OCW Presents: Technical Difficulites
LIVE: Sunday, April 24th, 2022
FROM: The Frank Coliseum on THE ISLAND
It felt like we’d been walking for days. Probably because we had. There was this incredible weight holding me down. Literally. Greg leaned against my back, relying on me to get him to where we were going.
WHEREVER THAT MAY BE
We’d been captured. Captured with a capital “FUCK”. Apparently there were natives on this island. Natives far larger in numbers than we’d been led to believe. Natives with attitude. Natives with island pride.
Unbeknownst to our accidental visit, they’d left us alone.
Then came the fire.
A smokey, orange alarm. It caught their attention and down from their village they came to investigate.
What they found drew their ire AND their spears.
Now? Now we pay the price. We are at their mercy. We do what they say in the hopes we live to starve another day.
“Call him,” Leo urged, loud enough to hear, quiet enough to not arouse our captors.
“Not yet,” I replied, dragging Greg and kicking at a snake in my path.
“Sir, I hate to interject in business that isn’t mind but I suggest you call him,” Knife Man backed Leo up.
I didn’t want to hear it, so I picked up my pace.
“CALL HIM, SIR!”
The natives looked at us. We all stopped. I was sure we were dead. The good captain, anyway. But once they saw there was no imminent threat of escape, they continued to lead us to...somewhere.
“Guys, listen, they may be taking us to safety, alright?”
They didn’t buy it. And, I can’t really blame them. I didn’t buy it either.
I was sure of one thing.
I did not want to use that cell phone. Even if it meant an instant escape from the island, I knew what it meant for OCW. I knew what it meant for my pride. It was the absolute last resort.
Despite our predicament, we hadn’t fallen that far. Not yet.
Up to that point we’d traversed charred remnants of a once beautiful, lush jungle. Smoldering and shriveled carcasses began to appear. Carcasses belonging to animals and humans. The tension thickened. These overcooked bodies belonged to friends of those holding us captive.
A native behind us yelled out a war cry before stabbing a low level OCW employee. I think his name was Eric. But it might also have been Bobby. Then again, it could have been Ian. His name was no longer of concern as his guts spilled all over the burned ground.
Other natives rushed toward the attacker to calm him down. We served a purpose. We weren’t meant to be killed until that purpose was served.
Our procession continued. All OCW eyes were on me. The golden phone, in my pocket, had never felt heavier. I kept my eyes on the ground, focused on maintaining my pride as our fearless leader. I would see us through this.
We continued on. Only the sizzling sound of death surrounding us. Back in February we wrestled in Death Valley. Now? Now we were walking through a literal valley of death.
“Look!” Leo pointed.
Look I did. Green trees. A lush jungle. The valley of death was giving way to life. As it turns out, the island was much bigger than we’d anticipated.
We reached the end of our ashy destruction and stood at the precipice of creation.
The native leading the way stepped into the trees and, one by one, we followed.
My muscles relaxed. My heart rate slowed. I started to feel as though things might be okay.
~Our view pans over the cavalcade of captives and turns, toward the fresh, new jungle. Miles of foliage lay waiting for them with a giant hill, a small mountain, covered in bush and trees. Beyond that? I guess we’ll find out~
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
“AHHHH!” another nameless OCW employee screamed after being bitten in the neck by a giant mosquito. It didn’t take long for his face to blow up, his knees to give out, and his body to cease operating.
In short, the jungle wasn’t much better than the VALLEY OF DEATH.
It didn’t help that we were marching at an incline. A never ending hill with shaky, slippery footing. The natives traversed it with ease, snickering whenever one of us would shrill with peril, seeing our life hanging in the balance.
How foolish I was, thinking the beginning of the jungle was a portal into a safe, secure realm.
The longer this goes, the worse it gets.
An uptick in the islanders voices indicates, to me, that we might be nearing a checkpoint of sorts. An end to this horrific journey.
I allow myself to relax, for just a moment.
That was a mistake.
The Earth gets angry. The skies roar as the ground shakes. Quickly, everybody reaches for the nearest branch, stump, root...a wooden preserver to keep us from sinking into the sharp, treacherouss abyss.
Except for the natives. They all drop to their hands and knees and pray. It’s the first time since they emerged that I’ve seen them lose control. Equanimity eviscerated. They show fear.
