[TNA 2024: We are Back!!!]

 

1.  World X Cup Semi Final A: Cult of Doom (The Herald/PCO/Crazzy Steve)

2. World X Cup Semi Final B: Team Mexico (Vikingo/Max Assault)

3. World X Cup Semi Final C: Wrestling's Most Wanted (Nic Nemeth/Beer Money)

4. TNA Knockouts World Tag Team Title Full Metal Mayhem: The Hex

5. TNA World Tag Team Title Full Metal Mayhem: ABC (c)

6. STRONG Women's Title: Deonna Purrazzo (c)

7. STRONG Openweight Tag Team Title Open Challenge: The Pillars (c) vs ???

8. World X Cup Finals : Wrestling's Most Wanted

[All Elite Wrestling League]

1 hour ago, KyTeran said:

I would vote for option 2.  I think having an extra wrestler available can by helpful should a team member be injured or simply unavailable.  Also, I think that by having the extra team member can open up the possibilities of more strategic maneuvers.

I agree with this... 

My vote is for Option 2

[All Elite Wrestling League]

1 hour ago, Martel123 said:

My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined

I originally thought about putting Okada as my first pick but then I remembered that he would never sign with any of my companies in game, so I decided to not even list him as one of my picks.  I feel your pain

[All Elite Wrestling League]

@Nobby_McDonald, I would like to rename my team to the following:  TV Network

[Changing Production Values of a Child Company]

I was just thinking about this last night.  My developmental company is bleeding me dry when it comes to financing their over the top production values.  We should have more say and control on what they do, since we are the parent company after all

[All Elite Wrestling League]

7 hours ago, Nobby_McDonald said:

The teams so far...

Team Martel123
Swerve Strickland
Mercedes Mone*
Kazuchika Okada*

The Spooky Club (Christmas_ape)
Sting
Malakai Black
Danhausen

Team WooItsNathan
Kip Sabian
Bandido
The Butcher

Team Dino Kea
Maxwell Jacob Friedman
Thunder Rosa
Jay White

Team Stratusfaction
Johnny TV
Will Ospreay
Taya Valkyrie

Team Dawn
Darby Allin
Toni Storm
Ricky Starks

Team PH71
Bryan Danielson
Jon Moxley
Eddie Kingston

Team KyTeran
Claudio Castagnoli
Athena
Ruby Soho

Team Wrestling Machine
Adam Copeland
Konosuke Takeshita
Jamie Hayter

 

* indicates they need to be able to be signed by me in the game to make your team as they are not on the AEW starting roster in game.

Teams are shaping up to be very competitive.  Looking forward to seeing everyone's last two round picks.

On a side note; I'm sure Taya will retire in game within the first month or two.  She always does in my games.  

[The Official TNA / Impact / GFW Discussion Thread]

5 hours ago, Jaysin said:

Anthem has put Tommy Dreamer in charge of TNA creative. I guess if you're going to play damage control and try to salvage things, you could do a whole lot worse than Dreamer. 

Reports are now saying that this is incorrect information. Tommy Dreamer is in fact NOT in charge of TNA creative. 

Pwinsider is saying Ariel Schnerer is head of creative now. 

What a mess.... 

[TNA 2024: We are Back!!!]

23 hours ago, kanegan said:

ROAD TO DESTINATION X

---

 

Week 3 April 2024

The fallout of Rebellion began with Xplosion which saw rising stars Renegade Twins make their debut in a loss to Fire-N-Flava. They expressed their desire to get back into the tag title picture but two other teams also sent in their feelers, Hex and MK Ultra. Allysin Kay announced her retirement in three months and wished to ride into the sunset with Marti Belle by her side and holding the KO Tag titles and they started the process by defeating The Rebel Childs, Dani Luna and Jody Threat. MK Ultra also got back into the win column as Killer Kelly defeated JesSICKa and then proceeded to destroy her signalling her intent to the rest of the KO division.

Jake Something made his 1st defense of the Digital Media Championship when he defeated Shera. Afterwards, Crazzy Steve and PCO sneaked on him for trying to stand up to Cult of Doom in the Countdown to Rebellion and carried out a heinous attack.

 

The main IMPACT on AXS TV opened with the CEO, Scott D'Amore congratulating everyone for one of the best PLE of the year, Rebellion. He also mentioned in detail the World X Cup which was brought back as part of the now revived Destination X event which will be the next PLE offering from TNA and will focus solely on the X Division, the shining jewel of the TNA brand. Six first round matches containing twelve trios will compete over the next three weeks with the six teams contesting the second round and the finals which will have a three way lucha libre trios match where the winning trio will be awarded the World X Cup and the participants will get automatic title shots for the X Division and the Tag Team titles.

He was cut-off by the music of Bullet Club which was followed by Evil Ways which signalled the arrival of AJ Styles. He asks Scott to exit the ring saying people have listened enough to him. It's time for the GOAT of TNA, the face that runs the place to take back his rightful throne at the top of TNA and make them the greatest force in the wrestling industry. He has the backing of the great superstars of the current wrestling scene and together they will make Total Bullet Club, the most decorated and accomplished unit amongst the wrestling fraternity, not the cheapskate no talent hacks that are running around in other companies. Crowd reacts with a big pop as they await Styles first match in TNA ring which is announced next week when Total Bullet Club takes on Aces & Eights in the main event.

Alan Angels gives a backstage interview to Gia Miller where he ponders on his Digital Media Championship reign which put him firmly in the spotlight. He is yearning for that spotlight so he has entered the World X Cup teaming up with Kenny King and Sheldon Jean as they take on the Cult of Doom in the first round which is a scary proposition but he is confident of his abilities.

1st Round

This confidence did not last much long as Cult of Doom basically mauled them out of existence with Angels suffering the brunt of their attacks and The Herald finished him off with the spear earning their ticket for Destination X.

Another team made their debut as Puerto Rican Legend, Carlos Colon f.k.a Carlito and Von Erichs teamed up, dubbing themselves Team Alfa Generation and defeated The Design which had Jake Crist and newly inducted Good Hands.

 

The Cult of Doom ladies also continued to raise their bar when they destroyed Coven.

Both Grizzled Young Veterans and Subculture presented their case to Joe Hendry to determine which team will accompany Hendry in Team UK's match next week but Hendry presented the best way to resolve this, a tag match between the two with the winner joining him next week. It was Grizzled Young Veterans who triumphed in a great match to make the team.

 

The main event saw Kamille defending Trinity in the Rebellion rematch and though it did not top their previous encounter, it was nonetheless a good bout with Kamille winning in the end.

 

 

TNA Xplosion @ 15th April 2024

1. Fire-N-Flava def. The Renegade Twins

2. The Hex def.  Rebel Childs (Dani Luna/Jody Threat)

3.  Killer Kelly def. JesSICKa

 

Before The Impact @ 18th April 2024

1.  TNA Digital Media Title: Jake Something (c) def. Shera (defense #1)

 

TNA! IMPACT on AXStv @ 18th April 2024

1.  World X Cup 1st Round: Cult of Doom def. Team No Frills (Kenny King/Sheldon Jean/Alan Angels)

2.  World X Cup 1st Round : Team Alpha Generation (Carlos Colon/Von Erichs) def. The Design (Jake Crist/Good Hands)

3.  Twisted Sisters def. The Coven

4. Lio Rush def. Leon Slater

5. Grizzled Young Veterans def. Subculture

6. TNA Knockouts World Title: Kamille (c) def. Trinity (defense #1)

 

 

Next Week on TNA

World X Cup continues, Rascals vs Team Canada and Team Mexico vs Team UK

Moose takes on Sabin

Main Event 8 Man Tag - Total Bullet Club vs Aces and Eights, AJ Styles first match in TNA ring in a decade

Please put the KO Tag Team titles on The HEX!  Allysin deserves this before she retires.

[The Russian Federation Of Wrestling]

5 hours ago, dstephe4 said:

 

Broadcast on Russiya 1. Held in Moscow's famous Luzhniki Stadium, where according to the Russian propaganda machine, 20,326 people turned up to see their 'wise and noble leader' Vladmir Putin make his big speech praising his 'unstoppable fighting heroes' in Ukraine.      This glitzy, flag-waving, scrotum-stompingly patriotic event was reported on in every country around the globe. As the Associated Press wrote: '[Putin] praised Russian troops: “Shoulder to shoulder, they help and support each other,” he said. “We have not had unity like this for a long time,” he added to cheers from the crowd.' This was Russia in 2023 - things were crazy there and then. Vladimir could have told people the invasion was being spearheaded by a battalion of fire-breathing Unicorns, and they'd have cheered him.     Big Bad Vlad's and his Big Bad Speech weren't the only bizarre and unbelievable things that occurred that night, however. Before things got all weird and shouty, a fledgling, plucky little state-sponsored sports entertainment company put on a little event to entertain the people. Something miraculous happened... a wrestling show that... whisper it softly... did not suck.

