Post by CM Poor: DeepFigureValue on Apr 18, 2016 18:17:41 GMT -5
WFWF Presents...
The 2015 Year End Award Ceremony
An overhead shot pans over the interior of The Dolby Theatre in Hollywood, California as the last remaining few spectators trickle in to find their seats. Seated amid the forward most section of the theatre are the stars of tonight's show - the WFWF Superstars and alumni, checkered throughout the first several rows, some alongside their friends and family. To the back, the WFWF fans, afforded a once in a lifetime opportunity to bear witness to what has become an annual tradition in the WFWF, to honor the superlatives among them and their accomplishments over the course of the past year.
Notably, a lone seat, nearly perfectly centered along the front row, remains conspicuously empty, flanked to the right by a stoic faced Samael Ahriman, seated patiently, eyes forward as the lights begin to dim to a round of polite applause and a noticeable absence of inappropriate catcalling, as the WFWF draws a crowd more dignified and respectful than some major organizations.
Over the PA, a booming if not altogether generic announcer welcomes the crowd to the elegant and total class ceremony.
Announcer: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the WFWF Year End Award Ceremony, presented by Thornstowe Brand Axles! Please welcome your host for the evening, WFWF Superstar Chris Avalon.
Up on the stage, Chris Avalon steps out from behind the curtain to another round of enthusiastically polite applause. He's dressed to the nines for the occasion, like most in the crowd are - a choice looking tux, sporting a necktie in lieu of a bow tie 'cause bow ties aren't cool, regardless of what internet trendy sci-fi shows from Britain might say otherwise, his long dark hair tied neatly behind his head in a pony tail, not a man bun, 'cause Chris Avalon's got pride, if nothing else.
Stepping up to the podium with a reserved and calm smile across his face, he allows the applause to die down before addressing the crowd.
Chris Avalon: Thank you. Tonight, we come together to honor each other's accomplishments over the past year. Our business is unique, fast paced, and at times chaotic, and as such, it does well for us to pause, if even only once a year, to reflect on the events that dropped our jaws, the stars that incited both excitement and hatred, and the "Young Guns" his self referential acknowledgement incites the tiniest pop from the attending audience, who still keeps it classy 'cause they're a choice group of fans who will carry our industry into tomorrow."
As he speaks, the red curtain that expands the stage entirely from left to right draws open in the center, revealing a lone wooden stool in the middle of the stage, three sides and two corners of a mock ring forming the backdrop. From above, a large projector screen slowly descends, temporarily blocking the view of the stage setup.
Chris Avalon: First, however, we give pause to reflect not upon a mere twelve months' worth of achievement, but upon the expanse of a career and upon a lifetime's with of accomplishment. Ladies and gentlemen...Shawn Malakai.
The lights in the theatre dim as the screen fades open to a slow motion shot of Shawn Malakai being handed the WFWF World Heavyweight Championship as a brilliant display of pyrotechnics fires off behind him, tears and sweat streaming down his face.
Samael Ahriman: There was just…just something about the guy that resonated.
Dex: He was the one true instance of good in a decaying world.
Blood pours down the face of the man then known as the High Horror as he towers atop a steel cage, his arms torn to shreds having moments earlier ascended through a mess of barbed wire strung copiously along the top of the cage to reach the point where he now stands, not to yet seize the opportune chance at escape, but rather to leap into the air, executing a frog splash that defies all reason for a man his size, landing atop a fallen David Williams several feet below in the middle of the ring.
David Brennan: That mother f*cker was TALL.
The public hallways of an arena have become a veritable war zone as Malakai and ZMaster barrel through, each intent not upon their unusual surroundings nor the innocent bystanders caught in the fray due to poorly times visits to the snack bars or merchandise tables, but rather on putting the beating to end all beatings upon one another. Malakai's life is in danger, even then, as a spear to the midsection of his masked opponent nearly sends the towering star toppling over a safety rail to the levels of the arena below. Later, he ensnares ZMaster within the confines of an overturned steel trash can before Sparta kicking him down a flight of stairs several hundred steps high, leaving a blood heap of a mess of a man to trickle out of the barrel once he's finally come to a rest below.
Samael Ahriman: ...absolutely ruthless in his methods...Friend or foe, if you stepped in that ring with him, you were in for an ass kicking.
Close in on Malakai's eyes, wide and unnerved, clearly demonstrative of a man unhinged as we pan to a cocked fist, wrapped in a bike chain and cloth, clearly soaked in a substance dense enough to be visible to the naked eye. Staring down his opponent, the formidable Thunder, a spark ignites the crude, self fashioned gauntlet into a burst of flames, reflected in the eyes of his opponent, who sees reason above all else, retreating to the corner and forcing the mic from the grasp of the referee, uttering, nay, shouting the only words Malakai needs to hear.
Thunder: I QUIT! I QUIT! I QUIT!
He collapses into a heap in the corner, his hand smoldering, the lasting damage of his tactics already plain as day. A referee slides into the ring, bearing the prize he'd laid it all out on the line for - the WFWF International Championship - and drapes it across the lap of the fallen victor.
Samael Ahriman: ...that would be the last time we’d see Shawn until he came back to announce he had cancer, but he had one final wish: to defeat Scarlett Quinn, and by default, Trace Demon:’s organization.
In silence, the familiar scene plays out - Malakai covers Scarlett Quinn for the win, the sound revoked as an unnecessary additive to the emotion in the building. One passing glance over the crowd is all that's needed to show the place coming absolutely unhinged, as Malakai has seemingly defeated the evil empire and secured his place in the history books as a piece of the WFWF World Heavyweight Championship's lineage.
A beat.
The moment, is of course, short lived, as any record of the win is effectively put to rest by WFWF Principal Owner Trace Demon:. In an instant, the elation is washed from the faces of the thousands in attendance. Malakai's face is one of heartache, lividity, and bears the mark of a man sworn upon a path of vengeance.
Samael Ahriman: It pissed me off. Royally. And then…there it was.
SuperBrawl.
With a defeating beat, the screen goes black. The roar of a crowd intensifies, culminating as thousands upon thousands of voices, in unison, ring out in time with the all too familiar smacks to the canvas.
1...
...2...
...3!!!
The picture fades in once more, the scene playing out in dramatic slow motion fashion - Shawn kissing the championship belt, pointing a finger to the sky as the scene fades, first to black and white, then slowly, and solemnly, to black. The voice overs become speakers now, cast before a black background, each speaking their final words solemnly in memory of their departed ally.
Samael Ahriman: ...that was the last match Malakai ever had in WFWF.
Cameron Stone: Shawn Malakai was an incredibly important individual in my life.
Dex: He was strong in the face of opposition, and dedicated to perfecting his craft in a way that had never been seen before in the WFWF.
Samael Ahriman: ...he was one of the best.
Cameron Stone: ...his friendship and guidance were critical in me achieving success both inside and outside the ring.
Dex: Shawn entrusted me to continue his great legacy, to continue his eternal fight; and to assure that the dream we shared will never die.
Cameron Stone: Goodbye Shawn. You will never be forgotten.
Dex: Thank you, Shawn Malakai.
Samael Ahriman: Rest in peace, friend. We’re done here.
With strode departing words, the screen fades to black before fading back in with the lasting image of Shawn Malakai as he was known in life.
In the crowded theatre, a lone spotlight bears down upon the solitary, empty seat centered in the front row, as a faint applause soon grows to a bellowing ovation. Leading the charge, Samael Ahriman, illuminated only by the tracings of the spotlight focused upon the seat beside him, rises to his feet, followed by Cameron Stone, then Dex, after which the entire WFWF roster in attendance rises to the occasion, as does the attending audience, affording Shawn Malakai one final unanimous recognition as the set lights return, his visage fades from the screen that now rises back to its position out of sight, and the audience comes to settle in for the main attraction of the evening.
As Trace Demon, suited for the occasion, walks out towards the podium he pretends to wipe tears away from his eyes. A number of guests, particularly Samael Ahriman and Josh Dean, are visibly annoyed as Trace takes his place at the front.
Trace Demon: Well that was emotional. Now, as the owner of the WFWF it falls to me to say a few opening words, and more importantly to give a fitting eulogy to my dearly departed friend Shawn Malakai. I’ve prepared a few choice words.
Trace pulls out a piece of paper from his suit, composing himself as he begins to read.
Trace Demon: Shawn Malakai, born at some time in the past to whatever their names were in the town of who gives a crap, passed away recently after really dragging it out. He is survived through his friends, of which he apparently has some, but not through any family because he wasn’t quite good enough as a father that he couldn’t keep his own daughter from being killed, which was probably a regret that he carried to the grave. At least I think he was buried, didn’t really fact check this if I’m honest. Who has the time? Anyway, I’ve got more.
The crowd is filled with groans and angry whispers. Nobody is happy about this. Well, except for Drakz. He seems to be enjoying it plenty.
Trace Demon: Shawn Malakai became a professional, term used loosely, wrestler for some reason or another. He was hired by the WFWF because they didn’t know any better at the time and he slowly, and I mean slowly, rose up the ranks. Shawn Malakai was a consummate presence, that is to say he was always there because nobody else wanted him, and he witnessed many of the greats of the WFWF pass him by. A lot of them while lying on his back for the count of three. As with any vagrant though if you hang around long enough eventually you get thrown some scraps, like suckering the WFWF into making a five way Superbrawl main event in which he literally stole the WFWF World Heavyweight champion. Yes, Shawn Malakai won the WFWF World Heavyweight Championship, I mean he then gave it away to Dex so he pretty much pissed on his own title reign right there, but you can’t have everything. But still, he had his health… oh, wait.
Further, considerably louder discontent from the WFWF roster, all of whom were ready to celebrate and respect the career of Shawn Malakai, only for Trace Demon: to come out and tarnish the whole thing with a smile.
Trace Demon: Let’s be honest; a lot of you guys owe your careers to Shawn Malakai. Malakai proved that you don’t always need talent to be successful here in the WFWF, and there’s plenty of guys who have followed his lead. Samael Ahriman, Josh Dean, Dex, Trevor Wolfe, I mean that’s a pretty long list.
Each name is followed with a reaction shot and let’s be honest, none of them are too pleased by Trace Demon: right now. Dean especially seems ready to lash out.
Trace Demon: Honestly, it’s hard to talk about Shawn without getting all emotional. So I’m just gonna say this, me and Shawn, our careers intertwined a lot. We never could get very far from each other when it came down to it. And it looks like even though he’s gone I’ll never truly get rid of him. I mean look at tonight, they’ve only gone and double booked mine and Shawn’s seat.
He signals for the empty chair in the front row, the one specifically there to honour Shawn’s memory. Everyone in attendance is in uproar right now, this is a step too far.
Trace Demon: Now, luckily for me Shawn isn’t here tonight, so I’m sure he won’t mind.
He unhooks the microphone, taking it with him as he steps down from the stage and approaches the empty chair. Everybody is looking around at each other, wondering whether they should do something. Shawn Malakai rises to his feet, his energies all but focused on maintaining his composure, despite his proximity to the Demon.
Trace Demon: Shawn, let me just say, rest in peace. You will be missed.
And with that Trace Demon: takes his seat, or rather Shawn Malakai’s seat. Again people can barely contain their rage, Josh Dean is shown, fists clenched, Samael Ahriman meanwhile shouts at a beleaguered stagehand to do something, on the very verge of losing his wits, half at the show of disrespect to his departed friend, half at the prospect of spending the evening seated beside the man who has shown his memory complete disregard.
Trace Demon: I mean not by me or your daughter, because again, she’s dead, but hey, I’m sure someone will miss you. Now, let’s enjoy the show!
With a look of uncomfortable disgust on his face, clearly a candid reaction to Trace Demon:'s actions and remarks at such a moment for the company, Chris Avalon returns to his spot along the right side of the stage.
Chris Avalon: Cold blooded. Ahem. Ah...our first presenter tonight is, in many ways, a newly minted rookie in his own right: the newest voice emanating from ringside each and every night, calling the action as only he can see it. Ladies and gentlemen - Daniel Knight.
Daniel Knight steps out from behind the curtain, donned in his signature tuxedo and looking damn dapper. Shaking Avalon's hand, he proceeds to the podium.
Daniel Knight: If there's one thing we all share in this industry, it's the fact that we've all done a period of time to be known as our rookie season - some of us more than once as we move from position to position within the industry. Our rookie days are our first, and arguably most important opportunity to make a lasting impact, so much so that perhaps one day, those days will play just as important a role in the highlight reel of our careers. The nominees for the WFWF Rookie of the year award are..
...Stan McMann...
...Zoe Schaefer...
...Lucas Crowe...
...Grayson Cain...
...and Joey Raid.
A brief video package plays highlights of each nominee's debut outing as their name is read before highlighting those in attendance reflecting back upon their early runs with the company. Finally, an envelope is handed to Daniel Knight, who opens it and briefly glances at the contents within before speaking once more.
Daniel Knight: And the 2015 WFWF Rookie of the Year is....Lucas Crowe!
The audience erupts in applause as an image of Crowe appears on monitors throughout the theatre, a fancy banner declaring him WFWF's 2015 Rookie of the Year framing the picture.
Daniel Knight: Unfortunately, Mr. Crowe could not be here this evening to accept his award, as he no doubt continues to prepare for his coming match with our next presenter set to take place as WFWF presents "Black Hole Sun", live and available only on the WFWF Network and your local pay-per-view provider!
The audience's attention is momentarily drawn to a disturbance in the far off distance, as the muffled but plainly evident sound of a six hundred year old tree being uprooted by what all can only assume is the manliest of any possible manly manly man, his manly rage at being denied his rightful place among the less manly winners channeled into his own manly hands, which he uses to quickly eviscerate and deforest and entire swath of land in manly retribution.
Back on stage, Chris Avalon returns to the podium.
