dstephe4 Posted February 11, 2023 Share Posted February 11, 2023 (edited) 01. Oleg's Pistol 13. Man Of The Year 02. The First Week (Days 1 & 2) Episode 9: The Russian Federation Of Wrestling Presents 'The Art Of War' 03. The First Week (Days 3 To 6) 14. Busted 04. The First Week (Day 7) 15. 'The Event Of The Century' Episode 1: The Russian Federation Of Wrestling TV 16. Bears And Bananas 05. The Next Big Name Episode 10: The RWF Comes To Vladivostok Episode 2: The Russian Federation Of Wrestling TV 17. Blood 06. A Baby In A Suit The Russian Federation Of Wrestling Presents: 'The Event Of The Century' 07. Banned For Life 18. Rockets Episode 3: The Russian Federation Of Wrestling TV 19. Sad Adam 08. The Infernal Machine 20. Skateboards Episode 4: The Russian Federation Of Wrestling TV Episode 11: The RWF Comes To Vostochny 09. Lightning In A Can 21. The Beard Episode 5: The Russian Federation Of Wrestling Presents: "Serious Business" Episode 12: The RWF Comes To Zeya 10. The Arse Of The Dragon 22. Exit Strategy (Coming Soon) Episode 6: The Russian Federation Of Wrestling TV Episode 13: The Russian Federation Of Wrestling TV (Coming Soon) 11. "This Is Russia" 23. Dinner With Dave (Coming Soon) Episode 7: The Russian Federation Of Wrestling TV Episode 14: The Russian Federation Of Wrestling TV (Coming Soon) 12. Kittens 25. The Fixer (Coming Soon) Episode 8: The Russian Federation Of Wrestling TV Episode 15: The Russian Federation Of Wrestling TV (Coming Soon) My nose is bleeding. I smell like a mixture of vodka, sweat and fear. I have a suitcase stuffed with millions of U.S. Dollars in one hand, and a folder full of shady contacts in the other. A small but easily noticeable piss stain adorns the front of my pants. I am alone in a fancy restaurant in Moscow's trendy financial district, awaiting further instructions. Just 2 hours ago I was the victim of perhaps the most bizarre, surreal, frightening, yet strangely exciting kidnapping in sports entertainment history. As a prominent foreign capitalist I'd often been warned of the dangers of doing business in Russia. But I must admit to being somewhat surprised when a team of hired goons showed up at my door, punched me in the face, dragged me off to a nearby car, then carted me off to an undisclosed location somewhere deep within the bowels of the Kremlin. Their efficiency was tremendous, I thought, as they tied me to the chair, before pulling the blindfold off my eyes. The beaming smile of Oleg Matytsin greeted me. I recognised the Russian Minister For Sport right away - we crossed paths at some swanky party last year. "We'll meet again" he said at the time. Seems like he really meant it. He got straight to business, pointing out that Russia's war with Ukraine might just, maybe, possibly not going as well as planned. Worse, despite a nation-wide crackdown on social media and the press, the people were starting to notice the shambles their invasion had become. "What is needed is a distraction" he declared, stroking his chin and nodding sagely. "We shall implement the American style wrestling. But on a grander, more patriotic, more magnificent scale. You are just the American for the job." "Screw you, I'm British" I protested. He laughed. "All corpses in the Moskva River look the same to me, regardless of their passports" he replied. That kind of set the tone for the rest of the meeting. "But I haven't watched wrestling since The Rock had hair!" I protested. "I don't know the slightest thing about pro wrestling!" "Perfect" said Oleg. "Neither do the Americans. Nor most Russians, for that matter. I can already see you are the perfect match for this assignment. Which is lucky for you, as your life depends on it". He poured some expensive-looking vodka into a crystal glass, and had his thugs pour it down my throat. He then placed a pistol on the table, for emphasis. "Some rules!" He exclaimed. "You shall hire the finest Russian athletes and display them to our fine nation, pitting them against their capitalist adversaries, for the glory of our motherland!" He let out a sinister, evil laugh, also for emphasis. "Nobody in Russia speaks like that any more" I muttered, hoping to appear assertive without getting shot in the face. "I do" he replied, spooning Beluga caviar into his mouth as we talked. "This will be wholesome entertainment. For the family. No blood or weapons. And the men shall be real men" he declared, stroking the pistol barrel with his finger as he talked. "The budget? Unlimited. A weekly prime time TV show on Rossiya 1 is yours. And a captive audience of bored Russians is waiting for you to amuse and distract them. You shall create dramas and action. The rest I leave up to you." I was excited and terrified at the same time. I would be starting from scratch, with no knowledge of the wrestling business, and no reputation whatsoever. I have no idea who the hell anyone in today's wrestling is. Randy Orton and John Cena were greenhorn rookies when I stopped watching. Roman Reigns? Who's she? Does she do porn? AEW? NJPW? What are they? Is TNA still a threat? Is Foley still wrestling? Honestly, I've no idea. "Oh, one last thing" he said. "You have one week to put this all together. Your first show is Saturday. Now, be gone!" I woke up some time later with a massive headache, the aforementioned suitcase of cash, that bottle of vodka, and no idea what the heck I was doing. Even now I've no clue. I'm just winging it. I have a week to make a nationally celebrated wrestling federation from scratch. I have no idea what I'm doing. The whole Russian propaganda machine towers over me. And that piss stain on the front of my pants still hasn't dried up. Thank God for vodka. Above: My new boss (and his boss). Edited April 10 by dstephe4 Adam Ryland asked me to remove the swearing and tone down the foul language, which is fair enough. 4 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dstephe4 Posted February 11, 2023 Author Share Posted February 11, 2023 (edited) You'd expect my first signings to be wrestlers, wouldn't you? Don't be silly. That would make sense, given that this is a wrestling company. But nothing makes sense in this crazy, ridiculous story I'm caught up in. Looking back now, it felt more like bringing hoodlums together for a heist, than setting up a wrestling show. Maybe that thought alone should've rang the alarm bells in my brain, but I had one week to set up a whole federation, from scratch, and have it ready for the biggest Prime Time TV slot in the country. There wasn't time for thinking. It was just chaos, and money, and vodka. The first signings of this fledgling trainwreck of a company? My first contracts? Household names to be sure. But rather than looking across the oceans for big, celebrity names, I looked at those already in Mother Russia - particularly those here under shady circumstances. The list of our first hirings read like a rogues gallery of unscrupulous characters and ridiculously big Russian hats: The Authority Figure: Steven Seagal. Yes, really. Yes, that Steven Seagal. The ponytailed tough guy who made a career out of kicking ass, snapping arms, bitch-slapping villains into a slumber, before gently throwing them through thousands of dollars worth of furniture. That Steven Seagal. He was one of the biggest movie stars in the world throughout the 1980s and 1990s. But as the new millennium struck, things were looking bad for big bad Steve. Under highly suspicious circumstances he became a full Russian Citizen in 2016, and was even given his passport by Vladimir Putin himself. Seagal said the move was all about promoting peace between Russia and America, and nothing at all to do with him fleeing $216,361.19 in unpaid taxes. And certainly nothing to do with the $330,000 fine he was facing for unlawfully promoting a shady Crypto scheme either. Given all the trouble he'd gotten himself in to, it wasn't hard to convince him to take my suitcase full of cash in return for his signature. He looked as giddy as a kid on Christmas Eve as he inked his deal. His enthusiastic handshake afterwards snapped six of the bones in my hand. Above: His handshake probably broke Putin's hand too. The Colour Commentator: Finding famous yet morally compromised fighters in Russia turned out to be surprisingly easy. Another case in point? Legendary ex-boxer Roy Jones Jr. He was the Pound For Pound #1 boxer in the world in the 1990s. He won world titles at every weight from middleweight to heavyweight, which is frankly ridiculous. But then Father Time came calling, and slowly the victories turned into defeats. In bizarrely similar circumstances to Seagal, Jones Jr found himself hiding from the tax man, with a mysterious $3,000,000 hole in his finances. In 2015 he was shaking Putin's hand and becoming a Russian Citizen / Propaganda Machine, in an equally bizarre and shady situation. He's worked in the past as a Colour Commentator for HBO and the like covering fights, and did a pretty damn good job. He was only too happy to do the same for us, once I bought him a WWE Network subscription, and explained he could learn wrestling-speak while relaxing in a bathtub full of our cash. Above: We didn't buy the hat though (Putin did). The (Other) Colour Commentator: Having splashed the cash on Americans, we needed a recognisable Russian face too. Unfortunately I couldn't find any, so we made do with a Moldovan instead, and just pretended he was Russian. It wasn't as far-fetched as it sounds, given he spent his wrestling career playing evil Russians, comedy Russians, patriotic Russians, treacherous Russians, and occasionally dancing Russians too. He'd worked for WWE, TNA (whoever they were / are), NJPW (sounds like a boy band) and various other companies I'm told were / are very important. Having retired from wrestling at 39, Alex Koslov was apparently sat at home waiting for a shady businessman to slide a bag full of cash into his lap and whisk him away to a far-away country. He really enjoyed his time in the Russian Federation of Wrestling, which makes sense given all the money, caviar and champagne we gave him. Getting paid your own body-weight in cash to talk about wrestling is one hell of a retirement plan. Above: We didn't buy this hat either - he already had a seemingly endless supply. The Road Agent: My intensive 11 minutes of Google research informed me that we needed a Road Agent. Google said these were important to a wrestling company. Considering I knew about as much about pro wrestling as I did nuclear physics, I wasn't going to disagree. It was clear I needed someone with the following characteristics: - An excellent knowledge of wrestling psychology, fundamentals and story-telling. - A great amount of respect within the industry. - A certain amount of 'moral flexibility', and - A willingness to break the arms of anyone who stood in my way, no questions asked. The man for the job was none other than 'The Franchise' Shane Douglas. Despite me squealing to anyone who'd listen that I "didn't know anything about wrestling," that wasn't completely true. I used to be a wrestling fan. Specifically I used to be a huge ECW fan. Because ECW was absolutely awesome. My interest ended in 2001, at exactly the same time that wonderful circus died. It was a no-brainer to have the first ever ECW World Champion pulling the strings behind the scenes. It had to be Douglas, no matter the cost. Above: 3 of the best technical wrestlers of all time, back in the days when wrestling wasn't a massive bag of s**t. The Interviewer: With the odd exception, Russian wrestling promos have all the fire and energy of one of Boris Yeltsin's turds. We needed someone to bring a little life to our interviews, otherwise our backstage segments would be about as much fun as having a stroke. A quick YouTube search brought me the perfect guy: 'The Party Tsar' Vlad Radinov. Described as the "gilded, hirsute Mary Poppins of wrestling," this guy had the personality, the verve and the plethora of shiny jackets needed to bring this wet fart of a federation to life. Above: Frankly anyone running a wrestling company who doesn't hire this guy is doing it wrong. The erm... Other Two Guys: Time was running out. I had a plane to catch. An exhaustive search had revealed that there wasn't a single Russian licenced referee anywhere in the world. In the end we had to make do with some poor Greek who happened to speak Russian. Nobody could pronounce his name, so to everyone watching the Russian Federation Of Wrestling he was simply 'Boris'. Turns out he was a good referee, already had a supply of those stripy shirts ready to go, and was more than happy to live it large in a penthouse full of cash. By the time I was doing the final hiring, it really was a race against time. A hurry had turned to a panic as the limousine tore through the streets at terrifying speeds towards the airport. While stuck in traffic on the edge of Moscow, we happened upon Rico Bushido, a friendly Swedish (I think?) former wrestler-turned-announcer. He was in Russia shooting a car commercial. I literally dragged the poor sod into the car, threw an envelope full of cash at him, and told him to sign. The look of terror never fully left his eyes, even years later. And so our motley crew of scumbags, hired hands, degenerates (and Shane Douglas) was complete. Not bad for just 2 days of frenzied, directionless, clueless work. As my plane tore into the sky, I began to sleep for the first time since this bizarre adventure began, proud of my efforts so far. The next stage would be to actually sign some wrestlers, which would turn out to be a lot harder than I'd thought... Edited March 28 by dstephe4 Adam Ryland asked me to remove the swearing and tone down the foul language, which is fair enough. 