Social Justice: March 11th, 2019 (2019)

Pay Per View | 180 Min
Rating:
8/10
8

Show Info

Show Transcript

OCW Presents: Social Justice 
LIVE! Monday, March 11th 2019 
From The Rooftop of Twitter HQ in San Francisco, California

~We cut to a local news feed. The generic intro with cheap graphics that accompany all local news stations finishes and jolts straight into the lead story which, for some reason has to do with OCW. It’s a San Francisco affiliate. We look at the clock. It’s only five in the afternoon. Social Justice doesn’t start for another two hours. What the heck is going on? Did Bob Grenier off another job guy with his atomic weed? A newscaster with so many ethnicities packed into his genetic code it’s impossible to tell what he is, begins to speak in a heavily practiced, emotionless tone~

Newscaster: Breaking news this afternoon from the streets of San Francisco! OCW, a wrestling promotion located in Key West, Florida is set to hold their event ‘Social Justice’ atop the roof of the Twitter headquarters at seven pm local time. Fans from all around the world have rushed to the Bay Area in anticipation for this tremendous event. Stores, business owners, bars, and gift shops have all doubled their staff expecting a massive uptick in sales. What they didn’t expect, however, took place earlier today…

~We cut to taped footage inside a local drinking establishment. Some grizzled, middle aged fans are seated, drinking Bud Light. They are wearing a menagerie of OCW shirts…Syren, Vargas, Bifford, Sex and Violence, and Da Boom (a rare item that has suddenly soared in popularity). The men pound back their brews when a familiar chime sounds, signaling the entrance of new patrons. A group of millennials enters. They are wearing MJ Bell and Ana Archia shirts. They walk up to the bar and order some Michelob Ultra Lights. The older fans grumble~

Syren Fan: Michelob Ultra Light…what a [censored]!

~A fan in a MJ Bell shirt turns around and places his hands on his hips. His mouth is agape with shock~

MJ Bell Fan: Excuse me! Did you just say what I think you said?

Biff Fan: I would like some more wings over here!

Syren Fan: Oh, it can talk.

~The Syren fan snorts and tosses back the rest of his Bud Light. He stands up, showing an above average frame and beer gut~

MJ Bell Fan: We don’t talk like that around here! You need to show some RESPECT! This isn’t 2000 anymore, dinosaur! You’re nothing but a filthy incel!

~The Syren fan towers over the smaller, skinnier MJ Bell fan. The MJ Bell fan’s friends stand back, eyeing the situation. They want to get involved but they aren’t too sure about violence. They’d rather talk things out. The MJ Bell fan looks up at the Syren fan~

MJ Bell Fan: You can’t intimidate me with your bullying. I’m a strong, confident man. I am firm in my beliefs about equality for everyone and…

~SMASH! The Syren Fan bashes his beer bottle over the MJ Bell Fan’s head! The MJ Bell Fan screams, collapsing to the ground. His friends dart for the door. The Syren Fan pounces on the MJ Bell Fan, pummeling him with lefts and rights~

Syren Fan: Fucking stupid cunt! Stupid bitch getting into the OCW Hall of Fame! MJ Bell, Alice Knight…fucking women wearing the OCW Title! Fucking fuck!

~We’d continue to air what he’s saying but it’s just a bunch of a random curse words strung together. The Biff fan gets more wings. The other fans cheer their buddy as he eviscerates the MJ Bell Fan. The owner of the establishment pulls out his cell phone to document the beating in the hope that he’ll gain a bunch of youtube views~

Newscaster: Yes, that took place earlier this afternoon. It seems this debauched organization has brought violence, mayhem, and misogyny to the Bay Area. I’d recommend staying far away from the event tonight in an effort to avoid drunken Neanderthals. Because – what’s that?

~The Newscaster reaches for his ear piece. His eyes widen~

Newscaster: I’m told we’ve got some action taking place outside Twitter HQ! Let’s cut to the footage!

~We cut to the scene of Social Justice. We get a good shot of the ring set up atop the roof. The sides of the roof have chain linked fencing erected several feet high to prevent anyone from accidentally going over. Several stands surround the ring area. The garden that had been planted has been moved to a place where it’ll be preserved. We see stands atop a structure looking down on the ring…the entire setup appears to be capable of holding 2-3 thousand people. A nice job of cramming as many people in as possible. Several big screens are erected around the area to give fans a better look. We pan down the side of the building…a HUGE screen is slapped onto the side of the building – we’re talking AT&T Stadium big. This is, of course, for all the fans on the street that want to watch. And, well, speaking of the street…tons of protestors are out there screaming and yelling. We get a look at their shirts and are instantly able to tell which side they’re on. MJ Bell, Alice Knight, Dangerous Dan, Kitty Petrova, Andrea Hernandez, Ariel Shadows, Hellraven, and shirts featuring several other female and minority competitors are adorned by these angry fans~

On Site Reporter: The scene out here is chaotic! These neo OCW fans are furious over what took place earlier today in that bar. They want justice for Petia Horamos.

Crowd: PE-TI-A!!!!

On Site Reporter: I’m told Mr. Horamos is in the Emergency Room as we speak. He will likely miss this event and, more importantly, the rally that is taking place.

Crowd: JUSTICE!

~We spot a fan seated against the side of a building with a cup, begging for change. He looks beat down. He’s wearing a Maurako shirt~

Maurako Fan: Change? CHANGE??

~The Maurako fan quits begging for change. A mob of angry fans are marching his way, toward the protestors. These people are older…they adorn the apparel featuring OCW’s classic and more controversial stars. A Vargas fan leads the charge with the Syren Fan from earlier pounding back a beer. A Lurrr fan is spotted. They stop when they see the protestors~

Syren Fan: Hey! What are those pussies doing blocking our path?!

Vargas Fan: Let’s fuck em up!

~The older mob is stopped by a man wearing a Paras t-shirt and, by his side, Deangelo Vickers~

Paras Fan: Gentlemen, please. Let’s cross this generational impasse and unite with our younger brethren under the OCW umbrella.

Deangelo Vickers: Yes, there’s no need for violence when peace and love and, most of all, understanding is easily…

Vargas Fan: Understand this!

~Vargas shoulders past Deangelo, knocking him to the ground. The Paras fan, who is no fool, gets out of the way. The millennial fans see the oncoming, cantankerous older crowd. They shout ‘JUSTICE FOR PETIA!’ the older crowd shouts ‘FUCK YOUR MOTHERS’. It’s getting pretty wild~

Syren Fan: NO MORE WOMEN IN THE HALL OF FAME!

MJ Bell Fan: IT BEATS JACKING OFF TO WIN A MATCH!

~The younger fans have gone too far. The older fans rush toward them with MURDER in their eyes. Thankfully, a rush of police officers in riot gear congeal to form a barrier, protecting both sides of fans. A small rumble breaks out with the older fans looking to break free while the younger fans continue to yell about justice. Cap Slock’s voice is heard from the rooftop~

Cap Slock: FANS! FANS! LEND ME YOUR EARS!

~The older fans pause and pretend to throw Cap Slock their ears. The younger generation are like “what the fuck?!” A fan sporting a Grenier shirt notices their lack of awareness and tries to leap over the cops to destroy them. Luckily, he’s restrained~

Cap Slock: WE ARE ABOUT TO BEGIN THE ENTRY PROCESS. FOR THOSE OF YOU WITH A TICKET, STEP UP TO THE FRONT DOOR WITH YOUR TICKET IN HAND. ONCE YOUR TICKET IS SCANNED YOU WILL BE PERMITTED ENTRANCE TO THE ROOF OF THE BUILDING. AS FOR EVERYONE ELSE, YOU ARE MORE THAN WELCOME TO WATCH THE EVENT FROM THE STREET INDULGING IN SNACKS, DRINKS, AND OCW LICENSED MERCHANDISE. WE HOPE YOU ALL HAVE A GREAT TIME!

~The millennial fans all reach for their phones, pulling up their tickets. The older generation look around, confused~

Lurrr Fan: Where do we buy our tickets?

SilverFreak Fan: Yea? Where do we buy our tickets? Excuse me! OCW security person…where can I get my ticket for rooftop seating?

~The OCW security person speaks into his radio. While doing so we see members of the millennial crowd get scanned into the building. With each scan the intensity within the older crowd grows~

Cap Slock: THE TICKETS WERE SOLD ONLINE AND ONLINE ONLY. THERE WILL BE NO SALES AT THE DOOR. I’M SORRY FOR THE CONFUSION.

~The older fans looks around. ONLINE?! What in tarnation?! A fan starts to hurl something at the suddenly cocky millennials. He looks down and realizes it’s his MACK FLASK. So, he reaches for his wallet and tosses that instead. It pelts an Andrea Hernandez fan in the head. She whimpers…the rest of the millennials boo and shout ‘INCEL!’ Things are kicking up. A limo with LIME GREEN trim slowly creeps by in the background. A group of Meyhu fans step out and avoid all the commotion, scanning their tickets and heading inside~

On Site Reporter: It’s getting wild out here, guys! I think an all-out riot is about to take place. These older fans are upset that the younger fans bought out all the roof top tickets!

~The police grow concerned as the older crowd starts pushing them, knocking the officers around. They, like most in the Bay Area, are afraid to use force. A few look to the spray bottles attached along their utility belt~

On Site Reporter: I’m told pepper spray has been replaced with tap water. Apparently the use of pepper spray was seen as a slight against the Latino community. Tap water, however, has a ton of unfiltered entities and could cause pink eye within a few days.

~The officers reach for their spray bottles of tap water when a horn sounds in the distance. A police motorcade leads an ambulance toward the front of Twitter HQ. The millennial fans look on with hope…the older fans are about to get really pissed. It stops and the back doors to the ambulance open, revealing PETIA HORAMOS! He’s bandaged and sporting with a slight limp as he’s helped across OCW’s red carpet, toward the front door with VIP accommodations. The millennial crowd gives a nice, golf clap with several saying~

MJ Fan: Justice of Petia

Andrea Fan: This.

Dan Fan: This, so much.

Syren Fan: What’s that [censored] doing here? Why’s he getting in? The only wrestling he does is between the sheets with that Dan fan over there!

Biff Fan: Did somebody say DAN?!

~The older generation charge forward, barreling over the inept police force. They consume the millennial crowd with punches and kicks. Petia is ushered into the building. The doors are slammed shut and locked. A brawl is underway with the older crowd looking very much in control. A few members of the millennial crowd try to throw spinning kicks and back fists but they are just leveled by good, old fashioned fists and take downs~

On Site Reporter: Chaos has broken out in the streets of San Francisco! My goodness…these fans are at one another’s throats! I’ve never seen anything like it! Thankfully Petia Horamos seems to be okay and is in store for a wonderful evening filled with intense action.

~OCW Security is seen trying to pull the physically inferior millennials from the fray and into the building. The older generation is too blinded by rage to notice the dwindling numbers. We cut back to the studio~

Newscaster: Hopefully we can get law and order restored out there before things get too out of control. But, yes, I will echo my colleague’s statement…so glad Petia Horamos is okay and received justice.

Random Voice: This, so much.

Newscaster: Now, onto our next story. Should bears continue to suffer segregation at local zoos or should we finally break down these antiquated ursine barriers. Let’s head to –

~The channel is instantly switched as a Vincent Langston fan sits on his couch, shaking his head at all the chaos~

Langston Fan: This is what the Legend fought for? Fucking hell

~He looks at the clock~

Langston Fan: Ah, it’s nearly nineteen hundred hours. Time for the show.

~He flips over to STARZ as the Social Justice video package is about to play~

~The video ends and we cut LIVE to the roof of Twitter HQ!!! It’s quite the scene!! Make shift stands are full of fans. The barricade surrounding the ring and lining the aisle way has fans walking around behind it in sort of a ‘pit’ area. There’s a small building that protrudes from the roof, an office of sorts. It’s the concession and backstage area. Atop it resides a Helipad with a blue ‘p’. Hmm. The fans chant “OCW!” Who’Re is in the ring~

Who’Re: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Social Justice!

~The crowd goes wild~

Who’Re: At this time I’d like to welcome tonight’s guest of honor…please, give a nice round of applause for the very strong, the very brave – Petia Horamos!!!

~We cut to a shot of Petia. He’s got the best seat in the house. Front row, facing the hard camera. Petia looks around with a smug expression. The fans on the roof chant ‘JUSTICE FOR PETIA!’ The fans on the street can be heard booing~

Smith: Hello again everyone and welcome to Social Justice!

Hood: Wow, man, what a venue! What a night! Electricity is in the air, my man…and I’m not just saying that because your hair looks wilder than usual

Smith: What are you talking about? My hair looks fine

Hood: Yea, but I made you second guess, didn’t I?

Smith: Childish pranks twenty seconds into the broadcast, wonderful. Folks we have a massive line up in front of us tonight. We are atop the Twitter Headquarters! Fans from all over the world have arrived to indulge in potentially the best show in company history

Hood: I think some of our fans need lessons on how to operate a smart phone

Smith: That was…regrettable. Regardless…we’re all here…there’s a giant screen attached to the side of Twitter HQ for the fans down below to enjoy the action. And, I’m told the beer is somewhat cheap this evening…so, that should keep them happy

Hood: How cheap?

Smith: -whispers-

Hood: Haha, you call that cheap? Fucking California

Smith: Competitors will do battle for title shots, friendships will face the ultimate test, and championships will witness bloodshed in their defense. It will be a night to remember!

~The scene opens up backstage in what was the co-office of General Manager Mike Zybala and Commissioner Greg. We can see Marcus Welsh sitting at the desk of Zybala enjoying his reestablished position as general manager. His feet are kicked up on the desk and hand are behind his head. His peace is broken however, when the office door flies open and in walks an miffed looking Zybala. Welsh just grins as Zybala storms over to the desk~

Welsh: Mike! What can your general manager do for you?

Zybala: You! You think you’re so clever don’t you?

~Welsh looks innocently at Zybala.~

Welsh: I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about Mike. I’m just acting g.m. while you’re an active wrestling member of the roster. You can’t make impartial decisions while you’re in the running for a title. Well, you probably could, but better safe than sorry.

Zybala: You are one devious guy Marcus. I’ll give you credit though, you know how to take advantage of any situation.

~Zybala turns to leave the office when Welsh calls after him.~

Welsh: Good luck in the tournament.

~Zybala turns and looks as if he has an angry comeback, but realization dawns on his face. He smiles.~

Zybala: Thank you Marcus! I’m actually happy to know that, for once, you’re cheering me on!

~Welsh looks confused.~

Welsh: What do you mean?

Zybala: Well, you said as long as I’m wrestling, you’re the g.m., correct?

Welsh:……yeeeeahhh….

Zybala: So that must mean you want me wrestling as long as possible! You WANT me to win the tournament! You WANT me to win the OCW title! You WANT me to become the face of OCW!! Because if all that happens, you get to stay in power, right? Thanks for your support, “boss.”

~Zybala then leaves the office as Welsh slowly realizes the horrible “Sophie’s Choice” he’s in. He doesn’t want to give up his control, but he certainly doesn’t want Zybala as champion! Son of a bitch!! Either way, Zybala wins!~

Smith: Quite the conundrum our ‘GM’ is facing

Hood: Yep, he’s back in charge…but, in order to STAY in charge, Zybala has to become OCW Champion

Smith: 2019 is not Welsh’s year

Hood: Hey, like 9 months remain. He can turn this shit around!

Smith: We’ll have to wait to find that out. In the meantime…how about some wrestling?

Hood: YUSSS

Smith: It’s time to get this party started! Let’s head down to ringside for our opening match!

Tag Team #1 Contenders Match
Team ATARI (1-0) vs. The Pretty Committee (0-0) vs. Jason Kortare & Jackson Black (0-0)

~The overwhelmingly millennial crowd atop the roof of Twitter HQ is READY! The sun is still burning down on the west coast. There is plenty of daylight to be had. The temperature is a very welcoming degree with an elegant breeze. The fans are sipping on craft beer while discussing the latest Daily KOS headlines. Belvedere clears his throat~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…welcome to SOCIAL JUSTICE!

~The crowd goes batshit crazy! There are a few people sporting “JUSTICE FOR PETIA” t-shirts. How those are already available…I have no idea. But, they are there. The fans are ready for some action~

Belvedere: If you would please pull out your cellular devices and vote on the stipulation for tonight’s opening contest…a triple threat to determine the #1 Contenders to the OCW Tag Team Titles!!!

~He didn’t really have to tell these people to pull out their phones…they were already in hand~

Belvedere: And now, please select either Tornado Tag or Elimination Tag.

~All the millennials atop the roof go wild with their ridiculously fast finger strokes. We cut to a shot of the fans down below looking around, confused~

Smith: We’re about to get our first look at SOCIAL JUSTICE in action!

Hood: I already hate it…encourage these idiots to use their phones during a live event? WEAK ASS BOOKING

~A buzzer sounds~

Belvedere: And, let’s check the results…

~The crowd pops~

Smith: It looks like we’re going Elimination Style!

Hood: Interesting

Smith: Tornado, I’m told, is an incendiary term. There’s a movement to have it exclusively referred to as cyclone.

Hood: Why?

Smith: Because Tornado offends cyclone victims

Hood: But why?

Smith: Just call the match!

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen the following contest is an Elimination Style tag team match! The winning team will go on to compete for the OCW Tag Team Championships!! Introducing first…

Smith: Interesting crowd here tonight…should be unpredictable who they choose to cheer for

Hood: Unpredictable? You kidding? These people are the most predictable humans on Earth

~ “2001: A Space Odyssey” hits! The fans who aren’t familiar with Team ATARI are 100% familiar with this tune. They all turn toward the entrance. Team ATARI appears to a huge ovation!!! Fans try to chant their individual names but, I mean, c’mon. So, they chant ‘ATARI’. We get a cut to the shot down below…fans are busy reminiscing over the old video game system from thirty…nearly forty years ago. Team ATARI rush to the ring and slide in under the bottom rope. They climb a couple of corners and look out at the fans that surround the arena. 7800 looks up at the chamber hanging overhead~

Belvedere: At a total combined weight of 398lbs…2600, 7800…Team ATARI!!!

Smith: Team ATARI were viciously attacked last week by The Pretty Committee. They will be looking for payback tonight.

Hood: The Pretty Committee is simply looking to rid the world of ugly people. I think they located a good starting point.

~”Welcome to the Party” French Montana (Feat. Lil’ Pump & Zhavia Ward) hits. The fans all stand and give Kortare and Jackson Black a chance before making their minds up over which way to lean. It doesn’t take the crowd down below that long at all…a chorus of BOOS sound out from several stories beneath our current location. Kortare emerges looking as arrogant as ever. Jackson Black is alongside, appearing confident. They make the short walk to the ring, sliding in under the bottom rope. Team ATARI are in their assigned corner, Kortare and Black pop to their feet and look at their opponents with disgust~

Smith: I don’t think this is what Jason had in mind when he joined OCW

Hood: The dude is a headliner…he’s a showman…he’s ELITE. And…he’s in there with two guys who think Halloween is some daily event? Fuck outta here

Smith: I wouldn’t sell Team ATARI short, Hood

Hood: Why not? They are the literal definition of SHORT

Smith: They could very easily leave tonight as the new #1 Contenders

Hood: Nope…Kortare asked for this match. He received it. Welsh is in charge as long as Zybala jacks himself off in that tournament…we’re about to see some LEGIT competitors rise above all the losers

Belvedere: At a total combined weight of 464lbs…the team of Jason Kortare and Jackson Black!!!

~The fans give a very polite applause. Kortare and Black don’t seem to care. This bothers the millennial crowd. They have to pause and rethink their reaction. While they do, “Baby I’m Worth It” by Fifth Harmony plays throughout the venue. The streets of San Francisco are filled with the song. The fans down below boo the shit out of it. They HATE this music. Veronica Taylor and Bianca Davis emerge from within the backstage ‘area’ of tonight’s event. They pause and pose…a few ‘hired’ photographers rush around them, taking photos~

Smith: Ugh

Hood: They want to remember this moment, Smith. The moment when The Pretty Committee took over the tag team division in OCW

~Taylor and Davis walk in a very practiced motion toward the ring. Kortare and Black are discussing strategy. 7800 and 2600 are looking in the direction of their attackers. Davis and Taylor hop atop the apron. They pose for a few more photos. Taylor yells at a photographer. He hops onto the apron and opens the ropes. The two beautiful women slip on into the ring and parade around for more pictures. The millennial fans boo, slightly. A few of the guys look uncomfortable. One of them is overheard saying, “Give them their moment. This is their time.” The booing ceases as everyone seems to agree. Petia is leaning forward, gazing at the two women~

Belvedere: And the third and final team…at a total combined weight of 263lbs…Veronica Taylor, Bianca Davis…The Pretty Committee!!!

~Belvedere exits and the bell sounds. Davis takes a stance on the apron. 7800 does the same. Kortare allows Black the opportunity to start the match. The crowd sits down and let’s their anticipation be heard via a low, respectful murmur~

Smith: Okay, so a member from each team will be eligible at all times. Once a person is pinned, that team is eliminated.

Hood: Or submitted

Smith: Yes, or…

Hood: Or Knocked Out

Smith: Yes! All those things…once a person from a team is eliminated, so is their team. We will go until one team remains…that team will be the #1 Contender to the OCW Tag Team Championships

~2600 will begin things for Team ATARI. Veronica Taylor is starting off for The Pretty Committee. And, we’ve got Jason Kortare kicking things off for his team. Veronica Taylor wastes no time in heading toward the center of the ring. She starts to pose. The fans want to boo her arrogance but, then again, it is HER TIME. Bianca Davis poses on the apron. Jason Kortare looks at Jackson Black. 2600 looks at 7800. Neither team seems to be enjoying this show of narcissism~

Smith: The Pretty Committee doing…umm, their thing

Hood: They are so hot

Smith: Yes, but it takes more than being HOT to be successful in this business. A LOT more

~2600 takes off and delivers a spinning heel kick to Bianca Davis!! She goes flying off the apron, slamming into the barricade. The fans want to cheer, but, again, they aren’t sure if they should. Taylor is appalled at 2600’s actions. She starts to head that way but is grabbed by Jason. She turns around and slaps Jason across the face~

Smith: Uh oh

Hood: She fucked up

~Kortare drills Taylor in the gut with a knee. She falls to her knees. He hooks her for a piledriver. He cross her legs, lifts her up and drops her straight on her head!!! Taylor’s body goes limp. Kortare makes the cover. 2600 stands back and watches~

1!

