LIVE! Monday, January 16th 2017
From The OCW Arena in Key West, Florida
~We cut to an arena filled to capacity. It appears as though the place can hold somewhere between thirty or forty thousand. The arena is custom made. It resembles a giant, fresh high school gymnasium in texture and style. Stands surround the center which is comprised of a fresh wrestling ring. The mat is gray. The ropes are black. The buckle pads are black with a red O on the top, a red C on the middle and a red W embroidered into the bottom. It’s signature OCW. There is a thirty or forty foot, padded walk way. The padding is hard rubber with a few thick inches between the surface and the harsh concrete beneath it. The padded surface feeds into a black rampway which leads onto a stage that feeds back into a large curtain. Above the curtain is a fresh, new, HD OCW Tron. It is currently displaying the logo.
The logo fizzles. “Cheer” flashes onto the screen as the crowd in attendance begins to do so. We turn to the ring where we notice OCW General Manager Marcus Welsh and his Assistant GM The Eastern European standing in the center. Welsh, thankfully, is holding the mic. He is dressed in a custom suit, sporting an expensive watch. His hair is styled with great care. A practiced smile creases his face.
The Eastern European is a bit of a contrast. His suit is a few sizes too large. His long, black hair appears a bit greasy. His expression seems to be a mishmash of fatigue and confusion. He claps with all five fingers on each hand extended and smiles like a child. Welsh brings the mic to his mouth. The OCW Tron flashes “Silence!” on the tron. The fans hush.
Behind Welsh is a giant portrait of Jimmy Buffet. It’s just his head with his eyes staring down at the entire arena, as though he were watching it~
Marcus Welsh: Ahem, thank you for that wonderful welcome OCW fans. I’d like to officially welcome all of you in attendance, as well as you all watching at home to the 2017 version of Online Championship Wrestling.
~The crowd is quiet. The tron flashes “Cheer”. They go wild. “Silence” pops up, they quiet back down~
Marcus Welsh: I know there hasn’t been much news of late. Well, not since that whole GM rigmarole which led to…silence.
~Welsh smiles as his mind trails. He continues~
Marcus Welsh: I bet you all thought the silence indicated indecision…maybe even abandon. You all thought OCW was dead. Well, it isn’t. After going over the analytics it became apparent that ‘The Climb’ would not be a feasible option. Interest barely moved the meter an inch. Talent was less than eager to join up. So, we had to reassess and move forward.
~Welsh nods to the Eastern European. He staggers and picks an item off the mat. He stands it up on two flimsy, wooden legs. He rips a cover off and reveals brackets with the image of the OCW Title above~
Marcus Welsh: So, when in doubt as to how you should go about reopening a wrestling federation…turn to a tournament! That’s right, we’re doing things the old fashioned, tried and true and, sadly, predictable way. We’re going to hold an eight man tournament with the winner helming this new generation as its leader by carrying the OCW Title.
~A few fans chant “Grenier! Grenier!” from the crowd. They are quickly located and escorted from the arena~
Marcus Welsh: We are not going to recognize any of the subpar competitors who held belts under the previous regime. This regime is looking for a more talented, competitive roster. A roster OCW can be proud of. As far as any of those former competitors are concerned, if they want to be a part of this new era they must pass a multitude of tests and then receive my personal approval. This will not, I repeat, will not become a substandard, low brow, comical brand of wrestling. We are turning OCW into a legitimate organization.
~The crowd is silent until the word “Cheer” pops up on the tron. They break into wild applause. “Silence” pops back up and they quiet down~
Marcus Welsh: The tournament begins next Monday, with two first round match ups. As for tonight, well, we’re going to dole out a few matches showcasing some of our more impressive talents. And, with that, I bid you adieu. My esteemed assistant GM will handle things from here.
~Welsh hands the mic to Belvedere as we get a close up of the brackets~
Smith: Hello again everyone and welcome to OCW 2017.
Hood: Yea, umm, this is definitely a different feel.
Smith: Feels sorta normal to me. I mean you are sitting next to me, as always. It’s almost like we’re those two curmudgeonly old Muppet characters…forever bolted side by side.
