OCW Presents: Massacre
LIVE! Monday, June 24th 2019
From The OCW Arena in Key West, Florida
~Another Monday night…again! Not Safe For Work feels somehow so close and so far away. What a night that was! Ten amazing matches, title changes, foundational shifts…a truly historic night for OCW. And now…the reset button. It’s time to start anew. Redacted is our shiny new destination. The mileage sign reads triple digits. It’s going to take a while to get there, but get there we shall. New feuds will flourish. New faces will emerge. Redacted, like Not Safe For Work will slowly materialize into a major event. And it all starts tonight. We’re ready, as always. Non-alcoholic beverage in hand, bag of snacks in the other…the HOTv logo flashes on our flat television screen. It’s followed by the OCW logo and then that Massacre image. We cut to a sold out OCW Arena full of screaming fans! The camera pans the crowd for a bit before settling on 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: Summer is here, Smith!
Smith: Well, yes, Summer officially began a few days ago…although the heat arrived last week in New Braunfels, Texas as OCW put on a classic event!
Hood: Fuck yea, man. Mike Best is a DOUBLE Champion! CM!F is the Paradigm Champion…the eMpire now has THREE belts!
Smith: That they do…they did, however, fail to capture the Savage Championship. Vincent Langston remains the owner of that title.
Hood: Yea and now he’s the commissioner.
Smith: Indeed…Langston is the new commissioner and Zybala is the new owner.
Hood: Dark days, Smith.
Smith: I’m actually excited!
Hood: Very dark days.
Smith: The Big Bifford and Logan emerged as challengers for the Paradigm and Savage Titles. Matt Meyhu became the second ever Hall of Fame champion while positioning himself for an OCW Title match against Mike Best at Redacted…if his knees can hold.
Hood: Oh he’ll be fine. He’s the Marvel!
Smith: Eric Dane impressed with a murderous debut win against Bob Grenier. Ed Houston got back to his winning ways by winning a battle royal for a Craze Title shot. Paul Paras survived literal war against his two best friends, Mario Maurako and Silver Cyanide.
Hood: That match was crazy.
Smith: Indeed…and Sarah Twilight made good on her promise by cashing in her contract and teaming with Lilith to take advantage of a very tired, very prone Dravers Boys to become the new Tag Team Champions.
Hood: Opportunity is both a blessing and a curse.
Smith: Yep…it was an amazing night full of action that is already shaping the future of this company. Tonight we begin the road to redacted as several key names return to the ring. And, in our main event, we will see the official debut of the NEW Tag Team Champions.
Hood: Alright…plus Scott Stevens is here!
Smith: Yep, Stevens shocked OCW fans and OCW Icon, Lurrr by appearing at OCW and choking the original legend out.
Hood: I haven’t received official word…but I can guess that Lurrr is angry. Doing all this hype…don’t forget about the gentleman game between Bifford and CMF!
Smith: Oh…how could I forget… Yes, these two are doing battle in the form of gentleman games. Whatever that means.
Hood: It means OCW is about to get an education in violent sophistication.
Smith: Whatever…so much to get to. Tonight should go a long way in shaping where we’re headed over the next five weeks...
~The camera does a hard pan around the audience, as the lights slowly dim in the OCW Arena. “Undefeated” by KB begins to play over the speakers, bringing a mostly negative but decidedly mixed reaction as OCW and Craze Champion Mike Best makes his way out from behind the curtain stepping out onto the stage. He’s wearing a black “#UNDEFEATED” t-shirt, albeit obscured since he is holding a microphone in one hand as each of his championships over his respective shoulders.~
Smith: It looks like we’re not wasting any time in getting to the fallout from Not Safe For Work. Craze Champion and OCW Champion Mike Best is here, and it looks like he has something to say.
Hood: The champion cometh, Smith! You’re not seeing double, those are two belts on his almighty shoulders!
Smith: You’re not wrong, Hood-- Not Safe For Work was a war to end all wars for Mike Best and Andrea Hernandez, but it was a war that was ultimately won by Mike Best. Like it or not, he is the rightful holder of both the Craze and OCW Championships.
~Mike makes his way to the ring, still sporting bruises and cuts from the Midas’ Ladder match last Monday. Under his t-shirt, the bulge of bandages is unmistakable.~
~He climbs the steps, ducking into the ring and pacing around for a moment as the crowd settles down. After a moment or two, he simply holds the two championships into the air, and the arena explodes into a hearty gridlock of cheers and boos.~
Mike Best: Undefeated.
~The reaction is still mixed, as a wry smirk comes over the face of the double champion. While he may have the personality of an actual bag of douche, the fans have slowly been coming around to his nearly undeniable ability to back it up in the ring. Hell, even Smith is becoming a believer-- hesitantly.~
Mike Best: Two belts. Two championships. Two dynasties. Last Monday night, I fought for my life, and I have the battle scars to prove it underneath this t-shirt. Quite frankly, I couldn’t be prouder to be standing in this ring, your OCW and Craze Champion.
~He slings the belts back over his shoulders, switching the microphone to his other hand as this time there is a real cheer. More for the belts being treated with their proper respect than anything else, though, as there are still a lot of haters in the crowd, and frankly he probably prefers it that way.~
Mike Best: But somehow, it’s not enough.
~Mike shakes his head, pacing a bit in the ring as he continues.~
Mike Best: Because last Monday, when the final bell rang and these two belts were officially mine-- on the record, in the books, MINE-- I should have felt on top of the world. I should have felt like I was the maker of my own destiny. I love to Tweet like a dickhead, light people up, and make people melt down. I love to rile up the masses. But more than any of it, I love wrestling. I love working at OCW. And I sincerely want to go down in history as the greatest of all time.
~He scratches at the back of his head, seeming unsure of his words.~
Mike Best: But I’m not, am I? Thirteen straight wins, zero losses, but no one thinks I’m the greatest of all time. Two concurrent championships, with no qualms about defending them anytime, anywhere, but no one thinks I’m the best. I’ve defeated more Hall of Famers than maybe anyone else in the history of OCW, at least in the time I’ve been here… but a lot of people still think I’m just the flavor of the week. And when I was holding those two belts in my arms at Not Safe For Work, I wasn’t thinking about the glory of being a double champion. I was thinking about Matt Meyhu.
~The crowd buzzes, having already seen the released (but tentative) card for Redacted. A rising cheer begins for Matt Meyhu, much louder than any support Mike Best has had here tonight.~
Mike Best: Because while I was winning THIS championship…
~He holds the Craze Championship aloft.~
Mike Best: ...while I was retaining THIS championship…
~And now the OCW Championship takes its turn, raised into the air.~
Mike Best: ...all I could think about was the fact that earlier in the night, Matt Meyhu was crowned the “greatest wrestling in OCW history”. He was crowned the “ICON” of OCW. And hey, he deserves it, right? Even though I beat Paul Paras, when he never could. Even though I pinned him for my OCW Championship…
~Now the crowd begins to boo, especially considering the circumstances of those pinfalls.~
Mike Best: Even though I am undefeated against Matt Meyhu… undefeated against EVERYONE in this fucking company… he’s put in his time. He’s the Hall of Fame Champion, the number one contender, and hey… maybe he really is the OCW GOAT. But the reason it was all I could think about, folks… the reason I’ve barely slept a wink since last Monday Night… is because while Meyhu may be the best that OCW has ever seen… I’m better.
~This gets a very, VERY mixed reaction from the crowd-- while they’re firmly behind Meyhu, the anticipation of seeing these two men go toe to toe gets a huge ovation from the crowd.~
Mike Best: And we’re going to find out, aren’t we, Matt? I’ve already signed the contract, the ink is already dry, and all you have to do is sign-- you can have your big moment tonight and give your little feel good speech and hobble your way out to the ring, and that’s fine. You can HAVE that moment. Because at Redacted, it’s my streak versus your reputation. It’s my OCW Championship versus what you view as your fucking birthright. And I’m going to beat you, Matt-- I’m going to beat you, even after I wrestle Ed Houston for the OCW Craze Championship. I’m going to pull double duty, and I’m going to--
~Suddenly, the arena fucking explodes as Mike Zybala steps through the curtain and out onto the stage. He holds a microphone in his hand and shakes his head at the double champ in the ring. He has to literally wait, as the crowd is too loud to speak.~
Mike Zybala: I don’t think we’ve formally met. Hi Mike, I’m Mike. I’m the NEW OWNER of Online Championship Wrestling.
~The crowd explodes again, as Zybala gives a little half wave at the man standing in the ring, looking sarcastically impressed with the man who helped to cost him his General Manager job in OCW. Not that it matters now.~
Mike Zybala: You want to cry about Matt Meyhu being better than you? That’s fine. Do it on Twitter. Boo hoo, break the fourth wall, boo hoo. You’ve been a menace since March, Mike, you and your eMpire buddies. And I’m an easy going guy, so no big deal. But that ring you’re standing in? My ring. That microphone you’re holding? My microphone. And those titles you’re holding? Well… you HOLD them, Mr. Best, but they BELONG to me.
~The crowd is going crazy, as Zybala shakes his head on the stage. Mike Best yells something at Zybala off microphone, but the new owner seems to pay it no mind.~
Mike Zybala: Look, champ, I’m a busy man, and I wasn’t going to interrupt… you and Matt Meyhu have your match at Redacted, and that’s fine. I’m not here about that. But then you started talking about pulling double duty… about wrestling Ed Houston… and Mikey, we need to talk.
~The crowd begins to buzz, with even a few minority boos emanating from the crowd as they start to see where this might be going. Certainly the double champion in the ring sees where it’s going, and he starts violently shaking his head, yelling back at Zybala in a fury.~
Mike Zybala: See, pursuant to Chapter 17, subsection 12, paragraph B of the… ah, who cares, I’m making it up… I OWN THIS PLACE! HA! Mike, in the interest of promoting an environment of FAIRNESS in OCW… in the interest of making things square for all the careers you’ve ended, all the negativity you’ve sewn, and all the people you’ve run out of OCW, I think it’s time you… gave something BACK.
~There is actually a surprising backlash for these words, as Mike Best stands slack jawed in the ring. The fans are happy to see him get what’s coming to him, but maybe this isn’t exactly what they had in mind. In any case, Zybala looks very excited to be the bearer of bad news-- Mike Best has been a constant problem to him for months, and the look on his face is making this all worth it.~
Mike Zybala: You’re gonna have to pick, Mikey. We have too many mouths to feed, and not enough spots at Redacted-- so you’re going to have to choose. Do you want to face Ed Houston? Or do you want to face Matt Meyhu?
~The OCW Champion’s brow furrows inside the ring-- clearly there isn’t a choice to be made here. Mike Zybala has just informed him that he is no longer going to be the OCW Craze Champion. The crowd is audibly louder for Matt Meyhu’s name than Ed’s, not out of disrespect to Ed, but just out of desire to see Mike Best face The Lime One.~
Mike Best: ...you can’t--
Mike Zybala: I own the company.
Mike Best: But I won this belt cle--
~Zybala cuts him off again, further frustrating the temporary double champion.~
Mike Zybala: Ah! Eh! No! CHOOSE.
~Michael Best looks at both titles over his shoulders, and the choice is obvious. He doesn’t even need to say it out loud, as Mike lets the Craze Championship slump into his hand. He holds it limply at his side.~
Mike Zybala: That’s what I thought, Mikey. But you know what? I’m a generous guy. I’m fair. I’m balanced. I’m not a monster. I’m going to let you choose your replacement, and they’re going to fight it out against Ed Houston at Redacted… for the VACANT OCW CRAZE CHAMPIONSHIP! Don’t decide now, though, champ-- I’ll give you a week to think it over. You do anything you have to do, you decide any way you choose, but when you choose… you WILL hand that championship over to me.
~There is a big mixed reaction from the crowd for such a momentous announcement, but there’s no mixed reaction inside the ring. Mike Best knows that he has no power to stop this from happening, but the rage and emotion in his eyes is maddening.~
~Zybala gives Mike Best a little wave, smirking at the OCW Champion as he disappears behind the curtain.~
Smith: Alright! Zybala has already done more to put the eMpire in check within five minutes than Welsh ever did over three months!
Hood: Zybala is a fucking socialist! Making Mike share his belts..this is MADNESS
Smith: The OCW Champion should NEVER hold another belt...outside of the tag.
Hood: Shitting all over the tag division, I see.
Smith: It's common sense, Hood. That Craze Title belongs in the hands of someone else. Zybala is doing what is necessary to keep OCW on the up and up.
Hood: Zybala probably wants that belt for himself. Guy is always shoving his stupid self into shit that doesn't concern him.
Smith: He's the owner...everything concerns him.
Hood: Ugh...I may need to have a lobotomy if I'm going to continue to function as OCW's color commentator under these circumstances.
Smith: Mike Best is FORCED to relinquish his Craze Title between now and Redacted. How and in what way? That's up to him...I'm sure, knowing what I know of our OCW Champion he will come up with something interesting.
~The camera catches Marcus Welsh hurrying down the hallway. He's on his phone as he heads in.~
Marcus Welsh: Look, my driver never showed up, and I'm running late as it is. Just find out what the hell happened, okay?
~Marcus pushes the door to his office open, barely looking in Greg's direction as he's standing nearby. Greg looks extremely nervous. Welsh goes to sit down at his desk, still on the phone, but then glances again at Greg. While listening to the conversation on the other end, he gives Greg a confused, questioning glare. Greg nods his head towards the other side, and Marcus turns to look. The camera moves as well, showing the new commissioner of OCW, Vincent "The Legend" Langston, sitting at the other desk.~
Marcus Welsh: I'll.. call you back.
~Marcus hangs up the phone, staring at Langston, who does not appear to be in a great mood. He's got a large stack of papers on the desk, and he's going through each one.~
Marcus Welsh: Vincent.. what are you doing in here? You.. you should have your own office. Not be in mine.
Vincent Langston: This is where he put me.
Marcus Welsh: Who put you.. oh, hell. Zybala?
~Vincent nods, angrily crushing a document in one hand. Realizing what he's doing, though, Langston swallows, releases the grip, and tries to smooth out the sheets.~
Vincent Langston: Paperwork. I never thought about fucking paperwork.
Marcus Welsh: No. We're not doing this again.
~Marcus gets up and leaves the office, with Greg following behind him. Marcus pulls out his phone in one motion and dialing a number quickly. As the door shuts, he immediately hears the phone ringing, which is strange. He looks at his phone, and then looks left to see the new owner of OCW, Mike Zybala, standing there with a smile. He raises the phone as if to answer it, but Marcus has already hung up.~
Zybala: Looking for me?
Marcus Welsh: Damn right I'm looking for you, you son of a..
~Greg puts a hand on Marcus' shoulder, raising his eyebrows. Marcus takes a second to breathe, remembering that he has to watch himself around Zybala.. again.~
Marcus Welsh: I mean yes, I'm looking for you. We need to work out the office space.
Zybala: What's wrong with it? It's just like old times, except I was the General Manager then and you were the Commissioner? It's good to have things back to normal, right?
Marcus Welsh: No, no, this is not happening again. I refuse to share an office with him! I'm the General Manager still!
~Zybala looks at the office, then back at Marcus, shrugging his shoulders.~
Zybala: If that's how you feel, who am I to force you?
~Welsh looks at Zybala, surprised.~
Marcus Welsh: So you'll fix it?
Zybala: Of course. I want us to have a happy working environment.