One of the benefits of having a whole nation bankrolling your company is that you can open your show with a hilarious amount of fireworks. We're talking a level of pyro that made the ones at the start of Wrestlemania look like a back garden barbecue in comparison. We nearly shot down an aircraft. It was awesome. Once the mushroom cloud of smoke finally cleared we got down to business. By far the biggest show in our company's history so far began with two fat, bearded men - one in a Japanese dress and another in a dangerously loud velvet jacket. Steven Seagal and Vlad Radinov were here to get this party started.   "At the start of this year I began the magnificent Russian Federation Of Wrestling to showcase the finest fighting talents this glorious nation has ever produced, displaying their skills against the best foreign adversaries ever assembled. Here in our triumphant nation's capital, before the eyes of all of Europe and across the globe, we shall show the world once and for all the supremacy of Russian combat! In front of our virtuous leader Vladimir Vladimirovic Putin, we shall remind a sceptical world that we Russians are the most cunning, most determined and most unstoppable fighting force that history has ever known! And to begin..." Suddenly Seagal's puke-inducingly patriotic speech is interrupted by a jarring Cockney / Latino voice we've all learned to hate. Marty Scurll is in the ring, polluting the scene with his very presence. "Marty! This is not your time! Do not make a fool of yourself!" The voice of the 'Party Tsar' Vlad Rudinov tries to talk some sense into the angry, top-knot wearing screwball, but sense was lost from this guy long ago. "Shut up you big juicy Russian tart! I've had enough of this stupid bloody country and every piece of garbage citizen in it! I'm sick of this company and all the crap I've had to put up with since I got tricked into joining this sick freak show! I know you've left it up to your stupid, inbred, mutant-looking fans to pick my opponent and stipulation tonight! So let's just get it over with! Whichever of your fairies you've chosen, whatever the match, just bring it on! Get it over with! Let's go!" Spit was flying everywhere. His crazed eyes went in all sorts of different directions as he screamed. He frothed at the mouth. His stooges Flip Gordon and Brody King looked worried about him and kept their distance - the guy was clearly losing it. Seagal smiled a smug, wise, self-satisfied smile, clutching his prayer beads as he raised his hand into the air, signaling for the games to begin. Then the music hit, and every one of the 20,326 fans immediately lost their s***. "It's Goldberg! IT'S GOLDBERG!" shrieked commentator Alex Koslov like a teenage girl at a Taylor Swift concert. Suddenly the noisy Marty Scurll fell very, very quiet... Angle Rating: 75.           Marty Scurll (with Brody King and Flip Gordon) vs Bill Goldberg - No Disqualification Match (A Stipulation Chosen By The Fans) The fans were cheering, buzzing with excitement at the prospect of this wrestling hero unleashing hell on the hated, disgraced Scurll. But the crafty Villain Enterprises had other ideas. Within moments the grizzled veteran was getting his ass kicked 3 on 1. No matter how much power he unleashed, no matter which of his dizzying array of four moves he tried, the Villain's numerical supremacy would nullify any momentum he could create. It wasn't just the numbers though - this wasn't the unstoppable Goldberg of yesteryear - this was a fallen icon who looked disengaged, dejected, lacking confidence... and our well-drilled bad guys took full advantage. It was hard to watch the guy who was once the most feared force in wrestling taking such a beating... ...until 'Dirty' Dragan Spazic showed up and handed him a steel chair. Immediately his eyes shot back to life. You could see the exact point he remembered this was a No Disqualification match... and he could do whatever the hell he wanted. He was back on his feet right away. Suddenly he was reborn. Steel hit skull, and Old Bill was alive again.     Spazic kept on handing him weapons, Goldberg kept on smashing Villains. It was like the Russian wrestling equivalent of whack-a-mole. Had the Villains swarmed him all at once, they might have been able to disarm him and regain control. But pro wrestling 'logic' prevailed, and they just kept rushing at him one at a time. Forward rushed a Villain. Down came a weapon. Onto their ass they went.  By now Spazic was getting the fans involved, going to the crowd, getting them to hand him weapons, then passing them on to Old Bill to use in violent, amusing ways. The amount of random s*** that got weaponised was frankly amazing. You wouldn't think a lady's hairbrush would make a very powerful weapon, but in the hands of Goldberg it was deadlier than a Ronin's Katana. I never really thought of giant foam fingers as being a force to be reckoned with, but all three Villains were decimated with it. Brody King got pelted with a kid's Reebok sneaker with a force that sent the menacing giant flying out of the ring like a missile. Flip Gordon got folded in half by a Zimmerframe. How the little old lady who owned it got home without it remains a mystery, but seeing Goldberg wrapping it around Flip's skull was a beautiful moment. And quite how Goldberg managed to turn a woman's bra into a weapon of such deadly force is beyond me, but suffice to say Marty Scurll was never quite the same again. And don't get me started on the obscene, unspeakable violence that was unleashed when he got his hands on that giant pink teddy bear. That was barbaric.  By the time Goldberg's trail of decimation was done we were nearly at the six minute mark, at which point the old legend's lungs began to betray him. He was heaving, gasping for oxygen, but the damage had been done. The fans took a moment to survey the damage, watching the snarling former WCW and WWE champion towering murderously over the broken bodies of his vanquished foes, his face red with fury and exhaustion, his body gleaming with the sweat and toil of battle, his mighty fists trembling around the battered and broken remains of the most destructively effective teddy bear in wrestling history. A single foot was placed upon the fallen Marty Scurll. And as our referee reached his inevitable "three", that was more than enough. Match Rating: 57.   As Goldberg ran into the crowd to celebrate, the three Villains were soon on their feet - apparently the beating they received from a teddy bear, a shoe and Christ knows what else wasn't as catastrophic as first thought. Perhaps their sudden awakening was due to a guy in a bright pink suit yelling at them. "That'll teach you fools a lesson! I beat you fair and square weeks ago! I should be Villain Enterprises' newest member! But instead you ambushed me and my buddies! You wasted the opportunity of a lifetime! Imagine what dastardly feats we could've achieved together! Imagine the shenanigans we could've created, the skullduggery we..." and then 'Dirty' Dragan Spazic was knocked onto his ass. Scurll & Co were mad at losing, pissed that Spazic had helped them lose, and were tired of his s***. Unsurprisingly a beatdown began. His ass wasn't kicked for long though - down the aisle came salvation in The Arrows Of Russia. "Here comes the cavalry!" Hollered Roy Jones Jr. "The two teams were due to face each other soon in the next round of our Tag Team Tournament. Maybe we'll get a sneak preview here tonight!" Added announcer Rico Bushido helpfully. Fists flew. Traditional Hungarian... I mean Russian war masks were knocked off in the melee. A 3-on-3 brawl filled the ring. The camera cut to Authority Figure Steven Seagal who looked amused as hell at this impromptu slugfest. He rang the bell. "We have a match! Let battle commence!" shrieked commentator Alex Koslov excitedly. "Why the hell not?! This is The Russian Federation Of Wrestling! Anything can happen!" Angle Rating: 50.             Villain Enterprises (Marty Scurll, Brody King, Flip Gordon) vs 'Dirty' Dragan Spazic and The Arrows Of Russia (Dover and Icarus) Our colour commentator Roy Jones Jr seemed to be taking a liking to the pink-suited wonder. "Dragan won the right to join The Villains fair and square. They should've let him join. Unlike these clowns he actually wins some matches” said the former pound-for-pound boxing great as this one began. He wasn’t the only one warming to him either – Spazic was developing something of a cult following. This match was fun. Just big, goofy, larger than life fun. The wrestling was quite, quite bad, but absolutely nobody cared. It was the kind that 'wrestling purists' seem to s*** kittens over. But this is a country where it gets so cold at night the toilet water freezes, and they solve the problem by pouring vodka down the pan, lighting it, and hoping the resulting explosion doesn't blow up the house - we know our demographic, and we cater to them. Some fed's fans want fanfare; ours want fart gags. This was the kind of match where Dragan was laid out on his back, and three Villains went to the top ropes at opposite corners of the ring, then simultaneously Triple Missile Dropkicked the guy in the d***. This was a bout where Dover and Icarus then responded to this by picking up the screaming, writhing Spazic, using their combined strength to throw him head-first at the Villains like a human missile. He flattened them like a bowling ball through skittles. Later, The Arrows Piledrivered Gordon off the top rope, while Spazic held Scurll down, with Flip's head landing right on Marty's crotch. This is a match where Brody attacked Spazic with a Taijiri style Green Mist, blinding him briefly... until he tried licking the toxic-looking green liquid off his face, really enjoyed the flavour, then asked his Villainous opponent to do it again.  Despite the many classic moments, the fan's favourite part was when The Arrows catapulted Scurll into the ring ropes, causing him to get tangled. His Villainous comrades rushed to his aid, trying all manner of things to untangle him, but failing every time. Finally they managed to free their faction's fearless leader... by taking off his trousers. Seeing Scurll in his tiny underoos, Spazic, Dover and Icarus went after his ass like a bullseye. A fan threw a chair. The three then took it in turns spanking him with it. Scurll howled. Fans cheered. Because seeing a man being ritually humiliated in front of a national audience of millions is what brings families together. Most referees would put a stop to such shenanigans. Many would disqualify Dragan and The Arrows for using a foreign object. But our official 'Boris' was way too busy laughing his ass off for any of that. He even had a go himself. They spanked Scurll until he tapped out, making this one of the weirdest submission finishes in the history of pro wrestling. A lot of people asked why Brody and Flip didn't do more to stop Marty's arse being mashed. There isn't really an answer, because answers require logic, and none of that was to be had here. Perhaps they were terrified of getting spanked too? Anyhow, good triumphed over evil, the fans all had big smiles on their faces, and Scurll couldn't walk properly for about four days. So forget the bad reviews the 'dirt sheets' threw at this - the match was a huge success, and nobody will ever convince me otherwise. Match Rating: 46.     "DID YOU SEE THAT?! DID YOU SEE THAT, VLAD?! BOOM!" Bill Goldberg was a little bit excited. "I JUST SWUNG BACK AND THEN... BOOM! HOME RUN! I WAS LIKE BABE RUTH OUT THERE, VLAD! BANG! SMASH!" The smile on our intrepid interviewer Vlad Radinov's face was huge, as he discretely applied his ear plugs. "I TOOK THAT SLUTTY-LOOKING BRIT'S HEAD CLEAN OFF HIS SHOULDERS! BOOM!" The multi-time former WWE and WCW champion was pounding the wall as he yelled, for emphasis. He was clearly a very, very happy man. "I'll admit it, Vlad, I was getting discouraged for a while. Things weren't going my way. But I can feel it deep inside! I'm back! I'M BACK! The fires are burning again! Goldberg's back on winning form and the whole world better watch out! I got another match tonight, and based on the way I'm feeling right now, they'd better watch out! I'm gonna crush everything in my path!" Radinov managed to find a split-second pause long enough to ask a question. The velveteen-jacked maestro pounced on the opportunity. "I haven't been able to locate your opponent Damien Black for an interview. Nobody knows where he is, or indeed anything about him, or his motives. He's a mystery..." Suddenly Goldberg grabbed the mic and his bombastic onslaught resumed anew. "That spooky-looking Dutch man-bitch had better watch out. I don't care how many of his creepy-looking helpers he has with him, I'LL SMASH THEM ALL! YOU HEAR THAT, BLACK?! YOU'RE NEXT!" He then stormed off, slamming the door excitedly behind him with such force that it flew off its hinges. "I guess he's ready" laughed Radinov, as we cut back to the action.   Angle Rating: 68.               10 Man Battle Royale – Winner Is #1 Contender For The RFW National Title  Next up was the RFW National Title #1 Contender Battle Royale. We hyped this up as a key event which could have a seismic impact on the whole company. This, we stressed, was definitely not just a cheap way of keeping lots of unheralded Russian(ish) wrestlers busy for the night.  