OCW Presents: Redacted
LIVE! Monday, July 29th 2019
From Kim Il-sung Square Central District of Pyongyang, North Korea

~We cut to the jungle belonging to a third world country. The brush is wild, thick, untamed. Ravenous, feral sounds fire off all around. Cries of death surround. This is a very, very dangerous place. A lawless place. The heat and humidity create a deadly sauna that would drain the life out of the world’s most experienced sweater. Yes, my friends, this is not a place you want to visit. This place should be outlawed by man. It makes Jurassic Park look like Chuck E Cheese. The bushes move…we brace! Is it an animal in the prowl, set to attack? The bushes slowly part and, from behind we spot OCW GM Marcus Welsh! He’s covered in sweat. A canteen hangs around his neck…he hoists it to his lips, downing as much water as he can without risking emptying the entire container. Surrounding him are nameless, faceless personnel. Welsh pulls out a map…the ink has been washed around, making a once-elegant map look like a five-year-old’s finger painting. Welsh scratches just under his hat…what remains of his hair is wet and matted atop his head~

Marcus Welsh: Son of a bitch! Stupid airlines wouldn’t just drop us off in North Korea. We’re forced to crawl through South Korea. What a shithole this place is, let me tell you!

~And that’s when the location is revealed. At the bottom of the screen we see the words “South Korea – All of it”. Welsh swallows hard and motions for his group to keep moving. They carefully traverse the impossible terrain. Death could come at any moment. A sharp noise cries out to Welsh’s left. He turns, anxiously. The rest of his group cowers. Welsh stands proudly~

Marcus Welsh: Raise your heads up, men! Whatever is over there shall be met with bravery. If this is to be our end…if we are to die in *swallows hard* South Korea, then we will die fighting!

~A very brave, not at all afraid Welsh leads the group toward the noise. He peers through the foliage to spot a horrifying scene. A bunch of aborigines are dancing around a flame, making violent gestures. Welsh turns, showing his group the ‘quiet’ gesture. He peers closer, recognizing one of the locals~

Marcus Welsh: Is that…Zybala?

~We zoom in close to spot a person who looks very much like but probably not Zybala. The man is hopping around, leading the rest of the ‘savages’ in some sort of ceremonial dance~

Marcus Welsh: I knew he was in cahoots with this forsaken country! Just wait until I tell Kim. Okay, let’s get out of here before we’re caught…I believe the border is nearby.

~They turn…one of Welsh’s group members steps on a frog. The frog bellows a loud, resounding RIBBIT. Welsh winces and looks at the man, “Idiot.” He turns…Zybala and his tribe of savages have stopped dancing. They begin to yell and scream…they throw SUPERKICKS into the air before taking off in Welsh’s direction~

Marcus Welsh: Shit! Let’s go!

~Welsh and his group take off. One by one they are consumed by Zybala’s tribe, via superkicks to the back. Welsh sprints through the foliage, barreling through bushes and branches, hopping over animals (including a jaguar). He finally reaches what appears to be a clearing. He can feel Zybala’s hand grasping at his shoulder. Welsh dives forward with every ounce he has remaining…he lands, hard~

Silence

~Welsh, staring into the ground, sees nothing but dark. His breath smothers what oxygen there is to consume. He asks, “Is this death?” A very American voice sounds out, it may or may not be the voice of Morgan Freeman~

Voice: No, friend.

~Welsh wonders whether or not this is heaven or hell~

Voice: You are no longer in that dark, hellish place. Welcome to paradise…welcome, to North Korea.

~Welsh looks up to spot Kim Jong Un standing over him. KJU has a benevolent smile. He extends his hand, Welsh smiles back, taking the man’s hand. He stands, brushing himself off. He turns around, staring across the border, into South Korea. He thinks he sees the Savage Zybala sinking back into nature’s protection. Welsh leans over, gasping for breath. KJU pats him on the back and speaks…it’s clearly Morgan Freeman’s voice…dubbed over his own~

KJU: My friend, rest easy. You are safe. I am Kim Jong Un, the people’s chosen leader. Welcome to my country. North Korea is happy to accept you with open arms.

~Welsh stands and leans back, eying KJU. He smiles~

Marcus Welsh: You are a wonderful man. May I…have some water?

KJU: But of course!

~KJU motions for water to appear. It takes awhile. He shoots an angry glare…the water is suddenly produced. He goes back to laughing. Welsh guzzles the fresh water and nods, impressed~

KJU: Many people don’t know this, but North Korea was the first country to properly filter water.

Marcus Welsh: Wow, I did not know that. How insightful.

KJU: Follow me, my friend…as I take you on a journey of North Korea’s history.

Marcus Welsh: Sounds wonderful.

~Welsh and KJU walk side by side, leaving the cold, harsh South Korean border behind. As they walk, KJU points toward the many heavily armed guards patrolling his border~

KJU: Guns are regretful. If I had my way they’d be eradicated altogether. However, we do what we must to prevent those savages from invading our great land. Did you know that North Korea was the first country to create a safety, preventing firearms from shooting off at random?

Marcus Welsh: I truly did not know that, Mr. Un.

KJU: Please, call me Kim, or KJ.

Marcus Welsh: Sure thing, KJ! I had no idea. It’s important to have a governor, something to keep artillery in check. Take this triple threat tag match we have coming up…at least one competitor in there could learn a lesson or two about firing off at the mouth.

KJU: Ah, yes…I am very much looking forward to this one.

Marcus Welsh: Do you…have a favorite?

~KJU ponders. Welsh locates a rose. He procures it and takes a big whiff~

KJU: Ah, yes…ROSE. I believe they shall emerge victorious.

Marcus Welsh: Good call, KJ!

~We cut to a scene of children playing in a field. They are kicking a soccer ball around~

KJU: Soccer is the most popular sport in the world. One day North Korea will win the World Cup. Did you know that North Korea invented the modern soccer ball?

Marcus Welsh: I honestly did not know that.

KJU: It’s true. The original soccer ball was dull and white. North Korea created the black and white design we have all come to know and love.

Marcus Welsh: Incredible, KJ! It’s great to create things, kind of like how OCW is working on creating a new star in Crash Rodriguez. He faces Ed Houston for the Craze Title.

KJU: Well, I hope to see this Crash Hernandez continue his ascension.

~A stray kick pelts KJU in the head. He turns around, viciously. He says something that sounds very angry (in North Korean). The children cower. KJU’s senses return. He swallows hard and picks up the ball~

KJU: Haha! Such fun we are known to have here in North Korea! Here, children! Take your ball! Great kick, young man!

~KJU whispers some indecipherable instructions to one of his guards. Welsh pivots and walks away. We cut to a hospital. Doctors, nurses, and healthy individuals are walking in and out~

KJU: Here in North Korea we offer the best medicine for everyone! It’s affordable for any citizen, no matter how rich or poor.

Marcus Welsh: That’s just wonderful, KJ.

KJU: Did you know that North Korea was the first country to cure AIDS?

Marcus Welsh: I truthfully had no idea…that AIDS had even been cured.

KJU: It has…and the cure started, right here.

Marcus Welsh: I hope OCW is cured of that awful Alice Knight at Redacted. She faces Andrea Hernandez…I’m no Andrea fan but she’s lightyears better than Alice Knight.

KJU: Well then, perhaps we shall share a toast to the success of Andrea Rodriguez!

~They walk past a second hospital. Screams of pain, tragedy, and horror bounce around the walls within~

Marcus Welsh: What’s going on over there?

KJU: Oh, you needn’t worry about that.

~We cut to an assisted living facility. The old people appear heavily drugged. The orderlies are moving them around like heavy, limp mannequins, making it look like they are lively and happy~

KJU: Here in North Korea we appreciate our elders. We do everything we can to ensure that their twilight years are met with happiness…a comfort zone so that they may bask in the nostalgia of years past.

Marcus Welsh: So great.

KJU: Did you know that North Korea was the first country to house individuals over the age of fifty?

Marcus Welsh: I seriously did not know that!

KJU: It’s a fact.

Marcus Welsh: Sadly, the assisted living in America isn’t near this good. If it were, perhaps Lurrr would go away.

KJU: Ah, he is facing that great scott…one of the greatest scotts. That man named Scott Stoovins.

Marcus Welsh: It’s Stevens, your excellence. But you are right on and it’s about time somebody recognized that Stevens is, in fact, a great scott.

KJU: Well, that’s what we do. We right wrongs and make the world a better place. But, tell me…you tend to your elderly? I thought America practiced the South Korean way of dealing with the elderly by placing them on a raft, or iceberg, and sending them off into the sea, to die quietly.

Marcus Welsh: Nah, not anymore. We’ve got this thing called human rights now.

~Welsh and KJU stare at each other for a moment. KJU doesn’t quite understand. Welsh turns to the translator~

Marcus Welsh: Ya know, it’s the idea that every living person has a right to make their own decisions…live life the way they see fit.

~The translator relays the definition. KJU furrows his brow and looks toward Welsh. Both men suddenly burst into laughter…the sound of laughter is removed as we instantly cut away. Next scene finds a group of individuals practicing meditation~

KJU: Anger is a dangerous thing, Mr. Welsh. Here in North Korea we offer programs that will help our citizens channel their anger into more peaceful, productive avenues.

Marcus Welsh: That is very, very progressive.

KJU: Yes, say, did you know that North Korea was the first country to come up with the idea of a peace treaty?

Marcus Welsh: I totally did not know that!

KJU: Well, it is true.

Marcus Welsh: Sadly, violence permeates the core of our country. I even have to suffer it in my great company. Take Logan and Vossler, for example. They are going to tear each other apart…I just hope Vossler can survive that savage, Logan.

KJU: I’m sure this man Vossler will do just fine.

~KJU spots a member of the meditation group wearing something out of uniform. He motions toward this person. We see a bunch of North Korean military men apprehend the guy using guns. We cut away. Next scene sees KJU leading Welsh through a cafeteria where the most up to date, state of the art health food is served~

KJU: Here in North Korea, health is very important. We want our citizens to live long and healthy lifestyles, which is why we offer programs instructing individuals how to properly eat.

Marcus Welsh: So, so progressive.

KJU: Yes, say, did you know that North Korea was the first country to invent Kale?

Marcus Welsh: I seriously had no idea.

KJU: Yes, it comes for the North Korean word Ka’lei which, when properly translated, means “North Korea is good for your health.”

Marcus Welsh: Maybe we should get Bifford some Kale. Can’t stand this fat man, KJ. He’s awful. Really hope Farthington defeats him at Redacted.

KJU: I’m sure health will win again. Health is very, very important.

~We quickly cut away…however, before we do, we catch a glimpse of a giant bowl filled with FRITO PIE being handed to KJU. We cut to a shot of a local hangout. State of the art drinking establishments line a street. Patrons happily file in and out, enjoying their libations without getting sloppy~

KJU: Now, I know what you’re thinking…North Korea is a real stickler for health and rules. And while we do like to maintain order and organization around here…we still know how to have some fun! That’s why we provide many avenues of entertainment for our citizens who, unlike most countries, understand when enough is enough.

Marcus Welsh: I’m truly in awe at this country’s unrivaled ability to be great at everything.

KJU: Yes, humility and excellence are what we are also known for. Say, Mr. Welsh, did you know that North Korea was the first country to invent humility?

Marcus Welsh: I had no idea, KJ!

KJU: Well, it’s true.

Marcus Welsh: The two men in our main event could stand to learn a little something about moderation and humility. Especially that lush, Mack O’Connor…he just won’t go away…hopefully Mike Best knees his face off.

KJU: I’m sure it will all work out for the best, Mr. Welsh.

~KJU’s head snaps to the left. One of the many giant posters featuring his face has a slight kink in the fabric. He begins ranting and raving…people run over to straighten it out. We cut away. Welsh and KJU are standing at a high point, overlooking a great deal of the North Korean landscape~

KJU: And, so, there you have it, Mr. Welsh. A quick look into what this great, humble country has to offer.

Marcus Welsh: Well, consider me enlightened, KJ.

KJU: Say, Mr. Welsh, did you know that North Korea invented being a country?

Marcus Welsh: KJ, I seriously, honestly, truthfully, totally had no idea.

KJU: Well, it’s true. Before North Korea there was Pangea. North Korea broke away, declaring itself an independent, free, sovereign nation. Shortly thereafter all other countries copied us.

Marcus Welsh: That’s amazing. OCW was once part of a giant melting pot of shitty feds. But now…now OCW stands alone in its greatness, thanks to my vision. KJ, we are two luminaries that should be treasured.

KJU: Yes, but me first.

Marcus Welsh: Of course.

~We cut to the live feed. A giant crowd of citizens are standing, watching what just aired on the giant OCW screen. There is a silence filling the air. Thousands of people, just gawking at the screen. Something suddenly flashes in North Korean…the thousands in attendance go WILD!!! CHEERS!! HOLLARS! AND SCREAMS!! Pandemonium!!!~

Smith: Hello again everyone and welcome to Redacted!

Hood: I…

Smith: The less said the better, Hood. Folks, we’re coming to you LIVE from Pyongyang, North Korea…we’re about to get underway, but first…a video package detailing tonight’s in ring action!

---

---

Smith: And we’re back! What a scene we have here in Pyongyang, North Korea!

~We overlook the outdoor venue. A thick walkway/road separates thousands of fans/citizens from the dignitaries, higher ups. Trumpets sound…pomp and circumstance abounds. Our POV cuts to see Kim Jong Un taking his seat above all else. Next to him sets, Marcus Welsh. They are overlooking the event~

Smith: A venue like no other, Hood.

Hood: Yea, I dragged my happy ass all the way out here. We better have some good fucking matches and some acceptable results.

Smith: Well, the event is ready to get underway…so let’s head down to ringside for our first match!

OCW Tag Team Championship
No Holds Barred Tag Team Elimination
R.O.S.E. © (4-0) vs. The Dravers Boys (5-2) vs. Duce Jones & Krayzie (0-0)

~It’s a lovely day in Pyongyang! The citizens in attendance stand in very tight, very uniformed rows. They all face toward the ring which sets in the middle of a big, empty street/walkway. On the other side set a bunch of North Korean leaders including Kim Jung-Un…next to KJU (as he will be referred to moving forward for finger related reasons) is MARCUS WELSH. Welsh appears very proud over what sets in front of him. A giant flat screen hangs high above the leaders, it faces the citizens. Suddenly, an image displaying the tag team title match shows. The citizens clap in unison, loud and polite. Belvedere clears his throat. His back faces the citizens while he looks at the leaders. This creates an interesting visual for the citizens~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen the following contest is a triple threat, no holds barred, tag team elimination match and it is for the OCW Tag Team Championships!!! IntroDUCEing first…

~"I'm Wit Whateva'" by Biggie Smalls hits!! The crowd seems confused by the choice in music. KJU’s face appears displeased. Welsh moves to relax the slightly unpredictable man. In the distance, emerging from a giant building stationed perpendicular to the road which leads to the ring are Duce Jones and Krayzie!! The father son duo hustle down the stone steps, reaching the street. They take an immediate right, marching past the citizens who remain in their practiced posture. Both father and son look around like ‘this shit is kinda weird’. They maintain their march, understanding great penalty could come at any sort of overt act of rebellion. They take a sharp left, marching down the wide walkway leading toward the ring. North Korean media hurry around them, taking photos. Krayzie locks eyes with that ring…a focus consumes him. The man is returning to his roots…he’s showing the focus and determination that builds an OCW champion. Duce, meanwhile, continues to look around at the venue. They reach the ring…Belvedere motions with his head for both men to walk around the ring and face the leaders. Duce seems confused, but Krayzie talks some sense into his boy. They stand in front of KJU and bow. KJU nods. Both men turn and slide into the ring. Duce is seen uttering a litany of curse words under his breath. Krayzie, meanwhile, returns to his laser like focus as they pose for the fans, who clap~

Belvedere: At a total combined weight of 460lbs…Duce Jones and Krayzie!!!

Smith: Nothing against the venue but I almost wish Krayzie had made his return to the ring somewhere else.

Hood: I get ya.

Smith: Regardless, he’s back where he once stood…inside an OCW ring with a shot at the Tag Titles. This time, however, he’s with the best partner he could have asked for – his son.

Hood: Oh quit with the drama you fucking titty baby.

Belvedere: Introducing next…

~'The Boys are Back' - The Dropkick Murphys hits!! The citizens in attendance clap like before. The pink and red heads belonging to Nathan and Jonathan come hopping out of the same building. They bounce down the steps full of energy. And no, it’s not just their heads…they brought the rest of their bodies to North Korea you literal bastards. Their feet hit the pavement…they look around at the crowd. Nathan throws his hands in the air, trying to get them to cheer. Jonathan does the same. The citizens look around, confused. This creates confused with the Dravers. North Korean security approaches from behind…Jonathan, the more aware of the two, slaps Nathan on the back to get him moving. The brothers bounce around, heading toward the second turn. They take the turn (left) and spot the ring. They sprint down, showing all the energy we’ve come to expect out of the brothers Dravers. Before sliding into the ring, they spot Scruff, who is blocking the entrance. They pull up, abruptly. Scruff, like Belvedere earlier, motions for them to greet the leaders. Nathan is confused, but Jonathan shoves him along. They face KJU and his crew…and, they bow. KJU nods. The brothers turn and slide into the ring. They pass by Duce and Krayzie before ascending buckles of their own, proudly showing off~

Belvedere: At a total combined weight of 400lbs…they are two time OCW Tag Team Champions…they are Nathan and Jonathan…they are The Dravers Boys!!!

Smith: So great to see Nathan and Jonathan back in action! This time with a FAIR fight against the champions.

Hood: Am I stupid or did I read that their family flew in for this…

Smith: They are in attendance, yes.

~We cut to a shot of the Dravers family, including little Alex. They are surrounded by North Korean security, somewhere in the sea of citizens. They look – uncomfortable. Mrs. Dravers tosses an angry gaze Mr. Dravers way~

Belvedere: And, their opponents….

~"Evil In Me" - Thomas Edwards hits! The fans clap, just like they did for the Dravers and Duce/Krayzie. The tag team champions emerge from the same location. Twilight descends, proudly. Her OCW Tag Title secured tightly around her waist. Lilith sort of skips down the steps, holding her title…the back end of it dragging down the steps. OCW’s most hated couple hit the pavement and make their way toward the second turn. Twilight ignores her surroundings, showing that veteran focus. Lilith looks at the citizens and, perhaps, wonders why they aren’t eating any cookies. They take a sharp left. North Korean media is all around them. Lilith poses a few times, showing her signature lack of focus. They reach the ring…there’s no need for direction. Twilight grabs Lilith by the arm and takes her in front of the leaders. They do a very exaggerated, very ass-kissing bow. KJU nods, TWICE. He smiles and leans in to Welsh. Welsh nods and says, “Yes, they are special.” Twilight and Lilith turn and enter into the ring. They glare at Duce and Krayzie…then at the Dravers before hoisting their belts high in the air for all the citizens to see~

Belvedere: At a total combined weight of 300lbs…they are the OCW Tag Team Champions…Lilith and Sarah Twilight…R.O.S.E.!!!!!

Smith: The champions are here! This is probably their toughest test since winning the tag titles.

Hood: I don’t know, Smith. I think Lilith test Twilight’s patience on a daily basis.

Smith: It might be a strange dynamic, but it works for them.

Hood: Let’s hope they never go on wife swap. The poor prick stuck with Lilith would probably commit the first on-air reality tv suicide.

~Scruff collects the belts. Lilith plays with his beard. Scruff has a look on his face that says “I wish I could shiv this bitch” but he’s a pro. He holds the belts up and hands them over to Belvedere, who quickly exits. The bell rings! The citizens clap. The Dravers go right after Sarah Twilight. Duce looks at Krayzie…Krayzie takes in a deep breath and, like a swimmer contemplating testing the water, he decides to dive in head first, charging at Lilith. Duce follows his father. The two challenging teams are double teaming each member of R.O.S.E.~

Smith: This could be a short night for ROSE, Hood. They are ubiquitously hated.

Hood: Are you saying their hate is omnipotent?

Smith: One might even call it preeminent.

Hood: Ah, so it’s downright transcendent.

~Twilight is being battered by forearms. She doubles over, giving them her back….she stumbles into the ropes and bails to safety. Nathan and Jonathan glare at her, over the top rope. Lilith tries fighting Duce and Krayzie. She SCREAMS and throws her hands at them, claws ready. Duce dodges one. Lilith loses her balance…Krayzie smacks her in the face with a kick. She spins around and nearly topples over the top rope due to the impact. Duce helps her out, grabbing Lilith’s legs and throwing her to the floor. She hits, hard. Twilight rushes over to check on her wife. Duce and Krayzie are fired up. They turn around and bump into the Dravers. Both teams have a staredown…Jonathan to Krayzie and Nathan to Duce. They nod and extend their hands…a friendly, competitive shake takes place~

Smith: Mutual respect being shown.

Hood: You put ROSE in the Middle East and that might solve all their problems.

Smith: Perhaps.

~With the pleasantries out of the way, the two teams turn toward their common enemy. Twilight is helping Lilith to her feet. Nathan takes off…he hits the ropes, bounces off and leaps over the top rope with a senton!!! He lands on ROSE, taking both members down!!! He pops to his feet and yells ‘JONATHAN!’ Jonathan shrugs and takes off. Nathan pulls Twilight and Lilith up…Jonathan charges forward and he dives through the ropes with a suicide dive!! His torpedo like flight takes both women down just after Nathan moves! Jonathan and Nathan quickly pulls Twilight and Lilith back up…they motion toward Duce and Krayzie. Duce, not one to sit back, takes off…he hits the ropes and he leaps over the top rope with a fosbury flop!!! He, too, takes both women down!! Duce pops back to his feet and he looks at Nathan and Jonathan. They all nod and pull the tag champs back up. Duce yells “C’MON, POPS!” Krayzie shakes his head and sighs as if to say “I’m getting too old for this shit.” He takes off, hitting the ropes, he bounces off and leaps over the top rope with a suicide dive of his own, taking both women down!!! The four of them pop back to their feet, fired up!! They all high five. The citizens clap…which kinda blows because a normal crowd would be losing their shit right now. Regardless…ROSE is down~

Smith: What great athleticism! How about Krayzie taking to the air!

Hood: He didn’t get as much air as the other three but he got enough.

Smith: Indeed!

Hood: And that was great and all but…now what? Are they going to cut those titles in half because, if so, that’d be pretty fucking gay.

~The four members are smiling, some might even describe their behavior as ‘laughing’, ‘chuckling’ even. The laughs and chuckles start to die out. The realization of the situation begins to become real. The chuckling almost comes to an end…finally, it does. They stand around, somewhat awkwardly for a moment…until Duce strikes Jonathan…or was it Nathan striking Krayzie? Who struck first? We’ll probably never know. Regardless, a brawl has broken out between the two teams!!! Krayzie and Nathan going at it while Jonathan and Duce go at it!!! Krayzie, a wise man, manages to deliver a thrust shot to Nathan’s throat…he tosses the pink haired Draver into the ring, sliding in behind. Duce and Jonathan trade punch after punch, neither man gaining a clear advantage~

Smith: Krayzie is the true ring general out there. He knows nothing good can come from fighting outside the ring.

Hood: What are you talking about? A lot of good can come from fighting out there…broken skulls, snapped legs, shattered dreams…good shit, man.

Smith: Perhaps that’s a younger man’s game, Hood. But Krayzie desires to keep his portion of the action in the ring where the damage is capped.

~Duce blocks a right hand from Jonathan and leans forward with a headbutt!!! Jonathan staggers back. Duce throws a bicycle kick…but Jonathan dodges the kick. Duce staggers forward and turns around. Jonathan throws a superkick!!! But Duce catches the leg…he tosses it to the side…Jonathan uses the momentum to crack Duce across the head with an enziguri!!! Duce stumbles to the side, falling to one knee. Inside the ring, Krayzie has Nathan backed into a corner…he’s administering some serious knife edged chops. He whips Nathan across the ring…Nathan sprints…he ducks and hits the corner flipping over, winding up on the top buckle, seated on his ass…he quickly flips back down to the ring, landing on his feet…Krayzie charges in and hits a HUGE splash on Nathan, slamming the pink haired Dravers front first into the corner. Krayzie follows that up by hooking Nathan around the waist and tossing him toward the center of the ring with a Release German!!! Nathan hits hard and slowly rolls out of the ring. Krayzie tries to stop him, but can’t. Krayzie, about to go after him, pauses…he turns and sees Jonathan in the ring. He nods…Jonathan nods…the last two men standing begin to circle one another~

Smith: It’s down to Krayzie and Jonathan…for the moment.

Hood: Stop trying to bury ROSE just because they’re too thorny for your delicate skin.

Smith: How are they doing, by the way?

Hood: Resting, comfortably…they shall awaken at some point.

~The two men lock up! Krayzie snares a side headlock! Jonathan slaps Krayzie in the ribs before shooting him off, into the ropes. Krayzie bounces off…Jonathan leapfrogs. Krayzie hits the ropes again…Jonathan drops to the mat. Krayzie stops and drops and elbow into Jonathan’s back!! He promptly locks in a second headlock, smiling into the camera. Jonathan fights to his feet…he shoots Krayzie off a second time. This time Jonathan stands his ground…Krayzie knocks him to the mat with a shoulder tackle. Jonathan kips up…but Krayzie is waiting, he catches Jonathan as he reaches his feet and throws him overhead with a Belly to Belly!!! Jonathan hits hard. Krayzie turns to go after him…but, from behind, we spot the pink hair of Nathan!! He’s on the apron. He jumps onto the top rope…Krayzie’s instincts kick in. He turns around but, it’s too late, he eats a springboard, flying forearm from Nathan!!! Krayzie rolls out of the ring. Nathan checks on Jonathan~

Smith: Nathan flying back into the picture to finally slow Krayzie down.

Hood: He should have let Krayzie keep going.

Smith: Why?

Hood: Because that old man was bound to run out of gas soon.

~Duce slides into the ring, perhaps seeing or feeling what happened to his pops. Jonathan points at Duce. Nathan pops up. He goes after Duce. Duce throws a clothesline…Nathan ducks and leaps onto the second buckle of a nearby corner. He leaps off, spinning around with a double axe handle. Duce reaches up, blocking Nathan’s hands! Nathan lands on his feet with Duce holding his arms. Nathan boots Duce in the gut. He takes off, hitting the ropes…he rushes forward looking for a swinging neck breaker. But Duce stands upright. Nathan hits the mat without Duce. He kips back up, again. Duce throws a D-Trigga. Nathan sidesteps it and, with Duce passing by, he grabs Duce by the head, securing his neck breaker!!! Duce hits hard, holding his neck in pain~

Smith: This is some fast paced action!! These men are super athletic!

Hood: Man if I were the champs I’d just fuckin chill outside. This match is a marathon, let these morons sprint.

Smith: If they are resting, it’s not by choice. Perhaps you’ll recall they were destroyed seconds after the bell.

Hood: Due to some WEAK ASS BOOKING

~Nathan helps Jonathan up. We cut to the Dravers family. They are smiling and clapping. Alex is thrilled…or as thrilled as one can be in North Korea. They suddenly recoil in horror. Alex shrieks. We cut back to the ring to fine Twilight and Lilith standing over Nathan and Jonathan with steel chairs in their hands. The Brothers are down! Lilith begins to beat Nathan repeatedly, screaming at the top of her lungs. Twilight calms her. She points toward Jonathan. The couple pull Jonathan to his feet…he’s wobbly. They tap their chairs against the mat 1, 2, and three…they CRUSH Jonathan’s head with a CONCHAIRTO shot!!! Jonathan collapses face first onto the mat. Nathan looks up, his face riddled with pain. He sees what they did to his brother…he’s overcome with anger. The anger helps him fight through the pain, reaching his feet~

Smith: And the tag champs are back in it!

Hood: They brought some artillery.

Smith: It’s all legal in this one.

Hood: Nathan’s pissed…his face is redder than his dead brother’s hair.

Smith: Jonathan isn’t dead!

~Nathan yells at the top of his lungs…a warrior’s yell!! He charges at Lilith and Twilight. The tag champs are stunned he’s already on his feet. He takes them down with a clothesline. He knows they won’t be down long…so he grabs his brother and drags him toward the side of the ring, kicking him out. Jonathan is on the apron…Nathan uses his feet to kick Jonathan off the apron, to the ground~

Smith: Nathan protecting his brother.

Hood: That’s blood.

Smith: Yep…trying to get his incapacitated brother as far away from these devilish women as possible.

~Nathan pops back to his feet only to get BLASTED in the face from a chair shot via Twilight. Lilith pounces on him. She claws at his face. He does his best to cover up. Lilith bites at him. A nail gashes his cheek. Twilight looks on, refusing to stop the onslaught. Lilith is straight mauling Nathan. We spot Duce hopping on the apron. Twilight runs after him, slinging the chair. He hops off the apron. Krayzie slides in. He kicks Lilith in the head, getting her off Nathan. Twilight runs at him with a chair. She swings it…Krayzie ducks…Lilith grabs her chair and jams it into Krayzie’s gut. Twilight smacks her chair into Krayzie’s back. Nathan sits up, his face is scratched and bleeding. He looks up at the girls…his face crimsoned with blood and anger~

Smith: Lilith is one dangerous individual.

