OCW Presents: Massacre
LIVE! Monday, October 1st 2018
From The OCW Arena in Key West, Florida

~Monday night is upon us again and many questions linger. How long are we going to be working at this job? Is this week going to drag on as long as last week? Will we make it to the grocery store like we always promise ourselves to stock the fridge with food healthier than the ‘fast’ variety? And, most importantly of all, will that woman we took home late Saturday night after several beers ever quit calling? Ah well…these WERE important questions until we realized Massacre is upon us! The logo pops up on the screen! We are so super duper stoked that words cannot described (so why try, right?). We take a seat ready to see the IN RING return of Chad Vargas. We wonder if Puffer finally cracked a case…does he know who the FACE of OCW is? Will Langston or Lapierre punch their ticket to Serial Thrillers? And, most importantly of all…who will walk away OCW Champion at the end of Massacre! The screen cuts away from the OCW and Massacre logos and into the sold out OCW Arena! The fans are going wild! We cut to Smith and Hood~

Smith: Hello again everyone and welcome to Monday Night Massacre! I’m your host Smith and alongside me, as always is Hood

Hood: Yeaux

Smith: We’ve got a stacked lineup for you all tonight with a main event that will surpass all Massacre main events of 2018 – hopefully. Tonight we will watch the OCW Champion, Matt Meyhu defend his most precious prize…the most precious item in ALL of OCW against Mike Zybala

Hood: Please win, Meyhu…PLEASE

Smith: This is a feud that dates back YEARS. Zybala brought the grudge into OCW last year at the conclusion of Stainless Steel Ride. Tonight…perhaps…perhaps they settled their feud once and for all inside a Steel Cage

Hood: I don’t know why a midget wants to fight a marvel inside a cage but, hey, Zybala

Smith: To prevent Welsh and his thugs from running interference! Zybala has a ton of confidence in his abilities, Hood. A ton

Hood: Yea well the stress from tonight’s beating will have him looking like ZYBALDA by 2019

Smith: That remains to be seen. Anyway, folks…we’ve got a ton of action slated tonight so let’s not waste any time! Let’s head down to ringside for the in ring return of Chad Vargas

Singles Match
“The Confederate Icon” Chad Vargas (19-5) vs. Jack Puffer (0-2)

~We cut to the ring. The crowd is chanting and yelling at Puffer wanting to know who the new ‘FACE’ of OCW is. Puffer assures them that they will know later tonight~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, already in the ring…Jack Puffer!

~The opening chords of Lynyrd Skynyd’s “Needle and the Spoon” controls the sound system as a voice over shouts ‘King Kong ain’t got shit on me!” as “The Confederate Icon” Chad Vargas emerges onto the ramp, his arms raised in the air. He takes a few steps forward as orange, blue, and white pyros blast from behind him. Vargas turns, eyes wide as he smirks reveling in his entrance. He slowly struts down the aisle, mouthing obscenities to the crowd on his way by as they boo him. Once he reaches the ring, he slowly climbs up the steal steps and into the ring. Going to the furthest turnbuckle, he climbs up to the second rung, raises his arms in the air, still mouthing obscenities as he jumps down onto the mat, getting ready to lay down his opponent with his infamous country fried ass whoopin’~

Belvedere: And his opponent…from Everclear County, Tennessee…standing 6’4 and weighing in at 240lbs…he is a former OCW Champion and an OCW Hall of Famer…he is “The Confederate Icon” Chad Vargas!!!

~Belvedere exits the ring. The bell sounds~

Smith: Our first time seeing Vargas compete in months. A good chance for Vargas to shake some of that ‘ring rust’ off before competing for the OCW Title later this month

Hood: I’m sure Treat used his legal team to get Welsh to make this match. No way Welsh would have put Vargas in there with Puffer…such an easy win

Smith: He does that for Meyhu all the time! I think it’s totally fair

Hood: Blah blah blah

~Vargas motions for Puffer to come close. Puffer does. Vargas hesitates for a moment, acting like he doesn’t know what to say~

Smith: Hmm…this is interesting

Hood: If a shark asked you to swim near it would you? Puffer is so fucking stupid

Smith: Oh come on…he’s just a very trusting individual. Nothing wrong with that

~Vargas finally asks Puffer “Did you find out who the new face of OCW is?” Puffer pauses and replies, “I think I’ve got an idea.” Vargas nods and tells Puffer to whisper it into his ear~

Smith: I think Vargas is just as curious as we are

Hood: Well if he really wants to know he should consult a different source

Smith: You don’t know that…perhaps this is the case that finally gives Puffer that big break

Hood: I fucking doubt it

~Vargas eyes widen. He yells loudly “WRONG AGAIN PUFFER!~

Smith: I don’t think Vargas agrees with Puffer’s findings

Hood: Obviously

~Puffer appears confused. So, Vargas clears it up for him. “I’M THE FACE OF OCW MOTHER FUCKER!” Vargas nearly shatters Puffer’s face with a right hand. Puffer spins around. Vargas drops him with THE STROKE! He flips Puffer over and makes a very casual pin. Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

3!!!!

~The bell rings~

Belvedere: Here is your winner….“THE CONFEDERATE ICON” CHAD VARGAS!!!!!

Smith: Dominating win by Vargas. He looks as, well…as angry as ever

Hood: So glad he’s back

Smith: I’m sure…like all of us he will be watching tonight’s main event with great interest

Hood: Fuck yea he will

Smith: And as for Puffer…well I guess we’ll never know his findings

Hood: Oh please…we all know whatever he ‘discovered’ was totally wrong

Smith: Most likely

Hood: He probably thinks it’s someone like Emon Biney

Smith: I doubt that…anyway folks, let’s head backstage

~OGDA is sitting at a table with Spartacus, his beloved Kitty Kat and mostest best friend in the whole wide world by his side. OGDA is rocking a retro ALF t shirt and is slowly petting Sparky~

OGDA: “I tell you Sparky, when Daddy wins that Craze Championship here in a couple of weeks, I’m going to make us a tuna steak. You’d you like that? A nice fresh slab of yummy tuna? Yeah? Me too. I can almost taste it!”

~OGDA lowers his head and Spartacus head butts him. Talk about a Norman Rockwell painting… A packet of Swedish Fish lands on the table in front of OGDA. OGDA looks down at his favorite red candy of all time. OGDA looks up and you can tell under that white rainbow fighting mask of his, he has a shocked look on his face~

OGDA: “SWEDISH FISH! IS IT MY BIRTHDAY?”

JOE JONES: “Not quite, but it is a reason to celebrate.”

~Joe, OGDA’s manager/agent/whatever you wish to call him takes a seat across from OGDA at the table, with his own packet of Swedish Fish~

JOE JONES: “A little something something for beating HellRaven last week and getting a spot at Serial Thrillers, where you, OGDA, will get your first shot at a title in your career. The first of many I believe."

~As OGDA tears open the packet of Swedish Fish and lines them up in a row, side by side, perfectly aligned. “Mr. Nanook always told me if I work hard, if I put my nose to grindstone, good things will happen to me.”~

~Joe, who just ripped open the packet, and digs one fish out of the packet and bites it head off, nods. “That, OGDA, might have been the only useful thing Tubby has ever told you.”~

OGDA: “Sometimes I miss Mr. Nanook, but then I remember that he made me take this mask off and I remember that you said it was okay for me to wear it…..HEY!”

~Just as OGDA has everything ready to begin eating his favorite snack in the color red, a huge paw of a hand reaches over him and just scoops up a huge handful of swedish fish! OGDA snaps around and standing behind him, stuffing his face with the stolen swedish fish, a crime punishable in some parts of the world by being whipped with a wet noodle, is Captain DILLIGAF! OGDA stands up, no one steals his swedish fish! OGDA eyes him in his not caring eyes while munching on his begotten swedish fish! The monster! Nanook, who is never far behind his newest signee to Empire Sports Management, places his hand on OGDA’s shoulder~

NANOOK: “Bester! Sometimes I miss you too. The money we could have made together…..”

OGDA: “Mister Nanook, MY name is Org…..”

NANOOK: “Yes! Fuck! I know kid.”

OGDA: “Mister Nanook!”

NANOOK: “Again, I know! You see, it’s times like this, that I am grateful Joey here, took you off my hands. I have way less headaches these days.”

JOE JONES: “Especially when your clients are mutes.”

~Captain DILLIGAF looks at Joe who is still enjoying his swedish fish.~

NANOOK: “The Captain here, isn’t as needy as some of my past, employees.”

JOE JONES: “hmm especially when said employee, isn’t working. What is there to be bitching about?”

NANOOK: “Well, soon, that will change. The Captain here, has a dark match here tonight.”

JOE JONES: “Whooo, well! Blow me and call me your little darling. The Captain has a no nothing match that no one is going to see. How much did you have to pay Welsh to make that happen? A grand? Two? Did you go all in and make it ten thousand? Whatever, it won’t change nothing here. Your guy is a fucking ass clown minus a red nose and big floppy feet. OGDA here, well he has earned himself a title match Tubby. Again, something you couldn’t do, but then again, there has been so much in life you haven’t been able to do, like see you toes.”

NANOOK: “Craze? Is it? Craze Championship? What is that? What does a Craze championship mean or represent? Remind me who the current champion is? Mike? Mike who? No one important? Yeah, whatever. A fourth tier tin belt for a fifth rate wrestler like yourself. That belt is like a participation trophy, completely meaningless and worthless.”

~Joe glances at The Captain. “Then how come your boy here doesn’t have, like ten of them? He useless, worthless, meaningless and made of tin, that cheap shit from China too, prone to rust when it comes in contact with the air. Wait! Is this dark match tonight for the Douche Championship? I’m pretty sure you can take him Tubby. I don’t know two biggest douchebags in the world than you two.”~

NANOOK: “Laugh it up fun boy. The Captain here, is going get his hands on a belt higher up on the food chain than your boy Bester here.”

~Joe laughs. “Better hurry up then. October 29th is coming up. That’s when OGDA, gets his hands on a belt. Tick. Tock.”~

After a quick stare down between Joe and Nanook, Nanook slowly nods.

NANOOK: “Captain, give the child back his fish.”

~The Captain, who has been chewing on the fish this whole time, spits the wad of chewed up swedish fish at OGDA and this glump, lands and sticks on OGDA’s ALF shirt.~

OGDA: “EWW!”

~The Captain smirks as Nanook pats him on the back and the two turns and walk away. OGDA glares at The Captain as he balls up his fists……~

Singles Match
Ed Houston (11-7) vs. Talia Areano (5-5)

~The crowd is ready for the next match. They are tired of eating over priced food. They want some WRESTLING. Belvedere clears his throat to a stout applause~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…

~"Taking Over Me" by Evanescence hits. Talia Areano rushes down the ramp and into the ring, ready to fight~

Belvedere: From Buenos Aires, Argentina…standing 5’6 and weighing in at 125lbs…Talia Areano!

~Areano backs into her corner, ready for action~

Belvedere: And, her opponent…

~The screen turns black and then slowly starts to count down from 10. Once it hits 1 the sound of a rocket taking off echoes throughout the arena. Rocket Man starts to blare as Ed Houston slowly makes his way down the entrance ramp. He stops by fans in the crowd and high fives them. Once he gets about half way down the ramp, he sprints and slides under the rope. He quickly jumps to his feet and makes his way up to the turnbuckle where he waves to the crowd~

Belvedere: From Miami, Florida…standing 5’9 and weighing in at 175lbs…he is a former Craze Champion…he is…Ed Houston!!!

~Belvedere exits the ring. The bell sounds~

Smith: Alright folks…interesting match up here tonight. Ed’s looking to notch a much needed win whereas Talia looks to pick up her third win in four contests

Hood: Yea Talia got beat last week, didn’t she?

Smith: Indeed…she gave Rhodes a heck of a fight but came up short. This week it doesn’t get any easier as she faces a very determined Ed Hosuton

~Areano screams and charges at Houston as she embodies the fighting spirit! She leaps through the air looking for a big splash! Ed darts out of his corner! Talia SLAMS into the top buckle chin first and staggers back. Ed throws a vicious kick into her chest, knocking Areano to the mat. She gasps for air~

Smith: Talia was fired up…it just didn’t materialize

Hood: Boy, I’ll say

Smith: She needs to regain some momentum or this thing could be over quick

Hood: Could Ed’s pants GET any tighter?

Smith: I’m sorry, I hadn’t noticed

~Ed puts his back to Areano and performs a standing moonsault. Areano gets her knees up into Ed’s chest! Ed rolls around, holding his midsection in pain. Areano kips up! The crowd seems eager to get behind her. Ed gets to his feet and stumbles into a corner~

Smith: Now that’s what Talia needed!

Hood: I didn’t see that coming…and, obviously, neither did Ed

Smith: Indeed

~Talia charges in at Ed once more. Again she comes up empty…or well fruitless in her efforts. This time Houston lifts his knees up, places them into her chest and crashes down on top of Talia!! The ring shakes with impact. The fans are all like “OH SHIT!” Talia appears out. Ed returns to his feet, holding his ribs~

Smith: YEOUCH

Hood: Well Talia might have a broken collarbone

~Ed climbs the top rope. He reaches the top and looks down at Talia who hasn’t moved. He leaps off and nails Talia with a picture perfect Blastoff!!! Ed makes the cover! The crowd counts along with Scruff~

1!

2!

3!!!!!

~The bell rings~

Belvedere: Here is your winner….ED HOUSTON!!!!!

Smith: Impressive win by Ed! The quicker you can get in and out of that ring the better off you are

Hood: Yea man and that was fucking quick

~We cut backstage where we see "The Legend" Vincent Langston in full ring gear, gleaming tag team championship to his side, doing one handed push ups out in the hall as part of his warm up for his match later in the evening. The Rebel walks into the frame, also dressed to compete as her match is mere moments away. Immediately, Big V plants both hands to the floor and pushes himself up to a full stand, yanking up his title belt with him.~

Rebel: What up Champ!

~Melinda hefts the belt off of her shoulder and the two dink their belts as if champagne glasses, their smiles almost matching.~

Langston: Getting ready for tonight. You need me to come out there and watch your back with that big roid monkey?

~Langston throws his belt up on his shoulder and then smacks his fist into his palm.~

Rebel: Nah, just keep an eye out in case that asshole, Jacob shows up. I'll handle Juiced Bruce just fine. How are you holding up? You're not facing a guy in a bunny suit anymore.

Langston: Muffles? Limp-pear....? His name doesn't matter. He's a body in my path and I'm going to do as nature intended.

~Melinda shoots him a grin and pats his belt.~

Rebel: Sounds like a proper champ. Show him your salt.

Langston: Will do.

~The two share a fist bump and then the Rebel walks off. Just as she does so, however, something catches Langston's attention. He walks over and see's a photo of a young Asian woman in a camo uniform. Her name badge was blurred and eyes crossed out. He saw on her sleeve a patch from his old unit. Further down the hallway he sees a small gleaming object. Langston walks towards it and picks it up, looking at it in confusion. It's a military exemplary service medal. Further down the hall he finds another and another. One a purple heart and the other an extended service award. In a nearby janitor's closet he sees a female figure dressed in full battle fatigues.~

Langston: Hey! What are you doing back here?!

~He marches up, the figure not moving and spins it around to reveal a female mannequin. His instant fight or flight response kicks in and he leaps towards the door only to impact face first on it as it's shut. He batters his shoulder into the door, the entire thing buckling. We see outside of the door, a hooded figure dressed in black and wearing a non-descript white mask, chain the door shut in perfect silence. He then rushes out of the frame. From behind the door we hear the curses and shouts of Vincent Langston as he pounds at the door with every ounce of mass and power he has~

~Suddenly the sound of a motor cranking up is heard and we see a Forklift back into the frame! Driving it backwards is the mask man, bringing the vehicle to rest in front of the door. There he shuts it off and takes the keys out, and leaves the scene. We cut back to ringside~

Smith: Langston is locked up backstage!

