The One Who Beat The One Vs The One Who (Maybe) Beat The One Who Beat The One.

[Andy Rorton]

"Well Royal, it looks like the Cobra is ready to strike!"

"Haha! I can't wait for this one, Coal!"

The voices came from the table at ringside. Two official commentators for Radasanth Square Garden, Mikey Coal and Larry 'The Royal' Jawler sat and watched as Andy Rorton paced the ring. The Legend Killer's eyes were set solely on the steel ramp, almost as if he could see past the wall below all the pictures of Rorton's accomplishments. Among the embroidery were the gunslingers victories over Santa Claus, The Undertaker, and even legendary outlaw Jesse James.

The smell of popcorn and hotdogs emanated in the air, and danced around the warrior's nostrils. He accepted a challenge right here in the middle of one of Radasanth's largest arenas; a duel that did not involve death, but pure technique. The crowd was full of people, numbered in the hundreds, and they all hissed and booed at the whip wielding warrior when he raised both his arms. The jeers of the people seemed to feed the ego of the Legend Killer.

He rolled his bare shoulders around, his form only draped in a pair of dusty blue jeans. His hair was messed up as if he just rolled out of bed, and sweat caused his entire body to glisten in the hot lights. He breathed in and out and his eyes took note of the blue ropes that surrounded him on all for sides of the squared circle. In the corners stood steel posts with three black cushions that softened the steel rings underneath. At two of the corners, on the ground, were solid steel steps to help the female competitors get up.

This was going to be a brawl for the ages.

"My name," he began, "Is Andy Rorton, and I am the Cobra. I am the Legend Killer! I have fought the best, and the worst. I am the gold standard of fighting! Now some loser backstage thought they were big and bad enough to issue a challenge to me. I want to look into this person's eyes, so I can spit in their face, and let them feel the tip of an ARO." the crowd booed even louder, and some people started a chant that insinuated the warrior sucked. He didn't care, he was ready for the would-be upstart.

"This is gonna be a slobberknocker, Royal!"

"You said it, Coal! Lets just hope Rorton hasn't bit off more than he could chew! Haha!"

((Bring it, Andy))

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

My music hit (https://soundcloud.com/dancewiththedead/poison), and the crowd erupted. Jeers turned to cheers as I stepped out from behind the curtain, the multicolored dancing lights of the arena shining bright in my eyes. I squinted hard, barely making out the pacing form of Andy Rorton in the ring before me. I took two steps down the ramp, then stopped. In one hand, I had a microphone of my own. In the other, a steel folding chair.

At ringside, Mikey Coal's hands gripped the sides of his head. "Bah gawds, Royal! Is that how I think it is?"

"It is indeed, Coal," replied The Royal, who was adjusting his crown on top of his head. "That's Briarheart! What is she doing out here?"

Slowly, I set the steel chair down at the top of the ramp and took a seat, as was customary for me whenever it was promo time. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees and bringing the microphone up to my mouth. I paused for just a second. The crowd had not stopped cheering my name. "Briar! Briar! Briar!" Their thunderous chants were damn near tearing the roof off the famed Radasanth Square Garden. My eyes caught one young man in particular who brought a sign that had a crudely-drawn heart wrapped in vines drawn on it.

My face folded into a small frown, my lips pursed tightly. This son of a bitch stole my heel heat, I thought to myself, unamused. I worked hard to become one of the top villains in this company, and one oddly-booked matchup has completely torn that down and ripped it from me.

Game time. I opened my mouth to speak, waiting until the crowd had quieted down enough to be heard clearly. "Rorton, nobody gives a crap about your accomplishments. Nobody here gives a crap about who you have beaten. Hells, I bet that nobody here in Radasanth even gives a crap about you."

The people erupted in cheers, and I waited for them to settle down before continuing. "You stand there in my ring, bragging about all these things you've done, and talking about how you're the 'gold standard' or whatever. But let me tell you something..." I stood up, folding up the black steel chair and dragging it behind me as I walked down the ramp towards the squared circle in the middle of the arena. "Nobody here is going to take you seriously anymore after tonight. Your name will be a punchline. Every single person right here, in Radasanth--" The crowd popped with the mention of their home town. "--will think you're a joke after tonight. They will know that you didn't have the balls to beat a woman in the middle of her ring!"

Another round of chants for my name echoed through the arena as I tossed the microphone aside and threw the folding chair against the steel steps set into the corner of the ring. It fell with a harmless clatter, barely heard over the cacophony of cheers that suffocated me.

I grabbed onto the blue ropes of the ring and slowly pulled myself up to the apron, holding Rorton's baleful gaze the entire time. The Cobra stalked the ring, waiting for the moment that he could strike. I pushed down the second rope and lazily climbed into the squared circle, ready for a fucking fight. The referee, this scrawny, fragile thing in a black and white pinstripe shirt, approached me and made sure I was clear on the rules--regular match, pinfall or submission win only, count-outs and disqualifications a thing. I nodded at him, and then returned Rorton's venomous glare with one of my own.

The referee threw his thin arms out towards the timekeeper, who run the bell three times. It was officially on.

[Andy Rorton]

The crowd was hushed as the two warriors stared down one another. Andy lifted his right arm up at the same time that Madison lifted her right one up. The legend killer’s fingers dangled in the air as the two hands locked with one another. In an instant, Rorton spun around and sent his foe tumbling to the ground. The walking plant gimmick rose up and ran towards him quickly, only to suffer a nearly identical technique wherein she was thrown over the gunslinger’s hip.

“Beautiful arm drag by Rorton, Royal,” Coal commented about the first move, “And another one, and a third one! Briarheart’s gonna need to be kept on her toes if she hopes to win this match!”

