WFWF presents Confluence - Results Jul 4, 2017 14:47:15 GMT -5
Post by Drakz on Jul 4, 2017 14:47:15 GMT -5
Fireworks. Pyro. Are they the same thing? BOOM! You know the deal.
Alecia Matthews: Ladies & gentlemen welcome to WFWF Confluence where we come to you LIVE from Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada!
Daniel Knight: Yes indeed and tonight's card is somewhat of a......mixed bag? A f*cking cheeseburger eating dog debuts, two Hall of Famers clash and our main event!
Alecia Matthews: Oooooh yes, the main event. Two friends, two allies clash in what promises to be a display of the finest technical wrestling in the world today.
Daniel Knight: So long as none of the usual f*ckry invades the ring.
Alecia Matthews: It’s opening match time, and instead of boring you with entrances we’ve already got our two competitors in the ring!
Daniel Knight: Yeah, boring ‘you’, that’s why there’s no entrances.
Indeed inside the ring is a most bizarre duo. Lizzie Hyde, a woman most definitely ready to fight, and The Dog That Eats Cheeseburgers who… isn’t? It’s hard to tell, he’s wearing a dog costume. But that’s not where the camera lingers. No, it’s focus becomes a figure sitting in the front row, a familiar masked figure, the same one who’s popped up at the last few shows. As the official checks that the two are ready to compete it’s this masked man that makes the first move, climbing over the security barricade before anyone can stop him, taking his chair with him, and sliding inside the ring.
Alecia Matthews: Woah, wait a minute, is that a fan brandishing that chair in the ring?
Daniel Knight: Makes as much sense as the dog.
Lizzie Hyde takes a step towards the fan which quickly turns out to be a bad move as he drives the chair right into her rib cage, then swings it again straight into the side of her skull, knocking her clean to the ground. The Dog That Eats Cheeseburgers doesn’t know what to do, and his hestiation costs him, as the masked man throws the chair across the ring straight into his face. Or where I assume the face to be. Hard to tell, what with the dog’s head and all. Either way the shot knocks him clean out, the Dog hitting the mat and then rolling out of the ring in a heap of limbs and fake fur.
Alecia Matthews: Whoever this guy is he’s just taken out both competitors in this match!
Daniel Knight: You’d think security would have stopped him by now. I really think we’re overpaying these schmucks.
The masked figure rolls out of the ring, lifting the ring apron and digging around underneath it. He pulls out a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire and something else entirely. The figure climbs inside the ring as Lizzie Hyde is pulling herself up to her feet, the masked man waiting for her to turn and then swinging the bat straight into her abdomen, the bat exploding on impact in a flash of white light!
Daniel Knight: What the f*ck just happened?!
The flash subsides as Lizzie Hyde collapses to the mat, smoking billowing from the exploding barbed wire baseball bat in the masked figures hand. He brings a hand to his head, slowly removing the mask to reveal… Jon Gotch.
Alecia Matthews: That’s Jon Gotch! Jon Gotch is back in the WFWF and he’s made an immediate impact!
Daniel Knight: Impact? I think he killed Lizzie Hyde! And will somebody please check on the poor dog!
Jon Gotch doesn’t say a word, barely shows any emotion at all as he holds up the exploding barbed wire baseball bat before climbing out of the ring and heading to the back, having certainly made his name known upon his return to the WFWF.
Alecia Matthews: Well folks seeing as our initial competitors just got destroyed and the match never happened…..
Daniel Knight: One of them was a man in a dog suit. Are you surprised?
Alecia Matthews: Whatever the case, we will be continuing with the remainder of the card as planned with a triple threat seeing Danny Young, Sean Casey and Vass “The Slayer” locking horns.
Daniel Knight: He still works here?
The referee calls for the bell and the three men circle the ring, weighing up who should make the first move. Vass tries it first, charging the smaller man in Casey, but Casey side steps pushes Vass harder chest first into the ropes and catches him on the rebound with a snap german suplex. Casey pops back up and offers Vass up to Danny, as though to say, show me what you’ve got.
Young and Casey then take it in turns hitting a variety of suplexes on Vass, each time staring the other man down before their turn. Eventually Vass bounces under the bottom rope and slumps on the outside of the ring as Young and Casey square up and begin exchanging blows.
Young uses his hard striking ability to gain the upper hand and pushes Casey back but Casey eventually catches one of Young’s blows and snaps his fingers in different directions before stepping under the outstretched arm and using a wrist lock to push Young down to his knees.