Chris Avalon: Congratulations Lucas. It's worth noting that many of us never see the day where our "rookie season" becomes a fully fledged career, and that while the forces that drive us all to and from the WFWF vary, the door has always remained open. Many of this evening's nominees have since parted ways for various reasons, and we wish them all the best in whatever their future endeavors may be.
A smattering of applause greets Avalon's words as Trace Demon:, now seated in the place of honor reserved for Shawn Malakai, rolls his eyes at the sentiment, Samael Ahriman seemingly unable to remove his glare from Demon's direction.
Chris Avalon: Our next presenter is a man familiar to audiences worldwide for his work in the ring, on the mic alongside our commentary team, and for his travels to Canadian populaces across the...well...across Canada in search of the finest platters of fries, gravy, and cheese curds the great white north has to offer. Gross. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Cameron Stone.
Cameron Stone emerges from behind the curtain, almost slightly hurried, though the shot is wise to pan out before it can catch him stuffing one last gravy drenched fry into his mouth, washing it down with a swift gulp of water as he approaches the podium adjusting his tie and sorting his notes.
Cameron Stone: The Breakout Superstar of the Year award. There are a few ways that you can look at this award. Is it the young upstart only a year or two into the business who made a signifigant impact pretty much right after starting their career? Or is it a veteran who has been plying his trade for years, and achieves something more than they have previously? This is the type of award that may very well dictate the future of the WFWF. Whoever broke out may continue to rise up and gain even more momentum and establish themselves as a building block for the foundation of our industry going forward. Then again, they could also never make it any further than they have to date, and crumble under the weight of the now high expectations laid on them by everyone who has watched them climb further up the ladder. Both of these situations have happened before, and both with happen again. The breakout award is one I like to see, as I feel a connection to it, as I consider this last year to be my breakout year, not just in the ring, but outside of it. I became the International Champion, achieving my highest level of success in the WFWF while doing so. I had a daughter. I became an actor and am living my life exactly how I want to, with my future looking brighter than it ever has. So I feel that I'm a qualified individual to present this award. So without further ado, the nominees for the WFWF Breakout Superstar of the Year Award are. . . .
...Ante Whitner...
...Cameron Stone...thanks!...
...Joshua Dean...
...Lucas Crowe...
...and Samael Ahriman.
Still slightly intrigued by his nomination, Cameron hurriedly opens the envelope, eagerly leaning forward as he does so, prepared to announce the winner as soon as the words are visible to his eyes. Hopefully he doesn't pull a Steve Harvey. That would be awful.
Cameron Stone: And the 2016 Breakout Superstar of the Year is....aw....Joshua Dean.
"In the City" hits and Josh stands up from his chair all smiles as he makes his way to the stage. As he nears the podium, he turns around and waves to the fans as he backpeddals the rest of the way to the podium.
Josh Dean: You know, I look around at the immense amount of talent sitting in this room and I find it really cool that I got voted on as being the guy who "broke out" this year.
He pauses.
Josh Dean: I still find it a little hard to put this last year into perspective, but what I can tell you is that it's been a journey. And there's really no secret formula to the success I've had this year other than just taking it one match at a time. From Yukio Blaze all the way to Drakz, each opponent got my undivided attention and I think that translated into something really special.
The crowd cheers as Josh smiles, looking at his award.
Josh Dean: But if you think last year was pretty awesome, trust me when I say you haven't seen nothing yet. Thank you!
"In the City" hits and Josh raises his award over the award over his head as the crowd cheers on "The Architect" while he exits the stage.
Chris Avalon: Joshua Dean, ladies and gentlemen.
A polite round of applause leads Dean back to his seat.
Chris Avalon: And now, to present our next award, a man who needs, nor truly deserves any real introduction – ladies and gentlemen, please welcome…*sigh*…David Brennan.
Brennan’s music heralds his arrival, and yet, restlessness abounds throughout the theatre as the audience cranes their necks around, wondering exactly where he is as his music drones on. After what feels like an eternity, as spotlight catches David quite literally entering the theatre from a lobby door. He ambles down the aisle between sections, a drink clasped firmly in his hand as he smirks and sneers as familiar faces as he approaches the stage. Whether he doesn’t know or doesn’t care that there are steps to either side of the stage, he approaches nearly dead center, resting his drink atop the stage before hoisting himself up, retrieving his drink, and making for the podium. Even the genial Avalon has to recoil – David is hardly dressed for the occasion, not that anyone should have really expected greater of him.
David Brennan: So…I guess I’m supposed to present the award for the Return of the Year. I dunno man – I just took a look at the nominees. Doesn’t seem like it’s gonna make a squirt of piss worth of difference who pulls this one, now that whoever gets a trophy’s already been overshadowed by, uh…well, by this guy, but let’s see. Up for this one, you’ve got…
…Cam Nitta. Shi*t, that little weasel is back? Has…like, he hasn’t really done anything, has he?
…oh, brother – gimme a f*ckin’ break – Michael Kyzer…
…Cameron Stone. Does it really count if he’s been on the stick this whole time suckin’ down chili cheese fries or whatever the f*ck it is he’s eatin’ down there?
…and…wait…David James? Would someone tell me who the f*ck that is? I keep on seein’ that name thrown around – who the f*ck is that?! David James…
…anyway, I already looked – you guys chose Michael Kyzer. Big f*ckin’ whoop. I dunno if that was supposed to be some bait to rope him back in or something but clearly the powder head isn’t here, like I said, not that it f*ckin’ matt –OW!
At first glance it’s not plainly evident what has interrupted Brennan’s train of thought, but a second yelp and a glance downward draws the entire audience’s eyes toward the source of Brennan’s outburst, and a light murmur of laughter emerges as the audience bears witness to a diminutive – and I mean f*ckin’ small – bald man chasing Brennan off stage with a series of firm kicks to the shin and ankle. Having successfully driven Brennan away, the little stack of two foot nothing comes storming back on stage, chasing a stagehand ahead of him who places a set of pet stairs behind the podium, allowing the tiny little runt to come up to mic height and seize the award for himself.
Donnie Monty Kent: You’re god damn right mother f*ckers! You know, that alcoholic piece of sh*t has got a point for once – you are a bunch of stupid sh*ts giving Kyzer this award – even if he was here to take it, this sh*t is so rightfully mine it ain’t even funny! Who the f*ck do you think brought Kyzer back in the first place?! Who brought you f*cks everything good that f*ckin’ happened this past f*ckin’ year?! Where’s my f*ckin’ Lifetime Achievement Award?! You spend close to thirty minutes suckin’ a dead guy’s co-
DMK’s mic is mercifully cut off before he’s able to continue his diatribe, though it remarkably takes a squad of three kung-fu hardnut security personnel to escort him off stage, kicking and screaming and waving the award in the air all the while as Chris Avalon returns to the stage, looking aghast at the bizarre round of events that have transpired tonight thus far.
Chris Avalon: Host the awards, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. What is even going on? Ah…well, appropriately, it would appear that the time has come to recognize the…well, the less dignified among us. The rotten, the despicable, the downright wrong. To present the award for WFWF Heel of the Year, please welcome former WFWF Superstar Daniel Kirkbride.
A cheap fog encapsulates the stage at ankle height as Daniel Kirkbride saunters out onto the stage, arms spread wide, hair tousled, the mental effects of his seemingly career ending blow to the head clearly having gone nowhere since he was last seen in a WFWF ring. Smirking, he approaches the podium envelope in hand, and surveys the crowd.
Daniel Kirkbride: It’s often said that perhaps the most foul, depraved souls among us are not…inherently evil, but rather lost, needing only to stumble upon the path back home. I, personally, prefer misunderstood. The men who make up the pool of candidates for this evening’s accolades may be godless, soulless, and at times seem aimless, but who are we, chosen creations of God’s image, to cast aspersions on that which we do not understand? The nominees for WFWF Heel of the Year are…
…the Devil’s own stepstool, Donnie Monty Kent…
…the gilded calf of the WFWF, Drakz…
…the King of Demons, Trace Demon…
…and the false God, Michael Kyzer…
…and the winner is…Trace Demon.
Trace Demon stands at the podium, award in hand. However, he doesn’t look all that pleased.
Trace Demon: Funny, and here I was thinking you had to be a villain to get the best heel award.
He shakes his head, chuckling to himself. The rest of the room basically does a collective eye roll.
Trace Demon: But it doesn’t surprise me, I’ve been unfairly vilified by most of you and the fans for years now, so I’m going to accept this award and dedicate it to all the real villains here in the WFWF. Yes, this one is for you Trevor Wolfe, for somehow weaseling your way into two main events in your first four matches, despite the fact that you haven’t won a single match yet. And to you Shapiro, for thinking anyone gives two craps about you full stop.
Both Trevor Wolfe and Shapiro glare up at Demon.
Trace Demon: This award goes out to you Penny Shannon, for being a terrible role model for children and proving time and time again that yes, weed will dull your brain. And to you DJ Demento, for literally nearly killing a girl because you thought it was a good idea to drink drive. Here’s a hint Davey, it wasn’t, though I bet the boys in the cell block taught you that lesson loud and clear. Ah, remember you’re on a probationary contract, don’t want to be back in an orange jumpsuit, do you?
David James, who had risen from his seat, reluctantly sits back down with a scowl.
Trace Demon: And we can’t forget Dex, can we? I mean he is without doubt one of the best villains in WFWF history. Who else could possibly convince a man dying of cancer, who had already proven themselves incapable of making smart decisions, to just hand over the WFWF World Heavyweight Championship? I mean that’s some super villain crap right there, no wonder you used to wear that mask, can’t be having people know your secret identity was as a rich spoiled kid, can we? Speaking of people who don’t deserve to be world champion, we’re forgetting Samael Ahriman, who’s such a villain he carries a bloody sword around with him. He stabs people with that thing, I’ve seen him stab a guy. In my opinion stabbing someone should definitely earn you this award, shame you’re so forgettable, just like your National title reign.
Samael Ahriman can be seen mumbling that “he’s lucky I don’t have a sword right now”.
Trace Demon: And then there’s Josh Dean. Actually, let’s be honest Dean, you’re not actually much of a villain, are you? I mean the most deceitful thing you’ve ever done is fool these people into believing that you’ve got actual talent. Although… yes, that’s right, isn’t it. You brought your wife into the industry, let her get seriously injured, let her return back to the ring despite that injury and then it turned out you were such a sad sack of crap that you let your marriage fall apart all because of your inadequate performances as a man. At least that’s what I heard. I mean that’s not exactly heel behaviour, but it was worth mentioning.
Josh Dean, who has been on edge all night when it comes to Trace Demon:’s behaviour, is really struggling not to snap, but he remains ever the consummate professional.
Trace Demon: And then there is you, the person who, in my opinion, really deserves this award. Lila Sleater. The head booker of the WFWF, the woman who slowly but surely has been trying to destroy my company. I mean it’s got to be purposeful, right? Nobody could be as utterly inept at running the show without it being purposeful? Lila Sleater you have without a doubt been the biggest villain of the past year, you’ve brought back nobodies, you’ve given people who don’t deserve it title shot after title shot, again I’m looking in your direction Samael, and now you’ve somehow conspired to make me seem like the biggest villain around here. Well guess what Lila, I’m not accepting this award for myself, I’m accepting it on your behalf, and on behalf of all the heels here in the WFWF. Somehow, someway, myself and Drakz, the two shining beacons of light that theWFWF has, will find a way to stop you.
And with that, and with the sound of very few people clapping him, Trace Demon holds the award up in the air and takes his leave.
Chris Avalon returns to the stage, making his way toward center stage rather than the offset podium. Behind him, a red velvet curtain rises, revealing a monumentally large screen spanning the entire width of the stage as well as floor to ceiling. Behind him, a montage of 2015’s most momentous occasions plays, conjuring up memories of Drakz and Phillip Schneider tearing into each other for a second time, the unholy alliance between Trace Demon and Drakz being forged to rob Joshua Dean of the World Heavyweight Championship, Ante Whitner’s face as the ref counts the third to officially declare victory over the enigmatic Michael Kyzer, and well over a hundred spots, spills, and death defying maneuvers that have become a hallmark of the WFWF.
Chris Avalon: Every night that the WFWF Superstars gather to set foot into the ring, bodies, lives, are put on the line, but at least once a year, one show stands out above all others. Whether it’s the indomitable stakes that raise the bar of intensity that washes over each superstar’s as he or she makes their way down that ramp, the pursuit of championship gold finally within reach, or the degree of a dispute having reached astronomically personal levels to which there can be no solution but to determine who is left standing in the ring when the dust has settled, often times one show can define not just the hallmark of a feud between two titans, but the defining stamp of an entire year. By simple proxy of being put into production, every show this year stood poised to be the one that fans of generations to come would harken back to when discussing the greatest moments in WFWF history. This year, it was the granting of a fading star’s second wish. It was the boiling point of hope versus despair. It was the dispute over rightful claim to championship gold that could only be settled by literally ascending to heights worthy of a champion and physically snatching it out of thin air. It was the delusion of self-grandeur pitted against the trust in a higher power greater than any Earthly being. It was the test of friendship and teamwork in an industry where often times the solo route is taken in favor of a ‘trust no one’ approach. It was the violent and explosion dissolution of a revolution, and it was the revisiting of a feud forever etched in WFWF legend, pitting one man’s finality against what would pave the other’s career path in the years to come. The burden of greatness, while arguably favorable toward some versus others, cannot fall on the shoulders of one or even few. All who were involved have earned their place in the WFWF history books. We recognize their accomplishments, the sacrifices made whether in contribution to their own ends or to the entertainment of the WFWF Multiverse, and we applaud all who stepped forward with all they gave to make End Game the WFWF’s 2015 Show of the Year.
