OCW Presents: Luck of the Violent
LIVE! Sunday, March 27th, 2022
FROM Dublin, Ireland

~We cut to Dublin, Ireland. A cold cut to a sold out crowd of 70,000 screaming fans!! They've filled this bitch up to capacity AND THEN SOME. The ring is set up in the middle of all this madness with a giant ramp featuring a huge, green Shamrock at the top, over the wrestlers entrance. Smith and Hood are at the announce table, ready to call the action~

Smith: Hello again everyone and welcome to Luck of the Violent! We are LIVE in Dublin as our trip through Ireland has reached it's climax.

Hood: Climax! OH YEA

Smith: Easy, Hood. Tonight we bring you 9 main event level matches as the very best in OCW do battle in an attempt to all reach one, common goal...knocking Outcast from his throne.

Hood: The top of OCW is a long, arduous climb. Vargas is at the summit, can he claim the mountain?

Smith: We'll find that out. Folks, it's been a long month...some of us have been very, very busy with work and MARCH MADNESS so let's make this start an abbreviated one and let's cut to The Temple Bar where I'm told the Bar Room Battle Royal will take place! Who will earn a shot at the Savage Champion? Let's find out!

Hood: Wow, that was a super quick PPV start...no fancy intro or video.

Smith: We'll get em next month, champ.

Hood: Thanks, dad.

~We cut to the Temple Bar. OCW referee Gruff is enjoying a nice, fresh lager when he’s suddenly made aware that he has to ref his match. He grumbles and finishes the beer, finding a spot in the bar that looks as good as any for some FIGHTING to begin~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to LUCK OF THE VIOLENT!

~Belvedere speaks from inside the stadium, his voice booming throughout the bar speakers~

Belvedere: Our opening match is a Bar Room Battle Royal! In order to eliminate someone, you must throw them OUT of the bar. The final wrestler standing will earn a Savage Title Shot. Introducing the competitors…

~Everybody looks around, waiting for all the competitors. They wait and wait~

Smith: Anybody? Bueller? ANYBODY?

Hood: Well, this was a real good idea.

~The bar door swings open and KELSON HEWITT walks in!!! Everybody goes wild~

Smith: Thank you, Kelson!

Hood: Whew, that was about to be pretty, pretty embarrassing.

Smith: Right? Alright, let’s see who’s next.

~Again, we wait. And wait, and wait...seconds turn into minutes. Gruff looks around like “I don’t think anybody is gonna show up.” Kelson, eager for combat, continues to loosen up, believing it won’t...it CAN’T be this easy. We cut to Welsh. He’s seated inside his office, shaking his head~

Marcus Welsh: Nobody else is gonna show, are they?

Greg: They might, Marcus.

Marcus Welsh: Greg, I love your enthusiasm. But this is LIVE on PPV and the longer this goes, the more embarrassing it is. That’s it, I’m calling it. Kelson wins via fearful forfeit.

~Belvedere receives the message~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m told the rest of the roster has forfeited this match out of EXTREME FEAR...therefore, your winner and NEW #1 CONTENDER TO THE SAVAGE TITLE...KELSON HEWITT!!!!!

~Gruff is like “Whatever” and he raises Kelson’s arm. Kelson is shocked. He looks around, waiting for Ashton Kutcher or some shit...but no surprise happens. This is legit. This...is...it~

Smith: Well, that’s a lame start to PPV.

Hood: No shit.

Smith: Although, given the tough road Kelson’s had since joining...I’d say he’s pretty much earned this shot.

Hood: True, he’s faced three wrestlers...those three? Grenier, Vee Strader, and Dylan Thomas. Give that man some success, give him a shot at a belt.

Smith: Kelson Hewitt is our new #1 Contender for the Savage Title!

~Kelson shrugs...fans walk up, congratulating him. He plays it off, not really thinking he should be congratulated or rewarded for simply showing up but, sometimes, that’s all a person has to do. He takes a seat at the bar with Gruff to enjoy himself for a little bit, not wanting to waste the trip~

Smith: Enjoy the rest of the night, Kelson. As I just said, you’ve earned it.

Hood: Damn straight.

Smith: Can you smell that, Hood? Can you smell IT?!

Hood: I smell a lot of things. What am I supposed to be smelling? -sniffs-

Smith: Freshness.

Hood: The hell does Freshness smell like?

Smith: It smells like Mark Storm. It smells like Easton Alexander.

Hood: Weird. How do you know what either, let alone BOTH, of those guys smell like?

Smith: It’s a metaphor. Freshness is in the air as two new faces are set to square off for a Craze Title shot!

Hood: To be fair, Mark Storm has been around off and on for almost a decade. Easton, okay, that dude’s new.

Smith: With every storm comes a sense of rebirth. A sense of starting over. This time, Mark Storm has his sights set on establishing a legacy in OCW that extends beyond “Talented but unfocused.”

Hood: And Easton?

Smith: Easton is as new as they come, Hood. A total rookie to OCW and the business. He’s targeted Mark Storm in the hopes of defeating him and enjoying a meteoric rise up the OCW ranks.

Hood: I like it. The guy is vicious and is too new to understand that it isn’t supposed to happen this quick. Same as PerZag…and all PerZag did was win a shit load of titles his first few months in the business.

Smith: Indeed. One man looks to make a name for himself. The other looks to make up for missed opportunity. It’s Easton Alexander. It’s Mark Storm. It’s for a Craze Title shot and it’s next!

~Belvedere enters the ring to a HUGE ovation!! The Irish Hooligans in attendance are ready for some LIVE action inside the stadium! Finally, their desires will be fulfilled as Belvedere clears his golden throat to a huge ovation~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen...the following contest is scheduled for one fall and it is for a Craze Title shot at Technical Difficulties in April!!

~HUGE OVATION~

Belvedere: Introducing first…

~Maniac - Carpenter Brut begins to play. The fans start to boo when they see OCW newcomer...the angry, the violent, the belligerent Easton Alexander emerge from underneath the giant, illuminated four leaf clover. He pauses while on stage, listening to the fans boo. He scowls, scanning the mass of humanity, 70,000 humans to be exact. He shakes his head...they’re wrong, they’re all fools...he’s not a man to be booed. HE’S IN THE RIGHT. He tunes them out and marches down the ramp toward the ring~

Belvedere: From North Bay Ontario Canada...standing 6’1 and weighing in at 210 lbs...he is the Canadian Dragon...he is...Easton Alexander!!!

~Easton continues the long march down the aisle knifing through thousands of peoples, providing safe passage toward the ring. Fans boo and point at Easton as he walks past them...but, he’s doing a good job of ignoring them, keeping his focus on the ring~

Smith: Getting our first REAL look at Easton here tonight. He’s 1-0 but that one win came courtesy of a backstage beating when he laid Sugar Valentine out so horribly the match was cancelled and Easton was gifted a win.

Hood: Just means OCW management sees talent in the guy...that or he threatened to beat up some more kids if they didn’t.

Smith: We may not be the most family friendly promotion in the world but having more than one kid a quarter get beat up by a wrestler is a bad look.

Hood: Hey, let’s be honest. Sometimes those kids have it coming, Smith.

Smith: An adult should never beat up a kid!

~Easton reaches the ring and rolls in under the bottom rope, popping to his feet. He locates a corner and stands in it, back to the entrance as his music stops. The fans continue to boo his behavior~

Belvedere: And, his opponent…

~The fans stand and start to cheer. They know who’s about to come out and they’re excited to see him. Short Change Hero by The Heavy begins to play through the speakers and the lights in the arena simultaneously dim down. Smoke begins to rise from the top of the stage and appearing on the screen above are the following words~

~A massive pop ensues as the words diminish from the screen and are replaced by the a visual:~

~Emerging from the back is a figure that you can barely see, as the lights in the arena dim down. Red strobe lights shine against the man standing at the top of the entrance ramp, who lifts his head to reveal his decorated signature skull face paint. It's Storm; who keeps himself composed as he stands at the top of the entrance ramp. He can't help but allow his sadistic signature smirk to appear upon his lips as he closes his eyes and spreads his arms out wide, soaking in the energy that the audience are giving him as they applaud and cheer~

Belvedere: From Brooklyn, New York... weighing in a two hundred and twenty five pounds - The Reckoning of Professional... STORMMMMMM

~He begins his walk down the entrance ramp, with a leather coat completing his attire as he comes down the entrance ramp~

"This ain't no place for no hero.
This ain't no place for no better man.
This ain't no place for no hero
To call "home."

~At this point, Storm is by the edge of the ring; allowing a smile to embed on his face before he jumps onto the apron and holds onto the ropes, using them to help himself up onto the turnbuckle. He's grinning from ear to ear, soaking in the rest of the cheers coming from the audience, shaking his head sideways as he lowers it, before jumping into the ring. Taking off his leather coat, he hands it to Belvedere before walking over to his designated corner and hoisting himself up onto the second ropes, a smirk upon his lips as he holds his arms up; his theme song slowly diminishing~

Smith: Mark Storm making his Pay Per View return!

Hood: Well, he looks confident, I’ll give him that.

~Storm’s music dies out. His arms are in the air. Behind him, across the ring we get a shot of Easton, his back to Storm, he’s ignored the entire entrance. With the music coming to a close, Storm hops off the rope and spins around, ready for combat. Belvedere is gone...Scruff is in the ring. He sees both men are inside the ring, no weapons present, so he signals for the bell and it rings. The fans go wild~

Smith: And here we go! Mark Storm taking on Easton Alexander!

Hood: Easton hasn’t thrown one glance Mark’s way. Man, he’s really disgusted by Storm. He must hate weather.

Smith: I don’t think it has anything to do with weather, Hood. Easton feels like Storm disrespected him. He thinks Storm is a fraud.

Hood: Wouldn’t surprise me. Most storms are flakes. How often do you hear about a big storm heading your way only for it to disappear or head somewhere else? Fuckin storms.

~Storm sees Easton’s back, the only part of Easton’s body he’s been shown. He points and yells out, “Turn around, Easton. Face me like a man!” Easton’s body tenses up. He grabs the ropes and shakes them before turning around, face full of fury. He heads toward Mark and looks him up and down. With extreme derision he says, “Your Hero and Mine?” He shakes his head and rears back with a punch...but Storm blocks it!! The fans go wild!! Storm unloads on Easton with a right hand of his own and another and another!! Easton staggers back into his corner!! The fans continue cheering. Storm rears back and he cracks Easton across the jaw with a vicious haymaker!!! Easton falls to the mat and rolls out of the ring, under the bottom rope…he drops to one knee outside the ring, holding his jaw. The fans chant “STORM! STORM! STORM!”~

Smith: Mark Storm just unloaded on Easton! He’s spent years building up his reputation...he’s not gonna stand there and let some rookie soil it!

Hood: What are these people chanting? Is this like an Irish rain chant or something?

Smith: They’re chanting for Mark Storm, idiot!

Hood: Well, there’s no need for name calling.

~Storm looks down over the top rope at Easton and shakes his head. He looks out to his fans and plays to them for a bit...they eat it up. He turns around to head for the center of the ring...but once he turns his back to Easton, the rookie reaches in and grabs Storm by the leg, pulling back!! Storm falls forward, smacking his face into the mat. Easton yanks him outside and slams him, back first into the edge of the apron!!! Storm reaches for his back, grimacing. Easton, back on his feet, chops Storm across the chest...he then backhands Storm across the face before wrapping both hands around Storm’s throat and choking. Scruff flies through the ropes and rushes in to break the hold~

Smith: Easton is filled with rage. Scruff needs to get in there or he may choke Mark out.

Hood: Imagine being a rookie...being the new guy...then imagine a veteran YOU respect making you look like a jerk in front of everyone? That’d piss you off, right?

Smith: Mark was having a bad day, Hood. Happens to the best of us.

Hood: Yea? Well he’s about to have a shitty night as a result of that ‘bad day’

~Easton finally breaks the hold. Scruff backs off...looks like he was close to calling a DQ. Easton fires forward before Mark can recover, blasting him with a forearm to the face. He then tosses Storm into the ring, under the bottom rope. Storm rolls toward the center of the ring where he slowly reaches one knee. Easton hops onto the apron and enters, moving with great purpose. He grabs Storm by the hair but Storm fires a punch into Easton’s midsection, staggering the rookie. Storm rises to his feet and he delivers a forearm uppercut that sends Easton reeling into the ropes. Storm whips Easton off the ropes, he charges across the ring...he bounces off the opposite ropes and Storm drops to the mat...Easton runs forward, but instead of hopping over Storm’s body, he steps on him and continues running. The weight stuns Storm as he’s slow to his feet, grimacing. Easton bounces off the ropes again...Storm turns around and he eats a Big Boot to the face!!! The back of Storm’s body slams into the mat so hard he flips over, winding up front first on the mat. The fans boo Easton~

Smith: Wow! I’m not the biggest Alexander fan but that displayed extremely high in-ring IQ.

Hood: He legit just stepped on him. Every other wrestler would have jumped him. Haha, that was great.

Smith: We might be looking at a prodigy, Hood. The likes of which we haven’t seen since PerZag.

Hood: I fuckin hope so!

~Storm struggles pushing himself up...that boot was fierce. Easton helps him, yanking Storm to his feet...he greets him with one, two, and three forearm shots to the side of the head. Easton then spins around and blasts Storm in the face with a roaring forearm!!! Storm staggers into the ropes, which keep him from falling over. Easton turns around, he grabs Storm’s head as he stumbles toward Alexander and he snapmares him over, into the center of the ring. Easton backs into the ropes, he bounces forward and delivers a vicious penalty kick to Storm’s back!!! The boot on flesh cracks throughout the Dublin sky as the fans in attendance wince. Storm leans back, grimacing as Easton stands over him, in total control~

Smith: Easton Alexander is taking it to Mark Storm. This is very impressive.

Hood: For weeks we’ve all wondered if this kid’s got any skill or if he’s just really good at sneak attacking pimps backstage. Well, turns out, he’s got the in-ring goods.

Smith: Indeed!

~Easton drops to his knees and he chokes Storm. Storm reacts by reaching up and raking Easton across the face!! Easton falters to the side while Storm rolls out of the ring. Easton shakes off the pain and slides out of the ring after Storm...he turns Storm around and hits him...Storm fires back with a punch of his own...the two begin brawling outside the ring. Scruff starts to count, ‘ONE!’ They continue to brawl “TWO!” they continue brawling “THREE!” They aren’t stopping “FOUR!” Nope, still not stopping, “FIVE!”~

Smith: These two men are trying to tear each other apart!

Hood: They’re gonna get their ass counted out if they don’t smarten up.

Smith: I don’t think they care, Hood.

~Scruff yells “SIX!” Storm lifts a knee into Easton’s gut. Scruff yells “SEVEN!” Easton fires back with a punch into Storm’s midsection. Scruff yells “EIGHT!” Both men, doubled over, throw punches from a compromised position. Scruff yells “NINE!” They continue to brawl, standing upright as Scruff looks around, shrugs and yells “TEN!!!” He calls for the bell~

Smith: Is this...is it over?

Hood: Fuck. He really did it. He counted them both out.

Belvedere: Due to both competitors being unable to answer the ten count, this match has been ruled…

Voice: Ahem.

~The crowd pops. We cut to Welsh on the big screen~

Marcus Welsh: C’mon, guys. We’re not gonna have a double countout on PPV. Nope. That’s not how we roll. So, since the two of you seem intent on killing each other...how about we just continue on with this match as a No Disqualification?

~The crowd goes wild. Storm nods and says he’s good to go~

Marcus Welsh: Storm’s ready. Easton?

~Easton has a chair! He swings it and smashes Storm in the back!!! Welsh leans back~

Marcus Welsh: Damn. Okay, Easton is all in, as well. Scruff, RESTART THE MATCH!

~The bell rings once again, much to the crowd’s delight. Storm is leaning over the apron after suffering that chair shot. Easton hits him again! He falls to his knees. Easton hits him again and Storm falls to the ground, in serious pain. Easton slings the chair against the barricade, eager to find a new weapon~

Smith: Easton has been the aggressor throughout this entire feud. No shock he’s assumed that position once again tonight.

Hood: I’m telling ya, if Easton wins this thing. Watch out.

Smith: It might be the greatest Pay Per View debut in OCW history.

~Easton reaches under the ring and he pulls out a wooden board with barbed wire on it! The fans cheer! He slides it in under the bottom rope. He continues looking...he finds chairs and throws them into the ring, they all land on top of the barbed wire board. The center of the ring now features a steel chair, barbed wire board that looks extremely MATCH ENDING should anybody fall on it. Easton finally emerges with a table!! He sets it up outside the ring, longways, almost connected the apron to the barricade. He reaches for Storm and pulls him up, but Storm has had ample time to recover, so he smashes Easton in the gut with a right hand, sending the rookie stumbling back against the edge of the table. Storm pops to his feet and he punches Easton in the head over and over and over again until Easton is laying on the table~

Smith: Easton grabbed the table and now, it looks as though it might be used against him.

Hood: I like how a barbed wire board was just under the ring during a night when we had NO hardcore matches announced. Like, what the hell? Do we just carry those around with us?

Smith: I’ve got nothing for you.

Hood: Classic OCW, baby!

~Storm hops onto the apron and backs up against the post, so he can get a running start. He moves toward Easton...but Easton rolls off the table!!! Storm is able to divert his momentum as he runs across the table and onto the barricade. Easton turns around to face Storm and Storm leaps off the barricade with a flying knee into Easton’s head!!! Easton falls into the steps, tumbling over them and to the ground!! Storm lands hard and rubs his knee, but he’s quickly back to his feet, stomping on Easton, keeping him down~

Smith: Tremendous balance by Mark Storm. He isn’t an all timer for nothing, Hood.

Hood: All timer other places, but not here. I’m still waiting to see the ‘greatness’ of Mark Storm in OCW.

Smith: I think you’re going to get your wish...he seems focused this go around.

~Storm leans back against the guardrail with Easton down, rolling around in pain. An Irish fan hands Mark a mug of beer. Storm gladly takes it and takes a sip...he nods, that’s some good shit. Easton reaches his feet and storm SMASHES the glass mug into Easton’s head, shattering it everywhere! Easton falls to the ground, holding his head in pain, blood leaking through his fingers. Storm is holding the handle, broken away from the rest of the mug, he tosses it into the crowd as the fans go wild~

Smith: And a lucky fan is getting a souvenir!

Hood: I guess. It’s just a glass handle.

Smith: A glass handle that might have been the key weapon jump starting Mark Storm to main event status!

Hood: That’s a hell of a leap in logic, pal.

~Storm uses both hands to snare Easton by the hair, ripping him to his feet...but Easton fires an elbow into Mark’s midsection, sending Storm stumbling back. Easton charges ahead and takes Storm down with a lariat. Storm hits the ground hard. Easton leans against the apron, holding his head as blood leaks onto the apron. He slaps at it, frustrated at the sight of his own blood. He looks inside the ring and spots the barbed wire chair atrocity that’s been set up. He grabs Storm and slings him into the ring before rolling in behind him~

Smith: Easton might be bleeding, but he’s in control. If he drops Storm on that pile of pain, I’d assume he’ll win.

Hood: He’s bleeding pretty good. Seeing your own blood will set you off.

~Easton returns to his feet...he pulls Storm up and hoists him into the air for a powerbomb...but Storm punches at Easton’s cut head, knowing he cannot be powerbombed into the pile in the center of the ring. Easton stumbles back near the ropes...the table on the other side of the ring. Storm continues punching...Easton, finally, musters all his strength and he tosses Mark over his head!!! Storm flies over the ropes and falls, front first through the table!!! It shatters from the impact, leaving Mark face down, amid a pile of rubble. The fans go crazy, chanting ‘HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!’ Storm is down. Easton drops to one knee, holding his cut head in pain~

Smith: Wow, what strength by Easton! He just tossed Storm with ease over his head and through that table!

Hood: I don’t know how ‘easy’ it was, but he got it done.

Smith: Easton’s close to winning this, Hood.

Hood: Yes, I can see that. Calm down.

~Easton finally gathers himself, subduing the pain and steps through the ropes onto the apron. He leaps off with a splash onto Storm!! He turns Storm over for the pin. Scruff is like “Well, nobody specified so I’m gonna treat this like a Falls Count Anywhere!” and he dives onto the apron and slaps the HARDEST PART OF THE RING~

1!

2!

3...NO!

Shoulder Up!

Smith: Storm got the shoulder up!

Hood: IS this a Falls Count Anywhere match?

Smith: If it wasn’t before, it is now.

~Easton curses, punching the side of the steps with his fist. He thought he had it, but he’s learning it’s tough to get a PPV win in OCW. He returns to his feet and pulls a dazed Storm to his feet, slinging him into the ring. Easton crawls in behind Storm...he gets to his feet and points toward the pile of danger in the center. The fans BOOO! They don’t want to see THEIR HERO go through that. So, Easton just waves his hands at them, indicating he doesn’t give a shit and he goes back after Storm~

Smith: Easton looking to end it.

Hood: Wind’s gotta pick up, storm’s got to brew otherwise we’re looking at another failed return by YOUR HERO AND MINE

~Easton pulls Storm up, but Storm fights back!!! Storm’s heels are up against the pile of pain. He punches and chops Easton back against the ropes!! Easton springs off the ropes and throws a punch, but Storm ducks!!! Easton stumbles forward, almost into the pile...he turns around and eats a boot to the gut!!! The crowd rises. Storm hoists Easton up onto his shoulders for his patented Incursio! (Inverted GTS) onto the pile!!! Easton fights out of it!! He slides down Storm’s back and spins Storm around, kicking him in the gut and hooking his arms~

Smith: Easton’s gonna try to drop Storm front first into that pile with Cursed Night!

Hood: Another failed launch for Mark Storm.

~Storm, sensing he’s about to get beat, pushes back with his feet, bullying Easton into a corner. The impact forces a break...Storm rises up and he chops Easton in the chest. He takes a few steps back and runs in, but Easton gets his boot up, kicking Storm in the face!!! Storm stumbles around, turning his back to Easton. Easton hops onto the middle rope...he then hops onto the top rope...he leaps off at Storm...but Storm catches him on his shoulders!!!! The crowd rises!!! Storm pulls Easton down and drops him on top of the pile of chairs and barbed wire with Heroes End!!!!! Despite sitting on barbed wire, Storm holds on for the pin, Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

3!!!!

~The bell rings~

Belvedere: Here is your winner...MARK STORM!!!!!

Smith: Storm wins! Storm wins!

Hood: Wow, his first PPV win in, like, forever.

Smith: Man, what a victory!!

~Storm rolls away, holding his back and his ass. Easton is out, on top of the rubble, being tended to by medics. Storm rolls out of the ring and high fives some fans, in too much pain to really celebrate right now~

Smith: Easton Alexander was game, tonight Hood. What a talent he is.

Hood: No shit, man. That kid’s gonna be a star.

Smith: Yep, I’m sure we’ll see these two go at it again in the future. But, for now, Mark Storm is victorious and he will get a Craze Title shot in April!

~A prerecorded video that maybe could have aired at the start of the show but, hey, a few matches in isn’t too bad. The camera fades in to a prison's visitation room, obviously on the visitor's side of the glass. AKB steps in to frame, walking forward and sitting at one of the booths. On the other side of the glass, a door opens and a prison guard steps through. Right behind him is Mack O'Connor, dressed for interview in his finest black institutional clothing. He nods to the guard, then approaches the glass. He sits across from AKB, and they both pick up their phones.~

AKB: Hey Mack, good to see you.

Mack: It's been some time.

AKB: What have you been up to?

~Mack stares at him for a moment.~

Mack: You know... Just traveling. Seeing the world.

AKB: Right... Yeah... Sorry.

Mack: It happens.

~AKB looks through his notes.~

AKB: So I came by to chat with you about this Sunday's big event. "Luck of the Violent." It's set to be one of the greatest ones yet! Do you plan on viewing?

Mack: If they decide to put it on in the rec room, sure.

AKB: Wouldn't that be something! Anyway, OCW decided to send me out here to get your opinions on the line-up.

Mack: I'm happy to oblige.

AKB: We're leading off with a Bar Room Brawl. Anyone can enter that bar and fight for a Savage Title shot at our next big event.

Mack: Bar Room Brawl? Nice. Right up my alley. Who's fighting?

AKB: As of now, the contestants are still up in the air.

Mack: Oh... Okay?

AKB: Then, following the Bar Room Brawl, we have a showdown between Mark Storm and Easton Alexander for a shot at the Craze Title! Your thoughts?

Mack: I've heard of Mark Storm.

~They sit in silence for several moments.~

AKB: Okay... So after that, we have Bob Grenier and Dadbod fighting for Zybala's freedom!

~Mack stares at him.~

Mack: Can you repeat that sentence?

AKB: Sure... Um... We have Bob Grenier and Dadbod fighting for Zybala's freedom.

Mack: I have a lot of questions.

AKB: We only have ten minutes.

Mack: Let's just move on then.

AKB: Yes... So following the match for Zybala's freedom, we have Plethora's Open Challenge.

Mack: A Plethora, nice. So its a lot of people in the match?

AKB: Yep. Dangerous Dan, Duce Jones, Alice Knight, Mario Maurako, Lurrr, and Silverfreak.

Mack: Hey, I actually know those names.

AKB: Yep. And if any of them pins Plethora, they earn his title shot next month.

Mack: Pins Plethora?

AKB: Yeah. Its his open challenge.

Mack: Whose?

AKB: Plethora's.

Mack: Yeah, there's a plethora of people in the match.

AKB: Including Plethora.

Mack: I thought... Nevermind. I'm rooting for Alice. Move on.

AKB: Okay... Next up we have Tamika Strader versus Roach to crown the new Craze Championship.

Mack: I think I've met Roach once or twice. So I'll go ahead and say he'll win.

AKB: What about Strader?

Mack: I don't really know anything about him.

AKB: It's a her.

Mack: Oh, sorry... Been in here for so long all I see is men... What I would do to see a fuckin' woman. What's Strader look like?

AKB: Moving on... Next we have the Tag Team Champions. The Danger Boiz will be defending their belts against the Lockwood Party.

~Mack leans in close to the glass.~

Mack: Did you just say the Danger Boiz and the Lockwood Party are the two best tag teams in OCW right now?

AKB: Yes, sir. That's correct.

~Mack leans back~

Mack: Are you shitting me? Where are the Dravers? Jesus Christ... There's no one else? Zybala and Welsh can't make some calls? What about the eMpire? What about the Aptitude? Opie and Anthony? Bill and Ted? The Jonas Brothers? There's no one else?

AKB: I'm... I'm sorry... Do you have a prediction?

Mack: No.

AKB: Moving on... Next we have the Savage Championship! BRIM defends his championship against fellow champion Supreme Machine.

Mack: Fellow champion?

AKB: Yes. They are co-champions, so to speak.

Mack: Co-champions?

AKB: Yes.

Mack: Lets put a pin in that one... I'm going with BRIM, because Supreme Machine once beat the shit out of me in a boiler room.

AKB: Fair enough... After that, we have the TransAtlantic Championship.