Hood: Of all the people to be locked up we lock up THAT guy? I assumed it'd be Iggy or maybe that Bruce Rage guy

Smith: This seems like a ploy to put Mel in the most vulnerable position possible

Hood: Oh yea, I guess that makes sense

Smith: It makes all the sense in the world

~~”Layla” by Derek and the Dominoes plays throughout the OCW arena as the crowd begins to boo profusely. The main riff goes into the first verse as “Wiseguy” Saxon Rowe appears onto the stage, all smiles. He shows off his perfectly shaped beard, shaping it with his straight razor as he struts down the ramp towards the ring.~

Smith: Saxon Rowe is finally back on Massacre!

Hood: He had to recover from his injuries from the ASSAULT by TIO!

Smith: I’ll say he recovered well—wait ASSAULT? So you’re saying Rowe didn’t’ deserve it?

Hood: Maybe he did – it’s hard to justify talking about another man’s woman, especially a dead one at that.

~Rowe makes it to the bottom of the ramp as a fan tries to high five him but brushes up against his suit coat. Rowe shudders as he attempts to brush off the “dirt” from the fan. He screams at security to kick the fan out as he rolls into the ring. He grabs a microphone and quickly calls for his music to end. “Asshole” chants begin immediately following the fade out of Layla. Rowe shakes his head in disagreement before speaking.~

Saxon Rowe: Ladies and gentlemen of Key West… I know you’ve been waiting for this moment when my lawyer announced it two weeks ago. Yes, I would’ve been at the Massacre immediately following Mayhem on the Midway but unfortunately I had to rest in Providence due to the HEINOUS and DISGUSTING assault by the hands of the “Not So” Incredible One. Of course, you all loved it, which goes to show why Key West is one of the worst places in the US of A. Seriously, a man goes to pay respects to a woman, and everyone loses their damn minds.

~Rowe shakes his head as the crowd continues to boo him.~

Saxon Rowe: And I know what you must be waiting for – for TIO to make another staged assault. Come when the time is right and pounce me, like the animal he is. The man is unhinged, he is emotional. He is NOT thinking straight. I mean, I wouldn’t be thinking straight either if I realized I was the reason my wife had died prematurely. That it was entirely my fault. Thankfully I’m not as dumb as TIO so that will never happen to yours truly. I’m also a true “wise – guy” to not be jumped twice. Therefore I made sure TIO was BANNED from the OCW Arena tonight so I could read this match announcement without any issues.

~The jeers from the crowd grow louder for that announcement. A large “TIO” chant begins as Rowe laughs.~

Saxon Rowe: Chant his name all you want! He isn’t here! There is security all around this building. And if you think for ONE second this’ll be one of those cases where he slips at the last second and gets to me… it ain’t happening. There’s security at this hotel right now. Anyway… enough about that loser, let’s get with the—

Are You Ready For It?

~The large bass beats of “…Ready For It?” by Taylor Swift blast out of the sound system as Rowe looks up the ramp confused. The crowd cheer as they recognize the music from months ago. After several moments, the daughter of TIO, Jenna, walks out on the stage with a microphone in hand.~

Smith: Now things just got very interesting! Jenna is here!

Hood: What is she doing sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong?

Smith: You’re joking? This has to do with her parents – I’m surprised we haven’t seen her sooner.

~Jenna, normally one to interact with the fans on behalf of her father, is stone cold serious as she stares a hold into Rowe. The confused look of Rowe now turns into frustration as he begins to yell into the mic.~

Saxon Rowe: I seriously need to hire new security! So TIO thinks he’s clever to send you to do his dirty work?

Jenna: No. My dad has no idea I’m here… well he probably is watching.

~Jenna takes a moment to look into a camera and wave. Rowe’s frustration vanishes.~

Saxon Rowe: So… you’re not here on behalf of your dad?

Jenna: I’m here because I want to know why you’re doing this to my family? You do realize your actions are not just bothering my dad, but me as well? And our extended family? Your accusations…

Saxon Rowe: OK… let me begin Jenna by saying I am sorry you are upset. My intentions were to NEVER hurt anyone. I simply wanted to pay respects to your mother and your father took it over board---

Jenna: Overboard? Are you fucking kidding me dude? You blamed my dad for killing my mother!

Saxon Rowe: Sometimes the truth hurts, and I know you’re young so it might be hard for you to understand the truth—let me ask you a question. Did your father or mother ask you about your feelings on the whole taking chemo?

~The fact Rowe continues to press on the matter infuriates Jenna. She starts down the ramp, and rolls into the ring, getting right into Rowe’s face. She huffs and puffs, as if she wants to hit Rowe, but she tries to control her anger.~

Jenna: …why does it matter?

Saxon Rowe: What? Pfft… “why does it matter?” This is the LIFE of YOUR MOTHER we’re talking about! You deserve your say in it. You are seventeen years old and your mother is gone. Let’s say the chemo even kept her alive for even a few more months… wouldn’t you have wanted that?

~Jenna goes from being very emotional to calm and reserved. She begins to look around, not sure how to respond.~

Jenna: I mean… I guess.

Saxon Rowe: Exactly.

Jenna: But they told me that it’d be easier this way – that I wouldn’t see her sick and have memories of her being thin, bald, throwing up… things like that.

Saxon Rowe: “They” told you that?

~Again, Jenna looks confused in how to respond to Rowe. Rowe backs off.~

Saxon Rowe: I’m sorry Jenna, I don’t mean to make you second guess everything. If you think your father and mother made the right decision, then fine. This whole situation goes beyond your mother now – this is about your father attacking me. He wants a match with me – I’m going to give him a match. So why don’t you go back to the hotel and give him this message for me?

~Rowe clears his throat before announcing the match.~

Saxon Rowe: Oh, but wait, there is one more catch. Best to let your father know that if he is to lay his hands on me again before Serial Thrillers… he’ll be permanently fired from OCW.

~The crowd roars in boos as Rowe laughs at the amendment.~

Saxon Rowe: TIO, you and I will go one-on-one at Serial Thrillers… and I thought long and hard about how we should settle our differences. A regular match won’t do. Hell, a regular hardcore match won’t do. I thought about how you attacked me… a table… with thumbtacks! You tried to choke me with a camera chord! You acted not only like an animal… but also a MONSTER! Let’s up the ante shall we? Let’s truly see if you can show me your true monstrous side! Before our match, we will be locked in a room with no light for twenty four hours… no food, water, no contact from anyone. Yes… TIO vs. Saxon Rowe will be a MONSTER’S BALL MATCH!

~A mixed reactions comes from the crowd. Some are booing Rowe while others cheer for the potential brawl that will be at Serial Thrillers. Rowe breathes heavily after announcing the stipulation but realizes Jenna is still in the ring, awkwardly silent. Rowe brushes himself up and goes to the ropes, bending them so Jenna can leave.~

Saxon Rowe: Here you go sweetheart. Make sure you let your dad know we will sign the contract for this NEXT WEEK!

~Nodding, Jenna leaves through the ropes that Rowe has bent for her. She jumps down onto the mats below and begins up the ramp. She turns around and speaks a final time to Rowe.~

Jenna: Um… thank you for giving me some things to think about.

~Rowe smirks, as he hops down to the mat as well.

Saxon Rowe: Jenna… it’s been my pleasure.

~Jenna finally leaves as Rowe’s music plays again as he makes his way to the back while cameras cut to commentary.~

Smith: I really can't stand that man. I hope TIO takes the match and I hope Rowe gets what he deserves

Hood: I hope he gets what he deserves as well...a huge, career defining win at the hands of an old, worn, tired legend

Smith: You have no heart!

Hood: Then how am I sitting here, talking?

Smith: Blah...let's head backstage

~We cut backstage to the office of Marcus Welsh. He’s answering questions from a reporter who works for a very popular magazine. We don’t know which magazine. It’s just a magazine. Welsh seems totally in his element~

Marcus Welsh: I assure you the new FACE of OCW will be made known at the appropriate time.

Reporter: What about these reports that local detective Jack Puffer has discovered the identity of the new FACE of OCW?

Marcus Welsh: Jack Puffer couldn’t locate a McDonald’s let alone a secret of this magnitude. I’m not too concerned. As I said…all will be revealed soon.

Reporter: And what’s in store for the new face of OCW once they step into the company?

Marcus Welsh: A match a Serial Thrillers, of course. That’s when they will be making their in ring debut

Reporter: Against whom? If I may ask…

Marcus Welsh: You sure do ask a lot of questions

Reporter: Well, I am a reporter

Marcus Welsh: Good point. I’ve got an opponent in mind for the new face of the company. It’s obviously a big name. Someone I’d love to see suffer at the hands of our new superstar.

Reporter: Hmm. So a sacrificial lamb?

Marcus Welsh: If I have my say.

Reporter: Speaking of…your thoughts on the OCW Title match tonight? Do you think Zybala can defeat Meyhu inside that steel cage?

Marcus Welsh: That…won’t be happening.

Reporter: How can you be so sure?

Marcus Welsh: Because I just know. Zybala thinks he’s so clever with his ideas…but he forgets that every single one of his most dangerous ideas get vetoed before they are allowed to ruin this great federation. Tonight will be no different. Meyhu is walking out OCW Champion.

Reporter: Well that is very interesting…I…

~Cap Slock suddenly enters~

Cap Slock: SIR. IT’S ABOUT PUFFER THE GOOD DETECTIVE

Marcus Welsh: I’m in the middle of something, Captain

Cap Slock: I’M SORRY SIR. BUT HE SAYS HE KNOWS THE IDENTITY OF THE NEW FACE OF OCW.

Marcus Welsh: I’m not wasting my time…

Reporter: You’re going to ignore this potential leak? What if he knows the identity and word gets out?

~Welsh hesitates. He knows Puffer is way off track. But ignoring the issue would be a bad public image~

Marcus Welsh: Alright, fine. Where is Puffer?

Cap Slock: ON A STRETCHER ABOUT TO HEAD TO THE HOSPITAL.

Marcus Welsh: Well that fucking figures. Take me to him.

~Welsh stands and follows Cap Slock to Puffer’s location. The reporter tags along. We cut back to the announce team~

Smith: Welsh is really excited about this new signing. Do you think Puffer is on to the identity?

Hood: No fucking way

Smith: I’d have to agree. But it will be interesting to see what name Puffer reveals. Anyway…let’s move to our next match as Andrea Hernandez takes on Tony the Spider in a Non-Title affair

Non-Title Match
Andrea Hernandez © (3-1) vs. Tony the Spider (7-4)

~The crowd is still buzzing from what’s taken place his evening. They are obviously ready for some more in ring action. Belvedere clears his throat! That’s the sign! They jump to their feet ready for the next match~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is a Non-Title Match scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…

~”JUMP” by Van Halen begins to play. Smoke fills the entrance way as TONY THE SPIDER emerges! The crowd goes wild! Tony looks bigger than ever. His mullet is in FULL FORCE. Some smoke gets in his eyes. He fires up and kicks the smoke machine out of the way. It flies into the crowd possibly injuring some fans. The cheers die down as the fans seem concerned. A red faced Tony marches down the ramp, toward the ring. He rolls in under the bottom rope~

Belvedere: From Emilio’s Garage…standing 5’6 and weighing at a weight considerably over 190lbs…Tony the Spider!

~Tony flexes his surprisingly toned biceps while yelling out “YAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!” The crowd is pretty quiet. They don’t know how to take this ‘new’ Tony~

Smith: Tony the Spider has made some, uh, changes since we last saw him

Hood: He’s more like Tony the Tarantula now

Smith: 6/10

Hood: I’ll take it!

Belvedere: And, his opponent…

~“Ultranumb” by Blue Stahli hits the venue’s soundwaves. Andrea appears on the stage to some strong cheers from the crowd. She she acknowledges the positive reaction that she's getting as she makes her way toward the ring, completely focused on the task at hand. She gets up to the ring apron and uses the top rope to slingshot herself into it, continuing to soak in the cheers she gets as she leans against the corner, confidently waiting for the match to begin~

Belvedere: From Sedona, Arizona…standing 5’4 and weighing in at 125lbs…she is the OCW Paradigm Champion…Andrea Hernandez!!!

~Hernandez receives a strong ovation. She removes her Paradigm Title and hands it to Belvedere. He exits the ring with the title. The bell rings. Andrea limbers up while keeping an eye on Tony. Tony is pacing back and forth in his corner, like a caged animal~

Smith: This will be Andrea’s first match since winning the Paradigm Title back at Mayhem on the Midway

Hood: Yea where she ruined Axel Veiga! Now we’re stuck with fucking Jethro

Smith: Jethro looked strong last week

Hood: Blah

~Andrea reaches the middle of the ring, ready for competition to find her. Tony approaches. He’s head is down. His chest is heaving. He’s breathing quite heavily. He looks up at Andrea. He starts to laugh! Andrea is puzzled. She looks at Scruff as if to say “The fuck’s with this guy?” Scruff is busy looking around at a fly. Tony extends a hand to Andrea. The crowd claps at the show of sportsmanship~

Smith: Tony seems a bit unbalanced tonight. You know, more so than usual

Hood: I heard Tony has altered his diet

Smith: Oh yea? Is he doing the Keto Diet?

Hood: The fuck is that? Who is Keto? Is he like that Asian guy from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Secret of the Ooze?

Smith: I wouldn’t know

~Andrea looks down at Tony’s hand. It’s stained with Cheeto dust. He’s got dirt under his long fingernails. There even appears to be something wet staining his palm. Andrea frowns and bypasses the handshake in favor of a thumb up. This does not sit well with Tony. His face starts to turn red. He yells “WHAT AM I NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOUR HAND?!”~

Smith: Tony needs to calm down!

Hood: Did you see that hand? Holy shit, man…I’ve seen cleaner hands at a retirement home

Smith: Gross

~Tony reaches back and BACKHANDS Andrea! The crowd gasps! Tony yells “THAT”S WHAT YOU GET!” Andrea responds by bull rushing Tony into the corner with a spear! She can’t quite get him down. He slams into the corner and she drives shoulder after shoulder into his ribcage. Tony responds by throwing some clobbering forearms into her back. They drive Andrea to one knee. Tony takes a break, gasping for air, clutching at his ribcage. Andrea takes advantage by popping to her feet and throwing a kick to the side of Tony’s head! She backs up, runs forward and delivers a step up enziguri! Tony’s bell is rung! He walks forward before flopping onto the mat! The crowd applauds Andrea’s athleticism~

Smith: Great combination of kicks by Andrea after Tony slapped her

Hood: Ya know…guys are constantly slamming and suplexing and elbowing women in these matches…but one little backhand and everyone gasps

Smith: I think it’s just the way it looks, Hood

Hood: Yea well if a backhand is so dangerous then maybe women should get back into the kitchen. I mean, think about it, if Sally were doing her job Tony wouldn’t have cheeto dust all over his hands

Smith: Stop blaming women for men’s failings!

~Tony pushes up to his knees. Andrea measures Tony up. She sprints forward, looking for a running knee of some kind. Tony dodges the knee and gets to his feet. Andrea staggers forward. She turns around…Tony lifts her up and drills her into the mat with a Spinebuster! Tony pops to his feet and he yells out “RAWR!!!!!” The crowd is, again, silent~

Smith: Did Tony the Spider just…did he just…did he just execute a move?

Hood: The hell has gotten into him? DRUG TEST THIS MAN

Smith: Normally I’d call you crazy for suggesting we drug test a wrestler after they performed a spine buster…but when it comes to Tony, I might have to agree

~Tony clinches a fist. He swings down at the mat, toward Andrea’s head. Andrea rolls out of the way just in time! Tony’s fist SLAMS into the mat! It ricochets off and shakes. He grabs it in pain. Andrea rolls to her knees and gets to her feet. She takes off, sprinting toward the ropes. She bounces off and leaps into the air, from behind Tony. She drops him face first into the mat with a Bulldog~

Smith: Alright! Andrea’s got some momentum going now! She’s so fast…so quick!

Hood: I think Tony might have broken all four of his knuckles

Smith: Five…you mean five

Hood: No, four. I heard through the grapevine that Tony lost a knuckle back in the war

~Tony won’t stay down. He fights to his feet. Andrea looks down at the back of Tony’s mullet as he’s rising. She reaches out, grabbing the party portion of his anachronistic hairstyle and drives him face first into the mat with a Sitout Facebuster!!! She rolls Tony over and makes the cover~

1!

2!

Kick Out!

Smith: HUGE kick out by Tony the Spider!

Hood: Damn man she tried to rip his luscious locks right out of his head

Smith: She did not!

