SLAMTRACK 1

[brusch]

RED LINE WRESTLING
in conjunction with DePaul University
PRESENTS…

SLAMTRACK 1



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LIVE from the SULLIVAN ATHLETIC CENTER, CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
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[A crowd of roughly 800 jams out to the 8-bit janky tunes blaring through the SAC’s speakers; empty seats are covered with DePaul Blue tarps. It’s quite a mix – kids young enough to be freshmen at DePaul; hipsters from the area wearing their favorite AMERICAN PANDA, LEYENDA De OCHO, and PHIL ATKEN shirts complementing their tattoo sleeves and ear gauges in a concentrated pocket; yuppie Lincoln Park parents with their young children clad in HORNET WINS gear; a ragtag group of fans chomping at the bit for a wrestling staple in their neighborhood. A wrestling ring with a red second rope complementing the other two white ropes stands like a blank page in the center of the facility.

As the jams jam on, DANNY DALTON, god bless him, comes out in full Shaggy-mode with a Deadpool shirt beneath his blazer. He rocks out with the crowd and strides to the ring with microphone in hand.]

DD: “WHO’S READY FOR SOME GOTT DENG WRASSLING??”

[YEAHHHHHHHHHHHH]

DD: “My name is Danny Dalton, and whether you’re here live in Chicago, or you’re watching us online at RLW.com, you’re witnessing the BIRTH of a NEW ERA in the world of wrestling! Courage! Triumph! The bizarre! The guaranteed FUTURE of all things wrestling that you literally cannot find anywhere else - and it’s RIGHT HERE, in the very HEART of the world, CHICAGO!!”

[YEAHHHHHWELOVECHICAGOWOOOOOO]

DD: “SO LET’S GET THIS JAM STARTED!!!”

[More cheers as Danny makes his way to the solo announce desk – a simple brown table with a big ol’ RLW banner draped across it. He finagles his headset as ARIN McHENRY, in a full royal blue suit with a pastel yellow shirt and black tie, makes his way to the ring. He lifts a Bob Barker–style microphone up and grins to the camera. His word emphasis is just full of ham. Referee Ross Russell stands at the ready.]

AM: “Thiiiiiiis match, is set forrrrrrr ONE fallllllllllllll.”

CHARLIE WILLIAMS v. FAFNIR
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[The lights go out. The ceiling is immediately illuminated by a Demon-esque BatSymbol, before the lights flash on with two figures on the ramp. A man in a full Olympic-style wrestling costume with a Demon Horned mask and blue-and-scarlet cape jumps up and down as he charges down the ramp, accompanied closely by a super-pumped and super-excited Demon In A Blue Suit. They make their way to the ring with a river of high fives.]

AM: “Froooooooom CHICAGO, WEIGHING innnnn at 236 POOOOOOOUNDS…’THE BLUE DEMON’! CHARliiiiiiiiiiiEEEEEE WILLLLLLLIAMS!”

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[A big-bellied dragon-man with a crazy black beard steps through, spitting as he screams half-German half-English phrases. Cheers from the hipsters, boos from the others as he screams at fans.]

AM: “Aaand from DUSSELDORF, GERMANY. Weighing innnnnnn at 270 POUUUUUUUNDS…”THE GERMAN DRAGON”! FAF……NIRRRRRRRRRR.”

DD: “IT’S THE FIRST MATCH IN RED LINE WRESTLING HISTORY, people! GET HYPED! Let’s see what these guys can do!”

[IMMEDIATELY from the get-go, FAFNIR begins to beat the ever-living hell out of Charlie Williams; a crazy number of consecutive lockups result in clubbing hammer blows, roaring headbutts, and Irish Whips into Clotheslines. At one point, the mic clearly picks up FAFNIR yelling “WAS IST, ICH END YOU NOW!!” as he sets up for a “Hrothgar’s Hammer” elevated powerbomb! Charlie blocks and finds a way to hit a discus ear punch, stumbling FAFNIR and letting Charlie hit a double-knee backbreaker for a two. Charlie goes to pick him up, and FAFNIR remembers his I Am An Actual German Dragon Roots: Release German Suplex. Sidewalk Slam. Running Splash.]

DD: “One! Two – OH and Charlie Williams kicks out! He’s just getting the CRAP kicked out of him, but say what you want to say – he’s a resilient kid, isn’t he?”

[FAFNIR, disgruntled and angry at this point, starts shouting angry Germglish to the crowd. Demon In A Blue Suit silently throws his arms up in FAFNIR’s general direction, then points and laughs at him, hamming it up with the crowd. This ENRAGES FAFNIR, to the point where he leaves the ring and LARIATS THE HELL OUT OF D.I.A.B.S.!! Charlie sees it – and he’s PISSED! Shaking off the 10-or-so minutes of blunt force trauma he’s received to this point, he storms out of the ring and stuns FAFNIR with an enzuigiri before rolling him back in the ring! FAFNIR on the ground, not quite sure where he is…]

DD: “Charlie Williams doesn’t let ANYONE mess with DePaul Pride, and he’s looking in control here – FACEBREAKER DDT! WOW, what a crazy impact! This young gun has TALENT! Charlie’s setting up, he’s running to the ropes!

