OCW Presents: Massacre
LIVE! Monday, June 3rd 2019
From The OCW Arena in Key West, Florida
~The backstage scene opens up with a tight shot on the Sign Up Form for the QUACK CUP. It is a rough looking piece of paper with a black and white xerox picture of the 'DUCK' on it. 'Cecilworth M! Farthington' rests at the top of the list. The rest of the list remains oddly empty. I say oddly because the tone of white seems to change under the heading ‘sign ups’. Slowly, we scroll across the off-white tone until reaching a giant hand, slowly scrolling to the right. It comes to a stop. We pull out only to discover that the hand belongs to KNUX. He stuffs what appears to be a White Out utensil into his pocket. He walks off, toward a dark crevice nearby, much like a police officer hiding in the bushes, waiting for an unsuspecting victim. Before he can assume his superior position, Cap Slock runs in~
Cap Slock: KNUX. GENERAL MANAGER WELSH HAS DECREED THAT THE QUACK CUP IS SET TO BEGIN TO START THE SHOW.
Knux: Oh? What time is it?
Cap Slock: THAT TIME.
Knux: That time?
Cap Slock: YES, THAT TIME.
Knux: Alright. I better go grab the nicest duck the world has ever seen. You stand here and watch THE LIST.
~Cap Slock nods. Knux rushes to snare the Duck. Cap Slock’s phone goes off. It’s a text from YELP regarding a recent review he placed for a local restaurant. This intrigues the CAPTAIN. So, he delves into some research. This pulls his focus from THE LIST~
~ Alice Knight and Chastity Temple slowly approach the list, looking it over. Alice digs into her hand bag and pulls out a green magic marker. She takes off the markers top and signs her name... and then proceeds and smell the marker. Chastity looks at her with a raised eyebrow as Alice does this. She sniffs it 3 or 4 more times before offering Chastity to take a sniff herself. Chastity takes the marker and signs her name on the sheet.~
Alice: So why are you getting involved in this Quack Cup, Chastity? If it's none of my business, i'll butt out. But me? I LOVE animals. Not in a creepy 'do sex stuff to them' kind of way. Just to take care of them, feed them, give them a home. The duck money could go long ways to save many animals, ya know? I wouldn't say I am a great, kind and sweet woman... but I guess that's what I am saying? How about you?
Chastity: If I am to make OCW a good Christian wrestling promotion there need to be some changes. First of all, NSFW needs to be SFW. That takes a lot of fan support so I need a symbol of purity to represent my cause and rally the audience behind me. Now nothing is more pure than my vajayjay but I can't exactly show that on television. But the duck, who is a very nice duck, would be perfect for my Get The N Out campaign.
Alice: Hmmm. Those are legit reasons. The duck, while it's a very nice duck, could benefit being along side you. Buuuuut. I still think I should have it. No offense. I agree with everything you believe in. Purity is golden. But i feel I still need to have it. Because i represent a world wide audience. And the fans seeing me own the duck would like bring more happiness to the world... of internet wrestling. Maybe there's a way to chop the duck in half, the very nice duck, and we can share it? Ehhhh. Seems a bit bloody. I don't know. I believe in your cause. But i still feel that duck belongs to me. I won't even eat it... Anyway. Good luck, tonight Miss. Temple. You can keep the marker.
~Chastity looks at Alice as she walks away off screen.~
Chastity: I... don't know who that lady is. But this marker will be great for making protest signs! Make NSFW SFW Again! Make NSFW SFW Again!
~Still chanting, Chastity marches off to continue her crusade for good Christian wrestling.~
Smith: Hood? Are you there?
Hood: I don’t know…what fucking dimension is this? Where’s the nameless dude and his Monday tribulations that usually starts the show? Why are we getting the two WORST women in the history of pro wrestling opening Massacre?
Smith: That’s harsh…those two women bring enjoyment and HOPE to wrestling fans all over the world…and it appears as though we’re opening tonight’s show with the QUACK CUP
Hood: Fucking Cap Slock falling asleep on the job. No wonder we sucked in Vietnam.
~As if on cue, Cap Slock ends his YELP research and looks at the list. Alice and Chastity are gone. He’s none the wiser. Knux yells from down the hallway~
Knux: O Captain! My Captain! It’s time!
Cap Slock: I’LL GRAB THE LIST.
~Cap Slock rips the list off the wall without giving it a look and follows Knux, The Duck, and a bevy of OCW security members toward the ring~
Smith: Well, we open this evening with a… let’s just call it an interesting arrangement. Last week it was announced that OCW would be hosting its first ever Quack Cup, an event that
Hood: Well of course it should be sped up, CMF is the natural owner of the duck and we all know it.
Smith: But as we came to air we all saw something running afoul backstage…
Hood: FOWL! QUACK!
Smith: A corrupt sign up form for the Quack Cup that suspiciously only contained one name, that being The Empire’s Cecilworth…
Hood: M!
Smith: ...Yes, we must never forget the mighty M!... Farthington. However, things may not have went to plan for The Empire’s money as two of OCW’s talented ladies managed to get their names on the paper at the very last minute.
Hood: Fucking Knux...
~We cut directly to the ring where Cecilworth Farthington, Alice Knight, Chastity Temple and OCW’s very own beautiful HR Head, Cap Slock are standing in the middle of the ring. Next to Slock there is a large vacant podium and a large podium-sized object and is covered in silk fabric next to it. Farthington is leaned against a corner ringpost, looking at the other two grapplers in complete and total disgust. Alice Knight doesn’t seem to much notice the man attempting to burn a hole in her with the power of his mind as she is distracted by Chastity Temple stomping back and forth in the ring, waving a placard proclaiming “MAKE NSFW SFW”~
Hood: Truly OCW’s brain trust in the ring right now.
~An air of excitement spreads throughout the crowd as they spontaneously and without training begin to chant in unison “WE LOVE THE DUCK! WE LOVE THE DUCK!”. Cap Slock hand gestures for everyone to calm down as he raises a microphone to his lips~
Slock: OCW! WELCOME TO THE QUACK CUP! PLEASE NOW BE UPSTANDING FOR THE PRESENTATION OF THE DUCK.
~Farthington leans in and whispers to Slock~
Farthington: You know, you don’t have to yell.
Slock: I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT.
~Slock and CMF’s conversation is interrupted by the orchestral swell of the opening of “Superstar” from the hit musical Jesus Christ Superstar. The music catches CMF’s attention and his head darts straight towards the entrance way, staring down with intent. Alice Knight begins to get excited by the prospect of adding another animal to her army and claps in excitement as out from the back THE DUCK is carried upon a satin pillow by six men dressed as Egyptian temple guards. Chastity Temple continues to swing around her placard but shows how rhythmic she is by swinging it in time to the music. Upon sight of The Duck, many audience members faint in the presence of The Duck’s glory. It’s too much for some to handle. Ladies squeal in delight. Men squeal in delight. I squeal in delight. ~
Smith: I can’t believe we’re starting the show with a contest for a duck.
Hood: It is a very nice duck, are you saying you wouldn’t want The Duck?
Smith: Well no… of course not! It’s a very nice duck!
~The temple guards step into the ring and place The Duck’s protective case atop the podium in the centre of the ring. The camera picks up Cecilworth sliding a small piece to legal paper over to Cap Slock, Slock quickly scans the paper and then begins to eat the paper. CMF looks disgusted as Alice looks over and gives Slock an encouraging thumbs up~
Slock: THE QUACK CUP SHALL BE A SERIES OF THREE CHALLENGES. THE VICTOR IN EACH WILL BE DECIDED BY THE DUCK HIMSELF! I, AS THE ARBITER OF ALL THINGS DUCK WILL DECLARE A WINNER IN EACH ROUND. THE PERSON WHO WINS THE MOST ROUNDS SHALL BE THE NEW OWNER OF THE DUCK AND RAISE HIGH THE 2019 QUACK CUP. HR TRAINING PREPARED ME FOR THIS VERY CIRCUMSTANCE!
~Slock pulls the silk cover off the tall object sitting next to the podium, revealing the Quack Cup itself. It is rumoured that a man in Section 27 head exploded upon sight of the cup but I cannot confirm this information at this time. Slock pulls a cue card out from inside his jacket pocket~
Slock: THE FIRST CONTEST… PLEASE IMPRESS THE DUCK WITH A FEAT OF PHYSICAL IMPRESSIVENESS!
~ Cecilworth smiles wildly and nods in a knowing manner. He positions himself against the ropes for leverage and flips over onto a handstand. He manages to hold the handstand perfects for almost four… five seconds and crashes down after. Alice nods, looking impressed by Cecilworth’s handstand. Alice gives him a thumbs up and quickly turns it upside making a fart noise with her lips. She steps up to the duck.She rubs her hands together and suddenly does her own handstand, but begins walking on her hands. The crowd gasps. She begins walking upside down on her hands. Then suddenly does a breakdance spinaroonie like move. She jumps to her feet and takes a bow. Chastity has quite the task in front of her. She spots a man at ringside...he looks sad. She hops out of the ring and asks the man what’s wrong. We over hear the man tell her that his wife left him earlier in the day. Chastity begins to preach the gospel to this man, to lift his spirit. While she’s doing it a button comes loose, exposing some cleavage. The man’s eyes pop. He smiles. Chastity sees the smile and becomes overwhelmed with happiness. She slides back into the ring...her skirt flies up, giving the man a full view of her thonged ass. He jumps up and down screaming “THIS IS THE BEST NIGHT OF MY LIFE!” Chastity shouts out about the power of prayer before waving her “SFW” sign around~
Smith: Three different takes on physical feats there.
Hood: I’m starting to turn around on attending those Bible Club meetings.
~Cap Slock turns to the duck to confer~
The Duck: QUACK!
~Cap Slock nods knowingly~
Slock: THE DUCK CHOOSES… CECILWORTH M! FARTHINGTON!
~There’s a mixture of polite applause and general confusion that flows through the crowd. Knight and Temple are obviously disappointed in this decision and it shows in their faces. Cecilworth throws up his arms in delight and begins to run around the ring whooping.~
Smith: A graceful winner.
Hood: That man’s a Farthington, whatever he does is graceful!
Slock: THE SECOND CONTEST FOR THE DUCK SHALL BE…
~A dramatic drum roll plays over the sound system for a few seconds~
Slock: PRESENTING THE DUCK WITH A GIFT!
Smith: Well this is ridiculous, who would come to the ring prepared with a gift for The Duck.
Hood: Someone who was damn well prepared for The Quack Cup, that’s who!
~ Temple contemplates presenting The Duck with a Bible Club t-shirt or perhaps even a Bible itself. Alice approaches the duck. Pulls out a hand full of balloons. She quickly blows them up and suddenly squeezes them together and ties them up. She reveals a perfect looking duck. The crowd applauds but Alice raises up a finger to suggests to hang on for one more second. She turns her back and off camera she is doing stuff with balloons that can only be heard. Everyone looks on in anticipation. What could she be doing now. After all that duck balloon was perfect. She turns around to reveal more balloons together to somehow make a balloon version of Alice Knight herself holding the balloon duck in her balloon fingers. Yes, BALLOON fingers on this life size Alice Balloon person. The crowd erupts with cheers. Alice walks away bowing her head at the duck.Alice Knight begins to rummage through her. Chastity nods, impressed. She contemplates her next move. A Bible might not be enough. Cecilworth balls up a twenty dollar note and throws it at Cap Slock’s head, chuckling to himself . Chastity, seeing CMF’s perfunctory effort, steps forth, finally ready to deliver her gift. But, she’s cut off by Cap Slock~
Cap Slock: DUCK? WHAT DO YOU SAY?
Smith: Hey! They didn’t let Chastity offer her gift!
Hood: Time ran out!
~Slock rubs his temple as he leans in to once again confer with The Duck~
The Duck: QUACK! QUACKQUACKQUACK! QUACK!
Slock: THE DUCK HAS CHOSEN AND HE HAS CHOSEN CECILWORTH M! FARTHINGTON ONCE MORE!
~Cecilworth fist pumps in Tiger Woods fashion as a suspicious crowd begins to move from polite appreciation to cynical muttering. Temple and Knight make the “what the fuck” hand gesture towards Cap Slock~
Slock: DO NOT WORRY LADIES! THE FINAL ROUND IS WORTH DOUBLE POINTS! IN THE EVENT OF A TIE WE WILL GO STRAIGHT TO SUDDEN DEATH COMPETITION.
~Alice Knight is about to get upset at the nonsense happening in front of her but The Duck catches her eye and provides a very calming effect. Temple picks up her placard again, swinging it more aggressively than ever~
Slock: FOR THE FINAL ROUND… THE DUCK WISHES TO HEAR YOUR BEST JOKE!
Chastity: If anyone needs an ark, I happen to Noah guy.
~Chastity smiles, for she is very proud of this joke. It happens to be one she grew up hearing over and over, never tiring of its comedic punch~
Alice: Okay… “What did the doctor duck say to his duck patient who ate all of his crackers?
~Alice giggling before getting to the punchline~
Alice: Hey QUACK stop eating all my QUACKERS! QUACK! QUACK! QUACK!
~The crowd goes silent. Not sure what to think of the joke.~
Alice:... um… Hoot?
~The crowd cheers with a loud HOOT chant of their own!~
~CMF sneers dismissively at both jokes as he grabs the microphone off of Alice Knight~
Farthington: Oh, I totes got this one. Hey, Cap, why did the duck cross the road?
Slock: I DON’T KNOW CECILWORTH, WHY DID THE DUCK ROSS THE ROAD?
Farthington: To open a bottle of wine with his corkscrew penis!
~Cecilworth chuckles heartily at his own joke as Alice and Chastity look on bewildered. The crowd is openly contemptuous of this joke, a tsunami of angry boos rush towards the ring to mark the scale of the complete awfulness of the non-joke just presented to them. Cap Slock leans in to confer with The Duck for a final time~
Smith: Okay, this is quite clearly rigged?
Hood: RIGGED? That corkscrew shit was hilarious and educational! Just because CMF and The Duck are more discerning than your lowbrow shit Smith doesn’t mean it’s right.
Slock: AS THE VICTOR IN ALL THREE ROUNDS IT IS MY DUTY TO PRESENT TO YOU THE WINNER OF THE TWENTY NINETEEN QUACK CUP… CECILWORTH M! FARTHINGTON.
~The arena begins to sound like a bee convention with all the negative buzzing flowing through it. Cecilworth brushes past Knight and Temple and the Knights Templar and bends over to pick up the Quack Cup...~
Smith: This is an injustice!
Hood: Who cares? It’s the fucking QUACK CUP
Smith: It was still a competition, Hood! Have we no respect for our reputation?
~Chastity’s mouth is agape. Alice is shaking her head, rising in anger. CMF snares the trophy and turns around, to hold it high. Alice extends an open palm and looks at Chastity. In a total Thelma and Lousie moment, Chastity grabs Alice’s hand…they charge forward. CMF’s eyes become saucers. They RUN HIM OVER with a double clothesline!!! CMF hits hard!!! He rolls out of the ring, fleeing the situation. The crowd is going wild!~
Smith: Yes! Show them you will not be taken advantage of!
Hood: Those WHORES
Smith: Calm yourself!
Hood: I can’t…they just put their filthy arms on Cecilworth!! He’s got a match later tonight!
Smith: They were SCREWED, Hood. How else would you expect them to react?
Hood: By accepting monetary compensation and taking a cab…or Uber, home.
Smith: You disgust me.
~CMF heads up the ramp, holding the back of his head. He asks about the DUCK. OCW Security try to remove the DUCK but Alice and Chastity run them off~
Smith: It won’t be THAT easy, Farthington!
Hood: Give the man his fucking DUCK!
~We cut to the office of Marcus Welsh. He’s on the phone with Kayla from accounting. Greg is noticeably absent~
Marcus Welsh: It was a nice sunset. I had fun as well.
~Welsh is smiling. It sounds as though he had quite the time with Kayla since we last saw him. His face perks up~
Marcus Welsh: Oh? It hit? The Farthington deposit cleared?
~Welsh hangs along the edge of anticipation. He leaps out of his seat, cheering~
Marcus Welsh: Woohoo!! The sports room debt has been paid!! And for a fucking duck, can you believe it?
~Welsh laughs…Kayla is probably laughing. The door to his office opens…it’s GREG. Welsh hurries to end the conversation~
Marcus Welsh: This is certainly welcome news. Please inform Mr. Buffett all debts have been paid.
~Welsh hangs up and looks at Greg~
Greg: Did you see the Quack Cup? My goodness that was a sham. This Farthington guy is willing to do anything for that duck.
Marcus Welsh: Heh, some people, am I right?
~Greg places a half back pack/half purse near his chair…the chair that always faces AWAY from the giant flat screen airing Massacre. He apparently is only interested in shit involving THE DUCK. He takes a seat, crossing his legs~
Greg: At least that man didn’t get his duck. I think it should go to Alice.
Marcus Welsh: Wait…he didn’t get the duck?
Greg: Nope…those girls really gave him what for!
~Welsh clinches his fists and falls back into his chair, dismayed over this revelation~
Greg: Marcus?
~Welsh stares up at the ceiling, spent~
Marcus Welsh: I…I just can’t catch a break, Greg. At…at least we have a great main event tonight.
~We cut back to ringside~
Smith: Nefarious things, Hood.
Hood: The man is doing what he must, Smith.
Smith: I’m assuming Welsh hopes Farthington gets that duck.
Hood: A deal is a deal, Smith. Welsh will honor his end, no matter the cost.
Smith: I guess we’ll have to wait and see…regardless, Farthington will want revenge on both Alice and Chastity…and…not to be Nostradamus or anything but there is an open slot in that Paradigm Championship match…
Hood: No
Smith: Eh?
Hood: NO
Smith: CMF against Alice AND Chastity?
Hood: NEAUX!!!
Smith: I guess we’ll have to wait and see where all this goes – officially. In the meantime we’ve got the debut of Fabian Dufresne…that’s up next!
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Opening Match
Fabian Durfresne (0-0) vs. Great Scott (0-3)
~Another night of Monday Night Massacre! These fans are ready for some in ring action! They begin chanting GREAT SCOTT. The most popular losing competitor in pro wrestling history is about ot make his grand entrance. Belvedere clears his throat~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen… the following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first…
~GREAT SCOTT COMES DOWN TO THE RING WITH HIS CHAMPIONSHIP BELT AND A BEAR WHO IS GREAT NAMED GREAT BEAR AND THEY ARE LISTENING TO THE WHOLE CROWD CHEER AND THEN THEY GET INTO THE RING AND THE BEAR DOES A COOL DANCE AND GREAT SCOTT IS VERY OVER~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…GREAT SCOTT
~The BEAR continues to dance. Great Scott performs some jumping jacks with his mullet looking extremely GREAT. Great Scott tosses his belt to THE BEAR. The BEAR swings the belt around in front of a ravenous crowd. The music comes to a close. Scott drops to the mat, performing one armed push ups. The BEAR mimics his act…but is unable to follow through with the one-armed push-up…so he rolls out of the ring with the belt~
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~The horizontal hold of the TV screen gets messed with, then the vertical hold of the TV screen gets messed with, then the whole picture gets messed with. Finally, just as you’re about to change the channel a whistling begins to echo out over the arena and this is followed by Rammstein’s “Engel”, a single spotlight shines down on the entrance portal as out struts Fabian Dufresne. With a cocky grin the blonde haired bastard wears a pair of lined sunglasses and brightly colored ring gear as he begins to make his way down to the ring. As the fans reach out looking to make contact Fabian just backs off and swats at them as if they were flies, he then begins to complain towards OCW event security trying to have as many of the mouthbreathers kicked out of the arena as possible~
Belvedere: From Milwaukee, Wisconsin…standing 6’1 and weighing in at 201lbs…Fabian Dufresne!!!
~Belvedere exits. The bell sounds~
Smith: Fabian Dufresne making his OCW debut.
Hood: Against the GREATEST opening match wrestler in the history of wrestling…if, ya know, you throw out wins and losses.
Smith: That’s a big factor to eliminate from the equation, Hood.
Hood: But a necessary one for Great Scott to be GREAT.
~Great Scott is fired up! He’s pumping his fist in the air…the fans are behind him. Dufresne looks on, curiously. Great Scott turns and charges at Fabian. Fabian throws a dropkick into Scott’s leg, taking him down, onto his knees. Dufresne returns to his feet, looking down ta Scott. Scott’s eyes widen…he yells, “NOOOO!”~
Smith: What’s wrong with Great Scott? Did he just blow out his knee?
Hood: No, I think he’s worried about sucking cock.
Smith: Good heavens!
~Fabian looks around for a moment…he throws a swift right hand across Scott’s face! It connects with a loud ‘crack’. Scott falls to the mat. Fabian marches over, standing near Scott’s body. He turns his back to Scott…he bends his knees and acts like he’s going to perform a standing moonsault. Scott prepares for impact. Fabian stops. He spins around and slams his boot into Scott’s gut! Scott rolls around, holding his abs in pain. The fans boo~
Smith: Was that really necessary?
