SLAMTRACK 9

[brusch]

RED LINE WRESTLING

in conjunction with DePaul University

PRESENTS…

SLAMTRACK 9

Streaming LIVE from the SULLIVAN ATHLETIC CENTER, CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

​

[The camera pans around to show over a thousand fans in the oversold arena, all moving in time with the RLW Theme song and cheering for the start of the show. The crowd has started to bring signs proclaiming their favorites and their not-so-favorites. We can’t really show them all yet. CUTTO the ringside area, where DANNY DALTON is standing with a microphone, a blazer, and a tuxedo T-shirt, taking in the crowd.]

DD: “Welcome, everyone, to Red Line Wrestling Slamtrack! We are getting closer by the day to MASS TRANSIT, and tonight we have a great night of action for you! Our Red Crown Champion, Ivan Dalkichev will face off with a mystery opponent tonight, but first in action –”

​

[The crowd goes bananas.]

DD: “…apparently we’re going to hear from our Number One Contender!”

[The Second Coming walked through the curtain like a shadow – with her face covered by a leather mask and head shrouded by the hood of her sweatshirt. She stalked to the ring without looking at the fans, stopping only to grab a microphone from the timekeeper before sliding under the bottom rope.]

[She unzipped her hoodie and tossed it over the top: her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and was wearing a T-shirt singing the praises of a wrestler named Karina Wolfenden.]

2C: “Get a good shot’a this.”

[The cameraman closest to her on the opposite side of the ring accommodated her, documenting where she pointed – discolored spots on her face, a large bandage on the back of her bicep, and stitches that were still in her forehead.]

2C: “So, last time we were all together, the marsupial and I beat the living hell outta each other until he couldn’t get up, and I had some wonderful, well – deserved vengeance for the ring’a hell that he’s put me through, for some reason, and I wanna come here tonight and show the city exactly why it is I’m the number one contender for the Red Crown.”

[She lowered the microphone and leaned back into the corner, soaking in the cheers from the fans.]

2C: “And what do I find, but I’m not booked.”

[Boos.]

2C: “I appreciate the fact that this company refused to book me out of concern for my health. That part’s cool. But what they didn’t do – they didn’t ask me if I could go. No… they told me… that I can’t go.”

[More boos. The Second Coming paced the ring for a few seconds, then leans over the top rope to look directly at Dalton.]

2C: “Are you me, Danny?

DD: “I don’t—”

2C: “Are you me?”

DD: “No, but we—”

2C: “Then you don’t know when I can and can’t go.”

[Finally, the fans cheer. She waits a few seconds until they start to die down naturally.]

2C: “You know who needed the night off? Kid Koala. You don’t see him, do you?”

[She stopped, and apparently smiled.]

2C: “I’m sure he’ll come back soon and give me hell… he’s like a mosquito. But that’s neither here nor there… my focus is on the Red Crown.”

[The fans cheered again, and started up a “R-L-W!” chant.]

2C: “Tonight, Ivan… is my gift to you. Enjoy your match against your opponent, whoever the hell they are… and wrestle it in peace. Slamtrack Ten… there’s a conversation or two that we need to have.”

DD: “Strong words from the number one contender as the Second Coming leaves the ring and heads to the back. Coming up first – SHE’S ATTACKED FROM BEHIND!”

[LOUD boos as the Second Coming drops to the mat from under the impact of a hammerblow delivered by the assailant in familiar crimson trainers.]

DD: “Nathan Fear's flunky STEPHEN WALTZ is in the ring, stomping the tar out of the number one contender! He came out of the ringside seats and over the rail, completely blindsiding the Second Coming!”

[The booing intensifies as the man in the red and black suit himself emerges from the entry-way, applauding his enforcer's craftsmanship. Nathan Fear raises the mic in his hand...]

NF: “Oh, you ignorant, stupid little girl... haven't you figured it out yet? The Crimson Corporation simply has more important matters to tend to... and your meddlesome talk is trying my patience. This match you're gearing up for WILL - NOT - HAPPEN... and NOTHING is going to change that!”

[His diabolical grin sharpens.]

NF: “And just to be sure... Stephen is going to make sure that tonight is just the first of MANY nights you'll be spending on the shelf!”

[In the ring, Waltz nods to his employer as he takes hold of the Second Coming by the ponytail and pulls her to her feet. The crowd brings on the heat!]

DD: “Oh my, this could get ugly! 2C is still beat from the last show, and Waltz has already roughed her up!”

[He gives her a rough yank of the arm to send her into the ropes -- only Waltz finds himself running there instead, once 2C plants her heels and reverses the whip!]