One arm around Greg and the other clutching to a tree trunk, I knew I couldn’t hold out much longer. Judging by the faces of those around me, neither could they.
And, just as quickly as it started, it came to an end. The natives stood, regaining their composure. Using their spears, they poked and prodded us back up and on the march.
Spears weren’t the only thing poking at me. The glares, the visual daggers hurled at my back from every.single.member of the OCW family. All furious over my inaction. All weighing the pros and cons of taking the phone from my pocket and dialing the number for themselves.
Mutiny was on the horizon. A desperate idea seconds away from becoming a devastating reality.
And then, apex.
We reached the summit of our climb. The ground leveled off. I dragged Greg along, pulling and pushing my way through the foliage until I stood, overlooking their civilization. An entire community of natives living their best lives.
The ocean stood far off in the distance. Just behind a massive volcano, smoldering. The fuckin thing looked active.
“Well, that explains the tremors.”
Beneath our feet, a trail down into their village. Huts and tree houses. Meager but effective. And, at the center of it all, a giant coliseum built for entertainment. A huge, round, black structure with stacked, stadium seating. An open arena with a sandy surface.
We are who we are, at our core. And, thus, my mind began to envision an event. Our event. Technical Difficulties within that arena.
We just had to make it that far.
In Classic OCW fashion, we lost more unknown employees going down the hill than up it. Some people just can’t handle prosperity.
I’d lost count of the fatalities by that point. To be honest, I was shocked we had so many employees nobody cared about. Seemed to be an endless stock.
The hiring department is going to be busy as fuck when we get back.
Communication wasn’t gonna be fun, what with dealing with people who’d lived on an island their entire lives. Kinda like discussing world views with someone in Mississippi. But, we had to try.
“Or you could just use the golden phone!” Leo shouted.
Did he have a wire into my brain? Sure as shit felt like it.
“Halt!” a voice shouted. It wasn’t one I was familiar with.
Emerging from a hut was a man wearing a purge mask. Yes, a purge mask. How ironic, DON’T YA THINK?
Stepping forward, he eyed me...at least, I think he did. He was wearing a mask, after all.
“So, you’re the ones who have upset Frank.”
“Frank?”
He threw a thumb over his shoulder at the very active, very smokey volcano.
“That’s our god. We call him Frank. He’s mad, as you can see.”
I’m not sure what surprised me most...that this guy could speak perfect english or that they decided to name their god ‘Frank’.
“You speak english?”
The purge mask leaned in, “Yes. Yes I do.”
“How?”
He slapped me across the head, “I was taught it in school, ya big dummy.”
Geezus, that was a little rough. And, kinda embarrassing. But I was in no position to express either of those sentiments.
“So, what are you doing here?”
“Well, it goes like this…”
And so he proceeded to give us this really long winded story about how forty years ago he and a bunch of other male students were flying to ‘Australia’ for a school field trip when their plane went down and they were all stranded on the island. It was a real Lord of the Flies situation. They even slaughtered the fat kid.
They managed. They thrived. And now, they were the proud leaders of a very big, very healthy civilization.
“So, wait, you said you were all boys?”
“Yes. The mighty Muskrats of Milftown.”
A few OCW staffers giggled. Hey, it’s in our nature to laugh at stuff like MILF.
“Sooo...how did, ya know, how did you guys reproduce so many offspring?”
He leaned in and whispered into my ear, “Life finds a way.” He proceeded to slide his mask to the side and lick my ear, sucking on the lobe. Greg woke up.
“HEY!”
“Easy, Greg,” I calmed him down.
Mask back in place, he stood up and said very matter-of-factly, “Okay, so since you guys pissed off Frank we’re gonna have to sacrifice you all to make him happy. Otherwise, ya know…” he leaned in, “Boom.”
Panic set in. The OCW employees heard that and the ones who didn’t reacted to the panic they were witnessing by the ones who did. It was time for me, their fearless leader, to do something. I reached into my pocket and felt the golden phone of salvation. But, I dared not use it. Instead, I called out, “SIR!”
He spun around, that awful mask facing me. “It’s Chief, but I’ll allow it.”
“Might I offer an alternative suggestion?”