Hood: Maybe he didn’t feel like flying, Smith. He apparently had a traumatic flight on the way out here.
Smith: He should learn to have more patience…especially around kids!
Hood: Oh whatever…you try sitting next to an underage terrorist…see how much you like it.
Smith: Terrorist?!
Hood: Kid was trying to bring the plane down, Smith!
~Fabian saunters over toward Scott. He reaches down and nonchalantly grabs the PARTY end of Scott’s mullet. He pulls Scott to his feet. Scott ejaculates a guttural yell, lifting Fabian up and charging into a corner, slamming Defresne into the buckles!! Dufresne in stunned. Scott slams his shoulder into Fabian’s midsection again and again and again! He performs a backflip…almost. He lands front first on the mat. But…he gets back up! He charges forward, soaring through the air with a huge splash!!! Fabian stumbles forward, leaning on the ropes for the support!! Great Scott hip thrusts and does the ‘pistol’ motion with his hands…perhaps inventing a new form of dance. The BEAR mimics his actions on the outside~
Smith: You have to admire the spirit.
Hood: I’d enjoy life if I were him…in eight months or so he’s going to be the father of half a set of twins!
Smith: That’s impossible.
Hood: Are you calling Logan’s mother a liar?
Smith: I seriously doubt that was Logan’s mother.
~Scott sees Fabian leaning on the ropes…he rushes from behind and pummels Defresne in the back with clubbing forearms. Fabian falls through the ropes, onto the apron. Great Scott stomps around the ring, breathing heavily, rocking his head back and forth. The fans are behind him…”SCOTT! SCOTT” He pauses once he reaches the opposite side of the ring. He looks over at Dufresne and points. Fabian reaches his feet. Scott charges forward…Dufresne sees Great Scott heading his way…he leaps over the top rope…soars over Scott and takes him down with a Sunset Flip!!! Scruff slides in with the count~
1!
2!
Kick Out!
Smith: Great Scott with the kick out…is that the first kick out of his career?
Hood: Maybe?
Smith: He may have had one against Logan…I’m not entirely sure.
Hood: I tell you one thing…he sure as shit didn’t kick Logan’s mom out of bed.
Smith: Okay, that’s enough.
~Scott rolls over his head, getting to one knee before rising to his feet. Fabian, already standing, hits the ropes. He charges at Scott. Scott ducks and hoists Dufresne high in the air with a back body drop!! Dufresne lands HARD! The ring shakes from impact. Fabian quickly sits up and turns over to find Scott standing over him. Dufresne holds his hands up, as if asking for a timeout~
Smith: No timeouts in wrestling Mr. Dufresne.
Hood: Exceptions should be made!
Smith: Nope
Hood: Oh I think you’d feel differently if Alice Knight were asking for a timeout.
Smith: Alice Knight would never ask for a timeout. She’s a true competitor.
Hood: Oh, that’s right…she probably doesn’t know how to signal for one. All that fucking brain damage she received at birth.
~Scott, who, perhaps, has seen a sporting event or two in his life, seems unsure if a timeout can be granted. He turns to Scruff. Scruff attempts to explain the situation. Fabian sees a window of opportunity. He punches Scott right in the dick!!! Scott reacts violently, accidentally shoving Scruff away. Fabian pops to his feet, and he kicks Scott right in the dick!! He grabs Scott’s arm and delivers a vicious Ripcord elbow blast to Scott’s face!!! Great Scott falls to the mat. Scruff recovers to find Scott down. The fans boo~
Smith: Hey!!
Hood: Fabian ensuring that Great Scott will not be able to create children anymore.
Smith: That’s cheating!
Hood: Only if you get caught, Smith.
~Dufresne stands over Scott. Arrogance exudes off this man’s aura. He leans into the ropes, keeping an eye on GREAT SCOTT. The fans chant “SCOTT!” The BEAR slams its paw into the apron, trying to rally their fallen hero(?). Scott’s body shakes. He starts to rise. The rise of GREAT SCOTT. Fabian leans further into the ropes, creating torque for desired momentum. Scott reaches his feet…he turns, locating Dufresne. Dufresne charges forward, leaps into the air and nearly decapitates Great Scott with a Claymore Kick (The Golden Touch)!!!! The crowd releases sighs of disappointment. The BEAR covers his eyes. Dufresne makes the cover. Scruff slides in with the count~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…FABIAN DUFRESNE!!!!!
Smith: Great Scott falls again.
Hood: Fuck that shit…how about Fabian Dufresne?! The plane ride was totally worth it!
Smith: He did look impressive.
Hood: Fuck yea he did.
Smith: Yet another impressive newcomer here in OCW. Keep your eye on Fabian Dufresne, fans…he’s got a bright future.
~The screen suddenly shifts to the concession stands, where THE PROCTOLOGIST, is standing near a ground of fans. The fans suddenly notice the bizarre man and he looks at them and puts his finger over his lips with a loud "shhh" - they all begin laughing a bit. He sneaks over to the condiment stand and wrenches his neck, sticking his head under the mustard dispenser. He begins pumping furiously on the mustard as the yellow liquid is shot into his mouth. After 7 or 8 pumps he removes his head from under the dispenser and smiles at the camera, swallowing the mustard.~
The Proctologist: That'll be our little secret.
~He smiles at the camera, looking 100% insane.~
The Proctologist: Alice Knight, I desire to wrestle you. You and your obsession with disgusting owls make me sick to my stomach... unlike delicious mustard... delicious mustard turns me on...
~Smiling at the camera, he waves and heads off on his way.~
Smith: What a creep.
Hood: So he hates owls but he loves mustard...sounds like a unique case of cognitive dissonance going on with The Proctologist when it comes to Alice Knight.
Smith: She is a purveyor of BOTH owls AND mustard...
Hood: But not DUCKS
Smith: Too soon, Hood. Too soon. But, you know what isn't too soon? The return of Mark Storm...that's next!
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Singles Match
Mark Storm (3-7) vs. Vortex (0-1)
~Vortex stands in the ring. Debris is by his side. The fans look into the skies of the OCW Arena. Is a storm approaching? Belvedere clears his throat~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen the following contest is scheduled for one fall. Currently in the ring…Vortex!
~Vortex begins spinning around. Debris follows within close range, dropping pieces of trash. A made ready OCW official follows Debris with a broom, sweeping the pieces of trash out of the ring as they are deposited~
Smith: How apropos that Vortex would return to the ring during Tornado season.
Hood: Not to mention ho he’s facing…THE KING OF STORMS
Smith: Well, his last name is Storm, yes.
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~Short Change Hero by The Heavy begins to play through the speakers and the lights in the arena simultaneously dim down. Smoke begins to rise from the top of the stage and appearing on the screen above are the following words~
~A massive pop ensues as emerging from the back is the self-proclaimed "Prince of CHAOS", Mark Storm; who keeps himself composed as he stands at the top of the entrance ramp. He can't help but allow his sadistic signature smirk to appear upon his lips as he closes his eyes and spreads his arms out wide, soaking in the energy that the audience are giving him as they applaud and cheer~
Belvedere: From New York, Brooklyn.. weighing in a two hundred and twenty pounds - Your Hero, and Mine.. MARRKKKK STORMMMMMM
~He begins his walk down the entrance ramp, with a leather coat completing his attire as he comes down the entrance ramp~
This ain't no place for no better man.
This ain't no place for no hero
To call "home."
~At this point, Storm is by the edge of the ring; allowing a smile to embed on his face before he jumps onto the apron and holds onto the ropes, using them to help himself up onto the turnbuckle. He's grinning from ear to ear, soaking in the rest of the cheers coming from the audience, shaking his head sideways as he lowers it, before jumping into the ring. Taking off his leather coat, he hands it to the ring announcer before walking over to his designated corner and hoisting himself up onto the second ropes, a smirk upon his lips as he holds his arms up; his theme song slowly diminishing. Belvedere exits the ring as the bell sounds~
Smith: Mark Storm back in action!
Hood: Storm’s a-coming!
Smith: Oh please, not this again.
Hood: You see those clouds forming? Hear that thunder…it’s coming!
~The light suddenly go out~
Smith: Ahhh!!
Hood: Get a hold of yourself, man! For fuck’s sake!
Smith: What’s going on? Why are the lights out?!
~The lights come back on. Mark Storm is GONE. In his place is…~
~IT’S THE GHOST MAN!!! HE’S BACK!! Ghost Man stands across the ring from Vortex, downing a warm temperature bottle of Bartles and Jaymes~
Smith: The Ghost Man returns!
Hood: He must have abducted Mark Storm.
Smith: What type of juice is that he’s drinking?
Hood: The cheap type that makes a person feel AWESOME
~Vortex spins toward Ghost Man. Ghost Man continues sipping on his bottle. Vortex nears Ghost Man. The fans stand, in anticipation. We zoom in as Vortex DRILLS Ghost Man with a Tornado Punch!!! Ghost Man falls to the mat. In a very GHOSTLY like manner, the bottle lands upright…super spooky. Vortex jumps on top of Ghost Man for the pin…Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…VORTEX!!!!!
Smith: Vortex defeats…Ghost Man!
Hood: First Depth…now THIS?! What the fuck is going on?!
Smith: I do not know.
Hood: I didn’t even know Vortex HAD a finisher.
Smith: It’s a cyclone punch…tornado punch, whatever you want to call it. And, having said that…I can honestly admit I have no idea what HE calls it.
Hood: Oh well, probably better that…AH!
~The lights go out again~
Smith: Now YOU need to get YOURSELF together
Hood: Fuck off
~The lights come back on. Ghost Man is GONE…along with his Bartles and Jaymes. Vortex remains in the ring…he pauses but continues undisturbed, spinning around with Debris chasing him, dropping trash in his path~
Smith: Vortex with a meaningless win here tonight.
Hood: Tell that to the people who placed a wager on the storm chaser!
Smith: Ah, yes…the sports room takes yet another beating
~Massacre cuts backstage to where we see OCW Craze Champion Andrea Hernandez walking down the hallway with her championship slung over her shoulder. She gets quite the positive reaction from the fans and the Craze Champion herself is in a positive mood for obvious reasons considering the events of last week and the events to take place in the future. She comes across interviewer AKB, which doesn’t impress her too much~
Andrea: Yes?
AKB: You’re in the mood for some talking, right? After all, last week you put yourself in a hell of a position with your championship defense last week against Evin Empire. Two weeks from tonight, you’ll be challenging for the OCW Championship itself at Not Safe For Work. There’s no denying that you’re on a roll.
~Andrea, despite the compliments, still doesn’t look too impressed.~
AKB: Are you even going to comment?
Andrea: I will, but I have to get this off of my chest. I honestly wish it was Hood dragging his fat, obnoxious ass away from the commentary table to give me this interview. Nothing against you but it would be damn nice if I could serve him a roast crow right about now.
AKB: Where are you getting at with this?
~Andrea scoffs and continues.~
Andrea: For WEEKS, Hood was SO far up Evin Empire’s ass that he could see through his mouth and taste the cupcakes that Evin was being fed up until that Craze Championship match last week. NOBODY hyped up Evin Empire WORSE than he did. Remember that? “Fastest rising star in OCW”? Remember when he was talking up Evin as my “toughest challenger yet” as Craze Champion when I had already defeated men that he was only HALF as good as the entire time? Yeah, I sure as hell remember that. It seemed inevitable that Evin Empire was going to be in this building right now as the OCW Craze Champion…
~Andrea briefly holds up the title before putting it back on her shoulder.~
Andrea: I couldn’t help but laugh at Hood walking into that guy’s skybox in the days leading up to our title match being the biggest ass kisser of his in OCW. I mean… there’s biased commentators and then there’s THIS GUY. Thank god he’s not a talent evaluator for OCW otherwise, this roster would be absolute shit. Anyway, here we are… a week later… Evin Empire isn’t in this building with this championship… in fact… Evin Empire isn’t even in this building at all. So, not only did I beat Evin Empire and QUIET the overhype morons like Hood gave him, I’m almost sure I sent him packing the same way I sent Axel Veiga packing!
AKB: That’s a BOLD thing to say. Are you saying that… Evin Empire is OVER?
Andrea: That’s implying that Evin Empire was EVER a thing. Sorry Hood… but your BOY is looking like a Mike Harrison-level flop right about now. I’m not sorry about last week though. I knew all along he was a fraud and now… we move on to bigger and better things, am I right?
AKB: Right. Two weeks from now… your first crack at the OCW Championship!
Andrea: That’s right!
AKB: Your thoughts and predictions about tonight’s match?
Andrea: Hmm… I don’t think that’s the right question to ask.
AKB: What do you mean?
Andrea: The question shouldn’t be “who do I think is going to win?” the real question is… “who do I WANT to win?”
AKB: I see… so… who DO you want to win?
Andrea: Mike Best, that’s who.
~AKB widens his eyes in surprise.~
AKB: But… are you sure about this? He’s got eMpire behind him, especially Mario Maurako who can’t stand you, and if James Raven wins, you’d arguably have an easier road to the championship.
~Andrea glares at AKB without responding.~
AKB: Nothing against James Raven but… there’s a lot of people in OCW who doubt he would have won the tournament if he had to go through a Grenier or a Vargas. He didn’t even have to go through a big name until late in the tournament. James Raven would be an easier challenge.
Andrea: And?
AKB: Wouldn’t you want an easier road to the title?
Andrea: I don’t WANT an easier road to the title. I WANT Mike Best! Period! And you nor anyone is going to change my mind about that.
AKB: Just… why though? Why DO you want Mike Best?
Andrea: Last week, I brought ONE empire down to its knees… and I’d love nothing more to be the one wrestler in OCW to bring down THE empire… and in two weeks, that’s what I’m planning on doing.
~Andrea brushes by AKB who is still surprised by the revelation she just heard. This abruptly ends the interview as the scene fades out.~
Smith: Andrea is riding a tremendous wave of momentum...she wants to take that momentum and use it to challenge Mike Best for the OCW Title.
Hood: What happens to a wave when it hits a rock? It BREAKS...good luck with that, Andrea. You'd better hope Mike Best gets struck by lightning mid match allowing Raven 2.0 to eke out a victory.
Smith: Mike Best and James Raven will do battle in tonight's main event. The winner will face Andrea Hernandez in the main event at NSFW. Andrea appears ready to go!
|
|
Singles Match
Sarah Twilight (0-0) vs. Jack Puffer (0-2)
~The fans in attendance have been impressed by what they’ve seen thus far. Nothing that will win match of the year…but plenty of up and coming talent has been on display. Always exciting to watch! Belvedere clears his throat to a strong ovation~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall. Currently in the ring…Jack Puffer!
~Puffer looks around, as though he’s trying to find the crowd. He seems to locate them and performs a wide eyed ‘surprise’ motion, followed by a wave. The fans boo. He’s instantly saddened~
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~The lights go out as a spotlight centers on stage. Piano chords begin a haunting melody, accompanied by heavy drum beats. The crowd begins to boo MASSIVELY as the video wall displays the words THE ONLY ONE~
Belvedere: Making her way to the ring, hailing from Los Angeles, California, and weighing in at one hundred fifty eight pounds, she is...."The Mistress of Mischief" SARAH TWILIGHT!
~Pyros shoot up from both sides of the entrance ramp as our melody finally kicks into guitar. "The Only One" by Evanescence continues to play as Sarah finally walks out onto the stage. She is greeted with deafening boos and soaks them all in, as if she enjoyed the crowd's hatred. She arrogantly swaggers towards the ring, taking her time to revel in her own glory among ENRAGED fans before she reaches the ring steps and steps inside. Pyros now shoot off from the ring posts and Sarah takes to each turnbuckle, staring coldly and without emotion into the sea of 'sheep' as the crowd's boos become even LOUDER~
Smith: Sarah Twilight not ingratiating herself with these fans.
Hood: Why should she? She’s got the Oh Shit contract…she’s a fucking star…who cares what they think?
Smith: A little support never hurt anyone!
Hood: She’s got the support of Lilith.
Smith: That’s like standing on quicksand, Hood.
~The bell rings. Belvedere takes his leave~
Smith: It’s been a spell since we’ve seen Puffer.
Hood: Hopefully, his injuries were allowed to heal during his absence.
Smith: Oh? Shoulder issues? Knee issues?
Hood: Mental issues, Smith. Of the psychological variety, …those can take a while to heal.
Smith: If in-ring competition is too traumatic for him, perhaps he should find another line of work.
~Twilight takes off! She’s not wasting any time. Puffer, in his corner, is paralyzed with fear at the oncoming redhead. She drills Puffer with a huge clothesline!! Puffer’s body is squashed against the corner. Twilight backs away…she leaps up and dropkicks Puffer!! The kick traumatizes his body against the corner. He’s about to fall forward when Twilight nips up, snares him and uses his momentum to aid in an overhead belly to belly!! Puffer hits hard, arching his back in pain. Twilight is back on her feet~
Smith: Wow! Sarah Twilight came out like she was fired out of a cannon!
Hood: Puffer’s probably ready for another hiatus.
Smith: Most likely.
~Twilight pulls Puffer back to his feet. She spins him around, hooking him and utilizing the tremendous power within her legs to get him onto her shoulders. She manipulates Puffer for an inverted powerslam…she brings him down and, in a seamless motion, takes him face first into the mat with a Swinging Snap DDT (Twilight Zone)!!!! Puffer is out!! The fans in the arena are impressed with Twilight’s per-pound strength. She turns Puffer over and makes the cover. Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…SARAH TWILIGHT!!!!!
Smith: Tremendous power shown by Twilight.
Hood: No, shit. Puffer’s not the biggest guy in the world, but it takes MUSCLES for a person of Sarah’s size to lift him up like that.
Smith: She’ll have trouble performing that move on bigger wrestlers…especially ones with more fight in them than Puffer. But, that’s why she’s Spellbound…a brutal submission.
Hood: Hey, man, if you say so!
Smith: Dominating debut for Sarah Twilight as she continues to locate a champion to cash in on. Who will that unlucky titleholder be? We’ll find out soon, I’m sure.
~Puffer is grabbed around the back of the neck and hurdled over the ropes to the floor, discarded like trash. The Mistress of Mischief follows after him, uninterested in celebration and fully intent on causing more harm.~
Smith: Well the match is over with, but clearly Sarah Twilight isn't finished.
Hood: Jack Puffer in the unenviable position of suffering her wrath. There's no more restrictions to hold her back.
~Jack tries to scramble to his feet and away from Sarah, but she is all over him quickly, locking his head under her arm. She walks him back .... and PLANTS him face first into the ring steps with a DDT. His face bounces off of the steel and he rolls off to the side, clutching at his forehead. A crimson mask flowing down his face.~
Smith: Oh God, this isn't necessary. Somebody needs to put a stop to this.
Hood: You want to go handle that?
Smith: No thanks.
~The crowd is booing loudly at the after match assault being carried out. Of course, Sarah doesn't care. She drags Puffer back against the steps and he is completely out of it. His head resting against the ringsteps and was probably the only thing holding his slumped body into the seated position he'd been placed in. Sarah walks along to the other end of the ring on the outside.~
Smith: No! Oh come on she's gonna put him out!
Hood: You know what this is about? Every Champion should be paying attention to this right now, this is a clear message to them and to the roster.
Smith: This is uncalled for is what it is!
Hood: Or ... Logan, actually Logan should probably be paying attention to this.
~She takes a running start and BLASTS her boot into his face causing a SICKENING CRACK as he skull is crushed between the ringsteps and the sole of her boot. Blood is all over Jack Puffer as his lifeless body sinks down following the impact. The crowd gasps at the brutality.~
Smith: We need medical attention out here now! This is serious. He most definitely has a concussion if not worse.
Hood: I don't want to say I told you so, but I told you so.
Smith: What are you talking about now?
Hood: This woman is dangerous and now that she's been unleashed ... nobody is safe.
Smith: You never said that.
Hood: I just did!
~The crowd boos loudly as "The Only One" by Evanescence hits once again and Sarah makes her way towards the back, satisfied for the moment with the destruction she'd left in her wake. EMTs rush down to the ring with a stretcher to tend to Jack Puffer. ~
Smith: Looks like Puffer might be out for awhile
Hood: Sarah just undid all the work his psychologist put in.
Smith: I guess.
|
|
Singles Match
The Proctologist (0-0) vs. Shootah (0-3)
~Shootah is already in the ring looking quite scared. While his impending opponent may not be the biggest he’s faced…he’ll likely be the handiest. Shootah’s rectum is not prepared for penetration. Belvedere clears his throat~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Currently in the ring…Shootah!