DD: “Wait a sec, 2C with the reverse, Waltz coming back -- AND HE EATS THE SUPERKICK!!”

[The fans explode as Waltz reels in pain and surprise and rolls himself over the ropes, falling in a heap on the ringside floor. He holds his jaw in pain as the Second Coming finds her feet...]

DD: “The number one contender is turning the tables, and Nathan Fear looks absolutely LIVID! He was expecting to put the number one contender out of action here tonight, but she won't go down without a fight!”

[Waltz grabs the apron, wheezing for air and fluttering his eyes to regain focus as he pulls himself back to his feet. He rises in time to see both of the number one contender's boots coming at him like a pair of stinger missiles, and gets blasted directly in the face! The fans pop wildly as the crimson-clad enforcer is spun back from the apron and COLLIDES face first with the guard rail!]

DD: “OH MAN, what an impact! Stephen Waltz's nose just BLOSSOMED as red as those trainers he's wearing! I think that collision with the guard rail may have broken his nose!”

[The Second Coming rolls out of the ring, bearing down on Waltz as he clumsily staggers away from her, constantly tripping over himself while clutching his bleeding nose. He eventually backs up to where Danny is standing...]

DD: “Wait, no... not over here! I'm not involved in this!”

[Stephen scurries around behind Danny to shield himself... and once the number one contender is within a few paces, shoves him at her! The distraction lasts only a second before 2C safely -- and sternly -- pushes Dalton out of her way. But in that second, in an act of desperation, Waltz finds the timekeeper's chair...]

*CRACK!!*

DD: “NO, NOT THE CHAIR!!”

[The Second Coming hits the floor, clutching her head. Waltz, more preoccupied with his gushing nose, drops the chair and leaves her there as he retreats back up the aisle where Fear is waiting. The fans give the both of them a well-earned and right nasty JEER as Fear visibly scolds his underling as soon as he approaches. "You were supposed to take her out of commission!" he can be heard snarling, even with the mic lowered at his side. He points back to the ringside in a threatening manner as the two back their way toward the curtain...]

NF: “Consider this a friendly warning! Flap those gums again, and I may just send somebody to finish the job!”

[Fear berates Waltz even further as the two disappear through the curtain. The tone changes as Danny checks in on the Second Coming... and much to everyone's relief, she's slowly pushing herself back to her feet.]

DD: “And the Second Coming is back on her feet! A little rattled, but not enough to keep her down and out!”

[Apex Predator hits as 2C goes back up the aisle, rubbing her head but looking even more determined than ever.]

DD: “What a way to start the night! After some bold statements from the number one contender, the Red Crown Champion's own manager upped the ante by directing an in-ring assault! How desperate is Nathan Fear in trying to avoid this encounter from taking place? Is he simply trying to buy himself time to make his exit from Red Line, or could he possibly be afraid of what the Second Coming may do to ‘The Last Titan’ Ivan Dalkichev when the day comes when the stand face to face in the ring? We could ponder on these questions all night... but right now, we need to get to our first match!

[ARIN McHENRY is ‘sharp’ as always in a burgundy suit with a cream-and-brown flowery button-down shirt. He enters the ring with his Bob Barker style microphone as the always-friendly RLW junior referee Jen Glass stands at the ready.]

AM: “Theeeee following match, is scheduled for ONE FALL!

EL HABANERO v. VICTOR VACIO

​

AM: “Introducing first! From Seattllllllllle WASHINGTON! Weighing in at 226 pounds….THE LOST CAUSE! VICTORRRRRR VACIOOOOOOOOOOO!”

[With a black hand towel in hand, Victor stalks his way to the ring, ignoring his surroundings and fan distain. Reaching the ring, he turns his back to the apron and leaps backwards to landing on the apron. Assuring his footing, post landing, he grasps the ropes with each hand and flips backwards into the ring.]

DD: “This guy. Victor Vacio came out here last show and just straight-up DISMANTLED one of the most well-traveled competitors on our roster in El Cabron - and he was totally prepared to just walk on out of the ring, statement made, wins or losses be damned. He only went back in the ring and finished the job once Cabron took a way-too-personal dig...a mistake I imagine El Habanero won’t make here tonight!”

​

[El Habanero emerges and looks completely excited and energetic to the point where he’s bouncing from person to person, giving as many high fives as he possibly can. The wide smile on his face says more than his words ever could.]

AM: “Annnnnnd his opponent! From-”

OOOOOOOOH!

DD: “WHAT THE HELL?!”