Hood: A certain kind of hell, for sure. But, man, I don’t know…it’s just the smell. Everything is so fresh, like new car shit, ya know? I get it’s all new and clean and whatever but give me a dive bar any day of the week…that’s OCW.
~A muscular OCW employee walks up and talks down to Hood. Hood straightens his collar and speaks~
Hood: What I meant to say was…this is great! I’m thrilled to be back!
Smith: Now things feel different…anyway, let’s talk about that bracket. Some familiar names…others I’ve never heard of. What do you make of the slash between Depth/Scootah and Vortex/Debris?
Hood: Handicap matches?
Smith: Doubtful, I mean that would be sort of unfair.
Hood: Are they able to use knives?
Smith: Umm, no.
Hood: Well then how the fuck should I know?
Smith: Maybe it’s either or…
Hood: either or what? Be clear, man!
Smith: Let’s head backstage…
~Smith shakes his head as we cut backstage where John E. Depth and Shootah are standing side by side. Across from them are OCW’s other tag team, Tornado Alley, comprised of Vortex and Debris. In the middle stands the Eastern European. He has the bracket stashed under his arm~
Shootah: Yo man, so lookie here. Like am I fightin or is John cause, ya know, I’d like to think we’d get a heads up on this shit.
Vortex: Yea, what he said.
Eastern European: Listen everybody. It is going to be a great thing! Here’s what we do, okay? I let you decide who from your team competes, okay? Sound good? Sound great, right?
~The Eastern European lets out a strange chuckle, leaving the four men, two teams behind to figure things out~
Vortex: Soooo…are we just supposed to decide which one of us is in the tournament?
John E. Depth: If that’s the case, we have to go with stamina, Shootah. We have to go with me.
~Shootah shrugs, okay with that scenario. Vortex and Debris remain behind~
Vortex: You want to just give me the spot, friend?
Debris: Umm how about no? I’d like to have a shot at the title.
Vortex: Paper, rock, scissors?
Debris: What, are we twelve?
Vortex: Well fuck, man. Why don’t you come up with something?
~Tornado Alley walks away frustrated, we cut back to ringside~
Smith: It seems as though within the first twenty minutes of our initial broadcast one of our two tag teams is already dealing with dissention.
Hood: It’s like I’ve always said, Smith. Tag team wrestling sucks.
Smith: I disagree.
Hood: No surprise there…hey, who’s that guy in the ring? Holy shit…
Smith: I think he’s a local talent, paid to just show up tonight.
Hood: So he’s not on the roster?
Smith: Umm, no.
Hood: Whew, I was fucking concerned. If guys like that start signing up we’re totally fucked.
Smith: Let’s head down to ringside!
~A skinny, pale man devoid of muscle stands in a corner, staring at the crowd in wonder. His head is shaved and he has a barbed wire tattoo around his four inch bicep~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen, the inaugural match for OCW 2017 is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first from…Nowhere Special…he is simply known as Jamoke!
~Jamoke tries to jump in the air but stumbles to one knee. He reaches for the ropes and pulls himself back up. The crowd gives a very opera like clap. “Superbeast” by Rob Zombie begins playing. Big Swole emerges from behind the curtain. He marches, with a purpose toward the ring~
Belvedere: And his opponent, from Helena, Montana…he stands 7’1” and weighs in at 335lbs…Big Swole!!!
~Belvedere rushes out of the ring as Big Swole stomps angrily up the steps, enters over the top rope and glares at Jamoke. Jamoke starts counting on his fingers. Scruff signals toward the ring announcer as the bell sounds~
Smith: What is that Jamoke doing?
Hood: I believe he’s counting up how much he’s going to make tonight.
Smith: And why on Earth would he do that?
Hood: Well, upon seeing his opponent he’s probably trying to see if the payday is worth it.
Smith: Ahh, now that makes sense.
~Jamoke continues counting, probably up to twenty or thirty. It’s going to take him forever. Swole marches toward him. He grabs Jamoke’s left hand, which has all five fingers extended. He grabs the four normal fingers and cranks back simultaneously breaking all four. Jamoke falls to his knees and ululates in tremendous pain~
Smith: Yikes!