~Shootah’s legs remain together as his butt cheeks are obviously clenched~
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~”Fuck Was I” by Jenny Owens hits. The fans give a very cold…downright CHILLY, even reception when they see The Proctologist emerge from backstage. He’s got his sideways eyes and a crooked smile on full display. He walks at a normal pace…albeit taking his time to inspect people at ringside. When a person feels ‘under inspection’ they turn or walk away. He finally reaches the ring, steadily climbing the steps before entering through the ropes~
Belvedere: From Moab, Utah…standing six feet tall and weighing in at 200lbs…he is…The Proctologist!!!
~The Proctologist eyes Belvedere’s ass. Belvedere makes a quick exit. The bell sounds. The Proctologist turns his focus onto Shootah. Shootah’s eyes narrow. He makes a wiping motion while nodding in The Proctologist’s direction. Scruff leans in and wrinkles his nose. There is a bit of white goo hanging from the side of The Proctologist’s mouth~
Smith: What is THAT?
Hood: I’d hate to guess and be wrong.
Smith: Is that…YOGURT?
Hood: If it is we know it isn’t mint. Probably Strawberry.
~Shootah walks forward and lends a helping hand, swiping away whatever it is that hangs from The Proctologist’s mouth. He looks at the goo, on the tip of his index finger. The Proctologist smiles and nods. He lifts Shootah’s hand toward Shootah’s mouth…Shootah opens his mouth and tastes the finger. The Proctologist just smiles and nods. Everyone in the crowd is disgusted. Scruff has to turn away~
Smith: What IS this?
Hood: Shootah doesn’t eat much, man. I think The Proctologist is being philanthropic!
Smith: It’s GROSS
~Shootah tastes the goo. He smiles and says “Strawberries.” The Proctologist nods and smiles. Shootah is about to continue speaking when The Procotologist takes him down!! He takes full mount and begins to pound Shootah’s face with his fists!! Scruff turns, seeing the damage being done…he has FLASHBACKS to Lilith and Legion…he rushes to call for the bell!! As soon as the bell sounds, The Proctologist ceases with his beating~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…THE PROCTOLOGIST!!!!!
Smith: Well…that was, something.
Hood: Dude is LIGHTNING fast compared to Ehud.
Smith: That’s not saying much.
~The Proctologist rolls Shootah over. He pulls down Shootah’s pants revealing a very skinny, wrinkly ass. He raises his hand high in the air. The fans shriek~
Smith: OH NO
Hood: CUT AWAY! HURRY!
~The Proctologist brings all five of his probing fingers down, straight for Shootah’s ass. We instantly cut away before any form of penetration~
~The camera cuts backstage, to the hallway outside of Lilith's locker room... and the frame isn't empty for long, as Erin Gordon walks into the shot. Faintly, the crowd can be heard cheering for the Oncoming Storm as she sighs to herself, clearly questioning the wisdom of what she is about to do. She knocks at the door--and at first, there's no response.~
Erin Gordon: ...shit. Maybe she ain't in there.
~Another knock, but this time, Lilith answers the door. She is still clearly quite beat up from what she'd been through earlier in the week as she has a bust up lip and a huge black eye she's obviously tried to cover up with makeup. Lilith just glares straight at Erin, pure uncontrollable hatred boiling within her.~
Lilith: I suggest you get the hell out of my sight before I hurt you worse than I'm hurting right now.
~...and one can clearly see Erin's regretting her decision, though there's no backing out now.~
Erin Gordon: I was just coming by to see if you were alright. I heard what happened, and it ain't right to put anyone through what you went through.
~Lilith clenches her fists as she practically snarls at Erin.~
Lilith: Yeah... everyone heard about it. You know why?! Because that piece of TRASH aired it to the whole world! You know what happened though?! You know what YOU did?! ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!! Hell Marcus is so proud of him, little Logan is STILL on the card! I thought you were supposed to be the resident "good guy"?! All you made me realize is that there's NO SUCH THING as "good guy" because you're just as messed up as the rest of them! No one cares about me except my Sarah!
Erin Gordon: I didn't know about it until after it was over, Lilith.
~Raising her hands, Erin's palms are facing the ranting Lilith in the classic gesture of not meaning harm as her voice takes on the sort of calm, steady tone she used when Benson was knee high to a grasshopper.~
Erin: Had I known, I woulda' called the cops because that sumbitch Logan deserves to get thrown in jail. I don't give a damn who anyone is--no one deserves what happened to you.
~Lilith just continues to glare at Erin, sarcastically nodding her head.~
Lilith: Yeah, alright, alright... you didn't know. Hey guess what?! I bet you if I went up to Marcus of Mack about this and confronted them about it they'd tell me the exact same thing! "Oh oh oh we didn't know, Lilith. That is just dreadful, Lilith! I feel so sorry for you, Lilith!" and then as soon as I turn my back... they laugh at me just like I'm sure you do! You want to talk about things we didn't know?! I didn't know that YOU were such a piece of dog shit! OH and also... I didn't know that your son... what's his name again? Benson?! Yeah... I don't care what his name is! I didn't know that he was such a WASTE OF FUCKING AIR!!! But I mean--
Erin Gordon: Leave my son out of this.
~The Oncoming Storm's tone comes close to breaking its usual deadpan as she steps forward, not backing down from the ranting Lilith as she continues to speak.~
Erin Gordon: And while Mack and Marcus are jackasses, what have I done to make you think I'm lyin'? Hell, y'know what... here. Bring up the video I shot for the show, and go to the end. You can literally see the moment I found out.
~Stepping around Lilith, Erin turns her head before offering up her parting words.~
Erin Gordon: You don't owe me an apology. I know how you are ain't your fault.
~At this point Lilith just burst out laughing. Continuing her sarcastic ways she puts her hand on Erin's shoulder and stops her from leaving, looking at her dead in her eyes.~
Lilith: Hahahahahaha WOW!!! And now your true colors come out! The fact that you even THOUGHT about me apologizing just shows what TRASH you really are! You want an apology?! I'll give you an apology when... and Erin, sweetie pie, listen to me real carefully now, okay? I'll apologize when, if I EVER see your son around here, I'll show him EXACTLY why a FUCKING WRESTLING COMPANY is no place for children!!!
~Rather than rising to the bait, Erin just looks at Lilith the way she would a wounded animal... or, more accurately, a child that doesn't know any better than to act out. Shaking her head, she just walks out of the shot. Lilith seems to get even more angry by this... how dare she just walk off like that?!~
Lilith: What the Hell is her problem?!
~Lilith turns around and goes back inside her locker room where her teddy bear, Teddy, is sat. Lilith looks at him for a moment before once again shouting out in anger.~
Lilith: NO THAT'S NOT POSSIBLE TEDDY!!! You heard what Sarah said! Erin is nothing but a LIAR! Why the hell would SHE of all people care about me?! SHUT UP!!!
~Lilith continues to argue with her teddy bear as the scene cuts to...~
Smith: Wow...Erin taking the high road...too bad Lilith wasn't willing to meet her.
Hood: Lilith's got issues, man. I mean, I know that's stating the obvious...but still.
Smith: She had a rough week...rougher than we can ever imagine, from what I've heard and tonight she has to face Erin.
Hood: Ohhh...I see. Erin's playing MIND games with Lilith. Sneaky bitch.
Smith: Those weren't mind games! If you took the time to research Erin you'd discover she's as genuine as a sunrise.
Hood: Lame
Smith: Whatever...anyway, it's time to head to ringside for the debut of Eric Dane!
Hood: NOT LAME!
|
|
Singles Match
Eric Dane (0-0) vs. John E Depth (2-3)
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen… The following contest is a singles match and it is scheduled for one fall!
Fans: ONE FALL!!!
Belvedere: Coming to the ring first…
"BIBLE CLUB! FOFOFOFO-FOR GOD!"
~The Bloodhound Gang’s 1999 classic “The Bad Touch” bounces its way through the P.A. system and out comes John E. Depth, trotting like a thoroughbred and rocking the sport’s greatest chest hair/banana hammock combination this side of Dick Fury! The boos he normally elicits have been replaced tonight by cheers, as quite a few fans have gotten on the bandwagon after his upset win last week over Ross Hanson. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that following right behind him is the Virtuous Vixen herself, Chastity Temple!~
Belvedere: Accompanied to the ring by Chastity Temple…
~Chastity waves enthusiastically to the aisle-side fans but makes a concerted effort to steer away from any and all creep-o’s and pervs in attendance. Depth, oblivious, continues the march toward the ring.~
Belvedere: ...hailing from Hollywoo-
~The ring announcer is rudely interrupted.~
*!CLAAAANG!*
Hood: Aw, shit!
Smith: What in the-
~Eric Dane, the High Chief of the Cheap Shot, stands just where John E. Depth was before a precision strike to the back of the head sent him sprawling. The chair, sporting a head-shaped dent right in the seat, is raised defiantly in the air for all to see.~
~The OCW faithful are not happy, not one bit.~
~The boos are almost comically deafening!~
~The Only Star turns his attention momentarily to the Platonic Princess. She smiles nervously just as he brings that dented chair up to just under her chin. Dane smiles a somewhat gentlemanly smile and addresses Chastity for the first time. The cameras just barely pick it up~
Dane: If you wanna stay a virgin, I suggest you run along, now.
~He glares. She throws hands up defensively and backs away.~
*!CLAAAANG!*
~By some miracle John E. Depth had regained his faculties and tried his damnedest to get a jump on The Only Star, but what he didn’t know was how quick on the draw Eric Dane can be with a steel chair in his hands!~
Hood: Jesus fuckin’ Christ, this guy is just RUTHLESS!
~Defiantly, The Only Star turns his back on the now crumpled and bleeding John E. Depth and the horrified young Girlfriend to God Almighty and he makes his way toward the ring. Once there he strides around the ringside area and takes a microphone from a ringside attendant before ascending the steel steps, wiping his feet on the apron, and stepping into the OCW ring for the second time. The boos continue.~
Dane: Yeah, yeah, boo and hiss, I’m used to it.
~This only serves to redouble their efforts.~
Dane: It certainly appears that the nasty rumor being spread on the innarwebz about my missing tonight’s show has proven to be wildly inaccurate, isn’t that right Max?
~An inexplicably tight cut into Dane’s face give him the perfect opportunity to wink, and so he does. It happened so goddamned fast that you probably missed it, you know, because you’re stupid. Which you are. Don’t forget that.~
Dane: So here I am, just like I said last week, doing whatever I want, to whomever I want, on whatever timeframe I want.
~More boos, a beer cup zings by Eric’s face, barely missing him.~
Dane: And who’s gonna stop me? Nobody, that’s who! Ya see there’s a whole lot of Twitter Warriors out there who think it’s cute to poke the bear from afar, but it turns out most of them have the balls of a eunuch…
~A pause.~
Dane: That is to say, none.
~Eric’s smile widens. As if on cue the lights drop.~
Smith: Now what’s going on with all these lighting failures recently?
Hood: Are you fuckin’ stupid? Marcus Welsh paid so much for Eric Dane that he didn’t have anything left over for the LIGHT BILL!
Smith: Oh for the love of God, staaaahp it!
Hood: Blow me, fanboy.
#Where the hood...
Smith: Looks like somebody’s got some sack after all!
Hood: Oh, shut the fuck up, Jesus.
~DMX barks his way through the song and the Canadian Calamity himself hobbles out from the curtain looking like a hot mess with his head wrapped in bandages and a white collar snugly encasing his neck, seriously inhibiting his ability to so much as nod his head. The smartest thing Grenier does is pick up the chair that Dane had used to incapacitate his would-be-opponent for the eventing.~
Smith: Looks like Grenier is out to answer Eric Dane’s blanket statement about the OCW roster! And he’s bringing an equalizer with him!
Hood: It looks to me like Dane already beat the shit out of him last week and if he thinks using his own chair against him is a good idea then who am I to try to stop him?
Smith: Be that as it may, nobody else stood up for the good name of OCW and as we saw last week Bob Grenier certainly has every reason in the world to be out here tonight!
~Dane smirks as Grenier rolls gingerly into the ring. The thought crosses The Only Star’s mind to just lay the boots to him right now and not even let him stand up, but a nagging bit of respect for Bob’s sheer balls stays Dane’s hand… er, foot. Whatever. What Eric doesn’t do is give Bob so much as the chance to breathe before he starts berating him again.~
Dane: It’s like that, then?
~Bob nods~
Dane: Seriously?
~Grenier barks a few cusses and threats at The Only Star who can only smile his million dollar smile in return. After a good chuckle, Eric speaks again.~
Dane: I’ll tell ya what I’m gonna do, big boy…
~The Antagonist turns his back on Bob, throwing both arms out at either side.~
Dane: There ya go, Bob, free shot. Take it!
~The Faithful in attendance begin to buzz, a chant breaks out.~
Bob’s Gonna Kiiiiill You!
~Bob hesitates, his knuckles go white gripping the chair.~
Dane: Yeah, I fuckin’ doubt it!
~Grenier’s grimace stretches into a smirk. He tears the brace off and makes a big show of popping his freshly naked neck back and forth loud enough to be heard. He cocks the chair back and takes aim.~
Dane: Bob Grenier doesn’t have the balls to-
~As he’s chiding the Canadian grappler Dane turns, and just as he makes eye contact with Bob again Bob winks. Dane doesn’t have a chance in hell of reacting or protecting himself.~
KA-BOOOOOOONG!!!
Hood: THAT DIRTY NO GOOD--
Smith: GRENIER WAITED UNTIL DANE WAS LOOKING AT HIM AND ABSOLUTELY TATTOOED THE ONLY STAR WITH HIS OWN CHAIR!
Hood: --SON OF A BITCH! HE TRICKED DANE! SHENANIGANS! SHENANIGANS! I CALL GODDAMNED MOTHERFUCKING SHENANIGAAAAAAAAAAANS!
~Greneir throws the chair to the mat and runs to the nearest turnbuckle where he climbs it and throws a fist to the sky, the crowd gives him a hot pop and he drops back down to the mat below. Dane, smacked but not stupid, used his falling momentum to roll himself out of the ring to the floor where he takes a moment to shake off the shot, uncross his eyes, and reassess the situation.~
Smith: What’s he gonna do?
Hood: Get out of there, Dane, no sense falling into another dirty Canadian trap!
~Grenier holds the ropes open and begs Dane to come back in and fight. Dane, through playing games, waves Bob off and makes his way back up the ramp toward the dressing room.~
Smith: What a coward!
Hood: I believe you mean BRILLIANT WRESTLING GENIUS!
Smith: He's all big and tough when he has his man down...but given a fair fight he tucks his tail and runs!
Hood: Fair fight?! Bob hit him from behind!
Smith: Only because Dane GAVE him his back.
Hood: Ah, so you're saying Dane is a benevolent man. A giving man. Not only is he GREAT but he's also merciful...LONG LIVE ERIC DANE!
Smith: This is insanity. Dane took Bob out last week...Bob returned the favor this week...no doubt these two appear destined to settle things once and for all.
Hood: I'd take a walk if I were Bob...it'd be the smart thing to do.
Smith: Bob's never been one to run from a fight. We'll see how this situation materializes as we hit the home stretch toward Not Safe For Work!
#Where the hood...
#Where the hood at?
Bob’s Gonna Kiiiiill You!
Bob’s Gonna Kiiiiill You!
Smith: Why does the script just say Hood-Segment now?
Hood: Well, I'm interviewing Bifford...
Smith: Why?
Hood: Because he asked me to - he thinks I'm a credible journalist.
Smith: Ugh...
~The screen flashes to darkness, then a moment of static, and then to the image of The Big Bifford, seated on a stool in what appears to be the middle of the desert in Egypt with pyramids behind him.~
Hood: Welcome to Massacre, Bifford. My name is Hood and I'll be conducting this interview... are you in Egypt?
Bifford: Yep... I flew here first-class... I suddenly came into some money last week. Thanks, White Dean.
Hood: Why are you in Egypt, Bifford?
Bifford: Well, that's a long freakin' story, Hood... but the bottom line is that I'm here because the number THREE is very sacred to the ancient Egyptians.. and I'm going to beat Duce Jones for a third time very soon.
Hood: That seems like an awfully long way to go for that...
Bifford: Know what other numbers were sacred to the ancient Egyptian people? 2 - that's the number of times that I've pinned Duce Jones so far. Also 4 - which is the number of times I'll have pinned Duce Jones by the end of our fourth match. Also 7 - which is the number of times I'll have pinned Duce Jones by the end of our seventh match.
Hood: It sounds like you're going to fight him many times... I think it sounds like a wonderful idea, Bifford. Now, on a personal note Bifford, I want to thank you for taking out Ehud last week. Fuckin' EHUD.
Bifford: It was time for that old timer to stop wasting everyone's time.
Hood: Well, what do you think of his son THE PROCTOLOGIST starting to wrestle here in OCW?
Bifford: He looks almost as old as his dad... if he starts taking up too much time on television, I'll probably put him out to pasture too.
Hood: Bifford, other than Duce, who do you want to face in OCW?
Bifford: Well, I'm looking forward to finally murdering Dangerous Dan.
Hood: What a day that will be! Bifford, are you going to do anything fun in Egypt while you're there?
Bifford: Probably get a falafel.
Hood: That's a hell of a plan... you know there's no meat in that, right?
Bifford: Fuck that... I'll go eat some raw camel meat then.
Hood: Any last words, Biff?
Bifford: To quote a great wrestler, "Fuck you Duce Jones. Your name sounds like poop."
Hood: Enjoy Egypt, Bifford...
~Bifford stands up and slashes at his throat with his hand and the scene of Egypt behind him disappears and he's just standing in front of a green screen.~
Bifford: Do we know where we can get some raw camel meat? That sounds pretty tasty... if not, ham will do... Kenny can you work on that? Earl, go out and find us some strippers, tonight we're going to party like its 1999 and...
~The feed suddenly goes out.~
Smith: Hmm
Hood: Oh my gosh! Turn on the news!
Smith: Why?
Hood: Egypt just VANISHED! You think they got nuked?
Smith: Relax! That was a green screen...Bifford wasn't IN Egypt...he was lying.
Hood: How dare you create these false BIFFORD accusations. He's a man of truth, honesty, and voracious integrity. If he says he's in Egypt then I damn well believe him.
Smith: Well, that's your decision, I'm afraid. Next up, folks...Lilith, who reportedly had a rough week, is set to take on the undefeated Erin Gordon!
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Singles Match
Erin Gordon (2-0) vs. Lilith (2-1)
~The crowd seems ready for some legitimate action. NO MORE SQUASH MATCHES. They stand, eager for competition. Belvedere clears his throat to a strong ovation~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…
~The house lights go down as colorful lights start flashing all around the area. "Imaginary" by Evanescence begins to play, as Lilith appears at the top of the entrance ramp. She is wearing a black miniskirt, burgundy leggings, an extremely tight low cut tank top and black leather heeled ankle boots. Lilith proceeds to skips down to the ring holding a giant lollypop in one hand and a teddy bear in the other. The crowd look on confused but begin to boo her despite the fact that she looks so cheerful~
Belvedere: From Los Angeles, California… weighing in at 142 pounds.... she is LILITH!!!
~Lilith eventually reaches the ring and locates a child sitting front row, she passes him her giant lollypop. Lilith then skips around the outside of the ring, placing her teddy bear on the turnbuckle and bounces up onto the ring apron, waving to the crowd and blowing kisses to them all. She climbs through the ropes still smiling and waving to everyone whilst waiting for her opponent~
Smith: Lilith looking to string two wins together.
Hood: She’s had a tough couple of matches, I’ll give her that. The eMpire followed up with Legion…a former newcomer of the month.
Smith: Yep and now Lilith has earned that same owner, sharing it with Logan.
Belvedere: And, her opponent…
~The overhead lights slowly go dark as the first strummed chords of 'Hurricane' fill the air, the crowd's cheers rising in response to the woman that is about to emerge. Gray lights flare into being around the curtain when the song starts proper, illuminating the outline of the Oncoming Storm as she stands with her shoulders square and her hands curled into fists at her sides. The wind machine is on behind her, blowing her hair around as her gaze moves over the assembled crowd and the surroundings alike... before it settles upon the ring. As 'Hurricane' cuts to the chorus, she makes her way down the aisle, not shying away from the hands that reach out for her~
~Erin's focus never wavers, even as she grabs onto the ropes and hauls herself up onto the apron. Wiping her feet, she climbs into the ring between the top and middle ropes before she heads to her corner, turning to rest her back against the turnbuckles. Only then does she play a little to the crowd, a single fist thrusting itself skyward to earn more cheers as her music fades.~
Belvedere: From Blooming Valley, Pennsylvania…standing 5’7 and weighing in at 154lbs…Erin Gordon!!!
Smith: And here’s Erin Gordon!
Hood: Yes, there she is.
Smith: Huge test for Erin tonight. A winner of her first two matches, I think Erin would agree that the competition thus far has been light.
Hood: Not tonight. Lilith may be crazy…she may be incoherent, but she’s fucking tough between those ropes.
Smith: Indeed.
~Belvedere exits. The bell sounds~
Smith: Alright!
