OCW Presents: FrostByte
A Cold Day In Hell
LIVE! Whenever it gets finished!
~We cut to a LIVE feed featuring the same venue as the OCW year-end award spectacular! Was it a spectacular? Of course it fucking was and anybody who says otherwise can go fuck themselves. Anyway…the venue has been altered because…of course it has. Instead of a crowd all seated, facing a stage…we have a ring set up in the traditional way. Seats and fans standing around the ring…the stage from last night has been removed to give space for entrances, melees, and unwanted sexual advances. The seats around the ring have been provided for the very richest and/or spoiled fans of OCW. But the lawn seats…that’s where it’s at. Drinking, partying…you name it…it’s taking place out there for the super cheap price of $10 a ticket. And, yes, fire hazards be damned, OCW is cramming as many breathing mother fuckers as possible atop this ‘lawn’. Fuck off, environmentalists. It’s a spectacle, for sure. It’s hard to guess how many people have arrived for this pinnacle of violence…but if we had to guess, we’d say somewhere around 200,000. But that’s our guess. ‘Experts’ might go with 30 or 40k. But what do they know? Anyway…we cut to Smith and Hood! Smith is wearing a parka to go along with a scarf that may or may not be more shawl than scarf. Hood is sporting hoodie (how apropos) with an eMpire shirt underneath it. A lime green “Live for Meyhu” bracelet is around his wrist. He’s got a Lurrr trading card sticking out of his left pocket. His pants appear to be the type of jeans a CONFEDERATE ICON might wear. Leaning against his chair is an official “Mack O’Connor” walking cane. And his shoes are hand-me-downs from Bob Grenier. Dude seems to have all his bases covered~
Smith: Hello again…and for the final time, everyone as we bring you what is sure to be the biggest, longest, wildest…
Hood: Stupidest
Smith: The grandest match in OCW history!! We have no idea who will be competing in this match…all we know is that OCW went out and recruited ten of the biggest names in company history.
Hood: That’s a relief. I’m not in the mood for any HOOTING tonight.
Smith: I’d be highly disappointed if the most charismatic star in company history – Alice Knight were not competing in this match.
Hood: Well, whatever. As long as THE MARVEL is back, then I’m good.
Smith: Rumors are swirling. Names from 1999 all the way up to the present year are being debated. But, one thing is for sure, ten of the greatest wrestlers in OCW history will be stepping into that ring momentarily…only one will emerge victorious and that competitor will go down in history as the final and forever FACE of OCW.
Hood: Well fuck me raw…let’s get this shit started.
Smith: Not so fast. We haven’t had a video…so, let’s cut to a video with a new take on an old, familiar theme.
Hood: Fuckin video guy…always gotta get his shit in.
~At the video’s conclusion, the fans go wild! Pyro! Hysteria! Pandemonium! It’s a scene, people~
Smith: And it looks like we’re just about ready! Who will compete? Which ten superstars will return for one final night of competitive violence? We…are…about…to…find out!
Hood: Looks like we’re going to need more Vaseline.
Smith: Uh, what?
Hood: To the ring!
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…
~Loud pop! HUGE POP! Followed by a resounding “BELVEDERE” chant. The composed announce stands quiet, allowing the cheers to die down so he can do his job. Once capable of doing said job, he does said job~
Belvedere: Welcome back for tonight’s special and FINAL OCW Match!! Welcome to FrostByte!! After twenty long years OCW is bringing you the closure you fans and its members, past, present and…well, I guess that’s it…deserve!!
~OCW chants~
Belvedere: After twenty years, ten wrestlers have been selected to compete in an elimination match where only one will be left standing. That one will remain now and forever as the FACE of the company. These ten wrestlers have remained anonymous. They will be revealed upon their entrance.
~Several competing chants sound out…they range from “LURRR” to “FREAK” to “PRYDE” to “TIO” to “SYREN” to “PARAS” to “MAURAKO” to “AWE.SOME” to “MEYHU” to “BEST” to “BIFFORD” to “CM!F” to “HOUSTON” to “CANON” to “OWLIS”…and so on…could keep going but we ain’t got all night~
Belvedere: The rules are simple…numbers have been issued. The wrestlers will enter the match according to the number they have drawn. Once inside the ring, the wrestler is active and eligible for elimination. Elimination can happen via pinfall, submission, or knock out. Aside from that…there are no rules, no disqualifications, no countouts. And now…
~The crowd is on their feet with anticipation. The competitive chants have gone away…they hold their collective breath…buzzing with excitement. Who is the poor fucker that drew #1?~
Belvedere: The individual who drew NUMBER 1….
~Silence…anticipation…and then…~
Smith: Uh oh!
Hood: Why am I not surprised?
Smith: The first show in OCW history ended with Lurrr holding the OCW Title high in the air…how apropos that he should be the one to kick off the end of the company!
Got used, smoked dope, paid dues
Refused to give up quick,
Now theres 10 million motherfuckers on my dick
~Lurrr appears at the top of the ramp, looking down at all the fans in attendance. He’s got an air of confidence about him…confidence driven by the determination to end this historic run as THE FACE of OCW. He doesn’t waste much time basking in the moment…he’s got work to do. Lurrr, looking as fit as ever, sprints down the ramp and slides into the ring, popping to his feet. The fans, intoxicated by the nostalgia of tonight, can’t help but to chant his name. An act that perturbs him~
Smith: There aren’t any good guys or bad guys tonight, Hood. Tonight is a night for celebration!
Hood: Oh, there will be some bad guys, Smith. Trust me. If not, I riot.
~Lurrr goes to pose for the fans. They buy into it…he quickly turns away, giving them the finger. An act which draws a few boos~
Hood: Told ya
Smith: Quite possibly the greatest heel in OCW history…doing what he does best.
Hood: Now, what I want to know is…who drew #2??
Belvedere: And now the participant who drew number two!
Smith: Ask and you shall receive!
Hood: Finally, after twenty years I get what I ask for. About fuckin time
Hood: What the fuck? We just heard this shit!
Smith: Hmm…technical difficulties on our final night?
Hood: CLASSIC OCW, BABY!
~SWERVE! There are no technical difficulties (YET)…instead, former OCW owner and pro wrestling legend DEAN steps out onto the stage, dressed for competition. The crowd goes wild!~
Smith: It’s Dean!!
Hood: He started this shit twenty years ago…ruined my fucking life. BEAT HIS ASS, LURRR
Smith: Lurrr and Dean were best friends for many years…up until Total Demolition in 2014 when Lurrr turned on Dean, handing the company over to Jimmy Buffett.
Hood: Twas a great moment. Lurrr superkicked Dean in the fucking face allowing 5 women to pin his ass.
Smith: The team of Alice Knight, MJ Bell, Brianna Casablancas, Amber Ryan, and Mia Stone.
Hood: Like I said, five random women.
Smith: These two have been bitter rivals ever since.
~Dean, obviously young enough to retain a memory, glares at Lurrr and sprints down the ramp. He slides into the ring and pops to his feet. Lurrr is ready. Dean lunges toward him. Lurrr does the same…the two begin to brawl to a tremendous ovation. Belvedere scrambles out of the ring. Scruff calls for the bell. It rings~
Smith: And we are underway!!
Hood: Lurrr doesn’t want to brawl with that giant mother fucker.
Smith: Dean stands 6’7 and weighs near 300 lbs…most of which is muscle.
Hood: Used to be all muscle. Old fucker.
~Big fucks small. Dean drills Lurrr with a straight right hand. Lurrr is stunned. Dean hits him again, knocking Lurrr into the ropes. Dean shoots Lurrr off~
Smith: A potential mistake by our former owner!
Hood: He’s old. He probably forgot that Lurrr is quicker than he is.
~Lurrr hits the ropes. Dean throws a spinning heel kick. Lurrr ducks! Dean spins around, full rotation. Lurrr boots him in the gut!! Dean doubles over. Lurrr takes a few steps back. The fans rise~
Smith: THE WAKE UP CALL!
Hood: Good night, old man. Back to the retirement home…aka Outsiders for your lame ass!
~Lurrr lunges forward with perhaps the greatest finishing move in company history. Dean straightens up. He turns back the page and dodges the kick with quickness he hasn’t known in a decade, lifting Lurrr onto his back in prime position for his signature Alabama Slam (The Razorback). Lurrr’s eyes widen as he lifts his head, draped down Dean’s back with the former owner maintaining a vice grip on the three time OCW Champion’s legs~
Smith: The Razorback!! Every championship Dean won throughout his career was earned via this move!
Hood: Geezus…guy just has to walk down here and steal the spotlight from Lurrr. Do people REALLY want to see the former fucking owner leave as FACE of OCW? Talk about some WEAK ASS BOOKING
~Dean swings Lurrr forward with as much force as his body can muster. Lurrr, somehow, manages to flip over, onto one knee, avoiding a devastating impact. He pops back to his feet. Dean scowls, “You mother fucker.” Lurrr smiles. The bitter rivals collide once more with a flurry of punches~
Smith: They’ve thrown their very best at one another only to reach a stalemate.
Hood: Lurrr’s quicker…he’s younger…he’s got more confidence. The longer this goes the more fucked Dean becomes.
Smith: I can’t argue that point.
~Dean staggers Lurrr once more with a huge right hand. Lurrr, realizing going punch for punch with Dean is a fool’s errand, responds with a rake of the eyes! Dean stumbles to the side…Lurrr charges forward, spearing Dean into the ropes. Dean applies a front face lock…the two men tumbles through the ropes and to the outside. It’s a rough fall…one that gives the caring fans pause and the blood thirsty fans excitement~
Smith: Such incendiary action…the ring could not contain the dynamite between these two!
Hood: Sure.
~Lurrr rolls over, a bit woozy. He took quite a bit of impact on the head. Dean slides back against the barricade, holding his back, wincing like an old man. Lurrr rotates his neck while returning to his feet. He keeps his eye on his nemesis…he charges forward with a knee designed to inflict maximum levels of damage. Dean rolls out of the way! Lurrr’s knee slams into the barricade!! He leans forward, grimacing. A fan pats him on the back…he grabs the fan by the head and slams him, face first into the top of the barricade. The rest of the fans back up, giving the agitate legend room. Dean rolls Lurrr up from behind~
1!
2!
Kick Out!!
Smith: Dean tried to sneak a pinfall in!
Hood: Perhaps our fucking fans have forgotten…STAY AWAY FROM THE WRESTLERS.
Smith: Yes, they should treat the barricade like bars separating spectators from lions or bears.
Hood: Or basically any wild animal.
~Both men pop back to their feet. Lurrr feels a sense of urgency. His back is to the barricade. Dean charges ahead with a lariat. Lurrr ducks and lifts Dean into the crowd!! Fans shriek, getting away from the angry wrestlers. Lurrr hops over the barricade and stomps on Dean, keeping him down. The frightened fans give these guys plenty of room. The initial area around the barricade is flat, standing room only. Behind that, however, reside those super hard plastic armed chairs. The ring sets in an arena style…cleared space beyond the barricade with plastic seats immediately behind. Each row higher than the previous until the final row leads toward an outdoor ‘lawn’ type area where fans are roaming around, freely, keeping an eye on the event via giant tv screens~
Smith: Now that we’ve got that out of the way.
Hood: Yes. Always good to explain to people what the setting looks like.
Smith: Necessary.
~Dean catches one of Lurrr’s stomps, shoving the legend’s leg away. Lurrr stumbles. Dean returns to his feet and staggers through the fans. They continue to part like a crimson sea. He reaches a cement lift in the ground which precedes the first row of chairs. Lurrr rushes toward Dean. Dean lifts Lurrr up in the gorilla press..he tosses Lurrr over!! He lands back first on two plastic chairs. The fans seated in them had the presence of mind to get out of the way before being crushed. Lurrr yells out, ‘SON OF A WHORE!’ arching his back in pain. Dean steps up, using the seat of a chair for support before hopping down on the flat surface between row 1 and 2. He grabs Lurrr by the nose, pulling him off the chair~
Smith: Lurrr is in danger. If Dean begins to assert his size advantage, it could be a long night for the most arrogant star in company history.
Hood: Not to mention he could lose a nose. You know how hard it is to get laid without a nose?
Smith: How hard?
Hood: Harder than having a nose, that’s for sure.
~Dean’s got Lurrr on his feet…he drills Lurrr in the gut with a knee. Lurrr drops to one knee. Dean looks at his hand, it’s got some blood. He wipes the blood on his pants. Lurrr looks up, showing a nose that’s been torn at the side, a bit, creating a rip in the skin. Dean reaches for Lurrr’s hair…but Lurrr responds with a low blow!! Dean stumbles back. Lurrr pops up and delivers a V-trigger knee into Dean’s face!!! Dean stumbles back and hits hard, rolling head over heels and coming to rest on the cement steps which lead to the top of the arena. Lurrr stands up and feels his nose…super tender to the touch. Each ping of pain fuels his anger~
Smith: Yea, Dean took no prisoners with that nose grab.
Hood: Last night in OCW history…no sense in holding back now.
Smith: Please don’t say that…it portends terrible things.
Hood: Twenty years calling this shit and you’re still a pussy.
~Dean tries to get up, on all fours…but Lurrr runs forward with a soccer style kick into the former owner’s ribs, flipping him over onto his back. Fans standing around yell and urge Dean on. Lurrr blows a snot rocket at a fan wearing a SCORPION SHIRT getting blood all over him. The fans runs away. Lurrr remarks, “Fucking pussy just like Scorpion!” He grabs Dean by the ear and drags him up the stairs…a little quid pro quo~
Smith: Tit for tat! Lurrr is yanking on that ear like he wants to take it home as a souvenir!
Hood: That would suck for Dean. You know how hard it is to pick a woman with only one ear?
Smith: Please, not this again.
Hood: Harder than with two!
~Dean allows Lurrr to walk him halfway up the steps before realizing amateur ear removal is a legit possibility. He stands up, lifts Lurrr into the air and drops him across a metal railing splitting the steps. Lurrr’s cock and bawlz get CRUSHED into the metal. An act which renders him momentarily paralyzed. The men in attendance double over. The women look at the men as if they are weak or overreacting. Stupid women. No me too shit over here. Dean feels around his ear, finding some blood as there’s a slight tear around the earlobe. He grabs Lurrr by the hair, frowning with anger, and drags him up the rest of the stairs. Scruff slowly follows, looking over his shoulder at the increasingly smaller ring~
Smith: Scruff can’t go too far! He’s got to officiate the match!
Hood: Yea but what about Dean and Lurrr? They are about to brawl right out of this arena!
Smith: Are Gruff and Puff here?
Hood: Sadly, probably.
~Dean and Lurrr reach the zenith of the arena. A security guard separates them from the lawn spectators. The lawn people are going wild…a cheaper, poorer collection of wrestling fans. Farthington would hate these people. Lurrr’s bawlz recover enough to allow the man to shove Dean away. He stands up right. Dean throws a right hand. Lurrr blows it and reaches for Dean’s ear. Dean slaps Lurrr’s hand away and grabs at Lurrr’s nose. Lurrr kicks Dean in the knee, dropping the big man to one. He looks at the cement surface…a nefarious plot flashes across his eyes. He leaps up for a hurricanrana~
Smith: He’s going to attempt to slam Dean’s head into the cement with a hurricanrana!
Hood: My man!
~Lurrr wraps his legs around Dean’s head. Dean stands upright! He tries to powerbomb Lurrr into the cement. The bodyguard steps out of the way with a ‘fuck this’ expression. Lurrr swings around and tosses Lurrr into several lawn spectators via a hurricanrana!! Dean’s body slams into the fans, knocking several down. Luckily for Dean, they break his fall. Lurrr lunges toward a standing Dean with a Thesz Press! He takes Dean down and wails away on the former own with lefts and rights. The bodyguard resumes his guard duty. Scruff refuses to hit the lawn. He motions for help~
Smith: We need another ref!
Hood: Just let these two fight it out…last man standing wins.
Smith: But…one of them has to be given a shot to be the FACE of OCW
Hood: One guy opened the place…the other guy wins everything. They can duke it out while the eight other contestants fight for the prize.
Smith: I’m surprised you’re taking that stance. Maybe you have…wait a minute
Hood: What?
Smith: You want them out of the way so your favorite can win!
Hood: How could I have a favorite…I don’t even know who’s in the match!
Smith: *stares*
Hood: But, I have my suspicions.
Belvedere: And now the individual who drew number three!!
Smith: What? But Dean and Lurrr aren’t even in the ring!
Hood: Hey, life goes on. If they want to win this thing they’ll make it back down.
~Scruff makes his way back to the ring. The fans rise with anticipation as…~
~The crowd goes crazy!!! Current OCW owner Mike Zybala emerges~
Smith: IT’S THE OWNER OF OCW!
Hood: Okay, we can bring Lurrr and Dean back to the ring now.
Smith: Major change of heart.
Hood: Anything to keep this guy from winning.
~Zybala motions toward the empty ring. He shrugs. The fans chant “MIKEY Z! MIKEY Z!” Zybala throws a few superkicks in the air, much to the delight of the fans. He hustles down the ramp and slides into the ring. He pops to his feet and throws his arms into the air, getting the fans on their feet~
Smith: These fans are on their feet!
Hood: I think we should allow crowd reaction to dictate who votes. Everybody in this arena should be banned from voting.
Smith: Rude and unconstitutional!
~Zybala looks toward the giant screen above the ramp, the famed OCWTRON. He watches Lurrr and Dean do battle in the lawn. Dean grabs a Coors Light from a fan and slams it into Lurrr’s head. Lurrr grabs a Bud Light…he slams that into Dean’s head. The two continue to brawl. Zybala hops over the top rope to the floor and approaches the barricade. Timid fans back away…but he tells them it’s okay. He hops over and stands with THE PEOPLE OF OCW. He grabs some popcorn and fills his mouth while watching the action~
Smith: Haha! Look at him! He’s the best! A true man of the people!
Hood: The best?! You realize we shut down like a month or two after he took over.
Smith: Just bad luck.
~Lurrr and Dean continue to brawl. The brawling removes them further and further from the arena. Fans stand around, riled up, hopping up and down, pumped from the action. Zybala grabs a soda and takes a sip, enjoying the violence~
Smith: It’s not everyday you see such an elongated brawl between two legends!
Hood: For a reason.
Smith: What are you saying?
Hood: I’m saying we need to move on. I’m tired of watching Zybala take a stroll down easy street. Get the fourth person out here!
~A few of the fans overhear Hood. They begin chanting “NUMBER FOUR! NUMBER FOUR!” Zybala hears the chant and hops over the ramp. He grabs a mic and slides into the ring. He walks along the ropes, listening to the chants~
Mike Zybala: You guys want number four?!
Fans: FUCK YES
Mike Zybala: Well, alright then! Bring out the person who drew #4!!
Fans: YAY!!!
~The crowd is unanimous in going ‘ooooohhhhhh!!!’ Zybala stands back, losing that cheery demeanor~
Smith: That’s the theme that USED to belong to Mike Best!
Hood: Used to?
Smith: Yes. He’s no longer undefeated.
Hood: Man that loss was bullshit. Bullshit perpetrated by Zybala! He’s still undefeated in the eyes of those who matter!
~Zybala steps back up to the ropes, eyeing the ramp. He appears ready…moving beyond the initial shock~
Smith: But where is he? Is this a ruse?
Hood: Hey, you never know. But, if it is, I riot.
Smith: Stop saying that. You’re not going to riot.
~The crowd suddenly freaks out. Mike Best slides into the ring behind Zybala~
Smith: Turn around!
Hood: Whip his ass, undefeated champ and future face!
~Zybala turns around…~
Smith: BE CAREFUL, BOSS!
Hood: Don’t do that!
Smith: What? Yell? Advise caution?
Hood: Call Zybala BOSS
~Best wastes no time, popping to his feet and charging Zybala. He drills Zybala with a STRAIGHT right hand! Zybala stumbles into the ropes. Instinctively, Mike whips him off the ropes, across the ring. Zybala catches the top rope and slides under the bottom rope to safety. Mike Best remains in the ring, fuming. Zybala mocks Mike. Best grits his teeth and charges forward, sliding under the bottom rope, giving chase. Zybala takes off~
Smith: Epic mind games by the boss!
Hood: EPIC MIND GAMES? He’s running from him!
Smith: Getting inside Mike Best’s head!
~Zybala rounds a corner. Best does the same. Zybala slides into the ring and pops to his feet. Best does the same. Zybala charges at Mike, who remains on the ground. Best rolls at Zybala’s feet, forcing the owner to skip over Best. Zybala hits the ropes. Best pops to his feet and leap frogs the incoming Zybala. Zybala hits the ropes a third time, Best catches him with an arm drag, tossing him across the ring. Zybala utilizes the momentum to aid in sliding out of the ring again. Best rises to his feet, his chest heaving from the fast paced action. He remains frustrated~
Smith: Best has managed to land a few blows but nothing strong enough to keep Zybala down.
Hood: What a fucking pussy…seriously! First he refuses to go after Dean and Lurrr…now he’s running from Best!
Smith: He may be attempting to tire Best out. Best is carrying an additional fifty or so pounds.
Hood: WEAK ASS!
~Zybala works over his left shoulder, staring into the ring. Best orders him to return. Zybala mocks Best. A short, angry shake of the head later and Best is sliding under the rope, giving chase once more. Zybala takes off, hopping over the ring steps. Best does his best to keep up, but Zybala is earning more distance with each step. Finally, they find one another across the ring from each other. Best stops, staring at the apron, sucking wind. He looks over at Zybala, over his brow. Zybala points at Best and continues to mock him. Best yells out “GET IN THE FUCKING RING YOU COWARD!” Zybala starts to go right. Best moves left. Zybala goes left. Best moves right. Zybala moves like he’s going into the ring…Best follows suit only for Zybala to drop back to the floor. Best slaps the apron with his palms, beyond frustrated. The fans chant ‘ZYBALA!’ finding the owner’s evading comical~
Smith: He’s going to tire Best out!
Hood: That or give the man a stroke.
Smith: You have to give it to our owner…he may be, unconventional…but he isn’t stupid.
Hood: Only thing I want to give him is grief.
~Best finally takes off, deciding choosing one direction is better than standing around with his dick in his hands. Zybala takes off, looking at Best, smiling. He’s suddenly STRUCK DOWN by a fan! A fan with a very strong and vicious roundhouse kick!! Zybala falls backward, slapping into the ground, the back of his head slamming into the lightly padded area. The fans begin to boo. Best, rounding the corner, sees the fallen Zybala and begins to saunter toward him, smiling~
Smith: What happened? Who did that?
Hood: It looks like that bitch…Pussy something.
Smith: I think you mean Kitty Petrova!
~A person in the crowd who looks very much like but may not be Kitty Petrova smiles at Best. Mike spots her and tries to hide a frown. He walks up to ‘Kitty’ and looks her up and down. She’s so hot for Mike. She hasn’t lost that lust, despite Mike doing his best to turn her off~
Smith: She seems enraptured with Mike Best!
Hood: She’s soaked from the waist down!
Smith: Eww
~Best walks up to ‘Kitty’, thanks her and then proceeds to headbutt the shit out of her!! She collapses to the ground, knocked out. Best drops to his knees, crawls over and begins to choke Zybala!! The fans BOOOO. Best has done it! He’s turned himself heel despite an arena ripe with nostalgia~
Smith: This isn’t fair! Zybala had Best right where he wanted him only for that fan to interfere!
Hood: Hey, what can you say? Some people just know how to ruin things.
~Zybala coughs and tries to pry Best’s hands from his throat. He pulls back on Best’s index finger. Best release the choke and begins to pound his fist into Zybala’s head! He yells, repeatedly, “YOU COST ME MY UNDEFEATED STREAK AND OCW TITLE!” Each punch is fiercer than the previous. Zybala’s head bounces off the ground…he’s taking a tremendous beating~
Smith: Months of pent up frustration are being unleashed in front of our eyes!
Hood: I love it! I’m not normally a fan of the snuff genre but this shit is riveting!
Smith: It’s making me sick! Can we see what’s going on with Dean and Lurrr?
Hood: Ugh, those two old fucks?
~Dean and Lurrr have somehow managed to brawl near the gate. Fans are still buying tickets to get in…boyfriends are bitching at their girlfriends for making them late. Dean hip tosses Lurrr over the turnstile. Lurrr slams into the concrete. Dean hops over…he stops, looks at the turnstile and begins to hurriedly spin it backwards as much as he can~
Smith: What’s he doing?
Hood: I don’t think he wants this to break an OCW attendance record…a record that, I think, belongs to one of the shows he ran!
Smith: Oh come on!
~Lurrr rises, holding his back. He sees Dean ‘cheating’ the numbers and delivers a hook kick into Dean’s face!! Dean staggers back. Lurrr grabs Dean and tosses him further from the entrance. A lopsided golfcart pulls up, carrying OCW Referee #3 – PUFF. He’s been called in to observe these two. He gets out and begins to follow the two legends as they battle down a sidewalk which runs along several fancy establishments~
Smith: Well they have left the venue…I wonder how far they’ll be allowed to go?