Hood: No shit…please don’t ever let me be in a room alone with that woman.

Smith: I can’t make any promises, Hood.

Hood: And after all these years…I thought I knew you.

~Krayzie raises up…the girls look for another CONCHAIRTO. Nathan runs in, he goes after Lilith, pummeling her. Lilith drops her chair. She stumbles into a corner. Twilight grabs Krayzie and tosses him out of the ring. She takes her chair, going after Nathan in an effort to protect her wife. She cracks Nathan in the back with the chair. Lilith takes her nails and rips at Nathan’s eyes. Nathan turns around…Twilight THROWS her chair in his face…it’s a direct hit!!! He spins around, almost dropping. Lilith takes the chair, jumps up and drops Nathan with a codebreaker…chair to the face!!! Nathan is down. Lilith covers him while Twilight places both her feet on his shoulders. Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

3!!!

~The bell rings. The Dravers family is shown looking very upset. They are probably wondering why they flew all the way out to North Korea~

Belvedere: Nathan Dravers has been eliminated!

Smith: Man!

Hood: One Dravers down.

Smith: But they aren’t out, Hood.

Hood: Might as well be. Jonathan’s in a fucking coma on the outside.

~Nathan is helped out of the ring. ROSE is proud of their work. Krayzie slides in behind them. They sense the presence of another. They turn around. Krayzie rushes them and clotheslines both women over the top rope!!! Lilith tumbles to the outside, painfully. Twilight remains on the apron, holding onto the top rope. Krayzie reaches over, grabbing Twilight by her red hair. He yanks her over the top rope, viciously. She flips over, landing on her ass. Krayzie retains control of her hair. He kicks a chair into place. He yanks Twilight to her feet. He positions her for a facebuster onto the chair. A loud SCREAM is heard. Krayzie is distracted. Lilith slides into the ring. She pops to her feet and pulls out a can of – something. She sprays it in Krayzie’s eyes!!! The OCW vet yells out, releasing Twilight, who stands up and leans into the ropes. Lilith checks on her wife. Krayzie stomps around the ring, blind. Lilith takes the can and runs at Krayzie, smashing it into his head!!! Krayzie drops to one knee. Lilith looks at the can, it’s leaking. She throws it out of the ring and takes whatever leakage that remains on her hand in his face. Krayzie coughs and spits. He leans over, on his knees, blind and in pain. Lilith marches over, grabbing a chair…she stands over Krayzie, holding the chair high~

Smith: What was in that can!

Hood: Pesticide of some kind? That’s what it looked like to me.

Smith: These women are unreal.

Hood: Psychos to the MAX

~’FUCKIN BITCH!’ is heard…Duce comes flying into view with D-TRIGGA right into Lilith’s face!!! She goes flying backwards, into the ropes! Her body dumps over the second rope, onto the apron. Duce checks on his pops. Krayzie motions that he can’t see. Duce stands up, he’s seething. He sees Twilight…he runs forward and lunges at her without any control or plan. His body slams into hers…they flip over the top rope, landing roughly on the outside. Duce drills her in the head with right hands over and over and over. Krayzie yells out for Duce. Duce can’t hear. Krayzie calls out again. Duce finally relents…he reaches under the ring and finds some water. He slides in, handing the bottle to Krayzie who removes the cap and douses his eyes, flushing them out. He looks up at Duce…there’s a maniacal look in his son’s eyes. Krayzie tries to calm him down…but Duce is having trouble listening~

Smith: Duce is cracking.

Hood: I’m telling ya…that’s where ROSE beats ya. They get in your head, claw around, freak you out and then you wind up making dumbass mistakes.

Smith: Duce does suffer from D.I.D….he can be pushed over a psychological edge.

Hood: Fuckin guy going to hold on and help his dad or is he going to lose his shit?

Smith: I’m not sure…but I think all the talk from ROSE combined with watching his dad get hurt has been a bit much for Duce.

~Krayzie can finally see! He gets to his feet and tries to get his sons attention. He finally spins Duce around and slaps him in the face. This FINALLY wakes Duce up. Krayzie grabs his son by the face and barks some very clear orders. Duce nods. Krayzie rubs the top of Duce’s head and sends his son along the way. Krayzie turns, seeing Twilight climbing back onto the apron. He grabs a steel chair and walks over, jamming it into Twilight’s gut. He lifts a knee into her face. Twilight is reeling, holding onto the top rope with one hand. Krayzie decides to give Sarah a taste of her own medicine. He throws the chair right in her face!! It hits!! Twilight flies off the apron…she hits hard. Krayzie spits out of the ring in her direction – he’s got no love for the girls, either. Duce throws Lilith back into the ring. She crawls toward the center where the second chair resides. She grabs it only for Krayzie’s boot to stomp on the seat, preventing Lilith from securing it~

Smith: Twilight is down! They’ve got Lilith isolated!

Hood: Man if they eliminate Lilith they’re probably going to win this.

Smith: Yep, Krayzie just has to keep Duce straight.

Hood: If anybody can do it, it’s his father.

~Duce grabs Lilith by the hair. Her eyes widen. She reaches out…not for help like most, she’s apparently trying to claw at Krayzie. Duce leans in with a headbutt, temporarily paralying Lilith. Duce spins her around and shoves her at Krayzie…he locks her waist. Duce charges in with a jumping bicycle knee strike!!! Krayzie takes Lilith over upon impact with a German Suplex!! He bridges into a pin! Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

KICK OUT!

Smith: Lilith kicked out!

Hood: Yea, but she’s on borrowed time.

~Duce yanks Lilith back to her feet. He tosses her into the center of the ring…her legs give out…she drops to her knees. Krayzie and Duce surround her. They look at one another and charge forward…Duce hits a D-Trigga while Krayzie hits a punt kick!!! Lilith falls forward, convulsing on the mat~

Smith: CBD!! Lilith might be out!

Hood: Or have brain…err, MORE brain damage.

Smith: What a vicious maneuver…they are moments away from finishing the most vicious half of ROSE!

~Krayzie jerks Lilith to her feet. He lifts her up for a flapjack. He falls backward…as he does, Duce leaps up and connects with a CODEBREAKER!!! Lilith’s body flails backwards…the force of the move sends her through the ropes, to the outside. Duce and Krayzie pop to their feet~

Smith: THC!

Hood: They THC’d that bitch right out of the ring!

Smith: They need to get her back in the ring for the pin!

~Every fan NOT IN NOTRH KOREA is pleading with Duce and Krayzie to get her in the ring and finisher her. Duce dives through the ropes. Krayzie remains in the ring. He leans over, taking in a breath or two, showing that his wind isn’t quite where it needs to be, yet. Duce stands over Lilith…she’s face first on the mat. He kicks her over…his jaw tightens. His fists clinch. He drops to his knees and starts wailing on her. Krayzie looks up. “Where is Duce?” he wonders. He walks over to find Duce taking liberties with an unconscious Lilith~

Smith: Duce has snapped!

Hood: If it were ANYBODY other than Lilith I might call this excessive.

Smith: He’s got to get her in the ring! Krayzie! Talk some sense into your boy!

~Lilith’s nose is busted. Her eyes are looking discolored. Krayzie yells out for Duce to stop. “GET HER IN THE RING, SON!” he yells. Duce can’t hear his dad through the RAGE running through his body. He grabs Lilith by the head and begins to repeatedly slam the back of her skull into the ground. He looks up and sees the unprotected concrete. His eyes fire off. “NO! SON! IN THE FUCKIN RING!” Duce stands and starts to drag Lilith toward the concrete. Krayzie is about to step through the ropes when he’s attacked from behind by Twilight!! She kicks him from behind right in the crotch!!! Krayzie doubles over…Twilight rolls him up from behind!!! Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

3!!!!

~The bell rings~

Belvedere: Krayzie has been eliminated!

Smith: No!!!

Hood: Fuckin hell! Duce’s insanity cost his fuckin dad!

Smith: Dang it, Duce! DANG IT

Hood: Fuckin Duce let his dad down. Way to go, Duce!

~The bell seems to snap Duce back into reality. He turns around to see what’s taken place. His eyes widen. He lets go of Lilith. Twilight, back on her feet, sees what remains of Lilith. She flies through the ropes, heading toward her wife. The two pass each other like urgent ships in the night. Duce slides in to check on his dad. Krayzie, wincing from the low blow sits up. He looks at his son and shakes his head. Duce’s soul visibly drops. Twilight looks at Lilith…she rubs her wife’s hair and feels around her face. Duce tries explaining what happened…but his dad is too disappointed to listen. He slowly rolls out of the ring and hits the floor. He walks away…Duce watches his father leave, full of disappointment~

Smith: Poor Duce…he didn’t mean it!

Hood: Krayzie is taking that shit hard.

Smith: He wants his son to be better than he was, Hood. Moments like these are a setback…it’s through love that disappointment is created.

Hood: I know this shit is heavy for Duce but he’s about to have a super angry Twilight on his hands.

~Twilight is almost brought to tears at the appearance of her wife. Her sadness starts to morph into rage. Her body heaves with emotion. She turns and sees Duce through her peripheral. Duce is leaning over the top rope, besides himself with guilt and remorse. Twilight gets to her feet. She marches toward the ring and looks underneath…she pulls a bat that says “POOP JONES” on the side. She slides into the ring. She rushes Duce’s way. Duce hears and feels her coming. He turns around…Twilight swings for the fences. Duce reaches out and CATCHES the barrel of the bat! He looks at the engraving and starts to lose his shit again. He rips the bat away. He jams the handle into Twilight’s stomach. She drops to one knee. He cracks the bat over her back!! She flips over, arching her back in pain. Duce drags the barrel of the bat across the mat as he circles Sarah~

Smith: Duce is a very dangerous man right now.

Hood: Will this anger work? Or will it blow up in his face?

Smith: It’s already cost him his father. If I were him I’d try to calm down.

Hood: Might be too late for that…I think he’s about to crack Sarah’s head open.

~Duce reaches back with the bat. There’s no turning back now! The bat is suddenly ripped from his hands! Duce turns around to find Jonathan Dravers!! Blood is leaking from his left ear…but his cognitive faculties appear to be working. Jonathan tosses the bat down and pushes Duce, wondering what he’s doing~

Smith: Jonathan may hate Twilight but at his heart he’s a good man. He’s not going to stand back and watch something like this take place!

Hood: Fuckin Dravers

Smith: What?

Hood: They should get into philanthropy or some shit. They are too nice for this business.

~Duce pushes Jonathan back. His eyes are those of a man who has lost control of the wheel. Jonathan doesn’t really understand the man in front of him…but he’s not about to back down. He shoves Duce back. Duce goes for a D-Trigga!!! Jonathan dodges!! Duce’s knee hits the top buckle!! He turns around and eats a SUPERKICK from Jonathan!!! Duce falls through the ropes onto the apron…he tumbles outside. Jonathan looks down at Duce, shaking his head. He turns back around and CRACK!!!~

Smith: OH MY GOSH!

Hood: Twilight just cracked Jonathan in the head with that bat!

Smith: NO!

Hood: No good deed goes unpunished, Smith.

~Jonathan’s eyes roll in the back of his head. Twilight drops the bat, kicks him in the gut (before he can fall) and drops him with a DDT. She rolls his body over for the pin~

1!

2!

3!!!!

~The bell rings~

Belvedere: Jonathan Dravers has been eliminated!

Smith: I’m going to be sick.

Hood: Not as sick as Jonathan. His ass took a fuckin beating tonight.

Smith: Those poor Dravers…such good hearts.

Hood: Yep, good hearts and barren waists.

~Jonathan is helped from the ring. Sarah returns to her feet, holding her guts from the bat shot earlier. She sees Duce…she teeters along the edge of hurting him. But, instead, she heads for her wife. She hops through the ropes to check on Lilith. Lilith’s eyes are open…the left one appears nearly swollen shut. Her nose is busted. Her lip might be, as well. She also looks on the woozy side of concussed. Sarah helps her sit up~

Smith: Duce is down. Sarah is checking on her wife.

Hood: I guess ROSE was correct…their bond is stronger than blood.

Smith: Can Lilith continue?

Hood: I’m down with terminating her.

Smith: That’s not what I was asking! It seems Twilight might be willing to send her to the back.

~Indeed, Sarah is asking Lilith if she wants to bow out of the match. Lilith stares, blankly at the ground. It takes a moment…but she begins to almost ‘sober’ up. She looks at her wife. Sarah asks, “You want to head to the back? I can handle this.” Lilith smiles and leans in, planting a bloody, long, disgusting French kiss on her wife’s lips. The North Korean crowd is somewhat concerned by this. KJU glares at Welsh. Welsh blushes and does some explaining. Lilith finally stops sucking face and stands. She brushes herself off…her disfigured face recharged. Twilight is beaming. She gets to her feet…the two women march toward the ring. The stop…Twilight drops to her knees and digs underneath the ring. She finds TWO EXTRA RING BELLS. She slides them into the ring. Lilith and Twilight roll in behind the bells~

Smith: This is bad news for Duce.

Hood: Ring bells are ROSE’s specialty.

~Twilight hops out of the ring and throws Duce back in. Duce is still reeling from Jonathan’s superkick…as well as everything else. He’s on his knees, dazed. Lilith stands with a bell. Twilight stands with a bell…they are on both sides of Duce. Twilight looks toward Lilith…she nods. They bend down and tap the ring once, twice…and a third time. Duce’s eyes suddenly regain focus. They swing with a bell themed CONCHAIRTO…but Duce ducks!!! The bells hit each other, creating a loud RING! Duce tucks and does a handspring!!! His body hits the ropes…it bounces backwards…he lands on his feet and jumps into the air, drilling both women with a double pele kick!!! Duce lands on his knee, like a fuckin superhero!!! The members of Rose turn inside out, hitting the mat hard!!!~

Smith: DUCE!!

Hood: He woke up!

Smith: He looks focused…no longer crazed!

~Twilight is up first. Duce pops to his feet…he charges in and hits a D-Trigga!!! Twilight’s body tumbles to the mat, rolling under the bottom rope, to the outside. Duce turns toward Lilith. She’s trying to sit up. Duce stands over her, offering a hand. Lilith, totally out of it, accepts. Duce pulls her up into a ripcord headbutt!! He grabs her limp, second hand, securing both arms and delivers a vicious knee strike (ripcord style)! A stream of blood flies through the air as Lilith hits the mat, unconscious. Duce covers~

1!

2!

3!!!!

~The bell rings~

Belvedere: Lilith has been eliminated!!

Smith: And FINALLY…ROSE has taken a hit!

Hood: Welp, we’re down to Duce and Twilight. One is a maniac…and the other is Sarah Twilight. I’m not sure which is worse.

Smith: I think Duce has reset, Hood. He looks completely locked in!

Hood: For now.

~Lilith is helped out of the ring. Duce remains…along with two ring bells. Twilight soon joins him. She’s holding her chin from the D-Trigga. She sizes up the situation and realizes her wife has been eliminated. She throws a cold glare at Duce. Duce snarls, remaining focused…he marches back and forth, ready~

Smith: And it’s come down to this! Duce Jones and Sarah Twilight…the winner will walk out with the OCW Tag Team Titles!

Hood: ROSE said they wanted to make this division great and I think they’ve done just that…what a fucking match!

Smith: Indeed!

~The two ring bells are situated between them. Duce starts to charge forward…but he hesitates. He’s going to keep his cool…he’s not going to let his emotions get the better of him…not now…not when he’s so close to OCW gold. Twilight, meanwhile, waits for him to make a mistake, knowing that’s been his M.O. since joining OCW~

Smith: Can Duce keep his emotions in check? Twilight is a veteran…she’s won titles all over the globe. She knows how to succeed, especially here in OCW.

Hood: He’s going to lose his shit, that’s why he’s named Duce

Smith: Gross, rude, and uncalled for.

Hood: I’m just saying!

~Duce isn’t taking the bait – not yet. So, Twilight ups the game...she steps forward and snares one of the ring bells, keeping watch on Duce. Duce’s muscles tighten…he nearly flinches, seeing a chance to perhaps hit a D-Trigga…but he holds back. The restraint seems to be pissing him off, rubbing against his grain. Twilight stands, holding the ring bell. She half smiles…perhaps thinking Duce is going to break. Duce sees the smile and steps back, leaning into the corner. Twilight stands upright, annoyed by Duce’s move~

Smith: I don’t think Twilight expected Duce to play things so cool.

Hood: One of these mother fuckers is playing chess.

Smith: That very well may be.

~Twilight suddenly THROWS the ring bell at Duce’s head!!! Duce ducks. He charges at Twilight and flies through the air with a D-Trigga!!! Twilight does a matrix evasion into a handspring…she springs forward, back to her feet as Duce stumbles past her. She grabs the second ring bell. Duce turns around. He moves toward Twilight. Twilight turns around…she too close to THROW the bell…so she slings it at Duce’s head. Duce ducks…he hoists her onto his shoulders and drops her with FINAL TIC!!!! Twilight is out!!! The ring bell bounces around the mat…Duce makes the cover!! Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

3!!!!!

~The bell rings~

Belvedere: Here are your winners…AND NEW OCW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS…DUCE JONES & KRAYZIE!!!!!

Smith: Duce did it!! HE DID IT!

Hood: What fucking move was that?

Smith: He used his father’s finishing move…Final TIC! I can’t believe it…he withheld his emotions, kept his composure and was able to avoid Twilight’s trap! Duce has done it!

~Twilight has exited the ring. Belvedere heads toward the ring with the belts. He’s stopped by a hand – a hand that belongs to Krayzie. Krayzie takes the belts and walks up the steps. Duce is on his knees, staring at the mat…he’s breathing heavily, exhausted. Scruff pats him on the back, ready to raise his hand. Duce nods and stands. He turns around and sees his dad, Krayzie. Krayzie extends a title to Duce. Duce takes it and the duo embrace!!!~

Smith: What a moment!! Duce has made his father proud!

Hood: He kept his shit together and gave his dad something he’s wanted for twenty years – OCW Tag Team Gold.

Smith: And to think…this could have potentially been Kitty’s moment.

Hood: Fuck that bitch…this moment is a million times better than that should would have been. I’m no fan of the sappy shit but, fuck it…congrats Duce and Krayzie!

~Krayzie holds his son’s hand high in the air…each man has a belt over their shoulder~

Smith: An all-time great moment! What a way to kick off Redacted!

Hood: Good luck following that!

Smith: Indeed!

Smith: Before we continue on with the show, I’ve just been informed we have a video about to play on the screen.

Hood: A video? Ground breaking show here in Pyongyang and we’re being subjected to a VIDEO?!

Smith: Why don’t we watch and then judge?

Hood: What’s the fun in that???

~The big screen flashes to life as TV static noises cut in and out until the video begins. The audience of North Korea is shown the inside of a court room, in the hallway outside the actual court. The doors burst open and in handcuffs escorted by police is OCW Hall of Famer, the Incredible One. TIO’s team of lawyers is beside him, talking about what went on in the courtroom but TIO isn’t paying attention. Local Key West news come up to TIO, forming a crowd to try and get some questions in.~

Reporter #1: Mister Incredible, we just heard that your lawsuit against Monroe County Detention Center has been officially thrown out, are you going to repeal the decision?

~Before TIO can answer, a lawyer begins to answer that question but his answer can’t be heard due to the next question overpowering the voice of the lawyer.~

Reporter #2: TIO! Do you think this move will damage your image in the eyes of Key West locals?

Lawyer: Please no questions.

~Officers of the court and officers of the prison gently push the numerous reporters, photographers and cameramen out of the way as they take TIO outside of the prison. Outside parked on the street is the bus that is going to take TIO back to the prison. Before TIO can be taken on the bus, a man in a suit with a fruit basket somehow makes his way through the crowd of reporters, fans and officers outside to come face to face with TIO.~

Officer: Step back!

Man: Please.

~The man gives an officer a fifty. The officer laughs and closes the bus door to allow the man to speak to TIO. TIO stares at the man, confused but more intrigued than by anything else so far today.~

Man: Hello TIO. I have a fruit basket for you and a message from a fan that I’m supposed to read out loud.

~The man clears his throat as he opens up the card that comes with the fruit basket.~

Man: Dear Ian, sorry to hear about your lawsuit. Seems like you can’t get a win these days. Sorry if the fruit is a little too ripe – thought you’d appreciate it being past its prime. From, OCW Champion, Mike Best.

~The crowd falls silent as the name of the gift giver is mentioned. TIO’s eyes widen remarkably as he gestures to look at the card. He stares at the card, reading it over and over again. He begins to smile, and the smile begins to widen. He begins to laugh and the laugh turns into a hysterical fit as if TIO had turn into a hyena. TIO tosses the card and motions for the basket. The man gives him the basket and TIO holds it as much as he can in handcuffs. He turns to one of the officers and speaks through chuckles.~

TIO: What are the chances I can have a banana?

~The officer looks at the others, and they all shrug. The officer nods his head and slices open a part of the basket, grabbing a banana, peeling it and allowing TIO to take a bite. TIO takes a few bites, the first time he’s tasted decent food in ages then spits the banana at the man who sent the basket before head butting him square in the forehead.~

Officer: FUCK!

~Officers pile on top of TIO as the crowd goes into chaos. The man collapses to the ground clutching his now bleeding head. Reporters with cameras, phones taking videos try to squeeze through to see the action up close. The officers, with an irksome effort, finally get TIO onto the bus. They throw him into the back and lock the door up as he gets up and pounces at the window, screaming so loud the crowd can hear him speak.~

TIO: YOU TELL THAT MAGNIFICENT BASTARD THAT I LOVED THE FUCKING BASKET! WARMED MY GODDAMN HEART! DON’T FORGET TO TELL HIM THAT IT’LL WARM MY GODDAMN HEART WHEN I RIP THAT FUCKING BELT FROM HIS WAIST. I DON’T EVEN CARE IF I WIN IT – IT’S ABOUT HIM LOSING IT BY MY HANDS! I STILL HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN MIKE! I STILL HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN MIKE! I STILL HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN MIKE! I STILL HAVEN’T…

~The words of TIO fade as the bus finally leaves the front of the courtroom, his voice travelling with it as the footage of the event is cut off by TV static again and the screen goes black to a very mixed reaction from the Pyongyang crowd.~

Hood: Jesus… is that even TIO?

Smith: I don’t know, Hood. I know he hasn’t been in prison for that long but you have to wonder all the turmoil he’s gone through in the past year plus his jail sentence has made the man crack.

Hood: All I know is when TIO does get out – he’s going to be a man on a mission. I don’t want to doubt Mike Best, but he’d better find a way to have eyes in the back of his head.

Smith: Indeed! Well, it's time for our next match here at REDACTED as the upstart rookie, Crash Rodriguez faces Ed Houston for the vacant Craze Championship!

OCW Craze Championship
Ed Houston (27-15) vs. Crash Rodriguez (3-0)

~The very polite, organized, heavily lectured North Korean audience stands in silence. The giant OCWTron hanging behind the ring (from where they are standing), displays a graphic showing Ed Houston and Crash Rodriguez. The fans clap. Belvedere, standing inside the ring, his back facing the fans, does his JAWB~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen, the following match is for the OCW Craze Championship!!! Introducing first…

~"21st Century Schizoid Man" by Ozzy Osbourne hits! The fans turn and watch as one of the fastest rising stars in OCW, Crash Rodriguez, emerges from the building off in the distance. He hustles down the steps and takes a sharp right. He’s far off from our POV. The local reporters and cameramen surrounding him, taking photos. Crash seems focused. He takes a sharp left, turning toward the ring. Crash retains his focus despite the strange surroundings. He reaches the ring and heads around a corner, facing the North Korean leaders. He takes a bow before turning around and sliding into the ring, ready for competition~

Belvedere: From Kansas City, Missouri…standing 5’11 and weighing in at 204lbs…he is “The Crooked Man” Crash Rodriguez!!!

Smith: Huge night for Crash Rodriguez!

Hood: He faces one of OCW’s toughest veterans. If he can knock Ed off that’d give him a title within a month of joining.

Smith: Indeed, the list of people within OCW who have achieved that feat is short and impressive.

Belvedere: And, his opponent…

~You're Gonna Go Far Kid by The Offspring hits!! The fans in attendance clap, giving their unwavering, practiced reaction. Ed Houston emerges from the building in the background with something under his arm. He hustles down the steps, making the turn. He shrugs off each cameraman that gets a little too close. He throws a few kicks, ensuring his personal space remains capacious. Ed makes the hard left, approaching the ring. The North Korean crowd stirs…as much as a North Korean crowd can stir. Ed’s body language is giving off a very negative vibe. Ed reaches the ring and marches around the corner, facing the leaders~

Belvedere: From Miami, Florida…standing 5’9 and weighing in at 175lbs…he is a former OCW Craze and Paradigm Champion…he is Ed Houston!!!

Smith: Ed Houston showing a new, harsh attitude.

Hood: I kinda like this Ed. This Ed might have graduated from NASA.

Smith: Yea, well I…OH MY GOSH

~Houston reveals the item he carried to the ring. It’s an oversized photo of Neil Armstrong planting the AMERICAN flag on the Moon!!! He’s instantly tackled by North Korean security!! The North Korean fans in attendance murmur with confusion. The picture is instantly destroyed. Houston is about to be dragged away…our POV twists over to Welsh and KJU. Welsh is in heavy negotiations with KJU. KJU sighs and motions toward his security…they let Ed go~

Smith: What was he thinking?!

Hood: MURICA

Smith: Not so loud, Hood.

Hood: murica

~Houston returns to where he was previously standing. He’s got an angry look on his face. Welsh glares down at the former Craze Champion…he’s ordering him through his eyes. Ed is reluctant. Security stands by…ready to pounce. Finally, Ed bows. As he does, an image of NORTH KOREAN ASTRONAUT KIM JONGSTRONG IS SHOWN PLANTING THE NORTH KOREAN FLAG ON THE MOON. The fans clap loudly and breathe a sigh of relief. Ed shields his eyes from the screen~

Smith: Well, that is a thing that…happened?

Hood: Isn’t it a beautiful day today?

Smith: It most certainly is!

~An annoyed Ed slides into the ring and motions for a mic~

Ed Houston “I told you all I would make it North Korea and here I am but I’m confused. I thought heard this match was just a regular match? What do you say street rat? Want to up the ante a little? Want to see who crashes and burns through a table tonight. I know I want to put you through a table tonight. Let’s make it official.”

~Houston throws the mic over to Crash. As he stands with the mic in hand he looks at the crowd and back at Ed Houston. The red hot rookie stands smiling at the Rocketman. He brings the mic to his mouth and speaks in his raspy, graveled voice~

Crash Rodriguez: “I hear a lot of talk about me ‘Crashing and Burning’. I feel that it’s time to see if they’re right. I think it’s only right to show you, the crowd and the world watching at home, that I am not just another cheap act regurgitating words. I KNOW IT’S TIME TO SEND YOU CRASHING AND BURNING! You want my answer? You didn’t have to ask. BRING OUT THE FUCKING TABLES!”

~Crash tosses the microphone towards Ed’s feet, it bounces on the mat. The Crooked Man stares down The Rocketman, they’re eyes never leaving the others. The intensity of the stare down is felt through the entire nation of NORTH KOREA. Both men know they have so much to prove~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen, the following match is now a TABLES MATCH for the OCW Craze Championship!!!

~Ed bends over to remove the mic. Crash runs forward and knees Ed in the gut! The mic goes flying! Scruff, holding the Craze Title, tosses it out of the ring. Belvedere picks it up. Scruff calls for the bell…it rings! The match is underway. Crash grabs Ed and lifts him up, suplexing him into the ring!!! Ed hits hard, arching his back in pain. The crowd claps – they seem to be behind Crash~

Smith: Crash with an early start!

Hood: NASA fucking Ed all over again. Mandela Effect will do that to people.

Smith: What are you talking about?

Hood: He REMEMBERS Neil Armstrong from the USA landing on the moon when in fact, it was North Korea.

Smith: No comment.

~Crash is back on his feet. He charges toward the ropes, Ed remains on his back…Crash leaps onto the ropes, springboarding off the middle rope with a moonsault!! He connects!! He ALMOST tries for a pin…but the stipulation hits him like an unprotected chairshot…so he pops back to his feet and stomps Ed in the face, keeping the rocketman grounded. Crash slides out of the ring, digging underneath for something violent. Ed, holding his face, starts to sit up. Crash throws a trash can into the ring. It lands near Ed. Crash secures a chair, sliding into the ring~

Smith: Crash going for the weapons early on.

Hood: Which Crash is this? Normal Crash? Or what the fuck, Crash?

Smith: Why do you have to make fun of people’s mental issues?

Hood: Why do you have to protect them?