~Zybala waves over the janitor, who was getting ready to add Langston's card to the door under Marcus'.~
Zybala: Slight change of plans. Take the General Manager off. He doesn't want the office. So this is just Commissioner Langston's office now. Understand? Good.
Marcus Welsh: What? That's..
Zybala: Sorry, I've got to run, Marcus. I want to get back to my seats to watch the action. An owner needs to observe every match, you know! Oh, and before I forget..
~Marcus, sputtering, barely catches the phone that Zybala tosses to him.~
Zybala: I already gave Langston his. That's my veto phone. Keep it on you at all times, you never know when I might call and veto one of your ideas. See you later!
~Zybala walks off, whistling, as Marcus looks at the phone in his hands in horror. Greg, wide-eyed behind him, decides to take a few steps away, giving the man some space. The shot fades away.~
Smith: Welsh is probably feeling as though he should have called in sick.
Hood: Hell I'm feeling like I should have called in sick. This is too much!
Smith: Zybala laid down the law with Mike to open the show and now he's removed Welsh's title from his office!
Hood: Marcus is HOMELESS, Smith. He's Homeless...which means...OHMYGOSH
Smith: What?
Hood: That puts him in the ALICE KNIGHT category...we might need to put Marcus Welsh on suicide watch, Smith.
Smith: I think you're being a bit dramatic. He'll just have to get used to the way things are moving forward. And, speaking of moving forward, let's head down to ringside for our opening match this evening as Crystal SNOW makes her debut against Shootah!
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Singles Match
Crystal Snow (0-0) vs. Shootah (0-3)
~Shootah stands in the ring, nervous. He looks around, waiting for the hammer to DROP. This man has feared death for over two years now…ever since he first stepped foot inside an OCW ring. Belvedere looks at Shootah, as he always does, with a modicum of pity. He clears his throat and proceeds to do his jawb~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first...from Hollywood, California…Shootah!
~A woman in the crowd shrills. Shootah drops to the mat, cowering in fear~
Smith: Shootah apparently suffers from PTSD.
Hood: Death might be a sweet release for this man.
Smith: I wouldn’t go that far.
Hood: I don’t know, man. He really, really hates his job.
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~"Ice Dance" by Danny Elfman begins to play, as Crystal Snow skips out on to the stage. She skips to one end of the stage, smiling brightly at the fans who are giving her an extremely warm welcome. She eventually decides which side of the arena is the loudest and blows a kiss to them, blowing little pieces of silver glitter into the air~
Belvedere: On her way to the ring, from Anchorage, Alaska... weighing in at one hundred thirty eight pounds... "The Ice Princess"... CRYSTAL SNOW!!
~Crystal continues to skip down to the ring, blowing a few more kisses to her fans and giving them high fives. Reaching the ring she quickly bounces up onto the ring apron, jumping through the middle rope and pointing at a few of the fans nearby who are cheering loudly for her. Crystal climbs up the turnbuckle and taunts for the crowd with her arms up in the air as she waits for the match to begin~
Smith: Crystal Snow making her debut!
Hood: Snow? My form says Sharpe!
Smith: Well, you obviously failed to pick up the updated form earlier this afternoon.
Hood: This is bullshit. All forms should be FINAL…whenever they reach my hands.
~Belvedere exits. The bell sounds~
Smith: Alright! Let’s see what Crystal can do.
Hood: Thankfully guns are banned in this one.
Smith: Let’s…not go there.
Hood: Why not? It seems to be a pretty big chunk of her narrative.
~Shootah slowly looks up. He spots Crystal standing across the way. She heads toward Shootah, extending a hand. Shootah, shy from all the abuse he’s taken over the past few years, is rightfully hesitant. But, he finally gives in and takes her hand. Snow helps him to his feet and releases the grip. The fans clap. Shootah smiles~
Smith: Well there we go!
Hood: Ugh
Smith: What?
Hood: How can a person murder their parent and then help some lowlife like Shootah up off the mat?
Smith: Because…complexity
~Shootah thanks Crystal. He moves to exit the ring. Snow rushes up and stops him. Shootah tries to convince her that a count out win would be just as nice as a pinfall victory. But, Crystal wants to get her shit in. Shootah frowns. He yells out “PLEASE! LET ME LEAVE!” Crystal pats him on the shoulder before whipping him across the ring~
Smith: It’s nothing personal, Shootah…but Crystal is out here to show her skills.
Hood: This guy is just the worst
Smith: Well, that can certainly be argued. Although I think the individual with the groot fetish probably has that spot locked down.
~Shootah bounces off. He sees Crystal ready to pounce. He screams BLOODY MURDER. Crystal leaps into the air, wraps her legs around Shootah’s head and takes over with a frankensteiner!! Shootah is down. Snow nips up and heads for the ropes. She steps through and easily scales the nearest corner. She looks down at Shootah and leaps off with Snow Fall!! She connects! Scruff slides in with the count~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…CRYSTAL SNOW!!!!!
Smith: We didn’t see much…but, from what we saw it’s pretty obviously Crystal Snow is talented.
Hood: Athletic, quick, and a slammin ass. I’d say she’s got potential.
Smith: Crystal Snow with a dominating win!
~“Treachery” by Bleach thunders into the OCW speakers~
Smith: The man who conquered Kitty Petrova at NSFW is here to make an appearance on Massacre.
Hood: Those two had an absolute bloodbath. Especially Kitty. I heard she was on her period.
Smith: What?!
~Crystal Sharpe looks on with a loving smile on her face as she remains in the ring after her match with Shootah. The number one Savage contender cockily walks down the ramp, mocking some of the audience boos, and then Logan climbs up the steel ring steps as Crystal sits on the middle rope giving him space to climb through to join her. Crystal goes in for a hug but Logan just pushes her aside as he signals for a microphone and the music fades out. ~
Logan: What's the real point of booing me? I put up a roadblock and crashed the sadistic course of that suicidal Petrova woman, and this is how you greet your next Savage champion?
~He displays a wide grin, soaking in some boos through his smile~
Logan: As much as tonight should be about my unsurprising win over Kitty, it’s not. I won’t let it be. You see, I am by no means a selfish man, hence why tonight I am here to celebrate our brand new OCW Commissioner, Vincent Langston.
~As if he suddenly expects it to rain balloons and confetti, Logan turns to Crystal with frustration. Crystal looks up at the ceiling and back towards Logan not really knowing what she'd done wrong~
Crystal: Wha?
~He quietly mouths a few curse words to her. She then nods and smiles, taking out a detonator from within Logan’s pocket. Logan backs up, stands in the middle of the ring, and smiles looking up to the ceiling~
Smith: Is he about to blow up the arena?!
~The audience gasps, expecting a bomb to go off, and one does indeed! A bomb of balloons with Vincents face covered on them begin to spill into the arena roof, floating about, with used heroin syringes tied to the bottom of the balloon string. Crystal gasps as she notices this, she didn't know this was going to happen~
Hood: Earlier this week Logan was seen gathering these syringes up in some ghetto. Guess this makes sense why now.
Smith: How does littering our arena and fans with possible infected needles make any sense?!
~Crystal steps over to the side of the ring and takes a microphone for herself as she looks at Logan with a concerned look on her face~
Crystal: Umm, Logan, I love you and you know I'd never question you, but couldn't they like, you know, hurt somebody?
~Without hesitation, his grin turns to annoyance, and feeling Crystal has ruined his moment he turns and backhands her to the rings floor~
Logan: Don’t make this about you. This is for our new commissioner, you brat. Try and be grateful for once!
Hood: Logan knows how to keep his bitches in check.
~He resumes his stance of looking up at the ceiling, eyes closed and smiling while more balloons continue to rain. Crystal rubs her face as she stands back up, her left eye clearly still stinging her as she's got it half closed~
Crystal: You're right, I'm sorry, Daddy. They look, very... pretty.
Smith: I feel like a lawsuit is coming.
~The balloons finally stop pouring in much to the disappointment to no one except for Logan. He sighs, refocusing his attention to the microphone~
Logan: Congratulations on your new title, Vincent. I’m quite sure you will make for an excellent commissioner. You may begin your new responsibilities immediately and have someone clean up after your little celebration party here.
~He slings the microphone over his shoulder, then grabs Crystal by her hand with a big fat grin on his face. Logan and Crystal exit the ring, and go up the ramp, hand in hand, careful not to step on any syringes~
Smith: Logan earned his shot at Langston by defeating Kitty in a brutal match.
Hood: Yes and now he showers us with balloons!
Smith: Logan is a complex individual, for sure. He'll face Logan at Redacted. Meanwhile, he's got...whatever this is going on with Crystal Snow.
Hood: Dude's a busy man, Smith. Don't be hating because he's got Lilith, Kitty, and Crystal all over his jock.
Smith: Two of those three are highly debatable.
~We cut backstage as we find a man who appears to be no older than his early twenties walking with a purpose. The man is wearing a pinstripe suit, with matching waistcoat, and has his hair styled in such a way he looks like he's about to audition to play the part of James Bond~
~The young man finally stops outside an office door, which reads “OCW Owner - Mike Zybala”, and eagerly knocks on the door awaiting a response~
Zybala: (from inside the office) It's open!
~The man opens the door and walks in. We see Zybala sitting behind his mahogany wood desk and going over some paperwork. Various titles from other companies adorn the walls. Zybala looks up from his work at the young man and smiles politely~
Zybala: Hello there. How can I help you?
Zack: Ah, Mr. Zybala, a pleasure to finally meet you. The names Phoenix, Zack Phoenix.
~Zack shakes the bosses hand as he sits down opposite him. ~
Zack: I'm the guy who approached you about a job opportunity last week. I’m going to be straight with you, Sir, I'm not in this for the money, so, you know, I'm open to anything. It's all about getting your foot in the door, you know?
Zybala: I hear you. Everyone needs a start somewhere and I have the perfect idea for you. It has come to my attention that a spot has opened up. Come with me.
~Zybala stands up from his chair and walks towards the door, beckoning Zack to follow him~
Zack: Alright.
~Zack quickly follows his lead as they walk down the corridor side by side.~
Zack: I have to ask, where exactly are we going? You know I'm not a trained wrestler, right? At least, not yet anyway. One day, Sir, one day.
~Zybala pauses for a moment and turns to look at Zack~
Zybala: Not trained, huh? Hmmmm, well we'll get around to that later. My idea was somewhat different. Something to make your way up in the company.
~Zybala continues walking and Zack follows. A few moments pass before the two stop in front of an empty hotdog stand~
Zybala: Here we are.
~Zack takes a look at the hotdog stand which obviously hadn't been operational in months as it was all closed down, no actual food in sight and the lights in and around the area were all turned off. Finally Zack turns his attention back onto Zybala with a curious expression on his face~
Zack: You want me to run the hotdog stand? I mean, I said I'd do anything to get my foot in the door, so, you're on. Consider me the new hotdog guy.
~Zybala smiles at this~
Zybala: I like your spirit! Just two pieces of advice. One, never run out of Jumbo Dogs. They are the best seller. Two, and this is the most important…. Never let Alice give the paying customers her special mustard!
Zack: Her special mustard? Yeah, I saw her post something about that on twitter. What's that all about? Surely she's not like, putting cocaine in her food?
Zybala: Honestly, I don't know what she puts in it. I've seen homeless people eat it and live. I've seen others eat it and get ill for days. It's a crap shoot on what happens when someone consumes it. I like the lady, but I don't trust the Mustard. But I'll let you get settled here. I have to go take care of some paperwork. Apparently Lilith has it in her contract that cookies must be brought to her locker room every Monday. Good luck, Zack.
~With a friendly handshake, Zybala leaves the new hotdog seller to his own devices~
Smith: Zybala continuing to make changes!
Hood: So he takes from Mike Best and he GIVES to Lilith? What kind of a maniac is he?
Smith: He's only giving her cookies, Hood.
Hood: Somehow, that makes it worse.
Smith: Zack Phoenix, an eager fan of OCW getting his foot inside this profession's door. I look forward to seeing this man learn and grow under the OCW umbrella.
Hood: He'll be in rehab within 8 months.
Smith: I certainly hope not! Well folks, it's time for our second match of the evening as Scott Stevens makes his in-ring debut!
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Singles Match
Scott Stevens (0-0) vs. John E Depth (2-4)
~John E. Depth is already standing in the ring when he get back. The King of the Upsets doesn't look too perturbed about it, as he looks extremely confident in himself. He's sporting the nicest, cheapest pair of shades a man of his fiscal reach can afford. He seems very proud of them~
Belvedere: Ladies and gentlemen, the next match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, already in the ring, JOHN E. DEPTH!
~The crowd reacts, some cheering the cocky man in the ring. The camera pans the front row, showing some shady individuals holding betting slips.~
Smith: Depth has shocked the world twice now, with victories that very nearly bankrupted OCW.
Hood: Wooo! John E. Two Wins!
Smith: He didn't fare so well in his last match with Eric Dane, but maybe he can rebound here tonight.
Hood: You know there's somebody in the building who's betting that'll happen. The odds still lead to a landslide if Depth wins!
Smith: ... Have you bet on him tonight, Hood? You do know who he's fighting, right?
Hood: Don't worry, Smith. I didn't use my own money.
Smith: Wait... where's my wallet?
Belvedere: His opponent...
~The lights in the arena go pitch black, as red lasers and spotlights light up the area as a guitar begins.~
♫ “God Was Never On Your Side” by Motorhead♫
~The video screen lights up and static appears before silhouettes fill the screen as the arena is polluted in jeers. The crowd knows who is about to walk out and they are letting him know it by chanting his favorite chant as the silhouettes come together to form a white mask as red letters slowly appear and form a message and that message reads in bold, capitalized letters… SCOTT STEVENS.~
Belvedere: Now coming to the ring, from The Great State of Texas……………
~The wait is finally over as a spotlight shines towards the top of the entrance ramp and Scott Stevens appears from behind the curtain wearing black suit and the ominous white mask. As Stevens makes his way down the ramp he is focused on what is in front of him and ignores the vocal bashers.~
Belvedere: Weighing in at 256 pounds…he is….SCOTT! STEEEEEEEVEEEEEEEENS!
~Stevens slowly makes his way around the ring until he reaches the nearest set of ring steps and proceeds to enter the ring. Once inside, Stevens goes to the nearest corner and ascends the ropes; looking out amongst the crowd he slowly takes off his mask and places takes a long look at it before dropping to the canvas as a loud chant erupts from the crowd.
“FUCK YOU, STEVENS!” Clap x5
~The Texan shows no emotion as places the mask and his suit jacket under the bottom rope as he stretches out on the ropes waiting for the bell to ring.~
Smith: Scott Stevens is known as the Lonesome Loser in HOW, but he's hoping to have a different impact here in OCW tonight.
Hood: The guy's definitely violent enough to survive here. Did you see what he did to that intern?
Smith: Well, no, you couldn't really see because of the camera...
Hood: You didn't want to see, Smith. Trust me.
~The bell rings.~
Smith: Here we go! Can John E. Two Wins make it three?
Hood: Show me the money!
~Depth bounces out of the corner, moving towards the center. He stops there, looking over at Stevens with a little bit of disdain. Stevens starts moving off of the ropes to approach, but Depth puts out a hand to stop him, then turns away, giving the crowd a few gyrations. He laughs, then turns back... and Stevens grabs him by the head, dropping with the Toxic Sting! Depth is out, as Stevens, hugely disappointed, barely bothers to cover. Scruff nonetheless makes the count, and then signals for the bell.~
Smith: It's over? Already?
