OCW Presents: Massacre
LIVE! Monday, July 1st 2019
From The OCW Arena in Key West, Florida
~Another Monday Night is here! It’s fourth of July week in the AMERICA. Which means an abbreviated week on the horizon. However, that doesn’t make Monday, Tuesday AND Wednesday any easier…work awaits! Thankfully, we’ve knocked out 1/3 of our AMERICANIZED week. The beverage of choice tonight comes in the form of WATER. Good ole h2o. An ice cube hits the floor…we furtively kick it underneath the fridge. Not like there’s anybody living in this house with us…but we still feel enough shame in that act that a cover up is necessary. With a glass of water, we take a seat on our couch, releasing a sigh of relief. Finally we can relax and watch our FAVORITE show of the week. We turn to HOTv and see an ad for something called Valor Pro. We say ‘gay’ out loud and wait for the OCW Massacre logo to appear. We quickly comment, ‘fuck yea.’ The Massacre logo fades into a sold out OCW Arena!! The fans are ravenous! They are on their feet chanting “OCW!” The camera quickly cuts to Smith and Hood~
Smith: Hello everyone and welcome to Monday Night Massacre!
Hood: Fourth of July in three days, mother fucker! I’m ready to drink some beer and fuck some women…and, who knows, maybe even a few of those women will be free!
Smith: Terrific. Folks, we continue our meandering, bumpy road toward Redacted – arguably the most controversial location in company history. Tonight we see Mike Best return to the ring for the first time since his epic title defense against Andrea Hernandez.
Hood: Say no more! I’m hooked!
Smith: The tag team champions are back in action as R.O.S.E. takes on Larson Ridley and Sterling Silver.
Hood: I hear Silver is still heartbroken over Alice’s BRUTAL rejection. What a bitch.
Smith: Hey! That’s totally uncalled for…kind of like The Proctologist who returns to action tonight facing Duce Jones.
Hood: Oh boy…Duce had better win that one if he wants to retain his anal virginity.
Smith: Lurrr returns to action against Shootah…but the big story there is his ongoing issue with Scott Stevens.
Hood: Good to hear he’s back. Lurrr is going to make Stevens pay for what happened at NSFW.
Smith: Eric Dane, one week removed from demanding respect within the Savage Division, is facing the former fastest rising star in OCW, Evin Empire.
Hood: This is a dangerous night for Evin. He really…really needs a good showing here.
Smith: Speaking of the object of Silver’s eye…Alice Knight is back in action! Back to back weeks…aren’t we lucky?
Hood: About as lucky as a person diagnosed with missing lungs.
Smith: Missing lungs?
Hood: That would suck, right?
Smith: I’m not sure that’s possible, Hood. Logan, the man who will challenge the Savage Champion at Redacted, returns to action against another former fast rising star…Chastity Temple.
Hood: Oh Chastity…poor, poor Chastity. So sad.
Smith: Two of the top young stars in this company are set to do battle when Fabian Dufresne and Erin Gordon square off!
Hood: Oh man now THAT sounds like a match! Pulling for Dufresne because he’s a fucking badass…but Erin…I dunno man, she’s got that it factor.
Smith: I could easily see both competitors in title contention sooner rather than later.
Hood: Yep…hopefully Fabian isn’t a flat earther. I hear Erin HATES flat earthers.
Smith: Don’t we all. And, as if that weren’t enough…GREAT SCOTT returns to action against a fresh face here in OCW, Kevin Pitman.
Hood: GREAT!
Smith: We’ve got all that and much, much…
Hood: Whoa!! You’re forgetting SNOOKER
Smith: Oh…yes…how could I forget. Paradigm Champion, Cecilworth
Hood: M!
Smith: Farthington is set to continue his gentleman series against challenger, The Big Bifford…this week in a game of snooker.
Hood: War was had last week, Smith. It was WAR. This week…they simply do battle atop a pool table in a game that was invented for people not from America.
Smith: Giving Cecilworth an advantage it seems…why the heck am I analyzing this. Let’s get started with the show, everyone!
~The lights slowly dim in the OCW Arena, as OCW Monday Night Massacre begins in a similar fashion to the way that it began last week. Since March 11, 2019, this is the way a good number of shows have begun, but a lot has changed since Social Justice. One of the biggest changes? The reaction of the fans as “Undefeated” by KB begins to play over the speakers.~
~The roar of the crowd is split here in Key West, a little bit more than last week, and even more than the week before that-- while a lot of the OCW fans are still firmly against him, there is a baffling amount of positive support for the OCW and Craze Champion Mike Best, as he makes his way out from behind the curtain and saunters out onto the stage.~
Smith: We’ve got a lot of ground to cover tonight on this first show of July, but it looks like our... polarizing... OCW Champion, Mike Best is already on his way down to the ring. And I’ll be honest, Hood, I’m not sure if I’m actually ALLOWED to also call him the Craze Champion anymore.
Hood: I’ve said it from the beginning, Smith, I don’t like this guy. Last week, Mike Zybala did the RIGHT THING when he said that Mike Best had to choose between the OCW and Craze Championships-- and look what that ingrate did! He abandoned that Craze Championship without a second thought! THE DISLOYALTY! The AU-DACCCC-ITY!
Smith: From the BEGINNING, Hood? Because up until last week, you literally had a Mike Best bobblehead doll, right here on the commentary desk.
Hood: What a lie. You’re a fucking liar. Why do you lie so much? Hated him from day one.
~Mike Best slowly makes his way down the ramp to the ring. His shoulder is in a protective sling, as the champ is still under mandatory light duty by physician’s orders. The Craze Championship is slung over his good shoulder, with the OCW Championship fastened around his waist.
Smith: Well, I can’t believe I’m about to say this, old friend, but I think maybe Mike Zybala might be letting an old grudge get the best of him here. Mike Best hasn’t done anything to merit the stripping of his Craze Championship-- he won that belt fair and square at Not Safe For Work.
Hood: I can’t even believe the words coming out of your mouth right now.
Smith: I’m as surprised as you are, Hood. But do you honestly think Mike Zybala would have come down to the ring to take a belt away from Andrea Hernandez, if she had captured the OCW Championship at Not Safe For Work? She’d have become a double champion! I think the eMpire has been a constant thorn in Mike Zybala’s side, and he’s abusing his power as the owner of OCW to settle the score.
Hood: ...I never trusted that “M” in your name, Smith.
~The Mad Titan climbs the steps, ducking carefully into the ring. He borrows a microphone from Belvedere, stepping into the center of the ring as the crowd slowly begins to quiet-- unlike most weeks, there is no amusement on the face of the champion. He’s all business.~
Mike Best: Mack O’Connor! You want a fight? Come on down, I’ll give you a fucking fight!
~No mixed reaction this time-- the crowd revs up into a raucous cheer immediately, nearly deafening from a crowd who would like nothing more than to start tonight’s show with a brawl between Mike Best and Mack O’Conner. There’s no motion at the entrance ramp, though, prompting Mike Best to continue, more intense this time.~
Mike Best: Come on, big guy-- this is what you want, isn’t it? Isn’t that why you jumped Matt Meyhu like a BITCH last week?
~The crowd is even louder this time, cheering the OCW Champion despite their knowledge that this is not something they generally do. Mike bears down into a fighting stance, looking around the ring for Mack, potentially expecting him to come out from the crowd… but no Mack.~
Mike Best: I know you’re here, Mack-- I know you’re watching this in the back right now. Last week, you took away the last match I needed to solidify my place in the annals of this company. A match with Matt Meyhu-- “THE ICON OF OCW”. A match that would test my mettle not just as the OCW Champion, but as a MAN. As the man who wants to be the fucking face of OCW. And you took it away from me, Mack. And for what, so that you could cash in for an easy OCW Title shot? So that you could skip the line? If you want to fight, Mack O’Connor, then come down to this FUCKING RING AND FIGHT!
~The crowd hits a fever pitch now, screaming as the hard camera pans toward the entrance way. The drums and claps of “Vagabond” by the Greenskeepers gets the crowd on their feet, the reaction getting even louder now as...~
~For as loud as the cheers were just a second ago, equally vicious now are the boos-- while Mike Zybala is generally liked by the OCW faithful, being robbed of a moment that could have gone down in OCW history makes him about the most hated man imaginable right now. Once again, and for the second week in a row, Mike Zybala is letting his rivalry with Michael Best cloud his judgment and his perception with the fans who usually love him.~
Hood: TAKE THAT CRAZE TITLE, ZYBALA! IT’S YOUR FUCKING PROPERTY!
Smith: This is definitely not the entrance that the crowd was hoping for, Hood-- these OCW fans were excited to see a fight here tonight. Couldn’t this have waited until the OCW Champion got backstage?
~On either side of Zybala, two armed security guards walk down on either side. The new owner of OCW isn’t paying much attention to the crowd-- the cheshire cunt smile on his face as he paces on the stage is firmly locked on Mike Best in the ring. He holds a microphone in his hand, which he promptly holds to his lips, but the crowd is still booing too loudly for him to speak. The OCW owner looks temporarily flustered, not used to dealing with this kind of reaction from the fans. After what feels like an eternity, but is probably just a few more seconds, he speaks.~
Zybala: I’m sorry, were you expecting someone else?
~Despite looking amused with himself for ruining the OCW Champion’s moment yet again, the rest of those in attendance aren’t amused in the slightest. There is more booing now, but Zybala is laser focused on the ring.~
Zybala: I understand that you and Mack are having a little spat and that’s fine-- you’ll be free to proceed with your melodramatic little tirade as soon as we take care of the business at hand. The business you’ve known was coming since last week. It’s time to surrender the OCW Craze Championship, Mr. Best.
~As if on verbal cue, the two armed security guards begin to make their way down the ring in step, watching Mike Best for any sudden movements as the stride down the ramp. The booing is getting louder now, as Mike Best resumes a fighting stance.~
Mike Best: Now hold on there, Zybala. I can’t stop you from taking this belt away from me, but you and I… we had a deal. You told me that I could name my replacement, and that they’d go on to Redacted. You remember that?
~Zybala furrows his eyebrows, nodding.~
Zybala: What’s your point? I’m a man of my word. Now if you’ll kindly hand that title over to--
Mike Best: But Mikey... I haven’t NAMED my replacement yet, have I?
~The crowd begins to buzz again, seeing where this is going. Unfortunately, Zybala hasn’t yet caught on-- he looks confused and annoyed, and the security guards are now making their way up the steps.~
Zybala: Well I don’t see what that has to do with--
Mike Best: I’m glad you’re a man of your word, Zybala. Because YOUR words were… “you do anything you have to do, you decide any way you choose, but when you choose… you WILL hand that championship over…”
~The buzzing from the crowd is louder now, and Zybala is starting to get the picture. His annoyance is turning to anger, as he motions on for security to get into the ring and do their jobs. Both guards duck into the ring and step forward toward the OCW Double Champion, but he isn’t backing down either.
Mike Best: You’re a man of your word, and I’m a man of my word too, Zybala. So I WILL hand this Craze Championship over… as soon as I choose my replacement for Redacted. But it’s a hard choice, bud-- I’ve been over it again and again in my head, and I JUST… CAN’T… PICK. I-- I guess… I guess that means I’m the OCW Double Champion for… one more week!
~Mike Best shakes his head, feigning concern as the crowd cheers behind him. Zybala looks furious, but doesn’t seem entirely sure what to do about it yet. ~
Mike Best: This is going to be a long, arduous, difficult decision, Mr. Zybala, but I promise you that I’ll make it as soon as I possibly can. Beginning next week, when I choose my top six potential candidates. There is research to be done, contests to be contested, and… well… I’ll just hold on to the Craze Championship for safe keeping in the meantime!
~Zybala lets out a frustrated roar from the entrance ramp, stomping his feet on the stage. The two guards lunge forward to try and take the belt, as they were commanded, but Mike Best blasts one of them in the face with his microphone! The crowd explodes, as Best shoves him aside and backs into the ropes, charging toward the second guard and wailing him in the face with an “I KNEED A HERO” in the center of the ring! The whole crowd is on their feet!~
~Zybala looks like he’s going to charge to the ring himself, but he suddenly thinks better of it as he seethes in safety at the top of the ramp. Mike Best collects BOTH of his championships back up off the mat, carefully rolling out of the ring and protecting his shoulder as he does so. The OCW Double Champion moves to the guardrail, making his way out through the crowd and free from the security in the ring, as Monday Night Massacre is officially underway!~
|
|
Singles Match
Kevin Pitman (0-0) vs. Great Scott (0-4)
~The fans are READY! They chant “OCW! OCW!” They came to see some GRAPS. And GRAPS…in some form…they will see! Belvedere, standing inside the ring, clears his throat to a HUGE ovation~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…
~GREAT SCOTT COMES DOWN TO THE RING WITH HIS CHAMPIONSHIP BELT AND A BEAR WHO IS GREAT NAMED GREAT BEAR AND THEY ARE LISTENING TO THE WHOLE CROWD CHEER AND THEN THEY GET INTO THE RING AND THE BEAR DOES A COOL DANCE AND GREAT SCOTT IS VERY OVER~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…GREAT SCOTT
~The crowd is going wild…people are suddenly doing the GREAT SCOTT. We’re not sure how to describe it…they’re gyrating, throwing their arms around, running in place…basically breaking into sporadic, arbitrary dance moves. There’s no rhyme or reason…no method…it’s madness. The Bear runs toward the ropes…he flips over the top rope, landing on his feet. GREAT SCOTT throws the belt at the Bear…the BEAR catches the belt in his mouth and starts to moonwalk. The crowd goes WILD~
Smith: Great Scott back in action.
Hood: You have to admire his enthusiasm. If I were winless after a few months of competition I may not be so happy. I might be more like Shootah than Great Scott.
Smith: Great Scott is a force, Hood. I’m not sure what kind of force…but he is a force.
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~Kevin Pitman walks briskly down the ramp, staring straight at the ring, dead set on inflicting pain. He slides under the bottom rope and runs over to the corner, hitting his head multiple times off of the top turnbuckle. A snarl on his face, he staggers back to the centre of the ring and collapses to his knees, breathing heavily~
Belvedere: From Portsmouth, England…standing 6’2 and weighing in at 221lbs…Kevin Pitman!!!
Smith: Kevin Pitman making his OCW debut.
Hood: Pit with one t instead of two…this man could be a star.
Smith: Is that how we’re basing our prognostications?
Hood: Sure.
~The BEAR is waving the title around like a prop. The crowd enjoys this, greatly. They chant “GREAT SCOTT!” Kevin Pitman looks around, annoyed. Great Scott does a cartwheel into a backflip. He turns toward Kevin Pitman and motions for the Pit-Man to come at him. Kevin yells and charges at Great Scott. Scott does the MATRIX to avoid a lariat. He rises, hits the ropes, bounces off and nearly decapitates Kevin Pitman with a HUGE lariat of his own!!! Pitman turns inside out, hitting the mat, hard. The Bear takes the title, places it between his legs and starts to rub it back and forth~
Smith: That bear is getting a little too excited for my comfort zone.
Hood: Fuck the bear…Great Scott is looking like…dare I say…IGGY HARDY
Smith: They do share certain similarities
Hood: He’s FIRED UP, Smith!
~Pitman struggles to his feet, holding his neck. GREAT SCOTT throws a wild knee into the man’s stomach. He hoists the man up, sloppily before throwing him down, recklessly with the GREAT SCOTT BOMB!! Pitman MIGHT be dead. Great Scott does a backflip…he hits the ropes, charges forward, leaps over the top rope, onto the apron, charges for the corner, climbs to the top, jumps off with a front flip, landing on his feet. The fans go wild!~
Smith: This man has a ton of energy.
Hood: You think it’s organic or manufactured?
Smith: I hope organic.
~Great Scott is facing away from Kevin Pitman. Pitman tries to sit up. He does. He struggles to his feet. Great Scott’s MULLET begins to shake. He starts to slowly turn his head. The fans go “ooooooooooooohhhhh”…Scott finally turns his head and gives Kevin Pitman THE MENACING GLARE!!! The fans go “YAYYYY!!”~
Smith: IT’S THE MENACING GLARE
Hood: I think he calls it THE ANGRY GLARE
Smith: Does it REALLY matter?
Hood: Of course it matters! It matters a GREAT deal.
