OCW Presents: Massacre
LIVE! Monday, June 10th 2019
From The OCW Arena in Key West, Florida
~Another Monday night is upon us! And by us, I mean me. And by me I mean the guy I stalk on a weekly basis. Guy is looking sorta weary tonight. It’s as though he just received some stressful news. Turns out he’s got far less time than he realized to get A WHOLE BUNCH OF SHIT DONE by next Monday. But hey, that’s okay…he’s faced larger obstacles. The dude is a warrior the level of ultimate…he shall survive. The man takes a seat on his couch and exhales…he sinks into the inviting leather while locating the HOTv app on this Fire Stick. Yes, he now has a fire stick. The guy has cut the cord…SMART MAN. The Massacre logo flashes as it’s time for OCW’s weekly television program! We cut directly into the jam packed OCW Arena…the fans are screaming their heads off (NOT LITERALLY)!! We find Smith and Hood~
Smith: Hello again everyone and welcome to Monday Night Massacre! I’m your host, Smith and alongside me as always is Hood.
Hood: Is it just me or did NSFW get here a lot quicker than anticipated?
Smith: Not Safe For Work is ONE WEEK AWAY…tonight is the ‘go home’ show…it won’t be about in ring action, folks. So if you’re expecting MAT CLASSICS…you may want to check out an archived program. Tonight will be about putting talent over while finalizing next week’s event!
Hood: Yea this card is pretty thin on competition but, hey…just means the stars can rest up and prepare for what awaits.
Smith: Indeed…next week’s show is filled with champions, OCW Hall of Famers, and legendary competitors…it will be, arguably, the biggest event in company history.
Hood: Stop! My penis can only get so erect!
Smith: Gross
~BAM! We cut backstage. It’s not really backstage, though. Interestingly enough, it is the concessions area of OCW Arena in Key West, Florida. A large group of fans are not at their seats despite the fact the show has opened, instead all standing in a horseshoe crowd, held back by contract security, whooping and hollering as the camera cuts through, breaks through the security line…and approaches a lone round white plastic folding table, at which none other than the man himself, the legend, the TWO TIME TWO TIME OCW CHAMPION Silver Cyanide sits, elbows propped up on the table, sitting thoughtfully. As the camera approaches and settles in front of him, a Large Man approaches from off screen and sets a cardboard bowl of arena nachos in front of Cyanide. The Large Man then takes a seat in an adjacent chair, setting a tray filled with four chili dogs, a nacho bowl, a funnel cake, and a bear claw in front of him. The man is revealed to be Silver Cyanide’s long time heterosexual Russian life mate, Bear.~
Cyanide: Thank you, Bear.
~Cyanide reaches down and scoops up some microwaved nacho cheese onto a nacho chip that is probably made of recycled wicker baskets, popping it into his mouth. Bear picks up a chili dog and inserts the entire thing into his mouth, speaking around it.~
Bear: Mifter Filver…if I may afk…why ah we fitting ouf ere?
Cyanide: It’s simple, Bear. When I showed up, Welsh came up to me. He told me that myself, Mario, and Paul are all being sequestered into different parts of the arena tonight, since he can’t afford us murdering each other.
~Bear swallows his chili dog.~
Bear: …but why are we out here?
Cyanide: That is also simple, Bear. I asked him if there was a specific area I had to stay in and he said he hadn’t picked a spot, so I demanded the food court.
~Bear frowns.~
Bear: …but why?
Cyanide: Unlimited food, you big dope. Plus, I get a 10% discount!
~Cyanide pops another nacho chip in his mouth. A strand of stray nacho cheese glues itself to his salt-and-no-pepper blond stubble.~
Cyanide: Bear…Welsh is afraid I’m gonna kill Mario. And Paul. And myself in the process. And he’s not entirely wrong. Mario has gone full delusional. He’s convinced he’s royalty. Paul has gone full delusional. He thinks he’s the Dalai Lama. Who would have thought that after all these years and all these concussions that I would be the sensible one out of the three of us?
~Bear motions to his chin, attempting to discreetly inform Cyanide of the nacho cheese dribbling from his whiskers. Cyanide pays no mind to him.~
Cyanide: Hell, I’ve always been the sensible one, when you think of it. I retired when I realized I was no longer A-number-1, no longer a contender. I started my own business. I sell carpet to all 1700 people in a tiny town in Montana. Mario doesn’t know when to quit. Even when he quits, he doesn’t know when to quit, because he comes back to quit again later. Paul also doesn’t know when to quit. You know, I fully believe his OCW Championship win this time around was an utter fluke. He’s another old man talking about yoga and zen and chakra and feng-shui and hanging out with little girls too young for him, occasionally making triumphant returns, dragged from the depths of his…his…I dunno, lucky kale sprouts and bonsai trees and Kama Sutras and whatever else New-Agey spiritualists like.
Bear: Mr. Silver…your chin…
~Cyanide reaches down under the table he’s sitting at and pops back up holding his trusty frying pan, slamming it down on the table…and his nachos. Cheese flies everywhere, including all over Bear and Cyanide’s own shirt. The fans assembled nearby let out a cheer at the appearance of the frying pan.~
Cyanide: You know the one way I can guarantee they won’t continue embarrassing themselves is to smash their heads in. And this is how I’m gonna do it. Knock all of Mario’s teeth out and he’ll have to spend forever ripping out the teeth of his “citizens” to implant them in his own head. Knock in Paul’s head and he’ll maybe gain some common sense and realize what an utter fool he’s been for so long.
~Bear wipes nacho cheese from his face, sighs, and licks his fingers, sadly resigned to the fact that they were both apparently destined to be covered in cheese.~
Bear: What about Matteo, Mr. Silver? Triple Mario says you kidnapped him.
Cyanide: Matteo? Mario says I kidnapped Matteo? Well I’ve got one thing to say to that…
~Cyanide falls silent and lets his statement hang in the air….~
Cyanide: …Who the hell is Matteo?
Bear: He is Triple Mario’s…brother. Son? Uncle. Father, perhaps.
Cyanide: Oh. I don’t care if he’s Mario’s sister’s brother’s uncle’s cousin’s gardener’s neighbor’s mailman’s CPA’s realtor’s pimp’s grandma. I don’t know who he is. There’s like ten thousand Maurakos in the world. To be honest, I can’t keep them straight. Why would I kidnap Mattino?
Bear: Matteo.
Cyanide: Like I said, why would I kidnap Mandingo? That has to be Paul’s doing. Paul is probably going to convert him into his religion where he worships Spin Class and Veganism. Or you know what? What if MARIO kidnapped Martinez in order to blame me?
Bear: It is Matteo.
Cyanide: WHAT is Matteo? Shut up Bear. Listen, one way or the other, let me say this. Win or lose, this is my last time in a ring. Not just an OCW ring, ANY ring. Even if I end up with the L at the end of Not Safe for Work, I can only hope that in the process, Mario and Paul are too destroyed to continue their delusions that they are still relevant in this world.
~Cyanide pulls a nacho chip out from under his frying pan and pops it into his mouth.~
Cyanide: But I’ll tell you one thing…since it’s my last match…Silver Cyanide is going to make sure he goes out on top.
~We cut back to Smith and Hood~
Smith: Cyanide has lingered in the background for months since making his limited return. Paul won the OCW Title. Mario shook OCW's foundation by introducing the eMpire. Cyanide, meanwhile, has stood, idly by...taking it all in. Next Monday he has a chance to rise from the shadows standing taller than both his counterparts...his friends...his brothers...Cyanide has a chance to show that he's the best of the trio.
Hood: He could do it, Smith. Cyanide dominated this place during his prime. He may not be the man he used to be...but for one night, you bet your ass he can turn the clock back.
Smith: Indeed...that match is going to have more history, more emotion than any match in company history. I cannot wait to see what happens.
Hood: Fuck yea
Smith: And we go from hyping THAT match to tonight's opener as Logan, a rising star much like Cyanide was back in 2001, is set to take on Shootah. Let's head down to ringside!
Singles Match
Logan (3-1) vs. Shootah (0-3)
~It’s the opening match of Massacre. Shootah stands in the ring looking very AFRAID. And why shouldn’t he be? He stands to face a dangerous man known for abduction, public urination, and crocodile hunting. Shootah be fucked. Belvedere, inside the ring, clears his throat~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Currently in the ring, Shootah!
~The crowd gives a strange pop. It seems to frighten Shootah~
Smith: And Shootah, back in action.
Hood: We will witness him die in-ring one day, Smith. I’m sure of it.
Smith: Well, let’s hope not.
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~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 scored the biggest win of his OCW career last week by defeating Mario Maurako.
Hood: Mario’s a two time Hall of Famer. The only person who can say that is Paul Paras.
Smith: And now Logan has defeated Mario…what does this mean for Logan moving forward?
Hood: Big, HUGE things, Smith!
~Belvedere exits and the bell sounds~
Smith: Alright! Logan should end this one fairly quickly as he continues his ascension up the OCW roster.
Hood: Yep, we all know what this week is about…it’s about finalizing shit for NSFW.
Smith: Well, yes that is true.
~Logan marches directly for Shootah. Shootah has that “OH NO” look in his eyes. He tries to exit the ring…Logan catches him, grabbing Shootah by the waist band of his dirty jeans. He yanks Shootah into his corner and gives him a huge knife edged chop!!! Shootah yells out in pain. Logan slugs him in the chin. It nearly knocks Shootah out. Logan composes his position…he jumps back performing backflip…in the process, his foot smacks Shootah in the jaw!!! Shootah’s body snaps back, violently into the corner. Logan, back on his feet, glares at Shootah. Shootah comes stumbling out of the corner…Logan nearly decapitates the man with a HUGE lariat!!! Shootah turns inside out, landing on the ring hard. Logan stands over him in complete control~
Smith: Well this got ugly fast.
Hood: No Shit
Smith: I believe he could pin Shootah now if he wants.
Hood: He’s got to show off, Smith. We need to see…The Connector.
Smith: It is rapidly becoming one of the most devastating moves in OCW.
~Logan yanks Shootah up…he locks the man in a sleeper. Shootah’s body is limp…he’d fall if Logan weren’t holding him up. Logan flips forward and does unnecessary damage to Shootah’s already prone body with THE CONNECTOR!! He makes the cover, Scruff slides in with the count~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…LOGAN!!!!!
Smith: And that was…well, that was exactly what it needed to be.
Hood: Logan continues to kick ass…I think this dude needs at match at NSFW.
Smith: I’d strongly advise that to the powers that be!
Smith: Logan staying in the ring after another successful victory here tonight.
~The excellent observing ability of Smith is indeed true, as Logan remains in the ring, signaling for a microphone while he watches Shootah head to the back. Logan holds the microphone in his hand, pacing about the ring with an uncertain manner covering his face. Finally he stops and raises the mic up to his lips~
Logan: So there I was last Monday, blood dripping off my victorious face, and ready to celebrate my victory over that eMpire boudle, Mario.
~The audience boos at the mention of his name. Logan nods in agreement. ~
Logan: Then everyone on the whole damn roster decides that is the perfect opportunity to start an unofficial battle royal.
~He shakes his head, wiping some sweat off his face before continuing. ~
Logan: And then Sarah Twilight…
~The audience gives a mixed reaction at the mention of her name. Logan looks into the camera as if speaking to Twilight herself~
Logan: I didn't deserve that.
Hood: That witch was trying to steal Logan's spotlight!
Smith: He held her wife captive for days. He deserved every one of those chair shots, and then the coward ran off soon as he got the chance.
Logan: Clearly she is obsessed with me. Probably wants my babies. I'm here to wrestle, Twilight, not play house with you. So being the gentlemen I am - I took the high route and ran away from that crazy stalker bitch instead of whooping her ass like any of you lesser Florida rednecks would.
~This obviously brings some boos upon Logan~
Hood: I knew Logan had class.
Smith: He's full of lies. He fled the arena like a damn coward!
Logan: So I think it's time we clear the air with this whole Twilight situation. I try and show her wife, Lilith, a good time and she turns into a psycho stalker. This ends tonight. I have bigger and better things planned!
Smith: What's he talking about?
Logan: Sarah Twilight. Take the broomstick out of your boudle ass and fly your witch ass out here!
~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, the crowd giving her a loud mixed reaction. Lilith is wearing a cute looking outfit tonight as she's sporting a frilly light pink mini skirt, a white sleeveless crop top showing off her toned stomach and pink trainers with silver sparkles all over them~
Smith: Hmmm, Lilith looks oddly… normal tonight. What's up with that
Hood: Who cares? She looks hot! Yeah baby!
~Logan's whole demeanor changes and he starts laughing~
Logan: Send your pet retard out instead?
~Lilith pays no attention to what Logan had just said as she just shakes her head, her long brunette hair going everywhere~
Lilith: I'm done talking, Logan. I'm done playing games and most importantly I am DONE being scared of you!
~Logan nods~
Logan: That's a relief. I don't think anyone here wants to hear you speak either. Did you cry out all your retard in that well?
~A grin forms over Logan's face, rubbing his eye in a mocking expression of Lilith crying~
Lilith: You know, last week I had a…. moment… where I ended up hurting Lil Macky…
Smith: That's the understatement of the century, she damn near clawed his face off!
Lilith: And Teddy made me realize, almost immediately, that that was wrong. He made sure that not a day went by this week where I didn't regret it!
Hood: How crazy is this fine piece of ass? She needs help… and maybe also my penis.
Smith: WHOA! Inside thoughts, Hood! Come on!
Lilith: I didn't mean to do that to Mack... but what I will mean to do is hurt you, Logan, really really bad… RIGHT NOW!!!
~Lilith begins walking towards the ring ready for a fight~
Logan: Take it easy for boudle sakes. I was just playing around. Can't you take a joke?!
~She gets near the apron and Logan backs up in the ring~
Logan: Let's just let bygones be bygones. I'll even apologize for what I did to you right here on national television.
~Lilith is now at the ring steps and she slowly makes her way up them, climbing over the top of the middle rope, a few people in the crowd wolf whistling and drooling all over her as she did so. She immediately walks over to Logan and gets right in his face, no hesitation whatsoever~
Lilith: Really? You'll really apologize for everything you've done?!