2!

3!!!

Smith: The Pretty Committee are eliminated! Wow! That was fast!

Hood: I guess they weren’t ready for PPV

Smith: Evidently not

~Taylor rolls out of the ring. She’s helped to the back along with her partner, Bianca Davis. This leaves Team ATARI facing Jason Kortare and Jackson Black~

Smith: One of these two teams will go on to face the OCW Tag Team Champions

Hood: Hopefully they deserve it more than the fucking Pretty Committee

~Kortare turns his attention to 2600. They lock up! Kortare uses his size advantage to bully 2600 into a corner. 7800 is overheard yelling “DILLY DILLY” from their team’s corner. Kortare lifts a huge knee into 2600’s chest. He hip tosses 2600 into the center of the ring. 2600 sits up, favoring his back. Kortare runs forward and throws a penalty kick into 2600’s back!! 2600 flattens out, arching his back~

Smith: Jason Kortare using that size advantage here early on

Hood: The guy is phenomenally talented, Smith. I don’t know why he has to face these masked freaks

Smith: Because, in OCW, you earn opportunities

~Kortare grabs 2600 by the bottom of the mask, yanking him to his feet. He whips him into his team’s corner. 2600 slams hard into the buckles. Kortare charges in and squashes 2600 with a huge splash. He reaches out and tags in his partner, Jackson Black! Black steps in and stomps the guts of 2600…2600 falls to the mat…Black continues to stomp until there isn’t much left of 2600. The fans start to boo Black~

Smith: Fans are clearly behind Team ATARI

Hood: Fucking gay ass video game generation

Smith: You don’t like Team ATARI?

Hood: Fuck no, that one guy can’t even talk!

~We overhear 7800 yell “DILLY! DILLY!” from his team’s corner. Black yanks 2600 up and whips him into the ropes…2600 bounces off. Black throws a clothesline. 2600 ducks…he hits the ropes again, bounces off and leaps into the air. Black catches him!! Black drops to one knee, cracking 2600’s ribs over his knee. He rises back up and throws 2600 over his head with a Fall Away Slam!! Black pops back to his feet, in total control~

Smith: Team ATARI appear to be overmatched so far

Hood: Wow, who would have guessed

Smith: BUT…it’s not over

~2600 moves around, trying to crawl to his corner. Black runs over and kicks him in the ribs. He yanks 2600 into the center of the ring and jumps into the air, dropping an elbow across 2600’s back. He pops back to his feet, yanking 2600 back up. He whips 2600 into a neutral corner…2600 hits hard. Black charges in and flies through the air with a splash…2600 rolls out of the way!!! Black SLAMS into the corner! The roof top applauds! Black stumbles around, dropping to one knee. 7800 yells, “DILLY! DILLY!” 2600 begins to crawl toward his partner~

Smith: Here we go! Make the tag!

Hood: WHY CAN’T WE HAVE NICE THINGS

Smith: Relax…Team ATARI could be the second coming of Perfectly Marvelous

Hood: I cannot believe you just said that

~2600 gets closer and closer to 7800. He’s about to tag him when he’s suddenly dragged back by Jackson!! The fans boo!! 2600 turns around and throws a kick at Jackson. Jackson catches his leg…he’s got both legs now. He falls backward, catapulting 2600 through the air and front first into his team’s corner! Black returns to his feet and tags Kortare back in. Kortare spins 2600 around and measures him up, delivering a straight right hand to 2600’s jaw~

Smith: This is…well, it’s looking like a beat down

Hood: Kortare and Jackson Black are making a name for themselves!

Smith: If 2600 could, somehow, get to 7800 then Team ATARI might have a shot at coming back…otherwise, yea, I don’t see them winning

~Kortare kicks 2600 in the gut and hoists him up, onto the top buckle. He steps onto the middle buckle, secures 2600, jumps off and drops him with a superplex!! The ring shakes with impact!! Kortare rolls 2600 over and makes the pin~

1!

2!

Kick Out!

Smith: Team ATARI is still in this!

Hood: C’mon, Jason…squash these two pests!

~Kortare looks at Scruff as if to say “Come on, get with it!” Scruff holds up two fingers. Kortare pulls 2600 up and delivers a vicious forearm upper cut. 2600 stumbles back…he hits the middle rope, ricochets off and leaps through the air, spearing Kortare!!! The fans explode!! “ATARI!” chants fill the roof top!! Kortare is down, holding his abdomen~

Smith: Kortare is down! C’mon, 2600! Tag in 7800!

Hood: What the fuck are you even saying? When did OCW become calculus?

Smith: Hey, I didn’t name them, okay?

~2600 crawls toward 7800! 7800 has his arm extended, eager to get into the match. 2600 is almost there…he reaches out and…NO!!! Kortare pulls him back into the center of the ring! The fans BOOOO. Kortare gets to his feet, holding his abs. He stomps the shit out of 2600…stomping him like the dude owes him money. Once he’s nearly eviscerated 2600…he turns and violently tags Jackson Black~

Smith: Ugh, man…that might be it for Team ATARI

Hood: Kortare is a fucking badass

Smith: A very impressive wrestler, no doubt

~Kortare steps onto the apron, rubbing his impacted midsection. Black pulls 2600 to his feet and delivers a high knee. 2600 falls into a corner. Black doesn’t charge in, this time. Instead he hustles in and drives a knee into 2600’s gut. He hooks a doubled over 2600 and spins around…he spins around two or three times, looking for a sit out powerbomb…2600, though, manages to wiggle free and drop Black with a tornado DDT!!! The roof top explodes!!! Black’s head slams into the mat!! He flips over, onto his back, seeing stars!! The fans are back chanting “ATARI!” 2600 crawls toward 7800…these fans are white hot for this tag~

Smith: Make the tag! C’mon! You’re almost there!

Hood: Damnit, Jackson…get your fucking ass up! Let’s go!

~Black rolls onto his stomach. He sees 2600 crawling toward 7800. He hurries to get him. He reaches for the bottom of 2600’s shoe. 2600 dives forward and he MAKES THE TAG!!! The crowd goes wild!! 7800 leaps over the top rope, into the ring shouting “DILLY! DILLY!” The fans chant “DILLY! DILLY!” Black is on his knees, holding his hands up. 7800 runs right through him with a flying knee!!! Kortare enters into the ring. 7800 hits the ropes, charges at Kortare and takes his legs out with a dropkick. 7800 is back on his feet…he hits the ropes again and blasts Kortare in the side of the head with a knee!! Kortare rolls out of the ring, holding his head! 7800 is on his feet with the fans 100% behind him~

Smith: Wow! Team ATARI…or, should I say…7800 is cleaning house!

Hood: What the fuck is going on?!

~Black gets to his feet, stumbling around. 7800 hurries over and tags 2600 before Kortare can regather his wits. 7800 hoists Black onto his shoulders. He tosses him up and drops him across his knee with Donky Kong’s Revenge (GTS)!!!! Black falls onto his back, unconscious. 2600 is perched on the top rope. Kortare appears, looking in…ready to get back into the ring. 2600 leaps off the top with Ode to the Hardy (Swanton Bomb)!!! He connects!! Right after he connects 7800 goes flying through the ropes, taking Kortare out with a suicide dive!!! 2600 makes the cover, Scruff slides in with the count…the fans chant along~

1!

2!

3!!!!

~The bell rings as all the fans jump up in celebration!! ‘TEAM ATARI!’ is heard throughout the entire city of San Francisco! We see Flashback 2 hustle to the ring, sliding in. 7800 rolls into the ring as 2600 gets to his feet, wincing from the punishment he took. Flashback 2 stands between the two men and raises their hands as Belvedere announces~

Belvedere: Here are your winners…and the #1 Contenders to the OCW Tag Team Championship….TEAM ATARI!!!!!

Smith: Wow! What a win! Listen to his crowd!

Hood: I fear for the future of this race, Smith.

Smith: Team ATARI with a huge win. What a way to open the show!

Hood: Fuckin bullshit. Jason Kortare is a STAR. Losing in the opening match…fuck this shit

Smith: Calm down, Hood. Kortare’s career is just beginning. I’m sure he’ll have many more opportunities moving ahead.

Hood: blah blah blah

Smith: Folks, we’re off to a hot start here tonight! This crowd is on fire! Stay tuned as Social Justice rolls on!

~The camera cuts backstage, to find a blonde teenager in a leather jacket, holding a microphone. This is, of course, Hayley Robinson, known until very recently as Hellraven, and whose match is set to begin within moments. As if aware of this fact, the youngster wastes no time bringing the microphone to her lips to address her opponent for the night:~

Hayley Robinson: Hey yo Ariel…I ain’t sure if y’all hearin’ this or not…but I got summin’ to say.

~The blonde hesitates for a second, as if unsure of how best to say what she has in mind, then appears to make up her mind, nodding to herself as she continues:~

Hayley: Fact is, I owe y’all an apology. Y’all were right ’bout what y’all said ’bout me bein’ up my own ass. I had hella shit goin’ on, but that ain’t no reason to look past y’all an’ leave y’all hangin’. An’ I know Coach ain’t give a shit ’bout nobody, but that ain’t me. That ain’t my thing. So Ariel…I’m sorry, fam. For real.

~The girl formerly known as Hellraven pauses once more to measure her words, or perhaps just for effect, before continuing:~

Hayley: Don’t get things twisted, tho’. Just ’cause I’m sorry, ain’t mean I ain’t ’bout to give y’all hell out there in a hot sec. Hell no. I respect the shit out y’all, Ariel, but this right here? This my night, mo’fucka. This my way of sayin’ fuck you to err’body out there be sayin’ we done got the consolation prize. Err’body out there feelin’ sorry for our asses ’cause we ain’t make it to the big time. Fuck feelin’ sorry! Fuck the consolation prize! This is the big time, mo’fuckas! An’ me an’ Ariel done made it! We ain’t need no handouts! We ain’t need y’all to feel sorry for us! We belong here, just as much as any o’ them other assholes goin’ out there tonight. An’ I ain’t know ’bout you…but I’m finna show it here in a hot sec.’

~Hayley pauses yet again, this time clearly to catch her breath, before concluding:~

Hayley: So Ariel…no hard feelin’s or nothin’…but I’m a-goin’ for that title shot tonight. An’ yeah, I’m prob’ly finna choke when I get there, but yo…the way I see it…chokin’ at the finish line better’n never gettin’ there at all.’

~Hayley smiles, for what is probably the first time in a week or so, as she concludes:~

Hayley: So yeah…good luck, Ariel. Y’all finna need it.

~With that, the youth quite literally drops the mic as she strides off-frame, headed for her match.~

Smith: Hayley Robinson…formerly known as Hellraven with the most high profile match of her career coming up in moments

Hood: You get the sense that she’s good…but not good enough to beat the upper echelon around here

Smith: Ariel Shadows defines the upper echelon, Hood. She’s a superstar. Hayley has her work cut out tonight.

#1 Contender to the Paradigm Championship
Hayley Robinson (10-6) vs. Ariel Shadows (5-1)

~The theme for Friday the 13th hits and the crowd gathers to its feet.~

Hood: Wait a minute you, you know what that means when the music hits.

Smith: yeah. Run for your lives because Jason is going kill you.

Hood: well, yeah, but it also means TLS is here.

~There are some cheers and a smattering of boos as TLS appears on the aisle. The camera cuts to a group of women on the roof holding up signs that say ” Equality for All!”, “TLS is a Chauvinist Pig”, “Women are better than Men”. One the street we see a bunch of men with signs that read, ” Women belong in the kitchen”, “Go make me a sandwich”.~

Smith: Well, I thought it was time for our number one contenders’ match for the Paradigm Title…

~TLS slowly makes his way to the ring. He walks by a young female fan holding up a sign with hearts circled around Ariel Shadows. TLS snatches the sign and rips it up. The camera gets a close up of the little girl crying.

Hood: TLS, making girls cry. He seems to be good at that.

Smith: What is he doing here anyway? He’s not booked for Social Justice.

Hood: Maybe he wants a front row seat of what should be an exciting match between HellRaven and Ariel Shadows.

~TLS slides under the bottom rope and stands in the middle of the ring. He grabs the mic from the Belvedere and points for him to leave the ring.~

TLS: I’ll take it from here.

Hood: I don’t know what is going on.

~TLS waves his hand upwards as there are dueling chants. “Men are Pigs” on the roof and “Women are weak” sounding out down from the street. ~

Smith: TLS has really been frustrated lately with the fact that women are wrestling in the OCW.

Hood: Well, women have been a part of OCW for a long time. Why is he upset now?

Smith: Looks like we are going to find out.

~TLS motions for the crowd to quiet down as he paces back and forth in the ring.~

TLS: For years, men like me put our blood, sweat, and tears to make this business great. We sacrificed our health, and our well being to build a foundation for generations to come to appreciate and admire this sport. But our lives are threatened, our climeibility is being ruined. All that we have worked to build will come crumbling to the ground if we let this continue. Some of you may think that I am bitter because the OCW didn’t book me in a match at this Pay Per View when everybody one the roster has a match. NO! I’m not mad. I’m disgusted. I’m ashamed of all these men who can come out here and let themselves be manhandled by women half their size. They are turning this sport into a joke.

Hood: The women in the crowd don’t like that. Listen to the boos Smith.

Smith: TLS seems to be stuck in 1965. It was a good year, don’t get me wrong…

TLS: So I’m out here, not because I wanted to but because I owe it to all the fans in the OCW to make sure that you get your money’s worth. I gave Gruff a six pack and a picture of The Inclimeible One’s daughter Jenna and told him to take a breather. I’ll referee this match.

Smith: Man, the fans don’t like this either, listen to the boos from the crowd!

The Camera focuses on 6 TLS fans sitting in the nosebleeds who are cheering. One is holding a large sign bearing the Fisher Price logo.~

TLS: So without further ado, lets get this match started!

“Jan Brady” by Lunachicks starts to play as the most of the fans begin to cheer.~

TLS: CUT THE MUSIC!!!

The cheers quickly turn into boos.~

TLS: I gave Belvedere a breather so quiet down and keep the music off as I make the introductions.

Hood: Okay, this is getting out of hand. Who authorized this?

Smith: It might have been Welsh. We all know Zybala wouldn’t let this happen.

TLS: (in a very monotone voice) Coming to the ring standing 6 foot 1 and weighing 141 pounds hailing from who the hell cares. She is the one the only Ariel “who is so ugly she needs to stay in the” Shadows!

~Ariel Shadows comes out, immediately throwing her denim ring jacket down. TLS holds up a hand, prompting Ariel to stay at the top of the ramp.~

TLS: Wait. I’m not done yet. I was going to introduce your opponent and was hoping you would skip to the ring hand in hand like little school girls.

Smith: Ariel looks PISSED right now!

Hood: I knew she wasn’t in a good mood all week to begin with, but TLS is really pushing some buttons right now. He’s sitting his ass on the whole control panel and just wiggling around.

~Somehow Ariel remains patient enough to wait where she stands. TLS mimics a pose from an old timey ring announcer and continues his sarcastic schpiel.

TLS: And her opponent standing at 4 foot 6 and weighing 95 pounds hailing from the wrong side of the bed, it is the one…the only….Hayley Robinson!

~Hayley Robinson, in cutoff jorts and a faded Warped Tour tank top, comes out even more wound up than Ariel. In fact, Ariel is nudged with a shoulder by Hayley on her way beelining down to the ring!~

Smith: HERE WE GO!

~Hayley rolls in under the bottom rope, but upon standing up is reminded (across the ring) by TLS that assaulting an official results in hefty penalty, including disqualification. This keeps her from finishing the charge, waiting for Ariel who simply says “Hayley, you really gotta calm down” while passing a camera on the way into the ring. With Hayley and Ariel finally in their corners, and not focused on TLS, the bell can finally ring.~

Smith: We’re set to go now here, with two women who are very well known for their ability to strike.

Hood: And they got one hell of a good introduction too. With TLS as a referee? Gives this match that extra star power, you know?

~Ariel reaches out, inching her way towards Hayley (who is actually 5’7″, not 4’6″, but still looks short compared to Ariel) but is sent away with a swatting overhand blow that she narrowly dodges. Ariel steps in, trying to force Raven back, but Raven throws a toe kick to the gut that hits Ariel for little to no damage, but does stop her briefly from advancing. When Hayley tries a spinning lariat early on, Ariel ducks down. Hayley soon finds herself backed against the ropes, and Ariel’s response to this is to grab onto the top ropes at each corner, holding onto while pressing her shoulder into the chest of Hayley Robinson. ~

Smith: And Ariel Shadows neutralizes Hayley in the corner, depriving her of the distance needed to strike!

Hood: Isn’t Ariel supposed to be some kind of karate wizard? What does she know about wrestling?

Smith: Enough to keep her opponent from doing anything to her for the time being! Hey, why isn’t the referee trying to break it up! Where’s the five count?

Hood: He’s just content to let them go at it, apparently.

~Hayley is unable to formulate a gameplan to escape the corner, and TLS does not seem interested in breaking things up. It is Ariel herself who releases, yelling back “THAT’S FIVE!” to TLS.~

Smith: And thank God Ariel has a sense of sportsmanship!

Hood: It’s almost disgusting, to tell you the damn truth.

Smith: No, TLS is the one who’s disgusting! He knows full well he was supposed to do a five count! This is all just some big stunt so he can get some camera time without having to wrestle, because he knows either of these women would give him a real run for his money!

~Hayley charges out of the corner trying to take advantage, but is flipped over quickly with an arm drag takedown. Ariel turns the arm up and around her knee, twisting the shoulder back.~

Smith: Now she lays her down flat on her face after the arm drag, keeping the arm firmly in her posession…

~Ariel applies a crucifix of sorts to the arm with a legscissors, using her hands to lift herself up and apply the pressure onto the elbow and shoulder. Hayley lets out a loud “SHIIIIT!!” when she does so.~

Smith: Look at this move!

Hood: Looking right at it!

~The best Hayley can do to break free is to sit out, but Ariel is still behind her. Ariel uses a simple hammerlock to almost push her back up to a standing position. Hayley throws a couple of backwards elbows.~

Smith: Ariel is trying to control the pace of this match, and settle down her much younger opponent.

Hood: Are you calling Ariel Shadows old?

Smith: Absolutely not! But Hayley Robinson is like ninteen or twenty!

Hood: Well, Ariel Shadows IS old, and she’s also getting elbowed in the side of the head right now!

~Hayley, freshly out of the incarceration of the hold, quickly runs to the ropes in an attempt to land a big move. A running lariat is ducked, but Hayley is not done trying. There is another set of ropes to run to and bounce from.~

Smith: And Hellr-excuse me, Hayley Robinson…

Hood: Why stop? Our graphics people still call her Hellraven

Smith: I’m sure that was printed before they knew of the change. It’s no excuse to get it wrong on commentary, Hood. We are professionals!

~The artist formerly known as Hellraven leaps up with a front kick.~

Hood: Hellraven, Raven, Hayley, she’s still a squawking little bird-

Smith: LEG SCREW TAKEDOWN BY ARIEL SHADOWS!

~Ariel locks in a standing knee hold, leaning away as Hayley tries to reach up and strike her. Ariel tels Hayley to “settle down” but is met back with a “FUCK YOU!” that might not be picked up completely by ringside microphones, but was picked up by nearly all of the fans’ ears on the rooftop of Twitter HQ. A loud gasp is heard from them. TLS; who since being admonished by Ariel for not counting in the corner has not even paid attention to the match, looks back and says “NO DIRTY WORDS OR YOU WILL BE DISQUALIFIED!” before turning back to arguing with two liberal fans, leaning on the top rope.~

Hood: Don’t waste your breath, TLS!

~SLAM! Ariel drops down and slams Hayley’s leg into the canvas. Standing back up, she holds onto the ankle and looks back down, asking if Hayley is “sure you wanna do it like this?” Despite being in a lot of pain, and being drowned out by the fans, Hayley remains defiant with a pair of middle fingers in Ariel’s face. The crowd now bursts into a roaring cheer, and Ariel now allows everyone to see the frustration on her face. TLS, meanwhile, is still trying to flag down the concessions stand to bring him a hot dog.~

Smith: Oh my goodness! I don’t think making her mad is such a good idea!

~Ariel looks up for just one second, and that is all Hayley needs to kick her away with the free leg. Hayley kips up, preparing for a returning Ariel. Ariel reaches in to grapple Hayley again, but a slap to the face made her forget what she was doing for a second there. Hayley abruptly springboards to the top rope, just as TLS leans on it again a couple feet away to point and yell at the same fans. She falls straight from the rope to the floor, the camera not able to see her landing and the fans shocked at the impact! A second camera reveals she is not seriously hurt, but definitely angry.~

Smith: What was that about? Thank God Hayley wasn’t hurt!

Hood: Well maybe she should have watched where she was going!

~The crowd boos heavily, as a livid Hayley wants to know “TH’ FUCK WAS DAT?” Now back in the ring, TLS finds himself facing down both Ariel Shadows and Hayley Robinson, the crowd gearing up. TLS shrugs, telling them to get back to wrestling before he throws the match out for non-competence. Ariel and Hayley glance at each other, back at TLS…then charge forward!~

Smith: Leg sweep by Ariel, discus lariat by Hayley! TLS is out!

~Now the people are happy, cheering as TLS stands at ringside in awe. He throws his hands up, yelling “FUCK THIS I’M OUT” as he leaves the ring, jawing with the fans who are quick to point out two women just ejected him. ~

Smith: Finally, can we get a real referee out here?

~Shadows, feeling completely disrespected, continues to motion for TLS to head down the ramp. She’s a veteran, she’s received the negative treatment for years…she’s fed up. While she’s doing this, Robinson sneaks up behind her and jumps into the air, striking Ariel in between the shoulder blades with a knee!! Ariel falls through the ropes. Shadows struggles to her feet, stunned by what’s happened~

Smith: Hayley taking advantage of a distracted Ariel Shadows!

Hood: There you go…she’s learning

~Hayley spins around with a back kick into Ariel’s gut. She hooks Shadows, lifts her over the top rope and drops her onto the canvas with a suplex. Hayley steps through the ropes, hops onto the top rope, springboards off and drops a guilltone leg drop across the throat of Shadows. She makes the cover. SCRUFF suddenly appears, sliding in to make the count~

1!

2!

Kick Out!

Smith: Kick out by Ariel Shadows!