~Ed’s no fool. He grabs the trash can. He gets to his feet with the can in hand. He sees Crash rise with the chair. The NASA flunky does the math…Chair > Trash. So, Ed throws the trash can at Crash. Crash ducks. Houston charges in…Crash rises up…Ed goes low with a dropkick, taking Crash’s legs out. The chair goes flying…Crash avoids a painful face plant into metal. Ed kips up. He snares the trash can (being the nearest weapon). He places it upright. Crash struggles back to his feet…Ed hits the ropes, he bounces off and takes Crash down with a swinging neckbreaker!!! They hit hard!! Crash grabs his neck in pain…Ed is already back on his feet~

Smith: You always forget how quick and fast Ed…

Hood: Speak for yourself. I know how fast this guy is. He dropped outta NASA in record time.

Smith: Rudeness

Hood: The truth hurts, Smith.

~Houston yanks Crash up and lifts him up for an inverted atomic drop. Instead of bringing Crash down across his knee, the drops him into the trash can. Crash looks around, realizing he’s immobile. Ed delivers a huge right hand into Crash’s forehead. He follows that up with a slicing knife edged chop!! Crash winces in pain. His arms are pinned against the interior of the trash can. Ed delivers another right hand followed by another chop. He repeats this combination several times until Crash starts to lean forward, displaying the body language of a fatigued man~

Smith: Interesting situation we’ve got here.

Hood: Ed thinking outside the box by putting Crash in one.

Smith: Technically it’s a can.

Hood: And technically you can suck my cock.

~Houston goes for the chair. This is a NEW Ed. He picks up the chair and turns back toward Crash. Crash picks his eyes up, spotting the chair. A panic sets in. He realizes he’s got to get out of this trash can. Crash begins to teeter-totter in the can, looking for some momentum. The can starts to teeter more than totter – not what Crash wanted. Houston takes a violent swing with the chair, a real homerun shot. Crash’s teeter over comes his totter and he falls backward…he hits the ropes, bouncing back forward and hitting the mat, sideways. The can rolls at Ed. Houston leaps over the can. Crash manages to crawl out. Ed turns around and swings the chair at Crash, who is on all fours…Crash tucks and rolls…the chair slams into the mat. Crash is on his feet…he leaps onto the middle rope and spins around with a roundhouse kick. Houston dodges the blow. He spins around with a roaring chair shot. Crash ducks and leaps up, dropping Ed with a backstabber!!! Houston flails around like a fish out of water, reaching for his back. The chair tumbles near the trash can…close to the ropes. Crash slowly returns to his feet, catching his wits after all that just went down~

Smith: A unique sequence which saw Crash take control.

Hood: He was quicker than Ed. That chair slowed Ed down, I think.

Smith: Could have.

Hood: It’s great to have a NEW ATTITUDE…but with that new fucking attitude comes a new style…one that you’re not entirely used to.

~Crash turns and spots Ed, who is on his back, wincing. Anger flashes across Crash’s face. He seems to be holding on to a thread of sanity. He drops to his knees and begins to pummel Ed in the face. He grabs Ed by the hair with his left hand while smashing Ed in the face with his right. He punches Houston over and over and over until Ed quits moving. Crash remains on his knees, looking down on Ed…his chest heaving from the oxygen exerted to throw that man consecutive punches. His demeanor seems to be calming. He returns to his feet and grabs the trash can…he throws it as far away from the ring as possible…it bounces against the concrete, loudly. He continues to bounce, dance, and roll until it rests up against the railing of fans…they back away, acting like frightened creatures. Crash gets his hands on the chair~

Smith: Crash dealing with some mental issues again. It seemed as though another attitude…another voice, if you will, took control for a moment.

Hood: Yep and that moment resulted in Ed getting his face punched in.

Smith: It was a beating…luckily, for Ed, his skin remains intact.

Hood: On the outside, Smith. Never judge a concussion by its cover.

~Houston remains down…those punches really did their number on him. Crash places the chair on top of Ed. He heads toward the ropes, stepping through them and onto the apron. He grabs onto the top rope and leaps into the air, springboard off with a splash. Ed throws the chair into the air…it smacks Crash in the face!!! Crash misses Ed and splats on the mat. He rolls around in pain. Houston rolls out of the ring and drops to one knee, rubbing his forehead~

Smith: It seems as though every time Crash takes a breath and goes about some form of strategy, it backfires.

Hood: So…you’re saying he needs to be psycho?

Smith: I would never officially recommend such a thing.

Hood: Ah, so you’re saying he needs to lose his marbles. MARBLES LOST

~Houston, while on one knee, peeks under the ring. He spots a TABLE. He starts to pull it out. Crash returns to his feet, looking angry…it appears as though the ‘other’ side is trying to take over. He marches toward the ropes and steps through them. Ed looks up and Crash stomps Ed in the face!! Houston falls over, atop the chair which is half exposed. Crash hops off the apron and grabs Ed by the head…he smashes the side of Houston’s head into the ground, repeatedly. This is dangerous…Ed knows it, he can feel it. So, he desperately rolls away, underneath the ring. Crash scrambles to prevent Ed from rolling under the ring, but is unable. Ed disappears behind the apron cloth. Crash starts to peek underneath, but pauses~

Smith: Crash may be a rookie, but he’s no fool. Every time you look for someone under the ring…

Hood: You get a fire extinguisher in the face!

Smith: Well, yea…that or some other painful experience.

Hood: Ya know, I’ve always wondered what’s like under there. Is it like its own little word? An under ring city? What if there’s a trap door with stairs leading to an underground [redacted]. Ya know, we’re not supposed to talk about it, after all.

Smith: I’d imagine it’s much more disappointing than you’d expect.

~Crash yanks on the table, deciding to put it into place. He’s having trouble removing the table. It pulls back…it appears someone (Ed) is holding on from underneath the ring. Crash, not expecting this type of resistance, is pulled toward the bottom of the ring. He loses his balance while holding onto the table and falls forward. Ed’s hands appear, they rake Crash across the face!!! Crash rolls over, holding his eyes. Houston crawls out holding a case of water. He stands up, raises the case of water over his head and throws it down onto crash. The case of water slams RIGHT INTO Crash’s midsection!!! A few water bottles explode! Crash coughs and rolls around, holding his abs…the impact knocked the wind from his lungs. Ed reaches down, he grabs a bottle of water…he inspects it…he points to something. The camera zooms in “MADE IN THE USA”! Ed winks and gives the camera a thumb up before untwisting the cap and taking a sip~

Smith: That has to be an original spot…at least as far as OCW goes.

Hood: I’ve seen people thrown into water. I’ve never seen water thrown into people.

Smith: I’m assuming we brought our own water to the event.

Hood: Well of course we did. You really think these people would [redacted]?

Smith: I have absolutely no comment

~Houston downs about half the bottle before slamming it as hard as he can at Crash’s face. It smacks Crash in the head…Crash rolls over, onto his knees. Houston runs up and kicks Crash in the ribs, soccer style. Crash tumbles away, coming to rest against the steel steps. Houston measures Crash up…he starts to take off, but slips on some of the water…so, he steadies himself, and tries again. Crash moves!! Ed jumps up, landing on top of the steps. He looks for Crash, who is struggling to his feet, at the bottom of the steps…Houston faces that way and leaps off with a hurricanrana…but Crash holds on, spins around and slams Ed into the steps with a powerbomb!!! Houston yells out in pain, arching his back!! He remains on the steps for a moment before slowly rolling off, to the side, landing on his left. Crash takes a seat on the steps, recovering from the damage he’s absorbed~

Smith: Tremendous comeback there by Crash. He’s got something special, Hood.

Hood: Don’t say X-Factor.

Smith: You’re the one who said it! I was going to say he had that ‘superstar’ potential.

Hood: Superstar…as in bigger than THE SUN?

Smith: I’m not astrologist, Hood.

~Crash stands and finds Ed still nursing his back. He heads over for the table, finally yanking it all the way out from under the ring. He goes through the process of setting it up. The table sets, perpendicular to the ring. Crash turns around and, like Ed, loses his footing briefly do to the water spillage. This triggers him. He begins to wildly kick and toss the water around, getting it all out of his way. Seething, he heads around the steps…but Ed is gone. He looks up and sees Houston pulling a LADDER from under the ring. Crash charges forward…Ed is bent over, pulling on the ladder. Crash performs a Senton. Ed drops the ladder and backs away…Crash lands HARD, back first onto the ladder. Houston snares Crash by the hair and throws him, head first into the nearest steps. He then finishes removing the ladder~

Smith: Ed reuniting with an old friend.

Hood: That ladder has led to success and demise when it comes to Ed and his pursuit of the Craze Championship.

Smith: Indeed…but now we have our first table set up which means the match is closer to ending than before.

Hood: What if someone falls through the table on a missed dive?

Smith: Then they’d lose.

Hood: Hmm…was that foreshadowing?

Smith: I don’t think the person in charge has any clue at this stage, Hood.

~Houston carries the ladder across the steps, toward the table. He sets it up in PRIME position. He turns and makes his way back toward Crash. Crash is leaning over the top step, on his knees. Houston charges in and delivers a front dropkick into Crash’s back!!! Crash rolls over, holding his chest in pain. Houston pops back to his feet…he drags Crash around the ring, toward the ladder. Upon reaching the ladder, Ed hoists Crash up, onto his shoulders. Houston may not be the biggest man in the world, but the dude’s got some CORE STRENGTH. He begins to climb the ladder, facing the table. His legs are wobbly…the pressure, the weight is definitely fighting against his strength and will power. Crash seems out. Houston reaches the top with Crash on his shoulders~

Smith: He’s not going to…

Hood: A Death Valley Driver off the top of the ladder through a table! Ed’s about to make Crash burn!

Smith: This could end the young man’s career! Ed! Come to your senses!

Hood: He has…Houston’s got a brand new bag, baby!

~Ed moves around very carefully, trying to avoid falling. He’s in position…he starts to throw Crash over. He does!! Crash, however, manages to land on the opposite side of the ladder!! His hands clutch the top of the ladder. Ed does the same…the ladder wiggles…it nearly falls over before steadying. Ed looks at Crash…Crash looks at Ed. Crash is PISSED. Houston throws a right hand…Crash blocks it!! He dives in, headbutting Ed!!! Houston nearly falls backward, off the ladder. Crash hooks him for a suplex. The table is behind them~

Smith: Crash is going to try to suplex Ed off the ladder through the table!

Hood: Holy shit…you know what those NASA folk are saying.

Smith: What?

Hood: Figures.

~Ed knees Crash in the top of the head at the apex of the suplex. Crash nearly loses his balance so, in an effort to keep from losing the match, he tosses Ed, at the top of the suplex, to the side…Ed lands HARD in the ring, into the canvas. He manages to avoid spiking his head…but, he does grab the back of his neck. He rolls around, kicking his legs. Crash, meanwhile, realizes that the momentum has compromised the ladder. It sways…he starts to go backward…Crash is destined to go through the table~

Smith: Crash is going to go through the table!

Hood: Fucking flimsy ass ladders.

Smith: He needs to jump off that ladder…it will hurt, but it would at least keep him in the match.

~The ladder begins to fall backward, toward the table. Crash, understanding the situation, kicks off the ladder and tenses up, realizing a painful impact is coming. The ladder lands innocently atop the able…neither object breaking. Crash, however, lands FLAT on his back atop the fairly thin surface covering the concrete. His eyes widen…he gasps for air~

Smith: Ouch!

Hood: Dude’s gonna be sucking wind for awhile.

Smith: But, at least he managed to stay in the match.

Hood: The things these guys will do for the Craze Championship. It’s CRAZY, man!

~Crash sits up, gasping for air. He seems to be slowly recovering. Ed remains in the ring, wincing, staring up into the North Korean sky. Crash reaches round, locating the steps. He uses them to crawl up, reaching his feet and leaning, forward against the ring post. He looks to his side, spotting the table and ladder. He then spots Ed. Crash steps through the ropes and goes after the OCW vet. He snares Ed by his hair and hooks him for Twisted Memories! He goes to execute the maneuver, but Ed turns it into a Twist of Fate!!! He takes Crash down!! Both men are on the mat…Ed rolls over and spots the table and ladder. He begins to crawl that way~

Smith: Ed was too quick for Crash to execute Twisted Memories!

Hood: He slipped right out of there…Crash is going to have to secure that shit better next time.

Smith: If he’s lucky enough to see a next time

Hood: Is he going blind?

Smith: NO! I’m just saying he may not have that opportunity again.

~Crash sits up, holding his neck. He turns and sees Ed climbing over the bottom rope, to the apron. Ed reaches forward and grabs the ladder, repositioning it in front of the table. Crash returns to his feet...he’s looking angrier…like that unstable portion of his psyche is trying to take over. He marches toward Ed and blasts him from behind with a forearm shot!! Ed leans forward with the table right beneath him…he reaches back, snaring the top rope. Crash pulls at his fingers, trying to break his grip so he can push Ed off the apron and through the table. Ed delivers a swift kick through the ropes, smacking Crash in the ribs. Crash staggers back. Ed turns around and leaps onto the top rope…he springboards off…but Crash drills him with a European uppercut!!! Ed’s body snaps into the ropes…he ricochets off into a lariat from Crash which turns him inside out!!! Ed’s down. Crash is face down, reaching for the ropes, working his way back up~

Smith: With that table set up, right outside the ring…this match could end at any moment!

Hood: Finally, Crash was able to lay a solid blow on The Rocket Man.

Smith: Yep, if an opponent can stymie Ed’s quickness, he’s got a huge advantage.

~Crash, back on his feet, lays some serious boots into Ed’s body. He’s kicking with a vicious determination…angry over what he’s had to endure thus far. He finishes stomping Ed and yanks the Rocket Man off the mat, dragging him toward the ropes. Crash steps out onto the apron and snares Ed’s head…he pulls Ed through the ropes…it’s almost a draping DDT…in fact, it IS a draping DDT…at least, the set up for one. Behind Crash is the table. He yanks Ed onto the apron, retaining the DDT hold. He spots the ladder and has an idea. He knees Ed in the abdomen multiple times, sending the former Craze Champion to his knees. Crash then turns and works the ladder into position…it’s almost diagonal, giving a person standing on it (if they are facing outward) a view of the ring and the table. He steps out onto the ladder, facing Ed~

Smith: What is he doing?

Hood: I think he’s going to get on that ladder, grab Ed and throw Ed through that table.

Smith: Why? He could have tossed him off the apron!

Hood: Because, he wants to really, really hurt Ed.

Smith: This is crazy! It may very well cost him the match!

~Crash reaches forward, careful not to lose his balance and/or tip the ladder over. He grabs Ed by the hair. He pulls him in…he is definitely looking for a powerbomb. He carefully lifts Ed off the apron while standing on the ladder. The entire ladder shakes. Crash nearly loses his balance. He’s having trouble controlling his balance, the ladder, and Ed. Houston tightens his legs around Crash’s head and bends backward with a Frankensteiner!!! Crash lands HARD on the apron!!! His back SMASHING into the HARDEST(?) party of the ring!!!! Houston manages to land on his feet in between the ladder and the apron (a small, yet accessible gap). His back, though, does catch a good portion of the edge. He winces, leaning back~

Smith: What a move!! Ed is crazy!

Hood: Dude could have snapped his neck…but…I guess that’s what this title is all about, crazy ass shit.

Smith: Indeed…and as far as Crash goes. Take what’s there, Crash! Don’t try to inflict unnecessary punishment!

Hood: Look, there are two Crash’s, okay? There’s the normal, everyman Crash. He would have tried to powerbomb Ed from the apron…or Avalanche DDT him from the apron. Then there’s CRAZY Crash…he wanted to use the ladder.

Smith: Yea, well maybe CRAZY Crash needs to go for a walk.

~Crash’s instincts tell him that the apron is no friend to his body. So he rolls off of it…his stomach finds the table. His arms draped over once side, his legs the other. He remains there for a moment, still recovering. Ed, a few feet away, sees the opportunity. He hops onto the apron, showing the tremendous recovering skills he’s known for. He leaps onto the second rope with a springboard moonsault. But, CRASH MOVES!!! Ed, somehow, is able to overshoot the moonsault and land on his feet. He stumbles backward. Crash charges at Ed with a clothesline…Ed ducks. Crash spins around. He charges at Ed again…Ed ducks and looks for a back body drop, which would send Crash into the table. Crash, however, holds onto Ed’s body and brings him down across his knee, face first!!! Ed falls to the side, holding his face in pain~

Smith: These two are flirting with disaster!

Hood: You can say that again!

Smith: Yes, I know, but I prefer to avoid redundant commentary.

~Crash grabs Ed and pulls him to his feet. The table remains in place. Crash throws Ed onto the apron. He slides into the ring. Houston, a fighter through and through, works to his feet. Crash takes off…he hits the ropes, the bounces off. Ed’s back is lined directly with the table. Crash dives forward with a SPEAR!!! Houston dives over the top rope!!! Crash gets hung up atop the middle rope. He freaks out, realizing how close he is to defeat. He gets back into the ring and turns around. Ed is charging toward him. Crash ducks and lifts Ed into the air. Ed lands on the apron, feet first. He throws a hook kick, smacking Crash in the face. He spots the ladder and hops on, climbing a few runs before turning around. He’s near the top, looking down at the ring. Crash is recovering from the hook kick. He stumbles closer toward Ed and finally turns, looking at the Rocket Man. Ed leaps off…but Crash catches him!!! Ed wiggles...Crash retains control…he hoists Ed up and throws him, Gorilla Press style, into the ladder!!! Ed and the ladder go crashing into the ground!!! The table, however, remains intact. Crash leans over the top rope, catching his breath while Houston is down, grounded, in pain~

Smith: What strength by Crash!

Hood: Ed crashed a burned…NO SHOCK THERE.

Smith: Crash is moments away from winning the Craze Title. He just needs to get Ed up and through that table.

~Crash steps through the ropes, regaining his wits. He hops down and snares Ed. Crash looks at the table. He looks at Ed…he decides to take this to the apron. He scoops Ed up and slams him onto the apron! Ed arches his back in pain. Crash hops up there and pulls Ed up…he looks at Ed…then at the table. He begins to smile…turning his focus to the corner nearest the table~

Smith: What are you doing?! You don’t need to go that high!

Hood: Pain and torture, Smith. Crash wants to HURT Ed.

Smith: Hurt him by winning the title! Seriously…fight the urge, Crash!

~Crash hooks Ed for a suplex. He places him on the top buckle, facing toward the table. Crash starts to climb, joining Ed at the top. Crash stands on the very top rope, yanking Ed to his feet. He hooks him for The Crash Report (Avalanche DDT). Crash tries to execute the move. But Ed holds on!!! Crash yanks…Ed holds!! Ed punches Crash in the ribs a few times, breaking his head free. He delivers a head butt…it resounds with a loud THUD. Crash loses his balance and drops onto the apron. Ed stands up and leaps off with a METEORA!! He connects and drives Crash THROUGH THE TABLE!!! The bell rings~

Belvedere: Here is your winner…AND NEW OCW CRAZE CHAMPION…ED HOUSTON!!!!!

Smith: Meteora onto Crash and through that table!! Ed wins!

Hood: Probably fucked up his knees but, yea, he won.

Smith: Crash tried to take things too far tonight. If he had simply settled for what was there…he might have won.

Hood: Might have? He would have!

Smith: Instead, the high flying veteran, Ed Houston is now a TWO TIME Craze Champion!

~Ed gets to his feet…he’s limping quite severely. Crash is down, among a pile of wooden rubble. Scruff hands Ed the Craze Championship. He looks down at it before holding it tight. It’s been awhile~

Smith: The Craze Title has come home…one year ago Ed defeated Josie Barnes and Muffles the Bunny to hold onto that belt. Here, tonight, it’s back where it belongs!

Hood: Reunited and it feels so good!

Smith: These belts are hard to win, Hood. Good for Ed…here’s hoping the second half of 2019 renders even more positive results for the Rocket Man! As for Crash…a tough loss but he’s still got a bright future in OCW.

Hood: Yep, as you said…these belts are hard as fuck to win. Crash came very close…dude is going to be a champion if he sticks to it.

Smith: Indeed.

**The following video is not airing in North Korea. Or any other Asian countries, most likely**

~A large plate of untouched sushi sits at a table.~

Really? Are you that stereotypical? Are you that much of a racist BIGOT?! Are YOU a TRUMPER?!

Well...duh.

Sushi isn’t even in the top 5 go-to meals in North Korea, you fuckin’ idiots!

Raengmyon the Waiter: Sir? Whou you wike su’moa?

~Before Raengmyon breathes, not even a split second passes when a hand off camera grabs him by the cheeks and squeezs his face together with all of his might. Raenmgyon resembles that of a fish, more so than normal. He has a hard time breathing, his eyes wide in fear. The cameras turn ever slightly to see…~

CHAD VARGAS: Does it look like I want more sushi, cunt!? I didn’t even order this shit! You cocksuckers brought it out and stuffed it in my face!

~Raengmyon shakes his head, nodding in agreement. He would agree with just about anything right now as his face begins turning purple under the power of Vargas’ grasp. As if the grip wasn’t insanely tight, Vargas strengthens his hold.~

Vargas: You’re gonna go back there and fix me a cheeseburger with BACON. Maybe some fries too. Do you understand? ~He nods ferociously, as Vargas slowly loosens his strong clutch on Raengmyon’s ugly mug. As he loosens fully, Raenmgyon quickly backs away out of his reach. He can’t do anything except nod over and over again.~

Raengmyon: Chee burger. Be wigt back.

~Raengmyon gives a very respectful bow, as he quickly fucks off to somehow find the most American cheeseburger and French fries he can muster up in North Korea…~

Vargas: That’s right, bitch! Bow to your master!

~Once Raengmyon is off camera, Vargas shakes his head in disgust, muttering a handful of slurs under his breath. He relaxes back in his chair.~

How did Chad Vargas make it into North Korea? How was he even ALLOWED into Asia!? This is definitely not a place he should be. Poor sweet Raengmyon! What is he doing here? On the night of the biggest show in OCW history. Redacted.

Vargas: You know why I’m here.

~As if he heard what we were thinking, Vargas leans back and pulls a pint of JIM BEAM out of his suit jacket pocket, he cracks the cap and takes a slam down the hatch. Vargas looking dapper this evening in a three piece off blue SHARK SKINNED SUIT with matching bow tie. He looks rugged, rocking a tightly trimmed beard. He takes another pull off the Beam and relaxes back in his chair.~

Vargas: I’m here to save OCW. I’m here to tip the scales back in the ‘cool’ favor. Right now, I’m so sad to say that OCW is so far uncool it is… well… NOT COOL. I look over the program lineup and its… well, to be frank, it’s some WEAK ASS BOOKING. Who is in charge of this god awful pile of fuck? Jaden Rishel? Danny B?

~Vargas chuckles at his cheesy jab as he looks to the camera and makes a pistol with his fingers cocks the hammer and pulls the trigger, he than winks.~

Vargas: I figure I would make the journey to this fuckhole and see what I’ve been missing. The main reason of course, is to publically endorse my longtime friend and associate, MACK O’CONNOR. It is his time to carry OCW. It’s his time to be CHAMPION. And if he can’t do it, maybe some of the front office jagoffs will actually throw a REAL MAN into the fray. Yours truly.

~Vargas spins around in his chair as he watches a skinny Asian dude wearing a super tight flashly outfit, with three Asian hoes hanging off him. Vargas rolls his eyes as the guy and the bitches walk by, he mutters PUSSY under his breath. The Asian dude whips around and looks directly at Vargas.~

Vargas: You heard me! [redacted]! Keep walking!

~The Asian guy doesn’t let it bother him too much, but if looks could kill Big Bad Chad would be dead. Vargas smirks as the guy walks off and sits down with his dames at a nearby table.~

He is either really brave to be talking like that in a Korean establishment whilst being the only white, redneck, racist piece of shit American. Or really stupid.

Vargas: Can you believe that talentless, ugly, pimple chin sweat hog Andrea Hernandez is still getting booked? She hasn’t realized YET that she’s no good? Giving your vagina to the locker room doesn’t count as being successful you dumb cunt! Worst fucking wrestler EVER. I bet she can do laundry really well though.

~Vargas chuckles as he takes another HAUL off his whiskey bottle.~

Vargas: What’s the story on the rest of these [beep]? …OOOOOPS!

~Vargas covers his mouth EXTREMELY FLAMBOYANTLY like a little school girl that farted in class.~

Vargas: Whoops a daisy’s! I said [beep]! Oh NO! You hear that Eric Dane? I said [beep], [beep]! C’mon and do something about it, bitch! I will end your fucking life! Step up COCKSUCKER!

~Vargas runs a hand through his stubble. Before he can say anything else Raengmyon returns with the most MAGA fucking cheeseburger and fries you could ever see. Vargas is actually really impressed as Raengmyon places the plate before him. The camera zooms into Raenmygon’s face, its showing bruises from being muckled onto by THE SOUTHERN BAD ASS! He gives the skinny little [redacted] a friendly nod.~

Vargas: Good work. I’m impressed. You really are gonna leave a mark on my North Korea journey, Ray.

~Raenmygon smiles happily, again nodding profusely.~

Vargas: How about some ketchup?

Raenmygon: ???

Vargas: Ketchup!

Raenymgon: Keey chep?

~Vargas nods.~

Vargas: Yes, KETCHUP. Do you have any?

Raenymgon: ?????

Vargas: Fuck it! I could use the exercise.

~Vargas stands to his feet and slides the chair out from away from him. Raenmygon literally shits his pants right on the spot as Vargas lunges toward him. He picks him up like a feather and DRIVES him through the table, seemingly breaking him in half. Vargas looks to finish him off, when that flashly dressed [redacted] comes out of nowhere with a spinning heel kick knocking Vargas backwards. The guy gets in a kata stance and looks ready to roll. Vargas stands to his feet and quickly back pedals. Underestimating the martial artist in this man.~

Vargas: Ray, I’ll take this to go buddy. Need any help up?

Flashy dressed [redacted]: Fuuk youuuuu cracka!

~Vargas’ eyes widen in shock and awe. The flashly dressed guy jumps up and hits him with a crazy Liu Kang bicycle kick shoving Vargas back and through the cheap false wall separating the bar from the dining area. Vargas falls back hard onto his shoulder as this guy looks to get his vengeance as we see a few guys in OCW t-shirts rush to Vargas aid. One of them can be heard saying ‘God damnt. Fuck my life!’ as the scene fades to black…

Smith: Vargas lives...unfortunately.

Hood: Unfortunately? It's always good to have a myriad of perspectives in an organization. Even the far...far...far...far...far...yea, keep going...far...still going...far...far...far RIGHT.

Smith: I suppose...a lot has changed since we last saw The Confederate Icon. He will, no doubt, rub some people the wrong way.

Hood: Just how he likes it!

Smith: Well, next up is a match I'm REALLY looking forward to! Andrea wants to challenge herself against the greatest female wrestler in OCW history, Alice Knight. Can she succeed? Let's find out!

Singles Match
Alice Knight (18-6) vs. Andrea Hernandez (13-5)

~The sun is shining bright…but it’s clear that the apex of today’s heat is behind us. Pretty soon the sun will begin to descend and all of these citizens who were totally not forced to show up, will be able to watch the show in comfort. The graphic showing Alice and Andrea is displayed on the giant screen. The citizens of North Korea clap, politely. Belvedere, standing in the ring, has a smile on his face. Everyone is smiling…in their hearts. ALICE KNIGHT IS NEXT~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall!!! Introducing first…

~A few HOOTS sound out! HOLY SHIT! Welsh leaps out of his seat “WHO IS HOOTING!” KJU, irritated by Welsh’s irritation, commands people to go out and SNUFF THE HOOTING~

Smith: Alice Knight’s popularity knows no bounds! It’s even found its way into NORTH KOREA!

Hood: And here I THOUGHT we were trying to make this place look good.

~"Ultranumb" - Blue Stahli hits! Andrea Hernandez steps out from the building housing the wrestlers. She’s dressed in her finest, ready to compete. She hustles down the steps and takes a hard right. She’s focused. She works her arms back and forth before making that hard left toward the ring~

Smith: She is extremely focused, Hood. This is a huge test for Andrea.

Hood: I hope she wins SO HARD. It’s time we disable the myth that Alice Knight is the best woman wrestler in OCW history. It’s such a load of CRAP.

Smith: If Andrea can beat Alice tonight then I’d think she’d have to be in line for another title shot.

Hood: Normally, I’d get irritated at the notion that Alice Knight is near the main event…but, in this case, sure.

Smith: I’m just glad we’re going to get a respectable contest between two great competitors. Oh, hey…what’s that?

~Andrea is nearing the ring when something approaches from behind. It appears to be a herd of…white creatures~

Smith: What is that?

Hood: I have no fucking clue.

Smith: It looks like…

Hood: An angry cloud hovering above the street. Is it THE FOG?

Smith: I don’t think so, Hood. But someone needs to alert Andrea…because, whatever it is, it’s heading right for her!

~Andrea pauses, sensing something’s up. The white group of objects draws closer and closer and closer…Andrea starts to turn around. The white object(s) are finally close enough to be identified~

Smith: It can’t be…

Hood: It is! I told you she’s an evil bitch!

Smith: It’s an Owlie Parliament!

~It is, indeed, a group of humans in Owl suits!!! They rush Andrea, taking her down!! She’s unable to fight back. They are all carrying clubs…they begin to beat Andrea with the clubs, while she lays on the cement surface~

Smith: We need some help out here! Hurry!

