The Russian Federation Of Wrestling

[DinoKea]

Vladimir "The Nightmare" Kulakov def. Tamerlan Rasuev

Bill Goldberg def. Ivan "The Body" Markov

Miro def. "American Dragon" Bryan Daniels & "The Pitbull" Andrei Arlovski

[Just here to look]

Time to win again because I’m cocky and cocky people always win. We know this.

Match 1, The Nightmare will commit homicide on Rasuev. I mean Rasuev won’t win, that doesn’t support good communist values! (I am going to get arrested if I keep this up(

Goldberg will beat Ivan “the Ivan” Ivan. How will they win? Probably with the built up anger of being called “Bill” in RFW, because I doubt you pay bills.

And lastly, but certainly not least…ly, because it’s the main event…ly. I predict that the shock signing will win this fight, and that they will be… uhhhhh, well it has to be a big name guy… at least for this promotion. Uhhhh, I mean you are British… F**k it, wouldn’t it be a laugh if you got William Regal in there (I don’t even think he can wrestle in the game without modifications)? I mean you didn’t, obviously, but Miro seems too obvious. They win via being old.

[MidKnightDreary]

Nightmare

Goldberg

New signing wins, and it's KANE

[ElectricX]

Tamerlan Rasuev vs Vladimir 'The Nightmare' Kulakov

Bill Goldberg vs Ivan 'The Body' Markov

'American Dragon' Bryan Daniels vs 'The Pitbull' Andrei Arlovski vs ???

[Aura]

Match 1: Kulakov is definitely winning this one. The guy's running a program with Bryan (Er... actually, it's more accurate to say that Bryan's running from him, but still) so there's no way he's losing this match.

 

Match 2: I have a feeling that Goldberg will not allow any result from this match other than a win.

 

Match 3: I think that I see the unsigned talent winning this match, and I'll take a risk and say that it's Kane, back in the mask.

[GreatreDRagon]

Kukalov

Goldberg

??? - Who I guess is Malakai Black

[St. Templar]

I'm thinking match 1 is Kulakov. It just makes sense.

Match 2 will be Goldberg...because it's all that makes the story you seem to be setting up work is him winning until he gets back to Dragunov or whoever else is maain event that you want to build using his momentum.

I have to agree with the immediately-above idea that Malakai Black makes a certain level of sense (and I think he would play great with the Russian audience), plus he should be popular enough in Europe to be immediately a big deal. And, yeah, I figure he'll get the win.

St.T

 

[Old School Fan]

Tamerlan Rasuev vs Vladimir 'The Nightmare' Kulakov

 

Bill Goldberg vs Ivan 'The Body' Markov (he'll win this time and make it to the final part of the gauntlet, only to get screwed over when he faces his final opponent)

 

'American Dragon' Bryan Daniels vs 'The Pitbull' Andrei Arlovski vs ??? (the mystery signee will win - and going on my previous prediction, I'll go out on a limb and guess that the signee will be WALTER)

 

[dstephe4]

 

Russian Federation Of Wrestling, in association with Steven Seagal's Lightning Bolt Energy Drinks, presents: 'Serious Business'. Broadcast on Russiya 1. Held in the surprisingly fancy Small Stage Of Isidor Zak Hall, within the Novosibirsk Opera and Ballet Theatre. 1202 in attendance. Author's note: I did as Oleg told me to. I tried to be serious and sensible this time. And serious. Because I'm a good boy.