Hood: Hell…err…the young one needs to stay on top of Ariel

Smith: Agreed

Hood: If she lets Ariel recover…she’s going to have a very angry ‘mentor’ to deal with

~Hayley is clearly frustrated by tries to move past it…show some maturity and some patience. She returns to her feet, poised to strike Ariel. Ariel rises. Hayley charges at Ariel, throwing a spinning heel kick. Ariel ducks the leg! He snares both of Hayley’s legs and spins her around for a moment before lifting her up and slamming her into the mat with a SPINEBUSTER!! Hayley reaches for her back, in pain. Shadows doesn’t quit. She yanks Hayley up and looks at her…she shakes her head, an act that could be interpreted as disappointment. She hoists Hayley onto her shoulders and drivers her into the mat with a DVD!!! Ariel goes for the pin. Scruff makes the count~

1!

2!

Shoulder UP!!

Smith: Hayley survived!

Hood: Man, barely…Ariel’s on a roll

Smith: Indeed…the veteran prowess and equanimity are beginning to tilt the scales in her favor

~Ariel remains calm. She pulls Hayley to her feet and boots her in the gut. She hoists Hayley up for a powerbomb. Hayley punches Ariel in the head. She throws a downward elbow strike, staggering Ariel. Robinson turns her position into a hurricanrana!! She rolls Ariel up for the pin!! The crowd rises! Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

KICK OUT!

Smith: Wow!! She was so close!

Hood: The kid won’t quit.

Smith: She’s looking to make a living in this business, Hood

Hood: True, she’s got birds to feed

~Hayley gets to her feet, wincing. She’s still feeling the pain of Ariel’s offense. She hesitates for a moment, clearly frustrated. The fans urge her to STAY FOCUSED. Ariel pops up and takes Hayley’s feet out from under her! Robinson falls down, the back of her head hitting the mat. Ariel grabs both of Hayley’s legs and falls back with a slingshot!! Hayley flies through the air and comes down, throat first over the top rope. Ariel is already back on her feet. She spins Hayley around, boots her in the gut…lifts her up for a suplex and brings her down with a neckbreaker!!! The crowd groans. That looks bad. Hayley is down. Ariel makes the cover~

1!

2!

KICK OUT!

Smith: She kicked out! The kid is still alive!

Hood: Now that she has a real name and not some club house bull shit nickname…is she…still a kid?

Smith: Good question

~Shadows, on her knees, looks down at Hayley with fatigued impression. Hayley is leaving her mark on Ariel and the wrestling world tonight. Ariel pulls Hayley up. She whips Robinson into the ropes…Hayley reverses and throws a knee into Ariel’s gut!! Ariel staggers forward, doubling over. Hayley throws some kicks into the back of Ariel’s legs. Ariel stands upright and turns around, with a slight limp. Hayley greets her with palm strikes to the face. Ariel’s head bobbles around after each strike. Hayley’s face is flush…she’s breathing heavily. Ariel finally brings Hayley in with a knee lift of her own to cease the striking. The fans are on their feet, cheering the two women on~

Smith: Listen to these fans? They are on their feet for this action!

Hood: Fuck man, I can barely keep up!

~Ariel and Hayley simultaneously latch onto one another, locking up the collar with their left hands and drilling into one another with right hands!~

Hood: Oh, that’s what I’m talking about! Throw that mat wrestling shit out the window and do what you’re best at!

Smith: Good Lord! They are just tearing each other apart!

~Right hand by Ariel! Right hand by Hayley! Right hand by Ariel! Right hand by Hayley!~

Hood: This is what it’s all about! Fight for your right!

~Right hand by Ariel! Right hand by Hayley!

Smith: I think Ariel is busted open…

~Right hand by Ariel! Right hand by Hayley!~

Hood: Oh man! Ariel just about put her fist through Raven’s eye socket!

~Right hand by Ariel! Right hand by Hayley!~

Smith: No sign of slowing down whatsoever from either of these two! Ariel Shadows, the expert in several martial arts! Hayley Robinson, the brawler with fighting spirit like no other! How long do they think they can keep this up?

~Right hand by Ariel! Right hand by Hayley!~

Hood: Blood all over Ariel Shadows!

~Right hand by Ariel! Right hand by Hayley!~

Smith: And it’s getting all over Raven too!

~Right hand by Ariel! Right hand by Hayley!~

Hood: Well, I think Ariel tried to kick her once or twice…

~Right hand by Ariel! Right hand by Hayley!~

Hood: …and Raven just hit a knee…

~Right hand by Ariel.~

Hood: But they have just been hammering on each other for a full god damn minute!

~Right hand by Hayley.~

Smith: Holy SHIT!

~Right hand by Ariel…~

Smith: How in God’s name are these two still going?

~Right hand by Hayley…

Hood: I….just…don’t….know…

~The lockup briefly breaks, and both women stumble back a step. Hayley, one eye already half swollen shut, stumbles back forward with her lead hand out. Ariel, barely able to see from the river of blood pouring from her forehead, sways on her feet with her hands in front of her. Both women are struggling to even throw simple jabs, but still attempt to trade blows with whatever is left in their respective tanks. Instead of cheering, booing, or gasping, the crowd is now hushed to barely any murmuring. Concern spreads all throughout the crowd in attendance.~

Hood: This is kind of getting hard to watch.

Smith: I don’t think they can keep going any more.

~Ariel lands a weak right hand.~

~Hayley lands a weak right hand of her own.~

~Ariel sets her fist against Hayley’s face.~

~Hayley lays her forearm against Ariel’s jaw.~

~Ariel lifts her fist.~

~Hayley lifts her arm.~

~The crowd is dead silent as both women collapse into each other, falling to their knees together and crumpling to the canvas.~

Smith: HOLY SHIT BOB!

Hood: How’d you know my name is Bob?

Smith: ARIEL SHADOWS AND HAYLEY ROBINSON ARE DEAD!

Hood: No, they’re n-wait…are they even moving?

~Everyone is quiet. The crowd is silent. Ariel is on her back, blood running through her hair and all through her face, staining her ring attire. Hayley is on her side, curled up, one eye wide open and the other swollen nearly closed. Ariel’s chest is rising, and one of Raven’s fingers twitches slightly. Unfortunately, this referee currently officiating is a regular and knows there is a ten count. He has no choice but to begin it. The only sound being made is the yell of “ONE!”.~

~”TWO!” “THREE!” “FOUR!” “FIVE!” “SIX!” All of these are met with no response. “SEVEN!” gets Hayley’s legs slowly churning, as if on a bicycle. Ariel brings herself to sit up, completing it on “EIGHT!”. Rolling over, Ariel finds herself on one knee – and face to face with an also kneeling Hayley Robinson! “NINE!”~

~On their knees, the faltering women meet in am embrace of exhaustion. The crowd does not cheer, yell boo or heckle. They applaud. Respectfully at first, but soon thunderously. Cheering begins to follow. Whatever is being said between the two women cannot be heard by anyone, maybe not even themselves. But it ends with Ariel putting a hand on Hayley’s shoulder and nodding, with that same nod and shoulder touch returned. The referee’s count ends, with him standing back and allowing the match to continue.~

~As both women rise to their feet, they literally lean on each other for support. Ariel mouths with almost a whisper, “you ready?” Hayley smirks with a tilime smile, raising a middle finger half-heartedly and half-jokingly. Ariel smiles for the first time all night, both women only a few steps away from each other ready to finish this match.~

Smith: …I don’t know what to say, folks. I don’t know what I can possibly say to describe what we just witnessed. It’s just…it’s amazing these two ladies are still going at it.

~Hayley charges first. Ariel ducks a clothesline and grabs Hayley as she rushes by, dropping her with a neckbreaker!!! Robinson clutches her neck. She fights her way back up, knowing she can’t stay down. But, she’s in pain. Ariel looks at Hayley with compassion in her eyes. The kid’s done well tonight…but, all good things must come to an end. Ariel spins around and leaps into the air The Kicker!!! Hayley ducks and Ariel kicks Scruff!!! Scruff falls to the mat, unconscious!! The fans are stunned. Ariel crawls over, checking on the OCW referee while Hayley sells her neck~

Smith: Oh no! Scruff!

Hood: He’ll be alright

Smith: Yea, I know he’ll be fine for the next match…but what about this one? He’s obviously been knocked out.

~Hayley gets to her feet. Ariel shakes her head, angry that she nailed the ref. She then realizes she’s still mid-match. She pops to her feet and turns around. Hayley greets her with HELL AWAITS (Discus Lariat)!!! Ariel crumbles to the mat! Hayley jumps on her for the pin. There is no ref~

Smith: We need a ref!

Hood: We need a hero!

Smith: I don’t know about that, a simple re…OH NO

~TLS and his painted face comes running down to the ring. He’s sprinting faster than we can ever remember. He’s URGENTLY trying to reach the ring. He flies in under the bottom rope and slaps the mat as fast as he can~

1!2!3!!!!

~Ariel kicks out…but we’ll never know if it was in time. TLS pops to his feet and points toward the bell. It rings. The fans boooo!!! TLS wipes sweat from his forehead and says, “Whew, glad that’s over.” Hayley rolls over, onto her back…too tired to really catch what’s just happened. Ariel rolls over, coughing due to the impact of Hell Awaits~

Smith: Surely that can’t be…

Hood: He may not be the hero we wanted…but he was the hero we needed

Smith: Shut up

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the winner of this match and the #1 Contender to the OCW Paradigm Championship…HAYLEY “THE RAVEN” ROBINSON!!!!!

Smith: I mean…I’m happy for her but that was such a downer of a finish

~The fans are angry. They boo and throw stuff at TLS. Ariel and Hayley are too tired to do anything about the injustice that’s just occurred. TLS hops out of the ring and heads down the ramp, looking like a man who has accomplished a great mission. THE KNIFE MAN comes running down with medics…they’ve got ice packs and water. They slide into the ring to tend to Hayley and Ariel~

Smith: These two women waged war tonight…I’m proud of them

Hood: Hey, look, I’m no fan of tits unless they are in my face. But I’ll give it to those two…they are a tribute to this sport

Smith: Well, that’s kind of nice of you to say, Hood

Hood: Now give me a beer

~Ariel and Hayley are helped out of the ring and to the back. They are on the brink of exhaustion. The fans give them a standing ovation as they exit the ringside area~

~Inside of his personal gym is Bester and he has just finished his second workout of the day. Bester is quite the gym rat. But today, he seems distracted. He keeps checking his phone and whatever he is reading as him all nervous.~

“Oh man…”

~Bester places his phone down and starts to pace.~

“What to do? What to do? Think! I have to make this better. I don’t want to get in trouble. I don’t want to end up like….”

~Bester remembers watching 20/20 the other night, the R Kelly interview.~

“Mister Kelly. I heard he’s going to end up in jail next to Mister Crosby and I saw a picture on the internet yesterday that showed Mister Crosby feeding Mister Kelly some of his pudding. I don’t want Mister Crosby feeding me his pudding that makes you sleepy! I heard Mister Crosby does some dirty nasty things to people who fall asleep around him.” Bester says to his beloved kitty Spartacus.

“What the hell are you talking about Best?”

~Bester jumps a little as he didn’t know anyone else was in the gym with him. Standing in the doorway with a bag from In-n-Out Burger is Nanook.~

“Oh! Mister Nanook! Thank goodness you are here! I have a real issue! I have to fix this!”

“What problem? The you didn’t beat Empire and now you’re not in the Elimination Chamber match problem?”

~Bester snatches up his phone and rushes over to Nanook and shoves his phone in his face.~

“No! Worst! I assaulted Miss Baxter-Kalei! Look!”

~Nanook reads the screen and mouth outs what was posted on some OCW forum on the web somewhere. In Nanook’s mind he’s thinking ~

“Fucking Smarks! Now I’ve got to deal with this shit.”

“I don’t want to go to jail Mister Nanook! I didn’t mean to make Miss Baxter-Kalei shirt all wet! I didn’t even know I made her all wet! What am I’m going to do!” Bester says in a panic.

“Okay! Settle down Best. First off.” Nanook sets the bag of burgers on a chair by the door. He takes Bester by the shoulders and guides him to take a seat. “We’re going to eat. I’m hungry and I haven’t eaten all damn day! Fucking Joe has had me running errands all day doing stupid shit.”

“Mister Nanook! Language!”

“I know! Sorry. But I am hungry. So why we eat, why don’t we think of something to do for, who was this again?”

“Miss Baxter-Kalei! She said her shirt is all wet now. OH! I should get her a new shirt!”

~Nanook takes a seat and digs into a burger. As he chews he nods. He honestly doesn’t care, but this will take all day and keep him away from Joe.~

“Is that what we should do Mister Nanook? Buy Miss Baxter-Kalei a new shirt? Oh! And new pants! Her pants might be wet as well. Better get her some socks too! I hate wet socks! Maybe her shoes are ruined now! Better get her some new shoes. I wonder what size her feet are?”

“What about her panties? And her bra. If her shirt is wet, I bet you soaked those britches of hers.”

~Bester looks at Nanook with a blank stare. After a minute her checks his phone.~

“I doesn’t say anything about her undergarments.” Bester says as he continues looking.

“Maybe she doesn’t wear any. I kinda like that.”

~Bester looks up from his phone~

“Mister Nanook. Everyone wears underwear!”

“Oh no……you know what, yes! Yes they do Best. Everyone wears underwear. I wonder what kinda this Baxter chick wears. Better Google that! So, you know, we know what she likes and what size she wears.”

“Okay!”

~Ten seconds later, Bester looks up from his phone all red in the face. He looks at Nanook and is not happy that he tricked him. Nanook, on his second burger smirks.~

“What cup size is she? Better Google that too, so you know, we know what correct size bra we need to get.”

“Not funny!”

~Nanook busts out laughing. ~

“Okay! I kid, I kid. Listen. When I finish lunch here, we’ll go shopping and get this chick a new shirt, skirt, shoes, socks, some fancy lacy panties and matching bra. Okay?”

“I think a shirt and a nice pair of jeans will do just fine.”

“I mean, okay, but you don’t want her to press charges do you?”

~Bester lowers his head. ~

“No…”

“Then we need to get her a whole outfit. Top to bottom and everything in between. And just think Best! You know what her ass looks like first hand from last week when she shoved that in your face.”

~Bester stands up and starts to walk away.~

“Where you going?”

“Get some money.”

~Nanook chuckles and then stuffs his face…..We cut back to ringside~

Smith: I think Bester might be a little out of his league with Aubrey

Hood: A LITTLE?

Smith: She’s probably too advanced. He needs someone more like…like…

Hood: Alice Knight…two retards hooking up to make a child of average intelligence

Smith: Okay, that’s just mean! Fans, I apologize for Hood’s insensitivity. The man is still stuck in the early 2000s.

Hood: What a time to be alive!

Smith: Coming up next we have our first title match of the evening as Andrea Hernandez looks to defend her OCW Craze Championship against Bob Grenier. These two don’t like each other…this match, should be rough. Let’s head down to ringside

OCW Craze Championship
Andrea Hernandez © (8-3) vs. Bob Grenier (24-14)

~We get a shot of the fans down below. They are grumbling and complaining. Poor Deangelo is down there taking all their complaints while trying to ease the rising tension. He mentions HALF OFF ALL BEER. This helps – for the moment. We cut back to the rooftop where the millennial crowd discusses MAGA and how it can be stopped. Belvedere clears his throat~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…it is now time for our first championship match this evening!! This match is for the OCW Craze Championship!

~The fans give a strong reaction. They like the sound of championship but this ‘craze’ word seems to elicit some suppressed anxiety. But, they remain civil, waiting to see what will come of all this ‘craze’ stuff~

Belvedere: Now, if you will all remove your phones and pull up the OCW App. It’s time to vote on the stipulation for the Craze Championship. The options are Mr. Grenier’s Strap Match or Ms. Hernandez’s Banned Finisher.

~A voice yells out “STRAP MATCH?!” This draws the ire of the millennials. They are disgusted over the name. They wonder who could have requested such a heinous, divisive match. Then they realize the culprit – Bob fucking Grenier. With scowls on their pretty, timid, unharmed faces, the millennials glare at Belvedere as if waiting for a whistle or a gun to shoot off, signaling the start of some technological vote~

Smith: This doesn’t bode well for Bob

Hood: These fucking fans…they are ruining this event!

~Petia shouts out “LET OUR VOICES BE HEARD!” The entire crowd responds in robotic union “JUSTICE FOR PETIA.”~

Belvedere: And you may now vote!

~The sound of a thousand thumbs and fingers pressing glass screens fills the rooftop setting. We get a shot of several Grenier fans urgently writing stuff down on what appears to be – parchment? Geezus. The voting lasts it’s usual time until a loud BUZZER goes off, signaling the end~

Smith: WHOA!

Hood: Did Bob get any votes? Is that a small elevation above his name or some kind of graphical error?

Smith: I think…yes, I’ve got the official numbers here. Andrea’s stipulation receive 99.31% of the vote

Hood: Shit…well, at least Bob got 0.69%. A good, round number

Smith: I guess

~The rooftop crowd breathes a sigh of relief. They all hug and congratulate each other on a job well done. Petia nods with approval. Several hands reach over and pat him on the shoulder. The fans on the street are irate…they can’t get their votes in~

Grenier Fan: WHAT THE FUCK?!

~They start to push OCW security and police around. Deangelo, again, reminds them that the beer is half off. This isn’t working so well. So, he sighs and mentions that beer is now…75% off! The fans grumble but head to the beer stands. Another crisis averted~

Belvedere: This match is officially a finisher banned match! That means neither wrestler is allowed to use moves listed as their finisher. So, Bob will be unable to use the Hollinger Park Hangman AND the Chula Vista Dirt Bomb. The Craze Champion, Andrea Hernandez will be unable to perform Sky High.

Smith: Bob at a disadvantage

Hood: Yea, what the fuck…he’s got TWO moves banned while she only has ONE? WEAK ASS BOOKING

Belvedere: If either competitor performs one of the banned moves they will be disqualified. The first competitor to earn a pinfall or submission will be declared the winner…introducing first, the challenger

~The boos already begin…the fans LOATHE Bob Grenier and his willingness to STRAP people…and, well, all the other dirty shit he’s guilty of~

Where the hood…

Where the hood…

Where the hood at…

~The fans HATE this song. They don’t particularly like low income areas being referred to as ‘hood’. Bob steps out from the ‘backstage’ area. The fans yell at him…they call him a chauvinist, an incel…one fan even calls him a dirty Canadian. Bob simply laughs and hoists his tag title over his shoulder, strutting toward the ring~

Belvedere: From Timmins, Ontario, Canada…standing 6’2 and weighing in at 222lbs….he is a former OCW Champion, he is in the OCW Hall of Fame…he is one half of the OCW Tag Team Champions…he is Bob Grenier!!!

~Bob pauses at the steps. He slowly turns around and faces an overly aggressive millennial shouting all kinds of new age slang. Bob smiles in the fans face. One fan yells “THAT SMIRK! IT’S THE WHITE PRIVILEGE SMIRK!” The crowd becomes even more unruly. Security members have to work to keep them from plowing over the barricade. Bob laughs and hustles up the steps, entering into the ring~

Smith: Bob enjoying himself

Hood: What these idiot fans don’t realize is by acting this way they’ve given Bob power. He has the power to control their emotions.

Smith: In a way, yes

~”Ultranumb” by Blue Stahli starts to play. The mood begins to turn. It takes a while because, well, these people are super angry. However, they start to chill. Once Andrea’s face appears on the screen and out from behind the backstage area, they go wild. A chant of “HER TIME!” starts up! The fans are PRO Hernandez. Andrea makes her way to the ring with the Craze Title around her waist~

Smith: Andrea the runaway fan favorite in this one

Hood: What the fuck does HER TIME even mean? She’s already got the fucking belt

Smith: I don’t know

~Andrea walks halfway around the ring and stops. She reaches out and shakes hands with Petia Horamos. The fans GO WILD!! Tears begin to stream down their faces. “SHE UNDERSTANDS” they say. “JUSTICE FOR PETIA!” Andrea makes a motion that seems to indicate she might be dedicating this match to Petia. We aren’t really sure…she could have just been congratulating Petia on his strength. Petia, however, and his increasingly large ego takes it to mean that she is wrestling solely for him. Andrea slides into the ring and pops to her feet~

Belvedere: And his opponent…from Sedona, Arizona…standing 5’4 and weighing in at 125lbs…she is a former Paradigm Champion…she is the current Craze Champion…she is…Andrea Hernandez!!!

~Andrea removes the belt from her waists and hoists it up over her head. The fans go wild!!! They finally get a logical chant going. “Andrea! Andrea!” Andrea smiles and hands the belt over to Belvedere. He already has Bob’s tag belt in his grasp. He exits the ring with both belts in his possession. Andrea leans back in her corner, eyeing Bob from across the ring. Grenier reaches down and scratches his crotch. The fans are disgusted. We hear some laughter from the street. A ‘CLASSIC BOB’ is overheard from, likely, a Grenier fan. The bell rings~

Smith: And here we go!! The Craze Championship is underway!! Bob Grenier had to win the Mike Roth Memorial to earn this opportunity

Hood: Yep he beat both Roach and Hellraven…two huge wins which led to him earning Wrestler of the Month for February

Smith: It’s been a great 2019 for Bob Grenier…tonight, it might get even better

~Andrea charges at Bob. Grenier gets his fists up, ready. He throws a right hand at the incoming Craze Champion. She ducks and jumps onto the buckle behind Bob. She bounces off and spins around…Grenier spins around as well and catches an enziguri into the side of the head!!! Bob stumbles around. Andrea kips up to her feet and jumps on Bob’s back! She wraps her legs around his waist and pummels the back of his head with elbows and forearms! The crowd is impressed. “HER TIME” Andrea’s visceral aggression is impressive~

Smith: Andrea is taking this one personal

Hood: She takes everything personal

Smith: That might be why she’s so successful

Hood: She’s not as successful as Chelsea

~Bob tries to grab Andrea by the hair and throw her off his back, but she manages to avoid getting caught. Bob drops to one knee. Andrea is able to stand…she throws some downward elbows into Bob’s traps. Grenier winces and leans forward, placing his hands on the mat. Andrea moves and soccer kicks Bob in the ribs!!! Bob flips over, gasping for air. Andrea runs and leaps into the air with a standing Shooting Star Press!! The crowd is very impressed. She tries for a pin, but Grenier manages to shove her off and roll outside~

Smith: I don’t think you could have asked for a better start if you’re Andrea Hernandez

Hood: She’s on fire!

Smith: Yep, I think Bob expected something much different coming into this match.