10 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dstephe4 Posted February 15, 2023 Author Share Posted February 15, 2023 (edited) On the morning of my third day in this bizarre acid dream of a situation, my shady new boss decided to grace me with a call. "American!" he snapped like an angry Rottweiler that'd missed its breakfast. "We meet! This morning!" came his machine-gun-like voice. "Oleg" I responded assertively "firstly I'm British. Secondly I never gave you my number, how the hell are you calling me?! Thirdly, I'm in the limo speeding towards the airport for the 7:20am flight. I'm in the sky in less than an hour." "We must discuss wrestlers!" he demanded, his voice beginning to whine like a spoilt kid who didn't get what they wanted for Xmas. "Specifically, you have none! And we go on TV this Saturday! I demand..." I cut him off. I had no time for this crap. "Oleg I have already performed a detailed, in-depth analysis of every active Russian pro wrestler in the world." That stopped him. "But... I... wow. How?!" The Russian Minister For Sport was fumbling for words like a virgin on prom night. "I did it on the plane journey home last night. It took nearly 10 whole minutes and about 3 browser windows. Choosing from the Business Class wine list took longer." There was a stunned silence on the line. I could hear the rusty cogs of his brain grinding along. He was beginning to see the situation. "There are only about 7 Russian pro wrestlers active anywhere in the world. If the plan was to fill our roster with a multitude of high-action Russian pros and make them all into stars, then we're screwed. I'm told we need about 20 proper wrestlers on the roster if we're to not look amateurish. Even if I mix in a bunch of Belarusians, Kosovans, Georgians etc we won't even be half way." He didn't like that. "Why are you flying then?!" he snarled. "Oleg, there is only one genuinely talented Russian wrestler in the whole world. And he's actually good. Very good. But he works for WWE under their NXT umbrella. Me and my two suitcases full of money will be with him soon. Normally we wouldn't stand a chance - WWE's contracts are water-tight. But they're in crisis mode right now. Vince McMahon's embroiled in some kind of weird, creepy scandal and has been forced out of his own company. Stephanie McMahon's quit under mysterious circumstances. The WWE board are all feasting on each other's bloody remains like piranhas. There's talk of a hostile takeover by a dodgy Saudi consortium. If ever there was a time for a crafty Brit in an Armani suit to swoop in and raid their roster, this is it. This guy is everything to us, Oleg. We may as well pack up and go home if we can't get this guy. I don't care if it takes all the champagne and caviar in the world - we're having this guy." A painfully long silence filled the air. It wasn't like Oleg Matytsin to be this quiet. Either he was coming round to my way of thinking, or he was silently arranging my death - it was hard to say which. Finally he spoke. "You said two suitcases of money?" I almost laughed. The grumpy old toad didn't miss a thing. "Did you mean what you said, that serious money would be at my disposal?" I asked. Another silence. I could tell he didn't like where this was going. "And you were serious about me bringing the big, big names to Russia?" I pushed, a smile appearing on my face. The silence continued until finally he mumbled "... yes." I leaped on this like a swarm of sharks at feeding time. "Good. Because I'm meeting Bill Goldberg's people this afternoon. His representatives already agreed the numbers. I just have to bring the cash. He's technically been a free agent since WWE Elimination Chamber 2022. Once they heard the numbers involved they were excited to be on board." I clutched one of the suitcases closer to my chest as I waited for his response. "Nonsense!" Oleg interjected. "You cannot be signing anyone that big. It is not possible!" "Oleg, I actually signed Goldberg at about 5am this morning! He's the first ever signing of the Russian Federation Of Wrestling! I just have to give them the money and then he's flying back first class with me. It'll be me, Bill and my Russian on a fancy plane ride home, drinking champagne, toasting the future of our great new company. Just you wait and see." I hung up with a big, smug smile on my face. The limo came to a halt outside Sheremetyevo Alexander S. Pushkin International Airport. It was time to do business. Above: I would rack up some serious air miles during my time with the Russian Federation Of Wrestling. Day 3's signings: The big American and the medium-sized Russian. Above: Bill Goldberg and Ilja Dragunov. My meeting with the nameless executive from WWE went better than planned. To say he was distracted by the chaos facing his company would be the understatement of the century - the poor guy looked like he was about to jump out the window any moment. Losing one wrestler from the NXT roster was the least of WWE's concerns right now. In the end I managed to buy out his contract and buy the rights to the Ilja Dragunov name for less than the cost of a used Honda Civic. The Goldberg signing had my shady Russian overlords excited, but exposed my total lack of wrestling knowledge. Little did I know I was getting what was left of Bill Goldberg. When talking to his agents, I envisioned the indestructible force who destroyed the whole WCW roster without even having to shower afterwards. What I ended up with was an old man in Goldberg's trunks who'd need medical resuscitation after 5 minutes of in-ring action. His name was legendary. I just had to be creative about how we'd use him, or else he'd have a heart-attack, keel over and die in the ring. (I was told that would be bad for business.) Day 4's signings: The Russian 'talent'. Above, from left to right: Alen Khubulov, Tamerlan Rasuev, Aleksandr "Vertigo" Klaptsov, Alexei Ugrumov, Anton "Big Daddy" Deryabin, Ivan "The Body" Markov, Ilya Malkin, Sergey Belyev, "The Nightmare" Vladimir Kulakov. The last 7 were signed by me with no fuss at all. They were happy to come back to Russia and earn some serious cash after careers being jobbed out all over Europe. The first 2 caught me by surprise though. It was on day 4 that a calmer Oleg Matytsin rang me. The incandescent rage was missing from his voice, replaced with something approaching happiness. "American!" he bellowed jovially. "It is not only you who can sign superstars! I have not one but two splendid new wrestlers for you. Both excellent men. Both the pride of Russia! I will bring you none other than... Alen Khubulov and Tamerlan Rasuev!" The call fell silent as he waited for applause. I didn't clap. Have you heard of Alen Khubulov and Tamerlan Rasuev? No? Me neither, and I'd been in Russia since 2014. Unlike the merry band of anonymous, distinctly average Russian's I'd spent my day signing, these two turned out to be household names throughout the country. They were the finalists of the Russian National Wrestling Championships in 2022. This is real wrestling by the way, not the crap I was selling. These two were the real deal. Proper athletes. Above, in blue: Alen Khubulov hurting people in the name of the Motherland. It was a tournament that captured the imaginations of the whole country, and propelled both men to whatever passes for fame in this weird, ridiculous country. Alen Khubulov emerged the winner, starting a bitter rivalry between the two, which they brought with them into the Russian Federation Of Wrestling. These two hated each other's guts and couldn't wait for another chance to damage and maim each other on national television. To be fair to old Oleg, on paper it seemed he'd done a pretty smart thing by signing them. But the reality was far different. Neither of them had even a minute's pro wrestling experience. Even with my guy Shane Douglas training them around the clock, they'd be going into our debut show with less than a week's pro wrestling training - which could be a recipe for disaster. I was terrified from the moment they climbed through the ropes. Day 5's signings: The (Almost) Russian 'talent'. Above, from left to right: "Dirty" Dragan Spazic, "Sadistic" Sasa Keel, Kris "The Falcon" Jokic, Bence Toth, Peter Tihanyi, István "Dover" Szalay, Áron "Icarus" Kiss. With there literally not being enough Russian pro wrestlers to fill a minibus, I had to get creative. This meant padding our roster with a bunch of 'nearly' Russian hired hands. I visited half of Europe trying to find new wrestlers who I could pass off as Russian and who'd join me in this messed-up adventure. I ended up with a Bosnian, a Croatian, an Albanian, and a limo full of Hungarians. All of them were raring to go, but all of them were average at best. Day 6's signings: Nobody. On my last day of filling our ranks with literally anybody even vaguely Russian-sounding, I stumbled upon an absolute gem. Have you ever heard of a Bulgarian wrestler called 'Miro'? I hadn't. But he's great. He works for something called AEW, and he was exactly what we needed. I picked up the phone and rang some guy called Tony Khan, who I was told was the man to talk to about this sort of thing. I offered him any amount of money in the world to release Miro from his iron-clad written contract. He spent the next 15 minutes laughing at me down the phone, then hung up on me without even saying 'goodbye'. Above: Miro. You can't blame a guy for trying, right? I spent the rest of the day in the bath, drinking vodka, trying not to cry. It was quickly apparent that our starting roster wasn't enough. We only had 2 wrestlers who were anything near 'Main Event' - one was really good at wrestling, but not even slightly famous. The other was incredibly famous, but couldn't wrestle at all any more. My work in signing new superstars for The Russian Federation Of Wrestling would have to continue. Each week in the early days, we'd unveil a "HUGE NEW SIGNING" - it was the only way there'd be any chance of making this work. I had to add some diamonds to this turd-fest, or find myself going for a walk along the roof of a skyscraper and "accidentally" falling off. None of that stuff could help me now though. Our first TV show was just a day or two away, and based on the limited talent we'd rustled up so far, we were screwed. Edited March 28 by dstephe4 Sorry, Adam. 6 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Pteroid Posted February 15, 2023 Share Posted February 15, 2023 Push the man with the silly visor 1 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
SonOfSharknado Posted February 16, 2023 Share Posted February 16, 2023 To be honest, I could see TK being willing to let Miro go for an obscene amount of Russian money. I mean, it's not like he's doing anything with him at the moment. Or for the last few months. I'd guess the smart thing to do would be to put the shooters in a tag match on either side with Ilja and Goldberg to protect em. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dstephe4 Posted February 16, 2023 Author Share Posted February 16, 2023 (edited) 10 hours ago, Pteroid said: Push the man with the silly visor This guy? Aleksandr "Vertigo" Klaptsov? I wasn't going to, but because you asked me to, I will. That's not a wrestling photo of him, by the way. That's his street attire. He dresses like that in public. I've written the first 3 shows so far. His push will begin in episode 4. Thanks for reading, please stay along for the ride. 4 hours ago, SonOfSharknado said: To be honest, I could see TK being willing to let Miro go for an obscene amount of Russian money. I mean, it's not like he's doing anything with him at the moment. Or for the last few months. I'd guess the smart thing to do would be to put the shooters in a tag match on either side with Ilja and Goldberg to protect em. Yeah, to be fair we do end up sharing two of our Big Name New Signings with AEW. This shady new Russian Federation Of Wrestling may have tons of cash to throw around, but so does AEW, so it made sense a couple of guys would end up in both. Yes protecting the Russian Amateurs would make sense, but they have less than 30 as their 'Safety' attribute, so the only question is who they'll maim first - themselves, each other, or one of the famous international stars who'd join us in the coming weeks. Ilja is talented enough to 'protect' anyone. Goldberg on the other hand, despite his 84 years of in-ring experience, doesn't even have the stats to protect himself lol Thanks for coming on board, and for reading - very much appreciated. Note: The crap listed above is by no means the final roster. I've edited the post to make it clear that big new signings are coming. I can imagine a few reading the names above and being underwhelmed. That's part of the challenge here though - how to make an nationally beloved wrestling show while still having these turdy Russians front-and-centre. A big Thank You to everyone who has 'Liked' my ridiculous posts so far. The first 3 shows are already written. I'm well on with number 4 and having a great time writing this silly crap. I hope you all continue to like it and keep reading - if you enjoy the stuff so far, you'll love the stuff that's coming up. Edited February 16, 2023 by dstephe4 6 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