Our show opens with the mystical figure of Steven Seagal, surrounded by smoke and covered in mysterious lighting. He looks serious. The crowd falls silent in anticipation of his wise words. "The Russian Federation Of Wrestling was created for two purposes. First, as I said from the start, to display the skills of fine Russian athletes to our glorious nation, and to the world. The second is to test international stars like they've never been tested before. For them to endure hardships they never even knew existed in the Decadent West. Each foreign power brave enough to test themselves here will encounter trials of fire beyond anything they've experienced. And they shall emerge transformed as a result. We shall see Bryan Daniels pushed beyond his limits as he continues to test his wits against his Demon personified in 'The Nightmare' Vladimir Kulakov. For all his career he rose to the top by making other men tap, by always finding a way to make the other quit. But now he faces a foe who will never tap. He faces an opponent who cannot quit. We shall see what the real Daniels is made of. We shall explore his limits. We shall see the strength of his soul. Then we have Bill Goldberg. The man they call an 'Unstoppable Force'. He forged a career upon being 'invincible', on crushing foes within minutes, on being feared by his opponents who would go into defensive survival mode the moment he got in the ring. In Russia he faces athletes of a calibre he never knew existed. Each opponent in his Gauntlet has an individual, specific skill designed to push him beyond anything he's experienced before. How will he cope against opponents who take everything he has to give and are still standing? How will he deal with enemies who can nullify the offensive forces that became his crutch? Even in victory, he has been pushed further and harder than he ever was in WCW or WWE. How will Goldberg cope now he is no longer invincible? The Russian Federation Of Wrestling is like a foundry where the world's best are put to the fire. Will they melt under the heat? Or will they emerge toughened and unbreakable? You, our magnificent viewers, get to find out here again tonight!" Angle Rating: 60.     Bryan Daniels heard this. He didn't like it. Like so many Americans he had something to say and demanded to be heard. He marched to the ring, saying he'd already "faced his Demon and won". The 'American Dragon' wants a title shot, given he beat Kulakov again last week and "conquered the Demon". Seagal is not impressed. "You earned nothing. You proved nothing. You conquered nothing. You did sneaky pin from behind then ran away. You didn't face a damn thing. Last week's main event was just like World War 2; a bunch of Europeans go to war, then America swoops in at the end to steal the victory. Kohai, you have turned the Karmic forces against you. The energies of the universe swirl around you like a Tsunami, and Kulakov is the dark monster waiting in the middle of the storm to eat you alive." "If you want a title shot so badly, you must earn it. Yes you won last week's tag team match. But the last time I checked there was a big Belarusian Pitbull winning alongside you. You both shall do battle - the winner shall face our World Champion next week!" Arlovski gets in the ring, Dragunov does too. The two contenders and the champion face each other down in the middle of the ring. It's all wonderfully dramatic and exciting. And serious, of course. Angle Rating: 63.     Suddenly proceedings are interrupted when the lights go out, and a big overdramatic countdown timer fills the screen. Just like when Daniels made his stunning debut in episode 2, the count begins... 10! 9! 8! Etc etc, you know the drill... 3! 2! 1! And suddenly BOOM! There's an explosion of pyros loud enough to make God s*** his pants. Suddenly the lights come back on and...   "OH MY GOD IT'S EDGE! EDGE IS HERE IN THE RUSSIAN FEDERATION OF WRESTLING!" - Alex Koslov, who admitted afterward he pissed a little in excitement. We see men, women and children in the crowd openly weeping in joy. An old lady in the front row faints in shock and has to be revived. The ovation was huge. Stratospheric. Humongous. It's a cliché to say they nearly blew the roof off the joint, but given the substandard quality of Russian engineering that was a distinct possibility here. RFW's latest statement signing celebrated with his swooning, adoring fans before somersaulting into the ring and getting in the faces of Dragunov, Daniels and Arlovski. Despite his advancing years he looked amazing, and clearly wasn't afraid of anyone. Of course he got on the mic. Of course his first ever RFW promo was well-received. Of course he nailed it. I can't remember what the hell he said, but the gist was he wanted to be part of tonight's #1 Contenders Main Event. Seagal agreed, because why the hell wouldn't he. And suddenly tonight's grand finale was a 3 Way match! Angle Rating: 78.     Just when it seemed things couldn't possibly get any hotter, there was another explosion of pyros, another huge entrance. Bill Goldberg came charging down the aisle, joining in the action. Mic in hand, he stood on the entrance ramp and addressed every main-eventer gathered in the ring. "All of you, go ahead, have your big fancy battle tonight. Beat the crap out of each other. May the best man win. Then whoever's left standing gets to smash the little Russian guy holding the belt. Enjoy yourselves. Have a ball. Because you all know that as soon as the dust settles, whoever wears the belt must face me! I am the Unstoppable Force! I am the wrestling legend Bill Goldberg! And once my Gauntlet is completed, you'd all better watch out, coz I'm next!" The fans ate that one up big time. A "Goldberg! Goldberg!" chant fills the air, before switching to a "Daniels! Daniels!" chant, then on to "Edge! Edge! Edge!" Our superstars soak up the glory before Goldberg starts yelling again, because that's what God put him on this Earth to do. "Why don't you so-called 'contenders' and the so-called 'champion' that I knocked out last week all stay ringside? All of you get an up-close-and-personal view of a destructive force at work! Seagal, bring out the next victim in the gauntlet! You can all watch me destroy them!" Up steps Ivan "The Body" Markov - perhaps the only guy in the Russian Federation Of Wrestling with arms as big as Goldberg's. After a moment or two to let the spotlights glisten over his well-oiled body, Markov calls for the bell and the match begins. Angle Rating: 66.   Bill Goldberg vs Ivan 'The Body' Markov - Stage 4 Of Goldberg's Gauntlet Our colour commentator Roy Jones Jr was on fine form tonight. Despite having fled the country and been brought back in kicking and screaming, he summed up this one perfectly with his very serious, very sensible analysis: Roy Jones Jr: "When I was boxing's P4P king, I would make a point of seeing the weaknesses in my opponents. I'd look for whatever they were trying to hide, and jump on it. Goldberg's hiding something here."  Alex Koslov: "An injury?" Roy Jones Jr: "Not that. Maybe he's exhausted. Maybe the energy, the explosive speed isn't there right now. Maybe the match-up with Vertigo last week took more out of him than he's letting on. Maybe having a war every week's having a psychological effect. I dunno, something's not right here." Rico Bushido: "He's won every match in his Gauntlet though, and he's the heavy favourite going into this one." Roy Jones Jr: "His head's not right though. His strategy's all wrong. For years he could just do the same thing every time - just explode all over his opponents, smash them up, then Spear, Jackhammer, good night. That won't work here. His whole gameplan is based on power. But in Markov he's got a guy with more power than him. More stamina. More youth. But it seems there's no Plan B. 20 years ago maybe he'd still be able to smash his way though, but he's in his 50s now. Time caught up with me and I had to adapt, change my whole fighting style to stay on top. The big question is; can Goldberg do the same here? Can he make the changes? Can he evolve?" In the end he didn't have to, this time. He'd been second best in every Test Of Strength, he'd struggled to get out of every submission, he'd been a step behind the pace all night. Let's be honest here - Ivan Markov beat the living crap out of Goldberg this night. But his determination never wavered, and the ageing legend managed a moment of brilliance when it really mattered. Perhaps due to the flamboyant amount of Baby Oil worn by both men, Goldberg slipped out of a Superplex attempt from the second rope. Staying on that high perch, he used the last of his strength to haul Markov high into the air, hitting a satisfyingly brutal Second Rope Jackhammer on Markov, knocking him out cold instantly. Yes it was perhaps his only offensive move of the whole bout, but what a show of power to smash his Russian opponent into the canvas like a Crash Test Dummy. The ref could've counted to 300 and it wouldn't have mattered. This was was over. After the bell rang, Goldberg remembered all the main-eventers he'd invited to ringside. He'd wanted to send a message to all those superstars tonight. But after a war like that there was no energy for gloating. He just gave them all the finger instead and was about to storm off when... Match Rating: 45.     ...Dragunov gets in the ring, showing off the RFW belt over his shoulder, as he sarcastically applauds Goldberg's victory. Goldberg looks furious, but is so exhausted after his war with Markov that he can barely stand. Markov walks over and shakes Goldberg's hand out of respect. The ageing legend reciprocates the handshake, but doesn't take his eyes off Dragunov for a second.      Seagal joins them in the ring, and points out that his protégé the RFW World Champion was rather upset about having a whole fax machine exploded over his skull last time. He says Dragunov wanted to kick Goldberg's ass in revenge right away, but Seagal insists it's vital for Goldberg's "spiritual quest" that the Gauntlet be completed. "My boy Ilja does have a point though. Trying to decapitate the champion like that is just disrespectful. How's he supposed to meditate with a concussion? How's he supposed to align his Chi with a broken skull? Maybe Karma necessitates we tip the scales back in his favour. So I thought..." Seagal pauses for dramatic emphasis, stopping a moment to take a big sip of Cherry Charge Lightning Bolt Energy Drink. He smiles as he licks his lips and savours each morsel of delicious flavour.  "...Wouldn't it be fun if we let Dragunov choose the final opponent in your Gauntlet!" The crowd go nuts for this idea. The ovation is huge. "Who is it?!" demands Goldberg. "Tell me! Tell me you goofy little b*****d! Who is it? Who's Next?!" Dragunov grabs the mic, like he's about to put Goldberg out of his misery with the answer, but drops the mic and smugly walks off instead. "Tell me who it is!" screams the exhausted Goldberg, propping himself up on the ropes, hardly able to stand as we fade to commercial. Angle Rating: 66.    Ok, so loads happens in this bit, so pay attention. I'm using bullet points here, because this is a serious show and that's the sort of thing serious, sensible people do. First Khubolov comes to the ring like a broken puppet. He's on crutches. His legs are all messed up after his enemy Rasuev went banzai on his limbs last week. Seagal is with him, explains that the proposed National Title match with UFC legend Arlovski cannot go ahead. Seagal is pissed. The commentators are pissed. The champ is pissed. The fans are pissed.    Rasuev comes to the ring in full asshole mode. He's proud of the damage he's done and warns Khubulov he's going to finish the job permanently. Seagal is furious and states that Khubulov must have protection until he's mended. Up steps Dover and Icarus - the Arrows Of Russia - who will be the National Champion's protectors until he's well enough to fight again. Seagal bigs these guys up big time, describing them as "the greatest Tag Team in the Eastern Hemisphere." They even crack open a case of Lightning Bolt Energy Drinks together. They must be a big deal.   Above: Remember that 'limo full of Hungarians' I signed back in Week 1? These two drank the whole mini-bar. Introducing our first ever tag team, the Arrows Of Hungary Russia, in their traditional Hungarian Russian attire, proudly displaying their traditional Hungarian Russian war masks. They're about as Russian as Yokozuna was Japanese, but the fans liked them anyway.   Suddenly Andrei Arlovski's music hits and "The Pitbull" storms the ring like a one-man SWAT team. He snarls. He yells. He gets in Rasuev's face. I let him improv this one. The results were pleasantly surprising. "Tonight was meant to be my coronation as National Champion! I single-handedly destroyed 3 men at once last week to become #1 contender, but that means nothing now because this ugly, angry, vicious little turd went and broke the champion! Now what am I supposed to do?! Stay at home and knit?!" What an image. "Khubulov! Soon as your ass is back in this ring, I'm gonna smash you into bits so small, they'll need an Electron Microscope to put your broken ass back together again!" The fans ate that one up like Borscht. "Rasuev! I was gonna take out my fury on you tonight. But Seagal has even better plans..."   Seagal then tells Rasuev he's let him down, he's let the fans down, he's let the world of wrestling down, he's let Russia down. As a nationally-respected role model he should be a shining beacon in these "dark, uncertain times". Instead he's acting like a prick and snapping ligaments like twigs. What a naughty boy. "You chose vengeance over victory, Kohai. You chose rage over glory, shattering your own Karmic path with your malevolence. You could easily have won that match had you released the submission and gone for the pin. All your dreams of glory and redemption would have come true. Instead you chose to inflict your anger upon your rival. You chose to diminish your rival rather than elevate yourself. No student of mine would choose such a sadistic path. Your bitterness made you turn your back on your dreams, so it's almost poetic that you face... The Nightmare!" Angle Rating: 55.       Tamerlan Rasuev vs "The Nightmare" Vladimir Kulakov "What would a sensible person do if they were writing this one up?" I find myself wondering. "How should I express what unfolded in a serious manner?" This graph below outlines what went down. Bask in it's splendour. Note the Level Of Mayhem on one axis, the Match Timeline on the other. For scale, we measure this contest in the only way wrestling can be scientifically analysed - we resort to the The Jim Ross Barometer (also known as the J.R. Threshold.) Using this, you can see the exact point of the match in which we enter into "A Real Barnstormer" territory. Note the 6:15 stage at which we cross into the "Good God Almighty!" phase, before finally climbing into the fabled "Slobberknocker" territory.   Above: If you're sneakily reading this at work, just zoom in on this graph, and your boss will be totally fooled.   4:27: "A Real Barnstormer": that was the point where Rasuev twisted Kulakov in such painful, un-natural ways I was genuinely scared his spine was going to fall out. It was clear by this stage that Rasuev's agenda wasn't just getting the victory - he wanted to seriously hurt his opponent and send a message to his nemesis Khubulov, who was watching on crutches from ringside. 6:15: "Good God Almighty!": this was the section of the match where Rasuev dangerously Piledrivered Kulakov from the top rope, dropping him right on the top of his head with an impact that made the big, scary Russian b*****d bounce nearly 5 feet in the air. It was a reckless, sadistic move that could have crippled him. Kulakov just sat up casually and shrugged. It was around this time that our camera guys got some nice, serious close-ups of 'The Pitbull' Andrei Arlovski at ringside to scoping out two potential opponents for "his" National Title. He scouted them keenly while chugging back on a bright blue can of Lightning Bolt. 9:06: "This Is A Slobberknocker!": The fabled threshold came when Rasuev, frustrated at the superhuman endurance of his opponent, went into some kind of violent, rage-filled fury, put Kulakov's massive head between the ring ropes and tried his best to strangle the life out of him, refusing to stop. Referee 'Boris' freaked out, literally throwing Rasuev out of the way so that 'The Nightmare' could free himself. "Christ Almighty, Kulakov could've been killed" shrieked our announcer Rico Bushido. "Those ropes are steel cables! Nightmare's lucky not to get his throat crushed!" concurred commentator Roy Jones Jr.  Rasuev was furious that our official had dared to interfere, grabbed him by the collar and started screaming in his face. He then heard his rival Arlovski laughing at him from ringside and was triggered. He threw our Greek Russian official to the floor, losing the plot completely and screaming every Russian expletive in the dictionary at the former UFC Champion. With his back turned, he didn't notice 'The Nightmare' nonchalantly getting to his feet. Despite taking the kind of damage that would normally end a career, the masked maniac simply dusted himself off and strolled over to his unaware opponent. Rasuev turned just in time to see the snarling monster within killing range. To say the Chokeslam was massive would be the understatement of the year. Rasuev spent so much time in the air he collected Air Miles. The impact was so huge we had to repair the metal supports under the ring afterwards. Boris administered the 3 count, but he needn't have bothered. This one was done. Match Rating: 43.    