Hood: Never ruin a man’s mullet. It’s like fucking with Samson’s hairstyle. Which, by the way…do you think Samson sported a mullet? It’s not like The Bible specifies

Smith: I’m no theologian

~Tony tosses Andrea a few feet in the air via kickout. The guy has really been hitting the gym! Andrea pops back to her feet, unfazed. She leans into the ropes, waiting for Tony to get to his feet. He does. She ricochets off the ropes and leaps into the air with a crossbody. Tony catches her! He tosses her over his head with a Fallaway Slam!! Andrea hits hard and rolls onto the apron underneath the bottom rope. Tony gets back to his feet~

Smith: Okay something is up with Tony

Hood: Apparently his testosterone levels

Smith: I’m not sure how I feel about this new Tony the Spider. I miss the flabby, weak, laughing Tony

Hood: So does his wife…err girlfried…err wife? Whatever she is to him…so does Sally and her three black eyes

~Tony charges forward with a shoulder tackle. Andrea slides under the bottom rope between Tony’s legs. She pops back to her feet and sprints across the ring. Tony turns around. His fist is clinched. He runs at Andrea. She ducks a punch and keeps running. She hits the ropes again, bouncing off. Tony spins around with a tornado punch and connects right into her chin!! Andrea stiffens up and falls to the mat! She appears to be out! Tony makes the cover! Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

SHOULDER UP!

Smith: Wow! Tony nearly pinned the Paradigm Champion with…the punch of doom, apparently

Hood: He should have used the brass knuckles! Get the brass knux, Tony! Get them!

Smith: Well he’s got his fanny pack so I’d assume they are in there

Hood: Never leave home without the fanny pack, Smith

~Tony gets to his feet, frustrated. He looks on the verge of ROID RAGE. He zips open his fanny pack and digs around. He removes some stray Cheetos. He tosses out an unopened Trojan MAGNUM. He finally find his BRASS KNUX~

Smith: C’mon, Scruff…don’t let him use those!

Hood: I think he should get a free pass. He’s Tony the Spider. He’s lived a hard life

Smith: That doesn’t excuse him from the rules, Hood!

~Andrea struggles to her feet. Tony swings wildly with the brass knuckles. Andrea ducks. Tony does a complete three-sixty. He’s facing Andrea wondering what happened. Hernandez leaps at Tony. Tony catches her and carries her toward the ropes. Andrea kicks off the ropes, spins around and drops Tony in the center of the ring with a Tornado DDT! The crowd jumps to her feet! Andrea performs a kip up~

Smith: What a move! Andrea looks primed to finish this one off!

Hood: Man if Tony loses Sally is going to pay

Smith: Please don’t say things like that

Hood: It’s the truth…Sally better put on some protection before Tony gets back

~Andrea flies through the ropes. She’s on the apron. She jumps up and springboards off the top rope with a somersault senton!!! She nails it!!! The crowd leaps to their feet! Andrea makes the cover! Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

3!!!!!

~The bell rings~

Belvedere: Here is your winner…The Paradigm Champion….ANDREA HERNANDEZ!!!!!

Smith: She did it! Andrea has prevailed!

Hood: And Sally is gonna get that ass beat tonight

Smith: Stop it!

Hood: Maybe Tony should go have a few drinks first…before he returns home. Oh wait, no, that’ll probably make it worse

Smith: Tony the Spider was game tonight. He brought a new attitude in the ring and pushed our Paradigm Champion to her limit. Unfortunately for Tony he didn’t have enough to defeat her. Andrea continues her impressive streak here in OCW

Hood: Yea, you hate to win a title and lose your next match. Strong win for Andrea

Smith: She continues to prove her doubters wrong. She is and will be a major player here for quite some time

~The scene opens up backstage in a locker room. Ed Houston has set up two desks and Warren Lapierre and The Lost Soul are sitting down, furiously writing on a piece of paper. Houston looks up from a book he’s reading~

Houston: “Time!”

~He shouts out as both look up anxiously~

Houston: “Let’s see how you did. Remember the highest score on this test was a 92 and it’s specifically designed for astronauts so don’t feel bad.”

~He grabs the paper and quickly grades it. A shocked look on his face~

Houston: “You both.”

~He pauses.~

Houston: “You both got a 96. There’s no way. Let’s go to the centrifuge.”

~The scene changes and suddenly Ed Houston is standing in a laboratory. Behind is centrifuge machine straight out of NASA headquarters. Houston is looking at a screen and we can see Warren and The Lost Soul pinned inside. Their faces contort in pain but they continue to hold on~

Houston: “Okay guys you’re about to hit 6 G’s. If you can’t take it, feel free to say so.”

~Both can barely move their head but they manage to slowly shake it no~

Houston: “7 G’s.”

~Still a no.~

Houston: “8 G’s. Okay. I’m going to shut it off.”

~Houston shuts it off and slowly walks over to the two~

Houston: “You all killed it today. You’re well on your way. I think we can be a forced to be reckoned with. I do have to ask though, Warren, last week I was attacked by a guy in a bunny suit. I’m sure it was Curt Canon. I mean it has to be but I have to ask. That wasn’t you right?”

The Lost Soul: “That’s messed up man. He wouldn’t do that.”

Warren: “I am no longer the bunny man.”

Houston: “I believe you. I’ll see you guys next week. Hopefully then we can finalize this thing I could certainly use someone watching my back.”

~The scene ends as the cameras cut away~

~The illumination in the OCW arena turns a deep fiery red, lights pulsating as the stage is engulfed by a blazing wall! Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” explodes into the arena. The reaction was deafening - and not in the least bit flattering of ways~

Smith: Listen to this crowd’s rabid ferocity for Jacob Hotstuff………….

Hood: Idiots, unwashed masses unappreciated of our Lord and Savior’s contributions to this business.

Smith: I just, did you just? I’ve got no words for that……..

~From out of the fire rolls Jacob’s signature red segway...but wait. What’s this? It’s unmanned. Then who the hell queue’d up the music, if the segway rolled out on it’s own……?~

~Belvedere stares blankly to the aisle way as the segway rolls down, veering off to the side as there’s nothing to guide it. “Pour Some Sugar on me” restarts it’s OCW loop as our announcer starts from the top.~

Belvedere: Ladies and gentlemen, introducing, the highest paid talent acquisition in OCW history, this is the Hollywood Sensation……..JAAACCOOOOBBBBBB!! HOOOOOTSTUUUUFFFF!!!!!!

~Again the camera pans to the top, the fiery wall reignites...but nothing. By now, the crowd begins to grow restless, you can’t bait them with an appearance by someone deemed so self-important to only show up on Pay-Per-View and then fail to deliver.~

~You can’t bait the crowd with an appearance by someone deemed so self-important to only show up on Pay-Per-View and then fail to deliver……………~

Hood: Maybe Belvedere didn’t announce him right. I ought to just go up there and give our living Hollywood legend the greeting that someone of his stature truly deserves…

Smith: Just sit your ass down.

~Abruptly, the music cut like a record being forcibly stopped, replacing the song with Foreigner’s “Juke Box Hero”...Belvedere looks puzzled to the sudden shift while he quickly scrambles through his notes, finally flipping over the first index card he had with Jacob’s notes on it.~

Belvedere: Ahem. Introducing at this time, he is the highest paid acquisition of OCW entertainment, and Hollywood LEGEND. He is the EWC International Hollywood Champion, and would prefer to be announced as the REAL Juke Box Hero...THIS, is JAAACCOOOOBBBBBB!! HOOOOOTSTUUUUFFFF!!!!!!

~Back on stage, the fires dwindled down, and the red lights dimmed, replacing themselves with only a single spotlight illuminating the one and only, the man of the hour, Jacob Hotstuff himself~

Smith: Something is different.

Hood: Yeah, what gives?! Where’s the fur, the gems, the latest Hollywood style?!

~Instead, Jacob wore what appeared to be tattered jeans and a sleeveless ripped denim jacket over what looked eerily similar to a modified Griffin Hawkins t-shirt, and with an electric guitar held over his shoulder. Of course, his version of the EWC International Title, complete with Planet Hollywood logo slapped on the front plate of it, was worn snugly around his waist. Sloughing off the jeers and boos for his total disrespect toward the official EWC International Champion Griffin Hawkins, Jacob makes his way to the end of the aisle, where he strums a chord that sounds awful and out of tune~

“BOOOOOOO!”

~Jacob smirks before placing the electric guitar back over his shoulder, then continues to the steps and into the ring through the top and middle ropes.~

Smith: You don’t have to like him, but the man sure does know how to make an entrance.

Hood: He does far, far more than that, this is Hollywood Royalty! So show him some respect.

~Once back to his feet, Jacob leans back into the ropes and strums the guitar again, once more “blessing” everyone’s ears with the same out of tune noise, before finally setting the instrument down and taking the mic straight from Belvedere’s hands.~

Jacob Hotstuff: Can I have your attention please…..

~It was those six words that could have made the average wrestling fan’s skin crawl. Only, it was made worse by the slow manner in which Jacob dragged his words out with. The vocal unsettling reaction he received was the proof positive of their disdain towards the icon~

Jacob Hotstuff: Ladies and gentlemen this is --

~Jacob was cut off by the growing boos, both in volume and number!~

Jacob Hotstuff: I’ve got all night you know…

“BOOOOOOO!”

~He slapped the faceplate of his International Hollywood title with a smug smirk. Of course this did him no favors…~

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

Hood: Oh, come on people, I want to know what the man of the hour has to say!

Smith: Would you stop?!

Jacob Hotstuff: I said, ladies and gentlemen, this is your champion speaking…….

“BOOOOOOO!!”

Jacob Hotstuff: Troglodytes, all of you. You don’t deserve to witness me, for the first official time in an OCW ring, addressing each and every one of you! Maybe I should just leave…

“PLEASE LEAVE!”
Clap, clap!
“PLEASE LEAVE!”
Clap, clap!

~Jacob turns and makes his way to the ropes, the crowd finally, for the first time in his career, cheering something he was doing.~

“YES!”
“YES!”
“YES!”

~...But then Jacob stopped, pivoting on his heel.~

Jacob Hotstuff: Oh, you troglodytes would like that wouldn’t you? Well tough. I know how much each of you need your Hollywood fix, to catch a glimpse of what greatness actually looks like since each of your lives will never amount to a fraction of the awesome powers my Blazing Brilliance possesses in this perfect vessel ...so I am here to stay! Just for each and every one of you…….

Hood: Hah, got ‘em!

“BOOOOOOO!”

Smith: He just played these fans like a fiddle and you’re sitting there applauding him? Have you no class?

Jacob Hotstuff: Why do you people all hate me so?! Is it because you hate what you can’t achieve, jealous of my looks, raw athletic, ability, force of charisma...and this?

~Jacob pulls the International Hollywood title from around his waist, lifting it into the air with his free hand~

Jacob Hotstuff: You’re jealous each and every one of you could never even dream to proclaim themselves Hollywood’s Champion! Of course, it’s so simple, even for you people…

Smith: So, does this guy have a point, or...did he just come out to berate all of these passionate OCW fans?

Hood: How dare you insinuate the Hollywood legend has nothing better to do than talk down to the people!

Smith: But that’s...that’s exactly what he’s doing………………

Hood: Nuh uh! He’s fulfilling a contractual obligation to OCW, appearing on his first Massacre since that horrific, horrific act of wanton violence and malice by that masked psycho freak!

Smith: Were you ever a lawyer or some such in a past life? I’m uhh, asking for a friend……….

Jacob Hotstuff: You people never deserved me...you people cheered at the very burning of my precious hair and flesh alike, bloodthirsty like uncivilized, uneducated barbarians that only know how to point and grunt to get what you need. I never should have come. I should have made you wait to see me, to listen to me, to hang on the edge of your seat for every word I have to say on Pay-Per-View, because quite frankly, I’m just so far above this tow –

#BLACK VULTURES CIRCLING THA....
#BLACK VULTURES CIRCLING THAA...
#BLACK VULTURES CIRCLING TTHAAA...

#SSSSSSKKKKKKKKYYYYYYY!!!!!

~The crowd is going wild as a very focused Rhodes heads down to the ring. She obviously is completely unaware of Langston’s condition. She heads down the ramp and slides into the ring, face to face with Hotstuff~

Smith: Oh man…she is NOT happy

Hood: When is she EVER happy

Smith: I’ve seen her happy

Hood: FAKE NEWS! Why is she even out here?

Smith: Rhodes fights for everything she earns. She is a veteran of that ring and what it represents. She can't stand someone like Hotstuff, no doubt. Guy is running his mouth when he's not even booked! How long has he been on the OCW payroll without an official OCW match?

Hood: Not long enough! I've been told that OCW's stock has gone up 10% since Hotstuff signed. We're also getting more endorsements and TMZ is hanging around the offices a lot more.

Smith: I haven't heard or seen any of that

Hood: That's because you are blind and have no good sources

~Rhodes theme comes to a close. The crowd is on their feet. They are chanting “KICK HIS ASS!” Hotstuff talks some trash to Rhodes. Rhodes keeps a steady, angry eye on Hotstuff. She looks ready to explode on him. Hotstuff catches a wild look in her eye and tenses up, prepared for anything~

Smith: Jacob I think is realizing that Rhodes isn’t out here to ‘talk’

Hood: He needs to get out of there! We can’t have our most lucrative property placed in this type of danger! Get him away from that tattooed freak! He’s liable to contract hepatitis!

Smith: You’re so dramatic!

Hood: You can never be too dramatic when discussing the health and safety of Jacob Hotstuff

~Rhodes is just about ready to go off on Jacob when…~

~Bruce Rage comes sprinting from the back down the ramp! Rhodes attention is turned around! Hotstuff slides out of the ring, avoiding any physical interaction. He meets Bruce at the bottom of the ramp. Bruce is ready to hit the ring but Hostuff stops him for a moment~

Smith: Bruce Rage is out here!

Hood: Thank goodness! We did not want Jacob getting injured or having his clothing ruined

Smith: This isn’t fair to Melinda! Her partner is in the back…she’s got the deck stacked against her

Hood: Oh boo-hoo

~Hotstuff whispers something to Bruce who nods in acceptance. Hotstuff backs up the ramp. A few fans throw stuff at him. He expertly dodges each item as though this isn’t anything out of the ordinary. He exits through the curtain to a chorus of boos~

Smith: What a wimp

Hood: Excuse me? He was going to stay out here but those fans were throwing soda at him. I mean that’s just terrible. For starters his system is finely tuned. He can’t have any soda infiltrating that well oiled machine. And, I mean we’ve already covered the expensive attire he walks around in. A stain would set him back thousands

Smith: That is so ridiculous…anyway folks…it looks as though Rage and Rhodes are ready to go at it! Langston is locked backstage. Hotstuff is out of here ensuring that, I guess, his clothing doesn’t get dirty. So we’re going to have a one on one match and it’s happening right now!

Singles Match
“The Rebel” Melinda Rhodes © (9-2) vs. Bruce Rage (1-0)

~Melinda looks to the crowd and raises her Championship belt high in the air for the fans, a look of pure intensity burning on her face. She's happy to have forced Hotstuff out of HER ring. A ring where people compete instead of talk~

*HUGE FACE POP!*

~As she looks to the fans, Bruce takes that opportunity to hit the ring and rush in from behind with a clubbing Lariat to the Rebel's back, driving her straight off her feet and to the canvas. Her championship belt sails from her hand and finds a home in a nearby corner. Referee Scruff immediately slides into the ring and gets between them before Bruce can do any more damage, backing the big man off with threats of disqualification~

*HUGE HEEL JEER!!!*

~While Bruce and Scruff argue, the Rebel slowly uses the ropes to pull herself up, a hand to the back of her head as she grimaces with pain. She then looks over her shoulder with that trademark withering glare that, if Bruce was even paying attention, might have been just enough to make him think twice. Instead, the Rebel answers a sucker punch with a sucker punch, rushing in while Bruce is distracted by Scruff. A hard right hand blow sails over the Ref's shoulder and right in the Rage Train's face. His head rocks to the right but his feet don't budge. Melinda doesn't even register his lack of movement, driving a straight knuckle jab right into the big man's throat. With gargled chokes, Bruce staggers back, clutching at his neck! Scruff, meanwhile, throws his hands up, steps back, and motions for the bell!~

*DING DING DING!*

~As he struggles, the Rebel is relentless, battering him with body shots, blows to the ribs and solar plexus in particular. She manages to drive Bruce back into the corner, where she proceeds to batter him as if he were a punching bag in her garage. Bruce grabs her shoulders and lifts her up, but the Rebel answers by grabbing those arms, lifting her feet up off the ground and falling back with a double leg Tomoe Nage backroll throw that sends the massive 300 pounder up and over for a landing flat on his back behind her! Melinda rolls with him and straddles his chest with a kneeling mount. Grabbing him by his blond spiked hair, she lifts his head off the canvas and proceeds to violently pepper him with hard left hand strikes over and over!~

Smith: Rage tried to sneak from behind and gain an early advantage but Rhodes has fought back!