Hood: I really hope Jamoke jacks off with his right hand
Smith: Maye he has a girlfriend.
Hood: HAHA
~Swole grabs Jamoke by the head and yanks him to his feet as though he were a pillow or blow up doll. Jamoke appears to be crying while clutching his devastated left hand. Swole shoves Jamoke in the corner and backhands Jamoke across the face. A tooth flies into the crowd as Jamoke falls to his knees with blood sprinkling from his mouth onto the mat~
Smith: And that’s why we can’t have nice things.
Hood: Damn, it didn’t take long for that brand new mat to get all OCW’d up. I like it.
Smith: Disgusting
~Jamoke crawls under the spread legs of Swole. Swole turns around and Jamoke lays on his back asking Swole to pin him~
Smith: This is pitiful
Hood: The guy has already lasted longer than Scoot Time would have
Smith: Scoot Time at least had charisma
Hood: You call whatever that guy had, charisma? It’s people like you that breathe legend into losers like that.
~Swole grabs Jamoke by his right ear, nearly ripping it off. He gets Jamoke to his feet, knees him in the gut, lifts him into the air and drills him into the mat with a Jackknife Powerbomb. He places a boot on Jamoke’s chest and Scruff makes the count~
1!
2!
3!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Ladies and gentlemen here is your winner…BIG SWOLE!!!!!
~Swole exits the ring as OCW medics rush to help Jamoke~
Smith: Well, that was fast.
Hood: Sweet, means we might get out of here earlier than expected.
Smith: Hot date lined up?
Hood: I don’t know, maybe. Just gotta figure out how to use this Tinder thing out. Pisses me off because nothing but ugly people are matching up with me.
Smith: Yea, show me what you’re doing.
Hood: See…this ugly bitch. Hell no, I’m going to deny her so let me swipe her away to the right. And…damnit, we matched! What the fuck, man?
Smith: Hood! You’re supposed to swipe the ones you don’t want LEFT. Right swiping is for keepers!
Hood: Well NOW you tell me. Shit.
Smith: Directions have never been your thing, have they?
Hood: Meh, they are for losers. By the way, how do you know so much about Tinder?
Smith: OCW’s hiatus left me with a lot of time on my hands.
Hood: OKAY THAT’S ENOUGH.
Smith: What, I was…you know, never mind. Let’s head backstage.
~Backstage Vortex and Debris are standing outside the Eastern European’s office. The door opens and they are allowed in. The Eastern European is opening an energy drink~
Eastern European: Gentlemen, take a seat!
~There are no seats, so they stand~
Eastern European: What can I be doing to make you an acquaintance?
Vortex: Umm, about the tournament…
Eastern European: Ah, the tournament! It’s great idea, yes?
Vortex: Uh yea, sure. I was just going to say that we’ve decided to wrestle for the spot.
~EE’s eyes pop as he is mid sip. He swallows and speaks~
Eastern European: That is great idea! It will be tremendous main event for tonight, yes! Haha, you guys are really on top of it!
~Vortex and Debris are escorted out of the office, left to stand in the hallway and contemplate~
Vortex: So, I guess we’re wrestling tonight?
Debris: Sounds like it.
Vortex: Let’s talk to that guy as little as possible.
~Debris nods as Tornado Alley heads down the hall. We cut back to ringside. “Tear Away” By Drowning Pool hits. Tatum Coe, the former OCW Lightweight Champion and Last Man Standing Runner Up appears from behind the curtain. He’s dressed in an expensive sports coat, slacks and a buttoned up white shirt with the top two buttons undone. He struts to the ring neglecting to look any fan in the eye. “Boo” is shown on the screen. The fans boo him vociferously. He takes his time up the steps and through the ropes~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen, the former OCW LightWeight Champion, Tatum Coe!
~Coe accepts the mic from Belvedere. “Silence” hits the tron and the fans hush allowing Coe the opportunity to speak~
Tatum Coe: Nice. I think I’m going to like the 2017 version of OCW.