Mack: Oh yes, the TransAtlantic belt...

AKB: Going down memory lane, eh Mack?

Mack: Who's fighting?

AKB: Veronica Strader is defending against the Lost Stranger.

~Mack tilts his head~

Mack: Lost Stranger? Is that anything like the Lost Soul?

AKB: You can say that.

Mack: Lets go ahead and predict he wins then.

AKB: Great. And to wrap up the night, the OCW Championship match. Outcast defending against Chad Vargas. Your thoughts?

Mack: Outcast is champion now? Man, things really have changed since I've been locked up... If Outcast worked hard enough to get to be the World Champ, I think I'll have to go with him as the winner. Vargas is my boy, but he's too inconsistent. He's also a redneck.

AKB: Lots of good points there.

Mack: Well, two.

AKB: Now I want to ask you about some rumors floating around. As you know, there was a movie released about your time in prison, and there was a certain depiction that-

Mack: Guards! My time is up!

AKB: Hold on, Mack! Just one more second!

Mack: Nope! They're pretty strict around here! Goodbye!

~Mack slams the phone down, stands up, and walks to the door. We can't hear them, but the guard indicates he still has five minutes. Mack shakes his head, pulling the door open and leaving.~

AKB: Well, those are the former champ's thoughts on next weeks event.

~The feed cuts back to Smith and Hood, who both look very underwhelmed.~

Smith: And we thank AKB for that... Whatever that was...

Hood: Is it just me or has Mack lost some weight?

Smith: I'm sure he's fine.

Hood: You don't think he has ass AIDS, do you?

Smith: And, moving on...more in ring action!

Smith: What a night it’s been and we haven’t even reached the championship portion!

Hood: The championship matches are overrated anyway. Undercard is where it’s at, Smith.

Smith: I don’t think I’d agree with that. But our undercard is spectacular.

Hood: Yes, like a perfectly shaped ass...OCW’s undercard has the goods.

Smith: Sure, anyway...hold on, what’s that?!

~The fans pop as a port-o-potty appears from underneath the giant shamrock. It’s wheeled down the ramp and toward the ring by none other than zyBALDa! Why are the fans cheering? Because port-o-potties are over in OCW, apparently~

Smith: Is that for the refs?

Hood: Did Scruff eat some gas station sushi?

Smith: I hope not!

~ZyBALDa is mouthing something over and over while pushing the port-o-potty to the ring. It appears he’s saying “fuck zybala fuck zybala fuck zybala”~

Smith: ZyBALDa looks angry...or, well, angrier than usual.

Hood: Probably because he had to leave that lavish future to come back and slum it with us in 2022.

~The Port-o-Potty reaches ringside and is set up to the side with zyBALDa guarding it. He wraps a pair of brass knucks around his hand and flashes the lower end of a pistol that’s tucked under the waist band of his sweat pants and underneath his pale, white gut that’s covered with curly black hair. Most fans groan with disgust~

Smith: We didn’t really need the visual, zyBALDa. We’d have believed you.

Hood: I’d head into that port o potty to hurl but I think it’d make me hurl again.

~Belvedere looks over at ZyBALDa and the Port-o-Potty and just kinda shrugs. Classic OCW, Baby. He speaks into the mic~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen, it is now time for the match that will decide Zybala’s fate!! Once this match is over Zybala will either be free to compete for the OCW Title or he will be unable to ever hold OCW’s most coveted prize. So, let’s meet the competitors...introducing first, the man that will be fighting FOR Zybala!

~The fans go wild. "Blitzkrieg Bop" – Ramones hits!! Slowly, emerging from under the giant shamrock is THE DADBOD!! He’s sporting a pair of nike basketball shorts with a ‘I LOVE IRELAND’ tourist t-shirt on. He apparently got trapped in one of those tourist gift shops. He pulls out his camera and begins taking photos as he heads down the ramp to the ring~

Smith: It’s Dadbod! Back on Pay Per View!

Hood: For a guy who never wins anything he sure does seem to be granted opportunity after opportunity.

Smith: I see nothing wrong with it, Hood.

Hood: You think his wife keeps sending angry emails and letters to OCW, complaining to management? That’s probably why he keeps getting booked...to keep the woman quiet.

~Dadbod nears the ring. A fan leans over with a poster that’s already been signed by Tamika Strader, during her signing earlier in the week. The fan seems to be asking Dadbod to sign it...but, Dadbod, being more fan than wrestler, takes the poster and thanks the fan, heading to the ring with it under his arm, “My kids will love this!” he exclaims leaving the angry, screaming fan behind~

Smith: Dadbod just casually stealing a fan’s merchandise.

Hood: Guy doesn’t even realize his autograph is worth...well, something.

Smith: He obviously thought that was a gift. Simple mistake.

Belvedere: From Omaha, Nebraska...standing six feet tall and weighing in at 230lbs...he is David Barker...he is...THE DADBOD!!!!

~Dadbod jumps when he hears his name. Still getting used to that. He reaches the ring and sees ZyBALDa next to the port-o-potty. ZyBALDa flashes the handle of his pistol while simultaneously scratching the underbelly of his gut. Dadbod’s eyes widen and his head quickly turns as he heads up the steps and enters into the ring~

Smith: He’s a long way from Omaha, Hood.

Hood: He’s not in Kansas anymore.

Smith: Omaha is in Nebraska. Belvedere JUST said that.

Hood: Fuck off, I don’t have time to memorize every city located in states nobody gives a shit about.

Belvedere: And, his opponent...the man who will be fighting for Poblano and AGAINST Zybala.

~BOOOOO go the fans~

Hood: Nice, Belvedere. Way to basically tell the fans to boo the fuck out of this guy.

Smith: He’s fighting for the enemy, Hood!

Hood: He’s fighting for himself. I’m sure Poblano is gonna make Bob rich if he wins. He’s gonna get so much money that the entire nation of Canada (GREAT NATION TO THE NORTH) will become the Grenier farm.

~Where The Hood At by DMX hits! MORE BOOING. Bob Grenier walks out from under the shamrock and immediately blows a massive snot rocket into the air. The fans all recoil with disgust before booing again. He looks as angry and violent as ever, making his way down the ramp, keeping a look over his brow at the ring and, more importantly, THE DADBOD inside it~

Belvedere: From Timmins, Ontario, Canada...standing 6’2 and weighing in at 222lbs...he is a former OCW Champion, he is in the OCW Hall of Fame...he is...Bob Grenier!!!

Smith: And here comes Bob Grenier. He defines the term’ legend’ around here...but, he’s had a rough go of it lately.

Hood: I mean, not really. Kelson beat him, but Kelson’s a badass. And he lost in THE GREAT ILLUMINATUS...but so did everyone not named Outcast.

Smith: Still, his momentum has slowed. A win tonight would be huge for him.

Hood: He’d be a hero, Smith. Zybala must never be allowed to get near the OCW Title. NEVER EVER

~Grenier reaches the bottom of the ramp and eyes the Port-o-Potty. There’s a gleam in his eye that indicates he’s had more than a few ‘wild’ times inside those things. ZyBALDa gives Grenier a fist of solidarity...get the job done, Bob. Bob nods and heads up the steps, entering into the ring~

Belvedere: And now, before the match begins...I’m told we must all look toward the...excuse me? Okay, I’m reading that correct. Toward the...PORTAL POTTY

~ZyBALDa opens the door to the port-o-potty which is being called PORTAL POTTY. He grabs the owl statuette and repeats “OWL IS NIGHT! OWL IS NIGHT! OWL IS NIGHT!” And, suddenly a giant portal opens up inside the port-o-potty. Through the portal we see Zybala strapped to a chair with Who’Re next to him~

Smith: It’s Zybala!

Hood: And the WHORE

Smith: I guess he’s going to watch from the other side of the portal.

Hood: Seems kinda dumb...let him see what’s going on so he could, ya know, possibly escape, jump through the portal, and fuck up the outcome. But, villains are gonna villain.

~ZyBALDa, as a warning, grabs his pistol and he slides it in and out of his pants, threatening to use it to anyone who approaches the portal potty. He does it so much that we start to think he’s pleasuring himself. So, we quickly cut away~

Smith: Thank goodness.

Hood: Yea, I didn’t want to see his sweat pants suddenly form a thick, wet stain in the crotch region.

~Dadbod looks at ZyBALDa with an expression that seems to echo Hood’s previous statement of ‘We’re not in Kansas anymore” only replace Kansas with Nebraska. The ring shakes and Dadbod turns, but not quickly enough as Grenier rams him into a corner with a shoulder!!! The fans BOO! Belvedere hurries out of the ring. Scruff motions for the bell, it rings and we’re underway~

Smith: Dadbod was distracted and Bob took advantage!

Hood: Dadbod’s in over his head, Smith. Portals, pistol pleasuring, and, worst of all, Who’Re’s giant boobs hanging over that rope that’s securing her to the chair. This is a guy who gets a little wild after two Michelob Ultras at Chilis. This is sensory overload.

~Bob raises up and headbutts Dadbod in the forehead...he grabs Dadbod and slings him out of the corner, into the air and onto the mat, center of the ring. Dadbod hits HARD. Bob sees the Tamika poster that he ‘took’ from the fan...he picks it up and rips it in half, tossing it out of the ring. More booing from the fans~

Smith: Well, that’s a little bit on the rude side.

Hood: That poster is slick, Smith. Bob could have slipped on it and injured himself...same with Dadbod. He’s just ensuring the safety of the ring.

Smith: Right.

~Dadbod sits up, his back to Bob. Bob drops to one knee and grabs Dadbod’s head, twisting and turning his neck. Dadbod yells out, wincing, trying to get free, but Bob’s strength is too much. I mean, Bob lifts weights and logs and shit. Dadbod curls 12 ounce bottles while burning hamburger meat on the grill. One is not like the other. Speaking of which, we cut to an Omaha Buffalo Wild Wings to find Dadbod’s neighbors in attendance. A bunch of balloons are set up and there seems to be cake, in case he wins. The mood is not good...they look on with sad expressions~

Smith: I’m told the residents of Dadbod’s community received some derision from OCW fans for being at an Applebees last month. So, they decided to add a bit of edge to their game.

Hood: So they went to fuckin B-Dubs? LOL

Smith: B-Dubs is very edgy.

Hood: Say no more.

~Bob sees the camera lassoed around Dadbod’s neck via an Irish lanyard. He rips it off and kicks Dadbod in the back, sending him rolling forward. Grenier looks at the camera and takes a picture of Dadbod, as he’s on the mat, wincing in pain. Bob then drops the camera on the mat and stomps on it, shattering the camera into pieces. Dadbod looks on...the photos...the family photos...the memories...an empty space inside a photo album that WILL NOT be filled. TRINA WON’T BE HAPPY. He begins to rise from the mat, full of fury~

Smith: Uh oh, Dadbod is angry.

Hood: Family photos are important to people like Dadbod. To people like Grenier, they are fuckin lame.

Smith: Is that why you refused to take a photo with me in front of The Temple Bar?

Hood: Some people see a cool bar and think “I want to take a picture in front of that place” others see the same bar and say “I need a drink.” I’m the latter, not the former.

~Dadbod punches Bob in the gut, from his knees. Bob stumbles back. Dadbod grabs the largest piece of camera he can find and he stands, smashing it into Grenier’s head. Grenier falls to the side, into the ropes. We quickly cut to the Omaha Buffalo Wild Wings where Dadbod’s friends look on, slightly horrified...WHAT’S BECOME OF DADBOD? USING A WEAPON? Dadbod drops the piece of camera and he runs forward with a boot to the side of Grenier’s face!!! Bob leans half out of the ring, over the middle rope~

Smith: Look at Dadbod go!

Hood: I’d rather not. I’m not sure what’s more embarrassing about this match...the fact a literal shit box is outside the ring or that Dadbod is on offense.

~Dadbod grabs Bob’s legs and he drags him back into the ring. He turns Bob over and holds onto Grenier’s legs. The fans go wild. Dadbod starts to lock in a Figure Four...but he pauses. He tries one leg, then another...he turns around...he’s seen it performed on TV thousands of times but never done it himself. How does this thing go again?~

Smith: Dadbod! Don’t try a move you haven’t practiced.

Hood: He can’t even lock in a Figure Four. GET THIS GUY OUTTA HERE

~Dadbod THINKS he has it...he spins around Grenier’s leg, turning his back to Bob once more. This time, Bob places his free foot into Dadbod’s ass and shoves forward, sending Dadbod stumbling into the ropes. Dadbod turns around…Bob is on one knee…Dadbod charges ahead but is quickly taken over with a simple armdrag!! Dadbod hits the mat hard...Bob holds on with an armbar, twisting at Dadbod’s shoulder~

Smith: Dang it! He almost had it!

Hood: He didn’t ‘almost’ have it. He was fuckin around like a moron. Got what he deserved.

Smith: C’mon, Dadbod! Don’t lose that twinkle...that spark! You can still win this!

~Grenier twists and Dadbod yells...Grenier grits his teeth “Can’t believe I’ve gotta wrestle this guy on pay per view.” He twists and contorts. Outside, ZyBALDa nods and gives Bob a thumb up. He slowly opens the door to the PORTAL POTTY and through the portal we see Poblano standing, arms folded, with Zybala and Who’Re tied up behind him. He nods and wiggles his eyebrows at Grenier while stroking his plush whale doll. Grenier is like “Okay, kinda weird, but whatever.” Dadbod kicks his legs out and he wraps them around the bottom rope, forcing a break~

Smith: This is such a weird match. Why does Poblano stroke that plush whale?

Hood: That’s where he hides the owl statuette which holds the soul of RAGANA...haven’t you been paying attention?

Smith: I try not to, honestly. But doesn’t ZyBALDa have the owl statuette?

Hood: Good point. So I guess he just likes stroking the plush fabric

~Bob tries to pull Dadbod to the center of the ring, but Dadbod wraps his body around the bottom rope. Grenier yanks and pulls, but not luck. Frustrated, he backs up and charges forward, throwing a boot at Dadbod...but Dadbod moves!!! Grenier’s leg flies through the ropes, sending him recklessly into the ropes where he crashes on the outside. The crowd goes wild. Poblano looks on from the portal and stomps his foot...we see a few of his nicer items start to disappear~

Smith: It appears that whenever Dadbod gains an advantage, Poblano’s future weakens.

Hood: This is so back to the future.

Smith: GREAT SCOTT

~Dadbod rolls back into the ring. He gets to his feet and looks around...he’s never really been in control before...what does he do? He sees Bob stand outside the ring, so Dadbod has an imaginary lightbulb flash over his head and he charges forward. He sprints as fast as he can...he reaches the ropes and he begins to slow down, nervous about pulling the move off...he dives through...but he catches the ropes and he kinda just spills out in front of Bob. Bob looks down and shakes his head. Poblano laughs from within the portal as an original work by Van Gogh appears on the wall next to Zybala~

Smith: Gotta commit, Dadbod! COMMIT

Hood: Can’t half ass a suicide dive. That’s usually how you suicide yourself.

Smith: Indeed.

~Bob grabs Dadbod and hooks him in a Full Nelson. He drags him to the Portal Potty. ZyBALDa chuckles, rubbing the handle to his gun that’s secured by the struggling waist band of his sweat pants. Bob looks at Poblano and offers him a free shot. Poblano smiles and steps through the Portal Potty and into the current time period!! He rears back with his plush whale and smashes Dadbod in the face with it. Doesn’t do much, it’s a child’s doll. So, Bob lifts Dadbod up and delivers a Full Nelson Slam onto the steel steps! The fans BOOOO! We cut to the Buffalo Wild Wings in Omaha...the patrons and shaking their heads and covering their children’s eyes. A sign that says “Drinks are free if Dadbod wins” has never loomed larger. Poblano stomps on Dadbod with Grenier watching on~

Smith: Poblano has entered into our time by stepping through a port o potty which is acting as a portal. I cannot believe I just said that.

Hood: THE PORTAL POTTY

Smith: Stop trying to get that over.

Hood: Oh, it’s gonna get over.

~Bob points through the Portal Potty as a first edition copy of The Bible has found its way next to Zybala. Poblano laughs, “That’s got to be worth a lot!” Grenier cannot argue. Things are going great. He grabs Dadbod and slings him into the ring. Bob walks, casually up the steps...Poblano says, “You’re gonna be a rich man, Bob.” Grenier enters into the ring...Dadbod fights to his feet. Poblano gasps and turns around, the first edition Bible is gone. “Shit,” he curses...that was a super rare item. Dadbod boots Grenier. He spins Grenier around and tries to return the favor, locking in a Full Nelson...but Grenier immediately breaks out of it and throws a sharp, back elbow into Dadbod’s face. Dadbod stumbles back. Grenier turns around and runs Dadbod over with a lariat. Dadbod hits hard. The fans all sit and grumble...this seems like pulling for a team that’s down 20. Hopeless. Poblano turns around and he sees an encased vile of Abraham Lincoln’s sperm appear next to Zybala. Zybala cringes. Poblano laughs, “Yes!”~

Smith: I didn’t even know some of these items existed, Hood.

Hood: Nobody did.

~Grenier stands over Dadbod and kicks at him. Poblano turns around and sees a pay stub signed by original OCW owner Dean proving that he, in fact, once paid somebody. Poblano gasps, “Now this...this is the genuine article.” He turns, “Wrap it up, Bob! We can’t lose this item!” Grenier doesn’t really like being told what to do...but he grits his teeth and pulls Dadbod up. He hoists him onto his shoulders for Hollinger Park Hangman~

Smith: And it’s all over.

Hood: Dean actually PAID someone? Unbelievable.

Smith: I mean I never got a check from him.

Hood: That must have been made out to Syren. I can’t imagine him paying anybody else.

~ZyBALDa yells out “OWL IS NIGHT!!!” holding the Owl Statuette high as the clouds gather and thunder rolls. Poblano begins to play his plush whale doll like it’s a guitar, rocking his head ala Hollywood Hogan in the NWO. Zybala and Who’Re lower their heads inside the portal, resigned to their fate. Dadbod senses a change in the atmosphere…he hears what sounds like the Goddess Ragana laugh...he reaches down and he starts to noogie Grenier’s head!!! Grenier is like “WHAT THE FUCK!” He drops Dadbod and stumbles around, holding his scalp. The clouds dissipate...Poblano stops celebrating...he turns and sees Dean’s paystub and Lincoln’s sperm GONE. He looks back in the ring, shook. “DAMNIT GRENIER, BEAT HIM!”~

Smith: Dadbod fights back with the dreaded noogie!

Hood: Just in time, too. Shit was getting spooky.

Smith: Indeed...and now that Dean paystub is gone.

Hood: Still don’t think it was a real thing.

~Grenier turns around and goes after Dadbod...he lifts his foot and brings it down for a stomp, but Dadbod moves!!! Grenier’s leg hits the ring and it jams his knee!! He stumbles...Dadbod rolls him over!!! Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

KICK OUT!!!

Smith: Whoa! Dadbod nearly stole it!

Hood: Shit...Poblano’s losing so much money right now.

~Through the portal we see Zybala’s ropes begin to blink. The ropes binding him to the chair. His eyes widen and he yells, “YOU CAN DO IT, DADBOD!! IT’S WORKING!” Dadbod hurries to his feet, so does Grenier...Grenier rushes at Dadbod but Dadbod takes him over with a bodyslam!!! Both rush back to their feet...Grenier takes a wild swing, but Dadbod ducks and lifts Grenier up, dropping him over his knee with a backbreaker!!!! Grenier lands hard, arching his back in pain. Zybala’s ropes are nearly gone. Who’Re’s are firm. She looks at Zybala’s ropes like “what about me? SERIOUSLY” Classic OCW, baby! Grenier returns to his feet but Dadbod is waiting...Grenier throws a punch, Dadbod catches it his twists Bob’s arm, turns him around, grabs him by the head and drops him with an Inverted DDT!!! Grenier is down!! The fans are going wild!! “DADBOD! DADBOD! DADBOD!” The Buffalo Wild Wings in Omaha shows all of the local residents standing and clapping. Zybala’s ropes are gone...he stands up, kicking his chair away. He moves toward the portal but Who’Re is still tied up...she asks for help and, well, because he’s a good guy, he helps~

Smith: Zybala is free and he’s helping out Who’Re!

Hood: Funny how her ropes just, ya know, remained intact. Almost like she likes being tied up.

Smith: HOOD

~Who’Re is free and the two rush for the portal...they jump out of the Portal Potty to a HUGE ovation!! Poblano turns around and he eats a SUPERKICK! From Mike!!! The fans chant “YES! YES! YES!” Who’Re runs at ZyBALDa as he stares at her gyrating breasts and fondles something south of his pistol. She takes him down with a Lou Thesz press, smashing the back of his head into the ground. The fans chant “WHORE! WHORE! WHORE!” The people inside the Omaha B-Dubs also chant “WHORE! WHORE! WHORE” but their wives beat them with their purses, ending the chants very quickly. Inside the ring, Dadbod returns to his feet and he stumbles into the ropes like ‘whoa, what just happened.’~

Smith: I think Dadbod had an out of body experience just now...with all those moves.

Hood: Dadbod with an out of BODY experience, haha. Look at you, being like the Dadbod.

Smith: Pun was NOT intended.

~Zybala slaps the apron, “Get him, Dadbod! Wake up!” Dadbod’s eyes are wide with befuddlement. Grenier is slow to his feet. Who’Re slaps the apron perpendicular to Zybala...she yells, “I’M HERE FOR YOU DADBOD” Dadbod looks down, right into her cleavage and his eyes go from befuddled to enchanted, “THANK YOU” he blurts out. Grenier suddenly flies into the picture, crushing Dadbod in the corner with a splash. The owl statuette, seated upright, outside the ring starts to shake...Zybala looks at it...Who’Re looks at it~

Smith: Dadbod needs to wake up and realize that he’s capable. He’s able to hang in there!

Hood: What the hell is going on with that owl statuette.

Smith: I think Ragana realizes she’s on the verge of losing her power.

Hood: It’s time we kill that bitch.

~Zybala and Who’Re go after the owl statuette but beam of light shoots out from it, causing them to fall back!! The light stops and it begins to fill in a silhouette...the silhouette becomes a ghostly figure...it’s Ragana! She’s here! She’s in Dublin!! Grenier turns, watching. Dadbod falls to the mat, holding his non-existent abs, staring on in amazement. She floats down toward the ring...Zybala, Poblano, ZyBALDa, and Who’Re all look on, shocked~

Smith: Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?

Hood: Uhh, what are you seeing?

Smith: Ragana

Hood: Yep

~She hovers over the ring and points at Grenier. “Beat him, Bob. BEAT HIM.” Bob turns around and he grabs Dadbod by the hair, pulling him to his feet. “Beat him NOW” Bob pauses and turns around, staring at her...he doesn’t like the attitude. Ragana gets angry, “Beat him you filthy Canadian! DO AS I COMMAND!” Bob glares at Ragana...he looks behind her and sees her trail of ethereal dust leading toward the statuette. Bob exits the ring. Ragana’s ghostly form spins, “What are you doing?” Bob grabs the statuette. “No, Bob. DON’T” Bob holds the statuette high above his head and he yells, “Fuck Alice Knight. Fuck Owls. Fuck Ghosts...and fuck this!” He slams the wooden owl statuette into the steps, shattering it!!! Ragana screams! Her presence evaporates and soars into the sky, diving into a cloud, creating lightning and thunder above. The wind howls before coming to a calm. Bob marches up the steps and he re-enters~

Smith: Bob Grenier has just destroyed Ragana! I think.

Hood: Just goes to show, you don’t COMMAND Bob to do anything. He’s Bob fucking Grenier. A legend.

Smith: She pushed it too far.

~Grenier re-enters the ring, slapping his hands together. A bolt of lightning shoots from the sky and hits him! He’s stunned...Dadbod rushes up and he pulls Bob down and rolls him up in a small package!!! Scruff, who’s just been there this whole time (classic ocw, baby) slides in with the count~

1!

2!

3!!!!

~The bell rings~

Belvedere: Here is your winner...DADBOD!!!!!

Smith: Dadbod did it! Dadbod won! Zybala can compete for the OCW Title again.

Hood: Fuckin weird.

Smith: It was strange and very much implausible. But, the end result is what we all wanted. Zybala is free to finally ascend to the top of his beloved promotion.

Hood: And, Ragana is dead.

Smith: That or she lives in a cloud. I’m not really sure.

~The clouds part, allowing sun to shine down upon the event once again. Dadbod can’t believe it. Zybala and Who’Re enter the ring. Zybala runs to hug him but he dodges Zybala and he hugs Who’Re! They jump around together, fully embraced. Zybala shrugs and he checks on Grenier, who is smoldering...but he’s alive. He’ll be really pissed once he wakes up. He then looks outside and sees ZyBALDa scurrying away. Poblano has been reduced to his old form...a meager, broke immigrant. Zybala points at him, “Gregory, as punishment for you bringing an actual goddess demon into OCW, I now name you OCW’s newest JANITOR!” Poblano yells out “NOOOOOO!!!!” as he’s dragged away~

Smith: A fate I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Hood: Poblano’s future. His power. His wealth, all gone in one match.

Smith: I’m just glad we have The Straders and their financial backing.

Hood: Same.

~The Portal Potty remains open. The portal, once a clear view into another time period, is now all scrambled like a snow covered television screen. Zybala hops out of the ring to check it out. He reaches his hand in and pulls it back out, quickly. A tiny LITTLE SHOP OF HORROR plant has clamped down on his hand. Zybala shakes it free and stomps it out, killing it. He promptly shuts the door to the Portal Potty and locks it~

Smith: The portal remains active. But it appears to be all scrambled...there’s no control over what could come out and where you’d wind up, if you entered.

Hood: Yea, let’s just keep that thing locked down.

Smith: Indeed.

~Welsh arrives with The Knife Man. He orders to have the Portal Potty wrapped by chains and locked away. He then hugs Zybala, congratulating him. Zybala points at the Dadbod. Welsh enters the ring and raises The Dadbod’s arm. The fans in attendance chant ‘Dadbod! Dadbod! Dadbod!’ We cut to the Buffalo Wild Wings in Omaha...local news crews are there, interviewing people. All the residents claim to be Dadbod’s best friend and that they knew he could do it, taking credit for some of his moves.~

Smith: Dadbod is a hero...both in Omaha and right here in Dublin.

Hood: I think my time on this planet might be nearing an end.

Smith: Oh don’t be so dramatic. Dadbod is victorious! Zybala is free! Ragana is gone! Poblano is our new janitor! And, the portal remains...inside the Portal Potty.

Hood: I’m sure THAT will never come into play again, right?

Smith: Ha, right.

~Easton Alexander is sitting Backstage, being tended too by the Knife man. Easton waves him off and finishes wrapping and bandage around his head~

Easton Alexander: Mark Storm… I really can’t say anything over than you were the better man, you beat me in the middle of that ring no excuses. Doesn’t mean I can’t be a little pissed off, I worked my ass off for a month and I fucking failed… I feel like I let a lot of people down, people who believed in me. So, I’ll go collect my pay from Marcus, ill plant my ass in front of the monitor and I will watch very closely the rest of the championship matches tonight, because I’m not done with wanted to be the best yet. Go win that belt Storm…. Go be a hero. I’ll see you all on Monday.