The audience erupts in applause as focus is placed throughout the room upon the specific stars that made the show the stuff of award winning legend. Back on the stage, the curtain is back in place as the backdrop of the stage, and Chris Avalon has returned side stage to move the show onward with the next batch of awards to be presented.
Chris Avalon: Often times, due diligence is performed to ensure a certain link between a presenter and the award he or she steps forward to offer up, and no bond could be greater than that between our next presenter and the term ‘shocking’. Please welcome…Randel Benjamin.
The lights go out as the spotlights in the Dolby Theatre focus in on a giant white wall on the side of the stage. Fire goes off in front of the wall as Randel Benjamin busts through the wall with a weird silver stormtrooper mask that is covered in sparkly glitter. Benjamin walks on the stage in a menacing way with the mask on as you can visibly see him laughing as his belly rolls are flapping around. His voice is distorted
Randel Benjamin: SHOCKER OF THE YEAR! AND THE NOMINEES ARE!
PENNY SHANNON’S WEED CONSUMPTION DOWN EIGHT PERCENT!!!
CAMERON STONE PINS DRAKZ!!!
ANTE WHITNER AND SAMAEL AHRIMAN LAY WASTE TO MICHAEL KYZER!!!
JOSHUA DEAN GETS SCREWED OUT OF THE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP BY DRAKZ AND TRACE DEMON!!!
SAMAEL AHRIMAN’S SHOW ENDING MASSACRE!!!
AND THE WINNER IS!!!
Chris Avalon: Why are you yelling?
Randel Benjamin: IT’S SHOCKING!!! JUST LIKE…JOSH DEAN GETTING SCREWED OUT OF THE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP BY DRAKZ AND TRACE DEMON:!!!
Trace Demon and Drakz take their place at the podium, Drakz holding the award.
Trace Demon:: Well would you look at that.
Drakz: Pretty, isn’t it?
Trace Demon:: I’ll tell you something, when we decided to make a fool out of the entire WFWF we didn’t ever imagine that we’d be standing here winning an award for it.
Drakz: Well, we kind of did, because we’re us.
Trace Demon:: I’m trying to be modest here man.
Drakz: It doesn’t suit you one bit.
Trace chuckles. The WFWF competitors in the crowd, for the most part, aren’t looking too happy at the fact that these two men are winning an award for essentially screwing people over. Josh Dean and Samael Ahriman are particularly agitated.
Trace Demon:: Being serious for a second, we wouldn’t be up here without the help of one other man who really deserves to be up here too. He was a defining part of the moment that won us this award and he deserves it as much as we do, so without further ado we’d like to invite Josh Dean to the stage to accept this with us!
Drakz: Come on up lad, you deserve it!
All eyes turn to Josh Dean, everyone wondering what he’s going to do. The answer is a disappointing nothing. Dean doesn’t even move out of his chair, he just stares up at the two men who screwed him over.
Drakz: The poor boy’s shy.
Trace Demon:: Can’t blame him, he’s not used to having the spotlight on him. Playing second best would give anyone a serious inferiority complex.
Drakz: Well you’d know.
Trace Demon:: I was about to say the same thing to you. Anyway, we had a feeling that, in the event we won this award, our good friend Josh wouldn’t want to come up here, so we had something prepared just in case so he could be here in spirit. Drop it down boys.
A large poster drops down from the rafters behind the pair and the audience gasps. Angry mumbling is heard from just about everywhere. In one particular section Lucas Crowe, Justin Tyme and their possy begin clapping thunderously. Josh Dean scowls, anger bubbling up inside him.
The poster is a giant blown up image of Drakz and Trace Demon: standing over Josh Dean.
Drakz: Someone give that photographer an award, that’s a thing of beauty.
Trace and Drakz look up at the poster, admiring it.
Trace Demon:: Josh Dean was instrumental in this moment, so it’s only fair he gets some recognition.
Drakz: We’re fair guys you see.
Trace Demon:: After all without Josh being so gullible and stupid we could never have orchestrated such an amazing moment.
It’s quickly become clear to everyone that this whole speech is about one thing. Embarrassing, Josh. He knows it too, yet he doesn’t rise from his seat, he won’t give them the satisfaction.
Drakz: If it had been anyone else we wouldn’t be here, but Josh, being the team player that he is, let us take advantage of his childlike mind for the good of the company. I mean you don’t actually think Josh believed he was a worthy champion, do you?
The two break out into fake laughter.
Trace Demon:: No, we couldn’t have done this without him, and we couldn’t have done it with anyone else either. There’s nobody else on this roster as courageous- long pause -ly idiotic, prone to failure, easy to fool and pathetic that this would have worked with.
Drakz: Except for Samael Ahriman, evidently.
Trace Demon:: So let’s raise our glasses to the most gullible fool in professional wrestling, Josh Dean!
Trace and Drakz begin clapping for Josh, Crowe and his crew joining in. Nobody else does so, but the smiles never slip from the duo’s face and, as they walk off stage with their award in hand, it doesn’t look like that’s changing anytime soon.
Chris Avalon: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome one of the voices of the WFWF…Alecia Matthews.
Alecia Matthews steps out onto the stage looking uncomfortably well presented for the evening. Preparing her notes and the envelope, she makes to speak when…
? HOLD THE GOD DAMN PHONE!!!
Alecia Matthews: Oh, no…
Those who recognized the sudden outburst are quickly able to put a face to the outrage as Matt Steel, former commentator and bag of d*cks extraordinaire steps out from the opposite side of the stage, mic in hand, his own envelope at the ready.
Matt Steel: You’re not going to let this job swiping floozy present an award with this much heat and vitriol tied to it – not on my watch!!!
Alecia Matthews: Didn’t they fire your ass YEARS ago? For, like, generally sucking at your job?
Matt Steel: You’ve got a lot of nerve, lady! You want to talk about suck bag commentary?! Have you even had a consistent squad at ringside since I was ousted! I AM commentary! You’re –
Alecia Matthews: …here to present the award for the best feud of 2015, which, apparently, is already in jeopardy. The nominees are…
…Ante Whitner versus Nikki Dean…
…Drakz and Trace Demon versus Samael Ahriman and Joshua Dean…
…Drakz versus Phillip Schneider…
…Joshua Dean versus Drakz…
…Penny Shannon versus Cameron Stone…
…Samael Ahriman versus Cameron Stone…
…and Trace Demon versus Joe Bishop.
Matt Steel: You SUCK, Matthews!
Alecia Matthews: Think you could do better?
Matt Steel: You’re damn right I could!!
Alecia Matthews: Call it then. Knock yourself out. This black tie garb is for the birds anyway.
Alecia Matthews gleefully tosses aside the envelope and is all too happy to make her way backstage, leaving Steel looking slightly bewildered as all eyes lock upon him as he hesitantly reaches down, retrieving the envelope and sneaking a peak at the winner.
Matt Steel: Well, I’ll be god damned…the winner, besides me, clearly…is Joshua Dean versus Drakz! Get on up here, boys!!
"MK7" by It's a Lunken hits and the crowd explodes with a chorus of boos as the World Heavyweight Champion Drakz makes his way up to the stage, title in tow. A sinister grin crosses Mr. Cray's face as he holds the title up to a deafening array of boos. He saunters over to the podium, soaking in the boos as if they were cheers.
Drakz: Please, you're far too kind.
The crowd clearly doesn't approve of the champ's condescending tone.
Drakz: Every great champion needs a rival. Someone who can push them past what they thought they were capable of. And for me, no truer words could be said. In addition to proving myself as the greatest of all time, I wanted to find my successor at the top of this industry.
He pauses.
Drakz: Unfortunately, I didn't find a successor because no one has been able to come close to reaching the bar I set. But one man came oh so close and I want to thank Josh Dean for giving it the ole college try because he knows how important it is. We've discussed it at length…
Drakz is cut off as "In the City" by Kevin Rudolf hits, sending the crowd into an uproar of cheers. Drakz's smug look disappears as the former World Champion Josh Dean makes his way to the stage. He has a mic in hand, not even bothering to walk toward the podium.
Josh Dean: Ok, I'm getting sick of this bullsh*t.
Drakz straightens up, feigning being taken aback.
Drakz: I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about.
Josh Dean: First of all, do NOT lump me in with your back room deals. There was no collaboration to drag this out into some extended thing. The only reason I have anything to do with you is because of that belt.
Drakz: Oh spare me...
Josh Dean: Hey, you had your chance to run your mouth, so now you can listen. You're the one that made this more than what it had to be. All I wanted was you at your best, because you were the champion and I wanted that belt.
Drakz: Newsflash, I'm still the champ...
Josh Dean: You just keep thinking that. It was just about the belt, but when I meet you in the ring again, and I will meet you in the ring again, I'm kicking your ass, again, out of principle.
He walks up to the podium and takes the trophy, before forcefully shoving it into Drakz's chest.
Josh Dean: You can have this. I'll be coming back for my title in due time.
Josh drops the mic and "In the City" hits as he backs away, never taking his eye off Drakz. Drakz's smile completely fades away as he looks at the trophy.
Drakz: Well, thank you all for coming.
"MK7" hits as Drakz quietly slings the title over his shoulder, walking off the stage in a completely different manner than he walked on.
"Guilty by Association" by H20 begins to play over the P/A system and from behind the curtain comes a familiar face of WFWF past, Hall of Famer from Los Hobos, Percy. He carries an award with him and is dressed in his finest blue polo shirt. He approaches the podium and his music cuts off.
Percy: It's been a little while, WFWF. How you guys doing? Remember me? Percy? Los Hobos? Totally the most memorable part of that time, right guys?
Percy pauses for laughter but is mostly met with silence.
Percy: Tough crowd. I haven't heard a reaction like that since Immune was here.
Again, a pause for laughter to no reaction from the crowd who mostly only know Immune because of jokes like this one.
Percy: I'm here tonight to present the award for Tag Team of the Year. Tag team wrestling in the WFWF is a long storied history and it's launched several Hall of Fame careers. I'm a part of the Hall of Fame because of my time in Los Hobos, and I'm sure some of these inductees are future Hall of Famers as well. The nominees for Tag Team of the Year are...
…Drakz and Josh Dean…
…Hollywood Unhinged 2.0…
…Josh Dean and Dave Demento…
…Josh Dean and Penny Shannon…
…and Samael Ahriman and Tugarin Zmey.
..and the winners are...surprising no one…Drakz and Josh Dean!
Drakz makes his way onto the stage and, after some persuasion from the rest of his table, Josh follows suit.
Drakz: Well………this is *cough* awkward.
Josh raises his eyebrows and knows he’s probably better served not even responding. Drakz clears his throat and then, sporting a fake ‘celebretarian’ Hollywood smile, begins his side of the acceptance speech.
Drakz: These last two awards are certainly testament to my ability. An award for kicking the sh*t out of this dufus….
He gestures over his shoulder with his thumb in Josh’s direction.
Drakz ….followed immediately by a celebration of my ability to still work with him as a team. It’s a wonder we’re not at each other’s throats really. I mean…..
He puts his arm around Josh’s shoulders and Josh slowly turns his head to look, eyes narrowed, at the side of Drakz’s head.
Drakz: …..I know it was me who won the Tag Team Championships but together….
He squeezes Josh who responds by looking back at the crowd and raising his eyebrows again to question what in the blue f*ck Drakz thinks he’s doing. A murmur of laughter rolls around the room from table to table.
Drakz: ……together we’ve defended them. We might not be the longest reigning Tag Team Champions just yet, but we have already racked up more title defences than those schmucks. Are either of them here? Are either of them still in the employ of this company? Are they even alive? I’m honestly unsure as to the mortality of that Charles Landin character. I digress.
He squeezes Josh again and this time Josh squirms free of Drakz’s clutches. Drakz looks scorned.
Drakz: Come on buddy. Everyone’e watching.
Joshua Dean: I know Drakz. I’m aware that everyone’s watching this charade of yours. I honest to God don’t know if you’re doing this as an attempt to get under my skin or if you are a fully fledged maniac.
Josh turns to the audience and looks beyond the tables as though talking to a crew member.
Joshua Dean: I just want to make it clear that I’m not getting on this stage again with this man.
He points at Drakz without looking.
Joshua Dean: I refuse to be a part of whatever the f*ck is going on in this idiot’s head. This is insane. It’s insane that you would even try to get us up here together in the first place! Who in their right mind decided to award us this? I understand that yes our team probably has been the “Tag Team of the Year” but f*ck couldn’t you have looked the other way and just gifted it to someone else? Just to avoid a scene?
Drakz leans in to the mic and tries to interject. Josh pushes his face away and security gets ready to rush the stage in the event that this escalates into physicality.
Joshua Dean: I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised all things considered. I mean Trace Demon does own the company so I imagine this entire thing has been orchestrated to rile me anyway. You’re going to have to do better than thrusting your court jester in my direction if you want a rise out of me Trace. I’m done. Drakz, keep this award as well. Add it to your pile.
Drakz, not knowing how to react simply picks up said award all wide eyed and sells his joy like a f*cking hero. He clings the award tight to his chest before holding it high overhead like it was Simba. Drakz remains there eyes closed, trophy high as the band begins to play him off………he doesn’t move a muscle. The band continues to play. Nothing. The band stops and eventually security has to have a word in his ear.
Drakz: Don’t ruin the moment.
Another quiet word and Drakz, with a smirk whispers something back to the much larger skin head. Clearly it didn’t go down well as the security member grabs Drakz in a hammer lock and begins to maneuver him towards the stairs.
Drakz: Remember me! Ouch! You heavy handed swine!
Chris Avalon: Would Drakz and Mr. Dean just like to take the rest of the trophies already? Alright, here to present the award for Match of the Year is a young man who has strived for nothing less than excellence since returning to WFWF almost two years ago, and has already won like forty blinkin’ awards tonight. Ladies and Gentlemen, one half of the current WFWF Tag Team Champions and the fourteenth Triple Crown winner, "The Franchise" Josh Dean!