Hood: If Erin isn’t careful, this match could get away from her before it even begins.
Smith: Lilith is going to come out swinging, that’s for sure. She had to be pulled off of Legion last week after pummeling her beyond recognition.
~Lilith, thankfully, looks better tonight than when we last saw her at fucking HOOTERS with Twilight. Erin, off the farm, appears ready for what’s about to come…Hurricane Lilith is set to be unleashed. She screams, charing at Erin. Erin moves! Lilith leaps into the air and comes crashing down in the corner. Erin rolls her up from behind. Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
Kick Out!!!
Smith: This one nearly ended before it ever began.
Hood: Lilith has to calm the fuck down.
Smith: Rumor has it she was locked away most of the week.
Hood: Probably the best place for her, if we’re being honest.
Smith: Nobody should be locked away against their will, Hood!
Hood: What about criminals?
Smith: Alright, no INNOCENT person –
Hood: Whoa…we’re calling Lilith INNOCENT now? C’mon, man
~Lilith rolls over, getting to her knees. Erin rushes to her feet, acting as though she’s in a fight with a dangerous animal. She throws a penalty kick at Lilith. Lilith ducks. Lilith pops to her feet. Erin’s misfire spins her around. Lilith grabs her from behind, locking Gordon’s waist. She tries for a German…but Erin blocks it and throws a back elbow, stunning Lilith. Erin rips Lilith’s hands apart. She hits the ropes, bounces off and throws a lariat. Lilith ducks. Erin hits the ropes again…Lilith spins around and nails Erin in the head with a roundhouse kick!!! Erin drops to the mat, rolling to the apron~
Smith: Tremendous athleticism and impact on that kick!
Hood: These women aren’t wasting any time, Smith. You can tell they aren’t getting paid by the hour!
Smith: Indeed. Erin’s out here trying to prove to her son where hard work will get you.
Hood: Her son? You mean the president of the Mike Best fan club?
~Erin is clearly stunned. She sits up, legs hanging over the apron, back facing the ring, and shakes her head, blinking rapidly. Lilith returns to her feet and runs forward…she delivers a front dropkick into Erin’s back, knocking her off the apron!! Erin lands on her feet and stumbles into the barricade. She extends her hands, bracing against the barricade for support. Back on her feet, Lilith looks at Erin and takes off, hitting the ropes once more. She charges forward, grabs the top rope and somersaults over the top rope with a senton. She comes down and lands on Erin’s shoulders!! Erin, showing that farmgirl strength, keeps her feet!! Lilith is stuck in an electric chair!! Erin leaps backward, dropping Lilith onto her back with a loud SPLAT! Lilith’s mouth extends wide open, gasping for air…her lungs have been knocked empty. Erin remains on the ground, still recovering from Lilith’s burst of offense~
Smith: High impact Electric Chair!
Hood: Finally! Someone figured out a way to SHUT Lilith UP
Smith: Can we not speak so harshly about a recent victim of abduction?
Hood: Normally I’d agree..but let’s all call it what it is…she was kidnapped. She’s got the mind of a fucking child.
~Erin sits up, eventually making it to her feet. Lilith is on her knees, forehead to the ground. Her ribcage heaves in and out as she works to replenish her oxygen supply. Erin runs forward and stomps a boot right into Lilith’s back, flattening her out. Seeing that the action is taking a turn to negative town, Scruff yells “ONE!” Erin hears the count and registers the situation. She grabs Lilith by her black hair, yanking the woman to her feet. She whips her into the apron…Lilith slams, back first into the edge of the apron. Erin lunges forward with a HUGE knife edged chop across Lilith’s chest!!! Lilith tries to lean forward, but Erin straightens her up. Scruff yells “TWO!” Erin measures Lilith and delivers a straight right hand into Lilith’s face!! Lilith leans to her right in an almost lifeless posture. Erin shoves her onto the apron. Scruff yells “THREE!” Erin gives Lilith a big heave, sending the cookie lover rolling into the ring, near the center. Erin slides into the ring. Lilith sits up, leaning forward. Erin hits the ropes…she bounces off…she hits the ropes again and slides to the mat, drilling Lilith with a Sliding Lariat!!! Lilith’s head bounces off the mat! Erin makes the cover…Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
Shoulder Up!!
Smith: Lilith with the shoulder up!
Hood: Erin packs a punch man.
Smith: Indeed, she does…that’s what they call farm strength.
Hood: That’s why you don’t go around pissing off southern retards.
Smith: Which you kinda just did.
~Gordon returns to her feet. She remains positive and focused. She pulls Lilith up. Lilith wobbles while standing. Erin measures Lilith up and delivers a spinning back fist from hell (Nor'easter)!!! Lilith ducks and leaps into the air, catching a discombobulated Erin and dropping her with a jumping neck breaker!!! Both women are down~
Smith: Lilith averted certain defeat!
Hood: Yea man that felt like the end…but, it must continue!
Smith: Yes, it must!
~Lilith fights to her feet…this woman is resilient! Erin sits up, holding her neck. Lilith delivers a penalty kick into Erin’s back!! Erin arches her back in pain…she rises to her feet, favoring her back. Lilith lunges at Erin, locking in a bear hug!!! She digs her nails into Erin’s back!! Erin yells out in pain…fans at ringside are very uncomfortable with what they are witnessing. Scruff closely inspects the nails…he’s not really sure how to call this~
Smith: That’s illegal…isn't it?
Hood: No way, man. Those are her nails.
Smith: Yea, but she’s using them like little knives.
Hood: Look, if Erin has a problem with it, she can grow her nails it. It’s not Lilith’s fault that Erin lacks foresight.
~Erin, perhaps feeling like a great injustice is being done, fights fire with fire. She rakes Lilith across the eyes. Lilith’s nails release. Erin breaks away. She knees Lilith in the sternum. Lilith stumbles into a corner. Erin charges forward, looking for a splash. Lilith moves and slams Erin's head into the top buckle. She charges toward the nearest corner, slamming Erin’s head into that buckle…she continues the charges to a third corner, slamming Erin’s head into that buckle…then a fourth, a fifth, a sixth, a seventh, and finally an eighth!!! She tosses Erin to the mat. Erin appears OUT! Lilith goes for the pin…Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
3…NO!
Smith: Erin with the kick out!
Hood: Damn man…that shit nearly knocked me out, and I’m only calling the action!
Smith: Lilith might be on the scary side of crazy, but she has a ton of energy and fight.
Hood: Yes and she looks WAY better tonight than she did at HOOTERS
Smith: That’s what showers are for, Hood.
~Lilith is furious over the near fall. She grabs Erin by the head and slams the back of her skull into the mat, repeatedly while screaming. Scruff stands back like “oh my…” Lilith pops to her feet with Erin down, rolling around in agony. Lilith goes after Scruff, scolding him over the count. Scruff is like “this bitch is crazy!”…trying to keep his distance~
Smith: I know it was a near fall…some might even debate whether or not Scruff actually counted three…but she needs to remain focused.
Hood: I don’t think focus is really her strong suit, Smith.
Smith: Well, it needs to be…this isn’t Legion or John E Depth. This is Erin Gordon…she’s out here…
Hood: Yes, yes, we know…out here to get Mike Best’s autograph.
Smith: That’s not where I was going with that.
~Lilith appears close to mauling Scruff with her sharp nails when her mood takes a sudden turn. She pats him on the head and turns around, heading for Erin. Erin is on one knee. Lilith secures a waist lock. She lifts Erin up, displaying tremendous core strength. She’s got Erin on her shoulder in the inverted powerslam position~
Smith: Uh oh!! Lilith is going for The Twilight Zone…we saw Sarah perform this move earlier this evening!
Hood: Lilith is copying Sarah?
Smith: I’m sure she got permission. They are wives, after all.
Hood: Is that legal in Florida?
Smith: It’s June, Hood…give it a rest!
~Lilith slings Erin forward…Erin hits the mat. Lilith looks to hook Erin for the DDT…but Erin slips free! Lilith turns around, Erin leaps up, grabs Lilith and takes her down with Windswept (Sling Blade)!!!! Lilith hits hard!!! Erin remains on top of Lilith for the pin…Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
3!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…ERIN GORDON!!!!!
Smith: Erin did it! Lilith lost her focus for a moment…Erin used that lapse in time to recover just enough to avoid defeat and snatch victory!
Hood: Fuckin hell…how many Oreos do you think it will take to cheer Lilith up?
Smith: I couldn’t say…it’s obvious that Erin had Lilith scouted. It’s clear Erin is serious about becoming a contender here in OCW.
Hood: If the rumors about Lilith are true…she did well to almost win tonight. Spending most of your week held hostage is not the best preparation.
Smith: Indeed…Lilith is still a star in the making. Just a bump in the road…these will happen with the talent OCW has assembled.
~We cut backstage where Marcus Welsh is shaking his head, staring at Knux~
Marcus Welsh: ONE JOB
Knux: Sorry, sir.
Marcus Welsh: It was a full proof plan. A seamless plan that you managed to FUCK UP...thanks a lot, Knux.
Knux: To be fair, Cap Slock was…
Marcus Welsh: Oh don’t go blaming the good Captain for this blunder. Not so close to Memorial Day you heartless bastard.
~There is a knock at the door. Welsh glares at Knux. Knux opens the door. Cap Slock enters. There is a bit of awkward tension~
Knux: I’ll…see myself out.
Marcus Welsh: Yea, you do that. Captain, my man…what’s up?
Cap Slock: I JUST CAME TO REPORT THAT JAMES RAVEN HAS YET TO ARRIVE.
~Welsh sighs, places his hands atop his hips and stares at the floor~
Marcus Welsh: Cutting it close…such a drama queen. That’s alright, he’ll be here. He told me he was a man of his word. He said he honors commitments. He’ll be here.
Cap Slock: YES SIR. I’LL LET YOU KNOW AS SOON AS HE SHOWS.
Marcus Welsh: Thank you, Captain.
~We cut back to ringside~
Smith: I know some people have wondered whether or not Raven would show tonight.
Hood: First King Infinity…now THE RAVEN? Man, I don’t think I can take BOTH those guys bailing on us…
Smith: Well we know the OCW Champion, Mike Best is prepared for tonight’s main event.
Hood: Talk about a true champion.
Smith: I may not like the man…but he’s reliable.
~The lights inside the OCW arena go out suddenly.~
Hood: uhmmm? What’s going on?
Smith: I’m not sure.
Hood: Can we turn the lights back on...oh! There we go.
~A spotlight lights up the stage and on the stage are 4 armed guards with m16. Two each stand on either side of a rolling display case that lights up and inside the display are the OCW World Tag Team Championship belts.~
Hood: On second thought, keep the lights off.
Smith: Looks like our tag team champions are going to visit us.
Hood: I was happier when they weren’t around.
~Team ATARI, 2600 and 7800 make their way out from the back, no music, no pyro, no fan fair at all. They walk past the display case and the armed guards. 2600 stops and looks at the belts with Flashback 2 by his side. 7800 steps out in front of the display case and places his hands on his hips and soaks in the mixed reaction they are getting from the OCW faithful.~
Smith: We heard that they would be here tonight folks to address the OCW locker room.
Hood: Why couldn’t that have been a closed door meeting that I wasn’t invited too?
~2600 puts his arm around FB2 and gives her a quick hug. FB2 then hands 2600 this huge file folder that she was holding.~
2600: Well well well! Looks like all of you Yamauchi Scum were all busy this week! Trying to keep tabs on us! Wondering what Team ATARI was going to do next! You all spied with your little scumbag eyes, and you leaked what our plans were with your little scumbag mouths! Something! I promise! WON’T HAPPEN AGAIN!
~2600 steps away from FB2 and joins 7800 on the stage in front of the display case.~
2600: The PTB warned us that we will be in middle of a Yamauchi hotbed of activity! They told us to watch our backs! They told us! That 10 out of 10 people you encounter will have some sort of connection to those lying! Thieving! Mouthbreathers also known as the Yamauchi! We were told that this mission for the Energon Device would be a suicide mission! A mission that we might not come back from! WELL!
7800: Dilly dilly.
2600: Well said 7800! This mission has been anything but! Here we are! In enemy territory! We captured the enemies flag! We have put those flags on display for all to see!
~2600 holds his hand out towards the display case. ~
7800: Dilly dilly.
2600: Again, well said 7800! We have been daring any two Yamauchi scumbags to step forward and try to take back your stupid, meaningless scumbag flags back! And! As we stand in what is being labeled the capital city of the Yamauchi, not one…...NOT ONE! Yamauchi Scumbag has slide his scumbag hands down the front of his pants, reached for for those tiny marbles you Yamauchi call testicles and answered the call! Not one!
~2600 spins around and faces the screen.~
2600: I’m talking to all you in the back you dumb motherfuckers!
7800: Dilly dilly.
2600: That too.
~2600 turns back around and holds up the file folder.~
2600: So we did some research! We reached out to the crew at the Dig Dug! We asked them one question and they did a study and the finding of this study, while highly classified, explained everything! We have our answers!
7800: Dilly dilly.
2600: I know! I was shocked too! And so will you too! You see, we were wondering if each and every Yamauchi up in this bitch, we wondered if they have penis or vagina. We thought, if we could identify the gender of our enemy, then we can plan our attack and battle the Yamauchi on the battlefield and defend…..these…..what do you call them again?
7800: Dilly dilly?
2600: Ah yes! Thank you 7800. Championship belts. Come to find out! The Yamauchi don’t have either a penis or a vagaina! They are genderless! Which, I tell you what, explains so much to us! They can’t sack up and face us on the battlefield. They can’t run and hide because their not a bunch of pussies either! They are just here! Taking up space! Taking up air! Wasting our water! Pretending to pee while standing up or sitting down. In a thousand years when they did up all of the Yamauchi mass graves that Team ATARI created as we eliminate them off of the face of the planet, they will dig up a pile of genderless remains! Or, as we have been calling them, the dickless generation!
7800: Dilly dilly.
~2600 points at 7800.~
2600: That! That right there! Was not a promise. It’s a fucking guarantee! We are scheduled to defend these….these….belts?
7800: Dilly dilly.
2600: Again, thank you. We are scheduled to defend these belts at NSFW and you better fucking believe us, on the 17th of June, we we are scheduled to go to battle, this is not going to be a safe working environment for anyone in the back! Because if none of you dickless fuckers don’t grow a pair and agree to face us at NSFW for those titles! You will force us to show up, randomly pick of you Yamauchi Scumbags and drag your asses to that battlefield and do what we do best!
7800: Dilly dilly?
2600: Besides that.
7800: Dilly dilly?
2600: And that.
7800: Dilly dilly?
2600: Correct! Beating Yamauchi asses!
~2600, FB2 and 7800 then point at everyone in the OCW arena.~
2600: You all have been warned!
~The lights go out and it is complete darkness inside the arena. A couple of seconds later, they come back up and Team ATARI, the armed guards, the display cases with the belts, are gone.~
Smith: Team ATARI defeated Bob Grenier and Chad Vargas at Block Party for the Tag Titles. They look ready to defend those belts at Not Safe For Work. The question remains...against whom?
Hood: the eMpire, obviously
Smith: I think those men have ENOUGH opportunities on their plate. Let's spread the wealth
Hood: You sound like a fucking socialist.
~We head backstage to find Marcus Welsh making a visit to the catering table. He peruses the various meats and cheeses before finally settling on a delicious-looking orange scone. The man is stressed from having to run this shitshow every week, give him a break. He takes a bite, the drizzled frosting cracking and falling onto the floor. His face is imbued with the joy of culinary bliss. The man is content.~
Woman’s Voice: EEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKK!!!!!!! SOMEONE HEEEELLLLLPPP!!!!
~Don’t let the businessy vests fool you, Welsh is a man of action. He casts the partially-eaten scone back onto its plastic tray and leaps into the fray (or runs, really), charging down the hall toward the scream. The camera follows him a short distance into an adjacent hallway where Who’Re is seen sobbing hysterically next to a door clearly marked “EXIT.” She isn’t, in fact, exiting, so we can assume the scream was hers. Unless the screaming person already left. That’s also possible.~
Marcus Welsh: What’s the matter?! Who needs help?
Who’Re: Mr. Welsh! Mr. Welsh!! Did you see them??
Marcus Welsh: See who?
~Who’Re begins rambling a million miles an hour in her panic.~
Who’Re: OhmygodtheyranthroughthehallandattackedhimIdon’tknowwhotheywerebuttheybeathimupand…
Marcus Welsh: SLOW DOWN WOMAN.
~Welsh rubs his forehead as Who’Re gasps for her breath.~
Marcus Welsh: Now nice and easy. WHAT exactly happened here?
~Who’Re appears ready to bawl as she holds up what at first glance looks like a large, blue and silver candy cane. Welsh grabs it tentatively and, upon closer inspection, finds it to be a far less appetizing crowbar, painted in offsetting deep blue and shimmering silver paint.~
Who’Re: It was awful, Mr. Welsh! These people, three of them, in hoods ran up to him in the hall and attacked him from behind with these crowbars! Then they grabbed him and dragged him out this door! I couldn’t see who they were, but one of them dropped this crowbar on their way out. They… they kidnapped him!! They kidnapped an elderly man!!
~Welsh looks at the door and the multicolored crowbar and finally to Who’Re.~
Marcus Welsh: Damn it, I thought Ehud had made it back to Moab safely after what Bifford pulled last week. I’ll call Bifford to my office and get him to stop this…
Who’Re: No! It wasn’t Ehud…
~Welsh raises an eyebrow.~
Who’Re: …it was Matteo Maurako!
~Who’Re finally bursts into panicked tears again as Welsh’s brow furrows. He considers what this means for his show for a moment before Who’Re collapses into her boss, weeping loudly. Welsh’s expression shows dismay that there has been a kidnapping on the show and that he cannot get back to his scone until Who’Re cries herself out. Life of a businessman. We head back to ringside.~
Smith: I can’t believe what we just heard, Hood. Matteo Maurako, the patriarch of the Maurako Family, has been kidnapped right here in the OCW Arena? I can put my opinion of his son, Mario’s, actions aside long enough to say no one deserves to be taken against their will, especially a man of Matteo’s age.
Hood: And they went all Nancy Kerrigan on him first! Someone must have really been pissed to kick Mario’s dad’s ass. He’s what, 200 years old?
Smith: There are more than a few people who have ill will toward the Maurako family, but none of them exactly fit the bill as a kidnapper.
Hood: Don’t try to defend your righteous fucking heroes, Smith. Silver and blue? Where have we seen those colors before?
Smith: I don’t like where you’re going with that, partner. They may be enemies now, but would Cyanide and Paras really stoop to that level?
Hood: Sure! They’re enemies for a reason! Mario broke Cyanide’s back and WHACKED Paul’s yoga chew toy! King Mario and the eMpire have made tons of enemies the last few months, and you know why?
Smith: I can think of a few reasons…
Hood: Because they’re all stupid, filthy PEASANTS compared to the eMpire!
Smith: That wasn’t on my list. We’ll see Mario in action later tonight, and I can only imagine what sort of mood he’ll be in once he finds out about his father being beaten and dragged out of the OCW Arena against his will. And if Paras and Cyanide are in the building tonight, they will be watching Maurako vs. Logan very closely.
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Singles Match
The Lost Stranger (11-5) vs. Chastity Temple (4-2)
~OCW fans filling the arena are still buzzing from the previous match. And what a match it was! But, there’s always room for more! Belvedere, standing inside the ring, clears his throat. The fans go wild~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…
~The Friday the 13th Theme begins to play. The fans stand and watch as OCW veteran, The Lost Stranger, makes his way to the ring. Women boo and heckle. Men watch with a sense of patriarchal pride…that is until the women they are with pinch them on the arm demanding they join in with the jeers. So, they do as they’re told…jeering the man. TLS rolls into the ring and pops to his feet, ready to go~
Belvedere: From Parts Unknown…he is a former OCW Ascension Champion…he is…The Lost Stranger!!!
Smith: The Lost Stranger returning to action for the first time since Block Party.
Hood: Yea, he suffered a tough loss to Lurrr in the Block Party Quarterfinals. It just hasn’t been his year, Smith.
Smith: Nope, it has not.
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~The poppy beat of Britney Spears' "Oops!... I Did it Again" fills the arena as the Technical Virgin known as Chastity Temple makes her way out. She makes the sign of the cross before sashaying toward the ring, hips swinging underneath her short plaid skirt. She pauses to berate any male fans gawking at her as well as any female ones she thinks look slutty, oblivious to the fact she herself is dressed in a skimpy schoolgirl uniform. Chastity slides into the ring and climbs to the second turnbuckle, making the sign of the cross again before sneering at all the sinners in the crowd~
Belvedere: From Topeka, Kansas…standing 5’4 and weighing in at 108lbs…Chastity Temple!!!
~Belvedere exits and the bell sounds~
Smith: And here we go!! Chastity Temple back in singles action!
Hood: It pains me to admit that she’s going to be an OCW Champion at some point.