After a lengthy commercial break (which only mentioned a certain fizzy beverage five times), we see Rasuev in the middle of a heated argument in the Locker Room with Arlovski. "You cost me my match!" screams Rasuev, still spicy as hell after losing his temper big time in the ring minutes earlier. Arlovski doesn't back down. "You cost me my coronation! I was going to be National Champion tonight but you made the match impossible" the UFC Icon says, quickly losing his cool. This is pro wrestling, so of course this escalates until Arlovski rams Rasuev's head into a locker - the force causes the locker to fall open. Rasuev panics, reaches inside, grabs whatever he can find - and it turns out to be a can of Pepper Spray. He zaps Arlovski in the eyes with it, leaving the formerly indestructible UFC Heavyweight Champion screaming on the floor in pain. That isn't enough for the sadistic National Wrestling Finalist, however. He keeps spraying the stuff in Arlovski's face, eyes, mouth, everywhere until the whole can is empty. Medics and security rush in. Rasuev suddenly comes to his senses, realises the damage he's inflicted, looks terrified, and runs for his life. Match Rating: 52.      After a somewhat impromptu Newsflash in which the Russiya 1 news team let the nation know about how "splendidly" the Ukranian "Special Operation" is going, we get back to the slightly more believable wrestling. Seagal is on the mic. He is the very picture of serious business as he announces that due to Andrei Arlovski catching a whole can of Mace Spray with his eyes and face, he (unsurprisingly) is being rushed to hospital. "Arlovski is out of tonight's main event!" hollers our announcer Rico Bushido helpfully, just in case you didn't get it. The large but still-lethal Seagal also states that the remaining contest - Edge vs Daniels - has the potential to be the best in our short history. He wants no interference, so instructs his new favourites The Arrows Of Russia to make sure 'The Nightmare' Vladimir Kulakov plays no part in this match. They look (rightly) worried about this, confer amongst themselves, before deciding that a 30ft length of chain they conveniently find under the ring is the answer. The duo, with the help of half a dozen or so of their comrades, chain the crazy masked Russian b*****d up in a way that'd keep Godzilla at bay. They add about a dozen padlocks for good measure. Seagal looks impressed and signals that our main event can begin. Angle Rating: 53.         "American Dragon" Bryan Daniels vs Edge - Winner Is #1 Contender There's just something really satisfying about watching a guy kick another guy right in the face. And there was plenty of that here. The way Daniels repeatedly kicked Edge in the chin from a standing position was strangely mesmerising. He was an artist out there. Whether it's from standing, whether he's leaping through the air, or sliding along the ground, Daniels' ability to kick a guy in the face over and over again really is phenomenal. It reminds me of Taijiri in ECW, the difference being Daniels wants to hurt his opponent; Taijiri was trying to kill them. An RFW Fan Forum member counted 24 kicks to the face and chin. I personally thought it was a lot more. Though admittedly, this is Edge we're talking about, so there was plenty of chin to aim for. It could have been a thousand. Edge may have the grizzled veteran looks now, but he's still got a lot left of what made him a modern-day legend. The legendary Canadian seems to have compensated for any perceived loss of speed by wearing the brightest, reddest tights in pro wrestling history. He looked great out there, turning back the clock with moves like Flying Headscissors and a Hurricanrana that'd put our Russians half his age to shame.  Daniels had a slight upper hand physically but kept catching glimpses of a chained-up 'Nightmare' at ringside, would briefly freeze with terror, giving Edge the upper hand. Then the veteran, bazillion-time WWE Tag Team titlist would wisely take the opportunity with a sudden burst of speed, stealing back momentum. Edge was crafty out there. He chose his moments beautifully, conserving energy, allowing his younger and fitter opponent to tire himself out.  Nobody in the world was surprised, however, when the monstrous Kulakov finally broke from his many, many chains. The big crazy b*****d flew into the ring like a Ground-To-Air Missile, and came within inches of the terrified Daniels, before fifteen members of the roster stormed the ring to stop him. It took the combined strength of every one of them just to drag him back out again. Daniels, eyes still wide with fear, finally mustered the courage to turn his back on the commotion at ringside, and turned straight into a lightning-fast Spear from Edge! Daniels is stunned. Any normal athlete would go for the pin right away, but Edge decides against "normal" - he hits an Edge-O-Matic to seal his advantage, then sprinkles an Edgecution on top too for good measure. 'Boris' The Greek Referee dutifully does the count. And we have a new #1 Contender! Match Rating: 67.     Kulakov is ringside. Kulakov is ready to kill. He slips between the ropes in search of his prey Bryan Daniels, but he has already disappeared like a ghost. He looks around, sees Edge is the only person left in the ring, and charges at him instead with a Spear. Let's face it, after decades in the ring perfecting that move, Edge has that one well-scouted and manages to dodge. Kulakov hits the turnbuckles like a runaway freight train, but is barely even stunned. He charges again at Edge, until suddenly... he stops. An unexpected yet familiar face is there in the ring and has... in a Russian Federation Of Wrestling first... calmed the beast down! The fans are genuinely shocked to see Aleksandr "Vertigo" Klaptsov as the unlikely hero to save Edge's bacon!       ~ Commercials. Russian Tanks. Patriotic Music. Commercials. Lightning Bolt Energy Drink. Steven Seagal's Magnificent Face. Vladimir Putin's Less Magnificent Face. Russian Jet Fighters. More Patriotic Music. Commercials. And We're Back! ~   After celebrating wildly with the fans, Edge and his new buddy Aleksandr "Vertigo" Klaptsov are recharging with a couple of cans of "Asian Experience" flavour Lightning. Our commentators point out how they both clearly love every sip, and how thanks to the drink's unique "all-natural" ingredients, Edge seems already revitalised after his war with Daniels. They're joined at ringside by our World Champion Ilja Dragunov, who shakes Edge's hand - both congratulating his victory, and sealing the deal on next week's title bout.  Suddenly a familiar, booming voice brings these happy proceedings grinding to a halt. "Enough of this crap, you two! Enough games, Dragunov. Tell me the last person I gotta smash! Because it don't matter which of you two wins next week, I'll run either of you down! That's MY belt, and it's only a short time now til it's round MY waist! Who is it, you little Russian punk?! Who's the last opponent in my gauntlet?!" Goldberg stands tall at the top of the ramp, clearly not willing to budge until he has his answer. This sounds like the Goldberg of old. But the man we see is battered and bruised - he looks very much like he's been through a war tonight. The challenges of the previous weeks seem to have taken their toll too. Not that you'd know it from his words though. Edge gets a mic from somewhere, and is excitedly about to pass it to Dragunov. But the champion gestures for the mic to go to "Vertigo" instead. The whole place goes completely silent as we await the answer. Goldberg looks about to lose his mind with the tension, until finally one word echoes dramatically through the air... "KULAKOV!" In that instant, RFW's own supernatural killing machine appears behind Goldberg like some sort of greasy, masked ninja. Nobody's sure where exactly he went after the main event, but he's back! The impact is HUGE as 'The Nightmare' cuts him down with his own Spear signature move, slamming him hard into the metal entrance ramp. The stunned WCW and WWE legend can barely even blink before our resident maniac has his powerful hands on him again. The formerly invincible force is lifted high into the air, before being Chokeslammed down onto the ramp like a ragdoll. It's hard to describe the sound Old Bill's body made as it hit the ramp that second time. Try to imagine a watermelon thrown off the top of a skyscraper, and you'll be close. "Oh my God" yells our announcer Alex Kovalov, in a moment of unbridled J.R-ishness "AS GOD AS MY WITNESS, HE'S BEEN CUT IN HALF!!" Our show ends with a fallen legend beneath a snarling monster, and a World Champion laughing proudly at his revenge.   Angle Rating: 62.      Overall Show Rating: 61.