~Logan nods his head~
Lilith: The mean things you've said, the even meaner things you've done?! EVERYTHING?!
~Again Logan nods his head. Lilith just shrugs her shoulders in an accepting way~
Lilith: Fine, go ahead and do so then.
Smith: What? Really? This is obviously some kind of trick…
Hood: Hey if she's stupid enough to believe him it's her own fault.
Logan: Lilith…
~He gets down onto a knee, as if he's proposing~
Logan: I am so..
~He quite honestly looks broken up over it~
Logan: … sorry. I don't know what came over me. It's like I've been touched by the devil. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just can't help it.
~A tear begins to roll down his cheek, he falls to his other knee, hugging at Lilith's feet in mercy~
Logan: Please forgive me. The truth is I can barely live with myself over it..
~Some tears get onto her trainers. Lilith just looks at him confused as she takes a few steps back~
Lilith: Wait… are you serious?
Smith: I… hmmmmm… well, he's either serious or he's a really good actor. Personally I still wouldn't trust him.
Hood: Oh shut up the man is literally on his knees crying! How can you be so cold?!
Logan: Yes. If you can't find it in your heart for forgiveness… I'd understand.
~He hangs his head. Lilith almost looks like she's about to cry herself as she continues to watch his every movement~
Lilith: I… I did not expect this at all. But, the happy little bible thinggy Chastity gave me said all about forgiveness and so I… I mean if you're serious… I forgive you. I can't exactly NOT forgive you for what you did and yet still expect people to forgive me for my Grrrrrr moments. Treat people and bears how you yourself would like to be treated and stuffs. So okay, Logan, I forgive you.
~Lilith takes a step forward, reaching out her hand for Logan to take so he can pick himself up off the floor. Logan rubs away a tear from his cheek, looking at Lilith's hand, then takes it and stands to his feet~
Logan: Thank you, Lilith.
~He leans in and embraces her into a hug~
Smith: Awwww a nice feel good moment, that’s what I like to see.
Hood: Urgh, are you kidding me? I think I'm going to puke.
~The camera pans into Logan's face as he hugs Lilith. His sorrow turning into a fat big delightful grin. Logan lifts Lilith up from the hug and plants her into the ring with a spinebuster!~
Smith: That manipulative son of a bitch!
Hood: This dude needs to be in Hollywood. Holy shit.
Smith: More like an asylum.
~Logan holds his stomach in laughter, gasping in air between howls to look at Lilith sprawled out on the mat, mocking her by rubbing at his eye like he's crying, then laughing more~
Smith: Straight sociopath.
~The audience boos heavily as he dances in joy over to Lilith, grabbing her up by the hair, and lifting her to stagger on her feet. He sizes her up, a grin never leaving his face, then throws a right hand at her! She blocks the blow with her arm. Logan's smile quickly fades, and one of shock takes over. Lilith begins to unleash a fury of quick left and rights all over Logans upper body, she then grabs him and throws him HARD into the turnbuckle. Lilith charges at him and sends a knee crashing into his gut, Logan falling down onto the floor gasping for air~
Smith: Hmmmmm, seems she isn't so weak after all.
~Lilith kicks Logan HARD in his head and immediately pounces down on top of him, scratching and clawing at his face as hard as she can, blood starting to cover his face. She then grabs Logan's eyepatch and yanks it off of his head, fully aware that the eye below was actually perfectly fine and healthy and Logan just wore it for a “look”.~
Lilith: How about we blind you for real?!
~Logan desperately tries to cover up his face as Lilith claws at his arms, slicing her nails into them a bit and also causing them to bleed. An army of referees begin to descend down the ramp and towards the ring. Logan grabs at the ropes, trying to jerk himself out of the ring~
Hood: They need to get this crazy hot bitch off of him and put her on me!
Smith: She's the crazy one?!
~A few referees pull Logan out underneath the bottom rope and Lilith follows! Logan grabs a referee and tosses him at Lilith, then hides behind the other six referees and begins backpedaling up the ramp with a hand over his unpatched eye. He finally flees backstage as the referees hold Lilith back~
Smith: Why the hell has he been wearing an eyepatch all this time? Something is clearly off about this guy.
~Backstage Who’re is standing outside of Mr. Welsh’s office. Also outside of Marcus’s office is the roll around display case with the OCW Tag Team belts in them with 2 secret service guards flanking each side of the display case. Also, outside of the office is Flashback 2, with her arms crossed glaring at Who’re, just boring a hole right there with her eyes.~
7800: DILLY DILLY!
~A shouting 7800 says from inside the office, which is muffled a tad through the door. A few seconds later the door flies open and one pissed off 7800 storms out of the office.~
Who’re: 7800! Can I…
~7800 is having none of it as he keeps on walking. 2600 is at the doorway, facing inside the office.~
2600: You know what! You are the biggest Yamauchi asshole we have ever had to deal with! You will pay for this! You will not get away with this!
~2600 then exits and slams the door to Welsh’s office, slammed it so hard, the door pops back open so 2600 slams it shut again, and again it pops back open. 2600 then gently closes the door like a normal human being and the door stays closed this time.~
Who’re: 2600? What? What just happened in there?
2600: A disagreement with that Yamauchi scum who calls himself management that’s all.
Who’re: Is it about the announcement that you and 7800 will be defending the tag belts at NSFW against the Draver Boys?
2600: You could say that. Let me ask you something, Yamauchi reporter lady. How is that these Yamauchi Boys get a shot at our, our, what do you call them again?
Who’re: Championship belts?
2600: Thanks. How is that these Yamauchi Boys get a shot at our championship belts, belts, we won and then extracted the two dilithium crystals from and securing not only ours, but your futures for world peace and getting one more step closer to defeating the Yamauchi once and for all! How is it that the MIA boys can just walk in and without even earning it, get a shot at our, belts. Is this how shit works in a Yamauchi world? If so! Put a bullet in me now and spare me a Yamauchi controlled world.
Who’re: But they are the number contenders to those belts.
2600: Says who? That Yamauchi piece of shit sitting in there? Last week we issued a open challenge to anyone here in the OCW and just as I suspected. Not a single gutless Yamauchi warrior stepped up. If you remember correctly! When we won the battle to be crowned number one contenders, there was so many Yamauchi armies lining up to get their hands on Bert and Ernie that it wasn’t even funny! Then we took on and defeated Bert and Ernie in one of the greatest wars against the Yamauchi in Team ATARI history, and since then, much like the Yamauchi Boys, all of those teams have been MIA. I want to make one thing completely clear Yamauchi reporter lady. Team ATARI does not take POWs. We’re not buying whatever those boys are selling as to why they haven’t been around. In fact! I will ask to have a investigation launched to look at what they have been up too! We will get to the bottom of this!
~2600 then begins to leave when Who’re takes a hold of 2600’s battlesuit and stops him from leaving, which causes 2600 to look down at her hand. FB2 takes a step forward at this point.~
Who’re: What about the match at NSFW?
~2600 slowly removes Who’re hand from his shoulder.~
2600: Like I said last week. This battle won’t be safe for work. This battle won’t be safe for the viewing public. Women and children better cover their eyes to spare themselves from the horror of war. The History channel will make a one hour documentary about this war because it will be the most savage thing ever witnessed in human history. When it is all said and done, 7800 and I will be knee deep in Yamauchi blood and the Yamauchi Boys will be, no more. They will forever be, MIA. Two more bodies of Yamauchi Scum to add to the mass graves.
~FB2 then steps in and slaps Who’re across the face, hard, leaving the side of her face a bright shade of red.~
FB2: And don’t you EVER! Touch 2600! You feel me?
~Who’re is stunned. She glares at FB2.~
Who’re: Bitch! What the FUCK is your problem!
~The feed is suddenly cut to the ring.~
Smith: That might be the most fired up I've ever seen Team ATARI
Hood: No shit, man. That's what happens when the front office doesn't book you for six weeks...you sit around, building up all this anxiety...this energy...they are going to come out guns blazing next week!
Smith: That will be one of the most exciting tag matches in company history as Team ATARI defends their OCW Tag Titles against the former Tag Champions...the Dravers Boys.
Hood: I don't really like either team but I think I have to go for Team ATARI
Smith: It should be a great one. Coming up next, however, we have ugh...The Proctologist in action. Yuck.
~In the backstage area THE PROCTOLOGIST is standing near the catering tables. Looking around to check that he's alone (other than the camera crew that are filming him), he raises a ham sandwich toward his mouth. Rather than take a bite of the sandwich like a normal person his tongue leaves his mouth and he just licks around the sandwich, his weird tongue going over the bun and over the exposed ham. He sets the sandwich down and selects a turkey sandwich, raising it and doing the same thing while looking right into the camera. Setting down the second sandwich after a thorough licking, he lifts an apple and begins licking that, his tongue ravaging the apple's red outer skin. A stagehand walks up to the odd man just as he sets the apple down.~
Stagehand: Um... sir.. that's just... you shouldn't be doing that.
The Proctologist: I save lives.
Stagehand: I understand that, sir... but this just isn't sanitary.
The Proctologist: Do you know Smith? I used to be his doctor... he had a very messy case of -
Smith: LALALALALALALA! WE AREN'T LISTENING!
Hood: Shut up, Smith, I want to hear what the doctor has to say!
Smith: LALALALALA!
The Proctologist: ... anyway, it took several visits, but it all cleared up.
Stagehand: That was horrifying and enlightening... anyway, sir.. doctor.. whatever I should call you... you're needed now, if you'd come with me...
~The Proctologist and the stagehand walk off together leaving the violated food on the table.~
Singles Match
The Proctologist (1-0) vs. Jack Puffer (0-2)
~The GOOD Detective, Jack Puffer stands in the ring. He detects what appears to be a stain on the mat. He bends over, investigating…what could this stain be? Who made it? CAN PUFFER SOLVE THIS GREAT MYSTERY? Belvedere clears his throat~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Currently in the ring…Jack Puffer!
Smith: Puffer back in action.
Hood: And trying to solve another mystery!
Smith: I…I guess
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!!!
Smith: And this charade continues.
Hood: What are you talking about? This young up and comer is looking to win his second match in a row!
Smith: YOUNG up and comer?!
Hood: Well, when you compare him to his father. It’s all in perspective.
~Belvedere exits and the bell sounds~
Smith: Alright…here we go…The Proctologist and…WHOA
Hood: YIKES
~The Proctologist runs forward and jumps in the air…he comes down, slamming his crotch/ass/seat of his backs onto the back of Puffer’s head (who is still investigating a stain). Puffer falls face first onto the mat. The Proctologist looks around, wild eyes wih his crooked smile. His sneaky tongue runs the rim of his eerily thin lips. We zoom away~
Smith: He’s not preparing for a ripcord lariat, folks. We simply don’t want to zoom in on this man and his creepy facial features.
Hood: Good call from the production truck.
Smith: Indeed!
~Puffer groggily rises. The Proctologist slowly turns his head and flashes his crooked smile. He runs forward and takes Puffer down with a tackle!!! He mounts Puffer and slams his feces experienced fists into Puffer’s head!! Puffer wails in pain…he taps out!! Scruff calls for the bell~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…THE PROCTOLOGIST!!!!!
Smith: Another weird win for Ehud’s son.
Hood: THE PROCTOLOGIST!
Smith: Yes, the…oh no…NOT AGAIN
~The Proctologist rolls Puffer over. He raises his hand high in the air. He yanks Puffer’s jeans down and sends his hand diving in. We instantly cut away~
~We cut backstage. A sullen Kitty Petrova is spotted heading down one of OCW’s many hallways. A lucky fan backstage spots the former Paradigm Champion and eagerly extends a program, hoping for Petrova’s signature. Kitty stops, looks down at the program which has been sorta thrust in her face. She grabs the program and rips it in half, tossing it into the wall and continuing her march. The kid begins to cry. The mother is irate. She spots the first employee within eyesight – it’s GM Marcus Welsh, returning from the coffee room. We follow Kitty’s march. In the background we see the mother LAY into Welsh. He’s a bit nonplussed over the entire ordeal…dude was just getting some coffee. But, he quickly gets the gist of the situation and breaks away from the angry mother as quickly as he’s able. He hustles up toward Kitty, eventually sidling up next to her. Kitty doesn’t look his way…Marcus takes a sip of his coffee, keeping her quick but steady pace. Upon realizing he’ll have to break the ice, the man speaks~
Marcus Welsh: Everything alright?
~She bristles and then rolls her eyes at the question, obviously resenting the implication~
Kitty Petrova: Are you asking me because you actually care about the answer or is this just due diligence because I made that snot-nosed brat cry? I’m not here to play patty-cake with the kids - that’s not why you hired me.
~Her pace slows slightly and she turns to look over at Welsh, the anger very visible in her expression and the tension in her body~
Kitty Petrova: I forgot who I was… just for a little while. I’m fine, Marcus. I let myself go soft, got all caught up in making friends and allies and…
~She shrugs, waving her hand dismissively~
Kitty Petrova: I’m the woman who ended Jennifer Stryfe’s career by shoving her off the top of the video wall in FFW. I’m the one who took twenty-nine other women to the limit in the Queen of Sin tournament in 2015 and emerged victorious after breaking bones and dislocating shoulders of the trash I was up against. I’ve been dominant for so long that it really should have been second nature. I guess… I owe that idiot Hayley thanks for awakening my killer instincts. So yes, Marcus… everything is peachy keen.
Marcus Welsh: That all sounds...quite violent. I, admittedly, was disappointed when you lost the Paradigm Championship to Hayley. You deserve to be a champion, Kitty. That’s why I signed you.
~Kitty stifles a response. This sounds like another inspirational carrot, dangling in front of her with the sole purpose of forcing Kitty into doing something mostly beneficial for management~
Marcus Welsh: And, NO, I’m not just saying that. Listen...I’ll put my words into action. We’ve got a stacked lineup next week. A lineup so grand that a promoter might be labeled crazy for adding to it...but, ya know, I don’t I can sit by and allow another PPV to take place without Kitty Petrova on the card.