~Scott runs toward Pitman…he leaps into the air, wraps his legs around Pitman’s head and neck and takes him down with a FRANKENSTEINER…he holds on for the pin. Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings. The crowd goes WILD~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…GREAT SCOTT!!!!!
~Pyro shoots out of the four corners!! CONFETTI FALLS FROM THE CEILING! IT IS BIFFORD CONFETTI!!! Great Scott takes a bump, landing on his back. He opens his mouth, allowing the confetti entry. He chews up the confetti while trying to make a snow man in the ring. The BEAR finishes rubbing himself with the belt. He sprints around the ring, slinging the belt into the air~
Smith: PANDEMONIUM!!!
Hood: This is reminiscent of that time Scoot Time got his first win!
Smith: A true…moment…in OCW history!
Hood: GREAT SCOTT HAS ARRIVED!
~We cut backstage where a very annoyed LURRR is spotted. Jones is standing by, mic in hand~
Jones: I’m back here with the original OCW ICON, Lurrr, who is set to return to action in a few moments against Shootah. Lurrr, last time we saw you –
~Lurrr yanks the mic from Jones and shoves him away~
Lurrr: Stevens. You think you can just waltz in here and put your hands on me without any sort of repercussion? You think it’s just that easy? Nobody…and I mean NOBODY puts their hands on me and gets away with it.
~Lurrr takes a breath, obviously seething. He regains what composure remains and continues~
Lurrr: I don’t give a shit who you are or what you’ve accomplished in other promotions. You’re in OCW now, douche bag and you jumped the wrong mother fucker.
~Lurrr looks directly into the camera~
Lurrr: You wanted to make a statement, great. I just hope you’re ready for the payback that’s headed your way. I am the original ICON. I am the greatest wrestler in OCW history. And, I am going to kick your fucking ass.
~Lurrr throws the mic against the wall, creating a loud “THUMP.” He marches off, heading toward the gorilla position~
Smith: A very angry and agitated Lurrr.
Hood: Stevens got his attention…whether or not that’s a good thing remains to be seen.
Smith: Indeed…an now Lurrr is set to face Shootah. Let’s head down to ringside for this one!
|
|
Singles Match
Lurrr (6-3) vs. Shootah (0-3)
Belvedere: The next match is scheduled for one fall. Already in the ring, here is SHOOTAH!!
~Shootah winces at hearing his name, then looks around in panic for a second before calming down.~
Smith: Shootah's anxiety seems to be getting worse and worse lately.
Hood: Guy needs to see a shrink. Any quack will do.
Smith: Don't say quack, you'll make people miss the duck.
Belvedere: His opponent...
Smith: Here comes one of the best-known OCW wrestlers of all time!
Hood: Still the first OCW Hall of Famer, even if he doesn't have the belt anymore.
~The crowd all turns towards the entryway, letting out a cheer.~
Got used, smoked dope, paid dues
Refused to give up quick,
Now theres 10 million motherfuckers on my dick
~The curtains part, revealing LURRR. He comes out ready to wrestle, looking clean and sober as he heads for the ring. He hustles down, rolling in under the bottom rope and popping to his feet.~
~From Houston, Texas... he is a three-time OCW Champion and an OCW Hall of Famer...the original ICON of OCW... he is LURRR!!!
Smith: It's said that Lurrr had been hard to find after his loss of the OCW Hall of Fame Title at NSFW, followed by the assault from Scott Stevens.
Hood: It wasn't a great day for the Icon. But he looks like he's recovered well from his binge. Wish I could come back that quickly, I'm usually sick for a week!
Smith: I probably wouldn't survive.
Hood: Oh, I don't reach Lurrr levels, I don't think I'd make it either. But what a way to go!
~Lurrr sets himself in the corner, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else than here, but prepared to end it quickly. He waits for the bell to ring, and then starts forward... only to have Shootah already sliding under the ropes and hurrying down the aisle! The fans, normally willing to support Shootah's choices, start to boo, but he ignores them, pointing back to the ref and putting his fingers in the air, wanting a count started.~
Smith: What is Shootah thinking?
Hood: Oh, hell, the little weasel wants to be counted out.
Smith: Well, the match has officially started, so the ref does need to count.
Hood: I suppose I can't blame the little chicken shit.
~Scruff talks to Lurrr for a few seconds, with Lurrr shrugging. He came to fight, but a win is a win. Scruff turns and starts the count, with the audience counting along as well. Still some negativity coming Shootah's way, but he's got a big smile on his face. He's finally found a loophole to getting another concussion.~
Smith: Looks like we'll just be moving onto our next bout...
~Scruff reaches eight, and Shootah shows absolutely no inclination to return to the ring. However, everything stops when "I Am Legend" by Colton Dixon begins to play. The crowd erupts as Vincent Langston walks out of the back, mic in hand.~
Smith: The new OCW Commissioner is here!
Hood: Oh, hell, what now?
Vincent Langston: What the fuck is going on out here??
~The crowd cheers, maybe just for the language. Shootah is now looking nervously towards Langston, a man who has beat Shootah senseless on more than one occasion.~
Vincent Langston: These people didn't pay good money to see you run like a coward, Shootah! Where are your balls? Where's that courage that made you want to be a wrestler in the first place?
~Shootah lowers his head, looking downcast. But he's still not turning for the ring. Lurrr is looking on with interest now, leaning casually on the ropes.~
Vincent Langston: So you still don't want to go to the ring? Fine. You don't have to. By order of the new Commissioner, I'm making this a Falls Count Anywhere match! This is my ruling. Make it happen!
~The crowd is pumped, but Shootah is not, shaking his head desperately in Langston's direction. The bell rings, signalling the change in contest, and Shootah turns to look over his shoulder with wide eyes. Lurrr, not minding in the least, has already slid out of the ring and is making his way in Shootah's direction. Shootah looks towards the ramp, but Commissioner Langston is still standing there, so Shootah turns back. Lurrr runs in, leveling Shootah with a clothesline!! The crowd is loving it as Lurrr picks Shootah up, nailing him with punch after punch!~
Hood: So much for Shootah's grand plan!
Smith: Talk about a backfire! Shootah's now got to survive a Falls Count Anywhere match with an OCW Hall of Famer!
Hood: RIP, Shootah!
~Lurrr continues his assault, not bothering with many wrestling moves. He's been in enough of these type of matches to know that anything goes. After a few more knees to the gut, keeping Shootah bent over, Lurrr turns and propels the helpless wrestler towards the guardrail. Shootah hits hard and immediately flips over it, landing heavily on the other side. Lurrr takes a moment to accept some praise from the crowd, who gladly give it, before starting over the railing himself. Shootah, though, sees this as a chance opportunity, and starts crawling through the crowd, trying to find a place to hide. Lurrr starts searching for him, taunting him. He gestures for some of the crowd to move aside, and they do... revealing a man standing there in a white mask, wearing sunglasses. The crowd pops, recognizing the man.~
Smith: Oh my god! It's Scott Stevens!!
Hood: The man who attacked Lurrr at NSFW!! And hey, are those John E. Depth's sunglasses?
Smith: The man loves souvenirs, apparently, as we know he's got a tuft of Lurrr's hair in his collection. Is he back for more??
~Lurrr grabs a nearby chair and picks it up, folded, in his hands. He gestures for Stevens to come and get it, setting himself, but Stevens doesn't move. The masked man just stands there, watching Lurrr without acting. Lurrr looks ready to take matters into his own hands, starting to step forward... and suddenly Shootah is there behind him, trying to roll him up!! Scruff, following the action, dives in for the count... 1... and Lurrr easily kicks out, avoiding the shocking defeat. He jumps up, with Shootah, immediately regretful of his actions, raising his hands in the air. Lurrr doesn't stop, lashing out and nailing him with the WAKE UP CALL!!! Shootah is down, not moving, as Lurrr turns back to where Stevens was. But the wrestler is now gone, having disappeared back through the crowd. Lurrr tries to get through them, angrily shouting for Stevens, but there's no sign of the man.~
Smith: Lurrr was ready to have it out with Stevens here, and it almost cost him!
Hood: Hey, props to Shootah for actually trying to win, although he'd probably be regretting it right now if he was conscious.
~Scruff is talking to Lurrr now, trying to convince him to pin Shootah, since the match isn't technically over yet. Lurrr pushes Scruff aside, walks back over... and then starts lashing out with the chair, hitting Shootah repeatedly in the ribs and chest!! Shootah's helpless from the assault, as the crowd around them quickly back away, realizing the fury coming out of the OCW Hall of Famer. Finally, Lurrr finishes his assault, breathing heavily as he throws the chair aside. It probably won't be used again, having been bent across the concrete on some of the shots. Lurrr finally puts a foot on Shootah, and Scruff hurriedly makes the count, ending this one and giving the victory to Lurrr.~
Belvedere: Here is your winner... LURRR!!!
Smith: Shootah has been utterly destroyed tonight!
Hood: We need a clean-up crew on aisle four!
Smith: This is serious, Hood! That was a tremendous beating the man just took!
Hood: Well, blame Stevens for setting off the Icon. I hope Welsh or Zybala is looking into hiring new jobbers. Our old ones are getting worn out thanks to the Commissioner.
~Newly appointed “hotdog guy”, Zack Phoenix, is seen in the foyer area of the arena as he finishes off serving up a couple of jumbo dogs for a heavy set fan. He places a few fried onions on the dog before turning his attention back onto the fan ready to pass him the hotdogs he'd just made up.~
Fan: Thank you. Hey, do you have any of Alice Knights special mustard to put on this?
~Zack shakes his head as he let's out a short laugh.~
Zack: Haha, no, no. From my understanding that isn't exactly safe for human consumption.
~The fan shrugs his shoulders as he takes the hotdogs off of Zack.~
Fan: True, but she's Alice Knight.
Zack: That is true, she is Alice Knight.
Voice: What’s all this talk about hotdog weiners?
~The fan and Zack turned around to see Alice Knight walking over holding only a hotdog bun.~
Alice: My ears must be ringing. Are you boys chatting about me?
Fan: Holy Sh- -! … Oh my Gaw- -! It’s… Alice… Knight!
~Alice struts over in confidence but nearly slips on garbage around the concession stand. She fixes her balance and continues walking over to the two gentlemen~
Alice: Nice to meet you! Hey, ZACK! You made it! You’re in the OCW… arena? It’s a start. Rock and roll, right, bud?
~Zack smiles across at Alice, desperately trying not to freak out as much as the fans around them are~
Zack: Ah, Miss Knight, nice to finally meet you.
~Zack looks at his hotdog stand and shrugs his shoulders a bit.~
Zack: Not much, but at least I got my foot in the door, right? Mr. Zybala showed interest in getting me trained up to become a pro wrestler last week, but so far nothings come of it. The way I see it, if they want me to be the hotdog guy, I'll be the best darn hotdog guy ever. Speaking of which, would you like one? I'm afraid I don't have any of your special mustard. At least not yet anyway.
~Zack said this knowing full well he never actually intended to try her “special mustard”, he didn't want to get “sickish”~
Alice: I’ll be sure to hook the new OCW ‘hotdog guy’ with a whole case of mustard. But if you are going to take this wrestling thing serious. I guess I could help you out. Show you a few pointers and what not. I mean I can’t promise it will lead you to great things. I once trained this homeless bum for a try out for OCW. He didn’t put in the effort and neither did I to be honest. We kind of just huffed gasoline from garbage bags. I went on to become an OCW Champion and kind of got my life together. Last I heard the homeless bum died of a heroine overdoes. But funny story to go with that. He used to make the best fish cakes. Onion, potatoes, and salt fish. Terrific stuff. I can lend you the recipe sometime if you want to make a batch. But again. If you want help for your inring debut. I’d give you hand. It’s not often I get to give back to my fans to me. What do you say, Zack?
~Zack just takes a few moments to take in what Alice had just said to him and then laughs a little bit, a few fans around him cheering Alice on even more so.~
Zack: Alice Knight, you do make me laugh. But I mean… errr… if you’re serious about wanting to train me up… sure! You're on! Honestly, Mr. Zybala makes me a little bit nervous, I fully expect him to book me in a match at any moment. So yeah, absolutely! Let's do this!
~Zack offers Alice his hand and the two of them shake hands. Alice quickly leaves the area with a smile as Zack stands back in shock, trying to process everything.~
Zack: Wow…
~The nearby fans continue to cheer as Zack smiles, completely overjoyed.~
Zack: Hotdogs are on me everybody!
~We cut back to the announce team~
Smith: Alice has offered to train Zack! What a humanitarian!
Hood: Humanitarian? Talk about hyperbole!
Smith: She's a treasure within this sport, Hood. Always looking to give back.
Hood: If by 'give back' you mean infecting people with some strange disease via her disgusting mustard then, yea, she's giving ALOT back.
Smith: Ugh...maybe one day you'll come around.
Hood: NEVER
Smith: Zack Phoenix could be booked at any time, folks. It's a good thing he's got Alice helping him out. However, it's time to head back down to ringside as Bob Grenier is set to take on John E Depth!
|
|
Singles Match
Bob Grenier (27-18) vs. John E Depth (2-5)
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen… The following contest is a singles match and it is scheduled for one fall!
Fans: ONE FALL!!!
Belvedere: Coming to the ring first…
"BIBLE CLUB! FOFOFOFO-FOR GOD!"
~The Bloodhound Gang’s “The Bad Touch” hits the speakers and out comes John E. Depth! He stretches out his arms to proudly display his Bible Club shirt! The cheers are loud as the fans have warmed up to the most successful jobber in OCW history. Depth pauses and turns back towards the curtain and mimes like he's filming as "God's Girlfriend" Chastity Temple bounces out full of energy and good vibes!~
Belvedere: Accompanied to the ring by Chastity Temple…
~Chastity waves enthusiastically with Bible Club T-shirts in her hands to the aisle-side fans but makes a conscious effort to steer away from any and all creep-o’s and pervs in attendance. Depth doesn't care. Those are his kinds of people. He proudly high fives those creepers on his way to the ring.~
Belvedere: Hailing from Hollywood, California, representing The Bible Club, he is "The King of Dong Style" John E. Depth!
~Depth and Chasity get in the ring and toss a few Bible Club shirts to ringside fans as the music dies down~
Belvedere: And his opponent.....
Where the hood...
~Grenier steps out from behind the curtain to a huge ovation!! He looks like he hasn't fully recovered from N.S.F.W. as shadows of bruises can still be seen on his body. He does not look to be in a happy mood.~
Belvedere: From Timmins, Ontario, Candada…standing 6’2 and weighing in at 222lbs…he is "The King of Bong Style" Bob Grenier!!!
~The fans cheer at his name but Bob pays them no attention. He gets in the ring as Belvedere exits. Bob glares at Depth, but then looks around the ring confused. There is no ref!~
Smith: We seem to be missing a referee for this match.
Hood: No shit. I would avoid Grenier too after all that's happened to him lately.
~The fans start to mummer as Grenier and Depth stand awkwardly in the ring. Do they fight or not? Everyone cheers as Gruff walks out holding a piece of paper and a brown paper bag. Bob seems to have a look of hope on his face as Gruff enters the ring and hands the paper to Belvedere, who reads it.~
Belvedere: Ladies and gentlemen, by orders of O.C.W. owner Mike Zybala, the following match will be a Fast Times At Ridgemont High match. The rules are simple. Each competitor must finish smoking all of their respective marijuana before they are allowed to make a pin attempt on their opponent.
~Grenier cheers along with the fans in celebration! Depth looks game as Chasity looks very confused.~
Smith: I can't believe we have to sit through another one of these matches. This clearly favors Grenier.
Hood: He is undefeated in this kind of match. As for sitting through it, you can shut up with your "morals." I only have one thing to about this. CLASSIC O.C.W. BABY!!
~Belvedere leaves the ring as Gruff opens up the paper bag and pulls out six fully packed glass bowls and two lighters. We see Chasity audibly gasp as she starts yelling at Depth not to do drugs. He argues, albeit it in vain, until Bob comes over. He starts to explain that weed is grown naturally and thus a creation of God. Chasity ponders for a moment before nodding in consent. The fans cheer as Gruff hands three bowls to Depth along with a lighter and gives the rest to Grenier. Both men put two bowls in their respective corners, but keep hold of the third and the lighters. Gruff sees that both men are ready and calls for the bell to start this weird match. Grenier wastes no time and starts to light a bowl. Depth won't be undone and lights one of his bowls as the fans are cheering both men to get high!~
Smith: And here we are with wrestlers getting high on television again.
