OCW Presents: Massacre
LIVE! Monday, February 11th 2019
From The OCW Arena in Key West, Florida
~Another Monday night has arrived. We’ve managed to avoid the damaging winter storms which have afflicted several locations within our great country. We chalk that up to geography more than anything. It’s not as though we can control the weather. Plus, come June we’ll get some payback as those high nineties, heavily humid begin their annual three months of torture. But that is then, this is now. The first road block to another successful week is behind us. So, we take a seat ready for some nighttime entertainment. Then, it hits us…Massacre is starting off with a PPV main event caliber match! Holy shit! Our excitement level goes from 3.5 to 10 in an instant! The television fires up to catch the ending of a cheesy horror movie that we might want to check out on some arbitrary Saturday evening after several alcoholic beverages. The OCW logo flashes followed promptly by the Massacre image. We cut to the sold out OCW Arena! The fans are hot! The name “PARAS” is being chanted throughout the venue~
Smith: Hello again everyone and welcome to Monday Night Massacre! I’m your host Smith and alongside me, as always is Hood!
Hood: And boy do I have a lot to say to kick this show off!
Smith: That’s too bad because we’re heading straight to the ring to kick things off with one of the most anticipated match ups in Massacre history! Belvedere, take it away!
Hood: Hey! I…
Non-Title
‘Perfect’ Paul Paras © (11-0) vs. PerZag (13-7)
~The crowd is white hot! We’re jumping right into the action this evening. No opening segment…no verbose hyperbole filled commentary from Smith or Hood. None of that crap. A bout featuring a current OCW Champion and a former OCW Champion is set to kick things off. Belvedere clears his throat to a tremendous ovation~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen the opening contest is a non-title match and it is scheduled for one fall!!!
~The crowd yells “ONE FALL!” Belvedere pauses, allowing their cheers to die out so he can continue to do his job. What a professional~
Belvedere: Introducing first…
~ The lights of the arena go out. All that is seen is a small glow of light from the entrance ramp. ‘Eye Of The Tiger’ by Survivor starts to play over the PA system. A hooded figure walks on to the entrance ramp. The lights come back on as the hooded figure stands still on the stage. The hooded figure walks down to the ring slowly. He gets into the ring and stands in the centre of it. He slowly removes the hood and the crowd gives a mixed reaction to him. 'Eye Of The Tiger' by Survivor stops playing as PerZag walks over to a corner in the ring and crouches down near it~
Belvedere: From Benalla, Victoria, Australia…standing 6’5 and weighing in at 216lbs…he is a former OCW Champion…ladies and gentlemen, he is PerZag!!!
~Zag remains crouched, keeping his focus on the task that lies ahead. His wet, blonde hair curtains his face, shielding most of it. The crowd gives Zag a strong ovation…he’s still got that nostalgia pop working. They quiet down…a “Paras” chant grows amongst the OCW faithful~
Smith: PerZag faces perhaps his toughest bout to date.
Hood: Has PerZag faced any yesteryear OCW legends before?
Smith: That is a great question. He’s tagged with Lurrr. He’s waged wars with Grenier, Vargas, and Mack O’Connor…not to mention Alice Knight. But I don’t think he’s ever tussled, one on one with an OCW legend from the ‘golden’ years.
Hood: Well, now’s his chance. Don’t blow it, Zag!
~ The arena lights are replaced by a sea of blue strobes as "It Doesn't Seem to Matter" by Army of Anyone blasts over the speakers. After the opening riff, jets of blue and white pyro explode from the stage, bringing out the two-time OCW Hall of Famer, "Perfect" Paul Paras to a deafening reaction from the fans in attendance. Paras stands with a legend's aura atop the stage, surveying the crowd from behind his mirrored sunglasses before flashing his signature smirk and confidently striding down to the ring. The OCW Title is fastened securely around his waist. He walks up the steps and enters into the ring with the aura and presence of a true champion~
Belvedere: And, his opponent…from Minneapolis, Minnesota…standing 6’3 and weighing in at 251lbs…he is a two time OCW Hall of Famer…he is the current OCW Champion…he is “Perfect” Paul Paras!!!
~The ovation only increases as Paul removes the belt in one seamless, fluid motion, hoisting it high above his head. The chaotic cheers slowly get in line forming a unified “PARAS” chant. The champion nods with approval. He hands the OCW Title over to Belvedere, who exits the ring. Scruff signals for the bell. It rings. The fans are on their feet, bouncing with angst~
Smith: And here we go!! A match worthy of headlining any Massacre…heck, any PPV
Hood: Yep and it’s kicking off a random Massacre in the middle of February. This is definitely a Zybala move
Smith: Are you saying it’s a bad move?
Hood: No, I’m not saying that. I’m just saying Welsh never gave anything, of this caliber, away for free…let alone at the top of the show.
Smith: Indeed…a new GM…a new year…a new champion
~Zag throws his head back, flipping his wet strands of hair behind his head, revealing his menacing, focused face. He stands in his corner, glaring at the shorter, stouter Paras, who stands in center of the ring, coiled, ready for combat~
Smith: This has that big fight feel, Hood! If PerZag wins…do you think he earns an OCW Title shot?
Hood: I mean…he’d have to, right?
Smith: What would that do to Langston?
Hood: Nothing…Langston’s locked in for Social Justice. I’d say if Zag wins tonight then you’d have to have a rematch a few weeks down the line, for the title. And, if Zag wins that then HE faces Langston at Social Justice
Smith: What about making it a triple threat at Social Justice?
Hood: Ugh…I hate Triple Threats for the OCW Title
Smith: I think they are fun!
Hood: You would
~A stare down is underway with Zag refusing to move, initially. Paras remains in the center of the ring, knowing it’s the safest spot to be positioned until he can get a better read on his currently unfamiliar opponent. Zag suddenly takes off, sprinting toward Paras. The champ seems taken aback by this instant show of aggression. He side steps Zag and shoves him into the ropes. Zag leaps onto the second rope, springboards off and hits Paras, taking him down with a springboard moonsault!!! Zag manages to wind up on his feet after executing the move while Paras is on his back, stunned~
Smith: You can do all the scouting you want but it takes being in the ring with a man like PerZag to fully understand what you’re up against
Hood: Guy is an athletic freak
Smith: Indeed
~Paras starts to sit up…he’s aided, in a violent manner, by Zag. Zag grabs Paras by the hair, yanking him to his feet. Paras gets to his feet and throws a kick at Zag…the former champion dodges the current champions kick and quickly transitions into a DDT, dropping Paul on his head!!! The champ hits hard and rolls out of the ring, to recover. Zag reaches for Paul to prevent him from escaping, but is a split second too late~
Smith: This match has started a little quicker than Paras anticipated. He needs a minutes to reset
Hood: I’m sure he’s like “What the hell? I thought OCW Champions only wrestled once every six weeks around here?!”
Smith: Not every OCW Champion is Matt Meyhu, Hood
Hood: Don’t remind me!
~Zag stalks Paras from inside the ring. He occasionally reaches through the ropes or throws a kick in between the ropes, hoping to snag Paras. The Perfect One, though, keeps a safe enough distance to prevent that from happening. Zag ceases his stalking. This creates something of a false sense of security. Paras bends over at the waist, rubbing his neck. He takes his eyes off Zag. The crowd rises. Paul knows what that sound means. He quickly turns around and spots a charging Zag…Zag leaps over the top rope, clearing it with ease, he flips through the air and lands on top of Paras with a Senton!!!! The two men crash into the floor!!! Zag hurries to his feet, reaching for his back, for just a moment before returning his focus on the champ. The crowd pops for the incredible display of athleticism~
Smith: Wow! It’s been so long…you kind of forget exactly what that man can do inside a ring
Hood: He’s just as dangerous outside the ring, Smith
Smith: Yes, but this isn’t some kind of bloodsport match, Hood. There are rules.
Hood: Try telling that to an Australian
Smith: What’s that supposed to mean?
Hood: Australian’s don’t play by the rules, Smith! They’re all descendent of hardcore, banished, dirty criminals
~Zag yanks the OCW Champion to his feet and whips him into the barricade. Paras hits hard. Scruff slides out of the ring, ordering Zag to bring it back inside. PerZag glares down at the ref for a minute. He instantly shifts back into attack mode with a forearm strike into the side of Paul’s head. The champ is reeling…he’s leaning against the barricade, about to fall to the ground. Zag snares him by the hair and tosses him into the ring. Zag throws Scruff into the ring before sliding in himself and going for a pin~
1!
2!
Kick Out!
Smith: Kick out by the OCW Champion. He’s taken a lot of punishment early on but we all know it will take more than what he’s received to keep him down for the three count
Hood: Yea he survived Death March…he dethroned The Marvel. You won’t just beat this guy via a few moves
Smith: Indeed
~PerZag pops back to his feet. He stomps on Paras a few times, keeping the champion down. Paras, though, continues his attempt at regaining his footing. PerZag snares him by the hair, obliging his efforts. He snares Paul by the arm and yanks him forward with a short arm clothesline…Paras counters the clothesline with an arm drag!!! He takes Zag down to the mat and applies an armbar!! Zag winces and kicks his legs around, trying to break free, but Paras has the armbar locked pretty tightly. Frustration is on PerZag’s face, knowing he screwed up~
Smith: He gave Paul a limb and, well, you see what happened
Hood: Equivalent of throwing an interception while going in for a score, Smith. Bit mistake
Smith: Yep, now Paul can regain his wind, his stamina, his focus all while weakening a very important limb belonging to his adversary
~Zag throws a kick with his leg…he’s got long legs and great flexibility…so, one of the kicks smacks Paul in the side of the head. Paras is rattled for a moment, which gives Zag enough time to bully his way to his knees and ultimately to a standing position. He jams his palm under Paul’s chin, backing the champ against the ropes. He whips Paras off the ropes…but Paul doesn’t release the arm. Zag lunges forward, with his other arm still in Paul’s grasp, and takes the champ down with a lariat!!! Paul hits the mat, hard! Zag stands with his back to Paul, he leaps into the air with a standing moonsault and connects! He goes for the pin~
1!
2!
Smith: Whoa!
Hood: Fucking hell
Smith: Paul kicked out, grabbed Zag’s arm and hooked an armlock!
Hood: He’s trying to rip his arm apart!
~Paul is on his back with Zag’s arm stuck in between the champ’s legs. Paul’s legs run across Zag’s upper body. Paras leans back, trying to extend Zag’s arm all the way. PerZag fights to keep it from extending~
Smith: If he can extend this arm Zag may be forced to tap
Hood: Talk about ending a match on a damp note
Smith: I disagree…Zag’s the younger, more athletic wrestler…but Paul Paras, like he did against Meyhu, is using his composure and his in-ring IQ to even and eventually gain the odds
~Paul gets the arm fully extended! Zag writhes around, slamming his free fist into the mat. Scruff moves to call for the bell…Zag yells out “NO! I DIDN’T FUCKING TAP!” Scruff pauses before giving Zag the benefit of the doubt. He crouches down, asking Zag if he wants to give it up…looking for a definitive answer. Zag holds his tongue, closes his eyes and shakes his head ‘no’. He’s digging down deep to deal with the pain. Paras, meanwhile, continues to yank and pull, trying to do whatever he can to entice a tap~
Smith: It’s going to be tough for PerZag to withstand the pressure. I mean, his arm could snap
Hood: Fucking Paras…waltzing back into OCW, ruining King Infinity and now he’s trying to turn PerZag into a cripple!
Smith: I believe he’s ushered some fresh air into the OCW atmosphere
Hood: Yea, if by fresh air you mean that toxic shit the joker was raining down upon Gotham while that Prince song played in Batman.
~Paras pulls his right leg back and uses it to kick Zag in the head, hoping to increase the possibility of Zag tapping out. This, however, creates an opening. Zag rolls over, able to get free. He finds himself fighting through Paul’s legs, reaching up with his right arm, clawing at the champion’s face. Paul yells out and releases what remains of the hold! Zag pulls his right hand back and immediately clutches his left shoulder. Paras rolls away, holding his face~
Smith: He went for Paul’s eyes!
Hood: Well, in his defense, he was about to lose an arm. Aren’t you supposed to poke sharks in the eye when they come at you?
Smith: I don’t know and hope to never find out
~Zag struggles to his feet. Paul, realizing everything is in place and functional, gets to his feet. He hustles forward…Zag kicks him in the gut. PerZag secures Paul’s head under his right arm, looking for a suplex. Paul snares Zag’s left arm and yanks down on it! Zag yells out, reaching for his shoulder in pain while staggering back against the ropes. Paras stands upright and sprints forward, leaping into the air with a flying knee!! He connects!!! Zag flips over the top rope…he bounces off the apron and falls to the outside with a rough landing~
Smith: Paul’s managed to weaken a body part to a point where it’s now developed into an opportunistic window
Hood: PerZag is super human. He’ll bounce back
Smith: He very well may, Hood. But I’m telling you, that shoulder is going to be a problem.
~Paras steps through the ropes, onto the apron. PerZag is on one knee. Paras hops off the apron…Zag pops to his feet, catching Paras in midair, over his right shoulder. Paul throws a quick knee right beneath PerZag’s chest, knocking the wind from the big man. Zag drops Paul, allowing the champ an opportunity to grab his weakened left arm, applying a kimura! The crowd rises. Zag’s eyes widen, realizing he’s, yet again, in deep trouble. He takes his free, right arm and extends it, wrapping his giant hand around Paul’s throat. Paul refuses to let go of the Kimura. So, Zag applies added pressure and shoves Paul to the left…Paras, again, refuses to let go…so the momentum takes both men into the barricade! They slam into OCW’s version of THE WALL, separating outsiders from infiltrating OCWLand. The impact sets both men free…Paras drops to one knee…PerZag spins around, turning his back to Paras, leaning against the barricade, holding onto his left arm~
Smith: The Perfect One is like a trap. You have to avoid what appears to be the easy road for fear of unforeseen land mines
Hood: It’s a mental game with that fucker. PerZag might be somewhat of an in ring prodigy…but when it comes to the mental aspect of pro wrestling, he’s got some learning to do if he wants to catch up with the erudite champion known as Paul Paras.
Smith: Indeed…but, no better way to learn than by experience
~Paras rises to his feet and approaches Zag from behind. PerZag senses danger and spins around with a clothesline. Paras ducks…Zag completes a three-sixty, giving his back to Paras once again. Paul gladly accepts, lifting Zag up for an Atomic Drop…but, instead of dropping Zag tailbone first across his knee, he tosses Zag in the air, allowing the former champion to crash back first across the top of the barricade!!! Zag hits hard and tumbles onto the ‘fan’ side of the barricade~
Smith: Tremendous reversal by Paras…he’s slowly breaking PerZag down
Hood: Wrestling isn’t that hard when you’ve got two functioning arms
Smith: I know what you’re saying…but Paras should be credited for eliminating one of PerZag’s arms
Hood: WEAK ASS
~Paras reaches over the barricade, snaring Zag by his sweat soaked, dirty blonde hair. He pulls the man to his feet and rips him over the barricade, back to the ringside area. PerZag rolls toward the steps, coming to rest against them. Paras has an opportunity to deliver a nasty kick to Zag, while he’s wedged against the metal, but he bypasses the detour. Instead, he snares Zag by the hair and neck, tossing him into the ring. Paras hops onto the apron, stepping in through the ropes. PerZag reaches his feet, holding his left shoulder. He stumbles right into The Perfect One’s grasp, suffering a high impact RPW Spinebuster!!! The ring shakes from impact!! Paras hooks the leg~
1!
2!
Kick Out!!
Smith: PerZag kicked out! He’s not finished yet!
Hood: Yet being the key word
Smith: It’s never over until the fat lady sings
Hood: Susan Boyle’s in the house?
Smith: RUDE! We should BE so lucky
~Paul tries to seamlessly transition into the Messianic Complex…PerZag, though, drives his prone elbow down into the bridge of Paul’s nose, forcing a release. Paras rolls away, holding his nose. Zag instantly reaches to protect his left arm. He struggles to his feet, heading after Paul. Paras sweeps Zag’s legs, taking him to the mat. Zag sits up, instinctively…Paras pops to his feet and rushes forward with Acid Test!!! Zag dodges the knee!! Paras lands flat on his back. PerZag returns to his feet. Paul hurries to his…his back is to Zag. PerZag leaps up, wrapping his legs around Paul’s head from behind…he takes him over with an inverted Frankensteiner!!! Paul hits hard and tumbles into a corner, seated with his back against the bottom buckle. Zag returns to his feet and charges in with double knees into Paul’s face!!!~
Smith: PerZag has all the momentum!
Hood: Shit, this turned rather quickly
Smith: A testament to PerZag’s athletic ability
~Zag yanks Paul out of the corner, pulling him to his feet. He delivers a thud of a head butt which weakens Paras at the knees. Zag hooks Paul for a suplex via his right arm. He slowly, carefully brings his left arm over, hooking the leg. He hoists Paul up and over with PerZag Perfection (Perfect Plex)!!! Scruff slides in for the count~
1!
2!
Kick Out!!
Smith: I’m not sure how secure that pin was, given the condition of PerZag’s left arm
Hood: Evidently it wasn’t secure enough
~A frustrated PerZag grabs Paras by the head and slams the back of his skull into the mat several times. He finally ceases and returns to his feet with one move in mind. He snares Paul, pulling him to his feet. He kicks Paras in the gut and hooks him for a powerbomb. The crowd rises~
Smith: The Worthiest Move of Them All! If he hits this it’s over!
Hood: Upset of the year downloading as we speak!
~PerZag hoists Paras up for the powerbomb/backstabber combination…Paul, though, at the apex, is able to shifts his legs from around Zag’s head to his left arm. He falls to the mat with a ‘codebreaker’ focused on PerZag’s left arm!!! Zag yells out in pain and instantly rolls away, narrowly avoiding Paul’s grasp as he attempts to lock in Messianic Complex. The crowd jumps to their feet, cheering for the champion~
Smith: Oh my goodness! That may have dislocated the shoulder of PerZag
Hood: Fucking Paras
Smith: An incredible counter…the man is on another level when it comes to the mental aspect of professional wrestling
~Scruff walks over to check on Zag’s arm, showing great concern. Zag tries telling him that he’s okay. Paras returns to his feet, smelling blood. He goes after Zag…Zag sees the champion heading his way. The former champion reverts to his old ways and throws Scruff in front of him, using the referee as a barrier. Paras tries to peacefully move Scruff out of the way, however, Zag is able to roll under the bottom rope. He hops up, springboarding off the top rope. He leaps over Scruff and drills Paras in the face with a high elevation, springboard dropkick!!! The champion falls to the mat! He is prone. Zag sits up, continuing to hold and favor that left arm and shoulder~
Smith: What athleticism!