Hood: Damn it. So much for a big payday.
~Belvedere starts to announce the winner, but stops when Stevens drags Depth up and over to the corner, smacking him around. He starts choking Depth out in the corner, tightening his grip around Depth's throat! The referee moves in, trying to stop him, but Stevens shoves him away, intent on his task.~
Smith: Stevens wants to send another message tonight!
Hood: Hey, if Scruff disqualifies him now, does it count as a win on the books for Depth?
~Suddenly, "I Am Legend" by Colton Dixon begins to play, and the crowd reacts, turning towards the entryway. The new Commissioner of OCW, Vincent Langston, walks out of the back, looking strangely comfortable in the suit he's wearing tonight. While a few cheer, hoping the Savage Champion is here to help, others boo, remembering what Langston did to Zybala at NSFW. In the ring, Stevens drops Depth and turns Langston's way, considering the new threat.~
Smith: The new commissioner is here, but why?
Hood: I hope he's not pulling a Zybala and coming to a lesser wrestler's aid. Don't get involved, Legend, let Stevens do what he wants to do!
~Langston stops on the ramp, pulling out a mic from his jacket pocket. Stevens waits, although he looks like he wants to go back to choking Depth unconscious.~
Vincent Langston: My first night as Commissioner, and shit like this is happening? I don't think so.
~That gets a cheer from the pro-Depth crowd, as well as a small "Bible Camp Baybee" chant.~
Vincent Langston: That was a pathetic excuse for a match. Not worth the crowd's time at all. So little violence. So here's what we're going to do. Referee, restart this match. I want to see some real action. And to make sure that happens... let's make this one a First Blood match. This is my ruling. Make it happen.
~The crowd goes through several emotions, from shock to anger to fear. Stevens smiles, then turns to the ref, telling him to act. Scruff, seeing no choice as neither Welsh nor Zybala have come out, signals to restart the match, and the bell rings again.~
Smith: John E. Depth is facing Stevens in a First Blood match? This could be extremely bad.
Hood: Well, Depth can still win, so maybe...
Smith: I think a change like this in the match will null any bets out there, Hood.
Hood: Fuck! C'mon, Stevens, kill the bastard!
~Depth is only now starting to recover from the lack of oxygen earlier. He slowly gets up, having no clue what just transpired. Stevens approaches him, and Depth, instinctively knowing this is a bad thing, turns and tries to jump through the ropes, but Stevens hauls him back in, lifting Depth in the air around the waist and tossing him overhead. Depth crashes hard on the mat, stunned, and Stevens pulls himself easily to his feet. The wrestler approaches Depth, smiling down at him, with so many options available. He goes off the ropes and comes back with a Curb Stomp, slamming Depth's head into the mat! The crowd is booing now, as it's clear Stevens is looking to do a lot of punishment.~
Smith: A guy like Stevens could easily make Depth bleed, but he wants to take advantage of the stipulation as much as possible!
Hood: Anyone seen Chastity? We might need last rites for Depth tonight.
~Stevens has Depth back up now, only to hit a discus clothesline that puts him right back on the mat. Scruff leans in and checks, but no blood is evident yet. Stevens then grabs Depth's legs, twisting him into a Texas Cloverleaf submission! Depth is almost out at this point, but still manages to find the energy to tap on the mat. Unfortunately, it does no good thanks to the Commissioner's ruling earlier. Stevens keeps up the torturous hold for another minute, but soon gets bored. He releases the hold and steps away, rolling outside the ring. The referee checks on Depth, who is still trying to quit, but Scruff shrugs his shoulders and tells him the rules. There's nothing he can do.~
Smith: Depth sure isn't feeling his "Two Wins" at the moment. He'd love to just get out of here in one piece.
Hood: Shit, I don't think Stevens has any intention of that happening. The guy just realized that everything's legal in this one now!
~Stevens slides back into the ring, with a steel chair in hand. Depth, seeing this, tries to get up onto his knees, barely managing it. He raises his hands towards Stevens, asking for mercy, and starts scratching at his arm. He's trying hard to make blood come out, but is just leaving red marks on his skin. Damn that manicure he had! Stevens slowly shakes his head, refusing Depth's pleas, and then lashes out with the chair, smashing it across Depth's skull!!! Depth collapses in a heap, not moving. Stevens steps in for another swing, but Scruff pushes him back, pointing to Depth's forehead, which is now obviously cut open. The blood is starting to flow towards the mat. Scruff signals for the bell and lifts Stevens' arm, while subtly trying to get the chair away from him. Stevens still doesn't look satisfied, but sighs and goes along with it.~
Belvedere: Here is your winner... SCOTT STEVENS!!
Smith: That one hit might mean we don't see Depth for a while.
Hood: I don't know, Smith, the one thing you can say about our jobbers is that they're resilient.
Smith: Either way, Stevens clearly dominated tonight, and you have to think he's a force to be reckoned with in the near future, especially with that violent streak.
~Stevens drops the chair to the mat. He spots Depth's shades. They were forcibly removed during the beating. He drops to one knee, calmly plucking the shades from the mat. He stands and exits the ring, with Depth's shades in his possession~
Smith: Is that a souvenir? A token to remember this beating?
Hood: Well he took some of Lurrr's hair, right?
Smith: Yes.
Hood: Now he's taking Depth's shades!
Smith: Scott Stevens is already playing mind games two weeks into his OCW debut. Regardless of what his plans may be with those glasses...or Lurrr's hair, you can't deny the fact that he's lethal inside those ropes.
Hood: Another heavy hitter in OCW!
Smith: Indeed
~Cut backstage.~
~Specifically, cut to just inside the loading dock where the talent tends to enter the building to avoid the legions of adoring OCW fans.~
~Standing there surveying the scene around him is The Only Star himself, suited and booted from head to toe in Maybach sunshades, cream-colored button-down shirt with a mint Ermenegildo Zegna silk tie and matching pocket square tucked neatly into an expertly tailored silver and mint plaid suit by the same designer. The look is capped off by argyle socks under a slick pair of mint Dolce and Gabbana studded oxford wingtips.~
Hood: GodDAMN that man knows how to dress!
Smith: He looks like a popsicle.
Hood: That suit costs more than your house you plebeian!
~The Adversary takes an off-hand glance at the Louis Moinet Meteoris timepiece gleaming on his wrist and decides that whatever it is that he’s here tonight to do, it’s time to do it.~
Hood: Look at that watch! I’d slap your mother for the chance to wear that thing just once!
Smith: You slap my mother and I’ll-
Hood: You’ll what, kill me with kindness? Get wrecked.
~Dane takes off in the direction of the lockerroom area. He doesn’t get too far before a completely nondescript looking chap wearing a drab polo shirt with an OCW logo stitched to the chest approaches him, microphone in hand.~
Smith: Hey look! It’s Jones!
Hood: Who?
Smith: Jones!
Hood: Mike Jones?
Smith: Who?
Hood: The rapper? Mike Jones? (281) 330-8004?
Smith: What? No! It’s Jones! The backstage interviewer guy!
Hood: I’ll have to take your word for it.
~Dane stares at Jones in absolute disgust.~
Jones: I’m here with Eric Da-
~The Only Star interrupts.~
Dane: Are you now? Seriously? You just walk up to a guy and start talking like I’m even on the fuckin’ run sheet for tonight?
Jones: I just-
Dane: Just what? I don’t know you, what’s your name, kid, “Generic” Mike Stand?
~Jones is not quick to answer.~
Jones: It’s, ah, Jones, I just wanted to get a few wo-
Dane: Fuck you Jonesy, your mom loves butt-play like I love Haagen-Daas, let’s get some fuckin’ ice cream.
. . .
Jones: Excuse me?
Dane: Give your balls a tug, bud, figure it out.
~He doesn’t. Matter-of-factly Jones just kind of stands there blank-faced. Dane closes the gap between them and reaches out to grab Jones’s microphone hand, but the interviewer flinches. Dane grabs the guy’s hand anyway and brings the microphone up to his mouth.~
Dane: Jesus kid, just ask me your goddamned questions.
~He clears his throat and takes a moment to regain his composure.~
Jones: Alright then, have you got anything to say to Bob Grenier after your victory over him at Not Safe For Work?
Dane: Absolutely not, next question.
Jones: But-
Dane: But nothing. Bob’s a tough guy, tougher than maybe I gave him credit for. He took everything I had to give and he kept getting up for more. End of the night, though, I kicked his brain out of his skull and got one, two, three. That’s one guy down, time to move on to bigger and better things.
Jones: Like your good friend Mike Best?
~Eric rolls his eyes.~
Dane: Let me say this now and be done with it. My friend Mike Best is a fine, undefeated World Champion. He’s set to lead the OCW into the future and he’s gonna beat anybody and everybody in front of him for a long time to come.
Jones: I only ask because the two of you have been chirping back and forth on Twitter for weeks, and you’ve made several claims about taking the title from him.
Dane: Listen to yourself, kid, you just said it all! We’ve been chirping on Twitter, that’s what people like Mike and myself do. It’s harmless fun. Mostly. I’ve got all the respect in the world for Mike and if he’s still got the belt when I get to the top, and I expect that he will…
~The End Boss smirks.~
Dane: Well, we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.
Jones: Fair enough. What’s next for Eric Dane, then?
~Eric cocks his head as if in deep contemplation.~
Dane: Well, specifically, the next thing I’m gonna do is have myself a nice long chat with Marcus Welsh. After that, who the hell knows, right? The sky’s the limit, the world is my oyster, and other positive sounding motivational phrases.
~The Only Star lets go of Jones’s hand, visibly scoffs at him, and walks off the screen stage-right. Jones is left there with the microphone in his hand and another blank look plastered all over his face. Cut back to ringside.~
Smith: Well, there you have it.
Hood: Was Eric Dane just talking to himself?
Smith: What?
Hood: I mean, it was just him and that generic mic-stand, right?
Smith: Will you stop?!
Hood: The Magic 8-ball says: Don’t count on it.
Smith: Eric Dane, a star outside of OCW, became a star within the promotion with that epic performance against Bob Grenier one week ago. I'm sure big things are in The Only Star's future.
Hood: That's if Zybala won't get in his way.
Smith: Zybala recognizes talent, Hood. He just refuses to give the talent EVERYTHING they ask, unlike Welsh.
Hood: Kicking our GM while he's down. How brave.
Smith: Whatever...anyway, it's time for our next match this evening as Mark Storm looks to return to the ring as he takes on Jack Puffer!
Hood: I can hear those clouds churning in the sky! Storm is approaching!
|
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Singles Match
Mark Storm (3-7) vs. Jack Puffer (0-2)
~Puffer stands in the ring entrance-less. He doesn’t seem to feel naked, though. The man searches HIGH AND LOW. NEAR AND FAR. TO AND FRO. Hither and yon? Sure! Puffer seeks something which continuously evades his detective purview. Could it be his entrance? Is THAT what he’s seeking? It would make about as much sense as anything else. Amidst all this tomfoolery, Belvedere clears his throat~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Currently in the ring from Aurora, Illinois…Jack Puffer!
~Puffer does a very dignified bow, showing off grace, aplomb and, above all else, style~
Smith: Puffer back out here…I believe he’s probably achieved 100% attendance in these post PPV Massacres.
Hood: It’s squash week, Smith! Gotta throw some weak ass vegetables out there!
Smith: Well, I suppose
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~Short Change Hero by The Heavy begins to play through the speakers and the lights in the arena simultaneously dim down. Smoke begins to rise from the top of the stage and appearing on the screen above are the following words~
~A massive pop ensues as emerging from the back is the self-proclaimed "Prince of CHAOS", Mark Storm; who keeps himself composed as he stands at the top of the entrance ramp. He can't help but allow his sadistic signature smirk to appear upon his lips as he closes his eyes and spreads his arms out wide, soaking in the energy that the audience are giving him as they applaud and cheer~
Belvedere: From New York, Brooklyn.. weighing in a two hundred and twenty pounds - Your Hero, and Mine.. MARRKKKK STORMMMMMM
~He begins his walk down the entrance ramp, with a leather coat completing his attire as he comes down the entrance ramp~
This ain't no place for no better man.
This ain't no place for no hero
To call "home."
~At this point, Storm is by the edge of the ring; allowing a smile to embed on his face before he jumps onto the apron and holds onto the ropes, using them to help himself up onto the turnbuckle. He's grinning from ear to ear, soaking in the rest of the cheers coming from the audience, shaking his head sideways as he lowers it, before jumping into the ring. Taking off his leather coat, he hands it to the ring announcer before walking over to his designated corner and hoisting himself up onto the second ropes, a smirk upon his lips as he holds his arms up; his theme song slowly diminishing. Belvedere exits the ring as the bell sounds~
Smith: And we’ve got Mark Storm back inside an OCW ring!
Hood: This feels like déjà vu!
Smith: Well he was scheduled to make his big return two weeks ago…sadly, The Ghost Man kept that from happening.
Hood: Fuckin Ghost Man
~Puffer looks around, curiously. His head eventually lifts, locating Puffer. His eyes widen. “Ah, my good man!” he shouts. He heads towards Storm and extends a hand. Storm grabs Puffer’s hand and whips him into the ropes!! Puffer takes off with a confused expression. He bounces off the ropes and is DROPPED by a discus clothesline!! Puffer hits hard! Storm pops back to his feet, remaining focused~
Smith: Is Puffer even aware of why he’s out here?
Hood: He’s too busy solving mysteries, Smith.
Smith: Seems a bit ridiculous, if you ask me.
Hood: There’s nothing ridiculous about bringing closure to those living with uncertainty!
~Storm grabs Puffer by the hair, refusing to give the man a moment to move, breathe, react – anything! He hoists Puffer onto his shoulders, tosses him into the air and brings him down face first, across his knee with Dystopia (GTS)!!!! Puffer’s body jerks back, slamming into the mat!! Storm makes the cover. Scruff slides in with the count~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…MARK STORM!!!!!
Smith: Blow out win for Mark Storm!
Hood: These clouds are rolling in!
Smith: THIS is what we were expecting out of Storm two weeks ago. Glad to see he’s back on track!
Hood: I know the guy is notorious for struggling to gain momentum in OCW. But if he ever catches fire he’s going to be hard as hell to stop.
Smith: Indeed.
~Suddenly, the lights go out as a purple spotlight centers on stage. The beginning chords to "Evil In Me" by Thomas Edwards begin to kick in. The crowd boos MASSIVELY.~
Belvedere: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your NEW OCW Tag Team Champions ... Lilith ... Sarah Twilight ... R.O.S.E.!!!!!!
~Pyros shoot up from both sides of the entrance ramp and the melody finally kicks into high gear as Lilith appears at the top of the entrance ramp. She is quickly flanked by Sarah Twilight, the OCW Tag Team Championships around their waists. The two women nod at each other with sinister grins as Lilith proceeds to saunter her way down to the ring, showing off her championship gold obnoxiously along the way. Sarah arrogantly swaggers towards the ring, taking her time to revel in her own glory among ENRAGED fans before she reaches the ring steps and steps inside. Pyros now shoot off from the ring posts as Lilith and Sarah take to opposite turnbuckles. Sarah staring coldly and without emotion into the sea of 'sheep' as she raises her championship skyward to even LOUDER boos. Lilith coddles her championship like a mother holding a child as she looks out at the crowd, laughing hysterically. They finally take their place at the center of the ring to hold their championships skyward once more as a waterfall of purple flare rains down upon them. The crowd continues to boo as the pair return the championships to their waists and demand microphones from ringside.~
Hood: Always a pleasure to be joined by our tag team champions!