He scratched his nuts, “I doubt it. Frank is very angry. Angrier than I’ve ever seen him.”
“Well, where we come from..ya know, the good ole US of A. We’re entertainers. The greatest entertainers in the WORLD. Now, I know you guys are plenty satisfied with what you’ve built here. But wouldn’t you like for us to put on a show that will entertain you all and, possibly, appease Frank? Make the big guy happy MINUS the bloodshed?”
“Hmm,” his arms folded. “I don’t know. We really like blood sacrificing things.”
“Trust me. This will be SO much better. And, hey, if we fail to entertain, you can slaughter us anyway!”
I felt the cringe behind me.
His head tilted. “Ya know, that’s a pretty impossible deal to pass up. Alright, we’ll take you guys to the Coliseum of Frank. You’ll put on your show. If Frank is happy then you guys can, I don’t know, live or whatever. But, if Frank isn’t satisfied...there will be blood.”
I mean, I had to accept. It was take that deal or die instantly. So, I shook hands with the purge masked man and bought us some additional time.
Imprisoned. These guys must have really studied Roman history. They had this fuckin place built with jail cells underneath the stadium seating and catacombs underneath the arena. I guess everybody becomes a pretty adroit architect when there’s LITERALLY NOTHING ELSE TO DO.
The entire crypt of cells felt like a going away party for a bunch of people set to enter a gas chamber. It was quiet. It was depressing. It was devoid of color. Monochromatic.
“Is this what it feels like to be Mack O’Connor?”
I didn’t get an answer to my question. Nobody felt like chiming in. Not only were we set to perform, but we were set to do so with our lives on the line. Did these people even LIKE wrestling? How would this go over?
The mood started to change around midday as natives began filling the coliseum. Overhead, the echos and thuds of feet and voices shook some life into our underground prison.
By mid-afternoon, the coliseum sounded full. Full of natives chanting and stomping. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sound like a rowdy OCW PPV crowd.
Suddenly, we were in our element.
I looked over and saw Easton Alexander pacing back and forth. Bob Grenier was trying to snort some dirt. El Knuckle, THE MYSTERIOUS ONE, began to stretch, his eyes focused in on the task ahead. Roach gripped the wooden bars of his cell, threatening to tear them open. Crash rose from a corner for the first time all day, staring ahead, his muscles flexed, ready for combat.
“You hear that?” I pointed up. “That’s the bell. It’s tolling for OCW.”
And so we began to rise from our graves. Instinct taking hold. It was time to kick some fucking ass.
Jones, Hood, Scruff, and Belvedere were led up into the Arena. The first OCW on-air personalities to exit the bowels of this jagged arena. Stepping foot on the sand, they paused. The roar of thousands of islanders bearing down on them created a stir unlike any they’d felt before. The contrast of the white sand against the dark, black rock used to construct the tall, steep arena was impressive.
Directly in front of them stood Frank. Angrily smoldering at their presence. The islanders chanted and stomped, shaking the structure. Jones looked to Hood. They slowly walked toward the cell phone set up near the ring for announcing. Scruff and Belvedere headed for the ring. A bunch of nameless, faceless OCW employees backed off, having put everything together for the event.
That’s the biggest ovation those four well ever get, I thought to myself.
The Purge Mask shot in front of me, once again. He was down in the bowels, curious.
“Frank seems okay, for now.”
“I’m sure Frank will be fine,” I half snapped back. I think the fatigue was getting to me.
“We’ll see.” He snapped his fingers. A CD player was given to him. “Now, time to make my entrance.”
Sure, sure...go right ahead. Every commander. Every monarch. Every dictator has to steal the show. Why should PURGE man be any different?
He stepped out, holding the CD player high. He hit play and, well, the most unexpected song began to blare.
Every islander became fluent in rap music. They sang to the song as their leader danced his way across the arena.
“I pull up at the club V!I!P!”
Everything shook. They were going at it, HARD. The Purge Mask dude slid his way off the sand and up into a VIP looking area. He took his seat nodding his head and shaking his shoulders to the music, as did the rest of the islanders.
Once it ended, they went crazy. A few spears were tossed at the arena, killing nameless OCW employees.
They were carried right by Welsh.