Hood: Quit being such a pussy. Though I will say that this match gives Bob the definite advantage. Remember how charged up he got every time he smoke during the last two Fast Times matches.
Smith: It does give him a certain edge.
~Depth pulls ahead by surprisingly finishing his first bowl before Grenier. Before he can light up his second bowl, Bob rushes over and flings the ashes of his now freshly finished bowl towards the face of Depth. Depth panics and starts to brush off the ember as Grenier uses the distraction to unload rights and lefts to the head and body of Depth. Depth drops his lighter and second bowl while trying to cover up. Some of the fans boo this callous display of pot abuse, but like the Honey Badger, Grenier doesn't give a fuck. He continues his attack, pushing Depth towards the ropes. John E. tries to mount a comeback, but Bob clotheslines him over the top rope, sending him to the floor. Grenier quickly rushes to his corner to grab his second bowl. While Grenier lights up, Depth gathers himself and slides under the ropes into the ring. Instead of attacking however, he crawls all over the mat, trying to gather the fallen pot and put it back into his bowl. By the time he finishes and sparks the bowl, Grenier has finished his second.~
Hood: Bob has now taken a two to one lead! He only has to smoke one more and he'll be able to go for a pin.
Smith: Seriously, why do these types of matches exist
Hood: Could be worse. We could be calling Outsider's from some scrub's backyard.
Smith:....... And Depth has finally started to smoke his second bowl! Bit it looks like the pot is having a more relaxing effect on him than Grenier!
~Depth is leaning in the corner while smoking his bowl. He looks around and tries to get the attention of a worker walking around selling snacks, but gives up after all of five seconds. He's too high for this. Bob however is energized as shit! He throws his third smoked bowl on the ground and let's out a primal shout. He charges at Depth, who is talking to Gruff about Darkside of the Moon. Depth sees Grenier at the last second and falls out of the way, accidentally pulling Gruff into the corner just as Bob leaps in with a big splash. Grenier crushes Gruff as Depth falls to the mat giggling. Bob looks a bit confused at Gruff as the ref calls to the mat. It seems the weed has clouded Bob's mind. Was he fighting Gruff and Depth was the ref? He shrugs as he drops down next to Gruff, roles Gruff over and makes a pin, telling Depth to count the three! Depth tells him that he's not the ref as he rolls out of the ring. ~
~Grenier looks angry as he gets off from Gruff. He storms out of the ring in search of Depth... And maybe some munchies. Depth is no where to be found! Bob looks all around for Depth, as does Chasity. A moment passes before Depth appears from under the ring on the opposite end from Bob! He's holding something in his hands high above his head. He's yelling to Chasity that he has found The Good Book!~
Smith: After rooting around under the ring in his attempt to escape a pot powered Grenier, it seems Depth has found a Bible! Will it Hulk him up like it does his Bible Club partner?
Hood: Take a second look Smith. That ain't no Bible.
Smith: What do you mean? What is it?
Hood: The cover looks like a man next to a sex doll. If I'm not mistaken, that book is actually "Plastic Hooking" by under-appreciated and hopefully soon breakout author Will Gardner. Available on Amazon!
~Before Smith can make any reply, we all see Marcus Welsh come down the ramp with an envelope in his hand. He strolls right up to the announce table and hands Hood the envelope before going back to the backstage area~
Smith: Did you just get paid for schilling some guy's merchandise?
Hood: Classic O.C.W., baby!
~Chasity starts yelling that the literary masterpiece isn't the Bible. Depth slides in the ring and charges at Bob with the book held high. He takes a swing at Grenier's head, but is sidestepped. He stumbles past Bob, who quickly spins Depth around and boots him in the balls (The Hotshot)!! Depth drops the book as he doubles over in pain. The fans boo hard as Bob quickly grabs Depth in a front facelock and D.D.T.'s Depth right on top of Plastic Hooking!! (available on Amazon.) Grenier cover Depth and starts yelling at Gruff who is slowly coming to. Gruff crawls over and starts the count.~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The fans boo as Bob stands up to celebrate. He walks to Depth corner and picks up the last bowl and starts to smoke it as he leaves the ring. As Bob walks up the ramp, Shootah and The Ubertaker run past him into the ring. The books get louder at The Ministry of Parkness start to lay the breakdown on the fallen Depth!~
Smith: Yet another attack on Depth by Shootah! This time he brought The Ubertaker!
Hood: And no O.G.D.A. in sight to save him!
~The boos turned to cheers as Chasity storms the ring with a chair in hand! She swing and nearly hits Shootah who drags Uber out of the ring. They stare down Chasity who dares them to come back in the ring.~
Where the hood…
Where the hood at…
~Mack O'Connor sits in his dressing room at the desk. In front of him lies a flat piece of cardboard, some tinfoil, and a flashlight. He takes a quick sip of beer from a bottle nearby, then starts fiddling with the objects in front of him. After a moment, Treat Cassidy walks in~
Treat: Mack, we seriously have to talk about...
~Treat notices Mack: He's shining the flashlight onto the aluminum foil, but there's no clear indication of what he's trying to accomplish~
Treat: What are you doing?
~Mack, just now noticing that Treat is in the room, jumps to his feet~
Mack: What? Nothing... I was just... It was something I read up on the internet...
Treat: Okay?
Mack: Just a little experiment that... Nevermind, what do you want?
Treat: Look, I can appreciate you trying to push forward in your career. But you need to talk to me about making moves. You can't just jump in and sign a contract not meant for you. Contracts don't work that way.
~Mack grabs his beer, taking a swig before stepping towards Treat~
Mack: Look, Treat, I looked the document over.
Treat: For a few seconds at most.
Mack: I read fast, okay? Don't worry. I crossed the T's and dotted the I's. It's me and Best at Redacted.
Treat: We don't know that, Mack. OCW's legal team have been looking at the situation with high scrutiny. The contract was meant for Meyhu, and everyone knows that. He won the match at Not Safe For Work which guaranteed him a shot at the World Title at Redacted. All you did was create a legal maelstrom that we probably won't benefit from.
Mack: So lets say they decide that I can't legally partake in that match. Lets go with that hypothetical, okay? You're telling me that they're going to put Meyhu in that match? Did you not see what I did to that motherfucker? He's not going to be able to walk, let alone fight, by the end of July. With my name and signature on the contract, I'm their only option.
Treat: It's not that simple, Mack... Again, I wish you'd go over this stuff with me before you decide to just take action.
Mack: I didn't have time to consult you, okay? I wasn't out there to sign the contract. Motherfuckin' Meyhu got another shot at the title, and I wasn't having it. I wanted to fuckin' him. I wanted to end his career. That motherfucker has somehow slipped by me more times than anyone, so I took action on him. I took action at Not Safe For Work, and I finished the job at Massacre. Just so happens he left a contract in the ring with a few empty spaces that needed some filling in. So hey, I filled them in.
Treat: You're missing the point. Let's be real here, Mack... You just lost a contendership match for the Craze Title. Your record this year hasn't been great either.
Mack: What are you trying to say?
Treat: Look, I know you're technically still relatively young and all (glares at Will), but we have to be honest that your health isn't great. You're in decent shape, but you've treated your body so terribly that you're simply falling apart. You're losing your stride. You're not the fighter you used to be. And even if all the legal matters decide that your bid for the championship is legit, do you really think you can beat Mike Best? This year you've lost to Houston and Canon...
Mack: Those were flukes.
Treat: You know that isn't true.
~Mack stands silent for a moment. He takes another sip of beer, thinking of what to say~
Treat: What's this really about, Mack?
Mack: I told you. I wanted Meyhu out.
Treat: And I believe that. But you signed that contract for a reason.
Mack: I did.
~Mack takes another sip of his beer, really trying to think of the right words~
Mack: Because fuck Mike Best.
~Treat blinks~
Treat: That's it? That's why?
Mack: That's the short version.
Treat: What's the long version?
~Mack takes a deep breath~
Mack: Meyhu was a fuckin' menace. Not because he continued to dominate, because he managed to hold onto that belt longer than he deserved. When Paras defeated him, it was a relief for everyone in OCW. Then Mike Best got his fuckin' hands on it... I don't care if a newbie or a veteran wins that belt, but I give a fuck if an arrogant piece of shit like Mike Best takes it. God knows how Paras let the belt slip away, but Mike Best is not one that should represent that belt. I don't give a shit if he's undefeated. He can beat every Hall of Famer in the book, and he still would not be a man worthy of representing this company. He's a fucking child.
Treat: He's undefeated, Mack.
Mack: Yeah, he fights like a man. I'll give him that. But he has the temperament of a child. He talks like a child. He cries like a child. He tweets like a child.
Treat: Wait, you're on Twitter?
Mack: Irrelevant. But yeah, fuck Mike Best. Win or lose, he deserves what's coming to his ass.
Treat: I guess we'll just have to see what the legal department has to say.
Mack: I guess so.
~Mack sits back down at the desk, looking at the materials in front of him~
Treat: So you're not going to tell me what thats all about?
Mack: You can show yourself out, Treat.
~Treat puts his hands up as he withdraws from the dressing room~
Smith: Mack O'Connor is fired up, Hood.
Hood: He should be...it's summer time! Last summer Mack headlined TWO ppvs.
Smith: Technically one was in September.
Hood: Blah, only if you go by the calendar which, as we all know, is a conspiracy.
Smith: How is the calendar a conspiracy?
Hood: You need to do your research!
Smith: Mack never liked Meyhu. We all knew that. Now, it appears as though he's transferred those feelings onto Mike Best.
Hood: Mike is a lot like Meyhu. Stepping in, rising to the top. Very similar.
Smith: It will be interesting to see how this develops as we continue the march toward Redacted! Up next we have OCW Newcomer of the Month, Fabian Dufresne taking on Erin Gordon!
Hood: Fabian is looking to defend his Newcomer of the Month award!
Smith: Yea, that's not going to happen. It's impossible. Let's head down to ringside!
|
|
Singles Match
Erin Gordon (6-1) vs. Fabian Dufresne (6-1)
~Belvedere stands in the ring looking very much ready for perhaps the most competitive match of the evening. He clears his regal, royal throat in preparation to continue his duties as the CHIEF of professional ring announcing. The fans pop~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall!! Introducing first…
~The overhead lights slowly go dark as the first strummed chords of 'Hurricane' fill the air, the crowd's cheers rising in response to the woman that is about to emerge. Gray lights flare into being around the curtain when the song starts proper, illuminating the outline of the Oncoming Storm as she stands with her shoulders square and her hands curled into fists at her sides. The wind machine is on behind her, blowing her hair around as her gaze moves over the assembled crowd and the surroundings alike... before it settles upon the ring. As 'Hurricane' cuts to the chorus, she makes her way down the aisle, not shying away from the hands that reach out for her~
~Erin's focus never wavers, even as she grabs onto the ropes and hauls herself up onto the apron. Wiping her feet, she climbs into the ring between the top and middle ropes before she heads to her corner, turning to rest her back against the turnbuckles. Only then does she play a little to the crowd, a single fist thrusting itself skyward to earn more cheers as her music fades~
Belvedere: From Blooming Valley, Pennsylvania…standing 5’7 and weighing in at 154lbs…Erin Gordon!!!
Smith: Erin Gordon back in action after NSFW!
Hood: Yep, a lot of people had her as the favorite to win that Battle Royal…but, she finished third. Not bad, but not what she was looking for.
Smith: Nope, Fabian outlasted her in the match so tonight could be seen as a potential form of revenge.
Belvedere: And, her opponent…
~ The horizontal hold of the TV screen gets messed with, then the vertical hold of the TV screen gets messed with, then the whole picture gets messed with. Finally, just as you’re about to change the channel a whistling begins to echo out over the arena and this is followed by Rammstein’s “Engel”, a single spotlight shines down on the entrance portal as out struts Fabian Dufresne. With a cocky grin the blonde haired bastard wears a pair of lined sunglasses and brightly colored ring gear as he begins to make his way down to the ring. As the fans reach out looking to make contact Fabian just backs off and swats at them as if they were flies, he then begins to complain towards OCW event security trying to have as many of the mouthbreathers kicked out of the arena as possible~
Belvedere: From Milwaukee, Wisconsin…standing 6’1 and weighing in at 201lbs…Fabian Dufresne!!!
Smith: And there’s the aforementioned Dufresne…he came so close to defeating Ed at Not Safe For Work!
Hood: Yea, was pulling for him. This guy’s got IT. Whatever IT is, anyway.
Smith: He’s a potential star in the making, Hood. The current Newcomer of the Month!
~The bell rings. Belvedere exits~
Smith: And here we go! Two rising stars in OCW…who wins, Erin Gordon or Fabian Dufresne?
Hood: Erin’s name is easier to spell. But Dufresne likes alligators. It’s a tough call.
Smith: Top not analysis as always, Hood.
~Dufresne has some not-so-nice things to say to Erin Gordon. Erin responds with a quick boot into Fabian’s gut. Dufresne doubles over, allowing Erin the chance to snare a side head lock. She wrenches Dufresne’s neck, snaring control of the match while working out what she wants to do next. Dufresne’s expression is one of annoyance~
Smith: Big match between two rising stars from the same ‘class’.
Hood: Yea, Dufresne is the reigning Newcomer of the Month so he’s got the edge on Erin, so far…career wise.
Smith: Indeed…if Erin were able to pull off a win here that would do wonders for her career.
~Gordon continues to apply pressure. Dufresne, wincing, wraps his arms around Gordon’s body. He raises up suddenly, jerking Gordon off the mat, into the air and down onto her head with a snap side suplex!!! Erin hits hard!! She struggles to her feet, quickly…she knows she can’t stay down long. Fabian is already on his feet~
Smith: Fabian surprising Erin with that snap side suplex.
Hood: Dropped her right on the head!
Smith: Yep, Erin is no doubt swimming, mentally.
~Fabian grabs Erin and whips her toward the ropes. Erin reverses…Fabian turns the reversal into a HUGE ripcord elbow blast into Erin’s face!!! Gordon’s knees bend. She nearly falls over…Dufresne hits the ropes, he comes off and DRILLS Erin in the face with a Claymore Kick!!! Erin turns inside out before hitting the mat, hard. Dufresne makes the cover~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…FABIAN DUFRESNE!!!!!
Smith: Wow!! Dufresne hit The Golden Touch out of nowhere and just pinned Erin Gordon!
Hood: No shit, man. I was settling in, expecting one of those long, back and forth matches and then BAM
Smith: Fabian is determined. This man looks to be contending for championships sooner rather than later!
Hood: Well, it looks like we're in for a special treat right now. My favorite psychopath, Lilith, is moments away from debuting her new talk show “Lilith’s Cookie Time”,
Smith: Really? That's what she decided to call it?
Hood: Hey, as long as I get one I'm not going to complain. I wouldn't mind eating Lilith’s cookie.
Smith: Err, what?
Hood: You heard. The woman’s hot, sue me.
~We cut to the ring, which is obviously now all cookie themed. The canvas now has chocolate chip cookies printed onto it, the microphones have cookie covers and the large monitor in the center of the ring also looks like a giant cookie. There are two big brown leather chairs in the ring, one of which Lilith is sat in. The tag team champion is wearing what look like skin tight black spandex pants, a pair of black leather ankle boots and a black sleeveless crop top which has an evil looking teddy bear on the front of it. Lilith currently has her feet up on a small wooden table just in front of her, there is also a huge plate of cookies in the center of the table and two large glasses of chocolate milk next to that. Lilith finally lifts her cookie themed microphone up to her mouth and smiles brightly at the live crowd, the fans already booing her~
Lilith: HI EVERYONE!
~The crowd boo her, loudly~
Smith: The fans obviously not a fan of this woman.
Hood: What is wrong with these people?!
Lilith: How are you alls? Good I hope! YEAH SHUT UP I DON'T CARE!!!
~Still the crowd boo her, Lilith just rolls her eyes.~
Lilith: Yeah whatevers. ANYHOW!!! Welcome to the bestest talk show in the whole wide world… LILITH’S COOKIE TIME!!! You know why this is the bestest ever talk show? Because I'm the host… and I'M LILITH!!!