Smith: Why does that pain you?
Hood: Because she’s from Topeka, for starters.
~TLS looks Chastity up and down upon meeting her in the center of the ring. He towers over the diminutive bringer of light and purity. Chastity looks up at him, confused. TLS tilts his head, trying to get a look at Temple’s posterior. He reaches out and attempts to lift up her skirt. Chastity is appalled. She backs away, making sure there is no CAMERAMAN in an unfortunate position~
Smith: How about we walk OUT of the dark ages, TLS
Hood: Look, if he’s got to wrestle women he may as well get some enjoyment out of the shit situation.
Smith: That is so misogynistic
Hood: So?
~TLS gives Chastity a ‘thumbs down’. Chastity spins around, jumps up and drills TLS in the face with a Savior Sole!!! TLS this the mat! He’s down but not out…simply dazed. Chastity heads for the nearest corner, climbing with great ease. Her skirt flies around, giving people with a certain view more than they bargained for. A loud ovation goes up. Temple looks around, smiling…thinking they are cheering her impressive agility~
Smith: Ah, Chastity
Hood: Clear evidence there’s no IQ test to get into OCW
Smith: Do you HAVE to be so rude?
Hood: Does she HAVE to be on Massacre every week?
~TLS gets to his feet. Chastity leaps off and slams her PURE VAJAYJAY right in his face, taking him down with Slice of Heaven!!! She hooks one of his legs as Scruff slides in with the count~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…CHASTITY TEMPLE!!!!!
Smith: Chastity Temple just routed a former Ascension Champion!
Hood: Ah crap
Smith: I’m telling ya, Hood. This woman is on course to do some great things in OCW.
Hood: You mean that DUCK-less woman?
Smith: Oh, I’m sure we haven’t heard the last from that debacle!
|
|
Singles Match
King Maurako (11-5) vs. Logan (2-1)
~There is a dangerous vibe permeating throughout the OCW Arena. It feels as though shit is about to GO DOWN. A “FUCK THE KING” chant begins. And, no, these people don’t want to fuck King Maurako…they are simply voicing their displeasure. Belvedere, standing inside the ring, clears his throat~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…
~The slow march of a drum roll hits the speakers carrying into "Treachery" by Bleach. Logan slowly steps out onto the entrance ramp to a chorus of boos. He stands at the top of the ramp, slowing looking around at the masses. He's wearing his signature attire, with a black leather sleeveless vest over it. Logan begins walking down the ramp, taking his time, every now and then pointing out to a member of the audience and talking trash to them. Logan hits ringside, climbing the ring steps, and getting inside the ring stepping through the middle rope. Logan climbs the nearest turnbuckle, gazes around at all the fans booing at him, and he raises his arm up into the air. After a moment, Logan finally steps down, taking off his vest and throwing it to the outside, and then paces the ring while the music fades~
Belvedere: From Chesapeake, Virginia…standing 6’4 and weighing in at 250lbs…Logan!!!
Smith: Logan back in action!
Hood: Facing a Hall of Famer this week. If he can get past King Maurako I’d say a title shot is in his very near future.
Smith: Indeed.
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~“King of the World” by War*Hal hits! The crowd instantly BOOOOOOS. They aren’t massive Logan fans…they are just well aware that Mario is a level 11 dick on a 9.5 scale. Why 9.5? Because nobody gets a perfect 10. And, well, I don’t even think that made sense but whatever. Mario emerges…or, well, sort of. He’s being CARRIED to the ring while atop a throne. A crown is on his head…he’s wearing a dark orchid robe and holds a golden scepter. They reach the ring. Mario takes his time rising from his throne and stepping onto the apron. The men holding him up struggle a great deal to keep their balance…this doesn’t seem to concern Mario. He won’t speed up, not for them. He finally stands upon the apron and slowly enters through the rope, holding onto his crown. His rope hangs over the middle rope before sliding into the ring, trailing his entrance~
Belvedere: He is a two time Hall of Famer…ladies and gentlemen, please stand and pay your respects to KING MAURAKO!!
~BOOOOOO goes the crowd. Mario plays it off as though they are cheering him. Belvedere exits the ring~
Smith: The arrogance of this man.
Hood: I’m just disappointed he’s in purple. He rode the red train for SO LONG.
Smith: His change in color is the LEAST of my issues with this man.
~Mario slowly removes his crown, placing it atop the ring post belonging to his corner. Logan heads his way. Scruff gets in between them. Mario waves Logan away, warning Scruff that Logan better not touch him. Mario removes his robe, dropping it into the arms of an OCW employee outside the ring. The same employee asks for the scepter…Mario denies them what they want, preferring to keep the scepter nearby. He places it under the bottom buckle in his corner. He turns around, facing Logan. The bell rings~
Smith: Are we finally ready?
Hood: Yes! Didn’t you hear the bell?
Smith: I just wanted to make sure our precious KING MAURAKO was ready. Because, you know, it’s ALL about him.
Hood: Glad to see you’re coming around!
~King Maurako is focused. He understands that Logan is hungry. He knows there’s far more riding on this match for Logan. The fans begin to boo. Logan, who had been engaging in some sort of epic stare down with Mario, turns toward the rampway. Sir Martino is making his way toward the ring. The fans boo. They chant “THROW HIM OUT!” King Maurako finds the chant to be unruly~
Smith: What’s HE coming down here for?
Hood: Support…Mario is a KING. A king has to have his servants nearby in case he needs their aid.
Smith: Not in pro wrestling.
Hood: Especially in pro wrestling! Logan urinates on people…we can’t have another man’s urine touching KING Maurako. Besides, didn't you see what happened earlier with Matteo? Mario needs all the support he can get!
Smith: The attack on Matteo was unfortunate. No doubt Sir Martino was back there ensuring the coast was clear for King Maurako before he made his entrance. And now...given what we've seen tonight, Sir Martino will do his job to watch his King's back. And, well, I'm ashamed at what I just said.
Hood: Why?
Smith: Because Martino ISN'T a sir and Mario ISN'T a king!
Hood: I'd be careful, Smith. You don't want to face the guillotine for treason!
~Sir Martino stands in King Maurako’s corner. He snares the scepter, holding it close. Scruff leans over the top rope, inspecting the situation. Sir Martino raises his hands in an act of innocence. Scruff backs away. Logan suddenly charges forward, spearing Mario in the gut!! The spear takes both men into the corner!! Mario’s back SLAMS into the buckles! The crowd pops. Logan raises up and blasts Mario with right hands to the jaw! Mario’s head is violently forced to its right after each blow~
Smith: Logan not wasting any time!
Hood: Fucker knows the longer this goes the more it favors Mario.
Smith: And how’s that? I thought Mario had…a heart condition.
Hood: He’s got Sir Martino. You know that’s going to come into play.
Smith: So surprise them by trying to end it quick?
Hood: Seems like the wise move to me.
~Logan throws some high knee strikes, catching Mario right on the chin. Mario looks dazed. Logan backs away. Mario puts his fists up…he stumbles forward before flopping to the mat!! The fans go wild!! Logan leaps into the air, dropping an elbow into the middle of Mario’s back, right atop the spine!! Mario’s head snaps upward due to the pain…Logan snares his chin, he sits on Mario’s back and locks in a Camel Clutch!! Scruff asks Mario if he wants to give it up…Mario refuses to answer. Sir Martino looks on from the apron, concerned~
Smith: Logan’s got Mario on the ropes!
Hood: Technically he’s got him on the mat.
Smith: You know what I mean!
Hood: Sir Martino might need to earn his fucking title...he can’t just stand there and watch his king get beat by a dude with one name!
~Mario begins to rise. The muscles in his body tense up…he’s a massive man. Logan appears to have underestimated the strength within the two time Hall of Famer. Mario gets to his knees. Logan throws a few forearms across Mario’s face, trying to subdue the rising legend. Mario will not relent…he reaches his feet…Logan hops on his back, trying to apply a sleeper. Mario jumps backward and lands on top of Logan, squashing him into the mat. Mario sits up, already beginning to sweat quite profusely. Sir Martino produces a towel…it is not as nice as a FARTHINGTON towel…but it will do the job. Mario heads that way, taking the towel to wipe his face clean. The fans boo~
Smith: Oh come on!
Hood: What? It’s a towel, Smith! He’s wiping his face…calm down.
Smith: This shouldn’t be allowed unless Logan can have a towel.
Hood: The hell does he need a towel for? So that he can clean his urine off the floor?
~Mario hands Sir Martino the towel, telling him to toss it away. Sir Martino does, flinging it into the crowd. Mario doesn’t care about towels as much as Farthington. Mario turns around to find Logan on one knee. He reaches forward, grabbing Logan by the hair. Logan throws a right hand into Mario’s lower abdomen. Mario stumbles backward. Logan pops to his feet and leans in with a headbutt, nailing Mario atop the crown of his head!! Mario spins around, leaning against the top rope. Logan rushes forward, grabbing the top rope with both hands, Mario’s head in the middle and pressing against Mario while pulling up on the rope, choking Maurako!! Sir Martino is NOT pleased! He hops on the apron yelling at Scruff. He jams the scepter into Logan’s chest!! Logan stumbles back because, well, that fucking hurt. He charges at Sir Martino. Sir Martino hops off the apron before Logan can grab him. Mario grabs Logan’s arm and yanks on it as hard as he can!! Logan drops to one knee, clutching at his shoulder. Mario drills him in the face with a knee, pressing his foot into Logan’s wounded shoulder. Logan kicks his feet around, trying to remove Mario’s foot…but he’s unable~
Smith: Logan reportedly dislocated that shoulder earlier in the week when escaping a burning building.
Hood: Guy needs to really re-evaluate how he spends his personal time.
Smith: Mario obviously heard the rumors and is looking to exploit the apparent injury.
Hood: He’s not in the Hall of Fame, twice, by luck.
~Logan reaches up, grabbing Mario’s crotch!!! Mario’s mouth drops open…the pain is severe, as any man would tell ya. This forces Mario off Logan’s shoulder. Logan stands, holding Mario’s balls in his hand. Logan delivers a head butt…then another then another and another and another…Mario legs are gelatinous. Logan lets go…he hits the ropes, bounces off and turns Mario inside out with a huge lariat!!! The crowd pops for the move. Logan rolls Mario over, making the cover~
1!
2!
SHOULDER UP!
Smith: I wasn’t sure what was going to happen there.
Hood: No shit, man. Normally you’d assume a kick out but after having your fucking balls squeezed like that…
Smith: An extremely painful situation
Hood: That’d be enough for me to say ‘fuck this’ and turn my focus toward Cyanide and Paras. Plus, Mario’s got a kingdom to run!
~Mario rolls away from Logan…narrowly escaping his grasp. He falls to the outside. Sir Martino rushes to aid his King. He is furious, yelling into the ring about how Mario is the KING, and he needs to sire as many sons as possible. Logan finds the entire situation comical. Scruff yells ‘ONE!’~
Smith: Oh please…I believe this charade has gone on long enough!
Hood: What charade? He’s the KING, Smith!
Smith: King of WHAT, exactly?
Hood: Of Island Maurako…it’s a big deal…there are many kingdoms and territories and people and lots and lots of other important things that he must oversee.
Smith: Sounds like a bunch of malarkey to me!
~Scruff yells “TWO!” Sir Martino talks with King Maurako…they discuss taking a count out. “It’s not worth it, your majesty” Sir Martino is overheard saying. Scruff yells, “THREE!” Logan is like ‘fuck this shit.’ He throws Scruff down and reaches through the ropes for Mario. Sir Martino greets him with a blast to the head via the scepter!!! Logan falls backward, holding his head in pain!!! The fans BOOO. King Maurako pops to his feet. He rubs his crotch and looks at Sir Martino, informing him that everything is fine. Sir Martino breathes a sigh of relief. King Maurako slides into the ring~
Smith: Hey! C’mon!
Hood: Good to know Mario’s reproductive organs are in tip-top shape…he’s going to make a future queen very happy.
Smith: Queen Carey?
Hood: Ugh, I hope not.
~Logan tries fighting to his feet. We see blood running down his forehead. Mario snares Logan by the hair, yanking him up. Logan throws a wild right, Mario ducks, picks Logan up, spins around and drills him with a Spinebuster!!! Scruff reaches his feet and surveys the situation…he doesn’t see enough to take action, so he just resumes doing his duty. Sir Martino is seen battling something on the outside. We cut to a POV nearest Sir Martino and find him bashing an inflatable crocodile with the scepter. The fans at ringside are enjoying it…the rest of the fans boo. King Maurako picks Logan up and walks toward that side of the ring with Logan in his arms. He looks down at Sir Martino~
Smith: And what is THIS?!
Hood: Logan said he was bringing a crocodile to ringside…glad Sir Martino is out there to handle things.
Smith: That crocodile isn’t real!
Hood: Talk about your close call! King Maurako was on the floor in that area moments earlier…whew, man..we nearly lost our king!
Smith: He’s not MY king
~Mario tosses Logan over his head with a Fallaway Slam!! Logan hits hard, arching his back in pain. King Maurako rises…he looks down to find the inflatable crocodile slain. He nods at Sir Martino…Sir Martino responds by genuflecting and bowing his head. King Maurako goes back after Logan. A bloodied Logan tries rising…he throws a punch at Mario’s gut, like before…but there’s not much muscle behind it. King Maurako bashes Logan in the back of the head with a downward fist. Logan’s body tries to collapse to the mat, but Mario brings him to his feet. He spins Logan around, hooks him and drills him into the mat with Super Mario!!! Mario places his foot on Logan’s chest for the pin. Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
3…NO!
Smith: Logan got his good shoulder up!
Hood: How disrespectful!! Off with his head!
Smith: Let’s not get carried away, Hood.
~Mario, beginning to pour sweat again, rises. His chest heaving as his ridiculously muscled physique works to aid the heart in its constant process. He grabs Logan by the hair, pulling the man to his feet. He promptly locks him in La Omerta!!! He ragdolls Logan, trying to get him to tap or pass out. Sir Martino raises his arms up, on the outside, in triumph. Blood flies off Logan’s face, staining the mat with each thrust to the right and to the left~
Smith: Logan’s in bad shape.
Hood: It’s only a matter of time until –
~"It Doesn't Seem to Matter" by Army of Anyone hits!! The OCW Arena explodes!! Sir Martino and King Maurako turn, staring up the rampway. Mario drops Logan. He leans forward to find PAUL PARAS emerging from behind the curtain. The fans go wild!!! “PARAS! PARAS!” Paul pauses…he begins the finishing portion of taping his fists. King Maurako seems stuck between showing concern and acting brave. Logan is behind Mario, on all fours~
Smith: It’s Paul Paras!! The former two time OCW Champion! He’s no doubt SEETHING over what Mario did to Raleigh!
Hood: What did Mario do to North Carolina? Raleigh is a great town! Did he annex it?
Smith: Raleigh Faulkner!
Hood: Oh yea, that…Whack-O-Meter, baybay!
~Paras begins heading down the ramp. The fans are chanting “FUCK HIM UP, PARAS, FUCK HIM UP!!” Mario orders Sir Martino to stop Paul. Logan suddenly jumps on Mario from behind, locking in a sleeper!!! Mario is caught unaware…Logan’s got the sleeper in deep. Mario stumbles around the ring…Logan tries to find his footing~
Smith: Logan’s got his sleeper locked in!
Hood: SHIT
Smith: If he can land solid footing he’ll be able to hit The Connector!
Hood: SIR MARTINO! GET IN THE RING! PROTECT YOUR KING!
~Sir Martino is too busy getting PUNCHED in the head by Paras! The punch garners a “OOOOHHH!” from the crowd! Sir Martino hits, hard. Paul halts at ringside, eager to see what becomes of this match. Maurako, catching Sir Martino’s demise out of the corner of his eye begins to falter. Logan gains his footing…he flips over and hits THE CONNECTOR!! Mario snaps backward, stunned!! A bloodied Logan leaps on top of Mario…Scruff slides in with the count~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…LOGAN!!!!!
Smith: Logan did it! He overcame a scepter shot to the head to defeat a two time Hall of Famer!
Hood: Oh shut your fucking mouth! You act like Mario had smooth sailing…Paul Paras came out here and FUCKED Mario out of this match!
Smith: Hey, turnabout is fairplay! Mario cost Paras his OCW Title at Block Party!
Hood: I…well…ya know…it’s just…LOUD NOISES!!!
~Logan rolls out of the ring~
Smith: Uh oh…here we go
Hood: Shit
Smith: Paul isn’t going to wait for NSFW…he wants to make Mario pay…tonight!
~Mario, instinctively, rolls out of the ring, finding the side opposite of Logan. Paras, eager to give Mario a receipt, heads in the direction of Mario’s exit. The fans start to stir as Silver Cyanide jumps the railing and hits Paras in the back of the head with a forearm shot, sending him to the ground. Cyanide climbs on top of Paras and starts landing a stiff right after stiff right.~
Smith: Silver Cyanide just came from out of nowhere and is hammering Paul Paras!
~Mario retrieves a thick brown rope from under the ring, that’s tied into a noose on one end and also the Ultimate 2x4, which is a 2x4 with an iron rod in it and wrapped in fencing from a wrestling match 18 years ago. Mario tosses the rope and 2x4 into the ring and rolls back inside~
Smith: What is Mario going to do with that stuff?!
Hood: He’s going to end Paras and Cyanide, that would be my guess. NSFW comes early!
~Martino, recovered from the blow he took earlier, spots the ruckus taking place near ringside. He focuses on Cyanide as he lifts Cyanide off of Paras and then rams Cyanide’s back into the ring apron. Cyanide winces in pain as Mario tosses the noose over the top rope. Martino quickly hooks the noose around Cyanide’s neck and Mario begins pulling on the rope which lifts Cyanide off the ground. Martino then drops to the ground and pulls down on Cyanide’s legs as Mario continues to pull up and back on the rope turning Cyanide into a human tug of war~
Smith: OH MY GOD HE’S GOING TO KILL CYANIDE RIGHT HERE TONIGHT!
Hood: This is amazing!
Smith: SOMEONE GET DOWN HERE AND STOP THIS!
Hood: Nobody wants to come down here and get a taste of the King’s Royal Court. He’s about to kill his second guy in three weeks.
~Finally, the makeshift hanging comes to an abrupt stop when Paras rolls into the ring and hits Mario with a running knee causing Mario to drop the rope and Cyanide to collapse on top of Martino on the outside~
Smith: Thank goodness for Paul Paras!
Hood: Dammit! He always ruins the good stuff.
~Mario starts to get up but Paras hooks him from behind and hits a German Suplex. Paras doesn’t let go as he pivots his hips and stands back up, still holding on to Mario. Paras lets go of the waist and hooks both of Mario’s arms and then hits a Tiger Suplex. Paras again gets back up, still holding on to Mario, but his next thought is interrupted as Martino smashes his Roman Soldier-esque knight helmet into the back of Paul Paras~
Hood: There we go! Having his REAL brother out there is starting to pay off for Mario.
Smith: What another sickening attack from behind.
Hood: What did you want him to do? Politely ask him to stop? I think these three guys are way beyond that.
~Martino begins to lay in the kicks on Paras as Mario recovers and reaches for the Ultimate 2x4. Mario signals for Martino to pick up Paras and he does, holding Paul’s arms behind him so that he can’t attack. Mario then takes the Ultimate 2x4 and smashes it into Paul’s gut sending him down to the canvas holding his stomach in pain~
Smith: C’mon, enough is enough. We have Cyanide out here on the outside, who was almost hung again here tonight; and now it is a two on one in the ring, AND Mario’s using weapons!
Hood: This might be the greatest night in our sports history Smith!
~Mario stands over Paras, who is laying on his back holding his stomach, and Mario drives the Ultimate 2x4 down into the stomach again, causing Paras to roll onto his stomach to protect it. Mario sits down on Paul’s lower back and takes the fenced end of the 2x4 and places it right across Paul’s forehead and pulls back in a makeshift crossface. The camera zooms in tight on the face of Paras as Mario continues to pull back and blood starts to trickle down Paul’s face. Mario, incensed, screams at Paras~
King Mario: You’re not my brother! You’re nothing to me! NOTHING!
~Mario stops the attack and stands up as the fans boo heavily. Sir Martino joins his King as they raise their hands, and the Ultimate 2x4, into the air. Mario motions to Martino that it is time to exit and the duo do, leaving nothing but a trail of carnage behind them~
Smith: This man is sick…he is SICK
Hood: Yes, I’m glad you agree that Paras is sick for beating up Mario’s dad. That beating is exactly what he deserved.
Smith: That is NOT what I’m talking about.
Hood: Never trust them YOGA freaks, Smith.
Smith: Every time it appears as though Paul Paras has avenged a previous Mario attack…Mario immediately one ups him. BUT…Paul AND Cyanide will get their chance for ULTIMATE revenge at Not Safe For Work.
Hood: Or their FINAL defeat. Mario NEVER loses against his friends.