Hood: You think she’s on meth?

Smith: She’s not on meth!

Hood: Would explain why Hotstuff hates her so much. Rich people hate methheads

~Seeing her gripping his hair, Referee Scruff moves in, ordering The Rebel to release the hold. At a count of four, the Rebel releases the hold and rises off of Bruce Rage with an explosive hop. She doesn't get in the Ref's face but instead yells to the crowd.~

Rebel: WWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooo!!!! LESS THAN FIVE SECONDS AND HE'S ON HIS BACK! WHAT THE FUCK DID I SAY????!!!!

~Behind her, however, Bruce was slowly rising, rubbing at his eye and shaking his head. Blood dripped from his nose, which he wiped at, and at that point, a furious look came over his face. Rhodes turns around and clearly wasn't expecting such a quick recovery. Thinking fast she rushes at Bruce with a dropkick but the big man side steps, catching both her legs before she hits the canvas. This causes her to land awkwardly on her shoulder with a yelp of pain. Suddenly Bruce yells out....~

B.Rage: HE LOKI.... HULK SMASH BITCH!!!!

~Before the Rebel even has time to think of a tactic, Bruce yanks her off the canvas by both her legs and slams her down with a chest and face first impact upon the canvas. He repeats the process again and again and it's on the third time that he releases her, sending her skidding into the corner half dazed, seated with her back against the turnbuckle pads and arms hooked in middle rope, completely disoriented.~

B.Rage: *stomping his foot* CHOO CHOO!!! RAGE TRAIN COMING THROUGH BITCH!!!!

~Bruce rushes in with incredible speed that seems uncommon of someone of his bulk and mass, driving his knee right into the Rebel's face. She thrashes on impact and slumps down completely. From there, Bruce proceeds to savagely stomp at The Rebel, using the ropes for maximum leverage. Each meeting of foot to breast and stomach earned him a wild thrashing of arms and legs as Melinda lays there, completely unable to defend herself.~

Smith: This is getting ugly. We might need some help

Hood: Too bad all her help is trapped backstage

Smith: Why do you take such pride in things like this?

Hood: Because I am a HUGE Hotstuff fan!

~Referee scruff moves in, warning Bruce who promptly yells for him to "Fuck off" loudly. Immediately Scruff moves in between him and Rhodes, driving him back from the corner while shouting at him.~

Scruff: I'VE BEEN DOING THIS LONGER THAN YOU BEEN ALIVE SON! LISTEN TO THE REFEREE BEFORE HE DISQUALIFIES YOUR PUNK ASS! I DON'T CARE HOW BIG YOU ARE!!!

~Bruce Rage is livid, his imposing frame puffed up even further as a vein seems to throb on his forehead and neck concurrently. For a moment, Scruff looks as if he's regretting his decision as the Rage Train looks like he's ready to run down another victim. However, he sees the Rebel roll out of the ring stumbling away for a moment and quickly drops down and rolls out of the ring after her.~

Smith: Rhodes looking for some rest. She needs a break

Hood: Weak ass women

Smith: Scuse me?

Hood: Hey, I’m just saying

~The Rebel clutches at her gut, which took the brunt of the savage assault, boot heel scrapes visible wherever there is exposed flesh. Bruce rushes in from behind and catches her in a full Nelson hold, lifting her up off the ground. Thinking fast, the Rebel lifts her arms up and falls out of the hold. On landing she back rolls and throws a kick straight into Bruce's gut, then front rolls to her feet. The kick does little to faze him and he just keeps coming straight at her.~

Smith: That is a big, powerful man

Hood: And his last name is Rage

Smith: Yea?

Hood: That makes him extra scary

~Rhodes thinks fast and lets him close the distance, then falls flat on her back as he goes for the grapple, driving her heels into the insides of both of his knees, instantly buckling those legs. She then hooks one of his legs and trips him up, sending him straight to the floor. Hopping straight to her feet as his chin clips the concrete with painful, tooth chipping results, the Rebel drops with a low orbit dropkick catching him right in the face! Bruce rolls onto his back, growling and clutching at his face with both hands.~

Smith: She caught him!

Hood: Oh come on!

Smith: She’s back in this!

~Melinda wastes no time, leaping up onto the apron and then hitting an angled springboard moonsault. She crashes down upon rock hard muscle and winces a bit as the landing clearly hurt her almost as much as it seemed to effect Bruce Rage!~

Smith: Melinda might need to alter her course of action

Hood: Yea she might need to grab a chair…or a gun

Smith: No guns allowed at ringside, Hood

~She gets to her feet and Bruce rolls onto all fours, pounding a fist to the floor in frustration before getting to his feet. Melinda rolls into the ring, then back out onto the apron to restart the referee's count. From there she leaps onto Bruce's back, latching on a tight sleeper. She puts her muscular legs to good use, squeezing at his ribs and compressing his diaphragm even further to try and cut that little bit of extra oxygen out from getting to his brain.~

Smith: Here we go…if she can narrow his wind she might have a chance

Hood: I think this is her way of seducing Bruce

Smith: You’re crazy

~Bruce flails his arms around, trying to reach and grab at the Rebel, but she keeps her head just out of his grabbing zone. He then grips at her legs locked around his mid section and slowly starts to force them apart. Melinda's eyes widen and she tightens the sleeper to near choke levels. Thinking fast, Bruce turns and begins rapidly backing up towards the ring apron. Rhodes sees this and quickly throws her legs up behind her. Her feet slide under the ropes as Bruce racks his back against the apron. His face begins turning purple as Melinda holds him there.~

Smith: Quick thinking by Rhodes! You can tell she’s a seasoned veteran

Hood: Meaning she’s a used up, dried out hag?

Smith: Your words, not mine

~It's then that Bruce, just as it seems he's about to fade out, grabs a firm hold of both of Melinda's forearms and easily forces them apart. He takes in deep breaths through his nose, showing excellent breath control as he turns around, crossing Mel's arms over each other and then yanking her off the apron and slinging her to the floor. She tucks and rolls with the impact, landing up against the guard rail.~

Smith: Mel did what she could to minimize the impact.

Hood: It’s like he’s fighting a rag doll. Do you think Bruce had dolls as a child?

Smith: I have no idea

~Bruce rushes in with a running stomp and the Rebel side rolls, letting his foot meet nothing but guard rail. Back on her feet, the Rebel rushes in with a hard right cross, but Bruce catches it, boots her violently in the gut and hurls her by that arm with enough force to not only pop her shoulder out of socket, but send her flying through the air into the ringsteps with enough force to dislodge them! The Rebel cries out sharply and lands in a heap, her left arm around her ribs while her right arm hangs limp and mostly useless~

Smith: Mel might be injured after that. Bruce Rage is looking very impressive here tonight

Hood: That OR Rhodes is finally getting exposed

Smith: Rhodes is a legit force here in OCW. All this means is that Bruce may be an upcoming force in the rankings

~Bruce then gathers her up, hoists her high over his head and throws her over the ropes and back into the ring! He then turns to the crowd and throws his arms out while roaring at them.~

B.Rage: AAAAALLLLL AAAABBBBOOOOOAAAAARRRRDDDD!!!! CHOO CHOOOOOO!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!!!

~He then slides back into the ring as Melinda rolls right back out. She seems to be adjusting her right arm, straightening it as she makes her way to a nearby ring post. Bruce watches her from in the ring, a bit confused as she gets a running start and then RAMS her own shoulder into the post with a hard thud and a sickening pop that a nearby camera manages to pick up. There are tears in her eyes as she clutches at her shoulder, now visibly relocated back into it's socket~

Smith: We might have an injury out here. Can Rhodes continue?

Hood: Sadly she will. She should just quit now. GET IT OVER WITH RHODES

Smith: She’ll never quit! It’s not in her vocabulary

Hood: Figures…dumbass woman hasn’t learned the word quit

~As she takes a moment, letting out ragged breaths as the pain lessens, Bruce walks towards her side of the ring and reaches down for a grapple. Melinda looks up at just the right moment, sees his incoming hand, grabs the wrist, leaps up and then yanks his arm across the rope. Bruce stumbles back and away, clutching at his freshly tweaked elbow with a snarl of pain. As he does so, Melinda climbs onto the apron and then onto the very top rope!~

Smith: Here we go! What fight!

Hood: Damnit, Bruce! Look, man…look!

Smith: An overeager Bruce Rage just gave Rhodes an opening!

~She squats down, watching and waiting for her moment. Just as Bruce starts to turn to face her, she leaps off with a shooting star flip. As her torso impacts with his shoulder, she hooks him into a front facelock, flips her legs out and drills him with a Shooting Star DDT! From there she hooks Bruce's legs and goes for the pin!~

Smith: THAT'S THE REBEL STAR DDT! She hasn't done that move since her EWC days!

ONE!!!

TTTWWWOOO!!!!

TTTHHHRRE-KICKOUT!!!

~Bruce powers out, throwing the Rebel off of him and sitting up. He stared straight ahead, wild-eyed but dazed and uncoordinated, which shows moments later as he gets up with a bit of a stagger. The Rebel sizes him up and it's at that moment Jacob Hotstuff comes running down the ramp with a steel chair. The crowd boos.~

Smith: What’s he doing coming down here?!

Hood: He can’t stand to watch anymore! He’s out here to save us!

~Bruce Rage turns right into that 3/4th's Necklock and....~

Smith: SHOT THROUGH THE HE-WAIT NO!!!

~...Bruce shoves her off, falling to one knee. The Rebel stumbles forward into Hotstuff who is now in the ring, eating a violent chair shot to the skull that rocks her right off her feet!. Referee Scruff motions for the bell calling for the disqualification!~

*DING DING DING*

Belvedere: THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH BY DQ!!! THE REBEL, MELINDA RRRRRHHHHOOOODDDDEEEESSSS!!!!

~However, at that moment, the Rebel felt anything but a winner as both Bruce and Jacob proceeded to brutally stomp the woman into the canvas, the crowd booing uproariously! Jacob sits the stunned Rhodes up, holding her head perfectly as Bruce hops back and rushes in with a low kick straight to her face! Melinda's head whips to the side and she hits the canvas, panting for breath and looking out through half lidded eyes. Bruce shouts to Jacob, who just nods with a big grin.~

B.Rage: BROOOOOOOO CCCCOOOOODDDEEE!!!

~Bruce gathers Melinda up into a Spinebuster hold as Jacob runs behind him to the ropes. Hotstuff rebounds, leaps through the air just as Bruce hoists Mel up a half inch more. Jacob's arm catches her by the throat and together they bring her to the canvas with a skull rattling, violent impact. Bruce remains between her splayed legs a little too long for comfort, sticking his tongue out to the crowd and nodding his head. He then hops to his feet with a roar!~

B.Rage: TTTTRRRUUUUUEEE AAAAALLLLPPPPHHHHAAAAA!!!!!

~It's at that moment we hear the rumbling of an engine as a Forklift practically explodes through the curtains being driven by none other than Big Vincent Langston! Bruce and Jacob go wide eyed as Vinnie barrels down the aisle at full speed and rams the forklift right into the ring with enough impact to shift it and knock both men off their feet!~

Smith: Yes! It’s The Legend!

Hood: How did he get fucking free?

Smith: Who cares! He’s out here and justice is about to prevail!

~The only thing keeping an altercation from happening is Jacob's uncanny ability to talk Bruce into backing out of the ring with him as Langston hops out of the forklift with security, and a pair of EMT's entering the ring shortly behind him. The Hollywood duo quickly backs out of the ring through the crowd, with Bruce shoving a few fans back as they try to get froggy with him and Jacob. The two disappear with Langston checking over the unconscious Rebel along with the EMT's. He glares hard at Bruce Rage in particular as the big man flips him off and backs out through an exit door with Jacob....~

Smith: Hotstuff and Rage will pay for this I can promise you that

Hood: No big deal. Hotstuff dives into money like Scrooge McDuck. He can pay for anything

Smith: Not LITERALLY. I’m saying Rhodes and Langston will be seeking revenge

Hood: You really think Welsh will let that happen? Sure he might throw them Rage. But no way is he letting them hurt Hotstuff. That man is MONEY

Smith: Ugh…well Rhodes emerges with the official victory tonight although I’m sure she feels quite the opposite

Hood: That was the most I’ve enjoyed a Melinda Rhodes victory

Smith: You are vile. If there’s one thing you can bet on it’s that Melinda Rhodes will not forget this. She will not let this stand. She will fight back. Hotstuff and Rage had better watch each other’s backs

~~The scene opens to Cassidy Global Sports LLC. The cameras pan around Treat’s office. Checking everything out. Starting from bottom to top. We see a pair of feet in work boots and another pair of feet in hot pink flip flops. As the cameras move up we see who is in that foot gear respectively. CHAD VARGAS and IGGY fucking HARDY! ~The crowd fucking roars at these two absolute fucking mammoth Gods~

Vargas: Where is this mother fucker anyway?

~We see the fellas sitting across from Treat’s desk. Apparently waiting for their stuff shirted agent.~

Iggy: Maybe he’s trying to weasel MJ Bell back into the group. Goodness gracious sakes of pete she has rockin’ tits.

~Vargas laughs, clearly in disagreement.~

Vargas: You have absolutely no taste in women, hoss.

~Iggy chuckles. He can’t believe his ears.~

Iggy: Any port in the storm! Tits and ass, Chuck! Tits, ass, and pussy!

~Vargas nods, ignoring the fact that this idiot just called him fucking Chuck.~

Vargas: Pussy! Something Matt Meyhu can NEVER get! That big, ugly, gomey, dorky fuck has no game. Have you seen his wife? Her face looks like it got run over by a cement roller. God damn ain’t that bitch ugly as all FUCK!

~Iggy raises his hands as if to say “ehhhhh”.~

Iggy: K. You’re right. Nigga ugly. But OMG can she suck a mean cock!

Vargas: You really got a blow job from Meyhu disgusting hideous wife?

Iggy: Not one, but two – champ! Blew the money shot right down her esophagus. Bitch said my load was the finest ‘cock’tail she’s ever tasted.

Vargas: You are one of a kind man.

Iggy: That ain’t all. Wanna know something else?

~Vargas holds up his hands, giving up. Iggy could virtually say anything.~

Iggy: I fucked Josie Barnes’ asshole before she left OCW. I’m talking smashed that shit out like mashed potatoes. I’m talking I blew the fucking asshole to smithereens! I’m talking abso---

~Vargas shakes his hand. He can’t take anymore.~

Vargas: C’mon man! We get the point for fucks sake. I always knew you we’re a wild man. First Meyhu’s old lady and now Josie Barnes. Good god. See there’s a reason why we don’t hang out. Your fuckin’ twisted.

~Iggy flashes a satisfied dork smile.~

Iggy: SAVAGE. That’s what you mean. Fucking SAVAGE. Straight SAVAGE nigga. I won’t even tell you what I did to Kestrel…. While she was sleeping….. HEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHE

~Vargas can’t help but to laugh. This guy is fucked. Vargas glances at his shiny gold Rolex. He shakes his head.~

Vargas: Where is this motherfucker anyway?

~Iggy shrugs.~

Iggy: He’s the boss, Chuck! He will be here when he gets here!

Vargas: CHAD! CHAD! My name is CHAD you fuckin’ idiot! How can you not remember that?

~Vargas yells to his colleague as he stands up and goes for Treat’s mini-fridge beside his desk.~

Iggy: I know your name, champ. You just look more like a Chuck then a Chad to me. GEEZ! Chill out!

