WFWF Superbrawl XI: Revenge - Results (April 25th, 2021) Apr 25, 2021 19:05:01 GMT -5 veronicaaaahhhh likes this
Post by Thunder on Apr 25, 2021 19:05:01 GMT -5
As we enter Wembley Stadium, the whole place practically fills up with fireworks. The top of the stadium slowly erupts, the fireworks circling their way around the whole place. A separate burst erupts across the whole entrance ramp. The crowd cheers, because pyro and ballyhoo is always over.
Christa Adina: Please welcome the owner of the WFWF, KRIS KASH!
Kris Kash waves the audience from the center of the ring. He gets a surprisingly warm reaction to start, although that's mostly residual applause from the fireworks. He makes sure to start talking as soon as the “YOU SUCK!” chants start.
Kris Kash: Welcome to Superbrawl! Are you ready?
Kris Kash: I said, are you ready?
Kris Kash: That's more like it. Tonight, we have one of the biggest in WFWF history. Championships and careers are on the line. People are seeking revenge and title shots. Legends are returning. Superbrawl moments will be made tonight, and everything will change forever. And it's all because of my great leadership.
Kris Kash: I know you're all excited for the start of the show. So I just have two things to say. The first is that all of the Superbrawl merchandise is available at WFWF.com. You can take 5% off with the promo code “Kash.” And the second thing I have to say is . . .
LET'S GET THIS SHOW STARTED!
As Raw Deal queues up on the arena speakers, the lights in the pulse until the song hits the 11 second mark and Twiztid bursts through the curtains with D at his side, vibing to the song, bobbing his head to the beat of the song in the background, as he makes his way down the ramp, high fiving the fans that do want to high five him, the announcer makes their introduction.
Christa Adina: Making his way to the ring... from Detroit, Michigan. Weighing in tonight at 220 pounds, TWIZTID... IN... SANE!
After the introduction is done, Twiztid slides under the bottom rope and goes to a corner, posing on the second rope before hopping down and getting ready for the match.
Suddenly, the 1812 Overture crescendos throughout Wembley Stadium!
Alecia Matthews: I knew he was scheduled to wrestle tonight….but man, it’s still surreal to me.
Maxwell Dachs: Surreal to see a living legend in the flesh?
Alecia Matthews: Surreal that he still manages to get booked.
Christa Adina: And is opponent…..from uhh…..you know what, no. Napoleon Weisgarber.
Napoleon Weisgarber shadowboxes as he makes his way down to the ring. Once he gets inside, he climbs the turnbuckle to utter silence.
Twiztid snickers in the corner.
DING! DING! DING!
Napoleon shadowboxes as the two men circle around one another like two gladiators in the middle of the coliseum.
Twiztid starts spitting some new s**t in front of The Don from the Hexagon which he isn’t very fond of.
Something, something, something, he’s going to beat Napoleon without a hitch.
Because everyone in the UK knows that Napoleon is a little -
A picture-perfect right hook drills Twiztid in the face!
More shots to the gut before Napoleon winds up and goes to finish off Twiztid but he ducks it and follows up with a stiff bicycle kick to the face!
D whoop whoops his boy as Twiztid remains on the offensive.
Shades of his hardcore, ultraviolent deathmatch past come into play as Twiztid brutalizes Napoleon. He gets the accomplished boxer into the corner and backs his elbow right into the chiseled face of Napoleon.
As Napoleon crawls away, Twiztid tails him like a mission straight out of Assassin’s Creed IV: Black Flag.
He crawls to the opposite corner with The Clown Prince on his trail.
And then suddenly, straight out of Street Fighter;
Alecia Matthews: Jumping uppercut from Napoleon!
Maxwell Dachs: Matty, that’s a shoryuken.
Twiztid Insane is knocked down!
Twiztid kicks out!
Maxwell Dachs: Ooooh, Napoleon almost got him!
Alecia Matthews: …..
D starts laughing which irks Napoleon. Rather than capitalize on the momentum, he slides under the ropes and confronts D by getting in his face.