Hood: Yea, but that’s Bob…he says shit that gets his opponents fired up. Usually it gets them so fired up they falter from their game

~Andrea returns to her feet and stands near the ropes, eyeing Grenier. Bob is leaning on the apron. Hernandez grips the top rope and bends her knees. She jumps up…Bob backs away…Andrea adjusts mid flight and lands on the apron. She then leaps off the apron with a moonsault!!! Bob catches her! The fans at ringside are like “NO!” Bob charges toward the ring post. Andrea slides off his shoulder and gives him a shove! Bob slams into the ring post, shoulder first…his legs ram into the steps, causing him to flip over, landing roughly on the other side~

Smith: I thought Bob had her…but she managed to escape a dangerous situation

Hood: Yea man it looked like Bob coaxed her into a mistake…almost, so close!

Smith: She seems to be one step ahead of Bob so far. Can she keep this up?

~Andrea hops onto the apron. Bob remains on the ground, holding onto his knees. Andrea begins to climb to the top rope. The fans stand…there’s an anxious aura surrounding the rooftop of Twitter HQ. She reaches the top and looks down at Bob…that’s a long way down. Grenier struggles to his feet, unaware of the danger that looms overhead. Andrea leaps off, crashing down at Bob. Grenier looks up and manages to catch her…kinda…barely…he stumbles back and falls down! In falling down, though, he manages to drop Andrea face first across the barricade!!! Andrea’s head snaps back! She rolls around, holding her face in pain as the fans all grimace and groan. The people on the street let out a solid cheer – they must be going AGAINST the millennials in this one, a pro Grenier contingent~

Smith: Ouch! That looked terrible!

Hood: Yea, I hope Bob’s tailbone is okay

Smith: I’m talking about Andrea! She might have lost some teeth

Hood: Serves her right for every time she opens that whore mouth of hers

~Andrea looks at her hand, it’s bloodless. That’s a good sign. Her mouth is still riddled with pain. Bob manages to pull his body into a seated position, up against the barricade. An overzealous fan pours his drink all over Bob – an act of social justice, apparently. Bob licks his lips and smiles, he’s enjoying the refreshing flavor of whatever was in that bottle. Andrea returns to her feet and glares at Bob. She charges forward, throwing a knee at his head. Bob jumps to his feet and catches Andrea…he spins around and slams her into the outside floor with a spinebuster! He leaps forward and mounts Andrea…he throws fists and forearms at her head, trying to pound her into submission. Scruff begins to count, yelling “ONE!”~

Smith: Bob’s got Andrea in a dangerous spot!

Hood: All that jumping around is great until you get caught and punched in the face. I think it’s lights out for Ms. Hernandez

Smith: Not yet…she’s a fighter, Hood.

~Scruff yells “THREE”!” Bob’s punches and forearms begin to slow, he’s tiring out. Andrea’s done a great job of covering up, taking minimal damage. She feels some slack in Bob’s mount and quickly spins around, giving up her back. Bob lunges forward and locks in a guillotine choke!!! He rolls over and hooks his legs around Andrea’s waist!! Andrea is in serious trouble! Scruff yells “FOUR!” Andrea’s arms go limp. Bob looks around and asks, “Is the bitch dead?” He gets no response. He reaches over and flicks the side of her breast. She doesn’t fight back. “Yep, I think she’s dead.” He lets go and tosses the lifeless body of Andrea to the side. Scruff yells “FIVE!” Bob slides into the ring and throws his arms in the air. The rooftop fans boo and call him a ‘pig’ and a ‘pervert’~

Smith: This man is disgusting…he just molested Andrea!

Hood: No he didn’t, he was checking to see if she was out. There was nothing sexual about that

Smith: Oh I disagree

~Scruff yells out “SIX!” Grenier climbs a corner and motions around his waist that the Craze Title is coming his way. A fan yells out “YOU CAN’T WIN THE TITLE VIA COUNT OUT YOU CANADIAN RETARD!” The people around him start pelting him with trail mix. We can’t tell if they are angry over his remark making Bob WOKE or the use of the ‘retard’ word…either way, they are pissed and are expressing their anger in the current form. Bob looks around and is like, “Shit, that idiot is right.” Scruff yells “SEVEN!” Bob hops off the buckle and hustles over. Andrea is beginning to move~

Smith: Slight hole in Bob’s logic

Hood: Slight? Like a massive, life altering gap

Smith: I think he just got caught up in the action…it slipped his mind

Hood: Yea man it’s a strange night…all these supposed stipulations, the voting, these fucking weirdos on the roof. That dumbass Patricia fella

Smith: PETIA

Hood: Yea, him…Social Justice is, well, it’s different

~Andrea reaches up, snaring the apron cloth and dragging her wounded body upright. Scruff yells “EIGHT!” Bob rushes over and grabs her by the hair, pulling her up onto the apron. Andrea yells out because, well, it fucking hurts. Bob gets her onto the apron. Scruff yells ‘NINE!’ Bob kicks her in the gut, hooks her and suplexes her over the top rope back inside the ring!! Scruff motions that she beat the count. The fans are happy she’s still in the match but angry over Bob’s continued control. Grenier returns to his feet and walks around Andrea, who is on the mat, looking up at the chamber overhead. A Bay Area breeze blows through the ring…Bob pauses, soaking it in…we see the blonde, greasy wet strands of his hair dance along the wind. He bends his arm inward, creating an elbow…his eyes remain shut…he jumps up and brings the elbow crashing down…but Andrea moves!! Bob’s elbow spikes into the mat! He reaches for it instantly, rolling around~

Smith: Bob seemed to lose his whereabouts for a moment and it cost him

Hood: I think he thought he was back in the woods of Canada…ya know, despite this totally non-canadian atmosphere

Smith: I’d be willing to wager Bob gets confused a lot

~Andrea returns to her feet, coughing. Her throat is still kinda fucked up from the guillotine outside. She walks over and stomps on Bob’s elbow!! Grenier yells and rolls for the ropes, finding the apron, feeling like the ropes might protect him. Andrea takes off, hitting the opposite ropes…she bounces back, sprints forward and plows into Bob with a baseball slide!! Bob’s body flies off the apron and splats on the outside!! The fans begin to cheer and chant “ANDREA!” Hernandez sits up with her legs under the bottom rope. She rubs her throat and checks the rest of her body~

Smith: Andrea back in control…the Craze Champion appears as though she’s going to be extremely tough to beat from here on out.

Hood: Yea she’s basically a zombie right now.

Smith: A zombie?

Hood: Yea, she was dead…then woke up.

~Grenier, the fighter that he is…a man who lives without electricity, chopping his own wood, begins to return to his feet. Andrea shakes his head…this is one tough mother fucker. She gets to her feet and takes off, hitting the ropes. Bob is standing, staggering around. He turns, facing the ring (instinct). Andrea comes flying through the ropes, spearing head first into Bob!! The two tumble up the aisle way! Bob lands roughly on his back while Andrea’s knees seem to take the brunt of the fall. The fans cheer Andrea’s high risk assault…the fans below are even giving her a strong ovation, the woman is earning respect~

Smith: Andrea is pulling out all the stops! She’s giving it everything she’s got!

Hood: Yea, Mack knocked her the fuck out. She came up short against CJ and TIO. She’s had a lot of success but she’s yet to beat a major name in OCW

Smith: Indeed

~Andrea returns to her feet. Scruff yells “ONE!” She shakes the pain from her knees and grabs Bob by the ear. Bob winces…she drags him to the ring. The more she pulls, the more he complies…this hurts. She tosses Grenier back into the ring. Grenier rolls several feet before coming to rest on his back. Andrea hops onto the apron and jumps up onto the top rope. Several of the ‘WOKE’ fans yell “NO!” She hesitates…it hits her…NO SKY HIGH. She alters her plan and springboards off with a splash. Bob kips up, catches her, spins around and SLAMS her into the mat!! The fans on the roof boo!!! The fans down below go wild~

Smith: Andrea’s awareness faltered, costing her the advantage!

Hood: What a stupid woman! It’s HER stipulation

Smith: She’s in the heat of battle, Hood. She’s used that move so often it’s second nature to go for it in pivotal moments such as the one we just witnessed

Hood: If women had bigger brains then stuff like –

Smith: And I’m just gonna cut you off right there

~Bob is kneeling next to Andrea. He looks down at the Craze Champion and frowns. It’s a disgust filled frown. He reaches down and begins to pull, poke, and prod Andrea’s face. Andrea yells out in pain. Scruff rushes in, administering a count. He gets to five. Bob doesn’t stop…Scruff forces Grenier off of Andrea. Bob pops to his feet and shoves Scruff. He’s close to a DQ…but, being an OCW legend, the man knows how far he can push it. He turns around, realizing he’s wasted too much time. Andrea is up to one knee. She gets to her feet but is instantly dropped back to the mat via a straight right hand from Grenier. The crowd continues to boo. Grenier places his boot into Andrea’s foot and see-saws back and forth, putting the pressure on, and taking it off. Scruff grows frustrated with his perfunctory attitude in regards to the rules~

Smith: Grenier is really pushing it

Hood: There is NO WAY Scruff would DQ ANYONE on a PPV

Smith: You’re probably right…sad thing is Grenier knows this

Hood: What’s sad about that? He realizes that in OCW…when you reach this level, you’re given some room to explore, create…Andrea needs to adapt and wake up. The fucking training wheels are gone

~Grenier removes his foot and bends down, wrapping both hands around her throat. He deadlifts Andrea off the mat and tosses her into a corner. She slams HARD…the back of her head suffers some whiplash. Bob charges in and slams his elbow into her upper body. Andrea is reeling…the boos are showering…Bob is basking~

Smith: This man derives way too much pleasure over harming his opponents

Hood: We all do what we do for a reason…some for money, others for pleasure.

Smith: Yea but this is a sick, twisted sort of pleasure. Bob should probably seek counseling

Hood: Why? He’s undefeated in 2019! The dude’s on FIRE

~Bob hoists Andrea over his shoulder. He turns and carries her toward the center of the ring. Andrea’s upper body hangs down Bob’s back. He looks over and sees her ass…he slaps her on the ass and laughs. The fans boo even louder. Bob spins Andrea around, looking for a powerslam…Andrea, though, manages to knee Bob in the back and take him down with an inverted DDT!!! The crowd pops!!! Andrea hops on top for the pin! Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

Kick Out!!

Smith: I thought she had it!

Hood: What got into here? Geez

Smith: I don’t know, perhaps Bob VIOLATING her body

~Andrea is back on her feet fairly quickly. She leans in a corner, watching Bob. She chooses to give him the space to rise…hoping to pounce on him, unexpectedly. Bob gets to his feet…Andrea charges in and throws a big boot right into Bob’s face!!! Bob spins around, somehow remaining standing. Andrea rushes for the ropes, stepping through them…she hops up, springboards off the top rope and takes Bob down with a springboard bulldog!!! Bob’s face plants into the mat!! Andrea gets him over and goes for the pin!! The fans count along with Scruff~

1!

2!

3…NO!

Smith: The shoulder BARELY up!

Hood: Whew, c’mon, Bob…do it for Uber!

Smith: I’m pretty sure Uber would be pulling for Andrea

Hood: Don’t talk like you knew the man!

~Andrea looks at Scruff, pleading through her eyes. Scruff holds up two with a very apologetic look on his face. Andrea leans back, running her hands through her hair. This would be the PERFECT time for Sky High…but, it isn’t allowed. She must come up with something else. Grenier rolls onto his front…he starts to get to all fours. Andrea is seated on the mat, dealing with her frustration. She sees Bob moving and realizes she has to move on. She returns to her feet, waiting on Bob. Bob slowly rises…he stumbles around. Andrea throws a spinning mule kick into his gut. Grenier stumbles back, falling through the ropes, onto the apron. Andrea charges his way and SPEARS him off the apron, all the way to the floor! They both hit hard!! Andrea rolls around, holding her shoulder. Bob lays on his back, wincing, breathing in rhythmic patterns…his old, worn back is screaming~

Smith: Andrea is doing everything she can to keep this man down. It’s tough when you’re without your finisher…can create indecision late in matches

Hood: Yep and at this point, late in a match…this is the absolute worst fucking moment to be indecision

Smith: Indeed…Bob’s been through it all…if Andrea continues to vacillate, Bob will take advantage and, claim that Craze Title

~He suddenly sits up! Bob almost lets out a yelp due to the sharp pain in his back, but he’s a man…men don’t yelp! So, he holds it in. He looks over at Andrea, who is still favoring her shoulder. Bob slowly gets to his feet…he leans into the barricade, hunched over, resting his back. He spots a fan at ringside. The fans is holding a purse. We will not say whether it’s a man or woman because, during social justice, we dare not assume. Bob looks inside the purse and smiles…he says ‘give me that’. The person is like “Oh, sure!” and reaches in, pulling out a bottle of pain killers. Bob says, “No, not that, that!” The person is nonplussed, so Bob just reaches over and removes a lighter! He clutches the lighter tightly within his left hand. Andrea, back on her feet, walks over and throws a knife edged chop into the right shoulder/arm of Grenier. Bob turns around, facing her. He spits in her face!!! Andrea is stunned…Bob then runs her over with a big boot! Andrea hits the floor, hard. Bob walks, gingerly toward the ring, rolling in~

Smith: What’s he doing? Why did he want that lighter?

Hood: Dude’s going to relieve that pain the natural way, I believe

Smith: Oh no…you must be joking

~Bob yells at Scruff to count. Scruff begins to count, screaming “ONE!” Bob reaches into his trunks and removes some of that delicious GRENIER KUSH! The crowd seems intrigued. Bob sparks the lighter and sets the end of the blunt alight. He begins to puff, taking in some of his favorite herb. He releases a giant cloud of smoke, smiling. Scruff yells out “THREE!” Andrea is beginning to move…she’s not going to be counted out…she was never in danger of that. Bob understood this…he was simply trying to buy time~

Smith: Lighting up mid-match…really?

Hood: He’s Bob fucking Grenier…he can do whatever he likes

Smith: This man sickens me!

Hood: Ooohh, nausea? Stomach cramps? Lemme get you some of that Grenier Kush

Smith: NO THANK YOU

~Andrea rolls back into the ring, breaking the count. Bob walks up to Scruff…he takes a huge hit off his rapidly diminishing smoke. Scruff turns around and Bob releases a huge cloud of smoke in Scruff’s face!!! Scruff begins to cough, he’s blinded…he stumbles around. Grenier flicks the fairly large roach into the crowd and grabs Andrea by the hair. He lifts her up and drops her right onto the mat with HOLLINGER PARK HANGMAN! The crowd is stunned! The people on the roof (aside from the individual who snared Bob’s roach) begin to boo!!! The people on the street go wild!!~

Smith: What? NO! He’s cheating!

Hood: Hahah!! Yes, Bob! Andrea’s getting fucked again!

Smith: No, not again! This will break that poor woman’s spirit!

~Bob makes the cover and yells at Scruff ‘GET OVER HERE AND COUNT YA CHOAD!’ Scruff opens his reddening eyes and rushes over…he slides in with the count as Bob hooks both legs~

1!

2!

3!

NOO!!!

Hood: WHAT THE FUCK

Smith: She kicked out!! Yes! That a girl!! Keep fighting, Andrea! Keep fighting!

Hood: That’s fucking bullshit! Scruff counted too slow!

Smith: Well, if he did, it’s Bob’s fault for getting him high before the count

~Grenier rises to his feet and argues with Scruff. Scruff coughs and exhales a bunch of smoke. The man is a fucking lightweight these days…that or Grenier Kush is some superior shit. Grenier threatens to backhand Scruff. Scruff warns he’ll DQ the former OCW Champion. Andrea, meanwhile, fights to her feet. She stalks up behind Grenier…Bob turns around and DRILLS her with a thunderous lariat!! The sweat from both competitors’ bodies flies through the air upon impact. Andrea is laid out, middle of the ring. Grenier yells at Scruff to be in position…Scruff nods. Bob steps the through the ropes, onto the apron~

Smith: What now

Hood: Oh man, haha…I know what this fucker’s gonna do

Smith: You can’t be serious

Hood: He’s gonna beat this stupid bitch with her own lame ass move!

~Bob grabs his crotch while shouting some less than savory comments at Andrea. He jumps up and springboards off the top rope, performing a somersault senton. He comes crashing down right on top of Andrea’s…KNEES! She got her knees up!! Bob yells in pain, arching his back, while on his knees. He, somehow, gets to his feet, but appears to be paralyzed with pain in his back. Andrea gets to her feet…she jumps up and drops Bob with a BACKSTABBER!! Bob falls to all fours, gasping for air, wincing…his back is fucked. Andrea hovers over his back, hooks him around the arms, pulls him forward and locks him into a crucifix pinning position!! Scruff, already in position thanks to Bob’s warning, makes the count~

1!

2!

3!!!!

~The bell rings and the fans on the roof go wild~

Belvedere: Here is your winner…AND STILL OCW CRAZE CHAMPION…ANDREA HERNANDEZ!!!!!

Smith: Yes! She did it!

Hood: ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?

Smith: Way to go, Andrea!

Hood: I don’t even know what this company stands for anymore…this is some BULLSHIT

Smith: Bob tried cheating…he tried intimidating…he tried mockery…but, in the end, Andrea and her values, her strength, her beliefs prevailed! Finally good out fought evil here in OCW!

Hood: Suck my dick

Smith: Now, if only we could work on our announce team

Hood: Idiot

~Andrea almost seems shocked that she pulled it off. Bob is on the mat, reaching for his back. Andrea gets to her feet and has her hand raised…she’s smiling, overcome with joy over the huge victory. The Craze Title is handed to her…she holds it up in triumph as the fans on the roof chant ‘ANDREA!’~

Smith: What a warrior! A great Craze Champion!

Hood: You know who would have made a better Craze Champion? Bob Grenier

~A few medics rush in, asking Bob if he needs help. Bob tells them to fuck off. He sits up and backslides into a corner, watching Andrea. He shoots her the middle finger. She ignores his act of derision. Belvedere furtively slips the tag title in, through the ropes, to Bob, who clutches it, wincing. The man is drenched in sweat, his back appears to be fucked up…he’s tasting bitter defeat…but, he’s got another match this evening, and he realizes this. He slides out of the ring and walks, painfully down the aisle. People throw trash at him…he pays it little mind. He reaches the backstage area and vanishes. Andrea continues to soak in the fans cheers. The people on the street throw their hands in the direction of the screen, unhappy with the result~

Smith: These old fans may not like it…but that face, the face of Andrea Hernandez represents part of this company’s future

Hood: Man, Bob doesn’t look in good shape. He’s still got to defend those tag titles tonight with Vargas against Lurrr and PerZag

Smith: Yea, that match isn’t far away, either.

~Andrea continues to celebrate when some kind of black tarp drops from the chamber hanging overhead, covering the ring. The crowd quickly goes quiet, only the quiet sounds of questions and confusion being heard. After a moment a low, dark, scratchy voice is heard. it is the same voice as the Hooded Figure from the week before~

Hooded Figure: I… Have been… AWAKENED!!!

Smith: What’s going on?

Hood: Maybe its that jagermeister guy again.

Smith: I doubt it.

~The tarp drops from the chamber, revealing the ring. The crowd stirs for a moment, not noticing that the Hooded Figure now stands behind Andrea in the ring. Andrea is too confused by the blackout to notice. After another moment, the crowd sees the figure and begin yelling to Andrea to turn around. She begins to slowly turn around, but another tarp drops, covering the ring

Hood: It IS the jagermeister guy! HOW MANY TARPS DOES THIS FUCKING GUY HAVE?

Smith: Lets just not jump to conclusions.

Hooded Figure: My wrath… WILL BE FELT!!!

~The second tarp drops from the bottom of the chamber, revealing the ring yet again. The crowd gasps in shock as Andrea lays unconscious in the center of the ring, covered in broken pieces of a Jagermeister bottle and drenched in the Jagermeister itself.

Hood: See! I told you!

Smith: Who is the jagermeister individual and why are they targeting the Craze division?

Hood: I don’t know. Maybe they are just drunk and doing stupid shit?

Smith: I’m sure there’s more to it than that

Hood: Around here? Meh, I doubt it

~The scenes opens up with Nanook and Bester at the mall! Bester is carrying a bag from lady foot locker and he and Nanook are slowly making their way through the mall to their next store~

“Sears?” Bester asks. Nanook just glares at him.

“No!”

“JCPenney?”

“Jesus! Best! This chick isn’t 60! There is nothing there for this high class broad.”

“Old Navy?”

“Holy crap Best! She’s not a hippie! She shaves her armpits, I’m willing to bet she shaves something else too.”

“Like her legs?”

“Yeah! Her legs.”

“Well where are we going? I got her 4 pair of shoes. A hiking shoe. A running shoe. A walking shoe and pretty shoes.”

“Best! I never meet this girl, but I know she’s a classy bitch.”

“Mister Nanook…”

“I know! I know. A girl like her, she only shops at one place. Just look at what she wears to ring! I know what she’s into. I’ve got just the place.”

“Okay…..I trust you Mister Nanook.”

“And here we are!”

~Nanook stops in front of a store front. Bester looks at it.~

“Are you sure?”

“100% Best. We will find a couple of shirts, short skirts and fishnet, lots and lots of fishnet here. Come on!”

~Nanook walks into a Hot Topic. After thinking about, Bester follows him…….~

~ Kitty Petrova sits in her usual perch backstage, atop one of the equipment boxes with her back against the wall. A set of rosary beads are twined around her fingers, the crucifix dangling against her bare arm as she puts her clasped hands against her lips. For a moment it seems like she’s praying before she looks up, opening her eyes. ~

Petrova: Here we are. The rockets are ready to fire. The claws are out. The metaphorical bullet is already in the chamber and we’re staring down that darkened barrel, waiting for the explosion that will definitively end… something. My streak. Your championship reign. All the marbles, Ed. Can you handle the pressure?

~ She sighs. ~

Petrova: I feel like the bad guy here, pointing out all your glaring defects. Now I feel like saying some clichéd movie villain nonsense, saying something like stupid about how we’re meeting under dire circumstances.

~ She shakes her head, rolling her eyes. ~

Petrova: Maybe it’s not that trite. Maybe I’m more like John McClane on the walkie-talkie, playing John Wayne and telling you how your guys are dying one by one. I like that image better. Your guys are dying off, Ed. And by guys I mean fans – you remember them, right? They used to look up to you but now those gaggles of morons who salivate over your every word are dwindling. They have been since you went all Patrick Swayze on them – I mean your little ghost act, sweetie.