Casey begins a regime of stretching Young for a number of minutes with Danny struggling to gain traction. As Young reaches for the ropes Casey grabs the arm and bends that, as Young tries to get a toe to force the rope break instead Casey grabs the leg and twists it. Eventually Young is able to roll and put Sean Casey on his back to start a pin attempt. Casey breaks his grasp on 2 and Young slips under the bottom rope to reset. Casey tries to follow and, having stepped onto the apron, runs and tries to punt Young in the face but Young dodges, pulls the base leg of Casey out and catches him with a backdrop driver on the outside!
Young begins to gain the upper hand using the guard wall and ring steps as props for his opponent as he delivers stiff as all hell kicks to the chest. They make their way back into the ring but Casey kicks out of a pin attempt on 2. Young lifts Casey to his knees and then hits the ropes looking for a running knee but Casey rolls sideways, making it to his feet. Young runs again but Casey sidesteps the knee, hits a forearm to the back of Young’s head and then a dragon suplex. Both men are down and Vass crawls in to the ring, making cover on Young. Young kicks out at 2. Vass crawls Casey but Casey kicks out on 1. Vass backs up and wills both men to their feet, looking for some kind of running strike to both men but instead Casey hits a brutal kick to the gut that folds him in half where he stands and then Young follows with an axe kick to the back of his head that sprawls him face down on the mat. As Young smiles at his handy work Casey spins him around and grabs him, tossing him shortly overhead and down onto his neck with the Call of the Void! (Wrist-clutch Exploder Suplex). Young rolls on the impact and, seeing that his feet are under the ropes, Casey makes the smart decision and drags Vass to his feet hitting a second Call of the Void, this time making the cover centre ring.
… 1 …
… 2 …
Christa Adina: Here is your winner, The Violent Gentleman, Sean Caseeeeey!
Alecia Matthews: What a victory for Casey, and after falling to the WFWF World Heavyweight Champion in his debut in a great showing he’s now picked up his first bit of forward momentum.
Out back, Lila Sleater sits behind her desk, tucked away in her office diligently going over whatever sort of business graces the spread of papers strewn about the head booker's desk. Her focus is abruptly interrupted by a deafeningly loud BANG. She looks up to see her door swinging idly, having just been forcefully kicked in. There's no rush to identify the perpetrator - he simply lets himself in. Sleater doesn't flinch, even as David Brennan storms into the room, fuming as he stands before her, staring down at her menacingly.
Lila Sleater: And to think, we used to have a hard time tracking you down when you were scheduled to compete.
Brennan's composure doesn't subside at all, but there's no indication that he's at all amused by Sleater's arrogant quip.
David Brennan: Fix it.
Sleater leans back in her seat, a half smirk, half look of astonishment crossing her face as she resigns herself to the fact that Brennan won't be leaving in any short order.
Lila Sleater: I don't know what you'd have me do. You sent your people to me. This one - like all of your other shortcomings, for that matter - is strictly on you.
David Brennan: Vieira doesn't speak for me.
Lila Sleater: Not anymore, I'm sure. I guess you two didn't hammer out all the details before we met, did you?
David Brennan: I ain't gonna ask again, Sleater...
Lila Sleater: Good. That might be the closest you've come to recognizing my authority. It's a good step.
David Brennan: You can't uphold this sh*t.
Lila Sleater: Excuse me? I book the shows, Brennan. I promise you I can, and I will.
David Brennan: Gonna be a b*tch, runnin' a show with only one title to your name. Hear that sh*t's ain't cheap to replace.
Lila Sleater: Not at all. Probably why I don't intend on replacing them. The legal approach will be much more affordable, I think.
Brennan turns to pace irritably in place, kicking aside a guest seat that collides with a nearby wall with a thud. He's doing all he can to not give in to his basic instincts - there's nothing an assault charge would do for him at this point. He twitches his head to crack his neck several times, the realization that the end may be closer than he thinks slowly beginning to settle in.
David Brennan: You must be right f*ckin' proud of yourself. You've been after this sh*t since day f*ckin' one.
Lila Sleater: Brennan, like I've already said - this is on you. I'd have been just as fine to throw you up against someone more deserving of that International Championship than you and do whatever it took to keep you as far away from Joe Bishop as humanly possible. You sent Jason my way. You authorized him to negotiate on your behalf. You set this in motion yourself. You want to tell me to fix it? Why? I didn't break it.
David Brennan: You didn't turn him down.
Lila Sleater: My job is to produce television that people want to watch, Brennan! Buy rates have just about doubled since I announced the rematch for Pacific Rim. Jesus, Brennan - you may not like it, but everything I do here is strictly in the interest of fulfilling my duties better than anyone else in this industry! You might consider doing the same.