"In the City" hits and Josh comes out from behind the set onto the stage. He waves to crowd before adjusting his tie and walking over to the podium.
Josh Dean: Thanks Chris. So this award has always kept a special place in my heart. In a world of polarizing personalities, us athletes still have to get into the ring every night and prove ourselves. By and large the superstars in WFWF strive to have the best match of the night, and when you have several of these the question becomes which one stood out the most?
Josh pauses.
Josh Dean: All of the matches in contention for this prestigious award raised the bar for competition, and each person involved took themselves to the absolute limit to make their match unique enough to be honored here tonight. Here are the nominees…
…Ante Whitner versus Nikki Dean, End Game…
…Cameron Stone versus Samael Ahriman, Curtain Call…
…Joshua Dean versus Drakz, Showtime…
…and Drakz versus Phillip Schneider II, End Game.
Josh opens the envelope.
Josh Dean: And the winner is...Drakz versus Phillip Schneider II.
Drakz takes to the stage for fourth time in the night and it’s plain to see that people are sick of the sight of him. Drakz, totally ignoring Josh, hurriedly just leans in and grabs the mic mounted on the podium making a hell of a lot of noise as his hand rubs against it.
Drakz: Isn’t this just a cinderella story tonight guys? Is everyone having a good time? Woooooo!
Nothing.
Drakz: Jeez. Tough crowd.
He pulls at his shirt collar.
Drakz: As you all know there’s an unwritten rule that sequels never live up to the high expectations of a classic original piece of work. Be it in film, music, the written word, whatever. We’ve been preprogrammed after numerous let downs to simply lower our expectations when things are wheeled out for a second time as it tends to be a case of milking a dusty old teet dry.
Josh has given up on trying to begrudgingly present the award to Drakz so he just places it down on the stage beside the podium, shakes his head and walks off.
Drakz: Well blow your pavlovian expectations out of your arses because I carried Phillip Schneider to Match of the Year for a second year running! Wooooo!
A fist into the air.
Drakz:The best part about the sequel? In fact the thing that made the sequel capable of overshadowing even our initial encounter at Superbrawl? There’s no chance we’ll do it a third time………because I retired the schmuck! Phillip Schneider, a man who by all rites is more accomplished than pretty much any of you…
He waves an open hand across the crowd in front of him.
Drakz: …..was forced into retirement by little old me, which is the exact reason that I’ll accept this award on his behalf as he’s too busy practicing Tai Chi in Yoyogi Park to come down here himself. Plus I think he kind of owes me seeing as I still have shards of our previous Match of the Year trophy lodged in my f*cking head. So without further ado….where’s the award?
Drakz looks around him, assumedly wondering where Josh has gotten to. The lights cut.
There's a moment of murmur amongst the crowd as the lights are down, a growing chatter among the spectators and competitors in attendance. But as the chatter grows, the lights return. And now Drakz isn't alone on the stage. On the stage as well, with the Match of the Year award in hand, is Phillip Schneider. While most people have dressed for the evening with decorum and sophistication, Schneider has opted for black cargo pants and a sleeveless Beetlejuice t-shirt. Schneider looks quite different from his last in ring appearance, now sporting black hair that's shaved on the sides and tied up in a samurai knot. Drakz realises he's not alone on the stage. He turns to see Schneider staring him down, the award drawn back and ready to smash into Drakz's face to complete the event of dejavu.
Security ready themselves again. They’re really having to earn their wages tonight.
With a certain uneasiness, Drakz stares down Schneider. Neither man moving, both men armed and ready to attack, but Schneider is the one to break the tension. He extends the award to Drakz, holding it out with one hand. Drakz steps forwards and grabs the award. Schneider doesn't immediately let go of the glass trophy and the two lock eyes. There's a tension among the two. Schneider finally releases the award, simply turning and walking away. There is a collective sigh of disappointment from the room as for a moment it looked as though Drakz was going to get flattened.
Drakz: Phillip Schneider everyone! Woooooo!
With the stage cleared, now looking ever disheveled, Chris Avalon returns once more, looking hurried and eager to see the evening’s events come to a close.
Chris Avalon: Well, folks – they’ve finally done it. Our next presenter, an esteemed, revered, and decorated former superstar who in many ways embodies the ideals that go into being a fan favorite in our industry…has decided to make an early exit in light of this evening’s going ons. Well done, Drakz. Without feeding your ego all that much, your one man train wreck this evening has succeeded in driving one of the WFWF’s most synonymous faces away from a mere awards show, and I’m told that legal is currently in the process of, at his request, terminating all future associations between ourselves and a superstar who once carried the weight of this organization on its back, so good on you there. Let’s just get through this already. The nominees for WFWF’s Face of the Year award are…
…Penny Shannon…
…Joshua Dean…
…Drakz…yeah, someone look into that, please…
…Daniel Kirkbride…
…and Dave Demento…
…and the winner is…thankfully…Josh Dean.
"In the City" by Kevin Rudolf hits as Josh stands up from his chair. The previous couple times on the stage have worn away at the Architect's jovial mood, but he appears to be in pretty good spirits as he throws a hand up to acknowledge the crowd's cheers. He walks over to the podium with his music dying down.
Josh Dean: I've been up here a few times tonight, accepting different awards to commemorate a pretty successful year. But this one is probably the one I'm most proud of, because it's an award based on the way a man carries himself.
The crowd cheers as Josh swoops his hair out of his face.
Josh Dean: I've always tried to carry myself like a professional, doing whatever needed to be done to ensure this company continues to thrive. Wether it be battling monsters, helping my team, offering my services to a certain champion to level the playing field, or going head up against the establishment so that the new guys can have a shot, I do it willingly because you guys deserve a company that offers the best.
The camera pans out to see the young guys like Shapiro and Trevor Wolf clapping for the former World Champion.
Josh Dean: Here's what else I know. I know that the job is far from finished, but that we will take a big step forward in Boston when I humble the overzealous yuppie running this joint. It's time for the WFWF superstars to take a stand and I am honored to lead the charge...
The crowd oohs and ahs as Trace Demon stands up from his chair, obviously not happy with being called out by "The Franchise". He motions for a mic, a stagehand quickly handing one over, likely out of fear of losing his job. Josh clearly isn't happy about this, stepping away from the podium with an unhappy look on his face.
Trace Demon: Oh Josh...
Trace walks to the stage. Dean, as if to show Trace what he's done, picks up the award and steps right up to the edge of it too look down at Trace, holding the award out as if to shove his success right in Trace's face. Trace doesn't care.
Trace Demon: I know you-
BOOM! Trace lobs the microphone up with serious force. It smashes into Josh's skull, stunning him and everyone else in the room. Demon doesn't waste a second, grabbing Josh's legs and yanking him down onto his back on the stage, then off of it altogether. Josh lands on his feet on the floor as Trace begins throwing rights and lefts. Not calculated punches at all, not wrestling punches, these are just straight up fists to the skull. Josh gets a few strikes in of his own but he's too stunned by the sudden attack to really do much damage. Luckily for him everybody nearby is quick to dive in and try and pull them apart, from stagehands to the production team to stars like Wolfe, Penny Shannon and Shapiro, they're all in there trying to drag Trace away from Dean.
It appears to work, Trace backs away, spitting vitriol at Dean who is still trying to gather his bearings. Then there's a sudden flurry, Trace elbows Wolfe in the side of the head and headbutts Shapiro and then dives through the crowd before slamming his elbow into Josh's skull. The two begin throwing fists at each other once more, Dean now realizing exactly how serious this fight is. Both men catch a few members of the crowd in the process with stray hands, but neither of them cares. It looks like Trace caught Penny with an errant shot in the ruckus, because she hits the deck and is holding her injured eye. Josh begins getting the better of the encounter, when Trace does something nobody expects. He gets in close and just straight up plunges his teeth into Josh's forehead, digging them in deep as Josh roars out in surprise and pain.
Josh reaches out in desperation and grabs the first thing to hand which just so happens to be his award. He brings it up, slamming it into the side of Trace's skull. Trace stumbles backwards from the blow, his head split open badly from where the award connected, blood dripping down his face. He isn't the only one, Trace has straight up ripped some of the skin off of Josh's forehead and blood flows freely covering Dean's face. Security have rushed in full force now and the two men's bloodied state makes it a lot easier for them to get in between them, pulling them apart. Trace screams at them not to touch him as he wipes his blood across his face. As one of the WFWF's resident medics helps Josh away backstage, pressing a compress to his head to stem the loss of blood, Trace staggers away, groggy from having an award slammed into his head and goes crashing into the side of a table, knocking it over in the process.
He scrambles to his feet, lobs a bottle of champagne across the room and storms off, still bleeding, this just a preview of the war to come between these two men.
Chris Avalon: And we’ve degenerated into complete disarray. Fantastic. Well done, gentlemen, good show all around. Let’s cap it off disastrously, shall we? Certainly nothing that could go wrong with THIS next presentation. Folks, please accept my advance apologies and most sincere regret while welcoming our next presenter. Here to present the hallmark award of our show, the WFWF Superstar of the year Award…last year’s winner…I’m terribly sorry…Drakz.
Unsurprisingly the little applause that follows is quite clearly forced as Drakz swaggers up the stairs and onto the stage. He takes the podium with half a bottle of scotch in his hand and his top 3 shirt buttons undone, looking a little worse for wear.
Drakz: First of all I’d like to admonish Chris Avalon for their flagrant redaction of my accomplishments. I am also YOUR WFWF Tag Team Champions. Yeah, f*ck you Josh. I said it.
He lifts the bottle to toast his fellow Tag Team of the Year winner Mr Dean before knocking back another mouthful.
Drakz: Now, this award……this award……wait did I really win this award last year? I don’t remember accepting it?
A murmur of laughter runs through the room as they remember Donnie Monty Kent accepting the award in Drakz’s absence. Drakz, of course, in the hospital.
Drakz: Well, whatever the case, this award is the one you should all be gunning for.
With the bottle neck held in three fingers he jabs his index out at the room of fellow roster members.
Drakz: If you can’t take this title from me then this award is a damn good second best. F*ck you Josh.
He glances out of the corner of his eye at the Dean’s table as he knocks back another toast, Josh not letting his partner’s attacks rile him. The man’s got class.
Drakz: Now the question of course is which one of you has managed to eclipse me in the last year to warrant this award? Which one of you has stolen the hearts and minds of the people to such an extent that they consider you THE Superstar of the Year? Now unfortunately this award can’t be given to the same wrestler two years in a row otherwise I’d be saying all of this vain as it goes without saying that off the record I’ve outperformed the f*cking lot of you all year long.
He covers his mouth with his hand.
Drakz: Ooop. Language. Sorry.
Another swig in what can only be considered an homage to the resurfaced David Brennan.
Drakz: Okay. I should really get on with this. And the nominees are…
…Phillip Schneider for his role in “The Long Goodbye”…
…Shawn Malakai as the lead in “Is He Dead Yet?”…
…Cameron Stone playing the part of the self titled “Steam Boat Willie”…
…and of course…
…Joshua Dean for his role in…..erm….f*ck it I don’t know….a remake of Dirty Dancing or something.
And the winner is…….
He puts the bottle neck in his mouth to free up both hands, drumming on the top of the rostrum. He then picks up the golden envelope from in front of him and opens it up.
Drakz: Jahshwua Geen,
Realising no one can tell what the hell he just said he takes the bottle from his mouth and places it on the podium.
Drakz: Sorry. Joshua Dean!
The crowd applauds like crazy and a spotlight falls on Josh’s seat where Nikki kisses him and the members of the S.O.S. rise to their feet in support.
Drakz: Hahaha!
Drakz cackles like a mad man, to the point that he needs to hold the podium for support. His laughing booms through the PA and after a few seconds it’s become so annoying that it’s turned everyone’s attention from Josh and back to him.
Drakz: F*ck you Josh…….
He keeps laughing and then starts into a coughing fit. It takes him a moment to compose himself and then, wiping a tear from his eye he addresses the room.
Drakz: It seems there is no back to back victory rule. Your WFWF Superstar of the Year is in fact…..ME!
There’s a collective gasp at the audacity of this move, building Josh up like that and embarrassing him on live television.
Drakz: That’s right ladies and gentlec*nts, I am your WFWF World Heavyweight Champion, your WFWF Tag Team Champions and now your two time WFWF Superstar of the Year! I’d just like to thank everyone who made this possible starting with of course me. I’d also like to thank everyone I’ve beaten this year. Phillip Schneider, Trace Demon, Jayson Garrett, Nikki Dean, Daniel Kirkbride. Sorry if I’ve forgotton anyone. Oh actually, where’s Samael?
A shout from the darkness of the crowd grabs Drakz’s attention and the handy spot light swings to the source revealing Ahriman standing from his chair looking totaly f*cking furious.
Drakz: Awesome.
Drakz then grabs his Superstar of the Year award and throws it as hard as he can at Samael. Luckily Sam’s reactions are up to scratch (and Drakz is pretty sh*t faced) so the glass award instead hits the ground short of Samael, but it does explode sending shards of glass flying in every direction. Drakz knocks back what’s left of his bottle.
Drakz: If this mic wasn’t fixed to the podium I’d drop it. Namaste.
As if his first attack wasn’t enough he know wings the empty bottle at Sam as well. It spins violently out of control across the room, missing wildly. A roar of pain follows a second explosion of glass and security swarms the table in question. Drakz throws up a peace sign to the crowd as he leaves the stage and the spotlight now drops onto the scrum of security. The horror is revealed as the empty 70cl bottle of single malt has smashed into the face of Seiryu Shimizu leaving him a bloody mess, his hands clutching the pulp of flesh as crimson pumps through his fingers.
What in the hell just happened?
Is someone going to call the police?
Of course not, this is the WFWF. This incident isn’t even in the top 5 most violent prison worthy spectacles that have been captured by our cameras.