A re-introduction of imminent death sent Leo and Cap Slock into a fit of rage. They tackled Welsh. Knife Man stood back, appalled at the violent act. Cap Slock held Welsh down while Leo dug through his pants. Greg fainted.
“What are you two doing? GET OFF ME!”
“I’M SORRY SIR BUT ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. IF YOU DON’T CALL THAT NUMBER, WE WILL!”
“FINE! I’LL CALL IT!”
Cap Slock and Leo got off Welsh. Welsh stood and brushed himself off, retrieving the phone. “Sheesh.”
“THAT’S ALL WE ASK, SIR.”
Welsh opened the phone, took a breath and hit send. He waited...they waited. He turned his back to everyone, leaning into a corner.
“Oh, hey [unintelligible] it’s Welsh. We’re kinda on an island and might be about to die...all of us. So, it’d be great if you could help us out. I’m sure there are some people here you kinda care about? Or, maybe want to beat? But, if not, then just know this...if you save us…” He swallows, HARD, “I’ll pay you back. Anything. Just name it. I don’t know where we’re at, you’ll have to GPS the phone or whatever. Thanks.”
Welsh hung up.
He turned, seeing everyone anxiously staring at him.
“Well?”
“Voice mail.”
“SON OF A BITCH!” Leo lunged for the phone. He slapped it from Welsh’s hands. It flew from the cell and slid across the dirt up against a wall, out of reach from everyone.
“You happy?” Welsh pushed Leo. “Now NOBODY can call him.”
Leo threw his hands into the air, taking a seat on the ground.
“Do you think he got the message?”
“Let’s hope so, Greg. Let’s hope so.”
~At the conclusion of the video, we’re taken inside the Coliseum of FRANK. Islanders fill the place, holding spears, anxiously awaiting the entertainment they were promised. Jones and Hood are side-by-side next to a camera that’s set up (ONE OF MANY TO MAKE THIS AMAZING EVENT POSSIBLE).~
Jones: Hello again everyone and welcome to Technical Difficulties...we hope you’re enjoying this...wherever you are. IF you’re enjoying this. It’s day twenty something and, yes, we’re still on this island.
Hood: Only now we’ve upgraded our vacation package from staring by the ocean to staring at the base of an active volcano!
Jones: He’s not lying. Fans, we’re in a precarious position tonight as we’re forced to entertain these islanders in the hopes that our lives will be spared. Spared for what, exactly? No idea. The opportunity to live another day, I suppose.
Hood: Well, Welsh FINALLY used that Golden Phone.
Jones: It went to voicemail, Hood.
Hood: True, let’s hope Welsh isn’t in the friendzone. If he is, we’re fucked.
Jones: Fans, this is the point where I’d wax poetic about what an amazing lineup we have for you guys but, these natives aren’t very happy. They want action and they want it now.
Hood: So, for the sake of our lives...we’re gonna go ahead and get this fuckin thing started.
Jones: Fingers crossed. It’s up to the wrestlers now. It’s up to them to save the people of OCW.
It is dark, below the arena, down in the cages where the OCW superstars are kept. The active volcano isn't doing any favors for the temperature which might explain the thin sheen of sweat covering everybody, from prisoners down to the natives who are keeping an eye on everyone, to make sure nobody does anything stupid like try to escape.
Along the cages, there is a spot that is conspicuously empty, until we scroll down and discover that in lieu of a person, there is instead a life-sized wooden statue lying on the dirt covered floor. It is horrific looking, with eyes that seem to follow the camera wherever it goes, and its gnarled hands and twisted fingers almost seem to be clawing out for something. Standing over her are two men, one older, one younger, with both glaring down at the statue intently. As the ground rumbles and shakes from the volcano's agitation, there is a line that seems to grow along the center of the wooden structure, a deep line that seems to spiderweb into multiple fractures that cause both men to stand up in surprise and alarm even as they stand up and move toward it, yelling out in alarm.
