BG East Wrestling

Zip Zarella vs. Brute Baynard

Brute Baynard: 5'10, 250 lbs

Brute snaps Zarella's head backwards hard, bending his back in a crippling camel clutch

Zarella is snatched up off the mat and brought plummeting back down with a ring-shaking chokeslam

Zarella proves to be in over his head against Brute as he's laid low, trampled underfoot

The plucky prettyboy punk is ground hard into the mat, withering under the power of the iron claw

Brute wraps Zarella's muscular arm around the rope to hyperextend his arm

Killing Machine

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This battle starts before Brute and Zip enter the ring, before we even see them coming. We hear Zarella squawking his tonsils out and pleading for mercy off camera. When the fighters do show up, Baynard is as red in the face as Zip is ghostly pale. What the triggering offense was, we have no idea. All we know for 99-percent certain is that (one) Zip Zarella probably deserves whatever ass-kicking he is about to receive and (two) Brute Baynard would rip him to shreds even if Zip were guilty of nothing.

In the ring, Brute drives Zip's head into the turnbuckle. Zip spins and plops down on his butt, like lightning struck him. Brute climbs out of the ring and gets behind him. With a chinlock he grinds the back of Zarella's neck against the padded turnbuckle. Zip flails and tries to pull free, exhausting himself in the process. Then Brute stretches Zip's arms back, way back. "You have no fuckin' honor," Zarella whines. "There's no honor in this ring," Brute growls. Then he narrows his focus to just one arm, looping it around the middle rope, snapping the forearm, and wrenching the wrist.

Brute, big and bald, his nostrils flaring, shoves Zip to the center of the ring, where he slams the arm to the mat. "Fuck," Zip complains, "you'll break my arm!" "Might," Brute replies matter-of-factly. A few more blows, a chicken-wing or two, and Zip's arm could pop off. Brute concentrates his rage on Zip's arm, savoring every yelp and boohoo that escapes Zarella's mouth. Based on the expression on Baynard's face, the pretty boy is plenty fun to hurt.

After thirteen minutes of targeting Zip's arm, Brute turns his attention to the head. He kneads the face like he means to rearrange nose, mouth, chin, and cheekbones, temporarily blinding his prey in the process. Baynard reiterates his claim that the ring is "honorless," and slams his elbow down on the back of Zarella's head. "I give, I give," Zip whimpers, a hand, the one that still functions, held up in trembling supplication. "Please, leave me alone." But Brute doesn't want Zip to surrender. He doesn't even particularly want to win this match. He wants to demolish Zip Zarella, finish him, erase him like a misspelled word.

Brute Baynard lives for rage and destruction. Even his smile, seldom seen, has a sinister edge. He is a walking, talking firearm, and he cares no more about victory or honor than an Uzi would care. He's the sort of fighter commonly called a "killing machine." He has no conscience, no sense of fair play. At his worst, Zip Zarella is a nuisance, a vain and craven heel, the kind of guy most men would like to sock in the nose. Does he deserve a licking? Yeah, probably. But it's hard to imagine that anything Zarella is capable of deserves this much punishment.

Brute drags his quarry over every square foot of the squared circle by his hair. He broadens the scope of his wrath to include the whole body, hurling it to the mat and to the corners again and again. Whatever Zip is guilty of, and he is always guilty of something, Brute exacts payment for it long before this demolition hits its halfway point.

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	Other Zip Zarella Matches

	Other Brute Baynard Matches

	Demolition 29 Arena Galleries

	FREE Action Clip on Arena

Zip screams and writhes as Brute stretches and wrecks his shoulders with a double armbar		Zarella arches in agony, flopping and writhing painfully on the mat at Brute's boots		Continuing to use the ropes to devastating effect, Brute hammerlocks Zip's arm on the turnbuckle
Brute is not finished with Zip as he drags him up by his shaggy hair for more torture		Zip's handsome face is dragged and ripped down the ring ropes by a rampaging Brute		Zip is cornered with nowhere to go as Brute uses the buckles to surfboard the punky prettyboy

Zip Zarella: 6', 205 lbs

Big, bad Brute brutally rips away at Zip Zarella's handsome face in the backbreaking camel

Brute looks down disdainfully upon the fallen prettyboy punk and grinds a boot into his face

Brute bends and breaks Zarella's back with a knee to the spine and a single-arm jap strangle

Zarella writhes, crying out in pain as Baynard brutalizes his skull with a crushing hold

Zip lays spreadeagled, demolished and devastated on the mats as Brute covers him with a boot

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