KingKennit Posted February 17, 2023 Share Posted February 17, 2023 Personally I'm not underwhelmed by the roster at all, I like the idea of you trying to make chicken salad out of chicken shit with all the homegrown guys, it kinda gives me Ring Ka King vibes. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MidKnightDreary Posted February 17, 2023 Share Posted February 17, 2023 I'm 1000% sold on this whole project. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dstephe4 Posted February 18, 2023 Author Share Posted February 18, 2023 (edited) Real life: The voice in my head: "Hey! You've been drinking all night! Immediately log on to your laptop and post another chapter of that weird new dynasty thing you're doing! Immediately." Me (out loud. Out very loud): "Yes boss". Wife (upstairs): "Who are you talking to?!" Me (panicking): "There's a ghost in my laptop!" Wife: "I'm not angry. I'm just disappointed!" Konstantin Ernst has a reputation as a real badass. A deserved reputation too. His TV station Rossiya 1 (aka Russiya 1, aka Russia 1) survived as the biggest channel in the most corrupt country on Earth, through Communism, the fall of the USSR, the calamitous Yeltsin years, and even now under Putin's iron fist. Like many top Russians, he was up to his tits in corruption too. He was definitely not to be messed with. Having faced down tyrants all his career, being stuck in a room with me must have been a real disappointment. I began the meeting, but he just sat there, silently judging me with a cold stare that made my balls retreat back into my body. I cracked a joke. Still no words, just the stare. I offered him a cigarette. Nothing. I offered him a coffee and a cigar. Nothing. Line of coke and a hooker? Nothing. He just sat there, measuring me with his eyes. He could see every shred of my being, my strengths, my weaknesses, and every lump of my bulls***. He saw right into my very soul with those death-trap eyes. And he was not impressed. If you watch a person closely enough you can see what they're made of. Some are weaved from the smoothest silk. Some personalities are chiselled from the toughest steel. I was carved from a mixture of ham, cheese and crap. This guy was made of pure liquid nitrogen. After a while I got the message, shut the hell up, and tried not to cry. I think it nearly worked. After what felt like an ice age, he finally began to talk... "I am surprised you are not yet quite dead" he said, coldly. I searched for a smile or a hint of sarcasm. Nothing. I tried to smile but was too busy devoting all my energy into not crying. "Relax your ridiculous face" he added. "For the Moskva river is filled with corpses much less worthy than your own." Was that meant as a compliment, I wondered? Above: Konstantin Ernst hanging out with an old pal. "Mr American" he began. "Screw you, I'm British" I snapped. He dismissed my feeble words with a wave of his hand. "Rossiya 1 has considered starting a wrestling company on 3 occasions, analysed the pros and cons to extreme detail each time, and found the proposition dangerously impossible. We made moves during what they called 'The Attitude Era' and again during the 'Ruthless Aggression' phase. Again we considered moving into pro wrestling when the Middle Easterns moved into the 'sport' with that ridiculous AEW money-laundering exercise. And every time our conclusion was that the industry is toxic." He took a sip of mineral water before continuing his grand speech. "Never has there been so much spent on wrestling for so little return. WWE survives now purely on toy sales to educationally subnormal children. The Vince McMahon scandal is its death rattle. AEW is little more than the expensive play-thing of an overly powerful man-child. Impact Wrestling is so dead nobody even realises it is alive. NJPW invested millions on a failed expansion into America, only to realise the keyboard warriors that make up their Western fan-base do not spend money. The industry is screwed. The world economy is in the toilet. The economy of Russia, where you wish to do business, is so bad that bread is considered a luxury item." Another big sip of water. Another dramatically long pause. "Why do you think you have only one week to launch this whole venture? This doomed 'Russian Federation Of Wrestling' scheme was first created over 6 months ago. They offered your position first to Eric Bischoff. He rejected it. Then Paul Heyman did likewise. Vince Russo is a sensible man; he would not return their calls. Even Hulk Hogan turned it down. Stephanie McMahon was the next target as soon as she quit WWE. She laughed in their faces. Finally the situation became such a humiliating panic, Minister Of Sport Oleg Matytsin had to intervene personally. The fact he settled for a no-name flashy Western Capitalist, with no knowledge of wrestling whatsoever, illustrates what a tragic comedy the whole situation has become." Pause. Water. Sip. And he continued again. "You will have noticed the complete lack of wrestling talent available in Russia. And what little talent exists is anonymous and un-marketable. Yet the Ministry will expect you to push these no-hopers and cover them with glory. They say you can't polish a turd, but that is what they demand of you here. Even with all the money at your disposal, you cannot turn arse-water into champagne." Another pause. Another sip. I was forming an irrational hatred for mineral water. "So tell me, what do you have to put my mind at ease? What do you have that makes it worth me cancelling a 30+ year running sitcom just to put your travesty of a show in a prime time slot? What do you have for me?" I gulped away the fear, put my bravest big boy face on, and went for it. "I have three things" I said with a confidence far overstepping my situation. "First, I have a prime time slot on the biggest TV network in the country, as you said. Secondly I have nothing to lose. Thirdly... I have Bill Goldberg." He finally showed something like emotion on hearing that last part. Something vaguely resembling a smile lit up his poker face for a split-second. "Perhaps, little American, you do stand a chance. Perhaps you will succeed, at least as far as your ridiculous circumstances allow. Perhaps you will last a year before the FSB (KGB) strip you naked and throw you into the Siberian wasteland from a helicopter. I wish you well." Above: Rossiya 1 / Russiya 1 / Russia 1 - the biggest divider of people since the Berlin Wall. With the pleasantries out of the way, we got to business. Ernst explained that Rossiya 1 would technically own the Russian Federation Of Wrestling, but the real owner was the Russian State itself. He also explained that he had managed to bulk-buy some knock-off wrestling championship belts on the black market. 6 of them. I wondered what the hell we were going to do with so many trinkets, but between us we decided upon a system of titles. This being Russia, each came with its own needlessly elaborate set of rules: The RFW World Title. "Goldberg is by far your greatest asset" said Konstantin wisely. "But he must never hold this title. His capitalistic, immoral greed helped sink WCW. He shall never get such a foothold here." The RFW National Title: To be defended by Russians only, and those from countries that are "Russian at heart" as Ernst put it. That meant Belarus, Georgia and all the other little nations that speckle that charming part of the globe. I took that to mean "the countries Putin has his eye on next." Holders of this belt must defend it 5 times in a row, then will be offered the chance to vacate the strap in return for a World Title shot. The RFW International Title: Like the above, with the same 5 defences stipulation, but for foreign workers only. Konstantin threatened to cut off both of my legs with a rusty old saw if Goldberg got his hands on this title either. The RFW Invitational Title: We'd only unleash this one if the roster ever got big enough and established enough to pull it off. Basically the champion would have to face a surprise opponent every time, which could be any wrestler in the world from outside the company. If defended by a RWF wrestler 5 times it could be traded in for a World Title shot, like the other belts. If it was defended by a non-RWF person 5 times, they'd get an RWF contract and a suitcase full of money. And caviar and champagne. And a helicopter. And a Russian passport and a dinner with Putin. And a magic dragon that poops out pizza. How the hell should I know, I was making this crap up as I went along. I just wanted Konstantin to stop turning my nuts into ice cubes! The RWF Tag Team Titles: You've seen wrestling before. You know what these are. After 5 defences the champions may vacate to fight for World honours. The catch? The champions must fight each other first to decide who gets the shot. And with that all 'sorted out', my new business partner bid me farewell. Despite everything that'd happen between the Russian Wrestling Federation and Russiya 1, I would mysteriously never ever see this man again. I pondered the enormity of my task as my limo took me back to the office for another late night. Week 1 was drawing to a close, and I'd somehow made it this far without getting shot in the face, or thrown off a bridge by shady Russian hoodlums. Our first ever broadcast was hours away. We were as ready as we'd ever be. The stage was set. All we had to do now was try our very best not to balls it up... Edited March 28 by dstephe4 Written when sober. Edited when drunk. Of course there's edits! 4 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dstephe4 Posted February 19, 2023 Author Share Posted February 19, 2023 (edited) The evening after the Russian Federation of Wrestling's first ever show wasn't short of excitement. We'd invited an American to the show, and he certainly added spice to proceedings. "DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!!" Bellowed the voice so loud it'd be measured on the Richter Scale. "DO YOU DISRESPECTFUL, LOUSY, NO-GOOD PIECES OF CRAP KNOW WHO I AM?!" He screamed, loud enough to shake the glass in the windows. "Yes" I said calmly. "Aaaaaaagh!" A beast-like scream was unleashed as he picked up an entire sofa and threw it missile-like at the wall. Both exploded. "I am Bill f****** Goldberg! Bill f****** Goldberg! BILL f****** GOLDBERG!!!" The man was literally purple with rage. It was a magnificent sight to behold. The sofa was not alone in its fate. Next went the TV, then the drinks cabinet, then the light fittings were torn from the ceiling. 'Boris' The Referee hid behind me, trembling with fear, using me like a human shield. Vlad Radinov was openly crying while cowering behind my desk. Shane Douglas didn't even look up from his McDonald's Happy Meal - clearly during his time in WCW he'd seen this stuff before. But wait... I'm getting ahead of myself... I should probably tell you what lead us to this fun little scene... Russian Federation Of Wrestling TV. Broadcast on Russiya 1. Held in a quaint yet strangely enchanting (and definitely haunted) old theatre on the edge of St Petersburg, 1000 in attendance. Despite nearly 40 years of movie-making experience, it was clear right away that Seagal was no better at acting than when he mumbled his way onto our screens back in 1988. Delivering his lines with all the flash and flair of a stoned geography teacher, our leathery legend opened the show: "Fine citizens of Russia. For years I have travelled this magnificent country in search of the finest young fighters it could offer. I have trained these fine warriors in fighting skills beyond imagination. Each week they will prove themselves against the best international wrestling stars money can buy. This festival of combat shall be known as The Russian Federation Of Wrestling. And we begin tonight!" Despite the hammy delivery, the fans went wild for this crap. The very sight of Russian Citizen Steven Seagal was enough to make them dizzy with excitement. Add to that the promise of violence, and you have the best opening segment anyone could've ever dreamed of. Angle Rating: 85. Suddenly all hell breaks loose. There's smoke. There's fireworks. There's lasers. There's big, loud rock music. And out steps none other than Bill f****** Goldberg! The 1000 people in attendance immediately lost their minds. People cried with joy. Colour commentator Alex Koslov literally fainted. To be fair, this was probably the biggest moment in Russian cultural history since the first McDonalds opened in Moscow back in 1990. "I am here to make wrestling history!" Goldberg bellowed. "I will become the first ever RFW World Champion, and I'm gonna crush any worm that stands in my way! Who's next?!?!" Corny dialogue aside, this guy made a career out of yelling, and he was on fine form tonight. With an approving nod from Seagal, former NXT hotshot Ilja Dragunov steps forward. The two go face-to-face, stare each other down, before Goldberg walks off with a big, smug grin on his face. Angle Rating: 78. Alen Khubulov vs Tamerlan Rasuev - For The Russian National Title I guess this is what you get when two guys who've been training to be pro wrestlers for less than a week share a ring. Factor in also the simmering tension that's existed between these two since the 2022 National Wrestling Finals. It started out as the Technical Masterclass I asked for, until both of them got bored of that and started beating the crap out of each other for real. Watching these two legitimately tear lumps out of each other was lots of fun. It was an ode to the wrestling knowledge of our fans that not a single one of them noticed the difference, even after purple bruises started exploding over the competitor's bodies like landmines. Short attention spans are not a uniquely American thing, it turns out. Seems Russia isn't quite ready for 20 minute mat classics just yet - the fans got bored half way and amused themselves by throwing empty beer cans at each other instead. In the end, 2022's real-life winner came up on top in 2023 also, claiming the RFW National Title in the process. The end came when Khubulov abandoned all technical pretences and catapulted Rasuev skull-first into the corner post. The whole ring shook. 