Edited Wednesday at 06:28 PM by dstephe4

[MidKnightDreary]

Kulakov is a pagan god of war, trapped in a man's body

[dstephe4]

10 minutes ago, MidKnightDreary said:

Kulakov is a pagan god of war, trapped in a man's body

No, he is a pagan god of war, trapped in my s****y little diary lol

[St. Templar]

I almost want to ask for a database based on this save because I want Kulakov and some of the others in my save. lol

St.T

 

[dstephe4]

This one has a bit of a story to it:

One of my (many) children woke up crying during the night, interrupting a bizarre but very entertaining dream I was having. The dream captivated in my brain for the hour it took to settle him back to sleep. It danced in my mind like a song that wouldn't end, and was still with me the following morning. The strange dream wouldn't leave me alone. It demanded that I write it down and share its strange, twisted contents with the world. And so here it is, forming the basis of another weird little chapter of my strange little diary. It took a lot of editing to piece the fragments together, like the torn pieces of an ancient tapestry. But I am now finally ready to inflict this upon you all. Enjoy...

 

I was upset. The fact that I'd gone along with Oleg's wishes and booked a "sensible" episode really bothered me. It just didn't sit right with me at all. I'd enjoyed the ridiculous way I'd booked Episodes 3 and 4. Yes they were mad and silly and stupid, and possibly even an insult to the serious business of professional wrestling, but they'd been so much fun to make. Episode 5 felt like a wet fart in comparison. Doubts and disappointment filled my mind from the moment the show aired, and continued into the evening and through the night, tormenting me and not letting me sleep. When the sun rose the following morning I was a jaded, exhausted shell of a man. No amount of coffee could expel these feelings from my mind. I decided to fix the matter in the only way I knew how... by drinking. I played a game I like to call 'Contact Roulette' on my phone. The premise is simple - just swipe through the contacts on your phone half a dozen times and whoever it lands on gets invited. I didn't care that it was 1pm on a Sunday. I didn't care that I couldn't remember who half these people were. I didn't care that the other half seemed to be situated far outside of Russia. I sent drivers to their homes to pick them up immediately. We were going drinking damnit! This was happening! It amazed me to find out that 2 of the people I invited had died. It amazed me much, much more that the rest of the people I randomly invited actually showed up. It was the most disreputable band of degenerates and random names I'd assembled since setting up RFW at the start of the year. My most cogent memories are of the movie actor (and renowned party animal) Tom Sizemore,- he was a highlight among our motley crew. He'd been in adventures like Natural Born Killers, Heat, Black Hawk Down and Saving Private Ryan, so a bizarre excursion like ours wasn't going to scare him. He had fun. After a few vodkas he told me about his grand new plan - he was in the process of faking his own death, for tax evasion purposes. It sounded really risky to me, but he was really happy and enthusiastic about the idea, so I wished him luck with it. A month or two later news of his death was all over the headlines. But that side of the story is best left for another time. The names on the list were as wonderful as they were random. Former tennis player Andre Agassi was with us, despite the fact I'd only met him once, at a charity event in Romania in 2019. That guy from the Police Academy movies who makes all the weird noises was there. Johnny Kelly, drummer for the tragically defunct goth metal band Type O Negative showed us what real drinking was all about. An international art smuggler known only as 'The Italian' had us in stiches with stories about the time he accidentally vomited on The Pope. The lad who used to operate Burt & Ernie in Sesame Street was with us. The Russian Ambassador To Mexico was out for a good time. There was a man we still can't identify to this day - all we know is he wore a kilt. 'Wee Man' Jason Acuña from Jackass was our guest of honour. Three world-famous (non-RFW) pro wrestlers came with us and drank so much I'm surprised they made it home. Prominent Russian TV Evangelist Peter Mikhailovich Kulakov (no relation) was with us, and spent an alarming amount of time naked. It was -15°C out there and he didn't even get goosebumps. The man's nipples didn't even get hard. I guess that's one of the benefits of having God on your side. The plan was simple. I put a massive map of Russia on the wall, closed my eyes and threw a dart at it. Wherever it landed, we had to go drinking there. Right away. No obstacle, no logistical barrier, no financial hurdle would stop us.      Above: Do people outside of the UK have darts? Surely you do, right? Also, it was only when we got back that I'd realise the map was Japanese. The place it landed was accessible only by helicopter. A town that was as desolate as it was unpronounceable. The kind of place that doesn't exist on Google, because every one of their drones that tries to map it gets shot down. My credit card statement would later reveal nearly $5,000 spent on Bear Grylls hiking equipment. I bet we needed it too. My memories of the place remain sketchy to this day, but we definitely met more goats than people. Nobody knows or remembers the name of the place we went to. But I bet they still burn witches there. We needed to hire a translator. My credit card bill revealed that too. Since 2014 I've got by without having to speak a word of Russian - it's like magic - I'd just show people some cash - and et voila, they'd suddenly develop the ability to speak English. But even my best magic tricks wouldn't work in a place like this. There were no Western comforts where we were going. None of that touristy s***. We were going deep into Russia. Into the heart of the matter. Into the belly of the beast. Or "into the arse of the dragon" as one of us put it. It took a mixture of photos recovered from the cloud, credit card receipts, local newspaper reports, and the work of more than one seedy private detective to piece together the facts of our little drinking trip. The brain cells that store memories were completely eradicated. Nuked. Zapped into another dimension. It was like that movie 'The Hangover' but more expensive, hairier, sweatier, and a hell of a lot more Russian. I know the following pieces of the puzzle to be true... One of our drinking party had Googled our destination before setting out, and turned up in a Kevlar vest.  One of us ended up with a surprisingly well-done old-school Sailor tattoo on their bicep. The strange thing is there isn't a tattoo parlour within 275 miles of where we were drinking. (No amount of exploration has managed to solve that one.) Wee Man managed to find what was surely the only cactus in central Russia, and decided to lick it like an ice cream. His tongue immediately swelled up to the size of a cow's tongue. He should've rushed to a hospital, but the nearest was 3 day's journey away by boat. So we told him to stop crying, start drinking, chill out and to try his best not to die. Also, three members of our group have since found Jesus as a result of their experiences.  On a day-to-day basis, I have more vodka in my veins than blood. I chug champagne like marathon runners chug water. So it's rare that a drinking session will leave me with amnesia. But I more than met my match with this one.  