Happy Award Ceremony folks!
The 2015 Year End Award Ceremony
An overhead shot pans over the interior of The Dolby Theatre in Hollywood, California as the last remaining few spectators trickle in to find their seats. Seated amid the forward most section of the theatre are the stars of tonight's show - the WFWF Superstars and alumni, checkered throughout the first several rows, some alongside their friends and family. To the back, the WFWF fans, afforded a once in a lifetime opportunity to bear witness to what has become an annual tradition in the WFWF, to honor the superlatives among them and their accomplishments over the course of the past year.
Notably, a lone seat, nearly perfectly centered along the front row, remains conspicuously empty, flanked to the right by a stoic faced Samael Ahriman, seated patiently, eyes forward as the lights begin to dim to a round of polite applause and a noticeable absence of inappropriate catcalling, as the WFWF draws a crowd more dignified and respectful than some major organizations.
Over the PA, a booming if not altogether generic announcer welcomes the crowd to the elegant and total class ceremony.
Announcer: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the WFWF Year End Award Ceremony, presented by Thornstowe Brand Axles! Please welcome your host for the evening, WFWF Superstar Chris Avalon.
Up on the stage, Chris Avalon steps out from behind the curtain to another round of enthusiastically polite applause. He's dressed to the nines for the occasion, like most in the crowd are - a choice looking tux, sporting a necktie in lieu of a bow tie 'cause bow ties aren't cool, regardless of what internet trendy sci-fi shows from Britain might say otherwise, his long dark hair tied neatly behind his head in a pony tail, not a man bun, 'cause Chris Avalon's got pride, if nothing else.
Stepping up to the podium with a reserved and calm smile across his face, he allows the applause to die down before addressing the crowd.
Chris Avalon: Thank you. Tonight, we come together to honor each other's accomplishments over the past year. Our business is unique, fast paced, and at times chaotic, and as such, it does well for us to pause, if even only once a year, to reflect on the events that dropped our jaws, the stars that incited both excitement and hatred, and the "Young Guns" his self referential acknowledgement incites the tiniest pop from the attending audience, who still keeps it classy 'cause they're a choice group of fans who will carry our industry into tomorrow."
As he speaks, the red curtain that expands the stage entirely from left to right draws open in the center, revealing a lone wooden stool in the middle of the stage, three sides and two corners of a mock ring forming the backdrop. From above, a large projector screen slowly descends, temporarily blocking the view of the stage setup.
Chris Avalon: First, however, we give pause to reflect not upon a mere twelve months' worth of achievement, but upon the expanse of a career and upon a lifetime's with of accomplishment. Ladies and gentlemen...Shawn Malakai.
The lights in the theatre dim as the screen fades open to a slow motion shot of Shawn Malakai being handed the WFWF World Heavyweight Championship as a brilliant display of pyrotechnics fires off behind him, tears and sweat streaming down his face.
Samael Ahriman: There was just…just something about the guy that resonated.
Dex: He was the one true instance of good in a decaying world.
Blood pours down the face of the man then known as the High Horror as he towers atop a steel cage, his arms torn to shreds having moments earlier ascended through a mess of barbed wire strung copiously along the top of the cage to reach the point where he now stands, not to yet seize the opportune chance at escape, but rather to leap into the air, executing a frog splash that defies all reason for a man his size, landing atop a fallen David Williams several feet below in the middle of the ring.
David Brennan: That mother f*cker was TALL.
The public hallways of an arena have become a veritable war zone as Malakai and ZMaster barrel through, each intent not upon their unusual surroundings nor the innocent bystanders caught in the fray due to poorly times visits to the snack bars or merchandise tables, but rather on putting the beating to end all beatings upon one another. Malakai's life is in danger, even then, as a spear to the midsection of his masked opponent nearly sends the towering star toppling over a safety rail to the levels of the arena below. Later, he ensnares ZMaster within the confines of an overturned steel trash can before Sparta kicking him down a flight of stairs several hundred steps high, leaving a blood heap of a mess of a man to trickle out of the barrel once he's finally come to a rest below.
Samael Ahriman: ...absolutely ruthless in his methods...Friend or foe, if you stepped in that ring with him, you were in for an ass kicking.
Close in on Malakai's eyes, wide and unnerved, clearly demonstrative of a man unhinged as we pan to a cocked fist, wrapped in a bike chain and cloth, clearly soaked in a substance dense enough to be visible to the naked eye. Staring down his opponent, the formidable Thunder, a spark ignites the crude, self fashioned gauntlet into a burst of flames, reflected in the eyes of his opponent, who sees reason above all else, retreating to the corner and forcing the mic from the grasp of the referee, uttering, nay, shouting the only words Malakai needs to hear.
Thunder: I QUIT! I QUIT! I QUIT!
He collapses into a heap in the corner, his hand smoldering, the lasting damage of his tactics already plain as day. A referee slides into the ring, bearing the prize he'd laid it all out on the line for - the WFWF International Championship - and drapes it across the lap of the fallen victor.
Samael Ahriman: ...that would be the last time we’d see Shawn until he came back to announce he had cancer, but he had one final wish: to defeat Scarlett Quinn, and by default, Trace Demon:’s organization.
In silence, the familiar scene plays out - Malakai covers Scarlett Quinn for the win, the sound revoked as an unnecessary additive to the emotion in the building. One passing glance over the crowd is all that's needed to show the place coming absolutely unhinged, as Malakai has seemingly defeated the evil empire and secured his place in the history books as a piece of the WFWF World Heavyweight Championship's lineage.
A beat.
The moment, is of course, short lived, as any record of the win is effectively put to rest by WFWF Principal Owner Trace Demon:. In an instant, the elation is washed from the faces of the thousands in attendance. Malakai's face is one of heartache, lividity, and bears the mark of a man sworn upon a path of vengeance.
Samael Ahriman: It pissed me off. Royally. And then…there it was.
SuperBrawl.
With a defeating beat, the screen goes black. The roar of a crowd intensifies, culminating as thousands upon thousands of voices, in unison, ring out in time with the all too familiar smacks to the canvas.
1...
...2...
...3!!!
The picture fades in once more, the scene playing out in dramatic slow motion fashion - Shawn kissing the championship belt, pointing a finger to the sky as the scene fades, first to black and white, then slowly, and solemnly, to black. The voice overs become speakers now, cast before a black background, each speaking their final words solemnly in memory of their departed ally.
Samael Ahriman: ...that was the last match Malakai ever had in WFWF.
Cameron Stone: Shawn Malakai was an incredibly important individual in my life.
Dex: He was strong in the face of opposition, and dedicated to perfecting his craft in a way that had never been seen before in the WFWF.
Samael Ahriman: ...he was one of the best.
Cameron Stone: ...his friendship and guidance were critical in me achieving success both inside and outside the ring.
Dex: Shawn entrusted me to continue his great legacy, to continue his eternal fight; and to assure that the dream we shared will never die.
Cameron Stone: Goodbye Shawn. You will never be forgotten.
Dex: Thank you, Shawn Malakai.
Samael Ahriman: Rest in peace, friend. We’re done here.
With strode departing words, the screen fades to black before fading back in with the lasting image of Shawn Malakai as he was known in life.
In the crowded theatre, a lone spotlight bears down upon the solitary, empty seat centered in the front row, as a faint applause soon grows to a bellowing ovation. Leading the charge, Samael Ahriman, illuminated only by the tracings of the spotlight focused upon the seat beside him, rises to his feet, followed by Cameron Stone, then Dex, after which the entire WFWF roster in attendance rises to the occasion, as does the attending audience, affording Shawn Malakai one final unanimous recognition as the set lights return, his visage fades from the screen that now rises back to its position out of sight, and the audience comes to settle in for the main attraction of the evening.
As Trace Demon, suited for the occasion, walks out towards the podium he pretends to wipe tears away from his eyes. A number of guests, particularly Samael Ahriman and Josh Dean, are visibly annoyed as Trace takes his place at the front.
Trace Demon: Well that was emotional. Now, as the owner of the WFWF it falls to me to say a few opening words, and more importantly to give a fitting eulogy to my dearly departed friend Shawn Malakai. I’ve prepared a few choice words.
Trace pulls out a piece of paper from his suit, composing himself as he begins to read.
Trace Demon: Shawn Malakai, born at some time in the past to whatever their names were in the town of who gives a crap, passed away recently after really dragging it out. He is survived through his friends, of which he apparently has some, but not through any family because he wasn’t quite good enough as a father that he couldn’t keep his own daughter from being killed, which was probably a regret that he carried to the grave. At least I think he was buried, didn’t really fact check this if I’m honest. Who has the time? Anyway, I’ve got more.
The crowd is filled with groans and angry whispers. Nobody is happy about this. Well, except for Drakz. He seems to be enjoying it plenty.
Trace Demon: Shawn Malakai became a professional, term used loosely, wrestler for some reason or another. He was hired by the WFWF because they didn’t know any better at the time and he slowly, and I mean slowly, rose up the ranks. Shawn Malakai was a consummate presence, that is to say he was always there because nobody else wanted him, and he witnessed many of the greats of the WFWF pass him by. A lot of them while lying on his back for the count of three. As with any vagrant though if you hang around long enough eventually you get thrown some scraps, like suckering the WFWF into making a five way Superbrawl main event in which he literally stole the WFWF World Heavyweight champion. Yes, Shawn Malakai won the WFWF World Heavyweight Championship, I mean he then gave it away to Dex so he pretty much pissed on his own title reign right there, but you can’t have everything. But still, he had his health… oh, wait.
Further, considerably louder discontent from the WFWF roster, all of whom were ready to celebrate and respect the career of Shawn Malakai, only for Trace Demon: to come out and tarnish the whole thing with a smile.
Trace Demon: Let’s be honest; a lot of you guys owe your careers to Shawn Malakai. Malakai proved that you don’t always need talent to be successful here in the WFWF, and there’s plenty of guys who have followed his lead. Samael Ahriman, Josh Dean, Dex, Trevor Wolfe, I mean that’s a pretty long list.
Each name is followed with a reaction shot and let’s be honest, none of them are too pleased by Trace Demon: right now. Dean especially seems ready to lash out.
Trace Demon: Honestly, it’s hard to talk about Shawn without getting all emotional. So I’m just gonna say this, me and Shawn, our careers intertwined a lot. We never could get very far from each other when it came down to it. And it looks like even though he’s gone I’ll never truly get rid of him. I mean look at tonight, they’ve only gone and double booked mine and Shawn’s seat.
He signals for the empty chair in the front row, the one specifically there to honour Shawn’s memory. Everyone in attendance is in uproar right now, this is a step too far.
Trace Demon: Now, luckily for me Shawn isn’t here tonight, so I’m sure he won’t mind.
He unhooks the microphone, taking it with him as he steps down from the stage and approaches the empty chair. Everybody is looking around at each other, wondering whether they should do something. Shawn Malakai rises to his feet, his energies all but focused on maintaining his composure, despite his proximity to the Demon.
Trace Demon: Shawn, let me just say, rest in peace. You will be missed.
And with that Trace Demon: takes his seat, or rather Shawn Malakai’s seat. Again people can barely contain their rage, Josh Dean is shown, fists clenched, Samael Ahriman meanwhile shouts at a beleaguered stagehand to do something, on the very verge of losing his wits, half at the show of disrespect to his departed friend, half at the prospect of spending the evening seated beside the man who has shown his memory complete disregard.
Trace Demon: I mean not by me or your daughter, because again, she’s dead, but hey, I’m sure someone will miss you. Now, let’s enjoy the show!
With a look of uncomfortable disgust on his face, clearly a candid reaction to Trace Demon:'s actions and remarks at such a moment for the company, Chris Avalon returns to his spot along the right side of the stage.
Chris Avalon: Cold blooded. Ahem. Ah...our first presenter tonight is, in many ways, a newly minted rookie in his own right: the newest voice emanating from ringside each and every night, calling the action as only he can see it. Ladies and gentlemen - Daniel Knight.
Daniel Knight steps out from behind the curtain, donned in his signature tuxedo and looking damn dapper. Shaking Avalon's hand, he proceeds to the podium.
Daniel Knight: If there's one thing we all share in this industry, it's the fact that we've all done a period of time to be known as our rookie season - some of us more than once as we move from position to position within the industry. Our rookie days are our first, and arguably most important opportunity to make a lasting impact, so much so that perhaps one day, those days will play just as important a role in the highlight reel of our careers. The nominees for the WFWF Rookie of the year award are..
...Stan McMann...
...Zoe Schaefer...
...Lucas Crowe...
...Grayson Cain...
...and Joey Raid.
A brief video package plays highlights of each nominee's debut outing as their name is read before highlighting those in attendance reflecting back upon their early runs with the company. Finally, an envelope is handed to Daniel Knight, who opens it and briefly glances at the contents within before speaking once more.
Daniel Knight: And the 2015 WFWF Rookie of the Year is....Lucas Crowe!
The audience erupts in applause as an image of Crowe appears on monitors throughout the theatre, a fancy banner declaring him WFWF's 2015 Rookie of the Year framing the picture.
Daniel Knight: Unfortunately, Mr. Crowe could not be here this evening to accept his award, as he no doubt continues to prepare for his coming match with our next presenter set to take place as WFWF presents "Black Hole Sun", live and available only on the WFWF Network and your local pay-per-view provider!
The audience's attention is momentarily drawn to a disturbance in the far off distance, as the muffled but plainly evident sound of a six hundred year old tree being uprooted by what all can only assume is the manliest of any possible manly manly man, his manly rage at being denied his rightful place among the less manly winners channeled into his own manly hands, which he uses to quickly eviscerate and deforest and entire swath of land in manly retribution.
Back on stage, Chris Avalon returns to the podium.