Hood: Falls Count Anywhere, Smith. They can fight all the way to the Ian Time Zone, if they like.
Smith: If that were the case, we may be witnessing another several year run for OCW.
~Back at ringside, Zybala’s nose is bleeding. Mike is on his knees, hands on his thighs…he’s just about punched himself out. He looks at Zybala…the man’s eyes are glazed over. He’s likely concussed. Best reaches down and grabs Zybala by the head, using both hands…he pulls him up and yells, “PUT ME IN THE HALL OF FAME!” Zybala spits some blood from his mouth in Best’s face. Best’s head jerks back. He wipes Zybala’s blood away and slams the back of Mikey Z’s head into the ground before rising to his feet. He slams his foot into Zybala’s throat and begins to run through cavalcade of nefarious ideas all designed for the destruction of Mike Zybala~
Smith: Probably not the wisest move on our owner’s part…however, you have to love the spirit!
Hood: Hope he enjoys that spirit because Best is about to beat it right out of him.
Smith: I certainly hope not!
~Best rises. He yanks Zybala up and easily hoists the smaller man over his shoulders into a fireman’s carry. He promptly tosses Zybala onto the apron with a modified FU. Zybala lands on his back, hard. Best takes a few steps back before charging forward with a big boot to the side of Zybala’s head, sending the owner rolling back into the ring. Mike climbs onto the apron and calmly steps in through the ropes…his face remains stained by some of Zybala’s blood. Zybala, showing the fight of a champion, rolls onto his stomach and tries to rise…reaching all fours. Best runs forward and stabs Zybala in the ribs with a knee! Zybala flips over onto his back. A confident Best hovers over Zybala, contemplating what to do next~
Smith: This is getting bad.
Hood: What are you talking about? Before Mike Best entered this match was about as entertaining as daytime television.
Smith: I disagree
Hood: Oh yea, I forgot. You’re one of those ‘men’ who enjoy daytime television.
~Best hops into the air and brings his knee crashing down into Zybala’s face! Zybala rolls over, covering his face, kicking his feet into the mat. Best, back on his feet, grabs Zybala by the back of the head, yanking the owner to his feet. He spins Zybala around and snares his wrist. He drills Zybala with a short arm clothesline…then another…then another…and another. Zybala appears out on his feet. Best leaps up and hooks a Triangle Choke on the owner of OCW!!! He drops to the mat with Zybala hunched over! Zybala’s arms flail around as he hopelessly reaches for help…but, Mike Best, being the savvy ring general that he is has Zybala secured in the center of the ring. It appears hopeless~
Smith: This might be the end of Mike Zybala’s night and, subsequently, his OCW career.
Hood: Lasted longer than it should have!
Smith: While I can’t stand the man…you have to give it to him. Mike Best lives up to his surname more often than not.
~The fans are yelling and screaming for Zybala to break free. But, his arms go limp. Scruff leans in. Mike Best is yelling at Zybala, “PUT ME IN THE HALL OF FAME!” Zybala can’t respond. He’s out. Best looks at Scruff, “Well? CHECK HIM!” Scruff lifts Zybala’s arm…it falls. He yells out ‘ONE!’ He grabs Zybala’s arm again…he lifts it up and lets it drop. He yells out ‘TWO!’ The crowd rises to their feet, imploring Zybala to break free. Scruff Zybala’s arm for the third and final time~
Smith: This appears to be it.
Hood: Well, hurry and drop it already! I’ve seen this situation play out way too many times.
Smith: He’s merely doing his job, Hood.
Hood: I’m telling ya…this doesn’t feel right. I think they’re about to screw Best again…
~Scruff drops Zybala’s arm. It falls…BUT STOPS! THE CROWD GOES WILD!!! Zybala raises his arm and holds out five fingers! He shakes his hand, throwing the five fingers in the direction of Belvedere. The fans catch on pretty quickly. Best looks around, surprised that Zybala has any fight left in him. The fans chant “NUMBER FIVE!” Belvedere rocks the mic~
Belvedere: And now…the competitor who drew NUMBER FIVE….
~The crowd goes wild! Best yells out “WHAT?!”~
Smith: Number five is coming out!
Hood: THE FIX IS IN!
Smith: Hey, Zybala is the owner.
Hood: So he can just demand a new entrant when he’s the length of Lukas Emery’s dick away from losing?
Smith: Hey, he’s the owner.
~Zybala begins to go limp again. The fans are jumping up and down, urging number five to come out. And then, it happens~
~The arena goes WILD. Best’s eyes widen…he knows that theme all too well~
Smith: Uh oh!
Hood: Are you fucking kidding me?! It’s North Korea all over again!
~And, on that note, Mack O’Connor appears atop the stage, bottle of Jameson in hand. He takes a calm swig from the bottle, watching Best release the Triangle Choke and pop to his feet. Best grabs Scruff, yelling, “What is this?! Am I getting screwed again?!” He tosses Scruff into the nearest corner before turning toward Mack. Mack is halfway down the ramp, taking another pull of whiskey. Mack stops at the bottom of the ramp and looks up at Best, saying, “Get fucked.” Best leans over the top rope, yelling at Mack. Mack reaches up and smashes the bottle of whiskey into Best’s head!!! Best staggers back! Zybala, somehow, rolls him up! Scruff slides in with the count~
1!
2!
3…
NO! KICKOUT!
Smith: He kicked out!
Hood: Whew, talk about a cliffhanger!
Smith: I didn’t see that coming!
Hood: You know Mack’s furious…he just wasted, like, a quarter of a bottle of Jameson on that pin attempt!
~Best rolls into a corner, holding his head tightly. He’s wincing…the sharp pan of glass to skull is scraping his senses. Mack looks down at the puddle of high end whiskey staining the mat outside the ring. He laments. Then, he remembers. He reaches under the ring and removes ANOTHER BOTTLE! The crowd goes wild! Mack rolls into the ring and helps Zybala to his feet. He tears off the cap and takes a swig, offering some to Zybala. Zybala accepts and downs a third of the sip of Mack’s. The two nod at one another before heading to Best and taking turns stomping him into the corner~
Smith: Yes! Payback!
Hood: For what?
Smith: the eMpire…narcissism, ego…all those things.
Hood: Last I checked Mike Best was the one getting screwed! People complained about Welsh but look at this, Smith… *voice gets all high pitched* LOOK AT IT…
Smith: …
Hood: Sorry, but I get a little upset when I see a good, hard working man get screwed over.
~Best is slouched in the corner. It’s what tends to happen to a man who takes more shots to the face than Jason Kortare on his knees in front of Trav Morgan and Tison Kalei. Mack takes another gulp of whiskey, placing the bottle gently on the mat. He jerks Best out of the corner and irish whips him toward Zybala…Zybala greets Mike with a SUPERKICK!!! Best stumbles back into Mack’s arm. Mack hooks Best in a full nelson and slams him to the mat. The bottle of Jameson teeters. Zybala catches it and hands it to Mack. Mack nods, much obliged. He takes a sip, kicks Zybala in the gut and drops him with HOLLOW POINT!!! Zybala flies into the air, falling into the ropes…through the ropes, onto the apron before hitting the ground on the outside. Mack takes another sip of whiskey while keeping his eye on Best~
Smith: That was a bit unnecessary.
Hood: Okay, I’m feeling better. But, only slightly.
Smith: I guess it’s true…there are no friends in pro wrestling.
Hood: Well, outside the eMpire, of course.
~Mack gently places the bottle of Jameson on the mat. He’s got his priorities straight. He yanks Best up and hooks him for Claymore! He lifts Best up…but Mike, having been hit by this move numerous times one night in North Korea, realizes what’s coming and fights out of it. He turns it into a modified codebreaker, the knees pressed against Mack’s right arm. Best hits the mat, jarring Mack’s arm and shoulder. Mack grasps at the wounded joint, heading into a corner. Best remains on the mat, rubbing his head. There’s a bit of blood from the bottle shot…but it’s one of those best case scenario kinda deals. He slowly rises, realizing he’s got a small window of opportunity~
Smith: Mike Best is so good. It’s impossible to keep that man down.
Hood: Nice to see you’re coming around. How about we put him in the Hall of Fame?
Smith: That’s Zybala’s decision.
Hood: Ugh…so I guess Uber Man and Tony the Spider are the next inductees. Fuck me.
~Best reaches toward Mack, who is still in the corner. Mack tries to throw a punch but Best responds with a thumb to the eye, stunning Mack. He takes Mack’s afflicted arm and hoists it over the rope, exposing it. He begins to lift knee after knee after knee into the arm, traumatizing the shoulder~
Smith: If Best keeps this up then Mack may not be able to hit Claymore later in this match!
Hood: If he makes it to later. The way he’s drinking that whiskey he may get pinned due to passing the fuck out in a few moments.
Smith: I believe Mr. O’Connor knows how to handle his whiskey.
Hood: That’s not what Treat tells me.
~The fans are booing Best’s offense despite the fact he’d been double teamed like a three dollar whore moments earlier. They begin to cheer! Zybala slides in. Best tries to turn around…only to get Zybala’s legs wrapped around his head and tossed across the ring via a hurricanrana!!! Best slides across the mat. Zybala returns to his feet and shoves Mack, expecting an explanation~
Smith: Zybala isn’t happy about Mack hitting him with Hollow Point earlier.
Hood: Probably regrets helping him win the OCW Title by screwing Mike Best over.
Smith: Speaking of the OCW Title…where is it?
Hood: Probably left it in the back, locked in a safe. He lost it once. I doubt he wants to lose it again.
~Mack, holding his wounded arm, explains that he’s drunk. Too much Jameson…he can’t be held accountable for his actions. Zybala thinks for a moment…but accepts the not-very-apologetic apology. He pats Mack on the chest and motions toward Best, wishing to finish what they started. Mack nods. Zybala turns his back to Mack. Mack grabs the Jameson and scowls…eyeing the back of Zybala’s head~
Smith: Look out, Zybala! He’s going to crack that over your head!
Hood: Never trust a man who’d rather be seen with whiskey than a world championship.
Smith: Sounds like solid advice.
~Zybala, unaware of what’s about to come crashing down, reaches Best. Best pops to his feet and drills Zybala with a forearm uppercut. Mack, seeing Best take the offensive, takes a huge swig from the bottle and slings it at Best’s head. Best ducks and knees Mack in the gut. Mack drops the bottle. Best kicks it out of the ring. He hooks Mack for a DDT. Zybala cracks Best in the head with a SUPERKICK!!! Best stumbles into a corner. Mack rises, holding his shoulder. He looks over at Zybala…Zybala nods and heads toward Best…he rushes forward and impacts Best with a HUGE splash!!! Best leans forward in the corner. Zybala spins around, leaps up, and hits Best in the head with a Pele Kick. Mack charges in, Zybala moves and Mack drills Best with a HUGE clothesline. Best drops to his ass, gasping for air…looking like he’s about to lose consciousness~
Smith: I don’t think Mike Best…as good as he is, can overcome these odds.
Hood: I can’t watch. This is too painful. Let’s check on Dean and Lurrr!
Smith: Uh, okay…almost forgot they were in this.
~We cut to Dean and Lurrr. They are Fan-fucking-tigued (doesn’t really work, grammatically, but we’ll roll with it). Dean throws a right. Lurrr responds. They take a few seconds to suck wind. The people around them are cheering the two exhausted legends on. Puff is yelling at them to make their way back to the venue…which is now a mile or two away. They roll their eyes as the corpulent wrestling purist referee. They hear a ruckus several feet away…it emanates from a local bar. Curious, the two legends head that way and peer through the window. A packed establishment is viewing FROSTBYTE~
Smith: Well, what do you know…
Hood: I think we all know where this is going.
Smith: One of those thankful fans ordering an uber for those two men to return to the ring?
Hood: Not exactly.
~Dean looks at Lurrr. Lurrr looks at Dean. A common bond has been unearthed. They smile and shake hands. Dean opens the door. Puff yells out, “DON’T DO IT!” Dean looks at Puff. Puff receives a signal via his ear piece. He says something that looks like “Are you sure, Marcus?” He then nods. He yells at the two men, “If you enter that then you are stricken from the match!” Dean rolls his eyes. Lurrr delivers THE WAKE UP CALL! Puff drops to the concrete sidewalk. A transient rushes up, stealing his wallet. Dean and Lurrr enter…they are immediately offered two seats at the bar and drinks on the house~
Smith: Well, I guess they are friends again.
Hood: Alcohol is always bringing people together, Smith.
Smith: But did you read Puff’s lips?
Hood: You saying I stare at men’s lips?
Smith: No…but it looked like he said…Marcus.
Hood: Pretty sure he said Jock.
Smith: Marcus and Jock sound nothing alike! You’d be a terrible lip reader.
Hood: I guess it’s a good thing I’m not deaf, then.
~Back inside the arena Mack and Zybala are taking turns kicking Best. Belvedere clears his throat~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…I have just been informed that Dean and Lurrr have been ELIMINATED.
~The crowd responds with disappointment. Belvedere shrugs. The man is merely doing his job. Zybala’s curiosity antenna perks up. He yells out at Belvedere, “Who authorized that?” Belvedere doesn’t really have an answer~
Smith: I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Hood.
Hood: Yea, Belvedere is fucking worthless…and he’s supposed to be the voice of OCW.
~Zybala regains his focus on what matters – the match. He continues to help Mack kick away at the fallen, prone, helpless Mike Best. The fans are going wild, counting along with the stomps. We’re somewhere in the thirties. Belvedere starts to sit down…however, before he can, he receives urgent news via his ear piece. He places the mic to his mouth~
Belvedere: And now the individual who drew number six!!!
Smith: A new competitor is about to be unleashed!
Hood: If it’s Hayley Robinson, I riot.
Smith: I doubt you’d be alone.
~The crowd gasps. Mack and Zybala pause and turn toward the entrance. A near DEATH Mike Best slowly raises a fist in premature triumph~
Smith: That song belongs to one man and one man only.
Hood: The TRUE Gentleman of OCW!
Smith: The, apparent, LIFETIME holder of the Paradigm Champiom.
Hood: A man so great that he was able to somehow add a J into his name.
Smith: Not to mention capturing three additional titles since we went away.
Hood: We are, of course, speaking about the one, the only….Cecilworth M! J Farthington!
Smith: Where’d he get that J, anyway?
Hood: I dunno
~Indeed! It’s the best boy! The man with all the belts! CM!JF steps out with DURANGO behind. Durango is pulling four red wagons…each one carrying a belt that he currently owns. He stands, proudly atop the ramp…in no hurry to reach the ring. Zybala and Mack take his hesitation as a sign to continue to beat on Best…which they do. Best is like, “WHAT THE FUCK! GET DOWN HERE!” But CM!JF is in his own world, at the moment~
Smith: Oh no…it’s the eMpire
Hood: Well, what’s left of them anyway. But, still…two members of the eMpire are better than dozens of any other faction.
Smith: Even better than BUFF?
Hood: You know I have a special place in my heart for all things Scott Syren. Don’t make me choose!
Smith: Regardless…Best has help and I’m sure these two will work with more cohesion than Mack and Zybala.
Hood: Yea, if Farthington will get down there before Best is stomped into a pile of broken bones.
Smith: Some partner…you’d think he’d have hit the ring by now!
Hood: CMF is like a fine wine. Gotta give him time.
Smith: That or he’s drunk with gold.
Hood: Don’t worry. He’s going to grab one of those belts and blast Mack and Zybala with the Midas Touch.
~Best…with perhaps the last ounce of breath he has remaining yells out, “HURRY THE FUCK UP!” Durango seems to catch onto Best’s impending demise quicker than CMF, informing his pretentious pal of their partner’s plight. CMF sighs, feeling a bit rushed. He reaches down and grabs – THE PARADIGM TITLE! The crowd cheers, loving this ridiculous piece of tin. CMF spins around, for dramatic effect, and rolls into the ring, popping to his feet. Mack and Zybala, feeling the vibration of a two hundred pound man, cease the stomping. CMF holds the belt high as a reminder~
Smith: Yes, we know. We get it. You own that belt.
Hood: It’s been a few months. Mack was in prison…all that prison rape may have loosened his memory.
Smith: He wasn’t raped!
~Mack looks at Zybala. Zybala nods and charges at CMF. Best, however, manages to trip him up with his foot. Zybala stumbles to one knee. Mack, caught off guard, looks down at Best. CMF snaps into PRO WRESTLER MODE and charges forward, blasting Mack with the belt!! Mack falls through the ropes, onto the apron. Zybala hurries to his feet, only to receive a gut shot with the belt followed by a solid strap whipping across the back! Zybala arches his back and rolls over, wincing in pain. CMF holds the belt high and drops to knees, slamming the face plate into Zybala’s, umm, face. Zybala goes limp. Mack struggles to his feet only to get blindsided by the Paradigm Title, sending him crashing into the barricade. CMF finally turns his attention to Mike Best~
Smith: Could we see a betrayal? CMF could eliminate one of the favorites right here, right now.
Hood: eMpire blood runs thicker than human blood, Smith.
Smith: The heck does that even mean?
~Prophetic Hood is prophetic. CMF removes his elegant scarf and extends the fabricated olive branch. Best accepts and thus is pulled into the heavens by the god-like CMF. CMF holds Best upright, aiding in the former OCW Champion’s stamina revival~
Smith: And just like that the match has been flipped upside down.
Hood: That’s what happens when you bring the eMpire into the equation.
Smith: And all those belts.
Hood: Yes, and buried under those belts, somewhere, is Lee Best’s soul.
~Best removes the scarf from CMF’s neck. Which is okay with CMF. Best takes the scarf and wraps it around Zybala’s neck. CMF doesn’t appear to be too okay with this…until he sees Best utilizing the scarf to choke Zybala…which, of course, he is okay with. CMF decides to go after the OCW Champion, Mack O’Connor, who is leaning against the barricade~
Smith: He does realize he can’t win the OCW Title tonight…right?
Hood: Never say never, Smith. I’d say, if he puts in a valiant effort, we give him that one, too.
Smith: No. He can’t hold all the belts! This insanity has got to stop somewhere!
~Mack throws a right hand at CMF. CMF ducks…Mack spins around. CMF slams his Paradigm Title into Mack’s left, wounded shoulder. Mack yells, “FUCK!” and stumbles back into the barricade, stomach first. CMF holds his Paradigm Title by the strap and slings it around, lashing it across Mack’s back!! Mack arches his back and does his best to get away. But CMF charges ahead and rams the belt into Mack’s back, sending him stumbling toward the barricade, nearly falling into the fans~
Smith: As long as CMF has that belt, he’s got a huge advantage.
Hood: THAT belt? He’s got FOUR for of them! Not to mention DURANGO
Smith: Good point…can somebody get that mammoth away from ring side??
Hood: No way, man. He’s guarding the belts!
~Best’s arms are tiring out. Not his fault. He was beaten like a red headed step child moments earlier. Zybala feels the tension easing…his blueish face tightens as he works his way up. He reaches his feet. Best is furious that he’s allowed the smaller man to resurge. He tries to get him back down…Zybala kicks his legs up on the middle rope and pushes backward, toppling over Best and pinning his shoulders to the mat. Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
NO!!
Smith: Best barely got out of that one!
Hood: Yes, but in doing so, he had to relinquish the scarf.
Smith: So?
Hood: So, that scarf had to cost at least sixteen thousand dollars.
Smith: Doubtful.
~Zybala, scarf in hand, rubs it on his ass before tossing it into the crowd to some lucky fan who will promptly put it up for sale on Ebay. Best struggles to his feet…the man needs a timeout, or three. He throws a knee at Zybala, but misses. Zybala grabs Best’s head before they become the metaphorical ships passing in the night and drops him with a neckbreaker! Best holds his neck, kicking his feet in pain. Zybala kips/nips (never really figured out which one is correct) up!!! The fans go wild! He starts to SUPERKICK the air…the man is getting a second wind~
Smith: The OCW owner is really feeling it!
Hood: What, the onset of dementia?
Smith: How dare you! He’s the leader of this great company…look at this show…look at these stars…all because of him!
Hood: Blah
~Back outside, CMF carefully places his Paradigm Title on the top ring step. He’s got something else in mind. He reaches under the ring and removes…A DISCO BALL. The fans don’t quite know how to take this…well aside from a few hippies in the back. They go positively wild~
Smith: A disco ball? What is THAT doing out here?
Hood: I guess a member of the ring crew was on CMF’s cruise.
Smith: And stole it?
Hood: Hey, I’m no fink.
~CMF holds the disco ball high, looking to crash it into the back of Mack’s head. But Mack moves!!! CMF’s midsection hits the top of the barricade…the change in momentum forces him to drop the disco ball into the crowd…an act that causes immense displeasure. He pleads with someone to bring it back. A sexy, well-manicured hand scoops it up~
Smith: That is a very sexy hand.
Hood: Overly sexualized, if you ask me.
Smith: But why just one hand?
Hood: Probably because she’s holding something in the other.
Smith: And more importantly…to whom does that hand belong?
~The hand belongs to none other than…JADE SPRITZ~
Smith: OMG! It’s Jade Spritz! We haven’t seen her since…2017?
Hood: Something like that…my goodness, she’s 100% sexuality.
Smith: And she’s got a drink in her hand…is that a martini?
Hood: It’s think it’s a cosmo.
~CMF perks up, seeing the super sexy woman in her mid-to-late thirties approaching with his disco ball. He proceeds to give her a very gentlemanly greeting when she wallops him in the side of the head with the ball! The crowd goes wild!!! Jade throws the ball deep into the crowd before turning to walk away, shaking that super sexy ass and flashing those super sexy tits. Mack sits up, surprised by what he’s just seen~
Smith: Jade Spritz just saved Mack O’Connor!
Hood: Without spilling a drop of her cosmo!
Smith: Has she taken a liking to Mack?
Hood: I don’t know…but he’d better hope Makenna isn’t watching.
~Jade proceeds to pick up a much younger man on her way out. Mack reaches over, snaring the Paradigm Title he once proudly wore. He looks at the strap and visualizes payback. He begins to whip CMF across the back!! CMF, holding the left, red, irritated side of his face, stumbles away, trying to locate Durango. But Mack keeps whipping him until CMF drops to his knees. Mack takes a step back and slings the belt…the strap slaps CMF across the right side of the face, sending CMF collapsing to his side. The fans go wild! Mack takes the belt and secures it around his waist~
Smith: Does this make Mack the new Paradigm Champion?
Hood: Absolutely not! Don’t speak such heresy!
~Durango spots Mack performing an act which most likely defiles his chosen deity. He storms forward, his sights set on Mack~
Smith: Uh oh…Mack is in no shape to take on Durango.
Hood: Get him, Durango! GET HIM
Smith: He’s leaving those belts unattended.
Hood: Nobody would DARE mess with them
~Zybala,noticing the belts left unattended and realizing the potential lawsuit of one of Lee Best’s belts being tarnished on OCW TV, whistles toward the back. A loud SCREEEEEECH sounds out as CHECKERS! The anthropomorphic simian belonging to CURT CANON rushes down!!! He grabs one of the wagons and begins to drag it up the ramp, to the back~
Smith: IT’S CHECKERS!
Hood: Fuck me…not that thing! I had hoped he caught AIDS and died.
Smith: Nope…alive and well!
Hood: What’s he doing without Canon?
Smith: Curt retired…remember?
~Checkers finishes with the first wagon and hustles down to grab the second. These monkeys really are strong for their size. Durango, meanwhile, is bearing down on Mack. Mack realizes he needs to do something…so he removes the Paradigm Title and dives at Durango’s leg, slamming it into his knee. Durango drops to one knee. Checkers finishes hauling the second wagon to the back. He wipes the sweat from his hairy forehead before running back down to collect the third and final wagon. He snares the handle and starts to pull…but it surprised to find resistance. He looks over his shoulder and spots CMF holding on for dear life. CMF eyes the monkey with hatred~
Smith: CMF is not a fan of Checkers.
Hood: No shit, Smith. Gentlemen play Chess.
~Checkers is losing the battle. Mack tries to take on Durango…but the behemoth rises and grabs Mack by the throat. Zybala, paying too much attention to Checkers and CMF, is dropped with a Zig Zag inside the ring from Best, who proceeds to choke Zybala once again, demanding a HOF induction. It isn’t looking good for the FACES~
Smith: The eMpire has a major upper hand at the moment.
Hood: Yes, now if we can just go another five or ten minutes without some entrant ruining this…
Belvedere: And now the competitor who drew NUMBER SEVEN
Hood: SON OF A SLUT
~The fans stand and turn, wide eyed and hopeful. Their heroes need a hero of their own. And then…it happens~
Smith: OH MY!
Hood: Are you fucking kidding me?! NOT AGAIN!
Smith: That song belongs to MELINDA RHODES
~Melinda Rhodes? Rushes out onto stage! She does the ROCK OUT gesture…and is promptly tackled by security and removed from sight. Everyone pauses…trying to figure out what has happened~
Smith: I’m being told that Melinda Rhodes is NOT the seventh entrant. She received no invite.
