brusch
Main Event Caliber
RED LINE WRESTLING
in conjunction with DePaul University
PRESENTS…
SLAMTRACK 8
Streaming LIVE from the SULLIVAN ATHLETIC CENTER, CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
[950 or so fans bob up and down to the RLW chiptune theme. The crowd is your well-known weirdly-segregated pockets, and some familiar faces are beginning to emerge - though no officially-hired Sign Guy. DANNY DALTON sits behind the announce desk wearing an Iron Man tee, a maroon sports coat, and black denim jeans. His ever-growing Jew-fro pounds up and down along with the music as he chair-dances with his signature grin.]in conjunction with DePaul University
PRESENTS…
SLAMTRACK 8
Streaming LIVE from the SULLIVAN ATHLETIC CENTER, CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
DD: “Welcome to SLAMTRACK, everybody! My name is Danny Dalton. This is, MAYBE the biggest SLAMTRACK in our history folks. Let’s start with the opener - we have perennial fan-favorite GO-GO SPECTACULAR booked against a veteran in our industry, and frankly a man with a crazy reputation - none other than DICK FURY! I’m...I’m not sure what to expect there. I want to uphold my journalistic integrity, but GAWD are there reputations! Then, we have two RLW newcomers - the Alaskan Artifact, THE MIGHTY QUINN, faces off against a salty and angry veteran, none other than CHRISTOPHER RYAN EAGLES - it’s going to be a battle for the ages, no doubt! Then - THEN - we have the much-awaited debut of Victor Vacio, the masked monstrosity whose presence was felt all over the last show, facing off against Indie-wrestling legend, El Cabron! Then, THEN, we have table enthusiast EMEVLAS STASTIAS taking on the newly-sentient primordial DANGERBOT, HITTORA...I don’t know if any of us expected this match to get as heated as it did, but our online fans know just how brutally powerful this match got! Finally, we have our main event of the night - and Jesus, it’s going to be ugly. Our #1 Contender to the Red Crown Championship, The Second Coming, faces off with the Aussie Anarchist, Kid Koala. This has been brewing for MONTHS, frankly, and I don’t know WHAT to expect!
Let’s get things rockin’ with our first match of the night!”
[Ring announcer and sometimes-interviewer ARIN McHENRY has pulled another doozy out of the closet, a green and red vertically striped suit. He has a strange bruise on his forehead with a bandage over it, though he’s not letting that get in his way. Friendly RLW junior referee Jen Glass stands at the ready.]
AM: “Theeeee following match, is scheduled for ONE FALL!
GO-GO SPECTACULAR v. DICK FURY
[The lights go out as a lone spotlight illuminates “Latina Fire” entering the arena. She does a flip into the ring and poses like Superman to the crowd’s delight.]
AM: “Introducinnnng FIRST! From EL PASO, TEXAS...she is “LATINA FIRE”...GO-GOOOOOO...SPECCCCCCTACULARRRRRRRRRR!” [Arin once again fails at rolling the R, but he’s been working on it and is getting closer.]
DD: “A great face to start things off here, folks! Go-Go Spectacular is well-loved by the crowd here EVERY time she comes out. She looked great out there in defeating Yoshikazu YAZ at SLAMTRACK 6 - how will she fare against-”
AM: “And her opponent! From HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA! HE MIGHT BE YOUR BABY’S REAL DADDY! Dick….FURY!”
[Dick gyrates his pelvis as if it had extra hinges installed, and while the hipster fans are cheering the hell out of this, the rest of the crowd rains down the boos.]
DD: “We knew this day would come here in the Red Line...Dick Fury, a man who needs no introduction. Oh boy...folks at home, if you’re averse to sleaze, this may be time to take a short break!”
[The bell rings and Dick starts to overtly ogle Go-Go’s…”assets”...much to her disgust. She launches forward and goes to slap Dick in the face, which he counters into an arm drag. Wrenching the arm further, he gets a bit closer and attempts to grind up on Go-Go - she responds with a hard elbow to the gut and gets separation.]
DD: “I get the feeling Dick Fury’s the kind of guy that’s developed 100 ways to deal with a woman trying to slap him in the face…”
[They tie up collar-and-elbow and Dick whispers something awful in Go-Go’s ears, sending her into a fury of her own. In a haze of kicks and chops, she strikes Fury viciously from head to toe before sending him towards the ropes and connecting with a drop kick. She covers and gets a one-and-a-half. Fury makes sure to smack her in the butt as he gets up, and the boos grow louder.]
DD: “I don’t know how Go-Go’s going to keep her head in the game here, this is just BLATANT misogyny and terribleness…”
[Go-Go charges once again, her anger at Fury’s attitude growing by the second. Fury uses this to his advantage and ducks and weaves beneath the roundhouse kicks Go-Go throws. Eventually, Fury finds himself behind Go-Go, and…]
CROWD: “BOOOOOOOOO!”
DD: “YOU CAN’T GRAB HER THERE! That’s just not RIGHT!”