Hood: Alice set her up! She knew Andrea was going to beat her and called in her stupid Owlies to take her out! She’s evil, Smith! EVIL

Smith: Not everything is evil, Hood.

~It seems as though help isn’t coming. The beating continues. Andrea flails around…she’s unable to get away. There are too many OWLIES…we’re talking six or seven. They continue to beat her down…it’s getting vicious at this point. Her movements stall out. In the background we spot ALICE KNIGHT running down the steps, in her wrestling gear, ready for competition~

Smith: It’s Alice!!

Hood: She’s coming down here to PIN ANDREA! A wicked plan by the evilest woman in the history of the universe.

~Alice is SPRINTING TOWARD THE RING. What is she going to do? The owls continue to wail away on Andrea like a dead horse. Alice finally reaches the parliament and shoves them around. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” she yells~

Smith: I knew it!

Hood: Oh come on! This is a fucking farce!

Smith: Those people should have their Owlie costumes taken away for LIFE! They are out here soiling her good name!

~Alice shoves them…she’s very upset. She scolds them. The Owlies look sad. Their shoulders slump and they walk away. Alice drops to a knee, tending to Andrea. The former Craze Champion is unconscious…she’s bleeding and badly battered. Alice yells for help. THE KNIFE MAN rushes into view, along with nameless medics. They, along with Alice, check on Andrea~

Smith: I only hope Andrea hasn’t suffered any major injuries.

Hood: You hope? She was nearly clubbed to death by giant human owls! She’s probably dead, man!

Smith: Just such a shame for Alice’s good name to be ruined like this.

Hood: Oh shut the fuck up. She’s behind this and you know it!

~Belvedere, in the ring, looks on concerned. He presses his ear, receiving a message. He nods~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen, I’ve just been informed that due to this heinous attack, Andrea Hernandez has been deemed unfit for competition. Therefore, this match will result in a NO CONTEST!

Smith: What a shame.

Hood: Yea, a shame that Alice wouldn’t take her licks like a true wrestler. She had to hire assassins to prevent Andrea from supplanting her as the greatest women’s wrestler in company history.

~Alice and The Knife Man get Andrea up. Andrea’s out of it. Together, they carry her to the back. Alice looks very upset`

Smith: I hope both Andrea and Alice can heal from this moment.

Hood: ARE YOU SHITTING ME?!

Smith: What? This has to be very traumatizing for Alice. Her own fans attacked her opponent in vicious fashion…it’s going to hurt her image.

Hood: SHE WAS BEHIND IT YOU FUCKING MORON. Am I the ONLY PERSON who sees that?

Smith: You’re just blinded by hatred. Folks, let’s take a quick break so we can reset as we get ready for Stevens and Lurrr.

---

---

Smith: And we're back!

Hood: Have you regained your senses?

Smith: Hood, I'm not going to sit here and agree that Alice put those owlies up to that. It was heinous and violent...Alice has never been heinous, nor violent.

Hood: She's not who you think she is, Smith. That's all I'm going to say about that.

Smith: Whatever. Well fans, it's time for our next match. Six weeks ago at Not Safe For Work, Scott Stevens debuted, choking Lurrr out. Two weeks ago Lurrr cost Stevens a match against Great Scott. Tonight, they do battle in a Texas Barbed Wire Mathc. Let's head down to ringside.

Texas Barbed Wire Match
Lurrr (7-3) vs. Scott Stevens (2-1)

~The North Korean crowd remains calm, in control. They are busy partaking in uniformed chants and cheers. We have no idea what they are chanting…but we’re pretty sure it’s a string of words making up phrases designed to praise their beloved country. Belvedere stands in the ring, looking at the group of influential North Koreans. His back is turned to the fans. The giant OCWTron hanging above the influential spectators focuses in on Belvedere, giving a weird visual. His back is facing the fans while a giant image of his front stares them down. Belvedere clears his throat. The fans cease their chanting. They notice the barbed wire which has magically replaced the ropes in between matches. That can mean only one thing…~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is a Texas Barbed Wire Match and it is scheduled for one fall!!! Introducing first…

~The translator does his job, turning Belvedere’s golden words into North Korean speak. The fans cheer in their practiced, organized manner. "God Was Never On Your Side" by Motorhead hits! The fans ‘oohh’ and make other interested noises while awaiting the entrance of Scott Stevens. Our POV is above the ring, staring down on Belvedere. In the background we see a big, mean man emerge from the building perpendicular to the ring. He marches down the steps. Fans reach out, trying to touch him. He shrugs them off in a angry but not-too angry manner. He marches down the available space before taking a sharp, ninety-degree turn and heading toward the ring. The empty space with which he has to walk is mobbed by cameramen. They hurry around, getting photos of Stevens. The former HOW Champion remains laser focused on the ring, working his shoulders back and forth. He’s sporting a wife beater, jeans, and athletic tape covering his arm from the elbow, to the hand. His heavy steps pound against unforgiving concrete before reaching the several feet of ‘protective’ covering surrounding the ring. Stevens, about to enter the ring, looks up and sees Belvedere casually motion to his left. Stevens turns, heading right, looking quite unhappy. He stands in front of the ring, staring up at the influential members of the audience~

Belvedere: From Houston, Texas…standing 6’6 and weighing in at 256lbs…he is a former HOW Champion…he is Scott Stevens!!!

~Stevens takes a quick bow, showing the forced respect for the people in charge of this event. He then turns and looks up at the barbed wire surrounding the ring. Carefully, he steps onto the apron before working his way into the ring without catching any barbed wire. The thousands of North Koreans in attendance clap for Stevens~

Smith: Scott Stevens looks ready.

Hood: Two fuckers from Houston having to fly all the way out to North Korea to wrestle.

Smith: Classic OCW

Hood: You think Lurrr is going to bow to the ‘leaders’ of North Korea?

Smith: I don’t think he has a choice, Hood.

Belvedere: And, his opponent…

~That bit of Korean that we’ve come to theorize means ‘cheer’ pops up on the OCWTron. The North Koreans in attendance clap and cheer in a very organized fashion as the opening chords to Lurrr’s infamous theme song begin to fill the Pyongyang air~

GUESS WHO'S BACK

Smith: These fans are about to hear some unique music…to their culture, anyway.

Hood: As if they even know what this song means.

~Lurrr emerges from the same building. He hustles down the steps. He’s sporting a cowboy hat, an AGGIE football jersey (#12) and a pair of jeans. His arms are taped in the same manner as Stevens. Fans reach out, trying to touch the ICON. It appears a few might actually know who the hell he is…that or they’ve seen his face on promotional material. Regardless, Lurrr ignores the fans, keeping his eyes on the ground in front of him…his eyes are in a trance of focus~

I used to be broke, confused..no joke
Got used, smoked dope, paid dues
Refused to give up quick,
Now theres 10 million motherfuckers on my dick

~Lurrr takes the ninety degree turns and heads down the wide, clear path, toward the ring. His eyes turn up, locating Stevens in the ring. Scott Stevens is bouncing around, staying loose. His eyes find Lurrr’s…the two Texans engage in a long distance staredown. Lurrr pauses, coming to a stop several yards from the ring~

~From Houston, Texas... he is a three-time OCW Champion and an OCW Hall of Famer...the original ICON of OCW... he is LURRR!!!

Smith: A tense moment between two individuals who just flat out don’t like one another.

Hood: Two former World Champions. Two native Texans.

Smith: Indeed. Stevens choked Lurrr out at Not Safe For Work. Lurrr cost Stevens his first defeat two weeks ago at Massacre. These two are ready to tear one another apart…

~Lurrr suddenly takes off, sprinting toward the ring. Stevens bounces around, fists up…he’s ready! Belvedere hurries out of the ring, trying to get out before Lurrr and Stevens go at it. He manages to slip through without his suit getting caught on any wiring. Lurrr slides into the ring!! Stevens greets him with heavy, right footed kicks. The bell rings!! The fans cheer the unexpected violence. Kim Jong Un looks at Welsh, perturbed. Welsh motions that everything is okay, perhaps explaining the bad blood. A translator helps get the message across. KJU doesn’t appear thrilled, but he seems to accept the explanation~

Smith: Lurrr did not BEND THE KNEE

Hood: Or bow

Smith: I just had to use that phrase from one of my totes favorite shows.

Hood: Hopefully he doesn’t find himself detained at the airport for foregoing the BOW.

Smith: I doubt, given the magnitude of this event, that will happen, Hood.

~Lurrr fights to his feet, absorbing the blows. Stevens is forced to switch from stomps to punches due to Lurrr’s ascension. Lurrr gets to his feet, he fights through a flurry of right hands, blocking the latest. He responds with a right hand of his own. Stevens throws a right hand. Lurrr responds…it’s a back and forth brawl. Lurrr’s hat flies off, landing on the mat. Stevens switches things up with a boot to the gut. Lurrr doubles over. Stevens tries to whip Lurrr into the ‘ropes’. Lurrr, like a stubborn mule, digs in, refusing to get whipped. Stevens charges forward with a short arm clothesline. Lurrr ducks!! Stevens staggers forward, nearly hitting the barbed wire. He spins around, quickly. Lurrr throws THE WAKE UP CALL! Stevens catches Lurrr’s foot and throws it to the side. This leads to a standoff with both men standing, fists clenched, ready to go~

Smith: Stevens had the upper had initially but Lurrr’s adrenaline and overall belligerent nature refused to be beat down.

Hood: Stevens has got to be seething, man. That Great Scott loss…holy shit.

Smith: This is the type of match where a competitor could take out copious amounts of frustration.

Hood: Yea, I’m curious to see who hits the barbed wire first.

Smith: Both competitors flirted with it, just now. But, fortunately, they were able to avoid a painful encounter with the barbed wire ropes.

~Lurrr lowers his fists and begins to pace around the ring, circling Stevens. Stevens, like a caged animal, is ready to strike at the first open opportunity. Lurrr jabs steps. Stevens bites. Lurrr takes advantage, grabbing Stevens arm and pinning it up against Stevens back. Stevens promptly drops to one knee, hooking Lurrr’s head and bringing him over with a snapmare. Lurrr lands, hard, in a seated position. Stevens slams a knee into the back of Lurrr’s head! Lurrr’s body snaps back, he reaches for his head, holding it in pain. Stevens, back on his feet, leaps into the air and drives a knee into Lurrr’s face! Lurrr rolls over, protecting his face. Stevens takes Lurrr’s back and locks in a Cobra Clutch. Lurrr winces in pain…his instincts tell him to reach for the ropes…but with them being barbed wire, he pulls back, attempting to figure out a different way out of the painful submission~

Smith: Some damaging, vicious, precise strikes from Stevens.

Hood: Lurrr is feeling the sting!

Smith: Stevens isn’t going to play nice tonight…not that he ever would, but I feel we’re going to get a very angry, a very violent Stevens.

Hood: Yea, Lurrr costing him that match against Great Scott has no doubt fucked with his psyche the past two weeks.

~Stevens doesn’t wait for Lurrr to break free or pass out…he continues to take matters into his own hands. He dives forward, headbutting Lurrr in the back of the head. He repeats the process over and over and over until Lurrr is face down, on the mat – apparently unconscious. The North Korean fans are in awe at the violence. Stevens stands up, a trickle of blood leaking out from the peak of his hairline. He turns and heads toward the side of the ring~

Smith: Scott Stevens may have knocked Lurrr unconscious!

Hood: You’d think he’d go for the pin…

Smith: As you said, he’s eyeing more than a quick victory. He wants to make the ICON suffer over what took place two weeks ago.

Hood: Hell hath no fury like a man pinned by Great Scott.

~Stevens carefully outmaneuvers the nefarious clutches of the dangerous wire. He hops outside and drops to his knees, digging underneath the ring. He promptly emerges with WIRE CUTTERS. The North Koreans ‘oohhh’. Stevens heads to one side of the ring…he begins to severe all three layers of barbed wire from the ring post. Once finishes, he heads to the other side where he does the same~

Smith: What’s he doing?

Hood: Performing a sensible task. You can’t get stuck with barbed wire if there isn’t any barbed wire!

Smith: Yea, but he’d have to do this on all four sides…each side is connected separately – unlike ring ropes.

Hood: Stevens is a patient man, Smith.

Smith: That’s fine…but I doubt Lurrr’s current state is as patient.

~Stevens yanks the three strands of barbed wire loose, completely freeing up one side of the ring. He checks on Lurrr…we see Lurrr starting to stir, slowly. Stevens drops the wire cutters and rolls into the ring. He pops to his feet and snares Lurrr by the hair…he promptly drops Lurrr with a DDT. Lurrr is down, motionless once more. Stevens pops to his feet and spots Lurrr’s hat. He plucks it from the mat and places it atop his head…we hear some BOOOS from the more educated fans recognizing mockery. Stevens does an exaggerated walk toward the barren side of the ring before hopping to the outside. He rips the hat off, tosses it down and stomps on it, flattening the cranium accoutrement into unrecognizable status. He returns to work on the barbed wire~

Smith: Stevens in total control. He seems very at ease.

Hood: This dude really likes to take his time.

Smith: To be fair, he does seem to have Lurrr under his thumb.

Hood: Is he wearing gloves?

Smith: What?

Hood: Well, I mean if you’re going to put your thumb on someone while committing a violent crime…you should probably wear gloves.

~Our POV shifts to get a better look at what Stevens is doing. We see a steel chair wrapped in barbed wire. He’s placing the finishing touches on a giant wrench, used to help put the ring together…it, too, is hugged with barbed wire. And, for the final strand, he uses it to wrap around his right fist. Once finished, he holds his fist into the air, garnering more ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from the dumbstruck North Korean crowd. He hops into the ring with only his fist. Lurrr is trying to push up to his knees~

Smith: Stevens has taken Lurrr’s stipulation and made it his own!

Hood: Rumor has it Scott Stevens ran a lemonade stand as a child.

Smith: Your point?

Hood: He’s been doing this for years!

~Stevens brings his right fist crashing down. Lurrr rolls away!! The fist bites into the mat. Lurrr, on his stomach, sees the barbed wire fist…it doesn’t take long to realize what Stevens was trying. He pops to his knees. Stevens rips his fist free. Lurrr is on his feet. Stevens throws a heavy, barbed wire hand at Lurrr. Lurrr ducks and grabs Stevens by the head, dropping him with a neckbreaker. Lurrr pops back to his feet. Stevens sells the neck for just a second before hurrying back to his. Lurrr has his leg ready for THE WAKE UP CALL! Stevens drops to the mat and rolls out of the ring, to the side with NO ROPES. Lurrr, seeing the lack of barbed wire, takes off and dives into the air. Stevens turns around, Lurrr hooks him by the head and drops him with a Tornado DDT. Stevens hits hard, holding his head and neck in pain~

Smith: Tremendous athleticism shown by Lurrr! He’s still got some spring in those legs!

Hood: You saying you like his legs?

Smith: I’m not saying that at all.

Hood: Stop looking at his legs, Smith.

~Lurrr grabs Stevens right hand and rips the barbed wire off. He throws it to the side, looking down at the man and saying “Sick son of a bitch.” He grabs Stevens by the hair and slams his face into the ground, trying to bruise the man’s brain. But, Stevens is a big, TEXAN…he’s got a thick ass skull. Lurrr, also being a TEXAN, realizes that this is a true, not false trait. So, he pulls Stevens up and throws him back into the ring. He stops, eying the two weapons Stevens put together. He shivers and says, “Pervert.”~

Smith: Lurrr doesn’t seem to be a fan of Stevens.

Hood: He’s not alone.

Smith: It’s a good thing he saw those weapons…now he knows what to look out for.

Hood: It took seeing those things for him to realize you need to AVOID BARBED WIRE. If that’s the case, guy needs to retire.

~Lurrr slides into the ring. Stevens is on one knee, he realizes his barbed wire has been stolen. This angers him. He rises and turns around, throwing a punch Lurrr’s way. Lurrr ducks it…Stevens spins around and eats THE WAKE UP CALL!! He goes stiff. Lurrr makes the cover…Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

NO!!!

Smith: WHAT?!

Hood: Stevens kicked out of The Wake Up Call!

Smith: It took three to put him down against Great Scott…perhaps he’s…somewhat immune to the move.

Hood: Lurrr had better hope not…that’s his only finisher!

~Lurrr doesn’t appear too happy. He gets to his feet and looks around at the ring…it’s clear he might not have chosen the best stipulation. He goes to grab Stevens, but sees that the man is already back to his feet. Lurrr’s eyes widen like “holy shit.” He throws another WAKE UP CALL but Stevens catches the leg. He throws the leg to the side and grabs Lurrr by the arm, whipping him toward the bare side of the ring. Lurrr stops before running out of the ring. He turns around only to be BOOTED in the face by Stevens!! Lurrr flies out of the ring and lands hard on the outside~

Smith: Well, that hurt.

Hood: These guys like Dane and Stevens…

Smith: Dane might slap you for putting him in the same category as Stevens.

Hood: I’m just saying! These new guys entering into the company are bigger, stronger than some we’ve seen as of late. It takes more to put them down.

~Stevens steps out of the ring. Lurrr is down, holding the back of his head. Stevens looks around and snares…the WRENCH. It, as we all know, is wrapped in barbed wire. Stevens turns toward Lurrr. He swings the wrench down at the Original ICON. Lurrr moves!! The wrench, like his fist, bites into the mat. Lurrr crawls up the steps to get away. Stevens rips the wrench free and takes another swing…it SHRIEKS against the steel steps, missing Lurrr once more. Lurrr dives into the ring (the opened portion. Stevens gives chase with his weapon~

Smith: Man, Stevens really wants to hurt Lurrr with some barbed wire.

Hood: Yea, and Lurrr picked the stipulation.

Smith: Do you think it was some type of reverse psychology?

Hood: I…don’t know?

~Stevens hops onto the apron and walks into the ring. Lurrr is on one knee…Stevens takes a swipe with the wrench. Lurrr tucks and rolls…he kips up and smacks Stevens with THE WAKE UP CALL!!! The wrench goes flying out of the ring. Stevens goes stiff and hits the mat. Lurrr makes the cover~

1!

2!

3…NO!

Smith: He kicked out AGAIN?

Hood: Yep.

Smith: Has anybody kicked out of two Wake Up Calls?

Hood: Maybe Andy Murray?

Smith: Well, of course Andy Murray. I was speaking about anyone OTHER than Andy Murray.

~Lurrr looks over at Scruff, shocked. He holds up three fingers. Scruff does the DREADED peace sign. Lurrr slaps the mat, angry. He looks down at Stevens, who is already getting back up. “Mother fucker,” he says. Lurrr pops to his feet…he sighs, there’s only one move on his mind. Stevens reaches his feet and Lurrr throws another WAKE UP CALL! Stevens ducks and runs into the ropes. He comes to a stop. Lurrr spins around and charges forward to push Stevens into the barbed wire…but Stevens delivers a back elbow, smacking Lurrr in the chops~

Smith: Lurrr might have lost some teeth there.

Hood: Guy’s losing his hair…now teeth…next thing you know he’ll be living in Alice Knight’s RV.

Smith: You act like that’s a terrible place to live.

Hood: Last guy to bunk up with her was diagnosed with the bubonic plague three days later.

~Lurrr is bend over, holding his mouth. Stevens grabs Lurrr’s head for an Implant DDT. Lurrr shoves him off. Stevens charges forward, taking Lurrr down with a lariat. Lurrr pops back up and drunkenly walks toward Stevens. Stevens turns around, hooks Lurrr and drops him with a Northern Lights Suplex! He ignores bridging into a pin, instead, sliding, belly first, out of the ring~

Smith: Why is he sliding like that?!

Hood: Sneaky, Smith. The man has been sneaking up on people…that’s how he got Lurrr’s hair.

Smith: Yes, and then he burned it.

Hood: A sacrifice to the wrestling gods, Smith. To lift the curse that has plagued him.

~Stevens finds the barbed wire wrapped steel chair. His FINAL weapon. He taps it against the apron and throws his head back, sucking in some of the North Korean air. This…this is the one that will end the match. He rolls into the ring, careful to not DARWIN himself with the weapon. Stevens stands…Lurrr is struggling to his feet, feeling the STING of Stevens’ heavy hitting offense. The depression of being unable to keep the man down with TWO Wake Up Calls might be weighing him down, as well. Stevens is ready with the chair. Lurrr turns to face him…Stevens takes a HOME RUN swing, like Yordan Alvarez. Lurrr ducks. The chair slams into some of the barbed wire surrounding the ring, getting caught. Lurrr pivots and goes after Stevens…Stevens throws a mule kick, drilling Lurrr in the gut. He rips his chair free~

Smith: Stevens is determined to punish Lurrr with some barbed wire.

Hood: Maybe too determined.

Smith: I just realized…nobody has TOUCHED the barbed wire yet.

Hood: This is very unlike OCW.

~Stevens throws the chair down and grabs Lurrr by the head, looking to hit a cutter onto the chair!! Lurrr, spotting the chair beneath him, shoves Stevens away. Stevens turns around and eats a THIRD WAKE UP CALL!! Lurrr dives on top for the pin~

1!

2!

3…

NO!

Smith: WHAT?!

Hood: Okay, it’s official, Scott Stevens cannot be pinned via the Wake Up Call

Smith: If true, what a terrible match up for Lurrr!

~Lurrr rolls over, hands on his forehead. He’s PISSED. Stevens…a somewhat bionic fellow, starts to sit up. Lurrr sits up as well, looking over at his opponent. Is this man human? Is he a robot? Does he have emotion? What the fuck is going on? Why won’t this guy stay the fuck down?!~

Smith: I don’t think Lurrr has ever faced someone like Scott Stevens.

Hood: That’s pretty fucking obvious.

Smith: I mean…what does he do?

Hood: You’re asking the wrong guy…I don’t want to try to figure Stevens out.

~Lurrr gets to his feet, beating Stevens. He’s got his leg loaded, ready for a fourth Wake Up Call. Stevens is on his feet…he sees Lurrr and reaches for him. Lurrr throws THE WAKE UP CALL…but Stevens ducks! While ducking, Stevens GRABS THE CHAIR IN BARBED WIRE. He spins around with the chair only to get SMASHED with a fourth WAKE UP CALL!! The kick CRUSHES the barbed wire chair into Scott’s face!!! Stevens falls to the mat! Lurrr jumps on top of him!! Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

3!!!!

~The bell rings~

Belvedere: Here is your winner…LURRR!!!!!

Smith: Lurrr did it! He finally kept Stevens down!

Hood: All it took was a steel chair superkicked into his face.

Smith: The first and only time the barbed wire came into play. Great win for Lurrr!

Hood: Yep, Stevens fucked him up at NSFW. Tonight, Lurrr got his revenge.

Smith: Indeed.

~The scene opens on a tall building, as we pan down we find a woman standing out front of it, in a black suit, with a red undershirt. She’s wearing sunglasses and has her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her face shows she’s no-nonsense all business. She removes her glasses as she begins to speak~

“My name is Trinity Reed. Write that shit down because you’ll be seeing me around these parts soon. I aint like the other girls in this company. I’m here to do business not run my mouth or shake my tits.”

~She holds her hand out towards the skyscraper behind her~

“This is my building. I employ hundreds of braindead men and women. I run this shit just like I’m gonna be running your fucking show. I’m a self-made woman, I didn’t have shit growing up, so I decided to take whatever the hell I wanted. That aint changing anytime soon, sweetheart.”

~She takes off down the street, powerwalking down the sidewalk, paying no mind to the pedestrians that seem to stay out of her way, perhaps they know who she is.~

“I aint gonna come in to make friends. And I for fucking sure aint gonna let any of these scumbag men and whored-out woman tell me what to fucking do. I’m taking over. Consider this a hostile takeover. I always get what I want, and if I am not given it. I fucking take it. So get fucking ready, in the meantime I got work to do.”

~She arrives to a red 2018 McLaren 570GT, she steps into the driver seat and look at the camera.~

“Ya bitches better fucking prepare, cause Trinity fucking Reed is here to take over”

~Trinity starts up the car and revs the engine before speeding off down the street leaving us behind.~

Smith: Trinity Reed…our first look at a newcomer to OCW!

Hood: She’s got confidence, I’ll give her that.

Smith: Indeed…here’s wishing her the best of luck upon her arrival.

Hood: She’s already a winner, Smith. She avoided coming out here.

Smith: EEEEAZY, Hood. Let's cut to Who'Re who, I'm told, is standing by with OCW owner, Mike Zybala.

~We cut backstage where Who’Re is interviewing Mike Zybala. The OCW owner looks proud and happy to be in North Korea, putting on this great show~

Who’Re: Mr. Zybala! How are you doing this evening?

Mike Zybala: I’m doing great, Who’Re!

Who’Re: I had heard rumors you may not make it out to the event due to…concerns.

Mike Zybala: Yea, rumors have been circulating that some unfortunate circumstance could befall me if I showed up in North Korea. But, rest assured, I will be fine.

Who’Re: Well that’s good to hear! Some great matches so far tonight…what’s your take on the Alice Knight/Andrea Hernandez situation?

Mike Zybala: That was regrettable. We are going to hunt down every member of that ‘parliament’ and ban them from OCW for life. As for Alice, I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt because, come on, she’s great! And, as far as the match goes…we will definitely have to reschedule it.

Who’Re: Now THAT’s exciting news! We saw a Vargas promo earlier…it was, interesting.

Mike Zybala: Look, Vargas is a racist bigot. We all know that…a total xenophobe. But, that’s his right. Just like its’ our right to continue to censor every offensive word he utters.

Who’Re: I’m liking what I’m hearing! Now…tonight’s main event. It’s no secret that you and Mike Best, the OCW Champion, haven’t been seeing eye to eye. Does that mean you’d like to see Mack O’Connor walk away champion?

Mike Zybala: I want the most deserving wrestler to be OCW Champion, Who’Re. Whether that’s Mack or Mike, who am I to say. I know Mike doesn’t like me, and that’s fine. I’m not a big fan of his either. He’s made it his mission to turn OCW into his personal playground…and I don’t like that. This is a place that should be open and fun for everyone! I will be watching tonight’s match with great interest…I plan on being ringside.

Who’Re: Well that is exciting! Thanks for the time, Mr. Zybala! Our new owner is on top of things…as he should be! Back to you guys!

~We cut back to ringside. Welsh is seen shaking his head, very angry over the promo~

Smith: That was an impressive interview. Zybala seemed focused.

Hood: We’re in North Korea. Alice is murdering people with giant owls. Vargas is pissing off half the world. THIS PLACE IS IN SHAMBLES. We need Welsh back as our leader.

Smith: Again, I think you’re off base. Anyway, it’s time for our next match! A few weeks ago Vossler ended the eight month reign of Vincent Langston, capture the Savage Championship. Logan, back at Not Safe For Work, defeated Kitty Petrova to earn a Savage Championship shot. These two emerging stars will do battle NEXT for the OCW Savage Championship!

OCW Savage Championship
Vossler © (5-1) vs. Logan (9-1)

~The North Korean crowd in attendance remains standing. It’s hard to tell whether they are stunned or entertained or appalled by the action they’ve witnessed. They are so conditioned to remain in rank and file that emotions, raw and visceral, are permanently suppressed. An image of the Savage Title appears on the large OCW Tron. A loud, yet polite applause fills the North Korean air. Belvedere’s image appears on the tron while his back faces the general population. He addresses the powers on hand~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is a Savage Rules match and it is for the OCW Savage Championship!! There are no disqualifications, no count outs…falls count anywhere! Introducing first, the challenger…

~"Treachery" by Bleach hits…the crowd applauds. Logan hustles down the steps in the distance, taking the sharp turn and marching past the crowd with dozens of cameramen flanking all areas surrounding his body, taking photographs. He slaps himself in the face a few times, perhaps using the sharp pain from each slap to wake him up…GET HIM IN THE MOOD. He makes the second turn, heading down to the ring. Our POV is high up, giving us a wide scope displaying the large crowd, the buildings in the distance, the authority figures opposite the large crowd and the ring in the middle. Logan’s body, far off in the distance continues to march along the pavement. His chest heaves as he sucks in the North Korean air, starting to gain a SAVAGE amount of focus for what lies ahead~

Belvedere: From Chesapeake, Virginia…standing 6’4 and weighing in at 250lbs…Logan!!!

Smith: The challenger…a man who has waited six weeks for this opportunity.

Hood: I heard this fucking guy had one strange, wild week.

Smith: I, also, heard those rumors…but I refuse to get into them.

Hood: Afraid of chicken men from space? Or swordfish people with a lust for violence on humans…or fellow creatures with anthropomorphic attributes?

Smith: All of it.

~Logan slides into the ring and pops to his feet. He eyes Belvedere as if to say, ‘what the fuck is with that walk?’ He heads for a corner and leans forward, forehead smashed into the turnbuckle while his hands grip the top rope. His music comes to an end~

Belvedere: And, his opponent…

~"Spoiler" by Hyper hits! The crowd applauds. Vossler hustles down the steps, very much like Logan. He, too, seems SAVAGELY focused. He makes the sharp turn. A cameraman gets a little too close, so Vossler boots him in the head. The fans gasp. He continues to match. He takes a jab step toward the fans nearby, behind the railing. They back away in fright. Vossler continues his march, taking the second turn and heading toward the ring. The cameramen are keeping their distance with the Savage champion. The belt is secured tightly across his waist, most of it concealed by a leather jacket~

Belvedere: From Lyon, France…standing 6’4 and weighing in at 225lbs…he is the OCW Savage Champion…Vossler!!!