Hood: Hahaha
Smith: She really needs help.
Hood: So…are we getting a seventh entrant?
~A slight mixed version of Offspring’s “You’re Gonna Go Far Kid” blares throughout the venue. The fans go wild, jumping up and down as OCW’s most exciting competitor, Ed Houston emerges with the GCWA Title around his waist. “HOUSTON!” chants fill the brisk, December air~
Smith: It’s the GCWA Champion, Ed Houston!
Hood: Yes, I can see that.
Smith: He’s out here to turn the tide!!!
~Houston doesn’t waste any time. With the GCWA Title locked around his waist, he takes off down the ramp in pursuit of the eMpire. Checkers, feeling Houston approaching behind him, lets go of the wagon giving CMF a temporary feeling of satisfaction. A moment that is instantly followed up by one of the most unique pains he’s felt in his entire life. Checkers leaps into the air and attacks CMF in the face. It’s enough to daze the lifetime Paradigm Champion. Houston leaps into the air…Checkers detaches and lands on the ring apron. Houston wraps his legs around CMF and tosses him into the steel ring steps with a Hurricanrana! The fans go wild. Mike Best is caught gazing at the action because, well, it’s not your everyday wrestling scenario~
Smith: Checkers is aiding Ed Houston!
Hood: Well, I mean, that kinda makes sense.
Smith: How?
Hood: Houston most closely resembles Curt Canon.
Smith: He has been often called a younger version of Canon, true.
~Best releases Zybala, who rolls over, coughing violently. Checkers leaps into the air, attacking Best in the face. Houston hops onto the apron. Checkers evacuates and Houston springboards off the top rope, delivering a Hurricanrana to Mike Best which sends him crashing, face first into the bottom buckle of the nearest corner. Houston pops back to his feet. He nods toward Durango, who still has Mack around the throat. Checkers takes off~
Smith: This strange, unique pairing that would have likely only occurred during the final match in company history is looking for the trifecta!
Hood: Checkers better be careful…I could see Durango eating him.
Smith: Well, let’s hope that doesn’t happen. It would lead to a very, very sad Curt Canon.
~Checkers flies through the ropes. Durango spots the soaring simian…it gives him pause because, as previously stated, it isn’t something you see every day inside or near a pro wrestling ring. Checkers latches onto Durango’s face! Durango does his best to fight the tiny monkey off. Houston hops onto the top buckle of the nearest corner. Checkers is forcibly removed by Durango, who throws the monkey about thirty rows deep into the crowd. Durango, feeling good around himself, turns around. Houston leaps off, wraps his legs around Durango’s head and violently tosses him into the barricade with a third Hurricanrana!! Durango’s head CRASHES through the barricade!! The fans go wild!!! Houston emerges unscathed. He heads over to check on Mack. The fans continue to chant for the GCWA Champion…whose title remains intact around his waist~
Smith: Way to go, Ed! He single handedly took out the eMpire!
Hood: Whoa! He had held…weird as fuck help…but help, nevertheless.
Smith: True, I’m sorry I short changed Checkers.
~Mack stands upright and rubs his throat. He pats Ed on the chest…he then spots the GCWA Title and nods with a surprised yet approving facial expression. Ed smiles, proud of himself. Houston turns to go after CMF…the first of his victims. As he does, we see OCW security removing the final HOW Title from ringside…along with Durango, who is on DREAM STREET (as they say). CMF stands…he sees his third HOW title and Durango being escorted to the back…its appalling! But, not for long…as something more appalling smacks him in the side of the head…a big boot from Ed! This sends CMF tumbling over the steels steps, to the other side. Ed hops onto the top step. CMF is on his back, wincing. Houston leaps into the air, high, brings his knees to his chest and stomps his feet directly into the midsection of CMF!! The HOW Champion curls up, coughing and writhing around~
Smith: The GCWA Champion is taking it to the HOW Champion!
Hood: I believe the correct lexicon would be the former OCW Paradigm Champion is taking it to the current and forever OCW Paradigm Champion.
Smith: Normally I would agree…but we’re done after tonight…so who cares.
Hood: I STILL CARE, DAMNIT
~Mike Best starts to come to with his head muzzled in the bottom buckle like a man sobering up with his face in between two giant breasts belonging to a woman who looked much better via drunken goggles. His disgust cannot be hidden as he pushes up to his feet and wipes whatever perceived monkey germs remain on his face. He turns around, ready to give Ed and that primate WHAT FOR…however, Zybala is on his feet, primed for a SUPERKICK! He throws the SUPERKICK at Best. Best, showing the instincts that have made him one of the greatest wrestlers in history, ducks the SUPERKICK! Zybala stumbles into the corner. Best staggers forward, snaring CMF’s scarf. Zybala turns around and throws another SUPERKICK at Best! Best catches Zybala’s leg via the scarf, wrapping it around Zybala’s ankle and keeping it suspended in the air. Zybala counters with an enziguri that smacks Best in the side of the head! The former OCW Champion stumbles into a corner, releasing Zybala’s leg~
Smith: Tremendous enziguri by the owner! Best took a clean shot to the head!
Hood: I demand all three of these men be thrown out! The use of Checkers was unsightly, uncalled for, and unclean!
Smith: Well, take it up with the boss. He’s in the ring.
Hood: I see Zybala and I hear the word boss and suddenly life is devoid of meaning.
~Mack remains on the outside. A grizzled vet, he knows enough that opportunities to catch a breather are few and far between in these types of matches. So he leans against the barricade and begins asking fans if they are toting liquid refreshment. A guy sporting a “Paul Paras” shirt hands him a cup. Mack takes a swig, frowns, and punches the guys light out. He then amends his previous statement by saying, “Anything containing alcohol!” A guy sporting a “PerZag” shirt approaches, handing him a most worthy beverage. One in which Mack greatly appreciates~
Smith: And Mack is doing…what Mack does.
Hood: Hey, it’s smart. Let the other four beat one another senseless. Then he can slide in there and pick up the scraps.
Smith: I didn’t say it wasn’t smart.
Hood: Not to mention we got three more fuckers set to come out here. As long as this shit has gone…I’m afraid, in many ways, we’re just getting started.
~CMF is seated against the barricade absorbing kick after kick from Ed. The kicks increase in frequency…the fans try counting along but Ed is kicking too fast…so their numbers turn into a sloppy yet loud ovation. Finally, Ed spins around with a back kick, right across the chin of CMF, sending him to his side. Ed throws the PEACE SIGN in the air to a huge ovation! There’s never been a face bigger than Ed, in OCW. He grabs CMF by the head and tosses him back into the ring. He hops onto the apron, springboards off…CMF performs a kip up...right as he hits his feet he’s dropped with a meteora from Ed!!! CMF’s legs fly up from impact! Ed hooks them. Zybala charges at Best spearing him into the corner, keeping him pinned from breaking up the count. Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
KICK OUT!
Smith: Farthington evades being the third person eliminated!
Hood: That would have been a crushing disappointment.
Smith: For some.
Hood: FOR ALL
~Ed tucks and rolls forward, popping to his feet. CMF does his best to reach his feet in time. Houston performs a backflip and leaps into the air, grabbing CMF’s head for a stunner. CMF, however, holds onto Ed and brings him across his knee with an Atomic Drop!! Houston stumbles into the ropes. He turns around, holding his tailbone. A tired yet focused CMF charges in and clotheslines Ed over the top rope to the outside, right in front of Mack~
Smith: And just like that, Farthington is back in control of his portion of the match.
Hood: Dude is toting four belts, Smith. It’s not like he won them at the local fucking carnival.
Smith: Zybala had better be spry. Otherwise the eMpire could easily regain control of this match.
Hood: What’s really impressive is how Ed is doing all this flying around with that GCWA title around his waist.
Smith: I can’t argue that, nor will I.
Hood: Rumor has it since winning the GCWA Title…he’s yet to take it off. Even during sex.
Smith: Okay, that’s really too much info, Hood.
~Mack curses Ed, lying at his feet. He had really hoped his sabbatical would have lasted a little long. Yet, wrestling is wrestling. So he finishes the drink which was kindly offered by the worthy fan earlier and helps Ed to his feet…Mack may not be the nicest man, but he does have a soul. He pats Ed on the chest. Houston nods, thanking Mack and backing up against the steel steps, taking a breather. CMF rolls his eyes at the camaraderie taking place before him…deciding to turn around and beat the shit out of Zybala~
Smith: Nice to see Mack and Ed working together. If those two were to team up the rest of the match…it could take them to the end.
Hood: That unity won’t last.
Smith: And why are you so sure about that?
Hood: Because, Mack’s got a strong buzz going. Once he sobers up a bit he’ll realize he’s teaming with Ed fucking Houston. Then, the bond will be broken.
~Zybala still has Best pinned in the corner. Best hooks Zybala around the waist and hoists him up for a powerbomb. Zybala pummels Best in the head, hoping to break free. CMF stands in the center of the ring, waiting. Best launches Zybala at CMF with a jackknife powerbomb! CMF jumps up and drops Zybala with a codebreaker!!! Zybala arches his back in pain. CMF wants the pin…but acquiesces and allows Best the chance to eliminate Zybala. Scruff slides in for the count~
1!
2!
SHOULDER UP!
Smith: Zybala shouldered out of that one! But, man, he won’t last very long against the eMpire.
Hood: Well how about the two lovers on the outside get over their newfound bromance and help the owner out?
Smith: Sounds like a good idea to me!
~At this point, Mack and Ed SHOULD head into the ring to help Zybala. But, this is OCW and, in OCW, OCW type things tend to happen. Ed leans over the steps, filling his lungs with air. Mack rounds the steps, taking position on the other side. Ed spots CMF’s Paradigm Title, neatly perched atop the third step. Mack eyes it too. Both men have a flashback…a flashback to Throwback! The night when Ed Houston defeated Mack O’Connor for the Paradigm Championship. Ed slowly looks up at Mack. Mack does the same. Ed’s eyes are wary. Mack’s eyes are full of frustration…frustration from that night that he’d forgotten about…frustration that has returned. Simultaneously, they reach for the belt~
Smith: Dangit.
Hood: I knew it!
Smith: I blame Farthington for this!
Hood: Why? That’s his belt! They shouldn’t be allowed to touch it!
~It’s a very short tug of war…ended by Mack spitting in Ed’s eye. Mack snares the Paradigm Title. Ed stumbles back. Mack walks around the steps, readying the belt for action. Ed removes his GCWA Title. Both men are ready to strike~
Smith: I think we need to get the GCWA Title out of there…lawsuits and all.
Hood: Might be too late for that, Smith.
~Back inside the ring, Best motions for CMF to pull Zybala to his feet. CMF does. Best charges toward Zybala, cracking him with I Kneed a Hero!!! Zybala crumples to the ground, ready to be pinned. Best, however, isn’t finished. He desires one of two objectives…a Hall of Fame induction or the end of Zybala’s career. He motions for CMF to hoist Zybala up once more. CMF does…he irish whips Zybala toward Best…Best charges ahead and DRILLS Zybala with a second I Kneed a Hero!!! Zybala is finished. Best can pin him at any time…instead, he decides to walk around the OCW owner, talking a bunch of trash. He drops to one knee, grabbing Zybala by the face, screaming at him about a Hall of Fame induction. Zybala can barely respond…eyes only a slit’s width open. He yells, “PUT ME IN!” the crowd yells “NO!” Best responds by slamming Zybala’s head into the mat. CMF stands back, watching, enjoying the action~
Smith: Even if Zybala had a change of heart, I’m not sure, given his current state there’s much he could do about it.
Hood: You must push a man toward the brink of finality in order for him to give in to your demands.
Smith: Umm, I guess.
~Best yells at him again to put him in. The crowd yells back ‘NO!’ Best slams the back of Zybala’s head into the mat a second time. Belvedere clears his throat, giving Best and CMF pause~
Belvedere: And now it is time for the participant who drew number eight!!!
~All five men become paralyzed via the announcement. Nobody is certain who is to come. Best drops Zybala’s head and rises to his feet, turning toward the entrance, along with CMF. Mack and Ed, each holding a belt, do the same~
~The crowd pops! It seems as though anyone outside the eMpire would elicit a positive reaction~
Smith: Hood! It’s a man the eMpire absolutely loathes!
Hood: Ah shit…it’s…
~Best curses. CMF complains, “Not the Lang Stone!” But, alas, it is the former Savage Champion. Vincent Langston emerges from behind the curtain with a chain around his neck and his eyes set on the ring~
Smith: It’s Langston!!
Hood: With a chain.
Smith: Yes, his signature chain…an accoutrement he adopted after his vicious match against Paul Paras at Social Justice WHICH, ironically, is when the eMpire debuted, kicking off a visceral hatred between Langston and OCW’s most formidable group.
Hood: All I have to say is at least this chain didn’t fall from the ceiling.
~Langston marches down the ramp, removing the chain from his neck. He wraps one end around one fist and the other around another. This gives him two chain wrapped fists along with some slack in between. Best yells out, “The guy and his fuckin chain! Unbelievable.” He looks down at Zybala…then at Langston…then at Zybala. By the time he reaches a decision, it’s too late. Langston is sliding into the ring. He turns toward CMF and, together, they stomp on Langston the moment he enters. Mack and Ed take a moment to relax upon realizing they aren’t his target…then they return to their BELT SHOWDOWN~
Smith: Dang it! That stupid eMpire! They won’t even let Langston inside the ring!
Hood: He’s got a fucking chain!
Smith: So? Farthington had four belts and a Lennie!
Hood: Not to mention, I’m pretty sure Langston is a murderer.
~Langston tries to fight to his feet but the onslaught of boots is too much. It keeps the weaponized menace down. Zybala’s eyes begin to open. His head is clearly traumatized…but, what’s new? He sits up, looking like a man returning to life after his 21st birthday. He shakes his head a time or two and sees the eMpire doing their best to ruin Langston’s night before it can begin. Shakily, Zybala reaches his feet. The crowd pops. He sucks down some air and unleashes a SUPERKICK that sends CMF tumbling over the top rope, to the floor. Best, watching his buddy fly violently forward, turns around…he receives one of his own!! He falls through the ropes, to the floor. Both eMpire men are down and, for the moment, out. Zybala staggers around, holding his head. He drops to one knee. Langston pushes himself up, grimacing, holding his back…his hands begin to regrip the chain~
Smith: Zybala has freed Langston!
Hood: Kind of stupid, if you ask me. Langston is something of a mercenary. He’s nobody’s ally.
Smith: Well, that is true.
Hood: The world can blame Melinda fucking Rhodes for that.
~And, in case you forgot, back outside we’ve got Mack and Houston with their belts. Or, well, Ed with his belt. Mack with CMF’s. They lunge. CLANG. They back away. They lunge again. CLANG! Again, they back away. Houston looks at his face plate, worried it’s scratched. Mack looks at the ground, probably frustrated over how stupid this is. Houston finds a pristine plate, so he goes after Mack once more…Mack responds…CLANG!! They both back away. Mack looks at the belt…he sees his reflection. He spots the SCARF inside the ring. His eyes return to the plate…he finds CMF’s reflection. He spits and throws the title at Ed’s head. Ed tries to dodge it. He does…only to get walloped with a straight right hand!!! Ed stumbles backward, into a set of steps, holding onto his title. Mack snarls and approaches, fists ready~
Smith: His time as Paradigm Champion has past.
Hood: Well, no shit. He’s the OCW Champion.
Smith: A belt we’ve yet to see out here tonight.
Hood: I assumed he had it locked up. But, maybe it was stolen again.
~Langston returns to his feet. Zybala pats the big man on the chest…the owner is a very trusting man. He looks down and sees the loose chain in between Langston’s clinched, chain wrapped fists. He looks up and realizes he may have unleashed a not-so-friendly individual. Langston raises his fists. Zybala backs away. He’s no coward but, I mean, c’mon…a fresh giant with a chain? That’s a tall task~
Smith: Okay, so you might have been right, Hood.
Hood: I’m always right! Langston is a fucking monster. Eliminate the monster first…then worry about the rest.
Smith: Not terrible strategy.
Hood: People really do need to listen to me more often.
~Outside the ring, CMF gets to his feet, first. He helps Best return to his. The members of the eMpire see Langston stalking Zybala. They start to laugh. Zybala reaches down and grabs CMF’s scarf. Best continues to laugh. CMF stops. Zybala mimics Langston’s chain with CMF’s scarf. He holds it up. Langston swings his arms down, ripping CMF’s scarf in half. CMF’s eyes bulge. Best notices and tries to stop him…but it’s too late…CMF slides into the ring full of fury~
Smith: Well, that obviously doesn’t sit well with Farthington.
Hood: I told you, that scarf cost at least 26,000 dollars!
Smith: Right.
~CMF jumps Langston from behind! Langston stumbles forward. He turns around, focusing his anger on CMF. CMF throws a straight right hand. It doesn’t do much. Zybala jumps Langston from behind, trying to lock a sleeper. Best watches from ringside, waiting to pick his spot. Langston wrestles Zybala away. Zybala grabs Langston’s right arm…CMF grabs the left. Langston shoves them off and extends both hands, smacking each man simultaneously with a chain wrapped fist!!! CMF and Zybala go down. Best hops onto the apron. He leaps up and springboards off the top rope at The Legend. Langston spins around, catches Best by the throat and drills him into the mat with a sitout powerbomb!!! The chain presses against Best’s neck, keeping him pinned. Scruff slides in with the count~
1!
2!
3…NO!
Smith: Farthington breaks it up!
Hood: Well, we can officially say that the chain is mightier than the scarf.
Smith: As if that were in question.
Hood: We’ve seen a ton of ridiculous shit tonight…the most of which being Melinda Rhodes thinking she would be invited into this match. Excuse me for my curiosity.
~Outside, Mack throws another right hand…but Ed ducks. He wraps his GCWA title around Mack’s leg and yanks, pulling Mack’s feet out from under him, sending him face first into the top step. Mack hits hard and yells, “SON OF A BITCH!” He returns to his feet and stumbles away from the steps, toward the barricade. Ed looks at the GCWA Title and at Mack. He heads over and hands his title to Belvedere~
Smith: What a champion!
Hood: The fuck is he doing?
Smith: He wants to win this without the use of weapons.
Hood: What a fucking idiot! No wonder NASA kicked him out!
~Ed turns around, proud of his actions. He’s instantly BELTED with the Paradigm Title, via Mack O’Connor. Apparently he didn’t loathe the belt enough to use it for a pin attempt. Ed collapses. Mack hops on top…Scruff slides out of the ring for the count~
1!
2!
KICK OUT!
Smith: Kick out by the GCWA Champion! What heart!
Hood: Somebody needs to smack some sense into that fuckin kid.
Smith: He’s got faith in his abilities, Hood. Sometimes, that’s all you need.
Hood: Blah!
~Mack looks inside the ring. CMF, after breaking up the pin, is backed up into the corner nearest Mack. Langston is stalking him. Mack takes one look at the menace that is Vincent Langston and his fucking chain. He taps CMF on the boot. CMF looks down. Mack swallows down some vomit and hands him the Paradigm Title. CMF takes it and lunges forward, blasting Langston in the face with the belt!! Langston stumbles backward. CMF hits him again…and again…Langston is reeling against the ropes…CMF charges forward and blasts him once more, sending Langston to the outside. CMF, the only man standing in the ring, holds his Forever Paradigm Title high in the air…to a chorus of boos~
Smith: That is probably the ONLY time you’ll ever see those two work together.
Hood: Common enemy.
Smith: Indeed!
~Mack slides into the ring behind CMF. CMF turns around. Mack walks right up and kicks him in the groin. CMF doubles over, dropping his Paradigm Title. Mack kicks it out of the ring and punches CMF in the back of the head! CMF drops to the mat. Mack kicks CMF over and wants to pin him…but he sees Mike Best returning to his feet. “Fuck,” he curses. He heads over toward Best. Meanwhile, Ed begins to crawl up the steps on the outside, recovering from the earlier belt shot~
Smith: It is just so tough to get a pin in this environment. All these great wrestlers.
Hood: Oh yea, four great wrestlers…but only ONE eMpire.
Smith: I think you’ve pushed them enough on commentary.
Hood: There is no such thing as enough when talking about pushing the eMpire.
~Mack smacks Best in the face with a right hand. Best leans into the ropes, dazed from the brawler’s blow. Mack drills Best in the gut with an uppercut, sending Best doubling over, coughing. From behind, Zybala reaches his feet. He heads over and spins Mack around. He smacks Mack with a SUPERKICK!! Mack falls through the ropes, onto the apron. Best stands upright…Zybala hits him with a SUPERKICK!! Best is stunned. Zybala whips him across the ring…Best hits the ropes, he bounces off, Zybala throws another SUPERKICK! Best catches the foot, spins Zybala around and wallops him with a knee lift!!! Zybala’s body goes stiff…he drops to his ass. Best measures him up, hits the ropes and charges at Zybala with I Kneed a Hero! However, before he can reach Zybala, Houston comes flying into view off the top rope with a dropkick from the top rope!! He hits Best squarely in the face, sending him flying into a corner where he slumps to the mat. Ed returns to one knee, still reeling from the punishment he’s received~
Smith: Great move by Ed Houston! He can flip a match upside down at any moment!
Hood: Nice to see Zybala finally grew a pair and kicked Mack.
Smith: Well, with so many talented wrestlers out there at the moment, I think you have to just take the shots when you can get them.
Hood: I’d never form an alliance in there. Not with anyone.
Smith: That isn’t the best strategy.
Hood: I’d probably just hide under the ring and count the eliminations until there was one guy remaining…then, and only then, I’d make my move.
Smith: Sounds about right.
~Houston returns to his feet, eying the HOW Champion. Farthington is holding the back of his head, rising. He’s annoyed that a man punched him in the back of the head. He looks for the culprit and finds him, standing on the apron. Houston leans into the ropes, ready to blindside CMF. Langston, however, hops onto the apron, reaches over, and wraps his chain around Ed’s throat! He lifts Ed out of the ring and tosses him, violently, to the outside. Houston SMACKS into the ground. Langston hops off and goes after the GCWA champion. This opens up and opportunity for CMF to get his revenge on Mack~
Smith: Nobody can get on the same page…nobody except for the eMpire.
Hood: And that’s why those two are going to the very end!
Smith: I thought you said alliances were bad?
Hood: I never said that! I said I wouldn’t align with anyone.
Smith: Trust issues, apparently.
~Mack sees CMF heading his way. He doesn’t take the fancy lad all that seriously, deciding to step through the ropes rather than stand his ground. Farthington makes him pay, rushing forward and throwing and elbow into Mack’s ear. The OCW Champion is left straddling the middle rope, half in-half out. CMF helps him out, yanking him in…only enough to where his feet are draped over the middle rope. He proceeds to plant Mack into the mat with a DDT! He pops back to his feet. Zybala is on one knee. CMF grabs the wounded OCW owner and casually tosses him out, leaving CMF and Best alone, with Mack~
Smith: And, once again, the eMpire stands strong.
Hood: And they’ve got the OCW Champion in their sights.
Smith: Indeed, it could be a short…ish…night for the top man here in OCW.
~CMF heads over to Best, helping him up, getting his focus where it needs to be. Mack pushes up, to his knees. Best points this out to CMF. CMF heads over and hooks Mack into a front face lock. Best’s eyes light up. He stands, heads over and starts to ram his knee into the top of Mack’s head. The fans BOOOOO. He does this over and over and over. Mack’s arms go limp~
Smith: He’s going to go limp!
Hood: That’s what she said!
Smith: Please, that joke is so played out.
Hood: That’s what you say!
Belvedere: And now it is time to reveal the wrestler who drew number NINE!
~Best stomps the mat, yelling, “AGAIN?!” It seems every time the eMpire is about to eliminate someone, a new entrant is on the way. CMF hoists Mack up during Best’s tantrum. He holds him in the air before dropping him with a Brainbuster!!! Mack is down. And then…the music hits~
Smith: Oh my!
Hood: Ah shit…now we’ve got two teams out there.
Smith: The meanest, most racist, most homophobic person in OCW history…CHAD VARGAS is on his way!
~Vargas emerges from behind the curtain with a Budweiser in hand. Best tells CMF to pin Mack, urgently. Vargas, seeing his closest OCW ally three seconds away from elimination, chugs his beer and takes off down the ramp~
1!
2!
~Vargas reaches the bottom of the ramp. Best stands guard at the ropes. Chad throws his beer bottle at Best…Best ducks, but by ducking, it gives Vargas a shot to slide into the ring. Scruff’s arm is about to come down for the three~
3!
NOOO
Smith: Vargas broke it up!
Hood: I haven’t seen Vargas run that fast since the last time he grabbed his Louisville Slugger after spotting a pro LGBTQ rally!
Smith: No comment
~Vargas dives in, breaking up the pin at the last second. Best goes after Vargas, fish hooking The Confederate Icon by the mouth and yanking him off Farthington. He drags Vargas into the nearest corner…the pain from the hook is visibly pissing Vargas off. CMF takes a second to figure out what happened…allowing Mack the opportunity to slowly roll toward the apron~
Smith: The Confederate Icon won’t take too kindly to being manhandled like that.