The camera rustles and jostles from the commotion, and when it focuses again, the two men are now frozen in terror. Between them, a figure stands. Deathly, ghostly pale skin, dull white clothing and long black hair flowing down in front of her face. She is standing in the middle of destroyed wood, that looks like it's been rotted black from the inside out, even as she turns her head to look at the younger man. As the camera pans slightly, we see that over her shoulder, her left hand is behind her, her arm shooting out to lock in a picture-perfect Mandible Claw on the elder. The maneuver isn't locked in that long, but when she pulls her hand away, the man seems to collapse bonelessly on the ground. With that she suddenly lurches and lunges toward the younger man, and he screams as the camera goes blurry with motion. Presumably, whoever is capturing this footage is trying to get out of the way.
But they must not have been successful, because the next time the camera focuses we are sideways on the ground, seeing Sadie stalk patiently away toward the OCW arena, even as we hear music playing faintly in the background. In the foreground, two bodies are still save for occasional twitching. Sadie Ko is on her way to her PPV debut, coming up next!
~We switch over towards the ring where Belvedere, whose suit is more than worse for wear but however his hair is looking more immaculate than ever. He looks uncomfortable but still tries to remain professional despite the hooping and hollering of the natives inside of the coliseum~
Belvedere: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES!
~The natives of the island who are inside of the coliseum begin to cheer and make war cries. Belvedere cautiously looks around before continuing~
Belvedere: The following contest is a Process of Elimination Match! Starting out, there will be two teams of three competing in an elimination style tag match. Once we are down to three, those three individuals will compete in a three-way elimination match until only one stands. That winner will earn a shot at the Craze Title!
~The crowd seems enthralled by this statement, war cries sounding out again when the random sound of a drum being beaten can be heard. The natives quiet down, anticipating who the first entrant into this match will be. The beat picks up rhythmically, slowly becoming what is the instrumental sound of “Where The Hood At” by DMX. The crowd becomes riled up a bit, looking towards the entrance for the first competitor~
Belvedere: Introducing first.. From Timmins, Ontario, Canada…
~Jam G comes stumbling down the aisle before coming to a complete stop. He looks around at the savages who inhabit this island as they quiet down~
Belvedere: Jam G?
Hood: Was Jam G on the plane when we left Dublin?
Jones: I don’t remember seeing him there.
Hood: What the hell is this shit? Where’s Bob?
Jones: Well from the notes that I have, Bob somehow found peace and serenity on this island, Opting to kick his feet up, relax a bit before focusing on the TransAtlantic Championship. So, he made some calls and got Jam G to replace him in this match.
Hood: Notes? How the fuck do you have notes?
Jones: Classic, OCW?
Hood: Doesn’t hit the same..
~Jam G has finally made it to the ring, he adjusted his mask a bit. You can tell that he’s nervous, this is a HUGE opportunity for him. “Joker” by The Steve Miller Band begins to play, the crowd jumping with anticipation. They peer down into the pit, awaiting the arrival of the next competitor but after several minutes, he never shows~
Hood: Typical…
Jones: Was he ever on the plane with us?
Hood: He could’ve been the guy who flew out of the side of the plane..
Jones: I thought it was already established that that was some random guy who worked in the back.
Hood: Look, Smith! I can only work with what I have at my disposal.
~We cut towards the cell area, two guards are shown walking up towards a cell where a man can be seen lying face down in the sand. One of the guards bangs on the cage, causing a raucous among the rest of the wrestlers. The guard then unlocks the cell, steps inside and kicks the downed man. He’s barely able to respond. They then lift him up and we can see that it’s a weakened Roach. They begin to drag him towards the entry of the coliseum~
Jones: I’m not liking the way he’s looking right now.
Hood: Damn, was he captured or something?
Jones: There’s no telling, but we have a show to put on and unfortunately for Roach, this people want to see blood.
Hood: Fucking neantherthals..
~One of the natives growls at Hood, he straightens up. The shot switches to the entry where the guards drag Roach towards the ring~
Belvedere: Umm.. From Windsor, Ontario, Canada… ROACH!
~They bring him to the edge of the ring and collectively roll the big man inside. Jam G’s concern is evident through the mask~
Jones: This team so far, already seems destined for failure.
Hood: Hopefully, whoever comes out next can give these two some type of hope.
~“Here Comes The Money” begins to play, from where, the hell if I know but somehow it’s playing. The entryway opens up and twenty midgets with sparklers come charging out. This sends an uproar through the people~
Hood: Your Hero and Mines!
Jones: Ugh.. That’s Mark Storm..