[Go-Go is flung across the ring in a move Fury likes to call “The Boob-Plex”. Fury goes for the cover and, at two, Go-Go rolls through for a cover of her own, but instead of hooking the leg she throws furious lefts and rights into Fury’s face. He covers up and is eventually able to get Go-Go off of him by gyrating and humping from his back. They lock up once again, and Go-Go hits a stiff (no pun intended) uppercut that rocks Fury.]
DD: “Can Go-Go put things away here?? She’s running to the ropes, looks like she’s going for her E-F-FIIIIIIIVE NO! FURY COUNTERS! Fury threw Go-Go HARD into the mat, and uh-oh, he’s got the arms hooked - STARSUCKER! This may be it folks - 1!
2!
3!”
[DING DING DING!]
DD: “I feel like I need a shower. And like I need to apologize to my mother. I feel like women in this country might have just been set back a few decades. But there’s Dick Fury for you, ladies and gentlemen - he’s more than just an oily, hairy, greased-up sex addict, he’s a savvy veteran who will play every head game he can to get an edge! We have a bunch of powerful women on our roster...I wonder who will be able to stop The Superb One?
Next up, we have video shot earlier today featuring a man that I am ALL about - ELLLL HABANEROOOOO! Barry! Bring forth that beautiful footage!”
[We join Arin McHenry earlier today with El Habanero, who stand side by side in front of a large black backdrop with the crimson RLW logo on it. Habby stands tall and proud, not even a sign of the utter beating he took at the hands of the Last Titan, the Champion of the Red Crown, the Russian Menance that is Ivan Dalkichev.]
AM: Ladies and germs, I'm joined here today by Red Line newcomer and, if Danny Dalton is to be believed, the future of, not just Red Line Wrestling, but all of pro-wrestling, EL HABANERO!
[Habby clearly smiles, which can be seen through his mask, while he also waves to the people who are watching this on the internet, on DVD - purchased or pirated.]
AM: Now Habs, you made your debut last week taking one heck of a beating against Ivan Dalkichev, clearly Dalton's belief in you was so strong that you got thrown into the deep end.
[Habs nods and rubs his neck, clearly showing he's not completely recovered from the beatdown he took.]
AM: The question is, where do you go from here? Because it would seem you couldn't go any lower after what the Champ did to you last week.
["Hmmm" Habs considers silently, a hand coming up to his chin and strokes it lightly as he chooses his words carefully. When he has the thought ready, he turns to the camera and...]
EH: .....?
AM: Don't worry, just speak into the camera like we showed you.
EH: .....?
[Habby brings up a hand as if asking for a moment, then brings that hand over his throat and coughs, a loud "AHEM!" coming from his mouth. Returning his focus to the camera, his elbow bends and he holds a hand up, balled into a fist with the exception of his index finger that points to the sky as if he's finally got it... A "EUREKA" kind of moment if you will.]
EH: .....?!
AM: Cat got your tongue, kid?
EH: .....?!?!
[Habby looks at McHenry like "WHAT THE HELL, DUDE?!" as he's completely not understanding why he suddenly can't speak.]
AM: What's that boy? Timmy fell down a well?!
EH: .....?!
[Habs jumps up and jump like he were Super Mario trying to squash a Koopa Troopa.]
AM: Oh wait, come again? Your mom's Apple Pie is the bomb dot com?
[Habby coughs, jumps up and down, at this point completely ignoring Arin's questions.]
AM: Did Dalkichev beat you so badly that you can't even speak now?!
[Finally stopping, Habs looks at the camera and...]
EH: ...?......?!.....!!!!
[Habs looks up at the sky, his fists coming up as he shakes them in frustration.]
[Then suddenly the real "eureka!" moment occurs as Habs brings a hand up like "AH HA!"]
[He walks off the set, leaving McHenry to conduct this thing solo.]
AH: Well, El Habanero people, the boy who literally defines the term "a man of few words".
[Arin tries to walk off the other way, but Habby returns with an old school, ghetto blaster boombox and a plain, wooden stool. Setting down the stool, he places the boombox on the seat of it, then presses play on the tape deck.]
AH: Uhm.... kay?
EH: .....
[Suddenly the boombox starts speaking for Habby as he mimics the speech. The "voice" coming from the boombox is that of Peter Finch as Howard Beale and the "Mad As Hell" speech from the classic movie, Network.]
EH: ....
[Fist pump!]
EH: So I want you to get up now. I want all of you to get up out of your chairs. I want you to get up right now and go to the window. Open it, and stick your head out, and yell, 'I'M AS MAD AS HELL, AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANYMORE!'
[MOAR FIST PUMPING!]
[Excited and ready to rumble, Habby raises his arms in victory and then runs off like a bat out of hell, leaving Arin McHenry completely dumbfounded like "What... In the hell... Was that?"]
[Cut to Danny at ringside with a completely confused look on his face. When he realizes the camera is back on him, he shakes it off and gives a big doofy grin and a thumbs up.]