Smith: Vossler, like so many others, has not enjoyed his stay in North Korea.

Hood: Yea, he apparently has had some issue with the language. I think he wound up purchasing thousands of dollars’ worth of boy band music.

Smith: Is that a bad thing?

Hood: No, it’s not a bad thing.

Smith: Nice to see you’re opening up your musical purview.

Hood: It’s the most awfulest thing in the world.

~Vossler steps upon the mat covering a fairly wide portion of the concrete slab surrounding the ring. He pauses, cracks his neck, slightly grumbles, then turns to march around the ring where he can face the leaders of North Korea. We see a few of them glaring at Logan. Logan’s face remains hidden into the material which comprises the turnbuckle. Is he meditating? Are haunting images plaguing him? Or, is this a giant FU to North Korea? Only Logan knows. Vossler pauses. He takes a bow in front of the leaders. The nod, looking down upon the Savage Champion with a “you won’t be detained” vibe. Vossler removes his Savage Title and holds it high in the air with his right hand. The OCW Tron ZOOMS in on the belt. The fans ‘ooohhh’ and clap~

Belvedere: And now, the Special Referee…

Smith: What?!

Hood: This abusive fucking Commissioner. YOU LOST THE TITLE…QUIT LIVING IN THE PAST, MAN!

~"I Am Legend" - Colton Dixon hits! The crowd seems to murmur…showing signs of organic behavior…A RARITY. Guards surrounding the railing begin to activate, shushing the crowd back into their ‘normal’ behavior. The crowd goes back to polite clapping as COMMISSIONER Langston marches down the steps. He’s sporting a ref shirt that is tight enough to display the hours spent in the gym…but not so tight that you think “Holy shit this guy must be from Jersey.” Vossler turns, looking across the ring from the outside…he can spot the head of Langston, standing tall above all others. Logan rises and turns, spotting Langston making the final turn, heading toward the ring. He turns and sees Vossler, whose attention remains on the commissioner. Logan quietly steps toward the center of the ring~

Smith: Our Savage Champion needs to turn around…focus on the challenger, not the referee!

Hood: Is this Langston’s way of payback? Is he out here to SCREW Vossler?

Smith: I think it’s a respect thing, Hood. He respects that title…he built that title into something special…he wants to make sure the right man wins tonight.

Hood: Right…but, seriously, he’s going to screw Vossler, isn’t he?

~Logan appears positioned. We spot Welsh sitting next to Kim Jong Un. He wants to yell out…he also doesn’t want to be murdered. His hands grip the arms of his chair…he rocks back and forth, teetering upon decision. Logan springs forward, dives into a slide and kicks Vossler right in the head!!! The crowd gasps!! Vossler stumbles forward, dropping the title. Langston is about halfway toward the ring. Belvedere, the smartest man in wrestling, promptly exits the ring. Logan stands atop the apron. Welsh stomps his foot in anger. KJU looks at him. Welsh suppresses his anger and smiles, giving a thumbs up. KJU nods and goes back to watching the match. Vossler returns to his feet. Logan leaps off the apron, grabs Vossler’s head, spins around and drills Vossler head first into the matted area with a Tornado DDT!!! He pops back to his feet, fired up. He heads over, snaring the Savage Title~

Smith: Logan with a fast start…before the bell, even!

Hood: You have to hand it to that weirdo. He understands opportunity.

Smith: Indeed.

~Langston finally reaches ringside. He looks over and spots what’s taking place. A smile creases his face…the man is certainly in his element. He throws a signal at the timekeeper…the bell rings! Langston heads over, to get a closer look on the action. Logan, belt in hand, straddles the back of Vossler (who is now on all fours). He takes the belt and presses it against Vossler’s face (plate out). He yanks back on the straps, applying a very painful, modified camel clutch! Vossler yells out in pain…his neck is being yanked back at a very dangerous looking angle. Logan’s muscles are tight…dude is using all his strength to murder this man…or, at the very least, send him into the X-Factor division with some sort of crippling injury~

Smith: A brutal camel clutch…the weight of that belt has got to be pushing Vossler’s neck to the limit.

Hood: Would you call it a SAVAGE camel clutch?

Smith: A fair adjective.

Hood: How about a swordfish camel clutch?

Smith: I will not entertain your tomfoolery!

~Langston is leaning against the apron, admiring the violence. Logan looks over his shoulder wondering if this guy is going to ask Vossler for a submission. He soon figures that avenue toward victory might be blocked, so he releases the clutch and retains control of the title. He folds it up and smashes the plate into the back of Vossler’s head, flattening the champion out. He proceeds to whip Vossler over and over with the belt. At first he’s using the strap. Again, he looks over his shoulder at Langston…the former Savage Champion doesn’t seem impressed. So, Logan flips the belt over and begins whipping Vossler with the plated side. Vossler’s jacket protects his back from increased damage. So, Logan rips the jacket off and tosses it to the side, far away. It hits the cement paved ground. Logan reaches up and whips Vossler’s bare back!!! Vossler yells out, rolling away until his body hits the steps. Logan smiles…he turns to Langston, who appears invested in the violence. Logan then, realizing to whom he stands in front of…raises the Savage Belt and, like Vossler earlier, takes a bow. This pleases KJU. Welsh, however, withholds his true feelings~

Smith: Logan rising to the occasion…increasing the level of violence to a point where the legend of the Savage division approves.

Hood: I don’t know why he wants Langston’s approval. Is Langston his daddy?

Smith: Langston is the referee, Hood. I’m not saying they should be in cahoots. But it’s never a bad idea to be on the ref’s good side.

Hood: Shit…that’s probably the most illegal thing I’ve ever heard you say.

~Logan hands the belt over to Langston before going back after Vossler. Langston eyes the belt in his hands…a belt he proudly wore for 8 months. He turns and sees Logan and Vossler, both prone. A gleam in his eye shows a man mulling over a violent action. Logan snares Vossler by the hair, yanking him forward, to his feet. Our POV switches…we get a shot of Vossler’s back. There’s a slight, yet significant gash from the belt lash. A bit of blood is leaking from it. Logan drills Vossler with a forearm uppercut. Vossler stumbles back, leaning against the ring post. Logan spins around with a discus lariat…Vossler ducks!! Logan’s left arm smacks and wraps around the ring post with a nasty sound. He leans forward, reaching for his shoulder. Vossler, standing behind Logan, snares him around the waist, quickly, and tosses him over with a Snap German Suplex!! Logan hits hard…landing on the thinly matted surface. He instantly reaches for the back of his head. Vossler sits up, reaching for his back, feeling around the cut. Langston, continuing to hold the belt, washes away whatever nefarious act he was contemplating. He slides the belt into the ring, away from his hands~

Smith: That was a scary look in Langston’s eye.

Hood: Like taking a recovering sexaholic to a strip club. Too much temptation…have to tie that motherfucker’s hands to the seat.

Smith: My analogy would be taking a recovering alcoholic to a bar.

Hood: Why? That’s called showing a lost brother the light.

~Vossler grabs Logan’s left arm…he yanks Logan to his feet, viciously. Logan winces, the left arm is still wounded from the post shot. Vossler twists the arm…he makes a violent movement, twisting it as far left as he can. Logan yells out…he reacts, trying to throw a finger into Vossler’s eye via his right hand. Vossler dodges, pinning the left arm against Logan’s back. He leans forward, headbutting Logan in the back of the head, staggering the man. He hoists Logan up, keeping the left arm pinned…he’s got him parallel to the ground, back facing down. He drops Logan across his knee…the arm in between Logan and the knee. It connects!!! Logan yells out in pain, reaching for his shoulder while Vossler rises back to his feet. He spots Langston, coming face to face with the man. Langston, who had been leaning against the apron, enjoying the action, straightens up. The two men are face to face~

Smith: I’d calm down if I were Vossler. He already proved his point by defeating Langston a few weeks back!

Hood: He’s a man, Smith! A warrior! Plus, he knows Langston is here to fuck with him…plain and simple.

Smith: Nobody knows that, Hood. That’s a very big assumption.

Hood: Very big assumption? In no way is that assumption big. If anything, it’s a small assumption.

Smith: Okay…okay, can we settle on a medium assumption?

Hood: Smedium?

Smith: Fine.

~Vossler is suddenly taken over!! It’s a schoolboy from Logan!! Langston springs into action, dropping to his knees to make the count~

1!

2!

Kick Out!

Smith: Close!! Logan was able to use his right arm to roll Vossler up!

Hood: Guy has one eye…now he has one arm…you know what’s next.

Smith: His legs?

Hood: His balls.

~An irate Vossler pops back to his feet. Logan tries to meet him, but is hit with a knee into the left shoulder! He rolls over, clutching his afflicted joint. Vossler looks at Langston, furious. Langston silently challenges Vossler to do something about it. Vossler spots the title in the ring…he then looks down at his challenger and, in showing great restraint, turns his attention toward what really matters. He snares Logan by the hair and throws him into the ring. Logan, on three out of four appendages, awkwardly crawls for the belt – a weapon. Vossler climbs onto the apron. He steps into the ring. He measures Logan up. Langston remains on the outside, leaning over the apron, watching. Vossler waits for Logan to sit up…Logan does. Vossler charges in for a knee to the face…Logan lifts the Savage belt up causing Vossler’s knee to SMASH into the metal plate!! Vossler goes down holding his knee. Logan places the belt onto the mat. He makes his way up…he works his left arm back and forth, wincing with each movement. He snares Vossler by the hair, pulling him up. He boots him in the gut and looks to hook him for a double arm DDT onto the Savage Title~

Smith: He’s looking to end Vossler’s reign by dropping him with his own move on his own belt!

Hood: Talk about rubbing your face in it!

Smith: It’s in Logan’s best interest to end this now. His arm is in serious pain.

Hood: Yea, but Vossler smashes his knee pretty good…so they might be square.

~Logan attempts to drop Vossler into the belt. Vossler resists, a bit…but he’s close to going over. Logan, however, can’t fight the resistance and has to leg to and step back. He reaches for his arm…he yells “FUCK” annoyed with the apparent injury. Vossler straightens up, placing most of the pressure on his left leg. Logan charges forward with a clothesline. Vossler ducks. Vossler spins around. Logan stops short of hitting the corner…he turns around only to be greeted with a huge right hand! Logan staggers into the corner. Vossler dives forward with another head butt, this time to the forehead of Logan. Logan blinks, rapidly…the trauma to the head having a discernible effect. Langston remains outside the ring, watching. His eyes seem to be meandering toward the belt. Vossler kicks Logan in the gut and yanks him forward, looking to return the favor…he’s steadied and readied for BOLIDE. He lifts Logan up…Logan, however, manages to sneak a quick knee into Vossler’s weakened leg. Vossler drops Logan…Logan hoists Vossler up, onto his good shoulder…he brings him down, into position and drops him across his knee with Ushigoroshi!!! Vossler hits hard! He’s down!! Logan makes the cover…Langston slides in and makes the count~

1!

2!

Kick Out!

Smith: Kick out by Vossler! He’s avoided two near falls tonight!

Hood: What the hell was THAT?!

Smith: Ushigoroshi.

Hood: Yoshi is grossy? That seems kinda mean…even if he did crap shit out all the time.

Smith: That’s not what I said.

~Logan doesn’t belabor the near fall, he scrambles, reaching for the Savage Title with his right hand. He gets to his feet. Vossler is crawling for the ropes, using them to stand. Logan charges in and takes a wild, vicious swing at Vossler with the title. Vossler ducks, hoisting Logan into the air. Logan lands on the apron. Vossler throws a side elbow, cracking Logan in the jaw. Logan drops the title. It ricochets off the apron, onto the outside floor. Vossler takes a few steps back and attempts a spear through the ropes. Logan dodges. Vossler winds up on the apron, hooking Logan by the waist…the looks for a GERMAN off the apron, to the floor. Logan throws a back kick, nailing Vossler in the groin. Vossler staggers into the ring post. Logan turns around, eyeing an opportunity. He hesitates due to what happened the last time he ran into a ring post. He shoves caution aside and charges in…Vossler grabs him, tosses him up and powerbombs him onto the apron!!! Logan hits HARD!! He slides off the apron, remaining on his feet, leaning against the hard apparatus for support. Vossler hops off the apron, grabbing Logan by the head and smashing him face first into the outside floor. Logan remains face down. Vossler foregoes a pin, rising to his feet and working the knee out~

Smith: Logan’s hesitation harmed him in this match!

Hood: Yea, well he didn’t want to run into the post like a fucking moron.

Smith: True, that would have been the second time.

Hood: Here in OCW, our wrestlers don’t do dumb shit like repeatedly run into posts. It’s called LEARNING FROM YOUR MISTAKES.

~Langston steps through the ropes, joining the action on the outside. Vossler pulls Logan up, eyeing Langston’s whereabouts. He throws a kick into Logan’s midsection…Logan catches the leg. He spins Vossler around and throws a lariat…but Vossler blocks it! Vossler boots Logan in the gut and goes for BOLIDE! Logan slips out of it and winds up behind Vossler. He tries hooking Vossler in a full nelson…but his left arm won’t extend. So, he spins Vossler around only to be greeted with a roaring forearm!! Logan stumbles back before throwing a forearm of his own!! Vossler fires back…then Logan…then Vossler…then Logan…then Vossler…the fans go ‘ooohhh’ while watching the hard hitting, back and forth action…neither man giving an inch~

Smith: These two are beating the stuffing out of one another!

Hood: You ever thought about filling a piñata with, like, cherry kool-aid?

Smith: Why on Earth would anyone do that?

Hood: As a practical joke, man.

Smith: That would traumatize children! Not to mention the eternal carpet stain that would remain.

Hood: Who the fuck still has carpet?

~Both men begin to tire…their forearms are slowing with frequency while retaining impact. Vossler appears to be gaining the upper hand…he nails two, three, four in a row! Logan is rocked….before suddenly firing up and yelling at Vossler to hit him harder. Vossler has a ‘wtf’ look for a second before reaching back as far as he can and throwing the biggest forearm of the night. Logan ducks it!! He secures Vossler’s back and throws him over his shoulder, toward the edge of the padding…but Vossler lands on his feet!!! He favors the knee, slightly…but it’s strong enough to sustain. Logan smirks, arrogantly before turning around and receiving a spear from Vossler!!! The spear JAMS Logan’s back into the apron!! Vossler snares Logan’s head, bringing it down…he grabs both of Logan’s arms and drops him with BOLIDE!!!! Logan is down!!! Vossler rolls him over for the cover…Langston slides in~

1!

2!

3…NO!

Smith: Logan got the RIGHT shoulder up!

Hood: Damnit, Vossler…you should have pinned that shoulder down!

Smith: He’s fatigued and possibly loopy from all those shots, Hood. I’m sure he isn’t thinking straight.

Hood: That plus Langston’s slow count and you’ve got all the makings for the Pyongyang screwjob!

~Vossler looks sideways at Langston, annoyed by the count. Was it slow? Depends on your definition of slow, I suppose. Vossler gets to his feet…again, he works his knee out, making sure it’s stable. The knee appears to be nearly recovered from earlier. He pulls Logan up and boots him in the gut. Once more, he hooks both arms~

Smith: Vossler is looking to hit Orbital Exenteration!

Hood: The Vos Man is going to retain…if Langston doesn’t screw him.

~Vossler hoists Logan up…at the apex of the move, Logan spins out!!! He pops to his feet, grabs Vossler by the head and hits him with a Stunner!!! Vossler stumbles backward, off the protective padding. He drops to one knee, shaking his head, trying to fight his way through the stunned haze~

Smith: Stunner by Logan!! That’s a partial variation of The Connector!

Hood: It did its job…it stunned Vossler…but the dude won’t be down for long.

Smith: Indeed.

~Logan measures Vossler up. He runs forward and throws a knee at Vossler’s head. Vossler rises and dodges the knee. Logan spins around and grabs Vossler from behind…he hooks him a sleeper!! Vossler fights out of the sleeper, realizing the danger that move holds against Logan. He turns around and delivers a huge knife edged chop!!! Logan stumbles back, further on the cement. Vossler reaches for Logan…Logan throws a kick into Vossler’s crotch!! Vossler doubles over! Logan brings Vossler in, hooks him and drops him with a piledriver onto the cement!!! Vossler goes limp. Logan rolls him over, making the cover…Langston drops down, carefully on the cement to make the count~

1!

2!

3..NO!

Smith: Vossler kicked out! A piledriver on the concrete…my gosh!

Hood: Logan is trying to MURDER one of OCW’s brightest stars! Fuck you, Logan!

Smith: He’s simply trying to win the Savage Title, Hood.

~Logan slaps the concrete in frustration. Vossler’s head appears to be split open, blood leaking down the back, creating a puddle on the concrete. Logan stands up and looks down at Vossler…he motions with the ‘THROAT SLASH’ that this one is over. He snares Vossler, hoisting him up…he locks Vossler in a sleeper!! Vossler drops down on his ass. Logan tries to get him back up, but Vossler refuses…Logan grows frustrated. He throws a few kicks into Vossler’s back…he gets Vossler up and reapplies the sleeper…but, just as before, Vossler drops down on his ass. Logan lets go and places his hands on his hips, frustrated~

Smith: Vossler may not know what country he’s in at the moment…but he knows enough to avoid Logan’s ‘The Connector’.

Hood: That’s instinct, Smith! You can’t teach that shit!

Smith: It is impressive…if Logan is forced to find an alternative way to win this well…despite Vossler’s condition I think you’d have to give him the edge.

~Logan delivers a downward elbow strike into Vossler’s head. The Savage Champ hunches forward before leaning to his side. Blood continues to leak out of his wound. Logan marches toward the ring…he grabs the Savage Title and shoves it into Langston’s chest. Langston is nonplussed. He looks at the title and back at Logan. Logan pulls Vossler up and hooks both arms, presenting a vulnerable Vossler to Langston. “HIT HIM!” Logan yells. “YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO!” Logan continues to entice. “THIS MAN ENDED YOUR TITLE REIGN! HIT HIM!!”~

Smith: Logan wants Langston to help him dethrone Vossler!

Hood: Oh fuck this shit…quick, somebody tell Jim Jong Jun that Logan is a big fan of capitalism!

~Langston teeters on the edge of a moral cliff. He finally seems to say ‘fuck it’ and dives ahead with the belt shot!!! Vossler ducks!!! Langston DRILLS Logan in the face!!! Logan goes stiff, landing roughly on the concrete floor. Langston stands, dumbfounded, holding the title. A bloodied Vossler crawls over and places his arm over Logan’s chest. Langston yells “FUCK”…he drops the title and hustles over to make the count~

1!

2!

3!!

NOOOO

Smith: Logan kicked out!!

Hood: That fucking Langston! He pulled back on that belt shot! He’s trying to ruin Vossler’s night!

Smith: I don’t condone his actions…but he does have reason to be salty against Vossler.

Hood: OVER WHAT? Is he a lays potato chip or something?

~Vossler rolls off of Logan. He reaches up, wiping the blood from his eyes, trying to create enough vision to finish the job. Logan doesn’t seem to be bleeding…the only blood on his body is from Vossler’s pin attempt. Vossler finally sits up…he stares up at Langston…it’s a half angry, half faraway look. The man has taken some punishment. He reaches his feet, staggering side to side. He locates Logan’s right arm…he drops it…he grabs Logan’s left arm and begins to drag the challenger away from the concrete~

Smith: He wants off that concrete and, you know what, I don’t blame him.

Hood: I hope he didn’t get made retarded by that piledriver. We can’t ruin Vossler!

Smith: We have the best doctors within a ten mile radius of the OCW Arena. He might be fine.

Hood: The fucking Knife Man? Geezus.

~Vossler, ‘safely’ on the mat, kicks Logan in the gut and hooks both arms. He hoists Logan up for Orbital Exenteration!! He gets him up…but Logan managed to catch a boost on the way up…he gets too high and winds up on Vossler’s shoulder. Vossler loses his grip…Logan lands behind him and locks in a sleeper!!! Vossler fights forward, grabbing onto the cloth which covers the ring apron!!! Logan has no room. He’s forced to break the sleeper. Vossler spins around and yanks down on Logan’s left arm!! Logan yells out in pain. Vossler hoists Logan onto his shoulders…for the BURNING HAMMER~

Smith: Burning Hammer! This is the move Vossler used to defeat Langston!

Hood: One of only two moves which has managed to keep Langston down for a three count.

Smith: Indeed.

~Logan, realizing he’s in danger, reaches behind, trying to rake at Vossler’s eyes. Vossler remains stable…he gets ready to toss Logan on his head. Logan finds Vossler’s cut…he rips at it. Vossler yells in pain. Logan slips free!! He spins around, hooks the sleeper on Vossler, kicks his legs up, finds the edge of the apron and flips over nailed THE CONNECTOR!!!! Vossler snaps back, landing on his back!! Logan hurriedly crawls over, making the cover. Langston dives in to make the count~

1!

2!

3!!!!!

~The bell rings~

Belvedere: Here is your winner…AND THE NEW OCW SAVAGE CHAMPION LOGAN!!!!!

Smith: Logan did it!

Hood: MOTHER FUCKER

Smith: Logan is the NEW Savage Champion!

Hood: Langston SCREWED Vossler!

Smith: How?

Hood: Attempted belt shot…slow counts…fucking MIND GAMES…BULLSHIT

Smith: Sounds like spoiled grapes and FAKE NEWZ to me! Logan has been on a tear since joining OCW and now…now he’s, potentially, one step away from competing for the OCW Title.

Hood: This should be Vossler. This isn’t right, Smith. IT’S NOT RIGHT

Smith: Tremendous effort by Vossler. Nobody likes an abbreviated title reign but fans can’t lose sight of the fact that Vossler, to reach this point, did what was deemed unthinkable…he defeated Vincent Langston.

Hood: Yea well once we get back to Key West, shit is going to hit the fan. I think, as restitution, Vossler needs an OCW Title shot.

Smith: I don’t know where he goes from here but I’m sure he will remain a fixture in the upper echelon of OCW. Great win for Logan…great match…what a night we’ve seen thus far!

~Logan, with his Savage Title secured, decides to get the HELL OUT OF DODGE, as they say. He walks around the ring, locating the street…he stumbles and staggers, beaten near exhaustion. Medics try to help him, but he slings his title around, keeping them at bay. The giant screen begins to display words in North Korean as some North Korean sounding music plays. The citizens in attendance start to sing and chant along with what’s being displayed/aired~

Smith: Seems like we’ve got more PRACTICE time.

Hood: Yea, these people are fuckin brainwashed, man.

Smith: How many songs do you think they are going to try and work on in between these matches?

Hood: I- <> Smith: What’s that? Oh WE’RE STILL ON AIR? Sorry about that folks, we were just working on a bit for…some other time.

Hood: Obviously we were speaking about SOUTH Korea.

Smith: Yes, yes indeed…can we now…cut to something before our next match?

~The announcers desperately want to be taken off air for a moment. And then…IT HAPPENS~

KEEP ROLLIN ROLLIN ROLLIN ROLLIN! KEEP ROLLIN ROLLIN ROLLIN ROLLIN!! KEEP ROLLIN ROLLIN ROLLLIN ROLLIN!!!!

Smith: What is that awful noise?

Hood: I think that music belongs to The Road Dawg.

~It does INDEED belong to The Road Dawg. We zoom in to see him atop his motorcycle, screaming toward the ring…it’s as though the tires rotate in synch with the song. He’s got a weapon in his hand…he’s eyeing LOGAN~

Smith: Oh my!!! I think The Road Dawg wants to drive by Logan and smash him in the face with whatever weapon he’s holding!

Hood: Oh leave the guy alone, man! He’s already missing one eye!

Smith: He’s angry due to Logan’s actions in recent weeks!

~We ZOOM RIGHT IN…TIGHT on The Road Dawg’s face. He’s leaning in, angry…riding that bike HARD. He’s bearing down on Logan. Logan pauses…freezing right in front of the bike. He’s dead meat. We cut to a pair of wheels…they belong to a wheelchair. A pair of firecracker rockets are strapped to them. The firecrackers are lit…the wheels start to spin~

Smith: What is that…

Hood: Something really cool or super lame.

~The wheels BURN RUBBER. We cut back to THE ROAD DAWG…he’s leaning forward, working the handles. He’s ready to MURDER Logan. He’s a few feet away when the wheel chair with rocket wheels flies into view. It slams into the bike!!! The wheel chair is decimated. The Road Dawg and his bike tumble forward!! They hit, hard…at the feet of Logan. Several feet back is the demolished wheel chair. In between is the crippled body of Great Scott (wearing a luchador mask – for a reason)~

Smith: That’s Great Scott.

Hood: He just saved Logan’s life!

Smith: Yea…he probably did.

Hood: Why is he wearing a luchador mask?

Smith: I don’t know, maybe he’s embarrassed that he lost to Skittlez and got shot seven times.

Hood: Well, I mean, that’s pretty reasonable. Nice to see he made it out here…although I bet flying was a bitch.

~Logan casually side steps The Road Dawg and his bike. The Road Dawg reaches for Logan’s legs, unable to snare a grab…it’s a pretty weak attempt. Logan strides past Great Scott and says, “Thanks.” He then staggers to his right, heading for the building housing tonight’s competitors~

Smith: I have no idea where any of this leads.

Hood: A Great Scott Savage Title shot, obviously. Logan OWES him.

Smith: He was Logan’s first test…and now he’s Logan’s guardian angel. Great Scott…a man that wears many masks.

Hood: Including the one he has on!

~An angry and slightly embarrassed Road Dawg gets to his feet. He gets his bike back on both wheels and starts it up. We cut to KJU who is FURIOUS! An unauthorized vehicle molesting his streets. He points and shouts! North Korean security sprint toward The Road Dawg. He turns around, looking at the security over his shoulder. He snarls and says, “Eat my dust.” He fires up his bike~

KEEP ROLLIN ROLLIN ROLLIN ROLLIN! KEEP ROLLIN ROLLIN ROLLIN ROLLIN!! KEEP ROLLIN ROLLIN ROLLLIN ROLLIN!!!!

~He takes off, creating a bunch of smoke. The security members cough as they run through the dark cloud, chasing after The Road Dawg’s illegal bike. A North Korean police bike is activated with weak sirens. It gives chase…it’s pretty inferior~

Smith: The Road Dawg better hope he makes it to South Korea before he’s caught.

Hood: Noooo shit.

~The Knife Man and several medic members are tending to Great Scott. It takes four of them to pick him up and carry him to safety. His wheel chair is recovered by North Korean authorities~

Smith: And that was that…could this lead to a Logan, Great Scott team? A Logan, Great Scott match? A Great Scott, Road Dawg match? Or, a Logan, Road Dawg, match?

Hood: Don’t look at me.

Smith: Fans, we’ve got two matches left! Let’s cut to our ‘backstage’ for this evenings show while we get things reset for our penultimate match.

~We cut inside the building housing the wrestler we find OCW interviewer, Who’re, standing by with a microphone in hand. The camera pans to the left a little bit as we see Sarah Twilight and Lilith walking, hand in hand, both of them looking quite beat up from the match they had earlier endured. Despite the pain she is obviously feeling though Lilith looks quite happy as she is seemingly enjoying a milkshake, holding it in her free hand. Lilith’s face is bruised and battered…bandages and other health related aids are holding together what was broken, earlier. Who’re immediately approaches the couple, microphone outstretched as if she'd been waiting for them to conduct a quick interview. ~

Who’re: Lilith, Sarah, can I have a moment of your time please?

~The couple stops as they are beckoned by the bothersome journalist. Sarah narrows her eyes at the woman and Lilith is smiling, although in such a way that it’s worrisome. The arrogant redhead steps forward to address Who’re but Lilith quickly halts her and shakes her head.~

Lilith: I’ll handle this.

~Sarah steps back nodding to her wife. The raven haired beauty taking charge of the situation. Twilight was more than happy to see this side of Lilith and eagerly obeys.~

Lilith: Soooooo you want a moment of MY precious time, huh?! You want to interview me?! Ask me stupid questions?! About my match?! How I feel?! SHUT UP!

~At this point Lilith grabs the microphone out of Who’res hand and harshly pushes her back, almost causing her to trip and fall down. ~

Lilith: How about now, huh?! You still want to ask me questions?!

~Lilith grabs Who’re by her necklace, pulling it and snapping it, little pearls dropping onto the floor. Who’re looks absolutely terrified. Lilith SLAPS her HARD across her face. ~

Lilith: You still wanting to play interviewer with me, bitch?! HUH?! HUH?!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!