Hood: There’s the PerZag I know! Use the ref to your advantage! Cheat if you have to, my man!
Smith: I loathe your ideals
~Zag gets to his feet. Paras is slowly beginning to rise. PerZag waits for him to stand – Paras does. Zag takes off, leaps into the air and, using his right arm, hooks Paras, spins around and drops him with a Tornado DDT!!! Paras is on his back, middle of the ring. Zag hurries over and makes the cover~
1!
2!
KICK OUT!
Smith: Paras kicked out! But, he remains in trouble
Hood: Yea, the one armed man is really dishing out some one armed violence
~PerZag snares Paras by the hair, yanking him to his feet. He shoves him into a corner and, using just his right arm, is able to get Paras, seated, on the top buckle. PerZag joins him up there…he hooks Paras…he stands him up. Their positions are a bit shaky…this isn’t easy using one arm. But, he gets Paras solidified, yanks him up…Zag’s legs nearly buckle, his body tremors…he gets Paras over and they fall onto the mat via a Superplex from Zag!!! The fans are relieved that nobody fell on their head during that exchange. Zag crawls over and makes the cover~
1!
2!
SHOULDER UP
Smith: The champ survives again!
Hood: Because he’s got a shoulder he can throw up. Zag has no such option
Smith: Incorrect. He has one such option
~PerZag returns to his feet. Paras is still on the mat. Zag signals it’s over. A ‘PARAS’ chant sounds out. PerZag yanks Paras up and slugs him right in the cut with a right hand. Paul doubles over. Zag winces, bringing his left arm down to meet his right arm. He’s looking for Worthiest Move of All. He tries to hoist Paul up, but his left shoulder gives out!! Paras falls to his feet. He snares Zag’s left arm and yanks him to the mat. Out of nowhere, he’s suddenly got the Messianic Complex locked in!!! The fans are going wild! They are jumping up and down as The Perfect One applies as much pressure as he’s able. Zag grimaces, he writhes around…he refuses to yell. Scruff slides in asking Zag if he wants to give it up. PerZag says no~
Smith: Paras may do irrevocable damage to that shoulder
Hood: Should Scruff stop it?
Smith: After the controversial finish we saw in the Savage Championship match at Throwback? I doubt it
~PerZag REFUSES to quit. He’s dead center of the ring and not going anywhere. Paras won’t let go. Scruff asks PerZag repeatedly, almost attempting to convince him to submit. PerZag refuses over and over. Zag’s motions slow a bit. They come to a stop. Scruff lifts his arm to see if he’s out…he drops it…but Zag holds it up! He’s, somehow, still conscious and still fighting through the pain~
Smith: Let it go, Zag! You’ve got a potential tag title shot at Social Justice. It’s okay…you’ve given a great effort tonight
Hood: The man doesn’t quit, Smith. It’s not who he is.
Smith: It isn’t quitting, Hood. At some point it becomes preservation
~Paras reaches the understanding that Zag won’t quit. He keeps the hold locked until Zag reaches another low. He releases the Messianic Complex. The fans are stunned. Paras stands over Zag who slowly rolls over, reaching for his wounded shoulder. Paras backs up, leaning against the ropes~
Smith: Why did he let go?
Hood: He knew Zag wouldn’t let quit.
Smith: It’s hard to get a submission around here
Hood: That’s because OCW doesn’t hire pussies
~Zag slowly starts to shit up, tending to his shoulder. Paras shoots off the ropes and delivers Acid Test to Zag’s left shoulder!!! Zag yells out in pain!!! Paras pops back to his feet. Zag is writhing on the mat, slamming his fist into the canvas. Paras hits the ropes, he bounces off…Zag sits up, just enough…Paras flies through the air, planting his knee right into Zag’s face with a second Acid Test!!! Zag is flattened out! Paras makes the cover…Scruff slides in~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…the OCW Champion…“PERFECT” PAUL PARAS!!!!!
Smith: The champion did it!
Hood: Man that was a tough non-title match
Smith: Yep, it appears as though the days of the champion breezing through lackluster competition between ppv events are over
Hood: Yea, I guess that creates more weekly entertainment. But it might lead to a wounded Paras come Social Justice
Smith: You continue to give that man the least amount of credit possible. I think it’s about time we stop questioning what Paras can do and start wondering if there’s anything he cannot accomplish
Hood: Great showing for Zag, though
Smith: Yes…PerZag would not quit. He would not submit. His shoulder and arm could be shredded but the man refused to deny himself a shot at victory
Hood: Nope, Paras had to knock him out in order to defeat him
Smith: And he did just that…tremendous win for Paras. A great showing for PerZag…what a way to kick of Monday Night Massacre!
~PerZag remains seated in the middle of the ring after his gruelling match with Paras. He looks down at the mat, completely fatigued, trying to catch his breath back~
Smith: What a match between these two! It really took a lot out of PerZag.
Hood: Of course it did, you idiot, he did just fight the OCW Champion. Did you expect he was going to get an easy win? It’s not Brianna Casablancas.
Smith: Now that was just uncalled for.
Hood: Whatever…...PerZag kicked her ass.
Smith: That doesn’t mean you…...wait for a second, what’s Bob Grenier doing out here.
~As PerZag slowly makes his way up to his feet, Bob Grenier slides in the ring behind him, running up and nailing a forearm to the back of PerZag’s head, dropping him back down to the mat~
Smith: Now that is just uncalled for. PerZag just had a massive match, and now Grenier is attacking him. This isn’t fair.
Hood: PerZag is getting what he deserves after what he did to Bob last week.
~Bob starts stomping on PerZag’s head again and again and again, as PerZag looks completely out of it. Bob grabs PerZag’s head and lifts it off of the mat, to face him. He screams in PerZag’s face, before slapping him across the face. Grenier starts nailing more and more kicks to PerZag’s abdomen until Grenier is shoved away from none other than Paul Paras~
Hood: It would only be Paras who would stop an awesome beat-down.
Smith: There was nothing awesome about that. Paras is doing the right thing.
~Paras stands between Grenier and PerZag. Paras tells Grenier to ‘bring it on’, but Bob just grins, and drops down and rolls to the outside. Bob stands outside of the ring, shaking his head at Paras, not wanting to have anything to do with him. Paras crouches down to check on PerZag, but PerZag pushes his hands away and rolls out of the ring to the outside. Paras stares down at PerZag, but instantly directs his attention to the stage as “I Am Legend” by Colton Dixon blasts over the PA system, and Vincent “The Legend” Langston walks out from the back~
Smith: And now Langston isn’t minding his own business. This great match has just been ruined.
Hood: No, this great match just got even more epic. The Legend is here.
~Langston makes his way down towards the ring as he holds his left arm to himself, his arm obviously not at 100%. Paras continues to watch Langston walk down towards the ring before he is attacked from behind by Bob Grenier, who throws a forearm to the back of Paras’ head, knocking him into the corner of the ring. Grenier starts throwing kicks at the abdomen of Paras as Langston makes his way up the steel steps, and steps into the ring. Grenier turns around, and he and Langston stare each other down~
Smith: Don’t say that these two are going to go at it too.
Hood: Nope, they are going to beat the crap out of Paras, as he deserves.
~And that is what they do. Grenier turns around and continues stomping away at Paras. Langston walks over to the corner and starts throwing right boots at any and every body part of Paras that he can, as he holds his left arm to himself, protecting it from any more harm. As Paras is getting pounded on in the ring, PerZag walks up the rampway towards the back~
Smith: Seriously. PerZag has no common decency to help Paras out, just after Paras helped him.
Hood: PerZag is doing what the fans want. And they want Paras beaten and bloodied.
Smith: No they don’t.
Hood: Well, I do, so fuck everyone else.
~PerZag makes it most of the way down the rampway towards the back, before he stops and stares at a fan who is shouting at him. He shouts back at the fan something like ‘You want me to fucking help him’. The crowd suddenly start a ‘Yes Chant’ throughout the arena as PerZag rolls his eyes, and turns around, sprinting back down towards the ring. PerZag slides into the ring, as Langston rolls out, clearly seeing that PerZag is back to help Paras. Grenier, oblivious to what’s happening behind him, starts throwing strikes at Paul Paras. PerZag shouts at Grenier as Bob stops, and turns around, staring at PerZag~
Hood: Here we go. The fight is on.
~PerZag yells at Grenier to fight him, and Grenier runs at him but eats a dropkick from PerZag. Grenier gets back up to his feet quickly and falls back into the ropes. PerZag charges at Grenier, and clotheslines him over the top rope, to the outside. The crowd cheers as we see Langston make it up to the top of the stage, watching on. PerZag turns back to Paras and walks over to Paras who is seated in the corner. Paras looks up at PerZag as PerZag puts his hand out. Paras grabs it, and PerZag helps him to his feet. They handshake each other as the crowd cheers. Paras turns his attention back up the ramp and stares down Langston as we cut back to Smith and Hood~
Smith: Well I'm certainly glad PerZag did the right thing
Hood: I'm not. I'm sure the roster is displeased with his save as well
Smith: And why is that?
Hood: A weakened champ benefits everyone!
Smith: I disagree. Meyhu's one of the strongest champs we've ever seen and his reign did nothing but promote and increase the talent here in OCW
Hood: Those were some good times, weren't they? Gosh I wish we could go back to then
Smith: It was a few months ago...curb your depression. Anyway, folks...we're off to a hot start and we've still got 9 high impact matches including a main event featuring not one but TWO Hall of Famers!
~Backstage, a sharply-dressed young man with a brown leather messenger bag is walking down the halls of the OCW arena. He comes to a closed door that has a plaque on it that reads “SILVER CYANIDE” with the words “IS NOT HERE GO AWAY” scrawled underneath in sharpie. The young man raises his fist to knock on the door when someone off-camera clears their throat. The young man pauses and turns around, coming face to face…or face to nipple, rather, with Cyanide’s seven foot tall Russian compatriot, Bear. Bear stares down at the man, his arms crossed, and shakes his head.~
Bear: Mister Silver does not want visitor.
Young Man: Excuse me, sir, but I’m from Key West Courier Service. I have a special telegram for Mister Silver Cyanide.
~Bear looks the young man up and down. He’s about five-seven, barely 130 pounds. He looks to be about 20. His Adams Apple is the size of a Buick. Bear sighs, gently brushes the young man aside, and knocks on the door.~
Bear: Mister Silver, open your door.
~There’s the sound of a quiet commotion inside, the clicking of a deadbolt, and the door cracks open to reveal Cyanide’s blue eye.~
Cyanide: What is it? I told you nobody from OCW can see me. Do you know how many people Mario probably has trying to kill me around here?
Bear: Mister Silver, this one is not from OCW.
~Cyanide opens the door a bit more and peers around at the young man, who smiles and reaches into his messenger bag. Cyanide shrieks like a girl and throws the door open and superkicks the kid directly in the face, knocking him out cold. Bear simply watches all this happen, sighs, and rubs a hand down his face. Cyanide, clad in a plush terrycloth bath robe that says “HOLIDAY INN - PEORIA IL” stitched on the chest, is panting, his eyes wide.~
Cyanide: He was going to assassinate me, Bear! He was a James Bond! He was sent by Mario!You can’t let strangers just reach into their strange bags and pull out their strange guns and shoot me in my strange head!
~Bear bends over to pick up the man’s messenger bag, and seeing as how he’s seven feet tall, it takes about six hours for him to cover the distance. He reaches into the bag and pulls out an envelope that reads “MISTER SILVER CYANIDE c/o OCW”. He hands it to Cyanide. Cyanide coughs awkwardly, takes the envelope, and opens it.~
Cyanide: “Dear Silver Cyanide. Stop. Your presence is hearby requested at Massacre to kick the teeth in of one Mario Maurako. Stop. Regards, Bifford. Stop.” Okay, two problems I have with this. First, he spelled “hereby” wrong. What a putz. Second, it’s 2019. Who the hell is using telegrams?
Bear: I believe he said this first on Twitter. But you do not have the Twitter.
Cyanide: It’s 2019. Who the hell uses Twitter?
~There’s a grumbling from the floor, and Cyanide and Bear look down, where the young man is beginning to rouse. Cyanide throws his hands up.~
Cyanide: And dangit, look, this guy is still alive. Now I have to bribe him not to sue me. Bear, give him twenty bucks.
~Bear looks offended.~
Bear: I do not have twenty dollars!
~The young man slowly stands back up and wobbles slightly, his eyes crossed. Cyanide sighs and superkicks him in the face, and the kid topples like a sack of gravity.~
Cyanide: Great, now I have to find a way to respond to Bifford since I don’t have Twitter, AND find twenty bucks to bribe this assassin Mario hired! Bear, do you know where I can find some carrier pigeons?
Bear: I believe Bifford has several carrier pigeons in a cage next to his antifreeze collection.
Cyanide: Perfect! I’ll go find Bifford to borrow one of this pigeons to send a message to Bifford in response to his telegram to me from Mario’s assassin, while simultaneously finding twenty dollars to pay off Mario’s assassin so he doesn’t sue me!
~Cyanide runs off down the hall away from the camera, his bathrobe flying open as he runs. An OCW production girl rounds the corner, shrieks at his exposed body, and dashes back around the corner as Bear begrudgingly picks up the young man to try and rouse him as we fade to black.~
Smith: He'd better not get involved in that match tonight. This is Mario's chance to shut Bifford up
Hood: If that robe is any indication, Cyanide is open for business!
Smith: Your jokes are not appreciated. This is serious stuff. Bifford has mocked Mario since their respective returns. He's managed to evade punishment for his derision. Tonight, however...tonight is the night.
Hood: The night for what, exactly?
Smith: Marvelous Revenge
Hood: Please don't tell me you've been waiting all week to say that
Smith: I plead the fifth
LA… LA, LA LA… Wait Till I Get My Money Right…
~“Can’t Tell Me Nothing” by Kanye West hits and the arena goes dim. Lime green lights flicker at the top of the ramp until the former OCW Champion, Matt Meyhu, steps out. Wearing a black and green ‘Marvel’ t-shirt and jeans, he does not look ready to compete. Meyhu is met with a mixture of the usual boos and some surprising cheers. He sports his signature smirk, but it’s sharing space on the Marvel’s face with the bandage on his forehead.~
Smith: It looks like the former OCW Champion is on his way to the ring!
Hood: Sure, rub it in. FORMER.
~Meyhu makes his way to the ring with a slight limp. He gets to the ring and walks up the stairs rather than hop up on the apron. He gingerly climbs through the ropes and reaches for the microphone. His music fades as he holds the microphone up to his mouth. He pauses for a moment to let the fans settle down.~
Matt Meyhu: Well… It was a hell of a run, wasn’t it? For eight months, I was the gold standard around here. Many tried to beat me, and all of them failed. The chatter began… Can this guy be beat? Is he even human?! And I guess we finally got our answer.
Smith: A rare show of self-awareness by the Marvel here tonight!
~Meyhu pauses once again and does a sweep of the crowd with his eyes.~
Matt Meyhu: No, he’s not! But gods can bleed.
Smith: Nevermind.
Matt Meyhu: I didn’t go down without a fight though. It took everything he had to bring me down, but he got the job done. Right now, I’d like to applaud Paul Paras.
~The fans begin to cheer but Meyhu quickly tries to interrupt.~
Matt Meyhu: I’d like to! But I just can’t. This is, after all, about me. I’m the one who is stuck at a crossroads right now. Let’s focus on me for a moment!
Smith: There’s the Meyhu I know.
Hood: And love!
Matt Meyhu: Throwback was one of the toughest nights of my career. The most dominant run this company has ever seen finally came to a stop… And just like that, all that chatter has changed. What’s next for the Marvel? What does he do from here? From a career-changing moment like the one he just went through… Is he retiring? How can he top what he’s already done? Is somebody going to try to claim the Ego Trip as their own?!
~There is some mumbling amongst the crowd as the former champ shakes his head.~
Matt Meyhu: Don’t get your hopes up! You won’t get rid of me that easily… No matter how much some of the cowards in the back would like that, I’m not going anywhere. As for my future, there is only one thing that makes sense for me at this point in time. I’m a champion. I need gold around my waist! I’m not complete without it, so you can bet it won’t be long until I’ve got more in my possession. The only real question is which of those slabs of gold I call mine in the near future. I’ve put a little bit of thought into it, but really, the answer is obvious. You see, I’m not even a little bit interested in any sort of Craze title run, or having to share the spotlight with some Average Joe on a tag team title run.
Hood: Amen!
Smith: Seems a tad unnecessary.
Matt Meyhu: I am a top level singles competitor, there aren’t many options for me. Only a small handful of options really make sense to me... As you may know, a certain Rocketman recently claimed the Paradigm title!
~The fans go crazy and start to chant for the Paradigm champion, Ed Houston! Meyhu waves them off with his free hand.~
Matt Meyhu: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Everybody loves Ed Houston. Don’t you worry. You all can rest easy, along with Ed, that I won’t be turning my attention that way just yet. Just don’t get too comfortable.
Hood: You lucked out, Houston!
Matt Meyhu: I think what the fans really want to see… Is for Lurrr to defend that Hall of Fame title!
~The fans go wild! Chants of “Yes!” break out in the arena and Meyhu smirks and nods at them as he inspects the crowd. He waits for the madness to calm down before he continues on.~
Matt Meyhu: Mark my words… That match WILL happen. It’s inevitable. But again… This is about ME. Not you.
~The fans begin to boo the former champion now. He rolls his eyes.~
Matt Meyhu: You boo because you care! Because you can’t stomach the injustice of it all either! Believe me, I understand. I put this place on my shoulders for nearly an entire year. Nobody could touch me! I ran this place. No, I RUN this place. And I don’t even get a shot to reclaim what I created? That belt would be nothing without me. It lived with me. It still smells like me! And while I may not have that title anymore, I am STILL the FACE of OCW. There is no denying that. The last guy who came for that spot tucked his tail between his legs and ran. You don’t get to show up out of thin air and take my spot. Nuh uh. This is no different. You’re holding my spot, Paul. I’m coming back for what is rightfully mine, one way or another. I don’t care what steps need to be taken, I’ll take them. Whoever gets in my way will be eliminated. Enjoy Social Justice, everybody. Part two of the reign of Meyhu begins right after.