Hood: He doesn’t take too kindly to much of anything, really.
Smith: Indeed.
~Vargas does the only thing he can think to do…he bites down on Best’s fingers. Best rips his hands free, choosing to release the hold rather than relinquish a few female pleasing digits. Vargas flips over onto all fours and punches Best right in the dick. Best doubles over. Vargas rises, straightens Best out and begins peppering him with lefts and rights! Best’s head bobbles to and fro with each corresponding blow. The fans are solidly behind Vargas~
Smith: The OCW Hall of Famer is giving it to Mike Best!
Hood: Sounds kinda gay, Smith. Don’t let Vargas hear you say stuff like that.
Smith: Please…only a homophobe would find anything wrong with my previous statement!
~Outside, Langston has his chain wrapped around Houston’s throat. The GCWA Champion is struggling to get free. He’s got one hand in between the chain and his neck, preventing Langston from completely choking him out. Houston suddenly drops to his ass…the top of his head smashes into Langston’s chin, stunning the big man and releasing the grip he holds. Houston pops back to his feet…he hops onto the steps and leaps off with a moonsault! Langston catches Houston over his shoulder! Houston wiggles, trying to get free. He drills a downward elbow strike into the shoulder of Langston…this does the job. Houston is standing behind Langston…he leaps up, dropkicking Langston forward, toward the steps. Ed is quickly back to his feet, he hops atop the barricade…he leaps off, grabs Langston by the head and slams him, face first into the top step!! Houston lands on the other side, safely. The fans pop!~
Smith: Ed Houston is taking it to the former Savage Champion!
Hood: And commissioner…right?
Smith: I believe so…that or VP…it’s been awhile.
~CMF heads toward Vargas. Mack rolls back into the ring. He hustles over and spins CMF around, slugging him in the face. Vargas looks over his shoulder…he grabs Best by the arm…Mack grabs CMF…they irish whip both members of the eMpire right into each other! The two men stagger around the center of the ring~
Smith: The Clientele is taking it to the eMpire!
Hood: Too bad they couldn’t do that to The Aptitude!
Smith: I don’t see any Aptitude members in this match…do you?
Hood: Not yet…
~Vargas curses at Best. Mack scoffs at CMF. Zybala slides in from behind the dazed eMpire members. Simultaneously, Mack and Vargas shove the members of the eMpire around…they each receives a SUPERKICK! courtesy of Mike Zybala!!! Best and CMF stumble back into Vargas and Mack…they toss each member of the eMpire over the top rope and to the floor!! The crowd goes wild~
Smith: And if this were a rumble, the eMpire would be eliminated!
Hood: But it’s not…and now the eMpire can get some rest.
Smith: Sad, but true.
~Zybala fires up the crowd. He throws a few SUPERKICKS into the air. One nearly hits Vargas…which, as you can imagine, doesn’t sit well with THE CONFEDERATE ICON. So, Vargas drills Zybala with a lariat. The crowd kinda boos…that is until the OCWTron shows the eMpire on the outside…so their boos become more focused on the uber heels within this contest. Vargas snares Zybala by the head and tosses him to Mack~
Smith: No good deed goes unpunished.
Hood: What, exactly, has Zybala done for those two?
Smith: He superkicked the eMpire!
Hood: More like he STOLE THE SPOTLIGHT
~Mack looks at Vargas as if to say, “The fuck you want me to do with him?” Vargas shakes his head, “WEAK ASS CHAMPION!” He yanks Zybala back…Mack yanks him back…Vargas yanks him back…it’s a tug of war with the OCW Owner!!! Zybala grows tired of this and slaps Mack away. He throws a SUPERKICK at Vargas…Vargas catches his leg and spins him around. Mack catches the leg. He throws the leg back and shoves Zybala into Vargas. Vargas shoves Zybala into Mack. Mack shoves Zybala to the side…both men get in each other’s face~
Smith: Well, so much for team work between those two!
Hood: Two alpha males, Smith. Vargas can’t work with anyone when something he desires is on the line.
Smith: Yep, I think Vargas stomachs teamwork whereas the members of the eMpire and Aptitude enjoy it.
~Zybala yells out “HEY!” Vargas and Mack quit arguing. Zybala runs up and knees Vargas in the face!! Vargas stumbles into a corner. He turns around and drills Mack with a spinning heel kick!! Mack stumbles into another corner. Zybala throws a few SUPERKICKS into the air to a HUGE ovation…chants of “ZYBALA! ZYBALA!” Vargas and Mack shake the blows off and return their focus to Zybala. They begin to stalk the owner~
Smith: Mike Zybala might want to duck out of there.
Hood: Yep, two angry drunks are heading his way.
~They are about to vent their frustrations all over Zybala’s face when the crowd turns, facing the ramp. This snares everyone’s attention. Vargas, Mack, and Zybala all look. Standing atop the ramp is…~
Smith: WHAT?!
Hood: He’s back!
Smith: I thought he was at the bar!
Hood: No, you idiot. That was Dean. This is NOT President Dean!
Smith: *groans*
~Indeed, NOT President Dean stands atop the ramp. He looks identical to (former) President Dean in everyway…save for a cheap mask covering his eyes and a red, curly mustache. NOT President Dean stares down the ring. Vargas looks at Mack, “The fuck is that clown doing back?” Mack shrugs. “And why is he dressed like that…we all know it’s him!” Zybala splits the two, “Is that the famous NOT President Dean?” Vargas winces, “It’s plain old Dean, out here for one more cheap pop!”~
Smith: This is making a mockery of a great match!
Hood: Nah, we already had that happen several mockeries ago.
~We cut to the local bar. Lurrr and Dean are drinking, taking in the action. That is, until NOT President Dean appears. The entire place turns to CRICKETS. Lurrr looks at Dean. Dean slams his fist into the bar~
Dean: I TOLD YOU THAT WASN’T ME, SUCKA!
Lurrr: But, I…he…you…
~Lurrr does the ‘mind blown’ gesture. Everyone else in the bar looks at Dean…then at NOT President Dean. They proceed to envision a certain gif~
Smith: …
Hood: …
~The arena is in silence upon this revelation. Even Vargas is at a loss for words, which is really saying something. Ed Houston, however, the reigning FACE of GCWA, slides into the ring. He dropkicks Vargas from behind, sending him to the floor. Mack turns around and receives a clothesline, sending him over the top, to the floor. Zybala charges at Ed…Houston catches him, flips him over his shoulder and throws him, like a lawn dart, out of the ring! The fans chant “HOUSTON! HOUSTON!” NOT President Dean nods with approval from the top of the ramp~
Smith: Well the weirdness of this match just went from zero to sixty.
Hood: Again, this match was already weird about thirty minutes ago!
Smith: I don’t know what…NOT President Dean is doing out there…but I have a feeling we’re about to find out.
~CMF slides into the ring. Houston is ready to take on the HOW Champion. CMF charges at Houston. Houston catches him for a Spanish Fly. They leap into the air…but somehow, someway…Farthy ALL THE BELTS, turns it into GREAT ARTICLE 50!!! He locks his deadly cross armbreaker onto Houston!! They are dead center…middle of the ring. Houston writhes around, wincing in pain. The fans plead with Ed…or someone to get him out of this game ending predicament~
Smith: Great Article 50!!! Farthington has secured greatness with that move!
Hood: The HOW Champion is about to tap out the GCWA Champion!
Smith: Don’t tell Barrows!
Hood: Fuck Barrows, I’m sending a text to Lee Best!
~Houston cannot withstand the greatest submission in all the land. He’s about to tap out. Suddenly…SCREEEEEEECH is heard. The heroic simian known as CHECKERS, flies into the ring!!! Houston raises his hand to tap, but Checkers dives in between the hand and the mat, using all his strength to keep Ed from tapping. The fans chant, “YES! YES! YES!” CMF, however, only increases his pressure. Checkers is losing his leverage…it appears to be only a matter of time~
NOT President Dean: Ahem
Smith: What’s he want? I think we’ve heard enough from this cheap knock off!
Hood: What are you talking about? He hasn’t said anything yet!
NOT President Dean: Suckas and Suckettes…allow me to introduce the final participant in this match. He’s a very dear friend of mine. The myth…the man…the legend…I give to you the eventual winner of this match…
~The lights in the arena go down. A spotlight appears~
LIME
BLUE
OWLIS COLOR
~It changes several more colors before coming to rest on blood red. And then, the image of an icon appears. The crowd goes wild~
Crowd: HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
Smith: It’s Scott Syren!
Hood: I JUST INVOLUNTARILY EJACULATED!
Smith: *scoots away*
~Syren, standing in the back of the crowd…emerging from, who knows, really…makes his way toward the ring, shoving members of the crowd down. The blood red spotlight follows him…the fans are jumping up and down, going wild. He spots a skinny guy wearing a shirt promoting all the women in the Hall of Fame. Syren grabs him and tosses him over his shoulder, approaching the barricade~
Smith: What’s he going to do to that poor fan?
Hood: Teach him to respect the Hall of Fame! Remember the good old days when the Hall of Fame had ZERO women in it?
Smith: The dark ages, I like to say.
Hood: I’m telling Syren!
~Syren reaches the barricade and just busts right through it. The crowd goes wild! He reaches the ring. The red light vanishes. His hair is bleach blonde and combed down. He’s wearing those late 90s/early 00’s shades. It’s VINTAGE SYREN. He marches up the steps, fan draped over his shoulder. He spots Checkers trying to save Houston. There isn’t much time~
Smith: Syren had better hurry if he’s going to save Ed…if, in fact, that’s what he’s doing.
Hood: I’d like to take a second here to mention something.
Smith: What’s that?
Hood: Mack O’Connor’s adventure this week was titled "The TransAtlantic was my first"
Smith: I’m sure he’ll appreciate the plug. NOW BACK TO THE ACTION
~Syren steps through the ropes. The skinny geek over his shoulder is all like, “AAHHHHHHH” Syren stands over CMF. CMF looks up. Syren proceeds to beat him with the fan. Ed is able to break free. He rolls into a corner, holding his arm. Checkers checks on him…their attention quickly turns to Syren beating CMF senseless with the fan. CMF manages to roll out of the ring. The fan, barely conscious, says, “Please, put me down. My spine, I have sciatica. Syren gives the guy a back breaker…he rips the shirt off, revealing the man’s definition-less torso and then tosses the guy four rows deep. Nobody catches him. SPLAT, RIGHT ON HIS BACK. Syren rips the shirt in half and drops it on the mat, ready to whip his dick out and piss on it…which would be easy because he’s wearing a loin cloth~
Smith: No! No pissing inside the ring! That was so early 2000s!
Hood: To be fair, he did that some in 2014.
Smith: I do not wish to remember!
~Vargas looks like he’s seen a ghost. Zybala rushes in. This interrupts Syren’s urination session. Zybala runs into Syren and falls to the mat. The fans go “OOHHH!” He hits the mat and rolls out of the ring. Mack charges in with a lariat…Syren doesn’t budge. Instead, he lifts Mack up and tosses him through the ropes…Mack hits hard. Vargas steps up, remembering their lone encounter at Clash at the Coast~
Smith: The original legend is cleaning house!
Hood: He’s more unbeatable than I remember!
Smith: This is his last rodeo, Hood. I’m sure he took extra steroids for this one.
Hood: And crack.
~Vargas marches forward and points his finger in Syren’s chest. The fans are like, “Oh shit!!” He yells at Syren, talking shit. He throws a vicious forearm!! Syren doesn’t budge…Syren snaps forward with a shoulder tackle!! Vargas hits hard! He rolls out of the ring. Mike Best slides in next, sizing up the mythical beast~
Smith: And here we go!
Hood: If anybody can vanquish Scott Syren, it’s Mike Best.
Smith: I have my doubts.
~Best charges forward, drilling Syren in the face with a knee!! Syren staggers into the ropes! The fans are shocked! Best whips Syren off the ropes, but he reverses, hoists Best up in the Gorilla Press and tosses him to the outside on top of Zybala, Vargas, Mack, and CMF!!! That leaves Langston…and his chain, standing opposite Syren. Syren slowly turns around, staring at Langston through his super cool shades~
Smith: The two biggest men in the match are about to throw down!
Hood: But one of them is carrying a weapon.
Smith: Yep, Langston.
Hood: Wrong, it’s Syren and his huge muscles.
~Langston approaches Syren…he’s no dummy, he’s got the chain ready. He brings it up high…Syren catches it!! Syren rips the chain free!!! He tosses it aside. Langston is shocked that the chain was pried from his hands so easily. He throws a random boot at Syren’s gut. Syren catches it and lunges forward with a STEROID ARM CLOTHESLINE!!! Langston falls hard, rolling out of the mat. Syren now turns, facing Ed~
Smith: Poor Ed
Hood: Didn’t he save Ed?
Smith: I think he just wanted to beat up Farthington.
Hood: Probably…or the fan. Probably the fan.
~Syren approaches Ed. Houston raises his fists…as does Checkers. He looks nervous, but he won’t back down. Syren stands in front of Ed and pats him on the back. Houston is stunned. Syren says, “Good to see you, Curt. Let’s fuck these fuckers the fuck up.” Ed looks down at Checkers…Checkers motions for Ed to ‘go with it.’~
Smith: Syren thinks Ed Houston is Curt Canon!
Hood: Well, I mean, they are kinda similar.
Smith: He really is out of his mind.
Hood: Syren? Out of his mind? Welcome to 2001, Smith.
~Zybala, Mack, Vargas, Best, and CMF are all talking. Langston is on the opposite side of the ring. Syren hoists Ed up. Houston is like, “What are you doing?” Syren replies, “Relax, Curt.” He walks toward Langston. The five other wrestlers slide into the ring. Syren tosses Ed over the top rope onto Langston!! They crash and burn at the bottom of the ramp. “Get him, Curt!” Syren yells. He’s suddenly jumped by the five other OCW legends. Vargas and Best kick Syren in the balls from behind. CMF and Mack punch him in the back of the head. Zybala throws several SUPERKICKS!!! Syren falters…he stumbles…he staggers. All five men join force in lifting Syren up and throwing him to the outside, near Ed and Langston!!! Syren hits hard and rolls onto his back, motionless. His shades remain intact. The five take a moment to bask in the glow of achievement. NOT President Dean looks on from the top of the ramp, concerned~
Smith: Did…did they kill him?
Hood: Surely they did not
Smith: He…he’s not moving.
~The five men congratulate one another before breaking into an all out brawl!! Vargas and Best throw down. Mack and CMF throw down. Zybala throws SUPERKICKS at everyone. The fans are in a frenzy. Houston stands up…he goes to check on Syren, but sees Langston moving around. So, he puts the boots to Vincent, keeping the big man subdued. Mack throws a punch, CMF tries to lock in Great Article 50. Zybala SUPERKICKS CMF!! Mack yanks his arm away. He gets SUPERKICKED!!! Both Mack and CMF hit the mat. Zybala heads over, helping Vargas take on Best. Vargas chops Best across the chest. Zybala does the same. Chop, chop, chop, chop, chop…Best’s chest begins to turn a nasty shade of red. Vargas and Zybala whip Best across the ring…he hops over Mack’s body and slams into the buckle. Vargas charges in with a HUGE lariat. He turns around, “KING KONG AIN’T GOT SHIT ON ME!” He then gets SUPERKICKED by Zybala!!! He goes limp. Zybala jumps on him for the pin~
1!
2!
KICK OUT!!
Smith: So close!
Hood: Vargas would have probably sued the world had Zybala pinned him.
Smith: Indeed.
~Zybala hops on top of CMF~
1!
2!
KICK OUT!
Smith: Another kick out!
Hood: Zybala is swinging for the fences here.
~Zybala hops on top of Best~
1!
2!
KICK OUT!
Smith: Not working out.
Hood: Nope
~Zybala hops on top of Mack. Mack looks up and says, “GET THE FUCK OFF ME!” He tosses Zybala off before a one count~
Smith: The plan falls short.
Hood: Woefully so
~Outside, Ed has kicked Langston into an abbreviated state of unconsciousness. He looks over…as he has been doing every few seconds…at Syren. The man hasn’t moved. It’s hard to tell if he’s breathing. Houston sucks down some wind and he…TAKES A CHANCE. He hops on top of Syren for the pin. Scruff hops out of the ring and makes the count. The fans gasp~
1!
2!
3….NOOOO
Smith: Syren Kicked Out!
Hood: HE LIVES
Smith: I’ll never understand Scott Syren.
~Syren sits up and looks at Ed. There is sadness creased within the wrinkles that come with age and massive drug abuse. He reaches a hand out in confusion, saying, “Et tu, Curte?” Houston sits up…he realizes his massive misstep. Syren rises. He shakes his head, “Man, Curt, I really hate to do this.” Houston tries to get to his feet…he crawls up the ramp. Syren continues to give chase…his loin cloth blowing in the wind, giving fans more than what they bargained for. “Just remember, Curt, this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you.” Houston turns to sprint off…he runs into NOT PRESIDENT DEAN. NOT President Dean grabs Houston and holds him in place for Syren~
Smith: Ed’s in trouble.
Hood: If he were TRUE NASA Material…he’d figure a way out of this.
~We cut back to the bar. Dean is looking on with JEALOUS EYES. Lurrr spots Dean’s face~
Lurrr: What? Butthurt because your boy has a new friend?
Dean: Fuck you, sucka!
~Dean stands and slaps a Washington on the counter~
Dean: I’m going to put an end to that IMPOSTER once and for all.
Lurrr: Fine, go and run to your golden boy…we all know he’s been your favorite since day 1.
~Dean exits. Lurrr looks down and spots the money Dean left. He slams his fist into the bar~
Lurrr: SON OF A BITCH
~Outside of the bar, Dean contemplates ordering an Uber. Instead, he spots a few wrestling fans and is able to get a free ride back to the venue~
Smith: Dean is on his way back!
Hood: NOT President Dean is going to have his hands full in a few moments.
~NOT President Dean throws Houston into Syren’s arms. Somewhere ‘I JUST DIED IN YOUR ARMS TONIGHT’ is playing. Syren hugs Houston…maybe a little too long. A commotion begins to take place in the LAWN~
Smith: What…what is that?
Hood: Sounds like a helicopter.
~A chopper lands in the middle of all the fans. Their food, drinks, and silly little wrestling posters fly away in the manufactured wind. A BEAR, GREAT SCOTT and the MARCUS WELSH EMERGE~
Smith: Oh my…
Hood: This is getting to be way too much. I’m going to have a seizure.
~Zybala’s eyes are locked on the OCWTron, showing Welsh emerging from the helicopter. “What’s he doing here?!” he asks. Vargas stands next to Zybala, eyes a bit crossed, jaw somewhat woozy and asks, “Why is he with a fucking bear?” In the background, Mike Best smiles and nods, “GREAT Scott.” The Bear leads the way…until a group of ragtag ruffians wearing BIFFORD shirts get in its way. They are wielding bats, crowbars, and those spiked balls at the end of a chain (for reasons). The Bear stands on its hind legs. The leader of this throwback group of punks who are, apparently, huge fans of Bifford, says, “You two can go, but the bear stays.”~
Smith: It’s like a street gang from West Side Story…or something.
Hood: Yes, but with medieval weapons.
Smith: Surprised that got through security.
Hood: I’m not. CLASSIC OCW, BABY
~Welsh looks at the Bear and shrugs, “Sorry pal.” GREAT SCOTT follows Welsh. The Bear is left to fend for itself. It lets out a mighty roar…until it is subdued by the Bifford fans…all of whom, we can only assume, work at his chain of chicken sandwich restaurants…which use human meat for their chicken. They beat the bear viciously, eliminating him from the rest of the evening’s adventure~
Smith: I feel I should remind fans that The Big Bifford had a multi-year rivalry with Smokey the Bear. Smokey cost Bifford many matches…as well as interrupting several of his backstage antics by running out of nowhere and hitting Bifford with a chair.
Hood: Ah, so this is…some strange form of revenge.
Smith: The feud started when Bifford declared war on trees.
Hood: Ah, good ole Bifford.
~Syren, with Houston still in his arms, tosses Ed over his head with a Belly-to-Belly Suplex!!! Houston lands on the steel ramp HARD. He arches his back in pain. Syren returns to his feet and pats NOT President Dean on the chest. As he does, he sees Welsh and GREAT SCOTT hustling down the stairs, toward the arena. He looks at NPD and asks, “Who the fuck are those guys?” NPD shrugs~
Smith: Marcus Welsh…former owner, man who lost his post to Mike Zybala, of all people, is back from North Korea!
Hood: GREAT SCOTT freed him at the request of Mike Best and Cecilworth M! Farthington.
Smith: He seems to be on a mission.
Hood: Dude, he’s been locked up in North Korea since…whenever Redacted aired. I’m sure he’s had a lot to stew over.
~We see Dean, the real one, reach the entrance. He tries to walk in, but an employee demands a ticket. Dean yells back, “Don’t you know who I am, SUCKA?!” The employee demands cash. So, Dean hits him and hops over the turnstile. Everyone else behind him follows suit. Former owner Dean is now BACK IN THE BUILDING~
Smith: And now Dean is back.
Hood: Will the entire universe implode if Dean and NPD are in the same place, at the same time?
Smith: If it does, I’m glad I bought that end of the world insurance.
Hood: Yes, but does it cover the entire UNIVERSE
Smith: *checks* dangit
~ GREAT SCOTT helps Welsh over the barricade, into the ringside area. He jumps over behind Welsh. Welsh approaches the ring, but stops…he sees Vargas, Zybala, and Mack staring down at him…three men who loathe his very existence. So, he turns to Great Scott and says, “Hey, GS, you mind?” Great Scott does THE GREAT SCOTT for a few seconds before sliding into the ring and going to work. CMF tries to help him, but Mike Best holds him back, “We don’t really want to be seen fighting ALONGSIDE Great Scott, do we?” CMF backs down~
Smith: Some friends those guys are!
Hood: Hey, it’s okay to be nice to the poors. But do you really want to dine with them? I don’t think so.
Smith: What an elitist attitude!
~Great Scott goes after Zybala, Vargas, and Mack. He swings wildly…his offense is a mixture of untamed brawling and THE GREAT SCOTT. Mack manages to land a blow. Vargas hits a chop. Zybala drills him with a SUPERKICK!! Great Scott is stunned. The three men hoist him up and toss him out, at Welsh’s feet. Great Scott hits HARD. Welsh looks down at Great Scott…he looks at the Bifford men pummeling the poor bear…then up into the ring. Vargas, Mack, and Zybala motion for Welsh to step in. Welsh swallows hard. Vargas, Mack, and Zybala are then attacked by the eMpire! Best and CMF clobber Mack and Vargas from behind, knocking them through the ropes! Zybala spins around…he’s hoisted by both men and dropped, face first into the mat with a Flapjack! Vargas and Mack reach their feet on the apron. Best drills Mack with a flying knee while CMF spins and hits Vargas with a roaring forearm!!! This sends both men from the apron, to the outside. They take a few steps back and offer Welsh the ring. Welsh smiles and walks up the steps~
Smith: What’s going on here.
Hood: A great plan bearing fruit! Coming to fruition! PRODUCE
Smith: I have a bad feeling we’re about to see Mike Best get his way.
~Scott Syren, remembering something about this Best fellow and the Hall of Fame, starts to head down the ramp. As he does, NPD is blasted from behind by DEAN. NPD drops to his knees. Dean picks him up, throws him over his shoulder and drills him into the top of the stage with The Razorback!!! NPD is out. Dean pops up. Syren turns around. Dean smiles, expecting a heroes welcome…instead, Syren goes to check on NPD. Dean frowns…until he sees what’s going on inside the ring. He hustles down the ramp~
Smith: And now Dean is heading to the ring!
Hood: And NOT President Dean is out!
Smith: I think Syren has made his choice. NOT President Dean it is.
Hood: Facial hair IS in these days.
~Dean slides into the ring. Zybala pops back to his feet…you just can’t keep this guy down. Welsh looks at both Dean and Zybala. The eMpire slide out of the ring…deciding a breather might be beneficial while this strange ass power struggle sorts itself out~
Smith: And three of the four owners in OCW’s history are in the ring!
Hood: Who would have ever thought we’d get three…
~A t-shirt is thrown into the ring. It lands, face up on the mat. It features JIMMY BUFFETT. The crowd goes wild~
Hood: ALL FOUR owners in OCW history in the ring at the same time!
Smith: What a moment!
~Dean suddenly drops an elbow on the t-shirt! The crowd goes wild. He rolls around the ring with the t-shirt, eventually falling out of the ring. This leaves Zybala and Welsh. Zybala bullies Welsh into a corner. Welsh has his hands up…he’s a businessman, not a fighter. Zybala slaps Welsh across the face a few times, asserting his dominance. The eMpire hit the ring! Best spins Zybala around and kicks him in the gut. He hoists him up for a powerbomb…but, instead of bringing him down, tosses Zybala over his head into a Codebreaker from CMF!! Zybala rolls onto his back. Best helps a traumatized Welsh back into the center of the ring. CMF guards the ropes, in case of interference~
Smith: Somebody stop this!