Ten men would enter the ring. Only one man would be left standing. This brave individual would have their hand raised in glory... and then would be fed to the champion like meat whenever we got around to it. There was Ivan 'The Body' Markov who did really well, thanks to his bodybuilder physique. He found it hard to get into a rhythm though, constantly looking over his shoulder in case of a sneak attack from his bitter nemesis Gerald The Dog. There were Serge Sullivan and Konstantin LaPatka - our two new signings. This was a good chance to witness them in action for the first time. It turned out The Baby In A Suit's synopsis of them was accurate - they are indeed 'two guys in masks who do backflips'. Ronni Krimson is a fairly talented, if unspectacular high-flyer. Compared to the lukewarm crap floating in the Russian wrestling talent pool, however, he was an ace. He did well here, in his first televised event since Episode 1. The only reason you've not read more about him is because RFW's booker is a moron and hadn't yet thought up a way of using him. Ilya Malkov, Anton Deryabin and Alexei Ugrumov put in technically very sound, very correct, very boring performances. They can wrestle, but are about as interesting as Quadratic Equasions.  Peter Tihanyi wrestled too. He looks great, but that's all that's great about him. His jacket sparkled but his performance sure as hell didn't.  Bence Toth was in the ring. The less said, the better. Let's just take the positives and be pleased that nobody got hurt. And finally there was 'Hardcore' Bogdan Kilmov, star of our recent hospital adventure. He was in the ring, sporting the biggest head bandage wrestling has ever seen, pelting everyone with massive dropkicks (which seem to be his trademark), and screaming every time anyone went anywhere near his face. Kilmov did really well in this match. Despite his bandaged head wound which threatened to explode at any second, the spiky-haired weapons enthusiast managed to eliminate four other competitors. "The last person to achieve that was a certain spooky-looking, hockey mask wearing monster, back in Episode 1! And things have gone pretty well for that guy ever since" enthused announcer Alex Koslov. "You can say his name, you know. He's not Voldemort" laughed Roy Jones Jr. "I'd rather take on Voldemort than either Kilmov or Kulakov" said commentator Rico Bushido nervously. "They're both... well... a little bit psychotic" he added. "They're not psychotic - they're RUSSIAN" said Alex Koslov. We left it at that. It was [match length] of polite applause, in which sales at the beer tent skyrocketed. The elderly folk among our audience used this as a chance to catch a good nap. Roy Jones Jr pretended to have technical problems with his mic and sat a lot of this one out in silence - mainly because he only knew who the hell two of the combatants were. I honestly can't remember a thing about the match. It definitely happened though. Wrestling occurred. People did stuff. Nobody cared. Ivan 'The Body' Markov won, presumably because of his size advantage, and gets a go at the National Title. Everyone then moved on with their lives with a grand total of zero s***s given. Match Rating: 32.     "Everyone says Ilja Dragunov is a new class of athlete. All over this country, all I hear is that he's some new breed of fighter, that he represents a new dawn of wrestling, that he's the forefront of some new dawn of Russian-led combat supremacy. Everybody says tonight's gonna be his night - that this bright new force will burn right through me like I'm a thing of the past. But that's all a dream - a dream everyone here wishes were real. But tonight's main event's gonna be a wake up call." The 'Rated R Superstar' Edge was backstage getting his promo on. And he clearly wasn't taking any s***. "I made my debut on Canada Day 1992, in an event at Monarch Park Stadium in Toronto - a year before Dragunov was even born. I fought my way into WWE in 1998, earning just $210 a week, but fighting the best, learning from the best... back when Dragunov's parents were teaching him how to wipe his own ass. I was a multi-time Tag Team champion in the biggest wrestling company the world's ever seen... before Ilja was even in high school. I'd fought on every continent on the globe by the time he'd even got pubes. In my glorious career I have already beaten every superstar he ever grew up wanting to be. I've seen more, and done more, than this so-called 'Hero Of Russia' could in a dozen careers. Anyone who thinks I'm not adding the RFW World Title to my collection needs a drug test.   Above: Edge. 1992. He really wasn't kidding when he said he'd been around a lot. It took the help of half of Russia for that so-called 'champion' to 'beat me' last time. Everyone in wrestling knows I got screwed. But in tonight's main event, this so-called super athlete is trapped in a cage... with me. Just one on one, man versus man. There'll be nobody to help him. He'll be all alone. And when that cage door slams shut, he'll suddenly realise the scale of the challenge facing him... and that the only outcome can be him leaving as a former World Champion." Next it was the wrestler we'd nicknamed Lord Nerd's time to shine. "And this is a message for MY opponent tonight, John Hennigan. I am a member of this glorious nation's state-sanctioned cyber security taskforce Unit 71330, known in the West as Center 16. My intelligence has aided online projects that have toppled world leaders, that have overthrown small countries, that have brought whole economies to their knees. Our project 'Dragonfly' broke the defenses of over 50 countries, aiding Mother Russia's intelligence services for over a decade before being discovered." Edge's geeky-looking protégé stroked his chin smugly as he bragged, a devious smile lighting up his face. "These hands have crippled the networks of half the globe, just as they so easily nullified you in our last encounter. Once again I will crack the code of your weaknesses, Hennigan. Just like last time I will bypass all your defenses, striking in ways you could not possibly foresee. Just like our virtuous nation's online enemies, I will break down the walls that protect you, one by one, until you are defenseless. And then, you dim, dull-witted American, you shall be eradicated. You are analog. You are out-dated. You are the past. We are the future. With my intellect and Edge's experience, you stand no chance. We are unstoppable. We will be victorious, and you will be erased." Angle Rating: 62.     With our big Four Way Dance for the RFW National Title coming up next, our fans were treated to an onslaught of pre-recorded interviews with each competitor. Our intrepid interviewer 'Party Tsar' Vlad Radinov was on hand to capture their groundbreaking revelations. Our champion Alen Khubulov was delighted to be finally defending his 'national treasure' of a belt once more, after an infinity on the sidelines. He'll make all of Russia proud, he says, and will get revenge once and for all on Tamerlan Rasuev - the guy who took him out of action. He proclaims the doctor's note that returned him to the ring is genuine, and not at all some bulls*** thing he bought online. The whole country instantly smells bulls***. The thing was written in crayon.   Above: Alen Khubulov winning the Russian National Wrestling Championship back in the day.   Former UFC Heavyweight Champion Andrei Arlovski wants to win this title to secure his legacy in all combat sport - not just wrestling. But that is secondary to the unbridled joy he feels about getting to maim Rasuev, the guy who Pepper Sprayed him all the way to the hospital. He's as excited as a hyperactive kid on Christmas morning at the prospect of jumping up and down on Rasuev's face, until all that remains is a thick, lumpy paste. He wants to hear bones snap. He wants to rip chunks off the guy and throw them into the crowd. He says he's all about the title, but that's obviously bulls*** - this guy's here to cause damage. Tamerlan Rasuev, once again, is upset. His woe is mountainous. His grief is insurmountable. His whining is endless. RFW betrayed him. The fans betrayed him. Steven Seagal betrayed him. Then fired him. Then betrayed him some more. I betrayed him. You betrayed him. The guy around the corner with the hotdog cart betrayed him. You get the picture. The only thing that can restore his pride, his reputation and his place in RFW (and hopefully stop him crying like a b****) is winning this title.    Above: Tamerlan Rasuev, back before the days of woe.   And then there was 30 seconds at the end for Kris 'The Falcon' Jokic, who is absolutely, definitely not just there to make up the numbers. He totally deserves to be there, he tells us. He will make history as the first ever non-Russian to win the National Title, he proclaims... which sounds impressive until you remember he'd be only the second guy to ever wear the belt.  All our competitors are ready. All are psyched. All are loaded up to their tits on the pharmaceutical maelstrom that is Lightning Bolt energy drink. All that remains is for the bell to ring and for the action to begin... Angle Rating: 62.             Alen Khubulov vs Tamerlan Rasuev vs Andrei Arlovski vs Kris Jokic – For the RFW National Title There were fireworks. There were flags. There was the sight of thousands of fans standing to attention, applauding passionately. There was the "Patrioticheskaya Pesnya" Russian National Anthem blasting through the air. There was Alen Khubulov with the Russian Tricolour flag draped ceremoniously over his shoulders. There was the RFW National Title shining in pride of place around his waist. Khubulov was like the hopes of a nation personified as he made his way down the entrance ramp. He looked great... right up to the moment Tamerlan Rasuev leaped from the shadows and started kicking the s*** out of him.  Most people would be distracted if 20,326 people were screaming at them, swearing at them, and throwing trash at them. But Rasuev didn't seem to care one bit - he was just happily kicking Khubulov's skull against the entrance ramp. He seemed to enjoy the satisfying sound our champion’s head made as it pounded the metal, over and over again. The mood suddenly changed when The Pitbull's music filled the venue, and Andrei Arlovski stormed onto the scene. He wasted no time at all, running over to Rasuev and kicking him right in the middle of his face. Naturally a 3 way battle broke out, which 'Boris' The Referee, ring announcer Vlad Radinov and Steven Seagal gradually shepherded into the ring. These guys had been waiting a long time to kick the crap out of each other. There was a lot of enthusiasm. "Weeks and weeks of rivalry is finally coming to a head! There's so much animosity here that the ring can hardly contain them!" Offered our announcer Alex Koslov, using his Big Book Of Wrestling Clichés to great effect. After a couple of minutes the 3 enemies remembered that they were all wrestlers, and an actual wrestling match broke out.    Above: The RFW National Title, in all its patriotic glory.   Khuboluv wanted nothing more than to kick Rasuev in the face until he looked like a Picasso, getting revenge for all those weeks out injured. Arlovski also wanted nothing more than to kick Rasuev in the face until he looked like a Picasso, also getting revenge for all those weeks out injured. They'd work together to deliver a hugely fun 2-on-1 ass-kicking, then the crafty Heel would find a clever way to escape. Realising the National Title was at stake, our two good guys would then beat the living crap out of each other. Rasuev would sneak back into the ring unseen, and attack while they weren't looking. This entertaining circle of amusing violence kept on repeating. It was great fun. So much fun, infact, that nobody gave a s*** that 'The Falcon' Kris Jokic was in the match. Whenever he was in the ring the other competitors were so busy settling old scores, they forgot him completely. Bewildered, the Croatian high-flyer spent his time chilling at ringside with The Arrows Of Russia. They drank Lightning Bolt. They posed for selfies. They smoked some cigars. The Arrows were assigned to protect Khubulov and Arlovski from Rasuev's vengeful plans while they were out injured, but with the competitors both back in action, they seemed surplus to requirements - just like Jokic. So naturally a beach ball was located, and an impromptu Volleyball game was organised with a section of the crowd.  Jokic soon tired of all the ringside shenanigans, getting frustrated that his long-awaited title shot was passing him by. As Rasuev, Khubulov and Arlovski maimed each other in the centre of the ring, he ascended the top turnbuckle with grace. Like his namesake he then took to the sky, flattening them all with a beautiful Senton Splash. 'The Falcon' grabbed a leg and tried a pin, and nearly got lucky. There was a big 'oh s***' moment as Arlovski and Khubulov realised they'd completely overlooked 25% of the match's competitors. They rectified this by jumping on Jokic immediately, and pounding him into pudding. They then hauled his barely conscious ass into the air for an impressive Two Man Powerbomb, leaving the poor little b*****d completely out cold, face-down in the centre of the ring.  Rasuev then saw them distracted, pounced on them both from behind with a Leaping Double Clothesline, and normal service resumed. The crowd were jumping up and down with joy as they spilled onto the outside, this match-up once again descending into the street fight their rivalry had threatened it would be.  