~Who’re is now starting to turn white with fear as Lilith continues to grab her and throw her around a bit. Lilith grabs her by her hair and pours pretty much her whole milkshake over the interviewers head, soaking her head to toe before grabbing her around her neck and throwing her down onto the floor and out of the shot. Lilith smiles brightly again as she turns to the camera, pulling Sarah over to her and briefly planting a loving kiss onto her lips. ~

Lilith: What you idiots in OCW need to realize is that this is MY company. I don't have to do a damn thing you WANT me to do, I'll do whatever the hell I want, whenever the hell I want and HOWEVER the hell I want! And for right now what I want to do is get the hell out of this piece of shit, poor excuse for a country and go home! The milkshakes suck here anyway!

~Lilith looks over at Who’re who is still sat on the floor, shaken up and covered in milkshake. The raven haired beauty laughs heavily before turning her attention back to Sarah. With a long gaze, Lilith licks her lips and gives Sarah a rough, yet playful smack on the ass.~

Lilith: Let's go home, Sarah. I want to get you out of those jeans and into bed.

~She uses her free hand to run the tips of her fingernails along Sarah’s cheek, winking.~

Lilith: We both know how much you love that.

~The redhead blushes and nods as Lilith takes her by the hand and leads her away. We cut to KJU who is fidgeting in his seat, face turning red. Welsh hurriedly explains to a translator…he does the ‘she’s crazy’ motion with his finger to his head. The translator relays the message. KJU turns to Welsh, growing tired of all these flimsy excuses to explain away the behavior of his roster. Welsh leans into his chair…hoping something, anything might arise to appease this man, get him back in a positive mood~

Smith: Lilith.

Hood: I knew she might be the one to bring us all down…I just didn’t think it’d be so soon.

Smith: Lilith and Twilight are obviously annoyed over their defeat earlier tonight. A small bump in the road for two very, very talented women.

Hood: Oh yea, as much as I can’t stand their personalities, Lilith and Twilight are main event level players.

Smith: *sad indeed noises*

Hood: What was that?

Smith: It’s time for a couple of main event players, Hood. The greatest feud in OCW history is set to culminate. Cecilworth M! Farthington is about to defend his Paradigm Championship against OCW legend, The Big Bifford! That match is NEXT!

OCW Paradigm Championship
Cecilworth M! Farthington © (12-1) vs. The Big Bifford (14-4)

~The weather begins to turn in Pyongyang. It’s not about to rain or TSUNAMI all over everyone. Although that might be doing the citizens in attendance a huge favor (tsunami). It is, however, getting darker. The sun has hit the apex…it’s about to start its downward trajectory west which can only mean one thing…we’re hitting the prime production portion of our programming. We’re about to wrestle UNDER THE LIGHTS. A graphic informing us that CM!F and Bifford are up next hits the giant screen. The citizens in attendance give a polite clap…as they’ve done all evening. It’s maddening…but also a little impressive. Belvedere, back to the citizens, clears his throat~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen the following contest is scheduled for one fall and it is for the OCW Paradigm Championship!!!! Introducing first…

~A different yet familiar theme begins to play. Why it’s that catchy, hip shaking, thumb jiving, fox trotting tune made popular by the release of CMF and Biff’s hot selling GENTLEMAN’S BOARD GAME! It’s the Gangsta’s Paradise 1920s remake by Robyn Adele Anderson. An apparatus appears in the distance. It is not emerging from the building we’ve figured out, by now, is where the wrestlers are preparing. NOPE. It’s heading straight down the pathway leading toward the ring. We zoom in to find a CHARIOT carrying BIFFORD. It’s being pulled by Kenny and Earl. Bifford stands in all his majesty. His MAGICAL FLEECE flutters not so unnaturally in the late afternoon breeze, as does his opulent beard. The MIGHTY SCYTHE is ready for action…how that got into North Korea, we’ll never know. Perhaps Bifford knew Lilith’s hook up. A brand new accoutrement adorns Biff’s head. It’s a gangster era hat. It’s tilted to the side because this is how Biff remembers seeing them in movies. The breeze picks up and knocks the hat right off of Biff’s head. He doesn’t flinch. The man plays it off like a true pro. Kenny and Earl seem to be losing a bit of steam. They are halfway toward the ring before taking a pause for their cardio cause~

Smith: I’m not sure they’re going to make it to the ring, Hood.

Hood: Fucking weaklings. I blame Kenny, personally.

Smith: Avoiding the slippery slope of blaming Earl?

Hood: Why? Because he’s a popcorn salesman?

~Belvedere, realizing this could take longer than anticipated, moves ahead with his announcing duties~

Belvedere: From Phoenix, Arizona…standing 6’6 and weighing in at 488lbs…he is a former OCW Champion…he is in the OCW Hall of Fame…he is The Big Bifford!!!

~Bifford’s remains statuesque, stoic, even. He’s not going to let the depleted efforts of his minions ruin this elegant entrance. That is, until…"Money" - Flying Lizards hits! Bifford slowly turns his head…like a man trying to keep his cool in spite of rising anger. Behind him he sees DURANGO step down from the building with the Paradigm Champion, CM!F riding atop his shoulders. Bifford’s eyes narrow. He’s NOT happy. They make the turn left, facing the ring. They are only a few feet away from Bifford. Bifford SLAMS the butt of his MIGHTY SCYTHE into the floor of the chariot. Earl looks up and Biff casts a threatening glare, along with a readied MIGHTY SCYTHE. Earl slaps Kenny in the arm and urges him to get moving. They resume pulling…Durango has nearly caught them~

Smith: Is this a…race?

Hood: A GENTLEMAN’S RACE! C’mon, Biff! Redeem yourself!

Belvedere: From Buckinghamshire, UK…standing 6’0 tall and weighing in at 13.5 stone…he is the OCW Paradigm Champion….Cecilworth M! Farthington!!!

~Kenny and Earl and moving as fast as they can. Their tiny legs are about to give out. Meanwhile, the behemoth known as Durango is nearly neck and neck with the chariot. CM!F sits atop his shoulders, looking out into the sky with his typical bliss filled ignorance. The two parties are now step by step. Bifford reaches out with the MIGHTY SCYTHE, placing it’s vicious blade in between Kenny and Earl, so they can see it. This generates some extra momentum. The two parties go at it…while trying to remain gentlemanly (Scythe threats excluded). Kenny and Earl are tiring. Durango’s massive legs push forward. CM!F continues to act unaware. Durango reaches the ring first!!! He turns and heads toward the North Korean leaders. Kenny and Earl reach the ring…the collapse due to exhaustion. Bifford marches right past them…he looks down and says, “Way to go, Kenny.” He turns and heads toward the North Korea leaders~

Smith: It appears Bifford is laying the blame of this loss at the feet of Kenny.

Hood: Kenny should really hit up Monster.com or something.

Smith: I believe this is what they call Stockholm Syndrome.

Hood: I had no idea Kenny was retarded. Kinda makes sense, though, he was an intern for twenty years.

~Bifford stands next to Durango with CM!F atop his shoulders. He’s trying to not let this recent defeat get to him. Durango genuflects, allowing CM!F safe passage to the ground. CMF stands next to Bifford as Durango lumbers away, giving the sole focus to the two competitors. CMF begins to bow…Bifford, not wanting to be out done, does an exaggerated bow. CMF, seeing this, ups the exaggeration in his bow. Both men continue to out bow one another~

Smith: This is getting a little ridiculous.

Hood: What are you talking about? They are attempting to impress Kim Dong guy and, even more importantly, Welsh!

Smith: Can’t we just GET TO THE MATCH

~Both men are now totally bowed…as bowed as a person can be. They look up. KJU is super impressed. These are, up to this point, his two favorite competitors. Bifford and CMF stand, proudly…while also eyeing one another with contempt. Bifford, sensing he needs to toss a little spice into the recipe, steps forward. He turns around, showing off his MAGICAL FLEECE. KJU nods, impressed. Farthington’s blood starts to boil~

Smith: The charade continues.

Hood: How do you beat the MAGICAL FLEECE?

Smith: I can’t even begin to imagine…

~Bifford stands next to CMF and looks down at him. Farthington steps forward…he removes the TOWEL from around his neck. He grabs it by the top two corners, letting the fabric drop to its full, beautiful length. He shows it off to KJU. KJU nods and says “Very nice towel.” In North Korean speak. CMF steps back and smiles, like a spoiled douche. Bifford’s eyes narrow. He steps forward and produces THE MIGHTY SCYTHE! He swings it around…he starts to twirl it like a baton. He hurls it up into the air where it spins in several rotations before catching it with ease!!! KJU leans back, eyes widened. He turns to Welsh and goes, “Very, very nice.” In North Korean speak, of course~

Smith: Can we begin the DARN MATCH

Hood: Hold on…we’re witnessing the final and most important Gentleman’s game!

~CMF shakes his head. He places his hands on his hips and looks at the ground. He can feel KJU staring at him. So, he does what he must. He snaps his fingers at DURANGO. Durango somehow…we won’t go into details FOR LEGAL REASONS…Durango somehow produces THE DUCK!! He walks over and hands THE DUCK TO CMF. CMF steps forward and produces the DUCK to KJU. North Korean security procures the duck and shows it to KJU. KJU surveys the duck…he turns to Welsh and says. “That is a nice duck.” In North Korean speak, of course. CMF steps back, wiping some sweat from his brow. He looks up at Biff as if to say “Top that.”~

Smith: Okay, Kim Jong Un has the duck. Tremendous. Can we start the match?!

Hood: That’s a tough one to beat. Sorry, Biff…I think you’ve lost again.

~Bifford steps forward. CMF’s head snaps in that direction. Surely he’s out tricks…right? RIGHT? Bifford raises his hands in the air and in one tremendous, earth shaking slap, brings them together. MYSTICAL CONFETTI falls from the sky, surrounding all the North Korean leaders!! They look up with a bunch of ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaahs’. KJU stands up and gives Biff an ovation. Welsh leaps out of his chair, to do the same…even though he hates Bifford. CMF turns around and pounds his fist into the apron. Biff turns and motions toward Earl and Kenny, who are resting against the chariot~

Smith: This is ridiculous.

Hood: Bifford finally won something! WAY TO GO, BIFF!

Smith: And now he’s motioning toward Kenny and Earl. END THIS MADNESS NOW

~Earl reaches for the last remaining MEAT PIE. Kenny grabs at him saying, “No, Earl. This will get us killed. Or worse, MURDERED.” Earl is torn. Bifford, refusing to look their way, just motions with his hand for them to produce the pie~

Smith: I think Biff might be taking things a bit far here. He’s already won…whatever that was we just witnessed.

Hood: Yea, if word gets back to KJU that he ate one of his own people…potentially, I don’t know, woman could have been South Korean, I guess. But if word gets back…

Smith: I think its best if somebody get rid of that pie.

~Kenny and Earl fight over the pie. Earl wants to give it to Biff…Kenny knows it will probably result in one of them being murdered (spoiler – him). Kenny rips the pie away and promptly falls to the ground, his face smashing right into the pie. Bifford turns and looks…he shakes his head with disappointment. KJU looks over at Welsh. Welsh explains that Bifford’s mother is a horrible cook and he wouldn’t have wanted it anyway. Bifford shakes his head…he raises his MIGHTY SCYTHE…perhaps about to dish out some punishment~

Smith: Bifford is, apparently, about to murder Kenny.

Hood: He really wanted KJU to eat that pie.

~Before Bifford can round the corner, he’s SMASHED IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD by an angry Gentleman!! CMF clobbers Biff in the head with his Paradigm Title!!! Bifford drops to one knee. The MIGHTY SCYTHE slips from his grasp. CMF hits him again, nearly sending the big man down. Farthington, oblivious but not stupid, realizes he can’t carry 500 lbs of DEAD WEIGHT into the ring…so he snares Biff by the hair, yanks him up and hurls him toward the ring. Biff’s puffy body rolls, barely making it in under the bottom rope. CMF leaps onto the apron and tosses his belt at Scruff, who holds it up…showing what’s at stake. He then dishes the belt to Belvedere who promptly exits. CMF enters the ring and the bell sounds~

Smith: Farthington lost his cool and smashed Bifford with the Paradigm Title…twice!

Hood: It’s easy to remain composed when all you do is win. The true character of a man is discovered within the bowels of defeat.

Smith: Well said, Hood.

Hood: Why thank you…these Gentleman contests bring out the best in me.

~With the match underway, CMF moves quickly to capitalize on his shady start. He stomps on Biff’s head. In the background we see Kenny and Earl snaring the chariot and slowly taking it back. Kenny dry heaves a few times, while trying to get any and every remnant of MEAT PIE off of him. Durango remains at ringside. Bifford tries to get up. He gets to his knees…CMF grabs Biff by the head and drops him with a DDT!!! Bifford is down!! CMF struggles but gets the big man over…he makes a cover~

1!

2!

HUGE KICK OUT

Smith: Bifford’s giant arms nearly tossed CMF halfway across the ring!

Hood: Stay on top of him, Farthington!! You can’t let that monster breathe!

Smith: I’m just glad the scythe is out of play.

Hood: MIGHTY SCYTHE

~CMF, as though he can hear Hood, pops back to his feet. He rushes over and drops a knee into Biff’s face. Bifford rolls over. CMF straddles Biff’s back…he nearly tears both groins in the process…but he gets it done. He looks to apply a camel clutch. Instantly this looks like a huge mistake. Bifford begins to power up to his feet. CM!F hops on Biff’s back like a backpack. Bifford in one giant, sweeping motion flips CMF over his head, to the mat. CMF hits hard. Bifford steps back…he leans into the ropes, they nearly snap…he rushes forward and jumps up for a splash…Farthington (on his back) MOVES! Bifford hits the mat, HARD. Farthington, back on his feet, hits the ropes and crushes Bifford in the side of the head with a knee!!! Bifford flips over…CMF covers him for a second pin attempt~

1!

2!

Kick Out!

Smith: A more normal kick out this time.

Hood: Farthington is wearing him down, Smith!

Smith: There’s a lot of match left, Hood.

Hood: How come Bifford never tires in these matches? Does he have…MAJESTIC CARDIO?

Smith: Please, stop

~CMF slaps the mat, frustrated…the window of opportunity appears to be closing. He pops back to his feet and measures Biff up. Bifford tries sitting up but has to go the side route, with elbow aid. He gets to a seated position. CMF charges forward and leaps into the air with a meteora! But Biff catches him!!! Biff rises, holding onto CMF…he spins around and drills the paradigm champion into the mat with a Spinebuster!!! CMF arches his back in pain~

Smith: And Bifford finally caught the Paradigm Champion!

Hood: Bifford is, like three times Farthington’s size. This feels UNFAIR

Smith: Oh please

Hood: I think we should lower Biff’s SCUMBAG rating for taking advantage of a smaller man.

~Bifford, on his knees, shakes off all the head trauma. He rises to his feet, one leg at a time. His MAGICAL FLEECE remains, covering his CORPULENT FLESH. He bends over and wraps his giant hand around CMF’s neck. CMF grasps Biff’s arm, trying to pry it from his air passage. But Biff’s grip is too strong…he lifts CMF off the mat and tosses him into a corner. CMF hits hard. Biff’s eyes are morphing into the homicidal maniac we’ve all come to know and love. He charges forward and squashes CMF with a huge splash!!! He turns around and slams his back into CMF, smothering his face within the MAGICAL FLEECE. CMF’s arms flail around…he tries to find a way to remove his man from his face…he’s obviously having trouble breathing~

Smith: Okay, if he’s going to use that as a weapon, perhaps we should force him to remove it.

Hood: I don’t know why we let wrestlers enter matches with magical items to begin with. Seems totally unfair.

Smith: It isn’t ACTUALLY magical…you do realize that, don’t you?

Hood: Who are you to say it isn’t magical? Don’t you remember that one time it leapt from Bifford’s body to attack a Dangerous Dan fan?

Smith: That was purely coincidental.

~CMF’s arms start to slow. The become limp, hanging at his sides. Bifford spins around and catches CMF, who begins to fall to the mat, face first. Upon catching CMF, Bifford spins around and drops him with a HUGE Belly-to-Belly!!! Bifford smothers CMF with a pin. Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

SHOULDER UP

Smith: Farthington managed to work a shoulder through all that girth!

Hood: Whew...he might have been stripped of the Farthington name had he lost via FLEECE SMOTHER.

Smith: A unique way to lose, no doubt.

~Durango, on the outside, appears concerned. Bifford returns to his feet. CMF is still down, coughing and pulling pieces of MAGIC from his mouth. Bifford backs up and leans against the ropes. Durango reaches up and RIPS THE MAGICAL FLEECE from Bifford’s body!!! Biff spins around, de-fleeced! He spots Durango holding his MAGICAL FLEECE. A fire shoots off in his eyes…the MURDER has risen. Durango’s head shoots back…death is staring down at him and he doesn’t quite know how to handle this. Bifford steps through the ropes, his gut struggling against the middle rope. Biff stands on the apron and charges at Durango. Durango is frozen. Biff leaps off with a SENTON!! His massive body crashes into Durango, taking the giant down!!! They hit with a HUGE SPLAT! The entire nation of North Korea tilts a few degrees (we theorize). Durango is down with the MAGICAL FLEECE covering his head. Bifford gets to all fours and crawls toward the steps, using them to get his massive body to a standing position~

Smith: Seriously?!

Hood: Well, if Biff is going to do a senton…that was the most logical place and person.

Smith: How far can we stretch this?

Hood: As far as possible, Smith. I also should comment that the MAGICAL FLEECE has choked Durango out!

Smith: Circumstantial placement!

~While attempting to climb up the steps, hunched over, Bifford suffers a terrible fate. The gentleman himself, CMF, comes leaping off the very same apron Bifford used to MURDER(?) Durango moments earlier with a double foot stomp into Bifford’s giant, cushy back. Bifford slams FACE FIRST into the steel steps. His mass being what it is, prevents him from doing anything other than hunching over, face down against the steel steps. CMF tucks and rolls after delivering the blow, displaying tremendous grace. He turns toward the ring…he looks at Biff…a hunched whale on a beach. Should he attempt to carry this beached whale? Or should he go about his way and let nature do its thing. CMF is a natural man, so he slides into the ring. Scruff begins to count, “ONE!”~

Smith: What a move by Farthington!! Facing Bifford is a huge challenge…in more ways than one. A wrestler really has to calculate and dissect his method of attack in order to be successful.

Hood: Too long; didn’t read? It’s tough fighting obese people.

Smith: Well, yes, they are hard to maneuver.

~Scruff yells “TWO!” Bifford remains down. CMF, back on his feet, reaches back, feeling his head. We zoom in to find some staples which have temporarily clamped the head wound shut (JUST IN CASE YOU THOUGHT WE FORGOT). Scruff yells “THREE!” Bifford is still beached, down, unmoving~

Smith: It appears as though we may have a count out…that would be kind of disappointing, don’t you think?

Hood: A Farthington win is never disappointing. HOW DARE YOU SAY SUCH A THING

Smith: I’m just saying…one of the best builds in OCW history…leading to a countout?

Hood: Again, a Farthington win is equal to that time when Kim Jongstrong moonwalked on Mars.

~Scruff yells “FOUR!” CMF starts to walk about the ring, proudly. He turns to KJU and gives him a confident nod. KJU seems nonplussed. Scruff yells “FIVE!” Durango finally sits up. He lives! He removes the MAGICAL FLEECE from his puce face. Scruff yells “SIX!” Biff hasn’t moved an inch~

Smith: It looks as though Farthington is going to win this one via countout…how disappointing.

Hood: All hail Farthington!

Smith: The sun is starting to set on The Big Bifford here in North Korea!

~Scruff yells “SEVEN!” Durango rubs his face and finds pieces of FLEECE. Scruff yells “EIGHT!” Durango does not like the MAGICAL FLEECE. Scruff yells “NINE!” Durango, on his feet, throws the MAGICAL FLEECE atop Biff with disgust. The MAGICAL FLEECE hairs dance along with a late afternoon, magical breeze. Bifford suddenly shoots to his feet!!! He runs up the steps and dives through the ropes, nearly ripping them apart in the process!!! Scruff looks down like ‘what the fuck’. The tenth finger half extended. He lowers his arms and motions for the match to continue~

Smith: I…don’t know what to say.

Hood: Are you going to deny the magic of that fleece now?!

Smith: I want to call that instinct but…I’ve never seen Biff move that fast.

Hood: Last time he ran that fast was the last time he shared a ring with Dangerous Dan.

~CMF looks down at the MAGICAL FLEECE covered Bifford. He runs his hands through his hair…he feels the staples and pulls his hands back down. He turns his focus toward Durango. He marches toward the edge of the ring and begins to scold Durango…turning his frustration and disappointment on his human carriage. Durango lowers his head and sulks away like a sad dog. CMF eyes Durango until his back is to the ring, heading away. CMF pauses…behind him stands a renewed BIG BIFFORD. Bifford’s face is red and irritated from the impact into the steps. CMF feels the presence…he turns around and his eyes widen as Bifford charges at him like a wild beast! CMF ducks…Bifford slams into the corner. CMF charges in and knees Bifford in the back. He nails him in the back again. CMF backs up even further…looking for another knee…he runs in and drills Biff with a third knee, the most impactful of the three. Bifford hunches over, once again looking beached~

Smith: Farthington placing the blame on Durango. That is sad.

Hood: Hey! Let’s say you’re kicking Harry Potter’s ass. Then, let’s say your friend gives Harry his wand back. How would you feel?

Smith: I wouldn’t try to kick Harry Potter’s rear.

Hood: You’re so gay.

~CMF grabs Scruff and points at Bifford. He shows faux concern. Scruff goes to check on Biff. CMF heads toward the opposite corner…he begins working on the buckle. He unties the rope and removes the padding. He tosses it away from the ring and marches back toward Biff~

Smith: He’s cheating again!

Hood: How do you combat MAGIC? He’s doing what he can…he is a resourceful lad!

Smith: This is why he has a low SCUMBAG score.

Hood: Quit calling him a scuMbag

~CMF marches forward and brushes Scruff aside. Scruff is pretty confused. CMF grabs Biff by the hair and pulls him out of the corner. Biff spins around and grabs CMF by the throat! He hoists CMF in the air and marches across the ring, throwing CMF into the opposite corner!!! The back of CMF’s head HITS the exposed buckle!!! He slides down to the mat, holding the back of his head…half wincing, edging on the brink of subconscious~

Smith: The exposed turnbuckle has come back to bite CMF in…in…in the back of the head!

Hood: Those staples! NO!

Smith: Payback, Hood. PAYBACK

Hood: How can you pull against CMF? He may have a low SCUMBAG score…but BIFF MURDERS PEOPLE

~Bifford places his arms inside the sleeves of the MAGICAL FLEECE. He’s re-fleeced and ready to go! He marches over and snares Farthington by the hair…he loses his grip, slightly. CMF’s hair is wet…and it isn’t sweat. The staples have been ripped open. Bifford gets CMF to his feet…the Paradigm Champion is doubled over, watching drops of blood stain the mat. Bifford raises his arm and closes his fist “ROCK” and slams it into CMF’s spine!!! CMF’s knees buckle…his legs try to give…but Biff hangs onto the increasingly slick hair. He holds his hand up against and reveals a flat palm “PAPER”…he brings it crashing down, slapping the SHIT out of CMF’s back. CMF slams face first into the mat…his body struggles to get up, the life is oozing out of his head~

Smith: Somehow this Paradigm title match has become a blood bath. Maybe the bloodiest match all night…which is shocking when you consider we had a Texas Barbed Wire match earlier.

Hood: Well, when you book a mass murderer, shit can get nasty.

Smith: I do believe Farthington’s luck is running thin. He’s been winning all these games under ‘shady’ circumstances. He tried to cut a corner with that buckle and, well, now he’s paying the price.

Hood: Biff still hasn’t got over losing Paper, Rock, Scissors, though. I think it’s obviously he prefers rock and paper over scissors.

~Bifford peels the Paradigm Champion off the mat, perhaps saving him from drowning in a puddle of his own blood. He boots CMF in the gut and hooks him for THE BIFF END. Bifford pulls CMF up and simply sits down…a solid if unspectacular BIFF END. CMF’s body goes limp. Bifford leans across CMF like a man would a pew, arms stretched out. Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

3…NO!

Smith: Farthington survives!

Hood: He’s more than a man, Smith! He’s a GENTLEman!

Smith: I’ve never questioned the man’s toughness...only his attitude.

Hood: Winners piss people off…you know why? Because they don’t need to be friendly.

~Bifford and his MAGICAL FLEECE return to a standing position. He holds up his “ROCK” and brings it crashing down into CMF’s sternum! CMF coughs and rolls to his side. Bifford pulls CMF off the mat and spins him around…he boots him in the gut and hooks him for ANOTHER BIFF END. He lifts him up and jumps this time…A TRUE BIFF END!!! CMF’s body goes limp. Bifford makes a more professional cover this time. He shows us “ROCK” while Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

3!!

NO!!!!

Smith: I can’t believe it!! Two Biff Ends!! CMF has survived TWO of them!

Hood: Please, please, please win this thing, Farthington!

Smith: It’s going to be tough…his head is pouring blood. He’s suffered TWO Biff Ends.

Hood: And Biff has MAGIC.

Smith: I won’t go that far.

~Biff’s MAGICAL FLEECE is beginning to look a little redder than usual. It does, however, retain it’s magical charisma. He grumbles, looking down at Farthington. Bifford has pummeled people into submission throughout his career. He’s racked up thousands of wins throughout the years…and that’s only if you include Dangerous Dan. He’s made a living off of portraying a person’s holy grail…the unattainable dream. However…in this moment…the six weeks leading to this match, Biff has found a man he has been unable to best – to this point. Can he finally beat CMF? He kicks CMF in the gut and signals for a THIRD Biff End~

Smith: A third and potentially decisive Biff End!

Hood: It’s like he’s fighting a female Korean corpse. So sad.

Smith: Can Bifford FINALLY defeat Farthington?

~Bifford SLAPS Farthington on the back, while he’s in position for the Biff End, with “PAPER”. He hoists CMF up…this time into a powerbomb position for a super Biff End. Farthington RAKES Bifford’s eyes!!!! He grabs the MAGICAL FLEECE and flips over, in a sunset flip motion, RIPPING THE MAGICAL FLEECE from Bifford’s body. He pops to his feet and THROWS THE MAGICAL FLEECE as far from the ring as possible. His weakened body stumbles into the corner with the exposed turnbuckle. Bifford feels around…THE MAGICAL FLEECE IS GONE. His eyes fire up with RAGE. He charges at CMF. CMF does the only thing he can do…he falls to the mat. Bifford’s right should SLAMS into the exposed buckle!!! He stumbles back, grasping at his shoulder, wincing in pain~

Smith: Cecilworth has removed the magical fleece!

Hood: Don’t you mean the MAGICAL FLEECE?

Smith: What.ever. It’s gone…so, whatever that means.

Hood: He’s got a chance…that’s what it means! Look at Biff’s shoulder, it’s already hurting!

~Bifford turns around, still favoring that shoulder. CMF is still down, near his feet. He pulls CMF up…CMF fires up, delivering a Mongolian chop to his neck!! Biff is stunned!! CMF grabs his arm and yanks on it!! Pain shoots through Bifford’s body…CMF yanks again…Bifford drops to one knee…this is like chopping down a tree. CMF is finally able to secure the arm and get him over for Great Article 50!!!! Bifford grimaces!! He winces GREATLY! The most vicious armbreaker in OCW history is ripping away at his already damaged shoulder. Bifford’s MAGICAL FLEECE is so far away!! He reaches for the ropes…but they, too, are far away! CMF has a desperate look in his eyes…he’s ripping and yanking and pulling…he knows this is probably his one and only shot to beat the behemoth known as Bifford. Blood is pouring from the back of his head but he doesn’t care…the gentlemanly lad is going to destroy his opponent’s shoulder so that he may retain the Paradigm Title~

Smith: The damage that is being done to Bifford’s shoulder cannot be overstated! This move has tapped many men out!

Hood: Yea, Myst lasted like one second…or was that Osidius Rex?

Smith: It was one of those large men…much like Biff. The Great Article 50 is perhaps the most effective finisher in OCW history.

~Bifford, using his massive size advantage, manages to work his way toward the ropes…he secures the bottom rope!!! Scruff comes in, ordering a break. CMF doesn’t want to let go. Scruff counts to five!! Farthington refuses to relent…Scruff starts to motion for the bell, but CMF finally releases…sooo close. Scruff looks down at CMF, giving him a stern, nonverbal warning. CMF gets up to his feet…upon rising, he’s woozy. He nearly collapses. Bifford and his GIANT BODY…struggle reaching a vertical position. Once he does, he holds his shoulder and turns toward CMF. CMF fights through his blood loss related vertigo and snares Biff’s arm again!!! Bifford collapses easily this time!! CMF cinches in the Great Article 50!!!! Bifford yells out like a wounded beast!! His wounded roar frightens the entire nation of North Korea!! CMF pulls and pulls and pulls!~

Smith: He’s going to tear Bifford’s shoulder apart!

Hood: Tap out you big goof!

Smith: Has Bifford ever tapped?

Hood: Never, not even at the all you can eat buffets.

~Bifford’s body goes limp. Scruff checks in. CMF seems to be slipping dangerously near to unconsciousness as well. Scruff grabs Bifford’s arm and lifts it up…it slams into the mat. CMF continues to yank…but it’s clear he may pass out along with Bifford. Scruff picks Bifford’s giant arm up once more…it drops…that’s two~

Smith: Once more and Bifford will be unable to continue!

Hood: Hurry!!!

Smith: Yes, Farthington might just pass out alongside Biff creating a DRAW

Hood: Bifford is the King of Draws.

~Scruff lifts Bifford’s arm a third time. A piece of confetti, hung up in the air…blowing in the wind, touches Biff on the cheek. His arm falls to the mat…BUT STOPS INCHES FROM THE CANVAS!! Bifford’s eyes shoot open. CMF looks up and is like “are you kidding me?” Bifford powers up…he fights through the strained, pulled, possibly torn ligaments in his shoulder and hoists CMF off the mat, slamming him back down!!!! CMF convulses, arching his back…the impact sending shockwaves through his spine!! The piece of MYSTICAL CONFETTI is blown from Biff’s cheek…sending him back to one knee. He reaches for his shoulder, it’s hurt more than ever after that move~

Smith: Nope.

Hood: C’mon, admit it…just a little bit…you believe in the magic.

Smith: I’m not admitting anything!

~Bifford fights through the pain. He snarls, looking down at his most successful nemesis. He pulls Farthington up and boots him in the gut. He’s looking for a definitive BIFF END. He lifts CMF up…he’s going for the SUPER BIFF END. CMF drops a double axe handle (ROCK!) into Biff’s bad shoulder!!! Bifford drops CMF!! A bloodied and woozy CMF stumbles around. Bifford raises his injured, right shoulder with a flattened out hand (PAPER)…he delivers a crushing slap toward CMF…CMF leaps up and scissors Biff’s arm, taking him down with GREAT ARTICLE 50!!! Bifford yells out…the shoulder is being pulled at a very dangerous angle…we can almost HEAR the muscles tearing apart…Bifford can take it no longer…HE TAPS OUT!!! Scruff calls for the bell before diving at CMF, pulling him from Bifford’s arm~

Belvedere: Here is your winner…AND STILL OCW PARADIGM CHAMPION…CECILWORTH M! FARTHINGTON!!!!!

Smith: Farthington retains! He forced a tap out!

Hood: YES!

Smith: Bifford could feel some serious damage being done and had no choice but to relent.

Hood: Look, I love Bifford…but it’s FARTHINGTON’S time!

Smith: A heck of a match to cap off one of the craziest feuds in OCW history. I don’t like the man…but congratulations are in store for the Paradigm Champion. He has proven to be a main event player here in OCW!

~OCW medics hit the ring. The KNIFE MAN is on the scene. He sees all the blood and recoils, dry heaving. Nameless medics apply towels to the back of CMF’s head. Bifford rolls out of the ring, holding his shoulder. He throws people around, angry. He goes to collect his MAGICAL FLEECE and MIGHTY SCYTHE. CMF is handed the Paradigm Title. He holds onto it while the medics work to keep pressure on his wound~

Smith: It’s never easy defeating a legend…but that’s how legends are made.

Hood: Yep, to become a legend you have to compete with and defeat legends. Farthington is one step closer to becoming a legend here in OCW.

Smith: Indeed! Well folks, it's just about time for our main event...however, before we take you to arguably the biggest match in OCW history...let's take a look at our next PPV event!

---

---

OCW Presents: Declassified
LIVE! Monday, September 16th 2019
From OUTSIDE Area 51

Tag Team Championship
Duce & Krayzie (c) vs. TBD

Margarita Mix Finals
TBD vs. TBD

OCW Championship
Mike Best (c) vs. TBD

OCW Rumble
30 Entrants

---

Smith: That’s right! We’re joining the RAID…the STORM…sorta. We will be there to entertain the thousands of fans camping out in preparation for the raid. I’m sure we’ll be long gone by the time the raid begins.

Hood: I fucking hope so.

Smith: This should be a great opportunity to entertain while showing off our product to a whole new audience! And, in case you guys missed it…THE MARGARITA MIX is returning!

Hood: Shit, has it already been a year?

Smith: It has! Let’s cut to a quick advertisement for this year’s Mix!

---

That’s right, homo sapiens! OCW’s Margarita Mix is back!! Starting Monday, August 12th, the third annual Margarita Mix Tournament will begin! This year’s format will emulate last year’s. Each person who signs up for the Mix will be placed into a random team with another signup. The teams will do battle in an elimination style tournament. The winning team members will face each other at Declassified for an OCW Title shot! So put your name down and join the Mix! Sign-ups start immediately following Redacted!

---

Smith: In year one, Chad Vargas earned the Mix trophy. In year two, Vincent Langston and Melinda Rhodes hoisted the trophy. Who will claim the coveted prize in year 3? We’ll find out in six weeks at Area 51!

Hood: We got anymore shit to plug?

Smith: Nope, that’s it.

Hood: Alright, let’s get to the fucking prestige. Let’s get to the main event!

Smith: Our main event is next…Mack O’Connor has haunted Mike Best for six weeks. It started when he took Mike’s contender, Matt Meyhu out of action. He systematically tore Meyhu’s knee to shreds. He would then turn his attention toward Mike’s shoulder. And boy, did he do a number on that. Eventually, this would lead to where we are tonight…Mike Best facing his toughest challenge yet. It’s Mack O’Connor…it’s Mike Best…it’s Last Man Standing…it’s for the OCW Championship…IT’S NEXT!

Main Event – OCW Championship
Last Man Standing
Mike Best © (16-0) vs. Mack O’Connor (32-11)

~It’s just about nighttime here in Pyongyang. The sun hasn’t completely set but it’s barely peeking over the western horizon. The sky is a deep shade of orange…it’s about to take the turn from vibrant, bright colors into an ever deepening blue and purple mixture until black takes over. A graphic displaying MIKE BEST and MACK O’CONNOR hits the OCW Tron. The citizens politely clap. At the bottom, something flashes. The fans, in unison and perfect order, begin to chant “OCW! OCW!” but in a very thick, North Korean accent (I refuse to type it for fear of racism! We had enough of that on radio last night.) Belvedere, back to the citizens for the last time this evening, facing the leaders of this GREAT nation. Clears his throat~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is a Last Man Standing Match and it is for the OCW Championship!!!!

~"Vagabond" by the Greenskeepers hits! A polite applause is given (at the incessant urging of flashing North Korean words). Mack O’Connor is seen belligerently marching down those concrete steps we’ve grown to turn to whenever the opening chords to random music hits…it’s fuckin Pavlovian. Mack’s toting a flask. He hits the ground and makes a sharp right…his bald head visible above all the spectators. Media personnel rush around him, taking photographs…the flash disrupting the cool, low lit vibe. Mack takes a strong pull from his flask before taking the sharp left which turns him, facing the ring. He marches in that Mack O’Connor way, with old man swag, if you will. He eyes the people around him, perhaps wondering what the fuck he’s still doing here…why he flew to North Korea. He takes another pull. The ring is drawing closer. He takes another pull. He’s over halfway through the procession. He’s probably wondering why the fuck the ring is so far away, cantankerous old man. He takes another pull before reaching the padding. He looks up at Scruff who motions toward the leaders. Mack has this “Yea, yea, I fuckin know” look on his face. He pivots and takes a long pull…he rears all the way back, eking every last bit of whiskey from his flask before tossing the empty container aside. He then proceeds to bow to KJU and all the other leaders. While bowing, we zoom in and see him say, while staring at the ground, “Get fucked.” He stands upright and flashes and acerbic smile. He reaches into his jeans and pulls out a SECOND flask before rolling into the ring. He stands, twists the flask open and takes another pull~

Smith: Mack O’Connor back in the main event scene!

Hood: He got here the old fashioned way, Smith. By beating the fuck out of everyone in front of him.

Smith: Unofficially.

Hood: I don’t know, Meyhu’s injury looked pretty fucking official to me.

~The opening sounds of "Undefeated" by KB begins to play…the music takes a turn and the singularly important word is uttered~

UH-UH-UH-UNDEFEATED.

~The bass drops! OCW Champion, Mike Best emerges from the building, the final competitor of the evening to do so. He’s got something metal and shiny around his right shoulder…it appears to be a protective sleeve of some kind. His feet hit the pavement and he takes a sharp right. The OCW Title is secured around his waist…it’s never looked better. Mike’s focused…his eyes stare down at the cement pavement in which his feet are pounding. He’s working to hone his attention unto something that doesn’t rhyme with boulder. Double the amount of media surround this man…the bubble surrounding Mike resembles a warzone during dusk. Flashes everywhere! The attention doesn’t bother Mike…he’s done it all, seen it all, been through it all. This man is a living legend. He takes a sharp left, facing the ring. He continues the walk. We zoom in for a closer look at what’s on his arm…it is, indeed, a metal sleeve of protection. It resembles something a Gladiator would wear…not unlike Gannicus from Spartacus: Gods of the Arena. Mike nears the ring…his feet hit that mat. He looks up to find Mack, swilling away at flask #2. Mike’s eyes are filled with determination…the mind is willing…how about the body? He sucks down some of the energy filling the North Korean air. Even if the fans aren’t acting in their typical, rabid fashion…there is still a tremendous amount of electricity in the air. Mike marches around the ring and turns, facing Welsh and KJU. He gives a confident nod before taking a bow…is the nod to Welsh or KJU? We can’t be sure…although we have our speculations. He turns and walks up the stairs, carefully entering into the ring. He takes a corner, leaning back, raising his left arm up, keeping his right arm at his side. Mack eyes every move Mike makes like a predator scouting its prey. The sun is just about gone…the sky is a deepening purple, turning into a light blue. The lights suddenly click on…one after the other, making a loud ‘click’ sound. Belvedere speaks~

Belvedere: Introducing first…FIGHTING OUT OF THE DEEPBLUESKY CORNER…he stands 6’3 and weighs 230lbs…he is a former OCW Champion…he is in the OCW Hall of Fame…he is heavy contributor to the Jameson distillery, located in Ireland…he is…Mack O’Connor!!!

~Mack takes a swig while tossing a middle finger Mike’s way. Mike ignores the antagonistic gesture, continuing to harness his energy. It’s clear he knows a monumental task awaits~

Belvedere: And, his opponent…FIGHTING OUT OF THE CHAMPIONS CORNER…he saunters around portraying a color that is very close to the Hall of Fame shade without officially being the Hall of Fame shade. He is the reigning…defending…UNDEFEATED OCW Champion…he is…MIKE BEST!!!!!!

~Mike rips the OCW Title free from his waist and holds it up, high in the air, using his left arm. He marches toward the center of the ring. Mack, taking another pull from his flask, swaggers toward Mike, meeting him with a sneer. Mike takes the title and jams it in Mack’s face, shoving him back. Mack looks down…a bit of his Jameson spilled and hit the mat. He looks up at Mike, irritated. Scruff takes the belt from Mike and hands it to Belvedere, who exits the ring. The bell sounds!~

Smith: And here we go!! A match that will likely go down as one of the greatest in OCW history!

Hood: Mike’s already off to a rough start, spilling some of Mack’s Jameson.

Smith: He shouldn’t even have that out there, Hood.

Hood: Do you want the man to go into shock during the match? Let him have his whiskey!

~The two legends circle one another. Mike is moving toward his right, which keeps his left shoulder pointed at Mack. Mack picks up on this, taking another swig of whiskey. These two predators size one another up…it’s a battle for dominance! They are looking for an opening to gain the early advantage~

Smith: Which competitor will strike first? You’ve got two men who have competed at the highest level for many, many years.

Hood: Well for Mack it’s pretty fuckin simple. Go after that shoulder…I don’t care how metal surrounds it. And for Mike…well, that’s a bigger question mark.

Smith: Indeed…a lot of people are questioning the stipulation, given Mike’s injury. However, if you’ve listened to Mike this past week he made it very clear he wanted to avoid submissions.

Hood: He’s one crazy son of a bitch, I’ll give him that. If he pulls this win off tonight…I’m not sure who we’ve got left that can beat the man.

~The sizing up continues. Mack takes another pull, keeping a sharp eye on Mike. It seems as though each sip increases his level of focus…what a weirdo. Mack finishes his second flask…he throws the container at Mike! Mike dodges it…Mack uses this evasive maneuver as a window of opportunity. He lunges forward, grabbing Mike by the left arm. He uses it to gain waist control before shifting to the right arm. Mack hooks the right arm but quickly lets go. He yells “FUCK!” and looks at his hands and arms…a few scratches appear~

Smith: It appears that ‘sleeve’ is sharp.

Hood: Well no shit, it’s metal.

Smith: Just as a Stegosaurus produced spikes on its back to protect the more vulnerable portions of its body, Mike has ensured that the metal sleeve surrounding his injured right shoulder is more than innocuous protection. It has some bite to it.

Hood: Dude’s always one step ahead.

~Mike takes this opportunity to run up behind Mack. He throws a knife edged chop with his left hand at Mack’s back. It slaps HARD! Mack doesn’t budge. He turns around, glaring at Mike. Best looks at his left hand like “pathetic appendage”. Mack stalks Mike…the champion looks around for aid. Mack throws a quick jab with his right hand…but Mike snares his right hand and pins it behind Mack’s back! Mack winces, as if to say “fucking wrestling.” He’s a brawler, after all. Mack throws a back elbow, hoping to catch Mike in the chops. Mike uses this error in judgment to snare a side headlock (via his left arm). Mack looks down at the mat, most definitely irritated. He shoots Best off…Best grabs the ropes and slides under the bottom to the outside, taking a walk. Mack, back in the ring, looks down at Mike saying, “Pussy.” Mike isn’t going to bite on the bait. Mack rubs his neck and works his arm back and forth, showing to Mike that his few moves were precise and somewhat damaging~

Smith: Mike is one of the best wrestler’s on the planet. His attitude, ego, and demeanor sometimes get in the way of the fact that this man knows how to work.

Hood: Mack is the complete opposite. Mack wants to punch you in the face, kick you in the dick, gouge at your eye and then punch you in the face some more.

Smith: Well, yes, that sums up about seventy percent of his offense.

Hood: Mack is living testament to the fact that if you keep things simple, focus on what you’re good at, you can go a long way. You can’t get MIKE BEST mileage out of that, but you can still be pretty good.

Smith: You may eat those words tonight, Hood.

~Mike starts to get back into the ring. Mack rushes over, stomping at Mike’s head. Mike pulls back and grabs Mack by the leg, yanking him down. Mack reaches out, his hands find the flask. Mike yanks him out of the ring. Mack swings the flask at Mike’s head…Mike ducks and boots Mack in the gut!! Mack doubles over. Mike winces…he snares that left side headlock again, really wrenching at Mack’s neck. Mack lifts Mike into the air…Mike flips backward, landing on his feet. Mack turns around and is dropped via a left armed lariat from Mike. Mack hits hard…he drops the flask. Mike leans against the apron, keeping that right arm close~

Smith: This man is clearly less than one hundred percent. That kick jarred his shoulder.

Hood: Yea and it wasn’t even a big kick, just a normal kick to the gut. There’s no way he’s going to be able to knee Mack in the face.

Smith: He needs to find that anger, Hood. The anger to push him through the pain. I think it’s pretty obvious he knows the shoulder will be torn apart during this match…it’s all a matter of blocking out the pain.

Hood: Yea, you’d hate to sacrifice your shoulder and LOSE. Be like Jordan and the Bulls dropping that FLU game against the Jazz.

~Mike continues to push ahead, knowing the kind of threat Mack O’Connor poses. He yanks Mack up, via his left arm and tosses him into the ring steps! Mack hits hard, back first. Mike hustles over and delivers a straight left hand, following by a thunderous left chop, far more effective than the chop to the back. He does this again and again and again and again, repeating the combination several times, causing Mack’s body to almost seize up in defense. Mack leans forward, his chest red and irritated…Mike snares Mack by the head and tosses him over with a snap mare! Mack hits hard! Mike then hooks Mack’s neck in a cravat, using mostly his left hand…he twists, turns, and yanks on Mack’s neck~

Smith: I think Mike has a plan.

Hood: Yea, I can’t tell if he’s building toward something or if he’s just winging it with, ya know, one wing.

Smith: Winging it with one ‘wing’ would be ill advised against Kip Young. It’d be downright suicidal against Mack O’Connor.

Hood: Yea, but if anyone can do it, it’s Mike Best. If OCW were Top Gun he’d be Maverick.

Smith: And who would Great Scott be?

Hood: Topper…from Hot Shots. X-Factor, man.

~Mike’s doing what he can to apply pressure, CRANK that neck of Mack’s. But his right shoulder is fighting against him. Mack can sense the relatively loose grip and uses it to his advantage. Mack fights to his feet and throws a few elbow shots into Mike’s midsection. Mike stumbles back, releasing Mack. Mack throws a kick Mike’s way…Mike grabs Mack’s leg and takes him down with a Dragon Screw Leg Whip!!! Mack grabs his knee…he slaps at the mat covering the concrete surface, letting out a demonstrative ‘fuck!’ Mike returns to his feet, moving the right shoulder back and forth. He stomps on Mack, stifling any upward momentum he may have had. Mike pulls Mack to his feet and measures him for a chop…with a left handed chop. He SLICES his hand across Mack’s chest. Mack staggers back before firing up…he’s tired of being chopped. Mike throws an open handed slap into Mack’s chest. Mack continues to fire up, getting in Mike’s face. Not one to back down, Mike shoves Mack back and throws another open handed slap…Mack catches his left arm. Mack smiles as if to say, “I’ve got you now, mother fucker.” Mike responds by kicking Mack in the knee!! Mack reaches for his knee saying, “You son of a bitch!” Mike rushes forward and connects with a knee lift into Mack’s face!! Mack spins around and stumbles away from Mike, nearing the edge of the mat~

Smith: Mike is doing everything he can given the circumstance.

Hood: It’s like a one armed man out there.

Smith: If he can just move beyond the pain…maybe more of his arsenal will open up.

Hood: He’s been through a lot, Smith. Multiple matches against Hall of Famers…Kitty Petrova’s vinegar scented vag. The man might just be worn out.

Smith: Okay, that’s just too much information for me, Hood.

~Mack sees the ending of the mat, which reveals the dreaded concrete. He turns around only to be greeted by a headbutt from Mike. Mack staggers to the side as though it’s two in the morning and he’s balls deep in his fifth bottle of Jameson. Mack winds up bending over, trying to regain his wits. Mike charges ahead and lifts another knee into Mack’s face!!! Mack straightens up before staggering back and landing on his ass. Onto the concrete. He leans forward, dazed. Mike backs up…he reaches for his shoulder for a moment, closing his eyes. He’s trying to muster up the energy and pain tolerance necessary. His eyes open and he charges toward Mack~

Smith: Mike’s looking to hit I Kneed a Hero!

Hood: Not only would it wreck the shit out of Mack’s face…but the back of his head would slam into that concerte.

Smith: This could put Mack down for the ten count!

Hood: C’mon, Mike…who cares about your shoulder? They aren’t really necessary. A dick and two balls, that’s what a man needs. And a beard, that’s good too.

Smith: Leaving out a lot of essential body parts, Hood.

Hood: Do I look like an astrologist to you? Fuck off.

~Mike charges forward, looking to drill Mack in the face with I Kneed a Hero. Mack dodges OCW’s most dangerous maneuver. Mike stumbles forward…the reaches for his right shoulder, the force exerted in attempting to execute the move caused a muscle or two in his shoulder to pull. Mack returns to his feet. Mike turns around, understanding, despite the pain, he can’t labor for too long. He heads for Mack, reaching out and grabbing Mack by the arm to pull him around. Mack does and Mike throws an overreaching left hand. Mack blocks it! He looks down, almost daring Mike to hit him with his right arm…Mike hesitates…he contemplates…Mack is through waiting, he drills Mike in the jaw with a straight left hand. He smacks Mike with a right hand…then a left…then a right and a left…the undefeated OCW champion is reeling!! Mack is peppering him with lefts and rights~

Smith: Mike has controlled the entire match but, it can be argued that minimal damage has been done.

Hood: I hope that’s not the best Mike has to offer tonight. If so, he may as well pack it in.

Smith: Sadly, I’d have to agree.

~Mack rears back, measuring a stunned Mike up…he throws a huge right hand. Best ducks!!! They pass each other. Mike throws a hook kick. Mack catches hit and throws the leg back. Mike spins around, right into a haymaker from MACK! Mack’s right fist shoots directly into Mike’s face….Best’s knees buckle. He drops to his left knee, shaking his head…his eyes are rattling around…he’s off. Mack stands over Mike and rears back…Mike looks up and SMACK! Mack punches him right in the face with a straight right hand. Mike collapses to the ground. Mack yells toward the ring, “COUNT!” Scruff begins to count, inside the ring. While Scruff counts, Mack heads toward the ring and begins searching underneath for weapons. Scruff yells “ONE!”~

Smith: Two direct hits from Mack O’Connor’s right fist. That’s enough to knock almost any man out for ten seconds.

Hood: Yep, but Mike is no ordinary man.

Smith: Assuming he answers the ten count, this will at least buy Mack some time to plot his next move.

Hood: He needs to get that metal shit off of Mike’s arm. Mike’s right arm might be useless, at the moment, but Mack can’t really hurt it as long as it’s protected.

~Scruff yells “TWO!” Mack rummages through the ring’s undercarriage. Scruff yells “THREE!” We see Mike blink and shake his head. The man looks like he got hit by a truck. Scruff yells “FOUR!” Mack continues searching…he’s half under the ring, we hear several ‘shits’ and ‘fucks’ as he’s apparently not finding what he’s looking for. Scruff yells “FIVE!” A few items fly from underneath the ring…stuff like turnbuckle pads, soda cans, innocuous shit that is in the way of locating what he wants. Scruff yells “SIX!” Mike sits up and struggles to one knee…Scruff calls off the count. Mack, hearing the end of the count, emerges from under the ring…he sees Mike reach his feet…less than stable. Mack grumbles, bitching about the contents underneath the ring. “Every fucking match there’s a ladder or a chair or a fucking bat…but when I want something…” He stops, heading toward Mike. Mack reaches Mike…Mike throws his left arm in the air, poking Mack in the eye. Mack yells “FUCK!” He bends over and turns around…this buys Mike some more time, as he continues to shake his head free of the haze~

Smith: And there is a great example of why Mike Best is undefeated. He has no holes, a five tool player.

Hood: I sympathize with Mack. No weapons? WEAK ASS BOOKING.

Smith: Well, perhaps he should have stayed on top of Mike rather than seeking contraband. We all knew Mike wasn’t going to be down for the full ten seconds.

Hood: Contraband? Talk about SPIN

~Mike seems to have regained a good chunk of equilibrium. He heads toward Mack and reaches for him. Mack rises up, one eye shut, and he slams his right hand into the side of Mike’s head! A loud THONK is heard. Mike stumbles dangerously into the steps, nearly falling over them. He leans against the steps, eyes wide once more…whatever wits he had regained have been run off, and then some. In Mack’s hand we spot a dented flask. He walks over with dangerous intent. He begins to bash Mike in the head with the flask over and over and over and over again!!! Mike’s body slumps in between the ring and steel steps. He’s down…he might be out. The top, left side of his head has been busted open. Mack looks at the flask and hurls it as far as he can. He looks up at Scruff and yells “COUNT!” Scruff responds by yelling, “ONE!” Mack rounds the steps to check the other side for weapons~

Smith: Okay, this might keep Mike down.

Hood: This is exactly what Mack wants…bar room brawl. It’s a shame we didn’t get to see a fully healthy Mike Best tonight. He may have been able to avoid getting into a brawl with the best brawler in the business.

Smith: It’s not over yet, Hood. A man like Mike Best has a way of overcoming the odds, even if they are longer than…

Hood: A pornstar’s cock?

Smith: Ugh, no

~Scruff yells “TWO!” Mack digs and digs…”fuck” “shit” “FUCK”. Scruff yells “THREE!” The cloth surrounding the ring starts to shake…our POV shifts to find Mack jerking and yanking on it in histrionic themed frustration! “WHERE ARE THE FUCKING WEAPONS!!” Scruff seems to be kinda nervous, he yells “FOUR!” Mike is still down. Scruff yells “FIVE!” Mack looks around, he spits a the mat, totally annoyed…pretty oblivious to the fact that he’s five seconds away from becoming OCW Champion. I guess we all know Mike Best isn’t going to go down this easily. Scruff yells “SIX!” Mack throws his arms in the air and heads back around where Mike is, deciding that trying the other side of the ring would take too much time. He spots Mike, still down. Scruff yells “SEVEN!” Mack stands back, beginning to grow curious. Scruff yells “EIGHT!” Mike suddenly moves…he reaches up, grabbing at the steps with his left hand. He begins to pull himself up. Mack says, “Oh for fuck’s sake.” He reaches over, snaring Mike, who reaches his feet. Scruff waves off the count. Mack drags Mike away from the ring…Mike drops to his knee. Mack looks down like “worthless man.” Mike responds with a left armed low blow!!! Mack’s knees turn inward…he bends over, wincing. Mike remains on one knee, leaning forward with both hands, still shaken. The cut on his head isn’t a gusher…but some blood is leaking, acting as an adhesive to his hair more than anything else. He crawls away from Mack, using mostly his left arm…it’s a limping crawl. Mack stumbles forward, finding the steps for support while his lower abdomen quits cramping~

Smith: Mike Best continues to survive.

Hood: Ya know, some people look at Mike as a cockroach. That’s sort of his style tonight…dude is surviving. And, I guess I mean that as a compliment.

Smith: I doubt he’ll take it as such, Hood.

Hood: Do you think roaches talk as much shit about us as we do them?

Smith: I refuse to spend a second’s thought on that question.

~Mike locates the steps opposite Mack. He uses them to stand. Mack takes in a few deep breaths, relocating the guts to move. He turns. Mike turns and charges. He throws caution into the wind, realizing he needs to change his game up. He slings the metal covered right arm at Mack. Mack reaches up and blocks it. Both men wince…Mike because his shoulder’s fucked…Mack because that metal fucking hurts. Mack tosses the metal away, grabs Mike by the head and hits HOLLOW POINT!! Mike’s body crumbles to the floor. Mack sits up and looks at his hands, they’re scratched…a few of the scratched start to bleed. “Mother fucker!” he shouts…he is an angry man. Scruff yells out “ONE!” Mack returns to his feet and heads toward the nearest side that hasn’t been checked for weapons. Scruff yells “TWO!” Mack looks around…we hear more “fuck!” “shit!” “SHIT!” “FUUUUCK!” Scruff, again, looks nervous, he yells “THREE!” The mat starts to shake…its apparent that Mack is punching the mat from underneath, out of anger. Scruff works to maintain his balance…he counts “FOUR!” Mack emerges out from under the ring and stands…he leans over the apron. Scruff yells “FIVE!” His eyes find the lone side he’s yet to check…it’s perpendicular to the side he’s currently leaning over. Scruff yells “SIX!” Mack decides to check on Mike. He rounds the corner…Mike is beginning to move, close to getting back to a knee. Mack throws his arms up and laughs…of course Mike is getting back up! This fucking guy won’t stay down! Scruff waves off the count as Mike reaches his feet. He stumbles and turns around…Mack picks him up and drops him with CLAYMORE!!!! Mike is down!!! Scruff’s eyes widen. Mack pops to his feet and yells “fuck you you fucking mother fucker! Stay the fuck down!” He marches away, heading toward that unchecked side for insurance. Scruff yells “ONE!”~

Smith: That might be it! Claymore! On the outside!

Hood: No fucking way…

Smith: And Mack is heading for insurance…maybe he can finally find a weapon.

Hood: Mike might be finished by the time he gets over there.

~Scruff yells “TWO!” Mack reaches the unchecked side. He slaps his hands on the apron and says, “I better fucking find something.” Scruff yells “THREE!” Mack drops to his knees and begins searching. Scruff yells “FOUR!” Mack continues searching. Scruff yells “FIVE!” Mack is STILL searching. Scruff yells “SIX!” Mike suddenly sits up! It’s unbelievable…the dude is unbeatable, perhaps. Scruff yells “SEVEN!” Mack is STILL searching. Scruff yells “EIGHT!” Mike is still sitting up…but he needs to GET UP. Scruff yells “NINE!” Across from Mike we see a hand raises up holding a CROWBAR!!! He found something!! Mack pops to his feet, relieved. He’s about to crack a smile when he spots MIKE FUCKING BEST standing opposite. Mack’s demeanor takes a turn to negative town…he marches around the ring toward Mike, cursing the man’s name every step of the way~

Smith: He’s got a crowbar.

Hood: Well, props to the guy…he held out and hit a jackpot.

Smith: Meanwhile, Mike has survived two beat downs, a hollow point, AND a claymore.

Hood: He’s more than a man, Smith. He transcends masculinity. His lone weakness – prison bars.

Smith: Well, I guess it’s a good thing we aren’t in a prison.