~Meyhu tosses the microphone over his shoulder as his music hits once again. He climbs through the ropes and heads up the ramp, determined.~
Smith: Strong words from the Hall of Famer and FORMER OCW Champion
Hood: That's the Marvel I know and love, in a totally platonic manner. Watch out, Paras...buy a new pair of shorts, Langston...because Meyhu is comin for you, n-
Smith: WHOA
Hood: I was gonna say nimrods...what's the big deal?
Smith: Sorry...I guess I had some alternate destination in mind
Hood: You really need to clean that head of yours up, Smith.
~We cut backstage where AKB is standing by with Nico Gamble. Nico looks prepared for his match…although, his senses appear to be heightened. He looks around as though something is following him~
AKB: Nico
Nico Gamble: Ah!
AKB: Whoa…it’s just me, Alpha
Nico Gamble: Oh, sorry about that. You kinda snuck up on me.
AKB: I can understand you’re a little jumpy. Last week you were…abducted? Taken? Removed by…Ghost Man?
Nico Gamble: I’d rather not talk about it. What happened, happened. I’m focused on tonight.
AKB: Are you afraid it might happen again?
Nico Gamble: Why?! Have you heard anything?! Have you SEEN something????
AKB: No, man, relax. I’m simply trying to do my job while Who’Re is off blowing…err, doing her thing.
Nico Gamble: Okay, good. Listen, I’m ready to put last week behind me. I’ve got Chelsea LeClair tonight and I’m determined to notch my first OCW win.
AKB: Well that sounds great
Nico Gamble: I do have one favor to ask
AKB: I’m not really the type to give favors without the promise of something in return
Nico Gamble: Could you…accompany me for my match? JUST to the curtain. That’s it. Just so, in case, ya know…IT returns?
AKB: Ghosts aren’t really my thing, Nico. I’m more of an alien kinda guy
Nico Gamble: PLEASE
AKB: Ugh, fine
~We cut back to ringside~
Smith: Nico is terrified
Hood: Wouldn’t you be? He was abducted by a damn Ghost last week
Smith: I’m not sure what happened. All I know is he vanished and Ghost Man took his place.
Hood: Abduction, Smith. Spiritual Abduction
Smith: If you say so, Hood. Anyway, folks...lets move away from this silliness and focus on our next in-ring match up! The highly anticipated debut of Evin Empire is up next!
Singles Match
Evin Empire (0-0) vs. Shootah (0-3)
~The crowd has had time to adjust, coming down from that epic clash between Paras and PerZag. They are suddenly THIRSTING for action. And if you read THRUSTING…then you may have a dirty mind. Not that, I read thrusting…anyway! These fans are on their feet, eying the ring. Belvedere clears his throat~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Currently in the ring, from Hollywood, California…Shootah!
~A fan ringside yells “BANG!” Shootah flinches and dives into the corner, shivering with fright~
Smith: Ah, Shootah
Hood: I heard he was on that show “Are you stronger than a first grader?”
Smith: How did he do?
Hood: He lost
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~ The lights dim to black as the opening chords of his entrance theme fill the arena to a majority of boos. Multi-colored 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: People have been buzzing for almost two weeks about Evin Empire
Hood: Yea he looks like the real deal, Smith
Smith: I’ve been eagerly anticipating his in ring debut for some time. Very excited to see what this newcomer has to offer!
~Belvedere exits. The bell rings. The fans are on their feet, intrigued to witness Empire’s debut. The man certainly carries a ‘superstar’ aura~
Smith: People within the industry are predicting Empire to have a major, immediate impact in OCW
Hood: The Kitty Petrova trajectory?
Smith: In a sense…although Petrova was a savvy veteran when she signed. Empire is a fresh face to all wrestling fans.
Hood: I hope he enjoys his fresh face. If he sticks around longer than a cup of coffee and a five dollar blow job that face will likely become battle tested.
Smith: Indeed
~Empire doesn’t waste any time. It’s clear he’s been waiting for this debut match longer than most. He hustles over. Shootah’s on the mat, his legs hanging out from the corner. His arms are wrapped around the post. Empire grabs Shootah by the legs and yanks. Shootah won’t let go. Empire pauses and sighs. He coils up and yanks back as hard as he can…Shootah’s arms are ripped from the post…his body flails into the air, splatting front first onto the mat~
Smith: Ouch
Hood: I bet Shootah doesn’t know how to dive into a pool, Smith. That was perfect belly flop posture
Smith: I’d imagine Shootah is chlorine’s worst nightmare
~Empire shows very little care in ripping Shootah from the mat. Shootah stumbles around, begging for a reprieve. Empire thrusts a sharp knee into his abdomen, silencing the emaciated competitor. He viciously hooks Shootah in tight for what appears to be a Fisherman’s Suplex. He hoists Shootah up…but, instead of taking him all the way over, he drops him with a Brainbuster!!! Shootah’s head spikes into the mat, rendering his limbs motionless. Empire sits up…his eyes remain focused~
Smith: Ouch. Evin Empire is not messing around
Hood: Nope, the way this is going you’d think Shootah robbed Evin backstage
Smith: I think this is a testament to his focus and demeanor. Evin Empire isn’t here to play. He’s here to win.
~Evin returns to his feet and heads toward the ropes. He steps through them, finding a spot in the center of the apron. He faces Shootah. Shootah gets to his feet…more of an instinct rather than an act of bravery. Empire hops up, onto the top rope. He jumps, spinning around, pointing his back at Shootah. He springboards off with a moonsault! He grabs Shootah on the way down and drops him with an Inverted DDT (Empire Strikes Back)!!! The crowd is wowed by the move. Empire hooks both legs, making the cover. Scruff slides in with the count~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…EVIN EMPIRE!!!!!
Smith: What a debut…wow
Hood: This kid is special, Smith
Smith: Indeed. I know Shootah is as low as it gets around here…but you can just tell when someone has it. Evin Empire has ‘it’.
Hood: This kid will go as high as his work ethic takes him. He’s got all the talent in the world.
Smith: Indeed he does…what a debut. I cannot wait to see how this young man’s career unfolds moving forward
~We cut backstage where we spot Tony the Spider literally GEARING up for his match against Max Ironside later tonight. Jones is standing by, eager to get a word in with the unique competitor~
Jones: Tony, you’ve got a match tonight with the debuting Max Ironside. Any thoughts?
~Tony drops some Cheetos into his fanny pack. They appear to be PUFFS~
Tony the Spider: haha
Jones: You were once 7-2, Tony. Now, if you lose tonight, you’ll be staring at a 7-7 record. What, if anything, can be corrected to get you off this losing streak?
~Tony drops some FLAMIN HOT Cheetos into his fanny pack~
Tony the Spider: Hahaha
Jones: Right…do you think, perhaps your diet might have something to do with this five match losing streak?
~Tony pauses and looks up at Jones~
Tony the Spider: Ha
Jones: What I’m saying is…are Cheetos REALLY the best item to be placing inside your body before you go out and compete?
Tony the Spider: HA!!!
~Tony becomes filled with RAGE. He goes after Jones. Jones bolts for the door. Tony’s foot slips atop an empty Cheetos bag. He nearly falls down. This allows Jones a window to escape through. He slams the door shut. Who’Re is out there, with Sugar dressing her down. They pause and stare at Jones. Jones, a true professional, composes himself and briskly walks down the hallway getting as far away from Tony as possible. We cut back to ringside~
Smith: Tony the Spider, ladies and gentlemen
Hood: Who is Jones to question an athlete’s diet?
Smith: I think he has every right to question Cheetos as an acceptable dietary item.
Hood: Tony has won SEVEN matches in OCW. That’s more than Tony Savage!
Smith: Apples and oranges, I’m afraid
Hood: Oh, sure, go ahead and push the fruit on poor Tony. You think the man can afford high quality produce? He’s on a five match losing streak, Smith! HARD TIMES! It’s a vicious circle, ya know
Smith: No, I don’t. Tony the Spider is set to face the promising newcomer Max Ironside later tonight. We’ll see if Tony can end his losing streak or if Max Ironside, who has an incredible background, can notch a victory in his OCW debut
"WHEN IT'S TIME TO PARTY, WE WILL PARTY HARD!"
~General Manager Mike Zybala walks out from behind the curtain and the fans explode with cheers. They love this man. He makes his way to the ring waving and high fiving along the way~
Smith: And it appears that Mr. Zybala has something to say.
Hood: Oh joy. I am soooo excited....
Smith: Sarcasm?
Hood: Sarcasm.
~Zybala has made it inside the ring and has a microphone in hand. The music stops and the fans quiet down a little~
Zybala: Hello friends! I won't take up too much time. I know you all want to get back to the action. I have two announcements I would like to make. First, there is a lot of mutters in the back of people not happy with me and the way I run things. They say negative things to each other and in interviews, but never to my face. Now, I'm not a hard guy to find. My office door is always open. If you have an issue with me, come to my office and say it to my face. Or better yet, we can come to this ring here and we can fight it out until the issue is resolved. I know that's not "management behavior", but not matter my title, I am a wrestler first. You wanna complain or call me out, I'll knock you on your ass.
Second, and more importantly, we are on the road to Social Justice! I was thinking about what matches we have had in OCW past, and how we have chosen our number one contenders on pay per views and I was wondering how we would pick a new one at Social Justice. Then it came to me. A match we have seen in other companies, but never here in O.C.W. so over the next few weeks, we are going to have some qualifing matches to see what individuals will earn their way to the p.p.v. The winners will then face each other at Social Justice in our first ever ELIMINATION CHAMBER!!
~The fans loss their minds as Zybala shouts these last words. He drops the mic and heads towards the back stage area~
Smith: Oh my God, what an announcement!!
Hood: Yeah. That idiot challenging anyone who has a problem with him being in charge. That's not what a proper G.M. should be doing. I hope he's ready to fight everyone.
Smith: Not that. The Elimination Chamber! A never before seen match here in OCW. I wonder who he is going to put in there.
Hood: I can think of at least one off the top of my head and, if the list of participants ended with that one name...I'd be cool
Smith: I'm sure you would
~We go backstage as we see PerZag walking down a hallway a while after his massive contest against Paul Paras. He holds a phone up to his ear with his right hand as he walks down the hallway~
PerZag: Hey, Lurrr, I have been trying to get in contact with you. There’s like five voice messages or something. For fuck's sake man just reply already. We have a chance at beating the shit through two fuckheads and taking OUR OCW Tag Team Championships. I need to know that you are in.
~PerZag hangs up the phone, places it in his pocket, and shakes his head. A voice echoes from behind him, so PerZag turns around, and sees a backstage crewman running up to him~
Backstage Crewman: Oh, thank god, I finally found you. I have spent the last fifteen minutes looking for you. I thought you had gone.
~PerZag, as impatient as he usually is, snaps at the crewman~
PerZag: What the fuck do you want?
Backstage Crewman: I have a message for you from Zybala.
PerZag: And what’s that?
Backstage Crewman: Mr Zybala told me, to tell you that if Lurrr does not show up by the end of next week's Massacre, then the two of you will forfeit your chance at the OCW Tag Team titles at Social Justice.
~PerZag’s shoulders drop, and he stares a blank stare into the fact of the backstage crewman. The backstage crewman lifts his hand back, and waves it in front of PerZag’s face, as PerZag stands there, frozen. Suddenly, PerZag comes back to life, grabbing the crewman by the hand, and tosses him into the wall. PerZag turns around, storming off down the hallway, talking to himself~
PerZag: For fuck's sake. Now I can lose my motherfucking shot at the fucking tag titles because I cannot get in contact with someone who won’t pick up the fucking phone. Fucking Zybala, he keeps fucking screwing me over. Fuck sakes Lurrr, pick up your phone.
~PerZag grabs his phone out of his pocket to try calling Lurrr once again as the scene fades back to Smith and Hood~
Smith: Once again these two appear to be on different pages
Hood: Hey, at least they're reading the same book
Smith: I guess...depends on how lengthy a book we're talking.
Hood: This metaphor is getting too deep
Smith: I agree...we'll have to wait and see if Lurrr will, once again, answer the call. Tag team gold? I think he might
Hood: Lurrr's all about gold...always has been, always will be
Smith: Indeed...well, folks it's time for our next match up as Tom Ambrose looks to move to 2-0 against Wallace the Windy City Weirdo
Hood: Yikes
Singles Match
Tom Ambrose (1-0) vs. Wallace (0-0)
~The crowd is still talking over the debut of Evin Empire. The kid made a big impression. Another impressive newcomer is set to return to the ring. So, they quickly turn their attention as the lighting goes from “grab concession” to “pay some fucking attention”. Belvedere clears his throat and receives a strong ovation~
Belvedere: Introducing first, Standing 6’1” and weighing 225 pounds, Tom Ambrose!!!
~Judas hits and Tom Ambrose confidently makes his way through the curtain to a smattering of boos. He looks ever so confident as he struts to the ring. Half way down the aisle he stops and motions for the camera to come closer so the people at home “can get a better look”. He smiles cockily, fixes his hair and motions for the camera to get out of his face. He climbs the ring steps and wipes his feet before he enters. Ambrose climbs to the top rope and stretches out his arms with a smug look. The fans let him have it~
Smith: That looks like the most confident man in the building tonight!
Hood: He’s definitely looking to improve on last weeks victory and move up the ranks here in OCW.
Belvedere: His opponent, Standing 6’2’’ and weighing 170 pounds.. He is the Windy City Weirdo.. This is Wallace!!!!
~Wallace rides out on a unicycle giving out giant rainbow swirl twist lollipops all down the aisle way on both sides and all around ring side, even giving them to the camera men, the commentators and the announcer as well as ring side to all fans. He stands up on the seat of the unicycle and jumps to the apron flinging himself into the ring with a series of front handsprings into a split~
Smith: I don’t know quite what we are witnessing, He is certainly living up to his moniker Hood.
Hood: I usually don’t take candy from strangers! This is no exception.
~The bell sounds and Ambrose begins the match with a hard punch to the throat. Wallace goes down and has trouble breathing. As he tries to regain his composure, Ambrose delivers a vicious curb stomp. Ambrose turns his back to Wallace and begins to play up to the crowd. Wallace kips up, He grabs Ambrose and turns him around hitting a trio of arm drags. Wallace then attempts to pin Ambrose with a bridging schoolboy~
1..
2..
KICK OUT
~Ambrose kicks out at 2 and Wallace stays on the attack, He whips Ambrose into the corner and follows up with a single arm handstand kick to the face of Ambrose, Ambrose goes down and Wallace mounts him and delivers a couple of stiff punches. While Ambrose is down he hits a split leg drop. Wallace grabs Ambrose by the hair in an attempt to lift him off the mat but Ambrose elbows him in the gut a couple of times, fighting him off. Ambrose whips him into the ropes and hits his patented float over neck breaker. While Wallace is down Ambrose begins to stomp Wallace in the head. Ambrose ascends to the middle rope and hits Wallace with a knee drop~
Smith: Ambrose has all the ability to become a major player in this company with offense like that.
Hood: That Weirdo he is facing seems to have some offensive ability in his own right.
~Ambrose picks up Wallace and hits a power bomb into a boston crab. He cinches the crab in deep. Ambrose grows more confident and let’s up slightly, Allowing Wallace to escape. Wallace is on his feet, Ambrose turns around and is nailed with a standing corkscrew pele kick. Wallace picks up Ambrose and then hits him with a moonsault fallaway slam. Ambrose smartly manages to slide to the outside of the ring~
Smith: Smart move there, Wallace took Ambrose by surprise on that exchange.
~Wallace tries to coax Ambrose back into the ring, Ambrose hops up on the apron, Jumps onto the rope and hits a flying forearm. Ambrose then grinds the heel of his boot into the left eye of Wallace. Ambrose picks up Wallace and whips him into the ropes and hits him with a super kick. Wallace falls to the mat and Ambrose climbs to the top rope. Wallace get’s up and has his back to Ambrose, who hits a HUGE codebreaker from the top rope. He covers Wallace~
1..
2..
3..
Belvedere: Here is your winner.. TOM AMBROSE!!!
~Ambrose raises his arms in victory. He looks into the camera and flashes 2 fingers, muttering “that’s two” before fixing his hair~
Smith: Ambrose with another victory
Hood: He's 2-0!
Smith: Indeed...but he's got a long way to go
Hood: This guy has potential!
Smith: Ambrose appeared much improved this week from last…if he continues this progression, he could do great things here in OCW
~In the backstage hallway, the scene opens to a nice pair of legs walking down the hallway in a pair of heels. As the camera slowly moves upward, we officially see the full appearance of OCW’s newly signed woman, Aubrey Baxter. The live crowd has a reaction of whistles and hollering as Aubrey enters a hallway filled with at least seven backstage staff workers who operates the cameras during the live shows. All seven camera men begin to notice Aubrey as she stands in the center of them. They each begin to circle around her after they were in the middle of taking a break from working. Signaling them to stand in line, they each begin to stand up against the wall inside the hallway. I guess they didn’t mind a woman being in control and giving out orders as they each remain silent and did not take their eyes off of her~
~Aubrey Baxter begins to seductively pace back and forth in the hallway. One by one she looked at each camera man with her right hand on her hip. Continuing to slowly pace, back and forth, she couldn’t help but develop a slight smirk on her face~
{Aubrey}: “Hello boys, or should I say, hello camera men. I hope OCW has been paying you guys well, because with me officially being here in OCW? I’m gonna need a lot of camera attention, because unlike some of these women? I’m actually worth being watched.”
~Standing still in the hallway, Aubrey was dressed incredibly deadly and delicious for her first appearance on Monday Night Massacre. Looking at each camera man, she continues~
{Aubrey}: “Boys, look, I don’t know how long you guys have been working here, but i’m sure you have seen your fair share of women come and go in this company. OCW has been around for years.”
~Walking in closer towards them…~
{Aubrey}: “But what I need for you boys to understand, is that Aubrey Baxter is a woman like no other. You see, i’m no rookie, i’ve been in the ring with some of the best. I’ve had broken bones and i’ve accomplished a lot to gain the attention of OCW. Now that i’m here? Things are going to get a lot more interesting around here. You see, me becoming the most dominant female in OCW will naturally evolve as I continue to breathe the air of monday night Massacre, but I want you boys to continue to roll those cameras because as of now? I’m gonna make sure that all the fans out there will be given a show.”