~ She pauses, her jaw twitching as she clenches her teeth for a few seconds, trying to keep her tone civil.~

Petrova: Fire burns, it consumes. It’s a lot like fame in that regard, isn’t it? It’s getting too hot for you, I know. I can tell. I can see you sweating.

~ Her eyes drop to the silver rosary beads wrapped tightly between her fingers, the digits purple with the lack of circulation. ~

Petrova: I know what I need to do. I know what you need to do as well. What you should be doing. Pray, sweetie. Pray for mercy. Pray for peace. Pray for a teaspoon of actual wrestling skill. Make things right with the spirit in the sky.

~ She starts to slowly unwind the beads, letting the feeling come back to her fingers. ~

Petrova: I’m back on top of my game. I’ve proven that I haven’t missed a step and so far 2019 has been a good year for me. I need to calm myself, convince myself you didn’t meant to insult me every single time you’ve opened your ignorant mouth. I need to tamp down this anger before I make a mistake out there – before I kill you. I’m not joking, Ed. I seriously want you to die out there.

~ She starts twisting the beads around her other hand, her eyes fixed on them as she continues talking.~

Petrova: I want to cement my legacy here for years to come. I know I have to be a good girl to make it to the Hall of Fame – believe me, it’s on the bucket list. So is using your championship as a stepping stone to the next level. I want to hold the highest honor. And I will. I know I’ve gotta follow the rules to get to the top. I know that but I’ve got 100 different ways to beat you running in my head and I’m prepared to use them all. I just can’t… I won’t make any promises about your health. I won’t guarantee you’ll be in any condition for invoking that rematch clause.

~ She chuckles again, the sound coming out breathlessly. ~

Petrova: I know in my heart that I’m better than you. And deep down everybody else knows it too. I’m not setting any limits on what I’m gonna accomplish in this industry – never have and never will. This is my moment to own completely.

~ Her left hand is wrapped in the beads now, tight enough that her fingers are white. She flexes her fingers and the rosary explodes, beads scattering everywhere. ~

Petrova: I have no intentions of leaving tonight without that belt around my waist, coated in your blood. Feel the fear, Ed. Cool the jets. You’re outclassed and you hate me for it – I know you do. And I forgive you for that little lapse – I’m sure the three fans you’ll have left after tonight will too.

~ She smirks, staring down at the tiny figure of Jesus on the cross resting in her palm. ~

Petrova: You’ll be a martyr, just like him. I promise you that.

~ She smirks, tossing the crucifix aside. ~

Petrova: Bring the jet fuel, Ed. Fire up those rockets and you burn hard. Fly high. When it’s all said and done, I’m going reduce you to a pile of ashes, broken and empty-handed. I am the fire and hell hath no fury quite like me.

~We cut back to the announce team~

Smith: Kitty is ready, Hood

Hood: I’ll say…Ed’s gotta get serious or else his title reign is gonna come to an end

Smith: Indeed…Petrova is as talented as they come. This will be a huge test for Ed later this evening. However, next up we have the OCW Tag Team…

Hood: WHAT?!

Smith: Yes, I know

Hood: Bob’s got to come back out here IMMEDIATELY? WEAK ASS BOOKING!!!

Smith: The pitfall of double booking

OCW Tag Team Championship
Bob Grenier & Chad Vargas (3-0) vs. Lurrr & PerZag (1-0)

~The crowd remains WHITE hot from what’s taken place thus far this evening (thus, this, yikes). The SPICE GIRLS is blasting over the rooftop PA. The fans on the street are like “da fuck?” A few of them are like “Man that Posh spice was hot…” the rest mostly agree. The fans on the roof are dancing to the music…Petia nods along, saying, “Sporty Spice, so strong, so legit, so true.” Everyone agrees with his sentiment. The entire roof is imbibed with GIRL POWER. And, well, it comes to an immediate halt as “Needle and the Spoon” – Lynyrd Skynyrd hits! The fans are perturbed…why did they ruin the empowering atmosphere? Petia sits down, arms folded. The fans on the street go wild…they’ve been saved! Vargas emerges from the back with Bob Grenier, favoring his back, following along. The fans on the roof start to boo upon recognizing the two most insensitive, racist, xenophobic, homophobic shit heads in OCW history. Vargas looks around, disgusted. They reach the ring. Vargas rolls in under the bottom rope. Grenier gingerly makes his way up the steps, taking his time to get through the ropes. Belvedere hasn’t even had time to clear his throat yet! Vargas yanks the mic from Belvedere and tells the guy to ‘HIT THE BRICKS’. Belvedere is no fool, he does as commanded. Vargas gets on the mic~

Vargas: Spice Girls? Fucking SPICE GIRLS at an OCW event? Did Dangerous Dan transition from wrestler to DJ? What’s next, that cock sucker Elton John?

~Boooooo. The crowd is IRATE~

Vargas: I’ve had just about enough of this 2019 OCW bullshit. Grenier should be the OCW Craze Champion but, instead, we’ve got some cunt named Andrea Ramirez running around with one of this prestigious company’s belts. Disgusting.

~More boos! People begin throwing things in the ring. A riot appears close to breaking out~

Vargas: Haha, look at all these [censored], Bob! They can’t throw far enough to reach us. Fucking pussies. I’d wipe my…

~BOOM! Vargas is suddenly hit directly in the forehead with something small, and hard. He looks down, spotting an Elizabeth Warren autographed Tomahawk. He’s FURIOUS. He kicks it out of the ring and brings the mic to his lips. BOOOO. He pauses…he lowers his head, he chews on his words for a few moments before finally speaking~

Vargas: You want to throw bullshit liberal tomahawks at me? Fine. Great job. Congratulations. You’re fucking actions have just cost you tonight’s Tag Title match.

~Vargas drops the mic. An audible ‘bang’ is heard as it hits the mat. Vargas says “Come on, Bob.” Bob is in so much pain that he puts up no resistance. He follows Vargas out of the ring. The crowd goes quiet, wondering what the catch is…they begin to realize Vargas isn’t screwing around…so they boo louder than before. A few fans try to hop the railing, but they are snuffed out by security~

Smith: What are they doing? Leaving?!

Hood: Can you blame them? These two are universal treasures! They shouldn’t have to endure this type of torture. First the spice girls and then an Elizabeth Warren tomahawk? WEAK ASS BOOKING.

~Vargas and Grenier are halfway up the aisle. Vargas pauses and gets into a shouting match with another one of these gender neutral individuals. Vargas yells “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU? A MAN? A WOMAN?” The person yells back, “At least I’m comfortable in being an individual rather than allowing myself to be grouped into a patriarchal category!” Vargas is like “The fuck?” He reaches over and grabs the individual by the crotch. He starts to laugh, “Haha, it’s a dude with a tiny dick.” Bob cracks a smile…but he’s still in a ton of pain. This act, unfortunately, is caught on all the OCW tvs…so the fans are ready to riot~

Smith: That is a major violation of human rights! I am disgusted!

Hood: If the fan would cough he might end up getting a clean bill of health out of all this.

Smith: Not funny.

GUESS WHO’S BACK
Smith: It’s LURRR!

Hood: Oh no…don’t tell me he’s gone liberal soft.

Smith: I think he just wants to ensure this match goes on as planned!

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

~The crowd goes wild! Lurrr and PerZag step out from backstage with fire in their eyes. They are ready to FIGHT. Vargas releases the fan and turns, staring down the challengers. Lurrr removes his cowboy hat and throws it into the crowd. PerZag removes a Shakespearean hat from his head and throws it into the crowd. The fans chant “YES!” PerZag and Lurrr look at one another, they nod, and charge at the tag team champions!! A brawl breaks out in the aisleway~

Smith: Total chaos has broken down! We don’t even know what the match stipulation is!

Hood: Well I don’t see any fucking acid around the ring…so I think we can rule that one out.

Smith: Hold on, Hood. I’m receiving information…looks like we’ll be handling the voting.

~Lurrr and Vargas are going at it, trading punches back and forth. Grenier tries to brawl with PerZag, but his back is seizing up. PerZag takes advantage, running Grenier over with a clothesline!! Grenier falls, hard in the aisle way which does nothing to soothe his aching back. PerZag turns around and delivers a roundhouse kick to the back of Chad’s head! Vargas stumbles forward…Lurrr steps back and smacks Vargas in the jaw with THE WAKE UP CALL!! Vargas falls down…the tag champs are out!! The crowd is going wild! A millennial crowd cheering LURRR…who would have thought? Smith’s voice echoes throughout the venue~

Smith: I hate to interrupt the proceedings…but we need to cast a vote on the match!

Hood: Weak ass…

Smith: Quiet, Hood! Unfortunately we were unable to procure a license to bring ACID into this event, legally. So that stipulation is out. To make things fair, we removed the ladder match from our list of options…not sure why…

Hood: Because Mario and Cyanide don’t want a ladder match coming on before their…

Smith: RUMOR AND INNUENDO. Anyway, everyone pull out your cell phone and please cast a vote…this will either be Grenier and Chad’s choice…a 30 minute iron man match…OR it will be Lurrr and PerZag’s choice…a falls count anywhere contest! You may begin voting…NOW.

~The fans remove their phones and vote. Smith quiets the main mic~

Hood: This is WEAK…Vargas and Grenier are already laid out. If it’s Falls Count Anywhere…

Smith: Relax, Hood. It could be a 30 minute iron man match.

~The buzzer goes off and the results are revealed~

Smith: Oh my.

Hood: I fucking told you!

Smith: Some interesting results.

Hood: How in the FUCK did Vargas and Grenier get LESS than zero? WEAK ASS VOTING.

~The crowd goes wild!! Lurrr yells for Scruff! He hops on top of Vargas for the pin. Scruff runs down the aisle, drops to his knees and makes the count~

1!

2!

Kick Out!!

Smith: Vargas survived!

Hood: Whew…looks, I’m a Lurrr fan, we all know that. But that would have been a fucking injustice if Vargas and Grenier dropped the belts due to some weak ass vote.

Smith: Fair enough…but you could argue that their collective attitude is what has brought them to the brink of defeat.

Hood: Cease with the propaganda.

~Lurrr remains focused, slamming his right fist into Chad’s head. PerZag throws a few well timed boots into Chad’s chest, helping Lurrr keep the Confederate Icon down. Grenier slowly rises, behind the action, nearest ringside. He removes his Tag belt. He looks at PerZag, straightens up, winces, swallows the pain and charges forward, smacking Zag in the back of the head with the faceplate!! PerZag stumbles forward, falling to his knees. Lurrr looks up. Grenier slings the belt at Lurrr…Lurrr ducks and rolls out of the way. Bob pulls his belt back in and turns around. Lurrr pops to his feet and throws THE WAKE UP CALL…Grenier ducks. He spins around, looking for a belt shot to the back of Lurrr’s head…Lurrr turns around and catches the belt shot with his hands. Lurrr manages to rip the title free and kick Grenier in the gut! Bob doubles over…Lurrr reaches back with the belt and starts to whip Grenier across the back! The crowd goes wild~

Smith: Lurrr is on fire! The guy can taste championship gold!

Hood: Sucks that Bob is only at, like fifty percent. Why the fuck is this match DIRECTLY after his previous match?

Smith: The way the card fell, Hood.

Hood: Bullshit.

~Bob reaches all fours and starts to crawl away. Lurrr, reaching back with the belt hesitates…he watches as Bob scurries to the ring and lowers his guard. He starts to laugh at the OCW legend. Vargas pulls himself up using the barricade. He stands behind Lurrr. The fans yell for Lurrr to turn around…Lurrr finally does and eats a belt shot to the face, knocking the original OCW legend to the ground!!! Lurrr drops Bob’s title belt to the ground. Vargas, holding his half of the tag titles, stands over the fallen legend. Bob sits up against the steps, resting his aching back. Vargas stomps on Lurrr with fury! He drops to his knees and places the plate of his belt into Lurrr’s face, pressing down as hard as he can, talking shit. Lurrr’s legs kick as he tries to fight free. We spot Zag in the background beginning to stir~

Smith: Vargas is back in this and he is not happy.

Hood: Never piss off a Confederate Man who is forced to spend time in San Francisco.

Smith: A recipe for apoplectic results?

Hood: I don’t know about the end of the world but it’ll certainly make the guy super angry.

~PerZag reaches his feet, he rubs the back of his head, feeling a knot. The longer her rubs it the more pissed he becomes. He heads over and grabs Vargas from behind, fish hooking both sides of Chad’s mouth with his hands. He yanks Chad off of Lurrr with vicious intent. Chad tries to fight Zag off, but Zag’s hands are in his mouth, deep, yanking the sides of his mouth wide open. Zag begins to head butt Vargas in the back of the skull…he does this repeatedly until Vargas slows…quits fighting. Zag knees him in the back. He hooks Chad’s head under his arm, lifts him up and drops him with an inverted suplex on the lightly covered rooftop aisle!!! Vargas is face down, not moving. Zag goes to check on Lurrr~

Smith: PerZag has been unleashed!

Hood: He better not get too rowdy or we’ll send him back to Australia with the rest of his criminal ancestors.

Smith: More generalization on your end…I’d think after making it halfway through Social Justice you might have learned a smidge of compassion.

Hood: The only compassion I have is for myself being surrounded by all these weirdos.

~Lurrr sits up and tells Zag he’s fine and sorta yells at him to ‘stay focused’. Zag nods and sees Grenier seated up against the steps, favoring his back. Zag charges forward and goes for a spear! Grenier is like “Is this guy fucking crazy?” Bob moves and Zag runs head first into the steps!! The top portion separates from the bottom! Zag is stretched out over the bottom portion of steps, motionless. Lurrr, meanwhile, gathers both tag belts, one in each hand…he looks at his reflection in one, then the other, and nods. The vision is clear. He heads for Vargas. Chad is trying to push up to all fours. Lurrr drops to one knee and encourages Vargas to get up…Chad does…he looks up and Lurrr crushes his head in between both belts!! Vargas flattens back out. Lurrr clasps both titles together and tosses them to the side. He rolls Vargas onto his back and makes the cover~

1!

2!

NO!

Smith: Grenier with the break up!

Hood: Surprised he made it that far that quick with a ‘bad’ back…fake news?

Smith: Given what we saw a few minutes ago against Andrea – I doubt it.

~Grenier drives and elbow into Lurrr’s back, breaking up the pin. Lurrr rolls off Grenier, reaching for his back. Grenier sits forward, breathing heavily, trying to sequester the pain he’s feeling. Grenier looks over his shoulder at Vargas. He pats Chad on the chest, trying to wake him up. Vargas snares Grenier’s arm with aggressive intent…Bob yells “WHOA!” Chad snaps out of his hazed state and sees he’s holding his partner’s arm. He let’s go and slowly sits up. He gets to his feet and helps Bob up. PerZag is still laid out over the bottom portion of the steps. Lurrr continues to hold his back. Vargas talks strategy with his partner~

Smith: LurrZag is in trouble!

Hood: Fucking LurrZag…can’t we give them a different name…you know, like “Lurrr and that other guy”?

Smith: Believe it or not but PerZag has accomplished about as much in OCW as Lurrr.

Hood: Now you’re talking crazy!

~Grenier looks at Lurrr and says “Let’s fuck his back up.” Misery loves company. Vargas kicks Lurrr in the face. He snares Lurrr by his hair and hoists him for a powerbomb. Bob stands in position…Vargas look at him, “you fucking sure?” Bob nods. Vargas shakes his head, “You’re one crazy fucker, Bob.” Vargas picks Lurrr up and throws him at Bob with a powerbomb…Bob leaps up and drops Lurrr with a BACKSTABBER on the way down!!! Lurrr yells out in pain, reaching for his back!! Bob does the same thing, kicking his legs and writhing around. Vargas looks at both veterans, holding their backs. He stretches his out and smiles. He grabs both belts and heads for PerZag~

Smith: Why isn’t he trying to pin Lurrr?

Hood: I think he knows Lurrr is unpinnable. He’s going after the weak link…the kangaroo fucker…PerZag.

Smith: Lurrr is FAR from unpinnable.

Hood: True, Dean isn’t running things anymore.

~Chad slides one of the titles under PerZag’s face…so, it’s wedged between Zag’s cheek and the metal top of the bottom portion of the ring steps. Vargas takes the second title and sets it, face down, on top of the other side of Zag’s head. He hops onto the apron and takes a few steps back. The crowd rises…they start to say ‘no…no…no!!’ Vargas takes off running and leaps into the air, bringing his knees to his chest…he comes crashing down and…misses! Zag slides back, off the steps!! Vargas’ feet SLAM into the steps, jarring his knees!! He dives forward, tucking his head and rolling up against the barricade! He holds both knees, grimacing. PerZag holds onto one belt while the other slips off the steps, lying up against them. The crowd breathes a sigh of relief~

Smith: Another night, another attempted murder.

Hood: That’s the last time you’ll see Vargas jump that high. Not because he can’t but because at his age…it’s too much fucking work.

Smith: Especially when you miss.

~Grenier pulls himself up using the barricade lining the aisle. Lurrr does the same. Both Hall of Famers reach their feet at the same time. Grenier walks, gingerly over to Lurrr with his hand balled into a fist. Lurrr blocks a punch! Lurrr drills Grenier with a straight right hand! Grenier staggers backward, down the aisle. Lurrr hits him again and again…Bob’s back finally hits the apron…Lurrr charges forward and clothesline’s Bob!! His body jerks onto the apron and rolls inside the ring. Lurrr slaps PerZag in the face, to wake him up. Zag nods, slowly returning to his feet. Vargas is standing, near the barricade. Lurrr hops over the steps and delivers THE WAKE UP CALL!! Vargas flips over the barricade, into the crowd. Lurrr pauses, for a moment before seeing Zag slide into the ring. He follows suit, leaving Vargas behind~

Smith: Another potential pin attempt bypassed…these veterans understand the value of time.

Hood: The fuck does that mean?

Smith: Lurrr did the math…in order to pin Vargas he would have had to hop over the barricade…covered Vargas and then waited for Scruff to join them. The likelihood of Vargas staying down after all that time is pretty slim.

Hood: Are you sure Lurrr just didn’t want to come into contact with these millennial fans?

~PerZag looks down at Bob, who is on his back looking pretty rough. Zag stomps Bob in the gut. Bob rolls over, giving up his injured back. Zag takes the tag title and drops it across Bob’s back!! Grenier yells out in pain. Lurrr motions for Zag to pick Bob up. Zag does…he lifts Bob up and drops him across his knee, back first. Lurrr heads toward the nearest corner and climbs it pretty quickly for an old guy. He reaches the top and hops off with an elbow, striking the edge of the bone right into Bob’s throat!! Bob flips over, landing front first onto the mat. Lurrr rolls him over and makes the cover…Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

Kick Out!!

Smith: Kick out by Bob! You may not like him…but you cannot argue that the man is full of fight.

Hood: Aka drugs.

Smith: I prefer to call it fight.

Hood: Aka drugs.

~Lurrr remains on his knees and strikes Bob in his scarred forehead a few times, working on what he deems the ‘weak link’ of the team. Vargas is still nowhere to be found…that was one hell of a superkick. Lurrr returns to his feet…he and Zag yanks Bob up and shove him in front of them. Lurrr throws a kick into Bob’s back! PerZag does the same…they rotate back and forth back and forth back and forth…Bob tries to go down, but they won’t let him, grabbing his arms and keeping him on his feet. Bob’s legs are trembling, his back is quivering…his body is on the verge of rejection. Lurrr spins him around…he kicks Bob in the gut. Grenier stumbles forward. Lurrr looks at Zag…the hook him, together and lift Bob up, double powerbombing him into the corner!! Bob falls forward, right into their arms…the hook him, lifts him up and drop him with a double suplex!!! The fans (even though they hate him) cringe. This is too much. PerZag jumps on Bob for the pin. Lurrr stands back, slightly annoyed but…he’s gonna let it pass. Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

3!

NO!

Smith: The Confederate Icon breaks it up!

Hood: Vargas lives!

Smith: He’s got to get Bob out of there…Bob’s broken down, he’s finished tonight.

Hood: I think he originally threw his back out nailing that broad from the kush factory.

~Vargas, using the tag belt left outside, smashed it into PerZag’s head, breaking up the fall. Lurrr hops over and stomps on Vargas, angrily. He yanks Vargas to his feet and whips him into the ropes…Chad bounces off (title still in his possession)…Lurrr throws the WAKE UP CALL…Vargas, while running, holds the belt up! Lurrr’s foot slams right into the belt!! He yells out, clutching his knee, turning his back to Chad who dives into the back of Lurrr’s knee with the belt, taking the original legend down! Lurrr is down, PerZag is down, Bob is down…The Confederate Icon rises to his feet…the fans boo his presence. He holds the tag title up and yells out “KING KONG AIN’T GOT SHIT ON ME”~

Smith: Vargas standing tall!

Hood: That’s great but this match is far from over.

Smith: Indeed.

~Vargas snaps to and grabs the second belt. He helps Bob to his feet. Grenier motions toward the corner…Chad is like “Oh shit, you’re fucked up” dragging his partner to a corner and placing him atop the second buckle. Bob sits there, arms draped over the ropes, leaning forward, attempting to take the pressure off his back. Chad hands him the title and says, “in case you need it…I’ll try and take care of it from here.” Bob half way nods. Chad turns back around, facing a two on one situation. PerZag is up first…Chad runs him over with a belt shot. Lurrr is up next…Chad runs him over with a belt shot. PerZag gets up again…same thing…Lurrr, up again, same thing…both Lurrr and Zag are down with a very confident, powerful looking Chad Vargas continuing to stand tall~

Smith: Vargas is establishing his dominance in this match…now he just needs to secure the victory while he’s got this momentum.

Hood: I’d probably try to pin Zag but knowing Chad…he’ll want to pin Lurrr.

Smith: I believe that.

~The fans react…Vargas, a veteran of FAN REACTION, turns and sees RICK MATHIS heading to the ring~

Smith: Oh no…

Hood: Oh yes! It’s Lurrr’s insurance policy…the seven foot monster Rick Mathis!

~Vargas is like “fucking really?” He stands, ready…belt in hand. Mathis steps up onto the apron…Vargas rushes at him, swinging with the belt. Mathis catches the belt and rips it from Chad’s arms! He wraps his hand around Chad’s throat. Bob suddenly flies into view…he leaps off the top rope and dropkicks Mathis in the head!! Mathis falls off the apron to the ground…Bob lands on the apron, bounces off and comes to rest on the outside. Again, the fans cringe…Bob’s body is really taking a beating~

Smith: Bob may be in traction tomorrow.