[At that moment, Victor Vacio comes flying over the top rope and crashes hard into El Habanero with a Tope Con Hilo. Refusing to let up, he hammers rights and lefts into the face of El Habanero, who is covering up as best he can.]

DD: “We’re fighting! We’re FIGHTING! It looks like Victor Vacio isn’t waiting for the bell! He wants to take the fight to the blue chipper RIGHT NOW! Come on, Habanero, get up and fight this guy!”

[Vacio lifts up Habanero and quickly whips him into the guardrail between the front row fans and the ring - a guardrail with absolutely no give. Habanero drops to a knee as he clutches at his ribs. As he attempts to stand, Vacio goes to wrap his arms around his waist - and Habanero fights back! He throws clubbing blows to Vacio’s midsection and pushes him back-first into the ring apron! Jen Glass is having NO luck whatsoever convincing either man to step into the ring.]

DD: “YEAH! That’s right, Habby, you show that mother! Habs with the advantage - OH YEAH!!! He just hit a LUNGBLOWER to Vacio’s ribcage on the arena floor!! GET SOME!”

[The fans are cheering wildly as Habanero proceeds to take the fight to Vacio. The bell STILL hasn’t rung. Ross Russell has emerged from the back, as have a few other staffers in bright red RLW-branded polos, but they keep their distance at the insistence of Jen Glass, who says “she’s got this”. Another stern warning to the two wrestlers, another complete dismissal from both. They roll around on the floor, trading rights and lefts and rights and lefts, until Vacio finally gets a comfortable mount and hammers a solid 9 clean shots to the upper body of Habby.]

DD: “This situation is just getting ugly - THIS MATCH HASN’T EVEN STARTED YET! What are they gonna - oh. THAT’S what they’re gonna do. It looks like the party might be over, folks - the security staff is approaching and it looks like they want to break this up before it gets any more violent!”

[The red-shirted men work together and finally pull Vacio away from Habanero, grabbing Vacio by the arms and scruff. Vacio isn’t out of breath, and he doesn’t even really have a vicious look in his eye - it’s just purely sadistic, with a mix of indifference to the specific human being lying on the ground before him.

...a human being who rises from the floor.

...and charges.]

DD: “HABANERO IS GOING FOR IT ALL RIGHT - OOOOOOOOOOH!”

[Vacio somehow finds a way to escape - the rest of the literal redshirts don’t, as El Habanero flattens 5 men with a high-speed cross body. Vacio looks at the heap of humanity, shakes his head, and walks back up the ramp to a bunch of boos. Jen Glass FINALLY leaves the ring and checks on the crashed bodies at ringside.]

DD: “I guess this match is being rules a no contest, folks...and while EYE think El Habanero showed WAY more guts than Victor Vacio...well, as they say, Vacio’s the one leaving on his own terms. I get the feeling if these two had an ACTUAL MATCH that didn’t turn into a dang all-out brawl, we might have seem some amazing luchador action.

DANGit. What a shame.”

[For the first time in months, the DePaul Step Team comes out and does a routine that captivates the audience to no end. At the end of their performance, Barry flashes a mediocre graphic that includes the DePaul Blue Demons logo and a red heart.

Anything to kill a few minutes, right?]

DD: “Let’s bring it back ringside - we’ve got quite a tag team matchup next. A bunch of unresolved anger and frustration in this one!”

AM: “Let’s get this thing started, yawl! ONE FALL!”

THE MIGHTY QUINN & JOHN JOHNSON v. CHRISTOPHER RYAN EAGLES & STEVE JACKSON

​

[Two ripped dudes with tattoos all over their arms and chest emerge from the curtain. Eagles has a much more polished look, while the wild hair and grizzled maw of Jackson give a stark contrast. Neither man really acknowledge the other, but they both look like they’re full of piss and vinegar and ready to brawl.]

AM: “Introducing first! The team of STEVE ‘AXION’ JACKSON and ‘THE CANCER’, CHRISTOPHER RYAN EEEEEEAGLLLLLES!”

DD: “I mean, you talk about two tough sons of guns - these two seem like they should be a PERFECT fit together! Just a bunch of no-nonsense brawn and an equally-matched mean streak between the two of them. What a dangerous pairing!”

​

[A huge-ass Alaskan Husky of a man emerges alongside a head-to-toe covered luchador with a target on the top of his mask. They shake hands awkwardly at the top of the ramp - the awkwardness, it must be said, is mostly the fault of the masked man. Quinn leads the way down the ramp, and they both look pretty determined..]

AM: “And their opponents! The team of ‘NORMALLLLL’ JOHN JOHNSONNNNN and THE MIGHTYYYYYYY QUIIIIIIIIINN!!!”