~STILL no response from Kitty. This only increases Welsh’s desire to please~
Marcus Welsh: All those famous incidents you recalled...they were violent in nature, right? Some might use the term...savage? Well, tell you what...how about you set your refocused sights on a different division. Let the birds have the Paradigm Title. How about you level up and become the first female in OCW history to hold the OCW Savage Championship?
~Kitty comes to a stop. Welsh stumbles, meeting her position. He looks on, anxious. He has Kitty’s attention~
Marcus Welsh: A number one contenders match...winner gets a Savage Title shot at our next PPV event in July. You can face...well...just about anybody you want...how about that?
~Without saying anything Kitty has managed to manipulate Marcus into increasing the sweetness of his deal. A commotion takes place further down the hall. Marcus pays it no attention, same with Kitty. Our POV swivels. Logan barrels through some people, fresh off his decimation of Shootah. He is headed directly for Welsh and Kitty~
Logan: I've had about enough of these crazy women!
~He slaps his bloody hands down onto the desk of Marcus~
Logan: What can you do for me, Chief? Maybe ban them nuts from laying their hands on me, and firing them if they do.
~Before Marcus can properly respond, Logan slaps his hands together, as if he's just solved all his problems right there~
Logan: And who might you be?
~Logan's eye shifts over to Kitty~
Logan: I'm sure my concerns are much greater than yours. Give us some room and move along, please.
~Kitty seems ready to attack Logan. Logan braces for a fight, eager for his evening of violence to continue. Welsh, stuck in the middle, does his best to dissuade the situation~
Marcus Welsh: Whoa, whoa! Logan, you’ve already competed tonight. Kitty…I can’t just throw you into a match without any advertising…you’re one of our biggest stars. So, how about we do this at NSFW. Kitty Petrova taking on Logan…the winner gets a Savage Title Shot at our next ppv? Sound good?
~The duo continue to challenge one another through eye contact. Welsh whistles at some security. They enter into the scene, doing what they can to prevent escalation. Welsh starts to slowly sneak away…he turns, confirming the news with both competitors~
Marcus Welsh: We good? Good! See you guys next week!
~Welsh hurries off, narrowly avoiding violence. We cut back to ringside~
Smith: Kitty against Logan? What a match!
Hood: Logan’s on a roll. If he can beat Kitty…man…
Smith: Logan has a shot to break into the main event scene quicker than expected!
~New Orleans, Louisiana.. Bourbon Street.. There are people walking up and down the street, the camera panning along as patrons consume alcoholic drinks. Jazz music fills the air and then our view comes to a halt on Duce Jones. He seems to be enjoying himself as he dances along to the rhythm of the music. From behind we can see that his dreadlocks are braided into a neat man bun. The shirt that he wears is black with the words, 'Bifford vs. Jones III - NSFW'.. A pregnant woman, who's dancing along with Duce spots the camera and taps him on the shoulder. He turns around, sporting tons of multicolored beads around his neck that covers the 'TBA' logo on the front. With a bright platinum smile, Duce acknowledges the audience~
Duce Jones: Damn.. my bad, y'all caught me in tha middle'a havin' a good time.
~He takes a moment to catch his breath~
Duce Jones: Now I kno' some'a you are wonderin' why I'm not in Key West right now but I have prior engagements dat I'm committed too at tha moment. Dat's why I'm here in Nawlins'!
~The group that Duce was hanging with let out a loud cheer~
Duce Jones: I got some unfinished business ta tend to. But dat's not why I'm on y'all screen. No, no, no… I'm here ta get somethin' off'a my chest. June 17th… I got some heavy duty action ta deal wit.. Sup Biff?
~Duce nods his head in an upward fashion~
Duce Jones: It seems we meet.. yet again..
~ He shakes his head in disappointment~
Duce Jones: When I signed on wit OCW.. I came here t'make a statement.. not become tha main character in some bullshit fantasy dat you've made up in ya mind. But dat fuckery fantasy dat ya tryna get started.. It's about ta come to a ride reality... See tha only thang me an' Dangerous Danny Boy got in common is dat we both from Tennessee.
~He holds up a finger~
Duce Jones: Where ya got me fucked up at though is dat you honestly thank ya gonna be kickin' my ass every chance ya get. Be clear.. I'll play ya lil game.. but dis Tennessee boy will gladly volunteer ta beat yo' wide ass every chance he gets!
~Duce swings the beads around his neck, behind him, revealing that the shirt he found had now been altered with extra lettering. In small fancy font above the 'TBA' logo it reads, 'Gladly Beating' and under 'TBA', extra letters have been added on so that it now reads, 'Tha Biff's Ass' and under that in more fancy font it reads, 'Every Chance I Fuckin' Get!'~
Duce Jones: Eat'a dick gordo.. Everybody else… Support Duce!
~He laughs a bit, displaying the shirt before going back to enjoying himself, the scene switching back to Smith and Hood.~
Smith: Bifford has pegged Duce as his new -
Hood: Bitch
Smith: Well, sure, okay...that's one way to put it. I think Bifford has severely underestimated who he's dealing with. Duce is a main event talent.
Hood: I guess we'll see...
Smith: Indeed...Duce and Bifford face off for Round 3...the winner gets a Paradigm Title Shot...that takes place next week! Up next, however, we have former Craze Champion, Bester Freund looking to rebound from last week's disappointing defeat...that's up next!
Singles Match
Bester Freund (11-7) vs. John E Depth (2-4)
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 “The Bad Touch” hits the speakers and out comes John E. Depth! He stretches out his arms to proudly display his Bible Club shirt! The cheers are louder than the boos as the Depth bandwagon (Slam-Bus?) gets bigger every week. Depth pauses and turns back towards the curtain and mimes like he's filming as "God's Girlfriend" Chastity Temple bounces out full of energy and good vibes!~
Belvedere: Accompanied to the ring by Chastity Temple…
~Chastity waves enthusiastically with Bible Club T-shirts in her hands 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 doesn't care. Those are his kinds of people. He proudly high fives those creepers on his way to the ring.~
Belvedere: Hailing from Hollywood, California, he is "The King of Dong Style" John E. Depth!
~Depth and Chasity get in the ring and toss a few Bible Club shirts to ringside fans as the music dies down~
Belvedere: And his opponent.....
~Cinderella’s Don’t know what you got begins to play.~
Hood: Who uses this crappy song?
Smith: I’m not sure….I’m looking over my notes.
Hood: Oh nevermind! It’s this idiot!
~Walking out from the back with a flashlight in hand is Bester. This week he is at least in his wrestling trunks and boots but he is wearing a black t shirt with MONKEY? Screen printed across the front of it. While using the flashlight, Bester starts to looking around the curtain area for his stuffed baby monkey that Aubrey gave him not too long ago~
Belvedere: From Scottsdale Arizona! Weighting in tonight at 300 pounds. BESTER!
Smith: Bester is back for a second week in a row.
Hood: We should mark this on a calendar.
Smith: And he appears to be looking for something.
~Bester is slowly making his way towards the ring, using the flashlight to light up any area that could be hiding a stuffed baby monkey. Bester even stops and asks the fans at ring side "Excuse me? Have you seen my monkey? My stuffed baby monkey?"~
~After checking under the ring, under the ring steps and all around, Bester finally gets in the ring looking sad. Chasity and Belvedere exit. Scruff checks both competitors, though wearing rubber surgical gloves while checking Depth. Bester looks concerned about the gloves as Scruff calls for the bell. Bester goes over to Scruff and asks him about the gloves, but Scruff waves him off as if to say nothings wrong. Bester shrugs and turns towards Depth, albeit suspiciously. Depth walks towards his opponent, raising his arms for a classic collar and elbow lockup. Bester hesitates, gloves still fresh in his mind, but ultimately locks up with Depth~
Smith: A test of strength to start off this match.
Hood: Bester better be cautious going in there against Johnny Two-Wins. We may see another win tonight!
Smith: I hate to admit it but even I'm thinking Depth might have a chance.
~As Depth struggles against the superior strength of Bester, Bester releases the lock up and quickly dips behind Depth and locks him in the Cloud 9 (Coquina clutch)!!!~
Smith: Or not.....
Hood: Sorry John. Maybe next time..
~Bester has Cloud 9 sinched in as Depth struggles to break free! Chastity is trying to cheer on Depth while swinging a Bible Club shirt in the air like a rally flag. Depth's arms flail around searching for the ropes or anything to grab onto for leverage but the flailing starts to slow as Depth is losing conscious. His arms fall limp as Bester can be seen shushing into Depth's ear as if to calm him down. Scruff grabs Depth's arm and lifts it up. It falls to the mat. Scruff does it again, and once again the arm falls. Scruff lifts the arm for a third time and as it falls to the mat, someone slides in the ring and pushes Bester off of Depth. Bester rolls over and quickly gets on his feet to see.....Shootah???~
Smith: Shootah?!
Hood: The fuck?!
~Bester looks confused as Scruff raises his hand in victory as Shootah stands over an unconscious Depth. He starts screaming at Depth as he mounts him and starts laying in punches to the Bible Club member. Chasity is screaming for Shootah to stop as he starts trying to rip of the Bible Club shirt!~
Smith: Wait? Is Shootah JEALOUS??
Hood: They were in Deluxxx together. Maybe Depth hasn't had time for Shootah since joining the Club?
~Bester walks over to Shootah and tries to tell him to stop. Shootah ignores the big man as he has successfully ripped of the shirt and is choking out Depth. Bester tries again, this time gently pulling "Mr. Shootah" away while saying "you're not being very nice." Shootah pushes Bester away and goes back on the attack, stomping away at Depth. Bester is not pleased by being push and he charges at Shootah, knocking him down with a spear. Chasity slides in the ring to check on Depth as Bester throws Shootah out of the ring. The fans cheer as Bester helps Chasity lift Depth to his feet and leans him against the ropes. Chasity offers a Bible Club shirt to Best, who takes it because it's impolite to turn down a gift. He places it neatly on the turnbuckle and celebrates his win as Depth and Chasity leave the ring.~
Hood: What did we just see? Did that big goof join The Club?
Smith: I have no clue. Time will tell.
~The cameras cut backstage to the hallway outside of Marcus Welsh's office. Erin Gordon can be seen exiting the office, looking pleased enough with whatever was being discussed. The fans can be heard faintly cheering for Erin as she rounds the corner, the camera following along--well, until she stops suddenly, a brow raised. The camera turns to show what she sees; an A/V crate with Teddy sitting atop it. Lilith is clearly behind the crate.~
Teddy: Erin, please don't leave, hear me out a minute.
~Lilith was obviously doing Teddy's voice again from behind the crate.~
Teddy: Listen, I heard what Lilith said to you last week and I just wanted to tell you that what she said was just not nice or even acceptable in any way. I had words with her about that and she is very sorry.
~Erin's brow quirks a little higher as Lilith coughs at this point, obviously Teddy stops talking for a minute as she clears her throat.~
Teddy: Uh hmmmm, so last week, I don't know if you're aware of this but Lilith had a really bad week. She's still not over what Logan did to her and I'm not saying it's an excuse for her to be rude to you, but she did go through some horrible stuff. Anyway, it's not very often that people are genuinely nice and caring towards Lilith and so I wanted to come here and extend an olive branch to you. Would you like to join us for milkshakes after the show tonight?
~Lilith and therefore Teddy pauses for a second.~
Teddy: She's sorry for saying you wanted her vagina too by the way, she didn't mean to say that, GREAT SCOTT was just annoying her...
~For a moment, the Oncoming Storm can be seen just kind of... staring at the bear that's acting as a puppet before she's sighing and shaking her head.~
Erin Gordon: Sorry, but I can't. My flight's scheduled to leave pretty close to after the show ends. I got a lot to take care of back at the farm with breedin' season startin' up.
~A pause; she manages a smile, her tone warming a little.~
Erin Gordon: Tell you what, though. How 'bout we do that before NSFW?
~Behind the crate Lilith can only just be seen gritting her teeth. She was obviously under the impression that Erin was trying to blow her off after she had Teddy apologise for her. Lilith simply looks up at her bear though and gives him a sweet nod.~
Teddy: Sounds fun, hey, maybe one day we could even come and see you at your farm.
~At this point Lilith stands up and just gasps at her bear as if he'd just crossed the line. She shakes her head at him crossly before turning her attention onto Erin.~
Lilith: Oh hiya Erin Bear, fancy seeing you here. I, errrr, I have no idea what Teddy was just saying... honestly, the more I think about it, the more I'm starting to think that he's actually kind of crazy.
~Lilith looks at her bear again and gasps at him a little bit.~
Lilith: Don't give me that look! Oh by the way, I was just wondering... do you have a dog?
~The Oncoming Storm blinks a little before shaking her head.~
Erin Gordon: Nope. Used to, but he died of old age and I haven't got a new one.
~Lilith looks at Erin as if she's about to burst into tears, that was literally the saddest thing she'd ever heard.~
Lilith: Erin... we need to go puppy shopping! You and me! We'll get you a dog, name him cookie... and BOOM! We'll become the very bestest of friends!
~Lilith suddenly looks even sadder.~
Lilith: I was going to get a puppy the other day, I went to the breeder persons house... chose him and everything! And then Sarah told me no... I had to go away empty handed and puppy-less. Saddest thing I ever had to do... aside from the time Sarah took me to a candy store and didn't even buy me any candy! I still have nightmares about that day...
~Erin awkwardly clears her throat a little, clearly unsure of what exactly to say to avoid provoking Lilith into snapping when she glances at a nearby clock.~
Erin Gordon: Hey, ain't you got a match comin' up soon? You oughta go get ready for it.
~Lilith gasps at Erin, she'd completely forgotten that her match was next.~
Lilith: OH MY GOD BEAR YOU'RE RIGHT! I gotta go, Erin! I can't lose ANOTHER match... Sarah will kill me... Maybe even literally!
~Lilith grabs Teddy and runs away down the corridor, getting into an argument with her bear as she left.~
Lilith: "Maybe we can come and see you at your farm some day" WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT TEDDY?! ARE YOU TRYING TO MAKE US LOOK LIKE STALKERS?!
~Lilith goes round the corner still arguing with her bear as Erin merely watches her go, turning her head to look at the camera once the other woman's well out of earshot.~
Erin Gordon: Well that sure was... somethin', wasn't it?