~Alexander stands up and walks out of frame. We cut back to Smith and Hood~

Smith: Tough loss for Easton earlier...but, I have to say, I admire his attitude.

Hood: You never lose until you quit. Easton is not a quitter.

Smith: Indeed.

~The Dublin crowd is on fire! Barroom brawls, Craze title shots, Zybala’s safety and wellbeing, and Big B- - - Plethora the Perilous challenge. The fans were gearing up for the Craze Championship as the OCW crew fills a giant vat out at ringside full of Irish Stew. The promotion found a dozen housewives to start making the stew Friday. The aroma is filling the ringside.~

Smith: Well, folks coming up next is an IRISH STEW match-up for the vacant Craze Championship between PWA legend and one-half of the legendary Cowgirls From Hell. She’ll be facing- - -

Hood:- - - ROACHHHHHHHH!!!!

~Smith puts a hand to his ear and a deep sigh.~

Smith: That’s right. The OCW crew is fast at work filling the vat.

Hood: Smells good. If Tamika falls in it, I’m gonna grab a bowl.

Smith: What if it’s Roach?

Hood: Naw, I love the guy, but you can smell his chode through his pants. I’d say underwear too, but if he wore those, it wouldn’t be smellable.

Smith: That’s not a word, Hood.

Hood: What? Of course, underwear is a word. Have you been drinking my whiskey?

~The OCW-Luck-of-the-Violent-Tron lights up to backstage where TAMIKA STRADER is by Checkers Position, checking the stape on her hands, and adjusts the black bandana she is wearing with the initials ‘SNS’ in gold on the front of it. The fans cheer for the Cowgirl and OCW financier, which puts a smile on her face. She’s shadow-jabbing the air, warming up for the match, when THE LEO saunters up with a microphone in hand.~

The Leo: Tsunami-Tee, how’s it hangin’?

Tamika: I am guessing a bit to the left?

~Tamika tilts her head as she looks down at that other “Leo.” The suave mother fucker blushes and gives her an aww shucks look.~

The Leo: Oh hell yeah! So in just a few minutes, you are making your OCW Pay Per View debut, and not only your first singles championship match ever in your entire career. Are you excited to try something new instead of dominating tag divisions wherever you go with Milfy Meg?

~Tamika raises her right brow at him because of his last couple of words.~

Tamika: Well, I want to make something clear. Well, a couple of things. First off, I’m a Milf too, Milfy-Tee if you will.

Hood: She isn’t wrong. Maybe it’s the whiskey talking, but I would call her mommy.

Smith: I’d request a new partner, but Plethora the Perilous will murder me anyway.

Tamika: Second, just because I am tossing my hat into the ring for singles competition doesn’t mean the Cowgirls From Hell aren’t going after whoever comes out on top between Dangy Boiz and The Peckerwood Party. Right now, this moment, I am preparing to throw a manchild into a vat of Irish Stew.

~Her nose crinkles, and she mouths ‘yuck’ with her tongue rolling out to wag off-taste. It’s a long tongue. No wonder Samantha Tolson misses her.~

The Leo: Are you a veggie nut, man? A fuggin’ vegan?!

Tamika: Pfbbbbbt!

~Spit flies and splatters.~

Tamika: Naw, Squiggy. I love me a porterhouse. Or a big ground chuck burger with old ass cheddahhh. I like chicken and waffles too. No, I’m not a vegetarian or vegan, which is fun making dinner for Samantha Tolson!

The Leo: Squiggy?

~She just winks at him.~

Hood: Ha! Squiggy.

The Leo: Ugh. Well, but why does the Irish Stew bother you then?

Tamika: It’s just that now when someone asks me how I won the Craze Championship, I gotta say throwing a guy in a vat of Irish Stew. I’ll still be proud to say it, but it would’ve been nice to say I pulled myself up that ladder, fans behind me, use every last bit of energy after laying ROAST the fuck out to reach up and grab that title belt. Plus, it frickin’ stinks, man. My mom made the worst Irish Stew when John and I were growing up, and she used Kobe! So now it’s just ugh… what? Shuddup. I have a right to feel that way, muthaducka.

The Leo: Yeah, that stacks. Classic OCW, baby!

~Hood slams a fist on the desk.~

Hood: That’s my line, Squiggy!

The Leo: Well, good luck tonight, Tekashi-Meeka! Appreciate the bump in the envelope.

Tamika: You gotter otter! Bang Bang!

~She throws a finger pistol at The Leo as he saunters off, probably to recruit some people to OCW in inappropriate places.~

Smith: Well Hood, it’s time for some one on one action.

Hood: One on one action? Who the hell watches that shit anymore. It’s all about multi person action, Smith.

Smith: Are we talking about the same thing?

Hood: What are you talking about?

Smith: Our next match...Tamika Strader taking on Roach for a shot at the Craze Title.

Hood: Oh yes I was totally talking about wrestling, too.

Smith: Okay, cool! Tamika earned a Craze Title shot at The Great Illuminatus. She was the only wrestler to opt-out, keeping her prize. Roach earned his shot by defeating Brett Daniels at Massacre a few weeks ago.

Hood: Nice, nice. Always good when people earn their shit.

Smith: Roach has looked as good as ever since his return. Tamika and her sister, Meghan have looked about as unstoppable as the youngest Strader, Victoria.

Hood: Veronica.

Smith: I’m gonna call her Victoria. They’re both undefeated and they’re both gonna square off for championship gold.

Hood: Well fuck...let’s get to it!

Smith: It’s the first ever Irish Stew Match. It’s Roach taking on Tamika Strader. It’s for the Craze Title and it’s next!

~We cut to the ring. The fans surrounding the ring are singing in drunken harmony. It’s pretty early in the day to be drunk but, we’re in Dublin. Belvedere clears his throat. A huge ovation follows~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen...the following contest is an Irish Stew Match and it’s scheduled for one fall!!!

~The fans go wild! We zoom in to see a giant vat of Irish Stew set up in the center of the ring. It’s bubbling. Above it, several feet high is a four leaf clovered platform and, above that, hangs the Craze Title. Four sets of monkey bars connect to the four leave clovered platform from each corner~

Belvedere: The first competitor to claim the Craze Title and return to the ring with it will be the new Craze Champion! Introducing first…

~”The Joker” by The Steve miller band hits! The fans give a strong ovation for an OCW treasure...the man known around the world as ROACH! He emerges from the giant green shamrock that acts as the backdrop for tonight’s stage. He pauses atop the stage, staring out at the 70k plus that are going wild with excitement. Roach nods and marches down the steel ramp with an extra pep in his step. A fan leans over with a box of Lucky Charms...Roach snags the box and pours some in his mouth...a HUGE ovation. He even eats the non-marshmallow pieces. WHAT A GUY. Roach continues walking the long aisle toward the ring~

Belvedere: From Windsor, Ontario, Canada...ladies and gentlemen, ROACH!

~Roach nears the ring. He tosses what’s left of the box of Lucky Charms into the air...cereal flies high into the afternoon sky. Roach reaches the ring and hops onto the apron. He enters and throws his arms into the air...the fans continue to cheer~

Smith: Roach getting cheered here in Dublin.

Hood: I don’t think these people really care, Smith. They’re here for a good time.

Smith: Alcohol and violence will do that.

Hood: Fuck yea...they go together like strawberries and suicide.

~Roach’s theme ends. He approaches the vat of Irish Stew and takes in a big whiff. He smiles, “Smells good” he says~

Belvedere: And, his opponent.

~Do You Wanna Touch Me (Oh Yeah) - Joan Jett and the Blackhearts hits! The fans go wild!! These fans saw Tamika hand those little Irish girls some free t-shirts and, damnit, that was enough to win them over. A loyal bunch, these Irish. Tamika emerges from underneath the giant shamrock...she’s dressed in her in-ring best and she’s got the look of a warrior ready for competition on her face. She yells out, acknowledging the fans before moving ahead and making her way down the ramp...our view pulls out with a wide shot of Tamika heading to the ring surrounded by 70 thousand Irish people~

Belvedere: From Houston, Texas by way of London, Ontario Canada...standing 5’9 and weighing in at 145lbs...she is one half of the Cowgirls From Hell...she is Tamika Strader!!!

~Tamika reaches the ringside area and places a foot on the bottom step. She looks around, taking the entire spectacle in. Roach glares at her from inside the ring~

Smith: She goes it alone, Hood...just like she did last month inside The Great Illuminatus.

Hood: Yea, but this time there’s no surprise. This time her opponent, mother fuckin Roach is ready.

Smith: He’s about twice her size. But she’ll have the agility advantage.

Hood: Once Roach gets his hands on her he’s gonna dislodge all that fusion surgery that’s barely holding that bitch together. You watch.

~Belvedere has left the ring. Tamika hustles up the steps and enters through the ropes. The vat of Irish Stew separate the two competitors. The bell rings. They both look up at the Craze Title hanging overhead...able to see through the thick, green glass shamrock platform beneath it. Slowly, Tamika’s eyes find Roach. He looks down, feeling her gaze...his eyes meet hers. Roach steps forward, right next to the vat of Irish Stew~

Smith: I’m not gonna say it. I don’t want to breathe it into life.

Hood: Fine, I’ll say it. Somebody is going inside that fuckin stew.

Smith: Ugh

~Tamika approaches the Irish Stew. She gets a whiff and frowns. It doesn’t seem to be to her liking. Roach laughs. He takes his hand and dips it into the stew. Tamika leans back, winkling her nose and displaying a disgusted frown. Roach removes his hand and he throws a palm full of stew into his mouth. He chews and swallows, “Haha, delicious!!” he declares~

Smith: I guess Roach was hungry.

Hood: Hey man, when there’s a giant vat of Irish Stew in front of you...how are you gonna turn that down?

Smith: I don’t even know what’s in that. It’s all brown and mysterious looking.

Hood: It’s Irish Stew, bro! There’s some meat and potatoes and carrots, probably. It’s hearty and warm. It’s going to sustain Roach throughout this match.

~Roach calls timeout and signals for a microphone~

Roach: Give me a microphone!!!!

~Roach is handed a microphone, Tamika looks to be confused~

Roach: Calm down Tamika, our match will be starting soon. I thought I would show you something before we begin, everyone pay attention to the big screen.

Smith: What’s he doing ?

Hood: Who knows, but I like where it’s going!!!

~The screen pops on the outside of a cheap motel is seen. A dark haired women is seen walking up to a room door and knocking. Seconds pass before the door opens and it’s Roach with a smile on his face as he invites the women, the screen cuts out~

Roach: Did that someone look like someone familiar???

Smith: That’s wasn’t her sister Meghan, was it???

Hood: Knowing Roach it more than likely was.

Smith: I don’t think it was, Hood. We never saw her face. I think he’s trying to get into Tamika’s head!

~Tamika looks disgusted and confused, Roach laughs~

Roach: We may start the match now!!!

~Tamika shakes her head. She finds the entire display disgusting as Roach laughs and dips his hand back into the stew for seconds. He pulls his hand out and slings the stew into Tamika’s face!!! The fans BOO!! Tamika stumbles back, holding her eyes, dropping to one knee, yelling in pain. Roach laughs and hurries around the vat~

Smith: HEY!

Hood: Ahaha!! Roach is the man!

Smith: I’d say that’s unfair but...I don’t really know what the rules are in this other than the overall objective.

Hood: Dude, they wouldn’t put a giant vat of Irish Stew in the center of the ring if you couldn’t sling it at people.

~Roach clubs Tamika in the back of the head with a forearm, sending the Strader family member into the mat, face first. Roach stomps on her...the booing continues. He grabs a handful of Tamika’s hair and rips her to her feet, slinging her back into the ropes. Roach charges forward and he clotheslines Tamika over the top rope and to the floor, she catches the apron on her way down!! She lands and instantly reaches for her back, wincing in pain~

Smith: Not fair...not fair...NOT FAIR

Hood: Bitch, Bitch, BITCH

Smith: He picked this match and he knew exactly what he was gonna do.

Hood: So? Don’t you think Tamika should have, maybe, been a little aware that the stew could get thrown in her face?

Smith: That’d mean she thinks like Roach...a fact I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

~Roach steps through the ropes and hops to the floor. He pulls Tamika up and kicks her into the gut. Her eyes are coated with the thick, drying base of that Irish Stew. She kinda looks like a raccoon. Roach pulls her in for a piledriver or powerbomb...he hooks her by the waits indicating that, yea, it’s gonna be a piledriver...onto the floor~

Smith: NO! Her neck!

Hood: Do it! One less Strader we have to worry about. We got too many as it is.

~He lifts her up...but she kicks her leg back and catches Roach in the nose with her heel!! Roach stumbles back, losing his grip. Tamika lands on her knees and she reaches up with a LOW BLOW!!! Roach drops to one knee. Tamika looks him in the eye...Roach’s eyes bent with pain, Tamika’s eyes stained with stew. She spits in his face, pops to her feet and plants him with a DDT on the outside!! The fans go wild~

Smith: Whew...alright! I have to admit, I get concerned whenever the elder Straders step into the ring for these super events.

Hood: If they’re that fuckin fragile then maybe they should hang up the boots and pick up an apron.

Smith: That’s sexist talk

Hood: Classic OCW, Baby!

~Tamika returns to her feet and walks up the steps. She grabs onto the monkey bars connecting to the ring post and pulls herself up. Roach sits up, holding his head. He sees Tamika on the monkey bars and knows he needs to move. He turns and reaches under the ring, snaring a steel chair. Tamika gets to her feet and starts to walk from rung to rung, slowly so she doesn’t lose her balance. Roach rolls into the ring and gets to his feet...he stands underneath Tamika. Tamika looks down, unsure. She doesn’t know what he’s going to do, therefore doesn’t know what she should do. Roach reaches up and he SMACKS the steel with the chair!!! The reverberations throw Tamika off balance. He does this again and again until Tamika loses her balance and falls off...Roach catches her over his shoulder and he dives to the mat, drilling her into the canvas with a POWERSLAM!!! The fans boo!!~

Smith: Tremendous strategy and move by Roach. He may seem like a, well, just a big jock. But he’s smarter than people think.

Hood: Uh, I think you’re the only person who’s ever alluded to him being dumb. Way to passively push that narrative, ya jerk.

Smith: I’m not trying to push any narratives!

~We get a split screen showing a local Irish Pub. Inside is Meghan Strader, seated at the bar being left alone. She’s enjoying a stout beer with Luck of the Violent playing in the background. She’s keeping an eye on it but, for the most part, is just enjoying herself~

Smith: It looks like the other half of CFH is at a pub rather than at the event. Strange.

Hood: She can’t hold her little sister’s hand forever, Smith.

Smith: That’s true but what if Tamika needs help? It’s not like Roach is the nicest guy in the world.

Hood: First you called him dumb and now you’re calling him an asshole. Way to just smear his name through the mud.

~Roach returns to his feet and he drops the chair on the mat. He pulls Tamika up, she reaches for her back, wincing in pain. He knees her in the gut, doubling Tamika over. He hooks her for a piledriver! He stands over the chair. Again, the fans yell and scream, pleading with Roach not to do this...but the big guy doesn’t care. He pulls her up...she kicks and fights to come back down. Roach yells out, “BITCH!” He pulls her up again...but this time she kicks off the mat, sending her all the way up, onto his shoulders. She immediately wraps her legs around his head and neck with a Triangle Choke!!! Roach stumbles around, gasping for air! The crowd goes wild. Roach drops to one knee as Tamika reaches for the back of his head to really apply the pressure~

Smith: He was trying to cripple her, again!

Hood: Dude’s going for broke.

Smith: Thankfully, she managed to turn it into a choke hold.

~Roach yells out and fights through...he reaches his feet and he SLAMS her into the mat with a modified powerbomb!!! Tamika flattens out, on the mat. Roach is on both knees, rubbing his throat and coughing. The crowd has been momentarily stifled. Roach returns to his feet and he heads for a corner where he jumps up and grabs onto the monkey bars, showing tremendous strength in his arms to pull up and get atop the apparatus. Once on his feet, he looks ahead at the long, treacherous walk toward the shamrock platform over the stew and beneath the Craze Title~

Smith: Well, now Roach has a chance to retrieve that belt.

Hood: Let’s go! Can’t believe Roach has never held gold in OCW.

Smith: Lots of great wrestlers haven’t, Hood. It’s very hard to win a title here.

~Roach makes his way across the monkey bars, on foot. He’s showing great balance for a man of his size. He gets halfway before Tamika returns to her feet. She looks overhead and sees Roach walking over her. She grabs the steel chair and backs up before thrusting it up, through the monkey bars, creating something of a barrier between Roach and the platform. Roach kicks at it. He tries to step over it, but when he does she just shoves it higher in the air. Roach yells down at her, “MOVE!” But, she’s stubborn. He finally reaches down, grabbing the top of the chair to pull it out of her hands and through the bars...but Tamika falls to the mat, holding the chair and, in doing so, pulls Roach down where he slams front first atop the bars!!! The fans go wild!!! Roach is laid out, front first atop the monkey bars as Tamika hits the mat and lets go of the chair~

Smith: Smart move by Tamika. Doing what she can to stay in this match.

Hood: Oh, so when she does something it’s smart. When Roach does something it’s like being surprised that a dog can lick its own ass.

Smith: I never said anything remotely close to that!

~Tamika heads back for another corner, pulling herself up and over the bars. She sees Roach laid out. She makes her way across the bars, crawling, toward the platform. The fans cheer and urge her on. She nears the platform. We look at Roach, he spits some blood out from atop the bars, onto the mat. He slowly looks up and sees Tamika nearing the glass shamrock platform. He pushes himself up and heads that way. Tamika hurries, trying to get there before Roach. She does! She gets to one knee before standing and reaching up for the belt...but, Roach reaches the platform...she can’t get the belt down in time...so, she kicks at Roach’s head~

Smith: And they’ve both reached the center of the match...a thick, glass Shamrock platform underneath the Craze Title and OVER the hot pot of Irish Stew.

Hood: I mean, I already know the answer...but why did the platform have to be glass?

Smith: As you said, you know the answer.

Hood: Chekhov’s Glass

~Tamika throws another kick at Roach’s face, but he grabs her leg and sweeps the other. She slips and falls, her back slamming into the glass platform, hard. The fans wince. Roach gets to his feet, slowly as Tamika rolls onto her side. He reaches up, his hands easily grabbing the Craze Title. The fans chant “TAMIKA! TAMIKA!” She fights through her pain, knowing she’s got to hurry. She reaches her feet, Roach rips at the strap and removes the belt, bringing it into his possession!!! Tamika boots him in the gut! He doubles over, dropping the belt onto the platform. Tamika hooks Roach for a DDT~

Smith: Roach pulled the belt down but now he’s lost possession! Tamika is looking to DDT him into that glass platform.

Hood: Ah shit.

Smith: If she can pull this off, she’ll win the match, I’d think!

~Roach shoves Tamika around and hooks her for an Atomic Drop!! He lifts her up, but she grabs him by the head, kicks her feet, goes all the way over and comes down, dropping Roach on top of the glass platform with BITCH ON THE RUN (Acid Drop)!!!! The crowd goes wild!!! The momentum and impact of the move SHATTERS the glass platform!!! The crowd gasps!!! Roach falls, his back slamming on the side of the Irish Stew pot, sending him careening forward onto the mat. Tamika’s midsection bashes into the side of the Irish Stew pot, sending her snapping backward onto the mat. The rest of the glass and, most importantly, Craze Title fall INTO the Stew!!! The fans chant “HOLY SHIT!” with both competitors down and the belt immersed in think, boiling hot stew~

Smith: Dang it!

Hood: Haha, if you didn’t see that coming then you haven’t been paying attention.

Smith: Now how do they get that out?

Hood: Hope they’re hungry.

~Both competitors are down. Roach winces, holding his back. Tamika rolls around, clutching her midsection. We get a few replays of the move...tremendous elevation and athleticism by Tamika to pull off an Acid Drop atop that platform. Might have won her the match under literally any other circumstances. But, all it did was complicate matters in this one. She crawls toward the ropes, pulling herself up, holding onto her stomach. She looks for the title...soon, she realizes what’s happened. She smacks herself on the forehead~

Smith: Well, she now realizes the predicament she’s in.

Hood: Do we have any giant ladles out there?

Smith: I don’t think so, Hood.

Hood: Where’s that witch from Hansel and Gretel when you need her.

~Tamika limps over to the stew and she looks down into the pot. It’s smoldering...its steamy, its smelly, and it’s impossibly opaque. She extends her hand and touches the stew, pulling back quickly, shaking it. Too much heat. Her breathing picks up...she’s a few seconds of heat induced pain away from becoming the Craze Champion. So, she raises her arm up and gets set to drive it through the stew, searching for the title. But, before she can, Roach rises behind her!! He hooks her in a Full Nelson, hoists her up and SLAMS her into the mat with a Full Nelson Slam!!! Tamika lands hard, rolling around, holding the back of her head. Roach drops to one knee, showing the effects of what he’s endured...but, he fights through, returning to his feet and heading for the stew~

Smith: And now Roach is moments away from capturing gold for the first time in his OCW career.

Hood: Dig in there, big guy.

Smith: I don’t think he’ll have a problem doing that, Hood.

~Roach stands over the stew...he’s far less concerned than Tamika was. He reaches in and throws some in his mouth, chewing it before swallowing it down while contemplating his options. Does he dive head first? Does he sift through using his hands? Wait, it appears he’s got an idea...he bends over and puts his hands on the pot and he pushes forward, trying to dump the stew out all over the mat. He grunts and pushes...the giant vat of stew shakes, but it doesn’t move much. Turns out stew is very heavy when there’s that much of it inside a giant vat. Tamika returns to her feet...she’s on the apron, having rolled there. She jumps up and leaps off the top rope, slamming both feet into Roach with a front dropkick!!! Roach falls to the side, tumbling near the ropes. Tamika lands on her back, hard. She remains down for a minute~

Smith: Roach was trying to dump the stew out but I don’t think he was strong enough.

Hood: Oh, so now you’re saying he’s weak. You really have it in for the guy.

Smith: I do not!

~Roach finds the apron. He pulls himself up using the ropes, standing on the apron. He looks inside the ring. Tamika returns to her feet, staring back at him...both wrestlers wait for the other to do something. Tamika charges...Roach braces. Tamika leaps up and wraps her legs around Roach...she spins him around and tries to throw him with a hurricanrana off the apron...but Roach holds on and both wrestlers fly off the apron and CRASH outside!! The fans go wild over the violence!!! They’re down. Inside the ring, we see the Irish Stew begin to stir~

Smith: What a spectacular crash...I hope both are okay.

Hood: The stew is moving, Smith. IT’S ALIVE

Smith: That’s impossible!

~Slowly, the Craze Title begins to emerge from within. Someone is inside the stew, holding it...soon, it’s revealed to be TONY THE SPIDER!! Why is he in the stew? How is he not burned to death? CLASSIC OCW, BABY! Tony throws the title out of the stew to a huge ‘TONY!’ chant. He laughs before going back into the stew, slowly, leaving his right arm extended with a thumb up as it slowly vanishes back inside the steaming, brown liquid~

Smith: Well, there’s that.

Hood: I didn’t know Tony was sent from the future to kill someone.

Smith: Huh?

Hood: Sorry, was getting T2 vibes.

Smith: I hate that I can’t completely dismiss that insane comment. We have a Portal Potty, afterall.

Hood: Yes we do, Smith.

~Roach gets up first, crawling for the apron and pulling himself to his feet. He looks into the ring and sees it...he sees the Craze Title! His eyes widen. He moves to get into the ring, but Tamika dives at his feet, grabbing on. He tries to shake her, but she’s unrelenting. Roach turns around, grabbing Tamika by the hair. He pulls her up and knees her in the gut...he then hoists her up for a powerbomb...but she reaches up from his shoulders and grabs the top rope, hopping off of Roach and onto the apron. Roach spins around...he panics, she’s close to winning. Tamika tries to hop into the ring over the top rope, but Roach grabs onto her leg~

Smith: It’s a race, Hood. A race to the belt!

Hood: Seems like Vee went through this exact scenario in January.

Smith: Maybe that’s how you attain your first big win in OCW these days.

Hood: I miss the days where you earned that first big title win by shanking people. People these days are TOO DAMN SOFT

~Tamika turns sideways on the apron, facing Roach...she blasts him in the face with a kick using her free foot. He stumbles back, losing his grip. She steps through the ropes...the fans go wild. She heads for the title, but Roach dives under the bottom rope, corralling both her feet and tripping her up, she falls front first on the mat. Her hands desperately reach for the belt, but Roach pulls her back out of the ring as she slaps and digs at the mat to keep from exiting. He pulls her from the mat and slings her, violently against the barricade. She hits hard. He measures her up and runs forward with a clothesline to send her into the crowd...but she ducks and she runs forward...she jumps up, she springboards off the apron and performs a moonsault!!! Roach turns around and catches her!!! The fans yell and scream...he’s got her in position for a tombstone on the outside~

Smith: No! Not a tombstone!

Hood: Send her to her literal grave!

~Tamika, out of desperation, grabs onto Roach’s balls!!! He stumbles back, letting her go. She drops to the ground, harmlessly. She pops back to her feet, staring at Roach, hair covering most of her face. Roach, holding his dick, stares back at her, “YOU FUCKING BITCH!” He goes after Tamika...she runs at him, but tucks and rolls under his legs!! She pops to her feet and runs up the steps, hopping onto the monkey bars. Roach spins around, he looks up and yells ‘NO!’ he turns and dives into the ring~

Smith: It’s a dead heat at this point. I have no idea who’s going to get that belt.

Hood: C’mon, Roach!! Grab it!

~Roach crawls for the title...Tamika leaps off the monkey bars with a double foot stomp onto his back!!! He rolls over, holding his back, the title inches from him. Tamika rolls forward after executing the move, into the corner...facing the buckles, she sees how close Roach is...she pops to her feet and runs forward, but Roach dives in, intercepting her!!! He pulls her up, into the air...she tries to break free...he turns around and has her in position for a Spinebuster into the stew...but Tamika grabs him by the head and cuts off his air supply...he weakens, he staggers and she pulls back and drops him with a DDT onto the Craze Title!!!! The fans go wild!!! Roach tumbles forward, on his back. Tamika scrambles, feeling around...her hands find the title and she grabs it!! The crowd goes wild! The bell rings~

Belvedere: Here is your winner...AND NEW CRAZE CHAMPION...TAMIKA STRADER!!!!!

Smith: She did it! Yes!

Hood: Ugh, I’m gonna be sick.

Smith: It’s not that bad.

~Tamika exits the ring, holding her newly acquired belt as Roach remains down, stunned and bewildered after taking a header onto the Craze Title. The fans go wild, cheering for Tamika~

Smith: Tamika Strader has done it! She’s captured the Craze Title...and, once again, Roach comes up short.

Hood: Life just ain’t fair.