DD: “The big galoot has got a buddy and it’s one of the nicer guys in the company, too! You gotta love John Johnson - he doesn’t talk much, but when he DOES, you know it’s important. And he’s got skills for days!”

[NJJ and Eagles start things off as the bell rings. They lock up in a collar-and-elbow and CRE uses his strength advantage to push NJJ into the corner and holds him there. Referee Ross Russell begins a count and CRE backs off before throwing a sharp kick to the ribs of NJJ. Eagles whips NJJ into the opposite corner and follows a quick step behind him, connecting with a clubbing clothesline right as Johnson hits the turnbuckle, covering for a one count.]

DD: “Eagles with the early advantage here - interesting that we’re seeing this matchup, seeing as Eagles wronged Quinn last show and Jackson wronged Johnson the show before that! Maybe a little criss-cross applesauce can give this match some hope of being clean!”

[Eagles goes for another grab and Johnson spins around, connecting with a Drop Toe Hold and positioning himself quickly into an STF submission. Eagles is quick to get to the ropes for the break. The two exchange a wild series of locks and counter-locks and holds and counter-holds before finally engaging in another collar and elbow tie-up. Before Johnson has a chance to react, Eagles hits a dirty headbutt on Johnson that drops him to a knee, before repositioning his arm and dropping Johnson with a DDT, this time landing a two count. Jackson calmly reaches his arm out and Eagles makes the tag.]

DD: “Eagles did a lot of solid work just then, and it looks like Johnson is a little worse for wear - uh oh! He sees who he’s up against, and he’s PISSED! Jackson with a vicious smile and he’s OH! DISCUS LARIAT? NO! Johnson ducks just in the nick of time! Springboard - ENZUIGIRI! Johnson just hit Jackson FLUSH with that kick! Here’s the coverrrr aaaaand no, a one and a half! Johnson trying to make his way to the corner, Quinn looks eager to tag in - no! Jackson stops him and wraps his arms around that foot of Johnson!”

[NJJ tries to shake Steve off to no avail, and Jackson simply yanks hard at the foot and sends NJJ crashing face first into the mat. Jackson quickly gets up and follows up with an elbow drop to NJJ’s back before covering or a two count. Jackson mounts and begins firing sharp elbows squarely into the mush of Johnson. Quinn begins to yell at Jackson to back off, and Jackson simply raises his arms to his sides as if to ask him to ‘make him’, drawing big time boos from the crowd.

Eagles yells for Jackson to tag him in and Jackson gets to his feet. He yells back at Eagles that he’s got this and to shut the hell up, which CRE takes exception to. They argue a bit more back and forth, each one trying to verbally display how much bigger of a man they are than the other...and before long, Ross Russell claps his hands together, indicating a tag.

Jackson turns around.

He’s eye-level with the chest of a hulking Alaskan.]

DD: “Uh ohhhhhhh, wrong place, wrong time, Steve! He throws a right - blocked! HUUUUGE headbutt by Quinn, and Jackson is stunned! Quinn’s got him up, look out folks!

NORTHERN STAR SLAM!! Jackson just got folded in HALF by that move! Here’s the cover!”

[By this point, Eagles is chuckling to himself, and the camera picks up CRE saying “he deserved it!” as he walks away from his own corner. Russell completes the three count and signals for the bell.]

​

AM: “Here are your winners...’NORMAL’ JOHN JOHNSON, and THE MIGHTYYYYY QUINNNNNNNN!”

DD: “What a high impact move there by Quinn! I’m sure he wished he could’ve exacted more direct revenge on Eagles in that match, and Johnson to Jackson as well - but the duo has to be happy walking away with a win there!

As we clear the ring, I want to take some time to thank DePaul University as well as McCormick Place, deep in the heart of Chicago, for taking a chance on this renegade pirate ship of wrestling that is Red Line Wrestling. It's through the support of renowned institutions like these, as well as all our amazing fans both in Illinois and across the country, that-”

​

DD: “...well, I guess I'll have to finish that thought another time, as it looks like we’re about to hear from Red Line Wrestling’s resident loose cannon, Emevlas Stastias! What’s on her mind? Could anyone even fathom a guess at this point??”

[Emevlas walks around the ring, drops to one knee and tosses the ring apron up. For a moment her top portion disappears underneath the ring, reappearing with a table. She slides it underneath the bottom rope before digging under the ring again. This time she brings out two folding chairs and launch them over the top rope prior to entering the ring herself. She scowls as she stands up in the ring, clutches the table in her hands and jams it into the corner of the ring. Mevy sits in a steel chair, still fuming after failing to drive someone through a table at Slamtrack 8. Many boos litter the arena.]