--DEMONSAULT! DEMONSAULT! 1…2…3!!”

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AM: “Theeeeeeee winnerofthismatch…CHARLIE! WILLLLLLLIAMS!”

[Charlie’s adrenaline wears off and his body brutally reminds him of the massive amount of pain he’s just received, causing him to half-roll, half-collapse out of the ring. He makes his way slowly up the ramp, arms raised in triumph, holding his neck.]


DD: “FAFNIR genuinely scares the hell out of me, and you have to think that if he didn’t let his GERMAN DRAGON RAGE get the best of him, maybe Charlie Williams wouldn’t have gotten so lucky! But nonetheless, what a debut for The Blue Demon!”

[DePaul’s stomp team does a 120-second routine to the cheers and adulation of the crowd; the crowd’s hipsters stay glued to their phones, hopefully tweeting out their thoughts from the first match of the show. Referee Jen Glass makes her way to the ring.]

AM: “The following match, TOO, is set for ONE FALL!”

RUSS SPACKLER v. JOHN JOHNSON
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[A man in a fully red bodysuit calmly walks towards the ring to little fanfare. He wears a red mask with black mesh over the face and a white target over his forehead. The ensemble is completed by white boots and gloves.]

AM: “FROM BUZZARD’S BAY, MASS…weighing innnnnn at 234 POUNDS. HE’S ‘NORMAL’! HE’S JOHHHHHHN JOHNSONNNNNNNNN!”

[Polite applause, and John doesn’t really ask for anything more. He begins to bounce from foot-to-foot in the ring, awaiting his opponent.]

AM: “And now, making his way to the ring from THE JUNGLE…of LAKE…ERIE!”

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[Out from behind the curtain comes an athletic man with medium-length black hair, decked out in the gorilla shark costume from a mysterious promo earlier in the week. Additionally, he has a cheap foam boogie board in his hands, which he tries to intimidate the crowd by biting through...]

“NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGH!”

[...but since he is not an actual shark/gorilla mix, it merely leaves a small indent into the board. Reverting to Plan B, he then tries to break the boogie board over his knee with SUPER GORILLA STRENGTH. However, although this competitor seems strong, the boogie board's plastic coating makes it impossible to break. As the audience laughs at his inadequacies, he pitches a gorilla-like fit while swim-walking his way to the ring, throwing the boogie board at the steel post.]

AM: “Weighing in at 245 POUUUUUUUNDS...THE SHARKUTAN! Russ….SPACKLERRRRRRRRRR!”

[Spackler then carefully slides underneath the bottom rope (making sure his dorsal fin does not get stuck) and worm-crawls on the canvas to mimic a shark stalking his prey: "Normal” John Johnson.

Johnson is…perplexed. The crowd begins to laugh in appreciation at the ridiculous pairing in front of them: the most plain, generic, vanilla-nilla wrestler versus THE SHARKUTAN. Spackler, fully prepared to use the element of surprise to his advantage, lunges forward and goes for an immediate ORANGUTAN-STRENGTH BELLY-TO-BELLY! He mauls Johnson with a GORILLA-JUNGLE of fists and pseudo-bites until Jen Glass counts to four; Spackler steps away. Johnson, normally cool as ice, throws a “what the eff” glance towards Danny Dalton, who returns it with a shrug. Spackler beats his chest and lets out a guttural SHARKUTANIAN WAR-YELP, causing Johnson to flinch for a moment before going for a lockup. The two proceed to trade surprisingly technical holds; it becomes a veritable blur between various wristlocks and arm drags and snap mares and float-overs and WHY DO THEY KEEP LANDING ON THEIR FEET, FOR GOD’S SAKE SOMEONE HIT SOMEONE, before Spackler breaks through with a gut buster!]

DD: “Spackler FINALLY gets the advantage, and man – Johnson’s a man who has been all OVER the independent circuit, ladies and gentlemen, and he’s well-regarded for his TECHNICAL PROWESS. He’s a guy who can counter anything if he’s seen it once – but Spackler stuck with him the whole way! And Spackler’s bizarre and unorthodox presentation may be throwing Johnson for a loop here!”

[Johnson, slow to get up, goes for a big-time roaring elbow that Spackler swiftly ducks under! Quickly, Spackler wraps his MONGOLOID MONSTER WRISTS around Johnson’s head and neck and goes for a snap mare! Another! ANOTHER! ANOTHER. He motions to the crowd, who WANTS to boo, just so bad, but gosh darn it this guy is crazy and a few cheers let loose. Upset with the cheers, he sets up for another snap mare which is met with an “OHHHH!” from the crowd, that he releases to “AWWWWW!”, before SNAPPING TO FEROCIOUS LIFE and slapping on a Lotus Lock…]

DD: “He calls this the Pteralimbdal! Johnson looks spent, he’s been one step behind all match – AND HE TAPS! HE TAPS! RUSS SPACKLER IS YOUR WINNER!”