~He smirks amidst silence~
Tatum Coe: Now, I understand you all just found out but I’ve known about this tournament for a few weeks. You see, an organization doesn’t call someone the likes of me without having big plans in store. You don’t just call Tatum Coe and offer him a contract with no plan in sight. So, when I accepted the call and heard about this OCW Title opportunity I figured, sure…I’ve got one more run in me.
~”Boo” hits the tron, prompting the fans. Coe points at the Tron and then performs a throat slash. “Silence” pops up and the fans quiet down~
Tatum Coe: As much as I’d like to eradicate 2015 from everyone’s mind, that just isn’t possible in this day and age. To pretend as though 2015 never happened would insult even the lowest of intellects…I’m looking at you, Hood.
Hood: Huh? What happened? I just heard my name!
Smith: Nothing you’d regret missing.
Tatum Coe: Turns out, I have a legitimate excuse for my lackluster performance of two years ago. I was suffering from an undetected staph infection which kept me from performing at an optimal level throughout the duration of OCW’s 2015 run. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, really…given the derelict management of the previous regime. Good news is, I’m finally one hundred percent and ready to make amends. So, starting next Monday prepare…
~”Hypnotize” by Notorious BIG blares throughout the arena. Irvin Hill’s name hits the tron followed by “Cheer!” The fans jump to their feet and go wild. Hill flips the curtain apart and dances his way to the edge of the stage. He has a mic in his hand. The music dies down and he speaks~
Irvin Hill: Ya know, it’s been a long time since I competed in OCW. Somethin’ like ten years or whatever. At least that’s what the OCW newsline reports. I honestly couldn’t tell ya, time flies. What I do know is OCW has changed. The faces, the arena, the management, it’s all different. But, I do recognize one leftover from ten years ago and that’s you, Coe.
Tatum Coe: it’s nice to know you haven’t smoked your memory entirely away.
Irvin Hill: What, cause the way I look I’m supposed to be some kind of drug addict? Typical, Coe. I see two things haven’t changed. You’re still the ignorant prick you always were.
Tatum Coe: I was talking out here, Irvin. I was making a point so could you please reach yours before the show ends?
Irvin Hill: Walkin’ backstage, I noticed those brackets and realized that I’m facing you next week in the first round. Then I saw you in the middle of this ring and thought I’d come out here and see if maybe you were interested in getting thing started a little earlier than all of that.
~Irvin Hill makes his way to the ring. Coe laughs~
Tatum Coe: Alright little man, come on down.
~Hill reaches the ring and slides in the bottom rope. He pops to his feet. As soon as he does, Coe steps through the ropes and hops to the floor. He drops the mic to the ground and walks up the ramp. “Boo” hits the tron and the fans boo Coe as he reaches the top of the ramp and exits without bothering to look back. Hill, still in the ring, shakes his head~
Irvin Hill: That’s fine, that’s fine. You wanna run, no worries. I’ll just see your ass next week.
~Hill drops the mic. As he does, Scruff slides into the ring and an unknown, skinny person wearing plain, blue tights heads to the ring. Hill steps into a corner, removes his head band and t-shirt. His tatted upper torso is tucked snugly into a pair of blue and white pants. He works his arms back and forth, placing a mouth guard over his upper row of teeth~
Smith: And it appears Irvin Hill is up next.
Hood: So, was he going to run some kind of gauntlet?
Smith: I don’t know, perhaps.
Hood: But…why?
Smith: After a ten year hiatus, maybe he’s just ready to get back into the ring.
Hood: Sounds dumb to me.
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first from Somewhere on Land, his height and weight do not matter…MOPE!
~Mope raises his right hand with a strip of blubber flapping around underneath what, I’d guess you’d call a bicep~
Belvedere: And his opponent, standing six feet tall. He weights 195lbs and is coming to us from the nation’s capital, Washington DC. He is…Irvin Hill!!!!
~Belvedere exits the ring and the bell sounds. Mope heads for the middle of the ring. Hill meets him. Mope extends his hand. Hill shakes it. Mope takes his free hand and slaps Hill across the face. Mope laughs as Hill’s head jerks to the left. He rubs the stricken cheek~
Smith: It appears Mope has more spunk than Jamoke.
Hood: Spunk? For fuck’s sake, man.
Smith: Alright, fine…spirit, fight?
