Deluded by triangular visions of grandeur, Welsh was left unsatisfied at The Great Illuminatus’ conclusion. Whatever it was he thought might be granted when the OCW Champion mounted the great structure did not arrive. So, his search continued.
And, it led him to an island. An island he jokingly referred to as ‘Australia’, playing up the long running joke that the land down under isn’t down under, after all. It’s fucking non-existent.
He convinced an entire roster of wrestlers to travel to this island for a month long excursion. They thought it would be a grand adventure leading to another historic OCW event. Welsh, however, hoped to materialize the dreams and delusions that continued to sweeten his dreams at night.
The inevitable happened. The island was cursed by a tyrannical volcano known as Frank. It sought to engulf and murder the entire roster. Welsh had placed countless lives in the pathway of molten hot death. There was but one choice.
The Golden Phone.
A move he knew would eradicate the Straders from their spot as financiers, despite their loyalty to the promotion. A call that would re-introduce an outsider who began the tumultuous downfall of the company less than 12 months prior. A decision to bring back the man some believed was the impetus to the dreadful Purge.
But he had no other option. It was either save the roster or avoid The Golden Phone. Save himself or deny the former chosen one. Keep his dream alive or refuse The Duke.
Welsh decided to call Thaddeus Duke.
In grand fashion Thaddeus flew in, rescuing the entire roster from certain demise. And, as a result, he became a co-owner of OCW. The Straders were effectively out. The Dukes were in. And Zybala was a champion. The times were wild.
The roster became fractured. The wrestlers couldn’t believe how trivial Welsh took their lives. The Straders were furious over the inclusion of Thaddeus and his wife Sahara. It began a great divide in OCW that would plague the coming months.
Welsh seemed content to pour gasoline onto the fire as he, once again, turned toward HOW for some additional talent. He brought in the notorious JPD along with Ray-Ray Nelson and GREAT SCOTT.
Not all hires were bad, however, as Welsh was somehow able to get in contact with former pro wrestling champion, PIC and convince him to return.
OCW, like the summer, was hot, despite all the turmoil. But that just meant tempers were burning. Egos were flaring. And all that simmering hate was about to overflow.
Summer 2022
Welsh is seen at his desk, studying a map. Several lines are drawn connecting location to location. Next to the map is a hand drawn triangle.
His door bursts open and Jones enters, “Mr. Welsh!”
“Smith!” Welsh covers up his investigative work. “Knock, man! KNOCK”
Jones carefully shuts the door, “Sorry, sir. But it’s Jones. Smith got left on the island.”
“Really?” Welsh squints, studying Jones.
“Yes...really,” Jones feels kind of offended that Welsh is having trouble telling the difference between him and another man who is in no way related to him.
“Seriously?”
Jones stares at Welsh. Welsh stares back at Jones. “Yessir, I think my wife might know.”
Welsh laughs, “Now I know you’re fucking with me, haha. Wife! What’s got your pants on fire, Smith?”
“I HATE THIS PLACE” sounds out from the hallway. Jones nods, sort of agreeing.
“Hear that, sir? That’s the entire vibe backstage. People are fighting. The locker room is split.”
“That’s pro wrestling, Smith. They’ll be fine.” Welsh is back buried into his delusional hunt.
“We need to do something, sir. JPD just kicked a cat. For, like, no reason.”
Welsh ignores the comment.
“When confronted he lectured us for 40 minutes about how heels are supposed to act and how he’s the best heel.” Jones pauses, PTSD images of the conversation he had with JPD come flooding back. “PIC and TLS want to kill him.”
“Put them in the cry room.”
“I can’t! We’re still cleaning up the mess Nickleman left behind when he eviscerated GREAT SCOTT.”
“Mess?” Welsh’s mind runs through the visible images this word conjures before he shuts his eyes, “Nevermind. I don’t want to know.”
“Not to mention Ray Ray is waging a crusade against Nickleman for his insensitive comments the other night. Plus, the Straders are still very upset. Plethora is champion. It’s just…well, it’s not good sir.” No comment from Welsh. “Sir?” Still no comment. “SIR!”
Welsh’s eyes have found the flat screen on his wall and, more importantly, Sahara. She’s doing some kind of promo/segment on OCW TV. He sighs and buries his chin atop his palm, “Isn’t she the greatest?”
“I can’t. I just can’t.” Jones exits.
---
And we’re back at the scene of crimes past and crimes yet to come. Jack Puffer speaks to someone off camera, “He does know there’s a literal zombie in there, right? I mean, I think somebody should tell him.”
“You’re on, Jack.”
Jack spins around and gets into character, “Ah, yes. And so a great rift. A chasm, if you will, grew within OCW. Two factions looking to rip each other apart. One that backed the Straders. The other that backed the outsiders. It became so toxic that Marcus Welsh made the decision to step away.”
“With locker room leaders PIC, Crash, and TLS backing the Straders and attacking the outsiders the HOW crew eventually blew up and bounced. Thad ended a feud with rising star, Easton Alexander and took a step away, as well. CYPH3R went to prison. Only Sahara remained active. Like a true champ.”
Puffer hears a loud bang from inside the house. LCP yells out, “I’m okay!” Puffer regains his foucs.
“Faith was lost, however. And the cries for Strader were too loud. Welsh, realizing he no longer commanded the respect of the locker room, backed off and handed the booking over to Strader for the remainder of the year.”
LCP steps out of the house, holding his head. Must have run into an open cabinet door or something.
“But turmoil would continue. The curse remained, disrupting the roster and creating more friction among its inhabitants. And, at the end of the year Welsh would return to begin 2023 with a renewed focus. A renewed desire to chase a ghost that would ultimately be his demise.”
LCP lingers on the porch for a moment before turning to re-enter. But, Zombie Marcus is standing in his way. Drool pours out of Zombie Marcus' mouth as he lets out a few 'arghs'. LCP pats him on the head, "Don't let them work you too hard, bud." LCP reaches into his pants and pulls out some wrinkled dollar bills, handing them to Zombie Marcus. He sidesteps Marcus Zombie, entering back into the house and shutting the door. Marcus Zombie is left on the porch drooling and snarling. Zombie Marcus turns toward the sound of Puffer's voice and heads his way. As he does, he takes the money and eats it.
“That, however is a story for the next installment...until then, I am Detective Jack…oh shit!”
Puffer takes off running as Zombie Marcus heads his way, walking off screen. In the background the house lingers...the front door then flies open via a Zybala SUPERKICK!! Zybala leans forward and turns his head side to side, sniffing with his nose to pick up the scent. He places a hand above his eyes looking out...way out. He sees Jack running from Zombie Marcus. "Fear not, Jack! I'm coming to save you!" Zybala hops off the porch and superkicks his way off camera.
OCW Arena
Key West, Florida
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