“Couldn’t agree with you more Mikey! She keeps this up, Rorton’s show off her kittens to the whole world! Ha-HA!”

By the third arm dragon, Madison was up against a turnbuckle, a futile attempt to try and regain some of her bearings. Andy took the opportunity to run at the girl in an attempt to run his forearm straight into her throat. The woman moved at the last moment as Andy jumped into the air and ran the warrior’s face straight into the padded corner. He could feel the solid steel ring underneath as he slammed into it, and turned to see his foe several feet away from him in the center of the ring. He sneered as he ran at her.

He was greeted with the locked arm of Briarheart, who threw him over her hip. In a single fluid motion, he stood up and turned and ran once again at the plant lady. Once again, Madison was quicker and threw the taller Rorton over her form. Andy rose and attempted to charge a third time only to be arm dragged a third time. The crowd rose with a loud cheer as Rorton got up, his faces red with both embarrassment and anger. He turned from his enemy and grabbed the top rope and stomped his feet several times and yelled several profanities into the air.

“FUCK THIS STUPID FUCKING BITCH AND HER GODDAMN FUCKING ARM DRAGS!” Rorton shouted as his opponent began to walk towards him. He grinned and struck, a foot coming up in an attempt to slam straight into the girl’s chin. The crowd gasped and among them, he could hear a familiar voice shouting.

“BAH GAWD A SUPER KICK! RORTON YOU BASTARD!”

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

The dirty heel of Rorton's boot hit harder than my entrance music, and I immediately found myself down on the mat. My jaw ached horribly from the kick, and I prayed that he didn't chip one of my teeth or anything. I laid there on my back, the bright lights over the ring swirling around in these cute little circles. The sold-out arena collectively jeered at the Legend Hunter as he strut around the ring, his arms held out in celebration as if he had just won the Corone Triple Crown.

The referee immediately crouched down to check on me, holding two fingers in front of my eyes and mouthing words I couldn't quite hear. I'm alright, I swear. I'm just going to wait until these stars dance their way back into nothingness

"THAT WOMAN HAS A FAMILY, YOU SICK SON OF A BITCH," I heard Coal scream into his headset at ringside.

After a few more seconds to recover, I grit my teeth and rolled over onto my stomach. I managed to push myself up to my knees. I turned to see that Andy still had his back to me, continuing to soak in the hate and venom that the crowd was pouring onto him in spades. That bastard truly enjoyed being the villain, didn't he?

Rorton turned around to give the other half of the crowd some attention, and I exploded towards him. His eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as I buried my shoulder into his solar plexus. The muscular man gasped as I knocked the wind out of him and pushed him back. The crowd suddenly cheered me on as I slammed this fucker into the corner ring post, which buckled from the impact.

I quickly climbed the ropes, a snarl across my lips. The fighter leaned against the ropes, absolutely helpless as I pushed the side of his head to the side and exposed his temple. I raised my right hand in the air and balled it into a tight little instrument of pain and destruction and cheap crowd interaction.

I threw a punch. "One!" the rabid crowd counted in unison.

Another punch. "Two!"

My fists kept coming, one after another, each one cracking off the side of Rorton's skull with a growing intensity. "Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! TEN!"

A wave of cheers washed over me from all around. I looked around at the chaos that enveloped me. There was not a single soul in this collection of thousands that wasn't laughing and clapping at the punishment I was delivering to this asshole underneath me.

I raised my fist high into the air, glaring at the woozy fighter under the bright lights above, and swiftly brought down the hammer one last time.

[Andy Rorton]

“Looks like each blow from that fine vine entwined lupine is having an effect on Rorton, Coal!” Royal’s voice shouted over the microphone.

“Madison is not a werewolf, Royal,” Coal retorted in a sophisticated manner, one becoming of nan actual announcer.

“I know, I needed something to rhyme with those other words. I was on a role! Haha!”

The fists of Madison Briarheart were deceptively strong for a plant woman. With each strike, Rorton saw multiples of the crowd that cheered their last minute hero on. His head bounced from the padded turnbuckle and back into the femme fatale’s fists a total of ten times before Andy’s adrenaline kicked in, and the legend killer regained his bearings.

As the eleventh blow careened towards him, Rorton’s arm raised and caught the blow. Even though the world around him spun, he could see the wide eyed shock in his opponent’s eyes as he countered the move. She raised her fist again to attempt the jab once more, and again was caught by the gunslinger’s arm. As Madison tried desperately once again to strike her foe down, the cobra grabbed each of her thighs and began to run towards the opposite turnbuckle.

“First and last time you’ll ever be in this position Briar!” Andy jabbed at his somewhat sexual innuendo. He lunged forward, his arms coming down first and with them, the full on form of the former Freebird. She slammed hard into the mat, her head bounced against the surface like a basketball while the ring ropes rattled from the impact. Rorton stood and looked to the crowd with a sneer, a hard boot sent downwards into Madison’s stomach.

She doubled over as he slammed his foot into her again, each stomp followed by the word ‘bitch’ or some variation. By the fifth stomp, his leg was grabbed, and he was sent flying onto the floor face first. The world went black for a moment, his whole face throbbed and he could feel the blood from his nose as it tried desperately to escape the melee. He reached out, his body moving out of sheer instinct than any conscious thought, and crawled towards the blue ring ropes for support.

“This Is Awesome!” The crowd shouted at great decibels followed by a series of claps. Andy could hear Madison’s own plant hands slam onto the mat as she attempted to be the first to reach her feet. At this point, it has become a race, and the first one up would have the advantage.

“Both warriors are down, Royal, but it looked like Rorton had things in control for a minute there.”

“You can’t ever count out a Briarhart though Coal! They’re sooner to poison your babies than they are to give up!”