Hood: Much better.
~Hill places his right palm onto the forehead of Mope and shoves him back. Mope staggers a few feet and Hill leaps high into the air and drills Mope in the face with a Standing Drop Kick!! Mope falls onto his back and rolls out of the ring, holding his nose in pain~
Smith: And a quick response by Irvin Hill. It’s been awhile since he’s competed in OCW and it’s clear he feels like he’s got some lost time to make up for.
Hood: Nothing sucks more than wasted potential, Smithereens.
Smith: Indeed…but, if there’s still some potential left in that aged body of his, perhaps he can finally live up to it.
Hood: Eh, who cares, really?
Smith: RUDE!
~Hill rushes over to the ropes, he grabs the top rope and propels himself over it with a plancha onto Mope. They crash onto the padded floor outside the ring. Hill yanks Mope to his feet and he tosses him back into the ring. Mope rolls toward the center and staggers to his feet. Hill hops onto the apron, jumps onto the top rope and springs off with another dropkick!! Mope flies back first into a nearby corner, slumping with his shoulders resting against the middle turnbuckle~
Smith: Hill is moving very fast and efficiently in this match. I think he’s sending a message to Tatum Coe.
Hood: E or Snail Mail?
Smith: Huh?
Hood: You said he's sending a message. I just wanted to know which method of transportation he was sending it. Probably snail mail, considering how long it's taking him to put this guy away.
Smith: I find snail mail to be an underrated form of communication.
Hood: You would
~Hill grabs Mope by his greasy, thinning hair. He drags him into the middle of the ring and knees him in the gut. Mope doubles over. Hill drills him in the face with a knee lift. Mope’s legs wobble. Hill jumps into the air, places his knees against Mope’s face, falls onto the mat and crushes Mope with a Codebreaker!! Mope falls to the mat, unconscious. Hill covers him, nonchalantly and Scruff counts~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner….IRVIN HILL!!!!!
Smith: Dominating win by Irvin Hill, he looks ready for action next week.
Hood: I guess, like I said, he beat a guy named Mope. But, yea, I guess it was better than sitting on his ass and eating Oreos or whatever.
Smith: Mmm, Oreos.
Hood: They are pretty fucking delicious.
Smith: Let’s head backstage!
~Backstage OCW newcomer Detective Jack Puffer is standing outside with a fedora over his head and a pipe hanging out of his mouth. Holding a magnifying glass, he studies the fine print from an OCW flyer~
Puffer: Hmm, it appears as though the verbiage within this catalog holds no meaning pertaining to the rumors that have been swirling in regards to some type of OCW Title Tournament. Hmmm…
~He wanders near a door. It hopes and Irvin Hill exits, carrying a bag with him, still sweating from his recent victory. Hill looks at Puffer, curiously and heads toward his car. Puffer holds the door open~
Puffer: Interesting, it appears as though this door might lead somewhere with some OCW information. Let’s enter and see what we can find.
~Puffer looks up and down the walls, walks carefully, ensuring no clue goes undiscovered. He reaches an active area where the OCW Title tournament brackets are visible. They are seated, much like a project presentation, aboard a skinned, two legged stand. He inspects the two skinny wooden legs~
Puffer: What do we have here? Some type of apparatus meant to prop up an item. It seems quite flimsy. I’m sure there is nothing of note any further. Let’s move on.
~Puffer turns and his head runs into the chiseled six pack of OCW wrestler, Reid. Reid, dressed in MMA shorts and MMA gloves looks down at Puffer and scowls. Puffer, a good half a foot shorter than Reid, looks up with his glass. Reid’s face is monstrously distorted~
Puffer: GOOD HEAVENS!
~Puffer jumps back as Reid’s fists clinch. He grabs the tournament bracket board and rears back with it, ready to use it as a weapon of protection against Reid. Before he does, he notices what’s written on the platform~
Puffer: What’s this? Could this be…well, I’ll be! It most certainly is! I’ve discovered the brackets displaying the competitors for the OCW Title Tournament! Another case solved by Detective Jack Puffer!