We'd been drinking in this town for 3 hours before I noticed that Referee 'Boris' appeared to be with us. "Why do you strange b*****ds keep on calling me Boris?!" He rambled at me at one point during our drunken little trip. His breath was like a crescendo of vodka, beer, turnips and farts. "I am not Russian, I am Greek! My name is not Boris, it is..." and then his face started making noises like an old dial-up modem. He shot letters at me like a Gatling gun. The part of my brain that processes names and information went into overload, melted, and poured out of my ear like Formaldehyde. It took what felt like 45+ minutes for the man to even finish pronouncing his own name. It was ridiculous. "No, you're Boris. Now shut up, drink, and be happy about it!" I screamed vaguely in his direction, to the cheers of many. The only solid memories I have are from a bar that looked like something straight out of The World Of Warcraft. Wherever the hell we were, and whatever the hell we were doing there, the place had to be at least 600 years old. My nerves were shot by this point. There was nearly as much fear in my veins as there was alcohol. It could've been that we were trapped in deepest, darkest Russia. It could've been that the pub was obviously haunted. It could've been the weird gargling noises Wee Man was making thanks to his hideously swollen tongue. Or maybe it was that I'd accidentally wrestled a bear earlier that evening, half way up a medium-sized mountain, just to get to this place. Whatever was waiting for us here was clearly boss level stuff. It was deep within the confines of this wretched bar that I encountered my new nemesis. I remember her well - from the moment her icy-cold eyes latched upon us, I knew it was our downfall. The tiny yet tough... no... indestructible woman who had doomed us all. She took a glass from above the bar and put it beneath a terrible, rusty old machine. A button was pressed. A gas was emitted. It coughed and farted into life. Gaskets shook. Cogs trembled against each other. And then a liquid so black that it surely came from another dimension plopped out, resting into the glass like an ooze of melted spiders. It had the kind of sheen you normally only see on wet dogs. It was like shoe polish mixed with bile. Fizzy, but with the density of hot tar. She slid it down the bar at us. We dived out the way like it was a live hand grenade. And rightly so.  This little (yet impressively muscular) woman behind the bar - in an apron that I'm sure had blood on it by the way - told us about this unmentionable drink like it was the stuff of legends. She used the kind of voice that people use when telling children spooky ghost stories. "Why that voice?! Is this drink haunted?! Are there f*****g ghosts in this thing?! Is it made out of dead people or something?! I bet it is, isn't it?! Can you guarantee me that dead man's ashes aren't a key ingredient in this thing?!" I said, with genuine fear in my voice. I was freaking out big time by this point. But my caution wasn't misplaced. Time has buried the exact words she said about this mystical and dangerous drink. But seeing it in action clearly triggered me. I think it was the fact that it wasn't even really a liquid that caused my nerves to dance like Mikhail Baryshnikov. "You've literally put a spade in it!" I yelled, my voice trembling. "Yeah that's what you go at it with" replied a local, who was clearly braver than us. "Go at it?! You don't normally have to go at a drink. You drink it. The clue's in the name!" I squealed like a pig in a trap. The phantasmal woman behind the bar had her answer well-prepared: "I'm not really sure if this is a drink. Like Guinness, it could technically be classified as a food. Difference is, here in Russia, Guinness it a women's drink. This is a manly drink." I objected to this with every ounce of my Britishness. "Guinness is not a girl's drink! They take the main ingredients of beer, then set fire to them, to make it! It literally could not be manlier!" The hairy-knuckled harpy behind the bar laughed scornfully in my direction. "This'll put hairs on your chest" she countered. "I already have hairs on my chest! This stuff'd make the hairs on my chest fall off! It's f*****g radioactive! It hasn't stopped moving since you poured it 5 minutes ago!" Despite the tiny piss stain adorning the front of my jeans, I wasn't wrong. The scary bar boss lady then described the drink to us some more. It was one hell of a sales pitch. Her voice got all animated, yet poetic. She spoke passionately and emotionally for a good 3 or 4 minutes about this magical, yet terrifying-looking beverage. I turned to our translator guy for help. "It is made from hopes and dreams. And joy. And despair. And rage. And song. And fire. And the tears of a thousand noble Russians. And barley and wheat, possibly rice and potatoes too. Tattoo ink was also mentioned" he said, stroking his chin in deep contemplation. "That's quite the list of ingredients" I pondered out loud. "Are you sure that's all she said?" He contemplated for a moment, before shaking his head. "It lose a little something in translation" he sighed. The woman behind the bar, who seemed to be following our conversation, was suddenly enraged by his feeble conveyance of the Russian language, swung her massive arm, and punched him right in the middle of his face. She had the kind of hands that could crush a skull in the same way mine might crush an empty beer can. The impact of knuckles upon skull momentarily silenced this otherwise noisy place. The locals smiled as our translator trembled and then fell to the bar-room floor in a ridiculous tangle of limbs and tears. "Look!" she then growled at us in broken English, waving at the TV behind the bar with the same mighty fist she'd just felled our companion with. "Look! Is TV commercial of drink!" Sure enough the screen came to life in a low-budget miasma of bizarre imagery. Half a dozen crows flew majestically into a beautiful night sky, before swooping down... into a furnace... and exploding on impact. Their glowing embers swooshed and swooped through the air like magic dust, before settling in a big, over-sized beer glass. A gruff, burly-looking and heroically-bearded man then took a mystery bag from his mining apron and poured it's frothy, creamy, bubbling contents into the glass. The two ingredients danced inside the glass to a triumphant rapture of Tchaikovsky, before finally settling down into the black, sparkling, terrifying liquid that laughed at our manhood. Sparks and explosions filled the air, as the burly man then picked up the glass and it's bubbling, magma-like contents, and drank the lot in one. He then raised his mighty fist to the TV cameras. My vision was blurry, but I definitely saw hairs sprouting out of his knuckles right before our very eyes. "See?" Said the bar woman, having watched the commercial with a proud smile. "Is normal." She gestured toward the drinks she had poured for us all, waving her hands above the glasses like some kind of triumphant magician. She'd made herself one earlier, and took a big, hearty sip of it as if to show us it wasn't lethal. "Don't trust it, lads! She definitely has less teeth now than when she started drinking it" I warned to our group. But my words were useless. It was at that point that I saw the top of a Makarov pistol sticking out of her apron pocket. I quickly stopped arguing and set about the tricky business of drinking this stuff. It was too late now. The devil's liquid was inside us all. In a doomed attempt to understand our fate, I scanned the weird, super-Russian name of this drink through the Google Translate app on my phone. "Dead Man's Toes" came the first attempt. "Dead Man's Nipples" was the second. The label had some kind of murky, dark old oil painting on it. I squinted my drunken eyes at it to try and make sense of the picture. I'm convinced it had a man being raped by goblins on it. I tried taking a photo of it on my phone and the app died immediately. Suicide, I surmised. "It can't be that bad" said the man in the kilt "at least it doesn't smell too bad. It doesn't smell of anything, to be fair." "Neither did the plutonium stuff they killed Litvinenko with" I snapped back, holding on tight to the dancing, jiggling remains of my stomach. It was after this point that things got a little hazy. All I remember for the 48 hours after that was a ride home through impossible rivers in what I'm certain was a speedboat. There was a man who trained dancing squirrels and would not stop showing them to us. Nine clowns were injured. A priceless painting of Rasputin was irreparably damaged by a shoe. And it was the following Friday before I properly regained consciousness. I had dark red bruises circumferencing my wrists, which showed I had definitely been in handcuffs at some stage. My wallet was full of what I was certain was someone else's vomit. It took me a while to realise that the pain in my feet was partly due to me falling asleep - for at least 3 or 4 days - in my boots. My trembling fingers eventually managed to pry them off, revealing rolled up documents bound upon the insides. They smelled like sweat and ethanol and piss, but were dry and perfectly preserved. I carefully unrolled them, and with pained eyes examined their contents. I then remembered that I'd invited a few famous pro wrestlers on this ridiculous, boozy excursion. And somehow during the course of that one crazy night... I'd managed to sign them all. There were 148 missed calls on my phone. There were 794 unopened emails in my inbox. A panic crashed down upon me like a tidal wave. Despite a hangover that would render me medically dead for the next nine days, I had to somehow piece together a TV show in less than 24 hours. With no plans. No coherent thoughts. And no blood sugars.  Once again I was f****d. At least this time it was my fault.