Hood: Stop what? Nothing’s happened yet!
Smith: I think we both know what’s about to happen.
~Mack tries to get into the ring, but is stuffed by CMF. Welsh reaches into his pocket, removing legal looking documents. Langston tries to get into the ring…he’s stuffed by CMF. Welsh unfolds the documents…we zoom in…the crowd BOOOOS~
Smith: Those are documents set to put Mike Best into the OCW Hall of Fame!
Hood: YES!
Smith: He just has to sign them.
Hood: To borrow your lame ass phrase…WHAT A FUCKING MOMENT.
~CMF turns, spotting the documents. Welsh has a pen clipped to the paper. He extends the key to OCW’s most prestigious prize. Best reaches for it…but it’s slapped away!! Vargas hits the ring with CMF’s attention diverted. Vargas shoves CMF down and gets in Best’s face. “WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” Best isn’t backing down, “DON’T YOU HAVE A BLACK PERSON TO BEAT UP OR SOMETHING?” Vargas spits in Best’s face. Best back hands Vargas. The two brawl!! The crowd goes wild. CMF, on the mat, spots the HOF documents…he crawls toward them~
Smith: Is Farthington looking to put HIS name on those documents?
Hood: Can he even do that? Surely it specifies Mike Best.
Smith: You would think…but, I mean…
Hood: Classic OCW, baby
~CMF reaches for the documents…his fingers find them…only for a foot to stomp out his hopes and dreams of retrieving them. CMF looks up to find that the foot belongs to ZYBALA! The fans go wild!! Zybala throws a front kick into CMF’s face, sending the HOW champ rolling away. He picks up the documents and begins reading them. The horror of what these documents entail hits him…he moves to rip them in half. Mike Best kicks Vargas in the groin and dives to his side, tackling Zybala!! The documents fall to the floor. Vargas grabs Best from behind, tearing him off of Zybala. He has Mike hooked for The Stroke!! He looks out and yells, ‘DEATH TO ALL ------!!’ and drops Best with THE STROKE!! Best is face down on the mat~
Smith: Vargas just hit the Stroke!
Hood: Why did we bleep that out?
Smith: It’s 2020, Hood. OCW has clearer vision.
Hood: Oh, okay
~Vargas flips Best over and covers him. Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
3...NO!!!
~CMF breaks up the pin! An irate Vargas goes after Farthington. He jumps on top of Farthy All Belts and pummels him with lefts and rights. Zybala refocuses on Welsh. He drags Welsh into the center of the ring…both men are on their feet. Zybala rants and raves, unleashing months…YEARS worth of frustration unto Marcus. Welsh tries to apologize. Both men turn as a familiar face hits the ring~
Smith: It’s GREG!!
Hood: Welsh’s maybe, possibly, who really knows…African American lover!
Smith: Was the African American part really necessary?
Hood: I’m just trying to help out our blind viewers.
Smith: What a humanitarian
~Greg separates both men. It’s obvious Greg has been crying. He has unfathomable amounts of respect and LOVE for both. Welsh pleads his case. Zybala tries to comfort Greg. Welsh yells at Greg, “You take his side and you’re finished! You’re DONE!” Zybala responds, “Stick with me, Greg. I’ll treat you right.” Whatever that means. Greg throws Welsh’s arm to the side. The fans go wild! Greg turns to Zybala and says, “I’m sorry. I love you.” Greg punts Zybala in the groin!!! Welsh steps up and spins Zybala around…right into I KNEED A HERO!!! Mike Best, recovered from The Stroke, hits his devastating finisher!!! Zybala crumples to the mat. CMF locks Vargas in a chicken wing. Welsh and Greg try their best to prevent anyone else from entering. Scruff slides in with the count~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings to massive BOOOOOS~
Belvedere: MIKE ZYBALA HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!!!!!
Smith: NO!
Hood: Good night, Mikey Z!
Smith: What a travesty!
Hood: Travesty? The man got EXACTLY what he deserved. Not only does he screw Best out of the OCW Title at Redacted but…but…he was moving in on another man’s man.
Smith: I was really hoping he’d go all the way.
Hood: Yea well you’re an idiot.
~Zybala rolls out of the ring…there’s stains of sweat and blood on his face. Perhaps some tears? Who knows. He hits the floor, holding the side of his head…it’s feeling the trauma of, perhaps, the finisher of the year. A hand finds its way across his shoulders…it belongs to Dean. Dean looks down at the man who has more heart than anyone in the business. “You did your best, sucka.” He helps Zybala up the ramp. The entire Houston area night sky becomes filled with “ZYBALA!” chants~
Smith: *stands up* Thank you, Zybala!
Hood: Would you sit your ass down you fuckin Mark!
Smith: This man put his heart and soul into OCW!
Hood: No, you’re wrong. He put his heart into OCW. He dumped his fucking soul into Outsiders.
Smith: So long, Zybala! It was a joy having you!
~Mack bullies his way in. Welsh is no longer guarding the ring…he’s too busy consoling Greg over his BETRAYAL. Best struggles to his feet, overcoming the momentary rush of adrenaline which allowed him to put Zybala down. He’s met with a huge haymaker from Mack!!! Best falters back and falls through the ropes, onto the apron. Mack turns, spotting a very angry and pain riddled Vargas, trapped in CMF’s chickenwing. Mack walks over and begins stomping CMF in the face. CMF relinquishes the hold, rolling to the apron. Mack helps Vargas up. Once he reaches his feet…Vargas shoves Mack away…Mack does the same…it’s one of those, “Get off of me ya weirdo” kinda deals~
Smith: The eMpire is stuck on the apron…the Clientele is standing tall inside the ring…along with Welsh and Greg.
Hood: Meanwhile Ed is taking a nap, I think.
Smith: HE’S SELLING HIS BACK!
Hood: Oh, okay…right.
~We get a shot of Ed…SELLING HIS BACK. In the background is Langston. He’s looking up, into the ring. His head turns, spotting Syren who is kicking at NPD, trying to get him to wake up. Langston makes his way up the ramp…the fans lining the ramp rise with anticipation. The two biggest men in the match appear ready to go to war…or, well, at least one of them~
Smith: Langston is heading Syren’s way!
Hood: Don’t provoke the beast!
Smith: I think he’s of the opinion that if he can take out the biggest dog in the yard…it might mean something.
Hood: It might mean something…horribly vague, Smith.
Smith: Well excuse me
~Mack and Vargas focus on Greg and Welsh. Mack looks at Vargas and asks, “Which one do you want?” Vargas guffaws…as if that were ever in question. He goes right after the gay minority. Vargas grabs Greg by the neck…Greg shrieks. The high pitched screaming pierces Mack’s eyes. Welsh tries to make a run for it, but Mack grabs him by the back of his pants, dragging him into the center of the ring. Vargas hoists Greg up for a Chokeslam…he drills Greg into the mat! The fans aren’t really sure how to feel about this. Mack straightens Welsh up…he stares at him, angry over all the hoops Welsh made him jump through to get back to the top of OCW. He measures Welsh’s chin up and reaches back…but Vargas steps in, “Let me handle this piece of shit!” Mack steps back, annoyed~
Smith: Both members of the Clientele hate Marcus Welsh. It was clear, from the moment he took over, that The Aptitude…Meyhu, CJ, and TIO were his chosen ones. He had no use for Vargas and Mack other than to put over his chosen stars.
Hood: You make that sound like it’s a bad thing. Meyhu resurrected this place!
Smith: Incorrect, sir! There’d be no place to ‘resurrect’ if Mack and Vargas hadn’t held it together in the first place!
Hood: Oh, you’re talking about that forgettable 2015 run.
Smith: 2015 is the most underrated year in OCW history! NEVER FORGET!
~A guy wearing an ‘Awe.Some’ shirt tries to start a 2015 chant. It dies out pretty quickly. Mack yanks Welsh away from Vargas…he hits Hollow Point!!! Welsh falls back into Chad’s arms…Vargas drops him with THE STROKE!!! They mock pin Welsh…he’s out for awhile. Vargas hoists Welsh up and throws him over the top rope!! Welsh falls, roughly, to the outside. Back up the ramp, Syren notices Langston heading his way. In the background, we see Dean and Zybala head through the curtain. Syren decides to meet Langston midway up the ramp~
Smith: Vargas and Mack have just taken care of Marcus Welsh!
Hood: I hope they’re happy…picking on a defenseless businessman!
Smith: It’s payback for all the stuff he put them through!
~Syren and Langston come face to face. Syren’s height advantage is increased due to the ramp’s elevation. Vargas, inside the ring, gives Greg some unnecessary kicks, sending his body crashing to the outside. They turn their attention toward the eMpire members…who are on the apron. Mack moves to go after Best…Vargas stops him…he motions toward the back. TREAT CASSIDY comes running down, carrying a black bag. He tiptoes his way around Syren and Langston…wanting NO part of that. He reaches the ring and slides in~
Smith: And there he is…Treat Cassidy! You know, he ran this place for a few months.
Hood: Yep, I remember. He gave us the TransAtlantic Title and Ana Archia as…a champion, of something.
Smith: Why do you always focus on the bad? He was also put the OCW Title on a woman for the first time when MJ Bell defeated Danny B and PerZag at Genesis.
Hood: Oh man, that’s even worse!
~Treat splits in between Mack and Vargas. They look down at their manager. At first, they are surprised…kind of happy to see him. But then, questions begin to arise. Treat slaps both men on the back, a sign of encouragement. Vargas shoves Treat off him and asks, “Hey! I thought you said you hadn’t spoken to Mack!” Treat turns to Mack, he yells, “Yea! I thought you dropped Vargas as a client!” Treat stands, awkwardly~
Smith: It appears as though the Clientele is not on the same page.
Hood: Cut Treat some slack, he’s a busy guy. I hear he’s out shopping for a new limo.
Smith: This may have been a motivational tactic by Treat to keep both men focused.
Hood: They’re focused, alright. Onto their secretive agent!
~Vargas and Mack continue to argue. That is, until The eMpire strikes back! CMF and Best hit the ring, noticing a moment of opportunity. They rush Mack and Vargas. Treat bails, holding the black bag. CMF hooks Vargas in a cravat…Vargas yells out “FUCK!” Best knees Mack in the gut before hoisting him up and slamming him down with a Gut Wrench Suplex. CMF drags Vargas near the center of the ring and drops him with a Cravat Suplex!! The Clientele is down! Treat looks on, shaking his head…obviously upset over his unintentional distraction~
Smith: Treat is beginning to regret his appearance.
Hood: Yea, it seemed to halt his clients momentum.
Smith: And now the eMpire stands tall once again!
Hood: When did they ever stop?
~Langston bows up to Syren. Syren looks down at Langston. Langston, in his deep, stern voice says, “I was hoping our paths would cross.” Syren replies, “I don’t even know who you are.” Langston hauls off with a huge right hand!! Syren staggers back! Langston hits him again and again and again…Syren stumbles up the ramp. Langston drills him with a big boot! Syren staggers back, tripping over NPD’s body!! He lands on his ass, atop the ramp…on the stage. Langston steps over NPD and knees Syren in the face, flattening out the OCW legend~
Smith: The self proclaimed legend has knocked the OCW legend down!
Hood: Yea, if Langston wants to earn that ‘Legend’ moniker, this would go a long way in doing so.
Smith: Plus, those Hall of Fame documents are still at ringside. He beats Syren…he signs the papers…boom, Langston is in the Hall of Fame!
Hood: If Langston gets in before Best…I FUCKING RIOT
~Langston drops to his knees, grabs Syren by his bleach blonde hair and begins to pepper him with lefts and rights. Syren reaches out, trying to fight back but Langston is in total control. The fans start to murmur, they start to wonder…are we seeing the Scott Syren from Death March? IIs this man truly beyond his prime? Langston ceases with the punching, staring down at a pummeled veteran. He scoffs and stands~
Smith: Langston having his way with Syren!
Hood: Phrasing!
Smith: You know what I mean.
Hood: Yea, but our blind fans may have a different mental image…a terrible mental image.
~Back inside the ring, Best tells CMF to wrangle Mack. CMF does…he holds Mack’s arms behind him. Best puts up his fists and starts to pummel Mack in the midsection. The fans boo as the offense is half effective/half showboaty. Best finishes with a slap across Mack’s face. CMF hoists Mack up and drops him on his head with a Tiger Suplex. He bridges for a pin~
1!
2!
NO!
Smith: Ed Houston! The GCWA Champion comes flying in with the break up!
Hood: Looks like he’s no longer selling his back!
Smith: You have to admire the dedication to his craft!
~Houston lands on top of CMF with a splash!! CMF curls up, writhing in pain. Best reaches for Ed, snaring the GCWA Champion by the hair. He pulls Ed to his feet…Ed pushes Best off and leaps up with a spinning back kick into Best’s chin. Mike Best stumbles into a corner. Houston charges in with a HUGE splash!! He stands atop the middle rope and punches Best in the head several times…he looks over his shoulder to find CMF. Houston grabs Best, leans back and tosses him onto CMF with a Monkey Flip!! The crowd goes wild, “HOUSTON! HOUSTON! HOUSTON!”~
Smith: Ed Houston and his fast, high flying offense has taken control of this match!
Hood: He’s making the GCWA look good!
Smith: GCWA doesn’t need any help in looking good…it’s a great promotion!
Hood: Yea, yea, I know…I kinda work there.
~Mack struggles to his feet, holding the back of his head. Houston charges at Mack…he throws a kick. Mack catches Ed’s leg and shoves him backward. Houston completes a full back flip, landing on his feet. Mack is like, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He throws a punch at Ed. Ed ducks…Mack spins around, Houston leaps up, places his leg behind Mack’s head and drops him with a variation of the Fameasser!!! Mack hits hard and rolls out of the ring~
Smith: The GCWA Champion looks to be new and improved!
Hood: Winning the big one will do that for you. Well, unless you’re PerZag.
Smith: Ouch!
Hood: Hey, I like PerZag…it just seems…seemed that after he won the OCW Title his career went to shit.
~CMF and Best help one another up…but, they are reeling. They lean against the ropes…Houston spots them, charges forward and dumps them both on the outside with a double clothesline!! The eMpire hits hard!! The crowd is going wild!!! Houston is charged up! He’s feeding off the fans. “HEY FUCKBOY!” Houston turns around and finds Chad Vargas standing, ready~
Smith: He’s dumped Mack…and the eMpire…now he has to cross The Confederate Icon.
Hood: That’s going to be tough. Could be a preview of a match in GCWA!
Smith: Indeed!
~Houston bounces around, excitedly. Vargas works his shoulders back and forth…the two burst forward with a lock up! Vargas snares a side head lock! Houston shoots him off…Vargas slams into Houston, knocking him to the mat. Houston pops back up. Vargas hits the ropes…Houston goes for a leapfrog but Vargas catches him, spins around and plants Houston with a Spinebuster!!!~
Smith: Huge Spinebuster by Chad Vargas!
Hood: The GCWA Champion is down…put down by a former OCW Champion and a current OCW Hall of Famer!
Smith: Ed is resilient, though. He defeated Mack O’Connor for the Paradigm Championship one year ago. He most recently knocked off The Big Bifford for the GCWA Title!
Hood: Yea, but he hasn’t defeated Chad Vargas.
~Vargas pulls Ed back to his feet…Houston drills Vargas in the midsection with an elbow. Houston hits the ropes…he bounces off. Vargas throws a wild lariat…Houston ducks and hits the ropes again…he leaps into the air with a crossbody…but Vargas catches him! Vargas throws Ed over his head with a fallaway slam!!! The fans begin to boo. Vargas doesn’t give a fuck. He returns to his feet, walks over and slams his foot into Ed’s throat. Houston kicks his feet, grasping for the ropes…he snares the bottom rope but, ya know what, it doesn’t fucking matter~
Smith: Instinct tells these men to reach for the ropes...but the rules of this match negate the ropes ability to break a hold.
Hood: As if it would fucking matter, anyway. That’s a choke. Chokes are forced to be broken.
Smith: Excellent point, Hood.
Hood: I piss excellence you jackoff
~Houston’s movements slow. Treat is slapping the apron from the outside, encouraging his first and arguably top client. Vargas snares Ed by the hair and grasps him by the throat. Houston throws a kick, but Vargas blocks it. Chad throws Ed into a corner with one hand…Houston hits hard. Vargas takes off, ramming Houston into the gut with a shoulder. Chad stands up and drags Houston out. He hooks Ed for a piledriver…lifts him up and drops him right on his head. He doesn’t go for a cover…instead, he pops to his feet and motions for THE STROKE~
Smith: If Vargas hits the stroke…Ed’s night will be over!
Hood: Strokes tend to put people down.
Smith: A stroke is no laughing matter, Hood.
Hood: Who said I was laughing?
~Vargas yanks Ed up and hooks him for THE STROKE! We see Greg rise from the outside and throw something into the ring. It lands at Chad’s feet. Vargas’ eyes bulge, “What the fuck is this!”~
Smith: It’s a Pride Flag!
Hood: What the fuck is a pride flag? Looks like a rainbow to me.
Smith: That’s exactly what a Pride Flag is, Hood. And it’s a symbol that Chad Vargas hates!
~Vargas releases Ed and grabs the Pride Flag! He’s FURIOUS. He looks about ready to murder someone. That is, until he’s drilled in the back via a knee from Houston!!! Vargas stumbles into a corner, he turns around. Houston comes flying in with a spinning heel kick!!! The momentum takes Ed over the top rope!! Vargas stumbles forward, falling to the mat. Houston hops to the top rope with ease. The crowd rises~
Smith: Oh my gosh!
Hood: No way…no fucking way!
~Treat looks on…he’s, almost in slow motion, yelling, “Nooooooooo!!!!” Houston leaps off and drills Vargas with BLASTOFF!!! The fans GO FUCKING NUTS!! Houston hooks both legs! Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
3!!!!!
Belvedere: CHAD VARGAS HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!!!!!
Smith: One of the favorites is gone!
Hood: I think everyone in this match was a favorite.
Smith: Well, yea, good point
Hood: The Pride Flag distracted Chad…leading to his defeat. Fuck you, Greg!
~Vargas rolls out of the ring, stunned and dazed. Treat tends to his soon to be MURDEROUS client. Houston grabs the Pride Flag and holds it up high…the fans go wild~
Smith: Folks, let's take a quick break as we advertise John E Depth's newest feature film!
Hood: I hope it's better than his last one!
Smith: And we’re back from break.
Hood: Thank goodness, I was scared shitless we were about to see a trailer for that…that film.
Smith: Children are watching, Hood.
Hood: Really? The fuck is this world coming to.
~We cut to action that took place during the break. We see Vargas irate at ringside. He grabs Greg hoists him over his shoulder, carrying him up the ramp. The fans scream “PUT HIM DOWN!” Greg pleads for Welsh, who remains down at ringside. Vargas reaches the ramp, drops Greg on his feet and hits THE STROKE! The proceeds to tell everyone to fuck off…flipping the bird and shouting obscenities. While doing so, he nearly trips over Syren. He stops, looks down at the unconscious body of OCW’s most legendary legend and says, “Oh hey, Syren. Much respect, bro.” Vargas then takes his leave for the final time~
Smith: Yes, Vargas was very angry after that surprise elimination.
Hood: At least he had the respect to say hello to Syren one final time.
Smith: He’s always had respect for Syren…even if he’d like to defeat him, at some point.
Hood: Syren was the boss in OCW when Vargas first joined. Of course he has respect for him. These other guys…to them, Syren may as well be a logo on currency.
~Houston shakes his head after watching what Vargas did to Greg. He watches Greg carried to the back. The fans begin to boo as the eMpire slide back into the ring. Houston turns around, staring down the most formidable faction in OCW. Atop the ramp remains Langston, he sees the eMpire and makes his way down the ramp…he’s got unfinished business. Mack, meanwhile, remains on the outside…he takes a seat on the bottom step and rests. A cane slowly appears from off screen, tapping Mack on the knee. He pops up, snares the cane and beats the fan with it, before breaking it in half, over his knee~
Smith: For those of you who are just wondering…Mack is NOT old.
Hood: Try telling that to his legs…knees…personality.
Smith: Or, Hood, you could try repeating that to the OCW Champion, yourself.
Hood: No thanks, I’m good.
~Best reaches for CMF’s hand. CMF is like “What the hell?” Best replies, “Just go with it!” They lock hands. Houston charges at them…they run at Houston for a double clothesline…but Houston tucks and rolls. He pops back to his feet and jumps onto the second rope. He springboards backwards. Best catches him!! Best flips him around for a powerbomb. He turns around and throws him at CMF…but Houston kicks off Best for extra height…he overshoots CMF, wraps his legs around CMF’s head and tosses him backward with an inverted Frankensteiner!!! CMF hits hard and rolls out of the ring! The fans go wild~
Smith: The indomitable GCWA Champion! He just dumped the HOW champion on his head!
Hood: Are you trying to spice up a rivalry?
Smith: I hear potential negotiations could take place out over the Atlantic Ocean…sometime next week.
Hood: Sounds saucy!
~Best grows frustrated. Houston scurries to his feet. Best throws a knee. Houston ducks…Best winds up in the ropes, his leg draped over the middle. Langston hops onto the apron…Best is like “Oh fuck, forgot this guy was in the fucking match!” Langston throws a huge right hand! Best ducks! He falls to the mat, but avoids a potential knock out blow. He returns to his feet. Houston charges forward. Houston throws a Yakuza Kick at Best…Best ducks…Houston kicks Langston in the head, knocking him to the ground! Houston’s leg is draped over the top rope. Best pops back up, he grabs Houston and tosses him over his head with a side suplex!!! Houston lands HARD on his head. The fans boo~
Smith: And the modern day legend, Mike Best is in control.
Hood: All things are right within the wrestling world.
Smith: Breaking news, by the way…Mike Best has been named Wrestler of the Year in OCW!
Hood: What took them so long? Fuck…he had that wrapped up back in May!
~Best stands over Houston. Ed tries to sit up…that fighting spirit within the GCWA Champion will never die. Best lifts his foot up and smashes his heel into Ed’s face, rendering the GCWA Champion a motionless mass. Best stands over Houston…everyone is expecting a pin…Best, however, has another idea~
Smith: What’s he doing?
Hood: Being Wrestler of the Year.
Smith: That was last year!
Hood: Or, is it this year?
Smith: I…I don’t know.
Hood: One thing is for certain, Mike Best is the best wrestler of the year since Meyhu!
Smith: Well, I mean, yea
~Best heads toward the ropes and yells down at CMF, “Get me the papers!” CMF starts to look for the Hall of Fame documents. Houston begins to stir. CMF turns a corner…he spots the papers…but he also spots Mack, seated on the steps, taking a breather. Mack looks over and spots CMF…he then spots the papers. We have ourselves a showdown~
Smith: Best wants to put his name to those papers…CMF is trying to get them…but I doubt Mack will just sit and allow this to happen.
Hood: He should. If he gets up to quickly he may break a hip.
Smith: He’s not that old!
Hood: He will rue the day he broke that cane!
~Mack slowly stands. He spits to his left, while rotating his shoulders. CMF refuses to spit. Instead, he locates some money in his trunks and hands it to a fan, ordering them to spit. They do. CMF is now ready. The two men scramble for the papers. Best looks on, frustrated. Houston slowly reaches his feet…the fans start to cheer…Best remains unaware, too fixated on the OCW Hall of Fame~
Smith: Mike Best needs to focus more on this match!
Hood: Why? If he gets into the Hall…who cares?
Smith: Competition! The right to go down as the final FACE!
Hood: I dunno, man. I think I’d work to sign those papers, if I were Mike. Then again, knowing Mike, he can probably do both.
~Houston stumbles around, fatigued and reeling from the damage previously done. He leans against ropes aligned perpendicular to the ropes Best is facing. Houston gathers his wits and sets about in his quest to best Best. Before he can make any headway, the giant arms of Vincent Langston, reach over the top rope, snaring Houston by the neck~
Smith: Vincent Langston is choking Ed Houston from behind!
Hood: That is a strange way to choke a man…or a woman, we mustn’t leave them out!
Smith: He’s doing what he can with what he has…he’s on the apron, Houston is in the ring.
~Houston tries to fight free, but Langston’s grip is too tight. The irony that Langston is, in a way, saving Best doesn’t seem lost on some fans. They scream at Langston to let go of Ed and jump Best from behind. Vincent, however, can only see red…an alarming color stemming from Houston’s inadvertent kick which found his face. Best, meanwhile, continues to urge CMF to snare those papers~
Smith: Mike Best is completely unaware…if Langston or Ed or BOTH went after him, they might eliminate him from the match!
Hood: This is why the eMpire always wins…they are on the same page. These other guys…scrambled.
Smith: Well, that’s not wrong.