Hood: I couldn't have said it better myself.
Lilith: Anywayyyyy, let’s get straight to the point. Seems a certain Kitty Cat made a new friend last week… I KNOW!!! I'm shocked too! But see the stuffs is not many people know much stuffs about this random rookie bear. Has he ever even won any matches worth bragging about?! I'M NOT SURE! LET'S FIND OUT!!! Please join me in welcoming… DUCE JONES!!!
~"Godspeed" by Don Trip kicks in and the fans give a nice reception as Duce Jones steps out. He's decked out in black sweats, white Nikes and one of those 'TBA' customized t-shirts.. His dreadlocks are pulled back in a ponytail as he stands on the stage and looks out to the cheering crowd.~
Smith: Well isn't this a surprise, her first guest is second generation wrestler and son of former OCW competitor Krayzie.. Duce Jones..
Hood: BOO! WEAK ASS SPECIAL GUEST!
~Duce turns, displaying the back of his shirt that reads, "0-3 Means I Take More Shots". He spins back around and casually strolls down the ramp, ignoring the fans' outstretched hands at ringside. Making it to the ring, Duce takes in the getup inside of the ring, before climbing onto the apron and stepping through the ropes. Duce looks at the giant cookie monitor and lets out a chuckle before grabbing the extra microphone from the brown leather chair and has a seat. Lilith looks across at her guest and gives him a sarcastic looking smile. He shines a toothy platinum smile back her way.~
Lilith: Thanks for joining us, friend of the cats! Help yourself to a cookie… I PROMISE they aren't poisoned!
~Duce looks over to the table that holds the cookies and then back at Lilith.~
Duce Jones: Naw… I'm straight..
~Lilith holds her head to the side a little bit as she looks across at her Redacted opponent. ~
Lilith: Straight? Is that supposed to be some kinda mean comment cos I'm……. married to Sarah? Jeebus you may as well have come out here and called me that SUPER SUPER horrible F word… French!
~Lilith shudders. ~
Hood: To be fair, she's got a point, French people are the worst.
~Duce cocks his head to the side in disbelief. He leans back and brings the microphone up to his face~
Duce Jones: I like how ya twist words.. but I was simply implying dat I didn't want a cookie.
Lilith: Why didn't you just says that then? Why you gots to talk like a complete weirdo bear?! Actually you knows what? Don't answer that. Let me ask you the first question.
~Lilith sits forward at this point trying to act as serious as possible. The live crowd still booing her every movement.~
Lilith: Why, of all the things that you could do… eat a cookie, go to the zoo, go to an arcade, go to build a bear… EVERYTHING!!! Did you wanna become Kittys friend?! And what makes you think that you'll even be a good owner of the Kitty?! Do you even gots a litter box?! ALL cats need a litter box!
~Duce laughs~
Duce Jones: You can't talk bout how anyone speak yaself.. but why did I.. wanna become friends wit' Ms. Petrova?
~He adjusts his body in the leather chair for more comfort~
Duce Jones: Earlier.. I noticed dat ya called me rookie.. Well how bout we just say dat I wanted ta team wit' Kitty cause I saw an opportunity ta learn from one'a tha best dis business has eva' seen.. An' that fact dat you an' ya wife thank dat y'all some unstoppable force..
~He smiles again~
Duce Jones: Well I gotta bad habit'a wantin' folks ta hold true ta they word.. Y'all laid tha challenge.. Kitty accepted an' needed a partna'.. In my eyes dat's a win all tha way round.
~Lilith grabs one of the chocolate milks and takes a mouthful, making it very obvious that she wasn't listening to a single thing Duce was saying. She then smiles big at him, chocolate milk still around her mouth~
Lilith: First of all you gots to realize that the opportunity Lilo and Sare Bear offered the Kitty was an opportunity for her… and now you, you weirdo talking nonsense bear… TO LOSE!!! Secondly and most importantly… and also SUPER funnily… what makes you think that Kitty even gots enough grrrrrrr in her to even do stuffs to me or my Sarah?! Suuuuuure she may has done stuffs last week and I had to wear tons of makeups tonight to make my eye look good again… but last time I checked Lilo and Sare Bear were still standing.
~Lilith gave Duce a wicked smile.~
Lilith: Maybe we wouldn't have been had you not gots in Kittys way and STOPPED her mid-grrrrrrr last week! Honestly first week of friendship and you're already getting in her way and stopping her Grrrrrr! What a bad, bad friend you turned out to be… Rookie Bear!
~Duce takes a deep breath and rubs his temples.. With a look of frustration he looks Lilith directly in the eyes. Duce slinks down in his chair as if an instant migraine has overcome him. He then straightens back up as if nothing happened. He squints his eyes, trying to get a better view of Lilith who smiles and waves~
Duce Jones: Do she not know who we are?
~Duce points at Lilith with disgust before succumbing to the migraine again. After twenty seconds, he straightens back up~
Duce Jones: My bad.. but… ugh.. awe yeah.. Why I stopped Kitty from fuckin' yo ass up last week. If I was bein' honest Lillian. Yo ass should be sittin' here thankin' me fo' savin' yo ass. Cause if it wasn't fo' me. Dat fractured eye would be tha last'a ya problems. So at tha end'a tha day, make sho ya facts straight befo' comin' fa me!
Lilith: Uh…. huh.
~At this point Lilith stands up and walks in front of the cookie monitor signaling to it.~
Lilith: Let me take you back ten seconds here, Poop Jones, cos you asked the bestest question of the night. I gots to admit it was a good one.
~The cookie monitor goes back the moment where Duce had asked Lilith if she knew who he is. Lilith takes another mouthful of her chocolate milk as it's doing this, and then bursts out laughing, chocolate milk going everywhere, mostly over Duce’s shoes much to his annoyance~
Lilith: Yeah, yeah I knows who you are. You're Rookie McRook Bear, smallest and worstest rookie in the whole wide world… and your adorable little friend is Kitty the meow cat, the flea infested street cat who just never gots over her brother cat getting run over and dying a super painful but super hilarious death!
~Lilith continues to watch the screen, picking up on Duce’s apparent headache problems. Lilith quickly gives him a sweet and concerned look~
Lilith: You seem to be having problems with a headache there, Rookie Bear. You know what helps me when I gets those? Milk. Lots of it. You should try it.
~With that Lilith reaches across the table and grabs the other glass of chocolate milk, throwing it over Duce and soaking him from head to toe in chocolatey goodness. Lilith bursts out laughing as she points at a soaked Duce, mocking him to death.~
Lilith: Awwwwww, little Ducey gots all wet. You gonna cry to your Mommy now? Super sad stuffs!
~Duce sits there, soaked in chocolate milk. Lilith continuing to point and laugh at Jones who sits there oddly calm. His head hangs low, soon wiping the milk from his face, however leftover milk drips down onto his clothes and shoes. He stands, nodding his head in the recognition of Lilith's disrespect. Duce slowly turns to leave the ring. But quickly spins around and races towards Lilith, jumping into the air and clocking her with a Superman Punch! The force of the move sending her flying backwards and rolling out of the ring. Duce has a blank glare on his eyes as he soon grabs the table and tosses it over the ropes, crashing down at ringside~
Smith: DUCE HAS LOST IT AND IS DESTROYING LILITH'S SET!
Hood: He can't treat her like that!
~The fans are on their feet, cheering at the top of their lungs as Jones continues to throw everything he can get his hands on all over the place. Outside of the ring Lilith is desperately trying to get back onto her feet as she glares at Duce and grabs hold of the microphone that's just been thrown at her~
Lilith: STOP! STOP IT!!! You're ruining my show… DUCE!!! YOU'RE RUINING MY FUN!!!
~Inside the ring Duce grabs the chair that he occupied and looks at the large cookie monitor with an evil look in his eyes~
Lilith: DUCE!!! NO!!! NO!!! I'm sorry, okayz?! I’M SORRY!!! I didn't mean to throw milk all over you… I was just doing it to… show off. Just stop. Please…
~Duce doesn't care or listen to a thing Lilith’s saying as he throws the chair at the monitor, instantly smashing it, the chair crashes down outside the ring just barely missing Lilith~
Lilith: NOOOOOOOO!!! FUCK YOU ROOKIE BEAR BITCH!!! YOU GOTS ANY IDEA HOW MUCH THAT COST ZYBALA?! A LOT!!! I SHOULD COME IN THERE AND KICK YOUR ASS RIGHT NOW FOR DOING THAT!!! NO ONE MESSES WITH ME! I'M LILITH!!! LILITH!!!
~Duce acts like he's about to come outside the ring to go after Lilith and Lilith panics almost tripping over herself as she runs away up the entrance ramp. Jones just shakes his head as he watches her back up the ramp, trash talking him more the further she gets away from him. He simply picks the mic up off of the canvas~
Duce Jones: I'm lactose intolerant.
~He drops the mic as "Godspeed" starts back up, the fans cheering him on as he stares daggers into one half of the OCW Tag Team Champions~
Smith: Duce is furious and who can blame him!
Hood: Well Who is a condescending asshole because NOBODY can blame this man!
Smith: Nobody doesn’t sound any better than Who.
Hood: The fuck are you on about?
Smith: Duce is scheduled to compete later on tonight…it appears as though he will need a shower.
Hood: No biggie, he’ll be straight.
Smith: Lilith continues to alienate herself from the rest of the roster. She’s making way more friends than enemies.
Hood: So? She’s got gold, doesn’t she? If it works, why change?
Smith: Well, I guess there is that argument.
~We go backstage to the owner's suite, a special area specifically put together for the owner of OCW to watch the events. It used to regularly go unused by Jimmy Buffet, but now that Mike Zybala is in charge, the room is very active. There's a knock at the door, but the person doesn't wait for a response. The door swings open, revealing Commissioner Vincent Langston. He walks into the room, glancing around at the amenities, before turning to where Zybala is currently seated. The owner stands up, smiling in Langston's direction.~
Mike Zybala: Commissioner! Come on in. Wow, you're prompt, I appreciate that.
Vincent Langston: So I take it you want to complain about me changing matches, too?
~Langston stares hard at Zybala, who doesn't flinch. His smile never wavers.~
Mike Zybala: If I wanted to veto that decision, I would have, Vincent. Personally, I like where you're starting to take things. It makes these less-than-anticipated matches a little more exciting. But just don't take it too far. The medical bills for Shootah might be expensive.
Vincent Langston: I should have suspected that Stevens might show up and set Lurrr off. But still, it made for some good violence for the kids at home.
Mike Zybala: ... Sure. Sure.
Vincent Langston: That's not the only reason I'm here, though. I want Vossler.
~Zybala nods, expecting the conversation to go this direction after the brutal assault from Vossler last week.~
Mike Zybala: I get that you want some revenge, and I get that Vossler only wants a title shot. It all makes sense.
Vincent Langston: So you'll approve the match?
Mike Zybala: No. It's still vetoed.
~Langston looks furious enough to take a swing at Zybala, stepping towards him. Zybala just looks at him, waiting for Langston to do something that would be a "firing offense". But Langston, perhaps thinking of his niece, pulls himself back again, visibly shaking from the effort.~
Mike Zybala: You already have a match at the pay-per-view against Logan. You'll have to find... other methods. Unless you're willing to talk about some... ideas I've had.
~Langston doesn't say anything. You can tell he's using all his strength to control himself. Zybala sighs and shrugs, turning back towards where his seat is.~
Mike Zybala: Well, come see me if you change your mind. You know where I'll be, enjoying the action!
~Langston, clearly dismissed, turns and grabs the door. He almost tears it off his hinges as he storms out of the room. Zybala doesn't even look back, reaching for some popcorn as he waits for the next match.~
Smith: Other methods?
Hood: What a fuckin nutjob. Just book the match, Langston!
Smith: I don't think he can, Hood. Owner trumps Commissioner.
Hood: And where is Welsh in all this?
Smith: Sulking, probably...our GM has not been happy since NSFW ended.
Hood: How ironic that Zybala is vetoing people. Fuckin hypocrite.
Smith: He's simply doing what's best for OCW. Langston and Logan is a marquee match up. If Eric Dane has to convince Langston he's worthy of a shot...so should Vossler.
Hood: Sounds like some WEAK ASS BOOKING to me
Smith: You're certainly entitled to your opinion. Anyway, up next we have the aforementioned Logan taking on Chastity Temple! Let's head down to ringside.
|
|
Singles Match
Logan (5-1) vs. Chastity Temple (5-3)
~The fans in the OCW Arena aren’t famished but they are certainly hungry for more IN-RING action. Belvedere, standing inside the ring, clears his throat to a huge ovation~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…
~The poppy beat of Britney Spears' "Oops!... I Did it Again" fills the arena as the Technical Virgin known as Chastity Temple makes her way out. She makes the sign of the cross before sashaying toward the ring, hips swinging underneath her short plaid skirt. She pauses to berate any male fans gawking at her as well as any female ones she thinks look slutty, oblivious to the fact she herself is dressed in a skimpy schoolgirl uniform. Chastity slides into the ring and climbs to the second turnbuckle, making the sign of the cross again before sneering at all the sinners in the crowd~
Belvedere: From Topeka, Kansas…standing 5’4 and weighing in at 108lbs…Chastity Temple!!!
Smith: Chastity returning to the ring after a disappointing performance at Not Safe For Work.
Hood: Yea, many people thought she’d be a champion by now…but, like Evin Empire, her star seems to be fading.
Smith: So unfortunate
Belvedere: And, her opponent…
~The slow march of a drum roll hits the speakers carrying into "Treachery" by Bleach. Logan slowly steps out onto the entrance ramp to a chorus of boos. He stands at the top of the ramp, slowing looking around at the masses. He's wearing his signature attire, with a black leather sleeveless vest over it. Logan begins walking down the ramp, taking his time, every now and then pointing out to a member of the audience and talking trash to them. Logan hits ringside, climbing the ring steps, and getting inside the ring stepping through the middle rope. Logan climbs the nearest turnbuckle, gazes around at all the fans booing at him, and he raises his arm up into the air. After a moment, Logan finally steps down, taking off his vest and throwing it to the outside, and then paces the ring while the music fades~
Belvedere: From Chesapeake, Virginia…standing 6’4 and weighing in at 250lbs…he is the #1 Contender to the OCW Savage Championship…Logan!!!
Smith: Logan scored an upset over Kitty at Not Safe For Work guaranteeing him a shot at the OCW Savage Championship and a spot at Redacted!
Hood: Yea, he’s kicking ass right now…on a huge role. He’s becoming the star we all thought Chastity would become.
Smith: Indeed.
~The bell rings. Belvedere exits~
Smith: Will Logan’s run continue or will Chastity bounce back?
Hood: My money is on the one eyed man!
Smith: Well, alright then.
~Logan approaches Chastity. There’s a sinister vibe in the air. Logan isn’t the most…friendly or politically correct male prowling around OCWLand. He reaches up, caressing Temple’s hair. He tugs on the ends a bit. Chastity recoils in disgust. She pushes Logan back and slaps him across the face. She yells out “NEEDLES AND DRUGS ARE FASTPASSES TO SATAN’S GATEWAY!” Logan, whose head is tilted to the right, flashes a smirk, while rubbing the impacted cheek~
Smith: Chastity standing up for what she believes in!
Hood: And, for her troubles, Logan is about to make her a martyr.
Smith: I hope not!
~Logan lunges forward with a huge lariat!!! Chastity’s body flies into her corner!! She hits hard and stumbles forward. Logan performs a standing backflip…his feet SMACK Temple right in the face!!! Once again, she hits her corner and stumbles forward, nearly falling down. Logan catches her and throws her over his head with a overhead Belly-to-Belly!!! Chastity hits hard, arching her back in pain~
Smith: Logan is all over Chastity. This doesn’t look good for the heart and soul of Topeka!
Hood: I think the residents of Topeka might take umbrage with that comment.
Smith: They should be proud of their own!
Hood: Proud of Chastity? I don’t know, man. I’ve often wondered how or why she’s allowed in church wearing a skirt like that.
Smith: I don’t question people’s religion, Hood.
~Temple fights to her feet. If only she had a Bible. Logan runs forward, he locks Chastity in a sleeper before flipping forward and snapping her neck with THE CONNECTOR!! Chastity is down!! Logan makes the cover. Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…LOGAN!!!!!