ES: “Just so you all know, I have no intentions on entertaining all of you with a match tonight. In fact the only reason I’m allowing you all to witness my excellence is because I have some business to take care of."

[An exasperated sigh escapes Mevy’s black-painted lips as she tries to calm herself to speak.]

ES: “The last time you all saw me was last Slamtrack when I was on the receiving end of a robotic knee. True enough I saw stars dancing above my head, but I was not beaten by a person...it took a freakin’ robotic knee to knock me down."

ES: "But you see, it’s like this: I’d lost sight of my true target, which isn’t Hittora, but rather that masked Latina grease fire known as Go-Go Spectacular."

[The crowd pops from the sheer mention of Go-Go.]

ES: "I remember saying a few months ago that I didn’t think she could handle drinking a glass of raspberry schnapps, much less handle being driven through a table, and if her match with Dickard Fury is anything to go by, I’m right. As much as I want to absolutely DISMANTLE Hittora limb from limb, then drive her through this here table so hard that she’ll limp for the rest of her life… I want to do that to Go-Go even more.”

[She gives herself a moment.]

ES: “So, what I ask from Go-Go is that she come out here, take a seat…

[Mevy points at the chair that she set up across from her.]

…and listen to the proposition that I’ve have for her."

[Ten seconds pass. No Go-Go in sight.]

ES: “Come on, Go-Go! I promise I won’t do a THING to that pretty little head of yours…”

[Another pause. Still nothing.]

ES: “Where’s that Latina Fire you all love so much? Don’t tell me that fire burned so bright that it’s already snuffed itself out!”

DD: “Folks, I’m not sure Go-Go is even in the BUILDING tonight!”

ES: “Unacceptable…after I take the time to stand out here in front of all these people who aren’t worth the tickets they purchased tonight, after I went through all the trouble of...you know what? It’s no matter - I’ll throw down the challenge anyway, and you’ll see once and for all just how worthless your so-called ‘heroine’ is.

You and me, Go-Go. At MASS TRANSIT.”

[The crowd pops a bit…]

ES: “In a TABLES MATCH!”

[The crowd pops louder! Emevlas grabs the chairs she set up and chucks them haphazardly out of the ring and flips the table on its side before regaining an eerily-too-calm facial expression.]

DD: “BOMBSHELL, folks! You gotta wonder if Go-Go is watching this at home right now, and you gotta wonder how she’ll respond to the gauntlet being tossed by the wildcard that is Emevlas Stastias! A tables match...Mevy has a reputation for LOVING to use tables every chance she can get, and you have to figure she knows every trick in the book for using tables as offense.

It looks like they’ve finally finished clearing out the ring...it’s time for our next match!”

HITTORA v. DICK FURY

​

[Fury’s cadre of ladies in uncomfortably-tight white tees escorts him through the curtain to a wildly mixed reaction, though the boos seem to be more colorfully present in the crowd, including signs and angry young moms. Dick’s hands clearly cup more than one buttcheek of an apparently-willing member of his female posse before he makes his way to the ring, oil and pink feather boa in tow.]

AM: “The following contest is set for ONE FALL! First up, FROM HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA! Weighing in at 218 pouuuunds…SUPERB! DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK FURY!”

DD: “Easy on the ‘Dick’, there, Arin! Jesus...once again, I would like to apologize to our viewers at home - we ALL strive to make this a program that the whole family can enjoy, and this guy...this freaking guy...to put it politely, that’s not his interest. His interest is in sleaze and in berating the homeless. I just...if only words could take back the damage this man is doing to our culture.

​

[Hittora strides toward the ring, turning and waving politely at fans on either side of the aisle with a smile frozen on her face. As she reaches ringside, she climbs up the steps and ducks through the ropes. Hittora goes to the middle of the ring and bows to all four sides of the arena in turn.]

AM: “AND HIS OPPONENT! From Tokyooooooo, Japan! HITTORAAAAAAAA!”

YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

DD: “The fans love our Hit-Chan, and who can blame them?? She had a really impressive win against the ever-bizarre Emevlas Stastias, and that’s no small accomplishment. It’s gotta be weird for Dick Fury to face an opponent who’s just this genuinely polite to him at the outset - I wonder how he’s going to handle it as the match wears on?”