~CMF leg dives Mack before he can reach them. Mack responds by hooking CMF in a front face lock. CMF shows some leg strength, driving Mack into the steel steps. Best looks on, anxious…he contemplates hopping out of the ring and snaring the papers while Mack and CMF tussle. Langston, meanwhile, has Ed just about choked out. Houston gives it one final ‘go’…he jumps up and comes down on his ass…this rakes Vincent’s throat across the top rope! The jolt is enough to release the choke!! Houston remains seated, leaning against the bottom rope. Vincent leans forward, over the top rope, coughing. Ed mimics the cough…both men struggling to regain their breath~
Smith: Four men struggling. Syren is at the top of the ramp apparently dead and Mike Best is lusting over those Hall of Fame papers.
Hood: Don’t forget Welsh!
Smith: He’s not even in the match.
Hood: But he remains vigilant, in our hearts.
~Best places one leg through the ropes, straddling the middle…he’s very unsure…should he stay or should he go? Those papers are so close. Houston feels Langston right behind him, recovering from the throat to the rope jolt. He leans forward and crawls away. Ed finds himself center of the ring, he coughs a few times and turns his focus onto Mike. He slowly reaches his feet. The fans pop. Best looks to his left, spotting Houston. His eyes bulge and he steps back into the ring. Houston sucks some wind and runs forward, nailing Mike in the head with a Yakuza Kick!! Mike is left out to dry across the middle rope! Houston grabs the middle rope and begins shaking it up and down! The fans pop!! Best is not having his ‘best’ day…at the moment. Houston ceases and Mike tumbles into the ring, curled up, holding his crotch~
Smith: Ed Houston is back in control!
Hood: Is it just me or is Ed better than ever?
Smith: It certainly seems that way…he’s gone from underdog to potential favorite in this match!
Hood: I mean, shit. He’s hanging in there with the very best this industry has to offer. Dude’s come a long way. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’d still flunk out of NASA…but compared to where he used to be, he’s a lot better.
Smith: Nothing beats a backhanded compliment.
~Houston yanks Best off the mat…he has no compassion for aching manhood. He whips Best into the nearest corner…but Best reverses!!! Houston hits HARD!! The fans boo. Best frowns, he’s pissed. Ed’s got his full attention now. He charges in and drills Ed with a huge shoulder into the midsection. Houston leans forward, over Best’s back. Mike grabs him and stands upright with Houston draped over his back, head facing the mat~
Smith: This does not look good for the GCWA Champion.
Hood: And you were singing his praises moments ago.
Smith: The twists and turns of a professional wrestling match.
~Best eyes the nearest corner…he’s got something painful in mind. He sets and runs that way. But Langston, on the apron, throws his giant left arm around, smacking Mike in the head!! Houston uses the momentum to take Best over with a Canadian Destroyer near the ropes!!! The fans go wild!!! Best lands right on top of his head…his body goes stiff…it teeters and falls near the center of the ring. He’s on his back…Houston looks up, eyes wide…he can’t believe it. He pops to his feet. The fans chant “YES! YES! YES!” Houston spots Langston…Vincent motions toward the top rope, getting out of Ed’s way~
Smith: And Langston has come to his senses…he’s going to let Ed finish Mike Best off!
Hood: This better not happen. If it does, I…
Smith: Yes, we know, you’ll riot.
Hood: I’m not fucking around!
~Ed reaches the top. He looks down at Mike. He stares out into the crowd…he’s seconds away from the biggest moment of his career. He leaps off for BLASTOFF!!! He soars through the air. Fans hold their breath. They watch, fingers crossed…assholes puckered. Can it? Will it? Is it possible? IT IS!!! Houston nails Blastoff!!! The crowd goes fucking bananas!!! “HOUSTON!” Ed rolls around, holding his stomach due to the impact. He spots Mike, who isn’t moving…he crawls toward him~
Smith: C’mon, Ed! You’ve got this!
Hood: This would be the greatest American tragedy since 9/11!
Smith: Hood.
Hood: Don’t tell me too soon! It’s been like twenty years!
~Houston hooks both legs~
1!
Smith: YES!
2!
Hood: NOOOOO
3!!
NOOOO
Smith: What the…
Hood: A fan broke up the pin! I told you Mike has fans!
~Indeed, a fan wearing a hoodie hits the ring! He yanks Ed off of Mike right before three! Houston kicks the fan away. He pops to his feet, furious. The fan backs against the ropes, fires off, jumps into the air and DRILLS Ed in the head with a V-Trigger knee!! Houston is knocked the fuck out. He collapses to the mat. The fan removes the hoodie to reveal…~
Smith: It’s Duce Jones!
Hood: One half of the OCW Tag Team Champions! He’s out here to save Best!
Smith: Or, to send Ed a message.
Hood: Either way, he’s saved this fucking match!
~Best rolls over, spotting Houston. Langston, annoyed, steps through the ropes…but Duce runs forward, drilling with a D-Trigga that knocks him out!~
Smith: These D-Triggas are deadly tonight.
Hood: No shit. I’ve never seen Langston knocked out that easily before.
~Duce rolls up his right pant leg to reveal a steel plate over his knee. The fans BOOOOOO. Jones drops to the mat and rolls out of the ring. He heads up the ramp, watching the OCWTron as Mike makes the pin~
1!
2!
3!!!!!
Belvedere:ED HOUSTON HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!!!!!
Smith: No!! NOOOO
Hood: Duce didn’t get the invite. So, he decided to crash the party. Good for him!
Smith: OCW’s most underrated wrestler of 2019 just made a huge statement. While we’re closing our doors after tonight, I’m sure Duce and Ed will cross paths somewhere (GCWA) in 2020.
Hood: Look at us…doing favors for other companies. My how things have changed!
~Duce exits to a chorus of boos. OCW medics hit the ring to check on Ed~
Smith: Five down, five to to…let’s take a quick break!
Hood: This better not be another John E Depth production…I don’t think I can handle it.
Smith: A word from our sponsor…you’re not you when you’re hungry. Grab a Snickers! Or, however that goes…
Hood: Boy, that was extremely professional.
Smith: It's our last night, cut me some slack. Just...just cut to the ad!
Smith: And we’re back!
Hood: I have no idea what to think about a Snickers bar anymore.
Smith: What? That woman was simply enjoying a treat.
Hood: Well, yea…but, no.
Smith: Back to the action!
~Houston is helped up the ramp, to the back. The fans give the GCWA a standing ovation…the GCWA title rests over his shoulder…his arms are wrapped around a couple of OCW employees. He pauses at the top of the ramp to give a final salute to the OCW audience…a resounding “HOUSTON!” chant fills the Texas air~
Smith: So happy to see Ed win that GCWA title and get one final moment here in OCW. Congratulations Ed and thanks for everything you did in OCW!
Hood: Yea, yea…for a pandering NASA flunky, he was pretty okay.
~Best returns to his feet. He does a mock ‘Houston’ chant…which quickly turns the Ed ovation into a massive amount of boos! Best smiles, having once again controlled the audience. He turns his focus back toward the Hall of Fame documents. Mack is clobbering CMF on the back, while maintaining his front face lock. CMF seems to be losing his leverage. Mack manages to pull CMF up…he tries to lift him in the air, hoping to perhaps suplex him onto the steel steps. CMF drills Mack in the gut with a knee, stifling the OCW Champion. Best looks on, anxious. He keeps looking at the papers…they are so fucking close~
Smith: Those papers are closer than ever!
Hood: He need only reach out and procure them!
Smith: Yep and there doesn’t appear to be anyone standing in his way.
Hood: Yea, Langston is still out, right?
~Best hustles over, almost as though he heard Hood. He spots Langston, who is still out from the D-Trigga. He looks up the ramp at a motionless Syren. He stares into the camera…that look of motivation has taken hold. He heads toward the ropes, staring down at the papers. CMF drills Mack in the gut once more, doubling over the OCW Champion~
Smith: Unless Mack can flip the momentum it appears Mike’s path toward the OCW Hall of Fame is unmolested.
Hood: Unmolested? Fuck, man…you had to go with that adjective?
Smith: Get your mind out of the gutter!
Hood: How can I with your constant verbal molestation?
~Mike seizes the day! Carpe diem! He hops out of the ropes and lands on his feet…the HOF papers are a bend over and reach away. He bends over, reaching for the papers. Mack seems stymied…until his eyes catch a grown man with a beard drinking a WHITE CLAW~
Smith: Something has agitated Mack O’Connor.
Hood: It’s that ‘man’ drinking a white claw.
Smith: What’s wrong with White Claw *sips*
Hood: You’ve just proven my point.
~Mack puts up a fight!! CMF is like “The heck did this come from?” He pins Mack to the steel steps, trying to keep the pick alive long enough for Best to grab the papers. Mack notices that the White Claw is LIME flavored and this, well, this pushes him over the edge. “SON OF A BITCH!” Mack grabs CMF and throws him to the side…CMF slams into the barricade. Mack glares at Mike, whose hand is touching the papers. Best looks up, feeling Mack’s glare~
Smith: Uh oh
Hood: Mike did his best to get those papers…unfortunately the wild card that is white claw had other ideas.
Smith: You think it being LIME had anything to do with it?
Hood: Lime is Meyhu’s color and we all know how much Mack despises Meyhu.
~Mack is about to run Mike over when the White Claw fan yells out, “Hey! Watch it! You almost spilt my CLAW!” Mack stops and looks at the man. He directs his fury toward the fan…he runs forward and slugs the man in the face, dropping him like a sack of sweet potatoes. Best, spotting his window of opportunity, snags the papers and slides into the ring. Mack reaches for Best, narrowly missing the potential soon-to-be Hall of Famer. Mack frowns and tries to climb into the ring…but CMF reaches out, grabbing him by the leg. Best stands in the ring, holding the papers high. The fans BOOO~
Smith: He’s got the papers!
Hood: Hall of Fame time, baby!
Smith: And there’s nobody…nothing to stop him.
Hood: Well, Mack…if he can get Farthington off of him…which I doubt. Farthington is a man of one billion holds.
Smith: Right.
~Best arrogantly flips the pages back to the final, ultimate page. The one awaiting his signature. But…he has no pen. The pen is on the outside. CMF spots it and snares it with his free hand, tossing it into the ring. The pen soars over the ropes, bouncing atop the mat. Best looks down at the pen and smiles~
Smith: Well, it’s academic at this point, I’d say.
Hood: Long overdue…guy should have been put in the Hall years ago.
Smith: He joined like eight months ago!
~He reaches down to pick up the pen when LIGHTNING STRIKES! The venue shakes with thunder. The lights flicker…strobing, causing a few strokes. Best stops and turns around, staring up the ramp. A small creature, cloaked, with a wooden staff appears. It hobbles over toward Scott Syren. It begins to do a dance, chanting and screaming~
Smith: Okay, what on Earth is this?
Hood: Who says that thing is from Earth?
Smith: Please, we’re not going to act like an alien just appeared on stage.
Hood: Could be from another dimension. Let’s see…Syren’s friends are Canon…
Smith: That’s too small to be Curt.
Hood: First time Canon’s ever heard that. There’s Liljungleman…
Smith: He’s dead, I think.
Hood: You think? I’ll never forget that tragic day. And then there’s…
Smith: Oh no
Hood: Oh yes…OCW’s most legendary jobber…SCOOT TIME
~Scoot Time (?) throws the staff into the air, nearly losing his balance and falling over. He then slams the butt of the staff into the ground, causing the Earth to shake once more. He raises his arms and yells out in a very unearthly cadence, “RISE!!!” He then pulls out a syringe from his cloak and injects a bunch of drugs into Syren’s arm. Syren suddenly sits up to a HUGE POP~
Smith: And Scott Syren is back!
Hood: Nothing like a Scoot Time cocktail right into the vein to get you going!
Smith: We’re assuming that’s Scoot Time.
Hood: It has to be. All the beatings he took…it’s turned him into some fucked up version of those little things from Star Wars.
~Syren stands. He removes the syringe and throws it into the crowd. A bunch of people run after it~
Hood: Some lucky fan will be going home with a great souvenir tonight!
Smith: Passing out drugs as if it were candy. Unbelievable.
Hood: Classic OCW, baby!
~Syren begins to march down the ramp. Best knows he’d better hurry up. He snares the pen. The paper seems to be shaking in his hand…nerves? Anxiety? He’s so close! Syren hops onto the apron…the man is incredibly spry when drugs consume 50% of his blood stream. He steps through the ropes. Best removes the cap from the pen and says, “Why does this pen have to have a fucking cap!”~
Smith: An extra step toward immortality.
Hood: Seriously? A cap? Welsh must have got that pen in North Korea.
~Best is about to sign when the giant hand of Scott Syren clamps down on the back of his neck. Best’s body seizes up…he drops the HOF documents. CMF shakes his head, letting go of Mack. Mack decides to remain outside the ring. CMF creates some distance heading around the steps, finding his own side of the ring. We see Langston rise, beginning to shake off the D-Trigga. Syren spins Best around and yanks the HOF papers from his hand~
Smith: Uh oh
Hood: C’mon, Scott! This guy is one of the good ones…trust me!
Smith: I think Syren is going to make him earn it.
Hood: He’s already earned it! Fuck!
~Syren shoves the papers down the front of his tights. He shoves Best away. Best sighs, realizing he’s got MORE work to do. He looks at Syren and says, “Let’s go!” Syren clinches his fists, his giant muscles tighten. The two men begin to circle one another. The fans rise to their feet chanting, “HOLY SHIT!”~
Smith: And we’re about to get Mike Best versus Scott Syren!
Hood: BONER ALERT
Smith: Scott Syren is fueled on drugs. Mike Best is fueled on ego. It should make for one heck of a contest!
Hood: Two of the biggest names…not JUST in OCW…but in wrestling!
~Mack, CMF, and Langston remain outside, eager to see what goes down. Best bows up…Syren lunges…they lock up!! Everyone seems surprised that Best went head on at Syren. Best tries to push Syren…but Syren’s drug fueled muscles tense before exploding forward, tossing Best halfway across the ring!! Best lands on his back, hard. He winces…and slowly sits up, staring at Syren. The OCW legend looks down at Best…his early 00’s shades still covering his eyes. Those are some sturdy shades~
Smith: I don’t think anybody…ever…wants to match muscles with Scott Syren.
Hood: I think his muscles are in the Guinness Book of World Records.
Smith: No way. They are huge, but they aren’t the HUGEST
Hood: Oh no, not for that. For being the most awesome.
Smith: How on Earth could that even be rec…never mind.
~Best returns to his feet…the belligerent wrestling savant isn’t too keen on being shown up. So, he stretches his arms out, rotates his neck and limbers up. He raises his arms, ready to lock up a second time. Syren smirks…he has no problem obliging Mike’s request. They lock up!! Best tries his hardest to move Syren’s boulder-esque physique. Scott doesn’t budge. His drug fueled muscles tighten and explode forward, shoving Best head over heels! He falls back, flips over and lands front first on the mat!! The fans go wild! “SYREN! SYREN!” Best backs up into the nearest corner, resting against the bottom buckle. He looks up at Syren…Syren pats his crotch and smiles~
Smith: Mike Best is coming to learn what we all know…Scott Syren’s muscles are big and strong.
Hood: Guinness Book, Smith. Guinness Book.
Smith: I’ll need verification before I start flippantly throwing around such accolades.
Hood: You and your proof. You’re such a pussy.
~Best grabs the top rope with both hands and pulls himself back up…say what you want about this man, but he’s no (rage)quitter. Not even a (rage)vacationer. Best throws caution RIGHT INTO THE WIND, and charges at Syren. Syren throws a forearm that would decapitate the Lincoln Monument. Thankfully, Best ducks! He leaps onto Syren’s back and applies a sleeper~
Smith: Mike Best trying a new strategy…I’d say that’s well advised.
Hood: Best will keep coming and coming and coming at you until you put him down…or until Zybala fucks him out of a match.
Smith: Can we let that go?
Hood: No. Not ever. Never Forget!
~Best is doing what he can to choke Syren out. It’s one of those ‘illegal’ sleepers but, in this match, it doesn’t fucking matter. Syren isn’t budging. He reaches around, trying to grab hold of Best and harm him in a very severe manner. His hands grab Best by the arms and he ducks forward, attempting to toss Best over. But, Mike, having studied the entire OCW roster when he was active as a way of preparation…flips over and drops Syren with the Connector!! A Sleeper into a Stunner…it somehow is possible! Syren stumbles backward, into the ropes, shaking his head…the big man is rattled~
Smith: That’s Logan’s finishing move!
Hood: Mike Best has every trick up his sleeve!
Smith: Logan, OCW’s Newcomer of the Year, won the Savage Championship with that move! It was a devastating finisher!
Hood: Yep, and now it’s got Syren on his heels!
~Best pops back to his feet. He sees his window of opportunity. He charges in and lifts a knee into Syren’s chin!! The OCW legend stumbles forward, dropping to one knee. Best can feel it!! He hits the ropes, bounces off and smacks Syren with I KNEED A HERO!!! Syren wobbles, but remains on one knee. Best hits the ropes and hits is AGAIN!!! Syren drops to all fours. Best looks down at the mammoth sized, drug fueled man. Syren looks up at him…Best shakes his head, in a slight state of disbelief…he has to do it ONE MORE TIME. He hits the ropes, bounces off and hits a third I KNEED A HERO!!! Syren flips over, onto his back. The crowd is stunned~
Smith: Mike Best just laid out Scott Syren!
Hood: He truly is the greatest! THE FUCKING GREATEST
Smith: I…nobody has manhandled Syren like that.
Hood: Well, Meyhu kinda did
Smith: True…but this Syren is more focused than that Syren was.
Hood: There you go, shitting all over Meyhu again.
~Best begins to shit talk…he yells out “That’s right!” “I fucking told you!” “That’s fucking right!” He’s fired up! CMF slaps the mat and points at Syren’s crotch…an act he probably never would have guessed he’d commit…but, ya know, circumstances. Best snaps back to it…he drops to a knee and reaches toward Syren’s trunks. He looks at Syren’s face…it’s hard to tell what state of consciousness Syren is in due to the shades concealing his eyes. But, he does look rather peaceful. The crowd goes quiet…it’s a tense moment~
Smith: Is Syren going to rise and punish Best?
Hood: He could…he’s kinda like that these days. I mean, does the guy even DO wrestling moves anymore?
Smith: That…that is an excellent question.
Hood: He’s sort of transcended generic wrestling…he’s more of a giant guy that just fucks shit up these days.
~Best grabs the waist band of Syren’s trunks. He looks at Syren’s face…again, impossible to get a read. Best swallows hard and reaches his hand into Syren’s trunks. He closes his eyes…bracing for just about anything. His hand isn’t in there very long…it yanks out instantly revealing THE PAPERS! He pops to his feet and wipes a bunch of fresh sweat from his brow. Syren remains down. Best looks for the pen~
Smith: He’s got the papers!
Hood: Okay…now…NOW can we make this shit official?
Smith: Well, it depends.
~CMF is clapping. Mack stands back, curious. Langston grips the ring apron, looking very much like a caged animal. But, one thing is for certain…they are going to let this play out. Mike takes the cap-less pen and flips to the final page. He hesitates, taking in the moment. The crowd chants “SYREN! SYREN!”~
Smith: Well?
Hood: We’re waiting!
Smith: He’s taking too much time…hasn’t he learned ANYTHING?
Hood: Dude, it’s his moment. Let him take it in!
~Best brings the pen to the signature line. He smiles. And…he signs!!! The crowd pops…it’s an amalgamation of boos and a few cheers because, I mean, it is a historic moment. Best throws the pen into the crowd!! He runs over and high fives CMF! He hops onto the nearest buckle and shows the papers off. He drops back to the canvas and finds the nearest camera, jamming the papers into the lens. “That’s right!” “It’s official!” “I’m in the fucking Hall of Fame!” The crowd’s respect for Mike doesn’t last long…the boos begin to cascade~
Smith: So…is this official?
Hood: Of course it’s official!
Smith: Hold on…I’m receiving…YES IT IS OFFICIAL
Hood: Mike Best has done it!
Smith: Mike Best is the newest member into the OCW Hall of Fame. I may not like the man, but congratulations, Mr. Best. It was hard earned and well deserved!
~Best continues to shit talk the camera. Behind him, we see Syren rise to his feet~
Smith: Something has suddenly just come up!
Hood: Enough about your penis…Scott Syren is rising!
~The crowd’s reaction tells Best all he needs to know. Something terrible is heading his way. He slowly turns around, his eyes starting to widen. Once he makes a full 180, he comes face to face with Syren’s hulking chest. He swallows hard and looks up…spotting his reflection in Syren’s shades. Best throws a punch at Syren’s head…but Scott catches the fist! The crowd goes wild~
Smith: OCW’s newest Hall of Fame member is about to find out why Scott Syren was the first ever member into the OCW Hall of Fame!
Hood: Let’s all just calm down! Syren will probably go back to napping in a few minutes…Mike Best can overcome anything!
Smith: Well, so far he’s been able to…but, I don’t know…it feels as though his story may have come full circle.
Hood: Stop talking as if this shit is predetermined!
~Best contemplates throwing his left fist at Syren, but he doesn’t want to drop those papers. Syren takes advantage of Best’s hesitation by leaning in with a headbutt!! Best’s legs shake…they lose their base…Syren takes his right hand and he palms Best’s head!! His hand nearly consumes Mike’s head. He begins to squeeze…the giant muscles in this steroid freak’s arm are wound as tight as a virgin walking into a strip club. He squeezes and squeezes…Best’s legs wobble…they grow weaker, he starts to stagger~
Smith: What is this?!
Hood: Syren’s new move!
Smith: What’s it called?
Hood: Probably something along the lines of but not exactly like “I’m so fucking big and strong that I’m going to crush your head with my hand.”
~Best’s base is about to give…Syren rears back with his right arm and thrusts forward, slamming Best down into the mat…the back of his head crashing into the canvas. Syren, on one knee, continues to apply pressure. CMF, on the outside, realizes his eMpire buddy is in trouble. Mack, notices CMF. CMF slides into the ring, looking to make the save…Mack and his old man legs dial it back to yesteryear as he, too, slides in. CMF charges toward Syren, but he’s walloped by a right hand from Mack!!! CMF stumbles into the ropes, falling through them, onto the apron. Langston remains on the outside, watching~
Smith: Mack just prevented Farthington from breaking up…whatever hold that is Syren has on Mike!
Hood: Mack is a ruiner…a ruiner of FUN
Smith: I think he’d rather deal with one Syren versus two members of the eMpire.
~Best’s body is limp. The only form of life he’s displaying is his left hand clutching the HOF documents. Scruff drops to his knees and makes the count~
1!
2!
3!!!!!
Belvedere: MIKE BEST HAS BEEN ELIMINATED
~The crowd gasps in shock. Syren releases the vice like grip and stands. OCW officials slide into the ring to help Mike out~
Smith: Mike Best…the man who carried OCW on his back in 2019 is gone!
Hood: Man, I thought the dude had it…seriously.
Smith: He was so focused on earning his way into the Hall of Fame that…once he achieved his goal, he lost sight of the actual match. He took his focus away for a few moments and…well, there you go.
Hood: Fuck.
~Best has two officials helping him toward the ramp. His eyes are half open…his head is likely aching. He starts to realize what’s happened. The fans are chanting “ADIOS!” for some reason, perhaps they were in Miami last week. The chants…the moment…all of it hits Best once he reaches the top of the ramp. He shoves the officials away and holds up the HOF documents, proudly. The fans “BOOOOO”. Best then turns and heads toward the back~
Smith: And then, there were four.
Hood: And what a final four it is!
Smith: Who would you give the edge to at this point?
Hood: I can’t make a pick.
Smith: Why?
Hood: Because whoever the announcer picks sure as shit isn’t winning.
~Mack and Syren are in the ring…they locate their own corner. CMF rolls in, instinctively. He remains on the mat, rubbing his chin from Mack’s punch. Langston steps in through the ropes, finding a corner. CMF reaches his feet…he finds a corner and looks around. He sees no Mike. He sees no Max. He sees no Mario. All that’s left is…M!~
Smith: And for the first time since joining OCW, Cecilworth is on his own!
Hood: That’s right, the Paradigm Champion has always been somewhat of an afterthought in the eMpire. Maurako was the OCW legend. Mike was the badass who shot straight to the OCW Title. Max was Max. But Farthington…he always seemed like that extra box of fries some dumbass employee dropped in your bag. You like it, it’s good…but it isn’t exactly what you were expecting to get.
Smith: I mean, I guess that makes sense. He was the first man eliminated at Block Party. He was seen as comedy fodder. Even in winning the Paradigm Title, he went through Bifford, Chastity Temple, Alice…all talented individuals but all, you know…
Hood: Yes, we know.
Smith: But now…now CMF has to face three men who have achieved all their success on their own. Can he do it…can he rise to the occasion without his stablemates or will he prove to be nothing more than icing on the cake.
~Syren, Langston, and Mack all look around as if to say, “Why the fuck are they going on about this guy?” CMF leans back in his corner, nervous. Mack leans over the top rope, yelling at Hood and Smith, “You fucking finished?”~
Smith: Yes, we’re done!
Hood: Don’t piss Mack off…he’s starting to sober up.
