Description: It's Vyle versus MURDERHOUSE in an empty, ghost-infested arena in France. The winner gets to walk away, and the loser gets thrown into a room of ghosts by the winner. Boo. (Winner: Vyle)
The Stade de France. The national stadium, just north of fair Paris. If an event was happening here, it was sure to be an important one, one where the stands would be filled to the brim and the lights would be on bright, glaring down onto the field itself....
That is, under normal circumstances. The lights are on, sure. And on the field, there is a wrestling ring, clearly with the expectation that it be used, not to mention staging and extra lighting set up....but the stands are eerily empty seeming. And that is what keeps Vyle from coming out with all guns firing, even as his lights flash and his theme blares on the stadium PA. Walking out onto the ramp leading toward the ring, he frowns. "The hell..." he mutters, hands in his pockets. Stuck in this country for the last few weeks, with his missed score clearly a sore point, he's found it far too creepy to stomach, with all sorts of ghostly things happening...and this seemed to be the worst of it.
"Where the hell is everyone?!" he shouts over 'Subculture', clearly irritated that he was drawn out for what was supposed to be a nice payday only to find no audience at all. "Christ all..." he grumbles....at least until he whips his head around, spotting what he thought might have been some movement in the floor seating. "...." Blinking, he continues walking to the ring, but far more on guard than before....
It had been a very rough couple of days, and it seemed that all of Mick's fights, so far, were against creatures that should not be. From vampires in Transylvania, to green electric monsters in Japan, to giant chaos-inducing lovecraftian snake dinosaurs in that same area, Mick had it up to here with all the bullshit going on. He was looking forward to a fight like this...
Except, when it seemed the entire place was empty. The seven foot tall Irish Monster, one "MURDERHOUSE" Mick, stalked down the entrance ramp, baseball bat slung over his shoulder, and from that bat hung his typical duffel bag, promising pain. Mick himself was dressed simply, black jeans, black Misfits shirt, with two simple black elbow pads and black padded MMA gloves, oh and of course that white hockey mask, like a menacing parody of a face that stared at the perplexed Luchador. Those eyes weren't blinking, and despite the strangeness of this empty arena, his eyes were straight on his opponent.
He stopped before the apron, unslinging that bag and shoving it under the bottom rope, in his 'corner', and soon he was sliding under that rope himself. No words, no witty back and forth, he was just focused on studying his enemy, and figuring out who in the hell he was fighting. It was almost a relief to be focused entirely on some mundane, regular concern like another human who wanted to MURDER him. It really was a vacation for the garbage wrestler, at this point of his life!
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE has started a fight here.
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MURDERHOUSE 0/-------/-------|
Climbing into the ring, Vyle scowled. The stadium was totally empty. At least...supposedly empty. Every time that he glanced aside, it was like someone was floating or hovering out of the corner of his eye. Yet when he turned toward that direction, there was nothing...seemingly nothing, at least.
He whipped his head toward the ramp again, hearing something...before relaxing. In this kind of situation, a giant guy in a hockey mask holding a weapon is a strange comfort. "Oh...it's YOU..." he grumbles, leaning back against the ropes as he watched MURDERHOUSE approach the ring and climb up on the apron. "So...we're supposed to fight. But kinda feels like a damn waste when no one's around," he mutters....at least until he turns to the ringside seats again and sees SOMETHING finally.
Something he'd rather not see. Something ghostly...or rather, a whole lot of somethings, person-shaped apparitions that start to solidify more and more in the audience. "....aw hell...."
The big man watched his enemy, and almost grinned underneath his mask as he reached out to grab the middle and top ropes, pulling himself to his feet and stalking around. And at one point, he even dared to walk towards Vyle's 'area' and turn his back, grabbing the ropes to stretch and work the kinks out of his back, his crackling back and neck.
Although, this cocky statement of superiority ended when he looked out, and saw...things, sitting there, watching them both. Those eyes of his widened just a fraction, even as he turned towards the other wrestler and spoke.