~Shaking her head, she also walks out of the shot as the camera cuts to...~
Smith: I think Erin is, well, like the rest of us...trying to figure Lilith out.
Hood: Well, at least she figured Lilith out IN RING last week. Although it was close, I'm sure Lilith will have a shot to avenge that loss down the road.
Smith: Indeed, Erin is a rising star...as is Lilith. Those two women help make up the future of OCW.
~We’re back in the offices of OCW GM Marcus Welsh. Greg seems to be knitting something that resembles the NSFW logo. Welsh is running down the lineup, rubbing the side of his head~
Marcus Welsh: This is a huge fucking card, Greg. We might be stretching ourselves a little thin.
Greg: I’m sure you can handle it, Marcus.
Marcus Welsh: Easy for you to say…I’m the one doing all the work over here.
~Greg THROWS his knitting materials down and stands up, irate~
Greg: Are you insinuating that I don’t work? I’m here for emotional support! How dare you, Marcus! HOW DARE YOU!
Marcus Welsh: Look, Greg…I’m sorry. I’m just a little stressed is all. I didn’t mean it that way.
~Greg sits back down, resuming his knitting. Welsh’s eyes widen as if to say “DRAAAAMA.” Knux suddenly enters~
Knux: Mr. Welsh, a few notes concerning NSFW.
Marcus Welsh: Greeeaaat.
~Welsh looks them over. The first appears to be a printed email from Lurrr’s legal team~
Marcus Welsh: Oh, cool…Lurrr finally picked a stipulation out for his match against Meyhu. It’s going to be a Penalty Box match. Mathis will be placed in there to start…the only way he can exit is if someone opens the door from the outside. Then, at that point, anybody who goes in and shuts the door is locked within the box until someone from the outside opens the door. It gives Lurrr a strong but not totally unfair advantage.
Knux: Makes sense.
Marcus Welsh: Yep, some good news! Ah, now what is this…UNION?! The fuck does this UNION want…
Knux: It’s not so much what they want…it’s more of a grievance. You see, several members of the roster feel as though they’ve earned a spot on the show. They are seeking restitution for their grievance.
Marcus Welsh: Fuck me. Is this going to wind up being some six hour marathon? Holy shit…alright, let’s see here…who could use a booking…
~Welsh goes to onlinechampionshipwrestling.com and checks out the rankings page~
Marcus Welsh: Alllright…well I think Ed could use a match. Same for Bester. Erin Gordon definitely should be on there…since we’re packing this thing as tight as possible. I think Darin Zion is looking to get back in an OCW ring, so we’ll toss him in…and…Fabian Dufresne. So…what’s that…five? We can do a five person over the top rope and into the swimming pool Battle Royal. Winner gets a Craze Title shot at the next PPV.
~The fans inside the arena cheer~
Knux: That sounds very fair, sir.
Marcus Welsh: Well of course it does…because I am a fair guy! Now, go do some shit or something…I need to meditate on how I’m going to get all this done this week.
~Knux leaves and we cut back to ringside~
Smith: Unlike at Block Party, Marcus Welsh is doing his best to fit all active participants on next week’s show!
Hood: It’s a lot…like, a lot.
Smith: It is…the show will be jam packed with talent. Possibly the most talent filled show in company history!
~We cut to a remote part of the OCW Arena fans rarely get to glimpse—the cavernous depths of the on-site weight and conditioning room. The weight benches are stacked with hundreds of pounds of iron, the treadmills and ellipticals all appear to be in tip-top shape, and the OCW PPV posters lining the walls would get anyone ready to work out before heading to the ring to kick some ass. The only issue with that at the moment is that the place seems completely deserted, conceivably due to most of the wrestlers who are booked on this episode having already finished their workouts before the show began. Slackers. We hear a repetitive thudding noise from across the room, however, signaling that someone must be down here, or the arena has an infestation of raccoons. Both options are entirely possible, considering the company we’re watching.~
Voice: Asleep at the wheel…
~The intrepid cameraman moves toward the sound of the voice. He is led through two rows of large, heavy, black, sand-filled training bags chained to the ceiling until he notices one of the bags jarring to and fro, despite its immense weight. The familiar voice returns from the other side of the bag.~
Voice: I’ve been there for what feels like millennia. It just took you two banging on the window for me to realize it. It’s amazing how many miles one can travel despite having one’s eyes closed. A little forward and an awful lot backward, until we at last come to rest where the vehicle stops rolling.
~Our view pans around the sandbag to find a heavily-breathing, sweat-soaked visage of two-time OCW Hall of Famer, the Zen Master, Paul Paras. Tonight, however, Paras appears a lot less Zenlike than usual. His taped fists and forearms slam against the heavy bag with a blast of adrenaline. He moves deftly around the bag, feinting to the right before delivering a surging knee smash where the bag’s theoretical torso would be. A sudden twist of his body precedes a spinning back elbow in one direction immediately followed by a hook kick with the opposite leg, a loud POP of his heel against the bag echoing across the empty room. Paras steps forward, toward the camera, as the heavy bag spins wildly and dangerously on its chains behind him.~
Paul Paras: But I’m awake now.
~Paras slings a towel over his shoulders, his eyes showing little of their usual transcendental space, making room for an intense clarity as he stares down the camera, which slowly zooms toward him.~
Paul Paras: Cyanide, I’ve listened for weeks as you’ve tried to justify your actions to me. You’ve painted yourself as high and mighty, when we both know the “mighty” part left you years ago. Last week, you ambushed me yet again, and this time, I fully expected it. Part of me wanted to see just how ruthless my former friend was willing to be to make his point, even if I’m not certain he knows what that point is anymore. But another part of me has wanted so badly to get both you and Mario in the ring at the same time, that even an ambush was preferred over this song and dance we’ve been doing for months. And lo and behold, at Not Safe For Work, my patience will be rewarded. A Texas Death Match. How lucky that when you and Mario threw out decades of friendship and brotherhood to further your own agendas, you were only left with a pay-per-view match with the greatest competitor the wrestling world has ever seen. Friends or enemies, I’ll stop at nothing to prove that one more time.
~Paras tosses the towel away and paces out in-between the hanging heavy bags, the cameraman backing up as he walks.~
Paul Paras: Now, last week, I was just as shocked as the rest of the world when Matteo Maurako was kidnapped against his will. For the conspiracy theorists out there who suspect me, no doubt including Mario, my game has never been one of cruelty to veterans—I respect this business with my entire heart. Ironically, I wasn’t in the arena at the time of the kidnapping because I was sitting beside the hospital bed of a girl who got her jaw broken by Mario a few days earlier. She’s going to be fine… but you won’t be, Mario. Raleigh said it perfectly—I am going to get you back, and I am going to kick your head off. Just as I proved when I arrived at the arena to see your match last week, Mario, I have a permanent residence inside your brain. And at Not Safe For Work, I’m collecting my security deposit, packing up, and burning the place to ash… and you with it.
~Paul reaches the end of the bags and glances behind him slowly.~
Paul Paras: My best friends… my brothers… some might think that the man who stands before you, the greatest wrestler on the planet, will be at a disadvantage in the Texas Death Match. That I’m too honorable. That I’m too much of a “wrestler.” Those opinions… are considerably shortsighted.
~Paras reaches down to the floor below the camera view. When he stands back up, he holds a startlingly familiar object—the custom shinai kendo stick he carried for decades of his career. He looks the sharpened bamboo stick up and down, then back to the heavy bags. Paras wordlessly darts toward the first bag, cracking the stick against it and slashing it across its face, opening a tear in its surface. He spins away from the bag and swings at an adjacent one, quickly severing it and then another with the force of the blow. Once back to the original bag Paras had been training on, Paul pauses, then delivers a thunderous kendo stick shot to the bag with surgical precision, splitting it at the seams. Paras takes a deep yoga breath, then puts the shinai over his shoulder as a soldier carrying his weapon into battle. As the sand from all four bags begins to cascade onto the gym floor, Paul Paras walks through it, back toward the camera.~
Paul Paras: It’s been fun knowing you two.
~Paras walks past the cameraman, out of view, as we watch the sand slowly pooling on the floor. We head back to ringside.~
Smith: Paul Paras has to be considered the favorite in that match.
Hood: Well no shit, he won Death March. He defeated Meyhu. He defeated Langston. Just because he fluke lost at Block Party doesn't mean he sucks...that was a weird match. Mario cost him.
Smith: Indeed...and now Mario must atone for his sins.
Hood: That or remind his 'brothers' that it isn't how good you are...it's what you're willing to do to be successful.
Smith: Mario is certainly willing to sell everything for a shot at the OCW Title. These three men will beat each other to the brink next Monday in the most personal match in company history.
Hood: I can't wait.
Smith: Coming up next, however, Lilith returns to in-ring action, looking to rebound against a man who just, kind of became a father - Great Scott!
Singles Match
Lilith (2-2) vs. Great Scott (0-3)
~The crowd seems READY for some action. There hasn’t been much so far…there isn’t likely to be much moving forward. However…this match could…COULD provide a hit off that gateway drug throwing these fans into a pre-NSFW tizzy. Belvedere clears his opulent 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 crowd is going wild…people are suddenly doing the GREAT SCOTT. We’re not sure how to describe it…they’re gyrating, throwing their arms around, running in place…basically breaking into sporadic, arbitrary dance moves. There’s no rhyme or reason…no method…it’s madness. The Bear runs toward the ropes…he flips over the top rope, landing on his feet. GREAT SCOTT throws the belt at the Bear…the BEAR catches the belt in his mouth and starts to moonwalk. The crowd goes WILD~
Smith: Great Scott doing…his thing.
Hood: Some people think Great Scott is mildly retarded.
Smith: Do you?
Hood: I think he’s special, Smith. Very, extra special.
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~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 the match to begin~
Smith: And here’s Lilith!
Hood: We were having a very, extra special dance party only for it to be ruined by a retard!
Smith: HOOD
Hood: I’m sorry…but Lilith is just…she’s just…I can’t.
~Belvedere exits. The bell sounds~
Smith: Lilith lost a heart breaker last week against Erin Gordon.
Hood: It was a rough week for the woman with one name. She was, reportedly abducted by the man with one name. Then she lost to a woman with two names. It was a double whammy.
Smith: Uh, sure.
~Great SCOTT claps his hands. He nods his head back and forth…the party end of his mullet is wilding out. Lilith faces her corner…she positiosn her teddy bear onto the top buckle…giving it the BEST SEAT IN THE HOUSE. She turns and is ready to fight. Scott marches around the ring, bobbing his head, clapping his hands. Lilith watches Scott, questioning the man’s sanity. If two insane people psychoanalyze one another…what…what does that even mean? Is it like a tree falling in the woods? I’m so confused. Anyway…they lock up!! Or, well, they try…SCOTT tries…Lilith swerves gReat sCott and rakes hima cross the eyes!! Great Scott stumbles forward. Lilith rakes great scOtt’s back!! He grimaces in pain…Lilith grabs greAt scoTt’s head…wraps her hands around his face and claws at his eyes. greaT scotT yells out in pain~
Smith: Lilith using her nails as an equalizer to Great Scott’s size.
Hood: His penis?
Smith: No…his height…weight…muscles
Hood: I heard he can curl ten pounds with his penis, Smith. I HEARD he can do that…I haven’t seen it, just so you know. No homo.
~Scruff orders Lilith to break. She won’t…Scruff grabs her arms and is able to encourage Lilith to release. Scott stumbles into a corner, rubbing at his eyes. We see a streak of claw marks down his back. He turns around…his eyes are red and irritated. He appears to have compromised vision. Lilith runs forward, leaps into the air and drops Scott with a Double Arm DDT. She tries for a quick pin. Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
Kick Out!!
Smith: Scott kicks out! He’s going to have a tough time besting Lilith with bad vision.
Hood: He can just use the farce.
Smith: The farce?
Hood: The force, farce…whatever. He can use his GREATNESS! The man sired black babies…he’s got some serious power.
~Lilith is back on her feet. Scott finds the ropes, using them for aid in standing. He leans against them. Scott rubs his eyes. Lilith screams and runs at Scott…she spins around for a discus back elbow…Scott ducks, hoists Lilith up for an atomic drop…however, instead of bringing her down across his knee, he simply tosses her over his shoulder. She tumbles all the way to the outside, landing from first HARD. She’s down. The crowd at ringside looks on…they were behind Great Scott…but that…that was a terrible tumble~
Smith: Oh my! Lilith might be injured.
Hood: She’s already injured, Smith. This would merely add to the list.
Smith: Would you PLEASE lay off her mental well being. It’s unsettling to hear you go on and on about
Hood: What the fuck else am I supposed to talk about? Dancing bears? Fake title belts? A teddy bear on a turnbuckle? Mullets? Black babies? Cookies? Geezus…get me the fuck out of here.
~Scott walks around the ring, rubbing his eyes. They start to come into focus. He locates Scruff and gives him a huge hug. The fans pop!! Scruff is taken back, at first…but soon embraces the hug. A total BRO hug meant for the manliest of men who aren’t afraid of touching dicks or buttholes…no homo. The hug ends and Great Scott points at one side of the ring…the crowd boos. He points at another…they boo. He locates a third side…he points that way and the fans go wild!!! Scott runs forward and performs a somersault suicide dive over the top rope, landing on his feet next to Lilith. He pauses and looks around…the fans chant “GREAT SCOTT!” The BEAR moonwalks right in front of Great SCOTT…on and then off-screen. Great Scott drops to the push-up position and begins dry humping the ground. Lilith finally begins to stir~
Smith: Well this is certainly a happening.
Hood: That BEAR has some moves.
Smith: Maybe the best dancing bear I’ve ever seen.
Hood: You see a lot of dancing bears?
Smith: No, not really.
~Scott pops back to his feet. Lilith is on all fours…he grabs Lilith by the hair and slams her against the barricade. Her back JAMS into the edge. She winces. Scott lifts a knee into her sternum, right beneath those big titties she’s always talking about. Scott snares Lilith’s head…he hooks her, lifts her up and drops Lilith onto the floor with a suplex!! Lilith hits hard! She gasps for air…GREAT scott nips up and faces the crowd!! He takes in their cheers~
Smith: Great Scott is on a roll!
Hood: Lilith needs Great Scott to slip on a banana peel or get struck by lightning.
Smith: I don’t see either of those happening.
Hood: Potassium isn’t popular in Key West, apparently.
~Scott smells something. He reaches out and grabs what appears to be a BIG MAC…smuggles into the OCW Arena. He rips a chunk off, chewing it down. He hands it back~
Smith: Well, the full turn against Burger King is complete.
Hood: Heartless bastard.
~Scott swallows and snares a soda, washing down the stuff that kinda looks but doesn’t exactly taste like meat. He notices some dark skinned children. He sees their parents…they, too, are dark skinned. He spots MORE dark skinned kids…same thing, like skinned parents. Great Scott’s brain begins to churn and seize~
Smith: Uh oh
Hood: The truth shall set you free, SCOTT!
Smith: I think he’s putting two and two together, Hood.
Hood: About fucking time
~Scott says “NO!” He shakes his head, perhaps refusing to believe. He turns…Lilith is on one knee. Scott lunges at her…Lilith trips Scott up, causing him to slam, face first into the apron. Lilith rolls him into the ring. She hops onto the apron. Scott pops back to his feet, albeit dazed. Lilith leaps up, springboards off the top rope, hooks Scott and takes him down with a hurricanrana!! Scott staggers to his feet…it’s hard to keep this man down. Lilith leaps at him, clutching Scott’s body and digging her nails into his back…it’s her bear hug…the HUG OF DOOM!! Scott yells out…his back STINGING with pain. He reacts the only way a man twice the size of his opponent in such a situation would…he lifts Lilith up and plants her with a Belly to Belly!!! The ring shakes from impact. Scott covers Lilith…Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
Kick Out!
Smith: Lilith kicks out!
Hood: Note to self…do not bear hug someone twice my size.
Smith: Sound advice.
~Scott pops back to his feet. He’s fired up!! The fans chants “GREAT SCOTT!” The BEAR is swinging the title around, getting the OCW Arena on their feet. Scott turns and shoots Lilith AN ANGRY GLARE!! THE ARENA GOES WILD~
Smith: His patented Angry Glare…cannot belive I just said that.
Hood: A true professional
~Lilith reaches her feet. Scott charges in, looking for his GREAT Hurricanrana. He leaps at Lilith…Lilith ducks. Scott lands on his feet in Lilith’s corner. He comes FACE TO FACE with her teddy bear. It perplexes him. Lilith rolls Scott up from behind…Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
3!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…LILITH!!!!!
Smith: Lilith stunned GREAT SCOTT
Hood: Too many bears
~Scott remains on the mat, flat on his back, motionless. Lilith pops to her feet, wincing. She looks down, surprised. Everyone is surprised…even the dancing bear~
Smith: Is he…okay?
Hood: It was a simple roll up…he should be.
Smith: Perhaps the sting of defeat pushed him over the edge.
~Lilith exits the ring. Scott is still on his back. Lilith shoves past the Dancing BEAR. The BEAR does not react, instead staring at Scott. Lilith reaches the time keeper, shoving them away and reaching for a chair~
Smith: Oh no…not another display of poor sportsmanship.
Hood: Maybe Lilith owns stock in Burger King.
Smith: I doubt that
Hood: True…I’m getting a strong WENDY’S vibe.
~Lilith bypasses the chair and grabs a box. Everyone is confused. She heads back for the ring. Great Scott remains down…it’s as though he’s dead or asleep. Lilith stands over Scott with the box~
Smith: I’m worried
Hood: If there’s a dildo in that box then I’m outta here.
~Lilith places the box next to Scott. The crowd is hushed. They are deeply concerned for Great Scott. Lilith slowly opens the box…she tilts the opening toward Scott’s head. We see Scott barely open his eye…he’s trying to be sneaky about it…but everyone notices. He suddenly KIPS UP!!! The crowd goes wild~
Smith: He’s okay!
Hood: Fucking drama queen
~Scott grabs the box. Lilith exits the ring. She watches from the ramp…Great Scott shows the contents of the box…homemade chocolate chip cookies. He throws some into the crowd! He crams two or three into his mouth. The BEAR dances…it’s a GREAT scene~
Smith: Lilith with a peace offering for Great Scott!
Hood: Just goes to show that there are few things in life that can’t be cured by a chocolate chip cookie.
Smith: They are…to borrow a recently overused term – GREAT
~The screen flashes to a moment of darkness, then static, then the image of The Big Bifford standing in front of a green screen, he looks really irritated.~
Bifford: Damn it, Kenny... why do you always have such difficulty with the stupid green screen? We need it to work NOW...
Kenny (off camera): I think I've got it... hold on....
Bifford: It says it's recording... that can't be right, can it?
Kenny (off camera): No, we're fine... I think I've got it....
~Suddenly The Great Wall of China appears behind Bifford, his eyes squinting as he looks at a monitor off screen to make sure it looks good.~
Bifford: Finally.. when are we gonna record this stupid thing?
Kenny (off camera): Right now... 3... 2.... 1.
Bifford: Hey there OCW fans, it's me your beloved here and OCW World Champion...
~Bifford seems to pull an OCW Championship belt made of splenda packets and duct tape out of nowhere. He holds it proudly in front of the fake Great Wall.~
Bifford: I've come here to China to represent OCW as Champion... but also because the number three is very lucky in China. Though the Chinese may think this is the case because of the Three Kingdoms, the Three Gorges, the Three Great Halls, the Three Emperors or Three Sages, and the Three Ancient Moral Guidelines - the truth is that the Chinese don't even know how lucky the number three is... and no, Duce, don't worry - you won't be getting lucky and winning our third match against one another. No - the number three is important to the Chinese people because they've always known inside that I will beat you a third time and then go on to become a DOUBLE CHAMPION as both OCW Champion...
~Bifford holds up the splenda belt again.~
Bifford: And also as OCW Paradigm Champion. As a DOUBLE CHAMPION, I will begin my new PARADIGM CHAMPIONSHIP OPEN INVITATIONAL in which I will defend my title weekly against anyone named Duce Jones or Dangerous Dan. So don't worry, Duce... our relationship doesn't end at our third match... I will wrestle you every week until I die and I will beat you every single time.
~Bifford smiles at the camera.~
Bifford: Just like I beat Mario... once.. twice... three times, and just like I beat Dangerous Dan once... twice.. three times... four times... five times... six times... seven times... eight times... nine times... ten times... eleven times... twelve times.
~Throwing the splenda belt over his shoulder, Bifford points at the fake Great Wall of China behind him.~
Bifford: No wall will keep you safe, Duce.. I'm coming for you - see you at Not Safe for Work...
~Winking at the camera, Bifford turns and walks off set.~
Smith: Bifford is determined to pound Duce into oblivion.
Hood: Bifford once murdered 4 or 5 people, I think.
Smith: And?
Hood: I don't know, that just popped in my head. Maybe he'll murder Duce...
Smith: I certainly hope not!
~We cut STRAIGHT to the ring. OCW General Manager, Marcus Welsh (a busy, busy man on these go-home shows) stands, holding a mic. There is a look of concern on this man’s face. Hopefully he didn’t leave the oven on. Another man occupies the ring with Welsh – CECILWORTH M! FARTHINGTON! CMF doesn’t look concerned…he simply looks annoyed. Welsh taps the mic, it works~
Marcus Welsh: Alright…I hate to come out here and break up this wonderful flow of squash action, but there’s something from last week that needs to be addressed. Cecilworth, my good man.
~The crowd boos. Farthington refuses to look Welsh in the eye~
Marcus Welsh: Farthington…Cecilworth…M!
~Welsh steps closer. Cecilworth turns his head further to the left, refusing to look at Welsh. Marcus seems upset. He lowers his head~
Marcus Welsh: I’m…I’m sorry. After last week’s debacle...the ruination of a tremendous moment. You went out there and gave your heart and soul for the Quack Cup. You defied the odds. Blood, sweat, tears…they were left staining the mat after your effort to emerge victorious. It was, arguably, the greatest performance in OCW history.
~CMF appears to ease up a bit. His head starts to turn down toward Welsh. Welsh begins to look up. CMF jerks his head back toward the ceiling, continuing to ignore his GM. Welsh lowers his head once more. The crowd, meanwhile, boos the obviously erroneous report of Quack Cup 2019~
Marcus Welsh: I know there isn’t a thing that can be said which will atone for last week’s debauchery. However…there is one thing I can do to hopefully make it up to you, Cecilworth.
~A loud “OWLIS” chant fills the arena. This irritates Welsh~
Marcus Welsh: SHUT UP! We’re dealing with someone of great importance here! We don’t need that…that…WOMAN coming out here and ruining things for a second week in a row!
~The cheers only increase. Welsh sighs~
Marcus Welsh: This…this is why we can’t have nice things. Or, at least why I can’t have nice things. You, on the other hand, Mr. Farthington, can! Let me introduce to you the gift you earned last week. Ladies and Gentlemen…THE DUCK!
~CMF’s head turns toward the entrance ramp. Four men dressed in fancy suits looking like Ralph Lauren models strut down the rampway carrying THE DUCK. The Duck is standing; it’s beak held high. He marches back and forth, strutting its stuff. CMF seems to be easing up on his frustration. The men enter the ring with the duck (still contained within the strict confines of the bulletproof casing)~
Marcus Welsh: Mr. M!...if you would so kindly accept this duck…the nicest duck…as my sincere apology for what transpired last week.
~CMF steps forward. The four men carrying the duck are kneeling, bringing the duck up to CMF’s eye level. CMF touches the casing. He leans in, looking THE DUCK in the eye. He turns, facing Welsh…he smiles…Welsh smiles…the two men share a goofy embrace. The fans BOOOO!! They chant “BULLSHIT”~
Hood: Yes!!! Finally, The Duck has come home!
Smith: That competition last week was RIGGED. That Duck should not belong to Farthington!
Hood: Let the man have his duck…he paid good money for that thing.
Smith: Allegedly
Marcus Welsh: Alright! The entire OCW fanbase can rest easy as order has been restored.
~A loud pop!! Welsh and CMF seem impressed. These fans might be growing in their culture, their appreciation for the finer things in life. That or it…it could be CHASTITY TEMPLE…who happens to be standing right behind Welsh and CMF, holding her SFW sign~
Smith: It’s Chastity!
Hood: Get that vile woman out of here!
~Chastity, knowing who butters her bread, slams the sign into CMF’s head!!! He stumbles forward. Welsh turns around and screams…he runs behind the four men, who are still holding the duck. CMF turns around and is hit AGAIN with the sign. He reels against the ropes. Chastity fires up…she runs forward and looks to knock CMF over the top rope with the sign. Farthington, though, reaches out with his hand, grabbing her by the throat. The fans boo. Welsh stands, growing in confidence~
Smith: Let her go!
Hood: Seriously? She just ran in on CMF’s ceremony! She deserves WORSE, if you ask me.
Smith: Well, I didn’t
Marcus Welsh: SECURITY! GET THESE WOMEN OUT OF HERE! THEY ARE RUINING THE DUCKENING!
Smith: The Duckening?
Hood: Interesting name.
Smith: I don’t know what to say about that name…but I do know that Chastity and Alice were served a heaping pile of injustice last week. THIS…this is payback.
~The OCW Arena goes WILD!! Welsh’s eyes widen as he slowly turns, facing the rampway to see MIKE ZYBALA!!! Zybala stands at the top of the ramp with a sly grin on his face. He points his mic down at Welsh~
Mike Zybala: Marcus, Marcus, Marcus…
Marcus Welsh: Ah shit, here we go again
Mike Zybala: Normally I wouldn’t waste my time…considering you VETO everything. However, given the knowledge I’ve acquired about this entire fiasco well…I think might just let this ruling I’m about to make stand.
~Welsh looks on the verge of illness. Farthington reaches his feet and leans against the barricade, trying to regain his wits~
Mike Zybala: Farthington is running around taking what he likes. He calls himself the Interim Paradigm Champion…he thinks he can just buy the duck. How about this spoiled lad EARN something for once in his life. How about at Not Safe For Work Farthington does battle against a former Paradigm Champion, Alice Knight AND a future STAR in this company, Chastity Temple FOR the REAL Paradigm Championship?
~The crowd goes wild. Welsh turns, looking for Farthington, worried to death over how he’ll react to his news. CMF is still catching up on what’s transpired~
Mike Zybala: We’ve got ducks, we’ve got owls, we’ve got ants, we’ve got cats…we’ve even got Bibles. So how about we do one of those matches where four boxes hang above four corners. Inside one box will be the Paradigm Championship…inside the other three will be…well, items that have a connection to the three competitors. I don’t want to exactly give those details away for free, you know.
Smith: It’s one of those box matches, Hood!
Hood: That shit got a name?
Mike Zybala: We’ll call it…A Noah’s Ark match!
~The fans go WILD!! Chastity seems super excited. Alice is cool. CMF looks around, wondering what the hell has just happened. Welsh is perplexed~
Marcus Welsh: A Noah’s Ark Match? The fuck does that even mean?
Mike Zybala: Wooden structures that may or may not contain animals…
Marcus Welsh: NO! You CANNOT put the Duck in one of these boxes.
Mike Zybala: Go ahead and veto it, Welsh. Just understand that I have our boss on speed dial.
~Farthington, looking into the ring for support, finds a dumbfounded Welsh. He immediately refuses to look at Welsh again. Welsh tries apologizing. Chastity and Alice look around…the fans are chanting for Zybala and Alice and Chastity…and some are even chanting for the Duck. The camera zooms in on Welsh…he angrily tells them to cut away. They do~
Singles Match
Max Kael (6-1) vs. Larson Ridley (2-0)
~Larson Ridley, sadly, is given a jobber entrance this week. This does not bode well for Mr. Ridley. He stands in the ring looking kinda sad. Perhaps he’s got enough self awareness to realize that NO ENTRANCE typically manifests into in-ring ass raping. Just ask Jack Puffer. Belvedere clears his throat~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Currently in the ring…Larson Ridley!
Smith: Larson Ridley…a promising up and comer.
Hood: And now a man with no entrance.
Smith: This does not bode well.
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~“Witch Doctor” begins while the lights dim in the arena. Lights above the ring shine down to create a #970000 Red High Octane Wrestling logo on the canvas that slowly morphs into a twisted, one eyed smiley face. The stage flashes with alternating red and blue lights as Max Kael saunters his way out onto the stage~
~Greeting the crowd with a large toothy smile the Prime Minister of Maxopotamia pauses on the stage and offers a traditional royal wave to a chorus of boos. Max doesn’t seem phased by the boos and jeers holding his head high as he continues to saunter down to the ring, his hands folding behind his back as he does so. Max keeps to the center of the ramp doing his best to avoid contact with any of the fans before climbing up into the ring~
~Pausing once again Max wipes his feet off on the edge of the ring before slipping between the top and center rope. Slinking toward the center of the ring Max, bathed in the red smiley face, lifts his hand and smiles once again, the Ambassador of High Octane greeting the OCW hostility with grace and measured arrogance. The music dies down as the house lights rise while Max Kael moves to his corner to prepare for his match~
Belvedere: From Arkham, Massachusetts…standing 6’4 and weighing in at 236lbs…M-!!!
~Max suddenly slithers out from his corner grabbing Belvedere by the shoulder, yanking his microphone out of his hand as a steady stream of boos rain down on his interjection before the start of the match. He taps the mic to ensure it’s still on before he lifts it to his chapped lips with a cruel smile on his face.
Smith: Looks like the Prime Minister of the eMpire has something to share with us.
Hood: Shh! Can’t you see the man is trying to say something?
Max Kael: ZeroCW.. I am MAXIMILLIAN KAEL.. And the next time you see me on a Massacre Belvedere will be introducing me as your new.. SAVAGE CHAMPION.. I just have to do two things before then.. First..
~Max turns slowly staring down Larson Ridley with his singular blue eye with a smug, animalistic smile on his face. He winks, or perhaps just blinks, at Larson before he turns to look back out at the crowd.~
Max Kael: I’m going to take the man standing in the far corner and give my opponent at Not Safe For Work, Vincent Langston, a prime example of what awaits. I’m not going to stretch it out, I’m not going to make a big show of it, I’m just going to do what I do best, beat UNWORTHY opponents in the middle of this ring like the trash that they are..
~There is a quick pop in the crowd at the mention of Vincent Langston but it is quickly quelled as Max continues to speak over the crowd. Max takes another moment to turn toward a nervous looking Larson Ridley offering him a friendly, though clearly not too friendly, wave, the smile stretching wide over his face, those sharpened metal teeth bared for all to see.~
Max Kael: Then I’m going to march into NSFW, head held high, fists balled and I’m going to show Vincent Langston, the entirety of the ZeroCW Roster in the back and all of you misguided, misinformed miscreant fans why I am the Warrant Officer of WORTHY.. And why I am the most SAVAGE man to ever wrestle here or anywhere else. I hope you’re watching, Langston, and I hope you’re taking notes. You’ll need everything you have to survive the Prime Minister of Maxopotamia, the Lord of Kaelsalvania, and.. Soon to be Sultan of Savage. But hey, at least your sister is dead so she can’t see me beat you harder than your daddy ever did..
~The arena immediately erupts in boos as Max takes in the cheap heat, his arms lifted at his side as his blue eye twinkles with a glimmer of such cocksuradness that somewhere Eric Dane knows he’s supported. Oblivious to the boos Max lifts the mic once again to his lips, his arrogance filled eye locking onto the camera.~
Max Kael: My name is Max Kael, First of My Name, Long May I Maim!
~Turning, Max shoves the microphone back into Belvedere’s chest and slinks back to his corner, his attention focused back on his upcoming match as leans against the turnbuckle. The smile on his face fades into a determined scowl as he locks eyes with Larson Ridley across the ring from him.~
Smith: Max looking to take care of business tonight.
Hood: Yea, I don’t think Larson has much of a shot tonight.
Smith: Agreed
~Belvedere exits and the bell sounds~
Smith: And here we go…
Hood: The most underrated wrestler in OCW right now?
Smith: Yea…I’d say Max might qualify. We all know he’s good…I just think people underestimate HOW good he really is.
~Larson takes off…he dives at Max with a spear!!! Max doesn’t move!! Larson, shoulder buried in Max’s gut, looks up. Max looks down and flashes his metal teeth. Larson gets that ‘oh shit’ look on his face. He scrambles, trying to get to his feet…but it’s too late…Max gains waist control…he lifts Ridley up and tosses him halfway across the ring with a Gut Wrench Suplex!!! Larson hits hard!! He arches his back, wincing in pain. Max marches toward his wounded prey~
Smith: Tremendous strength shown by Max Kael!
Hood: Tossed that guy like a sack of shit.
Smith: Yea?
Hood: I wonder how many sacks of shit get tossed a year? Not sure I’d want to befriend someone who throws around sacks of shit, to be honest.
~Max yanks Ridley to his feet. He shoves him against the ropes. Ridley throws a lariat…Max blocks it and leans forward, drilling Ridley in the head with a massive headbutt!! Ridley’s knees weaken. He throws a punch…Max blocks it, catching the wrist. He leans in and bites down on Ridley’s hand. Larson screams in pain, kicking his feet. We see blood run down his fist. Scruff, seeing the blood, accelerates his count, reaching five very quickly. He finally forces Max off…we see the blood dripping off Max’s stainless steel teeth. He wipes them clean. Larson holds his fist looking up at Max like “What the hell have I got myself into?!”~
Smith: This is grotesque!
Hood: Langston is fucked.
Smith: Max is unlike anything Langston has faced before…and yes, I know they fought at Block Party but this…this is different.
Hood: Max’s sole focus is going to be on Vincent Langston.
~Max delivers Helter Kaelter right into Larson’s groin…as if it was even necessary. Larson collapses into Max. Kael clutches Larson and drops him with Weapon of Max Destruction. Max makes the cover…Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…MAX KAEL!!!!!
Smith: Another dominating performance by Max Kael.
Hood: This time next week we may be calling him the SAVAGE Max Kael.
Smith: I think we can already call him savage, Hood. But I get your point.
Hood: Vincent Langston, good luck, pal!
~We cut backstage to the office of Marcus Welsh. The General Manager is currently on what appears to be finishing up an important phone call having to do with NSFW. ~
Marcus Welsh: Excellent. We can hammer out the details tomorrow morning and have everything set before we get to New Braunfels.
~Without warning, the door to his office is flung open as in walks The Mistress of Mischief, Sarah Twilight. The stunning redhead looks visibly irritated and immediately begins shouting at Marcus, ignoring the fact that he was preoccupied. She is carrying a manila envelope in her hands~
Sarah Twilight: Is this some kind of fucking joke?
~Marcus quickly ends the calls to deal with his obviously disgruntled employee.~
Marcus Welsh: Ok great, bye now, gotta run!
~Welsh looks displeased with the interruption and outburst from Twilight.~
Marcus Welsh: Good too see you too, Sarah. I guess knocking before entering a room isn't something you're accustomed to, is it? Now that you've rudely barged your way in here, what exactly is it that I can help you with?
~Sarah sneers at him, throwing the envelope down on his desk.~
Sarah Twilight: You know exactly what you can 'help me with.'
~Marcus looks down at the envelope, recognizing it immediately and he sighs, knowing where this conversation was going to be heading.~
Marcus Welsh: Do you know how many strings I had to pull to get you your contract? Buffett isn't happy about it. He was even less happy with paying you to sit out for a month. You are lucky he didn't simply revoke it altogether.
~Sarah folds her arms, unimpressed with the response she was being given.~
Sarah Twilight: Lucky? Is that what you want to call it now? I earned my contract and --
Marcus Welsh: Five years ago, yes you did.
~He interrupts her, stating the plain facts, defending his position.~
Marcus Welsh: You are expecting a lot after such a long time. I've done my best to accommodate you and treat the matter fairly. But the final call has been sent down the line and it is what it is.
Sarah Twilight: So this is essentially garbage now. I earned an Oh Shit contract, and you have done everything to take the 'Oh Shit' out of it.
~Sarah taps her foot impatiently, patently awaiting an answer more to her satisfaction.~
Marcus Welsh: I don't know what to tell you. This came down from the top.
Sarah Twilight: You asked-- demanded I make a decision last week, and I did exactly that. Now I have to tell people ahead of time that I'm cashing in?
~Marcus nods his head.~
Marcus Welsh: That's what it says in that letter.
Sarah Twilight: That's complete bullshit! How many fucking hoops do I have to jump through here?
Marcus Welsh: I need to build ratings. You know how you do that? By advertising that a championship change might just happen. I can't do that if you wait until the last minute. Buffett wants results. You wanted your contract, we obliged. Now in return, we're going to get something out of it.
~Sarah looks completely disgusted, almost like she wanted to punch Marcus in the face at any moment.~
Sarah Twilight: I refuse to give a heads up to the champion I chose. You might as well have read the fucking name off last week if that's the case.
~Marcus looks a bit confused now by her comments.~
Marcus Welsh: Hold on ... Buffet never said you had to tell anyone who you're cashing in on. I agreed to keep that between us. That hasn't changed. All he wants is for you to announce that you're cashing in with enough notice that we can market it. Keep all of the champions on edge. You let us know when you want to pick your spot, you keep the element of surprise because nobody knows who you're coming for. Nobody knows what moment you're going to walk down that ramp.
~Sarah ponders this for a moment. She still isn't happy that she has to give advance notice of any kind. But on the bright side, at least she wasn't having to pull the entire cat out of the bag. ~
Sarah Twilight: So, I don't have to announce what I'm cashing in on? Only when I plan to do it?
Marcus Welsh: Correct.
~She places a finger to her chin, contemplating. Eventually, the frustration on her face begins to fade and her lips curl up into her signature smirk.~
Sarah Twilight: Well then it's settled.
~Marcus is confused once again.~
Marcus Welsh: Okay?
Sarah Twilight: I'm not giving you, or anyone else any more time to change the rules on me. You said I have to say when but not whom. That's how it stands right now, and I'm not waiting for another bullshit letter. I'm cashing it at Not Safe For Work. One week. Market whatever the fuck you want. Just know that I'm walking out of there with gold. Consider all of your champions placed on notice.
~Marcus blinks a few times, as he was not expecting that. He attempts to calm the situation, knowing that Sarah was not happy about the changes.~
Marcus Welsh: Are you sure? You don't have to --
Sarah Twilight: June 17th. Done, over. That's what is happening.
Marcus Welsh: I just want you to understand that nothing else will chan--
Sarah Twilight: I want you to understand that I have made my decision. Mark it down on your little calendar. Start 'marketing' or whatever bullshit you just gave me. I'm going to fuck up someone's night. End of story.
~With that, The Mistress of Mischief exits the office leaving Marcus Welsh Speechless.~
Hood: You heard it! It's happening, Sarah Twilight is cashing in her contract at NSFW!
Smith: The question is, against whom?
Hood: Your guess is as good as mine.
Smith: Well this definitely changes the complexion of things. Every current champion faces the potential threat of walking into NSFW, perhaps successfully defending their championship ... only to have Sarah Twilight cash in on them.
Hood: The same goes for the current challengers heading into NSFW. Imagine capturing a championship on that night, only to have that moment shattered by a prime Twilight cashing in on you?
Smith: The possibilities are endless!
Singles Match
Fabian Dufresne (1-0) vs. Sterling Silver (3-1)
~Sterling Silver stands in the ring, looking around. “WHERE’S MY MUSIC?” he cries out, realizing what this means. Belvedere shakes his head, feeling sorry for the young man. He clears his throat~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Currently in the ring…Sterling Silver!
~Silver yells “FUCK!” as loud as he can. He knows he’s in trouble~
Smith: No entrance for Sterling…
Hood: A common theme tonight…we all know what this means
Smith: Indeed
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!!
Smith: Dufresne looked great last week against Scott.
Hood: GREAT SCOTT
Smith: Tonight he looks to continue his winning streak…this time against, Sterling Silver.
~Belvedere exits and the bell sounds~
Smith: And here we go!
Hood: If I were Silver, I’d run.
Smith: The lack of entrance should definitely have him concerned.
~Sterling Silver seems determined to overcome the NO ENTRANCE curse. He charges at Fabian. Dufresne sticks his foot out and kicks Silver right in the groin!!! Silver buckles…he nearly falls to the mat. Dufresne grabs Silver’s head and drops him with a swift DDT. Silver is down. Dufresne sits up looking like “Hmm, this is easy.”~
Smith: Look before you leap, kids.
Hood: Sterling Silver forgot that Fabian Dufresne is the master of the groin kick.
Smith: Seems we’ve got quite a lot of that going around.
Hood: It always works.
~Dufresne rises. He pulls Silver to his feet. He contemplates prolonging the inevitable but ah, fuck it. We’ve got a big week ahead…let’s get this shit finished. He hits the ropes, bounces off and drills Silver in the face with The Golden Touch (Claymore Kick)!!!! Silver is out. Dufresne makes the cover…Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
3!!!
~The bell sounds~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…FABIAN DUFRESNE!!!!!
Smith: Quick and domnating.
Hood: Dufresne looking like a star!
Smith: Indeed
~Preparing for "Not Safe For Work," Welsh appears to be swamped at his desk, stuck behind a mountain of paperwork. The office door opens, and in walls Mack O'Connor, carrying a folder filled with paperwork. Instantly, Welsh appears to be even more annoyed~
Mack: Hello, hello.
Welsh: What is it?
Mack: "Hi, Mack. Good to see you. How's your day going?"
Welsh: Just get on with it.
Mack: Fine... Upon doing my due diligence, I've discovered that the company is in violation of most of if not all of the provisions in the collective bargaining agreement created by my predecessor, whoever that was... The company is also in violation of a number of labor laws, and there's also several dozen unresolved complaints to HR. And all of this needs to be resolved by the end of the week, or the company will owe quite a hefty load of penalty pay. I put it all together for you.
~Mack drops the folder on top of Welsh's mountain of unfinished paperwork~
Welsh: You did that all by yourself?
Mack: Treat may or may not have helped me.
Welsh: Gotta love Treat...
~Welsh lets out a long sigh. Mack takes notice~
Mack: You know... It may be possible for some of this to fix itself.
~Welsh eyes Mack suspiciously~
Welsh: Oh? How so?
~Mack thinks for a moment, glancing down at the thick folder. He taps on it gently with a finger~
Mack: "Not Safe For Work" seems to be shaping up nicely.
Welsh: You're not getting a title match. It's too late for that.
Mack: Hm... That match you announced earlier. The one for the Craze number one contendership.
Welsh: What about it?
Mack: It's a nice little line-up... Ed Houston, solid competitor. Bester, a chance for him to prove himself. Fabian and Gordon, two relatively newcomers looking to make a name... Just feels like somethings missing...
Welsh: I recall you once saying the Craze Championship would give you the Grand Slam.
~Mack feigns amnesia~
Mack: Did I say that? I don't remember... What's the Grand Slam again?
~Mack lets out a devious smile. Welsh nods to him~
Welsh: You know what, Mack? How about we throw you into that match?
~Mack acts surprised~
Mack: Who? Me?
Welsh: Sure. We need a seasoned veteran in there to mix it up.
Mack: If you think its whats best, I'll do it.
Welsh: Thank you... So what about our current liabilities regarding the union?
~Mack picks up the folder again~
Mack: There are no outstanding issues I can think of.
Welsh: So we understand each other?
Mack: We do.
~They give each other a nod, and Mack turns and leaves. Welsh looks relieved only for a moment, then sees the stack of paperwork on his desk~
Smith: Welsh continuing to deal from under the deck.
Hood: That's a rude way of putting it. He's putting smiles on faces, Smith!
Smith: It sounds like Mack's wedged himself into the Craze Title scene. That match is going to be off-the-chart competitive.
~Andrea Hernandez is seen in the studio with the Craze Championship over her shoulder and she gets an amazing ovation from the audience. She doesn’t look nervous at all, in fact, she looks very determined knowing that she is going to have her toughest challenge to date. Still, as she begins to express her thoughts, none of it appears to faze her at all~
Andrea: I have taken my fair share of criticism during my Craze Championship reign, I am not going to deny that. I’m not going to pretend like I’ve been criticized by some for not wrestling every week or for not defending my championship during the Block Party tournament because there has been some of that. There have been some petty comments being made from others… like how I’m “ducking people” or how I stay above the fray and rarely bother getting involved with trash talking other people. People TALK… and believe me, the OCW locker room is FULL of talk… but at the end of the day, this is Online Championship WRESTLING… not Online Championship TALKING!
I hate to break the news to some of you, but your shitposting in the “Shark Tank”, our special little online social media forum… that doesn’t matter.
Looking at YOU, Mike Best… being all over that nonsense because… reasons I won’t get into right now but yeah, that little post you made… mocking my height, telling the world how you’re going to “squash me like the annoying little insect” that I am… just to name a few things… yeah, you can keep shitposting and you can keep shit talking all you want. You can fight those battles, but the battles that I choose to fight at the end of the day are in the ring, alright?
It’s because of those battles and it’s because I’ve WON those battles, that has me in the spot that I’m in right now, challenging YOU for the OCW Championship. In your little, ignorant mind, I’m probably just another weak woman on the roster that couldn’t measure up to you. To you, I’m probably another Melinda Rhodes, right? All due respect to her… she just didn’t have the mental fortitude to last in this company. To you, I’m probably another Ariel Shadows… someone who doesn’t do a damn thing for you… though I can see why. She didn’t get far in this company. To you, I’m probably another Hayley Robinson… someone you can piss off to the point where you goad me into doing something ridiculously stupid…
Here’s some news for you…
I’m not Rhodes.
I’m not Shadows.
I’m not Robinson.
Some of the obstacles I have faced to get to this point, NONE of them would have been able to handle. They were all talented wrestlers in their own right, had massive amounts of potential and they showed some flashes… but at the end of the day, I’m NOT them, and I’m NOT all the people in the locker room that you have easily been able to get inside of their heads.
You’re not going to goad me into putting my career on the line, that’s for damn sure. Undefeated record, eMpire, OCW Champion… I get all that. I’m not going to stand here and pretend that you didn’t earn it because as much as I hate to admit it, you did. OCW right now has an eMpire problem AND a Mike Best problem… which one is worse? That’s for the viewer to decide… but at the end of the day, you’re not dealing with someone you can fuck with so easily… you’re dealing with not just the strongest woman on the roster… but the BEST woman on the roster. I’m not the snowflake a large portion of the roster happens to be. I’ve never needed to be, nor will I ever need to be, the world’s greatest shittalker to get ahead. I’m not some fragile ego you can shatter with ease like much of the roster here.
So go ahead, take your best shot.
I’m sure by the end of the night, I’ll know just a little bit more of the kind of man you really are!
~Andrea walks out of the studio with her championship remaining poised and confident. The cheering crowd is very much behind her as the scene comes to an end~
Smith: Andrea is ready for the biggest match of her career. Can she tackle the best? Can she usurp Mike?
Hood: No.
Smith: You answered that quick.
Hood: Simple questions require simple answers.
Smith: I think you...as always, are selling Andrea short. She's got a great shot against Mike next Monday!
Singles Match
Bob Grenier (27-17) vs. JAM G (0-0)
~Whatever the hell a JAM G happens to be currently stands at the center of the OCW ring. He didn’t get a ring entrance because he doesn’t deserve one, he’s here on enhancement duty and he couldn’t be happier. That’s when the beat drops.~
♫Where the hood...♫
~DMX’s “hood classic” jams through the arena’s PA system. The crowd pops at the anticipation of seeing the OCW Hall of Famer come out to do his thing. He never does, though. The song drones on…~
~At length.~
Hood: Where’s Bob?
Smith: Your guess is as good as mine.
~Mercifully, the song ends.~
Hood: Really? He’s not gonna show up?
Smith: I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation! Maybe he was la-
Hood: [interupting] Shut the fuck right up Smith, I’m getting word that some kind of commotion is going on backstage!
Smith: Have we got a cameraman back there yet?
Hood: Didn’t I just tell you to shut the fuck up?
~Cut. Backstage.~
“You INCONSIDERATE...”
WHAM!
“...LAZY...”
WHAM!
“...WASHED-UP…”
WHAM!
“...PIECE OF GARBAGE!”
~Eric Dane is slamming a broom-closet door on the head of Bob Grenier. An audible gasp! can be heard from the fans watching via the big screen from inside the arena proper. Meanwhile, The Only Star is dressed in street clothes and right at this very moment assaulting and battering the former OCW World Champion into a bleeding and gasping mess.~
Dane: You don’t wanna take this SERIOUSLY?
WHAM!
Dane: You don’t wanna take ME seriously?
~Grenier is unresponsive. The Antagonist takes a step back, admiring his handiwork momentarily and allowing Bob to kind of slump back against the doorframe.~
Smith: Oh no! Dane’s got a devilish sparkle in his eyes!
Hood: Why wouldn’t he? He probably just ended Bob Grenier’s career!
Smith: That’s not what I meant!
~The Only Star turns and spits a wad of bile off to the side, his gaze falls back on the fallen competitor and the sneer on his face seems to grow even more maniacal.~
Dane: I bet you won’t make that mistake again, will ya Bob?
~The beginnings of a smile fades into something even more sinister and Dane takes off like a rocket; he drives his adamantium-braced knee solidly through Bob’s skull and by sheer blunt force sends Grenier’s head through the drywall just outside of the door frame.~
Smith: OH MY LAWD!
Hood: ERIC DANE JUST KILLED BOB GRENIER LIVE ON MASSACRE!
~The End Boss backs away, once again surveying his work. As the drywall dust settles on and around his query Dane can’t help but succumb to a chuckle. It is not a pleasant chuckle, and nobody else is laughing. He reaches into a pocket and produces a small stack of business cards that he then forcefully drops them on the fallen Canadian, bouncing them off of his forehead.~
Dane: There. When you wake up, pick a card and call one of my lawyers. They’ll tell you where to forward the medical bill. If you’ve got anything remotely resembling a spine and you think you want to punch a receipt for this, I’ll be waiting for you at NSFW.
~Another bit of laughter overtakes him momentarily.~
Dane: And Bob…
~The Only Star turns to walk away.~
Dane: If you ain’t gonna take this seriously, save me the five minutes, mmkay? Stay home.
~With that Eric Dane strolls on down the hallway.~
Smith: How can Bob possibly compete after that?
Hood: He's Bob...he lives in Canada. He goes through worse on a daily basis.
Smith: Is this...yes, I'm being told the match is official! Is...is Welsh planning on cancelling it after what we just witnessed??
Hood: Are you asking me?
Smith: No, I'm talking with people in the back for confirma -
Hood: And?
Smith: Well that's just GREAT! The match remains SET for NSFW. Who knows if Bob will be medically cleared...this feels like yet another attempt by our GM at putting over a newcomer at the expense of a veteran.
Hood: Oh fuck off...Bob's got to toughen up and learn to hang with this new crowd. If not, well he can go sit on the sidelines with Vargas, TIO, and CJ.
Smith: Ouch
Hood: I'm just saying!
Smith: Well fans...Eric Dane and Bob Grenier are set to go to war next Monday. Will Bob be able to compete? I don't think it's going to matter much...sounds like OCW is going to wheel him out there if they have to.
Hood: Umm, so...what about the match?
Smith: Well considering JAM G is out of the ring and Bob is...maybe dead...I think the match has been cancelled, Hood.
Hood: JAM G fucked again!
♫Where the hood...♫
♫Where the hood at?♫
~We cut back to the OCW camera crew walking in the concourse of the building. Ahead there is a long line of people that seem to be gathered around the entrance to the Men’s Room. The camera crew pushes their way to the front of the mob to find Sir Martino standing guard at the entrance to the bathroom door.~
Camera man: We are supposed to shoot an interview with King Maurako. Is he in there?
Sir Martino: One moment.
~Sir Martino turns around to the door behind him and knocks three times. The door to the bathroom opens up and King Mario stands there in all his glory.~
King Mario: Who comes here!?
Sir Martino: It is the OCW Camera Crew, they claim to have an interview scheduled with you my King.
King Mario: Does he have the pass?
Sir Martino: He has it not. I have it for him.
King Mario: Advance and give it.
~Sir Martino looks back at the Camera and motions for it to stay as he steps up to King Mario and whispers something into the ear of the King. The King nods approvingly.~
King Mario: Let him enter.
~Sir Martino steps back out into the concourse and the door closes behind him. Sir Martino motions for the Camera Man to advance. As the camera approaches the door Sir Martino opens the door and allows access to the camera man and then Sir Martino steps back outside and closes the door. The camera pans around the bathroom for a second and spots King Mario, who is now holding his Ultimate 2x4 for insurance and also has the Texas Bull Rope hanging around his neck like a necklace.
King Mario: Did you like all the Security I have this week? It is a shame that I must go through such lengths, but alas my popularity has risen 10 fold since being crowned King of the Maurako Islands. Not only from plebeians but then dealing with the jealousy of my own so called ‘brothers’.
~Mario chuckles at the notion of brotherhood with his NSFW opponents.~
King Mario: Speaking of which, would ‘brothers’ stoop so low as to kidnap an elderly man? Don’t play coy with me. The entire World knows that it was one of you two. I doubt it is Cyanide, you saw the lunatic earlier tonight. Crazy? Sure. Lunatic? Yes. But kidnapper? That doesn’t feel right. That doesn’t feel like his niche. Although that might be exactly why he would do such a thing. Paul Paras on the other hand? Paul is a manipulator to the highest degree. I know, pot meet kettle. But you see the difference is that I am who I am and I don’t care who knows it. Paul is what he is, but he doesn’t want anyone to really know he’s that way. But you’re going to be exposed Paul Paras!
~King Mario slams the Ultimate 2x4 down on the sink, which makes the camera man jump. Mario pets the Texas Bull Rope around his neck like it is a pretty little feline.~
King Mario: Cyanide, you say this is it for you. Well congratulations, I agree. But not because you’re going to retire. But because I’m going to retire YOU from breathing when I hang you from the ceiling of the Schlitterbahn Waterpark. You see you caused all of this Cyanide. All the constant kicking me in the face, but then I thought you had enough after Social Justice. But you came back for more. Now at Not Safe for Work, this train that is you and I, it reaches its end of the line.<\font>
~King Mario picks the Ultimate 2x4 up in front of his face and closely admires it.~
King Mario: Speaking of ‘end of the line’. Paras, I’m getting pretty tired of you throwing the word ‘brother’ around like you know what that means. Have you ever HAD a brother Paul? Ryan was like a brother wasn’t he? But where is he now Paul? Oh yeah, he’s dead.
~King Mario puts the Ultimate 2x4 down alongside him and stares into the camera, and talks slowly and deliberately.
King Mario: You say WE were brothers. We weren’t brothers. I HAVE a brother. I know what having a brother means. I know what brothers will do for each other. You’ve never done ANYTHING for me Paul. Like Cyanide said, it’s ALWAYS been about you. You’re just too damn selfish! You never took any time to get to know me. You don’t even know my middle name.
~Mario drops the 2x4 to the ground. Then he takes his crown off and puts it on the sink. Then he takes his cape off, and tosses it on the ground. Mario then puts on a leather vest and a bolo tie, and finally a NEW Cowboy hat, not to be confused with the one that the homeless guy stole at Block Party.~
Cowboy King Mario: June 17th. Schlitterbahn Waterpark. Texas Death Match. The three of us are going to do battle, and I don’t want any of you worrying about this old heart of mine. I will cut you both down. Because there ain’t no grave, that’s going to keep my body down.
~Mario walks over to the door and knocks three times. The door opens and Sir Martino enters the bathroom and grabs ahold of the camera man as the scene cuts to black.~
Smith: And the closing argument from King Maurako
Hood: This match is huge for all three men...but the stakes might be highest for Mario.
Smith: He's at a crossroads in, not just his career, but life...this match will send him down one of two very different pathways, given the outcome.