~Vargas leans into the fridge and grabs the last cold beer from inside. A Modelo. Can you believe that shit? A fucking Modelo. What kind of gay ass shit is this!? Vargas shrugs as he pops the top and takes a haul off the beer, taking back his seat next to Iggy.~

Iggy: Ummm? Thanks!

Vargas: What? It was the last one.

Iggy: So you couldn’t give me a drag?

Vargas: Seriously? I have no idea where your lips have been!

~Iggy flashes a gigantic smile.~

Iggy: I done told ya! Josie’ touch hole for one!

~Just as Vargas is taking a rip off his beer he loses it and spits beer all across the room, coughing up straight beer trying to catch his breath. Iggy smirks as he reaches for his own vice. His crucifix around his neck. He spins the top off the cross and dumps a LOAD on the back of his hand and rips a gram and a half to his brain. Vargas looks on surprised, and slightly impressed.~

Iggy: WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAZZZZZZZZZZAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLWWWWWWWWWWWWZZZZZZZZZZOOOOOOOO!!!!! What a rush!!!

~Vargas shakes his head.~

Iggy: You want a little of this booger sugar? CHAD? Gear up for the festivities?

~Vargas shrugs as he leans in closer to Iggy. Iggy dumps a load of white cocaine onto the back of Vargas’ hand and motions for him to take a rail. Vargas shrugs as he sniffs the coke to his dome. He takes a few sniffs, getting it all in his system. Iggy smiles happily. Both guys are fucking ZINGING. Like clock work, the door flies open and in walks Treat Cassidy. Iggy scoots back over to his chair as the two gentleman continues to try and look normal. Treat walks by his clients and takes a seat at his desk.~

Treat: Boys.

~Vargas and Iggy smile, nodding, trying hard to “act normal”. Iggy handles himself pretty good but Vargas is so fucked up right now but he’s just gonna ride it out.~

Treat: Chad?

Vargas: Yes sir!

Treat: Why in the heck did you drink my last beer?

Vargas: You call that Modelo shit BEER?! But yeah, I guzzled it down.

Treat: Unreal. Anyways, gentleman. Big night tonight. Monday night Massacre. HUGE match during the main event. Iggy, you are off but I’m receiving some heat for you not defending the Savage championship.

Iggy: HA! Fuck that. I’m on the Matt Meyhu train baby! Only minimal title defenses. Only when I want to defend and only at pay-per-views!

~All three laugh in unison, agreeing with MR. PECTACULAR.~

Treat: We need to make sure that MIKE ZYBALA leaves Monday night Massacre as OCW CHAMPION. As bad as I would love CHAD VARGAS to defeat MATT MEYHU one on one at Serial Thrillers, Zybala will be a much easier victory.

~Vargas shrugs.~

Vargas: I don’t know, I kinda think Zybala is a better athlete. He doesn’t suck nearly as bad as Meyhu, and to be honest, I kinda actually like Zybala.

~Treat nods. Taking it in but quickly dismissing Vargas’ sentiments.~

Treat: Just make sure you are both ready in the wings for later. Iggy, we may not need you but, just in case. Hang back a little and c’mon down if needed. All three of us are flying out to NYC tomorrow morning for a speaking engagement. Once Massacre concludes, let’s meet in the dressing room and head to the airport as fast as possible. Remember. Zybala needs to win. Zybala wins. WE ALL WIN. Keep that in mind. Now get out of my office. I’ve got a phone call to make.

~Vargas and Iggy look confused as they look at one another and then back at their agent. They can’t believe they are being kicked out of Treat’s office. They shrug, as they each stand from their respective seats.~

Vargas: FUCK MATT MEYHU.

~We cut back to the announce team~

~The Ring has been outfitted to look like the set of a late night talk show. There is a small two seat couch on the right of a rich mahogany desk. On top of the desk sits a smaller richer mahogany desk. In the middle of the ring stands OCW hall of fame member Curt Canon.~

Curt Canon: ” Hello Everyone! I am so glad you can all be here for the very first pilot inaugural episode of Curt Canon’s Run In! This is going to be either a weekly, bi-weekly, monthly, or quarterly show where I invite my fellow OCW Stars out here to discuss life, the universe, and probably some wrestling depending on time constraints. At this time I would like to introduce you to my co-host, everybody's favorite Tamarian...CHECKERS!”

~Checkers runs out onto the stage, stands there for a moment and waves to all the fans before running towards the ring. He enters the ring and climbs onto Curt’s shoulders who holds the microphone up to Checkers mouth.~

Checkers: “Oh oh ahh ah ah ahhh oh ohhh! Ahhhh ah ah ah oh oh ah ohhhh ah. Ohhhhh ahhhhh oh.”

Curt Canon: “I couldn’t have said it better myself. Now without further ado it is time for the premiere episode of Curt Canon’s Run In to blast off into the atmosphere as I introduce my very first guest. The Rocketman ED HOUSTON!!!

~The screen turns black and then slowly starts to count down from 10. Once it hits 1 the sound of a rocket taking off echoes throughout the arena. Rocket Man starts to blare as Ed Houston slowly makes his way down the entrance ramp. He stops by fans in the crowd and high fives them. Once he gets about half way down the ramp, he sprints and slides under the rope. He quickly jumps to his feet and makes his way up to the turnbuckle where he waves to the crowd~

Smith: There he is, Hood. The former Craze Champion…a winner earlier this evening against Talia Areano

Hood: Man, I’d already forgotten

~ Curt extends his hand to Ed. The Rocketman looks down at it and in disgust, before making his way to the couch. Curt looks down at his hand in shock before he pulls it away and decides to walk around to his desk. He takes his seat and situates himself as Checkers climbs off his shoulder and walks around to his his smaller desk.~

Canon: “Well Ed, I am glad you decided to join us tonight on the very first premiere pilot episode of Curt Canon’s Run In.”

~Ed looks at Curt and then Checkers before rolling his eyes~

Houston: “Yeah, yeah. I’m glad you finally decided to apologize to me face to face.”

Canon: “Yeah I was thinking about that…..and I don’t really think we owe you an apology at all. They literally used to send monkeys into space. Checkers great grandfather, grandfather, and father have all been in the Milky Way.”

~ Checkers leans over to Curt and whispers something into his ear.~

Curt Canon: “What? are you serious?

~ Curt pulls away from Checkers and addresses Ed and the audience.~

Curt Canon: “My primate friend has just informed me that his relatives have never been to the Milky Way, they have only all eaten a Milky Way….close enough though. The fact still remains that monkeys were sent to space, and that Checkers was just trying to find a common ground.”

~Houston scoffs~

Houston: “That’s the issue. I worked my ass off for a chance to make it to outer space, and then I see this monkey over there,” he points at Checkers, “acting like it’s easy. Man, I don’t see how you can’t see why that wouldn’t offend me. I worked my entire life to wear that suit and then I see him wearing it for some sort of sick joke.”

~Curt rolls his eyes~

Curt Canon: “ It’s not a joke Ed, it is history. Didn’t they teach you anything in space camp? Besides you probably had to “work your ass off” because Monkeys are smarter than people….maybe Checkers was offended by you wearing a spacesuit. Did you ever think of that? Why don’t you stop playing the victim?”

Houston: “Checkers is definitely not smarter than me. He’s not even worthy of wearing a helmet and I’m not playing victim here. I created a group that’s going to change the future of OCW. You know that future doesn’t include you. You decided to have a little fun at my expense and then the second my back was turned you attacked me.”

Canon: “ The future doesn't include me? Let me tell you something boy. I was the second ever OCW Champion...I beat the unbeatable Lurrr. I was the past I am the present and I will be the future of this company. In 18 years I have seen so many of you come and go. I have seen teams get formed then crumble under the weight of people egos. I was part of three of the best teams to ever step foot inside an OCW ring. That is why we threw you a party. I liked your idea, I thought who better to help you than a hall of fame member like me, but now I see that you are becoming just like the rest of the roster. Win some gold get a big head take on the world. And as for attacking you….I have better things to do with my time.”

Houston: “ It has nothing to do with getting gold around my waist. That was just the start of my time here. Ever since I joined OCW I’ve been compared to you. In the minds of some of the fans I’ve already replaced you. I don’t mind you trying to attach yourself to a high flying rocket and maybe if you’d thought things through you could have. But I still believe that you couldn’t take the thought of a star eclipsing your own especially one that you’d been compared to so frequently and that caused you to snap. You can continue to deny. Just because I’ve never seen a black hole doesn’t mean I don’t know they exist. Some things you just know.”

Canon: “ You are right there have been comparisons between yourself and I, and I’m not going to lie I thought I saw them too...until now. You need to realize one thing rocket man...I am not replaceable. Even if I was, you sure as hell wouldn't be the one to do it. Like I said I am a mainstay in this company and you are just another passing OCW fad. Earlier I said I had better things to do with my time than attack you from behind that the attacks from the past few weeks weren’t orchestrated by me, but this one……”

~Before Ed can react Canon grabs him by the back of the head and slams his face into his desk. Ed head bounces off his hands go up and cover his nose, he leans back on the couch and tilts his head up. Canon already out from behind his desk is measuring Ed up waiting to strike. As soon as he sees Eds head come down and look straight ahead Canon bounces off the far rope and hits Houston with a V-Trigger knee. Canon rolls off the couch and stands there watching as Houston falls face down to the mat. Curt looks up at the turnbuckle then back down to Houston. He walks over to the corner hops up with ease and hits Ed in the back with a Shooting Star Press. He get into Eds face and yell~

Curt Canon: “Now that’s how you Blast-Off Rocketman!”

~before leaving the ring and making his way to the back.~

Smith: What has gotten into Curt?

Hood: Nobody likes a younger version of themselves coming along. It makes them feel old. That or Checkers whispered some really nasty things in his ear

Smith: We saw this side of Curt last year. He’s shown the propensity for violence. This time his violence was geared towards Ed Houston

Hood: Man, I don’t know about you but I’d be down with an Ed Houston, Curt Canon match

Smith: That would be one heck of an encounter. I’m sure Ed would be up for it as well…considering what we just witnessed

~Fade in to reveal Orgulloso Guardian Del Arcoiris and Joe Jones standing in front of the OCW backdrop. Joe has his hand on OGDA’s shoulder.~

Joe “Mike Harrison. Take a look at the superhero you get the pleasure of facing at Serial Thrillers, October 29th in New Orleans! Take a good hard look Mikey, cuz this guy right here! He has busted his ass for the better part of two years now to get to this moment in time! He’s taking his lumps, taken his defeats and learned from them, and now, here in OCW, it’s all coming together like a well oiled machine! And a machine he is! The likes the OCW has never seen before. He is the only person on the face of this planet you can accurately describe as a One Man Wrecking Crew! And you Mike Harrison….”

~Joe looks at OGDA and smirks. Slaps OGDA on the shoulder again.~

Joe “You get to figure out just how to stop this wrecking ball. You get to try and stop the tidal wave of every Rainbow Warrior that will be at the haunted house, all cheering on OGDA here to victory. You get to try and stop and the unstoppable. Not a easy task Mikey. One, I’m afraid you're just not up to the task for. Listen, Mike. In all fairness, you had a good run. A honest to god, cross my heart and hope to die, decent, honorable trek down the bike path as the OCW Craze Championship. No one can take that away from you, granted, no one would want too. But it’s time, time for you to step aside. Time for you see the writing on the wall, time to pause and listen to those whispers in your ears, for those whispers, will soon be 10,000 screaming Shining Stars! OGDA’s Little Buddies, their telling you that you don’t stand a chance. OCW’s only true superhero, is going to rescue that belt and propel it to greatness. A task, you’re just incapable of.”

OGDA “Mr. Harrison…”

Joe “Hold up Best. Hang on. Not yet. We don’t want to overwhelm Mr. Harrison. This is a lot for him to take in. He’s never seen a hunk of a man like yourself.”

OGDA “But…..” Pauses as OGDA isn’t quite sure what Joe ment right there. He decides to just ignore it. “I wanted to wish Mr. Harrison good luck that is all.”

Joe snickers. “He’ll need more than luck Best. You can count on that.”

~Fade out~

OCW Savage Championship #1 Contenders Match
Warren Lapierre (6-5) vs. Vincent “The Legend” Langston © (5-0)

~The crowd is still discussing Tony the Spider’s new attitude. Is it roids? Did he catch some type of rotten gas station sushi? Or was it TONY the Spider’s TWIN brother TONIO? Who can really be sure, right? Anyway, the debate rages on until Belvedere throws up a stop sign in the form of his throat clearance! The crowd pops. They know what’s up next…SAVAGERY~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall. The winner will go on to Serial Thrillers to face Iggy Hardy for the OCW Savage Championship. This match…as with all Savage Rules matches will be a No Disqualification, Falls Count Anywhere match! The first person to score a pinfall, submission or render their person unable to answer a ten count will be the winner! Introducing first…

~"I Am Legend" echoes through the arena, followed by the build-up of the music. The claps and heavy beat are joined by lasers and flashing lights as the music blasts out. Vincent Langston walks out on the stage, a stoic look on his face as he walks towards the ring. He jumps over the ropes, lands in the ring, and lets out a loud yell to the crowd, before turning back to his corner~

Belvedere: From Washington, DC…standing 6’4 and weighing in at 230lbs…Vincent ‘The Legend’ Langston!!!

~“Kinetic” by Arcturus starts to play! The fans stand and watch the entrance way as the former Muffles…now known as Warren Lapierre makes his way to the ring. He looks focused and ready for combat. He rushes down the ramp and slides into the ring, under the bottom rope. He pops to his feet, ready for the task at hand~

Belvedere: And his opponent…from Fairfax, Virginia…standing 6’3 and weighing in at 236lbs…Warren Lapierre!!!

~The crowd pops. Belvedere exits the ring and the bell sounds~

Smith: Highly interesting match. Warren Lapierre…for those of you who don’t remember or get too drunk while watching Massacre used to be known as Muffles. He has lost the costume and is now Warren Lapierre. This is his first title opportunity sans Muffles

Hood: You really have to question a guy who works out to have a body that toned yet cover sit up in a bunny suit. I mean, I’m so not gay, ya know…but if I were that ripped I’d walk around shirtless all the time

Smith: Thanks for that

Hood: The mall, food courts, parks, bus stops, unisex restrooms…you name it!

~Lapierre doesn’t waste any time. He charges at Langston and pummels him with lefts and rights, backing him into his corner. The crowd is already hot for the match. Vincent is caught off guard. This is by far the biggest singles match of his career. Lapierre is unleashing a barrage of rights that Langston has increasing trouble blocking. Eventually he ceases evasive maneuvers allowing Lapierre to punch him repeatedly over and over and over again until Langston slumps down in his corner. Warren delivers a high knee strike into Vincent’s face. He turns around, grabs Langston’s head, charges forward and drops him with a bulldog in the center of the ring! He pops back to his feet to a loud applause from the fans~

Smith: And the fans are strongly behind Warren Lapierre! We are seeing a new attitude here tonight

Hood: Yea Langston is stepping up in singles competition and I’m not sure the guy was prepared. He’s had Rhodes holding his hand throughout his career.

Smith: I’m not sure she’s been ‘holding his hand’

Hood: Sure she has…you think it’s the other way around? No way Rhodes would take a backseat to anybody…even if she should

Smith: I don’t think there’s any hand holding going on. I think they make a great team

~Lapierre snares the wrist of Langston. The fans know what this could mean. Langston, though, shows freaky athleticism in popping to his feet, hoisting Lapierre onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry and dropping him with a Death Valley Driver!!! Lapierre hits hard! He rolls onto the apron, holding his neck. He’s stunned and hurt but not rendered unconscious. Langston staggers back to his feet, leaning against the opposite ropes, trying to shake the fog from his clouded mind~

Smith: What a move by The Legend! There is nothing holding this man back aside from in ring experience

Hood: No shit, man. He just fired up like Jason fucking Voorhees and dumped Muffles on his head!