~crowd cheers~
{Aubrey}: “I didn’t arrive here alone, I have a man who is a pure veteran in this industry. He’s strong, he’s focused, he’s deadly and he’s still hungry after all his years of victories and championships. I also have another man, who’s new and fresh, who wants to get out there and show OCW what they have been missing. Don’t worry, they will both come soon enough, but tonight? I’m here to send the sweet message, that Aubrey Baxter is here. The first thing that i’m gonna do now that i’m here is to tighten up the grip on the amount of camera time these so called superstars get here on the show. You want heart, soul, compassion, strength, toughness and greatness? Somebody who’s fast and capable of pure OCW domination? Then continue to roll those cameras on the ones who are truly going to matter around here and one of those people? Is me.”
~Aubrey smiles devilishly, walking over towards one of the camera guys, she pins him further against the wall while placing her finger on his chest, leaning in closer~
{Aubrey}: “As of now, i’ll be on some strong supervision over who deserves to be seen and who doesn’t on monday night Massacre. You see, I believe in fighting for what you want and taking it with no questions asked. I’m just getting started, so keep those cameras rolling, you’ll be seeing a lot more of me again.”
~Stepping back, she walks away and exits the hallway. We cut back to Smith and Hood~
Smith: Aubrey Baxter is another blue chip recruit set to make her OCW debut
Hood: She's five star material, for sure
Smith: I'm speaking of her in-ring ability, Hood
Hood: Oh yea, me too
Smith: Right...she will make her OCW debut next week. As for tonight...next up we have another debut as Max Ironside takes on the struggling Tony the Spider. Let's head down to ringside!
Singles Match
Max Ironside (0-0) vs. Tony the Spider (7-6)
~The fans are enjoying a nice Monday evening. They just witnessed the Windy City Weirdo which, well, makes everything that follows seem abnormally normal in contrast. It’s a night for debuts and up and comers. The roster is stacked with young talent. The next match is no exception. Belvedere clears his throat followed by a strong crowd response~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Currently in the ring…from Emilio’s Backyard…Tony the Spider!!!
~Spider laughs while reaching into his yellow fanny pack and removing a giant cheeto puff. He throws it in his mouth and laughs while enjoying the heavily processed snack which is totally devoid of nutrition and substance~
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~"Back For More" by Five Finger Death Punch begins to play. The lights flash wildly enough to cause seizures and Max runs out, high energy in time with the chugging guitar. He looks happy to be here, to be competing in the ring and he shares that joy with every last person on the way down to the ring, high-fiving and slapping hands with fans along the ramp~
Belvedere: From Battle Creek, Michigan…standing 5’5 and weighing in at 155lbs…Max Ironside!!!
Smith: Max Ironside making his in ring debut in OCW!
Hood: Guy looks ready to go!
Smith: Indeed he does
~Belvedere exits and the bell sounds~
Smith: As I’m sure all fans are aware…Max was born with Cerebral Palsy. He doesn’t see it as an obstacle, nor as a label. It’s just part of who he is
Hood: So he’s a cripple?
Smith: HE’S NOT A CRIPPLE. He’s a Warrior…a fighter.
Hood: Well, let’s see what this crip’s got, man
Smith: Stop that! He’s got more athleticism than you could ever dream of having!
~Tony, in typical Tony the Spider fashion, heads toward Max. He laughs and offers Max a cheeto. Max politely turns the cheeto down. Not exactly a great pre…or, well, in this case..mid-match snack. Tony’s eyes narrow. He seems offended that someone would turn down his cheeto offering. His innocuous laughter develops a more sinister tone. Max notices the dark change in intonation~
Smith: Tony experiencing rejection
Hood: Shit you’d think he’d be used to it by now
Smith: I hear he takes his cheeto stash very seriously
~Tony lunges at Max! He’s going for Ironside’s face. Max backs into a corner, taken aback by Tony’s show of aggression. Max manages to push Tony’s hands away and shove The Spider back. Tony reaches into his fanny pack, pulling handfuls of Cheetos out. He throws them at Max. Ironside dodges the Cheetos while standing in the corner~
Smith: Ugh
Hood: What?
Smith: This is Ironside’s debut! Tony is making a mockery of it!
Hood: I don’t think he’s doing that on purpose. I think this is how Tony expresses his anger and RAGE
~Tony seems to have run out of ammunition. He looks into his fanny pack for reserves. Max hops onto the middle rope and leaps off, spinning in the air and smacking Tony in the face with a back elbow!!! Tony falls to the mat like a sack of fat (kinda what he is). Max pops back up to his feet, smiling. He’s feeling good~
Smith: There we go! It must feel great to be in that ring doing what he loves
Hood: He also avoided the Cheetos
Smith: Yes, I suppose there is that
~Ironside heads toward the nearest corner, looking to show off. The crowd is behind him, aware of his backstory. He hustles to the top. Tony is still on the mat. Max leaps off and performs a corkscrew elbow drop (One-Armed Bandit )!!! The fans go wild!!! Ironside pops back to his feet, continuing to show the ebullience of a man doing what he loves~
Smith: Alright! What athleticism! Now we’re talking! An athlete rather than a cheeto eating freak!
Hood: Whoa! Talk like that and you’ll alienate 46% of our audience
~Max helps Tony to his feet. He slaps him in the face a few times to ‘wake him up.’ Tony shakes his head, dazed. He tries to laugh but is having trouble. Max pats him on the chest in a friendly manner before backing up and hitting the ropes. He bounces off, charges at Tony, grabs him by the head and drops him with a Facebreaker Knee Smash (Han-decapitation)!!! Tony’s body flips back, hitting the mat hard. Max makes the cover…the crowd is cheering the man on. Scruff slides in with the count~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…MAX IRONSIDE!!!!!
Smith: Decisive win for Max Ironside!
Hood: Yea, he made Tony pay for eating those Cheetos
Smith: Welcome to OCW, Max! Here’s hoping you can enjoy a long and prosperous career
Hood: Kid’s got a chance to be the most over guy in the company. Which means I’ll likely shit all over his existence.
Smith: At least you are self-aware
~Zybala sits peacefully at his desk, getting some work done. After a few moments, the door slowly opens. Mack O'Connor calmly walks in, eyeing Zybala. Zybala glances up from his work, gives Mack a nod, then gets back to it.
Zybala: Mr. O'Connor.
Mack: Zybala.
Zybala: How can I help you?
Mack: Just a quick question...
Zybala: Sure.
~Mack waits for Zybala to stop working and pay more attention. Alas, Zybala does not. Mack gives in~
Mack: I was just wondering, now that you're running the show, whether or not OCW recognizes the Freebird Rule.
Zybala: That's a good question.
Mack: Yeah, because a couple years back Meyhu and O'Donnell won the Tag Titles. Then later, since they were part of the Aptitude, Meyhu and Tartare were...
Zybala: Tartare?
~Mack lets out a sigh~
Mack: The Incredible One.
Zybala: Got it.
Mack: Anyway... Meyhu and Tartare went on to defend the tag titles. And Tartare is technically a recognized Tag Champion because of the Freebird Rule.
Zybala: I don't know where I stand... Why do you ask?
~Zybala looks up from his work and stares down Mack for a moment. Mack is hesitant to respond~
Zybala: Why do you as, Mack?
Mack: Well... With the recent announcement of Vargas and Grenier being crowned the Tag Champions, I'm just saying that-
Zybala: Mack...
Mack: The three of us are a squad, Mike! So am I a Tag Champion or what?!
Zybala: I think this conversation is over.
Mack: What about my Craze Title shot?
Zybala: We're done talking.
Mack: I'm getting that Grand Slam one way or the other, Zybala!
Zybala: Get out of my office.
~Mack grabs a chair and gently pushes it over. He looks at Zybala as if to say "Look at that!" Zybala looks confused~
Zybala: What was that?
Mack: That's me trashing the place. I'm just gonna leave it at that out of respect for Greg.
Zybala: Okay?
~Mack storms out, slamming the door behind him. Zybala lets out a sigh and goes back to work. He pauses and picks up his phone~
Mike Zybala: Yes, it's Zybala. I was just wondering if anyone has seen Greg. Shopping? Well, let's hope he's at Office Max and not...whatever clothing store is trendy this time of year.
~Zybala hangs up and we cut back to Smith and Hood~
Smith: Mack is determined to get that Grand Slam
Hood: He's swinging for the fences...although I don't think this Freebird route will get him to his promised land
Smith: Doesn't seem like it will...the Craze Title is likely his best case scenario. It just depends on if Zybala will grant the match
Hood: Why wouldn't he?
Smith: Mack's great...but he isn't the ONLY wrestler in this company with championship aspirations
Hood: There you go, shitting all over Mack like he's Wallace
Smith: Whatever...anyway, it's time to move on. Our next in ring contest between Nico Gamble and Chelsea LeClair is set to take place!
Singles Match
Chelsea LeClair (1-0) vs. Nico Gamble (0-0)
~"Chelsea" by STEFY hits and the crowd boos loudly as Chelsea LeClair comes through the curtains accompanied by her publicist Cynthia Winters, who is carrying a clipboard.~
Hood: Crap, crap, crap, we got a match going on...
Smith: ...are you eating nachos at the commentary desk?
Hood: It's a table with a sheet on it. And I was gonna before this chick came out here and messed my plans up.
~Chelsea scoffs on the stage before she and walks down the ramp with Cynthia walking behind her, completely ignoring the fans as she wastes little time getting into the ring. Once she gets there, she walks up the steps and stands on the apron, pausing for both a quick photo op with photographers conveniently stationed at ringside and to soak in some more heat from the crowd. Scoffing once more, she steps between the ropes and heads for the corner, ready to take care of business.~
Hood: Oh my god...I just realized, her name is Chelsea and the name of her entrance music is Chelsea. That's just...
Smith: Completely irrelevant to her wrestling ability?
Hood: Yeah, sure, that too.
~Mad World by Gary Jules hits the airwaves. "The Regulator" Nico Gamble slowly makes his way out onto the stage wearing his purple and gold robe. As he places his arms behind his back, he takes in the crowds loud boo's before making his way slowly down the aisle.~
Smith: Nico Gamble looks ready to go...
Hood: Was that a shoot? Because that sounded like a shoot.
Smith: I meant, he looks ready to compete.
Hood: Okay, now you're just messing with me.
~As he reaches ringside, he calls over the referee to remove his robe before he walks around ringside. Nico.. comes full circle before making his way up the staircase then through the middle rope into the ring. The music fades as Nico remains standing in the middle of the ring with his arms behind his back.~
Hood: Most people hire somebody to do that for them.
Smith: Who does this guy think he is? The referee isn't his personal wardrobe assistant!
Hood: This should be a great matchup.
~The bell rings to begin the match, with Chelsea and Nico both more interested in jawing with fans than wrestling each other.
Hood: A jerk the fans don't like against a witch the fans don't like. The only one in there these people might care about is the referee!
Smith: Neither Chelsea LeClair nor Nico Gamble have been too concerned with what the fans thought about them during their time here in OCW...and here we go, they're finally getting ready to make something happen here in the ring...
~The referee has reminded both of them of the task at hand, and they meet in the center of the ring finally.~
Smith: And Nico Gamble starts off strong, pushing Chelsea back to the ropes...Irish whip...
Hood: You know, until you see 'em next to each other you really don't think about the size difference...
~During the commentary, Nico hits a big back body drop onto Chelsea, who rolls over onto her stomach. Nico crosses to the adjacent side of the ring, leaping over her.~
Hood:...and you realize, this is why a lot of men aren't comfortable striking a woman. Nico isn't even a great big man in wrestling terms, but he is double the size of Chelsea LeClair!
Smith: Which means Chelsea could be twice as fast as he is.
~Back on her feet, Chelsea now is the one to leapfrog Nico. Nico, however, elects to keep on trucking to the opposite set of ropes and try again.~
Hood: Good, that'll come in handy if she tries to run away and get the countout-
Smith: HURRICANRANA! Great move by LeClair! There's that speed coming into play!
Hood! Good, because Nico's back up already!
~A standing dropkick is waiting for Nico when he turns around. Chelsea steps back quickly towards the corner, getting a small running start at being caught with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker. Nico shoves her off his knee and onto the canvas, where many of the fans show disdain and he returns with a death glare.~
Hood: Yeah being fast is nice and all, but eventually the fly swatter gets the fly.
~Nico pulls Chelsea up by the hair, getting a small yell and a "motherfucker!" in the process. He lays right back down onto her, bending the lower back while pulling up in a chinlock. Chelsea begins her struggle to find a way out.~
Hood: Yep, just lay on her and remind her who's in charge!
Smith: Dude, I'm no feminist, but that's kind of misogynistic.
Hood: No it isn't. He's the bigger man, he's the more experienced, and he's in control of this match.
~Chelsea pulls on the arm, but Nico has the hold pretty well locked in.~
Smith: Don't forget, folks, we still have that big main event coming up with "Marvelous" Mario Maurako and The Big Bifford still to come tonight on Massacre...
Hood: You know, sometimes I wonder if we tell them to put people in these long boring holds, just so we can plug the rest of the show. I mean, look at this. It's a freaking chinlock. Chelsea LeClair is flat on her stomach, and Nico's laying all of his weight on her back while he's squeezing on her neck. AND he weighs more than she does!
Smith: That doesn't mean anything...
Hood: Tell that to Chelsea right now! You think she's optimistic about being the smaller competitior right this second! Look!
~Chelsea is indeed unable to push up and release the hold. However, she is able to swing her legs around, getting onto one knee and then bringing up the other, to force a standing position and turning the chinlock into a side headlock.~
Smith: Yeah! Look! Chelsea LeClair has found a way!
~Nico underhooks an arm, and appears to be going for the other one.~
Smith: The Regulator might have something up his sleeve...double underhook suplex coming up, maybe?
~And he calls it, as Nico goes up for a double underhook suplex...~
Smith: REVERSAL INTO A THREE QUARTER CUTTER!
Hood: Three quarter cutter? That's what that move is actually called?
Smith: Chelsea straight to the top turnbuckle now...
~Chelsea wasted absolutely zero seconds getting into the air, leaping off with a textbook perfect corkscrew moonsault! She hooks a leg, and the referee makes the count.~
1!
2!
3!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner....CHELSEA LECLAIR!!!!!
Smith: And Nico Gamble has just...been...CANCELLED!
Hood: Holy crap, that was so freakin' corny, but at the same time, that's the truth...ring the bell, this one's over.
~Chelsea refuses to let the referee touch her, opting to raise her own hands instead. Exiting the ring, she is heard clearly saying "too easy...too easy, this is just too easy..."~
Smith: Told you, her speed would make the difference!
Hood: Yeah, yeah, bet you she can't do it again!
Smith: Well, if she keeps this up in OCW, she might have to! Chelsea LeClair might not like wrestling, but she's apparently got a knack for it! Stick around, still plenty more to come!
~We fade in backstage to an image of the OCW World Champion, Paul Paras, which causes the crowd collected in the OCW arena to pipe up with an audible cheer. He is backstage in what appears his own private locker room. He is seated, cross-legged, with his OCW Title laying on the floor in front of him. His eyes are closed, his hands are rested on his knees. From his phone on a nearby coffee table, soft ambient music lilts through the air. Behind him, the door to the locker room opens slightly. The head of Silver Cyanide pokes itself inside. This elicits a more negative response from the collected fans. Cyanide slowly opens the door and steps inside, then gently closes it behind him. He peers around the room as Paul sits, his back still to Cyanide, eyes still closed. Cyanide spies Paul’s gym bag on a large, soft, comfy chair near him. Cyanide tip-toes over to it and slowly unzips it. He peers inside, reaches in, and pulls out what appears to be a wallet. Cyanide grins savagely and pulls a twenty dollar bill out.~
Paul Paras: Hello, Cyanide.
~Cyanide leaps about three feet in the air, juggling Paul’s wallet in the process and quickly depositing it and the twenty bucks back inside the bag. Paul slowly opens his eyes and turns to look at Cyanide, who has quickly and nonchalantly reclined on the big comfy chair...and on top of Paul’s gym bag.~
Silver Cyanide: Oh, hi Paul! I didn’t see you there. What are the chances?! We have to stop meeting like this. How’s your...brotheerrrrr????
~Cyanide coughs.~
Silver Cyanide: You have a brother, right?
Paul Paras: Shay’s husband, Ryan.
Silver Cyanide: Yeah, Ryan! Good ol’ Ryan. Heck of a guy, Ryan. Talked to him a few months ago, and he said to tell you hello. How’s Ryan these days?
Paul Paras: He was murdered in 2009. You fought at his tribute show.
~Cyanide coughs considerably more loudly and repeatedly, to the point of Paras standing up from his meditation, perhaps out of annoyance or to make sure Cyanide isn’t in need of a ventilator. Finding Cyanide is not dying any faster than normal, Paras returns to his usual calm state.~
Paul Paras: What brings you here, Steve?
Silver Cyanide: Wait, Steve’s here too?
Paul Paras: That’s your name.
Silver Cyanide: Oh, right.
~Paul eyes Cyanide warily as he stands up out of the big comfy chair, trying to discreetly hide Paras’ wallet and bag under a cushion. The two longtime friends go face-to-face.~
Silver Cyanide: All right...here’s the deal. I know you and Mario are tight. And that’s cool! You’ve known each other for a long time. Longer than I’ve known either of you. So I think it would only make sense that of all people, you should notice what’s happening to him.
Paul Paras: I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.
Silver Cyanide: Remember last week? Remember how he looked at your belt? His congratulations to you were obviously an afterthought. And don’t you think it’s weird how he was so awkward around the belt, and how he didn’t want to touch it? It’s like the Stanley Cup, bro. You don’t touch it til you win it. And he still thinks he can win it. Mario is coming for you, Paul, and he’s gonna kill himself in the process. I’m trying to save your legacy and his life.
~Paras appears dreamily thoughtful as he slowly glides over to the OCW World Title belt and picks it up, placing it over his shoulder as he returns to Cyanide.~
Paul Paras: Perhaps Mario’s actions are simply those of a confused spirit. One that has sought vengeance against the sizeable Bifford for so long that it has lost its way. I understand a thing or two about having a goal that seems to elude you for decades before it finally is within your grasp. It causes you to act… outside of yourself. You do some desperate things.
~Paul looks down at his World Title, and then back at Cyanide, whose eyes are quite obviously darting toward the belt intermittently as well.~
Paul Paras: You wouldn’t know anything about acting out in unusual ways out of desperation, would you, Steve?
Silver Cyanide: No, of course not. I’ve never acted in an unusual way in my life.
~Cyanide continues to glance at the World Title. Paras smirks tranquilly.~
Paul Paras: Touch it.