Chris Avalon: Congratulations Lucas. It's worth noting that many of us never see the day where our "rookie season" becomes a fully fledged career, and that while the forces that drive us all to and from the WFWF vary, the door has always remained open. Many of this evening's nominees have since parted ways for various reasons, and we wish them all the best in whatever their future endeavors may be.
A smattering of applause greets Avalon's words as Trace Demon:, now seated in the place of honor reserved for Shawn Malakai, rolls his eyes at the sentiment, Samael Ahriman seemingly unable to remove his glare from Demon's direction.
Chris Avalon: Our next presenter is a man familiar to audiences worldwide for his work in the ring, on the mic alongside our commentary team, and for his travels to Canadian populaces across the...well...across Canada in search of the finest platters of fries, gravy, and cheese curds the great white north has to offer. Gross. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Cameron Stone.
Cameron Stone emerges from behind the curtain, almost slightly hurried, though the shot is wise to pan out before it can catch him stuffing one last gravy drenched fry into his mouth, washing it down with a swift gulp of water as he approaches the podium adjusting his tie and sorting his notes.
Cameron Stone: The Breakout Superstar of the Year award. There are a few ways that you can look at this award. Is it the young upstart only a year or two into the business who made a signifigant impact pretty much right after starting their career? Or is it a veteran who has been plying his trade for years, and achieves something more than they have previously? This is the type of award that may very well dictate the future of the WFWF. Whoever broke out may continue to rise up and gain even more momentum and establish themselves as a building block for the foundation of our industry going forward. Then again, they could also never make it any further than they have to date, and crumble under the weight of the now high expectations laid on them by everyone who has watched them climb further up the ladder. Both of these situations have happened before, and both with happen again. The breakout award is one I like to see, as I feel a connection to it, as I consider this last year to be my breakout year, not just in the ring, but outside of it. I became the International Champion, achieving my highest level of success in the WFWF while doing so. I had a daughter. I became an actor and am living my life exactly how I want to, with my future looking brighter than it ever has. So I feel that I'm a qualified individual to present this award. So without further ado, the nominees for the WFWF Breakout Superstar of the Year Award are. . . .
...Ante Whitner...
...Cameron Stone...thanks!...
...Joshua Dean...
...Lucas Crowe...
...and Samael Ahriman.
Still slightly intrigued by his nomination, Cameron hurriedly opens the envelope, eagerly leaning forward as he does so, prepared to announce the winner as soon as the words are visible to his eyes. Hopefully he doesn't pull a Steve Harvey. That would be awful.
Cameron Stone: And the 2016 Breakout Superstar of the Year is....aw....Joshua Dean.
"In the City" hits and Josh stands up from his chair all smiles as he makes his way to the stage. As he nears the podium, he turns around and waves to the fans as he backpeddals the rest of the way to the podium.
Josh Dean: You know, I look around at the immense amount of talent sitting in this room and I find it really cool that I got voted on as being the guy who "broke out" this year.
He pauses.
Josh Dean: I still find it a little hard to put this last year into perspective, but what I can tell you is that it's been a journey. And there's really no secret formula to the success I've had this year other than just taking it one match at a time. From Yukio Blaze all the way to Drakz, each opponent got my undivided attention and I think that translated into something really special.
The crowd cheers as Josh smiles, looking at his award.
Josh Dean: But if you think last year was pretty awesome, trust me when I say you haven't seen nothing yet. Thank you!
"In the City" hits and Josh raises his award over the award over his head as the crowd cheers on "The Architect" while he exits the stage.
Chris Avalon: Joshua Dean, ladies and gentlemen.
A polite round of applause leads Dean back to his seat.
Chris Avalon: And now, to present our next award, a man who needs, nor truly deserves any real introduction – ladies and gentlemen, please welcome…*sigh*…David Brennan.
Brennan’s music heralds his arrival, and yet, restlessness abounds throughout the theatre as the audience cranes their necks around, wondering exactly where he is as his music drones on. After what feels like an eternity, as spotlight catches David quite literally entering the theatre from a lobby door. He ambles down the aisle between sections, a drink clasped firmly in his hand as he smirks and sneers as familiar faces as he approaches the stage. Whether he doesn’t know or doesn’t care that there are steps to either side of the stage, he approaches nearly dead center, resting his drink atop the stage before hoisting himself up, retrieving his drink, and making for the podium. Even the genial Avalon has to recoil – David is hardly dressed for the occasion, not that anyone should have really expected greater of him.
David Brennan: So…I guess I’m supposed to present the award for the Return of the Year. I dunno man – I just took a look at the nominees. Doesn’t seem like it’s gonna make a squirt of piss worth of difference who pulls this one, now that whoever gets a trophy’s already been overshadowed by, uh…well, by this guy, but let’s see. Up for this one, you’ve got…
…Cam Nitta. Shi*t, that little weasel is back? Has…like, he hasn’t really done anything, has he?
…oh, brother – gimme a f*ckin’ break – Michael Kyzer…
…Cameron Stone. Does it really count if he’s been on the stick this whole time suckin’ down chili cheese fries or whatever the f*ck it is he’s eatin’ down there?
…and…wait…David James? Would someone tell me who the f*ck that is? I keep on seein’ that name thrown around – who the f*ck is that?! David James…
…anyway, I already looked – you guys chose Michael Kyzer. Big f*ckin’ whoop. I dunno if that was supposed to be some bait to rope him back in or something but clearly the powder head isn’t here, like I said, not that it f*ckin’ matt –OW!
At first glance it’s not plainly evident what has interrupted Brennan’s train of thought, but a second yelp and a glance downward draws the entire audience’s eyes toward the source of Brennan’s outburst, and a light murmur of laughter emerges as the audience bears witness to a diminutive – and I mean f*ckin’ small – bald man chasing Brennan off stage with a series of firm kicks to the shin and ankle. Having successfully driven Brennan away, the little stack of two foot nothing comes storming back on stage, chasing a stagehand ahead of him who places a set of pet stairs behind the podium, allowing the tiny little runt to come up to mic height and seize the award for himself.
Donnie Monty Kent: You’re god damn right mother f*ckers! You know, that alcoholic piece of sh*t has got a point for once – you are a bunch of stupid sh*ts giving Kyzer this award – even if he was here to take it, this sh*t is so rightfully mine it ain’t even funny! Who the f*ck do you think brought Kyzer back in the first place?! Who brought you f*cks everything good that f*ckin’ happened this past f*ckin’ year?! Where’s my f*ckin’ Lifetime Achievement Award?! You spend close to thirty minutes suckin’ a dead guy’s co-
DMK’s mic is mercifully cut off before he’s able to continue his diatribe, though it remarkably takes a squad of three kung-fu hardnut security personnel to escort him off stage, kicking and screaming and waving the award in the air all the while as Chris Avalon returns to the stage, looking aghast at the bizarre round of events that have transpired tonight thus far.
Chris Avalon: Host the awards, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. What is even going on? Ah…well, appropriately, it would appear that the time has come to recognize the…well, the less dignified among us. The rotten, the despicable, the downright wrong. To present the award for WFWF Heel of the Year, please welcome former WFWF Superstar Daniel Kirkbride.
A cheap fog encapsulates the stage at ankle height as Daniel Kirkbride saunters out onto the stage, arms spread wide, hair tousled, the mental effects of his seemingly career ending blow to the head clearly having gone nowhere since he was last seen in a WFWF ring. Smirking, he approaches the podium envelope in hand, and surveys the crowd.
Daniel Kirkbride: It’s often said that perhaps the most foul, depraved souls among us are not…inherently evil, but rather lost, needing only to stumble upon the path back home. I, personally, prefer misunderstood. The men who make up the pool of candidates for this evening’s accolades may be godless, soulless, and at times seem aimless, but who are we, chosen creations of God’s image, to cast aspersions on that which we do not understand? The nominees for WFWF Heel of the Year are…
…the Devil’s own stepstool, Donnie Monty Kent…
…the gilded calf of the WFWF, Drakz…
…the King of Demons, Trace Demon…
…and the false God, Michael Kyzer…
…and the winner is…Trace Demon.
Trace Demon stands at the podium, award in hand. However, he doesn’t look all that pleased.
Trace Demon: Funny, and here I was thinking you had to be a villain to get the best heel award.
He shakes his head, chuckling to himself. The rest of the room basically does a collective eye roll.
Trace Demon: But it doesn’t surprise me, I’ve been unfairly vilified by most of you and the fans for years now, so I’m going to accept this award and dedicate it to all the real villains here in the WFWF. Yes, this one is for you Trevor Wolfe, for somehow weaseling your way into two main events in your first four matches, despite the fact that you haven’t won a single match yet. And to you Shapiro, for thinking anyone gives two craps about you full stop.
Both Trevor Wolfe and Shapiro glare up at Demon.
Trace Demon: This award goes out to you Penny Shannon, for being a terrible role model for children and proving time and time again that yes, weed will dull your brain. And to you DJ Demento, for literally nearly killing a girl because you thought it was a good idea to drink drive. Here’s a hint Davey, it wasn’t, though I bet the boys in the cell block taught you that lesson loud and clear. Ah, remember you’re on a probationary contract, don’t want to be back in an orange jumpsuit, do you?
David James, who had risen from his seat, reluctantly sits back down with a scowl.
Trace Demon: And we can’t forget Dex, can we? I mean he is without doubt one of the best villains in WFWF history. Who else could possibly convince a man dying of cancer, who had already proven themselves incapable of making smart decisions, to just hand over the WFWF World Heavyweight Championship? I mean that’s some super villain crap right there, no wonder you used to wear that mask, can’t be having people know your secret identity was as a rich spoiled kid, can we? Speaking of people who don’t deserve to be world champion, we’re forgetting Samael Ahriman, who’s such a villain he carries a bloody sword around with him. He stabs people with that thing, I’ve seen him stab a guy. In my opinion stabbing someone should definitely earn you this award, shame you’re so forgettable, just like your National title reign.
Samael Ahriman can be seen mumbling that “he’s lucky I don’t have a sword right now”.
Trace Demon: And then there’s Josh Dean. Actually, let’s be honest Dean, you’re not actually much of a villain, are you? I mean the most deceitful thing you’ve ever done is fool these people into believing that you’ve got actual talent. Although… yes, that’s right, isn’t it. You brought your wife into the industry, let her get seriously injured, let her return back to the ring despite that injury and then it turned out you were such a sad sack of crap that you let your marriage fall apart all because of your inadequate performances as a man. At least that’s what I heard. I mean that’s not exactly heel behaviour, but it was worth mentioning.
Josh Dean, who has been on edge all night when it comes to Trace Demon:’s behaviour, is really struggling not to snap, but he remains ever the consummate professional.
Trace Demon: And then there is you, the person who, in my opinion, really deserves this award. Lila Sleater. The head booker of the WFWF, the woman who slowly but surely has been trying to destroy my company. I mean it’s got to be purposeful, right? Nobody could be as utterly inept at running the show without it being purposeful? Lila Sleater you have without a doubt been the biggest villain of the past year, you’ve brought back nobodies, you’ve given people who don’t deserve it title shot after title shot, again I’m looking in your direction Samael, and now you’ve somehow conspired to make me seem like the biggest villain around here. Well guess what Lila, I’m not accepting this award for myself, I’m accepting it on your behalf, and on behalf of all the heels here in the WFWF. Somehow, someway, myself and Drakz, the two shining beacons of light that theWFWF has, will find a way to stop you.
And with that, and with the sound of very few people clapping him, Trace Demon holds the award up in the air and takes his leave.
Chris Avalon returns to the stage, making his way toward center stage rather than the offset podium. Behind him, a red velvet curtain rises, revealing a monumentally large screen spanning the entire width of the stage as well as floor to ceiling. Behind him, a montage of 2015’s most momentous occasions plays, conjuring up memories of Drakz and Phillip Schneider tearing into each other for a second time, the unholy alliance between Trace Demon and Drakz being forged to rob Joshua Dean of the World Heavyweight Championship, Ante Whitner’s face as the ref counts the third to officially declare victory over the enigmatic Michael Kyzer, and well over a hundred spots, spills, and death defying maneuvers that have become a hallmark of the WFWF.
Chris Avalon: Every night that the WFWF Superstars gather to set foot into the ring, bodies, lives, are put on the line, but at least once a year, one show stands out above all others. Whether it’s the indomitable stakes that raise the bar of intensity that washes over each superstar’s as he or she makes their way down that ramp, the pursuit of championship gold finally within reach, or the degree of a dispute having reached astronomically personal levels to which there can be no solution but to determine who is left standing in the ring when the dust has settled, often times one show can define not just the hallmark of a feud between two titans, but the defining stamp of an entire year. By simple proxy of being put into production, every show this year stood poised to be the one that fans of generations to come would harken back to when discussing the greatest moments in WFWF history. This year, it was the granting of a fading star’s second wish. It was the boiling point of hope versus despair. It was the dispute over rightful claim to championship gold that could only be settled by literally ascending to heights worthy of a champion and physically snatching it out of thin air. It was the delusion of self-grandeur pitted against the trust in a higher power greater than any Earthly being. It was the test of friendship and teamwork in an industry where often times the solo route is taken in favor of a ‘trust no one’ approach. It was the violent and explosion dissolution of a revolution, and it was the revisiting of a feud forever etched in WFWF legend, pitting one man’s finality against what would pave the other’s career path in the years to come. The burden of greatness, while arguably favorable toward some versus others, cannot fall on the shoulders of one or even few. All who were involved have earned their place in the WFWF history books. We recognize their accomplishments, the sacrifices made whether in contribution to their own ends or to the entertainment of the WFWF Multiverse, and we applaud all who stepped forward with all they gave to make End Game the WFWF’s 2015 Show of the Year.
The audience erupts in applause as focus is placed throughout the room upon the specific stars that made the show the stuff of award winning legend. Back on the stage, the curtain is back in place as the backdrop of the stage, and Chris Avalon has returned side stage to move the show onward with the next batch of awards to be presented.