Smith: Dominating win for the man who will fight for the Savage Title at Redacted, Logan.
Hood: Logan is on FIRE, Smith. He’s HOT
Smith: He is on an impressive streak. Sadly, the same cannot be said for Chastity.
Hood: I give that weird woman a hard time but it does suck to see her fading away so quickly.
Smith: Indeed
ON SALE NOW AT CRAIGSLIST! OCW IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY SIDE EFFECTS
~The lights flash momentarily as the opening riff to "Playing The Saint" by Digital Summer begins to play. The audience looks at the entrance, as Vossler appears, walking out onto the stage.~
Smith: Why is Vossler out here? He's not booked tonight, is he?
Hood: No, he's not, and I blame Commissioner Langston. We should see this man fighting!
Smith: Considering how Vossler attacked Langston last week, I don't see Langston doing him any favors.
Vossler: Shut the hell up!
~The crowd immediately boos, not liking to be threatened. Vossler waits a few seconds before continuing.~
Vossler: When I came back to OCW, I told the guys in charge that I wanted to fight legitimate competition. I wanted Mike Best. I wanted Mack O'Connor. And I damn sure wanted Vincent Langston. But that coward decided to book me against Kip Young last week. A nobody.
Smith: I know that Marcus said Langston did the booking of that match, but that doesn't sound like our General Manager, giving out that kind of power to the Commissioner.
Hood: Are you doubting Marcus Welsh's word of honor?
Smith: Are you saying he hasn't given us reasons to doubt in the past?
Vossler: Langston paid for his choices last week. But he still hasn't gotten the message. I still don't have my title shot. The coward is ducking me, trying to use his lack of power as an excuse. I'm sure he told Zybala to not book the match. But he will give it to me. The spineless son of a bitch is going to give me the shot I deserve, and get me to the heights I'm supposed to be at! He..
~Suddenly, Vossler goes flying forward, collapsing to the ground. Behind him, seething, is the Commissioner, Vincent "The Legend" Langston! His hand is wrapped with his infamous steel chain, having hammered it into Vossler's back!! Vossler struggles, starting to get up, but Langston slugs him again, putting the wrestler back down. He then unrolls part of the chain and wraps it around Vossler's throat, choking him!!! OCW Security is already running out and working to get Langston off of him, but Langston is obsessed, fighting them as well to keep the grip on.~
Hood: The Commissioner is unhinged!!
Smith: Langston was refused the match he wanted, so when he's called for a coward for it, he's completely lost control!
Hood: Security isn't having much luck here!
~More security is rushing out now, as they've finally managed to separate Langston and Vossler. Although hurting, Vossler is still back on his feet, rubbing heavily against his hurting neck. Langston wants to get back to him, trying to shove through the growing numbers of security. Vossler yells back at Langston in a hoarse-sounding voice, still wanting his title shot. Langston, furious, tries to get through again, and Vossler comes from the other side, with each managing to get in a few shots before security manages to separate them again.~
Smith: This is a mess! We may need actual wrestlers out here to separate these two!
Hood: Are you watching this, Zybala? You need to give these guys their match, or they might tear this show down!
Smith: We've got to take a break, but hopefully we'll have everything cleared up for the next match soon!
~Multiple security guards are down now, while the rest continue to work to separate the two wrestlers.~
~We cut backstage. It’s a dark room. A man sits in front of a tiny television, watching Massacre. A door opens, providing illumination. The man seated in front of the television is none other than Marcus Welsh. He turns toward the door, spotting Greg. Greg shrieks~
Greg: MARCUS
~Welsh lowers his head…we spot a full beard covering his face~
Greg: Not the beard! Not again!
~The last time Welsh fell into a depression, he grew a beard~
Greg: We need to get you to a psychiatrist. Perhaps that Culkin woman.
Marcus Welsh: No Greg, it’s quite alright. I’m starting to feel better.
Greg: My ears hear one thing but my eyes see another.
Marcus Welsh: Zybala is already running this thing into the ground. He’s too random and wild to run a major company. He’ll no doubt stumble right into the webbing I’ve laid as a trap…I’ve got a plan, Greg.
Greg: A plan?
Marcus Welsh: Yes. You see, I’ve been in talks with North Korea and –
Greg: Marcus…you’re on TV.
~Welsh turns around and sees that this is airing~
Marcus Welsh: SHIT
~Welsh pops to his feet and finds the camera man hiding in the shadows. He throws him out of the room and slams the door shut. We cut back to the announce table~
Smith: Those sneaky cameramen.
Hood: Hiding in the shadows. What dicks.
Smith: So what’s this ‘plan’ Welsh was talking about?
Hood: I don’t know, Smith. Greg saved Marcus from revealing it to millions of people.
Smith: Zybala had better be careful. Welsh may be a lot of things but stupid isn’t one of them. Anyway, moving on tonight we have Duce Jones taking on The Proctologist.
Hood: I hope Duce showered.
Smith: I’m sure he did. Duce is no doubt already hot over what’s gone down tonight. And now…he has to deal with The Proctologist.
Hood: Dude’s going to have to reach down and find a level of composure he never knew he had.
Smith: Indeed…let’s head down to ringside
|
|
Singles Match
Duce Jones (4-3) vs. The Proctologist (2-0)
~The OCW fans seem a little NERVOUS. A few patrons sit down in a very tight posture. They appear to be protecting their lower region. Belvedere, standing in the ring, has his ass away from the entrance ramp, leaning against the ropes. He clears his throat~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…
~”Fuck Was I” by Jenny Owens hits. The fans give a very cold…downright CHILLY reception when they see The Proctologist emerge from backstage. He’s got his sideways eyes and a crooked smile on full display. He walks at a normal pace…albeit taking his time to inspect people at ringside. When a person feels ‘under inspection’ they turn or walk away. He finally reaches the ring, steadily climbing the steps before entering through the ropes~
Belvedere: From Moab, Utah…standing six feet tall and weighing in at 200lbs…he is…The Proctologist!!!
Smith: And he’s back.
Hood: He likes back. SIDE, that is!
Smith: He likes a lot of things most people find…off putting.
Hood: It appears as though he’s had a healthy dose of olive juice tonight, Smith. He seems to be in good spirits!
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~The fans are buzzing, but soon turn to a mixed reaction as a voice begins to speak through the PA system~
“And the whole world loves it when you sing the blues… Da. Da.. Da. Da. Da.. Da….”
~The opening sounds of “Godspeed” by Don Trip begins to play as the lights inside of the arena turn a crimson hue color, soon the stage filling up with smoke. After about a minute of waiting, Duce Jones slowly emerge through the fog, mixed emotions coming from the crowd.~
Belvedere: Making his way to the ring, weighing in at two hundred fifteen pounds! From Memphis, Tennessee… DUCE JONES!
~Slowly making his way towards the ring, Jones ignores the cheers and jeers that the fans are giving, as he soon makes it to ringside. Climbing onto the apron, Duce goes to the corner to his right, climbing onto the second rope and peering out into the crowd. Finally done, he jumps over the top rope, landing inside of the ring and removes his hooded vest as he prepares for action~
Smith: Duce back in action!
Hood: Get this man away from Bifford.
Smith: One day he’ll topple Mount Biff, no doubt. But, for tonight, he faces strangely familiar competition in…The Proctologist.
Hood: I have to say that I’m pulling for Duce in this one.
Smith: I think we all are.
~The bell rings. Belvedere exits~
Smith: And here we go! Duce looking to bounce back as he and Kitty Petrova eye those tag team titles.
Hood: I think it’s time Duce put some wins together. Climb the OCW ladder.
Smith: I agree!
~Duce approaches The Proctologist. The Proctologist is eyeing his right hand, sans glove. He licks his lips, turning his eyes toward Duce’s hips. Duce has a ‘wtf’ look on his face. The Proctologist approaches~
Smith: I don’t think Duce likes the look in that man’s eye.
Hood: He’s weirder than Ehud.
Smith: Well, to be fair, Ehud wasn’t weird…he was just old.
Hood: Old people are weird, Smith.
~Duce SHOULD attack this man…but he’s a bit struck, bewildered by the creepy behavior. The Proctologist is within Duce’s STRIKE zone. He reaches around, trying to grab Duce by the ass. Duce hops away. He appears extremely offended. He points to Scruff, arguing. Scruff shrugs…what the man did isn’t really illegal. The Proctologist licks his lips and heads toward Duce~
Smith: Duce wants no part of this man.
Hood: Well can you blame him? He doesn’t want to get finger blasted…at least not by some sixty year old mummy.
Smith: He isn’t a mummy.
Hood: A sixty year old mummy would be a pretty young mummy, though…right? I mean, we’re talking barely legal…maybe even ILLEGAL when it comes to mummy sex.
Smith: No comment.
~The Proctologist stalks Duce. Duce is walking along the ropes, warning the old man to keep his distance. The Proctologist bends his knees and leans forward, getting into prime ‘GROPE’ posture. Duce continues to warn the man. The Proctologist licks his lips and reaches out, trying to grab Duce by the ass. Duce spins around and shoves The Proctologist away. The Proctologist staggers into the ropes, grabbing onto the top rope for support. Duce stomps his feet and looks at Scruff as if to say, “What the fuck is this shit?”~
Smith: You have to feel for Duce. This man is a multiple champion. He is the son of a legend. And, so far, in OCW he’s had to face a murderer wielding a scythe while cloaked in a magical fleece…and, now…The Proctologist.
Hood: Yes, and those aren’t the worst of his opponents. He also had to face TRAV MORGAN
Smith: Oh please
~The Proctologist rebounds off the ropes and creeps toward Duce, licking his lips, flashing that crooked smile. Duce has had enough. He walks forward and throws a sloppy knee at The Proctologist…the old man side steps the knee and drops to the mat, rolling Duce over in a schoolboy!! He grabs the trunks~
1!
2!
HUGE KICK OUT!
Smith: Duce is FURIOUS
Hood: Oh man, I think The Proctologist got more than the tights.
Smith: His hand made its way down Duce’s pants!
~Duce pops back to his feet, pulling his pants up. He yells at Scruff. He yells at The Proctologist. This is way, way too weird. The Proctologist crawls toward Duce. Duce backs up into his corner…he’s still trapped by the weirdness of his opponent. The Proctologist struggles to his feet and jumps at Duce! He has his hands raises, fingers spread and bend, like claws…looking for anal penetration. Duce catches him and falls back, dropping The Proctologist with SNAKE EYES!! The Proctologist remains in the corner, his face buried in the top buckle. Duce pops back to his feet, pacing around, shaking his head…he keeps a peripheral eye on his opponent~
Smith: And finally Duce lands a solid move on The Proctologist.
Hood: Duce HATES this shit. Hopefully he can get a win tonight and move on to something…more relevant.
Smith: Duce IS relevant. He’s in the midst of a tag title feud with R.O.S.E. this is merely…well, a bump in that road!
Hood: A bump? More like a huge ass pothole.
~Duce waits for The Proctologist to stand and turn. He’s taking his time. A few grunts and groans emanate in muffled fashion through the fabric of the turnbuckle. Fans at ringside start to show concern and sorrow for the old man~
Smith: Oh no…is he hurt?
Hood: Hopefully
Smith: Hood! I know he’s strange…but he’s like sixty. He’s frail.
Hood: Anybody who chugs Olive Juice is far from fucking frail.
~Duce, despite what’s transpired, starts to feel sympathy for the old man. He walks up to check on him. He pats The Proctologist on the back. The Proctologist quickly turns around with that wild grin. He reaches for Duce’s ass! Duce shoves him back…leaps into the air and SMACKS The Proctologist in the face with the D-Trigga!!! The Proctologist leans into Duce…disgusted, Duce THROWS him down to the mat~
Smith: Duce has had ENOUGH!
Hood: Yea, I can’t blame him. He held out about as long as he could.
Smith: He just kneed The Proctologist right in the face!
Hood: Yes, the D-Trigga. His knee appears nearly 100% healed, right?
Smith: I’d say so!
~The Proctologist rolls onto his back. His creepy, claw like hands reach for the sky. He slowly begins to sit up. Duce, leaning against the ropes, watches. The Proctologist makes it to his feet…Duce leans into hit ropes, hard and shoots off…he flies into the air and DRILLS The Proctologist in the face with Krayzed Knee!!!! The Proctologist falls to the mat. He’s still smiling…like he’s enjoying a dream filled with hands inside asses. Duce makes a very light cover, keeping his body away from The Proctologist. Scruff slides in with the count~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…DUCE JONES!!!!!
Smith: Whew…big win for Duce.
Hood: Yea, sort of a must win, if we’re being honest.
Smith: Losing to The Proctologist would have been…not good.
Hood: NOPE
Smith: As for The Proctologist…who knows where he goes from here.
Hood: In search of vulnerable assholes.
Smith: I suppose.
~Let’s cut to the back of the Key West Arena here in Florida~
~Though it is later on in the evening we’ve still got Fabian Dufresne hanging around the backstage area, he’s not enjoying the fine catering that OCW provides, rather he has a pissed off look on his face as he paces back and forth. Who’re is there, and she’s ready for an interview with him~
WHO’RE: Standing by with me at this time is the OCW June Newcomer award winner Fabian Dufresne who has some sort of announcement to ma--
~Fabian is just going to go ahead stop her right there in her yapping. He doesn’t seem to be all that happy right now, and just before he speaks he pushes up his sunglasses making sure to look dead into the camera~
FABIAN: Talk, talk, talk. That’s all we’re doing around now, talking. Well, I’m sick of listening to people talk, I’m sick of listening to you talk and I’m especially sick of the OCW experts talk. Yeah, I’m the June OCW Newcomer, yeah I earned that by being the best person to have walked through these doors since the month began. But what’s that you say? You don’t think I have what it takes to do it for a second time?
~Who’re kind of looks confused~
WHO’RE: But, you’re no longer a newcom--
~Again Fabian has no interest in listening to what anyone is going to say~
FABIAN: No, no. Like I said, I don’t care about all this talking. In fact, no more talking out of you here tonight. People what to doubt me? People don’t think I am capable of doing the impossible?
Nah, you know what?
Screw it. I don’t need to work for a place that doubts its talent. I don’t need to show up and work for a place that dares to call that mustard stained window licker an expert on anything other than being an overgrown man-child.
It’s simple… I quit.
~Fabian pauses again to make sure that everyone can hear it once more~
FABIAN: As of right now, I am no longer an employee of OCW. That’s it, I’m out. Interview over.
~With that Fabian stomps on out of the shot, leaving Who’re standing there a bit confused as to what just happened. We cut back to ringside~
Smith: He quit?
Hood: NO!
Smith: I…I don’t know what to say. He’s doing so well here.
Hood: I think that report earlier in the week pissed him off.
Smith: But why? It was legit.
Hood: You see? THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS
Smith: I don’t’ know what to say about all of this, fans. But, if this holds true…it is very disappointing. Fabian Dufresne was a major star on the rise.
Hood: Fuck
Smith: And now we must turn the page and move on despite the terrible news we received. Alice Knight…yes! There’s someone who can turn my frown upside down! Alice Knight faces Skittlez…it’s Skittlez debut…and it’s next!
|
|
Singles Match
Alice Knight (16-6) vs. Skittlez (0-0)
~The fans rise. They can FEEL it. The HOOTING begins. Their heroine…their feminine deity…the Captain Marvel and/or Wonder Woman of OCW is about to emerge!! “HOOT! HOOT!” the fans are really FEELING it. Belvedere looks around, smiling with a confident nod of his precious head. He clears his throat to a huge ovation~
Belvedere: Ladies and gentlemen the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…
~The opening rifts of Vanilla Ice's siganture tune "Ice Ice Baby" begin to echo throughout the arena. The OCW fans can't help but start swaying in dance to the annoyingly catchy rhythm~
Belvedere: Making his way to the ring, from The Mean Streets ... weighing in at one hundred eighty three pounds .... SKITTLEZ!
~Skittlez dances his way onto the stage, doing a very poor moonwalk that is mostly him tripping over his own feet. The wannabe rapper is dressed in baggy clothes, gold chains, a backwards baseball cap and whatever pair of sneaks is in style that week. He bounces his way to the ring in a goofy dance and nearly falls through the ropes on his way into the ring. He manages to catch himself after the stumble and proceeds to flash "Word To Ya Motha" signs looking about as intimidating as a scrawny white boy with oversized clothing can look~
Smith: Skittlez making his long awaited OCW in-ring debut!