Twtiztid’s homie can’t take the several time champion seriously. He makes obscene gestures with his hands but since this is on pay-per-view it’s okay.
The last gesture which involved the middle finger is the last straw.
Napoleon clubs D in the stomach before shoving him into the barricades!
Napoleon shadowboxes but not very long because -
Alecia Matthews: Baseball slide from Mr. Insane!
Just like that, the momentum is back in Twiztid’s hands. The more aggressive side of Twiztid emerges as he bashes Napoleon’s face against the barricades!
And against the ring mat, the hardest part of the ring you know?
And lastly -
Right into the steel ring steps.
Twiztid gets behind Napoleon and fishhooks his nose before drilling him in the face with stiff shots. Referee Rocco Siffredi commands the two men take the fight back inside the ring but Twiztid flips him off.
Once D is back up, the backyard Batman and Robin both throw Napoleon back inside the ring as D gets those in the front row to whoop whoop with him!
Twiztid irish whips Napoleon who ducks the clothesline and when the former Gold Glove boxer bounces off the ropes, he leaps into a crossbody – but Twiztid catches him!
He twirls Napoleon’s body around like a hula-hoop, throwing his arm across his neck!
Alecia Matthews: Looks like Twiztid is trying to end it here with The Hatchet Party!
Napoleon scurries away but runs into an red mist!
Alecia Matthews: Whoa!
D, on the apron got a mouthful of Faygo and spit it in the face of Napoleon!
The accomplished boxer is blinded, which allows Twiztid to capitalize!
He scoops Napoleon again and drops him on his back with a mean-looking Hatchet Party! Much to his dismay, the basically unconscious body of Napoleon rolls out onto the floor.
Twiztid rolls him back into the ring. As he does so, Napoleon hits him with a low blow and rolls him up. For added measure, he puts his feet on the ropes.
Christa Adina: Here is your winner? NAPOLEON WEISGARBER?!
Alecia Matthews: Oh my god.
Maxwell Dachs: NAPOLEON WINS! NAPOLEON WINS! I JUST MADE BANK ON DRAFTKINGS BY BETTING ON HIM!
Alecia Matthews: How is that ethical?
Maxwell Dachs: Who cares about ethics? I'm in the money.
Napoleon attempts to celebrate, but it is short lived. Twitzd lays him out with another Hatchet Party!
Maxwell Dachs: Poor Napoleon.
Alecia Matthews: Oh shut up. Let's just go back to the ring.
Christa Adina: The following contest is a gauntlet match! The winner will receive a future WFWF World Heavyweight Championship.
Ain't No Sunshine by DMX starts playing throughout the arena as the lights dim down. From out behind the curtain walks David James wearing a hoodie. As the spotlight shines down upon him, he flips back the hood to expose his face to the crowd. James takes a moment to breath in the tension before jumping up and down just a tad bit to get the blood flowing.
Once he's ready, he slowly walks down the ramp and stares directly into the ring. As he reaches the bottom, he surveys the capacity crowd before letting out a brief smile. David unzips his hoodie and takes it off, much to the delight of the women in the crowd. After pausing for a minute, James rolls into the ring and ascends the turnbuckle and throws his arms in the air, signaling that he is ready for thy match.
Christa Adina: Introducing first, Dave Demento!
The lights go out and red, white, blue, and green lights circle around the arena as the opening notes of "Becoming the Bull" by Atreyu start playing over the PA speakers. The crowd erupts with a chorus of cheers as a silhouette of a man walks out in stage with a long trench coat and a hood over his head. As the vocalist screams "Come On!" The bright lights flip back on as the silhouetted man rips his hood off to reveal multiple different paint designs across his whole face and neck. His colorful hair falling wildly behind him, he jumps with the beat of the music as he's feeding off the crowds energy. He goes and gives high fives to everyone he can in the front row. He gets to the stairs and looks around in amazement at the WFWF universe before running up the stairs and springboarding over the top rope. He climbs the corner turn buckle and makes his fingers look like a gun and puts it under his chin, jumping off as he pretends to shoot it and landing on his feet. He happily struts to his corner, before leaning back against it, ready to go.