~Cyanide’s eyes light up as he awkwardly stammers to change the subject. Paras has none of it.~
Paul Paras: Go on. You can do it. I believe in you. It’s not like you’re “coming for me” like Mario is, after all. It’s not like the Stanley Cup or anything where it would curse your chances of ever winning it again… right?
Silver Cyanide: I… uhh…
~With Paras’ Zenlike gaze egging him on, Cyanide slowly reaches out his hand toward the title belt. Sweat begins to pool on his forehead and his hand shakes like Key West was experiencing an earthquake. His fingers just centimeters from the gold faceplate, he jolts his hand back like it touched a hot stove.~
Silver Cyanide: I JUST REMEMBERED I HAVE THE FLU. Sorry buddy, I don’t want to get you sick or anything.
Paul Paras: Right.
~They stand awkwardly for an extended moment as Cyanide produces a vaguely-believable sneeze. Thankfully, the awkwardness is broken by the locker room door opening. In walks the same dark-haired girl we saw with Paras last week on Massacre, carrying a pair of green smoothies. She stops to glance back-and-forth between the two men.~
Raleigh: Should I have bought three smoothies? Or was one not for me?
~Paras shakes his head, motioning for her to come in.~
Paul Paras: Never to worry. Steve, this is Raleigh Falkner. Raleigh, this is one of my oldest and dearest friends, Silver Cyanide. He was just…
Silver Cyanide: Leaving. Gotta go tend to this nasty pneumonia.
Paul Paras: Flu.
Silver Cyanide: That too. Paul, just think about what I said.
~Cyanide quickly backs out of the room as Raleigh eyes him suspiciously and Paras takes a sip of smoothie as if nothing has happened. Cyanide closes the door before almost immediately popping his head back in.~
Silver Cyanide: Oh and, uh...can I borrow twenty bucks?
Paul Paras: You already did.
Silver Cyanide: Dammit.
~Cyanide tosses the $20 bill back into the room and shuts the door behind him as Paras and Raleigh enjoy their smoothies.~
Smith: Cyanide is running around backstage creating havoc
Hood: I wouldn't call that havoc. But the guy is up to something
Smith: Why can't people just leave Mario alone? All the man wants is to get one more shot at the OCW Title. That's it
Hood: I'd be all for that, but, again, he's got to earn it
Smith: Earn it? He's a two time Hall of Famer! The man has given more to OCW than just about any other wrestler. He's already earned it, several times over!
Hood: Look, if he beats Bifford tonight, then we can talk
Smith: You speak as though you have some sort of say
Hood: I am the official voice of OCW
Smith: Ha! Don't make me laugh...anyway, Cyanide continues to hang around backstage with questionable motives. Paras seems to be recuperating nicely after his hard fought win over PerZag earlier this evening. And, as for Mario...he's got a massive test awaiting him in this evening's main event
Hood: Quit fat shaming Biff!
Smith: I'm not fat shaming anyone! And thanks for that...not exactly the smoothest transition from an accusation of fat shaming to our next match. Speaking of our next match...huh, would you look at that...
Hood: What?
Smith: It's Silver Cyanide taking on Mfer!
Hood: Time for AgCN to notch a win!
Smith: Let's head down to ringside!
Singles Match
Silver Cyanide (2-2) vs. Mfer (0-2)
~The lights go dim and the crowd begins to buzz as to what could possibly be coming next. The sound of a spaceship and lasers fills the arena and out from behind the curtain steps none other than MFer…Man From Eleventh Realm. He makes his way down to the ring and climbs in as the crowd ceases buzzing.~
Belvedere: Ladies and gentlemen, now approaching the ring…from a small planet in the eleventh realm, standing nearly two million microns tall and of an unknown weight…MFer!!!
Smith: Well, there he is, Hood. MFer, here in OCW to…I am not sure what he’s here to do.
Hood: He’s here to be a weirdo freak alien bitch! That’s what he’s here for!
FEEL GOO—FEEL GOO—FEEL GOO—FFFFFFFFFFF
Belvedere: And his opponent, from Boston, Massachusetts, standing at six feet two inches and weighing in at 220 pounds or approximately 73 fairly-large ducks…Silver Cyanide!!!
Smith: This is Cyanide’s first singles match in OCW in more than a decade!
Hood: What a treat! We could’ve seen him kicking Mario Maurako’s ass, but instead we get to see him beating up on an extra terrestrial!
Smith: Looks like he’s subtly taunting Mario by wearing that replica OCW belt to the ring!
~Cyanide enters the ring, clearly offended at the response of the fans. It’s a very different response than he got at Throwback. He gestures and yells at the fans in the front row before turning around and coming face to face with MFer, who has slowly walked up behind him. Cyanide leaps into the air and recoils from MFer, almost falling back through the ropes in the process. He looks over at Scruff in annoyance and yells at him to get MFer back into his corner. Scruff just shrugs and Cyanide gives MFer a solid push to the chest. MFer staggers backwards and appears to nod slowly and thoughtfully, tapping his chin. Scruff calls for the bell.~
Smith: And we’re off! Looks like MFer trying to get into the head of Cyanide early to get an advantage!
Hood: Are you kidding? This freak has no idea what he’s doing! He’s not of this world, Smith, he’s of the eleventh realm!
Smith: What IS the eleventh realm?
Hood: Why the fuck are you asking me?! I’ve never watched Star Trek!
~Cyanide approaches MFer in a crouch, ready to lock up. As he makes a lunge for him, though, MFer does an about face and climbs through the ropes, leaving Cyanide grasping at air. Cyanide throws his hands in the air as MFer reaches under the ring. Cyanide protests to Scruff until he sees MFer pop back up holding a plastic ray gun. MFer climbs back up the steps and gets back in the ring. Cyanide and Scruff are staring at him in bewilderment. He points the ray gun at Cyanide slowly.~
MFer: ZAP!!!
~Cyanide and Scruff look at each other. Scruff just shrugs. Cyanide turns back to MFer, who ZAP!!!s Cyanide again, to which Cyanide responds with a running lariat, turning MFer inside out and sending the ray gun bouncing across the ring.~
Smith: HUGE lariat by AgCN!
Hood: Never bring a ray gun to a lariat fight!
~Cyanide picks MFer up from the mat and backs him into the corner. He goes to whip him to the opposite corner, but MFer reverses it. Cyanide’s back smacks into the opposite turnbuckle as MFer comes flying in with a splash. Thinking quickly, Cyanide ducks out of the way and MFer clocks himself on the top turnbuckle, stumbling backwards into a rollup by Cyanide!~
1!
2!
KICKOUT!!!
~Shaking his head, Cyanide picks MFer back up, attempting to hook him up for the Silver Lining STO, but MFer gives him a couple of elbows to the head. Cyanide seems more annoyed than anything and pushes him away. MFer reaches down to the mat and picks the ray gun back up and points it at Cyanide. He, and the entire arena, both exclaim in unison…~
MFer: ZAP!!!
~The look of exasperation on Cyanide’s face is extreme. In one quick, fluid motion, he delivers a pretty good looking roundhouse kick to the ray gun, sending it flying. As MFer stares off at the ray gun bouncing across the ring, Cyanide plants himself again and delivers a superkick straight to his chin!~
Smith: Wow what a combo by AgCN! Looking good for an old timer!
Hood: There’s no way MFer is getting up after that!
1!
2!
KICKOUT!!!
Smith: Unbelievable! How did MFer get out of that?!
Hood: Cyanide chose not to finish the pin! That was his choice!
~Cyanide throws his arms up in the air, then delivers a couple of stiff elbows to the prone MFer. Out of the corner of his eye, he spies the ray gun laying in the corner. He gets to his feet and makes his way over to it, slowly picks it up, and turns to face MFer, who is slowly getting to his feet.~
Hood: This is a real turn! Cyanide using MFer’s own weapons against him!
~Cyanide raises the ray gun and points it at MFer’s chest. MFer gathers his wits and begins walking towards Cyanide…who raises the ray gun into the air and brings it down on top of MFer’s head, shattering the ray gun! MFer collapses to the mat!~
Cyanide: “ZAP” YOURSELF, FREAK!
~Cyanide falls down on top of MFer and hooks his leg. Scruff drops to the mat!~
1!
2!
3!!!!
Belvedere: Ladies and gentlemen here is your winner…SILVER CYANIDE!!!!
Smith: Cyanide with his first singles win since returning to OCW!
Hood: Give this man an OCW Title shot!
Smith: HEY! You were saying earlier that Mario had to earn his!
Hood: He does
Smith: And, yet, Cyanide just gets one like that?
Hood: Cyanide just defeated a mother fucking alien, Smith. I think he's done enough.
Smith: You really think that's an alien?
~Cyanide, as if hearing Hood and Smith's banter, turns toward Mfer. Mfer is laying there. It's impossible to tell if his eyes are open or shut. We just see two black rectangular spots where his eyes are supposed to be. AgCN drops to one knee and reaches for Mfer's neck~
Smith: What's he doing?!
Hood: Just confirming the kill, Smith
~Cyanide rips at the fabric, creating a tear. He yanks and yanks, ripping it further and further until he removes the head from Mfer's costume. The crowd gasps with shock. Cyanide looks down, surprised~
Smith: Oh my gosh!
Hood: Not quite an alien, but close
~OUR POV switches and we zoom in to see TLS!!! The crowd goes wild!! TLS reaches out, grabbing Cyanide around the throat!! Cyanide's eyes widen. TLS sits up, maintaining his grip~
Smith: It's The Lost Soul! He's back!
Hood: Ohhh shit!
~TLS is apparently trying to choke Cyanide unconscious. Cyanide throws a kick into the knee of TLS. TLS releases Cyanide, allowing the OCW Hall of Famer to hit the mat and roll out of the ring. TLS rushes toward the ropes, full of anger and aggression. Cyanide throws his hands at the ring and marches up the ramp, in no mood to deal with The Lost Soul. The crowd breaks into a "TLS!" chant, happy to see the veteran back in an OCW ring~
Smith: TLS just sent Cyanide packing!
Hood: Has he been Mfer all this time?
Smith: I...hope not
Hood: True...Mfer did vanish and now he's back. TLS probably abducted Mfer, gave him to the government, created a costume, dressed up like him all in an attempt to steal Cyanide's OCW Title shot
Smith: Cyanide is not getting an OCW Title shot based off that one win!
Hood: Dude, he just beat TLS!
Smith: Ugh...I...ah! TLS is back folks and I've got a feeling he's going to be better than ever. I'd like to speak more about this but my partner is testing the limits of my sanity. Let's head backstage!
~We cut to the back in the OCW arena boiler room where Alice Knight and OCW head of security Knux can be seen on all fours looking for something on the floor. Knux looking uninterested using a magnified glass while Alice used large lenses glasses and holding a large mason jar with crusty yellow stains around it. Knux abruptly sighs. Alice quickly picks up on his impatience~
Alice: What?
Knux: What? You ask me what? Really?
~Alice adjusts herself to where she is on her knees looking down at the giant Knux~
Alice: Well KNUX! This is by far the worst idea you have ever had! Looking for cockroaches to cheer up ol' Roach with mustard jars? What were you thinking??? YOU'RE FIRED KNUX!!
Knux: Well I guess I will pack my things and... WAIT A MINUTE! THIS WAS YOUR IDEA! How the hell did you convince me to do this anyway?
Alice: Money? Favors? Hypnosis?
Knux: Nope... I'm outta here...
Alice: Please don't leave. Look, okay, I feel terrible for pretty much causing Roach to get the pin fall at Throwback. I have no idea how to make it up to the big goof. I thought about maybe baking him a cake. But I ran out of pickles. And then I thought of just buying him a funny t-shirt. Like "F.B.I. Female Body Inspector" which would have been hilarious. But the my usual t-shirt guy -slash-dentist is out of town. So i thought he'd dig some LIVING cockroaches to eat or just kill at his own will, whatever he does with them. But these disgusting buggers die whenever my empty jar of what use to hold my homemade mustard in gets near them... they DIE. I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do now?
Knux: Do you ever listen to yourself? I'm gone. Good luck, Alice... I guess?
Alice: Wait... wait...
~Knux starts to leave. Alice spots a rusted, cracking spot near the bottom of a dumpster. A giant MUFFLES doll is hanging from the side. Some disillusioned fan obviously threw it away eons ago when Muffles unmasked. Alice isn't looking at that, however...she's staring at the rusted out hole~
Knux: No, I'm not kicking that
Alice: I couldn't perhaps bribe you with a can, certainly not this one...but another can of my homemade mustard, could I?
Knux: No
~Alice walks over and kicks at the dumpster. A bunch of roaches spill out. She hurries to grab one, only able to snare the fattest, slowest of the bunch~
Alice: Let's name him Biff
~She throws the roach in her mustard jar~
Alice: Alright this should...
~The roach crawls around, touches some of the old mustard residue and instantly falls over, dead~
Alice: Dang it
~Alice turns the mustard jar over, disposing of the dead roach~
Knux: C'mon, let's head back inside. If something happens to you out here Zybala will be pissed.
~They turn to leave. But, something catches Alice's well trained OWL like eye. The other roaches emerge from underneath the dumpster, scurrying toward the dead, fat roach~
Alice: Aww, they are going to bury their fallen friend. How...eww
~The roaches start to eat at the dead body~
Knux: Give me that
~Knux, realizing a golden opportunity when he sees it, snares the mustard jar and fills it to the top with tons of cannibalistic roaches. He quickly screws the cap back on and hands it to Alice~
Knux: There...you happy?
Alice: You think Roach might be offended if we give him cannibal roaches?
Knux: I don't really think it will matter
~Alice holds the jar up into the sky, proud of her roach collection. An owl soars through the air, it's heroic screech fills the night sky~
Smith: How thoughtful
Hood: Giving a guy a bunch of roaches...that's disgusting
Smith: The guy's name is Roach, Hood
Hood: IT'S DISGUSTING. You know what else is disgusting? Her homemade mustard. What is IN that shit. Aren't roaches supposed to survive a nuclear blast?
Smith: I'm no entomologist
Hood: Huh? Are you at least an insectooligist?
Smith: That's not a word
ARE YOU READY?!
~“Are You Ready” by Disturbed blasts out the sound system as the OCW crowd cheers for the arrival of the Incredible One. He comes out to the stage, accompanied by his canine companion November. TIO makes his way down the ramp and whistles, causing November to sit down at the base of the ring. TIO steps into the ring as a video package is shown quickly of TIO’s assault on CJ O’Donnell, focusing on him pushing CJ off the stage in a wheelchair and performing a piledriver on the concrete floor. TIO motions for his music to stop as he grabs a mic.~
TIO: I feel like I’ve been on repeat, like a broken record, for the past couple of weeks but since the special announcement earlier in the show - I feel I need to repeat myself once again. There is one reason I’ve returned and that’s not to go on some revenge tour with CJ O’Donnell. He may be bent out of shape with his lack of in-ring success since returning, and he wants to take it out on me, but I’m not going to entertain that. He said some personal shit, and even though he lied just as much as the President, he still needed to be taught to keep his mouth shut. Now that I’ve taken him out though; time to go back to the original plan… the OCW Championship.
~The crowd cheers as TIO nods his head, looking fired up and ready.~
TIO: For those keeping score, I lost the OCW Championship to Matt Meyhu in a Sixty Minute Iron Man Match where Meyhu won at the very - last - second. I’m not making excuses, I lost, but barely. Did I get a rematch? No. I didn’t complain then because I had things going on in my life but I am here now to get what is due to me and that is a title shot. A former champion who never got the opportunity to get his title back? It’s wrong. Zybala had a great man for the job and what does he do? He announces an Elimination Chamber. I made it clear that I want the OCW Championship title shot after Social Justice. I also made it clear I would go through anyone who gets in my way of my goal. I beat Harrison last week, so I should already qualify for this. Let’s make this official then… Zybala, get out here, and announce me as the first qualifier for the Elimination Chamber.
~TIO lowers the mic as the crowd cheer but some boo due to TIO’s blatant demand for a title shot. TIO yells again off-mic for Zybala to show his face as TIO leans over the ropes, yelling to the stage. The crowd begins to boo heavily when instead of Zybala appearing, “The Distinguished” CJ O’Donnell is wheeled out onto the stage, with a cast on his leg and a neck brace on. CJ goes to speak but he winces in pain, holding his neck. TIO scoffs, laughing loudly before directing himself to CJ in anger.~
TIO: CJ, you’re the most pathetic piece of shit I’ve ever seen. If I were you I’d get off the stage before you talk yourself into another ass-whooping again.
CJ O’Donnell: Some hero you are? Attacking a man who is unable to defend himself. Not once but twice. I can understand the first time at Throwback but last Monday was completely uncalled for. I came out here telling you the truth …
~ A brief pause from The Distinguished. ~
CJ O’Donnell: … And well I guess it struck a nerve. I can’t help your wife was the definition of what you call a whore. I guess The Incredible One isn’t so incredible where it matters the most.
~ CJ tries to laugh but the movement hurts him and he grabs at his neck. ~
CJ O’Donnell: And now you are out here pleading your case to Zybala. You are basically on your knees begging for a spot in that match. Geez I guess you are picking up exactly where your wife left off. Now I can see why your daughter abandoned you because you are not a man. You are nothing but …
~CJ points at TIO in the ring. ~
CJ O’Donnell: A FRAUD! Nothing that comes out of your mouth should Zybala believe. You want everything handed to you just like in Boardwalk just because of your name. Fuck your name. You want a spot in the match then earn it. Put your big boy pants on and be a man. Stop being a little bitch that you have become. You should have retired when your old lady went under six feet.
~ TIO has had enough and exits the ring. He starts running up the ramp as Knux suddenly appears. TIO grabs the wheelchair as CJ is pleading with TIO not to push him over again. TIO gets a running start and Knux jumps in front of the wheelchair about six feet from the edge. TIO has this crazed look in his eyes as Knux is trying to talk to him. TIO is shaking his head no and tries to push past Knux but Knux is not budging. ~
Knux: Let him go TIO.
~ As more officials and security come from the back to plead with The Incredible One. He has finally let go of the wheelchair and starts to back off. He looks around as the fans are chanting .. Push Him Off … He Deserves It. TIO goes to grab the wheelchair again and Knux is standing right there. As another security guard wheels CJ to the back who has a smirk on his face. The fans begin to boo as CJ gives them the middle finger as he exits through the curtain.~
Smith: I'm no CJ fan...but I'm glad Knux was able to transition from the back alley to the stage area in time to prevent another injury
Hood: CJ is speaking the truth. You see what the truth gets you, Smith?
Smith: Devastating injuries?
Hood: A long term, front row seat at any parking location
Smith: That's just too offensive for me to process right now. But it's apparent Zybala's announcement has produced a bit of blood in the OCW waters. The sharks are out, looking to take a bite out of the prize
Hood: You think we might see all three former Aptitude members in the Chamber?
Smith: It's a possibility, Hood
~The scene opens up backstage in the co-office of General Manager Mike Zybala and Commissioner Greg. It is definitely more purple than the last time we saw it. Not an ugly purple, more like lilac. We see Zybala’s desk and next to it, an erect fold out table with bags from (where ever Greg likes to shop) The door opens and in walks Zybala. He closes the door behind him, looks around the office and shrugs at the color before he notices the table devoid of any office supplies, but not of shopping bags. He sighs and shakes his head as he makes his way to his desk. Zybala sits in his chair and turns on his computer when the door opens and in walks Greg with an armful of more shopping bags. He stops when he sees Zybala and smiles sheepishly. Zybala looks at Greg as if a stern parent and gestures at the table~
Zybala: Care to explain these “office supplies” Greg?
~Greg carefully places his shopping bags atop the desk. There isn’t much room. He slowly and quietly tries to make room for all the bags, as though he’s afraid any noise might further anger Zybala. The bags are wedged onto the table. They bump and scratch against each other.. Zybala lets out a sigh, finding this entire charade unnecessary. Greg squeezes four bags onto the limited surface. He’s got one left - it’s a big one. He slowly ekes it onto the top. Part of the bag is hanging over the edge. He slowly removes his hands from the back...it starts to tip over. His hands re-grip, keeping the bag from falling. He shoves it a little further onto the top, making room. As he does, a bag on the other side falls and tumbles atop the office floor. Zybala looks at Greg...Greg looks at Zybala. Greg removes his hands...the bags fit. He stands upright, wiping some sweat from his brow. Zybala walks over, bends down and picks up what fell - a bag full of shoes. They all appear uniform in size, shape, and color~
Zybala: Greg?
Greg: I know to the untrained eye those look the same. But, trust me, they each have their own vivid personality.
~Zybala drops the bag, upright, onto the floor. It lands safely. He sits down, rubbing his forehead~
Zybala: Is it all spent?
Greg: Heaven’s no! This man knows how to shop, Mikey! This is, maybe, half the amount.
~Zybala starts to ask for the card back. Greg interrupts him~
Greg: I heard your announcement earlier. So exciting!
~Greg’s trick works. Zybala is distracted~
Zybala: You think so? Thanks. The first Elimination Chamber match in OCW history. I know it's been done in other promotions, but the fans really enjoy it, so I figured why not.
Greg: Tremendous idea about the qualifying match ups, if I do say so myself. That’s some strong leadership.
~Zybala nods. He realizes what's going on now. The compliments might be genuine, but they are laced with distraction. Zybala lets Greg continue~
Greg: Do you think maybe I could announce my very own qualifying match?
~Zybala is caught off guard with this request~
Zybala: What? You wrestling?
Greg: No you silly goose! I meant between two wrestlers of my choosing.
~Zybala ponders this for a moment.~
Zybala: You know what? Instead of vetoing it like Marcus would have done right away if I asked that, I'll instead make you a deal. If you promise to spend what's left on that card on actual office supplies and not clothes, shoes, accessories or what-have-you, you can pick two wrestlers.
~Greg pauses, pondering this deal. He’s already got the rest of the money on that card spent, mentally. He begins to question some of his purchases. Had he KNOWN he was on more of a budget he might not have sprung for the winter edition boots. I mean, it’s February for goodness sakes. Greg seems to be on the verge of declining~
Greg: I don’t know, Mikey. How about…
~His phone instantly buzzes. Greg reaches for it, pulling it out of his super tight jeans. He looks at the screen and sighs with a hint of disappointment~
Greg: It’s a deal.
~Zybala takes note of the disappointment and softens his tone.~
Zybala: Look Greg, I know you had your heart set on more stuff, but you're a commissioner now. You can't spend corporate money willy nilly. It sets a bad example for the guys and gals in the back. It's your time to be a shining example of leadership that everyone can trust and look up to. Do you understand buddy?
~ Greg nods and looks at his buzzing phone. Zybala nods at him.~
Zybala: You go ahead and take that. I got some paperwork I have to fill out for the chamber. We'll talk later.
~Greg exits, answering his phone in the process. We’re unable to hear any portion of the conversation, transitioning promptly from the scene at hand back to Hood and Smith~
Smith: All that money, gone to waste
Hood: Shoes are like pens, you can never have too many, Smith. Or so I've been told by a number of now ex-encounters
Smith: I do find it interesting that Greg wants to name a qualifying match.
Hood: Guy is really turning into quite the commish
Smith: Are you sure he's got full autonomy in his role? You don't think a certain someone is influencing him?
Hood: He's no Scientologist, Smith. Tom Cruise doesn't have a hand in what's going down out here in Key West
Smith: That's not what I meant and you know it. Anyway, I guess we'll get that announcement a little later tonight. In the mean time we've got more in ring action! The undefeated, number one contender for the Paradigm Title - Kitty Petrova is in action against Crazy Chris, next!
Singles Match
Kitty Petrova (4-0) vs. Crazy Chris (3-2)
~The fans are enjoying themselves. By this point in the evening the beer is certainly flowing. People’s inhibitions are loosening…their cheers are growing louder and more frequent while waning in relevance. Crazy Chris is standing in the ring sans entrance. This is not a good sign if you’re a Danger Boiz fan. Chris is limbering up, getting ready for what awaits. Belvedere clears his throat~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following match is scheduled for one fall! Currently in the ring…from Smithville, Tennessee…Crazy Chris!!
Smith: Uh oh
Hood: No entrance. Crazy Chris may be fucked
Smith: He may just be trying something new out, Hood. Going with the straight forward approach…no pomp, no frills, just fighting
Hood: Then why is he still wearing the fucking mask?
Smith: Ugh, good point
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~The lights fade to blood red, and the screen comes to life with heavy static, showing a silhouette of a woman standing in a barren warehouse, smoking a cigarette. The haunting lyrics of "I Am The Fire" by Halestorm fade up in volume over the sound system, almost drowned out by booing. The scenes flow between shots of Kitty’s life outside the ring, to match footage revealing a dark-haired woman beating the holy hell out of both men and women. The veteran herself steps out at the top of the ramp alone, her head bowed with her hair hanging in her face. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she strides purposefully towards the ring, pausing every few feet to glare haughtily at the fans that have the audacity to try and reach out to touch her. She slides under the bottom rope, languidly doing a very cat-like yoga stretch while the crowd showers her with hatred. She seems utterly oblivious although there’s definite malice in her eyes as she pulls her hair back into a messy ponytail, securing it with a plain black elastic band~
Belvedere: From Napa Valley, California…standing 5’6 ½ and weighing in at 125lbs…she is the #1 Contender to the OCW Paradigm Championship….Kitty Petrova!!!
Smith: Our first time seeing Kitty in action since her huge win at Throwback
Hood: Yep, she out jumped Noah Hanson and soundly defeated Mike Harrison. Not to mention besting Chris’ brother, Dangerous Dan…all in one night!
Smith: She defeated three other competitors to earn a shot at Ed Houston and his Paradigm Championship at Social Justice. She’s quickly becoming one of the top stars of OCW
Hood: In other words…good luck man with no entrance…you’re going to need it
~Belvedere exits and the bell rings~
Smith: It’s going to be tough for Chris…but if he were able to secure a win that would certainly improve his standing
Hood: You’re a week late when it comes to long shots, Smith. Depth cashed that shit in against GHOST MAN one week ago
Smith: Well either Chris gets a career defining win or Kitty continues to climb the ladder…win-win from a wrestling fan’s standpoint
Hood: I’m pulling for Kitty. I just like her. Plus, I hate people who wrestle in masks.
Smith: Yes, we know
~Chris doesn’t waste any time…he goes right after Kitty, realizing that in order to score an upset you should likely strike first. Petrova is ready for his oncoming, initial burst. They lock up near the center of the ring. Chris spins around, obtaining waist control. Kitty looks for a way out. Chris lifts her up, perhaps attempting a deadlift German. Petrova, however, is able to work her momentum back to the mat. She drops to her knees smoothly slips between Chris’ legs. Chris turns around…Petrova is already on her feet and she greets him with a swift side kick to the ribs! Chris grabs his ribs in pain. Petrova throws a back first into right side of Chris’ face. He clutches his mouth, staggering around the ring~
Smith: Chris needs to remain focused!
Hood: Kitty’s claws are coming out, Smith. She’s about to gouge that mother fucker’s eyes out
Smith: Let’s hope that hyperbole
~Chris, doubles over, trying to shake off the sharp pain he’s feeling in two critical areas. Kitty throws a front kick, smacking her foot into Chris’ face!!! Chris stumbles into the ropes, reeling from three systematically stiff shots. Petrova offers no reprieve, jumping into the air and smacking Chris in his masked face with a Spinning Heel Kick!!! Chris stumbles forward…somehow remaining on his feet~
Smith: Destruction might be the best way to describe what we’re seeing
Hood: Man she’s pissed off. Chris should probably sue Bob Grenier for this
Smith: Bob has not been kind to Kitty
~Petrova steps through the ropes…she hops up, springboarding off the top rope and drops Chris face down, onto the mat with a springboard bulldog!!! Chris is face down, lifeless. It appears he could be pinned at any moment. Kitty, however, isn’t finished~
Smith: Kitty looking to put a stamp on this one
Hood: Makes sense, it’s the only legal way to send mail
Smith: A metaphorical stamp, Hood
Hood: Those don’t work. I’ve tried
~Kitty yanks Chris back to his feet. The guy is on dream street. Let’s hope the dream is going better than the nightmare he’s experiencing in the ring. Kitty blows Chris a kiss. She follows that up with a wicked uppercut!!! Chris stumbles into the ropes…he ricochets off and spins around, staggering like a drunk. Kitty hits the ropes…she springboards off, turns around and SMACKS Chris right in the face with a knee strike!!! Chris slaps back first on the mat, out. Kitty makes a nonchalant cover. The crowd is displeased with what she’s done to the bubbly, fan favorite~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…KITTY PETROVA!!!!!
Smith: Kitty just obliterated Chris. She’s getting better and better
Hood: Yea man and she was already good.
Smith: I hope Ed Houston was watching…he’s going to have a tough match up on his hands come March 11th
Hood: Shit…we’re suddenly only a month away!
Smith: Time slows for no one, Hood. Dominant win by Kitty Petrova who is quickly rising to the main event scene here in OCW
~We're back in the locker room again. Ariel Shadows, in tight jeans and her LFL Philadelphia Bellas #81 jersey, sits quietly in the locker room twiddling her thumbs nonchalantly while pretending not to notice the camera and cameraman directly in front of her.~
Ariel: Ugh...so bored.
~With no match to wrestle, Ariel appears to have not moved the entire night.~
Ariel: There's gotta be something to do...
~For the first time, Ariel stands up. She does a couple of elbow and back stretches, then makes the move out into the hallways.~
Ariel: Okay...if I was something fun to do in the back, where would I hide...?
~Ariel is almost kicking her feet in boredom, marching down the hallway.~
Ariel: Does anyone have a problem with me? A challenge for next week> Someone want to drag me into a closet to make a name for themselves?
~She looks up, clenching her fists at her sides. However, she is alone. Nobody answers the call. Ariel looks around, slowly.~
Ariel: Anyone?
~Still no response.~
Ariel: ....anyone?
~After several seconds of uncomfortable silence, Ariel shrugs.~
Ariel: Eh, maybe next week.
~You think Ariel would look away when she walked off camera, but instead she turns back towards it with a wink and a smile.~
Ariel: Stay tuned! More to come on OCW Monday Night Massacre!
~We cut back to Smith and Hood~
Smith: Ariel is apparently stir crazy backstage
Hood: Dude, she's a competitor. Competitors like to, ya know, compete
Smith: I'm sure we'll see her in action next week. She's another one of these fast rising stars here in OCW.
Hood: Yea man...Ariel's got main event potential. Plus, she appears to be eyeing your job
Smith: Or maybe yours
Hood: Pssh, yea, right
Smith: Well folks last week we saw the first round of the Mike Roth Memorial! Hellraven and Bob Grenier were both victorious. This week, we've got two more first round matches...the first of which is up next!
Singles Match
Mike Roth Memorial
Zolton (3-2) vs. John E Depth (1-2)
~The fans are ready for the MIKE ROTH MEMORIAL to continue! Several “UBER MAN” signs are in the crowd. A few fans are dressed as Uber Man hoping to potentially get close to ALICE. Belvedere clears his throat. The fans go wild~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen the following match is scheduled for one fall and is a first round match in the Mike Roth Memorial Tournament!!! Introducing first, currently in the ring…from Hollywood, California…John E Depth!
Smith: John E Depth fresh off his first career victory!
Hood: Can he make it two?
Smith: I wouldn’t bet on it
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~As the opening of "Rise" hits the speakers, the arena goes dark with fog filling the entrance area. Upon the entrance screen a video montage begins to roll of Zolton standing atop a mountain and behind him is highlights of what he has done in a wrestling ring. As the lyrics begin to be heard, Zotlon himself steps out onto the stage area among the smoke. The crowd begins to boo loudly. Zolton relishes in the dissatisfaction of the crowd with an arrogant grin. His long leather trench coat gleams off the now bright spot light shining down upon him~
~He now begins to make his way down the ramp toward the ring. Refusing to acknowledge the crowd as he passes them. Reaching the ring he steps up the ring steps slowly, his arrogant smile plastered all over his face. He then jumps to the top turnbuckle of the corner of the ring. He calls it his throne as the arena lights return to normal and the song fades to silence. Zolton ignores the crowd as he lets his trench coat slide down off his shoulders to the floor~
Belvedere: From Yakima, Washington…standing 6’7 and weighing in at 265lbs…Zolton!!!
Smith: And we’re seeing Zolton for the first time since Death March
Hood: This is a smart man, Smith. He only appears when something is on the line
Smith: I’d wager that is the very definition of working smarter rather than harder
~Belvedere exits. The bell sounds~
Smith: Okay…here we go! Can Depth notch his second consecutive victory
Hood: He’s been something of an internet darling after last week. John E Depth…the man, the myth, the…
Smith: OH MY!
~Zolton instantly smashes Depth in the head with Titan Crush (Spinning Roundhouse Kick to the Head). He grabs Depth before he can hit the ground. He hoists Depth over his head in the Crucifix position. He turns, facing the center of the ring. Zolton drops Depth to the mat with a Crucific into a Sit Out Powerbomb!!! He folds Depth up for the pin. The crowd is crestfallen. Scruff slides in for the count~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner…ZOLTON!!!!!
Smith: Well, so much for that!
Hood: Ah man, poor John E…I hope he enjoyed that marvelous week. I don’t see another win coming for a long ass time
Smith: Indeed…on the flip side, however, very impressive win by Zolton. He’s the type of performer who could one day break out here in OCW. Perhaps the Mike Roth Memorial will provide that opportunity
Hood: He’s been close. The guy is big, strong, and scary. He’s got all the tools
Smith: Indeed
~Static interrupts the Massacre feed before we are magically transported to the steps of the US Capitol Building in the middle of the night. The steps are lit up by the warm glow of yellow lamp light but are completely deserted. Suddenly, a flicker of white like a camera flash fills the screen, and when we return, a young African American man stands on the steps, holding a poster board sign:
NOT A HARD WORKER
~The flash returns, prompting another young person, a Latina woman, to appear with her own sign:
ENTITLED
~More and more flashes fill the steps with young people at a rapid pace:
LAZY
OVERLY SENSITIVE
JUST WANT A HANDOUT
IDIOT
GODLESS
SJW
ME, ME, ME
~The diverse group has now filled the steps to capacity as the midnight blue sky suddenly begins to snow. The wind picks up, blowing the snow across the group, who hold onto their signs, undaunted. One more camera flash brings two final figures into the middle of the group-- a man and woman in flowing blue and white robes, the man wearing a sparkling masquerade mask, the woman wearing a Japanese yokai mask, both of the same colors as their robes. Each of them hold the same sign:
SNOWFLAKE
~The flash of light blasts again as “Hold Yourself Up” by the Polyphonic Spree begins to play, and the screen begins to alternate between videos with quotes slowly superimposing on top of them:
A crowd of college students protesting in the bitter cold for revised gun control after the Stoneman Douglas shooting last February.
“We need to change the negative narrative about young people and involve them in the solution.” -Ahmad Allhendawi
Fifteen same-sex couples getting married at a mass ceremony in Kansas after the Obergefell v. Hodges civil rights case.
“Let us make our future NOW, and let us make our dreams tomorrow’s reality.” -Malala Yousafzai
The most diverse Congress in the history of the United States stands for photographs after the November elections.
“There are no superheroes, just us. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.” -Shiza Shahid
~We flash back to the steps of the Capitol, where most of the young people simultaneously throw their signs into the snowy air with an exuberant cheer. The camera zooms in on the masked man and woman, robes billowing in the wind, both still holding their SNOWFLAKE signs.~
Man: Next week, OCW, we will stand for you. For everyone. Together.
Woman: And together, we are the sky.
~The whistling snow overtakes the screen as the two masks gradually disappear. In their place are written those same now-familiar words:
~The screen jolts to black, as the lights come back on in the arena. We focus on Smith and Hood at ringside.~
Smith: Wow, powerful stuff, Hood. I guess we know who has been behind these videos each week, and it sounds like we may learn a lot more next week!
Hood: All I saw were weirdos in masks and robes and a bunch of millennials whining about being called names. What a bunch of snowflakes.
Smith: I think you might be proving their point, partner. Anyway, that’s next week. This week, we still have a lot of great action yet to come! Including the final first round match of the Mike Roth Memorial
Hood: All this fuss for a subpar Uber driver. Ridiculous
Smith: Bob Grenier is in action, next!
Singles Match
Mike Roth Memorial
Bob Grenier (21-14) vs. Jack Puffer (0-2)
Belvedere: The following match is scheduled for one fall...
Fans: ONE FALL!!
Belvedere: And it is a first round match in the Mike Roth Memorial Tournament! Already at ringside, solving the cases nobody else cares about, "The Detective" Jack Puffer!