Hood: Of course Alice gets him. This fucking company, I swear.
Smith: I think it’s a great introduction for Skittlez. He’s placed in there with the SOUL of OCW.
Hood: Ugh
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~”New" by No Doubt begins to play throughout 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..~
Smith: HOOOT
Hood: EXCUSE ME?
Smith: Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself.
Belvedere: From Bethel, New York…standing 5’8 and weighing in at 125lbs…she is a former OCW Champion and is in the OCW Hall of Fame…she is…Alice Knight!!!
~Belvedere exits the ring. The bell sounds~
Smith: Alice had a huge win last week…she looks to grab a second consecutive victory en route to reclaiming her throne!
Hood: And what throne would that be, exactly?
Smith: The OCW Title.
Hood: OVER MY DEAD BODY
~Skittlez walks up to Alice and sizes her up. He shakes his head saying, “not bad…NOT BAD.” Alice is puzzled. She looks to Scruff for guidance. Scruff scratches his mangy…well, you pick a portion of his body and let your imagination run wild. The entire essence of this man is mange. Skittlez extends his hand. Alice looks down at the hand, puzzled~
Smith: What on Earth…not another proposal?!
Hood: Only in OCW would two men propose to that…that HORRIBLE WOMAN.
Smith: I read that Alice was named the most eligible bachelorette in Key West!
Hood: Let me guess…her father wrote the fucking article?
Smith: No…that…that’d be kinda weird, right?
Hood: I…I don’t know, actually. Let’s change the subject!
~Alice decides ‘WHAT THE HELL’ and takes Skittlez hand. He twirls her around!! The crowd ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’. Alice seems slightly swept off her feet. Skittlez twirls her back close and begins to bump and grind, riding his crotch into her ass. After a few seconds Alice realizes what’s taking place~
Smith: Hey!
Hood: Have to admire this man…he’s not wasting any time.
Smith: Such disrespect!
Hood: His name is Skittlez.
~Alice throws a back elbow right into Skittlez mouth! Skittlez staggers against the ropes, looking at Alice as if to ask, “What the hell, girl?” Alice pulls down on her pants, adjusting whatever wedgie that might have been caused by Skittlez so-not-appropriate gyrations. She raises her fists and tells Skittlez to fight her~
Smith: And now Alice is angry.
Hood: Ya know, Skittlez is kinda dumb. I mean he could have come in here as M&M and possibly scored a spot with the eMpire.
Smith: Yes, but I’m not sure his skin is the right…pigmentation to be an M&M
Hood: Okay, now that’s just racist.
~Skittlez puts up his fists, to match Alice. He, somehow, looks less intimidating than Alice. He throws a WEAK ASS right hand…Alice blocks it. She delivers a flurry of punches followed by a chop up against the throat! Skittlez hits the ropes. Alice flaps her wins before spinning around and drills Skittlez in the head with a bionic elbow!! Skittlez falls through the ropes, landing on the apron. Alice marches around the ring to the tune of a thousand cheers~
Smith: She’s on fire, Hood!
Hood: I wish.
Smith: Hey!
Hood: You said it, not me.
~Alice finishes her pandering parade and stands near the ropes. She grabs onto the top rope and jumps into the air. Skittlez takes this opportunity to crawl into the ring. Alice lands on the apron. The fans boo Skittlez. He sits up in the center of the ring, looking over at Alice. Alice does an exaggerated point…the crowd yells “YOU!” Skittlez struggles to his feet. Alice leaps up, she springboards off the top rope and lunges at Skittlez. Skittlez falls to the mat, dodging Alice. Alice hits the mat, hard. Skittlez scurries for the ropes, using them to pull to a standing position. Alice is slow to her feet. Skittlez charges in with a clothesline!! It knocks Alice into a corner. Skittlez backs up and runs forward…he leaps into the air, turns around and hits Alice with his ass…a nice rear window into the corner. Alice stumbles forward, dropping to one knee~
Smith: Skittlez getting some offense in!
Hood: Yea but he can’t take Alice down. When was the last time we saw a grown man unable to take Alice down?
Smith: Hmm…
Hood: Aside from The Uber Man because, ya know, she wasn’t laying down with or for that guy.
Smith: It isn’t wise to speak ill of the undead, Hood.
~Skittlez approaches from behind. He places his hand into his pants. The fans are like “OH MY FUCK!” He removes his hand to reveal…HIS HAND. Only, it’s in the shape of a gun. He pulls Alice to her feet and strokes her hair. He says he’s sorry…he puts the gun to her head, closes his eyes, swallows hard and pulls the fictional trigger~
Smith: That monster!
Hood: Oh calm down
~Skittlez looks at Alice. She’s still standing. In fact, she’s nearly fully recovered. He looks at his hand. He looks into the chamber…he tries to figure out what’s wrong~
Smith: Thankfully, the gun was not loaded.
Hood: Why are you going along with this? It’s fucking stupid! Besides…why are we surprised this man shoots blanks?
~Alice turns around, realizing what’s just taken place. She appears affronted. She boots Skittlez in the gut. He ‘drops’ the gun…his hand going back to normal. Alice hooks both his arms and hits THE APACHE! She covers Skittlez for the pin~
1!
2!
3!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…ALICE KNIGHT!!!!!
Smith: Alice Knight with another win!
Hood: Yuck
Smith: Skittlez looked…well, interesting in his debut.
Hood: Word to your mother, Smith.
~Alice ‘kicks’ the fictional gun out of the ring before posing for the fans. They all “HOOT! HOOT!’ at her. She smiles and waves~
Smith: Two wins in two weeks for the heart and soul of OCW!
Hood: if that’s the case, then we are dying and about to enter hell.
Smith: Rude.
Hood: Up next is a match I've personally been looking forward to seeing.
Smith: You look forward to Evin Empire matches?
Hood: Well, not really, I'm just hoping Eric Dane will hurt them so badly they'll be forced into retirement.
Smith: You have problems and… huh? O---kay. From what I'm hearing it seems a fight has broken out backstage…
Hood: Ah, hopefully Eric will have started the job early. Let's get some cameras back there.
~The scene cuts backstage as camera crew rush to the scene of the incident. In the not too far distance screaming can be heard~
Smith: What is going on back the--- Oh no. Is that--- is that, Lilith?!
Hood: Someone get some help back there, she looks hurt!
~The cameras zoom into the OCW Tag Team Champion who is seen lying on the floor, completely unconscious and covered in blood. Kneeling down by her side, holding her limp hand and stroking her blood soaked hair is Lilith's wife and tag team partner, Sarah Twilight.~
Sarah Twilight: Get some fucking medics back here NOW!!!
~For the first time in her OCW career Sarah actually looks concerned as she looks at her unmoving bloodied wife~
Sarah Twilight: Lilith, stay with me, baby, you're going to be okay. GET SOME MEDICS!!! FUCK!!!
~Finally the paramedics arrive on scene and immediately start to work on Lilith, Sarah Twilight looking like she's about to cry she's so concerned. We cut back to Smith and Hood at the announce table as they try to process what they've just seen~
Hood: I, for the first time in my career… I'm speechless. I can't believe what we've just seen.
Smith: What happened back there? Do you think that was Kitty Petrovas doing?
Hood: Honestly, with Kitty, I wouldn't be at all surprised.
Smith: I mean, Lilith did keep insulting her and her deceased brother on social media.
Hood: And that calls for her to do that?! Come on, Smith!
Smith: Well, we need to move on here. Up next we have Eric Dane going one on one with Evin Empire.
Hood: I just hope Lilith is okay, she's too hot to be out injured.
Smith: I'm going to assume she won't make it for her tag match tonight.
Hood: I fucking doubt that. Looks like Twilight is going to have to do this alone.
Smith: That remains to be seen. Up next, Eric Dane...the man looking to force his way into Savage Title contention, takes on Evin Empire!
|
|
Singles Match
Eric Dane (1-0) vs. Evin Empire (12-3)
~The fans inside the OCW Arena are chilling. It’s been a long, eventful evening thus far. We’re reaching the latter portion of our programming. These fans are still eager to see what’s next…they know the deeper you get into a show the bigger the fish that come out to perform. Belvedere, standing in the ring, clears his throat to a strong ovation~
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: Empire back after a rough loss to Kitty last week.
Hood: He thought that was bad…he ain’t seen nothing yet.
Smith: Tonight could very well be the last time we see Evin Empire inside an OCW ring. What a waste.
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~The lights drop.~
CUE-UP: “The One You Love to Hate” by Halford
~Silver spotlights hit the stage and out steps The Only Star, a smirking grin spread wide across his face as he takes in everything that the contentious and belligerent crowd has to give him. He eats it up, almost as if it fuels him.~
Belvedere: Now coming to the ring, hailing from New Orleans, Louisianna…
~More boos. The crowd hates him. Eric Dane loves it.~
Belvedere: Weighing in at two-hundred and forty pounds and standing six feet and four inches tall…
~He swaggers to the ring, stopping occasionally to jaw with one of the more vocal fans, but for the most part pre-occupied with himself and how goddamned awesome he is.~
Belvedere: He is The Onnnnnnly Staaaaaaaaaar…
~Dane climbs into the ring and pops to his feet, circling backward with both arms thrown wide so that everybody in attendance can get a good look at him. Just as the announcer gets to his name he climbs the nearest turnbuckle and again throws an arm high into the air. The sheer voracity of the jeering is electric.~
Belvedere: Eriiiiiiiic DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANE!!!
~More boos, he drops down to the ring and begins his pre-match routine, oblivious to the crowd, the referee, opponents, or anyone else. Eric Dane is a man obsessed and right now he is focused on the match at hand.~
Smith: Eric Dane back in action after his brutal match against Bob Grenier.
Hood: Nobody saw their stock rise higher after NSFW than The Only Star! Eric Dane has a chance to break into the OCW main event scene sooner rather than later.
Smith: Yep and tonight he can continue to push that stock by downing what was once referred to as the fastest rising star in OCW
~Belvedere, about to exit, is flagged down by an employee at ringside. He leans through the ropes, listening. He nods and stands upright, bringing the mic back to his mouth~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…I have just been informed that, per the orders of our commissioner, this match will be held under SAVAGE RULES!
~The crowd pops. Evin seems perturbed. Dane keeps his focus on Empire. Belvedere promptly exits the ring. Scruff calls for the bell~
Smith: Savage Rules! That means this match is officially no disqualification, falls count anywhere!
Hood: The Savage Champion…who also happens to be our commissioner, is testing Eric Dane!
Smith: The Only Star made his intentions crystal clear last week. He wants that Savage Championship.
Hood: And now he’s got to jump through hoops to get the shot? HE’S THE ONLY STAR…Langston should be HONORED to put his title on the line against Dane.
~Empire complains to Scruff a little bit. Dane marches forward and pushes Scruff out of the way. He grabs Evin by the chin and shoves backward, after insulting the man in a verbally violent manner. Evin staggers into the corner, holding his chin. He looks annoyed. He runs forward and leaps into the air at Dane. Eric reaches up and catches Empire by the throat with both hands. He turns, walks toward the edge of the ring and THROWS Evin over the top rope all the way to the ground!! Evin hits hard! He arches his back, gasping for air~
Smith: He just threw Evin like a grown man would throw a small child!
Hood: I think it’s pretty clear that Eric Dane doesn’t give a fuck about Evin’s grievance.
Smith: Well, yea, that’s true.
~Dane steps through the ropes, calmly making his way to the outside. Evin spots The Only Star heading his way. He puts his hands up, a plea for mercy. Dane lunges forward and boots Evin right in the face! Evin rolls over, covering his face in pain. Dane snares Evin around the waist…he deadlifts him off the floor and drags him near the ring. Eric throws Evin over his head with a release German Suplex! Evin SLAMS into the side of the ring steps, creating a loud THUD! He slumps over, laying in an awkward manner, limp as a dead man. Dane is already back on his feet. He looks down at his vibranium knee brace, slapping it. The fans begin to BOO~
Smith: Not that knee brace! Hasn’t he done enough? It’s clear Evin isn’t in Eric’s league.
Hood: He wants that Savage Title, Smith. He’s going to do what he must to get the respect he deserves!
Smith: We’re talking about a young man’s career, Hood. Evin may be in a slump but he’s still talented!
Hood: Hey, Evin’s got the chance to fight back. He’s not some gelatinous orb incapable of defending itself.
~Dane stands over Empire…he takes his braced knee and plants the metal right into the side of Evin’s face! He maneuvers his body so that most of his weight is shoving that vibranium metal knee brace into Evin’s face. Evin yells out in pain, waking up from his comatose state. Dane doesn’t seem eager to relent. Empire takes his arm and looks ready to tap out…Dane grabs his arm, preventing Evin from tapping. The fans boo. He stands up, relieving Evin from the brace. He hoists Evin onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. He tosses Evin up into the air and SMASHES him in the face with his version of Go To Sleep! The Vibranium knee braces CRUSHES Empire in the face. He falls back, against the barricade, unconscious. A gash is visible in his forehead. Eric leans against the apron, eyeing Evin~
Smith: Pin the man! It’s over!
Hood: It’s not over…yet!
Smith: This is grotesque and uncalled for…our commissioner…gm..owner…one of those three men have got to step in and stop this!
Hood: They’re too busy bitching at one another to pay attention to what happens in and out of the ring, Smith! Don’t you know how pro wrestling politics work?
~Dane charges forward and DRILLS Evin in the face with Starbreaker!!! His vibranium knee brace CRUSHING the aesthetically pleasing facial features of the former fastest rising star in OCW. Dane backs up…he does it again! Another Starbreaker!!! He backs up and does it a third time!!! The barricade is weakening…it’s bending in the direction of Eric’s physical narrative. Eric looks at Evin. The fans all move out of the way. Evin’s face is unrecognizable, covered in his own blood. Dane charges forward with a fourth and final Starbreaker!!! He crashes THROUGH the barricade!! The fans yell! A few chant ‘HOLY SHIT’. Dane rises and throws several chairs in the front row aside. Some fan, standing a little too close, gets pie faced to the ground. Dane looks down at Evin…he seems coke and popcorn stains…so, he places his foot atop Evin’s chest. Our cameraman refuses to show Empire’s face. Scruff appears and makes the count~
1!
2!
3!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…“THE ONLY STAR” ERIC DANE!!!!!
Smith: Eric Dane with a brutal, decimating win over Evin Empire.
Hood: Evin’s gonna need some serious plastic surgery on that face of his.
Smith: I just don’t get it. Eric had this thing won before any of that added violence. Why did he have t do that to Evin? Why did he feel it necessary to destroy that portion of the barricade at ringside?
Hood: He’s The Only Star, Smith. He deserves a shot at the Savage Title. Langston is refusing to acknowledge the 20 years worth of credentials this man has amassed. So, if Langston wants to ignore Dane then Dane will fuck shit up until Langston has GOT to give the man what he wants.
Smith: Just all seems a bit unnecessary to me.
Hood: That’s why you are a loser.
Smith: Whatever.
OCW SURVIVOR: SEASON 1 WAS A SMASH HIT! RELIVE THE FIRST EPISODE OF THE FIRST SEASON ON DEMAND VIA HOTV!
~Massacre cuts to ringside and the crowd is cheering quite loudly at the presence of Andrea Hernandez in the center of the ring, microphone in hand. She’s not too far removed from Not Safe For Work and of course, there’s the lingering question of how she’s going to handle the outcome of the match going forward. Still, Andrea seems poised, far more poised than one would expect anyone to be after losing the type of big match that she had a couple of weeks ago~
Smith: This is the first time we’ve seen Andrea since Not Safe For Work. Last week, she was mysteriously absent for reasons that none of us are aware of.
Hood: She probably stayed home crying and feeling like a piece of crap. You know how this generation of wrestlers is. It’s filled with a bunch of snowflakes. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was here to announce her retirement.
Smith: Don’t be ridiculous!
Hood: Mike Best has that effect on people you know…
~Smith doesn’t respond as Andrea soaks in the crowd reaction before she expresses her thoughts~
Andrea: Rumors of my demise were greatly exaggerated…
Smith: Well Hood… so much for THAT, right?