Christa Adina: And the second entrant, Devilkiller!
DING DING DING
Before the two lock up, a staredown begins. The crowd cheers at first, eventually breaking out into a chant.
Crowd: Welcome back! Welcome back! Welcome back!
Alecia Matthews: Great show of respect from the crowd here tonight.
Maxwell Dachs: And certainly not the last time we'll here that tonight. It's a great night of returns.
Alecia Matthews: It'll be interesting to see how these two start things off.
Maxwell Dachs: You're absolutely right. Similar size and strength, but Devilkiller certainly relies on his agility more.
Suddenly, the time for action has started. They unleash a series of haymakers at each other, neither one budging. The crowd reaches their feet as the flurry continues, roaring in their approval.
Alecia Matthews: I think we have our answer!
A double clothesline sends both men over the top rope and on to the floor. That doesn't stop their onslaught. It's Demento that gets the first real advantage, sending Devilkiller staggering with a kick to the stomach. And then he hits a spear right into the barricade! DK crumbles into a heap, with Demento also falling down in the process.
Demento reaches his feet again and looks to finish Devilkiller off. He hits him with the Tiger Tribute, right on the floor!
Alecia Matthews: Did you hear that thud as he hit the floor?
Maxwell Dachs: They're going to need to peel his body off there now.
But Demento isn't quite finished. To the surprise of the crowd, he gets up to the middle rope. He waits for Devilkiller to reach his feet, and then launches himself at Devilkiller . . .
. . . who catches him with the Devil's Pitchfork out of nowhere! Demento is spiked right on the floor.
Alecia Matthews: OH MY GOD!
Maxwell Dachs: We just witnessed our first killing, even before the buried alive match.
Devilkiller struggles to his feet and then drags the out cold body into the ring. He makes the cover.
The first win under his belt, Devilkiller rolls to the center of the ring. He lays there a moment, trying to recover from what he just endured.
Alecia Matthews: Devilkiller is one step away from winning this now!
Maxwell Dachs: If he can recover. Those were two huge impact moves he took.
Slowly and with a purpose, Jebediah Whatley walks his way down the aisle. Devilkiller takes this time to reach his feet. Although battered and bruised, he waves Whatley on as he steps through the ropes. Whatley stops to examine the scene for a moment while DK indicates he's ready for the fight.
Maxwell Dachs: Devilkiller is indeed ready. Or at least that's how it appears.
Alecia Matthews: Even tougher is that we haven't seen Jebediah Whatley in the ring at all. He's flying blind against him.
The silence breaks at the two men charge at each other, aiming for a clothesline. Both men connect, and neither man drops. They back up again and strike a second time. Whatley remains a wall. Devilkiller still doesn't fall, but his legs are getting more rubbery and uneasy. As he stumbles back, Whatley backs up and hits a running clothesline. It's this that finally knocks Devilkiller down to the mat. Whatley walks on him, his feet stepping onto the ribs of DK as he does so.
Devilkiller doesn't stay on the ground long, but that's only because Whatley pulls him back to his feet. Whatley targets the stomach and ribcage, laying in several body blows, one after another. Devilkiller drops to his knees, which puts him in perfect position for a powerbomb from Whatley.
Alecia Matthews: The strength of Jebediah is unbelievable.
Maxwell Dachs: And Devilkiller is no small man either. Incredibly impressive.
Whatley sets up DK for the tombstone piledriver he calls the Last Rites. He lifts him up, but Devilkiller is able to slip out the back. Devilkiller creates some distance and when Whatley turns around, he takes him off his feet for the first time with a spear.
With a newfound energy, Devilkiller leaps to his feet and heads up to the top rope. He leaps off the top to hit the Devil's Final Flight . . .