Belvedere: Coming to the ring.. EL KNUCKLE!
Hood: I really need to know who he is, this guy is amazing!
Jones: You can’t be serious.
~El Knuckle marches with a purpose, headed for the ring. He stops midway, amongst the midgets and raises the MIGHTY SCYTHE high into the air! One of the midgets falls slowly to the ground, the front portion of his face sliding down the front of the MIGHTY SCYTHE~
Hood: Well he’s down to nineteen.
Jones: El Knuckle coming out with the MIGHTY SCYTHE that he stole from Plethora back at Carpe Noctem.
Hood: Does Plethora have an endless supply of MIGHTY SCYTHES(?)
Jones: One may never know but nonetheless, El Knuckle exudes confidence as he stands proudly with stolen property
~El Knuckle, oblivious to the murder that he just commited, walks towards the ring. Placing the MIGHTY SCYTHE down at ringside, he rolls inside of the ring. Jam G has managed to pull Roach towards what we could assume to be their team corner. El Knuckle, with a swagger, walks around the ring before turning his back towards the majority of the natives and raises his right fist in the air, soon followed by a middle finger. They become enraged~
Jones: That can not be a good idea..
Hood: Fuck that, this man has balls bigger than grapefruits. I wouldn’t dare openly disrespect these monsters. Owww!
~The end of a stick can be seen popping Hood across the head. We cut back to the ring, when “Maniac” by Carpenter Brut plays throughout the pit/coliseum. Walking down the entry with a purpose, looking focused and determined is…~
Belvedere: Introducing Team number two… first, from North Bay, Ontario, Canada.. Standing 6’1”.. Weighing in at 210 pounds.. He is the Canadian Dragon.. EASTON ALEXANDER!
~Nodding his head to the music that’s coming from who knows where, Alexander gets to ringside, climbing onto the apron and steps through the ropes. He looks completely past his opponents and walks towards his team’s corner. His back towards the opposition~
Jones: Easton looks to breakout in this match and solidify his name within this company.
Hood: The kid is good, he just has that hump to jump over like any other man who’s ever fought within this company. OCW signs nothing but the best, who will make or break you. And any night could be that night where you finally breakthrough but you keep fighting.
Jones: Well said, Hood.
~"Blackbirds Fall" by Black Moth drones on from somewhere, some distant piece of technology, as across the island birds stop flying around, and instead perch on branches, on volcano walls and on any building structures available. All eyes are on the figure that emerges from the 'cage' area, grey skin and black hair stalking slowly toward the ring. Each step she takes is slow and slight, as her body twitches and shivers along the spine~
Belvedere: Making her way to the ring.. Standing 6’1”... weighing 192 pounds.. from Weston State Hospital, West Virginia… SADIE KO!
~Suddenly she's twisting and falling to the floor, but lands on her hands and knees and spider-crawls the rest of the way at speeds that would make a sprinter jealous. By the time she starts moving 'normally' again, she's already in the ring, standing upright as if she never stopped slowly walking. She moves toward the center of the ring, and there she remains, eyes ahead beneath that black tangled mess in front of her face.~
Jones: I got word from Cheasy back home that there was some kind of outage on the OCW website. People were hearing and seeing strange things on the site and many are accusing Sadie Ko for being responsible.
Hood: I don’t know Smith, since she’s arrived in the company, there’s been a lot of strange shit happening. For example, why the hell are all these birds perched like gargoyles around this place?
Jones: Can we just focus on the ring?
~Sadie twitches her way towards her partner for the time being who still has his back turned. She comes to a halt beside him and taps him on the shoulder. He spins around, unfazed by his teammate, choosing to ignore her as well.~
Jones: These two can’t possibly coexist in this match tonight.
Hood: Didn’t no one tell Easton to snatch Sadie into that water. Now these two will have to work together to meet a common goal.
~“No Love” By Death Grips begins to play, the natives anxiously awaiting the final competitor. The Crooked Man casually strolls from the caged area and into the entryway with no type of care in the world~
Belvedere: The final participant, from Kansas City, Missouri.. weighing 207 pounds… standing 5’11”... The Crooked Man.. CRASH RODRIGUEZ!