Andrea: Two weeks ago at Not Safe For Work, I did what few on the roster have the guts to do and that’s put it ALL on the line. I put EVERYTHING at stake for the greater good of this company and I did that because this company has done so much for my career. I may not like everyone in that locker room and I know a lot of people back there don’t like me at all but at the end of the day, OCW is where I’ve become what I am as a professional wrestler. I was already on the rise when I first got here, but if that match proved anything two weeks ago… it’s that I am better now than I have EVER been at ANY point in my career and the best part of ALL of that is… I’m ONLY going to get better so for those of you back there that were hoping and praying that after my “devastating loss” two weeks ago that I would either go away and never compete in an OCW ring again or that I would have this massive psychological breakdown and never get over that loss… SORRY… that’s not what I’m about. Earlier in my career, I wasn’t strong enough to gain that perspective but growing the way I have… I definitely know what to take from that match two weeks ago.
The perspective that I have now… was only further driven into me by the death of my grandfather a few days after Not Safe For Work…
~Andrea takes in the reality of what she just mentioned with a brief pause~
Smith: I think that answers the question as to why she wasn’t here last week…
Andrea: For generations, my family struggled. They weren’t respected or well-known in this business especially in the United States and remembering this when my grandfather passed also helped me remember where I was in my career before… when I struggled, when I couldn’t break through, when every opportunity I had in front of me to branch out on my own and prove the doubters wrong was lost in defeat… when I had just about EVERYONE in the locker room tell me that I wasn’t good enough.
Wrestlers that in my heart, I KNEW I was always better than, telling ME that I didn’t have what it takes because I wasn’t trained by the right wrestler… telling me that I wasn’t a “DRAW” because I wasn’t mentored by these superficial “big names” that NOBODY outside of their precious little circle knows about… telling me that I was nobody, nothing… you name it… two years ago, I was a bottom dweller in a company nobody had ever heard of and those that did, could care less about, a company that in my heart, I KNEW I was better than all along. Saddled in a cruiserweight division, hopeless, on the verge of giving up… I owned that huge adversity in front of me and I proved them all WRONG and for such a long time, I grinded to be better with this massive chip on my shoulder… every single match, proving them and proving everyone in OCW that doubted me, that overlooked me, some of whom have cheated me out of matches in OCW… WRONG! I carried that same attitude with me going into that match with Mike Best… THE biggest stage I’ve ever had in my career… to provide a FINALITY to every single person that ever criticized me… to prove them wrong FOR GOOD!
Hood: Aaaaaaaand….. You didn’t! Way to let your family down, sweetheart!
Smith: You have no tact, do you?
Andrea: I admit that losing that match, at least initially… made me feel like they were right all along… and then came that perspective… I realized two things.
One? Even in defeat, I STILL proved them wrong. In THEIR HEADS “someone like me” has no business even taking someone like Mike Best to the limit.
And two? I had the wrong attitude going into that main event match and that’s why I ultimately lost. Taking nothing away from Mike Best… as much as the competitor in me hates to say that… but in the weeks leading up to that match, I was focused on how I destroyed the overhype of this opponent and how I silenced doubters by beating this Hall of Fame member or that former world champion… when in reality, that chip on my shoulder should have been destroyed the moment I retained against Bob Grenier. Mike Best beat me because he was more confident than I was and credit to him for that… but if you think that this is the “end” of me… the “end” of Andrea Hernandez being a main event wrestler in OCW… YOU’RE WRONG!
Not Safe For Work… I admit it was an end… the end of Andrea Hernandez being the fastest rising star in OCW because I’m not a rising star anymore… I’m a CERTIFIED main event star now and NSFW was the end of my “rising star” era and the BEGINNING of my prime! Two weeks ago was only the first of MANY main event matches to come for me in OCW and whether it’s Mike Best or whether it’s anyone else… “classic OCW” or not… I WILL get back to a world championship match and next time… I WILL become a world champion! From here on out… I am going to show the world the very best of me and I am going to take on ALL comers, the very best of the best, the legends, the Hall of Famers and I’ll show you how damn good I am!
~The crowd erupts with wild cheers at Andrea’s incredible confidence~
Andrea: And there’s ONE wrestler back there that I specifically want to prove myself against… someone who I have admired since I’ve gotten here… someone who I considered a dream match… and next week… you’ll know who I am talking about because trust me when I say that at Redacted… I WILL be seeing that person in that very ring as both a test and as a display of how far I’ve really come. So to all of the “classic OCW’s” and Hall of Famers back there… be ready… because one of you will be dealing with me very soon…
~Andrea flips the microphone in front of her receiving some huge cheers from the fans as she leaves the ring and heads up the ramp~
Hood: Who in the hell does she think she is?
Smith: She’s someone who hasn’t lost much, if ANY, confidence at all! This seems to be a new era of Andrea’s career… one in which she’s done proving herself to other people and realizing just how great she is… and how great she is yet to become…
Hood: Well… whoever she wants to prove herself against is just wasting their time facing her. I highly doubt Andrea is in their league. Who the hell does she want to face anyway? What’s her “dream match”?
Smith: We’re going to find out next week apparently, but there’s no doubt in my mind that Andrea is swinging for the fences in OCW going forward.
OH LOOK! AN ADVERTISEMENT FOR THE VERY SHOW YOU'RE WATCHING. WHO IS BEHIND THIS MADNESS? IT MUST BE ZYBALA.
|
|
|
|
Tag Team Championship
R.O.S.E. © (2-0) vs. Larson Ridley & Sterling Silver (0-0)
Smith: From my understanding Lilith has not been cleared to wrestle and is still receiving medical attention from what happened to her earlier in the night.
Hood: Absolute cowardice, whoever did that to the crazy but extremely hot, Lilith, should be ashamed of themselves.
~Ridley and Silver stand in the ring, awaiting their BIG opportunity. Silver’s head is down. Ridley pats him on the chest, trying to cheer the heartbroken pro wrestler up. Belvedere clears his throat~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is now a handicap match and is scheduled for one fall…
Belvedere: ...and it is for the OCW Tag Team Championship!
Smith: WAIT. The tag titles are still on the line?! Why?!
Hood: Because Sarah Twilight is a FIGHTING Champion, Smith. Besides, Lilith wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
Smith: I…I guess.
Belvedere: And, their opponent...
~The lights go out as a spotlight centers on stage. Piano chords begin a haunting melody, accompanied by heavy drum beats. The crowd begins to boo MASSIVELY as the video wall displays the words THE ONLY ONE~
Belvedere: Making her way to the ring, hailing from Los Angeles, California, and weighing in at one hundred fifty eight pounds, she is...."The Mistress of Mischief" SARAH TWILIGHT!
~Pyros shoot up from both sides of the entrance ramp as our melody finally kicks into guitar. "The Only One" by Evanescence continues to play as Sarah finally walks out onto the stage. She is greeted with deafening boos and soaks them all in, as if she enjoyed the crowd's hatred. She arrogantly swaggers towards the ring, taking her time to revel in her own glory among ENRAGED fans before she reaches the ring steps and steps inside. Pyros now shoot off from the ring posts and Sarah takes to each turnbuckle, staring coldly and without emotion into the sea of 'sheep' as the crowd's boos become even LOUDER~
Smith: As much as you might dislike this woman you have to respect the fact that she is not only willing to go ahead with this match but also still have the titles on the line!
Hood: Right? That takes guts and the fact is since R.O.S.E. won those titles they have already defended them more than the Dravers did during their second reign!
Smith: The Dravers only held the titles for five minutes, Hood! They were bamboozled by that FIVE YEAR OLD CONTRACT.
Hood: Excuses excuses. I'd like to see Nathan or Jonathan do what Sarah is doing tonight.
~Belvedere takes the tag titles from Sarah Twilight and exits the ring. The bell sounds~
Smith: And here we go! Odds against her will Sarah Twilight be able to survive here tonight or will…
Hood: Please, don’t say it.
Smith: I must. Or will Ridley and Silver SHOCK THE WORLD.
Hood: This is going to be evisceration. Ridley has never felt the type of pain he’s about to feel. Silver, well, his heart was shattered by that soulless woman Alice Knight last week…so he should be able to handle it.
~Silver’s head remains down. Ridley advises Silver to begin the match on the apron. Silver sort of falls through the ropes, landing on the apron and curling up in the fetal (I got my proposal rejected) position. Ridley shakes his head and turns, facing the tag champion. Sarah stands in the ring, eyeing Ridley down. Larson begins to move toward Sarah Twilight… but the redhead charges forward, leaping into the air and taking Ridley down with a Thesz Press!!! Larson SLAMS down into the mat. Sarah throws a flurry of forearm shots into the side of Ridley’s head~
Smith: Twilight is all over Larson!
Hood: Of course she is, seeing her wife in the condition she was in earlier has made her see red. Sarah Twilight is bad enough when she's calm, this is going to be a slaughter.
Smith: Not necessarily, sometimes running off emotions alone can lead to making mistakes.
Hood: Yeah, mistakes like Sterling Silver proposing to Alice Knight…
Smith: Ah, he'll get over it plenty of fish in the sea.
Hood: Oh I’m not talking about having his proposal rejected. The guy wanted to marry Alice Knight, something’s off upstairs, Smith.
~Ridley throws Sarah off him. He sits up with a ‘GERT DERM SERN’ expression. He gets to one knee. Sarah attaches her violent body onto his back!! Ridley struggles to his feet. Sarah fish hooks Ridley’s mouth. He yells out “AH!” Sarah yanks and pulls, trying to rip his mouth wide open. He reaches back, grabbing Sarah by the hair and flips her over. She lands on her feet and delivers a vicious superkick right to Ridley’s chin!!! Larson hits the mat, hard. Sarah’s eyes are fixated on Ridley…she appears ready to really tear into this mother fucker.~
Smith: Hell hath no fury like a Sarah Twilight...
Hood: Yea?
Smith: I think that’s about it, really.
Hood: Makes sense.
~Larson sits up, dazed. Twilight throws a front toe kick right into his face!! The impact sends Larson into a kneeling position. Twilight takes advantage of this fortuitous setting by leaping up and drilling Ridley in the head with an enziguri~
Hood: Let's call it now, this thing is over.
~Twilight slaps Ridley in the back of the head. Larson shakes it off and struggles to his feet. Twilight eyes him like a big cat circling their prey.
Smith: She's getting ready… YES! TWILIGHT ZONE!!!
Hood: She damn near broke him in half!
~Twilight hooks the leg and Scruff slides in with the count~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here are your winner… AND STILL OCW TAG TEAM CHAMPION… SARAH TWILIGHT!!!!!
Smith: Another dominating win for one of the most dangerous women on the roster.
Hood: Right, now let's hope Lilith gets back onto her feet as soon as possible. It won't be the same around here without her.
Smith: I'm sure she'll be okay. Ridley and Silver, pretty sure we've seen the last of them for some time.
Hood: I fucking hope so. Silver is bumming me out, man.
~Welsh is seen exiting the OCW Arena. Jones appears in screen, mic in hand~
Jones: Mr. Welsh! Earlier this evening we heard you mention something about a plan to take down Zybala…it had to do with North Korea. Care to expound?
~Welsh pauses. His beard looks unkempt. His eyes are wild and angry~
Marcus Welsh: No I do not care to ‘expound’! I’m under a lot of stress, as you can clearly see. I’m prone to irrational statements. Zybala is my owner and I have to accept that. There is no plan to undermine Zybala. You hear that? There is NO plan against our current owner. I will eventually come to grips with the situation and we will all move on.
Jones: Oh, well that’s a relief. What about that beard?
Marcus Welsh: I’m getting rid of it tonight.
~Greg, standing next to Marcus, gives the GM a hug upon hearing this news~
Jones: Well it’s certainly good to hear that you’re returning to your senses. I think I speak for everyone in OCW when I say we want all THREE of you to work together!
Marcus Welsh: Cool.
~Upon giving the perfunctory reply, Welsh hops into his opulent sports car and drives off, leaving Jones behind. We cut back to the announce table~
Smith: I don’t trust him.
Hood: Why not? He admits he’s acting somewhat petulant. He’ll get over it. He’s only human, Smith.
Smith: He’s never acquiesced so easily. If I were Zybala I’d keep BOTH eyes open at night.
Hood: For some reason, I think that’s exactly how Zybala sleeps.
Smith: Weird.
~Massacre returns once more to the ring but it looks mildly different from how it was a mere moments ago. Once again the ring mat has been replaced by a fine gentlemanly red carpet and the mysterious and erotic Gentleman’s Game Host once again stands in the ring aside Belvedere looking marvelous in a suit that many people have proclaimed to be woven out of the finest platinum. The two men as pressed quite closely to the corner of the ring as inside the ring also sits a red-matted REGULATION SNOOKER TABLE~
Belvedere: Ladies and gentlemen it is now time for ROUND TWO of the Gentleman’s Games between the OCW Paradigm Champion Cecilworth M! Farthington and his opponent at Redacted, The Big Bifford. This shall be… a SNOOKER CONTEST.
~Fans cry out with glee at this announcement, many ladies take off their tops and begin swirling them above their heads. Many men do the same with their pants. They all chant “SNOOKER LOOPY NUTS ARE WE” in unison at the top of their voices, so loud the arena walls begin to vibrate something fierce. This moment of euphoria is interrupted by “Gangsta’s Paradise” by Coolio. An excited crowd crane their heads to the entrance way but Bifford is nowhere to be seen~
Belvedere: Introducing first, he is an OCW Hall of Famer, he is a former OCW Champion, the current number 1 contender to the Paradigm Champion, the defeater of Duce, THE BIG BIFFORD!
Smith: Well, Bifford is nowhere to be seen, do you think he is planning to avoid this contest? He didn’t seem to even know what snooker was earlier in the week.
Hood: The man is a gentleman Smith, he’s hardly going to evade a chance of demonstrating his gentlemanly superiority.
~Confetti cannons fire off from all sides of the ring posts leaving a large confetti wall slowly drifting towards the ring mat. As the cloud clears we see TBB himself standing in the ring holding his MIGHTY SCYTHE up high as he shoves some of the MYSTICAL CONFETTI off of his MAGICAL FLEECE~
Smith: An amazing trick from Bifford for his entrance here tonight…
Hood: That’s no trick… that’s an illusion. The mystical confetti is a powerful force that few have meddled with and less have mastered. He just saw some top tier confetti powers on display here tonight.
~”Money” by the Flying Lizard interrupts the almost erotic furore the OCW crowd has found themselves in over the confetti and the SNOOKER. Things calm themselves down a little as the Paradigm Champion is met with a smattering of disapproval and some disappointed tutting noises from the crowd. He walks onto the stage wearing perhaps one of the finest towels yet around his stout neck~
Belvedere: And his opponent… his is the current reigning OCW Paradigm Champion, he has informed me to share with you that he is the Snooker King of Sussex, he is Cecilworth MMMMMMM! Farthington.
Hood: Now look at that towel, you wouldn’t even get a towel like that at the Four Seasons.
Smith: It’s just… a towel.
Hood: This is why you are a poor. You don’t get it, the craftsmanship on that towel, I heard rumours ancient Chinese monks infused it with the power of snooker greatness. It bestows snookering powers the likes of which we’ve never seen to the wearer.
~A wide smile cracks from the champion’s face as he looks at the camera square down the lens and proclaims “I’M GOING TO DO TO SNOOKER WHAT I DID TO DAN RYAN” (watch HOW on HoTV). He raises both his towel and the OCW Paradigm aloft as he saunters down to the ring, not breaking eye contact with Bifford the entire time. In response Bifford raises the MIGHTY SCYTHE. The Gentleman’s Game host steps in at this moment to remind Bifford that the MIGHTY SCYTHE is not a regulation snooker cue, much to his dismay. Cecilworth looks on at this chitchat in quiet approval at the RULES and REGULATIONS of the great game of snooker being followed as he slowly enters the ring. The crowd once again scream off their heads informing us they are snooker loopy nuts~
Smith: Hot crowd for this game of snooker…
Hood: I mean I’m electrified, did you know that snooker table came from King Henry VIII’s estate. He traded one of his wives for it.
Smith: You know, all these facts are getting a bit suspect.