DD: “The blue chipper speaks! Sorta! He’s just super swell, right guys? ...right?
Aaaaaaanyway, let’s bring it back ringside - we’ve got quite a matchup here. Two Red Line newcomers squaring off! Take it away, Arin!”
AM: “Let’s get this thing started, yawl! ONE FALL!”
THE MIGHTY QUINN v. CHRISTOPHER RYAN EAGLES
[A ripped guy with tattoos all over his arms emerges from the curtain. He has a smarmy look on his face and he shows a total flippant attitude towards the fans as he approaches the ring.]
AM: “Introducing first! From DONCASTER, ENGLAND! Weighing in at 235 pounds…’CANCER’...CHRISTOPHER RYAN EEEEEEAGLLLLLLES!”
DD: “This is a man who’s been all over the place, people. See Are Ee has been a champion just about everywhere he’s gone, and he’s no one to mess with. I tried starting a conversation with him backstage - he had no interest in talking to me. A real callous JERK. But, successful, it has to be said.”
[A hulking colossus of an Alaskan steps through the curtain and looks down at the floor. The crowd happily claps along with the bouncy theme as he makes his way to the ring, stepping between the middle ropes.]
AM: “And his opponent! From THE ALASKAN WILDERNESS! Weighing in at 295 pounds...THE MIGHTYYYYYY QUINNNNNNN!”
DD: “Look at this tall drink of water! I’m told he doesn’t have a ton of experience, so the edge goes to Eagles there - but you can’t teach size, and boy howdy, this guy has it! It looks like Jen Glass has the call!”
[The bell rings. Quinn goes for a handshake, and Eagles immediately spits in his opponent’s palm to large boos. Quinn tries to shake it off as he holds his fists up as if to box. Eagles dances around and they circle each other before Eagles ducks a right hand and chops Quinn in the chest. Another circle round, another chop, and Eagles maneuvers behind Quinn to attempt a takedown - the sheer size of Quinn prevents this from happening, and Quinn breaks free and throws a wild elbow that connects with Eagles’s face.]
DD: “Like I said before, folks - you can’t teach size!”
[Quinn goes to lock up, but the veteran Eagles slides through and connects with a lungblower to the chest, which gets a one and a half. Eagles mounts his chest and begins throwing rights, but Quinn throws rights of his own and eventually palms the skull of Eagles, reversing position and getting Eagles to the floor where he begins to wail on him. They separate and Quinn gives a solemn fist-raise to the crowd, which gets him some cheers. As his does this, Eagles runs in and chop blocks him from behind and goes for a quick cover.]
DD: “Oh, that’s a devastating - ONE! TWO! -NOOOOO! Quinn kicks out! Eagles looking to take control after that move - big men don’t like getting hit in those joints for sure!”
[Eagles reaches high up and wraps an arm around the throat of Quinn before connecting with an Inverted Headlock Backbreaker, which leads to another two count. Eagles gets up quickly and starts chewing out Jen Glass, accusing her of a slow count. Jen insists it was a two, and the hulking Alaskan rises, spins Eagles around, and kicks him square in the gut. He lifts him up into the Iceberg Slam - a fireman’s carry powerslam - that knocks the wind clear out of Eagles’s gut. Quinn covers for a two and a half count.]
DD: “Big move from Quinn there, and he may look to build momentum here - he’s got Eagles up now, looking for that big crucifix - NO! Eagles slips out! And what??”
BOOOOOOOOO!
[Eagles straight up uppercuts Quinn in the junk, sending him to a crumpling heap. Jen Glass signals for the bell immediately and then pushes Eagles, now stomping on Quinn, away from the fallen Alaskan.]
AM: “The winner of this match as a result of a DISQUALIFICATION...THE MIGHTYYYYY QUINN!”
BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
[Eagles gets the hell out of dodge and raises more middle fingers to the fans as he exists. Quinn is slow to get up.]
DD: “That’s just not RIGHT! Quinn might’ve had that there, but Eagles had to go and throw in the cheap shot! Well folks, it looks like our hulking Alaskan has his first win in RLW, though maybe not in the way you’d expect. Now it looks like - yes, Quinn’s on his feet, he’s moving towards the back. A well-earned round of applause for the big fella. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s my time to shine…”
[Danny Dalton rises from the desk and removes his headset before heading to his colleague, Arin McHenry. He takes the Bob Barker-style mic from Arin and rolls into the ring, ready for the FRASH NEWZ~]
DD: “HOW IS EVERYONE DOING TONIGHT??”
RAHHHHHHHH!
DD: “Great! Because I have news - and it’s a DOOZY! But first, I have a question for all of you. Did everyone enjoy...RUSH HOUR?”
RAHHHHHHHHHHHH!
DD: “We did too! We were blown away by you guys out there who showed up and supported Red Line Wrestling’s FIRST-EVER online pay-per-view! And it’s great pleasure that I bring you….THIS! BARRY, GO!”
[A screen by the entrance ramp has been set up, and a video montage shows rapid fire clips.