[Jen Glass signals for the bell. Hittora bows towards Dick, who responds by humping the air at-or-near her head level. Hittora does not respond emotionally and simply takes a standard battle pose. Dick eyes Hittora up and down, shaping invisible hourglasses with his hands as he examines the Japanese fembot before him. Hittora, on the other hand, responds simply to the protocols that a ringing bell would indicate and lunges forward, connecting with a palm strike directly to Dick’s nose. Dick backs off and holds his hand to his nostrils to see if there’s blood before angrily bouncing off the ropes and smashing Hittora hard with a dropkick.]

DD: “Hittora is not one to go for the mind games Dick Fury is so used to playing! He’s going to have to adjust his usual strategy if he’s going to pull this one out...which begs two questions: is Dick Fury wrestling with strategy? And is the fact that Dick is in the ring the reason I’m saying things about pulling out?”

[Hittora bounces back to her feet and politely applauds her opponent’s well-executed maneuver. Dick looks confused as hell before viscerally grabbing his package, gyrating his hips, and mocking as if he held a person’s head in his other hand giving him a blowie. Hittora once again is completely incapable of registering this horrifyingly disgusting taunt as anything at all, and simply charges forward, connecting on a series of suplexes and simple arm strikes to the body. She gets a few one and one-and-a-half counts along the way.]

DD: “This Hittora, she may have unlocked some sort of Zen Buddhist response to the constant BS that is Dick Fury...I wonder if you have to be a robot to pull that sort of thing off, or if she could teach me…”

[Fury, sick of this shit, “baits” Hittora one more time (even though she’d attack anyway, given that this is a wrestling match and her protocols dictate that this is an appropriate time to pursue offense) and slips behind her, locking on a sleeper hold. Hittora doesn’t seem to strictly have an “airway”, so to speak, but the weight and positioning of Dick seems to wear her down a bit. Dick yells “REST HOLD, BITCHES!” before wrenching it in more tightly.]

DD: “I mean, Dick - that’s not what they PAID to see, but I guess it is a bit effective...hold on, he’s gyrating again. Sorry again, folks at home, he’s like a never-ending sea of overcompensation whenever he’s got the spotlight on him.”

[Hittora throws a few elbows into Dick’s ribs in an attempt to break the hold, but he quickly adjusts his grip and slams Hittora to the mat face-first with a bulldog. He covers and gets a two count before going for a second rest hold, this time a simple front facelock on the ground. While many other wrestlers would display SOME sort of frustration, Hittora simply seems to bide her time and compute the best course of action going forward. Dick sticks his tongue out to the crowd and begins to swirl it in the air in small circles, causing the young mothers in the crowd to cover the eyes of their progeny as the college-aged men in the crowd give the man props.]

DD: “Hittora looks like she’s trying to position herself back up, and Dick knows it - he’s throwing some sharp headbutts to her shoulder, and it looks like she’s buckling a little bit! They’re up, Fury’s in control! STRONG ARM SLAM BY DICK FURY! What a move! Here’s the coverrrr!!

1!

2!

...NO! Hittora kicks out, and she looks...well, she looks like she always does, totally neutral and ready to do whatever her programming says, I guess! That move does seem to have taken some gas out of her tank, though, and the fans are trying to rally behind their robot friend!”

HI-TTOR-A! HI-TTOR-A! HI-TTOR-A!

[Dick contemplates his next rest hold tactic and opts for a full nelson - though, once again, Hittora’s face betrays absolutely no emotion. Fury grinds a bit on the backside of Hittora and nods to the crowd, preparing to hit a Boob-Plex…

...but Hittora spins!

And Hittora strikes!]

DD: “SLEEP MODE! OUT OF NOWHERE, HITTORA STRIKES! Here’s the coverrrrrrr!

1!

2!

3!

​

AM: “Here is your winner...HITTORA!!!”

DD: “I don’t know if Dick Fury has ever come across a lady quite like our robot friend, Hittora...what a great match! Could’ve gone either way, but Hittora takes it with one part knee-uppercut, one part inability-to-process-basic-human-emotion. Incredible.

Now it’s not necessarily a SMOOTH transition, because hot DIGGITY how do you transition after two warriors give their all like that...I’ve got the next HOT TAKE about SLAMTRACK 10!

We all know that MASS TRANSIT will be headlined by a Red Crown Championship match between Ivan Dalkichev and The Second Coming...but the question a lot of folks want to know is who will be next? How will we determine the next #1 Contender?

The very first time we crowned a contender was through the inaugural Red Crown Tournament...next, we had an epic triple threat match. We’re always looking to push the envelope here at Red Line Wrestling, and so that’s why I’m proud to announce that we will have a NUMBER ONE CONTENDER BATTLE ROYAL at SLAMTRACK 10! There are going to be SO MANY of your Red Line favorites booked in this match - in fact, I wouldn’t be shocked if the match itself sets a record for the longest match in Red Line HISTORY! GET PUMPED!