Hood: Try TONIGHT.

~Vargas turns around only to get a kick in the gut by Zag. PerZag hooks Vargas and lifts him up for a suplex. Lurrr is standing behind PerZag…PerZag falls back, Lurrr catches Vargas onto his shoulder and drops him, shoulder first across his knee! Vargas grips his shoulder yelling “FUCK!” Lurrr locates one of the titles (the only one in the ring) and holds it, poised for Vargas to get to his feet~

Smith: I have to say…PerZag and Lurrr have shown tremendous team work.

Hood: Yep…I think Lurrr’s about ready to kick that belt into Chad’s face.

Smith: That would likely end the match.

~Chad gets to his feet, still favoring the shoulder. Lurrr throws him the title and lunges ahead for THE WAKE UP CALL. Chad ducks! PerZag, back on his feet, is facing Chad…Vargas throws the title at Zag, who has to catch it. Vargas spins around, grabs Lurrr and drops him with The Stroke!!! He pops to his feet only to receive a BEAUTIFUL dropkick from Zag!! Vargas hits the mat and rolls out of the ring. PerZag is left standing, in the ring, holding the tag belt with Lurrr down at his feet. Rick Mathis looks into the ring and his eyes bulge~

Smith: You…you don’t think.

Hood: Does Mathis think PerZag laid Lurrr out?

Smith: He might!

~Mathis steps onto the apron and over the ropes. He walks up and grabs Zag by the throat! Zag looks up at him, shocked. Mathis points at Lurrr and yells in Zag’s face. Zag tries to answer, but can’t…his vocal cords are getting crushed. Chad sits up on the outside, laughing. Something catches his eye…he shakes his head ‘no’…but he can’t get the message across to BOB who is sliding in the ring with his belt in hand. Bob struggles to his feet and runs up behind Mathis. Zag musters up the strength to shove Mathis out of the way only to get BLASTED in the head with the title! He falls through the ropes, landing on the apron. Mathis lumbers around and charges at Bob…Grenier backs up, goading Mathis in…he reaches the ropes, drops down (pulling on the top rope) which sends Mathis tumbling over the top rope to the outside. Grenier slowly makes his way back up…a few of the fans almost seem to admire Bob…the guy is a warrior~

Smith: Some miscommunication may have cost Lurrr and PerZag a potential win there.

Hood: Yea, Rick’s used to Lurrr riding solo. This tag team nonsense has him confused.

Smith: Evidently.

~Grenier heads for Lurrr…he bends down to pick him up but Lurrr jams a thumb into Bob’s eye!! Bob stumbles backward. Lurrr lifts his legs up and performs a KIP UP! The fans go wild! The old man still has it!! He measures Bob up and throws THE WAKE UP CALL! Bob dodges the kick!! Lurrr hits the ropes and comes to a stop…he turns around…Bob charges in with a clothesline that takes both men over the top, to the outside~

Smith: And now the only person near the ring is PerZag!

Hood: Yea and his brains are scrambled.

~Vargas stands on the outside. PerZag slowly rolls into the ring…we see his nose is busted. His eyes are glazed…he looks concussed. Vargas slides into the ring. PerZag gets to his feet. Vargas grabs him and hooks him for THE STROKE! PerZag blocks it! He looks for a Russian Leg Sweep…Vargas reaches over and grabs Zag’s busted nose! Zag yells out in pain…Vargas takes him down with THE STROKE!! Vargas rolls him over for the pin…Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

3!!!!

~The bell rings~

Belvedere: Here are your winners…AND STILL OCW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS…BOB GRENIER & CHAD VARGAS!!!!!

Smith: Vargas did it! He pinned PerZag to retain the titles!

Hood: Man…somehow, with an injured partner, he managed to pull it off.

> Smith: Some might say he received an unexpected, accidental assist from Rick Mathis.

Hood: Yea man you know PerZag won’t be happy about that.

Smith: Indeed.

~Lurrr slides into the ring to check on Zag. He looks around, wondering what happened. Vargas hops out of the ring with both belts. He helps his partner up. Grenier can barely walk. Chad throws Bob’s arm around his shoulder and helps him toward the back…they walk around Mathis, who is beginning to recover. The fans boo and throw trash at them. Vargas talks shit and brags…he tries to hold both arms up, but Bob nearly collapses…so he holds onto Bob, preventing Chad from giving a fully arrogant celebration~

Smith: These all-star teams can either gel or they can rebel.

Hood: Wow, look at fucking Longfellow sitting next to me.

Smith: I’m just saying!

~Lurrr continues to check on Zag. Mathis watches from outside the ring with a somewhat concerned look.~

Smith: I don’t know what’s going to become of LurrrZag…but they’ve got some issues to work out regarding the ending of this match.

Hood: Yep, Lurrr brought Mathis back into the fold and it may have cost them the Tag Titles.

Smith: I’d go so far as to say it DID cost them the titles.

Hood: Lurrr just may be destined to ride solo. Nothing wrong with that.

Smith: Not at all.

~Vargas jaw jacks with more fans along the aisle. He beats his chest with his non-Bob arm, taunting a mixed-race millennial couple. Unlike the other fans, however, these two don’t seem to be hearing what Chad is saying. They stand like statues, staring at Chad and taking his verbal abuse. Vargas gets a “the fuck?” look on his face as he points at the couple, asking Bob “What the actual fuck is wrong with these two?” Grenier gets enough wherewithal to look up at the fans but then suddenly falls backward onto his ass is the aisleway, eyes wide and bloodshot, as if he’s seen a ghost or someone who didn’t enjoy weed. Vargas angrily yells “shit, not you too, Bob!”~

Hood: Now what the hell is wrong with Bob?

Smith: Grenier looks petrified! Those fans seem to have… oh my God, look, Hood!

Hood: GAHHH! Holy shit!

~Vargas irately turns back to the silent fans, only to find that both now don blue masquerade masks adorned by a single white snowflake. And they aren’t alone. The fans to their sides also slide on identical masks with only the shape of the snowflake setting them apart. The masks spread like a virus until the entire aisleway section in front of Chad and Bob is filled with hundreds of the masked millennials. The rest of the crowd catches on to what’s going on and start to wildly cheer around them. Vargas slowly backs away, stunned, as Bob struggles back to his feet. Chad, however, shakes the cobwebs out and gets some of his SOUTHERN SWAGGER back, yelling out “FUCK IT” and grabbing one of the millennials by the shirt collar, pulling him over the rail and stomping away at him!~

Smith: Vargas is assaulting a fan!!! Someone get security out here and stop this!!! Hood: Forget that! Someone protect Vargas and Bob!!!

~Hood may have the right of it as the millennial faction doesn’t stand back and turn the other cheek for long. Dozens of the masked army leap over the rails and take to pummeling Vargas and Grenier as the crowd explodes into cheers! Both Chad and Bob start throwing haymakers in full survival mode, but the numbers keep growing as the Tag Team Champions are devoured in a SWARM of fists and kicks in the aisleway. The masked young people overtake the two men by sheer numbers, Bob and Chad disappearing from sight amidst the crowd~

Smith: The Tag Champs have been engulfed by these… these…

Hood: Say it, Smith. SNOWFLAKES! Wait, you don’t think…

~Before Hood can finish his thought, the Polyphonic Spree’s “Hold Yourself Up” rises from the rooftop, singing to the heavens~

Hood: Fuuuuck… I’m leaving. I’m done.

Smith: Where are you going to go? We’re on a roof!

~The hypnotic music causes all of the millennials to turn to the entrance, heralding the arrival of the glaringly-white figureheads of WHITE SKY. Robin Toth swings the sparkling cape on his tuxedo gallantly, producing his conductor’s wand from inside, a toothy smile on his lips under his own snowflake mask. The silent YUKI-ONNA looms ominously as ever, her robes billowing in the rooftop wind. Tonight, they cut the pageantry short, as Toth points his wand at Vargas and Bob, causing the White Sky members to part, making way for the pair to walk. We can see the Tag Champs struggling to get up. Bob looks like he’s been in a car wreck and Vargas doesn’t look much better. The showman Toth circles Grenier rhythmically as Bob reaches out to get his bearings. With a flash of his cape, Toth SMASHES Grenier in the face with a spinning backfist, not once stopping his melodic steps to the music. Bob’s face hits the aisle. Vargas sees the ghostly woman approaching him, and in true Vargas fashion, spits out as much fire as he can muster in this state including “CUNT”, “JAP,” and something else that may or may not have been Japanese but was most definitely racist. YUKI-ONNA stops in front of Chad, producing a hand from her robes with a small object nestled inside—a blue glass lotus flower. Vargas, indignant, smacks the flower out of her hand, causing it to smash into pieces in the aisleway. He does not count on YUKI-ONNA grabbing his wrist in the process. Before he can react, Yuki pulls Chad by the wrist and DRILLS him in the face with her knee, the Confederate Icon collapsing among the broken lotus shards~

Smith: Good GOD! White Sky just decimated Grenier and Vargas!

Hood: Quiet!! I don’t want them to know we’re up here!

Smith: Wouldn’t they get suspicious if there were no commentators on this…

Hood: SHHHHHHH…. Fuck, even worse. They’re going to the ring.

Smith: You’re right. This might get uglier quickly.

~Lurrr and a recovering PerZag, who have been watching from the ring, quickly rise to their feet as they see Toth signal for the army to move. Mathis stands at ringside, trying to block their way, but it is futile. Without a moment’s hesitation, the mass of White Sky millennials make a beeline for the ring as the rest of the fans in attendance go crazy. They quickly engulf Mathis with punches and kicks and begin sliding in under the ropes in droves. Lurrr begins to fight them off, maybe defending PerZag, maybe to save himself, but the result is the same. PerZag stands but is too spent and is immediately taken down by five or six White Sky members. YUKI-ONNA climbs into the ring herself while Toth is excitedly bounding around at ringside, enjoying the carnage~

Smith: Not again! That’s four former World Champions that White Sky have assaulted! I thought they said they were all about non-violence and peaceful opposition!

Hood: I don’t know what they’re about and I don’t want to… but I think our “friend” is about to tell us.

~Toth grabs a mic from ringside and also grabs a fan’s cell phone. He turns the camera to face him, starting a selfie video as he speaks.~

Robin Toth: AHHH, friends! It is a beautiful day for SOCIAL JUSTICE! We have waited so long for this day, and we are filled up by this beautiful crowd of true believers! Free of judgment. Free of shaming. Free of hatred and bigotry like that which we and Sister Yuki just left, face down in the snow!

~He points the phone camera toward the unconscious Tag Champs, then athletically leaps onto the ring apron, taking a bow afterward and returning the video to his face~

Robin Toth: The winds of revolution are howling, friends, and San Francisco, the freest city in the nation, is but one of the epicenters! What you’ve seen tonight is only a cloud in the Sky. These so-called men represent so very very much of what is making our world a toxic, regressive wasteland!

~Toth points his wand at Vargas, Grenier, PerZag, and Lurrr one-by-one as he admonishes them~

Robin Toth: Bigotry! Drug abuse! Inflated self-worth! Gripping tight to old ideals and failure to let the younger generation take the wheel and lead us to happiness! When the real storm begins, we, Yuki-san, and all our closest friends will be the ones creating a better place for all of you, and these remnants and debris of times past will all blow away. True Social Justice shall reign! Can you FEEL it? We can, friends. Sister Yuki can. And you can too. Because TOGETHER!…

~Many of the fans in attendance finish the “WE ARE THE SKY” mantra, but before the crowd in the ring can, LURRR is back on his feet, fighting back! Toth turns around, a perturbed pout on his lips.~

Smith: Lurrr isn’t dead yet!

Hood: But he must have a deathwish! Get the hell out of there!

~Lurrr decks several of the millennials before he comes face-to-face with YUKI-ONNA and hesitates, on guard for an attack from the masked woman. His hesitation costs him, as he collapses to the mat after being CRACKED in the back of the head by a blunt object… the mask of Robin Toth. Some in the crowd gasp as they see Toth’s full face for the first time, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it at all. In fact, he looks like a relatively normal millennial guy, just like many of them. They start to cheer! Toth smiles his Cheshire grin and taps the mask, a metallic ting coming from it over his microphone. YUKI-ONNA gives him a quiet bow of respect as he puts the mic back to his lips and the phone camera ludicrously close to his face~

Robin Toth: Ahem. As we were saying… TOGETHER!…

White Sky and fans: …WE ARE THE SKY!!!!!

~The Polyphonic Spree theme, which has been playing this whole time, continues as Toth replaces his mask with a chaotic grin and he and YUKI-ONNA lead the brigade of masked millennials out of the ring and to the back, leaving a wreckage of bodies in their wake~

Smith: A major message sent tonight by White Sky. This is more than a team…this is a movement

Hood: Coming in here and going after FOUR FORMER OCW CHAMPIONS…takes some balls, man. I didn’t know millennials had balls

Smith: Of course they do, how else are they supposed to procreate?

Hood: I don’t think about things like that

Smith: Tonight just gets wilder and wilder, folks. And we’ve got so much more to come…stay tuned!

~30 minutes later…..~

~Bester comes walking out of Hot Topic a changed man. Why he’s wearing a Megadeth shirt, Rayban shades, even has a Misfits backpack over his shoulder loaded up with all sorts of crap. In his hand is 4 bags just stuffed with all sorts of stuff that no doubt Aubrey Baxter will never wear. A 17 year old goth girl steps to the door and waves at Bester and Nanook with a grin on her face.~

“One more stop Best! Then we’ll head to Twitter’s HQ!”

“One more? Mister Nanook, I spent like my whole paycheck already. If I have to ask Mister Welsch for another pay advance, I think he’ll yell at me.”

“We’ll get you a credit card Bester! This last stop is going to worth it. Trust me!”

“I don’t know…” Bester says but then something catches his eye. In the mall is a small kiosk that sells cheap fake jewelry that looks real. Something catches Bester’s eye. He wanders over to it and sets his bags down.

“Can I help you?” A disinterested young female who works the kiosk says.

“Can I see that?” Bester says.

~The young lady looks at this bracelet and looks at Bester. She rolls her eyes as she opens the glass case and retrieves a gold bracelet.~

“It’s 50 bucks.”

~She says as she hands it to Bester. Bester is looking at this gold bracelet with rubies and (fake) Diamonds on it that spell out I’m Sorry across it. Bester looks up at the young lady.~

“I’ll take it.”

“I knew you would.”

“BESTER!” Nanook shouts out. “COME ON!”

“I’ll be right there Mister Nanook!”

~Bester shouts towards Nanook as he pays for the bracelet. We cut back to ringside~

Smith: Bester having quite the evening

Hood: We really need to make sure this guy is booked from now on. I feel bad for him if THIS is how he spends his free time

Smith: Well he’s in that 32 person tournament which starts next week so, hopefully, if things go well, he’ll be quite busy over the next six weeks. Well, fans, it’s time for our next match this evening…Ed Houston broke through when he defeated Mack O’Connor at Throwback to win the Paradigm Championship…tonight, he faces another wrestler looking to ‘break through’ in the undefeated Kitty Petrova

Hood: For once, Ed’s the hunted

Smith: Indeed…this should be a great one…let’s head down to ringside!

OCW Paradigm Championship
Ed Houston © (19-9) vs. Kitty Petrova (5-0)

~This very PRO millennial crowd is filling up on craft beer. Not much of a surprise. Given the fact the average millennial male weights around 125lbs, a few craft beers is pretty much their limit. So, now they are enjoying some organic, lightly salted crisps and freshly recycled water. Belvedere stands in the ring…he spots a label for recycles water and swallows, hard, preventing the reintroduction of crushed bacon wrapped shrimp. He clears his throat and speaks~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…it is now time for the OCW Paradigm Championship!!

~The fans ‘oohh’ and ‘aahh’…they pull up the OCW app and see the two participants. Immediately they seem to be pro-Petrova. “Her turn.” “yes, her turn.” This, this so much.”~

Belvedere: And now…if you would, please pull up your OCW app and select between a Heli-pad or Russian Chain Match.

~Hood pulls out his phone. He sees Ed’s face over Heli-pad and Kitty’s over Russian Chain. He goes to vote for Kitty. Smith slaps his phone away~

Smith: We can’t vote!

Hood: Oh come on!

~The fans murmur and discuss. The fans below try handing in hand written votes. These votes are rejected. They are starting to get REALLY upset down there. We might have a riot on our hands at some point. Voting continues on. They all look to Petia for advice. Do they vote for Kitty…is it HER time? Or, do they stay away from this Russia match. Petia says something about “collusion”. The fans all nod and begin to vote. A buzzer sounds~

Belvedere: Alright, let’s take a look at the final vote count

~The crowd pops! A helipad match!~

Smith: A helipad match!

Hood: Another OCW first!

Smith: I think these fans were concerned over RUSSIAN COLLUSION

Hood: You can never be too sure these days, Smith

~The sky is beginning to turn. The brightness is starting to fade. We’ve got a few hours of sunlight remaining, but we’re certainly on the downside of the daily cycle. Belvedere, standing in the ring, points toward the roof of the tiny, protruding structure nestled atop the roof serving as the evening’s concession and entrance area. There is a helipad, for some reason. We zoom in and see a giant, blue ‘P’ on the helipad~

Smith: What on Earth?

Hood: The Pope is flying in for Social Justice!

Smith: I don’t think that P stands for Pope…at least, not in the religious sense

Belvedere: The rules of a helipad match are simple. These two competitors will do battle atop a helipad. You may only win via pinfall or submission. The first person to earn a pinfall or submission will be named the winner and walk away with the OCW Paradigm Championship!

~The crowd pops. Petia starts a ‘DOWN WITH RUSSIA’ chant. We see a man at ringside with his shoulders slouched, head hanging…he’s dragging a chain to the backstage area~

Smith: A man known locally as the chainmaster…sadly, his chain will not be used during this match.

Hood: Yea, he custom made that chain for tonight. He had hoped it would be used twice. Oh well, still one more chance!

Smith: Indeed

~ “I Am The Fire” by Halestorm hits. The fans on the roof want to cheer for Kitty but they are very wary over her affiliation with the Russians and, more ominously, Putin. The fans on the street boo her heartily. They are fully aware that she’s a fucking heel. Kitty emerges and takes a breath. She watches as the CHAINMASTER sulks by her. She shakes her head, annoyed her stipulation was not chosen. A few fans yell insults involving Russia. Kitty calls them idiots. She turns and asks an OCW employee how the hell she gets up to the helipad. Security members open a portion of the aisle way and lead Kitty through the crowd, to a ladder~

Smith: For once I don’t blame Kitty’s behavior. These fans obviously aren’t avid watchers of the OCW product.

Hood: Then why are they here?

Smith: I don’t know…it was the thing to do?

Hood: Let’s get some of those fans on the street a seat up here, c’mon!

Smith: I don’t think that’s going to happen, Hood

~Kitty reaches the roof of the small building and walks atop the helipad. The four sides belonging to this rectangular structure are guarded by several OCW security members. This is to prevent someone from going over. Hell, if you go over two of the sides (the narrower portions to this rectangular structure)…you’ll fall off the damn building. In CLASSIC OCW fashion, management did not anticipate the helipad match being selected. Anyway, Kitty stands atop the helipad and limbers up, getting ready for her greatest challenge to date within OCW~

Belvedere: Introducing first, the challenger…from Napa Valley, California…standing 5’6 ½ and weighing in at 125lbs…Kitty Petrova!!!

~A mixed reaction from the roof. An extremely negative reaction down below. A focused, unemotional Kitty continues to stretch, unaffected by all this nonsense. ‘ROCKET MAN’ by Elton John hits. The people on the street go wild with “ED!” chants. The fans on the roof calmly wait before making their decision. Ed emerges with a colorful flag representing the LGBTQ community!! The roof ERUPTS!! A loud, thunderous “FRED!” chant breaks out. Ed looks around…the chant starts to die. Petia stands up and clears his throat, “It’s Ed.” The millennials on the roof explode for the second time with “ED!” chants. Houston nods and smiles, waving the LGBTQ flag around~

Belvedere: From Miami, Florida…standing 5’9 and weighing in at 175lbs…he is a former Craze Champion. He is the final LightWeight Champion in OCW history. He is the current OCW Paradigm Champion…he is The Rocket Man…he is…Ed Houston!!!

~The crowd is insane! “ED! ED! ED! ED!” He runs through them waving the flag around, receiving pats on the back. Fans are in TEARS cheering this true patriot on. He scuttles up the ladder, reaching the roof of the building. Houston stands atop the roof and takes two corners of the flag, pulling them around his neck. The rest of the flag flaps in the breeze like a colorful cape. The fans continue to go BANANAS! More tears are shed. A woman who might identify as a man faints. Kitty stands in the background, arms folded. She isn’t finding any of this endearing~

Smith: Ed certainly knows how to entertain the fans

Hood: This isn’t even pandering…this goes so far beyond that

Smith: How do you know he isn’t a huge supporter of LGBTQ rights?

Hood: I don’t know, maybe he is…maybe that’s why NASA threw his ass out

~We seem to be at the climax of Social Justice hysteria. A true landmark moment in OCW and twitter history. And then…it’s all ruined! Kitty rushes up from behind, slamming her elbow into the back of Ed’s head!!! The crowd BOOOOS. Ed’s flag/cape flies away along an aggressive bay area breeze. It flutters over the roof, floating down toward the fans on the street. One fan, wearing a VARGAS mesh hat looks up and says “It’s one of them queer flags!” He rushes over and snares it from the sky, throwing it into the street and stomping away. Several other CHAD VARGAS fans join in. In fact, it’s only people wearing Vargas stuff destroying the flag. All other fans watch for a second before realizing they want no part of this. They turn and view the giant OCW screen. Kitty has her left arm clenched around Ed’s neck while she throws downward elbow strikes into his chest. The Paradigm Title is still secured around Ed’s waist. The fans on the roof boo and try to throw trash…but the elevated helipad setting is too high. Plus, the wall of security protecting the participants from falling over swat the trash away. We hear a bell ring, signifying that this match is officially underway~

Smith: And we’re underway after Kitty had, apparently seen enough of Ed’s entrance

Hood: Can you blame her? It’s like watching the OSCARS…assuming people still do that – after about fifteen minutes of super rich people sucking each other off you’re like ENOUGH

Smith: I was crushed that Lady GAGA didn’t win for best actress. Robbed.