~The fans cheer as we can see Puffer indeed at ringside, having crawled out from under the ring, holding a pillow and a blanket~
Smith: It seems that the Detective has fallen on some hard times. I've heard he has been living under the ring.
Hood: I actually talked to Puffer earlier, and he told me he is on a stake out. Apparently, he's been hired to find out who the Ghost Man actually is.
~Puffer slides under the ropes and goes to a corner. He places his pillow and blanket in the corner and stands to face the ramp~
Belvedere: And his opponent....
Where the hood...
Where the hood…
Where the hood at…
~Grenier steps out from behind the curtain to a huge ovation!! He has a brown paper bag in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. Grenier walks down the ramp looking like a kid on Christmas. He slides under the ropes into the ring and walks to Belvedere~
Belvedere: From Timmins, Ontario, Candada…standing 6’2 and weighing in at 222lbs…he is a former OCW Champion and an OCW Hall of Famer…he is…Bob Grenier!!!
~The fans cheer at his name but Bob pays them no attention. Instead, he hands the paper to Belvedere, who reads it then looks at a nodding Grenier. Belvedere, ever the professional, just reads the paper~
Belvedere: Ladies and gentlemen, by orders of O.C.W. owner Jimmy Buffett, the following match will be a Fast Times At Ridgemont High match.
~Grenier cheers along with the fans in celebration! Puffer looks dubiously at Belvedere and walks over to look at the paper~
Smith: I can't believe we have to sit through another one of these matches. This clearly favors Grenier.
Hood: Who knows? Maybe they call Jack puffer for a different reason other than it being his name. Either way.... CLASSIC O.C.W. BABY!!
~Belvedere leaves the ring as Grenier opens up the paper bag and pulls out six fully packed glass bowls and two lighters. He hands three of the bowls to Puffer along with a lighter and takes the rest for himself. Scruff calls for the bell and gets as close to the wrestlers as possible, most likely to get a contact high. Grenier wastes no time and starts to light a bowl. Puffer, always the competitive type, lights one of his bowls and the fans are cheering both men to get high!~
Smith: And here I thought we were done with this nonsense when Throwback finished. I don't want another contact high.
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 that tag match.
~Grenier has finished with his first bowl and tosses it into the crowd. Has he starts his second, we see Puffer just finish his first, but starts having a coughing fit. Grenier continues to smoke when suddenly PerZag comes running down to the ring. The fans boo as he slides under the ropes and kicks away Puffer's other two bowls. Puffer scrambles to get his weed in order as Bob stops smoking and starts yelling at PerZag, who just yells back that Bob is so useless that he can't do anything with PerZag's help. Bob yells at Zag to leave the ring, which he does. Puffer gets his bowls together and starts his second bowl as Grenier finishes his second and starts his final bowl. PerZag then starts yelling at Puffer that he sees a ghost under the ring. With a gasp, Puffer stops smoking mid toke and leaves the ring. Puffer asks Zag where he saw the culprit and he points under the ring. Puffer scrambles under the ring as Bob finishes his third and final bowl. He then spots Puffer's bowls and lights them both, essentially smoking all the pot. After he finishes, he realises Puffer is gone and Scruff has been counting this entire time! When Scruff reaches 8, Grenier quickly slides out of the ring and back in to break up the count. He then looks around and spots Puffer's feet dangling out from under the ring and PerZag laughing his ass off. Grenier drags Puffer out, who yells at him about interrupting his case. Bob tries telling him that there is no ghost but Puffer isn't hearing it. Puffer shoves Bob and tries to go back under the ring but PerZag grabs Puffer and lays him out with a clothesline. Scruff doesn't do anything because who knows if there are rules in this match besides getting high.~
Smith: Scruff is being very lenient with the rules tonight.
Hood: Lenient nothing. Look at his eyes, man. He's stoned!
~Scruff does look stoned with his red eyes and dreamy expression on his face. On the outside, Puffer is slowly getting back to his feet. Grenier grabs him by the back of the neck and throws him back into the ring. As he follows, Grenier looks back at PerZag, telling to mind his own fucking business. PerZag laughs and flips off Bob. As Puffer gets to his feet, Grenier runs at him with a clothesline but The Detective ducks and runs at the ropes, bounces off of them and leaps in the air with a spinning leg lariat! Grenier, still powered by the weed, catches Puffer however and holds him for a moment.~
Smith: Puffer is in a very precarious position.
Hood: Dont use fancy words. Just say he's boned.
Smith: I will not lower my standards nor my vocabulary.
Hood: And that's why you're always single.
~Grenier is holding the stoned and struggling Puffer in his arms and does the last thing anyone would expect. Bob starts rocking him! The fans have a mixture of boos and cheers, but PerZag starts trying to get them to quiet down. Shushes start filling the arena as Puffer starts putting up less of a struggle.~
Hood: You have to be shitting me...
Smith: I don't believe it either, but it looks like Grenier is literally rocking Puffer to sleep!
~PerZag slides in the ring and grabs Puffer's pillow and blanket from the corner and puts the pillow under Grenier and Puffer. Grenier lowers Puffer to the mat, placing his head on the pillow. PerZag drapes the blanket over the sleeping Detective and Bob goes for the cover. Scruff gently gets to his knees and softly starts his count, with the fans whispering in unison.~
one........
two.........
three......
~The fans break out in a loud cheer as Scruff calls for the bell! Puffer instantly wakes up very confused. But before Bob can get his hand raised in victory, PerZag boots Bob in the face taking him down to the mat. PerZag stands over Bob, and yells at him, stating that ‘Bob cannot win without PerZag’s help’. PerZag rolls out of the ring, and walks towards the back as we cut back to Smith and Hood.~
Hood: What did we just fucking see?
Smith: I am just as confused as you, Hood.
Hood: Moments like these make me want to stop taking drugs.
Smith: Well I think that's a good thing! Let's take a look at the updated brackets!
Smith: So Hellraven and Zolton will square off in what should be an exciting contrast in styles
Hood: Big always fucks small, Smith
Smith: On the other side we have the two dirtiest wrestlers in OCW...Grenier and Roach will go one on one
Hood: I hope Roach doesn't get his 'gift' from Alice before that match.
Smith: Why's that?
Hood: The toxic fumes from that jar could put him on the IR
Smith: You're over exaggerating. Anyway, folks...it's been a tremendous night. We've witnessed nine matches...can you believe it? We've got one more to go and it's a doozy. However, before that match gets underway, let's head backstage for a word from our Commissioner!
~We cut backstage where Commissioner by Proxy, Greg is standing by. A large FedEx truck is behind him, dropping off some boxes. Greg pauses and turns around~
Greg: CAREFUL…those are VERY expensive.
~He clears his throat, addresses the camera and gets to more pertinent matters~
Greg: Hello OCW. I know we’ve got a stellar main event moments away so I’ll be brief. GM Zybala…the gracious, sweet smelling man that he is gave me the opportunity to book a qualifying match for next month’s Elimination Chamber match. As you’re all well aware, the winner of that match will receive an OCW Title shot at the following PPV event.
~Greg’s right hand moves around. We spot his cell phone in its grasp~
Greg: So, with that power having been so generously bestowed upon me, I’m happy to announce that the first qualifying match up will feature “The Marvel” Matt Meyhu taking on…
~Greg pauses and looks down at his phone. He smiles~
Greg: Mr. Meyhu will be taking on WALLACE THE WINDY CITY WEIRDO! The winner of this match, which will take place next week, will receive a spot in the Elimination Chamber at Social Justice!
~The crowd boos heavily. Greg frowns~
Greg: Now you guys be nice to Wallace. He’s doing his best.
~More boos. Greg doesn’t seem to like the negative treatment. He waves his hands at the production team~
Greg: Cut away!
~We cut back to Smith and Hood. Hood is laughing. Smith seems annoyed~
Smith: Nothing against Wallace but…really?
Hood: Dude, Greg is giving Wallace the opportunity of a lifetime! He’s SHATTERING that glass ceiling. Good luck and God’s speed, Wallace!
Smith: This is a sham and you know it! They are GIVING Meyhu a spot in that match
Hood: Well, if you want to go down that road, fine. Let’s talk about what a joke it is that Meyhu has to EARN a spot in that match to begin with.
Smith: Those are the rules, Hood. But, for some reason, Meyhu gets a pass. I smell something brewing behind the scenes.
Hood: Probably more of Alice’s disgusting mustard
Smith: No…I think Marcus Welsh is more involved than we know
Hood: Dude’s out on the beach somewhere living the life!
Smith: Maybe…wherever he is, I’m sure he’s up to date on what’s going on and has a direct line to Greg
Hood: Man you’re so paranoid. Chill out, man. Take off the tin foil headgear
Smith: Anyway…it is what it is. Meyhu will face Wallace next week for a spot in the Elimination Chamber. But, up next…our main event. Two Hall of Famers…two men who have never seen eye to eye…two legends will go one on one. Let’s head down to ringside for what should be an instant classic!
‘Marvelous’ Mario Maurako (8-2) vs. The Big Bifford (4-1)
~The crowd has enjoyed a long and exciting evening. It’s a testament to both their fandom as well as the quality of the product that they remain lively. It might also be a testament toward their sanity, or lack thereof. Regardless, an amazing Main Event awaits these people. An affair worthy of headlining any event, let alone a February 11th edition of Monday Night Massacre. Belvedere clears his throat to a raucous ovation. Much like at the start of the night, the fans break out into a chant…but, instead of Paras, they chant ‘MARIO’~
Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen it is now time for our main event of the evening! This match is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…
~“Gangsta’s Paradise” by Coolio CONSUMES the OCW Arena. It doesn’t just fill it…it CONSUMES it. Bifford emerges atop the stage. We admire the stage’s ability to hold an excess amount of weight. Bifford places his giant hands atop his hips and looks out into the crowd. His MAGICAL FLEECE shimmers as if showing off for the crowd. Biff begins the march down the ramp, staring at the ring. He pauses and scowls. He slowly turns his head to the left and spots a person with FACE PAINT. He reaches over, tears this person from the crowd, over the railing and beats them mercilessly. Security has to rush in and pull the fan away before Bifford is able to do what he does best – murder. Bifford thinks about chasing after the fan but realizes he needs to save his energy to defeat Mario, again. So, he turns and heads for the ring~
Smith: Totally uncalled for
Hood: Well, that fan shouldn’t paint his face
Smith: So what if he does? How is that a problem?
Hood: Because, DAN paints his face
Smith: Oh
Belvedere: From Phoenix, Arizona…standing 6’6 and weighing in at 488lbs…he is a former OCW Champion and an OCW Hall of Famer…he is The Big Bifford!
~Bifford enters into the ring and heads for his corner with the loose fabric of his MAGICAL FLEECE pointing in the direction of the fan…as if it is begging him to finish the man with the painted face off. Biff, though, does not give into the dark magic contained within his fleece. He simply removes it and drops it outside the ring~
Smith: It seems as though Bifford has left his ridiculous championship at home
Hood: That’s exactly what he wants you to think, Smith
Smith: I don’t think I can handle another Splenda explosion
Belvedere: And, his opponent…
~“Kickstart My Heart” by Mötley Crüe blares throughout the OCW Arena! A huge ovation follows. The fans rise to their feet cheering on one of their all-time favorites. Mario Maurako emerges from behind the curtain, focused on the behemoth between the ropes. He heads down the ramp taking little time to enjoy the atmosphere. He reaches the ring and hustles up the steps, entering between the ropes~
Smith: Mario Maurako looks focused
Hood: He’s 0-fer against Bifford. I’d say if he wants to hang on to any hope of achieving his final career goal…a win here would be optimal.
Smith: It wouldn’t hurt
Belvedere: From Minneapolis, Minnesota…standing 6’2 and weighing in at 245lbs…he is a two time OCW Hall of Famer…he is ‘Marvelous’ Mario Maurako!!!
Smith: Who would have thought that in 2019 we’d open the show with Paras and end the show with Mario
Hood: Don’t forget the middle child of the evening – AgCN
Smith: Ah, how could I!
~Belvedere exits the ring. The bell sounds~
Smith: And here we go!! The Main Event is underway!
Hood: A clash of two legendary Hall of Famers…still can’t believe Zybala is giving this shit away for free
Smith: A man of the people…for the people!
Hood: Turning OCW into some form of socialism. Fuck this guy!
~Mario approaches Bifford. Biff remains in his corner staring at Mario through narrow eyes. He mouths the words, “Not OCW championship material” while glaring at The Marvelous One. Mario continues to approach Biff, somewhat warily. Biff remains still. He’s like a giant battleship or tank, parked for the time being. Mario reaches Biff and asks for Biff to say what he uttered louder. Biff laughs, his giant belly jiggling, bumping into Mario. Maurako seems disgusted. Biff says, loud enough for Mario to hear, “You’ll never be OCW Champion.” Mario shakes his head, obviously bothered by Biff’s chide. He locks his hands together, reaches back and delivers a double axe handler into Biff’s gut. Biff is not fazed~
Smith: Going to have to hit him somewhere else, I’m afraid
Hood: The dick?
Smith: I’m not advocating a low blow…although it would render better results for Maurako
~Bifford laughs at Mario and pounds his gut, displaying that it’s like an iron keg. Mario responds by reaching out and grabbing a handful of Biff’s beard, yanking him from the corner. Biff’s eyes widen as this is obviously painful. He follows Mario toward the center of the ring like a dog attached to a leash. Bifford wraps his arms around Mario’s body…Mario lets go, feeling immense pressure. Bifford hoists Mario up, looking for a belly-to-belly…Mario, though, manages to wiggle free and land on his feet, behind Bifford. He clobbers Biff in the back of the head with a forearm, staggering the giant. Biff stumbles, bending over, reeling from the blow. Mario responds instinctively, pounding away on the upper portion of Biff’s back with more forearms. These, unfortunately, have very little effect. Bifford winds up standing upright with a confident look in his eyes. Marion eventually stops hitting Biff, realizing he’s not getting out what he’s putting in~
Smith: Biff is so massive
Hood: Great strategy…eat your way into the OCW Hall of Fame. Requires a lot less work, too
Smith: I’m surprised he’s still alive, to be honest
Hood: I think Biff will live forever
~Biff slowly turns around…he glares down at Mario. It’s a rare occasion when Mario is the smaller man. Mario throws a forearm, it only reaches the big man’s chest. It does no damage. Biff reaches out, he grabs Mario by the head and leans forward with a HUGE head butt. Mario drops to the mat, holding his forehead in pain~
Smith: So strange…Mario has to be the quicker, elusive one in this match – if he hopes to win.
Hood: Yep, I’d say Mario enjoys the size and strength advantage in nine outta ten matches…maybe more than that.
Smith: Not tonight. Tonight he faces the WALMART of professional wrestling. A man so bloated, so inflated, so huge…nothing can compare.
~Bifford leaps into the air (as high as he’s able – not very) and comes crashing down for a splash. But, Mario rolls out of the way!! Biff lands, hard on the mat. The entire ring shakes…some fear it may collapse. Mario rushes to his feet. He stands over Biff, who is on all fours, recovering from the missed splash, and begins to deliver stiff kicks to the side and shoulder of Bifford. They aren’t doing much, aside from preventing Biff from standing. Mario moves to the head and throws a few kicks to the side of Biff’s head. He quickly transitions, once seeing the kicks having a more profound impact, into a position to throw knees. He delivers several stiff knee strikes to the side of Biff’s head until the behemoth is flat, face down, on the mat~
Smith: Mario’s got him down!
Hood: Yea, but can he roll the fucker over?
Smith: Sheesh, good question
Hood: And, even if he could…how much energy would that burn? Would Mario have a heart attack from over exertion?
~Mario tries rolling Biff over. He finds the task to be more work than it’s likely worth. He stands up, looking down at the battered carcass. It begins to move. Mario waits for Biff to return to all fours…Biff finally does. Mario backs up, he leans against the ropes and fires off, delivering a huge soccer style kick to the side of Biff’s head!! Biff tumbles over, onto his back, primed for a pin! Mario leaps on top of Biff…he tries to hook the leg but realizes that’s most likely impossible. Scruff slides in with the count~
1!
2!
BIG KICK OUT
Smith: Whoa! Biff just pushed Mario several feet in the air!
Hood: That’s called a fucking kick out, man!
Smith: Mario, again, is faced with an unfamiliar scenario. He must adjust if he wants to have any chance at victory
Hood: Or, ya know, he could just keep kicking and kneeing Biff in the head. I’d think that would eventually keep the man down for threeish seconds
~Mario returns to his feet as quickly as his body will allow. Biff remains on his back. Mario hustles over and drops a leg onto Biff. Bifford, though, reaches up and catches Mario on the way down, grabbing his legs. Mario tries to wiggle free, but Biff continues to rise…he gets to his feet with Mario’s legs in his grasp. Mario is suddenly upside down…Biff tries to hoist Mario up for a powerbomb. Maurako attempts to pry Biff’s hands apart…Biff gets Mario up. Mario punches Biff in the head…however, the big man withstands Mario’s efforts, driving The Marvelous One into the mat with a high impact Powerbomb!!! Mario hits hard and remains on his back…Biff drops to a knee, already winded~
Smith: Tremendous strength on display in this match. Not much stamina, though, I’m afraid
Hood: Who the fuck needs stamina
Smith: Athletes
~Biff takes his time standing next to Mario. He jumps into the air and drives a giant elbow into the right side of Mario’s chest (where the heart should reside). The ring, again, shakes from impact. Mario reaches for his chest…Biff forces his arms away and goes for the cover, smothering Mario with his gelatinous frame. Scruff makes the count~
1!
2!
Shoulder Up
Smith: Mario got the shoulder up!
Hood: Barely, holy shit man…getting pinned by Biff sucks
Smith: That’s a lot of less than firm mass a person must fight through
~Bifford remains on Mario. A total jerk move. Mario tries to break free, half expecting Biff to move on his own. Once he realizes Biff’s great mass is stationary, he starts to fight and wiggle in violent fashion. Bifford laughs, reaching out with his arm and placing his pit into Mario’s face. Mario manages to break free and roll away, under the bottom rope, onto the apron. He sits up and looks at Biff with disgust. Biff sits up looking quite pleased with himself~
Smith: This almost feels like a big brother torturing a little brother
Hood: Well, Biff is way bigger
Smith: Ya know, this could be a good warm up for Mario. He’s going to have to do a fair amount of climbing if he hopes to defeat Cyanide at Social Justice. This match is giving him a unique chance to practice the ‘speed’ and ‘quickness’ element of his game.