Rasuev picked up the giant, heavy metal ring steps and launched them at catastrophic speed... right into Arlovski's penis. He found a crowbar under the ring, which our stage guys had presumably used to set up earlier, squared up to Khubulov... and hit him right in the penis with it. Steven Seagal was furious, yelling at referee 'Boris' to disqualify his former protégé. But the fans insisted otherwise - even a one man army like Seagal knows better than to mess with 20,326 people - and so our Authority Figure was over-ruled.  Rasuev responded by grabbing the big, heavy ring bell from the Timekeeper's Table... and hitting Khubulov in the penis with it. He found a hilariously big chain, wrapped it ceremoniously around his fist... and... you guessed it... hit Arlovski in the penis with it. The fans hated Rasuev, but they liked this dastardly tactic of crotch-mauling even more. They were going wild for this s***, getting louder and louder with each ridiculous yet entertaining assault. That was, until the bell suddenly rang ending the match. The fans wanted Seagal and our referee's heads in a basket, booing and jeering furiously, assuming that a Disqualification had ended their fun. But then they saw ring announcer Vlad Radinov laying the RFW National Title carefully over Kris Jokic's unconscious body. They caught on fast to what had happened, and they liked it. "Ladies and gentlemen, your winner by Count Out... and the NEW Russian Federation Of Wrestling National Champion... Kris Jokic!!" Radinov announced, with a big smile on his face. Everyone loves an underdog. The fans were surprised but quickly got behind their unlikely new champion... who was still completely lifeless and unaware on the canvas.  As Arlovski and Khubulov skulked away licking their wounds, Rasuev was livid at ringside. He was screaming about 'conspiracies' and 'injustices' at the top of his lungs, swinging punches and trying to bite anyone who came near. Watching half the roster and a huge mob of security guys haul his ass away just made an already nice moment even more special Match Rating: 57.     After a news break which crawled so far up Vladimir Putin’s arse it may as well have been filmed inside his colon, the wrestling finally resumed. We're backstage with World Champion Ilja Dragunov and his mentor Steven Seagal. The gloriously-shirted Vlad Radinov is on interview duty. Our energy drink pedaling Authority bigs up his guy big time, ahead of his match with Edge.  He describes him as "a new kind of athlete" and "a new generation of warrior - stronger, faster, more unstoppable than any that have come before." He's not done. "This is a specimen whose performance levels exceed any other fighter anywhere on the globe. A physical beacon befitting the glorious nation he so proudly represents. He is the spirit and soul of Russia made flesh. He will bring glory to us all once again tonight!" No pressure then. Angle Rating: 77.     Alexandr 'Vertigo' Klapstov is in the ring. He is psyched. He is primed. He is ready. His mentor Edge is also in the ring. He is focused. He is alert. He also is ready. Both have their eyes locked on the entrance ramp, waiting for their enemy 'The Fabulous' John Hennigan to appear. "Man, they look ready" proclaims Roy Jones Jr with admiration. "Whatever this match throws at them, these two are certainly ready for it!" Adds Rico Bushido, in a moment of commentating excellence for the ages. Ringside we see Ivan 'The Body' Markov. He is primed. He is pumped. He is ready. He too awaits Hennigan, and the cute little 'spiritual guru' he wants revenge on. "The fans are ready. The fighters are ready. Let's get this grudge match started" declares Alex Koslov, adding the proverbial cherry to the cake. Everyone's on the edge of their seats as 'The Fabulous One's' music hits. There's pink smoke. There's magenta-coloured lasers. Fluttering flower petals fall from the sky. But after what seems like an eternity... there's nobody in sight. Seagal, returning to his seat at ringside, looks pissed. "Radinov! Wherever you are backstage, find that idiot and get his pretty-boy ass out here" he orders, cracking his massive knuckles with disdain. Angle Rating: 60.     An annoyed looking Vlad Radinov is in Hennigan's dressing room. He's about to start yelling at Hennigan for being late, but what he sees stops him in his tracks. The man's redecorated. Everything's turned pink. The walls are pink. The ceiling's pink. The door's pink. A thick, neon pink zebra skin pattern rug covers the floor. The chairs are pink. The giant portrait of Vladimir Putin that's installed in every dressing room has been taken down, replaced by a massive photo of the pop singer Pink. 'Pink' by Aerosmith plays in the background from a big pink Bluetooth speaker. We're talking thermonuclear levels of pinkness here. Everything's so pink it's even turning this font pink. Also pink is Radinov's face, from anger. "Hennigan you idiot! You're meant to be in the ring! 20,326 people are waiting for you! The whole of Russia waits for your pampered, well-moisturised ass! What the hell are you doing?! Get out of this dressing room right now!" He stomps his feet in a rage, to really let everyone know he means business. "It's not a dressing room. It's a salon" says Hennigan in an extremely relaxed, nonchalant voice. The camera moves across to where 'The Fabulous One' is reclined. He reads Cosmopolitan while a vaguely familiar figure frantically manicures his nails. Another kind-of familiar figure is in the background, feeding tiny little bits of fillet steak to a tiny little dog. "Have you seen the state of this city, Radinov? No wonder these people drink so much Vodka. I look at Moscow and I see and endless sea of drab, soul-less buildings, lifeless grey architecture. Ugliness everywhere. It must crush the spirit to live in such a miserable hell hole." "I'm on a mission to spritz this place up - to give his dreary cesspit some glitz and some glamour. Russia needs sparkle. It needs to shine. I'm making it my duty to bring some style and some verve to a nation that's about as fun as a stab wound to the lung. And to achieve this, I have enlisted some help, because I fear the aid of my spirit guide Gerald will not be enough for such a Herculean task." Hennigan waves a pampered hand towards his two new friends. Radinov nearly s***s feathers when he notices who they are. "Peter Tihanyi! Bence Toth! What the tapdancing hell are you doing here! You should be by the side of your comrade Seagal! Not here ironing silk scarves for this flower-scented weirdo! Tihanyi - why the hell are you brushing a small dog?! What the hell has happened to you man?!" The silken-haired American didn't miss a beat with his answer. "These two strapping specimens were being wasted by Seagal. This Russian Federation Of Wrestling had them doing nothing. So I put them to work. It is with their help that the wretched, boring places we visit shall be transformed with glamour and sophistication. We are The Hennigan Style Squad! And we're here to liven things up!" Having made his grand announcement, the self-proclaimed 'Fabulous One' slung one of his gloriously elaborate coats over his shoulders and made his way to the door, his newly-christened 'Style Squad' following closely behind. Angle Rating: 58.           Alexandr ‘Vertigo’ Klapstov (with Edge) vs ‘The Fabulous’ John Hennigan (with the ‘Style Squad’ of Peter Tihanyi and Bence Toth. And Gerald, of course.) By the time Hennigan and his merry band of followers got to the ring, our Russian fans were pissed. They hated him anyway, but holding up the whole show just to finish his beauty treatment really pushed them over the edge. They were throwing trash at the guy, which made him freak out - what if some of their garbage got in his beautiful hair?!   ~   The ex-hacker Vertigo capitalised on this distraction, attacking whenever Hennigan had his eyes elsewhere. It was smart - he knew his opponent was the larger, more experienced, more talented wrestler - so used cunning tactics to get ahead instead. After a few close pinfalls, Hennigan's new 'Style Squad' saw their boss in trouble and started interfering. The self-proclaimed 'Digital Messiah' held his own for a while against a pair of fighters who were about as intimidating as Barney The Purple Dinosaur. But when Hennigan started attacking too, it was 3-on-1 and our dweeby Russian was in trouble. Cue the Mandatory Edge Interference Segment, which got the loudest pop of the night so far. Up stepped Bence Toth - only to be vapourised by a Spear. Peter Tihanyi came forward and ate a Spear too. And Hennigan took a Spear too, just for kicks. The latter turned out to not be a very smart move... because flattening Hennigan unleashed hell. And by 'Hell' I mean 'Gerald'. "Oh s***!" Screamed a terrified 'Rated R Superstar', who then dived out of the ring as if someone had thrown a live grenade in there. In an action-packed career spanning decades, Edge fought dangerous enemies of every size and style - but nobody as lethal as Gerald. It was fun watching the bazillion-time WWE Tag and World Champion being chased round and round the ring, running for his life from a foe the size of a medium American burger. But it was the only thing he could do - those vicious fangs spelled instant death. The gruesome mauling Sergey Belyev got in Episode 10 would've been a tickling contest in comparison. Fortunately the Canadian veteran was spared excruciating disembowelment... as soon as Gerald spotted Ivan 'The Body' Markov at ringside he changed direction and went in for the kill.  As the big, muscular Russian was getting maimed, an actual wrestling match had somehow occurred in the ring. An athletic contest between two fairly gifted high-flyers that was actually... good. No weapons. No shenanigans. No bulls***. Just actual wrestling. Done well. By actual wrestlers. The 20,326 fans couldn't believe their eyes as they watched the action. Hennigan eventually got the upper hand though, due to him being a little slicker, a little more experienced and... well... a little more good at wrestling.  The man they call Vertigo tried the tricks that'd got him the victory last time. He grabbed a laptop he'd stashed under the ring and started typing furiously. Just like last time he'd deviously hacked into the venue's systems. Just like last time the lights went off and on, the pyros all went off, the entrance music played off and on... but this time John Hennigan wasn't distracted by all that. He'd seen all this before. Instead he retaliated with an almighty Superkick, which smashed the laptop screen into a thousand tiny pieces. "Noooooooooo!" Screamed the geeky Russian, cradling the broken computer in his arms like a dying lover. 'The Fabulous One' seized the moment, hitting his 'Starship Pain' signature move. People got distracted by the pampering and perfume and forgot what a damn fine wrestler Hennigan is. I still say Starship Pain is one of the most ridiculously awe-inspiring moves ever unleashed in wrestling. I still can't comprehend how a human body can twist like that. Especially when the lad doing it is 43 years old.  The pin was made. The end was nigh. This one was over, the fans booing with vicious venom as our official 'Boris' counted... 1... 2... but no. The victory was snatched from 'The Fabulous One' as 241lbs of Canadian veteran landed right on his head, breaking the pinfall and knocking Hennigan goofy in the process. The fans booed loudly as 'Boris' actually did some real refereeing for once and banished Edge from the ring. This bought time for Klaptsov / Vertigo to regain his senses. Unfortunately it also allowed 'The Style Squad' to get back in the ring. The trash throwing started up again when another 3-on-1 ass-kicking broke out. But Vertigo's mentor had the solution. "Use the laptop!" Screamed Edge. "I can't! It's broken" squealed Klaptsov as his well-groomed foes kicked his arse from one side of the ring to the other. "No, you moron! Like this!" Suddenly Edge was on the ring canvas, brandishing the laptop like a baseball bat. The thud it made as it clonked Bence on the back of the skull was epic. He threw the laptop to Vertigo, and the dorky Russian almost took Peter Tihanyi's head off with it. Hennigan, still dazed from Edge jumping on his head to break the pinfall, was too groggy to save himself. Up went the laptop. Down went the American. 1, 2, 3 went the referee. Ballistic with joy went the fans.  The ovation was huge. It wasn't so much their excitement at Vertigo winning. It was more their hatred of the pampered, style-obsessed American. Seeing him and his two 'stylists' laid out cold was the highlight of their year. Russia won. America lost. The flags came out. Anthems of national glory were sung by all of our drunken, Lightning Bolt-addled fans. Vertigo and Edge soaked up the noise. Mission accomplished, I felt, as we cut to an ad break of wholesome, patriotic messages. Match Rating: 55.     Backstage, our normally care-free, laid-back interviewer Vlad Radinov was trembling. His hands were shaking. His teeth rattled with fear. "Erm... erm..." he stuttered in terror, his normal flair with words deserting him among the fog of fear-driven adrenaline. "I... erm... this... we..." the poor guy was so petrified he'd lost control of his tongue. The part of his brain that processed words had deserted him. He gulped. He froze. The beginnings of tears welled up in his eyes. The camera zoomed out and we soon saw why. The poor, unfortunate, jazzy-shirted b*****d was trapped in a room with 'The Nightmare' Vladimir Kulakov. "Help!" our interviewer mouthed helplessly to our camera guys. He started making a weird, repetitive whispering sound beneath his breath - was he praying?     