'Boris' the referee ran over to Rasuev to see if he was okay, found him to be an incoherent, drooling mess, then called off the match. We pretended that was the scripted ending, and moved on very quickly. Match Rating: 51. After the match, Seagal and the rest of his travelling circus came to the ring to congratulate the Russian Federation Of Wrestling's first ever champion. Khubulov was so proud he could barely hold back the tears. Rasuev was so pissed he had to be physically dragged from the ring. The real-life history between these two could lead to a fun feud... so long as they didn't kill each other first. Angle Rating: 58. 10 Man Battle Royal - Winner Is #1 Contender For The Russian National Title - you don't actually care who the competitors are, just look at the pretty pictures This match was exactly what you'd expect when 10 of the most distinctly average wrestlers you never heard of do battle for no apparent reason, with the promise of the winner being in a meaningful match-up next time. To the sound of mild, polite applause, the lad with the Halloween mask threw a lot of people out of the ring. The slightly faster goateed one who doesn't shave won. The one in the pink underpants also did well. Not a single s*** was given by anyone. One thing it did show, however, is that it will take great amounts of imagination and vodka to get these guys over. Match Rating: 41. Next up, our intrepid interviewer 'Party Tsar' Vlad Radinov is interviewing none other than Bill frumping Goldberg. Goldberg yells. Goldberg snarls. Goldberg shouts. I can't remember what he actually said, but it doesn't really matter. You get the idea, and Dragunov'd better watch out. Angle Rating: 84. Bill Goldberg vs Ilja Dragunov - For The World Title All the fans expected this to be a massacre, with Dragunov playing the role of Sacrificial Lamb. But the stubborn Russian had other ideas. They brawled all around the ring, up the ramp, through the crowd, all in a fiery yet family-friendly way. The ageing former WCW icon threw everything he had at his younger foe, including hitting all 4 of his moves, but the Russian just wouldn't back down. As Old Bill tried for a Jackhammer, Ilja managed to wriggle out of it, grabbed his opponent's leg, and locked on a nasty-looking Indian Death Lock. Earlier that evening, I'd told Bill he was going to put over Dragunov via a submission, and he freaked out. "I'm Bill flanging Goldberg" he screamed at me. "Bill frollocking Goldberg does not tap!" And so it went - no matter how long the hold was applied, the former WCW mainstay refused to submit. But Dragunov wasn't intimidated. After a while, he simply lost patience, and applied the hold for real. Goldberg screamed. Goldberg tapped. And what our marketing team would insist on calling "The Upset Of The Century" was burned unto the history books. Young Dragunov was ecstatic. Old Bill flunking Goldberg was not. Welcome to Russia, old man. Match Rating: 50. Overall Show Rating: 60. My very expensive screaming American kept throwing the furniture. Even when everything had been thrown and smashed, he'd pick up the broken pieces and throw them and smash them again. Our announcer Rico Bushido walked in mid-way through the barrage, and despite a lifetime of martial arts experience, ran away like a frightened little girl. Vlad Radinov and 'Boris' the referee had both jumped out the window and were huddled in fear on the balcony outside, watching the scene unfold with terror. Shane Douglas by now had finished eating his McDonalds Happy Meal, was still completely unfazed by the carnage, and was struggling to assemble the free toy. I wasn't afraid. I'd expected this since I'd made the decision to shock the whole Russian nation by having the terrifying American legend tap to the unheralded homegrown hero. I knew Dragunov would have to make the big, angry old goat tap for real. And I knew hell would follow afterwards. After an eternity of rage and smashing, the man seemed to be finally slowing down. I looked at my Rolex - this tirade had lasted 6 minutes - about as long as he could manage in the ring these days before gassing out in a similar fashion. I reached into my desk drawer and stared thoughtfully at the Makarov Pistol I had stashed in there. I'd thought about using it a few times as thousands of dollars of furniture went flying past my head. "Just one little squeeze of that trigger" I pondered. Despite being far from the first person to think of shooting Bill Goldberg, I thought better of it. "You can't just shoot Bill Goldberg in the face" I told myself. "Imagine the paperwork." The Ministry would not be pleased if I'd spent all that money bringing a wrestling legend half way around the globe, only to shoot him repeatedly until bits of him started falling off. I sighed and grabbed a roll of cash in a rubber band instead. With all my might I flung it at his massive head. It made a satisfying 'thwap' sound as it bounced off his skull. Panting, crimson with fury and laced with sweat, Goldberg finally fell silent with a mixture of exasperation and shock. He grabbed the roll with his massive hand and unravelled it. Immediately his whole attitude changed. The fury transformed immediately to a smile. I didn't even bother saying anything, I just walked out, hoping the stench of fear wouldn't follow with me. Moments later I was outside in the crisp, cool night air. This would be a harrowing experience for many, but this was just a normal night for me in Russia. This country's crazy. You get used to this crap. Suddenly a familiar, Pitbull-like voice snapped me out of it. "American!" it shouted. I faked a smile and turned to face my shady new boss Oleg Matytsin, who was waiting for me with a hoard of trenchcoat wearing hired goons. I was half expecting to be gagged, tied and thrown into a nearby river. But instead the creepy old toad looked pleased - or at least as pleased as his Gargoyle-like face would allow him to look. "You did well!" he purred. "The Ministry, they are pleased!" "Really?!" I stuttered, somewhat shocked. "The show was okay I guess. I was disappointed though. I was hoping for something grand, ground-breaking, Wrestlemania-esque. I was worried you guys would be underwhelmed." The big, gangly Russian shook his head. "нет" he said. "Tonight a prime time audience watched a good Russian man upset the odds to become a World Champion. It will be known as the Upset Of The Century. It will make the people of Russia proud, and will take their thoughts away from other... overseas distractions." "I'm glad you liked it" I said, relieved. "да" smiled Oleg. "Yes. I am happy. Tonight, in front of the whole nation, American wrestling legend Bill Goldberg came to our country, and we made him our bitch!" I couldn't help but burst out laughing. Maybe I would survive this crazy adventure after all... Me (out loud. Out very loud again): The shows DO get bigger and better! I promise! Edited February 20, 2023 by dstephe4 Mental note: Stop drinking and posting. 5 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dstephe4 Posted February 20, 2023 Author Share Posted February 20, 2023 (edited) Real life again: This one started life as a drunken rant I seemed to have left in the intro to Episode 1. I left it up for a while as a sort of "holy crap, what the hell did I post?!" kinda moment, mainly for my own amusement. Then I took it out, decided to have a little fun and expand it into this... "I'm gonna crush you! I'm gonna snap you into bits and crush all the little pieces! I will destroy you! You messed with the wrong guy!" The first ever ECW World Champion was furious. Incandescent with rage. His hands shook with the sheer emotion of it all. He was a man pushed to the far reaches of his emotional limits. "You know who you're messing with, you little punk?! You think you're gonna get the better of an NWA legend that easily, you cocky little piece of crap?! You are garbage! I will not let you beat me!" I tried not to laugh. "Troy, you've had that thing for 3 days now. Give it up already" I said, in disbelief at the situation. "I'm not giving up, you little plastic b*****d!" screamed the man they called The Franchise. "I don't know why you chose a Happy Meal anyway. You had the whole McDonalds menu to pick from" I said. It's not every day you get to see a wrestling legend like Shane Douglas being defeated by a free children's toy. "The menu was in Russian! I can't read that crap! I just panicked" he said, as his massive fingers clamped down on the tiny little components again. It was like watching a grizzly bear trying to do a Rubix Cube. "Besides, I've been at it for 72 hours. I can't give up now!" He carried on, grunting and snarling as his powerful hands failed time and time again. "I don't get it. You were so calm when Goldberg lost his mind. Everyone else was running for their lives. You didn't even flinch. Yet a little plastic robot with a rubber-band propeller has you five seconds from a killing spree." The tongue came out in concentration. Beads of sweat appeared on the forehead. The face was burgundy with an impressive mixture of effort and hatred. "I! DO! NOT! LOSE! Besides, that crap the other night was classic Bill Goldberg. He'd do it all the time during the Nitro tapings. It was part of the routine. Bill would scream, turn purple, throw things... Eric Bischoff would cry, wet himself, then hand the big goofy b*****d a pay raise. Nash, Hall, all of them did it. You get used to that crap. Besides, what was he going to do once the furniture was all smashed? Hold his breath until you gave in, maybe? Stomp his feet? Next time don't throw a roll of cash at his head, throw a rock instead. That big, ridiculous bitch of a man deserves it." I tried not to laugh. I'd assumed all the insane stuff going on was a uniquely Russian thing. Maybe this was just what the world of wrestling was like? "Anyway" countered Douglas "I saw you shouting at that TV just now. You got just as riled up. You got so angry I thought the veins in your neck were gonna explode! You're just as crazy as the rest of us. What are you watching? It looks ridiculous." He looked up from his failed little project and stared at the screen. "Hey! Moron! You're trying to like wrestling again! I warned you not to! You fell out of love with this ridiculous 'sport' around 2001. Things haven't got any better since then!" "But I want to like wrestling! Why won't it let me?!" I whined. "I'm a professional wrestling promoter now. I probably should like wrestling. Besides, my life probably depends on it! I'm trying to like it, I really am! Take this show for instance! It's 'All Out' by AEW. This is apparently the best there is now. The second match had some guy called 'Omega' in it in a Mexican-style 'Trios' match and it was fantastic. It really got my hopes up that wrestling in 2023 might be worth bothering with. I was like an excited kid again, it was great. But then the next one came on and I just lost my mind! This is the best that wrestling has to offer... in the world... with an unlimited budget... in real life... they have the likes of Sonjay Dutt and 'Hail' Chris Sabin... and... and... they just lost the match BECAUSE AN 8 YEAR OLD GIRL SNAPPED A PENCIL!" Above: Yes, it really happened. I'm not making it up. Follow the underlined link above to see that shambles for yourself. I showed Shane Douglas the bit I meant. He literally almost pissed himself with laughter. Finally he was distracted from that McDonalds toy. He had a new thing to be mad at instead. "So do better then" he said. "AEW aren't the only ones with an unlimited budget and all that. You can afford to sign any wrestler in the world. Just sign some superstar names, put them in a ring together, then stand back and admire the fireworks." "It's not that easy, unfortunately. All these indy darlings like Omega and all those other hairy men in underpants are basically unknown in Russia. I was watching a guy called Ricochet yesterday. He was amazing, but my product is... like... 70/30 split in favour of popularity over performance, so it just wouldn't