Smith: Warren Lapierre

Hood: He’ll always be Muffles to me

~Langston, still a bit foggy from Lapierre’s initial attack, charges forward at Warren. Warren jumps up and delivers a kick into Langston’s face! Vincent staggers back. Warren jumps up and springboards off the top rope…he leaps at Langston, wraps his legs around Langston’s head and tosses him across the ring with a hurricanrana!!! Langston’s body slides under the rope, onto the apron before slipping off to the outside! Warren returns to his feet, fired up! The fans are cheering him on~

Smith: Freaky athleticism shown by Warren Lapierre. He’s really something without that bunny suit on

Hood: I don’t know why people are so fucking surprised. The guy was pulling athletic shit off while DRESSED AS A RABBIT. Of course he’s athletic

Smith: Indeed

~Lapierre stands near the ropes, looking down over the top. Vincent gets to his feet, wobbly. Lapierre slings hots over the top rope with a Plancha. Vincent catches him! He shows his freaky strength! Lapierre wiggles, trying to break free but Langston falls back, tossing Lapierre over his head into the barricade with a Fall Away Slam! The entire barricade shifts due to the impact! The fans at ringside don’t care…they chant and cheer with half empty, spilt drink cups and popcorn bags~

Smith: These two are back and forth…both are physical specimens. I have no idea who is going to emerge victorious

Hood: No wonder we can’t win any wars lately

Smith: What are you talking about?

Hood: The military keeps letting guys like Langston escape while allowing…

Smith: And I’m just gonna cut you off right there

~Langston sits up. Lapierre is laid out against the barricade wincing in pain. Langston gets to his feet. He stands over Warren and places his boot into Warren’s throat, choking the air from his lungs. The fans at ringside don’t seem to be pleased with this act. Vincent doesn’t care. He’s focused on the lone task of victory. He finishes choking Lapierre and pulls him to his feet. Carelessly Vincent tosses Lapierre head first into the ring steps! He bashes into them, his impact separates the top from the bottom. The top goes flying! Lapierre is down, on his back~

Smith: Langston is the first man to establish control in this one

Hood: I’d hate to piss that guy off

Smith: He is a force once he gets going

Hood: Yea and he just said ‘fuck those steps’ and, indeed, those steps got fucked

~Langston snares the top portion of the steps with something painful in mind. He stands atop the bottom steps, looking down at Warren. He lifts the steps above his head with ease and tosses them down at Lapierre. Warren rolls out of the way! The steps SLAM into the ground, vibrating and bouncing around loudly. Lapierre scrambles to his feet. The steps come to rest right side up. He runs at them, steps on them and jumps off with a dropkick aimed at Langston! He drills Langston right in the chest! Vincent goes flying off the steps into the barricade! He hits hard! Lapierre manages to miss the bottom portion of the steps when landing. He returns to his feet, charges forward and clotheslines Langston over the barricade into the crowd! The fans go wild, spreading to give Langston room~

Smith: A sudden fire up by Warren Lapierre!

Hood: I think his life flashed before his eyes and he was like “Fuck this shit”

Smith: In so many words that might have been the genesis for this comeback

~Lapierre climbs atop the barricade. Langston gets to his feet, thrown off by the sudden attack. Lapierre throws some kicks while atop the barricade into Langston’s chest. Vincent teeters on his heels with each kick. Lapierre throws a soccer style kick which drills Langston right in the face! Langston falls to the floor. Lapierre motions for the fans to move. They do. He jumps off with a leg drop and connects!! He makes the cover! Scruff hops over the barricade and gets in position for the count~

1!

2!

Kick Out!!

Smith: Kick out by Langston! He’s still in this one!

Hood: Yea but that damn bunny is kicking his ass…LITERALLY

Smith: Lapierre is in control, yes. But this one is far from over

~Lapierre returns to his feet. He grabs Langston by the back of the neck and yanks him to his feet, tossing him back over the barricade into the ringside area. Langston tumbles over, finding a way to get to his knees. Lapierre hops over the barricade. He grabs Langston by the wrist. The fans rise. Lapierre is looking for IL TAV ID. He reaches for Langston’s other wrist…but Langston does everything he can to avoid making it available. He thrusts his head forward into Lapierre’s abdomen. He does it again and again. Lapierre staggers back. Langston rips his wrist out of Warren’s grasp. He gets to his feet and runs Warren over with a lariat!! Warren lands hard on the outside. Langston leans over the barricade, catching his breath~

Smith: Nice comeback by Langston! He’s showing some real grit in this one

Hood: Well I mean the guy was involved in WAR. Meanwhile his opponent was running around in a bunny suit. Who do you think is tougher?

Smith: I think you’re over simplifying the matter

Hood: True…it can get pretty fucking hot in those costumes

~Langston turns around to go back to work on Lapierre. He grabs Lapierre by the hair, pulling him to his feet. He scoops him up for a slam but Lapierre wiggles out of Langston’s grip. Lapierre is standing behind Langston. Vincent turns around and gets a knee into the stomach! Langston doubles over. Lapierre hooks Langston and drops him with an Implant DDT on the outside! Lapierre returns to his feet, fired up! He’s in total control~

Smith: Lapierre seems to just be a step head of Vincent here tonight. This could be it

Hood: Yea a DDT on the outside really hurts, man

Smith: Indeed it does

~Lapierre appears ready to try and hit Langston with IL TAV ID. Something causes the crowd to react. They all start to cheer. Lapierre pauses, confused~

Smith: What’s going on?

Hood: I don’t know…fans are idiots

~A person donning the MUFFLES suit hops over the barricade into the ringside area! Lapierre turns around with a “WTF” look on his face. The Muffles imposter charges at Lapierre…Lapierre ducks the clothesline. The Muffles impersonator hops over the bottom portion of the separated steps and crawls under the ring. Lapierre looks around for him. While doing so, Langston crawls from behind Lapierre and rolls him up. Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

Kick out!!!

Smith: Lapierre kicked out! He’s being distracted by someone in the Muffles suit!

Hood: Is THAT the Muffles suit or does it LOOK like the Muffles suit?

Smith: I’m not sure. It’s either the exact suit or an identical one. How can one be sure?

Hood: They breed like rabbits around here, man!

~Lapierre pops back to his feet. Langston, on his knees, dives at Lapierre, wrapping him around the waist and hoisting him up while getting to his feet. He charges forward and slams Lapierre back first into the barricade. Langston stands and delivers a few forearm uppercuts into the chest of Lapierre. Warren nearly flips over into the crowd. Vincent whips Warren toward the apron. Lapierre jumps up, landing atop the apron. Vincent charges. Lapierre performs a back flip, landing behind Langston. He jumps up and drops Langston with a back stabber!!! The crowd pops! Langston arches his back in pain~

Smith: Another extremely athletic maneuver by Warren Lapierre. I’m telling you, Hood…this is a changed man

Hood: No shit, he literally changed his attire

Smith: I was speaking more from a mental, psychological standpoint

Hood: I have no basis for comparison because I don’t sit around and talk to people dressed as animals

~Lapierre returns to his feet. He pulls Langston up. He’s about to perform a move when something white a furry rises from behind him. He’s CRUSHED in the back with a chair shot! The crowd boos! Lapierre turns around, face to face with the person in the Muffles outfit. “Muffles” throws a chair shot at Lapierre’s head! Warren ducks! The chair smashes Langston in the face! Vincent stumbles back, leaning against the post. Lapierre rips the chair away from Muffles and chases him away from ringside! The bunny hops up the ramp before disappearing through the curtain. Lapierre tosses the chair aside and heads back down the ramp. He rounds the front, right ring post and sees Langston in bad shape, leaning back against the back, right ring post still reeling from the chair shot~

Smith: Thank goodness he got rid of that Muffles imposter!

Hood: The muffles identity will always haunt this guy

Smith: Let’s hope not

~Langston, out of nowhere throws a Spinning Heel Kick and hits it! Lapierre stumbles back! Langston staggers forward. He’s looking for Scars of War. He double under hooks Lapierre. Lapierre fights out of the double underhook and jumps up with a flying knee into Langston’s chin!! Langston falls into the apron which keeps him upright. Lapierre grabs both Langston’s arms and pulls him forward with IL TAV ID!!! Vincent’s limp body falls back against the apron. Amazingly, due to the apron, he stays on his feet. Warren doubles over, still impacted by the match. He raises up to go after Langston but is met with a diving lariat!! Warren turns inside out, landing hard on the floor while Langston collapses face first! Both men are down! The fans are on their feet going wild~

Smith: Oh my goodness! IL TAV ID yet Langston managed to hit a lariat! Had it not been for that apron I believe this match would be over!

Hood: Weak ass apron! But, man, you have to train some of that military training, I guess. Langston is going off pure instinct right now

Smith: Indeed!

~Lapierre stirs first. Langston hasn’t moved since hitting the lariat. Warren finds Langston and manages to roll the dead weight over onto his back. He makes the cover. Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

3…NO!

Smith: Langston with the shoulder up! He’s still alive in this one!

Hood: Fuckin hell…this guy could probably win a small war all by himself. Ya know, maybe like a war against Belarus or something

Smith: Why on EARTH would we fight Belarus?

Hood: I was just thinking of a small-ish country. How about Liechtenstein?

Smith: Let’s stop warmongering, okay?

~Lapierre grabs wrist control of Langston’s right arm. He gets to his feet and pulls Langston to his knees. He grabs the left wrist of Langston, looking to hit a second IL TAV ID! He yanks Langston in but Vincent avoids the knee! He hooks Lapierre around the waist, pops to his feet and tosses him over his back with a Northern Lights Suplex!! Warren hits hard~

Smith: What a counter!

Hood: Geezus…this guy won’t stay down!

~Lapierre returns to his feet and instinctively heads towards Langston. Vincent is back on his feet. Lapierre throws a V-Trigger knee at Langston’s head but Vincent blocks it! He drills Lapierre in the gut with a right uppercut. He double underhooks Lapierre and drops him to the floor with Scars of War!! He transitions into the pin! Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

3!!!!

~The bell rings~

Belvedere: Here is your winner…and the man who will face Iggy Hardy for the Savage Title at Serial Thrillers….he is one half of the OCW Tag Team Champions…VINCENT “THE LEGEND” LANGSTON!!!!!

Smith: What a win by Langston!

Hood: Fuck yea it was…and he did it without Rhodes carrying his dumb ass

Smith: She hasn’t been carrying him! But, yes…this is by far the biggest singles win of his career. Now he’ll have the opportunity to claim OCW gold at Serial Thrillers

Hood: Don’t forget Muffles…he got fucked…by Muffles

Smith: Not directly…but you do have to wonder what might have been had a Muffles imposter stayed out of this match

Hood: Who do you think was under the mask? Was it Murphy the Body?

Smith: I have no idea. A tough loss for Warren…but he looked great, even in defeat. A tremendous match…Iggy Hardy has his hands full

~We cut backstage where Welsh is looking over Puffer. Cap Slock and the Reporter are close by. Who’Re is also in the scene, not wanting to be scooped. Welsh looks around with an annoyed expression~

Marcus Welsh: Glad we’re all here for this ‘big announcement’. Unbelievable…

~Puffer groans~

Marcus Welsh: Oh for the love, Puffer. It was just ONE stroke. I mean I know it’s a devastating finisher but it’s been nearly two hours since you took it!

~Puffer groans a second time~

Marcus Welsh: Seriously. Let’s get out of here before some person tunes into OCW programming for the first time and thinks THIS is our standard in ring competitor

Reporter: Mr. Welsh don’t you think you should at least hear what he has to say? The man has been through a lot. A stroke is a very serious ailment

~Welsh rolls his eyes~

Who’Re: He didn’t mean an actual stroke you dumb bitch! It’s the name of a wrestling move!

Reporter: Well I’m sorry if I don’t watch this stuff for a living and am only here covering it because my nation wide magazine sent me here. Forgive me for being an actual reporter with a legit journalism career…you whore.

Who’Re: What did you call me?!

~The Reporter and Who’Re start to brawl. Cap Slock works to break them up. Welsh is just about done with this entire ordeal when his arm is snared by Puffer. Puffer motions for Welsh to lean in~

Marcus Welsh: Alright, fine but if your breath smells I’m out of here and will be administering a fine

~Puffer whispers into Welsh’s ear. Welsh nods along without really paying attention. Then, suddenly, something causes him to react. He shoots up straight and looks down at Puffer~

Marcus Welsh: How did you get that name?!

~Welsh reaches down, grabbing Puffer by the throat, shaking him. The Reporter and Who’Re stop fighting. Cap Slock rushes to get his GM off of Puffer~

Cap Slock: EASY MR WELSH

Reporter: Get off the poor man! Haven’t you seen that he’s been through enough?!

~The attractive reporter rushes to Puffer’s side. He is wheeled into an ambulance. She decides to take the ride with him feeling a new level of attraction. Welsh, wide eyed and concerned grabs Cap Slock~

Marcus Welsh: Captain! You have got to follow that ambulance. Make sure nobody sees Puffer before you do and please…by all means make sure whatever they give him knocks him the fuck out

Cap Slock: YESSIR. I’M ON IT SIR.

~Cap Slock rushes to follow the ambulance. Hopefully not on foot. Welsh storms off, angrily. Who’Re follows far enough behind to keep up without being noticed~

"They say the son pays for the sins of his father."

~The scene opens up with Solomon Cain standing on the beach watching the sun drop down into the ocean as it sits and darkness comes to cover the world. Solomon has a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of PBR in the other. Solomon takes a drink of the blue ribbon winning beer and then a drag from his Newport. Solomon exhales slowly and continues to stare at the setting sun, never looking at the camera~

Solomon Cain: You know, I f**king hate the beach. Always wanted to go to the beach as a kid, and when I finally got old enough and saved up the money I took a trip with the few friends I had to Myrtle Beach... what a sh*t hole.

Crowded, hot, and a bunch of families with the Dad trying to spoil the kids to make up for all the time he spends at work and not at there t-ball game. News flash, no one gives a f*ck about your t-ball game Johnny.

~Solomon takes another drink and follows it up with another drag from the cigarette. Solomon then turns around slowly and exhales the smoke onto the camera lens.~

Solomon Cain: I came here for two reasons, erase my fathers name, and make my name the biggest in the sport. I dominate and win my first match, and then I get to set at home the next week.

I didn't come here to sit around on the beach. I didn't come here to waste away in Margaritiaville.

I came here to make the name Solomon Cain the biggest there is in, the biggest there was, and the biggest name there ever will be.

If you ask me to sit at home again next week I can promise you I won't be on the each getting sand stuck in my ass crack and making a pearl, like I'm some clam. I will show up unannounced and I will leave the first person I see broken and bloody.

~Solomon takes another drink of his beer, finishing it off and then tosses the bottle to the side off camera. He takes another drag of the Newport and begins walking away as the scene fades out.~

~We cut to Welsh’s office. He’s bothered, immensely. He’s seated behind his desk. Knux is taping his fists for some reason. There is a knock at the door. LEO THE HIGH SCHOOL INTERN pops his head in~

Marcus Welsh: Oh not you again! What is it, Leo? Shouldn’t you be out looking for an actual job? You’re like thirty-five

Leo The High School Intern: I’m here representing Commissioner Zybala. He just wanted to remind you that he’s cashing in his OCW Title contract tonight

Marcus Welsh: No shit

Leo The High School Intern: And that tonight’s match is inside a Steel Cage

Marcus Welsh: I KNOW THAT YOU IDIOT!

~Welsh throws a pen at Leo~

Leo The High School Intern: He just wanted me to make sure you were aware…just in case…you know…you got any ideas

Marcus Welsh: KNUX!

~Knux stands, cracking his, umm, knuckles~

Leo The High School Intern: Alright, fine! I’m gone…oh…by the way there’s a giant Owl out here.

Marcus Welsh: What the fuck…

~Leo gets scarce. Owlie the Owl enters to a huge ovation from the fans in the arena. Knux is about ready to MURDER this owl. But, Welsh tells Knux to stand down~

Marcus Welsh: What do you want?

Owlie the Owl: Mr. Welsh I am here to represent the interests of one Owl is Night

Marcus Welsh: You mean Alice Knight?

Owlie the Owl: Potato potahtoe

Marcus Welsh: No, it’s not POTATO POTAHTOE

Owlie the Owl: Fine, tomato, tomahtoe…you know, semantics

Marcus Welsh: NO It’s not that EITHER. Her name is ALICE not OWLIS. There is a HUGE difference

Owlie the Owl: The OWL is NIGHT movement is stronger than any name, Mr. Welsh. But if you insist, fine, I am here representing the interests of Alice Knight

Marcus Welsh: Fucking finally. I assume she got my message?