IVAN DALKICHEV’s coronation ceremony!
THE SECOND COMING holding esoteric eric in a brutal submission hold!
GO-GO SPECTACULAR posing for the fans!
THE MARSUPIALS OF MAYHEM causing chaos in the ring!
EL HABANERO getting carried out of the ring!
#BROS fistbumping and jumping up and down at a Chicago club!
The images continue, highlighting the faces of the many wrestlers who have appeared in an RLW ring. Eventually, the sound of train wheels in motion begins. Text appears in the center of the screen:]
RED LINE WRESTLING
presents...
MASS TRANSIT
The Lakeside Ballroom - McCormick Place
RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!presents...
MASS TRANSIT
The Lakeside Ballroom - McCormick Place
DD: “That’s right, folks - for one night, we’re taking this show on the road! McCormick Place is one of the most well-known venues in all of Chicago, and MASS TRANSIT will be our next iPPV, three shows away! Give it up for-”
[Static burst. The text on the screen warbles before reading “EVERY VICTORY IS EMPTY”.]
VICTOR VACIO v. EL CABRON
[Danny, not wanting to be the part of any trouble, quickly darts out of the ring towards the announce table. A sullen and sinister man in a black mask with matching black sleeves makes his way to the ring. His full-length tights read “VICTOR” on one leg and “VACIO” on the other.]
AM: “The following contest is set for ONE FALL! First up, FROM PARTS UNKNOWN! Weighing in at 226 pouuuunds…THE LOST CAUSE! VICTOR! VACIOOOOOOO!”
DD: “I didn’t think he would be out yet - but this is the man who’s interrupted our broadcast before, the mysterious Victor Vacio! He’s certainly looking to make an impact here…”
[As the Goat Bastard parts the curtain, doom riffs echo throughout the Sullivan Athletic Center. He approaches the ring at a dead man’s pace, occasionally juking to the rhythm of the music. He enters the ring and cracks a wry grin before trying to match the intensity of Vacio’s dark stare.]
AM: “AND HIS OPPONENT! From Indianapolis, Innnndiana! Weighing in at 224 pounds...THE ESCAPE ARTIST! Ellllllll CabrON!”
DD: “This is quite an opportunity for Victor Vacio - Ol’ Dopesmoker is nothing to shake a stick at. He’s got moves on moves on moves and a TON of - LOOK OUT!”
[Before the bell rings, Vacio rushes forward and wraps both arms around Cabron before flinging him across the ring in an overhead belly-to-belly suplex. Referee Ross Russell quickly motions for the bell and Vacio makes his way over. He lifts Cabron up and Cabron gives a few quick kicks to the legs before Vacio picks him back up and suplexes him across the ring once again. He stares out at the fans and glares.]
DD: “This guy means BUSINESS, folks! Surprising strength from Vacio!”
[Vacio runs towards the ropes and bounces off, connecting with a low drop kick that sends the crumpled El Cabron outside the ring. Vacio steps towards the center of the ring and looks at the ground as the referee begins his count. Cabron slowly stirs before getting back in at a 6 count.]
DD: “El Cabron taken a bit off guard here - THERE’S the Goat we all know! High kick to the chest, a strike, he’s moving so fast I can’t even call them all - HUUUUUGE lariat by Vacio, and El Cabron is down!”
[Vacio doesn’t go for a cover, as if going for a victory couldn’t possibly hold less meaning for him. He picks up Cabron once again and spikes him HARD with a Fisherman Brainbuster.]
DD: “OOOOH! That’s a DANGEROUS looking move, and El Cabron looks to be out cold! ...why doesn’t he go for a cover here?”
[Vacio steps through the ropes and looks to walk back towards the curtain, to a cascade of boos. From the ring, El Cabron shouts “You fuckin’ coward! I had you right where I wanted you, you piece of shit! No wonder you’re going back up - need to cry some more??” THIS angers Vacio, and he power walks back towards the ring, quickly hoists Cabron up, and spikes him hard once again with the Fisherman Brainbuster. With no hesitation, he climbs to the top rope and flies…]
DD: “THE DOUBLE V-SAULT! Holy crap, did he just rotate TWICE?? Both legs hooked, and it’s academic folks…”
[DING DING DING!]
[Vacio gives Cabron a final kick to the head for good measure before exiting the ring. The hipsters applaud that amazing finishing move while the rest of the crowd boo as he lifts a middle finger in the air.]
DD: “Man...something Cabron said must’ve really set him off. He was ready to just up and LEAVE mid-match! I don’t think that was a victory for victory’s sake - I think that was a STATEMENT. Don’t mess with the Vic Man!
Now it’s time for a moment we’ve known about - THE AXE SPEAKS! Steve ‘Axion’ Jackson came in and IMMEDIATELY wrecked the hell out of ‘Normal’ John Johnson in his debut match - and not in a totally legal way. Earlier today, he agreed to a short interview with our own Arin McHenry. Barry! Take it away!”
[The show flashes for a moment before going to a previously-recorded tape. Arin is in his amazing striped suit and he stands before an RLW backdrop.]
AM: “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to talk to The Axe of the Red Line, Steve Jackson.”
[Jackson emerges and completely dwarfs Arin, who gulps at the sight of this tattooed metalhead. He raises his mic and begins.]
AM: “Steve...last week, you absolutely manhandled ‘Normal’ John Johnson in the ring, leading to an immediate disqualification and further and further abuse. That’s...that’s kind of messed up, right?”
[Arin holds the mic out to Jackson’s face. It is met with a stern glare.]
AM: “I mean...do you have anything to say about why you did that?”
[Without a word, Jackson grabs Arin by the throat. Arin immediately drops the microphone and has a look of complete wide-eyed shock on his face as he is driven forehead-first into the RLW backdrop. He crumples in a heap. Jackson breathes heavily for a moment before staring a hot hole in the camera and walking off screen. The shot returns to Danny Dalton behind the desk.]
DD: “Oh my God...Arin, I had no idea! I guess that explains the bandage and the bruise...you ok, buddy? Need to talk about it?”
[Arin doesn’t respond from the center of the ring.]
DD: “Ok then...geez, some of the people who come to this place…”
AM: “The folllllowing match, IS SET FOR ONE FAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWL!”
HITTORA v. EMEVLAS STASTIAS
[A lovely Japanese girl strides towards the ring, occasionally waving at the fans with a smile completely frozen over her face. She steps through the middle ropes and begins to bow to each corner.]
AM: "Now entering the ring, FROM TOKYOOOOOOOO, JAPAN! HITTORAAAAAA!”
DD: "Aw...there's something really endearing about Hittora, you know? So polite! So the OPPOSITE of guys like Dick Fury! They say she's actually a fembot - we'll learn whether that’s true together folks!"
[A bit of a murmur leads to a mixed response as new-look Mevy steps through the curtain - her face painted like Harley Quinn and her head bobbling a bit as she makes her way to the ring. Her eyes are eerily wide open as she glances at her opponent in the ring.]
AM: "...the fehkin? oh, right AND HER OPPONENT! Frommmmm JOLIET, ILLINOIS! Don’t call her crazy - EMEVLAS STAAAAAASTIAAAAAS!”
DD: "...whoa. SHE looks different than I remember. I don't...that's...that's a lot to take in. A sight, if you will. I wonder what's going through Hittora's mind...can robots think?"
[As the bell rings, Hittora gives a polite bow. Emevlas scoffs. They go for a tie up, which Emevlas quickly turns into a side headlock. As if powered by science, Hittora's back immediately straightens to vertical and she connects with a sidewalk slam. Emevlas is up quickly and begins throwing elbows and shouting in Hittora's face with a Southern drawl. Hittora is emotionless as she takes the blows.]
DD: "These two had a LOT to say in the time leading up to this match...it's no shock to see Emevlas jawing so much! Always gotta get the last word in, that one..."
[Emevlas connects with several powerful slams in a row before going for a cover, which is kicked out at two. Hittora sits up and compliments Emevlas on her tremendous technique, which only makes Emevlas madder. She pulls Hittora up by the robo-hair and connects with a Fisherman Suplex. Another cover, another two.]
DD: "Hittora is built from tough stuff! She doesn't look too phased out there against the more experienced Stastias. Speaking of, the painted one has her back up - PALM STRIKE! Hittora could've broken Emevlas's NOSE on that one, what a blow! A second Palm Strike! A third, Emevlas is DOWN! The coverrrrr and one and a half!"
[Angered, Emevlas gets up and wraps another tight headlock - again, Hittora stands to attempt a side slam, but this time Emevlas flips out of it and throws an enzuigiri. Hittora is stunned for a moment before approaching once again. Another headlock, another flipping counter out, but this time Hittora is the one who hits an enzuigiri. She bows before saying "thank you for teaching me this excellent wrestling maneuver". This pisses Emevlas OFF, and she exits the ring, digging underneath and looking for a table. "I do not understand - will you not be disqualified if you continue this course of action?" asks Hittora. "It's no thing, darlin' - I just need to do a tiny little thing here," says Stastias, with anger in her eyes.]
DD: "Politeness aside, this is BLATANT by Stastias! Jen Glass is in there trying to talk sense into Emevlas, but it's no use - she has one goal in mind right now, and that's shutting this robot up for good!"
[Hittora's face has not changed all match. Emevlas makes signals at the table and starts yelling at the fans. Hittora taps her on the shoulder and Emevlas turns, throwing a right haymaker in the process. Hittora catches the fist, does a slight curtsy, and throws a jumping knee uppercut...]
DD: "SLEEP MODE! WOW! Here's the coverrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, YES! It's over! Hittora with the victory!"
DD: "What a move! Hittora, continuing to be herself out there, bowing and waving to every section of the arena - aw, I get one too? Thanks Hittora! Uh oh - it looks like Emevlas is stirring..."