Hood: Don’t make me throw you over this roof. You know SOMEONE is going over. That someone could be you, Smith

~Ed’s chest becomes red and irritated. Kitty ceases with the strikes and jams her knee into Ed’s back. She interlocks her fingers and yanks back on his chin, applying a ton of pressure to Ed’s neck. The Rocketman winces, placing his palms atop the helipad surface. There’s a quick look in his eyes that seems to say “Oh man that is going to hurt.” Yes, it is an unforgiving surface to wrestle on. Ed may have made a huge mistake. Anyway, Kitty keeps applying the pressure. For once, the entire OCW fan base is united in booing Kitty Petrova~

Smith: Smart strategy to kick things off by Kitty. Keep Ed grounded.

Hood: Yea, I think that was the entire genesis behind her chain match. She does not want the rocket man taking flight

Smith: Nope, that is when Ed is at his most dangerous. However, given the parameters of this helipad match…I’m not sure he’ll be doing much flying

Hood: Yea, what the fuck was Ed thinking?

~Ed throws a leg up, trying to clip Kitty in the head, but she’s able to avoid the impact. She wrenches back, punishing Ed for his attempted offense. Houston grunts and yells out, feeling the strain testing his neck and spine. He starts to turn to his right…Kitty adjusts…Houston jerks to his left, quickly. Kitty’s out of position, allowing Ed the ability to roll onto all fours. Kitty stays in front and applies a face lock. Ed, though, is able to power to his feet. The fans are stomping their feet and cheering the Paradigm Champion on~

Smith: Ed is trying to work his way back to a standing position…even things out here in the early portion of this match

Hood: Yea, he tricked Kitty with that bit of misdirection. You think he was like Maverick from Top Gun while in NASA? A trickster, dangerous pilot?

Smith: I’ve never seen his NASA files, Hood

Hood: Hmm…kinda makes you wonder if they even exist, doesn’t it?

Smith: No, I take his word for it

~Ed fights through Kitty’s pressure and manages to lift her off the helipad. He looks to be going for a Northern Lights Suplex. Kitty flips over and lands on her feet. She’s back to back with Ed. She throws a back elbow…Ed ducks and spins around, crouched, kicking Kitty’s legs out from underneath. She falls back, landing on the helipad!! She grimaces, reaching for her back. The fans in attendance go wild!! Ed pops back to his feet~

Smith: And just like that Ed is in control

Hood: Kitty was smart to gain the early advantage but it didn’t last long.

Smith: Nope. This is a big match for both competitors. If Kitty were to win then she’d cement herself as a top star around here. Ed, meanwhile, continues to rise…a loss would really halt some of that momentum

~Kitty sits up. Ed throws a penalty kick. Kitty ducks and reaches for the back of her head after it smacks against the helipad. Houston spins around…his back is to Kitty. Instinct takes over, he leaps into the air with a standing moonsault. Petrova rolls out of the way and Ed lands SPLAT atop the helipad!!! He rolls around, holding his midsection in pain. The crowd groans and grimaces…that did not sound, nor look pleasing~

Smith: A game of cat and mouse

Hood: Sounds rigged considering Kitty is involved

Smith: Alright…then…how about a game of…

Hood: How about you just call the damn match!

~Petrova doesn’t waste any time in capitalizing atop Ed’s mistake. She takes her legs and wraps them around Ed’s head with a head scissor lock, keeping the rocket man grounded. Ed winces…Kitty’s got some strong thighs. His head is beginning to turn an aggressive shade of pink. His arms are free, so he uses them to try and pry his head free, but Kitty’s legs are too strong~

Smith: We haven’t seen a head scissor in awhile

Hood: For good reason…these moves suck!

Smith: It’s strategy, Hood. She’s trying to keep Ed from utilizing his athleticism. That’s the rocket man’s strength. It’s smart

Hood: WEAK ASS

~Houston’s head is damn near puce. It looks like he could pass out. He lifts his legs up and works them back and forth, gaining some momentum. He then kicks over, flipping backwards, altering the positioning. He gets all the way over with his feet landing atop the helipad. His head is still trapped between Kitty’s legs, but he’s in a far more preferable position. He places his hands and wedges them underneath Kitty’s body. Due to the additional weight he put on while dealing with his MCL sprain, Ed manages to dead lift Kitty off the helipad. He lets out a visceral yell. His entire body is shaking. He’s got Kitty hoisted up. Petrova looks around, realizing a terrible fall is moments away. She throws and elbow into Ed’s ear, shaking his equilibrium. She then rotates her hips and flips Ed over, tossing him across the helipad with a headscissor throw. Houston flips over and lands on his back, sliding a few inches! He reaches behind, feeling for his back and the skin that was savagely ripped free. Kitty is on her knees in a cat like posture, looking in Ed’s direction~

Smith: Ed utilizing all the strength he has to improve his situation and Kitty just tosses him back onto the helipad

Hood: Damn Kitty’s good, man.

Smith: She’s been doing this for a long time, Hood. She’s achieved the highest of highs in this business

Hood: I can tell. The woman isn’t fazed by all this OCW craziness. It usually takes a newcomer a few months to adapt to CLASSIC OCW

~Ed is slow to his feet. We get a shot of his back. It’s red and irritated…but no blood, yet. His back is to Kitty…she sort of crawls toward him, ready to pounce. Houston turns around and Kitty springs forward, looking to rattle Ed’s face with a jawbreaker. Ed, though, gets his hands under Kitty’s arms and tosses her up. Houston’s strength combined with Kitty’s initial upward momentum send her flying into the air…she comes down, Ed catches her and drills her into the helipad with a sitout powerbomb!!! Scruff carefully drops to his knees and makes the count~

1!

2!

Kick Out!!

Smith: Our first pinfall attempt and it was a close one! Kitty maybe waited too long

Hood: Yea, I think she miscalculated Ed’s recovery

Smith: Indeed

~Houston returns to his feet…he reaches back, rubbing his tailbone. Kitty remains on her back after kicking out. The impact has her shaken. Houston looks down and notices that she’s yet to get up. He’s felt the surface. He knows it’s unforgiving. He bends down to see if she’s okay. Kitty reaches up and pulls Ed down, locking him in a small package! Scruff drops to his knees and counts~

1!

2!

Kick Out!

Smith: Don’t trust her, Ed!

Hood: Damn, the rocket man fell for another trap…almost cost his ass

Smith: Yep, Kitty is constantly working this match over in her mind, trying to find a way to gain the upper hand

~Ed’s back on his feet quickly. He’s a bit shaken, a bit stunned, and a bit betrayed. Kitty rolls over, onto one knee. It’s evident she is feeling some aftershock from that powerbomb. Thankfully, she’s got fabric covering her back, so it didn’t take near the damage it could have…although pieces of the athletic wear appear to have been ripped away. Small pieces here and there. She reaches for the back of her head, feeling around and wincing. Ed rushes forward and throws another kick at her head. She catches his leg, spins to the helipad and tweaks Ed’s bad knee with a dragon screw leg whip!!! Ed yells out, reaching for his knee. The fans boo~

Smith: And Kitty has targeted the knee

Hood: Took longer than I thought but she got around to it

Smith: Yep, Ed’s had knee problems for a while, now. Opponents keep targeting it as a way to keep him grounded.

~Petrova rushes over and grabs Ed’s leg. He tries to fight her off but she plants a boot right into his lower abdomen. She wraps her legs around Houston’s afflicted leg and drops to the helipad, applying pressure and torque to the knee. We see her hair flow around in the bay area breeze as she strains, trying to reinjure the rocket man’s joint. Houston leans back on the helipad and stares into the comfortable sky. It provides something of a calming influence as he breathes in and out, trying to block out the pain while attempting to come up with an escape plan. Scruff asks if he wants to give up, Ed says ‘no’~

Smith: She’s really focusing on that knee now. It’s going to be up to Ed to counter her game plan

Hood: Yep, she’s figured out his weakness and she’s exploiting it. The key to a great strategist is not only the ability to plan but the ability to adapt. Can Ed make those ‘halftime’ adjustments and get this shit figured out or will Kitty decimate his knee and pin him like a bitch?

Smith: We’re going to find out!

~Ed, using his free leg, throws some kicks into Kitty’s thigh and hip. It isn’t doing much. Kitty’s got her body positioned where the safest spots are vulnerable for attack. Ed, realizing he’s getting nowhere sits up, as best he can. He throws a few punches into Kitty’s leg…they don’t do much. He positions his elbow and drives it down into Kitty’s leg. She winces. He does this again and again…finally his elbow SLAMS into her shin!!! Kitty is weakened…there’s some slack in her hold…Ed rips his leg free! He reaches for his knee, holding it. Kitty rubs her shin and looks at Ed, annoyed~

Smith: That’s why some wrestlers wear shin guards

Hood: Man have you ever felt your shin? Feels crazy skinny…at least mine does. Makes you wonder how the fucking thing doesn’t break more often

Smith: No, I have never sat around feeling my shin bone

Hood: Well you don’t have to talk like I’m some kind of freak, man

~Houston sees Kitty’s annoyance and realizes he’s in trouble. He gets to his feet, hobbling around. The title is still around his waist. He’s yet to take it off. Kitty gets to her feet, looking far more mobile than Ed. She marches his way. Ed backs up…he backs into a few of the OCW security members, guarding the edge. Going over THIS edge means falling ALL the way to the street. The bump and push Ed forward, right into a side kick from Kitty. Her foot, however, finds the face of the Paradigm Title. Her knee jams and she reaches for it. Houston smiles and pats his belt. Kitty isn’t wounded for long…she throws a spinning back first, smacking Ed in the face. Houston staggers back into the security team. The people on the street all go ‘whoa!’ seeing how close Ed is coming to crashing on top of them. The Security members are sweating and look nervous…they, too, could go over if pushed hard enough. Kitty throws a palm strike, nailing Ed on the chin. She reaches around his waist and removes the belt, tossing it aside. She then drives her shoulder into Ed’s stomach and pushes forward. The security team is like “WHAT THE FUCK” as they push back. Kitty seems to have lost her mind~

Smith: Is she trying to push Ed over the edge of the roof?

Hood: Yes

Smith: I get trying to win…but this? Not this!

Hood: She’s crazy, man.

~Ed hops up…a security team member, fearing for his life, gives Ed a push…it’s enough to vault Ed over Kitty. He takes her down with a sunset flip. She hits the helipad surface and slides a bit, reaching for her back. Ed scurries for his belt, grabbing it. He pops to his feet but reaches for his knee. Kitty is already back on her feet…she runs forward…Ed slings the face of the belt at her. Kitty ducks and does a back flip handspring…Houston turns around…Kitty’s feet lick around his head. She twists to the ground, taking Ed over! Ed spins down, slamming on top of the helipad!! He yells out in pain. The title winds up next to him. Instinctually, he reaches for the belt. His fingertips touch it…but it’s ripped away by Kitty~

Smith: Kitty’s got the belt! Ed’s in serious trouble now

Hood: At least she isn’t about to murder him…well, at least not by throwing him off the roof

Smith: If she is able to strike Ed a time or two with that belt, she might score the pin

Hood: When was the last time somebody won via a belt shot around here?

Smith: Oh I’m sure within the last year…I just can’t recall

Hood: We’ve done way too many of these

~Kitty stands over Ed with the belt. Our POV gives us a unique shot, looking up at Kitty as the West Coast sun is shining behind her. All we see is her athletic silhouette holding the strap. Ed tries to roll away. Kitty stalks him. Ed creates some distance and pops to his feet. Kitty charges at him. She lunges with a belt shot, Ed ducks!! Ed throws a roundhouse kick…Kitty turns around and dodges the leg, narrowly. She leans in and DRILLS Ed in the face with his Paradigm Title!! Ed drops to one knee. He looks up…there’s blood beginning to form around his bottom row of teeth. Kitty raises the belt high, over her head and brings it crashing down into Ed’s face!! The crowd is HOT. They are furious! Ed falls to his side. Kitty drops the belt and goes for the cover. Scruff drops to his knees and makes the count~

1!

2!

Shoulder Up!

Smith: Ed survives…but how much longer can he go absorbing those kinds of blows?

Hood: Not much longer, that’s for sure. She’s going to fuck his already fucked up face…uhh…up!

~Kitty looks around the helipad while on her knees. Ed slowly rolls over, toward her. She takes her hand and shoves him in the opposite direction with disgust. Ed comes to rest on his side looking like a broken man. Kitty looks over at the edge…not the INSTANT DEATH edge but the MAYBE COULD SURVIVE edge. She throws a stiff forearm shot into the side of Ed’s head forcing his cranium to bounce off the helipad. She stands and yanks him up…a very bewildered Houston follows her around like a retarded zombie. Kitty reaches the edge…it’s the edge facing the ring. Down below reside a sea of fans, all standing around, watching TV screens to get a shot of the action. Upon realizing that Kitty is pretty much standing over them…they turn around and look up toward the helipad. Kitty has Ed in position, ready to throw him over. She yells at OCW security to move – they will not~

Smith: You can’t be serious…

Hood: Hey, she wants to win, Smith. You going to deny a woman with that kind of athletic ability a chance to get what she wants?

Smith: Thankfully, I don’t have to be the one to deny her desire

~Kitty sighs and shakes her head. She then walks forward and begins raking the eyes of security members!! She rakes the eyes of three, all in a row! They are dazed…stumbling around, leaving their post. Kitty rushes over, grabbing Ed. She irish whips him toward the edge!! The fans all scream. Ed REVERSES! He’s standing at the edge…upon reversing, he catches Kitty and leaps off the edge with a SPANISH FLY!!!! The crowd shrieks with horror as they perform a full rotation and land atop a group of people!!! The entire rooftop is stunned, shocked. Are they okay? The fans on the street are going wild! We cut down there to find a man wearing a “MOON LANDING WAS A HOAX – GO CHAD VARGAS” t-shirt…he says, “ED HOUSTON FUCKED THAT BITCH UP!” Classic Vargas fan~

Smith: I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!

Hood: Geezus…who got the better, or should I ask…who got the WORST of that?

Smith: I have no idea…not sure how much a move like that benefits Ed.

Hood: Yea but did he really have a choice? She was throwing him over the edge

Smith: It’s hard to say in real time

~Kitty is on her back, eyes shut. Ed remains on top of her, arm draped across her chest. Several fans complain about injuries. We see a few with cuts and instant bruising. A fan rushes up and says “HE’S PINNING HER!” We look around for Scruff to finally spot him slowly descending the ladder. The crowd urges Scruff on! They want to see their high flying hero retain his Paradigm Title! Scruff, like a good employee, is toting the Paradigm Title. His feet hit the ground and he hustles over. He looks around and spots a fan who looks to have bathed within the last twenty-four hours. He tosses them the belt for safe keeping. He then drops to his knees and makes the count~

1!

2!

3!!

NO!! SHOULDER UP

Smith: Kitty got the shoulder up!

Hood: Rawr

Smith: The heck are you doing?

Hood: Sorry, I might be delirious. I was attempting a ‘cat roar’

Smith: Cats don’t roar

Hood: No, they rawr

Smith: We aren’t discussing this inane line of conversation any further

~Ed brings both hands to the peak of his hairline. He slides them down, burying his face into them. He can’t believe it. His shaken body remains on the ground as he tries to regenerate the energy necessary to forge ahead. Kitty, meanwhile, is on her side. Her eyes are open…she looks around, taking in her surrounding, attempting to find a metaphorical buoy for her equilibrium. She spots the Paradigm Title, being held by a man in his early twenties. She begins to crawl toward him. He looks on, anxiously. His angst grow into nerves as she crawls closer. His nerves grow into fear as she looks at him with desperate eyes. His fear turns into panic as she reaches up, grabbing him by the hemp belt securing his skinny jeans~

Smith: What is she doing?

Hood: Maybe she’s concussed and thinks she’s the Paradigm Champion

Smith: She might be in a few minutes but not yet

~The guy tries to fight her off in a very feeble manner. He reaches into his pocket and slips something over his right hand for protection. It’s covering his knuckles. It’s rainbow themed. Kitty instantly recognizes it. She lets go of his belt and pats him on the stomach before delivering a LOW BLOW!! The guy falls to his knees, dropping the belt. Scruff runs over and grabs the title. Kitty couldn’t care less. She grabs his hand, removing the knuckle accoutrement. She slides it onto her right hand. She’s on her knees. Ed does a push up, getting to his feet. He turns around and heads her way~

Smith: What did she take from that fan?

Hood: Black tar heroin?

Smith: No

Hood: Well you asked!

~Ed grabs Kitty by the hair. She gets to her feet and throws a right haymaker at Ed. Ed ducks!! He lifts her up, turns around and drops her across his knee with an Atomic Drop!!! Kitty stumbles forward, toward the barricade surrounding the ring. The fans scatter, giving her passage…they don’t want to get hit in the crotch. Houston gives chase. Petrova comes to a stop and bends over, catching her breath. Ed reaches out, grabbing her by the waist band of her pants. She turns around, throwing another punch. Ed dodges it and kicks her in the gut. He lifts her up and tosses her with a powerbomb over the barricade onto the surface surrounding the ring!!! Kitty hits with a huge thud!! It knocks the wind right out of her lungs! She reaches up with her hands, clutching her chest, gasping for oxygen. Ed crawls over the barricade. He turns around and motions toward the fans! They give him a huge response. He winces and bends over, reaching for his knee and back. The guy is feeling some pain~

Smith: What a vicious powerbomb. Kitty keeps trying to connect with a right hand but it isn’t working

Hood: Nope…Kitty’s weird, sudden fascination with becoming Muhammad Ali has nearly cost her the match

~Houston grabs Kitty by the legs. He turns his back to the ring and falls backwards, catapulting Kitty through the air, onto the apron. She splats onto the apron and rolls into the ring, instinctively. Houston rolls onto all fours and reaches for the steps…he crawls up them, finally standing when he reaches the ring post. He ascends the corner, reaching the top. He looks down at Kitty – she’s on her back. He bends his knees, ready to BLASTOFF…but, his bad knee nearly gives out!! He almost falls to the mat! Ed gingerly hops off the top rope, landing on his good leg, in the corner. He keeps the pressure off his knee, feeling around the joint~

Smith: No! Not now!

Hood: Eventually the tire blows, Smith

Smith: He was so close!

~Ed fights through it. The fans are behind him, chanting “HOUSTON!” A name they can remember. Kitty’s been given enough time to recover from her injuries. She rolls over, unbeknownst to Ed who continues working his knee. She crawls forward and throws a right hand at his knee. Ed hops up on one leg, dodging the punch! Kitty’s effort flattens her on the mat. Ed leaps up and drops a leg across the back of Kitty’s head! He returns to his one legged stance, gingerly and drags Kitty into position. He climbs through the ropes and ascends the nearest corner. He looks down at Kitty. He tries his bad leg…he winces. He shakes his head, frustrated. He stands on one leg and does the best he can, jumping off with a Senton!!! He lands back first on top of Kitty!!! The crowd goes wild!! He manages to get Kitty over and make the cover. Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

KICK OUT!

Smith: She kicked out again!

Hood: Holy shit this woman is indomitable

Smith: It seems that way, yes

~Ed sits up, shaking his head. He feels the window closing. He needs to finish Kitty off and soon. He hops back to his one leg. He reaches and snares Kitty by the hair, pulling her to her knees. She reaches out with a quick right jab, connecting with Ed’s bad knee!!! Ed crumbles to the mat, clutching his knee. This looks serious. Kitty leans forward, placing her hands on the mat…her face stares down at the canvas as she gasps for air. Scruff checks on Ed~

Smith: She punched Ed right in his bad knee!

Hood: Ali with the knock out blow!

Smith: I didn’t know her punches were so…vicious

Hood: Meh, guy’s got a crappy knee

~Scruff asks Ed if he can continue. Houston doesn’t respond, at first. So, Scruff informs Ed he’s going to call for the bell if Ed doesn’t signal him. Houston finally nods his head, indicating he can continue. Scruff asks Ed if he’s sure…because it doesn’t look like he can. Kitty gets to her feet and shoves Scruff out of the way. She grabs Ed by the hair and bullies him to his knees. He yells out, with his bad knee bent beneath his body. Petrova doesn’t care. She looks down at Ed…he looks up at her, pain filling his eyes. She takes her right hand and smashes it into his face!! Blood begins to run down Ed’s nose, across his lips, over his chin~

Smith: Oh my gosh!

Hood: I take it back! That woman can pack a punch!

Smith: That’s not all fist, Hood. I think she’s got…are those…are those brass knuckles?!

~Kitty isn’t done. She drills Ed in the forehead, splitting the Rocket Man wide open. He falls over. Kitty drops to her knees and makes the cover. The crowd boos heavily. Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

SHOULDER UP

Smith: What?!

Hood: Give it up, kid! This is just like NASA…you aren’t cut out for this shit

Smith: Don’t listen to this man, Ed! Keep fighting! You can do it!

~Kitty looks around, stunned. She looks at her right hand and, for the first time we get a clear visual of the rainbow painted brass knuckles that cover her hand. They are stained with Ed’s blood. Ed tries to sit up. Blood is pouring out of his forehead and nose. Kitty reaches forward, grabbing him by the chin. She rears back with her brass knux only for Scruff to jump in and stop her! She grabs her right arm! The crowd goes wild~

Smith: Way to go, Scruff! Stand up for something! Finally!

Hood: After everything he’s seen…all the shit he’s let slide…THIS is the moment he chooses to stand up?

Smith: Look at Ed, Hood. He’s clearly injured. One more solid punch could do permanent damage

~Kitty is IRATE. She deems this completely unprofessional. A bloodied Ed crawls behind her, grasping at the back of her legs. Petrova shoves Scruff back, in anger. He nearly falls on his ass. She turns back around and looks down at Ed who reaches for her boots. She kicks him off. His face hits the mat, creating a giant blood stain. She snares him by his hair and pulls him to his feet. He can barely stand. She blows a kiss in his face~

Smith: Kiss of Death is incoming and, honestly, I hope she hits it just to end this violence

Hood: Turning on Ed when he’s down, I see how it is

Smith: I want him to live to fight another day, Hood!

~Kitty delivers an uppercut with her left hand. Ed stumbles and staggers. She must have wanted to keep him standing. She runs, hit the ropes, springboards off, turns around and throws a knee at Ed’s face. But Ed catches her!!! The crowd rises to their feet!! He works to get her into position. Kitty responds by slamming her brass fist into his ribcage. She does it over and over and over until Ed finally drops her, falling to one knee. Kitty hits the ropes, springboards off, turns around and KNEES ED RIGHT IN THE FACE!!! Ed crumbles to the mat!! Kitty makes the cover…Scruff, begrudgingly, slides in with the count~

1!