Smith: What a wild ride these two have taken. Sarah Twilight wasted no time at Not Safe For Work in cashing in her Oh Shit Contract not only for herself, but for her wife, Lilith.
Hood: The benefits of marriage. One of them anyway.
Smith: I don’t even want to know!
~Sarah and Lilith are handed microphones by ringside staff. Sarah looks out among the crowd who are still NOT happy with the Tag Team Champions and she laughs. Lilith is grinning ear to ear as she too finds amusement in the crowd reaction.~
Sarah Twilight: You’re welcome.
~That is the first thing to come from her lips and it only throws the ravenous crowd into more of a frenzy of boos.~
Smith: Welcome for what? That’s one hell of a way to look at things!
Hood: Have some respect!
Sarah Twilight: The tag team division in this company has been on a downward spiral for quite some time. It has been downright PATHETIC!
~She paces back and forth a few times, the crowd only growing angrier.~
Sarah Twilight: Long gone have been the days where there has been any form of CONSISTENCY in the division. A time where these championships were EARNED and fought for on a regular basis by hungry teams looking to cement their legacy in OCW. Marcus Welsh has tried … on several occasions to revive a division that has been on and off of life support since 2006.
Hood: You can’t really argue that. The Tag Division has had ups and downs like almost no other in the company.
Smith: I suppose those are fair points but where is this going?
~Lilith is nodding, absolutely in agreement with her wife.~
Sarah Twilight: Did you know there was a time where the only thing more prestigious than the tag team championships was the OCW World Championship? Holding these championships MEANT something! Marcus has failed in his attempts to revitalize the prestige and honor that once came with holding these belts. From the BroCode going back to Serial Thrillers of last year it’s like there has been a black stain upon this division. Bruce Rage got himself fired and suddenly Adrian Turner is HANDED one of these titles to form a team that called themselves CHAMPIONS but never once defended them. They just faded away into obscurity like nearly every team before them, leaving the championships behind.
~She continues to pace the ring, fired up at everything she was saying. Lilith paces as well, mouthing insults at all the aforementioned teams.~
Sarah Twilight: For nearly three months these championships sat vacant until Bob Grenier and Chad Vargas became the next installment of ‘saviors’ to the division. But just as all the rest, they were too old, too beat up and nursing too many injuries to fill that role for very long. It almost … ALMOST seemed like they had begun to succeed heading into Block Party to defend against a couple of goofballs playing Spy vs Spy. And by the time Block Party happened … the tag team championships APPEARED to be as hot as they once were. They were to be featured as a MARQUEE of Not Safe For Work ...only behind the World Championship. And then? Team Atari happened and although they were your champions … they almost never competed.
~The crowd continues to boo Sarah as she speaks, finally Lilith has had enough and interrupts her wife, placing one hand on her shoulder and glaring at the live crowd.~
Lilith: Boo? BOO?! BOOOOOO?!! SHUT UP! YOU CAN ALL SHUT UP!!! You gots any idea who she is?! You gots any idea who I am?! We're Sarah Twilight and Lilith! Those names mean something to all of you! They mean… when we're talking… YOU SHUT THE HELL UP!!! Without us you'd be looking at The Dravers being the Tag Champions! Is that really what you want?!
~The crowd now begins to start a yes chant but Lilith once again screams at them. ~
Lilith: SHUT UP I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU WANT!!! Now, shut your mouths, be good happiful little boys and girls and let my yummy Sarah finish what she has to say! Before I come out there and go GRRRRRR ON YOU!!!
Smith: Lilith never ceases to amaze me, I swear. Is that any way to act?
Hood: She is one half of the Tag Team Champions! She can act whatever way she pleases!
Sarah Twilight: Thank you, honey. Now as I was saying … the weeks went on and whatever momentum Grenier and Vargas had given the division was SHATTERED by a complacent pair of champions who reached the top of the mountain … and didn’t have a fucking clue of what to do when they got there. The Dravers … a pair of forgettable champions who managed to capture the gold for a “very impressive” two weeks a couple of years ago are now slated as the opposition and as we grew closer and closer to Not Safe For Work becoming a reality … a once ANTICIPATED contest for championships that MEANT something became a bathroom break. Team Atari and The Dravers allowed that match to fall from right behind the World Championship match to … opening the show.
Hood: Again, accurate.
Smith: I think that’s arguable.
Sarah Twilight: And why is that? It’s simple there was no desire … no one to knock down the fucking door and MAKE people take notice. Atari, the Dravers … they didn’t sell a fucking ticket for last week. Everyone else did! Those two teams were just kinda there. Can they wrestle? Sure but who gives a shit? Nobody cared about either of them and sure you blind sheep might have cheered for the Dravers when they won, but if we’re being honest I think it was more the fact that the match was finally over.
~Lilith leans against her wife and is in complete agreement.~
Sarah Twilight: So when Lilith and I returned here last month and I was finally granted my Oh Shit contract … I knew immediately what I was doing with it. Could I have used it to cash in on Mike Best at the end of the night to end his undefeated reign as World Champion? Sure. Could I have simply taken the Paradigm Championship after it was vacated? Absolutely. While a victory over Best would have been shocking … there’s not a lack of value in the world championship picture. There’s not a lack of value for the Paradigm Championship, Savage or Craze Championships. The Tag Team Championships have simply … existed until this point. So I knew from the very moment I returned that I was going to TAKE these championships along with my wife and we were going to make them MEANINGFUL again. I simply could not allow one of those mediocre, complacent teams to walk away with the gold and further STAIN a once prestigious division. We SAVED this division …. Not for any of you … but for ourselves.
Smith: Saved the division? That’s a stretch. They’ve been champions for one week.
Hood: They’re here, aren’t they?
Smith: Touchè.
~The live crowd continues to boo the couple as Lilith shrugs them off with a laugh. ~
Lilith: The super funny thing is… you'd think with the way that match ended the Power Rangers wannabes or… whatever The Draver Bears were supposed to be would be knocking on our door demanding stuffs they don't deserve… but has any of that stuffs happened? NOPE!!! You know why?! Cos they're nothing but a bunch of cowardly mouses and scaredy cats just like Kitty Petrova! I means I practically offer the girl a shot at our titles AND even go out of my way to try and find her a friend… NOT AN EASY THING TO DO BY THE WAY!!! But does she thank me?! Does she even send me a box of cookies to at least SHOW she's thankful to me?! NOPE!!! She's one jelly filled ungrateful BITCH CAT!!! And just like The Dravers and Team Power Ranger SHE is also a COWARD!!! I'm standing right here, Kitty Cat! Come and go Grrrrrr on me! I dare you! NO! I DOUBLE dare you! Won't happen! You know why?! Cos she's too busy playing with her toy mouse and eating her meow mix the sushi loving BITCH BEAR!!!
~The crowd has definitely heard enough from Lilith and they begin chanting at her.~
Crowd: SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!
~Sarah ignores the crowd’s responses and talks over them.~
Sarah Twilight: AS YOUR TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS … we will compete each and every week … as a TEAM! We are NOT complacent. We will show dominance and do what no other team has been able to do in the last several YEARS … we will bring VALUE back to these Championships and that is going to start TONIGHT!
~Lilith looks at Sarah oddly.~
Lilith: Talking about dominance…
~Lilith grabs Sarah and pulls her in for a deep, passionate kiss right onto her lips.~
Hood: OH MY GOD!
Smith: Oh come on! There are children watching!
~After the brief PDA Sarah returns to business, having again to talk over the crowd’s boos.~
Sarah Twilight: So, our match tonight against Tornado Alley WILL BE for the OCW Tag Team Championships!
Smith: What?! I didn’t expect that!
Hood: Fighting Champions, I love it!
Sarah Twilight: Furthermore we’re going to get the bullshit out of the way. If The Dravers and Atari don’t want to come to us, and they are right not to … we are just going to bring it to them. Nathan, Jonathan? You want a rematch? Come and get it! We have another five weeks between now and Redacted. Lilith and I WILL defend our Tag Team Championships against you right here NEXT WEEK! Atari? Fuck it you want some too? We’ll see you in two weeks. And at Redacted, we are prepared to meet Kitty Petrova and Duce Jones. Marcus, you wanted a fucking tag division? Well now you’ve GOT ONE!
Smith: Now THAT I like the sound of!
~Lilith laughs to herself as Sarah looks over at her to try and figure out what she was laughing at. ~
Lilith: Kitty and Duce… I give up with this stuffs. That is TOO funny!
~Lilith throws her microphone down onto the mat and checks Sarah out for a bit, slapping her hard on her ass before jumping out of the ring. The crowd is actually excited now at the possibility of FOUR Championship matches to take place, one of them being right here later tonight. Sarah drops the mic as “Evil In Me” plays again over the PA system. She follows Lilith out of the ring towards the back.~
Smith: I’ll tell you, my mind is blown! I may not be a fan of either of these women but the fact that they have just offered rematches to not only The Dravers, but also Team Atari AND have issued a challenge for Redacted tells me that maybe they are serious about raising the stock of the tag team division.
Hood: Don’t forget, they’re putting the belts on the line TONIGHT just as well! Class acts.
~Commissioner Langston is seen walking through the hallway after having altered the match earlier. Waiting for him nearby is the General Manager, Marcus Welsh.~
Marcus Welsh: Vincent, wait up! I need to have a word with you.
~Langston stops, immediately glaring over at Marcus, who nonetheless comes up next to the new Commissioner. He looks a little disheveled, probably from searching around for a 'new' office to use.~
Marcus Welsh: Look, I get that you're new, and you want to make an impact early. I respect that. But typically the Commissioner doesn't go restarting and changing matches without the General Manager involved. That's not how things work here in OCW.
~Langston takes a step towards Marcus, backing him up slightly.~
Vincent Langston: Things change.
~Marcus takes a gulp, then sucks it up, pressing on.~
Marcus Welsh: Look, Vincent, you've seen what Zybala is already up to. You and I, we'll need to work together as a team.
Vincent Langston: A team? Like when I paired with Melinda Rhodes?
Marcus Welsh: Umm..
Vincent Langston: I don't do team-ups anymore.
~Langston turns and storms off, probably to go do more paperwork. It explains his attitude growing worse after getting a taste of the violence he enjoys. Marcus sighs, leaning against the wall.~
Smith: Welsh has no allies. He's got all the power and none at the same time. He's truly between a rock and a...
Hood: Hard face.
Smith: Excuse me?
Hood: Rock and a hard face.
Smith: It's rock and a hard PLACE
Hood: Really?
Smith: YES
Hood: Hmm...well I guess that makes more sense. Although I think Hard face sounds cooler.
Smith: Keep saying it the way you want, your life. We've seen a lot of Langston this evening...a person we're about to get our first look at in several months is a person very familiar with Vincent Langston. Vossler is set to make his in-ring return in a few moments. He was slated to be on Langston's Death March team. Langston, however, seemed less than impressed with Vossler and wound up kicking Vossler off his team. We haven't seen Vossler since.
Hood: If I were Vossler I might be a little upset with ole Langston.
Smith: A lot has changed since then. Vossler returns with all the promise in the world that he may, one day, become a major player in OCW. Langston, meanwhile, is at the top of the OCW food chain. Vossler has some ground to make up.
Hood: Well good luck to the dude...here's hoping he takes a giant leap forward in that regard against...who's he facing?
Smith: Kip Young...and that match is next!
|
|
Singles Match
Vossler (2-1) vs. Kip Young (1-1)
~The fans seem eager for some more IN RING action. Belvedere, standing in the center of the ring, is happy to oblige. He clears his throat to a strong ovation~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…
~"Whisper In The Dark" by Skillet hits! The fans give a strong ovation for the return of KIP YOUNG. Kip pops out from behind the curtain and hustles down the ramp, sliding into the ring. He pops to his feet, eager to fight~
Belvedere: From Quebec, Canada…standing 5’9 and weighing in at 175lbs…Kip Young!!!
Smith: Kip making his OCW return!
Hood: Cool.
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~ The lights flash momentarily as the opening riff to "Playing The Saint" by Digital Summer begins to play. As the song picks up, Vossler appears in the crowd walking down the stairs as fans try to tap him or pat him on his shoulder~
Belvedere: "Introducing now, weighing in at 225 pounds. Hailing proudly from London, England. He is... VOOOOOSSSLEEEERRRRRRRRRR!"
~Vossler smiles confidently in his march down the stairs and towards the ring as the crowd gives him a clear mixed reaction. Their boo's are louder than their cheers, but the reaction is loud nonetheless~
~A quick leap over the barricade, twirl and slides into the ring with raised arms prompts another mixed reaction, whilst the raised arms are then lowered into a finger gun motion aimed towards the camera. There is a slow zoom in on this as Vossler slowly backs into a corner in a seated position~
Smith: Vossler making his long awaited return!
Hood: Marcus Welsh thought this guy would be main eventing by now.
Smith: Well, better late than never!
~The bell rings. Belvedere exits~
Smith: Vossler joined around the time of Andrea Hernandez, Vincent Langston, and OGDA. A heck of a crop for OCW.
Hood: Yea and, at the time, he was probably the one with the highest ceiling.
Smith: He definitely appeared to be the jewel of that class.
~Vossler and Young lock up! Vossler snatches Kip’s head in a sideheadlock. He tries to take Kip over, but Kip refuses. Kip shoves Vossler forward. Vossler hits the ropes. Kip drops to the mat. Vossler leaps over Kip and hits the ropes again. Kip pops to his feet and performs a leapfrog. Vossler hits the ropes a third time, he shoots off and is smacked in the face with a dropkick from Kip!!! Vossler rolls out of the ring, holding his chin. Kip pops back to his feet, fired up~
Smith: Great athleticism shown by Kip Young!
Hood: Dude is quick.
Smith: Indeed…he’s got talent, Hood. Just needs to keep it focused!
Hood: Not let the outside noise get to him.
~Kip charges toward the ropes. He leaps over the top at Vossler. Vossler darts out of the way!! Young manages to land on his feet. He charges at Vossler with a lariat. Vossler ducks. Kip stumbles into the steps. He turns around and eats a forearm smash to the head from Vossler. Kip winds up seated on the top step. Vossler charges in, leaps into the air with a crossbody which sends both men tumbling over the steps onto the outside floor on the other side~
Smith: Vossler throwing caution into the wind!
Hood: These fuckers aren’t wasting anytime.
Smith: Nope, it’s a big opportunity for both men who are making their return to the company.
Hood: I should have known this match would be competitive. Both men got entrances.
~Vossler returns to his feet, crouched over in pain. He leans against the barricade, holding his ribs. Kip rolls onto all fours, shaking his head. He reaches for the steps, aiming to snare some stability. He struggles to his feet. Vossler leans back…unnaturally. Kip sees Vossler and throws a superkick his way. Vossler ducks!!! Kip gets caught with one leg over the barricade. His back is to Vossler. Vossler charges, smacking Kip in the back with a lariat. He seamlessly spins around and charges forward with a HUGE lariat, taking Kip off the barricade back down onto the floor outside the ring~
Smith: Hard hitting, fast paced offense by Vossler. He’s got Kip Young right where he wants him.
Hood: I don’t remember Vossler hitting this hard back in October.
Smith: It seems as though he’s taken on a new in-ring strategy.
Hood: Hmm…I guess losing to Hellraven on PPV might do that to a man.
~Vossler, realizing he can’t pin Kip outside, snatches Kip and throws him into the ring. He slides in under the bottom rope and gives it the ole college try, hooking Kip’s leg. Scruff slides in with the count~
1!
2!
Kick Out!
Smith: Kip Young won’t be denied a return win that easily!
Hood: Fuckin Kip
Smith: Vossler is going to have to do more if he wants to secure this return victory.
~Vossler snatches Kip by the hair and yanks him to his feet, while standing. He drills Kip with a straight right hand. Kip stumbles into a corner. Vossler steps onto the middle rope and looks down, fist ready. He reaches back to pound Kip into the head. Kip grabs Vossler’s legs and throws them outward while dropping to his knees. Vossler falls down, smashing his face into the top buckle with a modified version of snake eyes!!! He stumbles toward the middle of the ring, managing to miss Kip. Kip pops back up in the corner, charges forward and spears right through Vossler!!! He hooks Vossler’s legs for the pin~
1!
2!
Kick Out!
Smith: Kip Young out of nowhere! He just flipped this match on its head!
Hood: Ah shit…this is what happened when Vossler faced Hellraven!
Smith: He looked like he had the match sealed only to lose it at the very end.
Hood: Fight back, Vossler!
~Kip remains focused, returning to his feet. He leans into the ropes. Vossler gets to his knees. Kip charges forward with a flying knee. Vossler ducks and rolls. Kip slides toward the ropes. Vossler pops back to his feet and hits the ropes. Kip rushes to his feet, via the aid of the ropes. He turns around. Vossler is charging his way. Kip ducks and lifts Vossler over the top rope! Vossler lands on the apron. Kip turns around and eats a step up kick to the face. He stumbles toward the middle of the ring. Vossler jumps up, he springboards off the top rope…Kip catches him, spins around and plants Vossler with a Belly to Belly!!! He hooks both legs for the pin~
1!
2!
Shoulder Up!!
Smith: Vossler barely avoided the pin!
Hood: Holy shit…Kip is better than I remember.
Smith: He’s not completely devoid of talent, Hood.
~Kip hurries to his feet. He charges into the ropes. Again, a slightly dazed Vossler fights to his feet. Kip charges forward, throwing a knee at Vossler’s head. Vossler ducks and hooks Kip from behind. He hoists Kip up for a german suplex…Kip flips over and lands on his feet. He leaps forward, attaching himself to Vossler’s back, looking for a backstabber. Vossler holds on. He yanks Kip over his shoulder, dives toward the mat and plants Kip into the canvas with a powerslam~
Smith: Strong powerslam by Vossler.
Hood: How do you prevent a bug from annoying you? You squash that fucker!
Smith: Kip is hardly squashed, Hood.
Hood: Well, it’s a start. Some bugs take two stomps.
~Vossler pops back to his feet. Kip slowly sits up, wincing. Vossler, standing behind Kip, sees an opportunity~
Smith: Kip just put himself in prime position for one of Vossler’s primary moves – HAKAZE!
Hood: I don’t know what that word means and I don’t care to find out.
Smith: It’s a knee to the back of the head.
Hood: Oh, yea…well Kip’s fucked, then.
~Vossler hits the ropes, he bounces off. He charges toward Kip and throws a step up kick to the back of Kip’s head. Kip falls back, dodging the kick!! Vossler spins around…Kip grabs his leg and manages to pull Vossler down while locking in a Single legged Boston Crab!! Vossler winces in pain, grabbing at his hair. He claws at the mat, balling up his fists…doing everything with his arms aside from tapping. The fans seem to be leaning on Kip’s side at the moment, hoping for a tapout. Scruff slides in, asking Vossler if he wants to continue~
Smith: Great evasive maneuvering by Kip followed by a seamless transition into a very painful submission!
Hood: If Vossler loses…man, talk about a let down.
Smith: You say that as if Kip is Jack Puffer. Kip is a very talented in-ring competitor.
Hood: Yea, yea, he’s not THAT bad.
~Vossler fights and fights…he starts to yank Kip toward the ropes. He reaches out, his fingers grazing the bottom rope. Kip, feeling that he’s losing positional momentum, stands up to drag Vossler back toward the center of the ring. Vossler, feeling Kip stand up, is able to move more freely with the added space. He flips over, onto his back and kicks Kip in the ass! Kip stumbles forward, into the ropes. Vossler rolls over and crawls for the ropes, grasping at them and reaching his feet quickly. Kip turns around. Vossler charges at Kip, with a slight limp. Kip takes off at Vossler. The two meet in the middle of the ring. Kip ducks a clothesline and hooks Vossler by the waist. He tries lifting Vossler up for a side suplex but Vossler punches Kip in the head. Kip drops Vossler to the mat. Vossler hits rather awkwardly, forcing him to hesitate, reaching for his knee. Kip regains his ground and nails Vossler with a very efficient superkick!!! Vossler stumbles into the ropes, leaning into the top rope for support and balance~
Smith: Great superkick by Kip! That single legged Boston Crab may not have tapped Vossler out but it weakened his leg.
Hood: We have a wounded Vossler in the ring!
Smith: Wounded by still more than capable of winning this match.
~Kip runs forward, leaping into the air with a flying knee. Vossler bends over and catches Kip in a Fireman’s Carry!! Kip struggles, trying to break free. Vossler carries him toward the center of the ring. Kip throws a few elbows into Vossler’s head…Vossler’s grip weakens. He tries to throw Kip over…but Kip lands on his feet. Kip throws a superkick!! Vossler ducks. Kip stumbles forward and turns around…he eats a kick into the gut. Vossler snares Kip, who doubles over, and drops him with BOLIDE (Double Arm DDT)!!! Kip is down. Vossler rolls him over and makes the cover…Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
3!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…VOSSLER!!!!!
Smith: Great win for Vossler in a competitive match!
Hood: Yea, Kip came to play tonight. Sadly, he didn’t play hard enough.
Smith: I hope this loss doesn’t discourage Kip. He can do some good things in OCW if he remains determined and focused.
Hood: Oh, sure.
Smith: Vossler meanwhile picks up where he left off. The man continues to look like a star…the only question that remains is – will he stay the course or walk away?
Hood: Stay the course. I’m putting my money on Vossler as a future OCW Champion.
~The camera cuts backstage, where Ed Houston is beaming. AKB is standing next to him with a mic in his hand~
AKB: “I’m here with the current number one contender to the Craze Championship, Ed Houston. Ed, how did it feel to walk away from the battle royal at NSFW with the win?”
Houston: “It felt great! The last few months I’ve been floating around in OCW. The universe has changed so much around me I felt lost in it. But this week I picked up a huge legal win and a huge win in the ring against some of the best veterans and newcomers. I even knocked out that complete bastard, Fabian Dufresne, and now I get to turn my attention to the next challenge, whoever it may be.
AKB: “What do you think about Zybala telling Mike Best he has to vacate the Craze Championship?”
Houston: “Honestly I’m kinda bummed, I would have loved the challenge of ending the undefeated streak of Mike Best. But I just have to move past it. Whoever he ends up choosing will present their own special challenge, I’m sure. I just beat five other super talented wrestlers last week, so I know I can adapt to whatever challenge I have to face. To whoever wants to step up to make a name for themselves, just know that you’ll be going toe to toe with someone keen to become a two-time champion. I’ll do whatever it takes and go through whoever I have to. Know that if you agree to step in Mike’s place, you won’t be gifted a championship but you’ll be given the chance to take on the challenge of a lifetime.”
AKB: “Strong words from the challenger. I’m sure we’ll see soon who Ed Houston will be stepping into the ring with at Redacted.”
~Houston salutes the camera, signing off before the camera cuts to black~
Smith: I would have enjoyed seeing Ed challenge Mike Best but, I believe this is what's, pardon the pun, best for the company.
Hood: Ed wants NO PART of Mike Best. If he's lucky he'll get Jack Puffer or something. Maybe the return of Josie Barnes, soft j.
Smith: Rude and uncalled for...speaking of beautiful and talented women...Kitty Petrova is set for in-ring action...and that's next!
|
|
Singles Match
Kitty Petrova (8-2) vs. Evin Empire (12-2)
~It’s getting later in the evening. In-ring action is slowing down…only a few matches remain. That means the ‘bigger’ names are in the midst of competing. Alice Knight just did her thing…now it’s time for another marquee female within the company to do the same. Belvedere, standing in the ring, clears his throat~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…
~The lights dim to black as the opening notes of "Ambitionz Az A Ridah" fill the arena to a majority of boos. Strobe lights flicker on and off to the beat of the music as smoke begins to fill the entrance way. Evin Empire steps out from behind the curtain with a swagger in his walk and a sarcastic grin on his face. He begins trading insults with the fans on the rail and slowly makes his way toward the ring. Evin slides into the ring, runs to the opposite corner, hops onto the middle turnbuckle and taunts the crowd once again as his music fades~
Belvedere: From Reno, Nevada…standing 6’3 and weighing in at 215lbs…Evin Empire!
Smith: And we’re getting our first look at Evin Empire since his tough loss against Andrea a few weeks back.
Hood: Yep, he was so close to earning an OCW Title shot against Mike Best. But, he lost to Andrea and the rest, as they say, is history.
Smith: Indeed…how will he bounce back? Some people learn from failure and return stronger than ever. Others wilt and disappear, never to be heard from again.
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~The lights fade to blood red, and the screen comes to life with heavy static, showing a silhouette of a woman standing in a barren warehouse, smoking a cigarette. The haunting lyrics of "I Am The Fire" by Halestorm fade up in volume over the sound system, almost drowned out by booing. The scenes flow between shots of Kitty’s life outside the ring, to match footage revealing a dark-haired woman beating the holy hell out of both men and women. The veteran herself steps out at the top of the ramp alone, her head bowed with her hair hanging in her face. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she strides purposefully towards the ring, pausing every few feet to glare haughtily at the fans that have the audacity to try and reach out to touch her. She slides under the bottom rope, languidly doing a very cat-like yoga stretch while the crowd showers her with hatred. She seems utterly oblivious although there’s definite malice in her eyes as she pulls her hair back into a messy ponytail, securing it with a plain black elastic band~
Belvedere: From Napa Valley, California…standing 5’6 ½ and weighing in at 125lbs…she is a former Paradigm Champion…Kitty Petrova!!!
Smith: Just one week removed from her brutal battle against Logan at Not Safe For Work, Kitty Petrova looks ready to go.
Hood: Bitch has gone crazy, Smith! If I were Evin I’d have upped my insurance coverage before coming out here.
Smith: Losing to Hayley did something to Kitty. Since then we’ve seen a new, more dangerous Petrova. She may not have officially won the match against Logan, but she certainly left her mark.
~The bell rings and Belvedere exits~
Smith: And here we go! One of the top stars in OCW faces a rising star…Kitty Petrova takes on Evin Empire!
Hood: A month ago people had this pegged as a future OCW Title match!
Smith: Indeed…Kitty is still on course for the main event. Evin, however, seems a bit less certain in his future. I have the feeling he took that Andrea loss harder than he should have.
Hood: Well, if he’s a bitch then he’s a bitch…let Kitty claw his fucking eyes out.
~Evin walks up to Kitty. Kitty remains in her corner, staring Evin down. Evin appears to be placed, mentally, somewhere between confident and furious. He reaches Kitty and extends his hand, looking to pie face the former Paradigm Champion~
Smith: A total lack of respect being shown here by Evin Empire.
Hood: Yea, the dude should have sprinted forward and kneed her in the face. Whatever this shit is…I don’t see it ending well for Mr. Empire.
Smith: Indeed
~Kitty grabs Evin’s hand and rips at his fingers! We hear an audible SNAP!! Evin yells out in pain, doubling over, holding his hand. Kitty rips at his hair, yanking back! Empire flips over, hitting the mat hard. Kitty drops to her knees and claws at Evin’s face. Evin yells out in pain. Scruff rushes in, pulling Kitty off of Evin…he forces a very violent Kitty back into her corner. Kitty’s chest heaves in and out…adrenaline pumping, the lust for violence flowing through her veins~
Smith: She’s unhinged!
Hood: Evin’s money maker just too a direct hit! If he loses that then he’ll become…just another guy.
Smith: A nightmare for someone like Evin, I’d assume.
Hood: A nightmare for any guy who isn’t just another guy, Smith.
~Evin stumbles back to his feet. He looks at his hand to find blood in his palm. He holds his left eye and looks at Kitty. He screams “DQ HER! She clawed my eye!” Scruff turns, looking confused. Kitty, free to roam, charges forward. Evin throws a wild lariat. Kitty stops on a dime. Evin performs a full rotation off his miss…Kitty DRILLS him in the face with BITCH KICK! Evin falters against the ropes…Kitty blows him a kiss as he ricochets back. She SLAMS a forearm uppercut into his chin…Evin is dazed. Kitty runs, she hits the ropes, springboards off, spins around and knees Evin RIGHT IN THE FACE!! Evin drops to the mat. Kitty makes the cover. Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…KITTY PETROVA!!!!!
Smith: Dominating win by Kitty over what was once the fastest rising star in OCW.
Hood: She straight murdered Evin. Yowsas.
Smith: Kiss of Death remains one of the most effective finishers in OCW today.
Hood: Evin may become Logan. Start wearing an eye patch.
Smith: If he lasts that long
~Somewhere backstage.~
~The hustle and bustle is real, it takes a lot of people doing a lot shit to keep a live television broadcast on the air. Tonight is no different, a dozen or so staff types pitter and patter back and forth, to and fro, etcetera.~
~Eric Dane turns a corner, still looking like only he can look and still with a stern look emblazoned over his face. The Only Star is all business tonight and he’s got something serious on his mind. An oncoming production assistant does his best to pass by unnoticed and fails. Dane reaches out and grabs an arm in the least assault with intent manner possible.~
Dane: You seen Welsh?
~The P.A. stares back at him, shaking in his Keds. He manages a nod to the negative but can’t seem to get the words to come to his lips. The Only Star lets go of his arm and straightens him up.~
Dane: Calm down, kid, I’m not the kind of asshole that beats up on the help.
~The P.A. gives a sigh of relief.~
Dane: Usually.
~He gives the young assistant a condescending smile.~
Dane: Where’s Welsh’s office?
~The kid’s eyes dart back down the hallway the way that he’d just come. He jabs a thumb in that same direction.~
P.A.: Just down the hall there.
~With no fanfare the P.A.’s usefulness is done and The Only Star shoulders past him. He power-walks in the direction given until he comes to a door with a Marcus Welsh name placard on the door, followed by the word Commissioner. There is a man there who is currently trying to replace the nameplates. Dane ignores him and doesn’t even contemplate knocking before he walks right in, completely uninvited.~
Dane: Hey, you, we gotta chat. Now.
~Across the room from The Only Star and behind an excessively large cherrywood desk is an equally excessive executive model swivel chair. A voice that doesn’t belong to Marcus Welsh answers The End Boss.~
“Just exactly who in the hell do you think you are?”
~The chair spins around slowly to reveal the annoyed face of the brand new OCW Commissioner and still Savage Champion, Vincent Langston.~
Langston: What do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?
