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As he put the finishing touches on his entrance attire, J.W. Caliber could be seen pacing back and forth by the steps leading up to the gorilla position, getting himself psyched up for his next match. He took a slug of liquid courage from a flask in his back pocket just before tying his bandana in place, slipping on his sunglasses and climbing the steps. Well, they always say "card subject to change", Caliber thought, as he was thinking about his originally scheduled triple threat match before putting thouse thoughts away. Ah well, whatever. "Git 'er done!" the Texan muttered to nobody in particular as the opening notes of the country-western inspired intro to Volbeat's 7 Shots rang out over the arena sound system.



Stepping out through the curtain, the South Texas Stallion lowered his head and took a deep breath before thrusting his index fingers skyward, throwing his head back and letting out a loud Rebel Yell. "C'MON PEOPLE! MAKE SOME NOISE!!! Caliber shouted, as he crossed from one side of the stage to the other, trying to fire up the crowd before starting down the ramp and high-fiving fans on either side of the entrance way.

DOWN ON HIS KNEES, HE SEES THE DEVIL WEEPING, WHINGING HIS TONGUE
MR. CADILLAC DOESN'T EVEN KNOW HE'S BEEN FIGHTING HIS OWN
HE'S BEEN TRYING SHOOTING ALL THE ANGEL DEVILS INSIDE
PLAYING AROUND WITH THE GOOD AND THE EVIL IN HIS MIND
ALONE IN THE DESERT AND COLD...SO COLD

"Introducing first...weighing in at 235 pounds, from The Big River Valley of Deep Down Dirty South Texas...he is the South Texas Stallion...J.W Caliber!"

As he reached the bottom of the ramp, J.W. broke into a sprint and slid underneath the bottom rope, quickly popping back up to his feet and scaling the turnbuckles just as the steel guitar began to wail. Pulling the bandana from his face, Caliber tossed it into the crowd before he hopped down and removed his sunglasses and black Stetson handing them over to the stagehand at ringside with his shirt and duster coat following right after.

After getting a good look at his opponent, Caliber was once again left feeling like a damn midget. Would it really kill management to book him against someone who didn't tower over the Dirty South Outlaw every once in a while?

Regardless, the roughhouse redneck gave his neck a quick crack and stepped out into the middle of the ring, ready to do battle.

With his opponent having a nearly 100 pound weight advantage, and being the better part of a foot taller than him, Caliber would have to be either stupid or insane to want to lock up with Rex, as it was quite obvious that doing so would end badly for the cowboy. Of course, that was only if he actually accepted...

The Dirty South Outlaw approached Kobra, appearing as though he was willing to lock up, before attempting to deliver a hard front kick to the big man's kneecap!

J. W. was hoping that he would have taken his opponent's leg out from underneath him with that kick, but what he got would work just as well, since Rex's position made his face a tempting target as Caliber attempted to follow up with a standing dropkick.

The kick connected and Kobra rolled to the side, clutching at knee as an assault was further inflicted upon it.

Rex moved himself up to his feet, being careful with his knee as he rose. As he made it to a vertical position, he kept his eyes on his opponent.

((auto))

The dropkick hit its mark, and Kobra fell like a tree. With the big man chopped down to size, Caliber saw an opportunity to try to put this one away early. He backed up into the corner and ran his hands through his hair before making a gun-like motion with his right hand and leveling it toward Rex's head.

The Dirty South Outlaw would wait for his opponent to push himself back up to his knees before pulling the trigger and breaking out into a full charge, attempting to deliver a vicious knee strike to Kobra's temple. Some might know that as the Boma Ye, but Caliber dubbed it the .44 Caliber!