Edited Wednesday at 10:06 PM by dstephe4

[MidKnightDreary]

You know the man's got kids, cause only a deeply deranged, minimum 5-kid brain could come up with that. I loved it.

[kanegan]

This is hilarious, keep it up man.

[dstephe4]

Apologies for the lack of sexy formatting on this reply. Am doing this on my mobile. I've been a bit slower than usual in my posts and replies. The Episode 5 results were delayed a bit due to my birthday and me watching Anthony Joshua gently prodding an American for 36 minutes. The Arse Of The Dragon was just before I went on a family holiday, to a place where the internet only exists in rare bursts. But I'm still here. This diary is still very much live, and I'm still very much grateful for everyone who takes the time to read and comment.

Now the big question: What the f*** do we do about the Episode 5 Predictions situation?!

Just take a look at this:

@DinoKea - 3 points

@Just here to look - 3 points

@MidKnightDreary - 3 points

@ElectricX - 3 points

@Aura - 3 points

@GreatreDRagon - 3 points

@St. Templar - 3 points

So... you ALL won I guess?!

How the hell do I decide who to give the "prize" to? (Whoever got the most was going to pick the match type for Episode 6's Main Event.)

So, everyone above post your Match Type suggestions on here. The one which pleases me the most will be used.

GO!

Edited April 12, 2023 by dstephe4

[Just here to look]

Hmmmm. This sure will be interesting. I’m just gonna come up with it as I ramble.

Now, I’m sure that some rather extreme options will be considered. For example, Hardcore, I Quit, Steel Cage, Steel Cage with an Angry Bear, and so on and so forth. However, (with the exception of the angry bear) all of these things have been seen many a time. Also, we can’t have it be bloody and brutal, think of the glorious Russian youth! 

However, do you know what the glorious Russian youth can be shown? Product Placement!  And that is why i suggest the “Steven Seagal’s Lightning Bolt Energy Pitch Black Match!”