~As The Only Star takes his first look at The Legend, Langston makes a big deal out of opening his bottom desk drawer and pulling out the Savage Title, polishing the faceplate, and setting it pristinely on the desktop. You know, just in case Eric Dane or anybody else wasn’t quite sure.~
Dane: Doing what, exactly?
~Langston pushes his paperwork to the side, low-key glad for the momentary distraction.~
Langston: None of your business, new guy, now what do you want?
Dane: I’m looking for Marcus Welsh.
Langston: He ain’t here.
Dane: Isn’t this his office?
Langston: Used to be. Things change.
~Dane rolls his eyes.~
Dane: Whatever, I really don’t give a shit about this inter-office drama. You’re the Commissioner now, right? Big shot executive, yeah?
~The Legend smirks.~
Langston: Something like that. Now for the third time, what is it that you want, Mister… uh… who are you again?
~A hint of rage flashes in The Only Star’s eyes. Using what little bit of better judgment that he can muster right at this very moment he takes a deep breath and does his best job of ignoring the clear insult from the Commissioner.~
Dane: My name is Eric Dane-
~Langston interrupts..~
Langston: Lemme guess, I killed your father, prepare to die?
~The Only Star seethes.~
Dane: I said my name is-
Langston: [interrupting again] Eric Dane.
~The Champ gets real serious, real fast.~
Langston: I know exactly who you are. You’re the latest in a long, boring string of loudmouthed interlopers who’ve come to OCW to tell everybody how good you are, or in your case were, like what a decade ago? Two?
~The Legend waits mockingly for an answer~
Dane: That all you got?
Langston: Lemme see… you’re the guy who most recently beat up Billy-Bob Grenier and you’re here to gloat about beating a Hall of Famer in your first match and then somehow go on to try and parlay that into some kind of a title shot, eh?
~Dane approaches Langston’s desk with a look of intent growing in his eyes.~
Dane: It was rather Savage, wouldn’t you say?
Langston: [deadpan] No. I wouldn’t. I’d say that you beat up a has-been and that puts you solidly at the back of the line. Every line.
~The Only Star snatches the Savage title belt up off of the desk.~
Dane: Maybe I’ll just take this from you.
~Langston stands and snatches the belt right back.~
Langston: Why don’t you go win another match or three and I’ll think about giving you some consideration. Probably not because you’re a presumptuous old fuck, but who knows, maybe I’ll find a soft spot for you. In the meantime none of that happens until you get all the way out of my face, out of my office, and out of my building! Are you even booked tonight?
~The tension is thick between the two grapplers.~
Dane: Actually no, I’m not.
Langston: Then fuck off before I have security take you out back and beat the shit out of you!
~It takes more restraint than Eric Dane even knew he had access to in order to take one step backward and throw his hands up in a non-offensive posture. His hackles are all the way up, though, and you can tell that he has about a hundred other ideas of things he’d rather be doing than not assaulting the OCW Commissioner.~
Dane: Fine.
~Eric grinds his teeth; the Commissioner watches knowingly.~
Dane: Whatever happens from here out is on you. Whoever you put in front of me from now until you face me yourself leaves the building in an ambulance. And you’d better hold on real fuckin’ tight to that belt, if I have to take it off somebody else because you couldn’t hack it I’m gonna be real fuckin’ disappointed when I finally do get my hands on you…
~Eric turns to leave.~
Dane: Probably be disappointed anyway…
~He slams the door behind him. Lanston replaces the Savage Title belt on the desk and retakes his seat, kicking both feet up on the desk.~
Langston: Goddamn fucking new kids…
~The Commissioner looks over to his right, seeing more of the paperwork that Zybala had told him to take care of. With a sigh, Langston brings his feet back down and goes back to work.~
Langston: I’d take a fight with Dane right now any day…
~Cut elsewhere.~
Smith: I think Eric Dane has made his intentions known.
Hood: He wants that Savage Title and, after his performance against Bob...who can blame him?
Smith: Logan, maybe?
Hood: Logan's locked into Redacted. He's got nothing to worry about. Langston needs to defend that belt before Redacted and I say he defend it against The Only Star!
Smith: You heard the commissioner...Eric's got to win a few matches, show that he's going to stick around first.
Hood: Lame.
Smith: I'm with you in thinking that Dane is a future champion here. But let's not rush things...if he's worthy then he will get his shot.
Hood: Sounds like, while waiting, a bunch of heads are going to get cracked.
Smith: Well, if that's the case I'm sure the people in charge will step in and do something about it. Anyway...it's time for our next match this evening as OCW Hall of Famer...former OCW Champion Alice Knight returns to in-ring competition here in the OCW Arena! Let's head down to ringside!
|
|
Singles Match
Alice Knight (15-6) vs. Sterling Silver (3-2)
~Sterling Silver stands in the ring. It’s another one of THOSE weeks. A huge cutback on ring entrances. If you’re on tonight’s show you’d better hope your ring entrance wasn’t cut. Belvedere, standing in the ring looking all dapper (as though last week never happened) clears his throat to a huge ovation~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Currently in the ring…Sterling Silver!!!
Smith: Sterling Silver back in action.
Hood: You have to love these post PPV Massacres. The FREAKS are in full force.
Smith: Are you calling Alice a freak?!
Hood: Only IF she followed through with that mustard/avocado concoction.
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~”New" by No Doubt begins to play through out the OCW arena as the fans begin to 'hoot' like owls while they cheer their OCW hero. She makes her way out of the curtain and heads to the ring with a bubbly demeanor waving her hands and arms, flapping them like a bird. She enters into the ring and continues to flap as she bounces off the ropes pointing at some of her Owlies fan members, mostly young girls and boys and drunk adults. She rushes the ropes and heads to the middle turnbuckle and makes a flapping wings hand gesture smiling at the crowd as she waits for the match to begin..~
Belvedere: From Bethel, New York…standing 5’8 and weighing in at 125lbs…she is a former OCW Champion…she is in the OCW Hall of Fame…she is…Alice Knight!!!
Smith: And she’s back on Massacre!
Hood: GROAN
Smith: Did you just SAY groan?
Hood: Yes…to emphasize the groan
Smith: Seems a bit over the top
~Belvedere exits the ring and the bell sounds~
Smith: Alice was featured in another historic match, further adding to her OCW legacy this past Monday in New Braunfels at Not Safe For Work!
Hood: Way to sugar coat things, Smith. She fucking lost. SHE LOST…and she murdered THOUSANDS of ants in the process.
Smith: I’m sure most of those ants survived.
Hood: Nope, I heard CMF ordered a jihad on all of them.
Smith: A jihad?!
Hood: First word that came to mind.
~Sterling Silver takes off! He performs a few cartwheels before seamlessly twisting into a backflip. He lands on one knee and looks up at Alice. The fans are like ‘oohhh’. Alice’s eyes widen~
Smith: What is he doing?
Hood: He’s clearly caught some type of brain disease.
Smith: I think he’s smitten with the first lady of OCW!
Hood: I think he ate some of her mustard/avocado combination and now has brain cancer!
~Sterling Silver removes a giant ROCK from his pocket. It’s the hugest ring you’ve ever seen. It’s BLUE. It’s also surrounded by wrapping. Alice leans forward. It’s a RING POP. Silver struggles getting it open. Alice yanks it from his hands, no longer anxious over his kneeled position, and rips the ring pop free. Silver flashes a smile belonging to the happiest man in the building~
Smith: Is she…accepting?
Hood: I haven’t seen a ring pop in years.
Smith: I eat them on the regular.
Hood: Whoa. For starters…on the regular? Stop trying to talk like the kids, Smith. And second…why the fuck is a grown man eating ring pops. Is this some sort of way of coping with the fact that you’re single for life?
Smith: *sniffles*
~Alice takes the entire ring pop and places it into her mouth, effortlessly. Men in the crowd are impressed, perhaps TOO impressed. Silver’s eyes become like sterling saucers. Alice reaches down, cupping his chin…she rips his head to the right and drops, violently to the mat with a swinging neck breaker!! The crowd is a bit stunned, at first. Alice pops to her feet and flaps her wings to get them back behind her. “OWLIS! OWLIS!” She removes the ring pop and throws it out of the ring. It lands, stickily on the outside floor. A bunch of ants appear from underneath shit and consume the sugary treat~
Smith: And she’s back in good graces with the Formicidae community.
Hood: Are they apart of LBTPQ?
Smith: It’s not my place to make that call, Hood.
~Alice climbs the nearest corner, finding the top rope. She looks down at Silver. He appears to be suffering unconscious melancholy. Alice leaps off, landing on top of Sterling with a frog splash!!! The fans “HOOT! HOOT!” Alice pops back to her feet. She grabs Silver by the hair, yanking him to his feet. She hooks his arms and drops him with The Apache!!!! Silver is OUT. Alice rolls him over for the pin. Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
3!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…ALICE KNIGHT!!!!!
Smith: Dominating win by Alice Knight!
Hood: She just broke that man’s heart!
Smith: A delusional man. I doubt he’d said two words to Alice prior to proposing with a candied ring.
Hood: He offered Alice his heart and she CRUSHED it. She’s pure evil. EVIL
Smith: Alice had a disappointing setback at NSFW when she came up short in the Paradigm Title match. Tonight, however, she’s back to her winning ways. WAY TO GO ALICE!
~We cut backstage. Marcus Welsh is spotted with clipboard in hand. Greg is on his knees, bending over…showing some serious backside. He pulls out a plastic bag covering several ‘OCW’ turnbuckle pads. Welsh begins scribbling on his clipboard~
Marcus Welsh: Alright, another fifty. Looks like we’re good to go on turnbuckle pads.
Greg: Marcus, my knees hurt. If this is going to become a weekly thing then can we get some carpet down here?
Marcus Welsh: What, you mean you don’t like our inventory room? Or the fact that, for some reason, we don’t have DIGITAL equipment to count this shit up? Fuck!
~Welsh hurls the clipboard into a nearby wall. Greg, back on his feet, gasps~
Greg: MARCUS!
Marcus Welsh: I’m…I’m sorry, Greg. It’s just been the week from hell. I’m just about spent.
~There is a knock at the door~
Marcus Welsh: Yea?
~The door opens and in walks Vossler! The crowd reacts. Vossler is still sweaty, showing the rigors of his match earlier with Kip. A white, OCW towel is draped over his shoulder. He surveys the room and comments, sardonically~
Vossler: Wow, nice office.
Marcus Welsh: Don’t get me started.
~Greg walks over and grabs the clipboard. Marcus leans against a shelf featuring all sorts of metal items used to put the ring together. Vossler stands in the doorway…he’s unimpressed~
Vossler: Maybe I should go see someone else. Doesn’t look like you have much – authority, these days.
Marcus Welsh: No, no, I have plenty of authority. I’m the one who gave you that new contract, remember? Brought you back into the OCW fold with that generous pay raise.
Vossler: True, true. But you also booked me against Kip Young. I said, upon my return, I wanted legitimate competition. I don’t want to start from the bottom. I came in with Andrea Hernandez, OGDA, and Vincent Langston. I should be wrestling my peers…not some guy named Kip.
Marcus Welsh: Trust me, Vos. I hear ya. And if it were up to me you would have challenged one of those three competitors tonight. However, it was Langston who booked you against Kip.
Vossler: Langston? So you’re saying the commissioner went over your head?
Marcus Welsh: Sounds ridiculous, I know. But look around us? I’m taking inventory. Zybala’s trying to eliminate me. Langston is running wild booking shit that makes no sense. Doing things that benefit him rather than OCW.
~Vossler surveys the inventory room once again~
Marcus Welsh: Langston removed you from his Death March team. He clearly fears you, Vossler. He doesn’t want you to shine…that’s why he booked you against Kip this evening. Hell, for all we know, you’ve got Puffer next week.
Vossler: Well, flex your power and book me against Langston. Let me put him down for you.
Marcus Welsh: You know what? That’s a great idea. Hold on.
~Welsh pulls out his cell phone. He clicks on Zybala’s name and sends a text that reads~
Vossler: Who are you texting?
Marcus Welsh: Fucking Zybala. Sorry about all this, Vos. I’m sure he’ll say okay and then we’ll be good to –
~Welsh’s phone buzzes~
~The crowd pops. Welsh frowns and crams his phone back into his front pocket~
Vossler: Well that doesn’t look promising.
Marcus Welsh: He fucking vetoed that shit. Sorry, Vos.
Vossler: Looks like I’m going to have to get this done the old fashioned way. You say Langston is in your old office?
Marcus Welsh: Yep.
Vossler: Alright, then.
~Vossler exits. Welsh kicks an inventory shelf, spilling several items. He begins to storm out~
Greg: MARCUS! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?
Marcus Welsh: Away! Don’t follow me! I just want to be left alone!
~Marcus continues to storm off. We cut back to ringside~
~We cut to the ring. A mat in the shade of gentlemanly red covers the canvas. A table with a gentlemanly red cloth sits in the center of the ring. Belvedere, mic in hand, overlooks the layout. There is another man standing in a corner, holding a glass case which contains a deck of cards~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…it is now time for the first in a series of gentleman contests between the OCW Paradigm Champion and his challenger. Tonight’s game comes in the form of the famous card game – War! Introducing first…
~“Gangsta’s Paradise” by Coolio hits. The fans give a strong reaction. Bifford, with his typical scowl, emerges from behind the curtain. He’s sporting his MAGICAL FLEECE. The MIGHTY SCYTHE has been left…elsewhere. This is a contest for gentlemen, after all. He marches to the ring, showing off his elegant TIMEPIECE. He rolls in, under the bottom rope and struggles to his feet. Bifford looks at the setup. A table and two chairs. He grabs CM!F’s chair and places it next to his own, taking a seat~
Belvedere: He is a former OCW Champion…he is in the OCW Hall of Fame and is the #1 Contender for the OCW Paradigm Championship…The Big Bifford!!
Smith: Bifford needing TWO chairs, apparently.
Hood: That ass puts the BIG in Big Bifford.
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~"Money" by Flying Lizards plays. CM!F emerges from behind the curtain with the OCW Paradigm Championship around his waist. His signature TOWEL is wrapped around his neck. He marches down the ramp, pausing at the ring. He reaches underneath the ring, locating a chair. He throws it aside. He finds another chair…he throws it aside. He snares a third chair, looks at it and slides it into the ring~
Smith: A very selective process, apparently.
Hood: That’s a very fine lad who doesn’t want to put his ass in a dirty chair, Smith.
Smith: I’d hate to see this guy attend a public sporting event as a spectator.
Hood: He does that all the time…he’s always in the suites with the descendants of Mozart and Merlin.
Smith: MERLIN?
Hood: He only hangs out with the descendants of famous people whose name starts with an M.
Smith: I don’t think Merlin was a real person, Hood.
Hood: Sure he was.
Belvedere: And his opponent…he is the OCW Paradigm Champion and MONEY MAN within the eMpire. He is Cecilworth M! Farthington!
~A negative response for Farthington, who extends his chair and carefully takes a seat. He stops. He decides against sitting in the chair. He removes his towel, stretching it out and placing it atop the seat of the chair. He seems to quietly apologize to the towel for contaminating its opulent fibers with the filth of potential poors. But, when push comes to shove his ass is worth more than his towel…so, he sits. Somewhere, off in the distance, we hear the towel weep. Belvedere hands the mic over to the unidentified man. He’s dressed in a custom suit…this guy has been paid well for doing…whatever he does~
Gentleman Game Host: Competitors, welcome to the first of a series of Gentleman Games! Mr. Bifford, nice to make your acquaintance. And, Cecilworth…looking great today!