~Puffer, hopelessly unaware of Reid’s overbearing presence, pats him on the shoulder and marches off feeling like the greatest detective ever. Reid shakes his head and walks in the opposite direction. We cut back to ringside~
Smith: Interesting new character
Hood: That guy is lame as fuck and…I hate to say it, he is a shitty detective.
Smith: Hard to argue with either of those two claims. Perhaps his in ring performance will be more impressive.
Hood: I highly fucking doubt it. HIGHLY
Smith: We will find out on Monday. In the meantime…let’s turn our attention to tonight’s main event…the first match of merit this evening. Vortex takes on his tag team partner, Debris with the winner proclaiming the team’s spot in the OCW Title Tournament.
Hood: Tornado Alley collides!
Smith: Seems sort of impossible.
Hood: Not if this were inception.
Smith: But this isn’t inception.
Hood: Why do you have to go and ruin all the fun with your LOGIC
Smith: That’s my job. Anyway, folks…Tornado Alley has achieved a bit of notoriety within the wrestling industry over the past year. They won the Fight One tag team titles over the summer.
Hood: Fight One? Was there one fight an evening?
Smith: I don’t have any clue
Hood: Did a person fight himself every match?
Smith: I. Don’t. Know.
Hood: Just curious is all.
Smith: And Vortex competed in something called the Manifest Destiny tournament. He made it to the second round before losing to the eventual winner.
Hood: So the guy is a loser?
Smith: Well, I guess you could infer that but I like to look at it as he put himself in a tough situation, did his best and lost to a very talented wrestler.
Hood: Eh, I prefer loser. It gets to the point way fucking faster than all that mumbo jumbo you just spat.
Smith: Regardless, the best friends square off next with a spot in the OCW Title Tournament on the line! Let’s head down to ringside.
~”Respect the Wind” by Van Halen begins playing. Debris hustles down to the ring and slides in under the bottom rope. He tosses some trash around the ring~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen, it is now time for our Main Event! This match is scheduled for one fall and the winner will earn a spot in the 2017 OCW Title Tournament! Introducing first, from a Motel along Tornado Alley…he stands a reported 6’4 and weighs a reported 265lbs…he is Debris!!!
~”Respect the Wind” by Van Halen starts up again and Vortex twirls down to ringside with his arms extended. He slides into the ring and continues to twirl, kicking the trash around whenever it gets in the way of his feet~
Belvedere: And his opponent, also from a Motel lining Tornado Alley…he stands a reported 6’2 and weighs in at a reported 250lbs…he is Vortex!!
~Belvedere exits the ring. Scruff picks up the trash and inspects each item for value before discarding them. The bell rings~
Smith: I think Vortex and Debris got their timing mixed up.
Hood: That’s not all their confused about
Smith: What do you mean?
Hood: Those guys are the size and shape of a dick in need of enhancement.
Smith: Yikes!
~The duo meet in the middle of the ring. Vortex extends his hand. Debris shakes it. Before the shake ends, Vortex doubles Debris over with a kick to the gut. He leaps over Debris with a sunset flip, pulls him over and makes the cover. Scruff slides in for the count~
1!
2!
Kick Out!!
Smith: Very close!
Hood: Nice…I’m already liking Vortex over Debris
Smith: Well, he certainly seems to be the more ambitions one of the duo.
Hood: A lot of money at stake here, Smith.
Smith: Yea?
Hood: Well, okay, maybe not a lot. But the winner might be able to swing something more pricey than the dollar menu at Mickey Ds.
~Debris rolls over the back of his head and gets to a kneeling position. Vortex is still seated. Debris lunges forward and he nails Vortex in the chin with a forearm. Vortex falls over and holds his chin in pain. He looks at Debris with confusion in his eyes, with hurt. Debris starts to feel sorry for Vortex~
Smith: Strange…did Vortex not expect to get hit in this match?
Hood: It was just a forearm, my goodness.
Smith: I guess betrayal comes in different forms for different people.
~Debris apologizes and helps Vortex to his feet. Vortex quickly locks Debris into a small package. Scruff slides in for the count~
1!
2!
Kick out!!
Smith: He fooled Debris yet again!
Hood: Debris MIGHT be dumber than that stupid ass Detective Fluffer.