work." "Wow... that's an oddly specific number you just pulled out of your ass there. There's loads of megastars who can still 'go'. You got Goldberg, now go and get the rest" shrugged Douglas. "But Goldberg can't wrestle for more than 5 minutes without having a cardiac arrest! I don't want The Russian Federation Of Wrestling to be some crappy retirement farm for washed-up, over-the-hill geriatrics. But everyone young is tied into an iron-clad contract by WWE or AEW. I'm screwed. I can only choose from popular wrestlers who can't wrestle, or good wrestlers that nobody gives a flying crap about." Douglas wasn't giving up on this. "Just fire off the names of who's available. We'll decide between us whether they're worth hiring or not." This seemed like a strangely sensible idea from a guy who'd just lost a 3 day war of attrition with a children's toy. I went for it: "Hulk Hogan?" "Nope. I mean he's the most recognised American wrestler ever and the Russians would LOVE to see Dragunov put the frail old fart in a zimmerframe for the rest of his life. But he made a really creepy... and strangely racist... sex tape. He was balls deep in some old guy's wife and it was all over the internet. Hard pass." I paused in disbelief. They say real life is stranger than fiction. Wrestling takes that to a whole new level. "Shawn Michaels? I loved that guy when I was a kid. And he made a comeback not so long ago when shady Middle Eastern crooks threw a bag of money at him... which is exactly what I'd do, to be fair." "That could work. He's a hardcore Christian now. That could work well with the traditional Russian Orthodox Christian vibe this country's got going on right now. He looks about 55 years old, but that's because... well... he IS. You can't have him because of your high-and-mighty stance on veterans." "Eddie Guerrero?" "Dead. WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, MAN?! Have you been living under a rock or something?!" Ouch. "I've been in Russia since 2014, so... yeah. I guess I have been living under a rock. Speaking of which... how about..." "... The Rock?!" "Dream on. He's one of the biggest movie stars in the world now. You'd know that if you hadn't been living under a rock since 2014." "Kurt Angle?" "He'd be perfect... the whole Olympic Gold Medallist, stars and stripes thing, but he's very retired. Every wrestling company worth a damn has offered him unlimited funds to come back to wrestling, and he told each of them to shove their money up their asses." "Triple H?" "Too much of a d***. Besides he's the de-facto boss of WWE now." "CM Punk?" "Fantastic idea, so long as you can untangle him from the complicated web of AEW lawyers and red tape. I warn you though, he's a big, ridiculous, silly, whiney bitch." "Dave Bautista?" "Movies." "Chris Jericho?" "Fat." "Big Show?" "Even fatter." "RVD?" "Broken." "Ric Flair?" "Dead." "Hang on!" I protested. "He's still alive! Google says so!" "Nah. He died years ago. He just did so much coke back in the 80s his body just hasn't stopped moving yet." We both burst out laughing at that point. But soon my joy collapsed into despair. "I'm screwed" I moaned. Shane Douglas offered me a sympathetic smile, a tall glass of vodka, and a hearty pat on the back (which nearly dislodged both my shoulder blades.) "You're in talks with perhaps the only guy in the world who's worth signing right now. Be honest though, Kim Jong Un would have more chance of winning the Nobel Peace Prize than you have of getting him to come to Russia, especially with all the dumb places Putin's sending his tanks in to." I sighed, and for the thousandth time in this bizarre little adventure, tried not to cry into my vodka. "You could just cheat" said Shane finally with a sinister smile. "What do you mean?" I asked, grasping desperately at the last strand of hope. "You could just sign some big-name ex-UFC guy instead. Sure they won't be able to wrestle. Sure they'll end up crippling some poor douchebag. But so what? It'll be fun!" My frown turned upside down. My grizzled veteran-turned-advisor saw a flash of hope shoot back into my eyes, and smiled a big, genuine smile. "Now stop crying and pass me my McDonald's Happy Meal toy. I've got a score to settle!" Final note: If you don't know what the hell I'm talking about with the '8 year old girl snaps a pencil' thing, click here to see it. Edited March 28 by dstephe4 I inserted a link for a video for the 'Snapped Pencil' bit of AEW's 'All Out'. Because anyone who hasn't seen it won't know what the hell I'm on about. 2 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dstephe4 Posted February 22, 2023 Author Share Posted February 22, 2023 (edited) Russian Federation Of Wrestling TV. Broadcast on Russiya 1. Held in an ugly grey concrete building that I was assured was definitely not an old bomb shelter, somewhere in Moscow. 1089 in attendance. The flabby, tanned and fabulous Steven Seagal fills our screens, surrounded by his hoard of oily, shirtless, muscular students. He informs us that another huge international wrestling star is joining tonight. "This will be a signing that will kick the world of wrestling onto it's ass" he declares. Although he's keeping this megastar's identity a secret, he reveals this world-famous star will go toe-to-toe with Vladimir "The Nightmare" Kulakov - the guy who single-handedly eliminated 5 people in last week's Battle Royal. We're treated to a close-up of the hockey mask wearing freak cracking his knuckles with glee. Angle Rating: 47. This cosy little scene is suddenly interrupted by an also shirtless Bill Goldberg, who is even louder than usual tonight. He is furious at losing in last week's World Title bout and wants a rematch. Our champion Dragunov seems up for it, but our ponytailed Authority figure has other plans. He reminds us that Alen Khubulov defends the Russian National title against Kris "The Falcon" Jokic next tonight, the first of 5 defences he must make before achieving a World Title shot. Goldberg must do the same. Seagal says if Loud Bill can defeat his "gauntlet" of 5 students, he can have his shot at revenge. "I'll crush all your clowns!" Goldberg yells in a staggering feat of improvised dialogue. "Any man! Anywhere! Any time! Who's next?!" Angle Rating: 68. Alen Khubulov (c) vs Kris "The Falcon" Jokic - For The Russian National Title The champion Khubulov's hated rival Tamerlan Rasuev was furious that our star referee 'Boris' stopped his title fight last week. He made his presence felt at ringside throughout this match, seething and smacking the ring canvas on cue whenever the camera came by for a close-up. The match was a good one (by our standards at least), with Khubulov dragging a fun match out of his painfully generic foe. Not bad for a guy with just 2 weeks pro wrestling experience. He was hitting Jokic so hard, "The Falcon" looked like he was about to cry. Maybe a fortnight wasn't enough time for Khubulov to learn that wrestling's meant to be fake. Or maybe he just likes hurting people. Either way he got the pin and kept the gold. Match Rating: 43. The moment the final bell rings, Tamerlan Rasuev is in the ring, getting into the face of his bitter rival. "That's my belt" we hear him shouting. "The referee robbed me of my victory! Just like in the National Finals! I shall have my glory and my title!" He pushes Khubulov and snatches at the belt. It looks like a fight's going to break out, but every member of Seagal's circus storms the ring to drag the two apart. Angle Rating: 47. Backstage, our shiny-shirted interviewer Vlad Radinov is with Bill Goldberg, who clearly still hasn't calmed down from earlier. "The Party Tsar" asks Goldberg who he thinks tonight's mystery new signing will be. This triggers Wild Bill, who pushes him away while grabbing the mic. "I don't care who joins" he snarls, getting really close to the camera so we know he's serious. "I'm Bill Goldberg, the man who bulldozed every opponent WWE and WCW had to offer! I broke Brock Lesnar in 2 minutes! I Jackhammered The Giant like he was nothing! Whoever they bring in better watch out - I'm getting MY World Title then I'm coming after THEM. Nobody can stop me!" He storms off and the scene finishes with a close up of Vlad's frightened face. Poor lad needed new underpants. Angle Rating: 74. We return from commercial to find Seagal and his whole gang in the ring. "Tonight, Goldberg faces the first stage of the gauntlet. His opponent tonight shall be... Sergey Belyev!" The crowd's underwhelmed, mild applause suddenly turns to ecstatic cheers as Bill Goldberg tears into the ring like a wrecking ball. He charges at Belyev, diving at him with a Spear. Belyev dodges, and instead it's Alexei Ugrumov who gets gutted like a fish. Fellow Seagal student Ilya Malkin goes to help the fallen Urgumov, but gets cut in half with a Spear too. It was like watching a bear mauling a fish. The rest of Seagal's Russians run for their lives and the match begins. Bill Goldberg vs Sergey Belyev - Stage 1 Of 5 Of The Gauntlet The only surprising thing about this match was that Sergey managed to last 4 whole minutes. He even got in two whole offensive moves before Goldberg hit him with the impact power of a SCUD missile. I think the poor bastard had fainted before the Jackhammer put him out of his misery. Many of Seagal's troupe looked worried, but not Ilja Dragunov, who'd been scouting from ringside with a big serpentine grin on his face. The two stared each other down dramatically before Goldberg went off to high-five the fans. Match Rating: 48. Goldberg is gone, but World Champion Dragunov is still in the ring. Suddenly the lights go out and it seems we're finally about to discover who the big new signing is. The screen fills with a wonderfully overdramatic countdown clock, as we go... 10... 9... 8... ...blah blah blah... 2! 1! And BOOM! It's the biggest pyro show since the opening ceremony of the Sochi 2014 Olympic Winter Games. There's so much fire you'd think someone'd nuked the place. The fans nearest the stage crap themselves in unison. Finally a shadowy figure makes their way through all the flames and smoke. Our camera crew scramble to get a closer view, and suddenly... we see... it's... HOLY CRAP IT'S BRYAN DANIELS! Getting the biggest roar since... well... since last week's other big reveal, the man no longer known as Bryan Danielson or Daniel Bryan (for copyright reasons) storms down the aisle with the welcome of a hero. He gets a standing ovation as the 1089 in attendance wonder what the hell an international star like him was doing in a place like this. World Champion Ilja Dragunov is not intimidated. He stands on the top turnbuckle, title belt shimmering across his waist, as The American Dragon slides into the ring. The two men go face to face. Neither backs down. It's a moment for the ages, and the crowd eat it up... ...until suddenly "The Nightmare" Vladimir Kulakov appears behind them like a phantom, strolls up to Daniels and headbutts him in the chest, knocking him to the floor. Dragunov slides away to watch from ringside as our Main Event begins. Angle Rating: 85. "American Dragon" Bryan Daniels vs "The Nightmare" Vladimir Kulakov One of the very best wrestlers in the world against an unstoppable, overcharged psycho in a hockey mask. Daniels was one step ahead throughout, and landed every move in his impressive arsenal. Yet the maniac on the other side of the ring just would not be beaten. He did his signature Missile Dropkick with enough power to crush a car, but Kulakov just brushed it off like a mild breeze. Daniels launched him over the top rope, through the guardrail, flattening the front 3 rows of spectators. 