The big, masked Russian began cracking his knuckles menacingly. It sounded like someone was smashing rocks with a claw-hammer. The sound made our fearful 'Party Tsar' snap out of it long enough to (sort of) string together an actual question. "Bryan Daniels is your opponent tonight... and... is seemingly re-energised... and... ah... erm..." his voice trailed off into silence, disappearing like a flushed turd. "Mommy!" he squealed almost silently, as the scary Russian started snarling. His fear only grew as Kulakov's 'mentor' Steven Seagal arrived on the scene. "Since the concussions that ended his WWE in-ring career, Daniels has been a shell of his former self. He came to Russia with hopes of an easy ride. But my plan was to test his spirit, to see what fires still burned in his soul. I would test him in the heat of adversary never before witnessed in his career, and he would either be re-forged, or be consumed and destroyed in the flames of battle." "My student Vladimir Kulakov has pushed Daniels to his limits, and beyond. He has taken him beyond his psychological breaking point. He has taken him further down the abyss than he has ever dared to go. And to his eternal credit, we have seen Daniels reborn from the flames of his despair like a phoenix." "Does... does this mean you believe Daniels stands a chance... against..." muttered Radinov nervously.  "No" smiled Seagal. "But that man's heroic destruction will be a magnificent spectacle. One befitting this marvelous occasion and the fine country it represents." The hockey-mask wearing monster snarled in agreement. The scene faded to black just in time to hide our interviewer running for his life. Angle Rating: 68.   “Aaaaaaaagh! Oh my God! OH MY GOD!" Commentator Alex Koslov got so giddy he jumped into the air and threw his big, fluffy Russian hat into the crowd. Our announce team had just gone bat-s*** crazy with excitement. "This must be a dream! This cannot be real! I can't believe it!" Rico Bushido had begun fanning himself frantically to avoid fainting. Maybe they were going a little overboard - partly due to them all inhaling massive amounts of Lightning Bolt Energy Drink during the break. But their excitement was real. The 20,326 fans in attendance were dancing with excitement too. Mothers were hugging children. Strangers were high-fiving each other. Men wept. It was the biggest display of joyous emotion since Goldberg's big debut. Or Bryan Daniels. Or Edge.  It was time for our the last Quarter Final of our Tag Team Tournament. We'd promised some of the biggest names in wrestling would be involved. And we really weren't kidding (this time). Why was everyone so excited? Why the sudden tidal wave of euphoria? Because we pulled back the curtain... and this guy walked out...     Once the mass elation had died down, the Legendary Sting was kind enough to grace us with a promo. I can't remember what he said - I was too busy patting myself on the back for managing to snag one of the biggest names in wrestling - but I bet whatever came out of his mouth was brilliant. His tag partner and protégé Derby Allin was there too, looking small and awkward, standing there in the background like a midgetised version of the legend he shared a ring with. The Russians who didn't know who Allin was just drunkenly assumed he was Sting's b*****d lovechild or something. Who knows, maybe he is? And then it was time to unveil their tag team partners. The fans got nearly as excited when these guys showed up...   Sting and Mini-Sting's opponents for the night literally couldn't be more successful, coming to the Russian Federation Of Wrestling as AEW, ROH, TNA, NJPW / IWGP, AAA, TIT and ARSE champions. I may have made a couple of those initials up in my excitement. On top of that, they're ex-WWE Smackdown and Raw tag champs and ex-NXT tag champs, making them the only WWE Triple Crown winning team in history. I hear they're so ridiculously successful that feds are just mailing their titles to FTR now, just to save time. They might not be quite as famous in Russia as in the USA, but there was still 'electricity in the air' as ol' J.R would say. Let's just say that as these four squared up, ready to do battle, expectations were rather high... Angle Rating: 65.          Sting & Darby Allin vs For The Revival (FTR) – The Last Quarter Final Of The RFW Tag Title Tournament  ...and they absolutely knocked it out of the park. For The Revival - or FTR as the cool kids call them - are 'the embodiment of old-school wrestling'. I'm genuinely convinced nobody actually knows what the f*** that means, but we went with it. Dax Harwood and Cash Wheeler absolutely lit up that ring. They were brilliant. But the weird thing is I honestly can't tell you why. Theirs is the most no-frills, no-bulls*** form of wrestling you can imagine. No stunts. No ridiculous spots. Just honest-to-goodness rasslin' - the kind that died out back in the 1970s - the kind you'd think today's generation of wrestling fans would s*** all over - but it was great, our cynical Russian fans loved it, and not a single person can explain the hell why. And then there's Sting. The man was 64 years old. His battered, destroyed old body was held together with nothing but cobwebs and spite. Yet everything the guy did looked amazing. This guy could sit on a sofa scratching his balls and somehow it would be an awe-inspiring, transcendent moment of wrestling. The guy should’ve been in a zimmerframe, not a ring, at his age. Yet he put on an absolute masterclass out there. As with FTR, everything he did just looked great. I don't know why. I don't know how. It just did. It's not for mere mortals like me to understand. I tried asking our Road Agent Shane Douglas about it. He started throwing words at me like 'fundamentals' and 'psychology' until the part of my brain that processes words ejected itself from my skull and splattered in a pile of goo all over the floor.   Above: This guy has it all. He could accidentally s*** his pants and somehow still make it look cool.   The match was great either because of, or in spite of, it's simplicity. FTR spent most of the match beating the crap out of Allin, isolating him in their corner, and finding wonderfully elaborate ways of stopping him tagging. The whole aim was to build anticipation of Sting being in the ring up to cataclysmic levels. And it worked. The fans would reach fever pitch. Sting would finally get in. Brief moments of joyous destruction would occur as the Stinger raised hell, then back to Allin getting his face stomped on. We kept this game going until the fans got so loud the Cosmonauts in the International Space Station picked us up on their sensors. Derby nailed his role as Sacrificial Lamb. Sting relished his role as the wholesome legend just aching to get in on the action. Revival ate up their role as the wise veterans controlling proceedings like puppet masters. In the middle of all our ridiculous shenanigans, weapons and silly, over-the-top action, a truly fine wrestling match snuck into proceedings. It was one of those bouts where everyone had so much fun it didn't matter who won (it was Sting, by the way). It's amazing the highlights you can create with huge stacks of cash and no Russians. Match Rating: 66.   I've worked with FTR's Dax Harwood and Cash Wheeler lots of times. I bump into them so regularly on my travels that we've started trading recipes. Both send me cards every Christmas. Yet I still don't know which of them is which. I know, it's terrible. But they both look exactly the God-damn same to me. After the match, Dax and Cash were visibly pissed about losing, but were good sports. The one with the facial hair, the frown and the leather jacket shook hands with Sting and Allin, congratulating them on their win. The other one with the facial hair, the frown and the leather jacket applauded the fans and thanked them for their support. Steven Seagal was in the ring too, basking in the glow of it all and looking smug. Dax Wheeler - or was it Cash Harwood? - got on the mic. Sting and Derby took their leave, graciously allowing FTR their big moment.   Above: Dash and Cax?   "Obviously we didn't get the result we wanted here tonight. But there's no shame in losing to an icon like Sting. We've locked horns in the past, and we knew this'd be one hell of a fight. So congratulations to you." Sting looked all modest and humble. Allin looked pissed because somebody had stolen his skateboard (but more on that another time).  Now it was Dash Harlweeler's time to talk. "We didn't get chance to unleash hell like we know we can. We didn't get chance to show you all what we can do. So we'd love the chance to come back again and really kick some ass!" The fans loved that. So did Seagal - his leathery, weathered, expressionless old face almost cracked a smile. "So here's an open challenge! Whoever steps up gets to face us on your TV show in a few days!" The fans roared with excitement, and continued cheering as a familiar couple of faces charged to the ring. "It's the Arrows Of Russia!" Shouted commentator Roy Jones Jr, as four guys with facial hair, frowns, hairy chests and leather jackets now shared a ring. They all stared each other down menacingly. And just like that the match was made. Angle Rating: 58     We were about to cut to a big promo hyping Vladimir Putin's big speech later in the night. But suddenly the lights went out. Just like in the weeks before, thousands of candles all lit at once and the venue filled with a haunting, eerie smoke. The dissonant tones of Rotting Christ filled the air. And suddenly Damien Black and his acolytes The Dark Church Of Satan were in the ring.   Above: Spooky.   The Arrows jumped in with fists swinging, but got swatted like flies by Black and his Satanic stooges. FTR went in guns blazing, but their kicks and punches had no impact at all on Black and his henchmen, who seemed possessed by some malevolent force. The fans were really, really pissed when FTR had their own finishing move The Goodnight Express (which I think sounds cooler than it's other name, the 'Shatter Machine') done on them, laying them out cold.  The Satanic Death metal got even louder as The Dark Church stood over their fallen victims, flames dancing around them, sparks falling from the sky. Steven Seagal was beside himself with rage that another tag tournament bout had been marred by Black and The Church - he had to be held back by half the roster. As the scene faded to black, we saw Sting at ringside, looking on with horror at what he'd just witnessed. Angle Rating: 59.     When we returned, Seagal was still in a rage at ringside, still being restrained by half of the tough guys in Russia. Damien Black was still in the ring with his two hooded followers, laughing manically. "I've had it with this guy! Black, it's about time your creepy, hellfire-and-brimstone ass got the kicking it's been deserving for weeks now! I've had enough of these senseless attacks, of this seemingly random violence! Goldberg! Get your ass in here and run this punk ass down!" Goldberg was happy to. He charged to the ring like he had a rocket up his ass. He'd been a shadow of his former self since losing his rematch with World Champion Ilja Dragunov. He looked a lost soul for weeks. But right here, right now, he looked revitalised - perhaps psyched up by our biggest ever crowd and his win earlier in the night. He hurled himself between the ropes and charged at the first warm-blooded opponent he could see. "Spear! Spear! One of Black's acolytes just got cut in half!" yelled announcer Alex Koslov. Goldberg grabbed his fallen prey and pulled back the hood on his cloak. "I recognise that face! That's Ronni Krimson!" Yelled commentator Rico Bushido. "What the hell?! How long's he been in league with this dark cult?! How long has he been living this secret life as part of the Dark Church?!" Shouted Roy Jones Jr. Our commentary team did a great job of pretending they knew who the hell Krimson was. They really did a good job of making it seem he wasn't just one of Seagal's anonymous, shirtless Russians until now.   Above: You could be cool like our commentator Roy Jones Jr and pretend that you totally knew who the hell this guy was before now...   The bell rang. Ronni Krimson and the other, still anonymous follower made their escape. Damien Black stared at his opponent with a demonic grin. The match began. Angle Rating: 57.            As Goldberg and Black locked up, a big crowd of people gathered at the top of the ramp to watch Damien presumably get his comeuppance. All the teams who'd suffered seemingly random, violent beat-downs from The Dark Church Of Satan were watching keenly. The Viking Raiders. 2 Cool. Lykos Gym. The Arrows Of Russia. All praying for Goldberg to dispense some justice. All these teams had wanted to deliver their own revenge on the Dark Church. But Seagal had stopped them all. Our Authority Figure's motives were two-fold: Victory for Goldberg would shake the noisy old legend out of his funk, bringing back the wrecking ball we all remember. And it would eradicate the parasite that was Black's dark faction at the same time. Goldberg was up for it. He was psyched. He was riding high after his victory over Marty Scurll earlier on. And we'd fed him enough Lightning Bolt Energy Drink to flatten an elephant. The newly-energised Goldberg charged at Black with a flurry of blows, going at the corpse-painted Dutchman like he was 35 again. A furious battle broke out with both of them in full-on attack mode. The problem was that everything Black landed did damage. Nothing Goldberg did made Damien even flinch. Regrouping, Goldberg put his old mind games into action, locking onto his opponent with the intense, intimidating stare that had psyched out opposition all over the globe. It was all there - snarl and all. But Black didn't give a s*** - he wasn't scared at all, despite being noticeably smaller than his American foe. Having failed to win the psychological battle, Goldberg reverted to his tried-and-tested ways - he went for the Spear. Black saw it coming a mile off, countering blunt force with agility, side-stepping it easily. Again and again Goldberg tried the Spear. Black looked like a graceful matador out there, effortlessly dancing out of the charging bull's way. The grizzled veteran was getting frustrated. Out of nowhere, Goldberg grabbed Black, using his impressive strength to haul him up vertically into the air. But Black had seen this before a thousand times, smoothly twisting his body to escape the Jackhammer attempt. Goldberg tried again. Again Black slid free. A third attempt. A third easy, confident escape. It was like a dance to the Satanic-looking challenger, who was laughing devilishly now. He wasn't just one step ahead, he was having fun in there. "This Damien Black must be something - he's shrugging off everything Goldberg throws at him! What skill!" Shouted Rico Bushido enthusiastically. "He's good. Real good. But it's not just that. I warned Goldberg weeks ago that he needed to evolve. I told him that there's a whole new class of athletes here in Russia. I said he needed to adapt, to change his style. But he's not doing that, and this new generation of fighters like Black have him scouted" said Roy Jones Jr wisely.     Goldberg was panting for air now, his frustration boiling over into rage. In a blind fury he lashed out with a kick. It was an absolute 'Hail Mary' shot, but he got lucky. The kick hit Black right under the chin, flooring him. The Devil-worshipping Dutchman looked shocked as he cleverly rolled out of the ring to recover. Immediately the acolytes leaped in to buy their master time. The one we now knew was Ronni Krimson leaped off the top rope, attempting a big Springboard Hurricanrana. But the powerful American used his strength to catch him in mid-air, lift him back up, and Powerbomb the living crap out of him. The Russian bounced clean out of the ring. Suddenly, despite gassing heavily, the spring seemed to be back in Goldberg's step. The second, still unidentified acolyte pounced into the ring now, springboarding off the top rope into a Missile Dropkick. But Goldberg saw it coming and Speared him in mid-air. The cloaked follower looked like he'd been hit by an 18 Wheeler. "Holy crap! He decimated him! Eviscerated him!" Yelled commentator Alex Koslov joyfully, as the acolyte fell out of the ring like a ragdoll. Seeing his followers getting squashed, Black slid back into the ring. He went on the attack, but was still clearly shaken by the kick. Goldberg grabbed his groggy opponent, and hit the Jackhammer out of nowhere. The impact was huge. "Take that you weird, spooky-looking Dutch b*****d!" Screamed Goldberg triumphantly. "I'm back!" He shouted, as much to himself as anyone else. He dived on his fallen foe. Referee 'Boris' did the count. 1... 2... But no! Black managed to get an arm to the bottom rope. "What did we just witness?! Nobody escapes the Jackhammer! Nobody!" Rico Bushido was so shocked he nearly choked on his Lightning Bolt energy drink. "It was perfectly executed. Black was finished. Goldberg just got unlucky - Damien just landed too close to the ropes" opined Koslov. "He mustn't let this get to him. The momentum's still his! One more big move and he's done!" Shouted Roy Jones Jr, as much to Goldberg as to the viewers at home.  But Goldberg looked devastated. Disheartened. You could see the energy drain from him, replaced by doubt and panic. The fans were booing the fallen Black loudly, and the leader of the Dark Church Of Satan seemed to feed off this. With a demonic smile, he sat back up, climbing back to his feet with laughter. "What?! It can't be! That's not possible! He can't be human!" Hollered Bushido breathlessly as Black seemed to fully recover from a maneuver that has ended countless careers. Goldberg was exhausted. He was demoralised. He'd tried everything. But his opponent was still standing, still laughing at him. But what he did next shocked everyone. Shaking his head, he just rolled under the bottom rope... turned his back on the ring... and walked away. The fans were shocked as our referee began the count, as Goldberg disappeared further up the ramp... onto the stage... then through the curtains. The bell rang. The fans were almost silent with shock and disbelief. Ring announcer Vlad Radinov sounded stupefied too as he made it official. "Ladies and gentlemen! Your winner, by count out, Damien Black!" The sound of '666' by Rotting Christ almost drowned out the tidal wave of boos that filled our arena. Almost. The commentators were in shock. They didn't know what to say. Our Authority Steven Seagal just shook his head at ringside, his face a picture of distain. Nobody could believe it. The unstoppable, fearless Bill Goldberg just turned his back and walked out. Again. Match Rating: 59.     "YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES!"   Bryan Daniels and Vladimir Kulakov were in the ring ahead of their hotly-anticipated encounter... and the scruffy-looking legend was promo-ing and 'Yes'-ing the crap out of the situation. He probably said other words too. Whatever. The bearded, plaid shirt enthusiast whipped our crowd into an absolute frenzy. Absolutely bat s*** crazy. The masked Russian wasn't even slightly fazed - and as the bell rang he showed it, charging like a bull, damn-near decapitating the hairy Yank with the biggest Clothesline the Eastern Hemisphere had ever seen. Angle Rating: 76.         ‘The Nightmare’ Vladimir Kulakov vs ‘American Dragon’ Bryan Daniels – Last Man Standing Match  There was a time, just a few weeks ago, that Daniels would've been scared s***less. He'd have curled into a ball and wept not long ago, when confronted by his 'demon' Kulakov (Seagal's words, not mine). But this was Daniels v2.0: Reborn. A man freed from his fears and inhibitions. A wrestler unburdened by the shadows of the injuries that once derailed his career. He needed all that new bravery - Kulakov was like a maniac in there. The demented Russian fought like his life depended on it. It took everything Daniels had to withstand the onslaught. Kulakov was like a demented whirlwind of offense. Daniels blocked blow after blow, using every bit of his Shoot Fighting experience to stop the maniac's powerful shots. He was in extreme defence mode, waiting for the moment his opponent would tire. But he didn't. Kulakov seemed unstoppable. The attacks just never seemed to stop. Daniels rolled to the outside to try to catch a breather, but 'The Nightmare' just followed him to the outside, still pelting the American with endless punches and kicks. Soon the Russian was throwing steel ring steps at him. Then the Time-keeper's bell. Anything he could get his hands on. A breeze-block was thrown with deadly force, missing Bryan's face by millimetres. A metal scaffolding pole from under the ring would've smashed Daniels' skull had he not moved just in time. It was a tidal wave of violence that seemed unending. Kulakov looked more than human. He was like a monster out there. He grabbed a fan at ringside and threw the poor, terrified b*****d out of his seat. Grabbing the steel chair he was sat on, Kulakov went to business trying to separate Daniels' head from his shoulders with it. The 'American Dragon' was covered in sweat from the constant defensive manoeuvres he was having to resort to. This was meant to be a Last Man Standing match, the aim being to knock your opponent down and let the referee count to 10, hoping the other competitor doesn’t get up. But all that went out the window – the moment Daniels hit the canvas, ‘The Nightmare’ was grabbing him again for another attack. No matter what was unleashed, our official never seemed to get higher than a 1 or a 2. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of punishment, the masked maniac finally missed, swinging wildly with the chair. As Daniels ducked, the chair slammed into the metal ring post, sending 'The Nightmare' stumbling sideways. Daniels, in the form of his life, seized this split-second opening, connecting with a huge Running Dropkick which sent the chair smashing into the Russian's face.      Immediately the masked juggernaut was back on his feet, but the momentum had shifted. It was finally Daniels' turn to bring the offence. Every shot was delivered with a venom and ferocity previously unseen in the former WWE champion. Each blow he inflicted would've felled an oak. But the crazy Russian barely flinched. With great poise and agility, Daniels uncorked his entire arsenal of big moves. That cool Front Missile Drop Kick he does sent Kulakov flying into the guardrails, scaring the living Jesus out of the front four rows of fans, but leaving Vladimir totally unhurt. That sweet Running Knee Strike Thingy connected flush, making a sound like a truck driving into a brick wall, but all it did was snap Daniels's kneepad. A big Fall-away Suplex onto the concrete floor did nothing but damage the concrete floor. A huge Piledriver onto the metal ring steps made nothing but scrap metal. After every big move, Daniels gestured for the referee to begin his 10-count, but his inhuman opponent was back on his feet after barely a second or two. Somehow Daniels got his opponent into the ring and tried his feared Cattle Mutilation submission, with enough force to snap both a normal person's shoulders - but 'The Nightmare' casually just stood up with Daniels on his back like a barnacle, walked about a bit, before nonchalantly tossing the American to the canvas. Pro Wrestling Illustrated called the Cattle Mutilation submission "one of the deadliest finishing moves of all time." Kulakov seemed rather tickled by it. Slowly the fire and the belief were draining from the American Dragon's eyes. He was hitting Kulakov with everything. He was inflicting punishment that would have rendered a dozen opponents unconscious. But the psychotic Russian wasn't even slowing down. The fans started going quiet, you could see everyone was worried the fear and the doubt would come back. His face was going pale. Daniels was starting to panic.  And that's the moment he reached out blindly under the ring for a weapon. He didn't even see the massive brick that found its way into his hand, until he'd smashed Kulakov right in the middle of his face. The English language doesn't really have the words to describe the sound it made... but... imagine if an aeroplane fell out of the sky and crashed through a frozen lake. That smashing, shattering sound, on that scale. That's what the 20,326 fans who witnessed it all heard.     There were pieces of hockey mask and broken brick all over the floor. A shocked silence filled the air. Kulakov's massive hands covered his face in horror. The monstrous Russian was making guttural, growling noises like a wounded bear. For the first time in the bout he was still. Frozen to the spot. Through the gaps between his fingers we could see something of a face - a glimpse of the human underneath. In that instant, the monster became mortal. He was human. A huge, overpowered, insanely strong, ridiculously tough, completely unhinged human... but still human. The fire and confidence suddenly rushed back into Daniels' face. It was a moment of revelation for him. Instantly he knew what to do. He had a plan... ...and that plan was to kick the absolute crap out of the Russian’s legs. Spinning kicks. Drop kicks. Standing kicks. Leaping kicks. Roundhouse kicks. Sliding kicks. Karate kicks. Jiu Jitsu kicks. All the kicks. Lots of kicks. Types of kicks which the world of combat sports is yet to name. Kicks previously unseen in the history of television. So, so, so many kicks.  Daniels was chopping Kulakov down like a tree. For the first time ever ‘The Nightmare’ appeared to be taking damage. And after about 5 minutes of the kicky-est bombardment in wrestling history... the mighty oak that was Kulakov finally fell. He was down, still clutching his face, trying to hold the broken pieces of his mask together.  Referee ‘Boris’ began the count. Seagal screamed orders in Russian at ringside. But the fallen Kulakov was oblivious, too distracted by his broken mask and damaged legs to be aware of what was going on around him. There was nothing our Authority Figure or any of the 20,326 fans screaming in the stands could do as our official reached 8... 9... 10! After Daniels' victory the fans hit our referee 'Boris' with a tidal wave of boos. They were pissed. How dare a 'Russian' referee allow an American such a victory? In reality, however, our referee is Greek, doesn't give a s*** what anybody thinks, and reacted by stealing a beer from some dude in the front row, and necking it in one ginormous gulp.  The burp was magnificent. Match Rating: 68.     One of the stipulations of the bout was that if Kulakov lost, he had to show the world the man behind the mask. He did. And this happened:     That’s the face that now greets me each night, when I close my eyes to sleep. Part of me wishes he’d kept the damn thing on. Angle Rating: 76.     Suddenly a ripple of excitement ran through the crowd like a wave rolling to the shore. Sections of fans were on their feet, turning and scrambling for a better view of something high up in the arena. Our cameras zoomed in on the commotion, following their gaze upwards. Soon we saw what everyone was clamoring to see. Immediately a ‘spontaneous’ round of applause broke out, as up in the VIP Balcony, Vladimir Putin himself took his seat.     Even without the audience reaction you could tell he’d arrived. Because the birds stopped singing. The air fell cold. And all the joy dropped out of the place like a wet, heavy turd. 20,326 fans were on their feet in a flash, clapping their hands. Putin’s supporters among the crowd shouted patriotic slogans because they were really, really, really thrilled to see their glorious leader was among them. Those who were less fond of the guy also showed their support, because they were really, really, really big fans of not getting shot. Putin was supposed to be in attendance from the start of the show, but had been held up on ‘official’ business. He was obviously a busy man doing whatever it is crackpot homicidal despots fill their hours with. He must’ve had decrees to sign, or battle plans to inspect, or flags to wave, or death squads to marshal, or elections to rig, or gays to persecute, or peaceful protests to tear-gas, or... whatever.  He was here. And just in time to watch two guys maim each other in a cage in the name of wholesome family entertainment. The moment his arse was in that chair we lowered the steel and rang the bell.        Ilja Dragunov vs Edge – Steel Cage Match – For The RFW World Title  Ilja was feeling confident as he had almost every Russian (and nearly-Russian) on the roster stood outside the cage, watching his back. Edge looked confident too, even though he just had the geeky-looking ex-hacker Vertigo on the other side of the cage, watching his.   This was the high-action encounter we’d all hoped for. I smiled proudly as every cage match cliché was ticked off the list, one by one:   Both competitors try to bang each other's heads against the cage, but their attempts are blocked - only to miraculously lose this ability later in the match.   Before the bell rings, both competitors must try shaking the sides of the cage, as if to test it's sturdiness. It is mandatory to then pull a worried face, as if to say 'oh s*** this thing's real!'   It is essential to raise the opponent horizontally over one shoulder, then launch them face-first into the cage wall. It'a not a proper cage match if someone isn't hurled into the steel like a f***ing dart. Strangely the opponent will do nothing to stop this happening, as if blissfully unaware of the big metallic headrush they're about to receive.   Thou shalt rub your opponent's face against the metal cage wall, using it like a cheese grater on their skull. The opponent must scream like a bitch throughout. (Although, to be fair, I would too if that happened to me.)   The whole point of a Cage Match is to trap the competitors in the ring with each other, allowing them to beat each other senseless until their feud is settled. That's literally the whole reason for these things - 'there can be no escape'. So naturally both competitors must spend an inordinate amount of time trying to do exactly that.   Despite this being a contest between two muscular, almost physically superhuman athletes, it is mandatory that the walls be climbed as slowly as possible. Every Cage Match has competitors scaling the sides at the speed of a frail, geriatric pensioner with an incontinence problem - it's the law.   Despite having spent so much of the bout building up the drama of climbing to escape the cage, about half way through someone will suddenly remember there's a door, and try that much more sensible option instead.   Neither man could really get ahead though. Every time Dragunov found his rhythm, Vertigo would find ways of distracting him. Every time Edge built momentum, he had half the population of Russia on the outside distracting him. The stalemate continued until suddenly ‘The Fabulous’ John Hennigan hopped over the guardrail, sneak attacking Vertigo from behind. After throwing the unsuspecting Klapstov head first into the guardrail a few times, he quickly ascended the side of the cage with cat-like agility, hitting a stunning Moonsault Press from about the half way mark. Vertigo was out cold. Hennigan yelled in triumphant satisfaction, pleased at achieving a measure of vengeance for the loss earlier. His celebration was cut short though when the big, muscular arm of Ivan ‘The Body’ Markov came crashing down across his back. “Markov’s here! He’s getting revenge too!” Yelled Alex Koslov in a glorious display of stating the obvious. There was then a lovely moment where Hennigan was lifted high into the air in a Gorilla Press Slam position, before being launched head-first into the outside of the cage like a human dart. The whole structure shook with the impact. ‘The Fabulous One’s new ‘Style Squad’ both ran away, squealing with fright. Hennigan and Vertigo lay unconscious on the floor as the victorious former bodybuilder flexed his muscles victoriously. But then he too was taken down, struck down by perhaps the most dangerous, most lethal force in all of wrestling. “It’s Gerald!” shouted Rico Bushido. “He’s doomed!” screamed Koslov in fright. The big, tough Russian was shrieking in pain as the tiny, fluffy little dog lunged fangs-first at his face. The sight of him running laps around the cage, sobbing and shouting as the pampered little pooch enveloped his skull like one of those Face Huggers from Alien, was a highlight of the whole show. Finally the terrified Russian managed to prize the savage beast off him, sending the plucky little pooch flying through the air towards Dragunov’s crowd of Russian tough guys... who all screamed and ran for their lives. The sight of a dozen or so big, vicious, menacing fighters screaming and running like children was as majestic as it was memorable. Suddenly now all the outside interference was gone. Now there could be no more distractions. It was now down to Edge and Dragunov to finish the night with a bang. We'd fastened the cage door with the same oversized chain that Tamerlan Rasuev had been hitting people in the penis with earlier. Edge's main strategy seemed to be to work on unlocking this chain, so he could escape through the door. Every time Dragunov was floored, he'd rush over and keep loosening it. After a while he found it was quicker just to use Dragunov's head to smash the thing open. There were huge cheers as with one last almighty 'smash' the chain gave way and the cage door slid slowly open. Edge's plan had worked - all he had to do was jump out onto the floor and he'd be the new RFW World Champion. He had a huge smile all over his face. He could taste the victory. That was... until a split second later... when all he could taste was blood. The arena filled with boos and jeers as John Hennigan dived over the guardrail, putting his perfumed presence into proceedings for a second time. His two new 'style consultants' distracted our security... while 'The Fabulous One' slammed the steel cage door right in Edge's face. He went flying backwards, wearing the ‘crimson mask’ for the umpteenth time in his long, storied career. Hennigan was laughing his well-groomed ass off. "You interfered in my match! You cost me my victory, my revenge! How does it feel to have the tables turned on you, you big silly Canadian b****?!" He screamed, helpfully outlining his motives for the camera. Edge's protégé Alexandr 'Vertigo' Klapstov leaped in to avenge his fallen mentor, lashing Hennigan with punches and kicks. It was only moments though before John's new 'Style Squad' cronies Bence Toth and Peter Tihanyi dragged him away to a quiet corner and started stomping a mudhole in him.  A groggy Ilja Dragunov slowly got to his feet, clearly furious that another of his World Title Main Events had been marred by outside interference. Perhaps remembering all the crap he got from the fans last time he faced Edge - when half the roster helped him win - he called out to our Authority Figure Steven Seagal, who was watching the match from a plush ringside seat. “Do something! All of Russia is watching!” Pleaded our champion to his mentor. Seagal nodded, then raised a hand. The lights suddenly dimmed dramatically. An online fan actually timed it. They actually got a stopwatch and timed the gap between Seagal's signal and the first scream, as the first skull bounced off the concrete floor. It was 0.581 seconds. Even to this day, there are teams of scientists trying to work out how the hell 'The Nightmare' got into an ass-kicking position so fast. The two Style Squad dorks both got Chokeslammed at the same time.   Above: If you ask me, he's just as scary with or without the mask.   Hennigan put up a bit more of a fight, landing some ferocious Superkicks to the monster's (now unmasked) face. Kulakov took the full impact without flinching, waiting patiently for the onslaught to finish, before delivering a devastating Chokeslam for the ages. Vertigo loved every second of this and was jumping up and down with delight. In his excitement he foolishly tried to high five RFW's pet psycho. He had plenty of time to contemplate his mistake as he was lifted high into the air, before the Chokeslam turned out his lights completely.  Kulakov looked around at the unmoving bodies scattered around him. Satisfied that nobody else was interfering, he easily mounted the cage door back onto it's hinges and re-locked it. It'd taken a team of four stagehands to do that, but Kulakov didn't even break a sweat. 'The Nightmare' then amusingly gave the 'thumbs up' signal, an un-natural, horrifying smile on his weird, creepy face. The match restarted with a roar from the fans. There’s still healthy online debate as to which minor factor made the telling difference between these two evenly-matched competitors. Many believe this was the exact day that Edge’s age finally caught up with him. Others point to the unprecedented motivation of having a whole nation hanging on your every move which may have pushed Dragunov further than ever in his career to date, giving him that intangible ‘x-factor’ to win the bout. Another credible theory is it was the blood loss – by now Edge’s shoulders, hair and chest were coated with the stuff. Not only was the blood-loss making him light-headed, it was running right into his eyes, affecting his vision. My theory is it was the Torpedo Moskau Flying Headbutt did it; I don’t care how good you are or how storied your career’s been – if some dude does a flying headbutt on you from 15 feet in the air, you’re toast. Edge didn’t just lose, he woke up in a strange hospital ward with a rubber nappy on and a massive head-bandage, with no idea where he was how the hell he got there. Match Rating: 69.     As the final bell echoed through the arena, the 20,326 fans were on their feet applauding their champion. The Russian national anthem boomed through the venue. The victorious Dragunov was covered in red, blue and white confetti and ribbons that fell from the sky. Every Russian and nearly-Russian on the roster ran over to our winner, hoisting him up onto their shoulders. The sound was deafening as everyone chanted "Ilja! Ilja!" In unison. Somewhere in the shadowy upper echelons of the arena, Vladimir Putin smiled proudly upon the man the propaganda machine called 'the human archetype of the modern Russia.' Dragunov roared with pride as the World Title was draped ceremoniously over his shoulder. The mood of joyous celebration continued well into the night.      Meanwhile the Canadian challenger stood crestfallen in the ring, the consoling words of his protégé Vertigo falling on deaf ears. Soon his sadness turns to anger. He starts yelling in frustration. A mic is soon in his hands. "I got screwed! Again!" Edge shouts, kicking the side of the cage in temper. It was a convincing performance, considering how glassy his eyes were, and the fact that even to this day he can’t remember saying a single word of it  In stepped Seagal to dispense some Eastern wisdom. "No, little bear, you did not get screwed. I promised you that none of my Russian students would interfere in your match - and they didn't. I even put a big steel cage around you both to protect you from outsiders. Those who did insert themselves did so on the orders of an effeminate American you and your Kohai started a feud with. You interfered in Hennigan's bout, so don't cry when he interferes in yours." Edge is pissed, but he knows Seagal is right. That doesn't make him any less upset though. He looked angry. And more than just a little concussed. But definitely angry. Seagal had a plan. "You want revenge against Hennigan? How about you and your buddy Klapstov..." Suddenly he was interrupted by an unexpected voice near-by. "And me!" Yelled Ivan 'The Body' Markov who'd appeared magically at ringside. He wanted revenge against Hennigan (and his little dog) too. Our Authority Figure sighed, shook his head, then continued. "Fine. Whatever. Edge. Vertigo. Markov. You three go in the main event of Episode 11 against Hennigan and any two partners of his choice." The fans who weren't too busy celebrating Dragunov cheered in delight at this impromptu match. Edge was still s***ting thunder and trying really hard not to fall over, but his protégé Klapstov was cheering him up with the idea of revenge.  As the wrestling drew to a close amid a sea of Russian flags, fireworks and patriotic chants, a big smug smile found it's way onto my normally pale, stressed-out face. We'd done good. Angle Rating: 70.   Overall Show Rating: 65.

This diary is a complete trip!  A trip that I want to take over and over again!  You've got yourself a fan.  

I would say this is my fav diary but it's missing the Russian Crush Natalia Markova...

[The All Elite Wrestling Discussion Thread]

On 2/13/2024 at 7:45 AM, milamber said:

 

I enjoyed the sit down Aminata interview that Renee did.  They need to do more like this for the women's division.  They have a lot of pretty good in ring performers but the problem is they have no characters and people aren't interested in them.  I never really gave much though about Queen Aminata but after watching that interview, I am more vested in her.

With all that said, they do this great interview and then she goes out and loses hahah One step forward, two steps back

[All Elite Wrestling League]

7 hours ago, Wrestling Machine said:

Can we pick a name for the team?

I think you can just message @Nobby_McDonald with your team name.

[How long have you been here?]

Even though I don't post much, I've been part of the online community since November 2005.  I've been playing Ryland games since the release of Extreme Warfare 2... whenever that was..  I think that came out when I was like 11 or 12????

Wow, I've been a fan for almost 30 years!  

Any one know the exact date Extreme Warfare 2 was released?

 

[All Elite Wrestling League]

3 hours ago, christmas_ape said:

Oh my bad. I thought the 5 picks I sent would be used depending on how was available for each pick if that makes sense. But I understand now. 

Sent

There has got to be a better way for us to do this, if not it's going to take us forever to get through these rounds.

[TNA 2024: We are Back!!!]

Just started following your diary but I'm really enjoying it.  Great Rebellion!  Loved that Kamille captured the KO title and AJ STYLES is BACK!!!!!

[All Elite Wrestling League]

3 hours ago, Dawn said:

I DID NOT EXPECT ANYONE TO PICK JOHN MORRISON IN THE FIRST ROUND HE WAS A SUREFIRE PICK OF MINE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Sorry about that 🫢 I'm really surprised no one picked one of my picks. 

 

Good luck everyone in the 2nd Round!!! 

[The Official TNA / Impact / GFW Discussion Thread]

I'm pretty shocked about TNA firing Scott D'Amore.  Wonder if Gisele Shaw is gone too?

[The Monday Night Wars: Opposing Force]

This seems a bit ambitious but you've got a follower in me

[All Elite Wrestling League]

5 hours ago, Nobby_McDonald said:

@WooltsNathan I've noticed your name isn't coming up with a tag like everyone else, and I've also noticed you don't post too often. That's fine, you're entitled to do and post as you please. Having said that, to get this moving, I'll need your first round picks by the weekend so I can close the first round draft picks and we can get started on the second.

@Wrestling Machine has joined up, he has sent me his first round picks. So we definitely have 8 to start.

Try @ WooitsNathan .  I was having trouble at first too because I was putting an "L" after Woo but it's actually an "i"

 

[All Elite Wrestling League]

Are we just waiting on @WooItsNathan ?

 

[All Elite Wrestling League]

My picks have been sent.  Hopefully I did it right

[A Very Ambitious New Dynasty Idea]

I'm really digging the sound of this, so count me as a potential team manager

[Pick My Roster]

No matter what company I play as; I tend to pick the same talent to hire.  They usually consist of my favorite workers in real life.

I am using TheWho87's January Real World mod (however, I have my own created database that I can import a lot of different people from the indies that are not in TheWho87's January Real World Mod.  I can also just add them in myself.)

My company will be similiar to TNA/Impact Wrestling, it will start off with $100,000 and be located in Midwest USA.  I'm looking to have a roster of probably 30 men and 8-10 women.  

This is where you all come in... I want you to pick my roster from wrestlers, to commentators to referees etc

Who are your go to's when it comes to the Real World?  Who are your favorites?  Reply with who you think I should hire:

Male Wrestlers
Female Wrestlers
Tag Teams
Valets/Managers
Referees
Broadcasters
Road Agents

Give me some suggestions, so I don't just fill my roster with the same people AGAIN!

*Please NO workers that are CURRENTLY signed to AEW, WWE or TNA/Impact*

[Edit Gender In-Game Editor]

I'm currently several months into a save and I realized that a worker that I'm trying to hire is listed as a female instead of male.  This was obviously a mistake on the mod maker, however it should be an easy fix in the In-Game Editor.  I swear the option to change gender was in the in-game editor at one time but it's not an option.

Why was this removed or was it never an option?  Can this please be patched in or something.

[Access to HTML for Dynasty posts]

Would you be oh so kind and add me as well

[2007 Mod?]

I've been looking but I can't seem to find a 2007 real life mod.  I would like to reply the beginning of the TNA Knockouts division.

Does a 2007 mod exist?