Smith: He’ll get there. He’s too good not to. But, for the time being, it’ll have to wait as Tamika will leave Dublin with gold.

~We cut to the Temple Bar. Gruff is still having drinks, enjoying his late afternoon/early evening. Kelson is gone, probably back at the arena. Suddenly, Brett Daniels emerges~

Brett Daniels: I’m here for the Bar Room Battle Royal.

~Everybody stops and stares at him. Gruff leans back, seated on his stool~

Gruff: You’re late!

Brett Daniels: Sorry, I showed up at some fuckin bar down the road and they looked at me like I was crazy. So, I cut a promo and, well, they told me I was in the wrong place.

Gruff: Damnit, Brett. We coulda used you like an hour ago!

Brett Daniels: The hell you want me to do about it? These roads are fucked.

Gruff: Well, too late now. Kelson’s already won the damn thing. Come on up here and have a beer with Gruff.

Brett Daniels: I won’t turn that down.

~Brett walks up to the bar and yells~

Brett Daniels: I’ll take a Budweiser!

~All the Irish people stop and stare. We cut back to Smith and Hood~

Smith: Brett Daniels showed up at the wrong bar and was late!

Hood: Well that sucks...but at least he had the balls to show up.

Smith: Indeed. And he got a free trip to Dublin.

Hood: And I’m sure OCW is going to pick up that bar tab of his...assuming he can stomach something other than Budweiser.

~‘Whatever It Takes’ by Imagine Dragons blasts throughout the stadium as most of the crowd starts to boo. A few spots in the crowd you can hear people chanting ‘We Are Worthy’ but most just cuss at Zag as he walks out onto the entrance ramp. He carries a microphone in his right hand, ready to speak and he does so~

PerZag: You people are soooooooooo lucky. Soooo lucky that you are finally getting a dose of WORTHINESS that this night has just lacked. Lacklustre matches, boring promos, talentless wrestlers, nothing has been on par tonight………….until now.

~The crowd boos louder as PerZag strides towards the ring with a smug smile on his face. He knows he’s set them off and he’s loving it~

PerZag: This is the best moment of every show. Whether I show off my in-ring ability that nobody can even get close to or I use my most amazing verbal skills to bring you some entertainment, the show never gets WORTHIER than now.

~The crowd continues to boo as PerZag walks up the steps, shaking his head~

PerZag: I cannot understand you people. I am here to make the show better and now you are going to see all these fantastic matches because I have given them something to strive for. Everybody wants to be the best here, but no one else will ever be the WORTHIEST. That title will forever belong to me.

~PerZag steps through the ropes and starts circling the ring as the crowd still won’t stop booing, clearly not happy with PerZag’s actions as of late~

PerZag: You all should be disgusted. You finally have somebody WORTHwhile in front of you and you boo them. You all know how good I am in this ring; on this mic, but you all still think of me as a second class citizen. There’s no respect coming my way, and you can tell. Why? Because I am here, at a pay per view, not fighting.

~PerZag pauses as the boos continue~

PerZag: You all should be booing Mike Zybala or Marcus Welsh. Your owners decided to leave their best athlete off of this card. And no, having an opportunity at a Savage title shot is not good enough. Where’s my one-on-one? Where’s my match of the ages? I shouldn’t be surprised. This roster is so scared of facing me that Plethora doesn’t even want to fight me. A bunch of pathetic, UNWORTHY, losers.

~A member of the crowd shouts out to PerZag ‘you’re trash!!’ and throws an empty can of beer into the ring. PerZag shakes his head, disgusted~

PerZag: You people are just pathetic. You cheer those that are in it for themselves. Zybala, Alice, Thomas, it doesn’t matter what ‘good guy’ it is, they only care about themselves. I am here to help people. I am here to help those that are being sidelined; that are being rejected opportunities and turning them into legends. Into the WORTHY. Into PURE WORTH!

~PerZag turns around to the entrance way~

PerZag: I know everybody is watching in the back right now. You are all scared of me; of us. Of the not-so-distant future. You have all seen what we are capable of and that we are afraid of nobody. Kelson Hewitt; Dylan Thomas; Alice Knight; CJ O’Donnell; that is just the tip of the iceberg of what is to come. You have no idea the distance we will go.

~PerZag points down towards the entrance way~

PerZag: Nathan; Jonathan; I want you boys to come on down to this ring right now because I have something to say.

~PerZag waits as the crowd gets into their booing frenzy again as Nathan and Jonathan Dravers walk out from the back and make their way down to the ring to no music. They both look a little bit puzzled at PerZag, but PerZag just motions for them to get into the ring. They enter as PerZag fishes something out of his pocket~

PerZag: You boys, I mean men, know that I have the utmost respect for the two of you. You two have listened to every bit of knowledge I have sent your way. You took every opportunity I asked of you; and now look at us. We’re the talk of the world. Our actions are having very drastic reactions within this company. Everybody in the back is afraid. Afraid to be against us; afraid to join us. And that is thanks to the both of you.

~PerZag lifts two pure gold medals out of his pocket. They are round gold medals with the words PURE WORTH engraved on it~

PerZag: I told you boys to PROVE YOUR WORTH weeks ago and every week you did just that. From destroying Gilbert and the Viagra Boys in less than a minute; to man-handling Kelson Hewitt and Dylan Thomas; to destroying Alice Knight and CJ O’Donnell, you proved it. And I want to officially give you these two pure gold medals, that I paid a fortune for, to show you that you have reached the highest level. You boys are PURE WORTH.

~PerZag hands his microphone over to The Dravers’ as he starts fiddling with the ribbons of the medals, getting them ready to place over The Dravers’ necks~

Nathan: Thank-you PerZag.

Jonathan: We won’t let you down.

???: Wait, wait, wait, wait! Enough of this bullshit!

~Suddenly Dylan Thomas and Kelson Hewitt enter through the curtain, much to the crowd’s delight~

Dylan: ENOUGH of this Pure Worth Movement Bullshit! You only started this crap a few weeks ago, but already, everyone is sick of it! I mean, who do you three think you are? Charles Manson and his following, reborn?! Cults, boys, really aren’t in fashion anymore. PerZag…what the fuck do you think you’re doing?

~PerZag turns around to the rampway in anger while the twins are already at the ropes begging Dylan and Kelson to try another go~

Dylan: You two…

~He points to the twins~

Dylan: Shut the fuck up. The adults are talking.

~Dylan turns his head back to address PerZag, who has now walked to the ropes, joining Nathan and Jonathan. He looks pissed~

Dylan: Now…. PerZag. Remember that when we were in GCWA together, we were on the cusp of having the Worthiest of Them All join the A-List….and then GCWA closed its doors, never to be open again. PerZag and the A-List…what a force that could have been! But… As you know, Zag…times change. People change. And in those two and a half years since GCWA’s closure, I’ve changed. A lot. But whereas I like to think that I’ve changed for the better, PerZag, with those two at your side, bro…you’ve definitely had a downgrade. But what is….

~Dylan points at PerZag and the twins, feigning confusion~

Dylan: ….This? You’re rewarding your two stooges despite the fact that they FAILED to beat Alice and CJ last week. Because, I gotta tell you, I saw them together in the back, and they seem…perfectly fine. If you know what I mean. You FAILED to finish the job on Kelson and myself two weeks ago because as you can see - we’re still standing. So, Kelson… do you understand any of this?! Because I fucking don’t.

~Dylan looks over at Kelson, who is about to speak, but PerZag jumps in before he can~

PerZag: NO! No, Kelson, you don’t get the chance to talk. This is MY time. This is OUR time. This moment right here is for those that are WORTHY, not for you despicable human beings. Not for the UNWORTHY. Remember Kelson, you had the choice; you don’t get another one. And Dylan, how far the apple has fallen? So much potential, too much and here it is in front of me, all ruined. It’s just pathetic. You know what, if you two are really here to ruin this moment of ours then why not bring your asses down here.

~PerZag and The Dravers Twins step back in the ring and PerZag drags his foot across the mat, displaying a line in the sand. Dylan Thomas and Kelson Hewitt look at each other and Dylan smiles. He turns to Kelson and then back to PerZag, both Dylan and Kelson look apprehensive~

Dylan: Oof. The three of you……versus only the two of us? I mean it’s a pretty big deal… I don’t know if we can handle it.

~Dylan flashes his usual sarcastic smirk towards PerZag~

Dylan: Hm… yeah. Alright.

~Dylan drops the microphone with a shrug of his shoulders and Dylan and Kelson march headstrong down to the ring. The twins instinctively climb out of the ring to meet Dylan and Kelson. The four men walk towards each other, with PerZag barking orders the entire time from inside the ring and the OCW Faithful getting louder. Dylan is opposite Jonathan, Kelson opposite Nathan and the twins say how Dylan and Kelson ruined their night. Kelson and Dylan look at one another and Dylan grabs Jonathan out of nowhere, getting him on his shoulders locking eyes with PerZag the entire time. He then drops Jonathan with the Perfect Finisher! Before Nathan can save his brother, Kelson Hewitt has delivered a shotgun dropkick!!!~

~It’s now PerZag, Dylan and Kelson. Dylan locking eyes with PerZag like a hawk eyeing a field mouse. Dylan and Kelson climb into the ring much to PerZag’s protests! The moment they step into the ring, PerZag charges at them attempting a double clothesline, but Dylan and Kelson duck. PerZag hits the ropes and turns around straight into a double superkick by Dylan and Kelson. PerZag tumbles through the ropes to the outside, dropping the medals he was holding in the ring behind him~

~PerZag hits the ground as Nathan is trying to help Jonathan to his feet. PerZag struggles to his feet and as he gets up, he looks up towards the ring. In the ring, Dylan and Kelson stare down at the gold medals, PerZag noticing it. PerZag charges towards the ring to grab them but Kelson swoops in picking up the gold medals. He throws a medal over to Dylan as PerZag tries to get up into the ring, but The Dravers Twins stop him, pulling him back from the ring`

~Dylan looks down at PerZag, who is irate, and he motions throwing the gold medal into the crowd. PerZag screams at him as The Dravers Twins yell at him not to do it. Dylan smiles and then lobs the medal into the crowd as Kelson does the same thing on the other side. PerZag drops to his knees, perplexed, as he witnesses his thousands of dollars and The Dravers Twins gifts thrown to the common man. The Dravers Twins yell insults up at Dylan and Kelson but they notice PerZag, disoriented, and help him to his feet as the three men walk up the ramp whilst Dylan and Kelson play to the crowd, who are all in a happy frenzy~

~Dylan then retrieves another microphone from Belvedere~

Dylan: Hey, Zag! Those medals looked like they were made out of a fuckload of chocolate, bro! What were they? Bailey’s chocolate?! You’re lying to your two lap dogs already, I see! Watch out, Wonder Twins….. That’s all I’m saying.

~Dylan and Kelson laugh and the OCW Faithful pop at the mention of Bailey’s, what with it being highly popular alcohol, particularly in Ireland. Dylan then drops the microphone, staring a hole through PerZag and the Dravers Twins as we fade out~

Monday Night Massacre!
LIVE!  Every Monday ONLY at OCW!

Smith: What a night it’s been!

Hood: So we ready to get that flight of Guinness?

Smith: Why would we get a flight of Guinness? It’s all the same beer!

Hood: Because flights are fun and expedite the ‘getting drunk’ process.

Smith: I’m gonna pass, we’ve got some big matches to call.

Hood: Fine...WAITER...IRISH PERSON THAT LOOKS LOW INCOME AND SLIGHTLY BITTER...COME HITHER

Smith: Nope.

Hood: WHAT

Smith: You’re not getting one either. I need you coherent for the end of the show.

Hood: SON OF A WHORE

Smith: Relax. I’ve got some good news for you.

Hood: Oh?

Smith: It’s tag title action...The Danger Boiz are set to defend their tag titles!

Hood: I NEED A BOTTLE OF WHISKEY

Smith: Oh please. Fans, back at Access Denied The Danger Boiz returned to OCW in search of the only tag belts that have eluded them throughout their historic career. Standing in their way were the two time OCW Champions, The Dravers Boys.

Hood: Yes, back when they were Boys...before they became FUCKIN MEN

Smith: It was one of the greatest matches in OCW history. Two epic teams doing battle inside a steel cage...but, in the end, Dan and Chris prevailed, finally capturing the OCW Tag Titles.

Hood: Which caused The Dravers to snap. I mean, that’s only a natural reaction after losing to Dan and Chris.

Smith: Rude. Yes, The Dravers snapped shortly after their loss. However, that has no bearing on tonight’s match. Dan and Chris earned those belts and tonight they look to defend them for the first time as they face another pair of siblings in the form of Tim and Jack Lockwood...The Lockwood Party.

Hood: Yep, the most deserving contenders in the history of the tag belts. The Lockwoods earned this shot and it makes me proud to say such words.

Smith: Um, right. That’s one way to look at it. Another way to look at it would be Welsh trying to appease a very angry Bob Grenier by HANDING The Lockwoods this shot despite them doing everything in their power to prove that they DON’T belong in this spot.

Hood: Harsh

Smith: Alas, they are the #1 contenders and, tonight, much like Dan and Chris did back at Access Denied, Tim and Jack look to become OCW Tag Champions for the first time in their stories careers.

Hood: Let’s go!

Smith: It’s arguably the greatest tag team of all time against arguably the most notorious tag team of all time. It’s brothers taking on brothers. It’s for Tag Team supremacy. It’s The Danger Boiz. It’s The Lockwood Party. And, it’s next!

~We cut to the ring where the dapper Belvedere stands, looking very proud. The fans are singing some songs. It’s hard to tell because their collective accent is more-or-less gibberish. Belvedere clears his throat to a huge ovation~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen...the following contest is a Tag Team Match and it is for the OCW Tag Team Championship!!!

~HUGE ovation! Siblings in the crowd all high five because, well, OCW’s tag scene is nothing BUT siblings~

Belvedere: Introducing first, the challengers…

~"PUNCH IN THE FACE" BY FRENZAL RHOMB hits and the fans instantly BOO when they see Tim and Jack emerge from under the giant shamrock. Tim and Jack scoff and curse out the fans nearest them as they take stock of the 70,000 people locking arms in their hatred of the Lockwoods. In unison, the brothers make their way down the ramp and toward the ring~

Smith: The Lockwoods are, probably, the least popular act we’ve seen tonight.

Hood: ACT? This isn’t a fuckin play, man. These guys are warriors.

Smith: I didn’t really know what other noun to use. My bad.

Hood: I hope Plethora murders you.

~Tim and Jack near the ring. A fan leans over and yells, “YOU GUYS DON’T DESERVE THIS!” Jack slugs him in the face, knocking him out. Tim laughs. More BOOS from the fans~

Belvedere: The East Bay, California...at a total combined weight of 420lbs...Tim and Jack Lockwood...The Lockwood Party!

~The Lockwoods reach the ring. They hustle forward and slide in under the bottom rope before popping to their feet. The boos continue to shower them...a shower they take with pride~

Smith: These fans aren’t stupid. They know the Lockwoods are frauds. They know it should be The Dravers, as much as I hate to say that...or The Straders in there.

Hood: Too bad, so sad. Let’s go Lockwoods!

Belvedere: And, their opponents…

~The entire city of Dublin erupts in cheers as "Alive" by Corvyx! Dan and Chris emerge from under the giant Shamrock with the OCW Tag Titles around their waists! A ‘Danger Boiz!’ chant fills the air! If it wasn’t clear beforehand, it should be at this stage...the entire 70,000 fans in attendance are pulling for the champs~

Smith: What an ovation!

Hood: Biased as fuck. Just because the Lockwoods earned the tag title shot in a way that isn’t popular.

Smith: That’s just it, Hood. They didn’t EARN it and these fans KNOW it.

~Dan and Chris are fired up. The fans support filling them with energy. They sprint down the ramp toward the ring~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen, they are the OCW Tag Team Champions...they are legends throughout the pro wrestling world...arguably the greatest tag team of the past decade...Dangerous Dan and Crazy Chris...The Danger Boiz!!!

~Dan and Chris reach ringside and they dive into the ring. Belvedere shows cat-like quickness to exit before the action begins. Dan and Chris get to their feet...Jack and Tim aren’t waiting, they rush the champs. A brawl breaks out!! The fans go wild!! Scruff stands back, on his heels, trying to find order in this chaos. Dan and Chris have Tim and Jack leaning back against the ropes...together they whip the Lockwoods off the ropes...Tim and Jack sprint across the ring...they hit the ropes...Dan and Chris are in position. Tim and Jack grab onto the top rope, hold on and hit the mat, sliding out under the bottom rope. The fans BOOOO!!! Dan and Chris throw their arms into the air, frustrated~

Smith: Ugh

Hood: What’s that sound of disgust for, man? They were just supposed to run into a dropkick or a superkick or whatever? Fuck that. They’re smart. If they win this shit, it’ll be because they out-thought the Danger Boiz.

Smith: Still seems cowardly. Nothing about this screams “hey these guys deserve it”

Hood: I so fuckin hope they win so you and all these shitty fans can cry like the little bitches you are.

~Dan and Chris remove their tag titles, handing them to Scruff who hands them to Belvedere, outside the ring. Tim and Jack head to their corner...Dan and Chris do the same. It appears order has been restored...by THE LOCKWOODS of all people. Go figure. Chris remains in the ring with Dan finding the apron. Jack starts the match for The Lockwoods. The bell rings to a huge ovation from the fans~

Smith: And we’re officially underway!

Hood: Let’s go, Lockwoods! Fuck everybody’s Christmas up!

~Jack and Chris lock up in the center of the ring! Chris hooks Jack in a side headlock but Jack punches him in the ribs, breaking free. He holds onto Chris’ arm and pulls him in for a short arm clothesline….but Chris ducks and runs into the ropes...He springboards off the middle rope with a spinning Enziguri...but Jack ducks and rolls forward. Chris hits the mat and spins around. Jack pops back to his feet and hits the ropes, bouncing off and charging at Chris. Chris takes Jack over with an armdrag...but Jack flips over and lands on his feet. Chris hurries to his but he’s too late, Jack rushes forward and takes him down with a clothesline!!! Chris hits hard and the fans boo~

Smith: Fast start to this one...The Lockwoods take the early advantage.

Hood: All hail the Lockwoods!

Smith: It’s far from over, Hood.

~Chris tries to get to his feet but he’s met with a stomp into the chest, flattening him back out. Jack drops to one knee and punches Chris in his masked face several times, doing his best to subdue the angrier of the two Danger Boiz. Once finished, he gets to his feet and pulls Chris along with him. He leans Chris into the ropes and lifts a knee into his gut, crushing the wind out of his lungs. Jack whips Chris off the ropes...but Chris reverses!!! Jack hits the ropes…Chris doubles over, gasping for air. Jack charges forward, he sees Chris doubled over, grabs him by the head and slams him face first into the mat with an X-Factor!!! Chris hits hard, flipping onto his back and covering his face in pain. Jack sits up and arrogantly wipes his hands against each other…more booing from the fans~

Smith: Chris tried to fight back but he couldn’t breathe after that knee into the midsection.

Hood: Man, he’s already tired. I’m telling you, those masks are dumb. Guys can’t breathe out of them!

Smith: It’s got a mouth hole, Hood. You can see his lips.

Hood: Oh, so you like staring at Crazy Chris’ lips, do ya?

Smith: That’s NOT what I said.

~Jack returns to his feet and he heads over, tagging Tim into the match. Chris rolls onto his side, trying to get to his feet...Jack rushes over, kicking him in the chest, flattening him back out. Tim hops onto the second buckle, after entering the ring. He jumps off and drives both feet into Chris’ midsection with a double foot stomp!!! Tim tucks and rolls after the move, coming to a stop right in front of Dan...he rises, talking shit to the other half of the tag champions. Dan starts to enter the ring, but stops...he knows what problems that could cause his brother. Tim shoots him the middle finger before going back after Chris. Jack is on the apron~

Smith: Dangerous Dan showing the experience that’s made him, along with Chris, tag legends. He knows entering that ring will distract Scruff, allowing the Lockwoods a window to double team his brother.

Hood: Fuckin lame.

Smith: That’s why they are the best in the business, Hood.

Hood: Death, taxes, and referees acting incompetent during tag matches

~Tim turns around, heading back for Chris, who is on one knee, holding his midsection. Chris fires up at Tim with a punch into the gut. Tim laughs and headbutts the shit out of Chris...Chris falls to the mat, dazed. Tim looks up and smiles...a little blood beginning to leak from his forehead...the skull on skull contact was sick. Stands over Chris and stomps on him...he stomps on his hand...then his arm...then his head...Chris rolls away, trying to find protection. He finally does, on the apron, after rolling under the bottom rope. He lays there, holding his body, impacted by the precise and painful kicks from Tim~

Smith: Tim never took much to the in-ring aspect of this sport. But, he knows how to fight.

Hood: He’s like Mack O’Connor if, ya know, Mack O’Connor never won anything of significance.

Smith: And, if Mack could stay out of jail.

Hood: Too soon, Smith. TOO SOON.

~Tim reaches through the ropes, pulling Chris to his feet on the apron. Chris immediately dives through the ropes with a shoulder into Tim’s midsection. Tim stumbles back. Chris leaps up and springboards off the top rope, diving over Tim and taking him over with a sunset flip!! But Tim rolls through and reaches his feet...he runs forward and kicks the hell out of Chris, flattening him out from his seated position. More boos from the fans...which only increase when Tim drops to his knees and begins to choke Chris. Dan looks on, frustrated~

Smith: It’s been all Lockwoods so far. Tim is manhandling Chris right now.

Hood: You still think they don’t deserve to be here?

Smith: Yes. Nothing will change my mind. They did NOTHING to earn this.

Hood: Cry me a river, bitch!

~Tim ceases the choking after a DQ threat from Scruff. So, he pulls Chris up and whips him into his team’s corner...Chris hits hard. Tim marches forward and he tags Jack back into the match. Jack heads for the middle of the ring...Tim pulls Chris out of the corner and spins him around...he punches him in the face...Chris taggers back into an Enziguri into the back/side of the head!!! Chris drops to both knees. Jack takes off, he hits the ropes, he bounces off and he kicks Chris in the head again, this time with a Shining Wizard!!! Chris falls to his side. Jack makes the cover...Scruff dives in~

1!

2!

Kick Out!!!

Smith: Kick out by Chris! He’s hanging in there...but, barely.

Hood: I keep saying this...it’s the mask! These masked guys, man. They miss so much. How can they even see in there?

Smith: The masks aren’t a problem, Hood. You’re making too much out of it.

Hood: Oh yea? How many masked champions have we had?

Smith: Pryde?

Hood: Champions that count!

~Jack is back on his feet. Chris pushes up to all fours...Jack hits the ropes, he bounces off and he kicks Chris in the ribs, sending him over onto his back. Jack rises back to his feet and leans against the ropes, he looks over at Dan and blows him a kiss. He then runs forward and dives into the mat, tumbling over, to his feet before jumping up with ROLLING THUNDER...but Chris gets his knees up!!!! Jack’s back crashes into Chris’ knees!!! He falls to the side, holding his back in pain! The fans go wild!! Chris rolls over and locates Dan, across the ring...he starts to crawl toward his brother~

Smith: Chris got the knees up! If he can get Dan into the match then they’ll have the advantage!

Hood: Damnit, Lockwoods. You CANNOT let Dan get in there.

~Chris reaches the center of the ring. Dan’s got his arm stretched out, urging his brother on. Jack reaches his feet, holding his back. He hurries to his corner and he tags Tim into the match before dropping to the mat and rolling to the apron, resting. Tim enters and he rushes forward. Chris reaches out to tag Dan but he’s stopped via a kick to the back of the head. Tim follows that up by punching Dan in the face and knocking him off the apron, to the ground. The fans BOOOO. Tim doesn’t care. He pulls Chris up and whips him into the ropes...Chris bounces off and Tim punches him in the face, sending him collapsing to the mat like a pile of bricks~

Smith: It may not be pretty but it is effective.

Hood: Yes, like masturbating, as I like to say.

Smith: So I’ve heard...more than once.

~Tim heads over and he tags Jack back in. Jack hops onto the top rope. Tim pulls Chris up and punches him in the gut. He then hoists Chris up for a spinebuster...Tim’s back facing Jack. Jack leaps off the top rope with a clothesline, taking Chris over...Chris turns inside out, landing hard on the mat. Jack scrambles for the pin with Tim exiting the ring. Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

KICK OUT!

Smith: Chris showing some serious toughness in there. He’s basically fighting 2-on-1 until he can tag his brother in.

Hood: IF he tags his brother in. Dan might lose his precious Tag Title without ever stepping into the ring.

Smith: That’d be heartbreaking.

Hood: OR hilarious.

~Jack pops back to his feet. He stands in a neutral corner waiting for Chris to return to his feet. Chris does and Jack sprints forward, jumping into Chris with a dropkick!!! The impact sends Chris into the ropes. He leans halfway out, his arms holding on to keep him from tumbling to the outside. In the background, we see Dan return to his post on the apron, hoping for a tag. Jack threatens to punch Dan...Dan flinches. Jack laughs at him. Jack then grabs Chris and whips him across the ring...Chris hits the ropes, bounces off and Jack lifts him up for an ALABAMA SLAM!!! He brings him down, but Chris grabs Jack’s head and plants him into the mat with a DDT!!!! The fans go wild!!! Jack is face down on the mat!! Chris is on his back!!! Dan is fired up...he extends his arm and cheers his brother on!! Tim, from the apron, slaps the top buckle in frustration~

Smith: What a reversal by Crazy Chris!!

Hood: Son of a bitch! Damnit, Jack...stay focused, man!

~Chris sits up!! He crawls for Dan. Jack pushes up to his knees and shakes his head...he’s clearly unaware of the situation. Chris dives forward and HE TAGS DAN!!! The people of Dublin go wild!!! Dan leaps into the ring over the top rope. Jack is slow to his feet...he turns around, unsuspecting...he eats a forearm shot to the head, taking him to the mat. Jack rises to his feet quickly and, once again, he’s taking down by a forearm shot. This time, he rolls under the ropes onto the apron. He pulls himself up only to get shoulder tackled by Dan off the apron and into the guardrail!!! Jack this hard. Dan looks around...his feet stomping on the mat...he rushes into the ropes, he bounces off and he dives through the ropes, spearing into Jack with a suicide dive!!!! Jack’s body is wrecked into the barricade!!! Dan pops back to his feet, to at tremendous ovation as Jack crumbles to the ground. The fans chant ‘DAN! DAN! DAN!’~

Smith: Dan is on fire!

Hood: Quiet, you might channel Tommy Flamer.

Smith: Well, we certainly don’t want that.

~Dan pulls Jack back to his feet and whips him into the ring. He hops onto the apron and rushes to the nearest corner, hopping onto the top buckle. Jack is on his back, center of the ring. Dan’s about to lift off when Tim shakes the ropes, throwing off his balance. Dan turns toward Tim and he leaps off!! The fans gasp and hold their breath. Dan leaps from corner to corner with a dropkick into Tim!!! Tim’s body slams into the ring post before crashing down onto the steps, tumbling to the floor. Dan lands HARD on the apron, falling to the outside. The fans chant ‘HOLY SHIT!’ Jack remains on the mat, center of the ring with Chris resting on the apron...Dan and Tim wrecked outside the ring. Scruff looks around and begins a ten count~

Smith: Dan took a risk and I’m not sure it paid off.

Hood: Well, I mean he hurt Tim but pretty much wrecked himself in the process.

Smith: Meanwhile, Jack...the guy who is barely conscious is in the best position, at the moment, to win this match.

~Scruff yells ‘ONE!’ Not much happens. So, he yells “TWO!” again, not much is going on...so Scruff yells “THREE!” Our shot cuts outside where Dan is on his back, holding his shoulder from the impact on the apron. Tim remains down. Scruff yells “FOUR!” Dan slowly sits up, holding his shoulder. Scruff yells “FIVE!” Fans at ringside urge Dan on. Chris spots the OCWTron and sees what’s going on. Scruff yells “SIX!” Chris hops off the apron and heads around the ring. Scruff yells “SEVEN!” Dan pulls himself up, leaning over the apron. Scruff yells “EIGHT!’ Dan looks inside the ring, ready to slide in...Scruff yells “NINE!” Dan starts to enter...but Tim has his leg!!!! The fans at ringside scream!!! Scruff has all ten fingers extended and is about to yell out the final number!!! Chris runs in and kicks Tim Lockwood!! Tim breaks his count as Dan dives back into the ring just before the ten count!!! Fans breathe a sigh of relief. Jack, sitting up, looks at Scruff as if to say “You hesitated...THAT WAS TEN!” But Scruff has nothing for him~

Smith: Might be some debating over that. The final second sure did seem to take awhile.

Hood: The fix is in, Smith! Welsh may have given this match to appease Grenier but now he’s gonna fuck the Lockwoods over. He doesn’t want ANY OCW gold around the waist of Grenier OR the Lockwoods.

Smith: I don’t think Welsh operates that way, Hood.

Hood: Have you, like, not been watching OCW over the past 5 years?

~Jack returns to his feet, but so does Dan. Dan rushes at Jack with a clothesline, but Jack ducks and grabs Dan’s head as he passes by, hitting him with a neckbreaker!!! Dan grabs his neck, remaining on the mat. Jack returns to his feet...he hits the ropes, he rolls, he jumps up and he lands on Dan with ROLLING THUNDER!!! Jack goes for the pin, Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

KICK OUT!

Smith: Nearfall by the Lockwoods. This match has taken a sudden turn.

Hood: Yea, the heat from that HOT tag sure did die off pretty quick.

Smith: Indeed.

~Jack pops back to his feet. He stomps on Dan, keeping him down. He climbs the nearest corner...he turns his back to Dan and Jack falls off the top with a TRUST FALL!!! Dan moves!!! Jack’s body SLAMS into the canvas!!!! He arches his back, gasping for air...the impact, knocking the wind from his lungs. The fans go wild!!! Dan rolls toward his corner...Chris is back in position...Dan reaches up and tags his brother back into the match to a huge pop~

Smith: The Trust Fall went awry!

Hood: Only way you’d EVER catch me doing a trust fall would be into a swimming pool or on top of a bunch of naked ladies.

Smith: Would you catch me if I picked you for my trust fall guy?

Hood: Fuck no. I’d let you hit the ground...might even throw some thumb tacks down before you fell.

Smith: RUDE

~Chris hurries into the ring. Jack gets to his feet, holding his back. Chris lifts Jack up for a rock bottom but brings Jack’s back down across his knee!!! Jack hits the mat, arching his back in pain. Chris, back on his feet, hits the ropes and rushes forward, dropping an elbow across the throat of Jack Lockwood. Chris tries for the cover~

1!

2!

KICK OUT!

Smith: Gonna take more than that...I may not like them, but these Lockwoods are tough.

Hood: Ya think?

~Chris is back on his feet. He pulls Jack up and whips him into a corner. Jack hits hard...he drops to his knees, his back really hurting. Chris rushes forward and he dives in with double knees to the face of Jack, smashing him back into the corner. Jack falls to the mat, motionless. Chris storms around the ring, fired up. Tim, back on the apron, curses at him...Chris rushes forward and punches Tim, knocking him off the apron. Chris then goes back after Jack~

Smith: The Danger Boiz are on fire! Crazy Chris is really feeling it!

Hood: Feeling what? I mean, be more specific.

Smith: The emotion! The edge of victory!

~Chris pulls Jack up. He pauses, out of his peripheral, he sees Tim trying to enter the ring. Chris goes after Tim, shoving him back...Tim falls through the ropes, onto the apron, hitting the ground again. Chris goes back after Jack, but Jack has recovered enough to pop him with a roundhouse kick!!! Chris is wobbled. Jack turns around, near the ropes...but, as he does, he gets hit with THE ENDD IS NEAR by Dan!!!!! The fans go wild!!! Dan throws the kick from the apron. Jack stumbles back and Chris hits the mat, rolling him up...Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

3...NO!

SHOULDER UP!!!

Smith: Wow!! Unbelievable sequence there, The Danger Boiz nearly retained1

Hood: Unbelievable sequence? They nearly fucked the Lockwoods!

Smith: Not really, I mean Dan remained on the apron.

Hood: NOT REALLY? FOR FUCK’S SAKE

~Chris rushes back to his feet. Jack does the same. Chris reaches for Jack but Jack pops Chris in the jaw with a jawbreaker!!! Chris tumbles back and falls to the mat. He’s just short of his corner. Dan reaches out for the tag...but he can’t reach Chris. Jack, on the mat, crawls toward Tim who is ready to enter and whip some ass. Dan steps into the ring to get Chris in position for a tag. Scruff rushes over to get Dan back on the apron~

Smith: Scruff making sure nothing illegal is happening.

Hood: The fuck? Dan is cheating! DQ him!

Smith: That’s hardly worth a DQ, Hood.

Hood: Then why have any rules, huh?

~Jack tags Tim!!!! The fans are on their feet, trying to get Dan to get back on the apron so he can get in before Tim grabs Chris. Tim marches across the ring...Dan gets on the apron. Scruff turns around and sees Tim...he blocks him from reaching Chris and Dan. Tim is irate. “What the fuck are you doing?” Scruff motions that he didn’t see the tag...therefore it didn’t happen. Tim goes apoplectic. He loses his shit~

Smith: Oh, wow.

Hood: THEY’RE GETTING FUCKED

~Scruff pushes Tim back into his team’s corner. Tim threatens to hit Scruff...but Scruff warns a DQ will happen. Tim is like “YOU’RE FUCKING US!” Scruff motions for Tim to get on the apron so Jack can make a legal tag. Jack, meanwhile, is outside the ring, resting. Tim gets on the apron and yells at Jack to get back inside. Across the ring, Chris tags Dan...Scruff sees it and motions a tag has been made. Tim yells at Jack to hurry up. Jack rolls into the ring...as he does, he’s immediately stomped on by Dan. Tim reaches in to grab Dan, but Dan avoids his grasp and he pulls Jack into the center of the ring~

Smith: Dan’s got control!

Hood: This is such bullshit. A total fuckening.

Smith: I mean, it’s been some rough luck. But that happens sometimes.

Hood: You are fucking unbelievable.

~Dan pulls Jack to his feet. Jack tries to rake Dan across the face, but Dan blocks it and pushes Jack back...he hits him with THE ENDD IS NEAR!!! Jack’s out on his feet. Dan kicks Jack in the gut and he pulls him in...Tim reaches out, narrowly missing slapping Jack on the back. Dan drops Jack on his head with The ENDD of an Era (Dirty Deeds)!!!!! He flips Jack over...the fans count along. Scruff makes the count~

1!

2!

3!!!!!

~The bell rings~

Belvedere: Here are your winners...AND STILL OCW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS...THE DANGER BOIZ!!!!!

Smith: They did it!! The Danger Boiz have retained!

Hood: I don’t even know what to say. The Lockwoods got boned so hard.

Smith: There were some questionable oversights in that one that were, yes, regrettable. But, sometimes that happens.

Hood: Yes and it just so happened to happen to the team affiliated with the wrestler our GM hates the most. HOW CONVENIENT

~Tim enters the ring to go after Dan but, again, he’s stopped by Scruff. Tim balls up his fist, ready to hit Scruff in the face when he’s taken down via a forearm shot from the side by Chris!!! Tim hits the mat. He rolls out. Chris kicks at Jack, sending him rolling out of the ring. This just leaves The Danger Boiz in the ring...they are handed their tag titles, which they hold up in celebration~

Smith: There might be some controversy, sure. But, make no mistake about it...The Danger Boiz have retained and they look to be eager to remain Tag Champions for quite some time.

Hood: So pissed off. SO pissed.

Smith: Well, I’d relax if I were you. Still plenty of matches to come.

Hood: I hope Plethora gets his hands on you.

Smith: What was that?

Hood: Nothing!

~We catch up with BRIM and Byson who are located in one of the changing areas in the back. BRIM is wearing a pair of jean shorts, worn down boots with the tongues hanging over the laces. He sits on an equipment box while Byson paces back and forth~

Byson Kaliban: Are you sure that you want to go through with this? There's no shame in backing out now.

BRIM: Not likely.. After tonight, these fans and the rest of the world are going to learn to stop taking me lightly. Just because I don't say much, doesn't mean that I won't beat a muthafucker's ass.

~BRIM reaches over to his left side, reaching down into his gym bag. He struggles for a minute before pulling out a large fur cape. Byson is startled by the thud that it makes when BRIM sets it on the box.~

Byson Kaliban: I can't believe that you actually brought that thing. The least you could've done was gut it properly and cleaned it better than you did.

~Byson holds his nose, the stench from the dead carcass sends a foul smell floating through the air. BRIM shoots a glare in Byson's direction.

BRIM: Hey man, don't get mad at me because you've never ripped a panther in two.

~He reaches back into the bag, now pulling out a skull that's been modified to look like a crown and mask. Byson vomits in his own mouth a little before catching it. However BRIM lays no mind, now retrieving some athletic tape. Byson takes a deep gulp~

Byson Kaliban: I think I'm gonna go find Duce.. You.. you have fun preparing for your match.

~BRIM nods his head, continuing to wrap his hand while Byson walks off~

Smith: Oh ladies and gentlemen we have a meeting of giants!

Hood: Is that thing even going to hold them BOTH up?

~We pan around to the 40ft scaffold that has been constructed in the middle of the ring. The fans are a bloodthirsty bunch this evening, and Hood is as always.~

Hood: Well, there are some big matches tonight like Outcast defending against Chad Vargas but this one here is gonna get vicious!

Smith: Some might say “savage”. Get it?

Hood: … yes.

Belvedere: The Following is Scaffold Match to settle the true OCW Savage Champion! Weighing in at three hundred and eighty-five pound from Baltimore, Maryland…

~We cut back inside of the open-air arena that is Croke Park when a harmonious voice begins to sing in her native japanese language over the P.A. system~

"Aishiteyo, watashi wo daite yo ne, soba ni oideyo"
"Watashi no saigo no kioku ni kimi no ai wo nokoshitai"

~The fans look towards the stage area in anticipation for who's about to make his entrance. The bass of the song soon drops as the voice of Killer Mike blares through the speakers when he begins to rap his verse on “Kill Jill”. The lights inside of the park begin to flash different shades of green and red, while smoke begins to fill up the stage area. When it finally clears out, BRIM stands there menacingly looking out towards the crowd. Covering his shoulders is a homemade panther fur cloth that hangs like a cape from his back. On his head, a crown and mask set, crafted from the panther’s skull~

Hood: I’ve seen some crazy shit in my days but that by far is up there with top-fucked up things people do with their time.

Smith: I have to agree with you Hood, it seems that the panther BRIM decapitated while fighting Mike Zybala at Access Denied.. He’s now wearing as some sort of badge of honor?

Hood: He could’ve just hung the head on a wall like a normal person.

~The Irish fans are split on how they feel about BRIM’s getup but he seems careless, marching directly down the aisle, straight for the ring. BRIM looks around to the members of the crowd who are mixed in emotions towards the ‘Savage Champion’. With the Savage Championship clutched tightly in his right hand, BRIM pauses in the middle of the aisleway before raising his Savage Championship high into the air, garnering more cheers and jeers from the crowd.~

Belvedere: From Baltimore, Maryland...standing 6’3 and weighing in at 385lbs...he is the OCW Savage Champion...he is...BRIM!!!!

~The Irish fans continue to display their emotion which doesn’t move BRIM in the least as he’s focused on the task at hand. Throwing the Savage Championship over his shoulder, BRIM continues towards the ring where he soons makes it to ringside. He heads towards the ladder that leads up to the scaffold. Once there, he removes the cape and head gear, handing it, along with the Savage Championship to the ringside attendant. She is disgusted by the fur and skull, quickly dropping it to the ground before heading off with only the title. BRIM scoffs but looks up with concern~

Smith: BRIM looks mostly confident walking down to this match tonight.

Hood: Supreme Machine will too.

~BRIM stands there looking up at the structure, looking forward to the chance to silent the doubters that he is the true Savage Champion~

~The spoken intro of “Warheart” by Children of Bodom seeps from the PA system as the Arena goes completely black. The rapidfire drumming of the song and the intro riff hits the arena like a ten ton hammer and as the growling vocals by Alexi Laiho begin, some fog begins to form on the entranceway.~

“I'm an outcast on the path of rebound
Everything is frail, I desolate, crush, and burn
I have chosen darkness to be my guide
War is in my heart, death is by my side

Warheart! No remains from compassion or love
Warheart! Hate your fellow as yourself “

~Slowly, a figure can be seen walking into the fog, spreading its hands into a crucifix pose as a bright light backlits it.~ "I have chosen night to be my guide
When the daylight strikes, I hide in my trench and die
I'm the cold-blooded killer who'll fuck you up!

Warheart! No remains from compassion or love
Warheart! Hate your fellow as yourself

I'm the warheart, I'm dying to win the battle I live everyday
One for all and all for me I'm an animal better set me free”

~The shadow pulls its hands back, crossing em on its chest, causing a large pyro, which evaporates the fog, revealing The Supreme Machine standing there, his head held down and hands crossed across his chest his Savage championship in his grasp. As the lights begin to slowly return, SuMa glares around from beneath his hair, and begins to slowly walk towards the ring. As he reaches the ring, he slowly slides in from through the ropes, gets up in the middle of the ring and whips his head up in a rapid motion, revealing his masked face.~

Smith: You can feel the tension between these monsters, Hood. You are right to wonder if that thing will hold. It’s also a very special Scaffold Match!

Hood: What do you mean special?

Smith: Well since it is Savage Champion vs Savage Champion, it’s a two in one Scaffold Match with the goal being grab the flag for BRIM or Supreme Machine, taking it back to their specific ends, then they can throw one another off to the mat forty feet below. Can’t be vice versa. Need to plant that flag first.

~SuMa and BRIM come nose to nose before Scruff and Tuff break them apart and the battle almost starts on the floor and the fans boo at the officials for OCW. BRIM starts climbing up the left side of the Scaffold and SuMa does the same with the right side. Since it’s 2022 and have cool camera shit, the viewing audience at home sees it more like a Streetfighter fighting game, just missing the health bars, timer, and a versus symbol somewhere. BRIM climbs on to the left side of the screen on the sketchy contraption and he makes sure to check his area well. SuMa is up and ready on the right. He stands perfectly still, with eyes only for BRIM.~

Smith: The structure already looks like it’s straining!

Hood: Well, The Knifeman did put it together.

~DING DING DING~

~BRIM stares a hole over at SuMa as they both begin walking towards the middle of the ring, the tension tightening every step forward. BRIM says something inaudible and we see Supreme Machine as he swings up and comes down with a vicious knuckle smack across BRIM’s cheek bone. BRIM doesn’t hesitate and curves a right fist instead SuMa’s side, catching the monster by surprise as the scaffolding vibrates down into the ring. SuMa grabs what little hair BRIM has and goes to throw him lengthways down the scaffolding but the other big man sends a huge boot to the Machine's gut. ~

Smith: Showing to be equal ground in size even if Supreme Machine has 6 inches on him!

Hood: Really? 6 inches? Well don’t judge a book by its cover, huh?

~ While Smith tries to figure what he means, BRIM just gave SuMa a hiptoss causing the scaffold to shake but it’s not done shaking because BRIM flies through the air like a cannonball squashing a semi-risen SuMa and starts throwing lefts and rights down like he did slamming that jungle cat down on Mike Zybala at ACCESS DENIED.~

Smith: It’s safe to say, BRIM has taken control of this one!

Hood: That’s the Supreme Machine up there! This won’t last long!

~BRIM decides to be smart and end this sooner rather than later, so he goes to grab his flag but SuMa spins on his side sweeping his legs around to trip a returning BRIM causing the flag pole to fly out of his hand and teeter along the edge of the scaffold. SuMa is on his feet and rushes forward spearing BRIM. Staring at each other and both go for a forearm shot and both connect sending the other stumbling. SuMa charges forward with a clothesline, BRIM ducking under and kicking backwards with his right foot, SuMa spins around catching the foot. BRIM with a reverse enzuguri catching SuMa just over his right eye sending him the far corner railing of the scaffold. BRIM presses his advantage as SuMa from the corner missing a running forearm smash. BRIM spins out of the way of the forearm, but doesn't avoid SuMa's kick into his ribs bending him over in pain. SuMa presses his advantage with a forearm to the back of BRIM sending him down on one knee. BRIM sends a right fist into SuMa's midsection before shoving him back towards the center of the scaffold. SuMa tkes two steps back and pushes off his right leg with a running knee, but BRIM slams SuMa down onto the scaffold with a spinebuster that seems to shake the very foundation of the building but more importantly, the structure. BRIM with a leg drop onto SuMa has BRIM in firm control. BRIM pulls SuMa up, and he follows quickly with a elbow smash sending SuMa into his corner. SuMa gets up, a bit groggy, but turns to see BRIM flying at him with an axe handle smash. SuMa catches BRIM, tossing him into the floor of the scaffold with a release belly to belly suplex and the scaffolding rattles upon impact as BRIM’s huge frame bows out the poles of the scaffolding. SuMa stalks over, picking up the flag hanging off the scaffolding to use as a weapon. SuMa swings down as BRIM is on one knee, connecting with a solid thunk on his knee and laying him out on steel scaffolding where BRIM wasn’t bracing the strike. The fans are on their feet, not wanting to miss a minute of this action and SuMa is pulling BRIM back up to his feet.~

Smith: Supreme Machine showing his strength there as he threw BRIM into the scaffolding.

Hood: No one is doubting or has ever doubted Machines strength, but then again Oxes are strong, dumb as rocks, but strong.

~BRIM with a shot into SuMa's junk, doubling the big man over in pain as he holds himself, but BRIM doesn't stop. BRIM sends SuMa down with a swinging neckbreaker onto the steel floor and winces a bit as he gets up to his feet a second time. BRIM S\swings with the flagpole he took from SuMa. SuMa accepts the blow, but manages to somehow get up to his feet and meet BRIM with a look of determination on his face. Right from SuMa, right from BRIM! Right from SuMa! Right from BRIM!~

Hood: My GAWD it’s like two bull elephants fighting over mating rights!

Smith: It is two of the biggest men to ever step into a OCW arena going at it!

~Neither man has slowed down, they are both red and look sore, but neither man has stopped throwing fists into the other's face and head! BRIM with a left catches SuMa off guard, but only for a moment as SuMa returns the left fist with one of his own and now four fists are flying and four fists are connecting! The crowd are still on their feet cheering on their favorite in this duel of fists!~

Smith: Do you hear the sound of their fists striking flesh?!

Hood: It’s a blur of meathooks, or I have had too much whiskey.

~BRIM stumbles, but so does SuMa as these two appear to be very evenly matched here tonight! SuMa with a running charge, BRIM with a hip toss sends him over to crash into the steel and leave a dent where he slammed into it as well! SuMa rolls back over and somewhat up to his feet, BRIM with a running knee slams it right into SuMa's face but the big man wavers on his knees shaking his head and refusing to go down. BRIM nods and slams a second knee into SuMa's face before pulling him up and whipping him into the corner post. SuMa's forehead connects with a solid sound and he bounces back into a release German suplex that causes SuMa's skull to slam heavily onto the steel corner where SuMa’s flag stood high, BRIM’s magically still teetering out near the middle of the scaffold walkway.~

Smith: Someone check the floor, it may be dented!

Hood: BRIM in control here, but who can tell for how long?

~BRIM drops a knee onto SuMa's head before pulling him up and the back of SuMa's shirt is bloody as the steel split open wound on the back of his skull. SuMa stumbles forward, but BRIM helps him along with a running bulldog slamming SuMa face first onto the concrete. BRIM rolls SuMa over, slamming the back of his skull into the scaffolding trying to open the wound up even more, but SuMa shoves with a right hand and BRIM backs off somewhat out of surprise. BRIM pulls SuMa up to his feet, lifting him for a Gorilla Press Slam!~

Smith: Look at the feat of strength here!

Hood: I repeat my statement about the Ox.

~SuMa swings out his legs and BRIM drops SuMa. The big man rolls on through, much to the shock of everyone. SuMa up to his feet lunging at BRIM with a vicious big boot. BRIM ducks out of the way, SuMa spinning around with a back elbow catching BRIM right in the face sending him against the scaffold apron. SuMa with another big boot attempt, but BRIM once again ducks out of the way. BRIM turns around and SuMa launches himself clothesline, BRIM catches him!~

Smith: WOW!

~The momentum carries BRIM into the steel scaffolding, bending his back over the rail allowing the Supreme Machine to get out of danger. He uses the chance to grab his flag to BRIM’s corner. SuMa nails a big pair of rights to BRIM's face, and then shoves him back up against the guardrail. SuMa back up, sends a back elbow. BRIM drops to a knee, blinking his eyes repeatedly, and opens his mouth, squinting quick before pushing himself back to his feet.~

Hood: Look at his eyes! BRIM may have a concussion.

Smith: SuMa rushes in with a thrust KICK...NO!! BRIM CATCHES HIM!!

~BRIM takes a step forward, and then launches SuMa with a release capture suplex onto the scaffolding. BRIM drops back down to a knee, and then leans against the small guardrail in the corner and sees his own flag still teetering the ledge of the floor, somehow, so he makes the decision to go put it over in SuMa’s corner. Now both men at equal risk. Pulling himself to his feet almost immediately, he stalks towards a rising SuMa.~

Hood: So, they have their flags in their proper spots, now falling off would matter, right?

Smith: That is correct!

~BRIM walks over with a slight limp to SuMa, booting him in the side of the head. SuMa falls down to the floor, and then grabs the side of the scaffolding to steady himself, before pulling himself to his feet. BRIM points over the side of the scaffold and then grabs a handful of SuMa's hair, looking to drag him back up. They walk a few steps, and SuMa nails BRIM in the back of the hurt knee with a swift kick, sending the big man down to one. SuMa drives a few quick knees into the side of BRIM's head, and then brings him up to his feet, stepping a leg behind him and then connecting with an elbow to his chest as he simultaneously sweeps out his legs from beneath him.~

Smith: SuMa sends him right back down to the floor with a Vingativa!

~SuMa delivers pair of double forearm smash to the back, and then hits him with a stomp to his hurt knee. BRIM sits up, clutching at his knee, and SuMa nails him with a European uppercut, BRIM's face before falling to the floor. BRIM rolls over, clutching his head, and we see blood begin to pool on the scaffolding beneath him.~

Hood: And BRIM is busted wide open!

~SuMa brings BRIM up to his knees and then pounds away on the wound with jab after jab, forcing more blood out of it. SuMa boots BRIM in the face, sending the BRIM back down to the floor.~

Smith: BRIM has to get this done if he wants be the name to remember tonight

~SuMa takes a quick breather, dropping down to a knee as he clutches the back of his neck again. BRIM, his face almost completely covered with blood, crawls over to the guardrail, pulling himself up to a seated position. SuMa rises back to his feet, and then looks down the scaffold at a resting BRIM, taking a few steps forward.~

Smith: It looks like SuMa wants to bring this back to the middle of the scaffold.

~BRIM pulls himself to his feet, and then stumbles forward, falling over and rolling to a knee.~

Hood: It looks like BRIM may have taken a little too much damage already.

~SuMa signals he’s had enough and signals for the APEX ULTIMA!~

Smith: Supreme Machine is gonna end this now!

Hood: Is BRIM done?!

~No he is not, as SuMa goes with the move but BRIM twists out of it, kicking out and clipping the back of SuMa’s head causing both him and BRIM to fall off either side of the scaffold!~

Hood: Well for sure to be a winner now.

THUD!!!!!!

Smith: Who won?!

Hood: Imagine if they hit at the same time?

~Scruff and Tuff shrug in the ring and both point at the OCWTRON with the cameras filming. SuMa and BRIM begin to stir as the video shows that Suprem Machine was barely first, but first.~

~ DING DING DING ~

Belvedere: And your winner and only OCW Savage Champion...BRIM!!!!

Hood: Proud and Strong!

Smith: And BRIM does it! Wait, where did Supreme Machine go?

Hood: Wait, we really lost someone that big?

~BRIM is handed both belts as he celebrates at ringside toppling the man who put an asterisk beside his reign. No more.~

Smith: It came down to a matter of an inch. That was crazy.

~Victoria, Veronica, Vee, Ronnie, whoever the hell it may be sitting in a dark locker room by herself where the main area has been cleared, and she sits in a solo black steel chair between the walls of fancy locker stalls for major sports teams. Her brand new dark purple carbon material wrestling tights, white leather boots with purple laces, and a purple fitted wrestling tank top that connects to a collar around her neck. Her hair is pulled back tight into a braided ponytail. The door opens, letting in light.~

Hood: So… which one you think it is?

Smith: What?

Hood: You know. Think it’s the one riding our OCW Champion or the momma’s girl?

Smith: Well judging by their promo on Friday, either way, The Stranger is in one hell of a fight tonight and our Trans Atlantic Champion is in for one as well.

~Meghan Strader walks into the locker room but Vee doesn’t look up. She places a hand on her daughter’s shoulder.~

Meghan: Vee, Ronnie… it’s time girls. Go get your title back ok?

~The TransAtlantic Champion looks up at their mother.~

Vee: Ok, mom. Let’s do ths.

~Vee rips the end of the roll of tape from around her knuckles and heads out the locker room door.~

Smith: Well, looks like the champ is ready, Hood! And Pot of Gold is up next!

Hood: Make sure you describe the match stipulations again, I just remember hitting little people. Or are they midgets?

Smith: Let’s just go with leprechauns, okay?

Hood: Fine.

Smith: Well, Hood. It’s time for our penultimate match of the evening.

Hood: Penultimate. Does that mean that the pen is the ultimate utensil? Why do people keep using that word?

Smith: Second from the top, Hood. Second to last. PENULTIMATE.

Hood: I like my definition better.

Smith: Well, if you enjoy being ignorant and incorrect then go for it. Ahem, anyway...folks, up next is a match that’s been in the making for two months.

Hood: Which is a rarity around here. CLASSIC OCW, BABY

Smith: Back at Access Denied TLS defeated Erin Gordon earning himself a shot at the Craze OR TransAtlantic Championship.

Hood: And, in true TLS fashion, he made us all wait and guess.

Smith: The mind games were in full effect. But, one thing that wasn’t in question was Veronica Strader’s preference. She made it very clear from the start that she wanted TLS. She wanted the challenge of facing The Lost Stranger.

Hood: Be careful what you ask for. Hey, you know both of these guys have one thing in common? They both whipped someone’s ass on top of a roof?

Smith: Kinda, sure. Vee threw Cara off a roof and TLS pinned Erin. But what does that have to do with this match?

Hood: Nothing...or, everything.

Smith: Right. Anyway, before TLS gave his answer, he entered THE GREAT ILLUMINATUS

Hood: With permission.

Smith: Huh?

Hood: Don’t want people thinking TLS is out here penetrating shit without permission.

Smith: WILL YOU STOP INTERRUPTING WITH YOUR NONSENSE?

Hood: Okay, fine.

Smith: TLS had the best showing of his OCW career has he reached the penultimate level of The Great Illuminatus…

Hood: There’s that word again.

Smith: And, although he came up short, he left Carpe Noctem as a main event level threat. He’s riding that momentum into tonight as he cashes in his shot against Vee for her TransAtlantic Championship.

Hood: Yea, I know he really wants the TransAtlantic Title but...the TLS I’m familiar with is maybe, just MAYBE a little more engaged with staining her undefeated record.

Smith: He likes to ruin people’s parties, that’s for sure. Strader, meanwhile, continues to ride high as there’s talk within management that she’s a few wins away from possibly competing for the OCW Title.

Hood: Man, wouldn’t that be interesting...especially if Outcast retains.

Smith: But, that’s talk for down the road. Tonight, she’s got a monumental task in front of her. Another OCW mainstay...another wrestling legend. She’s going to have to put forth the best effort of her career if she wants to escape with her undefeated record and TransAtlantic Championship.

Hood: No doubt. Hey, how about you lay out the match stip for us?

Smith: Oh, yea...almost forgot about the tomfoolery that’s corrupting what would otherwise be a mat classic. It’s a Pot O’ Gold match. The first in OCW history, obviously. The wrestlers will be inside a steel cage...each corner will feature a Leprechaun, seated with a pot of gold in their lap. Weapons will be inside three pots...with the fourth pot containing the TransAtlantic Title. The wrestler who retrieves the TransAtlantic Title and escapes up and over the cage with it, wins.

Hood: Are these real leprechauns or, are they, ya know, fucking midgets.

Smith: Folks, it’s The Undefeated versus The Legend. It’s for the TransAtlantic Championship. It’s inside a steel cage. It’s got leprechauns. It’s Vee Strader taking on The Lost Stranger...and it’s next!

~The fans are gossiping among themselves. Probably about the steel cage in front of them. Or, maybe it’s the four ‘leprechauns’ seated atop each corner. Is this offensive? Who knows. Belvedere clears his throat, snaring their focus from the setup to the impending action. These fans get WHITE HOT~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen...it is now time for the Pot O Gold Match!!!

~HUGE OVATION! The fans chant “POT O GOLD! POT O GOLD!” a definite first in OCW history~

Belvedere: The first wrestler to locate and escape the cage with the TransAtlantic Title will be declared the winner. And, as obviously stated, this match is, indeed, for the TransAtlantic Championship!!! Introducing first, the challenger…

~Every Breath you take by the Police begins to play and the crowd murmurs. There isn’t any cheering. No booing. They just stand and listen to the song, watching as the enigmatic OCW star, TLS emerges from under the green shamrock and slowly stalks his way down the ramp, toward the ring~

Belvedere: From Parts Unknown, standing 6’3 and weighing in at 235lbs...he is a former Craze Champion...he is The Lost Stranger!!!

~TLS nears the ring as the fans continue to watch with intrigue. A very mysterious man this TLS fellow is~

Smith: People are never really sure how to react whenever The Stranger appears. He’s mercurial, enigmatic...unpredictable.

Hood: Yea, the guy is capable of losing to Uber Man and beating Outcast. He’s the craziest wrestler in OCW history, I think. But, if he’s got his ‘A’ game tonight, he’ll end Strader’s undefeated streak.

Smith: Hard to argue that point.

~TLS reaches the ring. The cage door is open, being held by PUFF...OCW’s most diehard referee. TLS steps onto the apron and enters. He walks around, watching each leprechaun, maybe trying to read a poker face or two...see who might have the belt~

Smith: One of those leprechauns is holding literal gold, Hood. The gold these wrestlers seek.

Hood: Kinda heavy for such a little guy to carry. I’d go after the leprechaun with the biggest guns.

Belvedere: And, his opponent…

~Sittin' On Top of the World - The Forest Rangers hits! The crowd rises and cheers as the undefeated champion, Vee Strader emerges from underneath the bright, giant, glowing shamrock. She turns, eyeing the massive accoutrement before refocusing and heading down the ramp. The fans chant “PROUD AND STRONG!” as the wrestler who most embodies the loyalty of OCW marches toward the ring~

Belvedere: From Tampa, Florida...standing 5’10 and weighing in at 145lbs...she is the undefeated TransAtlantic Champion...she is Proud and Strong...she is Vee Strader!!!

~Strader reaches the bottom of the ramp and stands at the base of the ring, staring up at the massive steel cage...a structure that always intimidates in person. She heads up the steps...the door being held open. She nods at Puff before stepping inside. Belvedere nods, passing her by and exiting. The door is shut and padlocked. Vee leans against the ropes, the back of her ponytail hitting the steel cage. She sees the leprechauns...she sees The Stranger, who stands across the ring from her, his head tilted his eyes no doubt locked on the champion. Scruff calls for the bell and it rings. The fans go wild~

Smith: And here we go!! TLS has made his selection and tonight we find out if that selection pays off.

Hood: Dude nearly won THE GREAT ILLUMINATUS. This is NOTHING compared to that.

Smith: I wouldn’t call toppling an undefeated champion ‘nothing’ Hood. There’s a reason Vee has yet to be pinned.

Hood: Probably because nobody wants to fuck a crazy bitch. Well, aside from Outcast...but that dude has a death wish anyway.

~TLS remains motionless, staring right at Vee. Vee narrows her eyes, trying to get a read on a man wearing a mask. Not the easiest task. She turns toward the nearest leprechaun, but, as she does, TLS steps forward, toward her. She pauses. He pauses. What the fuck is he doing~

Smith: More mind games.

Hood: Can you blame him? That girl’s head has more visitors than a pay by the hour motel six.

~Vee can’t figure out. Nobody can. I doubt even THE STRANGER knows. So, Vee decides rather than being inactive, rather than letting someone else take the first step, she takes matters into her own hands and she goes right after TLS. She throws a forearm at TLS but TLS ducks and lifts a knee into Vee’s gut. The fans groan. TLS hooks Vee around the waist and he lifts her up, spinning her around and dropping her with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker!!! Vee lands on the mat, hard, wincing~

Smith: Well, that didn’t really work out.

Hood: Vee needs to stay in her lane. She’s the quiet, reserved type. Leave the badassery to Veronica.

Smith: That’s unfair. I just think she underestimated TLS as most people tend to do.

Hood: Yea, well underestimating any opponent is a super potent recipe for a fucking loss.

~TLS places his knee into her throat, keeping her pinned. Vee chokes and writhes around, thrashing her body, trying to get free. Scruff just watches, unable to really do anything. While TLS chokes her, he looks at the nearest leprechaun. It’s your standard leprechaun...pale skin, red beard. His pot doesn’t seem to really stand out in any discernible fashion~

Smith: Get your knee off her throat!

Hood: He’s contemplating, Smith.

Smith: He’s gonna kill her!

~Her movements slow. The fans scream and yell, concerned for Vee’s safety. Finally, he removes his knee, reaching his feet. His intrigue with the leprechaun in question overcomes his desire to potentially murder the youngest Strader. He heads for the pot to see what’s inside. The crowd sighs with relief. Vee is on the mat, coughing, holding her throat...she rolls to her side, gasping for air~

Smith: Thank goodness. That was getting dire.

Hood: I get he wants to see what’s in that pot but if you kill your opponent then you have an easy path to victory, right?

Smith: I mean, yea, that’s true. But do you really want someone to die in that ring?

Hood: Depends on who it is.

~TLS reaches the corner. He taps the leprechaun. The Leprechaun smiles and looks at TLS, “YE WANT ME POT OF GOLD, DO YE?” TLS slugs the Leprechaun in the face, knocking him out. The fans BOOO!!! He grabs the pot of gold and starts to look into it. But, before he can reach inside he’s rolled over by Vee for a roll up!! However, she lets go quickly, realizing there are no pinfalls. TLS sits up, quickly...but he’s met with a kick to the face, flattening him out. The fans go wild!!! Vee doubles over, coughing and rubbing her throat. Through the corner of her eye she spots the pot, upright near the ropes~

Smith: That was rude.

Hood: No shit, kicking TLS like that.

Smith: No. It was rude of TLS to punch that leprechaun.

Hood: That leprechaun had a bad attitude and, potentially, bad breath. He had it coming.

~Vee catches her wind enough to move ahead. She grabs the pot and reaches inside, feeling around...her face contorts, it’s kinda like reaching inside a curtain and feeling around trying to guess what’s on the other side. Finally, she obtains an object and removes it, unveiling a framed picture of former TransAtlantic Champion, Betsy Granger. Some fans laugh...some fans yell out “WHO?!” Vee kinda stares at the photo, her face looking back at her in the glass reflection. From behind, we see TLS’ reflection rise up~

Smith: Look out, Vee! He’s behind you!

Hood: NARK!

~Vee spins around and tries to blast TLS in the face with the framed photo, but TLS ducks. Vee spins around and TLS hooks her waist and tosses her over his head with a Release German Suplex!! She lands on the mat, hard, dropping the framed photo. TLS stands over the photo and looks down at it...he picks it up and studies the image of the purged roster member. He flings it over his shoulder, over the cage and into the crowd where a bunch of fans piss on it~

Smith: Well, there’s that.

Hood: BE GONE WITH YE PURGED PERSON

Smith: That’s one pot of gold. Three more to go.

~TLS heads over to the Leprechaun he knocked out. Vee is slowly returning to her feet. He grabs the leprechaun and helps him up. The leprechaun responds, “Thank ye for the support, lad.” TLS grabs the Leprechaun by the pants and he slings the little guy across the ring and into Vee, taking her back down to the mat! The fans kinda boo but they kinda cheer, too. I mean, let’s be honest here. That’s a funny visual. TLS looks at the three leprechauns who are all now very much afraid of the masked wrestler. He tries to decide who to go after next~

Smith: Thank goodness we aren’t on any major networks. That might have been cause for cancellation.

Hood: Fuck em all.

~TLS eyes a skinny leprechaun who is avoiding eye contact. TLS points at him and the crowd yells “YOU!” TLS marches that way. The Leprechaun looks up like OH SHIT. TLS tries to grab the pot of gold but the Leprechaun swings it at TLS, trying to hit him in the head. TLS puts his hands up, surprised by the violent reaction. Vee sneaks up from behind TLS and rolls him over for a pin...but there are no counts, so she lets go immediately. She hurries to her feet, as does TLS...he reaches for her, but she ducks his grasp and throws a heel hook into his face, knocking him back. He stumbles into the ropes, his back hitting the cage. Vee rushes in and leaps up with a knee...but TLS blocks it. He wraps his arms around her and looks to toss her into the cage with an over the head belly to belly...but Vee knees him in the gut and she leaps up, wraps her legs around his arm and takes him over with an armbar!!! She tries to straighten it out so she can break it, but TLS holds on, doing everything he can to prevent that from happening. The fans cheer~

Smith: Strader is back in this after that leprechaun fought TLS off.

Hood: Are they supposed to do that? Pretty sure their job is to just sit there.

Smith: Maybe. But after watching one of his contemporaries launched across the ring like a weapon...I think his thought process changed.

Hood: What a pussy.

~TLS keeps his arm bent with Vee trying to straighten it out...he drags his body, using his feet, pushing against the mat toward a corner. He reaches up and grabs the skinny leprechaun by the legs, yanking him off his perched spot on the top buckle. The little guy hits hard. TLS then grabs him by the belt buckle and slings him over his body onto Vee, bashing her in the face with the little guy. She immediately lets go of TLS’ arm and rolls away, holding her face in pain. TLS sits up, rubbing his arm. The tiny leprechaun scurries away into a corner of the ring, sitting with the other leprechaun TLS threw earlier. He ignores them and grabs the second pot of gold. He reaches into it and removes...a plastic container full of something greasy and something red~

Smith: Ugh, what is that?!

Hood: I don’t know but it looks gross.

~TLS pops the lid open and gets a whiff...he nearly pukes. He covers it back up, instantly~

Smith: It’s food...food that’s gone bad.

Hood: Why the hell would that be in there, makes no sense.

Smith: Wait, hold on...I’ve just been informed that container holds spaghetti cooked by Ana Archia, former TransAtlantic Champion...spaghetti that was cooked 7 years ago.

Hood: GROSS

~Vee pulls herself up, shaking off the second leprechaun smash she’s received. She turns to face TLS...he rips open the rancid spaghetti and throws it at her!!! It hits her right in the face!! She stumbles back, stunned at first...she immediately begins to gag. The fans all gasp in horror. TLS throws the plastic container out of the cage, he can barely stand the smell coming out of it...the smell emanating from a putrid substance that coats the face of the TransAtlantic Champion. TLS plugs his nose and he grabs Vee, dropping her on the mat with a DDT. She face plants, splatting her spaghetti covered face on the mat. TLS rolls away quickly, waving his hands in front of his face to get the smell out of his nostrils~

Smith: Disgusting! I think I can smell it from here!

Hood: Oh, stop being dramatic.

Smith: I can’t believe they’d include something so rancid in this match!

Hood: I can...I mean, when you think about it...it’s a more dangerous weapon than, say, a pair of brass knuckles.

~Vee tries to get up, but she gets a whiff of the mess that’s caked to her face and she coughs and rolls around like she’s immersed in tear gas or any kind of gas that would pretty much cripple someone’s senses. TLS eyes the two remaining leprechauns who both swallow hard. He heads for the nearest one but pauses...upon closer inspection he notices the leprechaun is an african american midget. TLS seems a little surprised~

Smith: Affirmative Action by OCW.

Hood: Vargas is probably pissed.

Smith: Let’s say no more.

~The black leprechaun is no fool. He’s seen TLS devastate the other two leprechauns so he casually throws his head toward the other leprechaun. TLS turns and stares at the final leprechaun, who is fatter than the previous two. He heads his way. The leprechaun tenses up, wincing and extending the pot of gold as if to say ‘HERE PLEASE TAKE IT JUST DON’T HURT ME.’ TLS rips the pot away and removes...THE TRANSATLANTIC TITLE!! The fans pop~

Smith: Oh no...he’s got the belt.

Hood: Yes! That one leprechaun knows WHAT’S UP. He’s not gonna get smacked around due to some gimmick.

Smith: Seems kinda cheap to me, but whatever.

~TLS wraps the title around his waist and secures it. He looks down and slaps the plate...the fans BOO. One yells, “THAT’S NOT YOURS.” TLS turns and sees that came from the fat leprechaun who, apparently, is a Strader fan. So, he grabs the leprechaun and hurls him from his post...he lands on his back in the center of the ring, near Strader, who is leaning against the bottom rope, still fighting through the stench of rancid food. TLS climbs the middle buckle of the now empty corner and wraps his fingers around the fence, looking to climb. The fans yell and cheer for Strader...she pulls herself up and fights through the hideous smell that’s raping her nostrils. She hurries forward, TLS is now standing on the top buckle, his feet on the ropes. She throws a A LIKE SUPREME (SUPERKICK) into TLS’ right leg...he loses his balance and falls, ass first, onto the top buckle...his legs get caught between the cage and the ropes, sending him hanging upside down in the corner. The fans go wild. Strader proceeds to stomp him in the face over and over with the fans cheering louder and louder~

Smith: And, finally, Vee is taking the offensive!

Hood: Didn’t know she was such a fan of rancid spaghetti.

Smith: She’s fighting through it, Hood! Like a champion!

~TLS goes limp, his arms hanging against the mat. Strader pauses and slowly leans in...I mean, he looks out but he’s got a mask on. You can’t REALLY be sure. So, she’s careful as she reaches for the TransAtlantic Title. She gets near his face, nervous he might spring into action...she quickly unhooks the belt and pulls it away!! The fans go wild. Strader throws it over her shoulder and she heads for the side of the cage, grabbing it to climb. She glances over at the final leprechaun and his pot but decides making an escape attempt is more important than finding and securing the final weapon. So, she climbs~

Smith: I might have checked that final pot out if I were her.

Hood: Impulsive. Classic female mistake.

Smith: Hey! Enough with the sexist talk!

Hood: Oh fuck off.

~Strader gets halfway up the cage...she reaches up, her hand touching the top. She hears a thud. She looks down and sees TLS on the mat, finally moving and freeing himself from his predicament. Strader grabs onto the top of the cage and makes sure her feet our secure before pushing up. TLS gets to all fours and he crawls toward the side of the cage, he looks up and sees Strader getting one leg up, onto the top...he can’t reach her in time. He looks over at the final leprechaun~

Smith: That’s his only hope. He needs something in that pot that can help him make up the ground he lost.

Hood: Like a rocket? A portal to the other side of that cage?

Smith: I mean, those would help but I don’t think they’re in that pot.

Hood: Ye of little faith. This is OCW 2022. There are no limits.

~The black leprechaun flinches, awaiting punishment. But, TLS reaches into the pot and removes an item...he looks at it. The fans gasp. It’s a cattle prod!!! TLS presses a button and sees the charge at the tip. He turns and jams it into the cage, sending volts flying through the metal!! It sends enough to shock Vee, who has one foot up on the top of the cage...she shakes and loses her grip. TLS drops the cattle prod as she falls down toward him...he catches her, bends back and SLAMS her into the mat with a German Suplex!!!! The fans boooo!!!! TLS pops back up and he sees next to Vee an electrocuted black leprechaun...he groans and rolls away, his skin sizzling. TLS kicks the empty pot away and pulls the TransAtlantic Title from Vee~

Smith: Of course...OF COURSE the exact weapon he needed was in there.

Hood: CLASSIC OCW, BABY.

~He reaches for the side of the cage but pulls back...it’s still hot from the electricity that passed through it. He gives it a second to cool before trying to climb. Vee remains down, shaking from the voltage that went through her...holding the back of her head from the German Suplex. The black leprechaun is pulled into the corner where the other three are huddled. TLS pauses...he looks at the climb, he’s been in many cage matches and seen many more. He walks over toward the four leprechauns...they clutch each other and gasp as he stands over them~

Smith: I think he’s got those leprechauns scared to death, Hood.

Hood: Damn straight. Keep those little shits in check.

Smith: They’re terrified of what he might do.

~TLS points at Vee and he gives them instructions. He balls up his fist and makes a menacing gesture. They nod and slowly crawl out of their corner while TLS grabs onto the cage and begins to climb. He ascends. Vee hears the fans clamoring for her, cheering for her...she sees TLS climbing with HER belt. She heads that way...but the leprechauns all hold onto her legs, keeping her from advancing~

Smith: He’s bribed them into helping him win!

Hood: He rules via fear, Smith. There is no greater motivator than fear.

Smith: Well, that just disgusts me.

~Vee turns around and tries to kick them off, but can’t. She pleads with the little guys to let her go but they explain the situation. She thinks. As she’s thinking, TLS is halfway up the cage. She leans in and she kisses one...she then kisses the other..and then a third...and, finally, she kisses the fourth, african american...he grabs her by the back of her head, making it last longer...what a stud! The fans go wild. The kisses end and the leprechauns are enchanted. They let her go and ask her what they can do to help...she motions that she needs a boost. So, she gets to her feet and heads for the side of the cage. TLS reaches for the top, pulling himself up...the four leprechaus help Vee up and they form sort of a pyramid...she climbs on top of them before leaping off and latching onto the cage. TLS loses his balance, hanging on to the top of the cage...Vee reaches up and pulls herself to the top, meeting him. The fans go wild as the leprechauns hop around high fiving each other~

Smith: You can rule through fear...or you can rule through love. Vee rules through love!

Hood: More like she just whored herself out on national television. These fuckin Straders, I swear!

~TLS reaches his feet atop the cage...he’s got the title in his hand. He looks down, contemplating leaping to the ground...it’d hurt, he might break both legs, but he’d win. Before he can do anything, he’s hit in the groin by Strader...he doubles over, dropping the title. It hangs atop the cage...one strap on the outside, one on the inside. Vee gets to her feet and she lifts a knee into TLS’ face...he falls back, on his ass, atop the cage. He’s in pain and in trouble. Vee delivers a vicious round house kick to the side of his head...he starts to fall inside the cage from the top...as he does, he reaches out and grabs the TransAtlantic Title, swiping it off the top of the cage and into the ring...Vee reaches to save it but is too late...TLS then falls off the top and lands HARD on the mat, next to the title. The fans go wild as Vee is left at the top, by herself with no title. She looks down...she’s got to head back in there~

Smith: Crafty move by TLS to take that title down with him. Had he not done that, this match would be over.

Hood: Dude’s on his A-game these days, Smith. A legit main eventer.

Smith: Indeed.

~Vee looks around from the top of the cage. The fans in Dublin cheer her on. We pan out to a wide view of Stader standing tall above everyone...70,000 people looking on...flash bulbs going off as an iconic photo is being taken by all those in attendance. She then leaps off the top of the cage all the way down onto TLS with Party All The Time (Elbow Drop)!!!! The ring thunders!!! Everything shakes!! The leprechauns rush to check on Vee, she’s down, not moving. TLS is not moving. The fans chant “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”~

Smith: I can’t believe it! She’s crazy!

Hood: TLS wouldn’t jump but Vee did. Damnit. I guess that’s what being young does for ya...you aren’t old enough to know how much a fall like that hurts.

Smith: But how much damage? Can she even compete after that? She’s still got to escape OVER the cage WITH her title.

Hood: True. Her body might be fucked.

~The leprechaus sit Vee up. They ask for a kiss...but she coughs up a bit of blood. They also get a strong whiff of rancid spaghetti, so they pass for the moment. Instead, they hand her the belt and point at the cage wall. She wakes up and realizes the moment...she nods and heads that way. They help her. TLS remains down. They strap the title around her waist and push her up, halfway. Using one arm, she grips the chain linked wall and pulls herself up, her feet maintaining a base. Her other arm appears useless...injured, numb. The leprechauns look up, cheering and jumping up and down. The fans are going crazy. Vee is pulling herself up inch by inch with one arm...she reaches the top. Suddenly, TLS sits up behind the leprechauns. He turns and looks up, spotting Vee at the top, once again. He leans forward and reaches for the cattle prod...but the leprechauns kick it away~

Smith: The chickens have come home to roost, Hood. The way he treated those little guys is biting him in the butt!

Hood: This is so fuckin lame. Like, seriously.

Smith: I mean, it’s unique, for sure.

~TLS rages. He gets to his feet and he thrashes the Leprechauns around, slinging them into the side of the cage, laying each of them out. The fans BOOOOO!!! Once they’re all down, he snags the cattle prod and looks up...as he does, he sees it’s too late. Vee is already on the other side of the cage, descending down. TLS waits. She gets down, eye level with him...he leans in, staring at her through the chain linked fence. She pauses, staring back. She spits in his face. TLS reaches up with the cattle prod and he zaps her!! She flies off the fence and lands, violently into the barricade, her body convulsing. But, the bell rings~

Belvedere: Here is your winner…AND STILL TRANSATLANTIC CHAMPION...VEE STRADER!!!!!

Smith: She did it!

Hood: I mean, she did...but I’d be lying if I said she didn’t pay for her. Her body is FUCKED up.

Smith: That it is.

~TLS heads for the door. He wants out to do more damage...Scruff goes to unlock it, but The Knife Man, at ringside, tell him not to do it...not until they’ve rescued Vee. TLS slings the cattle prod into the fence...he shakes the door and kicks it. He’s pissed. The Knife Man tends to Vee, with a wheel chair being brought out to wheel her to the back to get her out of there as quickly as possible~

Smith: The Knife Man making the right call. TLS wants to go out there and he wants to maim her.

Hood: So he wants to save one life while ending four?

Smith: Huh?

Hood: Look.

~TLS, tired of hitting inanimate objects to express his fury turns and finds the four leprechauns, trapped inside with him. They huddle together, in a corner. TLS stands over them, cattle prod in hand. He turns it on...electricity sparks. The leprechauns beg...but no mercy will be had. He leans forward, whipping and zapping them...we cut away~

Smith: And there’s no need to watch that.

~The fans BOO and scream~

Hood: Yikes. Not a good night to be a little person, Smith. As they say, big always fucks small.

Smith: Vee Strader has retained...but her body, I’m sure, is in rough shape. The fall from the top. The German Suplex. Being shocked, TWICE. Let’s hope she’s okay.

Hood: Hey, if she wants to remain a champion she’s gonna have to sacrifice some years off her life. That’s just how it works. I’m more worried about TLS.

Smith: Why on EARTH would anyone be worried about him. He’s a menace!

Hood: I just hope he isn’t too disappointed. I mean, his psyche might be wounded a bit. I think we all need to show our concern for his mental well being. Fuck Vee and fuck those leprechauns.

Smith: Yea, I don’t think anybody is gonna side with you there. Folks, Vee remains undefeated...the leader of Strong and Proud has proved, once again, she’s as good as it gets here in OCW.

~Rancid sauce all over her face, tears in the calves her tights, her collar ripped from her top, and the Trans-Atlantic Championship clutched in her arms. Vee’s smoldering, shocked body rests in a wheelchair. She’s at the base of the ramp, about to be wheeled to the back when “Sittin’ On Top of The World” by The Forest Rangers plays throughout the stadium.~

Smith: Wow, what another crazy contest from Strader!

Hood: Without a doubt, Victoria or Veronica, they are Strong and Proud!

Smith: Here comes her mom and her aunt, the new Craze Champion!

Hood: I might have been wrong about this family, Smith. They are all Strong and Proud.

~Tamika with her new championship fastened around her waist and Meghan rush over to where the Trans-Atlantic Champion is seated...she’s almost comatose, far away gaze...completely zapped and spent from the contest and the volts that shot through her system. She starts to pull herself up as Meghan and Tamika put her arms around their necks and grab onto the waistband of her tights to help hold her up. The Stranger stands over a pile of possibly dead leprechauns. We get a view from behind TLS as he stares through the cage at the three Straders, united, at the bottom of the ramp. Vee slowly lifts her head, her eyes barely open...everybody is shocked that she’s even conscious. She starts to speak, slowly, having trouble...until she finally guts out~

Vee Strader: Stranger!

~CFH helps her over toward the ring. TLS glares down at her, cattle prod in hand. Vee raises her shaky head, eyeing TLS with force. Slowly, she nods her head in his direction, as a show of respect for what he put her through. The fans pop with the gesture.~

Smith: Classy move from the retaining champion.

Hood: Well, The Stranger is an OCW legend and future hall of famer, it’s the right thing to do.

~TLS lifts and points the cattle prod at Vee...he then returns the nod. He’d probably kill her if he got his hands on her, but he can’t deny the fight and the heart that resides within that warrior. The fans cheer. Meghan and Tamika help Vee up the ramp, carrying her as she’s pretty much unable to handle her own weight~

Smith: Great sportsmanship from — what the hell was that?!

~Once they reach the stage, they step toward the edge, trying to get to the curtain to exit. The arena lights go out for a few seconds and rumble through the foundation shakes the stadium as the lights come back on. Something pulls CFH away from Vee as she free falls, unable to stand...she falls off the stage and onto the Portal Potty, laying face up, on its back. She crashes THROUGH the door and into the scrambled portal!!! The fans gasp~

Hood: She just fell into the magical shitter!

Smith: Vee Strader is gone! Why wasn’t it chained up like Welsh had ordered?!

Hood: I think The Knife Man procrastinated. Looks like the simple issue has turned into a big fucking problem.

~Meghan looks around frantically and starts yelling at the ring side crew and asking Belvedere what he saw. Tamika walks over and picks up the TransAtlantic strap which missed falling into the portal, landing outside the Portal Potty when Vee’s body crashed through the door. Security has rushed down to ringside followed by Marcus Welsh.~

Smith: Not surprised to see Marcus, his “Chosen One” just extended her winning streak, retaining her title in the legendary Lost Stranger and the portal that has caused him a lot of trouble.

Hood: If it could just take Alice the fuck out of here everything would be perfect!

Smith: Not the time, we have a champion missing!

~Meghan looks to be yelling at Marcus going up one side of him and down the other. He’s listening but also blocking it out as he looks at the spot where the portal opened up, worried about his “Chosen One”.~

Smith: And now, I’d like to take this opportunity to tell you a little bit about what’s coming up for OCW...you see...wait, hold on folks, I’ve just received word that our crew has found CJ O’Donnell in a pub by the park!

Hood: Drinking like a true Irishman!

Smith: We’re going to see if we can get a word from him on his thoughts on the show so far!

~The big screen in Croke Park lights up as the video feed shows the OCW crew outside The Sideline. They enter the pub as it is packed with rapid OCW fans, watching the action on the television screens. The crew makes its way through the patrons and to the bar where there are several bartenders tending to the large crowd inside the small pub.~

Crew Member: Hey, we heard CJ O’Donnell was here!

~ A very loud burp is heard. ~

CJ O’Donnell: FOOK can’t you guys just leave a fella to drink in peace. I’m here just trying to enjoy Luck of the Violent. I am minding my own business …

~ Another loud belch from The Distinguished One who isn’t looking very distinguished at this point. ~

CJ O’Donnell: Who the FOOK told you I was here. I am in no mood to wrestle or talk. Tá go leor cac ag dul ar aghaidh i m'intinn.

~ On may think CJ is piss drunk but he just spoke in his native tongue … translation I have a lot of shit going on in my mind. O’Donnell stands up and slams his hand on the bar. ~

CJ O’Donnell: Four more shots of Jameson. I’m gonna go take a piss.

~ CJ walks toward the bathroom door and kicks it open. He burps loudly before adjusting himself as he enters the bathroom.~

Bartender: Yes, the lad is pissed drunk. He has had a rough couple of years ever since the death of …

~ The bartender realizes he may have said too much as the crew members' eyes bulged out. ~

Bartender: Nevermind I said too much. It’s not my story to tell.

Crew Member: In that case… how about a pint?

~The crew member sits in an empty seat, awaiting his drink as the cameraman films the excitement in the pub. A large “OCW” chant breaks out as they see themselves on the screen, and then when they see the cameraman they cheer even louder. Their cheers subside though with audible gasps with ooh’s and aah’s. The cameraman swings around as OCW hall of famer the Incredible One walks into the pub. He waves to a few fans and gives some handshakes as he sits down at the bar next to the crew member. A female bartender comes up to him and places a coaster in front of him.~

Bartender: What’ll ya have, love?

TIO: Just a cranberry juice.

~The excitement in the bartender is sucked out as she rolls her eyes and nods, getting the cranberry juice. She slams the drink hard in front of TIO as he nods in approval, getting ready to drink it.~

???: It’s a natural diuretic.

~The crew member, TIO and the bartender all turn as CJ O’Donnell, zipping his pants returning from the bathroom, sits in the empty bar stool next to TIO, motioning for his four shots of Jameson. ~

CJ O’Donnell: Alice drinks it when she’s on her period. Now it makes perfect sense. What, are you on your period?

~ CJ murmurs something under his breath that the camera can’t pick up before he throws back his first shot of Jameson. ~

CJ O’Donnell: What do you want?

TIO: Caleb… we’re brothers. You and I have fought side by side with each other in Boardwalk as Unstable and in OCW as the Aptitude. I know the Aptitude imploded but really that was about Meyhu and how he was being disrespectful to the title. I don’t understand why you screwed me out of the OCW Championship. What did I do to deserve that from you?

~ CJ takes his second shot of Jameson and just looks at TIO with a blank look on his face. ~

CJ O’Donnell: I could be cliche Ian and say if you have to ask then I guess we were never really brothers … a brother would have known what he had done and apologized by now. The time for apologizing is over. The past will come back to haunt you TIO.

~Unsatisfied with his answer, TIO takes CJ’s third shot glass and downs it himself. The Distinguished One glares at the Incredible One as he stares at him intently.~

TIO: I try not to assume anything anymore… that’s what got me in so much trouble. So instead of dancing in drunken riddles why don’t you give it to me straight.

CJ O’Donnell: You can’t handle or accept the _truth_. You want the truth TIO? Then let the monster out and stop being a fraud…

~ CJ takes the fourth shot and downs it. With a wave of his hand he asks the bartender for another four shots. ~

CJ O’Donnell: I wanna dance with the monster within TIO … this TIO is too much of a pussy!

~TIO glances down at his cranberry juice, shaking his head and sloshing the drink around in its cup before bringing his gaze back to his former partner in crime.~

TIO: You know what I think? I think you’re scared CJ… you came back to OCW with a vendetta, to go to war with me over how I supposedly mistreated you in the past and you thought screwing me out of the OCW Championship would lead to me blindly going to war with you but that’s my past and all I want–

~Suddenly, TIO moans as he grabs his head. CJ looks on as he cracks a smile while TIO puts his hands over his face. He grips his head hard as TIO yells some more but as soon as it starts it ends. His hands come down from his face and TIO’s expression has changed completely from a concerned friend to a cocky, grinning, psychopath.~

“TIO”: Bartender! I want a FOOKING cigar! What’s this fucking drink in front of me?

Bartender: Uh, you can’t smoke in here.

“TIO”: I can’t? Fuck you!

CJ O’Donnell: Welcome to the party. Glad I’m finally speaking to the real TIO.

~TIO cocks his neck to where CJ is sitting, his teeth grinding, as he eyes him head to toe.~

“TIO” Oh… we’ve never met… haha. But now that I’ve finally got you here, I have one question to ask you… why did you clock me from behind like a fucking pussy? No! Don’t answer. We all know the answer. You knew if you actually stepped toe to toe with us, we’d fucking destroy you. That’s why you wore a hood, stole our finisher, cause let’s be frank for a minute, you’re finisher FUCKING SUCKS, and when it comes to the totem pole… you’re always second fiddle to us.

~ The Distinguished One takes another shot of his Jameson as soon as the bartender places the four shots on the bar. ~

CJ O’Donnell: Come on, I took that page out of your book. I thought you would want to know how your own finisher feels. Kind of like rubbing salt in an open wound. So let me ask you, did it feel incredible afterwards?

~TIO laughs at what CJ just said before finally taking a sip of his cranberry juice. His face is disgusted as he shakes off the taste before slamming the glass in CJ’s head.~

Smith: I knew the talking wasn’t going to last.

Hood: About fucking time! We all wanted to see a goddamn fight between these two!

~The patrons of the pub disperse before them so there is a half circle of space between them, TIO, CJ and the bar. CJ, pissed, falls to the ground, holding his head as his face begins to fill with rage. He tackles TIO into the bar stools as the two begin to trade blows, rolling around on the floor. The patrons at the pub begin to chant “OCW” and “Fight!” as CJ gets on top of TIO and spits in his face while throwing fists. Blood is coming from TIO’s nose, running into his mouth as he spits back at CJ, getting it in his eye. TIO knees CJ in the groin, causing him to fall off of TIO to the side. TIO slowly gets up, as a fan offers TIO his drink. TIO shrugs, as he downs the pint, before grabbing CJ by his hair and throwing him over the bar.~

Smith: What a brawl this has become.

Hood: Something tells me this is only the beginning of this fight.

Smith: Indeed, there is such a long history between CJ and TIO that’s spilling out right before our eyes.

Hood: Sometimes two guys just got to beat the fuck out of each other to solve their problems.

~TIO takes a breath as some of the patrons look over the bar to see how CJ is faring. TIO slides onto the bar to go behind it but CJ pops up with the hose for beer and sprays it at TIO! A ton gets in his face as he tries to wipe it away but beer trickles down onto the bar and causes TIO to slip and slam hard back first onto the bar. CJ grabs the hose, that isn’t spilling beer anymore, and wraps it around TIO’s neck and he yanks it hard. TIO grasps for the hose, trying to free it, as the oxygen in his lungs falls. TIO begins to grab for anything as he finds another glass and smashes it against the side of CJ’s face. Unfazed, CJ continues to yank the hose as TIO grabs a glass pitcher and smashes that against CJ’s head and that causes CJ to release the hold on the hose and fall off the bar onto a stool.~

Hood: CJ almost killed TIO! Both are bleeding! As the Irish would say, “this is bloody brilliant boyo!”

Smith: I think we need to break this up before it gets too out of hands.

Hood: Stop trying to ruin all the fucking fun… god.

~TIO rolls off the bar onto his feet as he motions for CJ to get up. CJ gets up to his feet as the two have a stare off before TIO head butts CJ in the head. CJ yells at him before knife chopping him in the chest. TIO laughs off the pain as he returns a knife chop of his own. CJ, drunk out of his mind, takes off his shirt, and points to his chest. TIO licks his hand before slapping CJ right in the chest. CJ bends down for a moment, absorbing the pain as TIO also takes off his shirt and yells at CJ. CJ shakes his head and returns the smack to TIO’s chest. At this point, a police officer enters the pub and he gets between the two as the crowd starts to jeer heavily.~

Officer: Alright boyo’s that’s enough drinkin’ and fightin’ for the two of ya! I’ll let the two of ya off wit a warnin’ if ya stop right now.

Hood: Oh, I’m sure you’re so happy about this aren’t you?

Smith: Someone is going to get seriously hurt!

Hood: That’s the fucking point!

~CJ and TIO both stare at each other then at the officer. The officer goes to grab his handcuffs as the two both knock the officer out and proceed to drag him, together, to the bathroom. TIO picks him up and throws him into the men's room and claps his hands before CJ charges at TIO and spears him through a tall window, as the two men spill out onto the streets of Dublin.~

CJ O’Donnell: Is that all you fooking got … Come on TIO let that inner FOOKING BEAST OUT! You have no one to blame but …

~ Before CJ can finish that sentence TIO elbows him square in his nuts. TIO then hits him with an uppercut that knocks CJ on his back. TIO gets on top of CJ and begins to choke the life out of him with a smile on his face. ~

“TIO”: You’ll regret those words as Ian and I fucking kill you on the streets of Ireland.

~ CJ is turning run in the face as the smile on TIO’s face gets bigger as if he is enjoying choking the life out of his old partner in crime. TIO finally releases the choke and then with an open hand slaps CJ right in the face. That slap did something TIO didn’t expect and CJ spits in TIO’s face. ~

“TIO”: It’s going to take more than a smack and some spit to put us down!

~ TIO wipes the spit off his face as CJ takes the opportunity to poke TIO in the eyes and then pushes him off. O’Donnell quickly rises to his feet and hits a wild haymaker which sends TIO into the widow. Behind TIO you see a bunch of meat hanging in the window as CJ goes charging towards him TIO but TIO is quick to react and catches CJ who was going for a cross body and takes his momentum as they go crashing through the window with TIO kind of sort of hitting a body slam of sorts onto a pile of uncooked meats. TIO and CJ are both on their back gasping for air as CJ yells at the top of his lungs. ~

CJ O’Donnell: YOU ARE GONNA HAVE TO KILL ME TO FINISH THIS!

“TIO”: WE SHALL GRANT YOU THIS WISH!

~ CJ and TIO are both on their knees exchanging lefts and rights with one another. After about four exchanges of haymakers they turn to open hand chops on the chest area. With each slapping both mens chests are a redder than a newborn coming out of the birthing canal. But then again that could be the blood from the meat. Both men are physically exhausted as both CJ and TIO are on their feet now. TIO comes charging at CJ but O’Donnell sees it coming and hits a spinebuster onto the table. At the end of the table you are a mechanical saw that cuts the meat. CJ throws a few closed right fist for good measure before he notices the on and off button for the saw. He turns it on and a smirk comes across his face. ~

CJ O’Donnell: I hope you made peace with God because you’ll be seeing him real soon …

~ The blade is going a mile a minute at the other end of the table. CJ begins to drag the lifeless body of TIO across the table. As TIO gets closer and closer to the blade CJ begins to laugh out of control. CJ has TIO about six inches from the blade and his eyes open up and he pulls CJ back towards him and connects with a knee to his temple. Another solid knee to the temple and with that CJ let’s go of TIO’s arm. TIO gets off the table and then slams the head on CJ on top. Not once. Not twice. Not three times. But four times. TIO then grabs CJ by his hair and slowly inches it to the blade. A piece of The Distinguished One hair flies off as TIO seems to suddenly stop as if he is normal again. He throws CJ backwards onto the floor and then grabs his head. He looks around and sees all the chaos that just happened. ~

TIO: What… what… what have I done?

~ TIO rushes to where CJ is lying, and surveying the damage done to his friend. He attempts to shake CJ to get his attention but CJ hits TIO square in the jaw with a nearby meat mallet that sends TIO in the air and collapses on the ground next to CJ. CJ gets up and heads over to grab a butcher's knife, stalking back to TIO who is slow to move. TIO comes to his senses as he sees CJ eyeing him like a gazelle eyes its prey as TIO squirms away. ~

TIO: Caleb! Stop! I don't know what just happened but put down the knife and let's talk this out.

CJ O'Donnell: Are you that daft? There is nothing to talk about… the only option we have is violence. Always choose violence.

~ CJ goes to swing the knife and attack TIO but is interrupted by police officers storming into the meat shop. Three officers go for TIO, who immediately puts his hands up, while four officers go to CJ, who in his drunken state, resists them. They are able to fight the knife out of his hand as they bring him to the ground. TIO has a single tear rolling down his cheek as he sees the officers force the handcuffs on him that he took willingly as the feed cuts abruptly. ~

Smith: I can't comprehend what I just witnessed.

Hood: I can, someone is going to get murdered and for once it won't be Biffords fault!

Smith: I'm pretty sure TIO killed an assistant once many years ago.

Hood: Fake news.

Smith: Anyway… I don't know what the future holds for these two but I suspect it won't be good.

Hood: CJ said it best himself: there is no room for chit chat. The only option is violence.

Smith: Indeed… well folks, speaking of Bifford...it’s time to see if anybody will answer Plethora’s challenge!

Hood: What does Bifford have to do with Plethora?

Smith: Seriously?

Hood: Seriously.

Smith: He challenged Dangerous Dan, Alice Knight, TLS, Duce Jones, Mario Maurako, and Lurrr to a fight with his OCW Title shot on the line. All one of them has to do is accept.

Hood: Or he’ll come after you.

Smith: Um, yes...that is true.

Hood: So, did anybody accept? Did your precious Alice come to your rescue? Did the Dangerous one Dan who you protect so much put his body on the line? Do the wrestlers like you half as much as you LOVE them?

Smith: Oh, I’m sure.

Hood: So, tell us?

Smith: Hold on, I have to use the restroom. Folks, I’ll be right back and when I return, we’ll find out which wrestler stepped up to the plate to fight in my honor against Plethora. Here’s a quick commercial profiling next Month’s PPV event!

Jones: And we’re back!

Hood: Yes, we are...whoa, Smith, when did you grow a mustache?

Jones: I’ve always had this sweet stache. And my name isn’t Smith, it’s Jones.

Hood: Jones? I’ve never heard of such a name. Never.

Jones: I’ve worked here for over twenty years. I used to call matches...but people said I was too much like Smith so they put me backstage and, well, I haven’t really done much this past decade.

Hood: So, wait, you’re telling me you’re NOT Smith?

Jones: Nah, I passed him in the hallway. Or, more like he sprinted by me yelling for me to take his spot. He said he had to leave, urgently.

Hood: Why would he do a thing like that, he loves calling these shows. What were we talking about before he went to piss?

Jones: I believe Plethora’s challenge!

Hood: Hmm, oh...OH! That cowardly fucker. Did anybody accept Plethora’s challenge?

Jones: They did not.

Hood: I fucking knew it! Smith! SMITH! Get your ass back out here!

~We cut to a shot outside with Smith diving into an Uber ride manned by UBER MAN. He yells, ‘Step on it, Ubes! Get me out of here, FAST!’ Tires screech as the car peels out...as it does, it leaves a giant, ominous figure holding a scythe behind~

Hood: He fuckin ran. I knew it. I knew he didn’t have the guts to face Plethora...just like all those other wrestlers.

Jones: Maybe he was having digestive problems.

Hood: Shut up, Fake Smith. The REAL Smith would shit his pants before leaving his post. The only thing that would force him from this job would be death by scything.

Jones: That’s a tremendous motivator, I’ve gotta say.

Hood: Well, he may have got away tonight but Plethora is about the most persistent mother fucker I’ve ever known. If he wants to get his hands on Smith, he will.

Jones: Sounds like Plethora also gets to keep his OCW Title shot. He’ll face the winner of our main event for the OCW Title at Technical Difficulties!

Hood: Oh shit, is that next?

Jones: It is...OCW Championship action...our main event...it’s next!

Jones: Well, Hood...it’s that time.

Hood: Of the month?

Jones: No!

Hood: Well, you need to be more specific.

Jones: It’s MAIN EVENT time!

Hood: OH SHIT

Jones: The OCW Title is about to be decided between two of the most violent, irascible personalities in company history.

Hood: Yes only one of which is mildly racist.

Jones: MILDLY

Hood: I mean, ya know.

Jones: Outcast dominated OCW in 2021. A streak of domination he’s not only carried into 2022 but built upon with the rebirth and regrowth of the company. He’s the pillar. He’s the heart. He is the unquestioned leader of this current OCW era. He cemented his status as the king of this promotion last month when he survived THE GREAT ILLUMINATUS.

Hood: I didn’t think he would. And, he almost didn’t but...like always, Outcast prevailed.

Jones: Tonight, he faces a much different and, in some ways, more dangerous challenge. Tonight he faces a former OCW Champion and current Hall of Famer. A man who, like Outcast today, once carried this promotion. Chad Vargas put this promotion on his back in 2015 and carried it to prominence throughout that run. He was a proud champion. He was a dominant champion. He looks to return to his throne.

Hood: He hasn’t held the belt since 2015.

Jones: Nope, he’s had a few shots at it, namely against Meyhu in 2018 but, yes, he has failed to reclaim his OCW Title since 2015...going on 7 years now.

Hood: Long time to wait.

Jones: It’s a match for the ages, folks. Two of the grittiest, nastiest, and most outspoken champions in company history. Chad Vargas looks to reclaim the OCW Title after a 7 year hiatus. Outcast looks to continue his dominant run as this era’s king. Who will prevail? Let’s find out!

~We cut to the ring. The rowdy crowd has quieted. We’ve got that ‘big fight’ feel going on. It’s main event time and these Irish people are HERE for it. Belvedere, in the ring, takes in the moment for a few seconds. Outside the ring we see two shot girls with a tray and a shot of Jameson atop. Belvedere clears his throat to a huge ovation~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen the following contest is a Jameson Death Match and it is scheduled for one fall! Every five minutes the competitors will return to their corner where they will take a shot of Jameson. Then, they will return to action. This will go on until one wrestler has pinned or submitted or rendered his opponent incapable of competing...that person will be the winner and will leave as OCW Champion! Introducing first, the challenger…

~"Needle and the Spoon" - Lynyrd Skynyrd hits! BOOS from the Irish People. I mean, they may not be super sympathetic soy children from the US...but they are compassionate. So, when they see Vargas they see EVIL RACIST MAN. Vargas steps out dressed in his southern finest, boots, jeans, and a confederate flag vest. Shades cover his eyes...he pauses at the top of the ramp and looks out at the people of Ireland. He scoffs at all their socialist policies and immediately deems them WEAK ASS PUSSIES. He marches down the ramp ready to kick 70,000 alabaster asses~

Belvedere: From Everclear County, Tennessee...standing 6’4 and weighing in at 240lbs...he is a former OCW Champion...he is in the OCW Hall of Fame...he is The Confederate Icon...he is...Chad Vargas!!!

~Vargas reaches the bottom of the ramp and hustles up the steps. He pauses at the top and looks down at the shot girl. He hops off the steps and snares a shot glass full of Jameson. He holds the glass up and yells, “FUCK THE IRISH” and tosses it back. The people of Dublin BOOOOO!! Vargas hurls the empty shot glass at a very irish looking fellow in the front row, nailing him right in the face and knocking him out. He laughs and enters the ring~

Jones: Vargas not wasting any time, Hood.

Hood: Nope, Smith, he’s already making friends.

Jones: It’s Jones.

Hood: Right, Jones. That’s what I said, Smith.

Belvedere: And, his opponent…

~The crowd rises to their feet out of respect and admiration of OCW’s reigning champion. A man some might call a living legend. Binge & Purge by Clutch hits! They go wild. Slowly, emerging from under the giant shamrock steps the quiet, confident OCW Champion, Outcast. He makes his way toward the edge of the stage...his face is pretty reserved. He looks around at the 70,000 people, taking stock. His eyes locate the ring where Chad Vargas marches around, full of fire. Outcast takes the first step toward war with a ‘well, here we go’ demeanor~

Jones: Outcast defines the term battle tested veteran. He doesn’t get too high or too low for these moments. He’s seen it all, Hood. Tonight is just another in a long list of epic wars for him.

Hood: A quiet confidence for sure, Smith. That’s why he’s hard as fuck to beat. He doesn’t thrive on emotion. He’s a stone cold killer.

Jones: Great summary. But, again, it’s Jones.

Hood: Oh stop your bitching, just be thankful you’re out here.

~Outcast reaches ringside and marches around toward his corner where a shot girl awaits. Outcast sizes her up...she’s a redhead with a pretty rockin body. So inside he’s probably like “It’s good to be the king.” He grabs a shot glass full of Jameson and throws it back to a HUGE ovation~

Belvedere: From Chicago, Illinois...standing 6’1 and weighing in at 228lbs...he is the 2021 Wrestler of the Year...he is the reigning and defending OCW Champion...he is...Outcast!!!!

~Outcast heads up the steps and enters into the ring. Vargas steps toward him but Scruff is quick to get in between. Outcast sneers and glares at Vargas. Vargas yells, “Don’t look at me that way scarface, I’ll beat the fuck out of you!” Outcast slowly removes his belt and hands it to Belvedere, who exits toting the most prized possession in OCW history~

Jones: These men know they don’t have to start drinking until after the first five minutes, right?

Hood: Stop being such a pussy. They wanted to take a shot to get warmed up. Like REAL men. Let me guess, you shoot five hour energy.

Jones: Oh no, that might give me heart palpitations.

Hood: Geezus

~Scruff sees the two men in the ring. He points toward the giant OCW tron above the Shamrock for a five minute clock. It appears. And, the bell rings as the clock begins to count down. The fans go wild with an ‘OCW’ chant. Vargas removes his shades and tosses them out of the ring. Outcast approaches Vargas...the two men meet in the center of the ring. Vargas gets nose to nose with Vargas and starts hurling insults, talking shit. All the while, Outcast flashes a smirk~

Jones: Two OCW legends. One man a loud mouth, the other one who prefers to let his fists do the talking.

Hood: Well, they’d better start speaking because Vargas is about to whip his ass.

~Vargas, annoyed he can’t get much of a rise out of Outcast, shoves him. Outcast fires back with a punch into Chad’s face!!! The crowd goes wild!! Outcast punches him again and again, sending Vargas stumbling into a corner. Outcast’s over reaching right hands rattle Chad’s brains. Outcast grabs Vargas by the arm and seeks to whip him out of the corner...however, he uses Chad’s momentum and drops to the mat, taking Vargas down with a drop toe hold!!! Vargas lands smack flat on his face!! The fans go wild. Outcast returns to his feet and he rips the Confederate Flag vest off Chad’s back...he spits on it and hurls it into the crowd. The irish fans proceed to tear it apart~

Jones: A symbol of hatred destroyed by Outcast!

Hood: Hey, that’s personal property. I’m pretty sure Vargas had that made by Whitey McChalk down in “You don’t belong here boy” county in Tennessee. The man is very talented.

Jones: Yea, I’m not gonna touch any of that.

~Outcast grabs Vargas by his blonde hair and yanks him to his feet. He delivers a forearm uppercut, sending Vargas into the ropes. Outcast, again, grabs Chad by the arm...he whips him across the ring but Chad reverses...Outcast hits the ropes...but he wraps his arms around the top rope, pulling up. Vargas charges forward...Outcast ducks and pulls down on the top rope...Vargas leaps over the top rope and lands on the apron. Outcast returns to his feet...Vargas jumps and slides back into the ring between Outcast’s legs. Outcast whips around and eats a clothesline from Vargas which sends him crashing to the outside!!! The fans boo!!!!! Vargas stomps around the ring beating his chest, ‘THAT’S RIGHT! THAT’S FUCKIN RIGHT!’ The fans chant “DOUCHE BAG! DOUCHE BAG!”~

Jones: Great wrestling and reactions there by Vargas. Just wish he wasn’t so loathsome.

Hood: It’s who he is, Smith. It’s what makes him great.

Jones: I’M NOT SMITH

~Outcast returns to his feet...he looks up at the ring and Vargas, demonstratively storming around, he takes a beat to gather himself. Vargas looks down toward Outcast and yells at him to get back inside. Scruff isn’t counting, so Outcast takes a walk. Vargas gets frustrated. He marches for the ropes and hops through, going after Outcast...but the moment Chad’s feet hit the ground, Outcast turns around and smacks him with a fist. Vargas stumbles back...the fans cheer. Outcast hits him again and again. He grabs Vargas by the arm and whips him toward the steel post...but Vargas reverses!!! Outcast stops just short of hitting the post. Vargas delivers a forearm into Outcast’s back, sending him stumbling into the post...Vargas spins him around and he chops Outcast across the chest. Outcast leans into Vargas, wincing, holding his chest in pain. Vargas shoves him back...Outcast slams into the post, the back of his head narrowly avoiding the metal. Chad grabs Outcast’s head with both hands and he tries to smash the back of Outcast’s skull into the post, but Outcast responds with a kick into the lower abdomen...possibly the crotch. Vargas doubles over, saying, “You bitch.” Outcast lifts a knee, sending Vargas’ body snapping backward onto the floor. Outcast rolls back into the ring and he orders Scruff to count...Scruff begins a count~

Jones: Looks like count outs are legal in this match.