[Hittora gives one final bow to Arin McHenry before stepping through the ropes, escaping juuuuust before Emevlas gets to her. She yells out in frustration at her inability to throw someone through a table tonight. The ref has wisely already exited the ring as well.]
DD: “From the sounds of it, we have - yes, I can confirm that we have incoming video now. Barry, work your magic!”
[Slow fade from black to the view of the Chicago skyline… shortly followed by a bottle of wine entering the shot and filling a glass goblet. In the background, we can hear a segment of the opera Don Giovanni, K.527, Act 2. A slick and painfully familiar voice can be heard...)
“Gentlemen… a toast!”
[The camera pulls back to reveal more of the scene… and we find an assembly of well-dressed men seated around a table with a scenic view of the city through the window behind them. We’re in the famed Everest, on the 40th floor of the Chicago Stock Exchange. The one man who is immediately recognizable is NATHAN FEAR, holding up his wine glass and giving it an eager shake for more as a clearly nervous waiter gives it another pour.]
NF: “To our work here this evening… and to the victories we’ll be reaping in the future!”
[Annoyed by the waiter’s presence, he briefly mutters “beat it!” under his breath. From the seat beside him, a red polo-wearing STEPHEN WALTZ gives the poor guy a flagrant shove to help him on his way, grabbing the wine bottle out of his hand as he hurries away. Fear silently awards his underling’s act with a nod before turning his attention back to the three other men at the table, seated across from them.]
NF: “Cheers!”
[They tap glasses and drink… Fear savors the taste with a greedy smile, and then notices the camera.]
NF: “Good evening, fans of Red Line Wrestling… and a thousand pardons that we could not be there with you tonight. But as you can see, I’m dealing with much more pertinent affairs right now… discussing the future of your Red Crown Champion, with some very important people.”
[He gestures across the table. The three middle-aged men dressed in suits give the camera a very neutral and indifferent look.]
NF: “And the future is looking bright for “The Last Titan” Ivan Dalkichev, and the rest of the Crimson Corporation. Brighter than any future we’d have by sticking around this city and it’s meager little indie federation, in any case. Perhaps lowbrow rubes such as you would look forward to an evening of masked midgets and other sideshow attractions whose names I can’t pronounce…”
[Waltz chortles stupidly, but cuts himself off after Fear serves him a sharp glance.]
NF: “...but even YOU must understand, that in the big picture of today’s professional wrestling world, such things are little more than carny sideshow attractions. The Crimson Colossus is simply too BIG for Red Line Wrestling… figuratively AND literally. An athlete of his caliber was meant to headline pay per view mega-events across the globe. Instead, he squanders his god-given talents in a dirt poor indie fed that can’t even provide him a decent challenge. Even the supposed number one contender HIDES by intermingling herself into the affairs of the Fellowship of Fur.”
[He shakes his head disappointedly, holding out his wineglass for Stephen to top off. He swivels it around the glass for a moment and soaks in its aroma before giving the camera a smirk so pompous and condescending, you just want to slap it off his face.]
NF: “The problem, Red Line, is that you are simply CLASSLESS.”
[He takes a rewarding sip before glancing to someone off camera… then he rises, taking the wine bottle with him. The camera follows him as he steps away from the table to a large armchair not more than a few feet away, turned toward the window for a view of the city.]
NF: “But soon enough, we’ll wipe our hands clean of this federation, and it’s tacky, mediocre production quality and talent. SOON… the Crimson Corporation will take its rightful place at the top of the professional wrestling WORLD…”
[Seated in that chair, filling practically every square inch of a custom made midnight black big-and-tall suit is the Tsar of Red Line Wrestling himself…”THE LAST TITAN” IVAN DALKICHEV.]
NF: “And the LAST TITAN… will be the man that paves the way.”
[The MOUNTAIN of a man rumbles. We can see the glint of the Red Crown Championship hanging on the giant’s shoulder. Stoically, he watches over Chicago… sausage-sized fingers rhythmically thumping the arm of his chair. Fear takes another sip of wine… thinks to offer some to the champ, but perhaps wisely thinks otherwise. Instead he gloats more for the camera...]
NF: “When we’ve climbed to that point, Red Line Wrestling will be nothing more than a fading memory… an overlooked footnote in the history of one of this sport’s most legendary athletes. That will be as close as this company will ever get to being significant on a larger scale, and hopefully one day, you will all finally come to rightfully appreciate what this man has selflessly done in order to give you ungrateful cretins a glimpse at TRUE professional wrestling excellence!”
[He checks his watch, and gives the camera another smug grin.]
NF: ”In any case, I need to be wrapping some things up here… so do yourselves a favor, and enjoy the rest of your little… “show”. If you could call it that. Because without a proper CHAMPION in that building… there IS no show.”
[He lets out a Faustian cackle as he returns to his table and continues the conversation. The camera remains fixated on the massive Ivan Dalkichev, seated and staring forward. We slowly zoom in, peeking over the giant’s shoulder. In his lap we can see a tablet…]
[On the screen is a Slamtrack 3 replay… and the Red Crown Champion is watching the Second Coming’s RLW debut. Fade to BLACK as we hear an angry RUMBLE…]
DD: “...”
MAIN EVENT - HARDCORE MATCH
THE SECOND COMING v. KID KOALA
(SFX: DING DING DING!)THE SECOND COMING v. KID KOALA
AM: “This next contest is scheduled for one fall, with no disqualification, no countout, and no time limit! Introducing first… from The Bush of Australia…”
AM: “Weighing in at one hundred and eighty eight pounds, he represents the Marsupials of Mayhem… KID… KOAAAALAAAAA!!!!!”
DD: “And here he comes, the lynchpin of the Marsupials of Mayhem. Kid Koala walks out slowly, and he doesn’t even seem to notice the fans. Remember folks - the rest of the Marsupials have been BANNED from the arena!”
[All around him, the fans are booing Koala, throwing small things at him, yelling in his face, etc – but he has his sights set on the ring. His fists are taped, and he stops, two thirds of the way to the ring, grinding one fist into the other palm.]
DD: “He’s been preaching for weeks about how this company is filled with materialistic scumbags, or whatever phrase he’s been using, trying to warp both Red Line Wrestling and the Second Coming into something that they aren’t. This company is still too young to truly have its identity, though the smart money says that the Champion, Ivan Dalkichev will set the standard for what this company represents, both in how he presents himself and how he and his top contender parry with each other.”
[Just before entering the ring, Kid Koala gives a cold stare to one particular fan that is shouting at him. He doesn’t say a word – he doesn’t change expression, but he spits in the fan’s face. Immediately, the fan tries to jump the railing, but security holds him back as Kid Koala slides under the bottom rope and rises to one knee, waiting.]
DD: “Disrespect shown by Koala, and these fans are letting him know how they feel about it!”
[The fans are already chanting “SE-COND-CO-MING!” at Kid Koala, though – once again – he doesn’t acknowledge them.]
DD: “The referee gives a bit of instruction to Kid Koala – there’s no need to check the competitors for weapons when there’s no rules.”
[The music cuts out, and is replaced by a blast of static. The fans start to buzz – and they get louder when the lights go down.]
The Second Coming (V/O): “Koala…”
Huge fan pop!
2C (V/O): "You forgot the cardinal rule… to overcome your enemy, you have to understand your enemy. You understand hatred, you understand rejection, you understand envy… you never understood me.”
[Another pop from the fans.]
2C (V/O): “I’ll help you, though, Kid. I think I can help our relationship.”
DD: “What is she talking about?”
2C (V/O): “It’s not just pretty words. I AM… The Second Coming. And you?”
DD: “We’re trying to get the lights on…”
2C (V/O): “You’re in deep shit.”
[The fans popped at the final word, and then popped even louder when the lights came back on to show The Second Coming in the ring behind Kid Koala! She was crouched down in preparation…]
DD: “2C is in the ring! The Second Coming is in the ring! Koala turns around! SPEAR! She’s beating him in the face with fist after fist as the referee finally calls for the bell, and the fans are on their feet! Koala trying his best to scramble away, but the Second Coming has her knees locked in tight on his hips, and it’s all he can do to try and block her fists!”
[In the ensuing struggle, Kid Koala manages to grab 2C’s left hand and fire a punch back – but she grabs his fist right back! They struggle for several seconds with the fans getting louder and louder…]
DD: “Headbutt by the Second Coming! She just drove her forehead straight into Koala’s face!”
[The two athletes separated, their bells appropriately rung. A deep red spot had formed on 2C’s forehead while she knelt in the corner, holding her hand to it. Kid Koala slid out of the ring and paced, with the fans cheering at the bloody nose and split lip that he already sported.]
DD: “These fans love seeing the blood on Koala’s face – and the Second Coming is on her way for more!”
[2C had slid out of the ring behind Kid Koala, and spun him around for another right hand to the face! She picked him up around the waist and drove him, back first, into the edge of the ring apron, and Kid Koala crumples to the floor again!]
DD: “This isn’t a match, this is a mugging! I love it! 2C just bounced Koala’s head off the ringpost, and now she’s putting the boots to him!”
[The referee strongly suggested that the match be brought back into the ring, but as there were no rules he couldn’t actually enforce anything. The Second Coming pulled Koala back to his feet by the back of his neck and whipped him, hard, into the guardrail. Koala tried to brace himself on impact, but he flipped right over into the front row.]
DD: “This one’s all but over, and it’s a great climax to SLAMTRACK Eight! All that’s left is for the Second Coming to cover this idiot back to the ring and – OOOH!”
[Everyone seemed to flinch at the sound of steel against bone. Kid Koala had procured a chair while in the stands and caught the Second Coming flush on the side of the head. She staggered back and fell to one knee while Kid Koala stood up and climbed back over the railing. An enterprising fan had grabbed the chair to try and keep it from him, but he shoved the fan backward and laid another shot into the back of the Second Coming’s skull.]