Hood: Let's go, Mario!
~As Smith and Hood continue to hype up the next match the feed begins to cut out and goes to static~
~As the static begins to clear up we see a darkened forest and as the image looks around trying to figure a way out of the woods a snap of a piece of wood jerks the focus to behind and we see a fire off in the distance. As the image moves closer towards the fire we see the masked individual from Massacre sitting on a log~
~The individual stares deeply into the fire before turning to their left and removing a cloth revealing several items. The first item picked up by the individual appears to be…..~
A silver coin of some kind.
~The coin is tossed into the fire as the next grabbed is a…..~
A Rocket Man vinyl album by Elton John.
~The record is broken in half and tossed into the burning blaze as well. The next item grabbed is….~
A picture of Superman.
~The 8x10 photo is ripped into multiple pieces before being turned to cinders as the masked individual continues on~
~A Single Star is picked up and the masked individual stares at it intently before tosses it into the fire as well before the final item is picked up and the gloved hands begin to dust off what appears to be an old book. As we get closer the name on said book appears more clearly written in gold lettering above a golden cross reads, “The Holy Bible.” The masked individual tosses it into the fire and doing so causes the flames of the fire to rise a bit but the person doesn’t move a muscle as they sit their silently amongst their stump. The masked individual takes the cloth that was laid on the log beside them and places it under their chin into their button up shirt like a bib. The individual reaches behind the log and produces a small, labeless, black cooler and opens it up. The gloved hand reaches inside and pulls out a FISH?!?!?!?!? The masked individual reaches down and grabs a sharpened stick and stabs it through the fish and holds it over the fire. As the fish begins to cook an image of something carved in it begins to show……~
NSFW.
~The image goes begins to go out of focus and cuts to static before the feed goes back to OCW’s normal programming.~
Tag Team Match
The Ministry of Parkness (0-0) vs. Tornado Alley (0-0)
~Respect the Wind by Van Halen echoes throughout the OCW Arena. Vortex and Debris are doing their thing…Vortex spinning around while Debris follows, dropping trash. The poor OCW employee tasked with cleaning up after them follows…sweeping trash out of the ring. Belvedere clears his throat~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is a tag team match and it is scheduled for one fall! Currently in the ring…Tornado Alley!
Smith: Vortex with a strange win last week against The Ghost Man
Hood: Strange? How about euphoric?
Smith: No
Belvedere: And, their opponents…
~A GONG hits. Smoke fills the entrance ramp. A giant, cardboard vehicle emerges…it’s colored in black SHARPIE. It’s suppoed to look like a hearse. There are portions of the ‘color’ that seem faded or ‘thin’ due to the SHARPIE’s ink running low. It heads down the ramp…we see four little legs sticking out, acting as the ‘wheels’ for this thing. It reaches the ring. Smoke is supposed to entirely consume the vehicle at this point…but it’s doing a piss poor job. Anyway…they ‘sneak’ out from the hearse in totally visible fashion…it’s Ubertaker and Tony the Spider!! They slide into the ring as the lights come on!! They look around as though they’ve fooled us all when in actuality the entire thing was pretty transparent~
Belvedere: From…somewhere…The Ubertaker and Tony the Spider…they are…The Ministry of Parkness!!
~Belvedere coughs a few times. He quickly exits, finding the production cheap and embarrassing. The smoke clears and we see Ubertaker and Tony staring down Vortex and Debris~
Smith: This thing feels like a waste of time.
Hood: Oh calm down.
Smith: With all the HUGE matches we have set for NSFW…with all the big names in this company…THIS is how we’re going to end the in-ring portion of tonight’s programming?
Hood: They can’t all be winners, Smith.
~The bell sonds. The four ‘wrestlers’ converge and begin talking. They seem very complimentary of one another. Vortex mentions that he thought the car trick was neat-o. Ubertaker expresses a fondness for tornadoes. Debris pulls out a half eaten back of Cheetos, handing it over to Tony. Tony pats Debris on the shoulder while laughing uncontrollably~
Smith: Ohhhkay…is Scruff going to make these guys find order in this tag match or what?
Hood: Looks like social hour at the local courthouse during sex offender registry.
Smith: Yikes
~Ubertaker drops the friendly act and tries to get into character. He reaches forward and rolls Vortex up!!! Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
3!!!
~The bell ringS~
Belvedere: Here are your winners…THE MINISTRY OF PARKNESS!!!!!
Smith: He tricked Vortex!
Hood: Well congratulations, Uber…he found someone dumber than he is!
~Uber and Vortex pop to their feet. Debris seems shocked. Tony is eating the newly procured Cheetos. Uber says, “I’m sorry, man.” Vortex sighs and nods, “I should have seen it coming.” Vortex chimes in, “Well, you did win last week.” Vortex nods, “True.” Tony replies, “Hahaha!” The four men shake hands~
Smith: Worst match ever
Hood: Yea, that was pretty shitty.
Smith: Let’s cut away before any new viewers stumble upon this embarrassment.
OCW Presents: Not Safe For Work
Singles Match
Craze Contenders Match
Savage Contenders Match
Paradigm Contenders Match
Savage Championship
Paradigm Championship
Hall of Fame Championship
Triple Threat
OCW Championship
LIVE! Monday, June 17th 2019
From Schlitterbahn Waterpark in New Braunfels, TX
Tag Team Championship
Team ATARI (c) vs. The Dravers Boys
Bob Grenier vs. Eric Dane
Mack O'Connor vs. Ed Houston vs. Bester Freund vs. Erin Gordon vs. Fabian Dufresne vs. Darin Zion
Kitty Petrova vs. Logan
The Big Bifford vs. Duce Jones
Vincent Langston (c) vs. Max Kael
Alice Knight vs. Cecilworth M! Farthington vs. Chastity Temple
Lurrr (c) vs. Matt Meyhu
Paul Paras vs. Mario Maurako vs. Silver Cyanide
Mike Best (c) vs. Andrea Hernandez (c)
~It has been a long, squashy night, but as the show nears its ending, tonight’s real main event is slated to begin. A table has been set up in the middle of the ring, with a chair on either side. A small, fancy leather briefcase sits on top of the table, containing-- well, I mean, you know what a contract signing looks like. It’s all set up there in the ring, as Marcus Welsh makes his way out from behind the curtain.~
Smith: Folks, up next we’ve got a contract singing for the OCW Championship match at Not Safe For work-- this match was put together so last minute that legal hadn’t even finished drafting the papers!
Hood: Boy, I wonder what’s going to happen… I bet NO ONE is going through that table. That’s not a thing that EVER happens in contract signings… pfft.
Smith: Not tonight, Hood-- last week on Massacre, Marcus Welsh laid down a Zero Tolerance Policy for physical contact between Mike Best and Andrea Hernandez. Breaking that ruling won’t just cost the offender their match at NSFW, it’ll cost them their title!
Hood: I don’t know, Smith… seems like they could have done this backstage if no one is going through that table…
~Marcus climbs up the steps, ducking under the ropes and into the ring, where he quickly procures the microphone from Belvedere. He saunters over toward the table, taking his place at the center of the festivities.
Marcus Welsh: I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again-- I was hired because I am a businessman, and I know how to turn a profit. The Mad People destroy my Sportsbook? Forget it. James Raven ruins my NSFW main event? Don’t even worry about. Tonight, I bring to you… INNOVATION. I bring to you… EXCITEMENT. I bring to you… the official stipulations for the OCW Championship match at Not Safe For Work!
~There is an audible buzz in the crowd, but Marcus isn’t tipping his hand yet. Instead, “Ultranumb” by Blue Stahli begins to play over the speakers, as Andrea Hernandez makes her way down the ramp with the OCW Craze Championship over her shoulder. Andrea looks to be all business now, her gaze fixated on the ring as she climbs the stairs and ducks between the ropes. The challenger takes her place on one side of the table, as her music is replaced by “Everybody Loves Me” by OneRepublic on the sound system.~
Smith: And here comes the OCW Champion himself.
Hood: You mean His Highness? Show some respect for the champ, Smith.
Smith: You mean the “champ” who is threatening to walk away with the OCW Championship after Not Safe For Work?
Hood: Oh. Right. FUCK HIM.
~As his music blares throughout the arena, OCW Champion Mike Best makes his way down the ramp, proudly carrying the OCW Championship as he hustles down to the ring. He’s looking smug as usual, as he rolls under the ropes and pops up to his feet. Andrea meets his eyes in a staredown, and the two don’t unlock eyes as Michael takes his place at the table. Andrea leans forward toward the champion, but before it can escalate, Marcus Welsh intervenes.~
Marcus Welsh: Easy now… easy. You guys know the rules. I’ve got one of you trying to jump the gun and one of you threatening to leave, so I’m gonna have some GOD DAMNED ORDER here tonight. Got it?
~Both champion and challenger nod, as Welsh opens up the leather briefcase and takes out the official contract for the match at NSFW. He first slides the contract and pen over to Mike Best.~
Marcus Welsh: Good. At Not Safe For Work, Mike Best and Andrea Hernandez will battle it out, but it won’t just be any old match-- this will be a brand new creation. A match befitting of two champions. A match that I like to call...
~Before Welsh can even finish, Mike signs the contract confidently, without even looking at the details of the match. His eyes are still on Andrea, as he flips the pen in her direction and kicks back in his chair, smirking.~
Marcus Welsh: ...Midas’ Ladder.
~Immediately, the face of the OCW Champion turns from a smirk to a look of worry. He scrambles to grab the contract back to look it over, but Andrea snatches it away, smirking herself this time. The crowd is roaring, even sight unseen as to what a Midas’ Ladder Match is. They just love that the champion doesn’t seem to like it.~
Marcus Welsh: No pinfalls. No submissions. No knockouts. One fifty foot crane, and the only way to win is to make it to the top. Use a ladder, climb the crane, I don’t care how you do it, but the only way to win is to make it to that suspended chain and retrieve… BOTH… titles. The OCW Championship… and the CRAZE CHAMPIONSHIP!
~Now, the roar from the crowd is even louder, as it’s Andrea Hernandez’s turn to look uneasy. The pen is already to the paper, but she hasn’t signed-- realizing that the Craze Championship is now on the line gives her pause, suddenly having something to lose. She looks up with fear in her eyes, the pen hesitating, as Mike grabs the microphone from Marcus Welsh.~
Mike Best: There it is. There she is, I knew she was in there.
~Mike stands up from the chair he’s been seated at, towering over Andrea with a sadistic sort of enjoyment in his eyes. He likes seeing her afraid. He looks almost like a predator, going in for the kill.~
Mike Best: The scared little girl, hiding behind that tough little warrior on the outside. There’s no shame in it, Andrea-- you SHOULD be afraid. But it’s not too late for you. You can turn around right now, and it was all a bad dream. You can walk to the back, stay content with that Craze Championship, and fight another million little Evin Empires. You can’t beat me, Andrea-- that fear you’re feeling? It's a SURVIVAL INSTINCT. Listen to that voice, Andrea. Listen to that scared… little… GIRL.
~At the second use of the phrase “little girl”, any apprehension Andrea has seems to disappear. With a snarl, she puts the pen to the paper, signing her name on the contract and shoving it over to Marcus Welsh. Looking content that it’s all over with, Welsh looks over the signatures and reaches to take the microphone back from Mike Best~
*THWAAAAACK!!!!*
~Except that the microphone is sent tumbling to the floor, as Andrea Hernandez puts about every pound of weight in her body into a right hook that knocks Mike Best flat on his ass! The crowd hits peak volume for the night, out of their seats as Andrea stands over Mike Best, chest heaving, not realizing what she’s just done. Marcus Welsh immediately gets between them, looking horrified, picking the microphone back up and yelling.~
Marcus Welsh: HEY! HEY GET THE FUCK BACK!
~In an instant, Marcus’ face is bright red, seething with anger. Mike Best starts to stand back up, head looking groggy as he pulls himself up from the canvas and picking up his fallen title.~
Marcus Welsh: I warned you, Andrea. I warned BOTH of you. Give me that fucking belt, I’m not kidding. Give me the belt, get your shit, and get the fuck out of my--
~Shaking his head in an almost violent disagreement, Mike pushes the microphone down and tells Welsh not to do it. He’s physically yelling that he wants the match, but Welsh isn’t having any of it.~
Marcus Welsh: No, I’m tired of it. I’m DONE with this. No one takes my authority seriously-- homeless vagrants in my parking lot, flagrant homophobic slurs thrown in my direction… people skipping out on events, ignoring my rulings… this is MY FUCKING SHOW, and I’m tired of being disrespected. Andrea Hernandez, you’re--
~Before he can finish the sentence, Mike takes the microphone from his hands.~
Mike Best: If you make this match happen at Not Safe For Work, then I’ll re-sign my OCW deal. TONIGHT.
~The roar from the crowd is even louder now, and Marcus Welsh is forced to take a step back and think about this. He looks back at Andrea, and then again at his OCW Champion. The rage in Mike’s eyes is very real, and he isn’t fucking around when he turns back to the General Manger to make his pitch.~
Mike Best: You let her walk down that ramp and out of this arena, and you make a martyr, Welsh. You make her a fucking hero, and she’ll go cash in on that in HOW. Or Valor Pro. Or fucking XWF-- the man who put me on my ass and died a hero. You wanna give them that payday? Or do you want to put her in the ring with me, and we can end this shit the way it was always destined to end? Let me end this little hero train before it even gets rolling-- and let me make you rich in the process.
~Marcus seems to see the logic, and he politely takes the microphone back from the OCW Champion. Andrea swallows hard, her eyes narrow in anger, as she’s not backing down either.~
Marcus Welsh: Alright, fine. Fine. Not Safe For Work, Andrea Hernandez and Mike Best… for the OCW Championship… AND the Craze Championship… that match is ON.
~Andrea clenches her fists, staring a hole into the OCW Champion, but Mike is staring just as hard back. He smirks smugly, holding the OCW Championship in the air, as she raises the Craze to match him.
The two are as nose to nose as they are capable of being, with their height difference, and the crowd could not be fucking hotter as OCW Monday Massacre goes off the air.~