~CM!F nods in the hosts direction. Bifford scowls across the table at his opponent. Biff is ready for WAR~
Gentleman Game Host: Tonight we will watch these two competitors engage in WAR. A game of strategy, composure and, above all else, qualities which reside within the DNA of a true gentleman. I have procured the most expensive deck of cards within Key West. I’m told this deck was last used during an epic game of WAR between Ernest Hemingway and BONO.
~The crowd murmurs. Some are highly impressed. Others aren’t entirely sure that what was stated as fact is, in fact, factual. The host presses a button. The glass casing pops free…the purified air releases with a very spiritual sound. The host turns the glass case upside down and places it under the platform displaying the cards. He slowly removes the cards and shows them to Bifford and CM!F~
Gentleman Game Host: As you can see…a standard deck of cards. Four suits…Ace through 2. No jokers.
~Bifford continues to glare at Farthington. CMF finds Bifford a bit strange…so he chooses to ignore Bifford’s glare, staring up at the impeccable deck of cards. The host places the container on the table and begins to shuffle. The man is VERY good at shuffling~
Smith: Well, he can shuffle.
Hood: I heard this man once dealt cards for the Queen of England.
Smith: Like everything else I’ve heard over the past five minutes…I have my doubts.
~The shuffling has finished. The man looks at Bifford…his look is very serious. He then looks at CMF. We (maybe) detect a smile…perhaps a wink. We cannot be sure. The man, who we just now notice has a giant mustache on his face, begins to rub his mustache…perhaps for good lucky. He starts to deal~
Smith: And we’re underway.
Hood: Oh man…like both of Biff’s ass cheeks…I’m on the edge of my seat!
Smith: That makes one of us.
~The man finishes dealing and folds his hands, politely in front of his crotch~
Gentleman Game Host: LET THE WAR GAME BEGIN!
~Bifford continues to eye CMF. CMF finally meets Bifford’s gaze. These two men are in a non-descript-ethnic standoff. Who will draw first?~
Gentleman Game Host: Bifford, I believe under gentleman rules the challenger proceeds initially.
~Bifford brings his cards close to his chest. They are basically hidden by the fabric of his MAGICAL FLEECE. He covers them like a pro poker player. We see his left arm gyrate, ever so slightly. He suddenly throws a card down…it’s…AN ACE! The crowd ‘ooohhs’~
Gentleman Game Host: An ACE from Bifford.
Smith: That’s the top card in the deck, Hood. It appears as though Bifford is going to win this first hand.
Hood: Well…let’s see. CMF could tie him.
~CMF slowly removes the top card from his deck. He flips it over and it’s…AN ACE!! The crowd gasps…they begin to murmur~
Gentleman Game Host: Well what do you know! Two aces right out of the gate. That means we’ve got…WAR!
~Bifford’s head slowly rises. His murderous eyes stare into the soul of CMF. CMF’s slightly naïve gaze catches Biff’s murderous eyes. The young lad does not waver in confidence. War is TRULY on the horizon~
Smith: A homicidal maniac and spoiled rich boy are about to do battle via the tamest card game imaginable.
Hood: This isn’t Go Fish. The fuck you talking about.
Smith: War is tamer than Go Fish.
Hood: Oh go fuck yourself.
Gentleman Game Host: The rules of WAR are simple. You draw four cards, face down. The fifth is face up…whoever’s fourth card is higher, they win all ten cards. Ready? Go.
~Bifford slowly removes three cards from the top of the deck. They are placed face down. He pulls his deck back into his MAGICAL FLEECE, like before. His arms shakes, slightly. He then produces AN ACE! The crowd is awed~
Gentleman Game Host: Another Ace! CMF must match that Ace or else he loses five cards giving Bifford a significant advantage.
~CMF calmly throws three cards face down from the top of his deck. He rips off the fourth one and throws it down with a ton of confidence. It, too, is an ACE!! The crowd pops~
Gentleman Game Host: Another ACE! This means we enter a SECOND game of WAR. The rules of this game are the same as the first. Whoever draws the highest, final card will be the recipient of TEN cards, giving them an almost unbeatable advantage. Bifford, you’re up.
Smith: I’m no card player but that’s four aces. I think that’s all the aces that are…
Hood: QUIET! This is very intense.
~Bifford removes four cards from the top of his deck. They are all face down. He, once again, brings the deck in close…his arm shakes and he produces…ANOTHER ACE!! The crowd is really intrigued…they cannot believe it. They are wowed by this man’s ability to play WAR~
Gentleman Game Host: Would you look at that…ANOTHER ACE. This is…I’m not sure I’ve seen anything like this in my life! Champ…err, Mr. Farthington, it’s your turn.
~CMF calmly discards four from the top, face down. He throws his fifth card down revealing ANOTHER ACE. The crowd CAN’T BELIEVE IT. WHAT A BATTLE~
Smith: Wait a minute…
Hood: This is like Meyhu and TIO’s Iron Man match from last year! What a contest! What a competition!
Gentleman Game Host: We are nearing uncharted territory.
~The host is beginning to sweat a bit. Something seems to have gone awry~
Gentleman Game Host: For the third round of WAR we will double the risk. You will throw nine cards face down…the tenth will decide who takes an insurmountable lead in this epic game of WAR. Bifford, you’re first.
~Bifford throws nine cards down effortlessly. He brings his cards in…his left arm shakes. He looks up at the Game Host, narrowing his eyes. The Game Host turns away. Bifford concentrates hard before throwing down ANOTHER ACE!! The fans nearly faint with surprise~
Gentleman Game Host: Well this is…ahah…I…this is simply unimaginable! Mr. Farthington…you know the drill.
~The host looks at CMF, nervously. CMF is as confident as ever. He throws nine cards down and flips over yet ANOTHER ACE! The fans in the arena chant “WAR! WAR!~
Smith: Okay this is getting ridiculous.
Hood: What are you talking about…the tension…you could cut it with a KNIFE!
Gentleman Game Host: Ha…aha…ha. Well then…this is…unexpected. My goodness. This is unlike any War Game ever, right fans?
~The fans pop. Bifford and CMF are leaning over the table, staring into each other’s SOULS. They are pretty much unaware of how much shark this game has jumped at this point~
Gentleman Game Host: I’ve never witnessed a game of War like this. We’re in uncharted territory so…tell you what. How about we make this winner take all. You fine, honest gentlemen throw down every card you have, save one. That card will decide the winner.
~The crowd goes wild!~
Gentleman Game Host: Bifford?
~CMF holds his hand up. He begins to draw first~
Gentleman Game Host: Oh my! It appears as though our champion is feeling rather confident. I’ll allow this breach in protocol considering just how much of a gentleman Mr. Farthington is.
~Bifford glares into Farthington’s eyes. CMF throws down all his cards, save one. He flips it over…IT’S AN ACE!! The fans all go “WOWWWW”~
Smith: We’re going to be here all night!
Hood: Who knew CMF was so great at WAR? He’s a natural, Smith!
Smith: I think it’s safe to say something is off about this game, Hood.
~Bifford nods as if to say “nice showing, kid.” He throws down all the cards in front of him…which is kinda weird. He quickly brings his hands in. The left arm shakes. He rubs his forehead. The arm continues to shake. This is taking longer than usual~
Gentleman Game Host: Everyting okay, Mr. Bifford?
~Bifford curses under his breath. He slowly brings his empty hands out~
Gentleman Game Host: Where’s your final card?
~Bifford grumbles. He reaches for the final card he turned upside down on the table and slowly flips it over. It’s…THE TWO OF HEARTS! The crowd goes ‘awww’. Bifford pounds his fist into the table~
Gentleman Game Host: A two of hearts! Mr. Farthington’s Ace trumps Mr. Bifford’s two meaning that the winner of tonight’s game is…Cecilworth M! Farthington!
~Bifford looks inside the left sleeve of his MAGICAL FLEECE. CMF stands and shakes hands with the host. We see a giant wad of money exchange palms. Bifford stands, annoyed. A bunch of cards fall out of his left sleeve…they appear to be a bunch of arbitrary playing cards – 9s, 3s, 7s, etc. He walks over to CM!F and looks down upon the Paradigm Champion. The host is already gone, perhaps sprinting for a readied car backstage. CMF glares back up at Bifford. There is a very tense moment~
Smith: Ridiculous.
Hood: Is Bifford going to break gentleman protocol?
~Bifford suddenly EXTENDS HIS HAND. CM!F shakes it. A ‘See you next week’ look is exchanged as Bifford moves to exit. We cut to Smith and Hood. Smith is shaking his head. Hood is drinking water and wiping the sweat from his face~
Smith: I…don’t even know what to say.
Hood: I’m exhausted. Talk about emotion and suspense. If that’s what we’re in for until Redacted…I might need to hang back on the caffeine. This shit is too much for my heart.
Smith: I’m not sure what we’re in store for next, involving these two but a man by the name of Tom Foolery sure does sound likely. Anyway, let’s head backstage before we get to tonight’s Main Event
~Screams echo throughout the backstage area. We cut to a shot of a cameraman sprinting in the direction of the screams. Who’Re stands outside Commissioner Langston’s screaming and pointing. The cameraman reaches the doorway and points our POV inside. Vossler is seen standing over a downed Commissioner Langston. He throws some extremely heavy boots into Langston’s abdomen~
Who’Re: Do something! He’s going to injure our commissioner!
Cameraman: I…I’m just the cameraman. Sorry.
~Langston groans, down on the floor. Vossler takes both hands and shoves all the papers Langston had been sorting through, organizing and stacking…they scatter, slapping into the wall, ruining the paperwork progress Langston had begrudgingly made. Underneath papers resides the object of every wrestler’s affection – shiny metal. Vossler snares the Savage Title…he stares into the uniquely designed accolade, spotting his reflection. He spots a man of determination…a man hungry for success. Something paws at his leg~
Who’Re: HELP! WE NEED HELP! OUR COMMISSIONER HAS BEEN HURT!
~Vossler turns to see Langston grabbing at his leg, trying to fight back. Vossler kicks Langston away and throws a penalty kick into Langston’s face. The Commissioner is down. Vossler takes the belt and places it on the floor. He snares Langston, yanking him to his knees~
Vossler: Bet you forgot about me, didn’t you? Think you can hold me down? We’ll see about that.
~Vossler drives Langston head first into the Savage Title with BOLIDE!!! Langston is down, unmoving. Vossler pops back to his feet. Who’Re continues to scream and yell. He looks down at Langston~
Vossler: GIVE ME A SHOT!
~OCW Security FINALLY arrives. Vossler muscles through them, avoiding capture. We cut back to Smith and Hood as OCW security members tend to Langston~
Smith: Give him a shot…
Hood: Could mean a number of things. A shot to show off his skills…or a shot at that title.
Smith: Langston has never been one to run from a fight. I’m sure he’ll give Vossler EXACTLY what he’s looking for.
Hood: No doubt.
Smith: Well folks…next up is our Main Event. The OCW Tag Team Champions, fresh off their shocking cash in, are in action against Tornado Alley!
~There is a bustling of the crowd as Lilith and Sarah Twilight make their way out towards the ring, the crowd booing them loudly again. The pair wearing their tag team championships and are both dressed in their ring gear.~
Smith: Errrr, what is Lilith doing?
Hood: I have no idea, this woman is deranged.
~Lilith continues to skip down to the ring, Sarah Twilight walking close by, in her hand Lilith is holding a box of Meow Mix and is scattering cat food all over the entrance ramp. Lilith starts to laugh to herself as she skips around the ring, continuing to scatter cat food everywhere and stops at the announce table smiling brightly at Hood and Smith as she places the box of cat food on the table in front of them. Sarah walks around the commentary table, all business written across her face.~
Smith: Oh god…
Hood: They want to join us, Smith. This is going to be fun.
Smith: Fun for who?
Lilith: Super fun for us, stupid!
~Lilith and Sarah sit down next to the announcers, Lilith almost getting too comfortable as she puts her feet up on the table. ~
Smith: So, errr, I'm just going to ask. What's with the cat food you've just thrown all over the place?
Lilith: Ohhhhhhhh that! I'm surprised you noticed, Smithy. I'm just trying to catch a stray Kitty cat that's all! Hopefully this will do the trick and thennnnnn I can capture her in a box and take her home after the show!
Hood: I don’t think you should have asked.
Smith: Yeah uhm, anyway. What are you two doing out here? You have a match coming up shortly and as you’ve stated earlier, it is now for your Tag Team Championships.
Sarah: We’re going to have a little bit of fun tonight. And while we do so, we want to make sure that we are getting the respect that we deserve. So you don’t mind if we join you, do you now?
Hood: Not at all! The pleasure is all ours.
Smith: Actually -- OWWWW!
~Hood kicks Smith under the desk.~
Hood: What he meant to say was, absolutely not. We enjoy your company.
Lilith: Oh that's great to hear! Cos when my Sarah starts the match imma stay right here with both of you! We're going to have soooooooo much fun together!
Smith: Well, I guess we’ll be back shortly with our main event!
~Sarah and Lilith get up from their seats for the time being to taunt the crowd some as we cut away from them.~
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Main Event
Tag Team Championship
R.O.S.E. © (1-0) vs. Tornado Alley (0-1)
Smith: And we're back...Lilith and Sarah were out here moments ago but Lilith suddenly realized they hadn't had a chance to debut their NEW tag team introduction...so they headed backstage to do so.
Hood: Yes, one must always take the opportunity to show off their new introduction.
Smith: Indeed...plus the fans directly behind us were growing somewhat riotous. So, I'm glad they are in the back, awaiting their entrance rather than out here.
Hood: For once, we agree.
~Vortex is in the ring, spinning around. Debris follows, dropping trash. The usual OCW employee with the push broom follows, sweeping the trash out of the ring. Belvedere clears his throat~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen the following is a tag team match scheduled for one fall and it is for the OCW Tag Team Championship!!! Introducing first, currently in the ring…Tornado Alley!
~Vortex and Debris perk up when they hear the belts are on the line~
Smith: These guys must not watch the show.
Hood: This will be…what…their second shot at the belts?
Smith: Yep, they lost a tag team title match against the Dravers back in 2017.
Belvedere: And, their opponents…
~The lights go out as a purple spotlight centers on stage. The beginning chords to "Evil In Me" by Thomas Edwards begin to kick in. The crowd boos MASSIVELY~
Belvedere: From Los Angeles, Califonia ....making their way to the ring at a combined weight of three hundred pounds .... they are the OCW Tag Team Champions ... Lilith ... Sarah Twilight ... R.O.S.E.!!!!!!
~Pyros shoot up from both sides of the entrance ramp and the melody finally kicks into high gear as Lilith appears at the top of the entrance ramp. She is quickly flanked by Sarah Twilight, the OCW Tag Team Championships around their waists. The two women nod at each other with sinister grins as Lilith proceeds to saunter her way down to the ring, showing off her championship gold obnoxiously along the way. Sarah arrogantly swaggers towards the ring, taking her time to revel in her own glory among ENRAGED fans before she reaches the ring steps and steps inside. Pyros now shoot off from the ring posts as Lilith and Sarah take to opposite turnbuckles. Sarah staring coldly and without emotion into the sea of 'sheep' as she raises her championship skyward to even LOUDER boos. Lilith coddles her championship like a mother holding a child as she looks out at the crowd, laughing hysterically. They finally take their place at the center of the ring to hold their championships skyward once more as a waterfall of purple flare rains down upon them~
Smith: The tag team champions making their first appearance as champs and their first title defense!