David Brennan: That right? What would you f*ckin' suggest?
Lila Sleater: For starters? Beat Joe Bishop.
Brennan rolls his eyes, readying himself to storm out the open door.
Lila Sleater: And stay away from Vieira. Fire him if you need to, but do it by phone, for Christ's sake.
David Brennan: F*ck you.
Lila Sleater: I can't advertise a match if my contender's in county lockup.
Brennan has heard enough. Tired of Sleater's thinly veiled mockery, he storms out the open door, slamming it behind him. The force is enough to finish the job his boot had started upon his entrance, and the door collapses off of its hinges, landing with an audible BANG on the floor just beyond Sleater's desk. She curses under he breath as Brennan calls back from down the hall.
David Brennan: Your f*ckin' door's broken!
Sleater exasperatedly throws herself back in her chair, sighing with exhaustion as she stares at the ceiling, overwhelmed with her thoughts.
Lila Sleater: Well, duh...
A burst of static overtakes the feed from the pay per view, replacing it instead with a look in at a wrestling ring in the middle of a rundown warehouse lit by a single light suspended dead in the middle. A booming voice cuts through the air.
It’s been said in this life you can either make friends or make money. When I started this venture I already had some friends, I chose to make some money.
A large frame of a man approaches the ring on the opposite side, shrouded in darkness in the poorly lit warehouse.
I became a hired gun, a mercenary. Set loose on anyone that got in the way of me making the most money possible. And I was damn good at my job.
The individual hops up onto the ring apron, kicking up a cloud of dust.
But now that I’ve made my money what more is there for me to do in this life?
The man climbs over the top rope and begins to step towards the middle of the ring, his wide brim hat and duster jacket still keeping an air of mystery.
Put the fear of God or the Devil himself into the hearts of every man that steps foot in a WFWF ring.
The man takes his hat off to reveal a man not seen in the WFWF since Superbrawl…
My name is Lucas Crowe, welcome to the Motor City Nightmare.
The light above the ring flickers for a bit before shutting off, giving way to static and eventually a return to the WFWF Confluence programming.
Daniel Knight: This is a lot to process. We just witnessed a 100% confirmation that David Brennan’s career will be on the line against Joe Bishop’s WFWF World Heavyweight Championship at Pacific Rim, and then we find out former WFWF International Champion Lucas Crowe is back in the picture!
Alecia Matthews: And if that wasn’t enough up next we have what has to be one of my most anticipated matches in a long time. The return of WFWF’s resident superhero, The Future, against the undeniable villain of the WFWF, Trace Demon
Daniel Knight: It seems like such an obvious match you’ll be surprised we haven’t done it sooner. The big question is whether The Future is able to come straight back into action and beat arguable one of the WFWF’s toughest talents.
Alecia Matthews: Well Frank Lynn managed it last show, but I can’t imagine Trace will take too kindly to losing again in his own backyard.
Christa Adina: Ladies and gentlemen the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…
The arena lights dim from movie theater pre-credits to completely pitch dark. A single spotlight shines from the rafters down into the ring, in the form of the 'F' Future symbol. The spotlight (Futch Signal) maneuvers its luminescent green life from its cage of the ring ropes to the base of the WFWF entrance stage. The crowd hushes in anticipation before the synth piano keys of Childish Gambino's II. Earth: The Oldest Computer hits the amplifiers and the crowd erupts with a deafening pop.
Future flashes out from behind the black curtain, firmly planting his feet on the main stage and centering his stance in the middle of the lit-up Futch signal.
Christa Adina: Ladies annnnnd geeentlemen, introducing, From ARGENT CITTTYYYY! He is the WFWF's first and longest standing Superhero...WFWF hall of Famer....THE FUUUUU-TURE!
Soaking in the introduction, Future raises his hand over his eyes as if blocking out the sun's glare & as he scans the arena for cheering fans, he is met with them every single place his eyes meet. Squinting his eyes, Future breaks his pose with a quick swing of his left arm as the song kicks into a semi-automatic burst of energy, he begins breaking stride down the entrance ramp with his arms spread wide on both sides, making wing-like reaches for the hands of throngs of fans trying to outstretch their fingertips to meet his. The spotlight of the Futch-signal following him, he lowers his arms from the crucifix position & stomps his right foot as the light breaks & dissipates into thousands of tiny molecules of light which disperses through the crowd & makes its way through fans in the audience like translucent fireflies. Future stands there, clearly happy to be back in front of a WFWF crowd.
And then not so happy, as he’s suddenly sent sprawling to the steel ramp, back burning in pain. The lights in the arena come back on to show Future down and hurt, Trace Demon standing behind him with a black metal baseball bat.
Alecia Matthews: What the hell is this? The match hasn’t even started and Trace is out here taking cheap shots!
Daniel Knight: Well we said last week Trace wasn’t happy about Future costing him the match with Frank Lynn, turns out he was even more pissed off than we thought.
Trace Demon doesn’t look pissed off. In fact his sociopathic smirk says the complete opposite. He swings the bat in one hand, waiting as The Future tries to push himself back up to his feet and then slams it right into the back a second time, the force sending the WFWF’s resident superhero tumbling down the ramp. The crowd aren’t sure how to react, they’ve always had an unusual love for Trace Demon but here he is, literally beating up a hero. And not being kind about it either, the King of Demons booting Future in the ribs to tip him down the final few feet to the foot of the ramp. Trace throws the bat to the side, grabs Future and throws him face first into the turnbuckle.
Alecia Matthews: Trace Demon is straight up assaulting The Future! We need somebody out here to stop this right now.
Daniel Knight: But who Alecia? Security? We’ve seen that Trace Demon’s got no problem hurting them if he has to.
Trace hauls The Future up again, this time lobbing him back first into the security barricade and walking around the ring towards poor, helpless Christa Adina. But Trace is a gentleman, holding his hand out and patiently nodding at the microphone in her hand. Christa, not wanting to anger him, quickly hands it over. He nods in appreciation and then grabs Future and rolls him into the ring, Trace speaking as he climbs up the steel ring steps and clambers in after his prey.
Trace Demon: I warned Lila what happens when people get in my way. I warned her what happens when she sends yet another man to stop me. Was Scarlett not enough for you Lila? Was one broken star not enough to make my message clear?
The Future desperately tries to claw his way to his feet but Trace Demon’s there first, slamming the top of the microphone straight into his forehead, dropping him like a rock.
Trace Demon: Of course it wasn’t, because that wouldn’t get you ratings, would it Lila? There’s no spectacle in just leaving me be. And that’s what you want, that’s what all of you want, that’s why you’re here. For the spectacle. Well guess what Canada, you’re friendly neighbourhood Villain is about to give you the spectacle you all came for. I’m about to give you a moment that you won’t ever forget. Just a little warning before I do, for all you viewers watching at home…
He looks straight down the lens of the nearest camera, smirking the entire time.
Trace Demon: Viewer discretion is advised.
And then he turns and dives at Future, slamming the microphone straight into his skull. Not just once, but over and over again, the shrill static of the microphone hitting flesh and bone echoing out across the arena. It’s bloody, horrendous, horrific. Future’s split open after only the second shot, blood pours down his face and onto the mat by the sixth, but Trace Demon doesn’t stop with that. His face is contorted, grinning, delighted as he delivers blow after blow until the casing of the microphone just straight up shatters against Future’s face. The superhero’s mask is in tatters, barely hanging onto his face, which is covered in his own blood.
Daniel Knight: This is hard to watch.
Alecia Matthews: We need more than security out here, we need the bloody police force. Trace Demon has snapped.
The Canadian crowd aren’t cheering Trace Demon tonight. In fact many of them just stare in stunned silence. A number of children look close to tears. A six year old, wearing a replica Future mask, cries in his mothers arms.
But Trace Demon isn’t done. He grabs the cape that’s still hanging from Future’s back and yanks it off, then he drags Future up to his feet and throws him into the ropes, using them to prop him up. Trace takes one end of the cape and carefully ties it around the ring ropes and then the other around the throat of The Future. It’s now that a number of WFWF officials arrive, trying to stop Trace Demon, but it’s too late, the King of Demons throwing The Future over the top rope where the cape goes taught. An unconscious Future hangs there, literally, the cape tightening around his throat, his feet dangling. Trace Demon simply holds his arms out, grinning, before WFWF officials push him aside, desperately trying to undo the knot he’s tied.
One of them is Lila Sleater, who steps right up to Trace Demon, her face red with fury. Trace simply grins at her, shrugs, and tells her one simple thing.
Trace Demon: This is all because of you.
He pushes past her, climbing out of the ring and retrieving his baseball bat, glancing back just as The Future is finally freed from the cape, his body slumping to the floor. He breaths shallowly, alive but seriously hurt. Trace’s smirk fades as he walks up the ramp, the Canadian fans still unable to believe their eyes. Unable to believe that their hometown hero, proving once more to be the worst villain the WFWF has, may just have ended the career of a real hero.
And he doesn’t even show the slightest bit of regret.
Alecia Matthews: I…..think we better go to commercial.