Owlie the Owl: She did and she wanted me to let you know that she is…and I quote “down like a clown Charlie Brown.”

~The crowd goes wild. We hear Smith laughing~

Smith: Haha! Isn’t she the best!

Hood: She’s not even here and I already want to punch her in the face

~Welsh rubs his forehead. He’s had enough of tonight~

Marcus Welsh: Alright, great…tell her it’s on

Owlie the Owl: Like Donkey Kong, sir?

Marcus Welsh: Oh for fuck’s sake! Why does everything with this woman have to turn into some sort of pun?! Listen to me you stupid man in an owl suit

Owlie the Owl: I am Owlie

Marcus Welsh: Listen to me. You tell Alice that she will be in action at Serial Thrillers facing…the next star…the next headliner…the next FACE of the company. You tell her that, okay?

Owlie the Owl: She will be most pleased.

~Welsh aggressively motions for Owlie to ‘get the hell out’. Owlie flaps his wings and runs out of the office, hooting. Knux slams the door shut. Welsh grabs a bottle of Pepto and downs half the pink liquid~

Marcus Welsh: This fucking job, Knux, I swear. I would have had you kill that Owl thing if it weren’t for the fact that this is all a set up for Alice to get what SHE deserves at Serial Thrillers at the hands of our new franchise player. What better way to debut, Knux? The new FACE of OCW gets their first win by demolishing Alice Knight. It's going to be great.

~We fade away~

~We cut backstage inside the NICEST dressing room you’ve ever seen. Jacob Hotstuff and Bruce Rage are celebrating their performance from earlier in the evening. We’re not sure what they are drinking but it looks (and probably is) expensive~

Jacob Hotstuff: Great job, Bruce!

Bruce Rage: Same to you!

~They make a toast and drink to great times and the feeling of overwhelming satisfaction of a job well done~

Jacob Hotstuff: There’s a reason why I’m the highest paid star in OCW. There’s a reason why I make more per appearance than any athlete in the world. Stick by my side and someday you might make half of what they’re paying me.

~The comment doesn’t strike Bruce in an offensive manner. He’s too busy enjoying the moment. There is a knock on Jacob’s door. Hotstuff motions for Bruce to answer it. He does. A delivery man is holding an unmarked package~

Smith: I’d be careful if I were Jacob

Hood: You think it’s Meth?

Smith: What is it with you and meth this evening?

Hood: I don’t know…probably has something to do with the fact Better Call Saul is being DVR’d at my house right now

~Hotstuff motions for the delivery guy to enter. He takes the box and inspects it. Rage chugs the rest of his drink~

Bruce Rage: I’m going to take a piss

~Jacob nods. He’s not paying attention to anything other than the box. The delivery guy follows Bruce out of the dressing room leaving Hotstuff alone. He places the box on top of a nearby table and rips the top apart, leaning back. Nothing explodes. Nothing dangerous happens, really. It’s sort of anti climatic. Hotstuff smiles, arrogantly as though he knew it was nothing to be afraid of. He leans in, looking at what the box contains~

Jacob Hotstuff: What the…

~He reaches in and removes a broken guitar! The crowd EXPLODES with cheers. We can hear a “GRIFF!” chant emerge from within the fan base~

Smith: Hood! I know we usually don’t acknowledge wrestlers from other promotions…but I think we can all guess who sent Hotstuff that package!

Hood: An idiot, that’s who. Didn’t he see what they did to Rhodes?

Smith: I think that package was probably sent before tonight

Hood: Good point, but still. The owner of that broken guitar is an idiot

Smith: Well we will see about that

~Hotstuff slams the broken guitar back in the box and looks away in frustration. We fade out~

Main Event – OCW Championship
Steel Cage
“The Marvel” Matt Meyhu © (21-2) vs. Mike Zybala (7-2)

~The crowd is frenzied. They are anxious. They are ready for a REAL main event this week. Belvedere stands in the ring. There is a special aura in the OCW Arena right now. It’s the aura that precursors a historic match. These people know they are about to witness something spectacular. Belvedere clears his throat. The crowd goes wild. The cage starts to lower. The crowd goes even wilder! They chant “CAGE! CAGE! CAGE!” Belvedere begins his duties before the cage hits the floor~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…it is now time for our Main Event of the Evening!

~The crowd goes wild! They shift from chanting ‘CAGE!’ to chanting “ZYBALA!”~

Belvedere: This match will take place inside of a Steel Cage. In order to win a competitor must make their opponent pin or submit. A competitor can also win by escaping the cage through the door or over the top. Both feet must hit the floor. Oh…and…this match is also for the OCW Championship!

~A loud “OCW!” chant fills the OCW Arena~

Belvedere: Introducing first…

“WHEN IT’S TIME TO PARTY WE WILL PARTY HARD!”

~The music hits and the fans go crazy!! Mike Zybala, the OCW commissioner, the pro wrestling legend emerges from the back. He’s in wrestler mode this evening! He looks around at the fans with a look of confidence embedded into his features. Tonight is THE night. There will be NO shenanigans. He throws a few superkicks as the crowd eats the movements up! He hustles down the ramp and reaches the cage. He walks around the cage, taking it in. It looks pretty tall for a guy who is 5’6. He reaches the door and quickly inspects it. He shakes and yanks on it, finding the door to be locked in pretty tight. He nods with approval before entering into the cage and sliding into the ring~

Belvedere: From Buffalo, New York…standing 5’6 and weighing in at 175lbs…he is the OCW Commissioner…he is the challenger…he is Mike Zybala!!!!

~The crowd gets the loudest it’s been all evening! A cohesive chant of “ZYBALA!” fills the arena. Mike climbs one of the corners and looks out, clapping his hands. Belvedere holds steady, waiting for the chant to quiet down. But it endures. Some might say it even grows. These fans are fully behind Zybala in the hope that he can dethrone the tyrannical rule of Matt Meyhu~

“LA… LA, LA LA… Wait Till I Get My Money Right…”

~BOOOOOOOO goes the crowd!! The entire mood has changed. These fans are SICK of the champ. The opening line of his song creates a near riot level form of heat. Meyhu emerges from the back. The heat acts as adrenaline for the champ. He soaks it in. He lives it. He basks in it. This is why he loves Pro Wrestling. The OCW Title is around his waist. It’s never looked more prestigious. Zybala eyes him from the corner he chose to stand atop moments earlier, through the chained link fencing of the steel cage~

Belvedere: And, his opponent…from Chicago, Illinois…standing 6’5 and weighing in at 240lbs…he is the OCW Champion…he is “The Marvel” Matt Meyhu!!!!

~Meyhu waits for Belvedere t finish. He extends his arms and heads down the ramp way. The fans continue to boo. A few items of trash are thrown at the champ. He manages to dodge each item, effortlessly. He reaches the ring and stands in front of the door, much like Zybala did~

Smith: Nice to see the champ alone this evening. Hopefully things stay that way

Hood: A hater of romance, huh? You want to see Matt Meyhu live a lonely life, is that it?

Smith: I’m talking strictly about this match! I want to see Meyhu face Zybala without the help of anyone

Hood: Buckle up, buttercup. You’re about to get your fucking wish

~Meyhu shuts the door from the outside. He lifts the handle, unlocking the door. It’s easy, like any unlocked gate you’ve ever encountered. He smiles and nods, approving of the easily opened door. He hops onto the apron and steps into the ropes, slamming the door shut behind him. Belvedere promptly exits. Zybala hops down from his perch and heads over to Meyhu. Meyhu looks down at Zybala. Zybala looks up at Meyhu. He then turns and heads for the door. Meyhu laughs. The fans quiet down. They are puzzled~

Smith: What’s he doing?

Hood: I think he just realized he booked himself inside a cage, alone with the champ. He’s heading back to Buffalo!

Smith: I don’t think that’s the case, Hood

~Zybala reaches into his pants and pulls out a thick chain. He begins to snake the chain through the fence, locking the door to the cage. He pulls a lock out of his pant pocket and snaps it in place. There appears to be no key. Meyhu’s eyes widen. He rushes for the door and shoves Zybala aside. He looks at this lock and sees a combination at the bottom. It’s four digits. He looks at Zybala. He pulls on the lock but it won’t give. The door is now truly locked with a memorized combination as the only ‘key’ to remove it~

Smith: Zybala has LOCKED them inside the cage! That door is NOT opening

Hood: What is this, some kind of a joke? What if the champ needs some water?

Smith: He’s just going to have to suck it up

~The crowd cheers at seeing the dismay on Meyhu’s face. He looks at his belt and grabs Scruff. He says “I’ve got to get the belt to Belvedere! Tell me the combination!” Scruff shrugs and looks at Zybala. Zybala replies “The belt is fine in here.” Meyhu almost loses it. He throws his hands in the air, turns and kicks at the bottom rope. The crowd continues to cheer. Scruff, realizing there’s nothing left to really debate, calls for the bell. It sounds and the crowd rises to their feet~

Smith: And here we go!

Hood: The belt is going to stay IN the ring? What are we, some broke ass federation? That belt is historic! It needs to be next to Belvedere!

Smith: I guess they should have thought of that before hand

Hood: Nobody knew Zybala was going to lock the fucking cage with some goofy combo lock. Ya see? You let Zybala get relatively close to the OCW Title and shit like this happens. Ridiculous

~Zybala is poised for a superkick. Meyhu’s back is to Zybala. He reaches around, unhooking the OCW Title. He instantly turns. Zybala lunges forward with his superkick! Both men come to an impressive halt before impact! They had the same idea…albeit with different execution. Meyhu suddenly throws the belt at Zybala. Mike has no choice but to catch it, avoiding being struck in the face. Meyhu lifts Zybala up, looking for a spinebuster. Zybala, still holding the belt, slams it into Meyhu’s head, repeatedly. Meyhu drops Zybala and staggers back. Zybala looks down at the belt and lunges forward, drilling Meyhu in the gut with it! The champ doubles over! Zybala smacks the front plate of the belt into Meyhu’s back! He falls to all fours. Zybala grabs the belt by one end, reaches back and whips Meyhu across the shoulders with it! He does this again and again until Meyhu is face down on the mat! The crowd’s cheers increase with every whip. Finally, Zybala stops…the crowd is chanting his name. He takes the belt, secures it around his waist and parades around the ring pretending to be the champ. ‘HE’S OUR CHAMP!’ is chanted by the fans~

Smith: Haha! What a moment!

Hood: You kidding me? He’s making a mockery of the OCW Title!

Smith: No he’s not! He’s simply enjoying the moment which more people in this profession could learn to do

Hood: Enjoying the moment is for Uber Man and Tony the Arachnid. It is NOT for OCW Title matches. Unless Bifford is involved, of course

~Meyhu starts to get up. He pushes up to one knee. Zybala stops parading around and gets poised to pounce. He’s looking for a SUPERKICK. Meyhu gets to his feet. Zybala lunges forward with a Superkick. Meyhu spots HIS OCW Title around Zybala’s waist. His eyes become saucers of RAGE. He dodges the superkick, reaches down and yanks the belt from Zybala’s waist! Zybala stumbles forward, spins around due to the belt removal…looks for Meyhu and gets BLASTED in the face with the belt by the champ! The fans BOOOOO! Meyhu looks down at Zybala and holds the belt high in the air. We see welts on his back from the whipping he took moments before. Meyhu slings the belt over his shoulder and he heads for the door~

Smith: I think the champ wants to call it a night

Hood: Could you blame him? He’s in there with a lunatic

Smith: No, I can’t…the quicker you can get out of cage matches the better

Hood: Especially cage matches featuring ZYBALA

~Meyhu reaches the lock and looks at the four number scroll underneath. He has a look of utmost confidence. He scrolls the first number to a 6. The second to a 9. The third to a 6. And the fourth to a 9. He looks out at the crowd, smirking~

Smith: The Champ thinks he’s solved the combo!

Hood: OF COURSE it’d be 6969…way to be predictable, Zybala

~Meyhu yanks down on the lock. It doesn’t budge. He’s perplexed. He yanks again, receiving the same result. He yanks again and again and again. Harder each time. Finally he quits yanking on the lock and resorts to kicking at the door, but it won’t open. He turns, furiously, staring down at the commish who is starting to move~

Smith: So much for assumption! You know what happens when you assume, right Hood?

Hood: Yea, you take your fucking frustrations out on Zybala

~The Champ drops his OCW Title by the door and storms over toward Zybala. Mike is on all fours. Meyhu throws a stiff kick into the side of Zybala’s head! Mike flips over onto his back, holding his ear. His head appears to be ringing based on the look in his eyes. Meyhu leaps into the air and drops a leg across Zybala’s throat. He swiftly transitions to his knees and wraps his hands around Zybala’s throat and yells “GIVE ME THE COMBINATION!”~

Smith: And the champ has lost it! He’s demanding the combo to the lock!

Hood: Kill him! Kill that man! Do us all a favor!

Smith: If he kills Zybala then he’ll never get the combo!

Hood: So? Then he can just climb out of the fucking cage. Use your brain ya fuckin idiot

~Zybala is choking out. His face is turning red. Meyhu is possessed. Zybala tries to say something. He can’t get the words out. So, Meyhu releases the choke hold. Zybala coughs and coughs, clearing out his esophagus. Meyhu motions like he’s going to reapply the choke hold. Zybala says “The combination is…” Meyhu leans in. Zybala reaches over and jams a thumb into Meyhu’s eye!! The crowd goes wild! Meyhu turns away, instinctively. He grabs his face in pain. Zybala rolls as far away from Meyhu as possible, hitting the side of the cage. He gets to his knees, in between the ropes and the cage, grabs the middle rope for support and coughs and coughs, spitting on the mat a few times, getting some air back into his lungs. His face starts to return to its normal color~

Smith: Smart move by our commish

Hood: Dick move if you ask me! He’s trying to permanently maim our champ!

Smith: Well maybe the champ shouldn’t have tried to choke him out

Hood: He wouldn’t NEED to choke him out if Zybala would be a good little minion and give him the damn combo!

~Meyhu returns to his feet. He’s covering the afflicted eye. He sees Zybala on his knees, between the ropes and the cage. He sprints forward. He throws a running knee at Zybala’s face. Mike drops to the mat and rolls out of the way. Meyhu’s knee SLAMS into the side of the cage. The entire cage rocks from impact! He falls to the mat, holding his knee in pain. Zybala gets to his feet safely in the ring. He sees Meyhu on his back, holding his knee. He calmly walks over and begins stomping at the champ’s knee, keeping him down~

Smith: Payback is on Zybala’s mind! He’s going to do as much damage to that knee as he’s capable of dishing out

Hood: Don’t say that! Zybala was a dish washer at Denny’s before someone inexplicably hired him here in OCW

Smith: What are you talking about?

Hood: I’m just saying…he’s very good at dishing out

~Zybala ceases the stomping and grabs hold of the targeted leg by the foot. He drags Meyhu away from the ropes and flips him onto his front. He lifts Meyhu up in the air by the leg and slams the leg down, knee first, into the mat! Meyhu instantly grabs his knee. Zybala has an idea. He heads for the door, snaring the OCW Title. He places it, face up, on the mat. He grabs Meyhu by the leg and drags the champ near the center of the ring, toward the belt. Meyhu tries clawing at the mat to keep from being dragged that way…but it’s of no use. Zybala lifts Meyhu’s leg up once more and drives it, knee first down into the plate of the belt!! This appears to really have an impact. Meyhu goes for his knee instantly and does what he can to create some distance. He sits up in the nearest corner, holding his knee in pain~

Smith: If Zybala is able to injure that knee it would likely prevent Meyhu from being able to escape the cage

Hood: This is getting ridiculous! Somebody lift the cage! Our champ is wounded!

Smith: This is a combat sport, Hood. The Champ is going to have to suck it up

~Zybala charges in and leaps into the air bringing his knees into his chest. He comes down and kicks the crap out of Meyhu’s injured knee!! The crowd goes wild! Meyhu curls up, holding his pain filled knee. Zybala returns to his feet and heads for the title. He picks it up and looks over at Meyhu. He slings the title over his shoulder and makes his way for the cage door~

Smith: This could be it! He knows the combo!