Hood: Yep. They cashed in Twilight’s OH SHIT contract and stunned the Dravers at NSFW.
Smith: Indeed.
~Belvedere exits and the bell sounds~
Smith: And here we go! Can Tornado Alley give the champions a run for their money?
Hood: I…doubt it.
Smith: Well, let’s see. If they were able to pull the upset this would change their careers forever!
~Vortex looks at Debris. They charge at Twilight and Lilith, looking for an advantage. Scruff tries to stop them…but there’s no stopping a TWISTER when it’s on a warpath. Lilith and Twilight, both still in the ring, see the oncoming storm. They throw stereo kicks into each man’s gut, doubling them over. Lilith and Twilight share a look, communicating nonverbally~
Smith: Is this it?
Hood: Yep, looks like the twister was a weak ass bitch.
~They hoist the members of Tornado Alley up…each dropping them with a swift and devastating version of The Twilight Zone!! Sarah pins Vortex while Lilith pins Debris. Scruff says ‘fuck it’ and makes the count~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here are your winners…AND STILL OCW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS R.O.S.E.!!!!!
Smith: Dominating win by the champions.
Hood: You can say that again.
Smith: Domin…OH MY GOSH!
~Before Smith can continue being HILARIOUS. There is a loud CRACK which corrupts the OCW Arena atmosphere. Our POV shakes before focusing on what’s taken place. Sarah Twilight is face down, on the mat. Lilith is tending to her. Stepping into the ring, holding a chair is Kitty Petrova~
Smith: It’s Kitty!
Hood: She just laid Twilight out!
Smith: Lilith and Kitty have been going back and forth on Twitter. I think it’s safe to say Kitty does not enjoy Lilith’s…presence.
Hood: Lilith wants no part of this new, deranged Kitty.
~Lilith stands up. She’s FURIOUS. She turns toward Kitty, seething. Kitty throws the chair at Lilith!!! Lilith catches it. She tosses the chair aside. Kitty lunges forward and DRILLS Lilith in the eye with a stiff right hand. Lilith collapses to the ground awkwardly, without any control. She’s knocked the fuck out. Kitty stands over her, running her hands through her hair…pulling at a few loose strands. We see DUCE JONES hit the ring~
Smith: What’s Duce doing out here?
Hood: If he’s attempting a run in to cost Bifford a card game…he’s late.
~Duce grabs Kitty from behind, urging her to step away, take a walk. It seems to be working. The tag champions are down…OCW medics hurry toward that portion of the ring to take a look. Lilith’s eye is already beginning to swell. Duce manages to get Kitty out of the ring…Kitty keeps looking back, debating a second run in~
Smith: I think Duce doesn’t want Kitty to jeopardize their impending tag title shot.
Hood: Those two are in line for a shot. As are the Dravers.
Smith: Indeed…Kitty’s got some serious issues going on, mentally. Hopefully this partnership with Duce can aid in getting her back to that championship level.
~Backstage.~
~Again.~
~It’s late, Massacre is quite literally moments from over, but there’s one last little loose end left to tie up before we can get back to ringside and finish the night off. The fact of the matter is that Eric Dane came to Key West tonight to speak to Marcus Welsh, and speak to Marcus Welsh is what the fuck he’s gonna do.~
Dane: There’s no fuckin’ way.
~The Only Star stands in front of a door clearly marked as the boiler room. He sighs, shakes his head, and raps his knuckles on it loud enough to wake the dead.~
Dane: Hey! Fucker! Are you in here? You’d better fucking not be!
~There is no answer.~
~Eric throws hands on hips and taps his foot impatiently before knocking again, louder, as if he were just about to burst in on an episode of To Catch A Predator and find some dude with a backpack full of hard candies, condoms, little blue pills, and coloring books. He speaks louder this time, quite literally yelling.~
Dane: MARCUS. FUCKING. WELSH. ARE. YOU. IN. THERE. MOTHERFUCKER?
~Eric waits.~
~And waits.~
~And fucking waits.~
“Just…”
~The voice is low, almost meek...~
“Leave me alone, okay, I’ll call you later or tomorrow or whenever-the-fuck.”
~...and most definitely belongs to former OCW Commissioner Marcus Welsh.~
Dane: Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Marcus, the boiler room? There wasn’t a dumpster somewhere closer that you could have thrown yourself into?
~The Only Star blasts through the door and into the boiler room with the man who signed him to OCW in the first place and he immediately regrets the five-figure Italian silk suit that he’s still completely draped in. That is to say, it’s hot as fuck in there.~
Welsh: I said leave me be.
Dane: And I ignored you.
~Marcus, who had been sitting down on top of some kind of metal something or another, managed to droop further down than he already found himself. It’s really kind of sad. The Adversary is oblivious.~
Dane: Look. When you brought me in there were certain… let’s say incentives that I was promised. Are you with me?
Welsh: Yeah, sure, whatever. And?
Dane: And right now I’m not feeling very incentivized.
~Welsh sighs.~
Welsh: Look…
~Finally he makes eye contact with The Antagonist.~
Welsh: Things are what you might call in flux right now. Zybala got one over on me, I never expected that moron to stumble his way into owning the goddamned company.
~The Only Star scoffs.~
Dane: And that has what to do with me?
Welsh: Look, don’t get your panties in a twist. I’ve got pieces on the board, so to speak. Irons in the fire and what have you. If everything goes according to plan-
Dane: [cutting him off] Like they did at NSFW?
Welsh: Look. Just hang tight. Be patient. Chill the fuck out, even. I have a plan.
~The future OCW Champion cocks an eyebrow.~
Dane: Get it together. Make a move. SORT YOURSELF OUT. Do something, anything! Otherwise, I might be forced to take my business elsewhere and I don’t mean to another promotion, I mean to another administrator right here in OCW. I like it here, think I’ll stay a while, and I’m going to have things the way I want them. That, or muh-fuckin’ heads are going to roll. Capiche?
Welsh: You mind shutting the door on your way out?
~The Only Star considers this.~
Dane: Fine. You have my number. Be in touch.
~Eric turns on his heel and leaves Marcus Welsh to his misery. He shuts the door just as loudly and abruptly as he’d entered it, the modicum of couth necessary to have an empathetic moment not anywhere near in the vicinity of his wheelhouse. Honest Injun, Dane could probably not give a shit less about Welsh’s predicament, and only cares about him as far as he can use him or wring money out of him. The idea that anybody might see and understand that remains completely lost on him.~
~Cut away.~
Smith: Welsh has built OCW around promises to outsiders. That's how he signs people, Hood. He gives them big contracts and guaranteed stardom. Now, with Zybala in charge...what happens? We've seen Mike Best stripped of one title. We've seen Max Kael walk. We've seen Vossler attack our commissioner. And now...now we've got Eric Dane promising to impose his will in an effort to get what he desires.
Hood: Shit sounds chaotic.
Smith: This has the potential to throw the entire organization into flux, as Welsh said.
Hood: You don't fuck someone like Eric Dane around. If there's one person in this company strong enough, belligerent enough to impose HIS will...it's The Only Star.
Smith: Indeed.
~The crowd stands and cheers for the new OCW Hall of Fame champion, as “The Marvel” Matt Meyhu steps out and begins making his way down to the ring with a limp. The limp would be more obvious if not for the LIME vest around Meyhu’s shoulders, drawing the eyes of the spectators upward.~
Smith: Meyhu looks like he’s limping.
Hood: He definitely is.
~Most of them, anyway. He’s also got the Hall of Fame championship wrapped around his waist. Meyhu climbs the steps with the help of the ring post and enters the ring, where a table is set up. On the table is a microphone, a pen and a clipboard with a signed contract-- a contract for the OCW Championship match at Redacted, which he earned by defeated Lurrr. Meyhu grabs the mic and waits for his music to fade out.~
Matt Meyhu: Looks good, doesn’t it?
~Meyhu slaps the HOF title hanging around his waist and smirks at the crowd.~
Matt Meyhu: At Not Safe for Work, I did exactly what I set out to do. Just like I said I would. Just like you all knew I would! But it wasn’t easy, was it? I have had a lot of tough matches in my time here, and this one ranks right at the top. Lurrr and I went to war! It was a battle for the ages. I learned why he has been so successful over the years. That's one tough dude, let me tell you!
~Meyhu pauses as the fans cheer for Lurrr for a moment. He tucks the mic under his arm and joins in.~
Matt Meyhu: I'll admit, I'm a little banged up from the whole thing. Not only was I put through hell in that match, but afterwards… Well, you saw. Thanks again for that, Mack.
~Some boos begin to filter in, and a change in demeanor can be spotted in Meyhu.~
Matt Meyhu: You never know quite what to expect around here, huh? Over the years, we've had monkeys and ducks. Zybala has taken over. And when somebody has seen enough of you winning, they'll disguise themselves as the help just to get close enough to try to put a stop to it.
~Meyhu shakes his head.~
Matt Meyhu: Well… Needless to say, my knees were not feeling so great after all that. So, the day after Not Safe for Work, I went and saw a doctor. I didn't like what he had to say to me. So the next day, I went and found a new one. He was in cahoots with the first one! They both recommended to me… Not to compete at Redacted.
~More boos funnel in as Meyhu looks around and lets out a sigh.~
Matt Meyhu: I considered finding a third doctor. But I thought about it and what's the point? He's probably going to tell me the same thing. He'll "know" that I shouldn't be in the ring. You know what? *I* know that I should be. I know myself better than anyone! And that's why I'm down here right now. To sign this contract! You don't get too many chances to win an OCW Championship!
~The fans cheer again for Meyhu. Something we're all still adjusting to! A 'MEYHU' chant begins. Meyhu picks the pen up off the table~
Matt Meyhu: I'll see you all there!
~Meyhu leans down to sign the contract. Before the pen touches the paper, "Vagabond" by the Greenskeepers blares through the arena. The crowd gives off a mix of cheers and boos, not sure what to think. Meyhu stands up straight again, annoyed, looking towards the top of the ramp for the cause of this interruption: Mack O'Connor. Meyhu patiently waits for him to appear.~
Smith: This can't be good.
Hood: Depends on who you ask.
~The music continues to play, but no one enters the arena. Meyhu shrugs, almost letting out a chuckle. Unbeknownst to him, there's a small commotion in the audience near ringside~
Smith: What's this?!
~Mack O'Connor is suddenly seen, pushing his way through the front row. He hops the barrier, grabs a steel chair, and moves to the ring. Meyhu is still looking towards the ramp, and the crowd begins to yell and scream at him to turn around. He waves them off, appreciating their support. Mack slides into the ring with the chair, stands up, and smiles as he targets Meyhu. Meyhu finally understands what the audience is trying to tell him, and he quickly turns around. Meyhu and Mack stare at each other for a moment. Meyhu tries to keep his composure. He sets the pen down on the table and puts the microphone to his lips~
Meyhu: Mack, just wait a second.
~Mack suddenly swings the chair, connecting it across Meyhu's head. Meyhu drops to the mat, but Mack doesn't let up. Mack follows up by slamming the chair repeatedly into Meyhu's knees~
Hood: Didn't expect this shit!
Smith: That's an understatement! What's come over Mack?! He's better than this!
~Mack continues with the barrage for several moments, teeing away at the already injured knee of Matt Meyhu as the booing of the crowd rises into what feels like real hate. Mack eventually stops, and he looks out at the arena. He just shakes his head, not believing the boos he's hearing. He grabs the microphone that Meyhu dropped~
Mack: Never thought I'd see the day you people would turn on me to cheer for him. Unbelievable.
~The crowd is still getting used to the idea of cheering for Meyhu, but slowly they begin to chant "MEYHU! MEYHU! MEYHU!" Mack, still calm, continues to shake his head in disbelief. He raises the chair over his head, bring it down hard again on the knee of Matt Meyhu, as the HOF Champion writhes in pain. The “MEYHU!” chants are rising, but it only seems to fuel Mack as he raises the chair again.~
Smith: This is disgusting! Would somebody get down there and stop this? Can we please stop this?
Hood: Oh… I think it’s about to get worse… here comes Mike Best!
~Sprinting down the ramp, OCW Champion Mike Best appears to have shown up to join the fray. The “MEYHU” chants quickly turn to boos, as the crowd begins to assume the worst. But instead of getting into the ring to attack Meyhu, Mike Best dives at Mack O’Connor! He grabs hold of the chair, trying to wrestle it away from Mack and shoving him backward, protecting Matt Meyhu from the assault!
Smith: Wait… Mike Best isn’t here to capitalize… he’s the cavalry!
Hood: No, it can’t be… it’s gotta be a swerve… Mack’s name begins with an M!
~Mike Best gets into the face of Mack O’Connor, jawing off at him and talking shit, but Mack laughs directly in his face, giving him a shrug as he looks over his handiwork-- Matt Meyhu has been utterly destroyed, his knee looking a lot worse for the wear than it was when he came down to the ring tonight~
~Instead of attacking the OCW Champion, Mack takes a few steps backward, still not losing his cool. He sees the pen and contract on the table. He looks down at the contract and reads it over. An evil smile spread across his face. He puts the microphone to his face once more~
Mack: Growing up, we all learned the danger of writing blank checks. Am I right?
~Without another thought, he grabs the pen and picks up the clipboard with the contract on it. The crowd goes silent, but Mack’s eyes are locked onto the eyes of Mike Best as he puts the pen to the paper.~
Smith: Wait. What's he doing? What's happening?
Hood: He's apparently filling out a blank check.
Smith: No, there's no way...
~Mack finishes the last scribble of his signature. The crowd is still silent, not sure what is going on. Mack doesn't say another word, he just gives a wave to Mike Best and slides out of the ring. He makes his way up the ramp and exits. In the ring, a leery Matt Meyhu tries to shove Mike Best off as the OCW Champ attempts to help him up from the mat. Instead, Meyhu crawls to the table and grabs the contract. Meyhu looks it over, and he grows increasingly angry. He looks as if he will tear it apart, but Belvedere pulls it away before he can. OCW officials move forward, grabbing the contract and taking it away, leaving Meyhu to grieve in the ring.~
Hood: What just happened? What's going on?
Smith: I can't be sure... But I feel like Mack just found a shortcut to the top.
Hood: You mean…Mack against Mike Best at Redacted?
Smith: It SEEMS that way…but I guess we won’t know for sure until we see that contract!
Hood: You see what happens when Zybala is in control. TOTAL CHAOS!
Smith: All I know is Meyhu cannot possibly compete in five weeks. I think Mack might be the most reasonable solution at this point…as much as I hate to say it.
Hood: Reasonable? The drunk just came down here, crippled the Hall of Fame Champion and etched his name onto an OCW Title contract.
Smith: I don’t like it any more than you do, Hood. But if I know anything about Mike Best…at least from what we’ve seen since he joined OCW, he is going to want to face Mack after this, no doubt.
Hood: Yea well Mike doesn’t run from a fight. Mack is looking for a fight…yea, sounds about right now that I think about it.
Smith: Mike seems destined to face another OCW Hall of Famer…this one is far different from the others. Will it happen? Is this our Redacted Main Event? We’re out of time! See you all next week!
~We fade to black~