Hood: Yea, I guess that’s something of a silver lining…even if it is WEAK ASS
~Bifford returns to his feet. Mario remains seated on the apron. Bifford heads over toward the ropes, reaching over the top and grabbing Mario by the hair. Mario is pulled to his feet. He shoves Bifford’s hand away and unleashes a huge knife edged chop into Biff’s chest! The big man staggers back…he doesn’t remain stunned for long…he charges forward, looking to barrel into Mario. Maurako spins out of the way!! Biff runs into the ropes and stumbles back. Mario heads toward the nearest corner…the crowd gasps~
Smith: Mario climbing the corner?
Hood: In 2019?!
Smith: With an ailing heart?
Hood: GASP
~Mario reaches the top and hops off with a double axe handle which connects!! He clobbers Biff right between the eyes!! Biff sways back…his arms swimming through the air, trying to prevent momentum from taking him over. Mario hits the ropes, he bounces off and runs into Biff with a huge clothesline!!! Bifford stumbles back, but remains on his feet. Mario shakes his head, showing some frustration. The crowd gets on their feet, cheering him on. He responds to the support by hitting the ropes once more…he bounces off and leaps into the air with a flying clothesline!!! Bifford stumbles back, into the ropes! He falls through the ropes and hits the apron before crashing with a huge THUD on the outside!! The fans are on their feet, cheering The Marvelous One on. Everyone is excited…everyone, except Mario~
Smith: Mario doesn’t look happy
Hood: Because he knows he’s got to haul that big fucker back into the ring
Smith: I don’t think he anticipated Bifford falling THROUGH the ropes
Hood: It’s almost like fate has this narrative to make things as difficult as possible on Mario
~A belligerent Mario heads outside the ring, annoyed over the task at hand. He stands over Bifford and attempts to grab him in several ways. He’s looking for a position that provides the best amount of leverage. It seems impossible. He stands upright and exhales, looking into the arena lights. Scruff yells out “ONE!” Mario looks at Scruff and then at the fans. He doesn’t WANT to win via countout…but, a win is a win. So, he rolls into the ring and allows Scruff to do his job. Scruff yells out “TWO!”~
Smith: Some people may not like it…but I agree with Mario. Biff is simply too big. It doesn’t make sense to expend that kind of energy lifting him back into the ring.
Hood: This is how Biff lost at Death March. I think OCW has found Biff’s kryptonite. THROW HIM OUT OF THE RING
Smith: Classic OCW, baby!
~Scruff yells “THREE!” It’s obvious Mario is feeling conflicted over his decision. But, not conflicted enough to go out there and wrangle six hundred pounds of dead weight. Scruff yells “FOUR!” Our POV is from the opposite side of the ring…we’re unable to see Biff. Scruff yells “FIVE!”~
Smith: Is he even moving? What’s with the camera work?
Hood: I think Zybala hired a soap opera cameraman this past week. They want to add more DRAMA in our camera shots
Smith: Well that’s just stupid
~Scruff yells “SIX!” Mario heads for a corner, leaning against the buckles, catching his breath, wiping sweat from his face. Scruff yells “SEVEN!” The crowd hits sort of a lull, feeling that the match is headed toward an anticlimactic end. Scruff yells “EIGHT!”~
Smith: This might be the second most dubious loss of Bifford’s career
Hood: What was the first?
Smith: That double pinfall or countout…or whatever against Fenix
Hood: Ah, Fenix…great guy!
~Scruff yells “NINE!” Suddenly, we see Biff’s head pop up from over the apron. Our POV zooms in for dramatic effect! We see the fire in Biff’s eyes! He rolls into the ring, just beating the ten count! The crowd cheers because, well, they don’t want no WEAK ASS COUNOUT in their Main Event. Mario bends over at the waist, summoning the patience and stamina to continue~
Smith: He made it!
Hood: Oh man how about that camera work! I about jumped out of my seat!
Smith: Liar
Hood: My pants are NOT on fire, sir
~Bifford slowly recovers to his feet. Mario charges toward Biff looking for a knee lift or perhaps a Slingblade…Biff, though, catches Mario over his shoulders and falls back, crushing Mario into the mat with a Samoan Drop!!! The ring shakes…Mario is gasping for air. Biff leans back on Mario, making the pin~
1!
2!
Shoulder Up!
Smith: I know Biff thinks he’s better than Mario…but hooking a leg wouldn’t hurt
Hood: Why hook the leg when you can just lean back and get the win?
Smith: Because he didn’t…he FAILED to pick up the three count with that carefree cover
~Like his previous attempt, Biff remains leaning on Mario to both annoy and wear him down. Mario eventually wedges free and rolls away, holding his midsection. Bifford returns to his feet. Mario is fighting back to a standing position, using the ropes for leverage. Bifford heads over and clobbers Mario in the back with a forearm. Mario drops to a knee. Bifford drags Mario toward the center of the ring and hooks him for a suplex. He hoists Mario up…but Mario manages to get free and land behind Bifford! He snares both of Bifford’s arms and tries locking in a Full Nelson~
Smith: Mario looking for a Full Nelson!
Hood: Might be the fullest Nelson in history
Smith: Could be
Hood: You think Ehud is a fan of the full NELSON?
Smith: I have no idea
~Mario smashes Biff in the back of the head repeatedly, trying to weaken the big man enough to give this Full Nelson effort a chance. It soon becomes obvious that the man’s girth is too much. So, Mario transitions into a Straight Jacket, keeping the big man under control. He throws a couple of head butts into the upper back of Biff but these seem to be doing no harm. He throws a few kicks into the back of Biff’s knees, which stagger the former OCW Champion~
Smith: Mario doing whatever he can think of to weaken his opponent
Hood: Yea man and all Biff has to do is just fall on him and everything Mario has done gets reset
Smith: Bifford’s size is extremely tough to deal with
~Biff’s face shows mild discomfort. Mario, with the straight jacket applied, starts to bully Biff forward. It works. Bifford stumbles forward, into a corner. Mario hops onto the middle rope…his stance is wider than it’d normally be, due to what he’s attempting to straddle. He relinquishes the Straight Jacket and begins to punch Biff in the back of the head, repeatedly. The fans are counting along~
Smith: A stiff punch to the back of the head could throw Biff’s entire equilibrium off. If that were to happen, Mario might have a shot to win this thing
Hood: Guy is doing what he can with what he has to work with. A true pro!
~The majority of Bifford’s weight is leaning up against the corner. His head is down, showing the impact of those punches. Mario hops down and spins Bifford around. Bifford reaches for Mario’s throat!! Mario slaps his hand way, hooks Biff around the neck and drops him with Red Scare (Inverted Russian Leg Sweep)!!! Bifford is face down on the mat, motionless. Mario returns to his feet and heads for the corner~
Smith: Red Scare!!!
Hood: The hell is Mario doing?
Smith: Due to the contrast in weight Mario has been imbibed with a high flying spirit!
Hood: It’s so weird
~Mario places his right foot atop the corner with his left foot on the second rope. He lifts his left foot up and dives off the top with a flying head butt!! It connects!!! His forehead SLAMS into the back of Biff’s head producing a solid THUD. Mario sits up, holding his head in pain. The crowd is on their feet, cheering for Mario to make the cover~
Smith: Mario with the Nose Dive!! Pin him!
Hood: Can he roll him over?
Smith: He has no choice!
~Mario gets on his knees and faces Bifford. He puts all his weight into Biff’s giant side and uses his feet to push with all his might. He gets Bifford onto his back and jumps on top of him for the pin~
1!
2!
SHOULDER UP
Smith: Bifford kicked out!
Hood: After ALL of that he STILL couldn’t keep Bifford down
Smith: That might demoralize most men…but not Mario
~Mario sits up, shaking his head. It feels like he’s given more to this match than any match in quite some time. Yet, Bifford remains alive. Bifford starts to roll over…he gets to all fours. Mario returns to his feet, knowing he needs maintain control. He heads over to Bifford. He pauses, reaching for his chest. Scruff comes over, asking if he’s okay. Mario pushes Scruff away. Scruff spins around, finding Mario’s strength to be more than expected. Watching him face Bifford gave some false illusion. Mario gets over whatever is bugging him and he reaches for Bifford. Biff, on one knee, low blows Mario!!! The fans BOOOO. Scruff turns around, but is too late. Bifford gets to his feet and he hooks Mario’s head between his legs~
Smith: No! Not the Biff End!
Hood: Haha fuckin Bifford, man
~Bifford hoists Mario up for his jumping Piledriver. Mario, however, manages to rip his upper body free, getting into the powerbomb position. He grabs Biff by the head and brings him down with a Facebuster!!! The OCW Arena erupts with jubilation! The ‘MARIO’ chants are back! They believe~
Smith: Mario countered the Biff End! C’mon!
Hood: Well, at least we have confirmation that Mario has no balls
Smith: RUDE
~Maurako heads for the nearest corner. Bifford remains face down. Mario stands atop the corner, looking down at Bifford. He hesitates for a moment, rubbing his chest and taking in a deep breath. He leaps off with the Maurako Rocker!!! Bifford MOVES!! Mario’s body finds nothing but the ring!!! He rolls around, holding his midsection in pain. The crowd’s momentum is instantly halted. Biff sits up, shaking his head free of lingering dizzies~
Smith: Mario was looking to bust out his very rare Frog Splash…but Bifford moved
Hood: You see that fat man roll? Impressive!
Smith: I don’t think I’d ever call rolling ‘impressive’
~Bifford returns to his feet. He pulls Mario up. He throws a head butt, but Mario blocks it and shoves Bifford back. Mario throws a superkick into the chest of Biff!! Bifford is staggered. Mario throws a lariat…and another and another and another…they all hit Bifford right in the chest, swaying the big man. Mario spins around and drills Bifford in the jaw with a roaring elbow!!! This knocks Biff to the side…his eyes are unable to focus. The man is dazed~
Smith: Bifford is prone…is now the time…is now the time for Mario to pick him up?
Hood: Fuck man, he’s tried this twice before and failed.
Smith: Third time’s the charm?
Hood: I dunno, man. I think it’d be kinda stupid if he did it again
~Mario motions to pick Biff up but stops. It’s clear he doubts his ability to lift the man, especially after having wrestled for so long. The crowd urges him to get on with it. Mario makes up his mind and delivers a haymaking right hand across Bifford’s jaw. Biff falls to one knee, almost out. He has to place his fist into the mat to keep from falling over. Mario heads toward the most opportune corner~
Smith: Maurako is choosing aerial assault over his signature power arsenal
Hood: Dude’s got no choice, Smith. Bifford is too big
Smith: I think he could do it…I have faith!
~Mario tentatively reaches the top. He’s not taking FOREVER…but he’s no ED HOUSTON. Mario places his right foot atop the highest buckle. Biff starts to cough. Scruff turns, making sure Biff is okay. The fans start to react. Our POV cuts to find SILVER CYANIDE hopping the barricade with hockey stick in hand! Mario freezes upon seeing Cyanide. AgCN hops on the apron and, with the use of his stick, yanks Mario’s right foot out from under him!!! The fans BOOO!!! Cyanide hops off the apron just as Scruff turns to see what all the commotion is about. Mario tumbles head first, toward the ring…thankfully the impact of his knees onto the buckles send him flipping over onto his back. But, still, the damage has been done. Scruff finally sees Cyanide and rushes over, yelling at him~
Smith: Day late and a dollar short, Scruff!
Hood: Finally, someone made good use out of a hockey stick
Smith: Such a narrow view of the world
Hood: Selective, not narrow. I weed out the shit and focus on the good stuff
~Scruff reaches through the ropes to take the hockey stick. Cyanide refuses to let it go. There’s a brief tug of war going on before Cyanide lets go right as Scruff is about to pull. Scruff goes flying backward, tumbling through the ropes, landing outside. The crowd continues to boo. They LOATHE Cyanide and the four letters which comprise the official chemical compound belonging to his name. Cyanide slides into the ring. Biff looks up, ready to attack. Cyanide motions for Biff to take it easy. Once Biff realizes Cyanide is there to harm Mario…he becomes a-okay with his involvement~
Smith: Scruff, get back in there!
Hood: He’s a ref…it takes refs at least three times longer to recover than wrestlers
Smith: Then he should disqualify Cyanide!
Hood: Why? Because Scruff can’t keep his balance during a game of tug o’ war?
~Mario does a push up, lifting his face off the mat. He’s a bit looped from the fall. Cyanide snares Mario by the hair and yanks him to his feet. Mario is wobbling back and forth…Cyanide SMACKS him in the face with a SUPERKICK!!! Maurako’s head snaps back…it slams into the top buckle…he stumbles forward. Cyanide catches him. Bifford pops to his feet…AgCN tosses Mario to Bifford before sliding out of the ring. Scruff’s head appears…he looks inside and sees Biff hooking Mario. Bifford has Mario in position…he jumps up and drops Mario with THE BIFF END!! Bifford holds on for the cover. Scruff slides in with the count~
1!
2!
3!!!!
~The bell rings~
Belvedere: Here is your winner….THE BIG BIFFORD!!!!!
Smith: No! NO! NOOOOO!
Hood: Whew, man…that one stings for Mario
Smith: Poor Mario…this was his night. I really, truly thought he’d shut that big man up
Hood: Yea, I did too. Man…Mario just can’t solve Bifford
Smith: It didn’t help that the JERK Cyanide got involved!
Hood: Cyanide saw his pal going down and simply wanted to sugar coat the impending bitter taste. Besides, Mario should have never been on that top buckle…he went to the top way too many times.
Smith: I think he should have tried to pick Biff up. I know Mario’s a great athlete but high flying is not his game
Hood: Yea, but his game does not work against Bifford.
Smith: I don’t care…I think he should have tried a body slam or maybe even attempted Simply Marvelous.
Hood: Well, in hindsight, sure. But in real time Mario was staring two failed attempts right in the face. And not only did he fail those two previous attempts…they immediately led to a pin fall.
Smith: Ugh, I don’t know. And then he missed his frog splash. He went to the top, what, four times?
Hood: I think so
Smith: If you ask me…facing Bifford got him off his game plan and it cost him.
Hood: Or, maybe he’s just not as good as Bifford
Smith: I refuse to believe that
~Bifford rolls out of the ring and retrieves his MAGICAL FLEECE. He stumbles around, showing signs of having been through a war with Mario. Earl runs down with Biff’s NEW Splenda Championship, placing it over his shoulder, congratulating the champ. Bifford pauses and takes a moment, he hoists the belt high to massive boos~
Smith: What a joke
Hood: AND STILL…
Smith: SHUT UP
~Bifford pauses, staring into the ring. Mario is on one knee. He looks over at Biff, shaking his head. Frustration is in The Marvelous One’s eyes. He pounds the mat with his fist several times, furious over another loss. Bifford laughs and spins around with his belt in the air. Mario pops to his feet, pointing at Biff, motioning for him to come back to the ring. Bifford throws the Splenda Belt over his shoulder and saunters back toward the ring~
Smith: Mario wants another shot at Biff!
Hood: Yea well he’s got bigger problems than that. Cyanide is right behind him
Smith: Wasn’t the kick to cost him the match enough?
Hood: Aren’t you a fan of modern wrestling? You have to perform AT LEAST five superkicks per show for your promotion to mean anything
~Cyanide walks up and smacks Mario in the back of the head. Mario turns around – the blows to the head must have blacked out the memory of Cyanide costing him the match. Mario pauses, staring at his former partner, his former friend. He does the math. It all comes back. He looks up and points at Cyanide, furious. He’s suddenly shifted his entire anger from Biff to AgCN~
Smith: And now Mario is directing his anger in the proper direction
Hood: Dude is surrounded by two Hall of Famers. His odds aren’t good
~Biff, at ringside, slings the Splenda Title under the bottom rope. It clips Mario’s heels. Mario turns, distracted. Cyanide steps back and lungs forward with another SUPERKICK!!! Mario’s head snaps back…his body hits the ropes…he flips over the top rope and lands with reckless force on the outside. The crowd is furious!! Bifford laughs, throwing his title over his shoulder. The fans chant “ASSHOLE!” at Cyanide. One guy yells “I WISH YOU’D SWALLOW SOME ACTUAL CYANIDE!!” AgCN looks at the guy as if to say “Really? That’s all you got?”~
Smith: Fans are irate!
Hood: Man if you’re going to get front row tickets and yell stuff…make sure the shit talk is at least decent. What a douche bag that guy is. He just embarrassed his entire family
Smith: You’ll have to excuse me if I’m not all caught up in what some fan yelled. I’m more concerned over the health and mental well-being of one of the greatest stars in company history.
~Cyanide hops over the top rope and retrieves his hockey stick. Bifford removes a Splenda packet and offers it to AgCN. Cyanide kindly refuses the offering, patting Biff on his meaty shoulder. Biff is okay with this. More sweetness to himself. Cyanide, however, does head back over to the area where he entered the ringside area. He removes the TOY OCW TITLE. He walks over and drapes it across Mario’s chest. The fans boo even louder~
Smith: Funny…REAL FUNNY YOU JERK
Hood: Whoa, clam down, Smith. He’s giving Mario something very special.
Smith: He’s making a mockery of Mario’s career ambition…his final goal
Hood: Whatever…the guy knows Mario can’t win the OCW Title so he’s helping him out the best he can.
Smith: Screw you, Hood!
~AgCN heads up the ramp to a chorus of boos. He stands atop the ramp, arms in the air, basking in the negative reception these Key West residents are hurling his way~
Smith: I hope that man gets every bit of what he deserves at Social Justice. He’s RUINING the legacy of a great man
Hood: How about Bifford, huh? Huge pop?
Smith: Ugh, don’t get me started. I can’t stand that obese asshole
Hood: Whoa, obese asshole. Sounds like the title to one of John E Depth’s porn videos
Smith: That’s disgusting…speaking of disgusting, folks. We’ve had a great night marred by disgusting behavior. Bifford is Bifford and Cyanide, well, I just don’t know what to make of this man. I was so happy when he returned but now….now I wish he’d just go away.
Hood: Not until he gets that OCW Title shot!
Smith: He hasn’t EARNED an OCW Title shot! Fans, we’re running out of time…for Hood, I’m Smith. We’ll see you all next week!
~Bifford thinks about harming Mario but decides against it. He totes his Splenda belt up the ramp way, laughing over yet another victory against Mario. We get one final shot of OCW’s fallen hero. Mario remains outside the ring, fake belt draped over his exhausted, sweat soaked chest. We fade out~