. Blood is forming. There is a man under there, and the man is bleeding.
Officials think it's time to stop it. Someone drops the keys. They fumble outside the cage trying to find the key to open it. The venue is so shoddy and low-rent that the announcer's system has cut off entirely. Shouts are unable to be heard above the concern of the crowd.
They're already moved, and it's not even the worst of it.
The bloodied fork, its tines dyed crimson, noisily bounces across the floor that has already seen so much blood spilled upon it over the years. That will be a blood spatter to remember.
Stunned and in shock, the Griffon Mask seems little better than a limp mannequin. With nobody that can possibly stop Mick, Mick takes off running with the prize - the bleeding body of a bitter rival he wants little more than to inflict agony and injury upon. Even if anybody resembling a referee got inside the cage, could they have stopped him? (No.)
The giant flaming crate-shaped elephant in the room's smoke seems to spew ever more vile plumes, as if hungry, inviting the sacrifice that the MURDERHOUSE will feed this savage concoction of grunge engineering.
Dead-lifed, it all seems like it's over for the Griffon Mask. The large Mexican man would feel as though weightless in Mick's grasp as he slammed him head-first into the mass.
There is an explosion of flame, of smoke, and splinters. It's like someone set off a pipe bomb in there - that's the only thing that compares to the sound of bodily impact! Sparks everywhere. Glass shards flying through the chain links and even out into the audience. This ceases to be a match, by any standard.
This looks like an execution, but the spreading smoke and fire makes it impossible to even /see/ a body in there. There are screams. This is way above and beyond anything anyone here has bargained for - pure, mortal, undistilled terror, all for Mick to drink in and draw into himself.
As well as a tugging feeling around his waist...?
"JUSTICE HURRICAAAAAANE!" What, no pithy comments? No defiant shouts, or calls to condemn? No letting the crowd know he is fine? No surrendering - by appearances once his form becomes more visible, he may want to consider this. The Griffon Mask is so thoroughly decorated in splinters, glass shards, barbed wire, and fire(!!) that any regular man would want to tap out.
Tizoc, mortal man that he is underneath, finds himself in sync with the mask and all it represents. In this moment, it is the Griffon Mask who would take his turn to be the one with inexhaustible tenacity, fighting through such grievous wounding even as some of his blood gets in one of his eyes. He made up his mind even before he made contact with the pile of deadly detritus - pounced immediately the moment Mick let go, without recoiling or letting the scope of his injuries yet soak in.
Just the announcement of his signature move, trying to grasp the MURDERHOUSE from up front, leaping up to the air in another dramatic and acrobatic spin to invert them, and drop MURDERHOUSE and himself down to the ground below head-first if he can get a hold... with all the same bizarre, seemingly reality-defying tricks of physics and anatomy that would prevent such an otherwise deadly, career-ending move to be the sort of thing he'd be trusted to perform on his ring partners in...
...much different times.
Even in the face of one who brings a harsher, more dangerous reality fueled by hatred...
...The Griffon Mask will not so readily bow to such dirty tricks!!!

COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE endures Tizoc's Justice Hurricane.

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Tizoc            0/-------/=======|======-\-------\0      MURDERHOUSE

[MURDERHOUSE]
"Ah...shit!"

Was that the first time Mick has spoken this entire match? It was, which meant this was a big deal. Mick was just groggily getting to his feet, and already the move that he'd hoped would put his opponent away only served to revitalize him. The Japanese wrestlers had a word for what this was: Fighting Spirit. It meant that Mick would have no chance to rest, to fall down and catch his breath because he would being hoisted up through the air and rapidly spinning as both men came hurtling down. Miraculously at the last minute, Mick managed to squirm out of Tizoc's grasp enough to move his head out of the way, but that meant his back was taking the brunt of the impact meant for his skull. It meant that instead of a concussion, the air was leaving his lungs, even as he flexed instinctively in pain and rolled to his side as soon as he was released.

Tizoc might have thought that, with his opponent on the ground, that meant he was safe. Mick was here to disprove that theory, as still on his back, the sultan of slaughter attempted to grab both of Tizoc's ankles and sweep him off of his feet. Not done there, Mick quickly attempted to use his arms and legs to turn the Griffon Masks's lower limbs into a complicated pretzel, in a classic maneuver called the 'Figure-Four Leglock'. One of the legendary moves, this was also not the type of wrestling that Mick usually performed. But he needed time to breathe and clear his head, and he needed to do something about the speed of this flighty Lucha!

COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE successfully hits Tizoc with Choke Hold.

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Tizoc            1/------=/=======|======-\-------\0      MURDERHOUSE

[TIZOC]
For the love of God, stop, one of the producers is trying to shout above it all. This match's aftermath is already going to dip deep into the legal funds! There's no point! The whole thing's a wash! You're both looking in bad shape and I don't even want to have to look at the liability clauses that have traditionally favored competitors!
It would fall on deaf ears.
The Griffon Mask's tank runs low on anything else other than sheer bravado and pluck. He's bleeding all over. If one were to go into detail about the individual aches and spasms that come from having so much embedded in that body of his, one would be here for a whole lot longer trying to read through all this. It is not so much that Tizoc would believe it safe to let down his guard.
It's that there are two men here who do not seem to know when to quit. It takes a bit of additional tugging on the MURDERHOUSE's part to take the legs out from under him, but at that point the man under the bloodied bird-headed mask (it's a griffon, he will remind a copy editor later) falls face-down atop some more pieces of sharp, splintered wood and glass to roughen the impact.
For anyone not panicking, this change in technique would be startling - the MURDERHOUSE is known for sheer power against technique, and there he is, neatly locking the legs of the more lawful luchador. In a sense, this seems to be the turning point of the whole conflict. The Griffon Mask's spirit will not be quenched by greater strength. It seems as though he will have to be defeated by the book.
There is struggling.
Mick might have a moment of reprieve. He might have come within a hair's breadth of getting a proper count-out, if there was a referee trying to count a pin and not scream and fumble for where the keys to the cage are. They try to bang at the rickety cage for attention.
Tizoc slams a palm against the ground (he will regret this in a few minutes, it aggravates something stabbing him there) as he hurls his lower body weight to twist their orientations until he can get one leg free. To remove the other leg takes almost everything he has to flick the boot up and away, and not without risk of inviting a cramp. His breathing is labored, as he finds it in himself to stand back up.
There are (almost) no words left to say, as Tizoc points a finger up to the ceiling. It is shaky. His shoulder shudders in pain. That's a tell. That's a sign.
That's a promise.
He comes lumbering at the MURDERHOUSE anew, intending to grab him and leap on up to slam him into the ceiling. Should he get that far, he positions himself atop the most brutal of all grunge wrestlers out there today, planting his feet on top of him to descend to the ground with him standing on top, arms spread out.
"Fall!"

COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE counters Fall Griffon EX from Tizoc with Cemetary Gates.

[                             \  < >  //////////                    ]
Tizoc            0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0      MURDERHOUSE

[MURDERHOUSE]
The lock is slapped away, and Mick slowly scrambles to his feet even as he looks around at the panicking peoples and the commotion at the cage door. Shaking his head even as he casually reached up for the collar of his shirt. With a quick tug the entire thing is ripped away and thrown aside, leaving "MURDERHOUSE" Mick shirtless and covered in scars, sweat, dust and blood. As tall as he was, he was wobbling rather tellingly on his feet even as he finally looked back at the legendary Griffon Mask. It turns out that this was a mistake on Mick's part, because he didn't have time to react to his being grabbed. Soon both men were launching up into the air, though Tizoc's attempt to slam the MURDER artiste was interrupted by Mick spinning around and grabbing the bloodied legend by the throat. There with both men's heads tapping the ceiling ever gently, the man's eyes glared into Tizoc's even as he roared out with a voice he wasn't using moments ago.

"LOOK! AT! ME!"

If Tizoc felt like he was going on an emotional rollercoaster, it wouldn't be merely an optical illusion. Both men were plummeting through the air even as Tizoc's mind was plunging into despair and chaos. Failure, shame, pain and selfishness, these things would be looping on repeat until it was interrupted by one hell of a landing.

Mick landed on his feet even as he slammed Tizoc down hard as he could beside him, landing so hard that he ended up in a crouch beside his opponent. Moments later, Mick's attempt to go vertical would be interrupted by him falling backward on the ground, clutching both legs even as he groaned out. It seemed that victory cost him a bit of hardship, but moments later he'd start trying to stand again. It seemed, at least for a fleeting second, that the match was over at last?

[TIZOC]
LOOK! AT! HIM!
It's not just the words spoken. Those eyes. They draw, they demand, they /insist/.
They ensnare.
One eye meets those two - the other currently squeezed shut because there's blood trying to get in it - and the entire world melts away further than it already has. It might be as unsettling to Mick to just see the sudden... flip of a switch.
This is a man who braved being stabbed in the face and driven through a whole lot of things that, alone, could inflict career-ending injuries on their own. Who just went right back at him almost as though it were nothing.
Tizoc, the man underneath, finds his hands going numb. He loses all sense of where he is, what he's doing. Destitute villages, far removed from modern comfort. Lack of strength to be found among immediate family. Lack of spark in the eyes of fellow children his age at the time, with no assurance to look towards.
Flash to the future... that man, who jumped in the middle of a performance and laid him low as a trivial, mocking mat--
The entire cage shutters, and the door leading out opens on its own from the seismic disturbance of Tizoc hitting the ground face-flat. There are several people yelling.
They look into Mick's eyes. They soften immediately. The one who looks closest to being designated as a referee hurriedly goes to raise Mick's arm and point at him as if to say, 'that's our winner, right there, he's our winner, we're good, right, let's get the hell out of here there's a live fire going on y'know!!!'
This is going to be one match for the records about the depths of violence and fighting spirit, wrapped around controversy about how safe this venue is for matters of such limitless intensity. The Griffon Mask, himself, lies motionless with only a blurred recollection of what happened in the past few minutes, as blood seeps further through his inflicted wounds. He might even be close to bleeding out.
In other words, just another Saturday Night Fight bout.

COMBATSYS: Tizoc takes no action.

[                    \\\\\\\\\\  <
MURDERHOUSE      0/-------/-======|

COMBATSYS: Tizoc can no longer fight.

[                    \\\\\\\\\\  <
MURDERHOUSE      0/-------/-======|

Log created on 20:31:13 07/17/2017 by Tizoc, and last modified on 11:52:38 07/24/2017.