Smith: Sorry, I just thought CMF having to prove himself without the aid of the eMpire was kind of compelling.
Hood: MORE compelling than Syren returning after all these years to beat down the new generation? MORE compelling than Mack O’Connor ending the company as both the OCW Champion AND Face of OCW? MORE Compelling than Vincent Langston FINALLY winning the big one?
Smith: Okay, fine!
Hood: Spread the fucking wealth, comrade!
~Each man has their own corner. Scruff stands in the center of the ring. The fans are buzzing. We’re entering the endgame. Who will prevail?~
Smith: And we’re back!
Hood: Is it just me or are the commercial breaks lasting longer…and longer…AND LONGER
Smith: As a company man through and through I can officially reply with NO COMMENT.
Hood: Pussy
~Syren, Mack, and Langston…tired of hearing the gushing over CMF, decide to team up. They march toward Farthington. CMF, knowing this is his moment…this is his opportunity to prove his worth without the eMpire…turns and stares into the camera~
Smith: Uhm
Hood: That was fuckin weird.
Smith: So long, CMF…I guess.
Hood: Knew there was something strange about that guy.
Smith: Indeed…anyway, moving on! We’re down to our final 3!
~Langston, Syren, and Mack look around…equally befuddled. However, they seem to be happy CMF is no longer around. So, they take a moment to re-gather their wits~
Smith: We’re suddenly down to three!
Hood: A proper 3, Smith. These men are OCW through and through!
Smith: That cannot be argued.
~Mack looks at Langston. He slowly turns and looks at Syren. It dawns on him that for once...he faces the rare occasion when he’s the little guy. He balls up both fists and heads toward the center of the ring. Syren and Langston converge from his sides. Langston throws a haymaker...Mack ducks. Langston’s haymaker DRILLS Syren in the jaw. It breaks Syren’s shades...we get a look into the Icon’s eyes for the first time this evening. They are bloodshot and tired...until now. Fury fills them as some young punk who hasn’t even won an OCW Title dared to put their knuckles onto his majestic face. Syren lunges forward, snaring Langston by the throat. Mack jumps back, allowing the two behemoths to go at it~
Smith: Was that Mack’s plan? Only Mack O’Connor knows…
Hood: Of course it was his plan...sadly for Mack, he’s dealing with Syren. Syren’s about to eat Langston for lunch before dining on Mack for dessert.
Smith: I think you underestimate Syren’s two opponents.
Hood: Nah, Syren’s got this. Langston has more wear and tear from the war. And Mack, well, he’s just about the only guy on the roster older than Syren.
Smith: He’s not that old!
~Syren lifts Langston in the air...Vincent looks surprised at the raw power possessed within the roided up arms of OCW’s greatest legend. Vincent reaches down, trying to apply a nerve grip...but Syren’s neck might as well be comprised of two miniature mountains. HARD AS FUCK. Langston seems out of options. Syren grips and squeezes...the lights behind Langstons’ eyes begins to fade~
Smith: I have never seen Langston manhandled like this before.
Hood: No man can tame him, Smith. Only a woman can do that...a woman named Melinda.
Smith: You sure you want to say things like that, Hood?
Hood: What’s the big deal? We’re closing shop anyway...besides, I got myself a new gig!
Smith: He could show up over there.
Hood: Psshaw...like that will ever happen!
~Standing back, Mack watches Syren manhandling OCW’s top ‘monster’ from 2019. It registers that if Syren can do this to Langston...he could do the same, if not worse, to Mack. With a resounding, “FUCK!” Mack rushes over and clips Syren in the back of the knee. Syren stumbles forward, dropping Langston into the ropes. Vincent tumbles onto the apron. Mack goes after Syren’s other leg...chopping the legend down to his knees. Mack begins punching Syren in the back of the head~
Smith: Mack the pragmatist! He knows he’d have a better shot against Langston than he would Syren.
Hood: I mean, Syren is basically a god at this point. I’d eliminate a god first chance I had.
Smith: Let’s not deify him just yet.
Hood: Dude, he’s been deified around these parts since, like 2002.
~Syren falls to all fours. Langston sits up on the apron...he sees Mack pounding away on the back of Syren’s head. Mack’s fist is reddening...the skin appears close to breaking. Langston, no fool, rubs his neck...he stands and throws a big boot through the ropes, into Syren’s face. Syren flips over onto his back. Mack stands over him...Langston, showing more athleticism than what we are used to, leaps over the top rope with a rotating splash. He lands with tremendous force. He hooks the leg...Scruff slides~
1!
NOOO!!!
Smith: Not even close.
Hood: Did you know Syren was in Hiroshima when they dropped the bomb…
Smith: Okay, hold on now…
Hood: Look, I’m not trying to say it didn’t impact him. Rumor has it he caught a cold due to the explosion and subsequent fallout. What I’m trying to say is a few punches and a splash won’t keep this dude down.
Smith: If he was in Hiroshima then how is Mack older than him?
Hood: Dude, Mack pre-dates history.
~Syren tries to get up...Langston holds his shoulders down as best he can...it won’t be long before Syren powers through. Mack grabs Syren’s legs and delivers a frantic stomp into Syren’s massive dick. The fans BOOOO. Mack doesn’t care… self-preservation is kicking in. Syren rolls over, his face flush with pain. Langston takes his back and locks in rear-naked choke! Syren roars! The mighty man who encompasses the ENTIRE MOUNT RUSHMORE OF OCW rises to his feet...he stumbles around, Langston has the choke locked in DEEP. Syren doubles over...he refuses to go back down. Then, in a blur, Mack hobbles into the picture and drops Syren with HOLLOW POINT!!! Langston holds onto the choke!!! Syren is down!! The fans gasp with shock...is...is he out?~
Smith: This might be it for Scott Syren!
Hood: YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH
Smith: I don’t really know how Scott can get up from that!
Hood: SHUT THAT SLUT MOUTH, SMITH
~Scruff drops to one knee...he reaches out to lift Syren’s huge, steroid arm. It’s too heavy for Scruff to lift in usual fashion...so he has to move his body underneath it, get it atop his shoulder and slowly rise...Scruff struggles, nearly allowing the arm to take him down. But he gets it high enough and shimmies...the arm slips off his shoulder and SLAMS into the mat with a thunderous impact. He holds up a ONE! He leans over, gasping for air~
Smith: Oh come on, Syren’s arms are big but they aren’t THAT big
Hood: Scruff is a small guy...plus he’s kinda homeless. I’m not sure he’s getting the nutrition he needs.
Smith: Still, I think we’re bending the laws of physics just a bit by describing Syren’s arm as though it weighs as much as a car.
Hood: A car? More like a BUS.
~Scruff sucks down some oxygen and stares at that large arm. He shakes his head, bends over and performs the same act to try and lift the massive arm off the mat once again. Langston continues to choke Syren...he’s growing a bit weary...both of Scruff’s elongated count and via fatigue from clinching his muscles for so long. Scruff gets to his feet...he stares into the camera and shimmies! The arm slips off and SLAMS INTO THE MAT...he holds up TWO fingers~
Smith: Is the shimmy really necessary?
Hood: Totally necessary.
Smith: Can’t help but feel like he’s hamming it up for the camera.
Bifford: Did somebody say HAM?
Smith: What the…
Hood: WAS THAT BIFF?
~Scruff drops to one knee...he places his fist into the mat and sucks down some of this beautiful Houston area oxygen. Mack slaps him in the back of the head and yells, “Hurry up!” A purple spotlight hits him. His eyes widen and he recoils, disgusted over what he’s just said. The purple light vanishes...Mack leans into the corner, shaking his head, white as a ghost~
Smith: Mack looks as though he’s seen a ghost.
Hood: He just had a very purple experience. It’d frighten any man, right to the core.
~Scruff grabs Syren’s arm and grunts...putting it over his shoulder. Langston looks up...he sees SCOOT TIME standing next to the ring. Scoot starts to dance...he chants...he waves his staff around. Syren isn’t moving. Langston has a look that says, “I’m gonna kill you.” Scoot removes a photo from under his cloak...it features THE GREAT ONE. Syren’s free hand starts to shake. Scoot produces a second photo, this one displaying HUNTER MCKAY...Syren’s fingers ball into a fist. Langston begins to pick up on something...the tide shifting. Scoot throws down a third photo...this one features...BRIANNA CASABLANCAS...Syren’s entire arm flexes and begins to rise. Scoot finally reveals a fourth and ultimate photo...he throws it down, revealing...TOMMY FLAMER!!! Syren’s free hands SLAMS INTO THE MAT. It punches a hole right into the canvas. He pops to his feet and throws Scruff out of the ring, into the crowd with the hand Scruff was attempting to lift. Langston, on Syren’s back, looks around...he’s experiencing a force of rage completely foreign to him. Syren charges toward a corner and does a somersault with Langston on his back...he CRUSHES Langston in the corner. The fans are going wild…”FUCK HIM UP, SYREN...FUCK HIM UP!’~
Smith: And the lunacy that is Scott Syren’s storyline takes control once again!
Hood: He’s got one minion left, Smith and boy is it a powerful one.
Smith: Scoot Time is as legendary a jobber as Scott Syren is a champion.
Hood: Syren has always relied on his minions to give him strength.
~Syren stands with a stunned Langston on his back. Syren is holding onto Langston...he flips Vincent over, slamming him hard into the corner. He looks down at Langston, who is upside down...his head and neck wedged agaisnt the mat with his legs draped across the buckles. A loud SMACK is heard. Syren’s head jerks forward. He spins around, eyeing Mack. Mack looks down at his right fist...it’s bruised, cracked...bleeding. He can’t believe the minimal effect. He throws a haymaker...it lands on Syren’s chin...only Syren’s head does not move. Mack grabs his fist and yells, “FUCK!” Realizing the danger he’s in, Mack lunges forward, grabbing Syren for CLAYMORE...instead of executing his finisher...Syren holds on to Mack, jumps and spins and drops him with a HUGE belly to belly. Mack rolls out of the ring, wincing in pain. Syren pops back to his feet~
Smith: And the mythical beast known as Scott Syren is in total control. You look at the Hall of Fame...none of those men have been able to outlast...out fight Scott Syren.
Hood: He is truly a god among men.
Smith: And now he appears ready to lay to rest the final two competitors in OCW’s stories history, taking his rightful place as eternal FACE of the company.
~Langston falls into the ring...he crawls toward Syren, staring down at the bare feet of Mr. OCW. Langston looks up...he doesn’t beg...he doesn’t cower..he reaches up at Syren’s loin cloth, looking to pull himself up to fight. Syren reaches down, snaring Langston by the head...he pulls the former Savage Champion to his feet and delivers a VICIOUS headbutt!! The skull on skull contact produces a tremendous THUD. The fans respond with OHHHHH. Langston stumbles into the ropes, they catch him from falling. Possibly concussed, Langston reaches out for leverage...Syren grabs his arm, yanks him in and drops him with a HUGE lariat. Langston falls, hard~
Smith: It’s like Thanos taking on the Avengers...there is no hope.
Hood: Who taking on what?
Smith: Avengers...a comic book movie.
Hood: Comic books are for nerds, Smith.
Smith: It grossed like a billion dollars. What movies do you watch?
Hood: I don’t watch movies. My life is a movie.
Smith: Yea, sure, whatever that means.
~Mack crawls around the ring, holding his hip. He takes a seat on the steps, wincing. He spots Scoot Time jumping around and chanting at ringside. Mack scowls...he knows he can surely take this fuckin guy. He stands and limps over...he spins Scoot Time around. Scoot freezes. Mack reaches out, grabs the hood belonging to Scoot’s cloak and rips it off of Scoot’s body...only...there is no-body. The fans gasp. An ethereal mist begins to float away slowly dissipating into the ether until there is...nothing left. Mack looks at the cloak...he sniffs it. It’s rancid. He tosses it aside and grabs the staff, breaking it across his knee. Syren’s body jerks~
Smith: What...what was under that cloak?
Hood: Scoot’s spirit?
Smith: And now...it’s gone?
Hood: That’s it...all of Syren’s minions are gone...this can’t be good.
~Langston slowly sits up, gasping for air, holding his chest. Syren falls to one knee...his body shakes, it begins to convulse. Mack looks on from outside the ring. Vincent, getting a good look at the failing Syren, turns his focus to Mack...Mack shrugs. Syren fights to his feet...he holds his head, shaking it. He spits up some neon green liquid. Langston slowly rises...Syren’s muscles begin to weaken...they start to lose their definition. He stumbles around, falling back to a kneeled position. Mack yells out, “Dont’ just stand there...do something!” Langston motions for Mack to fuck off~
Smith: What has become of OCW’s original legend?
Hood: The magic is gone, Smith. It has left OCW. Syren...he’s becoming human again.
Smith: Well, that’s not good. Considering the multiple times he should have done and the tons of drugs he’s put in his system...becoming human may as well be a death sentence.
~Langston stands over Syren. He pulls Scott to his feet...Syren’s face is suddenly old, wrinkled, worn. He looks up at Langston with tired eyes. Vincent almost feels sympathy for the wilting legend. His sympathy instantly vanishes once Syren grabs Langston by the balls. Syren rises...he’s suddenly old and brittle...probably dying. But, he isn’t going down without a fight. Langston stumbles back. Syren releases The Legend’s nutsack and knees him in the gut. He hooks Langston for a DDT...only to be BLASTED in the back of the head with a right hand from Mack. Syren stumbles backward...Mack turns him around and hits HOLLOW POINT!! Syren spins around...Langston, back to his feet, kicks Syren in the gut...he lifts him up and drops him on Syren’s head with a spike powerbomb!!! Syren is down!! Langston jumps on top of Syren...Mack sits on top of Langston...Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
KICK…
NO!!!
3!!!!!!!
Smith: GASPS LOUDLY
Hood: NOOOO
Smith: OCW’s hero of forever is gone...vanquished!
~A sudden hush overcomes the crowd. Langston and Mack pop to their feet and back away, almost expecting some sort of post pin calamity~
Belvedere: SCOTT SYREN HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!!!!!
Smith: The overwhelming favorite to win this match has been laid to rest.
Hood: Quite possibly literally.
Smith: I had my issues with Syren throughout the years...but I’m...sad to see him go.
Hood: I’M CUTTING ONIONS OVER HERE.
Smith: But, can I at least say that Syren went out in normal terms. It’s nice to see a normal defeat...a defeat without theatrics or anything that is out of the realm of normalcy or, ya know, reality.
~Syren’s body begins to blink. It starts to crack. Smoke smolders from between the cracks. A deep, dark, red light leaks from his body. Rays of red light shoot from the ceiling, focusing on the deteriorating carcas of Scott Syren. A lightning bolt strikes...a large cloud!!! And then, Syren’s body blinks rampidly before sizzling and eventually turning into a pile of dust atop the ring. Mack and Langston lean back in their repsective corners...neither man wanting to touch it. Scruff, who made the count after returning from being thrown in the crowd, steps forward..he aint afraid to touch anything. He reaches down to touch the dust...but, as he does...it simply floats off, up the ramp~
Smith: Well, nevermind
Hood: Quiet. This is a very somber and sobering moment.
Smith: Right.
~The cloud of dust reaches the top of the ramp. It pauses. The fans seem quite emotional over this very powerful moment. The dust shakes. The fans lean forward, curious to see what’s going to happen. And then, in an instant, the dust relieves itself all over the ramp. Once finished, it floats through the curtain and backstage. Mack and Langston remain in the ring~
Smith: Well, that’s just great.
Hood: The GHOST of Scott Syren will haunt OCW forever.
Smith: Can we get back to the match, please?
Hood: You feel that?
~A gust of wind picks up...all the novelties and trinkets and TOMFOOLERY around the ring is ushered away. A magical aura is removed. It’s almost as though OCW has suddenly matured from adolescence into adulthood. A very serious tone overtakes the arena as Mack and Langston stare one another. Scruff stands in the center of the ring...the slaps his hands together, signalling for the men to GET IT ON~
Smith: And so ends the goofy side of OCW. Now it’s time for some wrestling!
Hood: great
Smith: The two men remaining were flag bearers in 2019. It’s apropos that they battle it out to close out twenty years of unique, entertaiing, high caliber wrestling.
Hood: Too soon, man. I’m still reeling from Syren’s departure.
Smith: Well, get over it and do your job.
~Mack and Langston circle one another...then, as if on cue, they lunge forward and lock up!~
Smith: Epic lock up!
Hood: Can a lock-up ever BE epic?
Smith: Perhaps the final lock-up in OCW history? I’d say so!
~Immersed in the most epic lock up in company history, Langston snares Mack’s arm, twists out of the lock-up and torque’s Mack’s arm in an uncomfortable manner. Mack reaches out, annoyed, and thumbs Langston in the eye. Langston stumbles back, releasing the arm. Mack bull rushes Langston into the corner...he drives his shoulder into Langston’s gut three times before standing upright and landing a few solid blows. The former Savage Champion leans forward, shaking his rattled brain~
Smith: The two time OCW Champion taking advantage here, late in the game.
Hood: Mack’s stronger now than he’s ever been...wisdom comes with age, Smith.
Smith: Again! He’s not THAT old.
Hood: Okay, how old is he?
Smith: I’ve heard rumors that he’s anywhere from 22-32
Hood: Twenty-two? Get the fuck outta here
~Mack looks to seize opportunity. He reaches out, hoping to hit HOLLOW POINT. Langston shoves him away. Mack stumbles into the center of the ring. Vincenty fires up and charges at Mack with a lariat. Mack ducks...Langston hits the ropes...he bounces off. Mack spins around and throws a punch...Langston catches Mack’s arm, spins around...they are back to back...he goes for a backslide...he gets Mack over...but the OCW Champion is able to slide and flip over onto his legs, avoiding the pin. Both men pop to their feet...Langston dives at Mack with a spear...Mack does his best bullfighter impression, dodging Langston and throwing him into the ropes. The Legend falls through the ropes onto the apron...he pops to his feet. Mack lunges forward and SLUGS Langston in the face...the former Savage Champion’s knees give out...his legs go limp and he crashes to the floor, out. Mack takes in some wind before heading toward the ropes...but then...the lights go out~
Smith: What’s going on?!! The lights have gone out!!
Hood: Some next level fuckery. Some douche looking to insert themselves here in the final stages of OCW’s LIFE to fuck Mack over!
Smith: Anybody who would dare involve themselves at this point has a massive ego and, quite frankly, isn’t likely worth the trouble.
~The OCWTron turns on, providing the only light in the arena. It shows a tall, leather chair facing a burning fireplace. A man sits within the chair. His identity is hidden to us. He starts to speak~
Man in Chair: It’s been a long time, Mack O’Connor. You probably thought you’d never hear from me again. I put you down, Mack, and you ran. You threw down 30...I had, well, more than that. End of story. I started hearing stories about how you had found a new home...a better home. I see you’re doing okay for yourself...but it still isn’t good enough...you’re still not on my level. Mack, you’re a broken down old drunk who never could hang with me and I’m here to tell you that tonight, on this final night of OCW’s career...I’m here to tell you that those drunk eyes of yours won’t be able to SEE ME
~The man turns around in his chair, facing the camera. THE CROWD GOES WILD. “THE TIME IS NOW” blasts throughout the OCW arena as the OCWTron cuts and JOHN CENA appears on the stage. He points at the ring and charges down the ramp. Mack stands in the ring with a look that says, “Are you fucking serious?”~
Smith: Mack hates this guy.
Hood: Everybody hates this guy.
Smith: I’m surprised our fans cheered his promo.
Hood: I think it’s just part of some mastermind gimmick.
Smith: Well, I hope this guy doesn’t ruin this match!
~Cena hits the ring. Mack extends his arms like, “Get the fuck outta here!” Cena does the YOU CAN’T SEE ME motion. Mack rolls his eyes, rears back and DECKS Cena in the face!! Cena drops to one knee. Mack hoists Cena onto his shoulders and drops him with an ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT. Cena is down. Mack stands over him and looks into the camera...the fans jump to their feet~
Smith: Oh no
Hood: Don’t do it, Mack! Don’t pander!
Smith: We haven’t had a person like John Cena hit an OCW ring in...well, ever!
Hood: Hey, we had a Y2Jmaes once.
Smith: Not the same.
Hood: What about American Bad Ass?
Smith: Okay, so that was pretty close.
~Mack starts to brush that dirt off his shoulder, yo...but stops, lifts his leg up and stomps right on Cena’s face!! Cena wails out like a baby...he cries and rolls around. Mack picks him up and tosses him over the top rope to the floor like a bag of trash. He lays next to Langston. Vincent is unaware...but Cena’s screams and cries of terror wake Langston up...he looks over like “what is going on? Is a woman being attacked?” Instead, he sees a grown man holding his face, screaming. Medics check on Cena...they manage to pull his hands away...upon doing so they groan in frustration...HE ISN’T EVEN BLEEDING. Langston rises. He reaches under the ring and finds a hammer…”I’ll take care of that” he says~
Smith: It appears as though Vincent Langston is going to give John Cena something to cry about.
Hood: FUCK HIM UP, VINCENT!
~Langston approaches Cena with the hammer. Cena sees the hammer and screams out, “OH NO! GOSH NO!” He hops over the guard rail and sprints through the crowd...he flies up the steps, two at a time. He reaches a distance pretty far from the ring...one in which makes him feel safe. He turns and stares at the ring...he looks at Langston and Mack...he extends his arms and yells, ‘what...WHAT?!’ He brings his hand over his face and goes ‘YOU CAN’T SEE ME!’ the fans laugh at him. A hand finds it’s way across his shoulder~
Smith: Uh oh
Hood: Cena being comforted by what he thinks is a fan...if he only knew…
Smith: He’s about to find out.
~Cena smiles, he turns to thank the supporter...upon doing so he sees - CHAD VARGAS. Vargas yells ‘FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING [bleep]!!’ Vargas smashes a beer bottle over Cena’s head. Cena cries and screams. Vargas drags him out of view to give the guy the beating of a generation. We cut back to ringside. Langston drops the hammer and slides back into the ring. He and Mack stare each other down...Langston looks ready to lock up. Mack shakes his head, not wanting to ruin the lock up moment from earlier...so...he puts up two fists. Langston, willing to risk entering Mack’s realm, does the same~
Smith: We’re in the Endgame now, Hood!
Hood: Quit ripping off DC!
Smith: I think you may have just lost some fans.
Hood: If that caused me to lose fans then good riddance. Fuckin nerds.
~Mack greets Langston’s misguided optimism with some body shots. Lefts and rights. Langston’s giant frame shakes...what minuscule bodyfat he has surrounding his muscle and bone quivers. Sweat flies with each SMACKING impact. Langston lowers his bows, covering up the afflicted areas. This gives Mack free shots at Langston’s head. He peppers the former Savage Champion with lefts and rights. Langston staggers into a corner...he makes his body small, hunching over, trying to protect all vulnerable areas. Mack smiles. He lifts a knee. CRACK! Right into Langston’s face. The former Savage Champion leans back, reeling~
Smith: Mack O’Connor has Vincent Langston on the ropes!
Hood: Literally!
Smith: Should Scruff stop the match?
Hood: This isn’t pussy fighting or some pussy ass wrestling promotion. KEEP IT GOING UNTIL ONE MAN DIES.
Smtih: A bit extreme, but I think we all get your point.
~Mack, feeling confident, balls up his right fist super tight. He rears back, looking to separate Langston’s lower jaw from the rest of his face. He lunges forward...but Langston ducks!! Langston drives his shoulder into Mack’s midsection...he charges forward, lifting Mack off the mat a few inches before turning him over and slamming him into the mat. Mack tries to get up...but Langston is too quick, managing to get a mount position...he begins to pour lefts and rights into Mack’s head. Now, it’s Mack trying to cover up...Scruff bounces around, trying to check on Mack. His head is being pummeled hither and yon….he’s in serious trouble~
Smith: Langston powered out of there full of rage!
Hood: The animal inside has been unleashed!
Smith: Mack took too long...in a match that’s gone THIS LONG with SO MUCH riding on it...you cannot hesitate!
Hood: Mack’s had a few drinks tonight, Smith. They do slow things down a bit.
~Mack, out of desperation, does the ultimate ‘fuck it’ move and grabs the back of Langston’s head...he sits up as fast and much as he can, slamming his already battered forehead into Langston’s nose!! The Legend rolls away, holding his nose in pain. Mack, using the momentum he had gained, manages to sit up. His forehead is bleeding. His eyes are glazed. He looks over at Langston and, more importantly, the blood that is being deposited from his nose, to the mat and smiles~
Smith: You do what you have to do, I guess.
Hood: Mack is a brawler. He was once named Bar Room Brawler of the Year. He knows how to fight.
Smith: Bar Room Brawler of the Year? By who?
Hood: Some organization. I forget the name.
~Langston rolls out of the ring. Mack struggles to his feet. Langston, leaning over the apron, tries to hold his nose. We see blood spilling from it. Mack, on his feet, runs ahead and dives, kicking Langston in the shoulder with a baseball slide! Langston stumbles into the guardrail. Mack, on his feet, winces, working his knee back and forth. He arches his back, his eyes widen...blood leaks from his cut. He heads over toward Langston and drives his fist through the side of Langston’s giant head. The former Savage Champion spins around, looking to get away...he walks around the steps, near the bottom of the ramp. Mack, with a slight limp, gives chase~
Smith: Mack’s got this under control IF he can keep up with Langston.