Smith: Well, as much as I hate to admit it…there is truth in that statement.
~We cut backstage. Marcus Welsh sits in his office, leaning back in his chair. He’s studying something with great consternation…some might even say there’s a hint of disdain in his studious gaze. He sighs~
Marcus Welsh: Well, shit. I guess it’s really come to this. Team ATARI needs an opponent and…well, if you’re all I’ve got…
~The camera pans to reveal THE MINISTRY OF PARKNESS. Ubertaker, JAM G, Tony the Spider, and others are all eager to receive what they desire~
Nathan Dravers: Whoa whoa whoa!
~The crowd goes wild when they see Nathan and Jonathan Dravers appear on screen. A ‘DRAVERS’ chant sounds out within the OCW Arena. The Dravers Boys pause and listen…they smile~
Jonathan Dravers: You hear that, brother?
Nathan Dravers: I sure do.
~Nathan and Jonathan look at the Ministry of Parkness. Ubertaker smiles before displaying his ominous face~
Nathan Dravers: No offense, guys…but we EARNED a tag title shot before Block Party.
Jonathan Dravers: That’s right. We’ve been patiently awaiting our shot. How about you give it to us at Not Safe For Work?
Marcus Welsh: Hmm…
~Welsh eyes The Dravers. He eyes the Ministry of Parkness. Ubertaker struggles between trying to look ominous and smiling. JAM G’s mask is misshapen and a few sizes too big. Tony is chuckling while eating Cheetos. Welsh scowls. He turns his focus back to the Brothers Dravers~
Marcus Welsh: You’re on! At Not Safe For Work it’ll be Team ATARI defending their OCW Tag Team Titles against The Dravers Boys!
~Nathan and Jonathan high five, exiting Welsh’s office. The Ministry of Parkness lower their heads..each member goes ‘aww’~
Marcus Welsh: Sorry guys…better luck next time. Now go LARP somewhere else.
~The crestfallen group exits the GM’s office. We cut back to ringside~
Smith: What a match!
Hood: It’ll be something
Smith: The Dravers are former tag team champions. They lost their belts to The Aptitude and never received a chance to win them back.
Hood: Haha, CLASSIC OCW, BABY
Smith: This should be…hey…wait a minute…what is LOGAN still doing in the ring?
~We cut to Logan in the ring. He’s asking for a mic, clearly ready to celebrate his victory over Mario now that the commotion from earlier has been cleared. Suddenly "The Only One" by Evanescence hits and immediately Logan looks nervously toward the entrance ramp, contemplating his route of escape. He definitely didn't want to be anywhere near Sarah Twilight right now. ~
Hood: I told you what we saw earlier was a message to Logan!
Smith: Well it looks like he's about to get his, and unlike what we saw earlier ... he deserves it!
~Logan waits for Sarah to emerge from the back. The crowd starts to bustle and Logan turns around just in time to be SMACKED in the face with a steel chair courtesy of The Mistress of Mischief!~
Hood: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and even hell doesn't want Sarah Twilight!
Smith: This is a game that Logan began and it looks like Sarah is going to finish. He wanted to run, but she got the jump on him.
~Sarah discards the chair and drops down, seated over Logan as she rains down a fury of punches to his face. Blow after blow after blow she hammers him with, completely possessed by rage. After about a good thirty seconds of pummeling his face, Sarah finally stands up, circling him as she decided what to do next.~
Hood: Oh boy, I don't like that look in her eyes!
Smith: If what she did to Jack Puffer is anything to go by, she's only just getting started.
~ Sarah stomps down on Logan methodically as she screams at him furiously.~
Sarah Twilight: You think this is over?! She might not blame you but I sure as shit do!
~Sarah sends more vicious stomps down into Logan. The referee finally tries to intervene. Sarah picks up the steel chair and motions it at him threateningly, backing him off. ~
Smith: It would be wise of our official to step away from this one. I don't know what she's capable of in the frame of mind she's in.
Hood: I'm going to go out on a limb here and say, murder. That's what she's capable of.
~The official does back out of the situation and while holding the chair, Sarah WALLOPS Logan with it once more just for the hell of it before again disscarding the weapon. She hauls Logan to his feet and hurdles him out of the ring much in the same way she had done earlier to Jack Puffer.~
Hood: We know where this is going.
Smith: No place good, if your name is Logan. That's for sure.
Hood: Better line up those paramedics, looks like your gonna have your work cut out tonight.
~Sarah follows out after Logan quickly, and just as she had earlier, she locks his head under her arm and begins walking him back to the ring steps. Logan had self preservation in mind as he knew exactly what was coming and manages to wiggle free from the side headlock. He makes a mad dsah for the barricade and dives himself over it, trying desperately to escape. ~
Hood: Run! Logan run!
Smith: Sarah Twilight in hot pursuit into the crowd! Logan high tailing it out of here like a coward!
~Sarah gives chase, with Logan trying to put as many obstacles between himself and this pissed off redhead as he possibly could. The chase continues into the back. Logan pulling down anything he could get his hand on to keep distance. Sarah is relentless in her pursuit shoving anyone and anything out of her way. Her eyes fixated on Logan. The face of treachery makes it to the parking lot where he jumps into the back of a waiting car and speeds off with reckless abandon.~
Smith: Logan peeled out of here like a bat out of hell. He knew he needed to watch his backside and had a car waiting. He's lucky to have made it out of here.
Hood: Genius! He had his escape route and got away just in the nick of time.
Smith: That's tonight. You and I both know this isn't over. Logan is going to have to look over his shoulder for a very long time.
Hood: This would be the perfect time for him to locate some crocodiles...for protection.
Smith: We don't need any dang crocodiles in or around the arena!
Hood: You always like to suck the fun out of everything, don't you?
Smith: Well folks...next up we've got two of OCW's most exciting in ring talents facing one another. Former Paradigm Champion Ed Houston is set to face a determined Duce Jones. That match is next!
|
|
Singles Match
Ed Houston (11-5) vs. Duce Jones (3-2)
~A “HOUSTON” chant fills the arena. These OCW fans are ready for THE ROCKETMAN to blastoff and get things back on track. Belvedere, inside the ring, clears his throat to a strong ovation~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…
~The fans are buzzing, but soon turn to a mixed reaction as a voice begins to speak through the PA system.~
“And the whole world loves it when you sing the blues… Da. Da.. Da. Da. Da.. Da….”
~The opening sounds of “Godspeed” by Don Trip begins to play as the lights inside of the arena turn a crimson hue color, soon the stage filling up with smoke. After about a minute of waiting, Duce Jones slowly emerge through the fog, mixed emotions coming from the crowd~
Belvedere: Making his way to the ring, weighing in at two hundred fifteen pounds! From Memphis, Tennessee… DUCE JONES!
~Slowly making his way towards the ring, Jones ignores the cheers and jeers that the fans are giving, as he soon makes it to ringside. Climbing onto the apron, Duce goes to the corner to his right, climbing onto the second rope and peering out into the crowd. Finally done, he jumps over the top rope, landing inside of the ring and removes his hooded vest as he prepares for action~
Smith: And here’s DUCE!
Hood: Big match for Duce Jones.
Smith: Indeed…he’s won two matches in a row…three would be considered a streak.
Hood: Yep…a win over Ed would mean Duce is a legit contender.
Belvedere: And, his 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 OCW Craze Champion and a former OCW Paradigm Champion…he is…Ed Houston!!
Smith: And there’s Ed Houston!
Hood: Dude’s won a lot of titles here in OCW. The roster has evolved greatly since he joined…can he keep up?
Smith: I think he can!
~The bell rings. Belvedere exits~
Smith: Duce Jones against Ed Houston!
Hood: This should be fun, right? Or am I buying into the HYPE?
Smith: Oh no, this should be fun…two very exciting wrestlers with a lot to gain from a win here tonight!
~Houston claps his hands, marching around the ring, riling the fans up. Duce follows suit…not the clapping, but he walks around, maintaining the same amount of distance from Ed. The fans clap along, chanting ‘HOUSTON! HOUSTON!’~
Smith: Houston, a veteran of OCW, is facing a man who is no stranger to pro wrestling’s main event scene. He’s faced and defeated some of the very best in this industry.
Hood: Yea, but in other places. This is OCW, Smith. I mean, for fuck’s sake…we SUE Elton John!
Smith: Well, Ed is doing that…not OCW.
Hood: This is the first time in my life I’ve ever respected Ed Houston
~Houston turns toward Duce. Duce motions for Ed to ‘come on.’ Ed does, and the two men lock up in the center of the ring. Neither backs down. Duce quickly snares a side headlock. Houston throws a couple of quick jabs into Duce’s ribs. He shoots Duce off. Duce hits the ropes. Ed leapfrogs. Duce hits the ropes…Ed drops to the mat. Duce stops and drops an elbow…Ed rolls out of the way!! Duce’s elbow spikes into the mat. Ed nips up and performs a standing moonsault. Duce gets his knees up!! Ed’s abdomen slams into Duce’s knees!! He rolls around, clutching his stomach while Duce rubs his elbow~
Smith: Both men with a misfire early on.
Hood: They are quick…they are fast…and they are, apparently, stupid.
Smith: That’s way too harsh. Ed was a NASA man, and Duce is a second generation wrestler.
Hood: A NASA flunkie and the son of a guy who couldn’t even spell CRAZY correctly!
~Duce is on his feet first. Ed gets to one knee, his left arm holding his stomach. Duce runs forward, throwing a knee. Ed rolls forward, underneath Duce’s strike. Duce stumbles into a corner, he turns around and charges forward…Ed performs a back flip, placing both feet around Duce’s head. He spins around and tosses Duce into the ropes with headscissors!! Duce hits the middle rope, hard…he’s draped across it. Ed pops back to his feet…he hits the ropes, bounces off and leaps through the air, crashing down on Duce’s back, shoving his throat into the middle rope!! Duce rolls around the ring, holding his throat in pain. Ed throws his arm up, into the air while standing outside the ring to a huge ovation~
Smith: Ed looking like the quicker man so far.
Hood: You think Elton is watching?
Smith: Elton?
Hood: John, Elton John.
Smith: I would be very surprised if he were, Hood.
Hood: I dunno…he may be eyeing Houston, looking for some more ideas he can steal.
~Ed, back facing the ring, jumps flat-footed, onto the apron. The fans give him a round of applause, impressed by his athleticism. Duce, on one knee, also sees the feat of agility. He rises to his feet, holding his throat. He runs forward and clobbers Ed in the back with a forearm!! Ed flies off the apron landing chest first into the barricade!! The fans at ringside back away. Scruff looks out, over the top rope and begins a count. “ONE!”~
Smith: Duce was not impressed.
Hood: OR, he was so impressed that he had to hurt Ed…kinda like Elton.
Smith: Enough about Elton John!
~Scruff yells “TWO!” Duce hops through the ropes, showing a willingness to win this thing in the ring. He grabs Ed by the hair and tosses him back into the ring. Ed rolls toward the middle of the canvas before struggling to his feet. Duce hops onto the apron and jumps up…he springboards off the top rope with a flying forearm. Houston ducks! Duce tries to land on his feet but jams his knee up a bit. He stumbles into the ropes, grabbing the top rope for support. Ed pops back to his feet, holding his chest…his breathing is slightly labored. He hits the ropes and bounces off…he dives at Duce’s vulnerable knee…but Duce, with the help of the ropes, leaps up…Ed dives face first under the bottom rope…he slides to the outside onto his hands…he manages to perform a handstand to keep from slamming face first into the ground. Duce hurries through the ropes...he jumps off the apron, grabs one of Ed’s feet and shoves down, spiking Ed’s head off the outside floor!! Ed’s body goes stiff before falling over, onto the ground. Duce walks around the ring, working the kinks out of his knee. The fans at ringside peer over the barricade, concerned over Ed’s health~
Smith: Brutal spike job by Duce! Ed’s neck could be injured.
Hood: Does Duce work for Elton?
Smith: I don’t think he does, Hood.
Hood: Is it because he’s British? Are you trying to say Duce hates brits?
Smith: NO
~Ed’s on his back, squeezing both hands into fists, making sure the feeling remains. Duce runs forward and stomps Ed right in the chest!! Ed gasps for air. Duce snares Ed by the hair and rips him to his feet, slinging him into the steps. Ed hits hard!! He flips over the steps, landing on his back. Duce leaps onto the steps, flatfooted, finding the upper tier. He looks down at Ed…he jumps off with a double foot stomp. Ed rolls out of the way!! Duce’s feet hit the floor hard, jarring both knees!! He staggers forward, reaching out and grabbing the announce table. Smith and Hood lean back. Ed sits up on the bottom step, rubbing his neck. Duce spots Ed via his peripheral. He throws a superkick. Ed dives forward, ducking the kick. Duce stumbles in front of the steps. Ed pops to his feet and leaps into the air with a dropkick!! It sends Duce falling backward onto the steps!! He yells out, reaching for his back, draped across the steps!! The fans pop for Ed, who is seated up against a ninety-degree corner where two barricades meet perpendicularly~
Smith: Duce is having trouble keeping up with Ed’s quickness.
Hood: That’s okay…one good strike from Duce and Ed will go down.
Smith: You know his neck has to be stinging.
Hood: Yep, he got spiked right on top of his fucking head.
~Duce sits up, arching his back. Ed rises. He delivers a cross right hand across Duce’s face. He grabs Duce by the head, hooking him for a suplex. He lifts Duce…but drops him…Ed reaches for his neck, stumbling into the barricade. Duce, on his feet, remains stunned for a moment. He snaps to and charges at Ed with a lariat. Ed ducks…Duce runs into the barricade, his momentum nearly sending him into the crowd. Scruff can take no more…he yells out “ONE!” Ed clobbers Duce in the back with a forearm. Scruff yells “TWO!” Ed pulls Duce back to the professional side of the barricade and tosses him into the ring. Scruff yells “THREE!” Ed hustles up the steps and climbs to the top rope, looking down at Duce, who is on his back. The fans rise~
Smith: Ed is looking to hit Blastoff!
Hood: Man, so much for DUCE
Smith: Well, Ed hasn’t hit it yet.
Hood: Duce for the win!
Smith: However, Ed has a great chance of ending it here!
Hood: Do you just say whatever contradicts my previous statement?
~Ed takes off with his patented Shooting Star Press! Duce rolls out of the way!! Ed lands on his feet. Duce pops up and hits a neck breaker on Ed!! Ed clutches his neck instantly. Duce rolls over, reaching for Ed. He grabs Ed by the head and hooks a cravat! He’s got it locked deep!!! He’s on one knee, wrenching Ed’s neck. Ed yells out in pain. Scruff checks the situation…Houston isn’t close to giving up~
Smith: It felt a bit premature.
Hood: That’s Ed…he’s gonna take his shots.
Smith: Indeed…and now Duce is working on Ed’s neck. The neck he jammed early on in this match.
~Duce pulls Ed to his feet…Ed’s bent over, at the waist, sideways. He’s grunting and wincing…Duce has his neck locked and torqued. It’s a position that would induce discomfort for anyone, let alone a guy suffering from neck trauma. Duce yells out, lifting Ed up and dropping him over with a Cravat Suplex!!! Houston hits hard, holding his neck in pain. Duce pops to his feet, staring down at the incapacitated body for Ed Houston~
Smith: I don’t know how much longer Ed can hang in there. That neck is taking on some serious damage. One more move…one more blow…and it could break.
Hood: A broken neck sucks…from what I hear.
Smith: A fact I think would be obvious to most people.
~Duce stomps on the side of Ed’s neck!! Ed’s arms freeze due to the pain shooting through them. His eyes widen…a shock of pain wrecks his nervous system. Duce yanks him off the mat and grabs both of Ed’s arms. He drills him with a ripcord headbutt. Houston appears out on his feet. Duce looks to finish him off with a knee…but Ed grabs his leg, spins him around and applies Countdown (Ankle Lock)!!! Duce yells out in pain!! He reaches for the ropes…he’s pretty close, just needs to pull Ed a few feet further. He claws and pulls…claws and pulls…he reaches out…his finger tips touch the bottom rope…but Houston drags him back into the center of the ring!! The crowd goes wild!! Duce is in agony!! Scruff bends down, asking Duce if he wants to give it up. Duce is doing his best to stave off submitting~
Smith: Ed’s working that ankle over severely!
Hood: Yep…and, by proxy, that knee is taking a beating. Duce has had some knee issues as of late.
Smith: Indeed…good call, Hood!
Hood: That’s why I make the big bucks!
~Houston turns and twists, trying to encourage a tap or force a snap. He removes one hand, reaching for his neck…the strain he’s using to try and submit Duce is ailing his aching neck. Duce senses that the grip has been weakened and he’s able to get a foot free…he throws an up-mule-kick, nailing Ed in the chin!!! Houston is stunned. Duce rolls forward, he pops to his feet…he hits the ropes, leaps into the air and hits Ed in the face with Krayzed Knee!!! Houston flips backward, landing front first. Duce rolls him over and makes the cover…Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…DUCE JONES!!!!!
Smith: Aw man! Duce pulls it out after Ed’s neck forced him to let up on his ankle lock.
Hood: Yep, Duce spiked Ed on his head early in the match and that turned out to be the difference at the end.
Smith: Indeed…great effort from both men. I’d like to see a rematch!
Hood: Yea man, that’d be pretty sweet.
~We cut back AGAIN to Welsh’s office. Greg is seated in the corner, reading a magazine. It appears to be some sort of fashion catalog. Welsh seems impressed with what he’s just witnessed~
Marcus Welsh: Tell you what, Greg. Duce Jones is a player.
Greg: Oh really? Who’s he playing?
Marcus Welsh: Nothing like that…just saying that he’s got a shot to be big here in OCW. That win over Ed Houston was impressive.
Greg: Ed Houston? Is that the kid suing Elton?
Marcus Welsh: Forget about Elton for a second, Greg. I know you’ve seen the movie three times already but whatever…life moves on. What I want to talk about is Duce Jones and The Big Bifford. Bifford wants to face Duce for a third time. Duce is riding a nice win streak here in OCW. So I’m thinking those two square off at Not Safe For Work…winner gets…winner gets…a Paradigm Title Shot!
Greg: Ugh, The Big Bifford? He disgusts me.
Marcus Welsh: Well, he’s not everyone’s cup of tea but he’s marketable.
~We cut back to ringside~
Smith: Duce Jones against Bifford at Not Safe For Work!! Winner gets a Paradigm Title shot!
Hood: Bifford OUT of the OCW Title picture. This upsets me.
Smith: Hey, look at the brightside…he’s never won the Paradigm Title…another notch on his…rather rotund belt.
Hood: You really know how to lift a guy’s spirits.
Smith: I do what I can. Speaking of the Paradigm Championship…the former Paradigm Champion, Kitty Petrova is in action, next!
|
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Singles Match
Kitty Petrova (7-1) vs. Myst (5-3)
~It’s drawing late in the evening…only a few matches remain. The prestige…the main event is drawing near…the culmination of one of the most violently silent feuds in the history of our sport. A highly partisan competitor awaits behind the curtain, ready to…ya know, compete. But, before she can come out, Belvedere must clear his throat~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…
~The sound of hissing steam pipes through the speakers as a slow rolling wave of smoke begins to creep out from the ramp like the tide rolling in from the ocean. The arena feigns darkness with a dim blue glow emitting from the lights. Out walks a small hunched over man in white robes carrying a small dirty silver lantern in which a similar blue light is shining. He paves a way through the thickening fog and stops atop the entrance ramp and turns back with the lantern ahead of him. Out to the ramp walks a giant 6'11" being with long silver hair flowing around a white mask lined with 3 diagonal black stripes that wraps around the contours of his face. His long white wrestling singlet has a single black strap that cuts across his bulking upper body. As soon as the monster appears, the small monk turns back towards the ring and slowly leads Myst towards the ring. As they get closer, smoke begins to pour out from under the ring and engulf the apron and stairs. The monk stops ringside and sweeps the lantern in a motion across his body from Myst towards the ring. Myst, who has stopped a few feet from ringside walks near and begins his slow ascent up the stairs towards the turnbuckle. He easily steps over the top rope and enters the ring that is slowly attracting a shallow covering of smoke. He looks over to the monk who extinguishes the dim blue light from the lantern as the lights raise back to normal~
Belvedere: From The Congo…standing 6’11 and weighing in at 345lbs…Myst!!!
Smith: Myst returning to the ring. This will likely be his biggest test to date.
Hood: Yea man Kitty’s hit that ‘angry’ stage of grief. She’s about to fuck some shit up.
Smith: Losing the Paradigm Title to Hayley stung. Hayley’s actions immediately following her win acted as a pound of salt poured into Kitty’s semi-fresh wound.
Hood: Dirty salt, too. Not that nice, Himalayan salt.
Smith: Uh, sure.