"Shit, you poison all these assholes, or are we just special?"
Quickly turning back, he spotted one ghost in the crowd, a ghastly thing without lips or eyelids, and quickly brought up his middle finger, to let her and the rest of the crowd exactly what he thought of them. They didn't like that, as evidenced by their sudden moaning. But frankly, dear, he didn't give a damn.
"You know what, fuck it. I came here to have a match, and tear some poor bastard apart. Welcome back to the squared circle!"
This 'welcome' would come from what felt like a 'hug' around the midsection of Vyle. Moments later, unless he could get out of this, the deal would be sealed with a quick, vicious back suplex!
COMBATSYS: Vyle has joined the fight here.
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Vyle 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
COMBATSYS: Vyle blocks MURDERHOUSE's Quick Throw.
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Vyle 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
"**** you, my body count ain't nearly this big," Vyle quickly responds to 'MURDERHOUSE', watching as the arena fills more and more with ghosts, ghosts with their jealous, angry glares focused directly on the only two living things currently here from the looks of it. "Maybe they all died after watching that crap you call wrestling, but that'd assume you could fill more than a high school gym," he adds on, falling back onto his reflexive defense of his sharp tongue.
He then noticed MURDERHOUSE give a ghost in the front row the finger, seeing just how grotesque that particular ghost was. "You idiot!" he shouts out, without more colorful insults added, walking straight up to Mick. "What the hell did you just do?!" And when he attempts to give Vyle a fierce bear hug, the smaller luchador is forced to writhe and wriggle out of it. Managing to struggle free and drop down to the mat, he cradles his ribs and glowers up at the towering garbage wrestler. "Oh, now you asked for it, Leather****." Leaping high up, he tried to straight up drop kick Mick in the mask, hoping to send him reeling at least a little as well as get a bit more separation between him and the hardcore grappler. If it's going to come down to who throws who to the sharks, well...that's just fine with the Sickness.
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE endures Vyle's Light Kick.
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Vyle 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
It seemed that Mick, just wasn't down with the Sickness. And he could live with that.
Two feet smashed him right in that mask, and his head shot up and he staggered back from the impact, finding himself against the ring ropes even as he heard...wind howling? No, that was moaning. He was hearing something terrible and pained, he heard a noise that no living creature would ever make.
Alright, he was gonna have to deal with these things after, it seemed like, even as his head snapped back down and he charged Vyle(who was hopefully getting to his feet) with one hell of a running boot, that big heavy boot-covered foot aiming right for the face of the Rudo rabble-rouser.
"Yeah, maybe I can make up for it by filling up a blood bank. You're cool with that, right?"
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE successfully hits Vyle with Light Kick.
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Vyle 0/-------/---====|=------\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
That's the problem with dropkicks. Even if you hit it right, you usually had to push yourself back up to your feet afterwards. Even Vyle wasn't good enough to consistently dropkick someone and land back on his own feet. So when MURDERHOUSE is charging in, he's still pushing his way back up to his feet and by the time he's back up, he ends up eating a huge running Big Boot that plowed him over into the mat with incredible force. The echo of the canvas as Vyle landed resonated in the open stadium, followed by a low groan, not from the ghostly apparitions surrounding them, but from the Luchador himself.
"You....son of a......" he groans, pushing himself back to his feet even as the world swam around him. Glowering, he immediately leapt up to one of the top ropes, bouncing off of it before flying toward MURDERHOUSE, trying to wrap his legs around the giant's head. "Here, YOU deal with them!!" he shouts as he tried to fall back and use his momentum to bodily fling Mick over the ropes and into the ghostly crowd.
COMBATSYS: Vyle successfully hits MURDERHOUSE with Viper's Coil.