~Smith is interrupted by the Gentleman’s Game Host presenting the snooker balls to both Bifford and Farthington. Farthington picks up each ball individually and examines it closely, biting down on each one to check the quality on the ball. Satisfied that these balls are good balls, the host moves over to Bifford. Bifford inserts one of the balls in his mouth and swirls it around like a fine wine before spitting it out and nodding approval. Belvedere begins to set the table as the Gentleman’s Game Host takes to the mic~
Gentleman’s Game Host: I would like to welcome both of you fine gentlemen to the second in a series of contests to prove the true gentleman’s gentleman of OCW. As you will both recall, Mr. Farthington, who I must say if looking real spiffy tonight won, such a fine towel… he won the WAR last week. Mr. Bifford, as we are fair and sporting in this contest of upstanding morals and values, you will have the pleasure tonight of selecting your cue first AND making the first break.
~The host presses a small button from the remote he was storing in his breast pocket and a small trap door opens in the middle of the ring near the ropes. From under the ring, a small cabinet rises up containing a selection of fine mahogany snooker cues.~
Hood: GASP! The very cues that George Washington used on his first day as President…
Smith: He was playing snooker on his first day…
Hood: Everyone needs a little down time, you’re a real slave driver, you know that.
Smith: I thought that was Jefferson…
Gentleman’s Game Host: These are the finest snooker cues that money can buy and they are here for the finest men in the wrestling industry. Mr. Bifford, the choice is yours!
~Bifford tries to make one last appeal for using the MIGHTY SCYTHE but it falls on deaf ears as the host gestures towards the cabinet. Bifford stares at each cue very carefully, eventually electing to take the cue in the dead centre~
Gentleman’s Game Host: Ah, the Boris Winkle, a fine choice, strong choice. That’s for a man of power.
~Bifford walks off to eye up the table as Farthington now takes to the cabinet. He doesn’t waste a single second and immediately picks his cue~
GGH: Of course, the Farthington Fancy! I knew you would spot that right away, silly of me to even think you would want anything else.
~CMF walks over to Bifford to extend a friendly gentle hand, Bifford glares at Farthington for a few seconds before assenting to the handshake. The crowd squeals with glee at this magical OCW moment. Belvedere finishes his duties setting up the table and hops out of the ring.~
GGH: It is… time! Bifford, you’re up first to break.
~Bifford nods and walks over to the top end of the table as Farthington removes the jacket he was wearing to the ring to reveal a GLORIOUS UNION JACK SNOOKER VEST. As all of you will know, SNOOKER VESTS are for the real pros and the union jack imbues them with the power of the snooker gods~
Hood: Look at that vest, that’s the vest of a magnificent beast!
Smith: I’m starting to worry what these contests are going to do to you.
Hood: They won’t awaken anything in me.
~Bifford leans down on the table to take his first shot, unfortunately a snooker table sitting atop a wrestling ring isn’t the most stable of surfaces and the combination of the mildly wobbly base and the force of Bifford sends the table a-shakin’ and the balls a-vibratin’. Bifford soldiers on but is quickly interrupted by the host.~
GGH: Foul, 4 points Farthington. Farthington’s ball.
Smith: FOUL?
Hood: I’m pretty sure you can only move the balls through collision, not through sheer pressure on the table. It’s a lot like pool in that regard.
~Bifford shrugs off this call and presents the table to Farthington. The table is quickly reset as CM!F takes his turn at the top of the table. He whirls his cue around like it’s the cane of the fanciest man about town and unfortunately while joyfully spinning the cue around, he gently nudges the white ball on the table. It moves a few inches, not hitting anything in particular~
GGH: Foul, 4 points Bifford, Bifford’s ball.
~Cecilworth begins to protest the decision claiming that both he and the ball were not ready. Particularly the ball he insists. He allows his frustration to be quelled as to do otherwise would be most ungentlemanly. He presents the table back over Bifford as we reach 4-4 in score~
Hood: Intense back and forth action here, WE’RE TIED UP!
Smith: We haven’t had a single shot. It’s all been scratches.
Hood: Yessir, this is a real barn burning tie. Just listen to this capacity crowd.
~The crowd begins yelling “SNOOKER! SNOOKER! SNOOKER!” as if on cue. Not a snooker cue. Look words can mean two things~
Smith: I’m starting to suspect something else is influencing our fans in these segments.
Hood: Further proof you will never be a gentleman, you just don’t get it.
~This time Bifford tries to ease himself down to take his shot at the table, being careful not to apply too much pressure at any one time. Unfortunately his foot slips on an errant piece of confetti that wasn’t cleared up from the ring during his entrance and as his elbow falls on the table for stabilisation, he sends the table up at the forty-five degree angle. Bifford is clearly angered by his own MYSTICAL CONFETTI but once more does not show it~
GGH: Foul, four points to Farthington, Farthington’s ball.
Smith: Bifford is having real problems with old snooker table in the ring.
Hood: I mean material was weaker in Tudor times, today we’d no doubt have brought in some form of concrete reinforced table for Bifford but we must respect the history of the Gentleman’s Games.
Smith: WHAT HISTORY?
~Farthington looks down as his GLORIOUS SNOOKER VEST for motivation and begins to make his way to the table, almost doing a little soft shoe number with his snooker cue as he does so. He looks over at the clearly frustrated Bifford and a lightbulb goes off above his head. He kindly requests
Farthington: Mr. Bifford, I understand from watching the tellybox earlier this week that you were perhaps expecting a different kind of contest. One with maybe fine ladies as opposed to fine balls. It would be MOST ungentlemanly to take advantage of this situation to my benefit. Now that I have a dominating 8-4 lead, I realise that perhaps were this game to continue I would not be living up to the high standards expected of men such as ourselves. With that in mind, I have an offer for you…
~Cecilworth circles his cue in the air and the confetti cannons on the ring post fire up once more showering the ring in a confetti cloud. As the confetti settles we see two lovely bikini clad ladies standing in the ring. Bifford looks over to Farthington, rather intrigued by this development~
Farthington: If you agree to forfeit now, you can have the game that you so greatly desired to have this week. I am a fair man Bifford, I would never take advantage of you like this. If you approve of this deal, these ladies are your company for the evening and I will retain my Snooker King title.
~Cecilworth gestures to his vest once more to persuade Bifford of his snooker credentials. In mid-gesture, the confetti cannons fire one last time. As the paper settles for a final time, Bifford and the two ladies are gone, leaving the host, CMF and the snooker table in the ring. Many people in the crowd are yelling “SNOOKER! FUCK YEAH!” at this development.~
Hood: NOW THAT’S SNOOKER!
Smith: I’m starting to think no one in this building even knows what snooker is.
Gentleman’s Game Host: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the snooker contest via FORFEIT. CECILWORTH M! FARTHINGTON. Mr. Farthington now leads the series two games to zero.
Smith: I’m starting to get the feeling this challenge series is hardly on the up and up.
Hood: You’re whatever the opposite of the gentleman is.
OCW Presents: Redacted
OCW Craze Championship
OCW Paradigm Championship
OCW Savage Championship
OCW Championship
LIVE! Monday, July 29th 2019
From North Korea
Tag Team Championship
R.O.S.E. (c) vs. TBA
TBD vs. Ed Houston
Cecilworth M! Farthington (c) vs. The Big Bifford
Vincent Langston (c) vs. Logan
Mike Best (c) vs. TBD
Smith: And we're back.
Hood: I'm still reeling from that INTENSE game of Snooker.
Smith: That makes one of us. Bifford does seem to be down 0-2 to Farthington...if he wants to have a shot at competing in these games he MUST win the next one, I'd think.
Hood: A Gentleman must only act like a Gentleman. That is the code of a Gentleman. Manners maketh the fucking man.
Smith: If you say so. They will continue their games next week. In the meantime, we've got a Main Event to get to! The other active member of the eMpire...our OCW Champion is set to due battle against Kip Young!
|
|
Main Event
Non-Title
Mike Best © (14-0) vs. Kip Young (1-2)
~The fans in the OCW Arena are ready…their bodies are READY. It’s MAIN EVENT TIME. This is one of those rare opportunities when the FACE of the company main events the weekly show. He’s been so kind as to offer a returning, opening act by the name of Kip Young an opportunity to leapfrog 80% of the roster via an upset win. Can Kip pull it off? We’re about to find out! Belvedere clears his throat~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is a non-title match and it 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 made his return to the company last week with a tremendous effort against Vossler.
Hood: Yea, he showed more than I was expecting.
Smith: And, in CLASSIC OCW fashion, he goes from Vossler to Mike Best.
Hood: Classic OCW, baby.
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~The opening sounds of "Undefeated" by KB begins to play over the speakers of the OCW Arena, a vocal intro heralding the controversial arrival of OCW Champion Mike Best. The lights are dim in the arena, until music takes a turn and the singularly important word is uttered:~
UH-UH-UH-UNDEFEATED.
~As the bass drops, the lights flash in the arena as the crowd rises up in a mixture of cheers and boos alike. The always polarizing wrestling veteran steps out slowly onto the stage, making his way toward the ramp~
~Mike holds the OCW Championship aloft as he saunters down the ramp and approaches the apron, rolling under the bottom rope and standing to his feet in the ring. He slowly makes his way toward his corner, stretching and preparing for the beginning of the match as his music begins to quiet and fade away~
Belvedere: From Chicago, Illinois…standing 6’1 and weighing in at 232lbs…he is the Undefeated, Undisputed OCW Champion…he is…Mike Best!!!
Smith: The man who sits atop this company is back in action after his grueling win over Andrea Hernandez at Not Safe For Work.
Hood: You have to give him credit, Smith. He doesn’t take many weeks off.
Smith: Nope…he’s not the most ideal citizen but his work ethic cannot be questioned.
~Belvedere calmly takes both of Mike’s titles. He exits the ring. Mike, leaning in his corner, eyes Kip. Kip bounces around, anxious…staying limber. The bell rings~
Smith: Can Kip Young upset Mike Best?
Hood: If that were to happen…possibly the biggest upset in OCW history.
Smith: This is the type of opportunity that turns an opening act into a main event player. Good luck, Kip Young!
~Kip charges toward Mike Best!! He leaps into the air and blasts Best in the face with a knee!! Mike falters into a corner! The crowd leaps to their feet. Kip pummels Mike with lefts and rights…he’s on fire!! The fans are starting to get behind Kip… “KIP! KIP!”~
Smith: These fans cheering for the ultimate underdog!
Hood: Fuckin hell…why do we do this to ourselves? Why put Mike Best in there with this choad? He’s got nothing to win!
Smith: Because Mike Best likes to fight.
~Kip hops onto the second rope, looking to continue assaulting the OCW Champion with right fists. Mike grabs Kip by the legs…he charges forward, spins around and SLAMS Kip into the mat with a HUGE Alabama Slam!!! The entire ring shakes!! Mike drops to one knee, holding the side of his head, shaking off the pain from Kip’s punches. Kip is down…Mike looks down at his opponent in anger~
Smith: Uh oh
Hood: Alabama Slam!
Smith: Yes and now Kip is down. This…isn’t looking good if you’re a Kip Young fan.
Hood: Thankfully, that’s an extremely small demographic.
~Mike slams the back of Kip’s head into the mat, repeatedly. Scruff has to step in and get Mike to stop. Mike stands and marches a circle around Kip’s body. He pauses and jams his boot right into Kip’s stomach. Kip rolls over, grimacing. Mike grabs Kip by the ear and yanks him, violently to his feet. Kip yells out. Mike kicks him into the gut…he drops to one knee and smacks Kip in the jaw with a right hook. Kip stands up, wobbling. Best rises, grabs Kip by the back of the head and delivers a number of knees into Kip’s face while the young man is locked in an MMA clinch. Kip seems ready to collapse…so, Mike lets go of Kip’s head, grabs his arm, yanks him forward and turns him inside out with a Short Arm Clothesline!! Kip lands front first on the mat, motionless…face down~
Smith: What started as a big time opportunity has quickly devolved into disaster for Kip Young.
Hood: Yea, Mike’s going to put so many miles on that body by the time this match is through that Kip Young will have to be known as Kip Old!
Smith: Not your finest.
Hood: Yes, I’m well aware.
~Best stands over Kip. He’s got total control. He could pretty much do anything to this man…prolong his evening an unbearable length. The fans seem concerned that we might witness MURDER before our very eyes. Mike snares Kip by the head and yanks him up. He spins Kip around, facing his back. He jams his right fist into Kip’s kidney. Young’s body shakes, violently. Mike snares Kip by the head, yanks back, hooking Young’s head under his arm and he spins around dropping Kip with eMpire of the Son!!! He makes a nonchalant cover. Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…he is the OCW CHAMPION…MIKE BEST!!!!!
Smith: And, mercifully, Mike Best ends it.
Hood: What the hell, man? I was ready for Mike to murder this guy!
Smith: He showed mercy on young Kip. Something that I commend him for.
Hood: WEAK ASS MERCY
Smith: Kip was obviously outmatched. Mike had proven his point…he was, by far, the better man. There was nothing left to prove so he ended it in a very professional manner.
Hood: BLAH
~Mike Best rolls out of the ring, slinging the OCW Championship over his shoulder and collecting the Craze Championship from the timekeeper as well. He is clearly in a lot of pain, wincing as he nurses his injured shoulder.~
Smith: I hesitate to call it a hard fought victory, but another victory for the undefeated OCW Champion nonetheless. Kip Young really didn’t seem to come prepared tonight.
Hood: This is what Best does, Smith. He holds down the young talent to run up his bullshit “streak” and I’m tired of it. No wonder Zybala is taking the Craze Championship away from him. How do you not see the justice in this?
Smith: Well, I don’t think Mike Best makes the matches here in OCW, Hood, he just shows up when he’s asked and does his job. He’s beaten a lot of-- WHOA, LOOK OUT!
~Before the champion has time to react, the sharp CRACK of a full glass bottle can he heard colliding with the back of his head, sending him careening face first into the concrete. The boos of the crowd are deafening, as Mack O’Connor stands over the fallen body of Michael Best, a smirk on his face has he flips the bottle of Jameson in his hand, admiring his handiwork.~
Smith: Oh come on! What are you doing, Mack? You’re better than this!
Hood: This is JUSTICE, Smith! From Social Justice to Street Justice, and it’s about time these eMpire fucks learned who runs this city!
~Mike Best crawls toward the announcer’s table, desperately throwing his hands onto the edge to pull himself up, but he’s helpless-- Mack swings the bottle again, this time connecting directly with the badly re-injured shoulder of the OCW Champion. Best screams out in pain, the crowd’s boos getting louder as Mack continues the assault, bringing down the bottle again.~
~And again.~
~And again.~
Smith: Jesus, get security down here! Get medics! SOMEONE GET DOWN HERE!
Hood: AND BRING POPCORN! I HAVE A FRONT ROW SEAT TO JUSSSSTIIIICEEE!
~Mack rips the cap off the Jameson, taking a swig directly from the bottle and grabbing the OCW Championship off the ground next to Mike Best. He rolls the champion over onto the belt, bracing it against his shoulder, and then begins to lay stomps into the rotator cuff of Mike Best, over and over, jamming his shoulder into the heavy, metal belt.~
Smith: He’s going to cripple the champion! We need help out here!
Hood: Who the fuck would help Mike Best?
~From the back, Cecilworth Farthington begins sprinting to ringside in his street clothes, along with Kitty Petrova and even Eric Dane. Mack sees the cavalry coming to make the save, and lets out a snarky chuckle as he quickly bails out through the crowd, pushing his way through the masses to escape the save. Farthington makes it to his fallen stablemate and best friend, checking on the champion as medical and security rushes toward the scene of the mauling.~
Smith: This is horrific, Hood. First Meyhu…now Mike Best. This isn’t how you win a World Championship, Mack!
Hood: Hey, you do what you gotta do.
Smith: There must be internal damage in that shoulder. I hate the speculate but after the beating Mack just gave it…I’m not sure we’ll see our OCW Champion at Redacted.
Hood: That fucker better show up! The money he’s being paid? If he’s got to fight with one arm, tough shit…he’s doing it!
Smith: That remains to be seen. Mack O’Connor is single handedly laying waste to the Main Event scene in OCW. How hurt is our champion? What does this mean for Redacted! We’re all out of time! See you all next week!
~The crowd begins to quiet, the camera zooming in to a close up of the screaming OCW World Champion. He is desperately clutching his limp, savaged arm, curled up next to the announcers table as Monday Night Massacre comes to an end.~