~Mike leans over the apron for support…guy’s been through a lot. Mack nears him and lunges forward with a crowbar shot. Mike moves!! The crowbar bounces off the apron. Mike’s eyes widen when he gets a look at what Mack has. The ‘serious’ factor ramps up a few notches. Mack swings the crowbar sideways at Mike…he ducks and hooks Mack around the waist. He looks for a German…but he can’t!! His rights shoulder. Mack reaches down and breaks the waist lock. He spins around, drops the crowbar, lifts Mike up and charges forward, slamming him into the top step with a SPINEBUSTER!!! Mike is down…he’s draped over the top step, motionless. Mack turns around, heading for his crowbar. Scruff yells “ONE!” Mack waves him off, “Save your fuckin breath” he says, with darker things on the agenda~

Smith: I think Mack’s had it with these counts. He’s about to put that crowbar to use.

Hood: Man, I thought Mike had a plan with that right shoulder, Smith. It’s been useless all match.

Smith: He did have a breakthrough…some clarity. He realized anger will push him through the pain…and yes, it worked in practice. But games aren’t practice. Mack O’Connor is no punching bag. He’s got to up his level of anger if he wants to reconnect with whatever medium he discovered a few days ago.

Hood: Oh.

~Mack snares the crowbar. Scruff quietly says, “two.” Mack reaches Mike…he takes the crowbar and jams it into the metal sleeve! He’s trying to rip it apart. Mack works on it and works on it and works on it. Scruff stops counting. Mack is growing frustrating…it’s on there really tight. Whoever made this thing should definitely get a plug on next week’s Massacre. Mack takes a breather…luckily, Mike is still down. However, the champ begins to move. Mack goes back after the sleeve…he pulls and pulls…he puts his foot against the steel steps and yanks back as hard as he can…finally, a BREAK. He’s loosened it up. This hiccup awakens both Mack AND Mike. Mike looks over and sees that his armor has been compromised. Mack senses blood and pulls back, looking to break it apart even further. Mike raises up and shoves Mack back with his left hand. Mack stumbles, holding the crowbar. Mike rushes forward and delivers a forearm shot using his right arm!! Mack is ROCKED! Mike grabs Mack and whips him toward the ring post…Mack’s back slams into the post!!! He remains standing against it…Mike looks down at his right arm and slaps it…he charges forward with a huge right armed lariat. But Mack ducks!! Mike’s right arm SMASHES into the ring post!!! The armor breaks away!!! It shatters into pieces, leaving his shoulder and arm exposed. He reaches for his right shoulder, yelling in pain. Mack pops up and slams Mike head first into the steps. Mike remains there, motionless. Mack takes the crowbar and measures Mike up for a headshot~

Smith: The armor has been broken! Mike’s arm is completely vulnerable!

Hood: Well, this isn’t good.

Smith: Mike’s got to dig deep. It’s now or never.

Hood: Find that anger, Mike! Find that HATE and let it out!

~Mack raises the bar high and swings down! Mike moves!! The crowbar crashes into the steps, biting into the metal!! Mack tries to pry it free. Mike pops to his feet behind Mack, staring at what’s just happened. He does the math, it’s not a complicated equation. He frowns with anger, reaching up, snaring Mack’s head from behind and dropping him with an inverted DDT!!! Mack hits hard!! The crowbar remains stuck into the steps. Mike returns to his feet, after delivering the left armed inverted DDT. He marches around, firing up. He looks at his right arm and begins slapping at it, mostly the shoulder. He works it back and forth…the pain is intense, but he’s letting his body know right here, right now that fuck the pain, it’s going to get the job done~

Smith: Mike’s firing up! He’s finding that anger!

Hood: Man, if Mack loses this…it’d be like blowing a four touchdown lead.

Smith: He was way ahead…but Mike Best is undefeated for a reason. He maybe the best wrestler alive, night in and night out.

~Mack rises, leaning against the apron. He sees Mike pacing and talking to himself…Mack gets a ‘wtf’ look on his face. He approaches Mike and spins him around. Mike delivers a huge open palm right hand into Mack’s head…totally unprotected due to the fact Mack wasn’t expecting a right hand show. Mike snares Mack’s head, securing a muay thai clinch! He begins to deliver knee lift after knee lift after knee lift!! They arrive in the form of glancing blows. Mack tries to fight them off, but he’s stuck. Finally, a right knee lands FLUSH, rocking Mack to his knees. Best releases the clinch and delivers a knee strike into O’Connor’s face. He falls backward, his upper body landing under the ring, concealed by the apron. Mike grabs onto Mack’s legs and drags him out from underneath the ring~

Smith: Now THIS is the Mike Best we’ve all come to know and respect…as an athlete.

Hood: Whatever drugs he’s on, I want them.

Smith: It’s a natural high, Hood. Good for now…but he’ll pay for it tonight.

Hood: As long as he’s got that OCW Title, he’ll be fine.

~Mike pulls Mack’s head up and locks in a Triangle Choke!! He applies the pressure to Mack’s vulnerable windpipe!! Mack’s movements are languorous…he’s super fatigued and pretty dazed from the knee. Mike’s trying to choke, choke, choke him out. O’Connor tries to tap…but there is no TAP in this match~

Smith: Mike would have won it had he not purposefully avoided match ending tap outs when selecting the stipulation!

Hood: Hey, we make the best calls we can, given the info at hand. Sometimes they work out…sometimes they don’t…

Smith: Indeed…just another interesting chapter in a book that’s far from finished.

~Mack goes limp. Mike holds onto the hold a little while longer before letting go. He picks up a deadweight Mack O’Connor, hooks him and drops him with eMpire of the Sun! He pops back to his feet and leans against the ring post, holding his arms in the air. Scruff yells “ONE!”~

Smith: He choked Mack out and then, for good measure dropped him with his alternate finishing maneuver. This could be it!

Hood: If he wins…holy shit, what a dude. Not sure he can be defeated, Smith.

Smith: I’m beginning to wonder that myself.

~Scruff yells “TWO!” Mike turns and sees the crowbar in the steps. He shoves it away, finally breaking it loose enough to fall to the ground, on the other side of the steps. Scruff yells “THREE!” Mike can feel his shoulder beginning to seize and throb. Scruff yells “FOUR!” Mike has to keep the adrenaline up…so he starts to walk around, moving his arms in a very exaggerated manner. Scruff yells “FIVE!” Mike punches his right shoulder with a left hand…he’s using the pain as a motivator, keeping the blood fresh and warm in that joint, in those muscles. Scruff yells “SIX!” Best yells “C’mon!” anxious for the count to hurry up. Scruff yells “SEVEN!” Mack begins to stir. Mike points at Scruff and waves his hand, asking for another number. Scruff yells “EIGHT!” Mack rolls onto his side. Mike bends over, hands on his knees…he yells at the ground “HURRY UP!!” Scruff yells “NINE!!” Mike stares at the ground, unable to look. Scruff yells “HE’S UP!” Mike’s eyes find a staggered Mack, who has beaten the count. Mike is pissed. He marches forward and delivers some smart, MMA style striking…right and lefts into Mack’s jawline. Mack’s head bounces around like a punching back. Mike grabs Mack by the chin and shoves him backward, slamming the back of Mack’s head into the apron, bending his back and neck at a very awkward angle. Mack stumbles forward, wincing~

Smith: Mack beats the count! We’re seeing two legends go at it tonight, Hood. It’s going to take something extraordinary to keep them down.

Hood: Well, the sun has fuckin set so I guess we may as well kill a few more hours.

Smith: Try telling that to the guy putting this together.

Hood: Sick bastard

~Mike approaches Mack from behind…Mack senses Mike approaching. He turns around. Mike dodges a weak right hand and leaps onto Mack’s back! He pulls Mike over, looking for a Crucifix Driver!!! He brings Mack down!! But Mack manages to flip over and land on his feet!! Mike hurries up…Mack charges at Mike…Mike catches him and drops him with a Spanish Fly!!!! Mack rises to his knees, stunned. Mike is already on his feet, he sprints ahead and hits Mack with I KNEED A HERO!!!! Mack crashes to the ground, his legs bend under his body at an awkward angle. Mike is on his knees, breathing heavily. Scruff yells “ONE!”~

Smith: Crucifix Driver! It didn’t work but it’s a move Mike mentioned earlier this week!

Hood: Didn’t work then, either.

Smith: Yea, maybe that’s why (checks his sheet)…maybe that’s why he doesn’t list it anymore.

Hood: It may not have worked in a vacuum, I guess. But it did lead to a match winning sequence…maybe?

Smith: We’re about to find out!

~Scruff yells “TWO!!” Mike remains on his knees, gasping for air. Is fatigue getting to this man? The travel? “THREE!” The pain? “FOUR!” All of the shit he’s endured…is it finally catching up? “FIVE!” Mike gets to his feet, he paces back and forth, hands on his hips. Scruff yells “SIX!” Mack is still down, in that awkward position. Scruff yells “SEVEN!” Mack moves his legs out from under him, regaining a more natural posture…on his back. Scruff yells “EIGHT!” Mack slowly starts to sit up, working those ab muscles. He gets to a seated position! Scruff yells “NINE!” Mike stands behind Mack, wanting to knee him so bad. Mack works to get to one knee…he falters!! Scruff yells…MACK GETS TO HIS FEET!! Mike balls up his fists, his muscles tighten…he wants to yell out in anger. Mack staggers around. He turns, looking for Mike. Mike takes his balled, right fist and delivers a spinning back fist, which nearly knocks Mack off his feet. O’Connor staggers to the side, stepping off the mat, onto the concrete~

Smith: Mack got up! This is psychotic!

Hood: Not as psychotic as some of the weeks our roster went through.

Smith: Well, yea.

Hood: But yes, it is psychotic.

~Mike spots the concrete, along with Mack’s positioning. When in Rome. He walks over and delivers a downward elbow strike into Mack’s spine, paralyzing the man for a moment. He faces Mack and boots him in the gut. He hooks Mack for a Snap DDT…but Mack shoves him away. Mike, upon being shoved, gains wrist control. He pulls Mack forward for a short arm clothesline. But Mack ducks!! Mike turns around and eats a clothesline from Mack!! It SLAPS into Mike’s sweat covered chest, staggering the OCW Champion. Mack then hooks Mike, lifts him up, spins around and SLAMS HIM INTO THE CONCRETE with CLAYMORE!!! Mike is down!!! Mack rolls off of him, because he’s no homo. He rolls onto his back…both men are down. Scruff yells “ONE!”~

Smith: Claymore into the concrete! This has to be it!

Hood: It would be for 99.9% of universal lifeforms.

Smith: Universal?

Hood: Yes, Smith. Ain’t no fucker on Mars kicking out of that shit.

~”TWO!” Mack coughs…a bit of blood comes up. Does he have THE BLACK LUNG? Probably not, he’s an alcoholic, not a coal miner. Regardless, his insides have taken a beating. Scruff yells “THREE!” Mack rolls over and winces, glaring at the concrete beneath him digging into his elbow. Scruff yells “FOUR!” Mack gets to his feet and stumbles around, wiping the blood from his mouth. Scruff yells “FIVE!” The former OCW Champion finally casts his gaze upon the current OCW Champion. Scruff yells “SIX!”~

Smith: We’re at six…

Hood: At some point Mike’s got to stay down, right? This guy IS human, isn’t he?

Smith: I’d assume so, Hood.

~”SEVEN!” Mack’s chest heaves as he leans over, sucking the North Korean air into his lungs. “EIGHT!” Mack rubs the back of his neck, which seems to be aching. Scruff yells “NINE!” Mack looks down at Mike, hopeful. He turns to Scruff…Scruff’s got all ten fingers extended and ready to go. He looks back at Mike who suddenly sits up!!! “TEN!” MACK YELLS, urging Scruff. But Mike gets to his feet before Scruff, himself, can yell the ultimate number!! The CHAMPION survives yet again! Mack yells “FUCK!” He points at Scruff, angrily. Scruff takes a step back, even though Mack is no threat to him from that distance. Mack goes back after Mike, who can barely stand~

Smith: One more concrete claymore should do it.

Hood: I don’t know what would do it, man. I’m convinced both these fuckers would get up before ten post Hiroshima bombing.

~Mack hooks Mike for another Claymore. He hoists him up…but Mike gets out of it and lands behind Mack. He jumps up, wraps his legs around Mack’s head and takes him over with an inverted Frankensteiner!! Fortunately for Mack, he manages to land on the padding, rather than the concrete. He fights to his feet, purely on instinct. Mike fights to his, as well. He charges in and blasts Mack with a front drop kick into the chest! Mack’s body shoots violently back into the edge of the apron. He falls to both knees~

Smith: Mike Best back in control!

Hood: Competition is often sorted via inches, Smith. If Mack’s head spikes on the concrete, this thing is over.

Smith: Yea, you’d have to think that.

~Mike takes a few steps back and thrashes Mack’s head with I KNEED A HERO!! But, he’s not done. He drags Mack’s body to the steps…a set of steps unmolested. Mike takes several steps back and drills Mack in the head, against the steps with a second I KNEED A HERO!! He pops back to his feet, proud and triumphant…arms in the air!! Scruff counts “ONE!” Mack slouches to the ground, eyes shut, motionless. Scruff yells “TWO!”~

Smith: Two I Kneed a Hero strikes!! The second with Mack pinned against the steps!

Hood: Okay, not only is he NOT getting up. He’s fuckin murdered.

Smith: I guess Mike has joined the club.

Hood: The murder club!

~”THREE!” Mike works his right shoulder back and forth…he’s beginning to relax, feeling like he’s got a better than great chance at winning. “FOUR!” Mack remains still…there is no change in his situation. “FIVE!” Mike sense something. He tenses back up and works his arm around…his instincts reminding him that it isn’t over until Scruff’s voice penetrates double digits. “SIX!” Best’s left fist is clinched, pumping back and forth, eager to advance this count. “SEVEN!” Mike whisper-shouts “c’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” “EIGHT!” Mack’s left arm reaches up, trying to snare the ring apron cloth. Mike pauses, “You’ve got to be shitting me.” “NINE!” Mike tries using the cloth to get up, but he loses his grip. “YES!” Mike yells, looking toward Scruff. Scruff reaches back and begins to thrust the TEN forward. Mack re-grips the cloth and manages to get back to his feet….JUST IN TIME!! Mike looks to Scruff, who motions that this match must continue~

Smith: Seriously?!

Hood: Okay, that’s it. We are BANNING Last Man Standing matches.

Smith: Is the champion going to be able to compete by the time Declassified rolls around?

Hood: That is classified info, Smith.

~Mack, leaning against the ring apron, looks over at Mike and smiles. He informs Mike to, ‘Get Fucked’. Mike can’t help but to laugh. He runs in, throwing an enziguri at Mack’s head. Mack ducks and grabs Mike’s legs! He’s got the OCW Champion in the Wheel Barrow position. He tosses him up and locks in a seamless Full Nelson before picking Mike up and slamming him into the ground with a Full Nelson Slam!!! Mike gasps for air, arching his back in pain. Mack places his boot right into Mike’s stomach and just steps over him with all of his weight! Mike grimaces, rolling over, holding onto his stomach~

Smith: The momentum swings back in favor of O’Connor!

Hood: I once heard tale of a time when Mack O’Connor dropped thirty thousand units of some currency in the hopes of defeating a, then, arch nemesis. Spoiler alert, it didn’t work. He was devastated.

Smith: Your point?

Hood: A loss tonight could be equally as devastating given what he’s been through.

Smith: I cannot argue that.

~Mack leans against the damaged set of steps. His hand touches the torn apart steel, reminding him of Mike’s metal arm. He looks over his shoulder, spotting the crowbar. He looks at Mike, finding the OCW Champion on one knee. This annoys Mack. He walks over…Mike greets him with a low blow…but Mack blocks it by closing his lefts. He places his fingers into Mike’s nostrils and yanks him up…Mike’s eyes widen…because, it’s gotta hurt. Mike gets to his feet and Mack boots him in the dick! Mike’s knees buckle. Mack lifts him up and drops him with a CLAYMORE!! He holds on and pulls Mike back up, dropping him with ANOTHER CLAYMORE!! Mike doesn’t leg go…he’s going for the TRI-FUCKING-FECTA. He pulls Mike up a third time, lifts him into the air as high as he can and DRILLS him into the ground with a third and potentially decisive CLAYMORE!!! Mike’s damaged body is motionless. Mack gets to both knees, patting the champ on the chest saying, “Good effort, dick. Now, stay down.” Scruff yells “ONE!”~

Smith: Okay, that’s got to be it.

Hood: I remember back in 2015 when SuMa put Mack down via 5…whatever the hell SuMa called his finisher…five of them! Mack only went three, but that’s because the Claymore rocks.

Smith: Yes, we do tend to learn things through other people.

Hood: Yep and now Mack O’Connor is nine seconds away from his first OCW Title win in FIVE FUCKING YEARS.

~”TWO!!” Mack rises to his feet and leans against the apron, staring up into the sky. “THREE!” He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck, wincing as a few tender spots are pressed. “FOUR!” He smiles, reflecting on the match. “FIVE!” He looks around, spotting the dilapidated flask several feet away. “SIX!” “Man, I wish I had some whiskey,” he laments. “SEVEN!” He looks over his shoulder at Scruff, awaiting that glorious 1-0. “EIGHT!” Mack looks down at his waist, curious to know if it’s the same size as the last time he wore this glorious belt. “NINE!” Mack throws his head back, he exhales and begins to raises his hands. “TEN!!...NO!” “WHAT?!” Mack shouts, looking up at Scruff. Scruff points down…Mike is on his feet via some sort of inhuman kip up! Mack’s eyes bulge. Mike is barely able to remain standing…he’s about to topple over. Victory…being undefeated…holding up all your social media shit talk is THAT IMPORTANT to this man. Mack is truculent~

Smith: Mike’s up…but for how long?

Hood: Does it really matter? Mack can knock him down all he wants…dude is going to keep getting up.

Smith: Nobody wants to win in this business more than Mike Best – CONFIRMED.

~Mack gets up in Mike’s face, “What’s the fucking deal?” Mike’s half-awake face smiles…he gives Mack a middle finger. Mack knocks it away and he pokes Mike in the chest, “NEXT TIME I PUT YOU DOWN, STAY DOWN!” Mike doesn’t like being pushed – or in this instance, poked around. So he pokes back, “No, when I put you down YOU stay down.” Mack shoves Mike, “STAY DOWN!” Mike shoves Mack, “YOU STAY DOWN!” The two suddenly break into an all-out brawl!! They are beyond their limits of frustration with one another’s inability to stay down for a simple ten count. The lefts and rights are flying…blood and sweat fill the atmosphere forming an amalgamized (we’re saying that’s a word) cloud named “Champion.”~

Smith: These two men crossed the line of exhaustion…the line of sanity a long time ago. Now it’s down to who has the most remaining in the proverbial tank.

Hood: It’s gotta be Mike, right? I mean, he’s undefeated.

Smith: Yea, but I’m feeling Mack right now…we haven’t seen him this inspired, this free in years.

Hood: Mike knows how to bring the best out of people. PUN NOT INTENDED.

~Mack gains the upper hand due to his heavier blows. Mike jumps up with a bicycle knee strike, to counteract the shift in balance. Mack dodges the kick! Mike turns around and gets hit with HOLLOW POINT!! He staggers back, almost falling over…but the nearby steps keep him upright. Mack remains on his knees. Mike charges forward and hits him with I KNEED A HERO!!! Both men are down!!! They are gasping for air! Fans everywhere but NORTH FUCKING KOREA are going wild. We spot Welsh who is leaning forward…he has no finger nails left. He’s obviously pulling for Mike. Scruff yells “ONE!”~

Smith: Not a double knock out…please, no!

Hood: That would be some epic WEAK ASS BOOKING

Smith: Indeed!

~”TWO!” Both men are down. “THREE!” Welsh leans back, annoyed…he is caught saying “C’mon, Mike!” “FOUR!” Scruff shakes his head, looking disappointed. “FIVE!” KJU casts a glance at Welsh, wondering what his deal is. “SIX!” Mike suddenly sits up!! “SEVEN!” Welsh pumps his fist, happy. “EIGHT!” Mike works to his feet…he gets to one knee. “NINE!” He stands…Mack reaches up, grabbing him by the waist of his tights. He uses them for leverage to get to his feet just before TEN! Both men remain active. Mike turns around and shoves Mack, into the apron, angry. Mack has trouble responding…the kicks to the head may have done their damage. Mike throws several MMA strikes into Mack’s head, knocking it around. Mack throws a wild haymaker…Mike ducks and pushes Mack from behind. Mack stumbles into the ravaged set of steps~

Smith: I think Mack may have a concussion.

Hood: I’d fucking hope so…otherwise Mike needs to reevaluate his finisher.

~Mike shakes his head…almost like he hates what he’s about to do. But, he does it anyway. He lunges forward with a SUPERKICK into the back of Mack’s head!! Mack tumbles over the steps, landing on his ass. His head teeters and totters from shoulder to shoulder. Mike rolls his eyes at the Superkick usage, but it was the move to do. He walks forward, toward the steps~

Smith: I guess Best isn’t a fan of the superkick.

Hood: Well, for starters it’s way overused. And, as if that isn’t bad enough…it’s Zybala’s, like, only move.

Smith: Mike needs to get over his hatred of Zybala. Zybala is a good man looking to run a clean promotion.

~Mike reaches over, grabbing at Mack’s face. Mack’s right hand reaches around…it locates the crowbar. He picks it up and slings it backwards…it hits Mike right in the wound shoulder. Mike is stunned. Mack slings it again…another direct hit!!! Mike staggers back, holding his shoulder. Mack rises…he stumbles…then steadies…he steps up onto the stairs and leaps off, driving the crowbar into Mike’s shoulder!!! Mike falls to the ground, on his knees. He leans forward, holding his shoulder~

Smith: Stop it, Mack! That’s enough! The man is in serious pain!

Hood: This is what happens when you put two champions in a last man standing match. I hope Zybala is happy!

Smith: This was Best’s choice, Hood.

Hood: Only because Zybala drove him to madness.

~Mack looks down at Mike and says, “You shoulda stayed down.” He drives the crowbar into his shoulder. He does it again and again and again. Mike raises his left arm up, it shakes…is he asking for mercy…nope. He, like Mack, gives the middle finger. Mack laughs…he drives the crowbar into Mike’s shoulder once more, before tossing the weapon away. He pulls Mike to his feet and grabs him by the chin, talking shit. Mike spits in his face. Mack grabs Mike’s right arm and hits HOLLOW POINT!! Mike tries to go down, but Mack won’t let him. Mack hooks him for Claymore…he drags him back, up against the unmolested steps before lifting him up, sprinting forward and LEAPING THROUGH THE AIR with a CLAYMORE into the disheveled steps!!! Mass carnage!! The steps are smashed apart…the top portion flying away with the bottom portion sliding around. Mike is down, flat on his back. Mack holds his right shoulder (how apropos) from impact. Scruff yells “ONE!”~

Smith: This has got to be it.

Hood: I mean, the only thing left to come back from, after this, would be hell…or sex with Melinda Rhodes.

Smith: Please, can we not give losers like that the rub?

Hood: Dude, I never talked about rubbing anyone.

~”TWO!” Scruff yells. Mack struggles to his feet. “THREE!” Mack heads for the ring. “FOUR!” Mack rolls into the ring, still favoring that shoulder. “FIVE!” Mack rises to his feet. “SIX!” Mack leans against the turnbuckles, forehead buried into the fabric, resting his neck. “SEVEN!” He hears the fans go ‘oooohhh’. His eyebrow perks up…these fans haven’t said SHIT all night. He turns to see Mike trying to sit up. “EIGHT!” “You have got to be fucking shitting me,” Mack says. He grabs Scruff and yells “COUNT FASTER!” Mike sits up! “NINE!” Scruff yells. Mack grabs him by the shirt, desperate for him to yell ten. Mike starts to get up~

Smith: This is unbelievable.

Hood: If Mack would let Scruff go so he could actually watch Mike, perhaps he’d get that ten count.

Smith: He’s losing it, Hood…as any person would under these cirucmstances.

~Mike’s about to get to his knee when he spots something. His eyes widen. Our POV shifts to find ZYBALA coming out from under the ring~

Smith: What the…

Hood: GET HIM OUT OF HERE! SEND HIM BACK TO THAT DREADED SOUTH KOREA!

~Zybala looks up to find Scruff’s back pointed at them. He pops to his feet and delivers a SUPERKICK! to Mike!!! Mike flattens out. Zybala hits the floor and scurries back under the ring. Mack, having watched this go down, is flabbergasted. How did he not see Mike under that ring? Anyway, he spins Scruff around…Scruff sees Mike still down and yells out “TEN!!!!” The bell rings~

Smith: I’m shocked.

Hood: Rome has fallen.

Belvedere: Here is your winner…AND NEW OCW CHAMPION…MACK O’CONNOR!!!!!

Smith: Was that really Zybala?

Hood: Hell yes it was…and now he’s screwed Mike!

Smith: Mack O’Connor is our new champion…is that what we’re saying….yes, it is…Mack O’Connor is the new champion!

Hood: Yea, I know, Belvedere already said that you stupid fuck.

~An exhausted, embattled Mack asks for his arm to be raised. Scruff reaches for the right…he pushes him away saying “Not that one, idiot.” Scruff grabs his left arm. Mack, center of the ring, has his arm raised! “Get my fuckin belt,” Mack orders. We cut to Welsh who is talking to KJU…he stands and begins marching down a staircase, toward the ring~

Smith: Well, you talk about controvery…that was maybe the greatest OCW Title match in history. The ending, however…

Hood: Mike was going to get up, Smith. That man is unbeatable!

Smith: It looked that way…sadly, we’ll never know.

~Mack receives his belt and holds it up high! “FINALLY!” he cries out! Welsh nears the ring. Zybala reappears from under the ring, blocking Welsh from reaching his destination. Welsh’s eyes go wild. “Get out of my way, idiot!” Zybala refuses~

Smith: I’ve always sided with our owner…but tonight, he may have taken things too far.

Hood: This whole presidential…owner…managerial…what the fuck ever hierarchy is retarded. IT’S NOT ABOUT YOU LAZY FUCKERS IN CHARGE

~”What were you doing under there?” Welsh asks. “How long were you even under there? All night?” Zybala smiles and shoves Welsh. Welsh wants no part of Zybala, the former world champion. Mack, wise to the scene, leans over the ropes and laughs at Welsh, telling him to fuck off. Welsh points up at Mack while looking at Zybala, “You guys aren’t getting away with this. Your reign is OVER!” Welsh pulls out his phone as though it’s some kind of trump card. “I should have done this sooner…gave you too much credit thinking you could go one night without fucking everything up.” Zybala sits back, waiting for Welsh to do his thing~

Smith: Is this the PLAN Welsh has been alluding toward for the past few weeks?

Hood: I think so…his conscience was probably tugging at him. But after this…he has no choice.

Smith: Given the location…this could be disastrous.

~Welsh clicks something on his phone and looks at Zybala. “There! I just want you to know…YOU MADE ME DO THIS.” Zybala leans back, arms folded. A phone goes off. It belongs to KJU. He glances at the contents…and his eyes go wide. “SOUTH KOREA!!!” he shouts…in North Korean. He stands up, angrily pointing toward the ring~

Smith: What’s the deal with South Korea? Has Zybala been dealing with South Korea?

Hood: Or, did Welsh set him UP to make it look like he’s been dealing with South Korea?

Smith: CAN WE GET A MIC DOWN THERE

~A shy, nervous Belvedere hands a mic to Zybala~

Mike Zybala: Man, you think I didn’t know you had something crazy planned? You bragged about it on TV, you moron. I run this company, don’t you remember? I figured out pretty quick what was happening. There was one reason why I didn’t stop you from bribing North Korean officials about detaining me due to being a ‘spy’.

~Welsh looks around, nervous. He’s lost and it’s beginning to feel like he no longer has the upper hand~

Mike Zybala: It’s because when you contacted KOREA…you contacted SOUTH KOREA. You’ve been sending money to this country’s enemy, Marcus! You got your Korea’s mixed up you racist!

~A bomb drops in Welsh’s gut. His knees buckle. He turns and sees that the North Korean soldiers are heading HIS way. He holds up a hand…he tries to say something but, instead, he takes off!! He sprints as fast as he can…he leaps into the citizens and fights through them until he disappears from sight. The military gives chase. Zybala slides into the ring~

Mike Zybala: He won’t get far. It’s a new ERA here in OCW! It’s the Zybala era and our FACE is Mack O’Connor! Congrats, CHAMP!

~Zybala drops the mic and exits the ring. Mack nods as if to say, “Sounds good to me.” He hoists the title high in the air. We cut to the outside where The KNIFE MAN is checking on Best. Best is trying to figure out what happened~

Smith: Geezus

Hood: You said it!

Smith: Mack is the new champion. Mike Best was screwed over by our owner. Marcus Welsh is likely never leaving this country…holy smokes!

Hood: I’d take a week off to avoid the shit that will inevitably go down next week but…I really want out of this place.

Smith: Me too. We hope you have enjoyed Redacted LIVE from Pyongyang, North Korea! We’ll see you all next Monday right back in Key West!! A million questions are up in the air so don’t miss next week’s episode…good night everyone!

~Our parting shot is of Mike realizing what happened. He’s about to rage when we fade to black~