'The Nightmare' just stood back up like nothing had happened. His famous Running Diving Knee Strike from the canvas to the floor, knocked Vladimir down, but he just sat back up again. Back in the ring, the American Dragon had to do that same move 3 times in a row just to get 'The Nightmare' to a 1 count. That thing he does with the repeated kicks to the chest only made Kulakov mad. The Russian maniac leaped to his feet and began kicking the living Christ out of Daniels in a frenzy that seemed to quite rightly terrify the American superstar. The masked maniac was fighting like he was possessed, like some previously unseen Post-Soviet Hulkamania was burning through his veins. Punches. Kicks. Headbutts - SO many headbutts - all at a frenetic, superhuman speed. It reminded me of that scene in Rocky 4 where Ivan Drago goes bat-s***-crazy on Apollo Creed. Finally a split-second mistake allowed Daniels to latch on his Cattle Mutilation hold. Kulakov rode through the pain for what seemed like an eternity before getting his hand millimetres from the ropes. Just as 'Boris' the ref was about to break the hold, Daniels rolled him back into the centre of the ring and locked on his Yes Lock. No matter how much force was applied, 'The Nightmare' refused to tap. Limbs were twisted everywhere. Joints pushed into angles that seemed medically impossible before tonight. After nearly 3 minutes he'd stopped moving, having finally passed out from the pain. The match was over. But there was nothing on Earth that night that could make the big crazy Russian quit. Daniels looked exhausted but happy, his face bruised and sweaty. He looked out of the ring at his adoring new fanbase... but all he saw instead was the smiling face of Ilja Dragunov. Match Rating: 65. Overall Show Rating: 60. Edited March 29 by dstephe4 6 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dstephe4 Posted February 23, 2023 Author Share Posted February 23, 2023 (edited) On 2/17/2023 at 10:46 PM, MidKnightDreary said: I'm 1000% sold on this whole project. Thank you @MidKnightDreary - fantastic to have you on board, hope you're enjoying the new stuff I posted in the past few days. Things started off quietly in the Russian Federation Of Wrestling, but will start heating up nicely over the next couple of shows. It's from Episode 3 onwards that I really start having fun and going wild with this. On 2/17/2023 at 12:30 AM, KingKennit said: Personally I'm not underwhelmed by the roster at all, I like the idea of you trying to make chicken salad out of chicken shit with all the homegrown guys, it kinda gives me Ring Ka King vibes. @KingKennit Chicken s*** is right. Yes there's loads of money to spend, but the 'talent' this company has leaves a LOT to be desired. It's fun booking this stuff, trying to create entertainment out of a roster full of dregs you'd normally just ignore and skip past in every other save. There's a good reason you've never heard of these people lol Here's a couple of examples picked entirely at random: This is Bence Toth. No matter the opponent, his performance rating cannot exceed 15 without him bursting into flames. How about Anton Deryabin? Because he is a... somewhat large gentleman... he cannot go in the ring for more than 5 minutes without waking up in hospital on a respirator. He has 37 overness, which is fantastic, but he has nothing else. Fun fact: he is the only member of the roster with less stamina than Bill Goldberg. Dragan Spazic is receiving a moderate push in my diary. His stats are average and his gimmick is 'above average' - I just picked him because he's wearing a bright pink suit. Sasa Keel. His highest stat is a 50. But by golly he does try hard, bless him. I pulled him out of retirement to make up the numbers in my roster. Maybe I should've left him there. It's an interesting challenge, and I really do hope everyone keeps on enjoying this dynasty. I'm signing a new 'big name' every week, and once they arrive the question then is "which of these floating turds shall I put this expensive megastar in storyline with?" Thank you everybody for all the 'Likes' so far - they are very much appreciated. They keep giving me the fuel I need to write this nonsense lol. Edited February 23, 2023 by dstephe4 3 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MidKnightDreary Posted February 23, 2023 Share Posted February 23, 2023 Good lord, Kulakov has a sweet mask. Enjoying the hell out of this diary 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dstephe4 Posted February 24, 2023 Author Share Posted February 24, 2023 (edited) For the first 2 or 3 weeks of this wild nightmare I was crushed by the weight of the b******t. I used frantic movement as a coping mechanism, because if I stopped moving, the truth would hit me like a hot poker up the ass, and I'd have to deal with the cosmic crappiness of my situation. I was lucky though. Many would be driven to despair by the oppressive weight of the Russian state machinery that threatened to grind me into powder. It was during the making of Episode 3, however, that the weight of my deathly situation slid from me like an invisible cloak. I was freed by the infinite power of two words that have circulated through my brain like a mantra ever since; "f**k it". It was in the days leading up to Episode 3 that I had a breakthrough with this whole wrestling thing. I'd booked the first two shows like a guy who was scared of being killed by shady Russian hoodlums. Which was fair, looking back. (Even now everyone in the upper echelons of Russian power that made the RFW possible is pleasantly surprised they didn't get to put a shotgun in my mouth.) Everything had been orderly, and sensible, and formal, and safe. But from show 3 onwards, a little voice in my head just yelled "screw it. Let's have some fun. Let's just go crazy with this s*** and see what happens." Also, I started having champagne for breakfast around that time too. So maybe that helped. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and a body bag seemed like my inevitable destination. But when you have nothing to lose, you can do whatever the hell you want. There are no risks anymore, no consequences. Everything from Episode 3 onwards needs to be viewed through that lens. Yes I probably went a little crazy. A bit crazy. A lot crazy. But by Christ it suddenly became a hell of a lot easier, and a hell of a lot of fun. What drew me to this moment of sudden realisation / madness? A baby in a suit. Episode 2 had aired a couple of hours since. I was stood on the balcony of my office - the same place my colleagues had hidden in fear of Bill Goldberg's screaming rampage not long ago. I was smoking a hilariously expensive cigar and wondering why the cosmos hated me, when I saw the headlights of a superb white Porsche approaching. I knew immediately it wasn't my boss Oleg Matytsin, as he tended to arrive in a caravan of spooky-looking vehicles with a dozen or so heavily armed goons. For emphasis. No, this was a sleek two-seater sports car, which delighted me greatly, for I knew there is not enough room to dispose of a body using a car like that. I'd live to fight another day, whoever this mysterious visitor was. I assumed it was my other boss Konstantin Ernst, the kingpin of the shady TV network that 'owned' our stupid little company. But it wasn't him either. I swear to God the person who stepped out looked like this: Above: This is the obscure Batman villain Baby Face. He really looked like this, I swear! I'll be generous and say the guy looked 12. He'd driven a $100,000 sports car here, was wearing a superb Armani tailored suit and showcased shoes that cost more than we'd paid for Ilja Dragunov, but I was still surprised the guy could tie his own shoelaces. Did he shave? Did his mother help him with his tie? He shook my hand with the force and power of a soft fart in a bathtub. He told me his name. It sounded long and magnificent and complicated and very Russian. I can't remember what it was. I couldn't have pronounced it even if I knew what it was anyway. With a long, winding, Shakespearean speech he explained that he was The Man Who Mattered when it came to everything Russiya 1 related. Me and my piss-ant little company were too small for Ernst and his suits to worry about any more. I had to deal with this clown instead. "What's your job title?" I quizzed, talking to the guy like he'd turned up on my doorstep in a Girl Scout outfit, selling me cookies. "Executive Senior Director Of Programming And Content, Whole European Continent. What's your job title?" he sneered. "Sacrificial Lamb" I said. He nodded in agreement. I won't bore you with the jargon he shot at me like a machine gun. But in short, he told me to spice things up. More fighting. More action. More big. More fantastic. Bigger. Louder. Better. "But Oleg warned me against blood and weapons" I muttered like a spanked child. The stubble-free man-child laughed in my face. "So no barbed wire bats or numchucks or broken glass. You can keep it kid-friendly with no crimson masks, no blading. If you wanna brawl around a car park, cool, but keep it clean. Every once in a while push the boat out. If someone goes through a table once now and then? Cool. A chairshot to punctuate matters? Cool. But remember this is not XPW, not Pro Wrestling Freedoms. We want more action. More crazy. Stunts. Memorable stuff like that. Not just 65 minutes of people talking a lot between matches." I stood in silence, not really sure what the hell to say. He did what Russians do best, and filled the silent, awkward vacuum with even more talking. "The whole point of you having this ridiculous wrestling show was to entertain the masses, to help them forget about the Ukraine war, to give the people some excitement. All you're giving us so far is 65 minutes of men talking. Big, shiny, well-oiled men glistening and shirtless. Liven things up a bit! We need action!" I butted in: "But Oleg and his armed goons are gonna kill me if the show isn't 'family friendly' enough!" He smirked. "Yes, possibly so. But Konstantin Ernst will kill you if you don't bring us some action. Look, you're probably dead no matter what. Would you prefer to be the corpse with the boring TV show, or the corpse with an exciting one? Grow some balls, man! Go out with a bang!" I woke up the next morning unsure of which shady creep would be ordering my murder that particular day, but somehow freed from the madness. When you've nothing to lose, you can do anything. And I did. From then onwards, however, there would be a powerful, invisible tug-of-war between two irrepressible, insatiable, inflexible forces. On one hand Oleg and The Russian Ministry For Sport would kill me if I didn't keep things absolutely Family Friendly and wholesome. But if future episodes were not full of fighting, violence and action, I'd be killed too. My answer? I'd finish the month with a Ferrari, a Humvee and a Fax Machine. It's strange sometimes where inspiration can hit you from. Edited April 25 by dstephe4 5 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
ElectricX Posted February 27, 2023 Share Posted February 27, 2023 Love the story so far! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
knkmaster69 Posted February 28, 2023 Share Posted February 28, 2023 This is fantastic. The comedy? Five star. The roster? Fun and intriguing and Ilja Dragunov v Bryan Daniels will make me weep openly if we ever get to see it. I love the backstage stuff equally as much as the shows themselves. Curious to see who else you end up bringing in/if any of the Russian wrestlers you signed end up being worth the effort 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dstephe4 Posted February 28, 2023 Author Share Posted February 28, 2023 On 2/23/2023 at 6:59 PM, MidKnightDreary said: Good lord, Kulakov has a sweet mask. Enjoying the hell out of this diary @MidKnightDreary I know, right?! His mask is everywhere in the graphical elements of this story. Glad you like it. I push the hell out of him in this diary purely because of that mask. That, and the fact he has 77 Menace, which makes him one of the few Russians with something I can actually use. Thank you for reading, hope you can stay along for the ride as Episode 3 onwards is where 'The Nightmare' really comes to life! 9 hours ago, ElectricX said: Love the story so far! @ElectricX Fantastic to have you on board and great to see you again! You kindly followed my previous dynasty Great British Wrestling a couple of years ago, and it makes me very happy to see you again on here! 1 hour ago, knkmaster69 said: This is fantastic. The comedy? Five star. The roster? Fun and intriguing and Ilja Dragunov v Bryan Daniels will make me weep openly if we ever get to see it. I love the backstage stuff equally as much as the shows themselves. Curious to see who else you end up bringing in/if any of the Russian wrestlers you signed end up being worth the effort @knkmaster69 Thank you very much for your kind words. I'm really glad you're enjoying this stuff. Dragunov vs Daniels is inevitable. It's the kind of match a little company like this would rely on. Yeah the backstage stuff in a weird little story like this is just as important as the in-ring action. The characters I have to work with there are more interesting for a start lol Let's see where this goes. 90% of the Russians and Nearly Russians on the roster are people that nobody would ever bother with under other circumstances. Lets see if all these years playing TEW games have brought my turd-polishing skills up to a sufficient level? 