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~The lights fade to blood red, and the screen comes to life with heavy static, showing a silhouette of a woman standing in a barren warehouse, smoking a cigarette. The haunting lyrics of "I Am The Fire" by Halestorm fade up in volume over the sound system, almost drowned out by booing. The scenes flow between shots of Kitty’s life outside the ring, to match footage revealing a dark-haired woman beating the holy hell out of both men and women. The veteran herself steps out at the top of the ramp alone, her head bowed with her hair hanging in her face. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she strides purposefully towards the ring, pausing every few feet to glare haughtily at the fans that have the audacity to try and reach out to touch her. She slides under the bottom rope, languidly doing a very cat-like yoga stretch while the crowd showers her with hatred. She seems utterly oblivious although there’s definite malice in her eyes as she pulls her hair back into a messy ponytail, securing it with a plain black elastic band~
Belvedere: From Napa Valley, California…standing 5’6 ½ and weighing in at 125lbs…she is a former OCW Paradigm Champion…Kitty Petrova!!!
~Belvedere exits. The bell sounds~
Smith: Petrova back in action!
Hood: Yea man she taught LeClair a lesson the week after her tough loss to Hayley. This week she faces a mountain of a man…MYST…WITH A Y.
Smith: Myst hails from the Congo. He’s a very unique individual…a very dangerous man. This challenge will be unlike any challenge Kitty has faced thus far in her OCW career.
~Myst marches at Kitty, trying to impose his giant stature. Kitty is having none of it. She fires up toward Myst, nailing him with kicks to the knee. Myst tries to grab Kitty, but he can’t. Her kicks are doing serious damage to his knee. His left leg gives out, dropping him down to Kitty’s size. Kitty reaches into the eye socket of his mask and claws away. Myst yells out in pain~
Smith: Oh my gosh!
Hood: Holy shit…Kitty’s losing her damn mind!
Smith: She took that loss to Hayley hard…I think Hayley’s implosion only made things worse.
Hood: We are witnessing Kitty’s descent into madness.
~Myst’s screams increase in pitch…he’s in excruciating pain. Scruff finally pulls Kitty’s hand away. We see it stained with blood. She takes a step back and DRILLS Myst in the head with the Bitch Kick!!! Myst rises…stumbling around…he’s in bad shape…a true wounded animal~
Smith: She may have blinded Myst!
Hood: She’s not fucking around, Smith.
Smith: No, she is not.
~Kitty hits the ropes…springboards off, turns around, grabs Myst by the head and drops him with Hell Hath No Fury (720 DDT)!!! Myst’s head is DRIVEN into the mat. Kitty makes the cover~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…KITTY PETROVA!!!!!
~Kitty rolls out of the ring and heads for the time keeper. She snares a chair, sliding back into the ring~
Smith: Oh come on..it’s over, Kitty!
Hood: She took his eye…now she wants to steal his soul!
~Kitty slams the chair into Myst! He rolls onto his front, hiding the more vulnerable part of his body. Kitty hits him again and again and again and again and again and again…she won’t stop!! Scruff tries to pull her away, but she throws him down. OCW officials hit the ring, realizing Myst is going to die if something isn’t done. They are finally able to pull and irate Kitty away from Myst~
Smith: She’s LOST her mind!
Hood: She’s seeing RED, Smith. She’s out for blood.
Smith: A very SAVAGE Kitty Petrova.
~Myst is being tended to as Kitty is forced out of the ring and up the ramp~
Smith: Kitty was dangerous before, Hood. But this new incarnation…this form of Petrova…I wouldn’t want to face her.
Hood: She’s about to go on a tear, Smith. Fucking people up left and right.
Smith: It certainly seems that way.
~As Smith and Hood continue to debate Kitty's sanity the feed begins to cut out and goes to static~
~As the static begins to clear up we see an individual in a black suit and a dark red tie sitting behind a table in a white colored room. The person is also wearing a white, expressionless mask with the eyes blackened out to conceal their identity. The masked individual turns to his left and reaches for some…..playing cards of some type~
~As the person begins to flip them over we start to see images on the cards……~
The Dollar Sign.
A Crown.
Eye Patch.
A Knife with a Tongue.
And lastly……
NSFW.
~The image begins to cut in and out and the masked individual disappears and we go back to Hood and Smith getting ready for the next match unaware their feed had been hijacked~
Smith: Yep, she's definitely got some issues that need to be worked out...preferably inside a doctor's office and NOT inside a wrestling ring.
Hood: Hey man, if a wrestling ring ISN'T designated therapy, then I don't know what is!
~We return ringside where the crowd is buzzing when “Witch Doctor” by De Staat suddenly begins blaring out in the arena. The lights die as the stage is illuminated in red and blue flashing lights. Slithering out onto stage is the shark toothed Prime Minister of Maxopotamia, Maximillian Kael fully garbed in his wrestling gear and sporting a cheshire grin. In his left hand he is carrying a customized steel chair with his face painted on it which he holds up as the crowd sets down a steady series of boos~
Smith: What’s he doing here? He’s not scheduled to show up tonight!
Hood: Since when did that stop ANYONE from appearing?
~Posing on the stage for a few moments Max slowly saunters toward the ring holding his customized chair over his head to ensure everyone Key West can see it. As he reaches the ring he quickly walks up the steps where he wipes his feet off on the side of the apron before slipping between the ropes into the ring. He immediately moves to the center of the ring and holds his chair up once again, his mouth wide as his silvery sharpened teeth shimmer in the flashing of camera phones~
Smith: Ugh, those teeth.
Hood: Langston’s kryptonite!
~The music dies down as Max opens the chair up and takes a seat in the ring unhooking a customized Maxopotamian microphone from his belt, the house lights coming up. The steady sound of people booing fills the void left behind by the music however Max doesn’t appear to notice or acknowledge them~
Max Kael: In case you don’t know who I am.. My name is Maximillian Kael, the Prime Minister of Maxopotamia, the Lord of Kaelsalvania, the Warrant Officer of WORTHY, the Tweeter of Storms and… I think we can add one more title in there, right folks?
~He lazily crosses his legs, leaning back in the steel chair with a thoughtful expression on his face as though deep in thought. Though he might be attempting to enjoy a quiet moment the fans begin an “Asshole” chant that can likely be heard all across Key West. After a few seconds Max lifts the mic back up toward his chapped, smiling lips~
Max Kael: How about Number One Contender for the SAVAGE CHAMPIONSHIP?! Yeah, I like the sound of that. I mean, let’s look at my resume right now shall we? I defeated the former Number One Contender in the form of the geriatric titan, EHUD of MOAB in a match that started him down the path of retirement. I destroyed Vincent Langston when he nearly.. NEARLY lost to Ehud himself..
~More booing breaks up any chants attempting to form as Max runs down Langston and Ehud in equal parts~
Max Kael: Is there ANYONE more worthy than Maximillian Kael? I have YET to be pinned in singles action, I have yet to see myself lose in tag team action.. The One.. ONE pin fall on my record was afforded to me by Vincent Langston at Block Party and even then he just BARELY managed to score the pinfall after I fought off three men. There is no one, not here in OCW, not in HOW not ANYWHERE in this business more deserving… and so, as Max Kael, First of My Name, I declare myself NUMBER O-
~Max is suddenly cut off as Marcus Welsh appears on the stage shaking his head, a micrphone in hand as the crowd suddenly lets out a loud pop.~
Marcus Welsh: Woah, woah, woah.. Listen, I’m not sure how they do things over in your other federation but here in OCW we don’t allow the talent to decide when they get to be Number One Contenders for any championship. Here, in OCW you EARN your title shots.
~The crowd lets loose another loud pop as Max’s face flushes red, snapping out of his relaxed stance in the ring as he rises to his feet while kicking his chair away~
Max Kael: Don’t give me that shit, ZeroCW is LUCKY to have a man of my talent and skill representing this product! In the words of the late PerZag nobody is more WORTHY!
~The GM holds a hand up stopping Max’s rant as the audience cheers once again happy to see someone shutting Max up finally~
Marcus Welsh: Listen, Mr. Kael, as I said it doesn’t matter if you think you’re worthy or if you think anyone else is unworthy enough, here, in OCW we earn it.. So.. if you want to be the Number One Contender for the Savage Championship.. Get ready to earn it against my hand picked opponent who will test your skill, guile and savage nature..
~In the ring Max Kael snarls and tosses his microphone away, clearly prepared to prove himself though wearing an annoyed, furious expression. The crowd is buzzing as they prepare to see who Marcus has decided to force Max to face..~
Marcus Welsh: You’ll be facing…. SHOOTAH!!
~The fans immediately start to boo as they realize that Marcus is basically giving the Number One Contendership to Max as Gruff and Scruff appear on stage more or less shoving a terrified Shootah toward the ring. In the ring Max’s snarl turns into another wide grin as he slowly licks his lips like a cat who just realized he cornered a mouse. Shootah appears to try to run backup the stage only to be stopped by the two referees who keep herding him closer to the ring~
Smith: Shootah? Not only is he the most inept wrestler in OCW history…but he lost to The Proctologist earlier this evening!
Hood: He didn’t just LOSE, Smith. He also…
Smith: DON’T REMIND ME
~Shootah holds his apparently sore as, standing in front of the ring thanks to the enforcement of Gruff and Scruff. Rolling in Shootah immediately appears to hide in the corner while Max slowly saunters toward his opponent with a cruely joyful expression on his face. Gruff signals for the bell as we begin the impromptu match..~
Smith: This makes me sick…just give the man the darn shot!
Hood: No…he has to EARN it, Smith!
~“I Am Legend” suddenly blares out causing Max to immediately back away, his single blue eye scanning the area around the ring as his expression is replaced with outrage. The crowd begins to chant Langston’s name as The Legend bursts out onto the stage bypassing any pageantry. He drops the Savage Championship on his way toward the stage while wrapping his hand in a heavy chain hanging from his neck, his eyes fixed on Max.~
Smith: I’ve never been more happy to see the Savage Champion!
Hood: Oh get him out of here! How dare he interrupt a number one contenders match!
~Back in the ring Max turns around and grabs his custom steel chair, lifting it up and bellowing toward Langston as the fans roar with cheers. Langston charges the ring, sliding beneath the bottom rope before rising to his feet staring down Prime Minister of Maxopotamia. As “I Am Legend” dies out arena is going nuts, the two men appearing to exchange tense words, Langston with his chain wrapped hands lifted while Max as his chair raised, ready to attack. ~
CRACK!!
~Langston turns suddenly and strikes an unsuspecting Shootah right between the eyes laying the man out cold as the fans suddenly as confused as Max Kael as to what is happening. Vincent grabs the limp body of Shootah and throws him toward Max..~
Smith: WHAT?!
Hood: It’s official…he’s got CTE
Smith: After that shot, I wouldn’t doubt it.
Hood: I’m talking about Langston. He obviously has no idea what’s going on
CRACK!!
~Swinging for the outfield Max levels Shootah whose head has begun to run read with crimson blood from the two strikes he’s taken in the last minute, his body crumbling to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Langston drops and rolls back out of the ring heading up the ramp as Max glares at the Legend then back down at Shootah. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth Max tosses the chair away and covers Shootah as Gruff drops to make the pinfall..~
1…
2….
3!!
~Max scores the pinfall and immediately stands back up, his arms held high in victory though he isn’t wearing a smile anymore~
Marcus Welsh: Ladies and Gentlemen the winner.. And NEW SAVAGE CHAMPIONSHIP NUMBER ONE CONTENDER…. MAXIMILLIAN KAEL!!!!!
~As “Witch Doctor” begins to blare out over the P.A. system Langston returns to the stage, picking up the Savage Championship, holding it over his head as he stares down his new Number One Contender in the ring. In the ring Max picks up his chair and points to the blood stain in the center of it while pointing up at Langston as both men appear eager to face each other.~
Smith: It was a farce…but Max Kael is the #1 Contender for the Savage Title. He will face Vincent Langston at NSFW.
Hood: Langston fears Shootah more than he does Max! He’s insane!
Smith: No, he’s showing that he isn’t afraid of Max. He wants to face Max. This has been brewing ever since Block Party, Hood. These two are ready to tear each other apart.
Hood: That would be a first for Langston. As for Max, I think he’s experienced the tearing apart sensation before.
Smith: I wouldn’t really know
|
|
Singles Match
Bester Freund (11-6) vs. Cecilworth M! Farthington (8-1)
~It’s ALMOST main event time and these fans are HYPED. But first we must witness a match that would…could…should headline any other event…aside from this one. An event pairing two of OCW’s most interesting and entertaining personalities. Belvedere clears his throat to a strong ovation from the OCW faithful~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…
~The banging of tables and other such horrible noises heralds the arrival of OCW's official Best New Boy, Cecilworth M. Farthington, proudly carrying his self-proclaimed OCW ICON Championship (watch High Octane Wrestling on HOTV!) upon his shoulder. As he stands atop the entrance ramp, he holds the title up high as if it was a gift from the Gods themselves. From the back suddenly appears the monster of a man simply known as Durango. Durango drops down, goes between the thighs of the Heir BNB and lifts him up on his shoulders. Cecilworth looks like a proud peacock riding astride Durango, holding his vanity (but also very real championship) up high, far above the filthy hands of anyone in the crowd risking touching it~
~Durango begins to march towards the ring as Cecilworth proudly smiles and regally waves to all the "poor-os" beneath him. As the tandem approach the ring, Durango drops Cecilworth off on the apron and takes his place in his man's corner. Cecilworth cleans his feet up nice and pretty like on the apron and then hops into the ring for some combat sport action!~
Belvedere: From Buckinghamshire, UK…standing six feet tall and weighing in at 13.5 STONE…he is the #1 Contender…
~CMF interrupts Belvedere. He points at Durango who seems ready to leap into the ring, given the green light. Belvedere nods. He is not a stupid man~
Belvedere: He is the INTERIM Paradigm Champion…Cecilworth M! Farthington!!
~CMF throws his arms into the air. Durango hops off the apron. The fans BOOOO. CMF pulls his hands down and grab each end of the towel around his neck, leaning into a corner and holding his chin high in the air~
Smith: Such arrogance
Hood: Man those are some nice towels. You try stealing a towel like THAT from any hotel…they’ll hunt your ass down.
Smith: THEY ARE JUST TOWELS
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~The OCW arena goes dark as Nine Inch Nails' Hurt begins~
Hood: Okay?
Smith: We’re scheduled to have a match at this time…..oh? Okay!
~Finally, walking out of the darkness onto the stage is Bester. He is wearing black sweatpants and a black t shirt with a red broken heart on it. He is holding the stuffed baby monkey in his hands, cradling it as he slowly makes his way down to the ring to a very confused crowd~
Hood: So after many weeks away, Bester is making his return to in ring action here at OCW, but….yeah!
Smith: A little heartbroken he is.
~Bester rolls into the ring under the bottom rope and gets back to his feet, he walks to his corner and sits down, Indian style in it, facing the turnbuckles and carefully sets his baby monkey down in the corner. He then starts to talk to it as the house light come back up~
Belvedere: From Scottsdale, Arizona…standing 6’3 and weighing in at 320ish pounds…he is a former OCW Craze Champion…Bester Freund!!!
~Belvedere exits and the bell sounds~
Smith: Bester is suffering from teenage heartbreak. Sad to see.
Hood: HE’S LIKE FORTY
Smith: Age is simply a number, Hood. There is on age restriction on when a person can experience a ‘first’.
Hood: This is fucking sad…and not in the heart breaking way you’re making it out to be.
~CMF waits for Bester to do something. Bester remains seated, staring at the monkey. CMF stands upright and leaves his corner. He kicks Bester in the back, lightly. Bester doesn’t move. He shoves Bester in the back of the head. Bester remains still. CMF slowly removes the towel from his neck…he twirls it up and snaps it into the back of Bester’s neck with a loud ‘POP’. Bester’s muscles tense. CMF backs away…Bester begins to rise. CMF tosses his towel across the pole connecting the turnbuckle to the ring post…it’s a perfect throw!! Bester reaches his feet and slowly turns around~
Smith: That got his attention.
Hood: That shit hurts, man.
Smith: Oh it’s just locker room fun…horseplay, right?
Hood: Sounds like you fucking enjoyed it.
Smith: I’m not saying that I’m just saying…nevermind.
~Bester marches toward CMF. He’s angry but not furious. It’s clear the dark cloud of depression lingers over Bester’s bald head. CMF, like a feral predator, picks up on Bester’s lack of motivation. Bester is a wounded animal. So, CMF does not hesitate to great the giant. He measures Bester for a lock up. Bester springs forward…CMF ducks and kicks Bester in the back of the knee. Bester stumbles forward. The fans are booing~
Smith: It’s clear Bester is in no frame of mind for competition this evening.
Hood: That bitch really did a number on him.
Smith: Indeed
~Bester turns around, his knee a bit ginger. CMF gives an insincere apology and offers to lock up with Bester again. Bester falls for it, springing head for a lock up. CMF ducks and trips Bester up…Bester stumbles forward, dropping to one knee. CMF looks at Bester…he points at the former Craze Champion from behind, laughing. The fans feel sorry for Bester. They also view CMF for what he is…A REAL JERK. They boo and yell at CMF to ‘fuck off’~
Smith: Come on! If you can beat him, beat him! Enough of this mockery
Hood: CMF is having fun, Smith! Doesn’t it fill your heart with ebullience to see a man enjoying what he does for a living or are you so fucking jaded that you fail to recognize such joy?
Smith: I won’t dignify that with an answer.
Hood: Jaded
~Bester struggles getting to his feet. Every move this man makes seems to be a struggle. He turns around, locating CMF. He heads CMF’s way. CMF’s face is creased with a smile. It’s almost like a night off for the money man of the eMpire. Bester reaches out…CMF grabs Freund’s arm, twists it and pins it against his back. Bester winces. CMF palms the back of Bester’s head and shoves him forward, violently. Bester staggers away…nearly stumbling to his knees in the corner. The fans begin to chant “BESTER!” Some younger fans near ringside are on the verge of tears. Another fan is heard yelling “COME ON, BESTER!” CMF takes in a contemplative breath while surveying his surroundings. It’s as though he’s on the verge of boredom. He spots ‘Monkey’, Bester’s lone reminder of Aubrey. He heads over and snatches it from the corner~
Smith: Leave that monkey alone!
Hood: We all gotta grow up sometimes, Smith. CMF is simply pushing Bester from the nest.
Smith: The man’s down! Let him grieve…don’t take away the one thing he has from his first meaningful relationship!
Hood: For fuck’s sake…THE MAN IS FORTY!
~CMF takes ‘Monkey’ and he punts it out of the ring!! It tumbles through the air before absorbing a rough landing on the steel ramp. The OCW arena goes quiet. CMF is laughing. He turns around, wiping his hands free of the ‘germs’ that surrounded ‘Monkey’. Upon turning around his throat is nearly crushed!! Bester’s hand wraps itself around CMF’s neck!!! The crowd goes wild!! CMF kicks his legs and tries to fight the man’s vice grip off, but he can’t. Bester has found INSPIRATION!! The fans chant “BESTER! BESTER!” Bester bullies CMF into a corner and continues to choke away. Scruff has to finally count…he gets to five and Bester fails to release. Scruff finally forces a break. CMF stumbles out of the corner…but Bester snares him. He hooks him from behind and tosses him over his head with a Release German!!! CMF hits HARD!! He flips over, backward, coming to rest front first on the mat! Bester pops back to his feet, marching toward CMF~
Smith: The reigning Wrestler of the Month is in serious trouble!
Hood: Fuck! He pressed the ‘red’ button. You never press the red button.
Smith: What red button?
Hood: I’m making a metaphor!
~Bester pops back to his feet. He’s FIRED up. CMF rolls onto his knees. He looks over his shoulder, only to see what we see. CMF crawls for the ropes. Bester marches forward, snaring his feet. He drags CMF back toward the center of the ring…CMF desperately reaches out for the ropes but is unable to get them in time. Bester picks CMF up in the wheelbarrow. He tosses CMF up…but CMF catches Bester’s head and hits a Stunner on the way down!! Bester stumbles back, shaking his head. CMF reaches his feet, showing renewed confidence. He turns around only to get SPEARED damn near in half by Bester!!! CMF goes flying into the ropes, landing on the apron!! Crowd yells “OOOHHHH” upon impact!! Bester is on all fours, shaking off the Stunner. CMF is on the apron, holding his abdomen in pain~
Smith: What a spear!
Hood: If Bester injures CMF…so help me, I will…I will…
Smith: You’ll what?
Hood: Tell Bester that there’s no Santa Claus!
Smith: YOU BETTER NOT
~CMF slowly reaches his feet on the apron. His face says “I’ve felt better.” Bester rises. He charges forward with another SPEAR!! This time he spears CMF through the ropes, off the apron and all the way out to the floor!! The duo hit HARD. The fans at ringside go wild!! Bester is down, unmoving. CMF, also down, is wincing from extreme discomfort. He reaches for the back of his head~
Smith: Another spear!! This time to the outside!
Hood: What the fuck is Bester trying to do? CMF is our Best Boy…our Best Lad…he’s the man with more nicknames than Gandhi.
Smith: Did Gandhi have a bunch of nicknames?
Hood: Bro, you have no idea.
~Bester finally starts to move. He pushes his weight off of CMF. CMF rolls away, looking for a safe space to recuperate. Bester looks for and locates the monkey, up the ramp. He crawls toward it. Scruff, standing in the ring, is hesitant to begin a count. Bester continues to crawl. He reaches out and obtains the monkey!! The crowd pops. Fucking OCW fans, am I right? Bester gets to his knees, holding the monkey to his chest. A few women nearby are heard going “aww.” It’s a very lovely and wonderful scene until a double ax handle from behind threatens to ruin in!! CMF clobbers Bester in the back of the neck. Bester’s body is thrust violently forward. He does not relinquish the monkey. CMF hits him again and again and again and again. Bester fights with one arm against the metal ramp to keep from face planting. The other hand holds the monkey. CMF rips the monkey away. The fans gasp. Scruff yells out, “ONE!”~
Smith: Leave the monkey alone!
Hood: This shit is insane. Fuck that fuckin monkey…FIGHT like a man, Bester!
Smith: Perhaps this comeback was too soon. It appears he needs more time to heal.
Hood: Oh cry me a fucking river
~Scruff yells “TWO!” Bester rises, holding the back of his neck. He turns toward CMF…his eyes are full of rage. CMF backs away. Bester gives chase. Scruff yells, “THREE!” CMF takes off toward the ring. Bester is in a full-on sprint. Scruff yells, “THREE!” CMF slides into the ring, breaking the count. Bester leaps onto the apron, flat-footed. CMF turns and is hit with a right hand. He stumbles back, tossing the monkey from the ring into the crowd. Bester, enraged, leaps onto the top rope and springboards off with Wrath of Bester!!! CMF jumps up, grabs Bester’s arm on the way down, flips him over and locks in Great Article 50!!! The crowd goes from WILD CHEERS to disheartened gasps. Bester is writhing around, kicking his legs, trying to get free. They are dead center, middle of the ring. Scruff asks Bester if he wants to give it up~
Smith: He’s going to tear that arm…that shoulder up if Bester doesn’t capitulate.
Hood: Fuck capitulate…thatman needs to TAP OUT
Smith: This submission pretty much ended the career of Osidius Rex!
~Bester continues to try and wiggle his way free…or closer to the ropes. He spots something in the crowd. He sees a person with his beloved monkey. They appear ready to leave with it. CMF twists on Bester’s arm harder and harder…Bester finally taps!! Scruff calls for the bell~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…CECILWORTH M! FARTHINGTON!!!!!
~Scruff forces a break. As soon as he does, Bester rolls out of the ring, holding his shoulder. He heads for the barricade, leaping over it. He chases down the fan (who is wearing a Jason Kortare shirt) down and snares him with his good hand. He wrestles the monkey free before shoving the fan into a sea of people. CMF, standing in the ring, watches. Bester heads to the back through the crowd…several people reach out, patting him on the back. He continues to clutch his wounded shoulder. CMF snares his beautiful towel and raises it high in victory. The fans BOOOO~
Smith: Big win for CMF…although Bester may have worked harder to sustain had it not been for that monkey.
Hood: You’re selling CMF short, Smith. He KNEW by throwing that monkey into the crowd Bester would be distracted. CMF is always three and a half steps ahead.
Smith: Yea, I don’t think so, Hood. Regardless, CMF with a big win against a former Craze Champion as he sets his sights on the Paradigm Title at Not Safe For Work.
OCW Presents: Not Safe For Work
Tag Team Championship
Paradigm Championship
Savage Championship
Triple Threat
Hall of Fame Championship
OCW Championship
LIVE! Monday, June 17th 2019
From Schlitterbahn Waterpark in New Braunfels, TX
Paradigm Contenders Match
The Big Bifford vs. Duce Jones
Team ATARI (c) vs. The Dravers Boys
TBA vs. Cecilworth M! Farthington
Vincent Langston (c) vs. Max Kael
King Maurako vs. Paul Paras vs. Silver Cyanide
Lurrr (c) vs. Matt Meyhu
TBA vs. Andrea Hernandez (c)
Smith: That's a heck of a lineup
Hood: And there's more to come!
Smith: If you'll notice that TBA in the OCW Championship slot...that's there because Mike Best, OCW Champion, is about to face what some people call his greatest challenge yet.
Hood: -stifles laughter-
Smith: Raven's going to make you eat those...guffaws?
Hood: I stifled the guffaw, Smith. But I'd gladly go FULL guffaw if you want
Smith: No...let's head down to ringside...James Raven, winner of the Block Party tournament, is set to challenge Mike Best for his OCW Championship!
|
|
Main Event
OCW Championship
Mike Best © (11-0) vs. James Raven (5-0)
Smith: Ladies and Gentlemen, it is time for the main event of the evening, and what an… unorthodox… main event this has turned out to be.
Hood: What’s unorthodox about the OCW Champion defending the belt on Massacre, Smith? Our boy Mikey is a FIGHTING FUCKING CHAMPION!
Smith: Oh, he reminds us often enough, Hood, I hadn’t forgotten. But tonight’s OCW Championship match isn’t just any old title match-- this is the culmination of the entire OCW Championship Tournament, where James Raven won the right to a shot at the champion. This match was originally scheduled for Not Safe For Work, but was moved to tonight’s edition of Massacre by order of Marcus Welsh.
Hood: I’d have moved it to. James Raven couldn’t sell tickets if he was the cashier at a movie theater. Let’s just get this over with, knee to the face, one two three, and we can all go home.
Smith: ...I hate to agree with you, Hood, and I hate to agree with Mike Best about ANYTHING, but James Raven has mentally checked out of this match. Better to just get it over with.
~"Everybody Loves Me" by OneRepublic begins a slow beat over the sound system, and an extremely mixed reaction meets OCW Champion Michael Best as he appears from behind the curtain. Weeks of Raven’s failure to show up for the OCW fans have certainly soured them on the XWF star, and many are showing their support instead to the Mad Titan of Wrestling as he steps out onto the stage, making his way toward the ramp.~
Belvedere: The following match is scheduled for ONE FALL and is for the O...C...W… CHAAAAAAMPIONSHIP… making his way to the ring…
~Mike saunters toward the ring with the OCW Championship over his shoulder, a #RavenKiller sideless shirt and his freshly dyed platinum blonde hair blinding folks catching it in the lights He doesn’t bother with the usual fanfare, or fucking with the live audience. He looks ready to be done with this night, as quickly as possible.~
Belvedere: ...from Chicago, Illinois… he is the OCW Champion…. MIKE… BEEEEEEST!
~Michael rolls under the ropes, climbing up into the ring and handing the OCW Championship off to the referee. He stands, staring at the entrance way, his eyes narrows as awaits the arrival of a man who has not publicly acknowledged this match in nearly a month.~
Belvedere: And his opponent…
~”Bleed It Out” by Linkin Park begins to play over the sound system, and a portion of the audience still explodes into cheers for James Raven as the curtains part at the entranceway. When he finally steps through the curtain, though, the cheers immediately turn to soured boos.~
Smith: Wait a minute… that’s not James Raven…
Hood: IT’S MARCUS WELSH! HA! IT’S FUCKIN’ WELSH!
~Indeed, it is. Marcus Welsh hurriedly walks down the ramp, shaking his head at Mike Best and making a “cut” motion at his neck, confirming the suspicions we all already had-- James Raven is not in attendance for this match. Now the boos are even louder, as Welsh speaks quietly to the referee and they work out a solution to the problem.~
Smith: Our apologies, ladies and gentlemen-- it would appear that James Raven has failed to show up at the OCW Arena for his scheduled OCW Title match. I’m sure we’ll get this rescheduled and--
Hood: Rescheduled? FUCK THAT! Toss him the fuck out!
~Inside the ring, the referee has now spoken with both Marcus Welsh and Mike Best. Instead of looking excited about this outcome, Mike Best actually looks pissed-- he snatches the microphone away from Belvedere, clearing his throat.~
Mike Best: Cut that fucking music.
~Abruptly, the sounds of Linkin Park are cut off from the sound system, leaving a very angry OCW Champion standing in the ring, flanked on either side by the Scruff and Marcus Welsh.~
Mike Best: I told you. I told every fuckin’ one of you. I told you all out there in the crowd, week after week. I told all the boys in the back. I told everyone on Twitter, and I especially fuckin’ told YOU, Welsh.
~Aggressively, Michael shoves a finger into the chest of Marcus Welsh, who backs away unceremoniously. He doesn’t look happy about being literally pushed by his champion, but he doesn’t retaliate.~
Mike Best: Fuck James Raven, fuck the tournament, and fuck you. I want a real contender. I want a REAL FUCKIN’ MATCH! Jason Kortare? Haley the Hellduck? I came into this company taking on Hall of Famers and beating the best. But ever since the day I won this belt, the world has gone quiet. FEAR. IS. SILENCE. I talk shit and call out the roster, and they’re silent. They’re afraid. FUCK THIS. Count this motherfucker out. This match starts now.
~Scruff looks to Marcus Welsh for clarification, but Marcus can only nod his head and shrug. The bell is officially rung, and this match is… underway. Immediately, Scruff begins the count.~
1…
2...
3…
Smith: Well, I guess this is another “victory” for the OCW Champion.
Hood: The UNDEFEATED Champion, Smith. And this isn’t his fault.
4…
5…
6…
7…
~The crowd is booing at a fevered pitch, both at the lack of a match and at the situation overall. This has been a terrible let down of a main event~
8…
9…
10!
DING DING DING
~Not even allowing Belvedere to announce his victory, Michael snatches his OCW Championship out of the arms of Scruff, throwing it back over his shoulder. He begins to pace around the ring, ignoring the booing of the fans as he turns to his employer.~
Mike Best: Welsh, I signed a short term deal when I joined OCW, but that deal ENDS at the conclusion of Not Safe For Work. I’m an OCW guy now, Marcus, but if you wanna keep booking this bullshit exhibitions? Then maybe I’ll do exactly what you were afraid Raven would do, and walk my happy ass out of here with this belt. Maybe I’ll “un-retire” from High Octane Wrestling and defend the belt over there. Would you like that, Marcus? Or maybe I should dust off my old shorts and go fight for Union Grand Prix. I bet they’d LOVE to have the OCW Championship on their fucking roster. Maybe they’ll find someone who can give me a real fuckin’ fight.
~He holds the belt into the air, soaking in the boos of the crowd as they immediately are turned on by the man who they were just beginning to support.~
Mike Best: You’re gonna PAY to keep me here. You’re gonna find me real opponents. And you’re gonna do it fuckin’ NOW, or you’re never gonna see THIS pretty little belt again.You don’t have a single man in OCW who can beat me, and I swear to God, if you can’t find one, I will--
~Before he can finish that sentence, there is an outrageous cheer from the crowd as he’s interrupted by "Ultranumb" by Blue Stahli! The crowd is on their feet!
Smith: IT’S ANDREA HERNANDEZ!
Hood: What? THE CHAMPION IS MONOLOGUING YOU CUNT, GET OUT OF HERE!
~Andrea wastes little time on fanfare, bursting down the ramp like a bat out of Hell and sliding into the ring. She pops to her feet right in front of the OCW Champion, holding her Craze Championship up in front of his face and getting close. REALLY close. The crowd is buzzing, firmly behind Andrea Hernandez as she starts jawing off to the OCW Champ, talking shit and not backing down from him.~
Smith: Oh my God! Andrea Hernandez isn’t waiting for Not Safe For Work! She’s had enough, and she wants to do this right here tonight!
Hood: What a bunch of bullshit! The champ came prepared for James Raven, not Andrea Hernandez! This is vile. This is cheating. Andrea is a lowlife trying to take advantage of a beautiful man! He’s right! HE DESERVES BETTER!
~Mike Best doesn’t back down either! He towers over his 5’4” opponent, yelling right back in her face and threatening to do to her what he’s done to everyone else who has come at him in OCW. Things are looking like they’re about to get violent, but Marcus Welsh interjects between the two of them, taking the microphone out of Mike Best’s hands and shoving the two snarling wrestlers apart.~
Marcus Welsh: Hey hey hey! Knock it off!
~Further separating the two champions, he backs Mike Best up as Scruff backs Andrea toward the opposite side of the ring.~
Marcus Welsh: Now… I don’t like to lose my temper, but this is OUT OF FUCKING CONTROL. I just gave away my original pay-per-view main event, for free, to a FUCKING COUNT OUT. My whole tournament went to shit, the Sports Book fucked me from both sides, and I am NOT giving away my Not Safe For Work main event for a second time!
~While I’m sure they’d both generally listen to the words of their wise and powerful General Manager, at this very moment, both champions are primed to fight. Andrea Hernandez sprints past Scruff, trying to get at Michael Best as the OCW Champion takes a blind swing, missing Andrea and clocking Marcus inadvertently in the side of the head! The General Manager stumbles, holding his cheekbone and looking absolutely furious.~
Marcus Welsh: I SAID ENOUGH!
~Both wrestlers stop in their tracks, as Marcus’ face goes red. He turns in a fiery flash toward Michael Best, his nostrils flaring.
Marcus Welsh: You just struck your fucking boss, champ. I could fire you for that, on the fucking spot, and take that title away from you. I could send you back to High Octane-land, licking your wounds, in a HEARTBEAT. And I would… if we… didn’t need you right now.
~Some of the fire leaves the GM, as the realization hits him. He turns to Andrea, though, not ready to get off his high horse just yet.~
Marcus Welsh: And you. I’ve had about enough of my champions pissing away their success because they can’t control their egos. You instigated this, after I gave you the opportunity of a LIFETIME at Not Safe For Work! So let me tell you two what I’m going to do.
~Marcus steps back to the middle of the ring, as a silent crowd awaits his judgment. Welsh straightens his collar, trying to reset his temperment before he holds the microphone up again.~
Marcus Welsh: We are fourteen days away from Not Safe For Work. And until that first bell rings in the main event of the pay-per-view, NEITHER of you two will lay a hand on the other. No fights. No brawls. No physical contact. And I swear to God, if you defy me, I don’t give a FUCK who you are or how much we need you-- I will take away your match, I will take away your title, and you will be out on your ass so fast that you won’t have time to clean out your lockers. Do you understand me?
~Andrea nods her head, but her eyes are still on her upcoming opponent Marcus seems to accept this, but as he turns toward his OCW Champion, Best holds the OCW Championship into the air one more time, his eyes equally locked on Andrea’s. Neither is going to be the first to back down.~
Smith: A short term deal? What has Welsh done?
Hood: Collins played him. Raven's played him...is Best about to pull the ultimate 'fuck you' to Marcus Welsh?
Smith: Welsh CONTINUES to trust the newcomers...these outsiders. He needs to realize that Meyhu is a once in a lifetime wrestler when it comes to talent and loyalty!
Hood: Forget about Meyhu! Best is our champion and Welsh needs to do whatever he can to keep the champ happy.
Smith: Or...Andrea could just make things much simpler by usurping the arrogant, terrorist known as Michael Best.
Hood: Terrorist? Geez, man...calm the fuck down.
Smith: He's threatening the most prized possession in this company's history, Hood! SCOTT SYREN WORE THAT BELT
Hood: Yes and now you want ANDREA to wear it? That might be worse than having Mike leave with the damn thing
Smith: It appears as though I can't reason with you...folks, that's all we have for tonight...Mike Best and his short term deal will take on Andrea Hernandez at Not Safe For Work. Can Andrea spare us the drama of Mike Best as OCW Champion or will Mike Best continue to hold Marcus Welsh and OCW hostage? You'll have to tune into Not Safe For Work to find out!
~We cut backstage as the cameras zoom into a battered and bruised Lilith pacing back and forth in her locker room. She is now holding an ice pack to her forehead, she is clearly in a great deal of pain. The crazed brunette is still in her ring attire from earlier in the night and no one is currently with her except for her teddy bear, Teddy, who is sitting up on the sofa watching her every movement~
Lilith: What the heck did that piece of trash do to me, Teddy? I feel… terrible.
Lilith sighs, hard, as she tosses the ice pack to the side of the room, forcefully blinking as if she was trying to subside a migraine. She eventually sits down on the sofa next to her bear and places her head into her hands closing her eyes.
Voice: Hey boudle!
~Lilith jumps up onto her feet in a daze, she recognised that voice. Looking around her room bracing herself for the worst she quickly realizes that no one is in there except for her and her teddy bear. She knew she’d heard that voice though, that all too familiar voice that belonged to the man who had spent a week torturing her~
Lilith: LOGAN!!! I know you’re in here with me. You think I’m stupid?! I’m not going to fall for your tricks again! Show yourself you coward!
~At this point Lilith holds up her hands, ready to fight, ready for whatever might happen next~
Voice: I’m over here. No, I’m over here, Lilith. Look!
~Lilith quickly jumps around on the spot trying to face whatever direction she heard the voice come from… until she faces the television set that’s opposite the sofa. It’s turned off but she knows he’s in there. Somehow Logan is IN the TV.~
Voice: Oh look, you finally found me. Good job, retard.
Lilith: How are you… this can’t be real. THIS ISNT REAL!!! Teddy tell me… tell me you aren’t hearing this. PLEASE!
~Lilith turns around and looks at her bear… only it wasn’t her bear. It was Logan. Or at least Logan if he was only a few inches tall and covered in fur. Lilith screams, loud, and runs out of her room into the backstage corridor. There she immediately bumps into the cameraman, Lilith again screams as she looks at him, he is also Logan~
Cameraman: What’s wrong, girl pants?! Did the teddy bear scare you, you cookie munching bitch?!
~Lilith grabs hold of the camera and SWINGS it at his head, smashing him in his face and immediately knocking him down onto the floor, unconscious, blood pouring from his nose. Lilith screams again and sprints as fast as she can, knocking, punching, kicking and clawing several people out of her way, all of whom are also Logan. Female, male, old, even different races… all of them are Logan. Lilith closes her eyes as she keeps running desperately wanting the nightmare to end~
Lilith: I’ve got to be dreaming… I’m dreaming. I’m safe in my locker room… Sarah dealt with him… THIS ISNT REAL!!!
~Lilith continues to run as hard and as fast as she can, still with her eyes closed, down the corridor until eventually she gets pulled aside and someone much larger and stronger than her wraps their arms around Liliths upper body keeping her still. This just causes Lilith to freak out even more so, still with her eyes tightly closed, thrashing and kicking her legs around trying her hardest to get whoever’s holding her in place to let go~
Voice: Lilith! What is wrong with you?!
Lilith: LET GO OF ME LOGAN!!!
~Lilith opens her eyes just enough to look at who had manage to capture her, sure enough its Logan, his face and the way he’s looking at her sends cold shivers down her spine. She reaches back and KNEES him straight in his privates, the much larger man immediately falls down onto the floor in agony. Lilith isn’t about to let him go this time though, she wants to end it, she wants to end him… destroy and kill him once and for all. Lilith pounces on top of the man and begins to CLAW at his face not listening to his screams of pain. Blood begins to cover her hands and this just causes her to attack him even more so~
Lilith: DIE! DIE LOGAN DIE!!! I WANT YOU DEAD!!! I WANT YOU GONE!!! I HATE YOU!!!
~Lilith continues to brutalise the man, just tearing and ripping at his flesh, blood spilling all over the floor. This continues for several minutes until eventually the crazed brunette feels a presence behind her~
Voice: Lilith! Stop! What are you doing?!
~This time Lilith doesn’t freak out or panic, she immediately recognises the voice and it sends a calm throughout her whole body. It’s her wife, her Sarah, she’s here with her and everything’s going to be okay~
Lilith: Sarah…
~Sarah pulls Lilith up onto her feet and immediately wraps her arms around the brunette in a deep embrace, Lilith still visibly shaking. Sarah holds her wife in such a way that she can’t see whoever she’d just viciously attacked. Lilith looks through the corridor, it’s all back to normal. No Logan to be found. Cameramen, backstage workers, caterers… everyone Lilith had attacked just moments ago are lying on the floor crying out in pain. None of them who she thought they were~
Lilith: Sarah… they… I swear… they were Logan… they all looked like Logan! You have to believe me, Sarah… you do believe me, don’t you?!
~Lilith burst into tears, blood still dripping from her fingers, as Sarah wraps her arm across her wife’s shoulders and leads her away from the scene. Behind them a few men can be seen approaching whoever Lilith had just brutalised, shock and horror plastered across their faces. They immediately kneel down to check on the individual who isn’t moving and call out for help~
Backstage Staff: I need help here… someone get the medics!
~The camera zooms into whoever they were watching over. Just in front of the panicked men, in a bloodied unconscious mess is the newly appointed union representative and OCW hall of famer, Mack O’Connor. We fade to black~