~Crash makes it to ringside, stopping to look at the competition that is inside of the ring. He smirks to himself, walking around ringside towards his team's corner. Walking up the steps, he stays on the apron and lets his teammates decide who will start this match off~
Jones: Well, ladies and gentlemen.. We are set to start what hopefully is not our last episode of OCW television ever..
Hood: I got faith that we’ll be able to pull through..
~After a brief debate, Easton is set to start off for his team while on the other side, a slumped Roach rests in the corner while his masked partners both go towards the apron. Easton appears agitated by this, telling one of the fresher men to step inside and fight. But they both deflect, instead El Knuckle shoves Roach from the corner. Scruff signals for the bell. Easton’s annoyed beyond belief, watching a barely able to stand Roach, stagger in his direction. Rolling his eyes, Alexander walks towards Roach and barrels through him with a Burning Lariat! The big man falls flat on his back as Easton places a boot on his chest. Scruff makes the count..~
One!
Two!
No!
~Easton pulls Roach up at the last second.. Shaking his head in denial..~
Jones: Why isn’t Easton going for the pin?
Hood: The hell if I know.. I would’ve took his ass out and been working towards the next guy..
~Easton points towards El Knuckle, seeing him as the only true competition is this contest. Alexander brings a woozy Roach back to his feet and thrust kicks him in the chest. The force of the impact sends him stumbling back into his team's corner where his right hand slaps El Knuckle across the chest. El Knuckle is pissed, talking shit to Roach who’s basically unconscious on the mat. El Knuckle looks towards Jam G who immediately drops from the apron and paces at ringside. El Knuckle curses him out as well. He steps inside of the ring, mouth spewing venom towards any and everyone will listen. Suddenly, a medium size rock comes flying from the crowd and cracks him across the side of the skull~
Hood: What the hell was that?
Jones: It appears one of the natives has thrown a rock at Knuckles.
Hood: Why would they do that?
Jones: Maybe because he stole the MIGHTY SCYTHE.
~El Knuckle stumbles from the shot when another rock, this one a bit bigger than the other one, knocks him across the temple. The man is woozily staggering around the ring, right into Easton who boots him in the gut. Hooking both arms, Alexander lifts El Knuckle up and spins before dropping him face first into the mat with the Cursed Night(Spinning Angel Wings). Easton shoots the half, Scruff is over to make the count.~
One!
Two!
Three!
Belvedere: EL KNUCKLE HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!
~Easton uses his boot to shove El Knuckle out of the ring where he’s swarmed by the guards of the island who begin to assault him mercilessly~
Hood: Get off him!
~The kick, punch, claw and scratch away before dragging El Knuckle away from the ring. One of them retrieves the MIGHTY SCYTHE as we cut back to the ring where Alexander drags a still downed Roach from the corner and covers him as well.~
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Belvedere: ROACH HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!
~Annoyed and irritated, Easton points at Jam G, telling him to come on. Jam G declines, looking nervous~
Jones: Well that took a sudden turn, three on one has never been good odds..
Hood: Not unless you’ve got an onlyfans..
Jones: What?
Hood: Huh?
~Jam G paces around ringside, considering what he should do. Easton waits inside of the ring, allowing the masked man some space to enter. Jam G looks around at his surroundings, realizing that it’s not the trailer park. This is his moment to finally prove that he is somebody, no matter what his family thinks. Jam G fixes his mask for no apparent reason and climbs onto the apron, he steps inside of the ring and comes face to chest with Easton Alexander. Easton’s not a big guy but Jam G still doesn’t compare. Alexander shoves Jam G backwards where he goes sliding back on his ass but he quickly pops back to his feet, rushing at Easton, pummeling him with forearm shots. Easton is unfazed, but he plays ball, pretending one of the shots actually hurt. He stumbles back into the ropes before barreling through Jam G with a Big Boot! The masked guy flips through the air, landing front first on the mat. Easton scoffs before going to his team’s corner, tagging Sadie~
Jones: Seems to be that Easton is less than enthused with the competition so far.
Hood: Roach was basically incompassitated before the match and my hero was assaulted by savages. The fix was in from the beginning.
Jones: You do know that we’re stranded on an island, right?
Hood: Do not argue with my logic.