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Vyle 0/-------/--=====|===----\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
Mick was standing, adjusting his elbow pads and gloves as Vyle scrambled to his feet, and the masked monster gave a chuckle even as he started to stalk and approach his prey. Unfortunately, this worked against him as the formerly banned Luchador showed just how quick he could be! Before Mick even comprehended the attack, a pair of legs was around his neck, and he was being spun around and thrown, well out of that ring, flailing and scrambling in the air like he wasn't used to. In fact, he managed to land on his feet right on that barricade, but the force of his landing caused him to spill into the spectral mass, smashing into a row of chairs and landing in a heap. Ever since the acid of Vertigo seeped into his blood, it seemed that pain started to effect him now, it started to slow him down just enough. A number of the veins in his arms and body were pulsing green now, and the burning sensation of this wasn't doing him any favors.
Still, after a moment he roared to his feet, throwing punches into the mass of things approaching him, knocking and batting most of them away until that one got close to him. She was a terrible thing, and as she clasped her cold clammy hands around his throat and opened her terrible mouth...she immediately got punched, and got suplexed the way Vyle avoided earlier!
In fact, Mick aimed it, jumping up on the barricade and LEAPING back into the ring, taking that ghost with him, and aiming the terrible spectre for the general mass of Vyle! It seemed the audience just became a participant, whether they wanted to be or not!
COMBATSYS: Vyle dodges MURDERHOUSE's Random Weapon.
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Vyle 0/-------/--=====|===----\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
Unfortunately it missed, and to add to both men's list of problems, ghosts weren't meant to be suplexed. Perhaps because of this, the monstrous, hideous looking creature exploded into ghastly cold blood, skull, ribcage, and other 'gibs' ludicrously showering that area of the ring.
This was NOT good...
Landing on the apron after that take on the hurricanrana threw Mick overboard, Vyle couldn't help but scowl at the audience that tried to flail and grab onto Mick, spectral abominations that seemed to want nothing more than to have both of them join them in the world of the dead. All the luchador could think is 'Better him than me...'
At least until Mick leaps out of the audience, ghost in tow, trying to toss the grotesque ghost toward him. Then his thoughts centered more on 'WHAT THE F-' just as he leapt back onto a turnbuckle, away from the flight path of the ectoplasmic rocket. "Oh, you did NOT just do what I think you just did, you bootleg Jason," he sneers. Looking at the mess left in the ring as the ghost, for lack of a better word, exploded, he simply shook his head. "Do you know how much this stuff takes to clean off?!" he growls out before leaping for MURDERHOUSE again.
While his legs looped out again, they didn't go for a hurricanrana again. Nope, instead, they tried to latch on to one of those meaty arms, hoping to wrench it and hang upside down off it in a way that stretched it over the barricades that tenuously separated the ring from the ghosts....the downside is that, either way, he'll find himself on the wrong side of the barricade. He...clearly didn't think this completely through.
COMBATSYS: Vyle successfully hits MURDERHOUSE with Improvised Throw.
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Vyle 0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
When he got to his feet, slipping slightly in that pool of necrotic plasma, Mick was unprepared for the unusual assault that awaited him in the form of Vyle grasping that arm, and quickly hanging over that barricade. While Mick would normally have the height advantage in resisting this move, he didn't have such great balance, standing in dead ghost like he was, and that metal railing dug into his armpit, digging against his shoulder joint cruelly. He gasped out, almost to one knee as he groaned in discmfort.
"Oh, you wanna play, jackass? That it, huh?"
In anger, he fought to keep his balance and stood back up, his own right hand reaching out to grasp at a wrist of Vyle's, to keep him upside down and using that superior strength of his to lift the Luchador up...and then slam him down on the ground on the other side, aiming his skull for that cold concrete!
Not one to leave it at 'kill', Mick tried to flip it into 'Over' while he ignored the outstretched hands of the spirits touching him, and would try to swing Vyle overhand, trying to launch him like a man-sized dart, right for that metal ringpost!
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE successfully hits Vyle with Chaos Theory.
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Vyle 1/------=/=======|======-\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
Using as much weight as he could to wrench at Mick's arm, Vyle tried to ignore the ghosts as best he could, even as they encroached on his personal space and started to reach out to harrass him in the same way they had done to MURDERHOUSE. "Nrghhh...you're...the one that threw a ghost at me, you want to talk?" he sneers up at the masked garbage wrestler. Just as he's about to let go and deal with the ghost problem, though, he ends up lifted clear up...and then brought back down again, crashing into the concrete. A loud thud and crack can be heard, and as if to add insult to injury, he was lifted clear up again before his limbs went slack, flung hard into a ringpost in a way that heard something else clearly crack.
Falling down limply, Vyle coughs and hacks heavily, clearly worse for the wear at this point. Pushing himself back up, he still has that glower toward Mick, heaving as he tried to find a way back up to his feet. "You...little....garbage prick...." he spits, before shoving himself off the ring apron. His hand glows a sickly green as he thrust his hand out and tried to stick Mick with a spearhanded strike, straight to the stomach. If the stabbing shot wasn't bad enough, that burning, noxious green chi would definitely do a number.
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE fails to counter Injector from Vyle with Cemetary Gates.
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Vyle 1/-----==/=======|======-\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
"Little, coming from the chihuahua? That's really rich-"
The whole time he spoke, he was advancing towards the wrestler with some evil intentions in his eyes, adjusting his glove and lifting it up with definite plans for Vyle's future, plans that were crudely and rudely interrupted by a gutshot that doubled over the big man, and moments later that green, pulsing...stuff coursed through his body, causing him to fall and clutch his midsection, writhing and coughing, spittle flinging from those mouth-holes every so often.
Things were not going well for the big man, it seemed like!
Smirking as he manages to drive that glowing green stabbing hand directly into the bigger man's gut, Vyle backed off, letting the garbage wrestler get a sense of what's going on with him right now. "You know, you're lucky. Since the blacklisting, only a few real wrestlers actually get the chance to feel my specialty. So...you know, guess you get to join a list of actual wrestlers for once," he taunts. As he looks past Mick, he sees the ghosts getting closer...and the other side, they're pouring into the ring and advancing faster and faster toward them now.
"****," the luchador curses before turning back to MURDERHOUSE. "I'd love to stick around to see you writhe in pain more, but..." Then with a heft, he tries to show that, while he might be a cruiserweight, he still has enough power to fling a bastard by lifting Mick high enough for a rather tenuous looking spinebuster over the barricade. Anything to give him cover to get the hell out of dodge.
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE blocks Vyle's Strong Throw.
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Vyle 1/----===/=======|=======\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
He was down, but he certainly wasn't out. He was faintly aware of the moans and high-pitched screams of the undead starting to increase in power and number, even as he was picked up, off his feet, and lifted into the air by the powerful Luchador! Despite the size disadvantage, Vyle certainly was one of the best of the best. But he was no "MURDERHOUSE" Mick!
In mid-air, Mick began to struggle, worming out of Vyle's grasp and landing behind him. Suddenly reaching out, he'd grasp for the forearm or wrist of the smaller wrestler. And if everything went to plan, he had a 'whip' in mind, one that would force Vyle to run, right into said barricade, and Mick wouldn't mind if the thing got destroyed from this!
"Not gonna stick around for the autograph signing?"
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE successfully hits Vyle with Power Throw.
- Power hit! -
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Vyle 1/=======/=======|=======\-------\1 MURDERHOUSE
Clearly, trying to go power for power with Mick was not the best of ideas. Sure, wrestling is wrestling, but Vyle was a luchador. Trying to spinebuster a larger, 7-ft wrestler was a bad idea, and it's clear when MURDERHOUSE is able to nullify most of the impact and respond with a hard whip into the barricade. With the speed and power behind it, the rudo ends up crashing hard into the steel, breaking it apart, and leaving him quite broken beneath as the ghosts start to advance.
Groaning, he manages to get a quick jolt as the ghosts reach for him, enough to get him to push the barricade off of him, to lean across one of the still standing parts of the barricade. "You son of a..." No more witty comebacks. He wants to get out of here NOW, and if he has to kill this piece of trash, so be it. Using that impromptu ramp, he tries to run straight up the barricade at Mick, flying out and trying to wrap an arm around his head, putting all force into his legs as he dives and tries to spin MURDERHOUSE around before dragging him into a spinning DDT of some kind.
COMBATSYS: Vyle successfully hits MURDERHOUSE with Dead Spiral.
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Vyle 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\===----\1 MURDERHOUSE
Though he'd landed safely on his feet, that landing still jolted that green stuff inside him, combining with Vertigo's acid to cause more than a few problems. And though he'd mostly used his left arm for that 'whip', he used enough force in his right arm to aggravate that earlier injury, causing him to drop to almost one knee. He couldn't keep on the offense like he wanted, he had to rest and breathe, and concentrate on keeping himself together.
After a moment, he pushed himself up to his feet, staggering around and walking right into a grapple, twisting back around where he just came from and landing square on his head, rolling into a seated position and soon collapsing on his side, clutching the back of his skull and his neck. He was practically sucking in air through that mask, struggling up to his knees, fighting on even past the pain.
And then there was a ghost, right in front of him, some horrible shrieking thing covered in rattling chains, carrying some lantern. Instantly it was pissing off the MURDERHOUSE, who grabbed the great big fat spectre and swung him BY that chain, leaping up to his feet to fling the body right at his enemy. Hit or miss, he'd collapse onto his back, pouring sweat and those green veins more pronounced, and pumping more violently now. He was in a bad spot, it seemed...
COMBATSYS: Vyle parries MURDERHOUSE's Large Thrown Object!
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Vyle 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\===----\1 MURDERHOUSE
Vyle's earlier underhandedness was paying dividends, and he clearly wasn't about to let that advantage pass him by, his spinning DDT driving Mick down and leaving Vyle, despite all the battering, in a good position to stand tall and get the hell out of dodge. Backing up a little, he seemed set to run off again, despite his 'run' being more like a 'hobble'. However, when he hears the shrieking sailing toward him, he snapped his head around...and quickly ducked underneath it, pushing himself up as the thing flew overhead and tossing the apparition back into the 'audience', hoping it helped blow aside some of those ghosts.
"Stay down, dammit!" he shouts, lurching toward MURDERHOUSE and trying to put him away for good. It'd start with a tackle, diving toward Mick as if to spear him into the barricades much the same as he was bodily flung into them before...
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE fails to counter Outbreaker EX from Vyle with Hellfire Hammer.
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Vyle 0/-------/--<<<<<|
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE can no longer fight.
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Vyle 0/-------/--<<<<<|
With the tackle done, Vyle would pull the much larger man over by the legs, pulling back on them and trying to stretch Mick out with what wrestling entuhusiasts would recognize as a Boston Crab of sorts, the leverage and pressure put on the giant's back as the luchador pulls back, more and more, until he's nearly pulled MURDERHOUSE vertical. With the ghosts encroaching on them even more, he sweats...then sneers.
"You want him?" he shouts, before leaping up, pulling Mick up with him by the legs. As they sailed high in, the rudo would keep pulling at those legs, a backward somersault done as the two flip in the air faster and faster, until that big landing. A forcible faceplant for the garbage wrestler, as they land back in that Boston Crab position, feet hooked onto Mick's back at the thunderous crash. Sure, he just landed back in the ghost pit...but hopefully he finished Mick off enough that he can make him a sacrifice.
Log created on 20:33:19 09/07/2014 by MURDERHOUSE, and last modified on 18:36:16 09/17/2014.