“Hang on” ,you may say, “isn’t product placement capitalist and scummy?” And you’re right! It is scummy, capitalist and also stolen from the Americans, but it works you see? Also, I’m sure Steven would be really, and when I say really I mean really in double italics if that was possible, pleased. Also also, we want out youth drinking Steven Seagal’s health energy drink to make their bones stronger! So that they can [my lawyers have advised me not to finish this statement] in the future!

[MidKnightDreary]

Obviously the product placement would require Lightning bolt energy in the form of electrified ropes

[Just here to look]

7 minutes ago, MidKnightDreary said:

Obviously the product placement would require Lightning bolt energy in the form of electrified ropes

YES!!!!!!! (Granted, I doubt we can get away with actual electrified ropes, but oh well, they’ll probably figure out how to fake it.)

[GreatreDRagon]

If you're going to go with product placement then why not have a cinematic match take place in the lightning bolt energy drink factory.

Or a somehow more sensible suggestion is the "If he dies, he dies" match. The match ends only when a competitor has been beaten down so badly they can no longer continue. Basically a last man standing match.

 

[ElectricX]

Steel cage was my initial thought. 2 out of 3 falls could be another alternative.

[St. Templar]

Steven Seagal's Lightning Bolt*TM* Electrified Barbed Wire Match.

 

Book it, RUSSO!

 

St.T

 

[dstephe4]

Normal service to resume in the next couple / few days. That's how much time there is for any match suggestions, should you have any.

Until then, here's the card for Episode 6. I invite the usual predictions. Maybe this time we'll even have a winner?!

 

Sergey Belyev vs Tamerlan Rasuev

The Russian National wrestling finalist is becoming notorious for hurting people. He put our National Champion Khubolov on crutches a fortnight ago. Last week he sent former UFC Heavyweight Champion Arlovski to the hospital. Next up is Belyev, last seen bravely facing Bill Goldberg. The spirited Russian landed 2 moves before being swatted like a fly, but that's 2 more than most of Goldberg's opponents ever managed. Will Sergey pull off the upset, or leave in an ambulance?

 

Bill Goldberg vs 'The Nightmare' Vladimir Kulakov - the final stage of Goldberg's Gauntlet.

One last hurdle. One last mountain to climb. Then the much-awaited World Title rematch is his. One small detail though - the final opponent is the psychotic, super-charged, seemingly unstoppable Russian monster that has even the legendary Bryan Daniels running in fear. Goldberg's never had to battle as hard his whole career as he has in the past few weeks. War after war after war seemed to be taking it's toll on the ageing superstar - will he have enough left to stop the unstoppable?

 

Ilja Dragunov vs Edge - For The RFW World Title - Match Stipulation TBC.

An already mouth-watering match-up is made even more exciting by the fact that our fans are picking the stipulation. What match type will we see? What conditions await these two athletes? Will the veteran WWE legend add another trophy to his considerable legacy? Or will Seagal's protege add another famous name to his growing reputation?

 

Also, we have another famous international wrestler set to debut. 1 point for each correct match result. 1 bonus point for naming the new superstar. 1 bonus point for correctly guessing the main event stipulation.

Good luck to you all, and thanks once again for your continued support.

[Just here to look]

2 hours ago, dstephe4 said:

Normal service to resume in the next couple / few days. That's how much time there is for any match suggestions, should you have any.

Until then, here's the card for Episode 6. I invite the usual predictions. Maybe this time we'll even have a winner?!

 

Sergey Belyev vs Tamerlan Rasuev

The Russian National wrestling finalist is becoming notorious for hurting people. He put our National Champion Khubolov on crutches a fortnight ago. Last week he sent former UFC Heavyweight Champion Arlovski to the hospital. Next up is Belyev, last seen bravely facing Bill Goldberg. The spirited Russian landed 2 moves before being swatted like a fly, but that's 2 more than most of Goldberg's opponents ever managed. Will Sergey pull off the upset, or leave in an ambulance?

 

Bill Goldberg vs 'The Nightmare' Vladimir Kulakov - the final stage of Goldberg's Gauntlet.

One last hurdle. One last mountain to climb. Then the much-awaited World Title rematch is his. One small detail though - the final opponent is the psychotic, super-charged, seemingly unstoppable Russian monster that has even the legendary Bryan Daniels running in fear. Goldberg's never had to battle as hard his whole career as he has in the past few weeks. War after war after war seemed to be taking it's toll on the ageing superstar - will he have enough left to stop the unstoppable?

 

Ilja Dragunov vs Edge - For The RFW World Title - Match Stipulation TBC.

An already mouth-watering match-up is made even more exciting by the fact that our fans are picking the stipulation. What match type will we see? What conditions await these two athletes? Will the veteran WWE legend add another trophy to his considerable legacy? Or will Seagal's protege add another famous name to his growing reputation?

 

Also, we have another famous international wrestler set to debut. 1 point for each correct match result. 1 bonus point for naming the new superstar. 1 bonus point for correctly guessing the main event stipulation.

Good luck to you all, and thanks once again for your continued support.

Match 1- Rasuev, mainly because they seem like an actual presence. Belyev doesn’t.

Match 2- Vladimir Kulakov is going to murder William Goldberg the First, but it’ll be close. Ish.

Match 3- Ilya Dragunov beats Edge because Edge isn’t Russian. I predict my stipulation because I always win. 
 

Oh, and for the international suspect, uhhh, I have a list of potential guys:

-GUNTHALTER (either name works) because Ilya, and he’s not American, and if you want you can just make him pissed about the Berlin Wall specifically, nothing else. Just the Berlin Wall.

- Moro, because everyone predicted it

-William Regal, because he’s old and British

- Drew McIntyre because he’s less old, and British

- Pete Dunne, because he’s less less old, and unfortunately Butch

- IDFK Rey Mysterio because he’s Rey Mysterio?

Yeah GUNTHALTER seems the most likely. I lock in my vote.

[dstephe4]

Just realised I didn't state what the Predictions Prize will be this time.

How about...

... winner gets to pick any international tag team in the world for the Arrows Of Russia to feud with. This will form the genesis of RFW's Tag Team Titles and division.

If there's 2 winners, that'll be 2 tag teams going up against the Arrows.

Good luck with your predictions! Results coming soon!