Smith: It’s Puffer
Hood: Like it matters.
~Debris leaps to his feet and shouts, “What the heck?” Vortex gets to his feet and shrugs. Debris walks into a corner and shakes his head. Vortex takes in a breath. Debris turns to look into the crowd. As he does, Vortex sprints in. He goes for a knee. Debris moves, Vortex slams his knee into the top turnbuckle. He staggers back and Debris nails Vortex with repeated forearms to the face. He backs Vortex into another corner, whips him across the ring and Vortex slams into the opposing turnbuckles. Debris charges in and spears Vortex into the corner. Vortex falls to his ass, sitting up against the bottom turnbuckle~
Smith: Debris finally wised up
Hood: I guess, I think Vortex is just too slow. It took him forever to get to that corner with his elevated knee.
Smith: I think it’s called a flying knee, Hood.
Hood: That fucker was far from flying.
~Debris picks Vortex up, double under hooks his arms and lifts him up and over for a double under hook suplex. Vortex arches his back in pain. Debris helps Vortex to his feet and he whips him into the ropes. Vortex bounces off and Debris spears him to the mat!! Vortex yells and clutches his abdomen in pain, rolling near the ropes~
Smith: Debris is dominating this match
Hood: Yea, if he can keep from falling into another one of his partner’s traps.
Smith: I think we’re past that, Hood.
Hood: Never doubt the lengths stupidity will go to fuck someone over.
~Debris marches toward Vortex. Vortex holds his right arm up, begging Debris to leave him alone. There is true pain in his eyes as his body is writhing. Debris, breathing heavily, contemplates what to do. He looks out to the crowd. The crowd looks to the tron. There is nothing on there, so they fail to react. He looks to the mat and kicks his right foot at a blood stain from Jamoke’s busted mouth~
Smith: Don’t do it, Debris! Finish him!
Hood: You’re such a bloodlust, Smith!
Smith: No I’m not, I just see a man that is about to lose a golden opportunity by being gullible.
Hood: Eh, what good is a friend if you can’t fuck them over every once in a while?
~Debris shakes his head and extends both arms. Vortex reaches up with both of his. An awkward hug takes place. Debris helps Vortex to his feet. During the awkward assist, Vortex winds up hooking the head of Debris under his right arm. He jumps up and drills Debris in the center of the ring with a Tornado DDT!!! Vortex climbs over him, hooking both legs. Scruff makes the count~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings. Vortex leaps to his feet and runs around the ring celebrating~
Belvedere: Here is your winner and the man who will represent Tornado Alley in the 2017 OCW Title Tournament…VORTEX!!!!!
Smith: Unbelievable
Hood: Vortex is my pick to win, Smith!
Smith: Of course he is
Hood: He’s got a win at all costs mentality…exactly what a guy needs to succeed. I’ve never been a fan of inclement weather. That’s why I dig San Diego so much. However, if I had to name a favorite natural calamity, it would for sure be the Vortex.
Smith: Ugh…I’m disgusted. I hate seeing kindness used against someone.
Hood: Meh, Debris will get over it. I mean, look at the guy. Not like he has any other friends to turn to, haha.
~Vortex climbs to the top rope, holding his arms in the air triumphantly. He raises the index finger of his right hand to indicate he is number one~
Smith: Well, that’s all the time we have this week, folks. Vortex moves onward.
Hood: Damn, that was it?
Smith: What, you want to work longer?
Hood: Eh, not really. I’m cool with heading home.
Smith: Before signing off, let me remind you that the 2017 OCW Title Tournament kicks off next week featuring Cisco Sheppard taking on Detective Jack Puffer and a member of Deluxxx going one on one against former OCW Television Champion, Julio Lugo. I’m also told Reid will make his debut as well.
Hood: When is this?
Smith: For the love, man! It’s next week…Monday. We air EVERY Monday.
Hood: Geez, you don’t have to yell. Don’t make me go all Vortex on your ass, haha.
Smith: And with that, we’ll see you next week.
~The show ends with a final shot of Vortex playing air guitar in accordance with ‘Respect the Wind’. Debris is seated and staring at the mat, blankly. We fade to black~