~Sadie enters the ring but Crash tags her arm before she can do anything. He jumps over the ropes, bull rushing a downed Jam G, beginning to unleash an assault like never before seen. Punch after punch after punch has the man almost out of it before Rodriguez brings him back vertical. Crash takes a step back and jumps up for an enzuigiri but he misses as Jam G collapses to the ground. Crash crashes face first into the mat but pops back up frustrated. There is some laughter heard from the crowd, even some from his corner. Crash brings Jam G back up, hooking his head underneath his arm, looking for a DDT but Jam G slumps back to the ground. Now frustrated, Rodriguez violently pulls the masked man up and throws his arm over his shoulder, lifting him up for a suplex but Jam G manages to fall behind his back, rolling him up in the process~
ONE!
TWO!
KICK OUT!
~Crash looks at Scruff making sure the count is only two which he confirms. Jam G looks frustrated, slapping the mat but the Crooked Man is already to his feet, racing towards him. Crash swings with a kick but Jam G dodges backwards, throwing Crash off balanced. He pops to his feet, charges at an unsuspecting Crash and shoves him into the ropes. Crash bounces off right into a bicycle kick that sends him stumbling into the ropes, rebounding again where Jam G nails him with a discus back elbow. Both men drop from the impact, both on their asses~
Jones: Jam G showing some fight in the ring!
Hood: Wasn’t he like an Outsider’s guy?
Jones: Correct.
Hood: That damn Zybala strikes again.
~The natives have finally gotten into the match, cheers being heard. Crash shakes the cobwebs from his brain while Jam G scurries to his feet. He goes to the apron and climbs to the top, awaiting Crash to get to his feet. Crash slowly begins to move, Jam G perched and ready to fly. Out of nowhere, Sadie Ko appears in front of a slowly rising Crash. She’s bent backwards on her hands and knees, spider-crawling towards the corner. This causes Jam G to pause in fear. He sways on the top rope, with his focus on Sadie, he barely notices Easton who comes running across the ring. He uses Sadie as a springboard, landing on the top rope in front of Jam G. With ease, Alexander hooks him and hurriedly lifts him from the top rope with a superplex. However, while in mid-air he spins it out into a Falcon Arrow! Sadie is barely able to move out of the way, the ring shakes from the impact. This causes the crowd to go wild. They quiet down quickly as Sadie is now on top of the turnbuckle. With no care in the world, she flings her body into both men who are still down on the mat~
Jones: Well I guess you can call that teamwork.
Hood: Unlikely, yet effective..
~Both Sadie and Easton roll out of the ring and immediately come to blows, rights and lefts flying everywhere. The native peer over the ledge to see the action unfold between the two. Meanwhile, back in the ring, Crash is back to his feet, pissed that he let Jam G get the best of him. Even if it was for a short period. Using his mask, Crash brings Jam G back to his feet and hooks him in a reverse facelock. He violently spins Jam G face first into the mat with Total Loss(Rolling Cutter). Crash goes for the pin~
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Belvedere: JAM G HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!
~Crash picks him up and throws him from the ring, through the ropes where he crashes hard into the sand. Crash now looks for his former teammates who are still outside brawling~
Jones: We are now down to the final three, let’s see who will walk away with the Craze Title shot.
Hood: I’m pulling for Easton.. Sadie’s weird and Crash appears to have found some way on this island, holds certain forms of technology and hasn’t even tried to help us get home.
Jones: Shows how important this title opportunity was for him.
Hood: Get the fuck out of here..
~Sadie and Easton swing violently at each other, each shot connecting with force. Sadie swings another heavy shot but Alexander is able to block. Grabbing the back of Sadie’s stringy black hair, Easton slams her face into the petrified wall. She shakes off the hit but Easton slams her again into the wall. Suddenly like a bullet, Crash comes flying through the ropes bulldozing into both competitors. All three slam into the wall hard before falling to the sand. The natives are on their feet jumping up and down~
Jones: Crash tired of waiting and wanting to get him some of the action.
Hood: The wall didn’t have any type of give like a guardrail.
~Taking less of the damage, Crash gradually gets upright before bringing Easton up and rolling him into the ring. Now going in himself, Crash brings Alexander up but back down with a neckbreaker, he floats over into the cover~
ONE!
TWO!
NO!