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[The lights go dark for a moment as a large screen slowly illuminates next to the entrance ramp.]

“COMING SOON TO SLAMTRACK!

more wrassling

more fun

AND A HUGE, GAME-CHANGING ANNOUNCEMENT that is sure to electrify RED LINE WRESTLING!

Red Line Wrestling is neat.”
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[The screen cuts off, and Arin McHenry and Ross Russell are standing in the ring, shrugging to each other. You would think Barry would’ve put more effort into that. He didn’t.]

DD: “Well that was quick. BUT! It’s definitely true – there is a HUGE announcement on SLAMTRACK 2, and I’M GOING TO BE THE ONE TO GIVE IT! I want to spoiler the hell out of this so bad, you guys…but I’ll wait. Whoo. I can handle it. I promise. We’ve got one more match on this RLW debut broadcast, and we’re stepping into SWEATY HOT TAG TEAM ACTION!”

AM: “The following is a TAAAAAAAAG TEEEEEEEEEEEAM MATCH! And it’s SCHEDULEFOWUNFAW.”

HAUGHTY TROUPE v. HOUSE OF HILL
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[Two men stand shoulder to shoulder, staring down the barrel of the camera: one with long curly hair in neon green, the other a surprisingly pudgy luchador with cross hairs on his mask. They march down the ring, absolutely not playing to the crowd in any way.]

AM: “It’s MUNCHY MAN! It’s THE BULLSEYE KID! YOU BETTER BELIEVE…THEY’RE THE HAUGHTY TROUPE!!”

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[After The Haughty Troupe enters the rings, shouting vaguely threatening epithets in the general direction of “every direction”, music hits and three men stand shoulder to shoulder at the top of the ramp. The biggest, a 6’5” hoss in cowboy boots, nods and smacks the other two on the chest before heading to the back once again. The shorter man in camo pants and orange boots is followed by his brethren in black pants with SABRE written down the side. Cheers from the fans at the ridiculous and awesome theme music.]

AM: “AND THEIR OPPONENTS! Hailing from SAINT PAUL MINNESOTA…Sam Hill! Simon Hill!! THE HOUUUUUUUUUSE OF HILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL.”

[Sam and Munchy Man face off in the beginning, facing off in a rabid stance as the crowd begins to build – SUCH SURPRISING INTENSITY IN THEIR GLANCES – as the bell rings. Sam turns out to be every bit the spark plug, running metaphorical circles around Munchy Man and hitting a series of dives, dropkicks, and other fly-through-the-air offense in a hot flurry before a one-count pin attempt. He yells “REDNECK NINJAAAAA!” to the crowd, fist aloft, which is met with thunderous applause. He tags to Simon who, while slightly bigger, is no slouch in terms of exciting spots. A well-rounded fighter, he hits Munchy with a chop block to the back of the knee before wrenching in a long-lasting Cobra Clutch on the ground!]

DD: “Munchy Man, for all his bluster, is just getting WRECKED out there! Wait a minute – he’s getting up! HE’S GETTING UP! Elbows to Simon! Another! HURRICANRANA! He goes for the cover – and Simon kicks out at two! That may have been Munchy’s one shot to get out of this with his head – he just stumbled to his corner and here comes the Bullseye Kid!”

[Bullseye does quite a bit better, throwing comically effective chops to Simon before taking him down with a flapjack. Simon eventually recovers, and after a several-minute series of holds and strikes (met by cheers to Simon and boos to Bullseye), the two appear to be at a stalemate. A stare down. SUCH A STAREDOWN! The crowd claps with growing intensity – a shove from Bullseye Kid! A SABRE KICK FROM SIMON HILL!! Bullseye is OUT, and Simon clobbers Munchy Man before going to his corner and tagging in his brother…]

DD: “Man, I don’t think the big ol’ luchador knows where he is! Sam’s back in there, and he’s as wild as ever! Scoop slam! AND HE LOCKS IN KING OF THE HILL! That cross-face chicken wing wi-I COULDN’T EVEN GET THE ENTIRE TECHNICAL NAME OF THE MOVE OUT BEFORE THE TAP OUT! What a submission maneuver by Sam Hill!”

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DD: “The House of Hill deserves all the applause in the world for such a dominating performance against two men who have IMMENSE talent and history in this industry!

Guys…I hope you’re as excited about this as I am. We just saw a cavalcade of amazing wrestlers come through Red Line Wrestling’s doors, and WE’RE JUST GETTING STARTED! SLAMTRACK 2 is going to feature EVEN MORE amazing talent, plus a HUGE ANNOUNCEMENT! Thanks for watching. I’m Danny Dalton, and remember – ride the Red Line, and DON’T FALL ASLEEP.”

rlw.
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