New Year’s Eve 1999
~Our view takes us to a frigid but sunny late December afternoon. It’s the local headquarters of OCW. The OCWHQ is located inside a large home being used for commercial purposes. We zoom into a window where OCW founder and president for nearly 20 years, Dean is inside his office counting all the cash they raked in from OCW’s first PPV, FrostBite. Two young wrestlers linger over his desk~
Dean: Shit, suckas. We did better than I imagined. I told ya I knew what I was doing!
~Dean looks up at the hungry eyes of the two rookies staring down at the money~
Dean: Derek! Warrick! Back the fuck up before I have to kick your asses! This ain’t ya’ll’s money!
~They do as told~
Dean: You guys will earn more than enough once the ink is dried on those ICWF contracts I got ODJ to offer ya’ll.
~Hood enters~
Hood: Dean! Bossman! Great show last week!
Dean: You damn right!
~Dean tosses Hood some cash. Derek and Warrick are like ‘wtf’~
Hood: Told ya you’d be better than ICWF.
Dean: Hey, look, ICWF is alright for what it is. But here at OCW we ain’t going to be having none of that violence. None of that shit. We’re running a clean promotion here. Safety first. Wrestling first. Also, none of that nepotism shit Dougg’s been perpetrating for years. Here in OCW you earn your spot.
~At that exact moment, Lurrr kicks the door open and struts in with the OCW Title~
Lurrr: Big Dean! My man!
Dean: If it isn’t my lifelong best friend, Lurrr! Belt looks good on you, bro!
Lurrr: Oh you know it! Feels good. Feels damn good!
~Lurrr stares around, daring somebody to say something~
Lurrr: I didn’t think so. Listen, this little shit named DareDevil has been calling me out.
Dean: He’s nothing. Freak in a mask. Hood! Tell that sucka to lose the mask and maybe he’ll turn into something someday.
Lurrr: Whoa. Put me in the ring with him. OCW Title on the line to start the year. Pop a big rating. Rake in some more cash.
Dean: You sure?
Lurrr: Dean, bro. You said it...he’s some freak in a mask. What could go wrong?
Dean: Haha...a fighting champion! Damn straight, sucka! Consider it booked!
~Dean and Lurrr hug. Money is exchanged. Lurrr walks out, along with Hood. Warrick and Derek approach~
Derek: Uh, Mr. Dean.
Dean: It’s just Dean, idiot.
Warrick: Big D.
Dean: Okay now it’s Mr. Dean to both of you suckas.
~Derek places a hand in Warrick’s chest before he can retaliate. Derek speaks up~
Derek: If ICWF is so dangerous then why are you sending us there? Why can’t we compete here?
Dean: Look, you suckas gotta earn your stripes. Ain’t no better place out there to earn your stripes than in ICWF. Then, once you’re good enough, you can come back up here and see if you can hang with Lurrr. Plus, you heard what Hood said, I can’t have it look like I’m favoring anyone, ya know? This is a LEGIT promotion.
~Derek sighs. Dean notices~
Dean: Trust me. ICWF is easy, suckas. There ain’t but one or two decent wrestlers over there. I mean who they got right now? Some joker named The Lost Soul? The fuck does that even mean?? Lowrider 187? Is that even a name? Krayzie...man I ain’t never known of a legit crazy sucka who ever called themselves crazy. Oh, and somebody said they got some hot new recruit named ‘PIC’...like, c’mon. Run through those suckas then take out a real star like Arryk Rage and you’ll be made.
~Reluctantly, they nod~
Derek: And the danger?
Dean: Gotta get your hands dirty, son. It’s the only way. I did it so I could sit here and offer a safe, professional environment for all pro wrestlers.
~Smith bursts in~
Smith: Dean!
Dean: Ay! That’s Mr. Dean to you, sucka!
Smith: Sorry, MR Dean.
~Said without any sarcasm~
Smith: We have a bit of an issue on our hands.
Dean: Haha what’s that...we took in TOO much money, sucka? Haha. The crowd was TOO big? Haha!
Smith: Not exactly. You know that new recruit you signed, Clubbin Man?
Dean: Ah yea, guy’s got style. Women are gonna be all over him! Mark my word, he’s going places.
Smith: I think he might be going to jail.
Dean: What.
Smith: We were filming a vignette for him at a club and he decided to scoop one of the local wrestler’s eyes out with a spoon.
~Dean pauses and leans in~
Dean: Say that again?
Smith: We were filming…
~Dean slams his hands against his desk~
Dean: I DIDN’T MEAN LITERALLY, SUCKA
~Dean works to curtail his anger. An anxious Smith leans forward~
Dean: What.
Smith: There’s also an issue with Liljungleman.
Dean: You mean that nice young man from the jungle?
Smith: Apparently he...and, I don’t even know how to say this, apparently during his vignette he was filmed eating a local wrestler’s head.
~Dean's baffled eyes look up at Smith~
Smith: A literal human head. Eating it like you’d eat...I don’t know, an apple...just a really big one with red juice.
~Everybody jumps back as Dean flips his desk over~
Dean: SON OF A BITCH!
~Derek moves to leave. Warrick doesn't try to hide his laughter as Derek drags him out. Smith quivers. Dean shoots him a crazed look~
Dean: They dead?
Smith: I mean, yea. I’d think the guy who got his head eaten like an apple would be an obvious yes, anyway.
Dean: We got that basement under the facilities, right?
Smith: Where we keep Scoot Time?
Dean: Yes, sucka.
Smith: Uh huh.
Dean: Put the bodies there. We can’t be having this kinda bad publicity, sucka. Bury them or something, figure it out.
Smith: What about their families?
Dean: Sucka! They’re nameless, local job guys...they ain’t got no families!
Smith: I’m on it!
~Dean’s conscience weighs heavy...until his eyes turn down and he sees all the cash on the floor. We fade out~
---
A scene very much like Unsolved Mysteries rises into full view. A man in a trench coat, wearing a detectives hat steps into view.
“And that was the first time OCW experienced what would go on to become known as ‘casual murder’ in the promotion’s history,” the man says in as serious a tone as he can. Behind him lurks a large, haunted house. Waves crash against a nearby shore.
“Hello, I’m Cocco Ricci and over the next several weeks I will be revealing the long, dreadful history that OCW leaders have been covering up for years.”
Creepy music plays as pictures of several wrestlers from the past are shown.
“Acts of Murder.”
We see Bifford.
“Drugs.”
Syren eating pills with several needles stuck in his arms.
“And, worst of all, nepotism.”
Lurrr defeating Andy Murray for the OCW Title.
Cocco Ricci spins around, staring into the camera, “For 25 years they’ve managed to cover up their most heinous crimes. But you can’t run forever. And, this September, the bill comes due.”
Ricci points toward the haunted house.
“Within that home resides all of OCW’s deepest, darkest secrets, ready for their chance at revenge. And, at the heart of it all, the REAL OCW World Championship. The one last seen around Scott Syren’s waist in 2006.”
Lights seem to come on within the house. Behind the lit windows, shadows look to dance and move. The silhouettes of unknown figures stare out.
“8 names will be selected to walk into that house to extract the OCW Title and, hopefully, purify this great promotion of all its sins. If not, OCW as we know it may crumble forever.”
Ricci stares into the camera. The moon shines up over his shoulder. It slowly turns into a cracked clock.
“OCW is cursed. It’s a curse that needs to be lifted. The clock is ticking.”
The clock begins to tick. Cocco Ricci seems to glitch. We can almost see through him. We instantly cut away.
OCW Offices
Little Rock, Arkansas