. . . And Whatley moves just out of the way, grabbing Devilkiller by the head and neck as soon as he lands. He picks DK up and rag dolls him around, paying no attention to the referee telling him to break the choke hold. Just as grip starts to loosen, Devilkiller catches him the Devil's Pitchfork out of nowhere!
Alecia Matthews: What a shot from Devilkiller!
Maxwell Dachs: He's done what he needs to do at the right time, and this may be it.
Devilkiller makes the cover.
Alecia Matthews: DEVILKILLER DID IT! He's getting a world title match!
Maxwell Dachs: This is gargantuan! The moment he's been waiting for.
Christa Adina: Here is your winner, DEVILKILLER!!!
The referee can hardly raise Devilkiller's hand, as the fist pumping and celebration begins. He climbs the middle rope to acknowledge the crowd, who is on their feet.
The scene then suddenly cuts to static, and then a strange video begins to play.
NEXT MONTH, I MAKE MY FIRST APPEARANCE IN THE LIGHT OF DAY . . .
WHO WILL I STRIKE?
I PROMISE YOU THEY WON'T EXPECT IT.
WHAT WILL I LOOK LIKE?
I MAY BE DISGUISED AS JUST ABOUT ANY ONE.
AFTER ALL, NO ONE KNOWS MY FACE.
We go back to the announce desk.
Maxwell Dachs: What the hell was that about?
Alecia Matthews: Your guess is as good as mine.
Maxwell Dachs: I hope that's not the same guy who snuck up on me one time.
Alecia Matthews: I hope it is. Anyway, an important update here. We've been informed that the Marshall Manor Brawl is so violent and . . . different that WFWF management is still reviewing the tape to see if it's suitable for broadcast. So we will not see it tonight.
Maxwell Dachs: Boo!
Alecia Matthews: But I've also been informed we're about to go to the ring for an announcement.
The lights dim and the once familiar screaming psychedelic guitars of “Anthem of the Space” blares out of the P/A system. A spotlight shines on the stage and Frank Lynn returns to the WFWF, cheers drowning out his overly loud entrance music.
Frank limps his way to the ring, able to walk only with the help of a cane.
There is no smile on his face. Rather, he has grim expression usually reserved for affairs like funerals and divorce proceedings.
It takes a while due to his limp but Frank finally makes his way into the ring and takes a microphone from Christa, who gives him a hug and kiss on his cheek before clearing the ring. The crowd hushes as Frank clears his throat.
“Last time you all saw me was both the high and low point of my wrestling career. I had my match with Drakz, my chance to prove I could hang with and quite possibly BE the best wrestler in the world. You all also know it didn’t work out the way I wanted. Not only did I lose the match and the International Championship, I also destroyed my knee and ended my career.”
Frank pauses as the impact of his last statement washes over the silent and now quite sad crowd.
“That’s right. My knee cannot be fixed. I will never wrestle again. I’m lucky to walk… with the aid of this cane that surprisingly was a gift from none other than Lila Sleater, a final thank you for the service I offered during our rather heated working relationship over the last four years. Thank you Lila. I hope life is working out for you in your post WFWF endeavors. Ever consider a job with Legacy?”
Mixed reaction from a crowd not used to hearing good things about the former general manager of the WFWF.
“I’m not here to try for your sympathy or baiting you before announcing one more match or anything like that. I am done. Let me repeat myself so there is no doubt.
I will never grace a WFWF ring after tonight ever again. And its probably for the best.”
“I was always a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. The WFWF belongs to the likes of Drakz, Kyzer, Demon, and such, either immoral or amoral sadists who enjoy inflicting as much suffering as possible on their foes by any method their depraved minds can dream up… not people like me, who end up physically damaged for life, or Joshua Dean, who ended up mentally scarred and corrupted, twisted into a whiny little bitch who has as little regard for rules, morals, or ethics as his arch nemesis Drakz. In all honesty, I should have stayed in MMA which was far better suited to both my skills and my way of thinking. What’s done is done. No use crying over spilled milk.”
Frank shrugs for a moment, a muted "one more match" chant interrupting his speech.
“No. No more matches. I’m moving on, taking over as full time owner of Legacy Wrestling where I can groom the next generation of superstars. And I can finally spend time with my wife, daughter, and a son on the way.”
The crowd cheers at the surprise announcement that Frank will be a father again, their love and support both genuine and overflowing. It almost brings a tear to the normally stoic warriors’ eye.
“So this is good bye.”
The crowd responds with the cliché yet sincere chant of “Thank you Frank”. It goes on for several minutes while Frank awkwardly stands in the ring waving at the fans. Finally, an impatient Frank waves his arms and hushes the crowd so he can speak again.
“But I’m not leaving you empty handed. As owner of Legacy I do have a parting gift for the WFWF, a wrestler who is a round peg that will fit perfectly into a round hole. Someone who can do the things I couldn’t or wouldn’t. Someone who belongs in this sh*t show. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you..."
Dramatic pause as the lights dim and a drum roll plays.
"...Jacque Le Douche!”
The drumroll transitions into Iggy Pop’s “Search and Destroy”, played at volumes that threaten to make ears bleed.
A very large man appears on the stage, at least 6’ 7” and 275 lbs, long red mohawk braided and hanging almost down to his waist, equally bright red beard also braided and hanging halfway down his chest, obscuring the white ruffled shirt under a red riding coat. Ripped black jeans with a chain belt and black motorcycle boots complete the rather eclectic look.
Jacque Le Douche strides to the ring like he owns the place, scowling at fans who aren’t sure if they should cheer or run away.
“Welcome to the WFWF Jacque. I opened the door for you. Its up to you what happens from here on out.”
And with that, Frank Lynn’s final action in a WFWF ring is to hand the microphone over to his parting gift to the WFWF: a large, angry man with questionable fashion sense.
“Thanks Frank. You can relax that sphincter of yours now. I won’t be terrorizing your minor league company anymore. Never liked it there with all the rules so I’m glad to be gone. But I do owe you one for getting me signed to a WFWF contract. I don’t like owing anybody so allow me to return the favor.”
Frank looks on from ringside quizzically. Seems not even he knows exactly what his replacement has in mind.
Jacque steps out of the ring, strides over to the announcers table, and stares down Maxwell Dachs.
“You like to shoot your mouth off, don’t you? You like to say sh*t about Frank even though everybody knows he can’t fight no more. That’s a pretty sh*tty thing to do. Downright cowardly. Time to pay Max.”
Max tries to get out of his chair and leap over the barrier into the audience but Jacque is faster, grabbing Max by his hair and yanking him back, then throwing him into the ring apron. Max tries to run again but Jacque kicks him in the face with his size 16 boots. Max crumples to the floor. Jacque picks him up and tosses him into the ring, then follows. He stomps on Max several times, driving the air out of his chest and possibly breaking a rib or two.
With one very large booted foot planted firmly on Max’s chest to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere, Jacque rips off his jacket and shirt revealing his muscular chest. He takes the chain belt off and wraps it around his knee. He lifts Max up in a fireman’s carry. Then Jacque pushes Max into the air, dropping him face first onto his chain wrapped knee, a GTS that is guaranteed to put anyone to sleep for a good long time.
The crowd is shocked. What fresh hell has Frank Lynn unleashed on the WFWF? Does he actually endorse the crimson giant? Hard to tell because Frank Lynn is gone, having limped his way backstage and out of sight forever.
Jacque grabs the microphone again and leans over Max, staring into Max’s glazed eyes.
“I call that the ‘Go To Hell’ Max. Keep Frank Lynn’s name outta’ your mouth or you’ll be going to hell a lot.”
Security and paramedics rush the ring, too late to save Max but perhaps they can deter Le Douche from doing any further damage. They are worried about nothing as Jacque Le Douche exits the ring and strides backstage, smiling for the first time.
Alecia Matthews: What have you done Frank? Who is Jacque Le Douche and why do I get the feeling you just dumped Legacy's problem into the WFWF's lap?