Hood: WEAK ASS WEAK ASS!

Smith: Are you losing your composure?

Hood: I’m about to voluntarily lose my life if he escapes that cage!

~Zybala reaches the door, steps through the ropes and grabs the lock. A camera zooms in. Zybala notices and turns, placing his back in between the camera shot and the lock, keeping the combo a secret. He starts working on it. The crowd is on their feet, making a lot of noise. Meyhu looks up, hearing the excited crowd. He checks the door to find Zybala working on the combo. The Champ understands he’s about to lose his belt. He fights through the pain and gets to his feet. He hobbles toward the door. The crowd yells for Zybala to look. Mike turns and sees Meyhu limping his way. He curses under his breath and runs his hand along the numbers, scrambling them, unable to get the combo lined up in time. He drops the title near the door and jumps up, springboarding off the top rope at Meyhu. Meyhu responds by drilling Zybala in the chest with HUBRIS! He uses his bad leg to administer the kick, knowing he needed a strong base to pull the move off! Zybala hits the mat, holding his chest in pain. Meyhu falls to the mat, holding his wounded knee~

Smith: Ouch! Right into the chest…the Hubris kick is one of Meyhu’s most devastating maneuvers

Hood: I hope he caved that weak ass chest of Zybalas right in!

Smith: That’s not very nice

Hood: Oh yea? Well why don’t you let me tell you what I REALLY think of Mike Zybala

Smith: No, no, that’s quite alright

~Meyhu gets to his feet first, keeping most of the pressure off his knee. He walks around, testing it out. It’s pretty loose and wobbly but appears to be intact – nothing torn or broken. He shakes his head, angry over the knee issue. His focus turns to Zybala who is on his knees, holding his chest. Meyhu limps over, snaring Zybala by his THICK hair. Zybala throws a wild kick at Meyhu’s knee. Meyhu is able to avoid the kick and hooks Zybala with a Sleeper! Instead of trying to put Zybala to sleep he simply lifts Mike into the air and slams him into the mat out of the sleeper hold! Zybala nearly lands on his head, narrowly escaping a potential neck injury. He does hit in between the top of his shoulders and neck and quickly reaches for his neck in pain. The wounded Champ hobbles over to the door, hoping to give it one more try~

Smith: The knee appears to be wounded but not injured. It looks as though the Champ will have to put up with some pain but nothing structural is at risk

Hood: Whew, that’s the best news I’ve heard all night!

Smith: As much as I dislike the champ, I’d agree.

~Meyhu messes with the lock. He tries a few random combinations hoping to get lucky. When that doesn’t work he yanks on the lock. When that doesn’t work he kicks at the lock. Neither of these options get the Champ any closer to escaping the cage. He locks his hands around the chained link comprising the door and shakes it as violently as he can, hoping to maybe dislodge something structural. It’s to no avail. For the first time in OCW we’ve built something that simply will not budge. So, Meyhu looks up, overhead. He reaches up, snaring the highest portion of cage he can and places the foot belonging to his wounded knee into the cage, hoping to give climbing a shot. It becomes pretty obvious pretty quickly that this option is going to take awhile. He looks over his shoulder to find Zybala stirring. He’s got no shot at making the top of the cage. So he carefully hops back down to the apron and steps in through the ropes. He grabs Zybala by the wrist, pulling him to his feet. Meyhu draws Zybala in for a short arm clothesline. Zybala ducks and hits the ropes. He springboards off the middle rope with a lionsault. Meyhu catches Zybala in position for a piledriver! His knee buckles, slightly. Zybala kicks his legs and wiggles, moving his weight backwards. He gets onto Meyhu’s shoulder before sliding to the mat, behind the Champ. Zybala takes a step back and throws a superkick at the back of Meyhu’s head. Meyhu ducks the kick!! Zybala stumbles forward. Meyhu hooks Zybala with a Full Nelson…he lifts Zybala up and drops him with a Full Nelson Slam!!! Zybala is on his back, motionless. The crowd boos. Meyhu goes for the pin. Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

Shoulder Up!!

Smith: Zybala averted defeat! Two massive slams in a row. You know his head and neck have got to be in rough shape.

Hood: There’s no damaging that head. Rough shape would actually be an upgrade over ‘Normal’ for Zybala

Smith: Rude and uncalled for. Meyhu, meanwhile, keeps getting blocked by that door. I don’t think we’re going to see him climb out of the cage this evening so it looks as though he’s going to have to win this the old fashioned way

Hood: Yes, the Meyhu way…but outclassing his opponent in every facet

~Meyhu slams the back of Zybala’s head into the mat out of frustration. He gets to one knee, keeping his irritated knee up. The crowd begins to boo loudly. The champ looks over his shoulder to see GM Marcus Welsh and Knux rushing down to the ringside area. Welsh is carrying a giant pair of bolt cutters~

Smith: HEY!

Hood: Finally!

Smith: Welsh is supposed to stay out of this!

Hood: He would have if Zybala hadn’t cheated by placing that lock on the door! This is all Zybala’s fault. Everything is Zybala’s fault

~Welsh and Knux reach the door. Welsh hands Knux the bolt cutters and yells “CUT THAT CHAIN OFF! COME OVER HERE, CHAMP!” Meyhu gets to his feet. He grabs his OCW Title and heads for the door. He stands at the ropes, near the door, waiting for Knux to do the job. Knux lifts the bolt cutters up and works to get them on the lock. Welsh yells “CHAMP! BEHIND YOU! THE IDIOT IS ON HIS FEET!” Meyhu turns around. Zybala is, indeed, on his feet. He’s staggering around. Meyhu runs at him with the OCW Title. Zybala greets him with a SUPERKICK! He kicks the belt right into Meyhu’s face!! Meyhu falls to the mat, dropping the title. Zybala falls face first onto the mat, as well. It’s obvious he’s taken a pretty decent beating. The fans are on their feet. They are clapping and stomping for Zybala to do something. Welsh slaps Knux’s arm telling him to bring the bolt cutters back down~

Smith: Yes! A superkick! Zybala might pull this off!

Hood: Stupid Knux trying to remove the lock for Zybala

Smith: I don’t think that was his intention, Hood. He’s merely doing what he’s told

Hood: Good help is so hard to find

~Zybala crawls over and places his arm over Meyhu’s chest. Welsh’s eyes widen. He quickly yells at Knux to use the bolt cutters. For some reason he hadn’t anticipated Zybala making a pinfall. Knux does as commanded. Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

SHOULDER UP!

Smith: The Champ kicked out! I thought Zybala had him!

Hood: Fucking hell…talk about weak ass booking…Meyhu losing due to Zybala kicking the OCW Title in his face. I would have probably smacked a child

Smith: Excuse me?

Hood: Okay, maybe not a child or at least not a small child

~Zybala gets to his feet. He sees Knux about to cut the lock. Welsh notices Zybala and he yanks Knux’s arm back down again. The crowd boos. Knux might look frustrated if he had any emotion other than ‘boss level badass’. Welsh folds his arms and smiles, arrogantly at Zybala. Mike staggers toward the door and falls through the ropes. He crawls to his feet using the chained link and starts working on the lock. Welsh realizes Zybala knows the code. He yells at Knux. Knux swings the bolt cutters at the cage and hits Zybala in the hand!! Zybala drops the lock and falls back, through the ropes, into the ring. The fans BOOOO. Zybala gets to his feet, holding his hand in pain. Meyhu, behind Zybala, rises. He turns Zybala around, lifts him up and drills him into the mat with an Alabama Slam!!! Welsh yells at Knux “CUT THE FUCKING LOCK!” Knux goes back to work~

Smith: This is SO not fair! They are going to steal Zybala’s OCW title opportunity away from him

Hood: He’s the COMMISSIONER! He shouldn’t have this fucking opportunity to begin with!

Smith: He won it fair and square!

Hood: I HATE 2018 OCW

~The crowd suddenly goes wild! Welsh and Meyhu look to the ramp and see CHAD VARGAS rushing down the ramp! A “VARGAS!” chant fills the arena. Knux is working on the lock. Vargas shoves Welsh aside. Welsh stumbles into the barricade! Vargas kicks Knux in the ribs! The crowd is chanting “YES!” Vargas rips the bolt cutters away and tosses them at the barricade. He then takes Knux down with a lariat!! The crowd is frenzied! Meyhu runs up against the cage, looking down. Vargas gets on top of Knux, drilling him with lefts and rights! The man is possessed! Meyhu spots the bolt cutters and Welsh. He yells at Welsh. Welsh nods and grabs the bolt cutters. Vargas is too busy doling out a Southern Style ass kicking to notice. Zybala is still down~

Smith: Vargas just removed Knux from the equation! But Welsh has the bolt cutters!

Hood: That figures…confederate moron.

~Welsh reaches up with the bolt cutters. He gets them around the lock and squeezes. Meyhu stands in front of the door anxiously awaiting release. The crowd pops again as Welsh is suddenly taken down by Treat Cassidy! Meyhu throws his head back and rolls his eyes as if to say “MORE?!” The bolt cutters hit the ground. Meyhu grabs the lock and sees that it’s only partially cut. He slings it away in frustration and yells at Welsh to beat up Treat. But Treat is pounding on Welsh with lefts and rights much like Vargas is unleashing on Knux! The crowd is on fire! They can sense it! Meyhu’s body violently flies into the front of the cage! We see Zybala rolling backwards, over his head, into the ring. A replay is shown of Zybala flying through the air, over the ropes with double knees into the back of Meyhu! Zybala pops back to his feet. He lunges forward and SUPERKICKS the champ in the back of the head!! Meyhu goes limp, falling to the ramp wedged in between the ropes and the cage! The crowd is screaming for Zybala to pin Meyhu. He steps through the ropes and stands over Meyhu. He pauses for a moment~

Smith: What’s he doing?!

Hood: He’s being Zybala

Smith: Do you think he realizes Meyhu has never been pinned. Maybe he thinks Meyhu CAN’T be pinned?

Hood: Well, duh

~Zybala runs over to the lock. He snares it and begins working on the combo. Treat and Vargas have Welsh and Knux down. He starts to scroll the numbers. We zoom in. The first number is 1. The second number is 2. The third number is 3. And the fourth number is….FOUR! The crowd laughs and cheers. Zybala looks into the camera and shrugs with a smile. He yanks the lock open and flings it over his shoulder. It lands onto the mat, bouncing around. He kicks the door open~

Smith: Zybala is our champion! He’s our champion!

Hood: One, two, three, four? He’s fucking retarded!

Smith: Hey, Meyhu couldn’t figure it out…so what does that make him?

Hood: A guy who evidently gave Zybala too much credit

~Zybala extends his right foot to step down. But his head jerks back! We pan around and see the possibly BIONIC, UNBEATABLE Meyhu on his feet with a handful of Zybala’s THICK hair!! Zybala is stuck! The fans boo! They yell at Zybala to do things like “Kick Meyhu in the balls” Zybala, though is in an awkward position. Meyhu yanks Zybala back into a reverse DDT. It’s tight but he’s got enough room in between the cage and the ropes. Treat sees what’s going on. He yells “CHAD!” Chad gets to his feet. Knux is knocked out. He reaches up to pull on Zybala~

Smith: I think it’s clear whose side Treat and Vargas are on!

Hood: Well of course…Zybala is an easier path to the OCW Title than Meyhu. That’s called pragmatism

~Zybala shows great maneuverability as he shifts around and manages to hook Meyhu’s waist from behind. Meyhu is standing in the opened doorway. Zybala’s got him waist locked. Meyhu looks down at Vargas. Vargas throws two middle fingers at Meyhu and slams the door as hard as he can. Meyhu MOVES! The door SLAMS into Zybala’s face!! Zybala falls backwards, through the ropes and into the ring. Meyhu looks down at Vargas holding the door. The crowd screams, they are shocked. Vargas quickly slams the door, holding it shut with all his weight. Cassidy gets to his feet, leaving a KO’d Welsh on the ground. He helps Vargas pin the door to the cage. Meyhu steps back into the ringthrough the ropes~

Smith: No! Vargas smashed the door into Zybala’s head!

Hood: Way to go, Vargas! Give that man a raise!

Smith: I don’t think he did it on purpose

Hood: I don’t care…he just saved OCW!

~Zybala rises to his feet. There’s a pretty decent cash at the top of his forehead. The blood starts to run freely down his face. He’s woozy, possibly concussed. He throws a Superkick at Meyhu! It’s not his best. Meyhu sidesteps it, grabs Zybala and drops him to the mat with Ego Trip!! The crowd BOOOOS. Meyhu doesn’t go for the cover. Instead he grabs the OCW Title and positions it face up. He pulls Zybala back to his feet~

Smith: No! Not on the belt!

Hood: Put an END to it!

Smith: This is too much! Zybala might have to visit The Knife Man after this one is over

Hood: Fuck that…send this fucker straight to the morgue

~Meyhu hooks Zybala for a second Ego Trip. He goes to drop Zybala. Zybala leans back and slides out from under Meyhu’s arm! He hits the ropes and bounces off. His face is covered in blood and his eyes appear to be unfocused. He’s going off instinct. He charges at Meyhu. The Champ turns around…he catches Zybala coming off the ropes and drops him with a second Ego Trip into the plate of the belt!!! The fans BOOOOO! Zybala is motionless. Meyhu rolls him over and goes for the pin. Treat and Vargas fight to pull the door back open. Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

3!!!!

~The bell rings! Vargas slides into the ring a second too late to break up the pin~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…here is your winner and STILL OCW CHAMPION….“THE MARVEL” MATT MEYHU!!!!!

Smith: Dang it! I thought Zybala had it

Hood: Meyhu is too good, Smith. Too good.

Smith: I hate to say it…but you might be right

~Vargas gets to his feet in the ring. He grabs the OCW Title. He doesn’t look happy. Meyhu is on his knees. He doesn’t have any time to celebrate his win before getting BLASTED in the face with the blood covered belt!! Meyhu falls to his side. Vargas kicks Zybala out of the way showing very little care for the man he was attempting to help. He pulls Meyhu to his feet. Treat cheers him on from the door of the cage~

Smith: Oh come on! I’m no Meyhu fan but this is uncalled for!

Hood: Vargas is playing a bigger game, Smith. It’s not about tonight. It’s about October 29th.

Smith: So much for his support of Zybala!

Hood: Dude the only reason he gave a shit about Zybala was because he thought he’d be an easier opponent. That’s it

~Vargas has Meyhu on his feet. The crowd is mixed with cheers and boos. He looks around and yells ‘KING KONG AIN’T GOT SHIT ON ME!’ He drops Meyhu face first onto the belt, much like Meyhu did to Zybala with THE STROKE!! Meyhu is motionless. Vargas rips the OCW Title out from under Meyhu and holds it up. He points at himself~

Smith: Ugh. Can we add Curt Canon or Ed Houston to this match? I really don’t like either of these two individuals right now

Hood: Greatest match in OCW history, Smith

~Vargas drops the title on the mat and exits the cage. He and Treat head up the ramp looking very proud of themselves. Zybala and Meyhu remain in the ring, unconscious. Welsh starts to stir on the outside. He sees a KO’d Knux and tries to figure out what’s going on~

Smith: We’ve got mass carnage out here, folks. Meyhu is still our champion after a valiant effort by Zybala. One of the greatest OCW Title matches of all time

Hood: So glad all of that Zybala shit is over

Smith: He’ll get another shot, Hood

Hood: Oh well no shit…he is the fucking commissioner, after all. I’m surprised he isn’t in ALL the title matches at Serial Thrillers

Smith: I’m sure we’ll have some serious fall out next week over these actions by Vargas and Treat. Our GM will not be happy once he realizes what’s gone down.

Hood: What can he do? Treat is untouchable right now

Smith: Good point. Well folks Serial Thriller draws ever closer and Chad Vargas looks as focused as he’s ever been. Will HE be the man to dethrone Meyhu?

Hood: He’s got a shot. Seriously

Smith: Be sure to tune in next week fans as we find out where we go from here. As for tonight I’m Smith and alongside me is my colleague Hood saying so long. Have a great week everyone!

~We get one final shot of the Steel Cage. OCW medics are tending to Zybala and Meyhu. The Knife Man is, of course, tending to Welsh on the outside while Knux remains unattended. It’s tough being the head of security. We fade to black~