DD: “Koala tees off with a third shot, and he’s got the blood lust!”
[“Who’s in deep shit now?” shouted Kid Koala, as he bounced the chair again. 2C – nearly on her knees – fell flat again. “You should’ve listened to me!”]
DD: “This is disgraceful! This is sick! As much as I hate to agree with anything Kid Koala says or does, though – this is the match that he and the Second Coming both wanted, and she’s been insistent on being treated no differently from any of the men! Kick to the ribs, and he just drove the edge of that chair into her stomach!”
[2C rolled sideways into the fetal position, but continued to try to get to her feet. Kid Koala dropped the chair and ‘helped’ her up, only to drop her right back down on the chair with a DDT. The fans were on their feet, unified in their chant of ‘BULLSHIT!’ right at Koala.]
[He climbed to the ring apron, spread his arms, closed his eyes, and embraced their hatred with blood streaming from his nose and mouth.]
DD: “I can’t believe it, but the Second Coming is still trying to pull herself up! Koala just spat a bloody wad at her, and these fans are letting him know how they feel! Double axe handle from the ring apron just put the Second Coming down again! I know I called this a massacre before but it certainly holds true now! Multiple shots to her head, Kid Koala is in complete control!”
[The boos abruptly stopped as the Second Coming was scooped and rolled back into the ring, and the fans could see the bloody gash on the side of her head and blood dripping from somewhere inside her hair, but she was definitely ‘wearing the crimson mask’ as they say.]
DD: “The Second Coming is defenseless! She’s putting everything she can into just getting back to her feet! If I was the official I’d stop this match right now!”
[Kid Koala took his time; he walked behind the Second Coming and yanked her to her feet by her ponytail. She stumbled backwards into his grip, and he scooped her and dropped her neck first across the top rope!]
DD: “Finally, the cover! ONE… TWO… THKICKOUT! Kickout by the Second Coming, I can’t believe it!”
[Neither can Kid Koala, it would seem. He looked at the referee and held up three fingers, only to be answered by the official holding up two.]
DD: “Another cover! ONE… TWO… THREEKICKOUT again! The Second Coming has to be running on pure stubbornness and anger! Koala just punched the mat, and he’s got the number one contender to the Red Crown pulled back to her feet… European uppercut! Kick to the stomach! Double underhook suplex – OH MY GOODNESS! There’s bloody smears on the ring from the back of the Second Coming’s head, she’s going to need some stitches after this match!”
[Another cover by Kid Koala, and another frustrating last minute kickout. Koala staggered to his feet and drove a boot into his opponent’s side, then rolled back to the floor to retrieve his trusty chair.]
DD: “The fans are going crazy, they’re shouting encouragement toward the Second Coming, who is still, impossibly, trying to pull herself up! She needs to defend herself or we could be seeing the end of her young career, to say nothing of the match itself!”
[Back in the ring, Kid Koala raises the chair and measures his opponent. She is back to her knees but looks like that’s all she has the strength for. Koala stops – just for a moment – to yell at a fan.]
[That’s all it took, as the Second Coming shot up on her heels and drove her fist into the chair, which drove the chair into Kid Koala’s face. Both of them fell to the mat.]
DD: “We’ve got both competitors out on their backs, and the referee is counting! There’s no countouts in this match, but with nobody stirring… I guess it’ll be a judgement call! But the tide was suddenly stopped short with a well – placed swing, and now I think the advantage would have to go to whoever it is who gets up first!”
[The referee and the fans are counting together, but there’s no movement through four, five, six, seven, eight…]
EVERYONE: “NINE!”
DD: “Kid Koala has rolled to the ropes! The Second Coming is almost seated! Both of these warriors have battled in this match, with the Second Coming a bloody mess and Kid Koala sporting a swollen nose, lip, cheek and eye!”
[Just before the count could hit ten, Koala rolled to the balls of his feet to a chorus of boos, though he was unable to move forward to press the advantage just yet. On the other side of the ring, the Second Coming’s hair had come loose, and she pushed the heavy, wet, matted, bloody mess out of her face, and stared at the bright red on her hands.]
DD: “Koala standing over her – The Second Coming just slapped him in the face with her own blood soaked into her hands! That’s quite the souvenir for a lucky fan!”
[Koala was stunned, but returned the blow with one of his own, making sure to hit her right in the gaping head wound. She staggered backwards into the corner, from where Kid Koala whipped her across to the opposite corner, following up with a hard clothesline—]
DD: “2C with a boot to the face! Koala just stopped cold! She staggers out of the corner, and another boot, this time to the stomach! She hooks him – OH MY—”
[The crowd joined in this time. “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”]
DD: “The Second Coming just powerbombed Kid Koala from the ring to the floor! He’s in a heap! She collapses to the mat and rolls to the outside with a loose cover! ONE… TWO… THREE!”
[SFX: DING DING DING!]
[He paused.]
DD: “… One that I think , sadly, will continue.”
rlw.
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