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dstephe4 Posted March 1, 2023 Author Share Posted March 1, 2023 (edited) The most prestigious car showroom in Russia is probably Zao Maranello's Ferrari dealership in Tretyakovskiy Proezd, situated in one of the most decadent parts of the modern, nouveau riche Moscow. There are no prices listed on any of the cars. If you have to ask, you can't afford it, and you don't deserve to be there. It's the kind of place I liked to be - until I was banned for life. When most Westerners think of Moscow, they tend to think of gulags, endless grey apartment buildings full of serfs, Ladas and poverty. The modern Moscow is a universe away from that now. Yes, there are still parts of the city where the poor will eat the eyeballs out of your skull just for a snack. But today's Moscow is littered with ultra-wealthy districts that make Beverley Hills look like a war-torn hovel by comparison. Above: This is in Moscow. Yes, really. I was in one of these stunning, decadent parts of the 'New Russia' the day before our third show. I had business to do. Money to spend. Deals to make. I was not to be messed with. I strutted into the dealership like a Tsar. The man on the desk looked at me suspiciously, until he saw how the early morning winter's sun glistened off my Gucci watch - then he was desperate to be my new best friend. Normally, only the best get to work for places like this - the creme de la creme. It's easier to get into NASA than get a long-term gig in premier locations like this. Which made the startling bleached mullet adorning the man who served me all the more surprising. The suit and shoes were Dolce & Gabbana, they screamed 'new wealth' - the hair, however, screamed 'monster truck'. The silly b*****d looked like the impossible love-child of Dog The Bounty Hunter and Joe Exotic. I didn't have time to laugh at him though - I had a show to put on. "What's the best thing you've got? Rental, not to buy. One night only. Money no object" I barked, staring down at the never-ending stream of notifications burning up my phone. "Is the car for you, sir? For a man of your sophisticated tastes and requirements, we have some incredible limited editions here today" he preened. I thought for a second, then said "you look like a wrestling fan. Have you seen that Russian Federation Of Wrestling show on Russia 1? This car is for the guy WWE used to call Daniel Bryan." The man got all excited suddenly. "Wow! Like... OMG!" He said in a bizarre American valley girl accent, which he definitely picked up from YouTube. "Only the best then! May I recommend the Ferrari F12 Berlinetta Limited Edition. The 200-bar, direct-injection 6262 cc 65° V12 delivers absolutely unprecedented performance for a naturally aspirated 12-cylinder engine in terms of both power and revs. Also this one is in a really shiny Midnight Grey and it looks sexy as f..." I cut him off before he could finish. "If that's the best you can manage, then it'll have to do" I said. "It'll have an American driving it. So I want insurance. All the insurance." The salesman was practically purring by this point. "A wise choice" he said, his brain suddenly calculating all the commission he'd be making on this. "We have the Platinum Comprehensive Package which combines every type of insurance known to man. It is the best insurance in the world." I thought hard for a second, before replying "the insurance I want must cover every eventuality. No matter what happens, no matter the circumstance. I don't care if a God-damned meteorite from outer space lands on this thing - we need to be covered." Alarm bells should have been ringing loudly in the salesman's mind at that point, but the money overrode his common sense. 20 minutes later one of the most exotic cars in the country was ours to mess with in any way we wanted. It'd cost $5000 for one day, but I wasn't worried - my coat cost more than that. Did I mention that I'm now banned from Zao Maranello's for life? Did I mention that the last time I was there, hired thugs chased me away with baseball bats? Did I mention that when we returned the car, the duty manager went into the back office to get a shotgun? Did I mention that the salesman who rented me the car went missing the next day and was never seen again? Above: This is how the car looked when I took it away. Then the car was used in the filming of Episode 3 of the Russian Federation Of Wrestling. Above: And this is how it looked when I gave it back. They were not pleased. Edited June 16, 2023 by dstephe4 1 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Just here to look Posted March 1, 2023 Share Posted March 1, 2023 14 minutes ago, dstephe4 said: The most prestigious car showroom in Russia is probably Zao Maranello's Ferrari dealership in Tretyakovskiy Proezd, situated in one of the most decadent parts of the modern, nouveau riche Moscow. There are no prices listed on any of the cars. If you have to ask, you can't afford it, and you don't deserve to be there. It's the kind of place I liked to be - until I was banned for life. When most Westerners think of Moscow, they tend to think of gulags, endless grey apartment buildings full of serfs, Ladas and poverty. The modern Moscow is a universe away from that now. Yes, there are still parts of the city where the poor will eat the eyeballs out of your skull just for a snack. But today's Moscow is littered with ultra-wealthy districts that make Beverley Hills look like a war-torn hovel by comparison. Above: This is in Moscow. Yes, really. It was in one of these stunning, decadent parts of the 'New Russia' the day before our third show. I had business to do. Money to spend. Deals to make. I was not to be messed with. I strutted into the dealership like a Tsar. The man on the desk looked at me suspiciously, until he saw how the early morning winter's sun glistened off my Gucci watch - then he was desperate to be my new best friend. Normally, only the best get to work for places like this - the creme de la creme. It's harder to get into NASA than get a long-term gig in premier locations like this. Which made the startling bleached mullet adorning the man who served me all the more surprising. The suit and shoes were Dolce & Gabbana, they screamed 'new wealth' - the hair, however, screamed 'monster truck'. The silly b*****d looked like the impossible love-child of Dog The Bounty Hunter and Joe Exotic. I didn't have time to laugh at him though - I had a show to put on. "What's the best thing you've got? Rental, not to buy. One night only. Money no object" I barked, staring down at the never-ending stream of notifications burning up my phone. "Is the car for you, sir? For a man of your sophisticated tastes and requirements, we have some incredible limited editions here today" he preened. I thought for a second, then said "you look like a wrestling fan. Have you seen that Russian Federation Of Wrestling show on Russia 1? This car is for the guy WWE used to call Daniel Bryan." The man got all excited suddenly. "Wow! Like... OMG!" He said in a bizarre American valley girl accent, which he definitely picked up from YouTube. "Only the best then! May I recommend the Ferrari F12 Berlinetta Limited Edition. The 200-bar, direct-injection 6262 cc 65° V12 delivers absolutely unprecedented performance for a naturally aspirated 12-cylinder engine in terms of both power and revs. Also this one is in a really shiny Midnight Grey and it looks sexy as f..." I cut him off before he could finish. "If that's the best you can manage, then it'll have to do" I said. "It'll have an American driving it. So I want insurance. All the insurance." The salesman was practically purring by this point. "A wise choice" he said, his brain suddenly calculating all the commission he'd be making on this. "We have the Platinum Comprehensive Package which combines every type of insurance known to man. It is the best insurance in the world." I thought hard for a second, before replying "the insurance I want must cover every eventuality. No matter what happens, no matter the circumstance. I don't care if a God-damned meteorite from outer space lands on this thing - we need to be covered." Alarm bells should have been ringing loudly in the salesman's mind at that point, but the money overrode his common sense. 20 minutes later one of the most exotic cars in the country was ours to mess with in any way we wanted. It'd cost $5000 for one day, but I wasn't worried - my coat cost more than that. Did I mention that I'm now banned from Zao Maranello's for life? Did I mention that the last time I was there, hired thugs chased me away with baseball bats? Did I mention that when we returned the car, the duty manager went into the back office to get a shotgun? Did I mention that the salesman who rented me the car went missing the next day and was never seen again? Above: This is how the car looked when I took it away. Then the car was used in the filming of Episode 3 of the Russian Federation Of Wrestling. Above: And this is how it looked when I gave it back. They were not pleased. This is brilliant. This has made me laugh, made me intrigued as to what in gods name happened to this car, and made the part of my brain that likes cars cry. I have no words that don’t just ramble on for another hour, so I’ll leave it there. 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MidKnightDreary Posted March 2, 2023 Share Posted March 2, 2023 Your sense of humor always hits. Can't wait 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dstephe4 Posted March 3, 2023 Author Share Posted March 3, 2023 (edited) Russian Federation Of Wrestling TV. Broadcast on Russiya 1. Held in the side hall of The Luzhniki Small Sports Arena in Moscow. 1037 in attendance. (Colour Commentator Roy Jones Jr was away in England coaching his boxing protégé Chris Eubank Jr for his fight against Liam Smith. Rico Bushido and Alex Koslov called the shots without him.) AAAAAAAAND THE AMERICAN DRAGON BRYAN DANIELS... IS... IN... THE RUSSIAN FEDERATION OF WRESTLING! He was in the ring a bit. He was joyful and triumphant. He jumped around a lot and yelled "YES!" a lot. The crowd went absolutely mental for it all. Everyone was very excited and a lot of fun was had. Do I remember any specifics? No. Does it matter? No. He eventually got around to pointing out to Steven Seagal and his brood that he wanted a title shot. Seagal - overshadowed for the first time in RFW history - cautiously accepted on behalf of his student Ilja Dragunov. As first title defences go, this is a big one. No, scratch that. This was THE ONE. This was the CASH COW. This was EVERYTHING. As far as pro wrestling in Russia was concerned, this was the Jesus Christ of wrestling matches. This was to be our Sting vs Flair. Of course Seagal said "yes". Most of Russia would have f*****g shot him if he didn't. Seagal then put on his best 'ominous' and 'mysterious' voice. The lighting got all dramatic. "A word of warning though. While your match with Dragunov may be as 50/50 as they come, a shadow falls over it. The spectre of 'The Nightmare' Vladimir Kulakov towers over you. It would not be wise..." In true American fashion, however, Daniels wasn't big on listening. "Whatever!" he proclaimed. "New World Champion! YES! YES! YES!" Above: "Hang on" you might be thinking. "Daniels had short hair last time. He's got long hair now. Also, how'd his beard get so massive? Is that a continuity error?" No, that's not an error, that's what a week in Russia does to you. Angle Rating: 74. Perhaps lured out of his cave by the sound of cheers for someone other than himself, Bill Goldberg storms onto the scene. Despite me secretly planning his death on many occasions, I will freely admit the guy is the best at shouting in the history of pro wrestling. The man's like a shiny tyrannosaurus in underpants. We get a really cool 'Past vs Present' face-to-face, as a legendary wrestler from the past stands in the ring with a legendary wrestler from the present. It's a moment that would've put ice in the veins in America. But this is Russia. The fans were drunk and they missed it. Goldberg tells Daniels that once 'The Gauntlet' is done and he's World Champion again he'll crush him too. "You're next!" he yells in a moment of sparkling originality. He then turns his focus onto Seagal. "I am not waiting any more!" he hollers. He pauses dramatically to ensure his muscles glisten in the floodlights, then continues "You pick a Russian, Seagal! You put them in this ring! I crush them!" Seagal nods, then gestures for the greasy-looking, neon pink suited "Dirty" Dragan Spazic to get in the ring. Alexei Ugrumov and Ilya Malkin join him, still upset at how Goldberg ran them down last time... and suddenly it's 3 vs 1... Angle Rating: 69. "Dirty" Dragan Spazic vs Bill Goldberg - Stage 2 Of The Gauntlet Towards A World Title Shot Remember last week when Urgumov and Malkin thought it'd be a great idea to stay in the ring and mess with Goldberg? Remember how well that went for them? This time their execution was faster. They bounced higher. They squealed louder. It was like a wolf versus two hamsters. Goldberg speared Urgumov so hard he cried before bell even rang. Malkin lands a couple of half-ass punches but is Jackhammered into extinction. "OH MY GOD GOLDBERG JUST DESTROYED 2 MEN IN UNDER 20 SECONDS!" yelled play-by-play guy Rico Bushido, with the genuine unbridled passion of a teenage girl at a Justin Bieber concert. Their maiming served an important purpose (other than entertainment) this time, as it gave Spazic a change to carry out his master plan. Cue a fun bit where Goldberg chases a 'terrified' Spazic round the ring 3 times... he's 'running for his life' until "Dirty" Dragan suddenly dropkicks the metal ring steps into Goldberg's legs. A close-up shows Spazic pointing to his brain like some kind of diabolical mastermind. His crafty moment of fiendishness slows the Unstoppable Force down long enough to give Dragan a fighting chance, making it an open 50/50 match. Goldberg gets ahead, Dirty targets the legs and regains momentum, and so the pattern continues, until Spazic finally misses with a Dropkick aimed at Goldberg's kneecaps. Goldberg spins him round, Jackhammers him, and Spazic gets splatted so hard I was genuinely wondering if he was dead. Game over, but this victory took a big physical toll and Goldberg had to work harder for this victory than he did in years. Match Rating: 43. Next, Bryan Daniels is interviewed backstage by the Party Tsar. He hypes his upcoming bout with Dragunov, gets very excited and yells "YES!" a lot. Suddenly 'The Nightmare' Kulakov jumps from the shadows like some kind of b-movie phantom and attacks him. It turns into a wild brawl between the two, throughout the maze-like corridors