Hood: Look at you throwing shade all over ole man Mack.
Smith: His legs are clearly bothering him.
Hood: That’s what happens to old people when they stay seated for too long. I have no idea how I’m able to MOVE after a night of wrestling...let alone a match that takes, like, 4 months!
~Langston stumbles up the ramp...Mack catches up with The Legend and blasts him in the back of the head with a right hand. Vincent staggers forward, dropping to a knee. Mack snares Langston by the hair and drags the former Savage Champion up the rest of the way...he reaches the top of the ramp and throws him, head first into a giant O. He then slings him in the opposite direction, sending Langston crashing into a huge C...and finally, he grabs Langston by the hair and trunks, tossing him like a piece of trash into the W! The crowd chants “OCW!” Mack doubles over, blood drops onto the stage as he shakes his bald head, working out the cobwebs that continue to murk his thought process~
Smith: The final match in OCW history appears to be headed for an OUTSIDE THE RING ending!
Hood: CLASSIC OCW, BABY
Smith: Indeed!
~Langston, sitting up against the W with blood covering his goatee and chin, looks up at Mack. Mack sucks down one last gulp of wind and heads over, throwing a delayed kick into Langston’s chest. Langston rolls away, toward the curtain. Mack grabs Langston by waist of his trunks and head and throws him through the curtain. O’Connor steps through the curtain, giving chase. We spot Scruff running after them with the camera keeping pace. We get our first glimpse at the ‘behind the scenes’ area. It’s like most OCW special events...bunch of tents and trailers. One tent, in particular, catches Mack’s attention. It reads “OCW Hall of Memories.” Mack grabs Langston and drags him in that direction~
Smith: Hall of Memories?
Hood: Don’t worry, none of your shit is in there.
Smith: Hey!
~They reach the front of the Hall of Memories. Mack throws Langston inside. Mack steps in to find another person viewing the memories. This person is staring at a photo of Syren while wacking off. He turns to reveal himself as TOMMY FLAMER. He shrieks and runs out. Mack is confused. Langston manages to grab an item...it’s a copper trophy of SCORPION. He uses it to slam into Mack’s knee! Mack yells in pain, dropping to a kneeled position. Langston throws the Scorpion trophy away before sitting up and struggling to his feet~
Smith: It wouldn’t be an OCW event without some kind of blue humor featuring Tommy Flamer.
Hood: I knew that guy had a hard on for Syren.
Smith: Going to be hard to live that down.
Hood: His name is Flamer. Getting caught masturbating to his arch nemesis is the least of his concerns.
~Langston reaches his feet. He finds...a spoon. He doesn’t read what the meaning is behind it...he just turns around and jams the end of the spoon into the back of Mack’s neck. Mack’s body revolts...he flips over, kicking his legs, holding the back of his neck. Langston sighs and looks down...he reads “Spoon Clubbin Man used to scoop out a boy band fan’s eye out.” He instantly tosses it away. He spots a vine...this time, he reads…”Vine Liljungleman used to swing into the ring before winning the TV Title.” He grabs it and wraps it around Mack’s neck, choking the OCW Champion~
Smith: Why is that spoon in there?
Hood: See? You remember!
~A piece of linked fence is next. Langston snares that, while holding onto the vine with his right hand. He drags a gagging Mack along. He snares the linked fence...he reads “part of the cell that crashed when Syren defeated Johnny Hunter for the OCW Title.” He drops his knee onto the vine to keep Mack in place...he places the cage over Mack’s face and starts to grind it into the cut. Mack yells out “FUCK!”~
Smith: The match that put OCW on the map! Up to that point we were a fed that relied largely on other fed’s talent. Hunter came in as a big star and propped OCW onto his shoulders…
Hood: Yep, then Syren took him down. An OCW homegrown star defeating a worldwide star...that’s when we made it, homo.
Smith: Ah, nice to see the gay slurs are returning.
Hood: CLASSIC OCW, BABY
~Langston loses the sense of his surroundings...Mack manages to get an arm free, he reaches for and obtains another memorable item. It’s a piece of crusty cloth. Mack doesn’t ask any questions, shoving it into Langston’s face. Langston is nonplussed...then he reads the description “The towel used to clean up Scoot Time’s jizz after he lost the whack off match to Syren.” Langston freaks out, falling over, ripping the towel free and hurling it away. Mack uses this reprieve to untangle the vine from his neck. He obtains the piece of cell and yanks it apart, while coughing, attempting to get enough oxygen to his brain. He heads toward Langston...Mack’s face is covered in crimson. Langston looks over at the towel...he pulls a few crusty bits of cloth from his mouth. His focus diverts back to Mack. He struggles to his feet...only to receive a stab in the head! Mack’s managed to manipulate the wiring into little, sharp ends. He stabs Langston again...and again! The legend is reeling~
Smith: You know...that match between Syren and Scoot Time was the LOWEST point in OCW history...yet some person keeps insisting we be reminded of it.
Hood: Never Forget
Smith: How can I when it’s brought up ALL THE TIME
~Langston covers his face, already crimsoned from the busted nose. He stumbles away, knocking over various Memorable items. One such item rolls up against Mack’s foot. He snatches it off the ground...it’s a can of SILVER COLA. Mack lunges forward and smashes the can into the back of Langston’s head...dropping him back to a knee. Mack pops open the Silvercola...he shrugs and takes a sip. He immediately frowns, throwing the can and its remaining contents into Langston’s back~
Smith: Silverfreak’s famous soda...Silver Cola!
Hood: I mean, that stuff was never great...but a near 20-year-old can? Can’t be good.
Smith: Lucid point.
~Mack starts grabbing random objects...he locates Cyanide’s hockey stick, breaking it over Langston’s back. Next he grabs Murray’s scottish flag, using that to return the choke favor. He grabs a HUGE book...some might call it a TOME. It’s named “TGO’s personal list of achievements.” Mack nearly falls over due to the weight. He raises it high above his head...his body quivering under the thousands of pages. He brings it down with a thunderous blow across Langston’s back!! Langston collapses. Mack kicks him over, onto his back for a pin~
1!
2!
Kick Out!!
Smith: Langston kicks out!
Hood: Biggest book ever.
Smith: Well, I mean, that’s what’s gonna happen when you let The Great One write his own list of achievements.
~Mack returns to his feet...he finds a can full of confetti. Is it MYSTICAL CONFETTI? No...or maybe. All the caption reads is “Confetti from the night Scoot Time scored his first win.” Mack dumps the confetti in Langston’s face before smashing the can into his forehead. Langston rolls over, holding his face, kicking his feet. Mack spots a tiny corner...it reads “Everything from the year 2015.” Mack yells “SON OF A BITCH!” Mack charges forward and destroys the display. He turns to go back after Langston...but he can’t move. His feet are stuck to the floor~
Smith: What...what’s going on?
Hood: He’s stuck!
Smith: Look! He stepped in Awe.Some’s hair gel!
Hood: Oh man, he’s fucked. That stuff NEVER quits.
~Langston rises...he sees Mack stuck. He snares an ‘Omega’ sign and crashes it over Mack’s head...dropping the OCW champion to a knee. He looks around and locates a very dusty image of Jin Royale and Jason Stone...he smashes the glass portrait over the back of Mack’s head! Mack drops to the ground, holding his head. He tries to rip his feet free, but he can’t. Next, Langston locates a safe...it reads “The safe that contained the World Title Syren won over Paras.” Langston hoists the safe up and looks down at Mack...in lifting the safe up, he knocked over a golden urn. Mack snares the urn...he unscrews the lit and throws the ashes upward...they hit Langston in the face and irritate his wounds. He drops the safe and staggers back. Mack hurriedly removes both of his boots, going shoeless for the remainder of the match. He stands and reads about the urn “The ashes of all the people Bifford killed, including Cocco Ricci.” Mack shrugs. He spots a giant, golden hand~
Smith: I thought we’d have thrown that away by now.
Hood: Say what you want about that guy, but he is an OCW legend now.
Smith: Indeed.
~It’s Mike Best’s gauntlet! Mack tries to put it on, knowing a golden fist is stronger than, well, a regular one. There’s something inside...he frowns and removes it...it’s a bottle of Lube. It states, very specifically “For eMpire use only.” Mack frowns and gets a whiff of whatever scent resides within the gauntlet. “Smells like incest,” he frowns and throws the gauntlet aside. Instead, he grabs a gallon of water which reads “The tears of Melinda Rhodes.” He takes that and slams it into the side of Langston’s head. Water flies everywhere. Langston straights up, his face covered in ash-mud. Mack throws a punch. Langston retaliates...they follow a curved hallway with memorable items around them. They both pause and tiptoe around one item...it’s the ‘Purple VIP Lounge’...neither man wants to go in there. They then continue fighting. Mack boots Langston in the gut and throws him into a couch which reads “The Lukas Emery Training Facility.” Mack leans forward, only to get kneed in the face by a sitting Langston. Vincent returns to his feet...he shoves Mack into a container filled with white powder. It reads “TIO’s stash.” The white cloud gives Mack a sudden burst of energy~
Smith: Lots of stuff in that Hall of Memories.
Hood: Yea, more than I thought there’d be.
Smith: Seems as though the architect just couldn’t stop adding stuff.
~Mack, invigorated, snares a picnic basket and smashes it over Langston’s head. He then grabs a lime TBA...he almost throws up, but stomaches the strength to wield it...slamming it into the back of Langston’s head. The Legend is wobbly. Mack finds a giant photo commemorating Triple P and Triple M’s Ultimate Iron match. He uses that to bring Langston down. Mack, realizing he needs more...looks for and finds the LW Title Josh Allen spat on. He hooks it around his arm...he grabs Langston, pulls him up and drops him with HOLLOW POINT!! Langston crumbles. Mack goes for the pin...Scruff drops down for the count. Langston looks over, his eyes half open...he sees an image of Pryde~
1!
2!
KICK OUT!
Smith: Thunderous kick out from Langston!
Hood: Oh my gosh! Can this match just end? PLEASE
Smith: Not yet!
~Mack pops back to his feet...he looks around. He sees memories of Logan, Lilith, Twilight, Duce Jones, Ed Houston, Curt Canon...and many, many more. He needs something big...something spectacular. At the end of the walkway in a very dark, very dangerous area Mack spots a giant Ark like structure. He walks up...he reads the caption “The souls of all those who felt OCW fucked them over.” Mack is curious. Scruff’s eyes widen, “NO!” Mack lifts the top...the place gets windy. Scruff looks at Langston and Mack, “KEEP YOUR EYES SHUT!” They all turn away as a bunch of angry, bitter souls fly around the room, tearing everything apart. We watch from outside as the souls bring the entire structure down...they then try to go to heaven but are rejected and thrown straight to hell. Once that’s all finished...it’s just Langston, Mack, and Scruff...along with one, lone surviving structure~
Smith: Oh my gosh...the Hall of Memories was destroyed by a bunch of angry souls!
Hood: Sounds about right.
Smith: The only structure that remains is...is…
Hood: It’s THE weight room!
Smith: The Weight Room! The one match most crucial for OCW’s turnaround! A weight room match featuring Scott Syren and Y2James!
Hood: To be fair, it mainly featured Syren. Y2James was just, kinda, there...ya know...getting his face chewed up by a treadmill.
Smith: Seems like only yesterday…
~All three men stand and look at one another. Scruff is like ‘whatever’. Langston doubles over, gasping for air...he shakes his head. Mack eyes the weight room...he then looks down at his bare feet. He motions as if he wouldn’t mind heading back to the ring...Vincent perks up. Mack repeats his motion, “Back to the ring?” Langston’s eyes narrow...Mack’s eyes widen...Langston spins and delivers a roaring foearm into Mack’s head...it stuns the OCW Champion. He grabs Mack and looks to toss him through a glass wall...the weight room is encased in glass. Mack does the only thing he can think to stop the crash...he bites Langston in the arm! Langston relinquishes his grip...Mack slugs Langston in the gut and throws him head first through the glass wall! We hear the fans, in the background, roar with approval. Mack heads for the door...he reaches for the handle...as he does, another hand greets his~
Smith: Who is there at this point in the evening?
Hood: Sanity...trying to bring levity back to this match.
Smith: Wouldn’t be the worst idea.
~Mack looks down like “Who the FUCK are you?” The man looks up...the veteran OCW fans pop...it’s Y2JAMES!! He has his son with him, Y2James Jr. Y2James mentions he wanted to show his son the spot of his most famous moment. Mack things that is disgusting and sad...so, he gives Y2James HOLLOW POINT! Y2James Jr tries to punch Mack...Mack declares that he hits like his father, aka, a bitch, and he drops the kid with CLAYMORE! Father and son are out...Mack rips the door open and heads inside, looking for Langston. Vincent, though, finds Mack...a red blur runs into screen with a shoulder tackle, sending Mack flying into a rack of weights!! Luckily, for the champion, they don’t fall on top of him~
Smith: Langston and his shredded body nearly ended Mack’s night!
Hood: Shredded? Calm down, man. All these guys are muscular.
Smith: Shredded as in bloody! The glass window!
Hood: Yea, SURE
~Langston stands over Mack, who is seated up against the rack of weights. Langston reaches up, looking to bring the rack down. Mack reaches behind him, snaring a 25 pound dumbbell. He slings it forward, smashing Langston in the shin. A bloodied Langston yells “SHIT!” and stumbles back, limping around. Mack does a mock curl before dropping the dumbbell and using the rack to get to his feet. Langston staggers toward the shattered window...his boots crunch atop broken glass. Mack pauses, not wishing to have his own DIE HARD moment. He waits, impatiently, for Langston to step back onto the safer surface~
Smith: Yea, glass covered ground is pretty treacherous for someone with no shoes.
Hood: I didn’t know times were so tough on Mack. He can’t even afford shoes.
Smith: They were removed earlier, Hood. Is your memory that bad?
Hood: Who is that? Who’s talking? WHO ARE YOU?
~Mack snares a barbell, looking to perhaps ‘fish’ Langston away from the glass. He extends the barbell, poking Langston in the ribs. It hurts. Langston responds by snaring the barbell and yanking it away. He suddenly grows wise to the situation...Langston marches around the perimeter of the weight room, smashing all the glass windows. Mack’s area of mobility shrinks into a tiny square with nothing more than a bench press. Glass flies everywhere. Once Langston is done, motions for Mack to come at him...Mack tells him to ‘get fucked’ and tosses Langston a middle finger~
Smith: Well, I’m not sure how Mack can win at this stage. Glass is everywhere.
Hood: He should have drank more whiskey. He’d be feeling NO pain.
Smith: He’d probably bleed alot more, though.
Hood: Meh, it’s only blood. I’m sure Mack is ABdoubleOnegativepositive or whatever the fuck the most common blood type in the world is.
~There’s a bit of a standoff. Langston wants Mack to step out onto the glass. Mack isn’t a fucking masochsitic idiot, so he wants Langston to meet him near the bench press where it’s safe for cavemen or non-cavemen who are barefoot. Mack takes a seat on the bench figuring he may as well...he leans back and puts his hands around the barbell. He starts to do bench presses...much to the crowd’s delight, as we hear them cheering in the distance. There aren’t any weights on the barbell, so there’s no danger of Mack running out of energy. Langston, hearing the fans and watching Mack, grows angered. He says ‘fuck it’ and decides to trust his size over strategy, leaving the glass and heading into Mack’s ‘safe zone’. As he nears the bench, Mack throws the barbell at Langston. Langston tries to swat at it with the barbell in his hands, but it’s too awkward to manage...both barbells drop. Mack shoots to his feet...he lunges forward with a right hand into Langston’s jaw! The former Savage Champion stumbles near the edge of the glass~
Smith: Langston’s impatience may have cost him this match!
Hood: There’s a reason why this guy hasn’t won the big one.
Smith: He’s won plenty of big matches, Hood.
Hood: But never THE BIG ONE
~Mack grabs Langston and aggressively tosses him...hip toss! Onto the bench press! Langston lands HARD. It becomes clear this press is no prop...it’s legit, holding all that weight crashing onto it. Mack begins to choke Langston as he lays atop the bench press. Langston tries fighting off, but the oxygen has been cut from 100 to ZERO. His motions slow. His arms dangle from the sides of the press. Mack stands up, catching some breath~
Smith: Langston is choked out!
Hood: Can Mack pin a guy who is on an elevated press?
Smith: Yes?
Hood: Nobody knows, gotcha. CLASSIC OCW, BABY
~Mack motions for Scruff to come over...he hustles over the broken glass in his SHOES and stands nearby. Before Mack can attempt a cover, Langston starts to rise up...Mack shakes his head wondering how to keep this dude down. He drills Langston in the forehead with a right hand, knocking him back over. He then grabs a barbell...he slams it across Langston’s chest. Vincent’s hands grab both ends, as though he’s about to push it up. Mack reaches over, grabbing weights...he starts adding weights on either side. Before Langston can figure out what’s going on Mack’s got a good two hundred pounds applied. Vincent starts to easily lift it...but Mack pushes down, forcing Langston to strain. The bar drops back on his chest. Mack punches Vincent in the head...sending him back into a still state. He grabs more weights~
Smith: What’s he doing?
Hood: Adding weight to the bar bell. Haven’t you ever worked out before? Nevermind, don’t answer that. We already know.
Smith: But he’s adding TOO much!
Hood: It’s only about 240...if Langston can’t lift that then, well, he’s got some WEAK ASS MUSCLES.
~Mack’s doubled the weight on either side...making it nearly 450 lbs. Langston tries lifting it...but his tired arms are struggling. Mack stands over him, smiling. He heads toward Langston’s feet starts to untie his boots, removing them one at a time while Langston struggles with the near 500 lbs pressed against his chest. The shoes are removed, making things equal. Mack stands back up and watches Langston struggle. “Pussy,” he remarks. Langston grunts...he tries...but it doesn’t appear like it’s going to happen. He then looks over and spots something out of the corner of his eye...during the carnage, a photo of former OCW Champion, ANDREW LOGAN got knocked over. Langston sees it and becomes INSPIRED~
Smith: A photo of Andrew Logan! Arguably the most ignored champion in OCW history!
Hood: Yea, he won the title during that wacky ass Omega era.
Smith: Doesn’t make the achievement any less impressive...he defeated Silver Cyanide at Apocalypse Now III! Not to mention Andrew, along with Anthony, were multi time tag team champions. He’s a legend.
Hood: Appears you’re not the only one to think so...Langston is obviously a fan.
~Mack is like ‘what the fuck’ as Langston starts to press the enormous amount of weight. Mack reaches down, trying to push the bar onto Langston’s chest. Vincent, realizing that if Mack does this, there’ll be no coming back...it’s now or never. With a roar and thrust, Langston shoves the barbell as hard as he can! He flies upward...Mack backs away...Langston quickly falls off the bench. The weight comes down, snapping the bench in half...both men, however, are safe. The fans go wild...a small “Langston” chant can be heard~
Smith: Langston...I don’t know what else to say. He’s a beast.
Hood: One of the strongest competitors in OCW history.
Smith: But how much...how much did that take out of him?
Hood: I’d say too much, but who knows...he may spot a picture of some other old fucker like, Accelerator, and become Hercules.
Smith: One never knows!
~Mack grabs the second, weightless barbell. He looks ready to use it with violent intent. He slings it at a rising Langston. Vincent turns around and catches it under his arm...he then slings Mack to the side. O’Connor stumbles atop the broken glass! He quickly realizes where he’s at due to the pain shooting through his feet. He lets out a string of curse words that would make an HBO executive blush. The fans cringe. Langston drops the barbell, sucks up some courage and he steps out onto the glass to meet Mack. The fans go wild~
Smith: No hesitation for Langston! He’s been through literal war! A bit of glass won’t deter him from achieving his objective.
Hood: Bro, you got some cum on the side of your mouth there. Might wanna clean that up
Smith: Gross and HIGHLY inappropriate! It’s icing, from this donut.
Hood: Looked like jizz to me. The fuck you doing eating a donut right now? And, more importantly, where’s mine?!
~Langston shoves Mack! Mack stumbles back...each step produces tiny stabs into his feet. He yells out. Langston moves ahead, leaving thick, blood red foot prints behind him. We see slippery stains of blood under Mack’s feet. The Legend looks to shove Mack again...Mack, however, ducks and hooks Langston for Claymore!! The fans rise!! Langston elbows Mack...he stumbles to the side, blood spilling from his feet. He bends over, wincing in pain. Langston produces a double axe handle and brings it down...Mack raises up, dodging the blow. He finally puts the pain of the glass into the back of his mind and starts knocking Langston’s head around with lefts and rights. The fans are chanting “MACK! MACK!”~
Smith: And now the fans are chanting for the OCW Champion!
Hood: I think they’d cheer for either of these two guys, to be honest. It’s a fucking war that feels like it’s lasted nearly half a year! They are ready for a winner!
Smith: I think we’re about to get the payoff!
~Langston is reeling! He’s about to fall over atop the glass! Mack throws a left hook! SMASH! Langston stumbles to the side, his feet splatting and smacking across the marbled gym floor. Mack throws a right hook...SMACK! Langston teeters to the other side, barely on his feet. “Fall, mother fucker! Go down!” Mack yells! He measures Langston up with a straight right hand...aimed right in the middle of Vincent’s face. He throws it...Vincent reaches up and catches the fist!! The fans are shocked. Mack is shocked~
Smith: He just caught Mack’s right hand!
Hood: Mack’s lost too much blood! He’s too weak! Get him out of there!
Smith: Langston is unreal! This is an inhuman performance!
~Langston boots a stunned Mack in the gut. He hooks Mack for SCARS OF WAR! Mack, however, slips through...blood is flying everywhere beneath their feet. Mack finds himself behind Langston...he spins a confused Legend around and hooks him for Claymore! The crowd rises! Mack lifts him up...but Langston slips free, he grabs Mack’s head and drops him with SCARS OF WAR!!! The crowd leaps to their feet!! Scruff kneels next to the bench press in the ‘safe zone’ and he slaps the ground~
1!
2!
3!!!!!
~The crowd goes wild!~
Belvedere: Here is your winner...and the FINAL FACE OF OCW…VINCENT “THE LEGEND” LANGSTON!!!!!
Smith: I can’t believe it!! Langston did it! He finally won the big one!
Hood: Unbelievable, man. Fucking unreal.
Smith: Mack was so close to ending this final OCW run with pretty much every trophy. Langston, however, would not go down tonight...his perseverance, grit, and toughness prevailed.
Hood: Props to that giant mother fucker.
~Mack quickly grabs his forehead, which made direct impact into the glass. Langston crawls out of the glass, into the safe zone. His body is soaked in blood. He gets to his feet...Scruff raises his hand to a HUGE ovation. The OCW fans chant “LANGSTON! LANGSTON! LANGSTON!” The moment seems to be fairly emotional for The Legend~
Smith: After all this time, he’s finally reached the summit of OCW. A spot that he will remain atop forever.
Hood: Good for that dude.
~Mack gets to his feet...he winces and curses as he exits the weight room, finding a glassless spot outside. Treat Cassidy appears with towels, bandages, disinfectant...anything to try and start to put Mack back together. All Mack sees is his OCW Title. He rips it away from Treat and looks back inside the blood soaked weight room. Langston looks back at him. Mack slowly raises his OCW title and nods at Langston with respect. Langston points at Mack and holds up a solitary fist, returning the show of respect. The fans go wild. They chant “OCW! OCW! OCW!”~
Smith: And there it is, folks! The final match in OCW history! Vincent Langston outlasted Mack O’Connor...just barely.
Hood: Scott Syren, Silverfreak, Bifford, Alice Knight, Lurrr, Mack O’Connor, Matt Meyhu, Chad Vargas and many...MANY OTHERS...but the one who stands tallest of all is Vincent Langston.
Smith: Congrats to Langston! Congrats to all the wrestlers in OCW’s history who helped piece this great lineage together. From the bottom of our hearts we thank every single one of you for your contributions. And...well, now...Hood, would you like to do the honors?
Hood: Nah bro, it’s gotta be you.
Smith: Thanks, pal. For Hood, I’m Smith saying so long, everybody!
~We get a final shot of the OCW logo before slowly fading out~
And that's a wrap. Legit this time. I'll never run OCW again.
HOWEVER
I WILL continue to run wrestling events on this site from time to time. Whenever I get that dreaded itch...and, well, given that I'm at home most of the time these days due to this corona shit...that itch is pretty strong. So head on over to the forums for more on this upcoming MONEY TOURNAMENT...yes, real moeny.
As for the contestants...I want to thank all of you for participating and making it a great match to write. Sorry it took so long...but what can I say, a writer needs a hard deadline to be productive, haha. Anyway, it's done. I hope you guys enjoyed it...if I don't see you elsewhere in this game, good luck in life...all of you. Laters, Will