Chris Avalon: Often times, due diligence is performed to ensure a certain link between a presenter and the award he or she steps forward to offer up, and no bond could be greater than that between our next presenter and the term ‘shocking’. Please welcome…Randel Benjamin.
The lights go out as the spotlights in the Dolby Theatre focus in on a giant white wall on the side of the stage. Fire goes off in front of the wall as Randel Benjamin busts through the wall with a weird silver stormtrooper mask that is covered in sparkly glitter. Benjamin walks on the stage in a menacing way with the mask on as you can visibly see him laughing as his belly rolls are flapping around. His voice is distorted
Randel Benjamin: SHOCKER OF THE YEAR! AND THE NOMINEES ARE!
PENNY SHANNON’S WEED CONSUMPTION DOWN EIGHT PERCENT!!!
CAMERON STONE PINS DRAKZ!!!
ANTE WHITNER AND SAMAEL AHRIMAN LAY WASTE TO MICHAEL KYZER!!!
JOSHUA DEAN GETS SCREWED OUT OF THE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP BY DRAKZ AND TRACE DEMON!!!
SAMAEL AHRIMAN’S SHOW ENDING MASSACRE!!!
AND THE WINNER IS!!!
Chris Avalon: Why are you yelling?
Randel Benjamin: IT’S SHOCKING!!! JUST LIKE…JOSH DEAN GETTING SCREWED OUT OF THE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP BY DRAKZ AND TRACE DEMON:!!!
Trace Demon and Drakz take their place at the podium, Drakz holding the award.
Trace Demon:: Well would you look at that.
Drakz: Pretty, isn’t it?
Trace Demon:: I’ll tell you something, when we decided to make a fool out of the entire WFWF we didn’t ever imagine that we’d be standing here winning an award for it.
Drakz: Well, we kind of did, because we’re us.
Trace Demon:: I’m trying to be modest here man.
Drakz: It doesn’t suit you one bit.
Trace chuckles. The WFWF competitors in the crowd, for the most part, aren’t looking too happy at the fact that these two men are winning an award for essentially screwing people over. Josh Dean and Samael Ahriman are particularly agitated.
Trace Demon:: Being serious for a second, we wouldn’t be up here without the help of one other man who really deserves to be up here too. He was a defining part of the moment that won us this award and he deserves it as much as we do, so without further ado we’d like to invite Josh Dean to the stage to accept this with us!
Drakz: Come on up lad, you deserve it!
All eyes turn to Josh Dean, everyone wondering what he’s going to do. The answer is a disappointing nothing. Dean doesn’t even move out of his chair, he just stares up at the two men who screwed him over.
Drakz: The poor boy’s shy.
Trace Demon:: Can’t blame him, he’s not used to having the spotlight on him. Playing second best would give anyone a serious inferiority complex.
Drakz: Well you’d know.
Trace Demon:: I was about to say the same thing to you. Anyway, we had a feeling that, in the event we won this award, our good friend Josh wouldn’t want to come up here, so we had something prepared just in case so he could be here in spirit. Drop it down boys.
A large poster drops down from the rafters behind the pair and the audience gasps. Angry mumbling is heard from just about everywhere. In one particular section Lucas Crowe, Justin Tyme and their possy begin clapping thunderously. Josh Dean scowls, anger bubbling up inside him.
The poster is a giant blown up image of Drakz and Trace Demon: standing over Josh Dean.
Drakz: Someone give that photographer an award, that’s a thing of beauty.
Trace and Drakz look up at the poster, admiring it.
Trace Demon:: Josh Dean was instrumental in this moment, so it’s only fair he gets some recognition.
Drakz: We’re fair guys you see.
Trace Demon:: After all without Josh being so gullible and stupid we could never have orchestrated such an amazing moment.
It’s quickly become clear to everyone that this whole speech is about one thing. Embarrassing, Josh. He knows it too, yet he doesn’t rise from his seat, he won’t give them the satisfaction.
Drakz: If it had been anyone else we wouldn’t be here, but Josh, being the team player that he is, let us take advantage of his childlike mind for the good of the company. I mean you don’t actually think Josh believed he was a worthy champion, do you?
The two break out into fake laughter.
Trace Demon:: No, we couldn’t have done this without him, and we couldn’t have done it with anyone else either. There’s nobody else on this roster as courageous- long pause -ly idiotic, prone to failure, easy to fool and pathetic that this would have worked with.
Drakz: Except for Samael Ahriman, evidently.
Trace Demon:: So let’s raise our glasses to the most gullible fool in professional wrestling, Josh Dean!
Trace and Drakz begin clapping for Josh, Crowe and his crew joining in. Nobody else does so, but the smiles never slip from the duo’s face and, as they walk off stage with their award in hand, it doesn’t look like that’s changing anytime soon.
Chris Avalon: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome one of the voices of the WFWF…Alecia Matthews.
Alecia Matthews steps out onto the stage looking uncomfortably well presented for the evening. Preparing her notes and the envelope, she makes to speak when…
? HOLD THE GOD DAMN PHONE!!!
Alecia Matthews: Oh, no…
Those who recognized the sudden outburst are quickly able to put a face to the outrage as Matt Steel, former commentator and bag of d*cks extraordinaire steps out from the opposite side of the stage, mic in hand, his own envelope at the ready.
Matt Steel: You’re not going to let this job swiping floozy present an award with this much heat and vitriol tied to it – not on my watch!!!
Alecia Matthews: Didn’t they fire your ass YEARS ago? For, like, generally sucking at your job?
Matt Steel: You’ve got a lot of nerve, lady! You want to talk about suck bag commentary?! Have you even had a consistent squad at ringside since I was ousted! I AM commentary! You’re –
Alecia Matthews: …here to present the award for the best feud of 2015, which, apparently, is already in jeopardy. The nominees are…
…Ante Whitner versus Nikki Dean…
…Drakz and Trace Demon versus Samael Ahriman and Joshua Dean…
…Drakz versus Phillip Schneider…
…Joshua Dean versus Drakz…
…Penny Shannon versus Cameron Stone…
…Samael Ahriman versus Cameron Stone…
…and Trace Demon versus Joe Bishop.
Matt Steel: You SUCK, Matthews!
Alecia Matthews: Think you could do better?
Matt Steel: You’re damn right I could!!
Alecia Matthews: Call it then. Knock yourself out. This black tie garb is for the birds anyway.
Alecia Matthews gleefully tosses aside the envelope and is all too happy to make her way backstage, leaving Steel looking slightly bewildered as all eyes lock upon him as he hesitantly reaches down, retrieving the envelope and sneaking a peak at the winner.
Matt Steel: Well, I’ll be god damned…the winner, besides me, clearly…is Joshua Dean versus Drakz! Get on up here, boys!!
"MK7" by It's a Lunken hits and the crowd explodes with a chorus of boos as the World Heavyweight Champion Drakz makes his way up to the stage, title in tow. A sinister grin crosses Mr. Cray's face as he holds the title up to a deafening array of boos. He saunters over to the podium, soaking in the boos as if they were cheers.
Drakz: Please, you're far too kind.
The crowd clearly doesn't approve of the champ's condescending tone.
Drakz: Every great champion needs a rival. Someone who can push them past what they thought they were capable of. And for me, no truer words could be said. In addition to proving myself as the greatest of all time, I wanted to find my successor at the top of this industry.
He pauses.
Drakz: Unfortunately, I didn't find a successor because no one has been able to come close to reaching the bar I set. But one man came oh so close and I want to thank Josh Dean for giving it the ole college try because he knows how important it is. We've discussed it at length…
Drakz is cut off as "In the City" by Kevin Rudolf hits, sending the crowd into an uproar of cheers. Drakz's smug look disappears as the former World Champion Josh Dean makes his way to the stage. He has a mic in hand, not even bothering to walk toward the podium.
Josh Dean: Ok, I'm getting sick of this bullsh*t.
Drakz straightens up, feigning being taken aback.
Drakz: I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about.
Josh Dean: First of all, do NOT lump me in with your back room deals. There was no collaboration to drag this out into some extended thing. The only reason I have anything to do with you is because of that belt.
Drakz: Oh spare me...
Josh Dean: Hey, you had your chance to run your mouth, so now you can listen. You're the one that made this more than what it had to be. All I wanted was you at your best, because you were the champion and I wanted that belt.
Drakz: Newsflash, I'm still the champ...
Josh Dean: You just keep thinking that. It was just about the belt, but when I meet you in the ring again, and I will meet you in the ring again, I'm kicking your ass, again, out of principle.
He walks up to the podium and takes the trophy, before forcefully shoving it into Drakz's chest.
Josh Dean: You can have this. I'll be coming back for my title in due time.
Josh drops the mic and "In the City" hits as he backs away, never taking his eye off Drakz. Drakz's smile completely fades away as he looks at the trophy.
Drakz: Well, thank you all for coming.
"MK7" hits as Drakz quietly slings the title over his shoulder, walking off the stage in a completely different manner than he walked on.
"Guilty by Association" by H20 begins to play over the P/A system and from behind the curtain comes a familiar face of WFWF past, Hall of Famer from Los Hobos, Percy. He carries an award with him and is dressed in his finest blue polo shirt. He approaches the podium and his music cuts off.
Percy: It's been a little while, WFWF. How you guys doing? Remember me? Percy? Los Hobos? Totally the most memorable part of that time, right guys?
Percy pauses for laughter but is mostly met with silence.
Percy: Tough crowd. I haven't heard a reaction like that since Immune was here.
Again, a pause for laughter to no reaction from the crowd who mostly only know Immune because of jokes like this one.
Percy: I'm here tonight to present the award for Tag Team of the Year. Tag team wrestling in the WFWF is a long storied history and it's launched several Hall of Fame careers. I'm a part of the Hall of Fame because of my time in Los Hobos, and I'm sure some of these inductees are future Hall of Famers as well. The nominees for Tag Team of the Year are...
…Drakz and Josh Dean…
…Hollywood Unhinged 2.0…
…Josh Dean and Dave Demento…
…Josh Dean and Penny Shannon…
…and Samael Ahriman and Tugarin Zmey.
..and the winners are...surprising no one…Drakz and Josh Dean!
Drakz makes his way onto the stage and, after some persuasion from the rest of his table, Josh follows suit.
Drakz: Well………this is *cough* awkward.
Josh raises his eyebrows and knows he’s probably better served not even responding. Drakz clears his throat and then, sporting a fake ‘celebretarian’ Hollywood smile, begins his side of the acceptance speech.
Drakz: These last two awards are certainly testament to my ability. An award for kicking the sh*t out of this dufus….
He gestures over his shoulder with his thumb in Josh’s direction.
Drakz ….followed immediately by a celebration of my ability to still work with him as a team. It’s a wonder we’re not at each other’s throats really. I mean…..
He puts his arm around Josh’s shoulders and Josh slowly turns his head to look, eyes narrowed, at the side of Drakz’s head.
Drakz: …..I know it was me who won the Tag Team Championships but together….
He squeezes Josh who responds by looking back at the crowd and raising his eyebrows again to question what in the blue f*ck Drakz thinks he’s doing. A murmur of laughter rolls around the room from table to table.
Drakz: ……together we’ve defended them. We might not be the longest reigning Tag Team Champions just yet, but we have already racked up more title defences than those schmucks. Are either of them here? Are either of them still in the employ of this company? Are they even alive? I’m honestly unsure as to the mortality of that Charles Landin character. I digress.
He squeezes Josh again and this time Josh squirms free of Drakz’s clutches. Drakz looks scorned.
Drakz: Come on buddy. Everyone’e watching.
Joshua Dean: I know Drakz. I’m aware that everyone’s watching this charade of yours. I honest to God don’t know if you’re doing this as an attempt to get under my skin or if you are a fully fledged maniac.
Josh turns to the audience and looks beyond the tables as though talking to a crew member.
Joshua Dean: I just want to make it clear that I’m not getting on this stage again with this man.
He points at Drakz without looking.
Joshua Dean: I refuse to be a part of whatever the f*ck is going on in this idiot’s head. This is insane. It’s insane that you would even try to get us up here together in the first place! Who in their right mind decided to award us this? I understand that yes our team probably has been the “Tag Team of the Year” but f*ck couldn’t you have looked the other way and just gifted it to someone else? Just to avoid a scene?
Drakz leans in to the mic and tries to interject. Josh pushes his face away and security gets ready to rush the stage in the event that this escalates into physicality.
Joshua Dean: I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised all things considered. I mean Trace Demon does own the company so I imagine this entire thing has been orchestrated to rile me anyway. You’re going to have to do better than thrusting your court jester in my direction if you want a rise out of me Trace. I’m done. Drakz, keep this award as well. Add it to your pile.
Drakz, not knowing how to react simply picks up said award all wide eyed and sells his joy like a f*cking hero. He clings the award tight to his chest before holding it high overhead like it was Simba. Drakz remains there eyes closed, trophy high as the band begins to play him off………he doesn’t move a muscle. The band continues to play. Nothing. The band stops and eventually security has to have a word in his ear.
Drakz: Don’t ruin the moment.
Another quiet word and Drakz, with a smirk whispers something back to the much larger skin head. Clearly it didn’t go down well as the security member grabs Drakz in a hammer lock and begins to maneuver him towards the stairs.
Drakz: Remember me! Ouch! You heavy handed swine!
Chris Avalon: Would Drakz and Mr. Dean just like to take the rest of the trophies already? Alright, here to present the award for Match of the Year is a young man who has strived for nothing less than excellence since returning to WFWF almost two years ago, and has already won like forty blinkin’ awards tonight. Ladies and Gentlemen, one half of the current WFWF Tag Team Champions and the fourteenth Triple Crown winner, "The Franchise" Josh Dean!