Hood: Kinda diminishes the term ‘death match’ don’t ya think?

Jones: I guess it really depends on how much whiskey is ingested.

~Scruff gets to ‘SIX!’ It’s a pretty fast count...kinda scary fast, if you’re a Vargas fan. Chad stands up and leans into the barricade...he looks up at the clock, which is at four seconds. Scruff yells “FIVE!” Chad laughs and gives Scruff the middle finger. Scruff yells “FOUR!” Scruff yells “THREE!” Scruff yells “TWO!” Vargas leans back, arms folded. Scruff yells “ONE!” He’s about to call for the bell when the clock expires and a buzzer goes off~

Jones: Artificial drama. Vargas knew the clock would expire before Scruff was done counting.

Hood: Shot time!

~Vargas is approached by a shot girl...he rips the glass off the tray and throws it back. He flings the shot glass over his shoulder and into the crowd. A shot glass waitress walks up the steps, meeting Outcast in a corner. Outcast takes the shot glass and throws it back. He politely places the glass back on top of the tray. Vargas hops onto the apron and re-enters. Both shots taken, Scruff motions for the match to resume...another five minute count down begins~

Jones: That’s two shots per competitor. We’ll see when or if they take effect.

Hood: They will at some point. But I assume both men have a super high tolerance. If that pussy janitor were in this match he’d already be passed out with his skirt over his head.

Jones: No argument from me.

~Vargas wipes some whiskey from the side of his mouth. He approaches Outcast with his arms ready...Chad engages and Outcast responds as they lock up. But, Outcast is quick to lift a knee into Chad’s midsection. He pummels Vargas over the back with a forearm. Vargas straightens up...Outcast chops him across the chest, sending Chad against the ropes. Outcast goes to whip Vargas across the ring but lifts a knee, sending Chad tumbling over and onto the mat, landing on his ass. Chad winces, holding his abs. Outcast kicks Vargas in the back of the head...The Confederate Icon falls to his side, rolling around in pain. Outcast jumps into the air and brings a sharp elbow into Chad’s chest. He then wraps Chad’s head into a side headlock, subduing the angriest OCW Champion in history~

Jones: And the Champion is in control.

Hood: He’s going about this in a very workman like manner. I mean, the guy has faced Maurako, Plethora, BRIM, Ed Houston, Dylan Thomas, and Zybala...there’s no match that’s too big, too intimidating for him. He’s at the top of his game with nothing to fear.

Jones: We’ve seen it before. Once a wrestler that talented gets on this kind of a roll they are near impossible to defeat. Vargas has his work cut out for him.

~Vargas reaches up and he manages to rake his hand across Outcast’s face. Outcast lets Vargas go. Vargas rolls away and to the ropes, pulling himself up. Outcast stands, hand over his face, cursing. Vargas rushes forward...Outcast looks up and is drilled between the eyes with a double axe handle!! The OCW Champion falls to the mat. Vargas stomps on Outcast over and over and over, stomping him into the mat. He curses with every impact. Vargas jumps up and brings a knee crashing down into Outcast’s face!! The Champ rolls away onto the apron, for protection. Vargas hits the ropes, he flies forward and dives onto the mat with a baseball slide, kicking Outcast off the apron, sending the champion flying into the barricade...his body crashes, hard. The fans at ringside all jump back. Vargas sits on the apron and stares down at Outcast’s body with disdain~

Jones: And just like that Chad Vargas has hit another gear.

Hood: The whiskey might be kicking in, Smith.

Jones: IT’S JONES

~Chad hops off the apron and onto the floor. He walks up and boots Outcast in the midsection...the OCW champ, wedged against the barricade absorbs the blow. Vargas grabs the top of the barricade and places his boot into Outcast’s windpipe...he pulls back and applies pressure, choking the champion. Fans at ringside boo and point...but they don’t get too close. Vargas soon breaks the choke, pulling Outcast back to his feet...he drags him toward the ring before turning around and slinging Outcast into the ring steps...Outcast hits hard and flips over, landing on the other side. Vargas hops onto the steps and jumps off, driving both knees into Outcast’s body. The OCW Champion curls up against the steps, in tremendous pain as The Confederate Icon pops to one knee, eyeing the clock. They’re under one minute~

Jones: This is turning into an assault, Hood.

Hood: Almost drinking time. Do we get to do shots with them?

Jones: I’m gonna go with no.

Hood: Shut up, Smith. You don’t know anything.

Jones: Then why’d you ask me?

Hood: Shut up.

~Chad pulls Outcast up and scoops him into his arms for a bodyslam...he faces the apron and he slams Outcast, back first, into the edge of the apron!! Outcast hits hard...he falls head first onto the floor, at Chad’s feet. The fans continue to boo. Vargas pulls Outcast back up and slings him into the ring. He crawls back in...Outcast shows his fighting spirit, returning to his feet despite the destruction his body has endured. He bends over, reaching for his back like an old man...Vargas rushes forward, he grabs Outcast by the head and drops him with Lethal Stroke (Swinging Neckbreaker)!!! Outcast is down. Vargas makes the cover. Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

3...NO! Kick Out!

Jones: Okay, so that was close.

Hood: Chad’s on the verge of winning this shit...but he’s only got like thirty seconds until the next shot break.

Jones: He’d better hurry.

~Vargas is aware. He returns to his feet, bringing Outcast along for the ride. He boots Outcast in the gut. There are twenty seconds left. He grabs Outcast’s head for his patented Snakeskin DDT...but Outcast shoves him off. There are ten seconds. Vargas curses and steps forward, kneeing Outcast in the chest. He grabs Outcast’s head again and this time is able to drop him with his Snakeskin DDT!!!! Outcast is down! Vargas rolls him over. Scruff drops to the mat to make the count~

1!

2!

TIME’S UP

~The crowd goes wild. Vargas slaps the mat and looks at Scruff like he wants to murder him. Scruff stands and backs away. Vargas rises...but, before he can get to Scruff, the shot girl gets in his way with a shot. Vargas says, “Fuck it.” He takes a shot and slams the shot glass on the tray, marching around, working off his anger. Outcast crawls into his corner where he takes a seat against the bottom buckle. A shot is handed to him through the ropes, he downs it...he then shakes the shot glass, asking for another...it’s refilled and Outcast downs a second shot. Vargas, not to be outdone, yells out, “Fuck him, give me another!” He gets another shot and downs it...the Irish people cheer~

Jones: Okay, so they are taking two shots this round.

Hood: Outcast for medicinal purposes. Vargas over pride.

~Outcast pulls himself back to his feet...it looks like a struggle. Vargas charges forward, feeling the whiskey running through his body. He leaps into the air with a splash, but Outcast moves!! Vargas slams into the corner and stumbles backward...Outcast runs him over with a lariat, sending Chad to the mat. Outcast paces the ring for a moment, holding his back, rubbing the various afflicted joints and muscles throughout his body…they seem to be warming up, loosening. He reaches down, snaring Chad by the hair...Vargas responds with a quick thumb into the eye, stunning the champion. Vargas reaches his feet and he hooks Outcast for another Snakeskin DDT...but Outcast punches Vargas in the ribs...he then turns the DDT into a Northern Lights Suplex!! He takes Vargas over and slams him into the mat...he tries to bridge for a pin, but his back is too fucked from the slam into the apron, so he’s unable~

Jones: The damage done by Vargas is having an impact on Outcast’s ability to fully execute some of his moves.

Hood: He’s used to it. When you get that age it’s hard to execute all your moves, especially in the bedroom with a twenty something year old woman.

Jones: Strangely detailed, but okay.

~Outcast returns to his feet, reaching for his back. Vargas sits up, facing the ropes. Outcast marches forward and he drives a knee into Vargas’ back. Chad gets up, angrily, holding his spine. He turns around and rushes at Outcast only for Outcast to catch him and spin around, quickly with a body slam into the mat. The ring shakes from impact. Outcast rises to his feet once again, looking more spry than he has the entire match. He backs into a corner, waiting for Vargas. Outcast hops onto the second rope...Vargas reaches his feet, he stumbles, he turns...Outcast leaps forward for a hurricanrana...but Vargas is like “Fuck this mexican shit” and he spins around and SLAMS Outcast into the mat with a powerbomb!!! The fans boooo!!! Vargas staggers to the side, dropping to one knee. Outcast is down on the mat. The clock reaches one minute~

Jones: Tremendous strength by Vargas to not only withstand that hurricanrana but turn it into a powerbomb.

Hood: Strength fueled by hatred, Smith. The hatred of people south of the border.

Jones: Again, it’s Smith. And can we not speculate on things such as racism?

Hood: SPECULATE?

~Vargas shakes his head...is he feeling buzzed or just shaken from Outcast’s offense? He drops to a knee and punches Outcast in the head with measured strikes. He looks up at the clock and sees it down to 45 seconds. He yells out “NOT AGAIN!” He pops to his feet, bringing Outcast along…he boots Outcast in the gut, pulls him in and drops him with SNAKESKIN DDT!!! Outcast is face down on the mat. Vargas rolls him over, going for the pin. Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

3...NO! KICK OUT!

Jones: Outcast survives the Snakeskin DDT!

Hood: I don’t think Vargas has time for another move and pinfall attempt.

Jones: It’s gonna be close.

~Vargas hurries, pulling Outcast to his feet. He puts his arm around him looking to hit his finisher...THE STROKE. The clock is at 10 seconds. The crowd is on their feet, yelling and screaming at Outcast to fight through it. Vargas moves to take Outcast down...but Outcast elbows Vargas in the side of the head, stunning The Confederate Icon. Vargas fights through it and tries again, Outcast blocks it. Vargas sees the clock at five seconds, he’s desperate...so he falls backwards with a Russian Leg Sweep!!! Outcast is down. Chad sits up and crawls over Outcast to make the pin, but, as he does the buzzer sounds. He slaps the mat with both hands, screaming “MOTHER FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!”~

Jones: Hard to think Vargas would have pinned Outcast with a Russian Leg Sweep...but, he would have liked to have been given the chance.

Hood: That clock just keeps fucking ole Vargas. WEAK ASS CLOCKING

Jones: And, with the sound of that clock, it’s another round of shots.

~Outcast slowly crawls into a corner. Each five minute interval renders an increasingly battered, wounded OCW Champion. But, he’s hanging in there. He sits up in the corner and takes a shot from the shot girl. Vargas takes one. He watches Outcast. Outcast takes a second shot. Vargas yells for another...he takes a second. Outcast narrows his eyes and...what’s this? Yes. He takes a THIRD shot. Vargas shakes his head, his eyes wide and he says, “Let’s go!” He gets a third shot and takes it. The crowd goes wild~

Jones: Oh my.

Hood: Yea, these dues are gonna be fucked up.

Jones: That’s, I think, seven shots?

Hood: What are you asking me for? I’m no math major.

~Chad shoves the shot girl to the side and goes after Outcast with the new clock commencing. He boots Outcast in the face, pulling him out of the corner. Outcast shoves Vargas back and he begins to smack The Confederate Icon with some punches of his own...he’s fighting back! The fans, for the first time in awhile, have something to cheer for. Vargas stumbles and staggers...Outcast whips him off the ropes, across the ring...Vargas hits the ropes, shoots off and eats a heel hook from Outcast!!! Vargas staggers to the side, shaken. Outcast runs into the ropes, he bounces off and he flies forward with a flying forearm into Chad’s head!!! Vargas falls back, through the ropes and onto the apron. Dublin goes wild~

Jones: Outcast is in control! I think the whiskey is making him stronger, Hood!

Hood: It does that to some people. Others, well, it fucks them up.

Jones: Could we be seeing Chad losing his focus due to the shots of alcohol?

Hood: I mean, he drinks Budweiser. The king of beers. But Budweiser is child’s play compared to straight whiskey.

~Chad reaches his feet on the apron. Outcast grabs him and knees him through the ropes. He hooks Chad for a suplex back into the ring. He lifts Vargas up...but Chad wiggles free and lands behind Outcast...he hooks Outcast around the waist for a German Suplex...but Outcast holds onto the ropes. Vargas punches Outcast in the back...it shoots pain through the champion’s body, stunning him. Vargas hooks Outcast around the waist and tosses him back with a German Suplex!!! Ireland boos!! Do they hate the Germans? Probably. But, they also hate Vargas. Chad holds on and rolls around...he pulls Outcast up and hits him with a second German Suplex!!! More boos!! Vargas tries to hold on and go for a third, but he lets go...he gets to one knee and dry heaves...he doesn’t look great~

Jones: Uh oh.

Hood: Yep, those shots are getting to Chad. You can’t roll around like that after seven quick shots of whiskey without feeling some form of “Holy shit I’m gonna fuckin puke.”

~Vargas pounds the mat with his fist, furious over his body’s lack of tolerance...at least in comparison to the unkillable Outcast. Outcast sits up, holding his neck. Vargas gets to his feet, he coughs and wipes his mouth...he stands up straight and waits while the nausea passes. It does. He goes back after Outcast, who is on one knee, holding onto the middle rope. Vargas kicks him in the back, sending Outcast hanging over the middle rope...his head and arms outside, the rest of his body inside the ring. Vargas runs back, he hits the ropes, he springs forward and he leaps through the ropes with his ass smashing into the back of Outcast’s head, crushing his throat against the middle rope. Outcast rolls around, holding his throat in pain. Vargas, outside the ring takes a moment to gather himself...it’s clear his body is having trouble managing the alcohol alongside the rapid motion~

Jones: I hate seeing anybody in that condition. It almost makes me feel sorta nauseous.

Hood: If you’re gonna spew, spew into this.

Jones: That’s a cup with Alice Knight’s face at the bottom.

Hood: Yes.

~Vargas, with his back to the ring, reaches into his tights. A woman at ringside is appalled...Vargas glares at her and says, “Please, don’t flatter yourself, bitch.” He then pulls out a pair of brass knuckles, sliding them over his right hand. Scruff is in the ring, watching the clock. It’s under two minutes. Chad then turns and reaches under the ring, grabbing a steel chair. He hurries into the ring with the chair. Scruff greets him as he reaches his feet~

Jones: You can’t use that chair, Vargas. The heck is he doing?

Hood: I’m sure he has a plan.

~Scruff rushes forward, grabbing at the chair. Chad wrestles with him...but, Scruff pulls it away. Chad’s like “Okay, fine.” Scruff heads to the side of the ring to dispose of the chair...his back to the action. As he does, Outcast stands...the moment he does, Vargas SLUGS him in the face with his brass covered knuckles!!! Outcast goes stiff and falls back, onto the mat. Vargas slings the brass knuckles out of the ring and he hurries forward, covering the OCW Champion. He yells at Scruff to get his ass over there and make the count. The clock is at a minute. Scruff dives in~

1!

2!

3!! NO!

Jones: Shoulder up! Outcast got the shoulder up!

Hood: Holy shit. Again, dude is unkillable. UNKILLABLE

Jones: He doesn’t have to be killed, Hood. He just has to be pinned.

Hood: Yea? Well, I think you gotta kill the guy to pin the guy.

~Vargas sits up, furious. He looks at Scruff...it’s a hate filled look, probably the same look he gives to the urban youths in the neighborhood across town. He rises...Scruff stands and backs away. Vargas bullies him into a corner. In the background we see the clock dipping under forty seconds. He gives Scruff a piece of his mind. Meanwhile, Outcast rolls over and spits up some blood from the shot to the mouth. It almost looks like he’s smiling, maybe he is. WOULDN’T DOUBT IT. Vargas shows Scruff three fingers and warns him to get it right next time. He turns and goes back after Outcast. He pulls Outcast to his feet...but Outcast is heavy and slow. It’s a struggle. Vargas beats him over the back with a few forearms to ease along the process. Finally, he gets Outcast up. Outcast raises his head and he spits blood into Chad’s face!!! The crowd goes wild. Vargas is like “You mother fucker.” He kicks Outcast in the gut, he spins him around and he drops him with THE STROKE!!!! CENTER OF THE RING!! The crowd gasps. Vargas turns Outcast over and makes the cover!!! Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

BUZZER!!!

Jones: The buzzer went off!! Right before Scruff hit the three count!

Hood: Un-fucking-believable. Chad wasted too much time arguing with Scruff.

Jones: That’s three times now Vargas has been on the edge of victory only to have the five minute window shut him out. This time, well, this time I think he had Outcast.

Hood: I mean, he hit The Stroke. He won the OCW Title with that move.

~On his knees, Vargas can’t believe it. He gets to his feet and storms around the ring, shaking his head. Outcast is on the mat, flat on his back, his eyes shut. A shot girl stands outside the ring, in a corner. Vargas heads that way and grabs a shot, tossing it back. Another shot girl enters the ring...she kneels over Outcast and pours the shot into his open mouth~

Jones: Well, that’s one way to do it.

Hood: Even unconscious the man can still throw back a shot of whiskey like a champ. A true icon.

~The shot girl starts to move but Outcast’s arm reaches up and grabs her. He slowly holds up his finger, asking for another. The shot girl does not deny...she pours a second down his throat. Vargas is like “Fucking serious?” So, he takes another. The shot girl starts to get up but AGAIN Outcast pulls her back, asking for another, so she pours a third down his throat. Vargas sighs, staring over his brow at this man. This is getting to be too much...the fans at ringside chide him and mock him…Vargas tells them to fuck off as he does a third shot. It looks hard to swallow...but he manages. The shot girl starts to get up but, ONCE MORE...Outcast grabs her and asks for another shot. She smiles and pours a fourth shot down his throat. Vargas yells out “WEAK ASS BOOKING!!!” He grabs a fourth shot and swallows it~

Jones: Okay, so that’s eleven shots in, roughly twenty five minutes, I think?

Hood: I think we’re about to find out what both men had for lunch, Smith.

~Outcast sits up. He looks at Vargas and smiles. Vargas grits his teeth, angry. The shot girl exits. A new clock starts. Vargas heads Outcast’s way...Outcast gets to one knee and he dives his head into Chad’s gut with a headbutt. Vargas stumbles back, doubling over...he lets out a very sick belch. The fans grimace. Outcast gets to his feet and he slugs Vargas across the face with a right hand...Chad stumbles into his corner, clutching the middle turnbuckle. His eyes look confused...he doesn’t look so angry, instead he looks a little lost and confused~

Jones: I think the whiskey is hitting Vargas, Hood. He doesn’t look right.

Hood: Outcast goaded him into taking all those extra shots. Fuck.

Jones: Yep.

~Outcast grabs Vargas by the hair, yanking him out of the corner. Chad shoves Outcast back and throws a wild punch, missing by a mile. He spins around and Outcast jumps up, wrapping his legs around Chad’s head and taking him over, backwards with an inverted Frankensteiner!!! Chad lands on his head, flipping over and coming to rest on his stomach. He pushes up a bit, he dry heaves...he almost pukes...he kinda does, but he swallows whatever’s in his mouth before flattening back on the mat. Outcast returns to his feet...he seems to be gaining strength from the whiskey~

Jones: The complexion of this match has completely shifted.

Hood: Yea, booze can do that.

~Vargas pushes up...he looks sick and off balance. But he knows he’s got to stay active. Outcast stands over him. Vargas gets to his feet and staggers into the champion. Outcast knees him in the gut and hooks him for BURNOUT! He tries to lift him up...but Vargas fights it! He wiggles his feet and thrashes his body, doing everything he can to not get dropped on his head. Finally, Outcast changes his plan and he dives over Chad’s back for a sunset flip...he takes him over. Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

KICK OUT!

Jones: Pretty close for a Sunset Flip in an OCW Title match.

Hood: Yea, well Vargas is shit faced. So, I mean he could literally tap out due to the arena spinning.

Jones: That’d definitely be a first.

~Chad rolls onto the apron. Outcast returns to his feet. He stays on Vargas...he grabs Chad’s legs and yanks him back into the ring. Chad grabs onto the bottom rope...Outcast hooks Chad’s legs under his arms and pulls, breaking Chad’s grip. Outcast then begins to spin...he spins Chad around and around and around. Fans turn away...this can’t have a good ending~

Jones: Yea, I don’t think I want to watch this.

Hood: I’m starting to feel sick.

~After several rotations, Outcast stops, slinging Vargas’ legs to the side. Chad rolls over, he curls up...he coughs, he dry heaves. Scruff checks on him...Vargas shoves him away. Outcast stands over him, laughing. The clock is now under thirty seconds~

Jones: It’s taking everything Chad has to not empty his guts on the mat.

Hood: This is fuckin miserable.

Jones: Outcast laid a trap and Chad walked right into it.

~Finally, Vargas manages to subdue the nausea. He crawls into a corner and flips over, staring up at Outcast. He glares and spits, “I’m not puking. FUCK YOU.” Outcast holds up five fingers...slowly, he brings them down until none remain and a BUZZER goes off. He smiles and says, “Drink up.” He reaches out, being handed a shot~

Jones: Oh great, just what Chad needs. ANOTHER SHOT

Hood: I know this feeling all too well, Smith. Barely survive puking only for some asshole to throw another shot in your face. It’s miserable.

Jones: I’M JONES

~Outcast takes the shot. Vargas receives his...he stares at it...he frowns. He’s disgusted by the smell. He closes his eyes and throws it back!! He swallows, HARD. He heaves...he nearly pukes...but, he keeps it down. He coughs and wipes some water from his eyes, handing the glass back over. He looks up and yells, ‘SHIT’ slapping the mat with his hand when he sees Outcast down another shot...his thirteenth of the match. Defeated, Vargas reaches his trembling hand out, receiving another shot glass filled with brown, pungent liquid. Vargas’ free, shaky hand tries to grab the top rope...it misses a few times before snaring a grip. He stumbles toward Outcast...Outcast peers into the drunken eyes of the OCW legend~

Jones: What’s Chad doing?

Hood: The Confederate Icon’s last stand.

~Vargas sighs and tells Outcast to ‘fuck off’, he slings the whiskey in Outcast’s face!!! Outcast is stunned. Vargas pummels him with right hands. Outcast is reeling. Vargas, with the shot glass in his hand, smashes it into the side of Outcast’s head!! The clock resumes!! Scruff looks on...the intensity has just suddenly shot through the roof. Vargas grabs Outcast and brings him in close~

Jones: The Stroke! He’s looking to hit the Stroke!

Hood: It’s his last stand, Jones! He knows he’s just about finished...drunk beyond any hope of achieving anything beyond passing out. If he wants to win, this is it.

Jones: He’s doing his best, I’ll give him that.

~Vargas has him hooked for THE STROKE!! Outcast slings his left arm over and smacks Vargas in the gut!!! Vargas stumbles...he nearly throws up. He doubles over...Outcast spins around, he hooks Vargas...he picks him up, he jumps into the air and he drives him into the mat with BURNOUT!!!!!! Vargas goes limp. Outcast makes the cover...Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

3!!!!!

~The bell rings~

Belvedere: Here is your winner...AND STILL OCW CHAMPION...OUTCAST!!!!!

Jones: Outcast did it! He has retained the OCW Title.

Hood: He got Vargas hammered and used it to his advantage. Note to self...never try to go shot for shot with Outcast.

Jones: This man has set a new standard for tolerance. He can handle just about anything. And that is why he remains OCW Champion.

~Dublin goes wild! Outcast sits up...the OCW Title is given to him. He rolls out of the ring...the minute his feet hit the floor he staggers...he shakes his head as if to say “Whoa, it’s getting to me.” He steadies himself and holds the belt high in the air, garnering more cheers from the lively Dublin crowd. Vargas, meanwhile, remains in the ring, on his side, passed out from a mixture of pain and alcohol abuse. The Knife Man enters, to check on him, “Keep him on his side,” he says~

Jones: When Vargas sobers up, this loss will sting.

Hood: Yep, but for now he rests inside the dark, impenetrable void that is A BLACK OUT

Jones: Yep. In the meantime, Outcast seems ripe for a celebration. He’s faced and defeated yet another OCW icon, continuing to carve his own path toward icon status.

Hood: Feels like they’re already making space in the Hall of Fame for this guy.

~Outcast staggers his way back up the aisle. Fans reach out, patting him on the arm. He’s got the OCW Title over his shoulder. His head is lowered...it’s a tough, hard march after the war he just went through. He reaches the ramp and makes his way up onto the stage~

Jones: What a way to end the evening. Outcast retains and now he sets his sights onto his next challenge.

Hood: Sure, but for now, celebrate. It isn’t easy retaining the OCW Title. Very few are able to do it. Think about what comes next tomorrow….or, hell, next week! Let this breathe, man!

~Atop the stage, Outcast turns to the fans. He’s about to wish Dublin a final ‘goodbye’ before the lights go out~

Jones: UH OH

Hood: Or, ya know, begin focusing on what’s next...RIGHT NOW!

~They come back on and the mighty PLETHORA stands behind Outcast. Outcast lowers his head...he knows what’s behind him. He says ‘fuck’. He turns around to face Plethora but is immediately blasted by a headbutt from the menacing creature. He drops the OCW Title. Plethora brings him in, he lifts him up and he drops Outcast on his head with a jumping Piledriver of his own...atop the stage!!! Outcast is wrecked! He’s down. Plethora returns to his feet and he unveils...HIS MIGHTY SCYTHE!~

Jones: No, not the scythe!

Hood: MIGHTY Scythe.

Jones: Whatever. Not that!

~Plethora seems intent on murdering Outcast...until a bunch of Dublin police and OCW security rush in, pulling Outcast and the OCW Title away. Plethora takes a few wild swings at nothing in particular...probably murdering some bugs in the sky or something before coming to rest and standing atop the stage, watching, silently as Outcast is helped backstage~

Jones: Well, so much for basking in the green Dublin glow of victory. Plethora has ruined that.

Hood: Outcast can thank all the cowards who refused to face him tonight. Plethora, now, will get his one-on-one shot against the Champion in April at Technical Difficulties.

Jones: That he will. Folks, it’s been a tremendous night. New champions...great matches, and a whole host of memories that will live on forever. It ends with Outcast standing tall as a new challenge awaits. That challenge comes in the form of a cloaked, 600lb murderer named Plethora.

Hood: Outcast defends against Plethora...perhaps his greatest challenge yet.

Jones: For Smith AND Hood, I’m Jones saying goodnight everyone! We’ll see you NEXT Monday from ‘Australia’ for Massacre!

Hood: What? You’re not Smith?

Jones: FOR THE LAST TIME

~They continue to bicker as we linger on a shot of the MIGHTY PLETHORA standing atop the stage under the giant green shamrock before the credits begin to roll and we fade out~