beneath the venue. Daniels DDTs 'The Nightmare' onto the concrete floor, but it has no effect. He backdrops him through a pile of conveniently placed wooden crates. Despite an explosion of sawdust, The Large Russian Lad In The Hockey Mask still won't stop coming after him. Finally they emerge into an underground car park. Daniels Piledrivers Nightmare onto the hood of a car, almost collapsing the front half of the vehicle with the impact. That seems to finally buy The American Dragon a moment's reprieve; a chance to escape. He slides back into his beautiful new Ferrari F12 Midnight Grey Limited Edition, and revs up the engine. As this sublime vehicle purrs into life, the headlights power on, revealing a massive, shadowy figure charging towards him. There is a spectacular sound of destroyed Italian engineering as the car is flipped not once... not twice... not even three times... but six times over. By this point one of the most beautiful supercars of this century looks like it's been eaten by Godzilla and crapped back out again. The camera guys watching this unfold could certainly have helped the American from this crushing, life-threatening peril. But we decided to cut to commercials instead. Angle Rating: 69. Back in the ring, Russian amateur wrestling heroes Tamerlan Rasuev and Alen Khubulov are arguing again. There's shouting. There's bad blood. Things almost get physical. Every Russian and near-Russian who hasn't yet been explicitly named yet in this dynasty gets involved to pull them apart. This is the bread and butter of pro wrestling and by God we used it to full effect here. They've hated each other since the 2022 National Finals, and the controversial loss in episode 1 only added fuel to the flames. Rasuev is still furious, wants a rematch, claiming he was screwed by the referee. Seagal intervenes, saying the two need to resolve their differences and realise there's bigger battles than the one going on between them. Tonight they will face their most dangerous opponent ever... RFW's Newest big name signing UFC legend Andrei Arlovski! They'd better get out of each other's heads and focus on the man the MMA world blushingly referred to as 'The Pitbull' or he'll rip them limb from limb. Angle Rating: 55. After many, many commercials, the camera cuts back to the scene of destruction in the parking lot. Seagal appears to have joined Kulakov in standing on the upturned, smoking wreckage of the Ferrari. He motions for his student to sit, and they pause there together a moment in quiet contemplation. The man in the kimono passed the man in the Halloween costume a brightly-coloured energy drink to chug on (although how he managed to drink it through that hockey mask is still a mystery to me). The smoke rising from the smouldering wreckage provided an almost mystical quality to the scene. Seagal: It's good to see that you have found an outlet for your anger, Vladimir. Daniels: Help! Heeeeeeelp! Seagal: It is impressive to see you so in touch with your rage, Kulakov. It is an important step along your karmic zen path. Daniels: Heeeeeeeeeeeelp!!! Seagal: While I am proud of you, I do feel however that a man of your size could definitely have flipped this thing 5 or 6 times more though. Daniels: Are you freakin' kidding me?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?! Seagal: Daniels, you need to come to terms with your inner spirit animal. All this lashing out and shouting will do you no good. Would you like me to tell you more about Shakras? Daniels: Are you crazy?! There's fuel dripping all over the floor! There's broken glass everywhere! There's smoke filling the car! One spark and we're all history! Get! Me! Out! Of! Here! Seagal: I really do feel you can learn a lot from this though. Think about it. You fought a guy last week that they literally call 'The Nightmare.' On prime time live TV you twisted his limbs until he passed out. Did you think there wasn't going to be repercussions? Daniels: Get me out! Please! Somebody! Heeeeelp! Seagal: No. There is a lesson to be learned here. My student and I shall leave you here to ponder your path in quiet meditation. Perhaps you can take spiritual growth from all this. We'll leave you to your contemplation. The Russian and the sort-of-Russian climb off the car and walk out of view. The scene ends with a terrified Daniels clutching his cell phone in a trembling hand. Daniels: What do you even dial in this country? 911? Hello?! Anybody?! Help! Alen Khubulov and Tamerlan Rasuev vs "The Pitbull" Andrei Arlovski and Ivan Markov His music hits, and our fancy new signing "The Pitbull" Andrei Arlovski high fives the fans before storming the ring and taking out both opponents with what can only be described as The Double Clothesline From Hell. The former UFC Heavyweight Champion is paired tonight with perhaps the only Russian pro wrestler who could match his strength physically... pro Bodybuilding Champion Ivan Markov. But it is the MMA man who tears through things like Godzilla tearing through Tokyo. Throughout the match we find put why he's nicknamed 'The Pitbull' - he looks devastating in there. Lethal blows. Terrifying-looking submission holds that look like they could genuinely cripple someone. He's not actually very good at this 'pro wrestling' thing yet, but by God he looks fierce! If Rasuev and Khubulov could've put their differences aside, they could've teamed up and swung the bout in their favour, but they kept turning on each other instead. Finally after both absorbing huge amounts of punishment from their dangerous new foe, Rasuev manages to land a stunning Liger Driver / Pittsburgh Plunge finisher, which he blatantly learned from road agent Shane Douglas last night. Khubulov then nonchalantly picks up Pitbull and hits the exact same move. They both have the same finisher! That's enough to start them arguing and pushing and fighting each other again, instead of either of them pinning their opponent for the win. Pitbull gets enough time to shake off the cobwebs, floors both with another Double Clothesline From Hell. Arlovski then gets Khubulov in a truly scary looking Rear Naked Choke, and he taps before Pitbull literally decapitates him. "OMG! PITBULL JUST BEAT THE NATIONAL CHAMPION IN HIS FIRST EVER MATCH!" hollers our commentator Alex Koslov. Too bad it was non-title, but a clear message is sent. And Khubulov and Rasuev's feud just got taken to another level. Match Rating: 45. We make a tonal change from the carnage of the ring, interjecting to an upset American and a Russian man in an offensively loud shirt. Interviewer "Party Tsar" Vlad Radinov: Are you ok Bryan? You look upset. Daniels: Upset?! UPSET?! "Come to Russia" they said. "It'll be great" they said. I just got my car flipped over a dozen times by a psycho in a hockey mask! While I was in the car! That just doesn't happen in wrestling! I bet The Rock never had to deal with that crap! I have broken glass in my beard! There I was, upside down in my brand new, half-crushed Ferrari, thinking I was going to die, with Jason Voorhees's ugly big brother mouth-breathing all over me, when... I kid you not... my childhood hero Steven Seagal suddenly shows up! In a Kimono! Holding prayer beads! I scream for him to help me. And you know what he does?! He offers the maniac some God-damned energy drink! Like he's worried about this psycho killer's hydration! He then asks me about my mother-loving Shakras! Talks to me about seismic soul-movements and the karmic fluctuations of the spiritual void! While I'm being crushed to death in a frickin' fire bomb car wreckage that could explode at any moment! No! No! I am not ok! I AM NOT OK AT ALL! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS PLACE?! I need to lie down in a dark room for about a month. Meditate. Get my sanity back together. I need to... Party Tsar: Erm... Bryan... there's no time for any of that. You're due in the ring in less than 2 minutes! Daniels: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?! Angle Rating: 79. Ilja Dragunov (c) vs "The American Dragon" Bryan Daniels - For The RFW World Title You'd expect Bryan Daniels to have the edge, but his vehicular adventures earlier had left him shaken. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. Every time there was a loud noise he flinched and looked like he was about to catch the next available flight out of Russia. His younger, fresher opponent Dragunov fought out of his skin, throwing kicks and punches so fast he looked like something from The Matrix. The young World Champion fought like his life depended on it (which in Putin's Russia was entirely plausible.) It was an 'All Out' kind of match. Frantic. A "slobberknocker" as ol' J.R. would say. Completely balanced, a 50/50 match-up which could've gone either way. A painful-looking Torpedo Moskau Flying Headbutt nearly ended things, but Daniels got a foot on the ropes. Daniels landed his Busaiku Knee - the move he beat John Cena with - but Dragunov somehow slid out the ring before he could be pinned. Ilja landed his Grüße Aus Moskau Lariat but Daniels managed to kick out a millisecond before the 3. Daniels latched on his Yes Lock, but Dragunov made it to the ropes. Thankfully our commentary team had done their homework, because I wouldn't have known what the hell any of those moves were without them telling everyone. Both men then toppled through the ropes to the outside. Daniels latched on some funky-looking Figure Four variant, which looked like it'd snap his writhing Russian foe in half, until somehow our plucky champion managed to spin him over, reversing the hold, putting the pain onto Daniels. The former WWE man used every last bit of his technical experience to scramble out. But then suddenly the match was over. The fans were mad as hell. The wrestlers were mad as hell. Seagal was mad as hell. It was a Double Count Out Draw, and within nanoseconds of the bell sounding, referee 'Boris' was getting garbage thrown at him. He bravely went and hid under the ring. The two competitors awkwardly shook hands, but both were clearly furious at the outcome. The match should have been a classic but never really caught fire. I was gutted. Road Agent / Wrestling Oracle Shane Douglas later explained this was due to a "lack of chemistry" between the two, which "threw their timing off". He used lots of weird-sounding old-school wrestling words I didn't understand. I just took it to mean "months of future booking plans flushed down the toilet." Daniels vs Dragunov was meant to be our big pay-off for weeks to come. Our coup de grace. Our meal-ticket match-up. I was hoping for an epic. Instead, at times it looked more awkward than two virgins trying to make a porno. My plans were screwed, the fans were pissed off, suddenly 34.271% of Russia's televisual audience was enraged at a shady, unsatisfying outcome and a 'match of the century' that seriously failed to deliver... and even worse I knew my shady Russian overlords would be watching me even closer now too. I responded in the most manly way possible - by grabbing a bottle of vodka and hiding under my desk all night. Being a wrestling promoter sucks. Match Rating: 65. Overall Show Rating: 60. Edited April 26 by dstephe4 5 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MidKnightDreary Posted March 6, 2023 Share Posted March 6, 2023 God bless Nightmare's horror-show ass 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dstephe4 Posted March 7, 2023 Author Share Posted March 7, 2023 On 3/1/2023 at 9:09 PM, Just here to look said: This is brilliant. This has made me laugh, made me intrigued as to what in gods name happened to this car, and made the part of my brain that likes cars cry. I have no words that don’t just ramble on for another hour, so I’ll leave it there. On 3/2/2023 at 7:12 PM, MidKnightDreary said: Your sense of humor always hits. Can't wait Thank you both very much for the praise, I really appreciate it. It gives me extra energy to write this stuff knowing people are liking it and getting a kick from it. Please keep on reading, I think you'll like the stuff that's coming up. 10 hours ago, MidKnightDreary said: God bless Nightmare's horror-show ass This might be my favourite comment in the history of all GDS comments. Magnificent. Thank you. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Old School Fan Posted March 7, 2023 Share Posted March 7, 2023 On 3/1/2023 at 12:52 PM, dstephe4 said: Did I mention that I'm now banned from Zao Maranello's for life? Did I mention that the last time I was there, hired thugs chased me away with baseball bats? Did I mention that when we returned the car, the duty manager went into the back office to get a shotgun? Did I mention that the salesman who rented me the car went missing the next day and was never seen again? Above: This is how the car looked when I took it away. Then the car was used in the filming of Episode 3 of the Russian Federation Of Wrestling. Above: And this is how it looked when I gave it back. They were not pleased. Exactly what happens when: (1) One gets too cocky for their own good, and... 😏 (2) One isn't careful with how they look after high-end rented cars. 🙃 That easily has to be the most humorous and enjoyable part of this post. 😎 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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