"In the City" hits and Josh comes out from behind the set onto the stage. He waves to crowd before adjusting his tie and walking over to the podium.
Josh Dean: Thanks Chris. So this award has always kept a special place in my heart. In a world of polarizing personalities, us athletes still have to get into the ring every night and prove ourselves. By and large the superstars in WFWF strive to have the best match of the night, and when you have several of these the question becomes which one stood out the most?
Josh pauses.
Josh Dean: All of the matches in contention for this prestigious award raised the bar for competition, and each person involved took themselves to the absolute limit to make their match unique enough to be honored here tonight. Here are the nominees…
…Ante Whitner versus Nikki Dean, End Game…
…Cameron Stone versus Samael Ahriman, Curtain Call…
…Joshua Dean versus Drakz, Showtime…
…and Drakz versus Phillip Schneider II, End Game.
Josh opens the envelope.
Josh Dean: And the winner is...Drakz versus Phillip Schneider II.
Drakz takes to the stage for fourth time in the night and it’s plain to see that people are sick of the sight of him. Drakz, totally ignoring Josh, hurriedly just leans in and grabs the mic mounted on the podium making a hell of a lot of noise as his hand rubs against it.
Drakz: Isn’t this just a cinderella story tonight guys? Is everyone having a good time? Woooooo!
Nothing.
Drakz: Jeez. Tough crowd.
He pulls at his shirt collar.
Drakz: As you all know there’s an unwritten rule that sequels never live up to the high expectations of a classic original piece of work. Be it in film, music, the written word, whatever. We’ve been preprogrammed after numerous let downs to simply lower our expectations when things are wheeled out for a second time as it tends to be a case of milking a dusty old teet dry.
Josh has given up on trying to begrudgingly present the award to Drakz so he just places it down on the stage beside the podium, shakes his head and walks off.
Drakz: Well blow your pavlovian expectations out of your arses because I carried Phillip Schneider to Match of the Year for a second year running! Wooooo!
A fist into the air.
Drakz:The best part about the sequel? In fact the thing that made the sequel capable of overshadowing even our initial encounter at Superbrawl? There’s no chance we’ll do it a third time………because I retired the schmuck! Phillip Schneider, a man who by all rites is more accomplished than pretty much any of you…
He waves an open hand across the crowd in front of him.
Drakz: …..was forced into retirement by little old me, which is the exact reason that I’ll accept this award on his behalf as he’s too busy practicing Tai Chi in Yoyogi Park to come down here himself. Plus I think he kind of owes me seeing as I still have shards of our previous Match of the Year trophy lodged in my f*cking head. So without further ado….where’s the award?
Drakz looks around him, assumedly wondering where Josh has gotten to. The lights cut.
There's a moment of murmur amongst the crowd as the lights are down, a growing chatter among the spectators and competitors in attendance. But as the chatter grows, the lights return. And now Drakz isn't alone on the stage. On the stage as well, with the Match of the Year award in hand, is Phillip Schneider. While most people have dressed for the evening with decorum and sophistication, Schneider has opted for black cargo pants and a sleeveless Beetlejuice t-shirt. Schneider looks quite different from his last in ring appearance, now sporting black hair that's shaved on the sides and tied up in a samurai knot. Drakz realises he's not alone on the stage. He turns to see Schneider staring him down, the award drawn back and ready to smash into Drakz's face to complete the event of dejavu.
Security ready themselves again. They’re really having to earn their wages tonight.
With a certain uneasiness, Drakz stares down Schneider. Neither man moving, both men armed and ready to attack, but Schneider is the one to break the tension. He extends the award to Drakz, holding it out with one hand. Drakz steps forwards and grabs the award. Schneider doesn't immediately let go of the glass trophy and the two lock eyes. There's a tension among the two. Schneider finally releases the award, simply turning and walking away. There is a collective sigh of disappointment from the room as for a moment it looked as though Drakz was going to get flattened.
Drakz: Phillip Schneider everyone! Woooooo!
With the stage cleared, now looking ever disheveled, Chris Avalon returns once more, looking hurried and eager to see the evening’s events come to a close.
Chris Avalon: Well, folks – they’ve finally done it. Our next presenter, an esteemed, revered, and decorated former superstar who in many ways embodies the ideals that go into being a fan favorite in our industry…has decided to make an early exit in light of this evening’s going ons. Well done, Drakz. Without feeding your ego all that much, your one man train wreck this evening has succeeded in driving one of the WFWF’s most synonymous faces away from a mere awards show, and I’m told that legal is currently in the process of, at his request, terminating all future associations between ourselves and a superstar who once carried the weight of this organization on its back, so good on you there. Let’s just get through this already. The nominees for WFWF’s Face of the Year award are…
…Penny Shannon…
…Joshua Dean…
…Drakz…yeah, someone look into that, please…
…Daniel Kirkbride…
…and Dave Demento…
…and the winner is…thankfully…Josh Dean.
"In the City" by Kevin Rudolf hits as Josh stands up from his chair. The previous couple times on the stage have worn away at the Architect's jovial mood, but he appears to be in pretty good spirits as he throws a hand up to acknowledge the crowd's cheers. He walks over to the podium with his music dying down.
Josh Dean: I've been up here a few times tonight, accepting different awards to commemorate a pretty successful year. But this one is probably the one I'm most proud of, because it's an award based on the way a man carries himself.
The crowd cheers as Josh swoops his hair out of his face.
Josh Dean: I've always tried to carry myself like a professional, doing whatever needed to be done to ensure this company continues to thrive. Wether it be battling monsters, helping my team, offering my services to a certain champion to level the playing field, or going head up against the establishment so that the new guys can have a shot, I do it willingly because you guys deserve a company that offers the best.
The camera pans out to see the young guys like Shapiro and Trevor Wolf clapping for the former World Champion.
Josh Dean: Here's what else I know. I know that the job is far from finished, but that we will take a big step forward in Boston when I humble the overzealous yuppie running this joint. It's time for the WFWF superstars to take a stand and I am honored to lead the charge...
The crowd oohs and ahs as Trace Demon stands up from his chair, obviously not happy with being called out by "The Franchise". He motions for a mic, a stagehand quickly handing one over, likely out of fear of losing his job. Josh clearly isn't happy about this, stepping away from the podium with an unhappy look on his face.
Trace Demon: Oh Josh...
Trace walks to the stage. Dean, as if to show Trace what he's done, picks up the award and steps right up to the edge of it too look down at Trace, holding the award out as if to shove his success right in Trace's face. Trace doesn't care.
Trace Demon: I know you-
BOOM! Trace lobs the microphone up with serious force. It smashes into Josh's skull, stunning him and everyone else in the room. Demon doesn't waste a second, grabbing Josh's legs and yanking him down onto his back on the stage, then off of it altogether. Josh lands on his feet on the floor as Trace begins throwing rights and lefts. Not calculated punches at all, not wrestling punches, these are just straight up fists to the skull. Josh gets a few strikes in of his own but he's too stunned by the sudden attack to really do much damage. Luckily for him everybody nearby is quick to dive in and try and pull them apart, from stagehands to the production team to stars like Wolfe, Penny Shannon and Shapiro, they're all in there trying to drag Trace away from Dean.
It appears to work, Trace backs away, spitting vitriol at Dean who is still trying to gather his bearings. Then there's a sudden flurry, Trace elbows Wolfe in the side of the head and headbutts Shapiro and then dives through the crowd before slamming his elbow into Josh's skull. The two begin throwing fists at each other once more, Dean now realizing exactly how serious this fight is. Both men catch a few members of the crowd in the process with stray hands, but neither of them cares. It looks like Trace caught Penny with an errant shot in the ruckus, because she hits the deck and is holding her injured eye. Josh begins getting the better of the encounter, when Trace does something nobody expects. He gets in close and just straight up plunges his teeth into Josh's forehead, digging them in deep as Josh roars out in surprise and pain.
Josh reaches out in desperation and grabs the first thing to hand which just so happens to be his award. He brings it up, slamming it into the side of Trace's skull. Trace stumbles backwards from the blow, his head split open badly from where the award connected, blood dripping down his face. He isn't the only one, Trace has straight up ripped some of the skin off of Josh's forehead and blood flows freely covering Dean's face. Security have rushed in full force now and the two men's bloodied state makes it a lot easier for them to get in between them, pulling them apart. Trace screams at them not to touch him as he wipes his blood across his face. As one of the WFWF's resident medics helps Josh away backstage, pressing a compress to his head to stem the loss of blood, Trace staggers away, groggy from having an award slammed into his head and goes crashing into the side of a table, knocking it over in the process.
He scrambles to his feet, lobs a bottle of champagne across the room and storms off, still bleeding, this just a preview of the war to come between these two men.
Chris Avalon: And we’ve degenerated into complete disarray. Fantastic. Well done, gentlemen, good show all around. Let’s cap it off disastrously, shall we? Certainly nothing that could go wrong with THIS next presentation. Folks, please accept my advance apologies and most sincere regret while welcoming our next presenter. Here to present the hallmark award of our show, the WFWF Superstar of the year Award…last year’s winner…I’m terribly sorry…Drakz.
Unsurprisingly the little applause that follows is quite clearly forced as Drakz swaggers up the stairs and onto the stage. He takes the podium with half a bottle of scotch in his hand and his top 3 shirt buttons undone, looking a little worse for wear.
Drakz: First of all I’d like to admonish Chris Avalon for their flagrant redaction of my accomplishments. I am also YOUR WFWF Tag Team Champions. Yeah, f*ck you Josh. I said it.
He lifts the bottle to toast his fellow Tag Team of the Year winner Mr Dean before knocking back another mouthful.
Drakz: Now, this award……this award……wait did I really win this award last year? I don’t remember accepting it?
A murmur of laughter runs through the room as they remember Donnie Monty Kent accepting the award in Drakz’s absence. Drakz, of course, in the hospital.
Drakz: Well, whatever the case, this award is the one you should all be gunning for.
With the bottle neck held in three fingers he jabs his index out at the room of fellow roster members.
Drakz: If you can’t take this title from me then this award is a damn good second best. F*ck you Josh.
He glances out of the corner of his eye at the Dean’s table as he knocks back another toast, Josh not letting his partner’s attacks rile him. The man’s got class.
Drakz: Now the question of course is which one of you has managed to eclipse me in the last year to warrant this award? Which one of you has stolen the hearts and minds of the people to such an extent that they consider you THE Superstar of the Year? Now unfortunately this award can’t be given to the same wrestler two years in a row otherwise I’d be saying all of this vain as it goes without saying that off the record I’ve outperformed the f*cking lot of you all year long.
He covers his mouth with his hand.
Drakz: Ooop. Language. Sorry.
Another swig in what can only be considered an homage to the resurfaced David Brennan.
Drakz: Okay. I should really get on with this. And the nominees are…
…Phillip Schneider for his role in “The Long Goodbye”…
…Shawn Malakai as the lead in “Is He Dead Yet?”…
…Cameron Stone playing the part of the self titled “Steam Boat Willie”…
…and of course…
…Joshua Dean for his role in…..erm….f*ck it I don’t know….a remake of Dirty Dancing or something.
And the winner is…….
He puts the bottle neck in his mouth to free up both hands, drumming on the top of the rostrum. He then picks up the golden envelope from in front of him and opens it up.
Drakz: Jahshwua Geen,
Realising no one can tell what the hell he just said he takes the bottle from his mouth and places it on the podium.
Drakz: Sorry. Joshua Dean!
The crowd applauds like crazy and a spotlight falls on Josh’s seat where Nikki kisses him and the members of the S.O.S. rise to their feet in support.
Drakz: Hahaha!
Drakz cackles like a mad man, to the point that he needs to hold the podium for support. His laughing booms through the PA and after a few seconds it’s become so annoying that it’s turned everyone’s attention from Josh and back to him.
Drakz: F*ck you Josh…….
He keeps laughing and then starts into a coughing fit. It takes him a moment to compose himself and then, wiping a tear from his eye he addresses the room.
Drakz: It seems there is no back to back victory rule. Your WFWF Superstar of the Year is in fact…..ME!
There’s a collective gasp at the audacity of this move, building Josh up like that and embarrassing him on live television.
Drakz: That’s right ladies and gentlec*nts, I am your WFWF World Heavyweight Champion, your WFWF Tag Team Champions and now your two time WFWF Superstar of the Year! I’d just like to thank everyone who made this possible starting with of course me. I’d also like to thank everyone I’ve beaten this year. Phillip Schneider, Trace Demon, Jayson Garrett, Nikki Dean, Daniel Kirkbride. Sorry if I’ve forgotton anyone. Oh actually, where’s Samael?
A shout from the darkness of the crowd grabs Drakz’s attention and the handy spot light swings to the source revealing Ahriman standing from his chair looking totaly f*cking furious.
Drakz: Awesome.
Drakz then grabs his Superstar of the Year award and throws it as hard as he can at Samael. Luckily Sam’s reactions are up to scratch (and Drakz is pretty sh*t faced) so the glass award instead hits the ground short of Samael, but it does explode sending shards of glass flying in every direction. Drakz knocks back what’s left of his bottle.
Drakz: If this mic wasn’t fixed to the podium I’d drop it. Namaste.
As if his first attack wasn’t enough he know wings the empty bottle at Sam as well. It spins violently out of control across the room, missing wildly. A roar of pain follows a second explosion of glass and security swarms the table in question. Drakz throws up a peace sign to the crowd as he leaves the stage and the spotlight now drops onto the scrum of security. The horror is revealed as the empty 70cl bottle of single malt has smashed into the face of Seiryu Shimizu leaving him a bloody mess, his hands clutching the pulp of flesh as crimson pumps through his fingers.
What in the hell just happened?
Is someone going to call the police?
Of course not, this is the WFWF. This incident isn’t even in the top 5 most violent prison worthy spectacles that have been captured by our cameras.
Happy Award Ceremony folks!