And now...it’s time for our main event - man, I haven’t even TALKED about the craziest part of tonight’s show! WHO IS FACING IVAN DALKICHEV?! No one tells me ANYTHING around here, and I swear to all that is holy, folks - I have NO IDEA what to expect out of this thing.”

MAIN EVENT - NON-TITLE MATCH
IVAN DALKICHEV (c) v. ?​

(SFX: DING DING DING!)

AM: “This next contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is our MAIIIIIIIN EVENT! Introducing first… from SEATTLE, WASHINGTON…”

​

DD: “Would you take a look at these two...our Red Crown Champion, and the man who pulls all his strings...”

AM: “He is, the first-ever RED CROWWWWWWN CHAMPION of RED LINE WRESTLINNNNNNNG! Weighing in at FOUR HUNDRED and TWO POUNNNNNNDS...THE LAST TITAN! IVANNNN DALLLLLKICHEVVVVVVV!”

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

[Ivan stares coldly into the crowd for a moment before slowly extending both arms upward, palms facing up, simulating a "burden of Atlas" pose. With Fear at his shoulder, he advances down the aisle to the ring. He ascends the ring steps and steps over the full-set of ropes to enter the ring, going to the center and dropping to a knee to perform the same Atlas gesture. In the remaining moments before the bell rings, he sticks to his corner, where Fear stands on the apron intently giving him last-minute instructions and strategic advice.]

DD: “You have to believe that Nathan Fear is PISSED that his client, Ivan Dalkichev, is being introduced FIRST out here in tonight’s main event. I don’t blame him either - I don’t care WHO it is that steps through that curtain, the champ is the champ! Fear is a scumbag and a liar and probably a shady businessman, but he represents the best that Red Line Wrestling has to offer! Now, ladies and gentlemen, I must make it clear - the people who pay the bills for this place, they’ve kept a VERY TIGHT LIP about this supposed ‘mystery opponent’...I don’t know what to expect out here.”

AM: “Annnnnnd his opponent!”

​

[The music begins. It’s an unfamiliar bassy theme - sure, a few in the hipster music-savvy pocket are familiar with the track, but this isn’t the theme of a well-known wrestler.

Time passes.

…

...A solid thirty seconds.]

HEA-VY IIIIS THE HEEEEEEAD THAT WEEEEEEARS THE CROWWWWWWN…

DD: “...who is it??”

[More time. The fans get antsy - there is a hell of a lot of buildup for this shit.

……….

the crowd ROARS, and it is DEAFENING.]

DD: “.....you have got to be F***ING KIDDING ME...oh god, I swore on camera, I’m sorry...IS THIS???”

[Emerging through the curtain is an atomic bomb.

Its name is Eric Dane.]

DD: “IT’S THE ONLY STAR, ERIC DANE!!”

[It’s a slow and super-methodical walk to the ring. A few fans are straining as far as possible over the rail to touch the DEFIANCE owner and multiple-time-everywhere-wrestling-matters champion. Dane has a half grin and the salty eyes of a true veteran. The color has completely drained from the face of Nathan Fear, and even Dalkichev is visibly rattled. Nathan is trying to shout frantic instructions into the ear of Dalkichev, though the roar in the building is still so loud that it’s hard to tell if anything is going through.]

DD: “...ERIC DANE IS HERE and you guys didn’t TELL ME?! How am I supposed’ta? How?? This is unbelieveable...you talk about wrestling, and you talk about some of the all time greats - Dane is one of them, and the scariest part is that he looks like he’s in pretty dang good shape! Is he seriously here to compete in Red Line Wrestling?”

[Dane slowly climbs the steps to the ring, maintaining direct eye contact with his opponent the entire time. By now, chants of ER-IC DANE, ER-IC DANE have matched the volume of the music. Fear, regaining a shred of composure, begins barking at Dane - who shoots Fear a death-glare. Fear immediately stops and exits the ring. Dalkichev looks much more uncomfortable than we’re used to, and, frankly, he looks human. Referee Ross Russell signals for the bell before Arin even gets a chance to finish the introduction.]

DD: “We’ve had a lot of crazy moments here in the Red Line, folks, but this might be right near the top...Dane looks as confident as you’d ever expect, and oh! He’s beckoning the much younger, much BIGGER Dalkichev to come at him! Dalkichev obliges and we’re underway!!”

[Dalkichev charges with a clubbing forearm that Dane ducks beneath. He grabs Dalkichev’s left arm and wrenches it behind him, sidestepping once again as Dalkichev tries to counter with another elbow from his free arm. Dane reaches his right arm up into a half nelson and tries to slam Dalkichev face-first into the mat, but Dalkichev’s power is too much and he throws Dane off of him, gaining separation. Dane quickly charges and chop-blocks Dalkichev, dropping the Titan to his knee for a brief moment before he hops back up.]

DD: “I’m just...I’m expected to call this match right now? I’m just supposed’ta? Like...alright, folks, here’s the situation. Ivan Dalkichev is our champion, and he is 400 pounds of pure ragey MUSCLE, and he’s been unstoppable the entire time - OOH, Dane just chopped Dalkichev in the chest there, but I don’t - anyway, he’s been UNSTOPPABLE. But here you have a guy that could be considered the ace of ANY franchise, and he’s chosen the Red Line. Strength, youth, size to Dalkichev - speed, experience, instincts to Dane. How is this even. I feel like a suburban teenager right now!”

[Dalkichev continues to throw just-slightly-too-slow power move after power move at Dane, who’s juking and jiving his way around each fist and countering, over and over. A few members of the crowd chant “YOU STILL GOT IT!”, to which Dane steps aside and yells “THAT’S A CHANT FOR OLD RETIRED F***S WHO NEVER HAD IT, UNDERSTAND?”, to raucous applause. Eventually, though, the counters begin to wear out the older Dane and he’s just a tick to slow to turn a clothesline into a wristlock, and Dalkichev capitalizes with a meaty palm strike square to Dane’s chest, sending him crashing to the mat.]

DD: “Oooooh! This is the first opportunity Dalkichev has had all night - I wonder if he can take advantage??”

[Fear yells at Ivan to stop with the power moves, and Dalkichev wrenches his hands into Dane’s collarbone like a vice to great effect before Dane shoots his free hand into the face of the hulking Titan a few times. Dalkichev releases the vice, only to wrap his arms around the entire body of Dane and throw him across the entire ring with a belly-to-belly suplex. The crowd OOOHs as Dane struggles to get to his feet.]

DD: “That’s the thing about our champion - you can be the smartest wrestler in the world, but it’s hard to gameplan against that kind of absurd muscle mass! Dalkichev charging - YAKUZA KICK? NO! Dane escapes and Dalkichev is hung up! Dane’s got him around the - NECK BREAKER! DANE HITS THE NECKBREAKER! Here’s the coverrrrrr aaaaaand NO! Kickout at two by Dalkichev!”

[Both men rise and Dalkichev once again throws a failed meaty clothesline. Fear is barking orders at Dalkichev, fully red in the face and angry that he’s not being listened to. Dane skirts behind him and attempts to drop him with a Russian Leg Sweep - it nearly works, but Dalkichev’s sheer body mass alows him to block. Dalkichev scoops up Dane and slams him to the mat with a Sidewalk Slam, and covers for a two count.]

DD: “This is a back-and-forth battle, and you have to be proud of our Red Crown Champion for hanging in there so long against the likes of Dane! Dalkichev is back up, he’s measuring - WHAT THE HELL??”

[A familiar hooded figure skulks up behind the frothy-faced Nathan Fear and kicks him square in the head, dropping him into a heap.

It’s the Number One Contender.

Dalkichev catches this out of the corner of his eye as The Second Coming eyes the ring. Dalkichev, already quick to anger, takes a quick step towards 2C/Fear’s direction with a steely look in his eye.]

DD: “This must be payback for the attack earlier tonight! 2C is still incredibly banged up, I don’t know if she should really think about getting her nose involved with this sort of - what? WHAT? DANE HAS HIM HOOKED! It’s - wowwwww, LOOK AT THE STRENGTH! IT’S A STARDRIVER! Eric Dane has just PLANTED our champion to the mat! Here’s the coverrrrr!

1!

2!

3!”

​

DD: “He’s done it! Eric Dane has pinned the champion!”

[Dalkichev, for the first time in his life, looks like he doesn’t know what hit him. Dane gives a pissed off glare towards The Second Coming and begins to bark at her for even thinking of getting involved in his Red Line debut. 2C, whether due to youth or inexperience or courage or all three, shows no signs of fear towards the veteran Dane. Fear shakes the cobwebs out slowly on the floor - the referee raises Dane’s arm in victory, and while he enjoys the adulation bestowed upon him by the Chicago crowd, he continues to eye both 2C and Fear with a certain disgust and malice.]

DD: “What a night, folks...thank you for watching this edition of SLAMTRACK! And as always...ride the red line, and DON’T FALL ASLEEP!”

rlw.
​