2!

3!!!!

~The bell rings! The fans boo~

Belvedere: Here is your winner…AND THE NEW OCW PARADIGM CHAMPION…KITTY PETROVA!!!!!

Smith: No! Dang it!

Hood: And down goes The Rocket Man

Smith: He had that break through win against Mack and then…this

Hood: Too bad, so sad…but, hey, how about the break through win for Kitty? WHAT A FIGHTER!

Smith: I’d really like to have seen this match WITHOUT the brass knuckles…and with a healthy Ed

Hood: Look at you always trying to make up excuses, rewrite history

~Kitty receives the Paradigm Championship. Standing, she smiles, running her hands through her sweat soaked hair. She holds the belt high in the air to a chorus of boos. She huffs at the fans’ reaction, casting them off as a bunch of idiots. She looks down at Ed. He’s on his side, spilling blood all over the mat. Scruff has a towel in his hand, applying pressure to Ed’s forehead. Kitty throws one final kick into Ed’s back before exiting the ring. BOOOO goes the crowd. As she heads down the aisle she removes the brass knuckles and throws them back into the crowd, wiping her hand off on her pants afterward. She tosses the title over her shoulder and exits. THE KNIFE MAN is at ringside along with other OCW medics as they check on Ed~

Smith: Houston is suffering from some major cuts and a re-aggravated knee injury, as far as I can tell. Hopefully there aren’t any other serious issues at play here.

Hood: Meh, nothing more than a bruised ego

Smith: I refuse to minimize what’s taken place to one of our most talented competitors. Ed may have lost this battle but he’s still winning the war, in my book

Hood: That’s why you write fiction. I pen nonfiction and in my book Kitty Petrova is about to break through that glass ceiling and do thing Ed could only dream of accomplishing

Smith: Well, we’ll have to wait and see about that

~A wide eyed Bester fills the screen and he is slowly turning red in his cheeks from embarrassment. His eyes dart all over the place as if he is afraid to look at one item for too long~

“Sir.” A female voice says to him.

“Yes…” A nervously sounding Bester says.

“What does your girlfriend like?”

“Uhmmm.”

“Sheer? Lacy? Bikini? Thong?”

“I’m not sure….”

“Okay….? Well we can help. How about I ask you one more question, okay?”

~Camera pulls back to reveal that Bester is standing in middle of a Fredericks of Hollywood with a super nice looking brunette names Janet waiting on Bester, and Janet is very busty herself.~

“What is her cup size?” Janet asks.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you have a picture?”

~Bester nods. He holds his phone out with a picture from Google images on it of Audrey Baxter-Kalei. Janet takes a look. She looks up at Bester and smiles.~

“Wow. She’s very pretty. You are a one lucky man. I can help you. Is there anything you see that you like? You do know this is a gift for you as much as it is for her.”

“Uhmmm….”

~In the background, leaning in the doorway busting a gut is Nanook. His belly is shaking from laughing so hard, he has tears in his eyes. Janet takes Bester by the arm.~

“Come on. I’ll show you a couple of items that I know she will like, and you will just love.”

“Okay…..?”

~Nanook can’t stop laughing and has to take a seat before he falls over…..~

Smith: Man…

Hood: Haha…geez…Bester, dude

Smith: This is like watching a kid walking in on a rated PG-13 movie.

Hood: What’s wrong with kids watching PG-13 movies?

Smith: I don’t think a kid should be allowed to watch anything PG-13 unless they are 18!

Hood: That makes NO sense

Smith: I have standards

Hood: What about all the kids watching tonight? Should they switch over to alternative programming?

Smith: Uhh…no because up next we have a real treat for all your viewers out there! An OCW original…a match invented by the very man participating in it tonight…we have a Hazardous Ladder Match between two friends, turned enemies. Mario Maurako looks to get revenge on his former friend, Silver Cyanide. The Hazardous Ladder match you’ve all been waiting for…is next!

Hazardous Ladder Match
‘Marvelous’ Mario Maurako (8-4) vs. Silver Cyanide (4-2)

~It’s been a tremendous night thus far. The millennial rooftop fans are on fire. They’ve witnessed some major atrocities this evening, in the form of some of the most heinous characters they can remember. The fans on the street are still grumbling – discontent over their inability to enjoy all this action via front row accommodations. Three ladders are suddenly brought out to the ring. We hear the people on the street erupt with violent joy. The millennial, rooftop crowd are somewhat perplexed. They turn toward Petia who is busy penning something (it looks like a speech). Belvedere stands in the ring and promptly clears his throat~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…it is now time for the Hazardous Ladder Match!!

~The fans down below continue to go wild. We cut to a shot. A very pale man in a ‘MURRAY LIVES’ shirt is jumping up and down, spilling a pint of beer all over the head of a diminutive fan wearing a ‘Scootster’ shirt. Other fans (not quite as wild as this Murray fan) pump their fists and test their lungs. The millennial fans, not wanting to be outdone, give a very refined cheer and moderately aggressive clap~

Belvedere: There are three ladders surrounding the sides of this ring not facing the entrance way. Two of these ladders are faulty – meaning once a competitor reaches a certain rung they will begin to falter before eventually falling to pieces. The remaining ladder is true and will lead the wrestler climbing it to victory. Hanging above the ring is a foam replica OCW Title which, I’m told, symbolizes Mario’s dream. A dream he will ne – okay, I’m not reading that. Introducing first!

Smith: Some plain as day, smack you in the face symbolism going on above that ring, Hood

Hood: So? Better to be too obvious than too vague. You have to get the fucking point across and the point is that Mario cannot, will not…will NEVER, EVER win the OCW Title

Smith: You may eat those words

Hood: I gave up eating my own words for lent

~A brief video package airs. This isn’t exactly standard procedure. But, it airs. It details Mario’s OCW career. It shows all his past glory, all his accomplishments. It also mentions the one goal he’s never accomplished – winning the OCW Championship. It goes into the friendship he holds with Paul Paras and, more important – Silver Cyanide. It depicts them as brothers. It shows Cyanide achieving what Mario was unable. It shows Mario’s various returns, leading up to the current career revival. Everything seems great until the color goes black and white and the music gets dark…Cyanide betrays Mario! The fans on the roof become angry. HOW COULD HE DO THIS?! It shows Cyanide mocking Mario over his inability to win the OCW Title. Some Bifford is thrown in there to really hammer the point home. The video finally ends with downtrodden, aging Mario staring at the OCW Title from afar with that hope still hanging ominously above his receding hairline. Can he do it? Time is running out. The video package ends. The fans on the roof and down, lining the street all join in chanting “MARIO! MARIO! MARIO!”~

Smith: Well, that certainly hammered the point home

Hood: Gee, I wonder who put that video together

~“Kickstart My Heart” by Mötley Crüe begins to play! The fans leap to their feet, ready for the hero they never knew they had until a few seconds ago to emerge! Mario steps out from the backstage area. He’s as focused as we can remember. He’s wearing a new set of trunks. He’s got an OCW armband around his left bicep. He sucks down some wind and marches for the ring as the fans greet their hero with an ovation fit for a champion~

Smith: This place has come unglued!

Hood: Geezus…people like to love a loser, don’t they?

Smith: Just because he’s never won the OCW Title doesn’t mean he’s a loser, Hood

~Mario reaches the ring and begins a squared circle around he. He shakes each ladder as he passes them by~

Hood: Hey! He’s cheating!

Smith: Relax, Hood…he can’t tell whether or not their faulty until he begins to climb. It’s a sophisticated structure that was put together by a man named Dale back in the summer of 2001

Hood: Hmm, I never knew that. What happened to Dale?

Smith: No idea

~Having completed his squared circle, Mario slides into the ring and pops to his feet. He looks around the rooftop, taking in the cheers and ovation from the 100% pro Mario crowd. A camera zooms in on Mario. He points up at the fake title. He then points to the armband and says “All OCW, baby!”~

Smith: This man is as OCW as they come…a true representative of what this promotion is and has been about for nearly twenty years

Hood: Yep…Mario is one of those Mr. OCW types. He’s spanned generation after generation…there hasn’t been an OCW era that wasn’t influenced in some fashion by Triple M.

~The fans continue to chant “MARIO!” He looks around, impressed by the ovation. It’s clear that it means a lot to him. This man doesn’t have many matches left so he’s soaking in the moment while he still can~

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
FEEL GOO—FEEL GOO—FEEL GOO—FFFFFFFFFFF

~BOOOOOOO!!!!! It sounds like the entire Bay Area is booing. Arguably the MOST HATED MAN in OCW steps out from the backstage area with hockey stick in hand. It’s Silver Cyanide, of course. He looks around at all the fans and smirks. “They may not love me, but at least they respect me,” he’s sure to tell us while glaring into the camera. Mario remains in the center of the ring, staring down his former best friend~
Smith: Ugh, I just don’t get this man. What does he have against Mario winning the OCW Title? What does he have against Mario in general? These two are friends! They’ve been friends for years! Cyanide’s won everything there is to win in this company…what’s wrong with Mario getting his?

Hood: I don’t know…but look at that tape job, man. NO BUBBLES

~Cyanide heads toward the ring. His eyes are locked with Mario’s. Cyanide talks a fair amount of shit while strutting down the aisle. A tray of nachos fly his way. He stealthily dodges an encounter with lukewarm, nuclear cheese. He continues walking, pointing at Mario with his hockey stick which, I should confirm, features an impeccable tape job~

Smith: This is going to get nasty…I can feel it

Hood: Kind of like a gut grenade?

Smith: Ew, no…why did your mind go there?

Hood: The flying nachos

~Cyanide ascends the nearest set of steps. He’s a true veteran of this match…hell, he’s the innovator of this match (OCW’s most famous gimmick match). He knows shaking the ladders is about as useful as talking shit on the internet. So, he struts across the apron in exaggerated fashion. More booing ensues. Some fan throws his empty craft beer can at Cyanide. AgCN catches it, crunches the can in his hand and hurls it back at the fan, pelting him in the head. The crowd boos even louder. Cyanide has a good laugh before turning around and leaping over the top rope in one, seamless motion. The guy’s still got it~

Smith: There was no need for that

Hood: Blame the fan for throwing his stupid can at arguably the greatest wrestler in OCW history

~Cyanide’s theme comes to a close. Belvedere takes the center of the ring. Mario, who has not removed his eyes from Cyanide, backs up a bit, giving Belvedere some space~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…fighting out of the RED corner…standing 6’2 and weighing in at 245lbs…he is a former OCW Tag Team Champion…he is a former OCW United States Champion…he is a two time OCW Hall of Famer…he is ‘Marvelous’ Mario Maurako!!!

~The fans chant “MARIO!” Maurako beats the right side of his chest with his left fist, turning his intense glaze into a murderous glare. Cyanide does the ‘shaky fingers’ in Mario’s direction while going ‘ooohhh’ in a very derisive act. The fans, of course, boo his attitude~

Belvedere: And his opponent…FIGHTING out of the light blue corner! Standing 6’2 and weighing in at 220lbs…he is a former OCW Champion…he is in the OCW Hall of Fame…he is Silver Cyanide!!!

~Cyanide points his hockey stick directly at Mario. That arrogant smirk flashes across his face. Belvedere, feeling the heat, knows it’s time to get the fuck out of the ring. So he heads for the ropes and gets scarce. Mario begins to hop around, waiting on the ‘dinner’ bell. Cyanide lowers his stick and looks back into the camera “More like the pale blue corner, but whatever.” He starts to prepare for the match, placing his boot on the middle rope. He pauses…the ring begins to shake. He turns around and eats a HUGE splash from Mario!!! The crowd is on fire!! They go crazy!! The bell sounds as Mario begins to pummel Cyanide with right hands in the corner. AgCN’s head bounces around like a pinball. The MARIO chants increase in volume~

Smith: HERE WE GO! MARIO IS ON FIRE!

Hood: Why did you turn your back to him, Cyanide? WHY?!

Smith: Because he’s an arrogant jerk, Hood

~Mario grabs Cyanide and tosses him across the ring!! Cyanide flips over and lands on his back, hard. Mario goes right back after him. Cyanide turns around, sitting on his ass. He sorta crabwalks back into another corner with his hands up, begging Mario to give him a second. Mario isn’t buying what Cyanide is selling. He proceeds to stomp the shit out of Cyanide!! Cyanide’s body is thrashed by Mario’s right leg…his arms flailing around while the back of his head slams against the middle buckle before slouching to the bottom buckle! The crowd cheers each kick. Mario finishes his stomping off with a swift side kick to the side of Cyanide’s face!! The impact jerks AgCN’s body to its right…he winds up draped over the middle rope. Mario holds his arms out in exaggerated fashion before bringing his fists up and flexing both biceps for the crowd. They go wild~

Smith: Mario is looking better than ever!

Hood: Is it just me or does he look BIGGER?

Smith: Well he’s been out of action for a few weeks…probably given him a chance to hit the gym harder than usual

Hood: Mhm

~Mario finishes flexing. Cyanide slowly starts to pull his body toward the ropes, apparently seeking an escape. His progress is stopped. He looks around, frantically. Our POV is right in his face. He starts to get sucked back in the ring. We look up and see Mario with Cyanide’s leg, dragging him back into the ring. Cyanide reaches and claws at the mat but, if you’ve watched wrestling you know there’s nothing to grab onto. Mario flips Cyanide onto his back. He’s snares Cyanide’s other leg and holds them up and apart. He takes his boot and jams it right into Cyanide’s crotch!! AgCN rolls onto his side, curling up in the fetal position. His eyes are shut, tightly…his face is all contorted. The dude is in some serious pain~

Smith: Payback!

Hood: What a loser! Kicking the guy in the dick…no wonder this guy has never won the OCW Title…he’s taking all the short cuts!

Smith: Seriously? After everything Cyanide’s done to him he’s lucky Mario doesn’t kick him there again!

Hood: Well, if he does then I guess Cyanide won’t have to worry about any paternity tests coming his way in the future.

~Mario grabs Cyanide by the waist and deadlifts AgCN off the mat. It’s true, what Smith said…the dude is looking as ripped as we can remember. He goes to throw Cyanide over his head with a release german. Cyanide lands on his feet! Mario turns around and turns Cyanide inside out with a lariat!!! Cyanide hits the mat hard and remains on his back, staring up at the Elimination Chamber which hangs directly over the ring. The crowd continues to go crazy for The Marvelous One~

Smith: This match has been ALL Mario

Hood: He’ll tire out. The guy has the stamina of a roleplayer in real life combat

Smith: What’s that supposed to mean?

Hood: Just coming up with analogies left and right, my man.

~Mario snares Cyanide by his graying hair, yanking the former OCW Champion to his feet. He whips him into the nearest corner…it’s a short ride. Cyanide hits hard and slouches forward, arms draped over the top rope. Mario marches forward and lifts Cyanide’s head up via a finger under the chin. He reaches back for a straight right hand. AgCN, though, lifts his hand up and jams a finger into Mario’s eye!! Mario turns around and stumbles to the side, covering his face. The fans boo! Cyanide remains in the corner, recovering~

Smith: Oh come on!

Hood: What? Was that illegal? Did he get DQ’d? I don’t think so! Perfectly fine, in my eyes…haha

Smith: Very funny

Hood: Get it, eyes? Because I have two and Mario now has one

~Mario, knowing he’s got to stay on top of Cyanide, turns back around and heads for AgCN. He’s only got one eye open, the other is still afflicted. He marches toward Cyanide…AgCN jumps up and kicks Mario in the face!! Maurako stumbles backward. Cyanide hops onto the middle rope and leaps off, taking Mario down with double knees! He drives the back of Mario’s head and his shoulders into the mat!! Cyanide rolls around, holding his knees…that’s a rough impact for an aging veteran. Mario remains on his back, still favoring that right eye~

Smith: Cyanide has cheated his way back into this

Hood: Don’t listen to the king of propaganda, folks! Cyanide is a WARRIOR

Smith: I’m the king of propaganda? Surely you jest!

Hood: I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing one of those goofy ass hats

~Mario sits up…he reaches for his collar bone and winces. His right eye finally begins to open. It’s red and irritated but functional. He turns and sees Cyanide on one knee, slapping at the elevated knee, getting it to cooperate. It’s not like Cyanide has an injury…he’s just old and his knees have been through a lot. Mario gets to his feet. He heads marches toward Cyanide…AgCN pops to his feet and throws a back elbow, staggering Mario. Cyanide quickly checks both knees. He leaps forward, jumping on the top rope. He staggers for a moment, trying to establish his balance. Mario runs forward and shoves Cyanide from behind. Cyanide throws a mule kick, smacking Mario in the jaw! Mario turns around, pointing his back to Cyanide. Cyanide flies forward, off the top rope…he manages to land on one of the ladders…near the top. The ladder sways back and forth…he’s on the left side of the ring, if you’re facing the ring from the aisle. The ladder finally tilts far enough and tips over, causing Cyanide to fall into the crowd!!! He lands on top of some fans. They quickly scatter, causing his body to be deposited roughly on the unforgiving roof surface. Cyanide lays there for a moment. The ladder is leaning up against the barricade. Mario’s back is still to the action…he drops to a knee, rubbing his jaw~

Smith: Cyanide with a tremendous fall into the crowd!

Hood: Dude…the ladder

Smith: What about it?

Hood: It didn’t break…

Smith: …you’re right

~Cyanide sits up…the fall was about as harmless as it could be given the situation. He sits up, rubbing the back of his head. Fans stand around him yelling things like ‘YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF!’ and ‘HOW DARE YOU, BULLY!’ AgCN is completely unaffected by these ridiculously weak chants. His eyes flash. Something fires off in his mind. He leans forward, getting to his knees. He peers over the barricade and sees the ladder leaning up against the partition a few feet from his face. He sees Mario with his back to the action…Cyanide smiles~

Smith: He knows!

Hood: THAT’S the ladder!

Smith: Should I tell Mario?

Hood: Fuck off! If you even try to signal to Maurako I’ll punch you so fucking hard

~Mario begins to turn around. Cyanide quickly pushes the ladder upright, in the exact same position it was previously. He then spills over the barricade and lays down on the outside area like he’s hurt. Mario finally gets around to see what’s going on and spots Cyanide down as though that’s where he landed after being shoved off the top rope~

Smith: Mario didn’t catch it! Cyanide covered his tracks

Hood: And now Cyanide has the advantage and, I mean…man it’s a huge advantage

Smith: Of course it is…I don’t see how Mario can win at this point.

Hood: You’re just now realizing Mario isn’t going to win this thing?

~Mario hops through the ropes and lands on his feet outside the ring, near Cyanide. He snares Cyanide by the back of the neck, yanking him to his feet. Cyanide shoves Mario off and administers some piercing knife edged chops!! Mario rotates his arms as he stumbles back…his ass running into the steps. Cyanide chops him and chops him and chops him! Mario’s chest is beginning to resemble the color of his tights (RED). Cyanide takes a step back and leaps up with a dropkick a 20 year old version of AgCN would have been proud of. Mario flips over the steps and lands roughly on the other side. Cyanide sits with his back against the steps, catching his breath~

Smith: The mood has changed. Mario is in trouble…Cyanide is in control while holding a huge advantage

Hood: It’ll be alright. Once this match is over Mario can gather himself and maybe request that Welsh bring back the Internet title.

Smith: Stop it

~Cyanide wipes some sweat from his brow. He eyes the functional ladder in front of him. He quickly peeks over the steps and finds Mario beginning to recover. He slaps the covered floor knowing he can’t go after the true ladder – not yet. He gets to his feet and hops atop the steps, waiting for Mario to reach his feet. Mario does…his back is to Cyanide…he turns around and AgCN leaps off with a double axe handle. Mario catches Cyanide and spins around, slamming him into the outside floor with a belly-to-belly!!! Cyanide’s back hits hard!! He arches his spine and kicks his legs, wincing. Maurako sits up, feeling his chest…it’s red, spotty and leaking a little blood~

Smith: The strength of Mario Maurako has always been a sight to behold

Hood: Now more than ever

Smith: What are you getting at?

Hood: I’m just saying…the guy is looking pretty buffed

~Mario wipes the blood along his adomen, creating a marginally gory visual. Cyanide is laying up against the barricade, on his side. Mario runs forward and drives a knee into Cyanide’s stomach. He bends over, picks Cyanide up and lifts him high over his head. Cyanide shakes his head back and forth and pleads with Mario, “No! No! NO!” Mario tosses him over onto the outside floor…Cyanide hits with a sickening thud! After tossing Cyanide around with tremendous ease, Mario heads for one of the ladders. This is NOT the one Cyanide found to be true. Mario picks it up and tosses it into the ring over the top rope. The fans grow anxious…they yell and try to grab Mario’s attention, but The Marvelous One is too focused. He slides into the ring and begins to set up the ladder~

Smith: Mario refusing to listen to the fans

Hood: I think a perennial fan favorite, like Mario…a man who has never won the OCW Title…I think he low key understands that catering to the fans won’t get you where you want to be

Smith: I disagree…look at Alice Knight!

Hood: Yea, look at her…brewing toxic mustard in an RV somewhere

~Mario positions the ladder underneath the foam, fake OCW title. He shakes his head as he watches it blow in the breeze, looking like it weighs all of three ounces. He lowers his head and says something along the lines of, “What am I doing with my life?” He then begins the climb. Cyanide sits up from the outside and watches. Mario’s transfixed on the faux object of his desire. Cyanide starts to chuckle, realizing what’s coming. Mario nears the rung which would give him a firm grasp on the belt. The ladder begins to shake. He looks around…his eyes have that ‘ah shit’ look in them. He braces…the ladder crumbles to pieces!! The crowd collectively groans and kicks at the ground…they are frustrated he didn’t listen to them!! Mario falls to the mat…he does a good job of pushing backward, making sure he lands on his back. The fall is still a tough one, though. Cyanide pops to his feet and continues to laugh~

Smith: That dastardly Cyanide! I simply cannot stand him

Hood: How is that his fault? Mario chose the fucking ladder

Smith: Because it just is!

Hood: Should I start referring to you as ma’am now?

~AgCN slides into the ropes and wades through the ladder debris. He finds a couple of rungs, one for each hand. He pops to his feet and kicks the debris out of his way, stalking his former buddy. Mario remains on the mat. Cyanide stomps Mario in the gut. