[center][h2]Segment 2: [color=fff200]Sexton P.S. Love[/color] Post-Match Promo[/h2][/center][hr][hr] Like a piece of plywood, Thunderbird got screwed. Zachary Wake was advancing in the tournament. Sexton Love climbed back into the ring, the same steel chair in his hands and the same Lakers jersey on his back. The jersey was simulataneously a cheap shot at the Sacramento fans, while at the same time a complete contradiction to Sexton's promo last week in L.A. He didn't plan to mention anything about the jersey, but it's presence just added that nice little extra layer of "fuck you" that the Love Doctor was looking for. But by the time the night was over, he was going to be a "fuck you" tiramisu. CRACK! The Lovely One lined up Thunderbird again, tattooing his forehead with a vile chairshot. He turned and started aggressively yelling at the fans, chair still in hand, while the Bird lay face down on the mat. As the proud warrior attempted to somehow push himself up off the canvas it was obvious he was busted open, a long cut at the top of his hairline, just above the mask. Blood was dripping down on the mat as Thunderbird tried to stand. Sexton wheeled around immediately brought the chair crashing down again. SMACK! The King of the Road threw down the chair, as the King of the Sky lay motionless from the attack. Sexton climbed on top of his adversary and began raining down short, piston-like punches as the boos from the crowd grew louder and louder. The gash on Thunderbird's head was a bullseye, and the Sexcellence of Sexecution was determined to hit his mark. Blood continued to pour from the wound, running down Thunderbird's mask to his chest. His hair was soaked in crimson red as Sexton finally relented his barrage of blows. [color=fff200]"Gimme a fuckin' mic!"[/color] said Sexton, hoping this would not become a trademark phrase. He ripped the microphone from the announcer's hand at ringside, and rolled back into the ring. [color=fff200]"I TOLD YA DADDEH!"[/color] yelled Sexton, pausing for a moment as the crowd voiced their displeasure. [color=fff200]"I told ya that I needed the gold. I told ya that I [i]NEEDED[/i] the World's Heavyweight Title!"[/color] [i]"Boooooooooo!"[/i] He kicked Thunderbird in the head again as the Bird began to sitr. [color=fff200]"I am the Sexcellence of Sexecution!"[/color] Kick. [color=fff200]"The King of the Ring--"[/color] Kick. [color=fff200]"And the KING OF THE ROAD!"[/color] Kick. [color=fff200]"The Sexiest There Is! Sexiest There Was! And SEXIEST THERE EVER WILL BE!"[/color] Kick. Kick. Kick. At this point the blood was really flowing, and Thunderbird's entire chest was drenched. He looked like he had undergone some sort of bizarre baptismal ritual. Sexton couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. The Bird's outfit wasn't doing him any favors either. [color=fff200]"...But you STOLE it from me darlin'. You stole the World's Heavyweight Championship belt when you stole that match last week. You're a THIEF daddeh, and I can't let that crime go unpunished. No, no, no. NO WAY darlin'."[/color] Sexton paused for a moment, relishing in the heat of the moment. [color=fff200]"I'm the PIPER WITH THE PIPE..."[/color] said Sexton, pointing to his crotch.[color=fff200] "...And EVERYBODY PAYS."[/color] [i]"Booooooooo! Fuck you Sexton! Get the fuck outta here!"[/i] [color=fff200]"...I'm the man with the plan, the man with the POWER, too sweet to be sour, too hot to handle, and too COLD TO HOLD. I am the judge... jury... and SEXECUTIONER!" [/color] In truth, Sexton didn't expect Thunderbird to be bleeding so badly, but there wasn't much that could be done about it now. Besides, it had given him an idea. A pretty messed up idea. He walked over to the corner and picked up Thunderbird's Native American headdress. Last week, he had tore up one of the Bird's headdresses in their match, to great effect, and he had something similar in mind for tonight. [color=fff200]"Birdy baby, I bet you thought when you stole that match last week, you were heading UP in the world. I bet you thought you were FLYIN' straight to the top darlin'. Straight to the Tournament Finals, and straight to the World's Heavyweight Title..."[/color] He tore off a single feather from the headdress, and threw it down on Thunderbird's limp and lifeless body. [color=fff200]"Well daddeh I just clipped you're wings and brought you crashing down to Earth... And mark my words, when it's all said and done, I will put you SIX FEET UNDER!"[/color] Again Sexton tore at Thunderbird's ceremonial garb, ripping off more feathers and throwing them down as his adversary, repeatedly kicking Thunderbird's carcas as he did so. Some fans in the crowd had stopped their relentless booing and jeering, and as the camera panned around the arena they could be seen with their hands over their mouths, looking on almost in shock at what was transpiring. Sexton Love was known for his over-the-top gimmick and promo style, but fans had seemingly forgotten just how vicious he could be. The level of violence and disrespect being shown towards Thunderbird, a legitimate hero as far as professional wrestlers were concerned, served as a reminder. [color=fff200]"I am a man's man and a ladies' man...but make no mistake about it, I'm a BAD MAN darlin'. A bad, bad man. And after I'm done with you, after your price has been paid, I'm taking the World's Heavyweight Title. Because SEX....... SELLS!"[/color] The Man They Call Love stood tall over The Man They Call Bird, as the torn up feathers from Thunderbird's head dress were now stuck to the blood all over his body. Blood that had been spilled by Sexton P.S. Love. Thunderbird had been [i]tarred and feathered[/i], with his own blood as the tar.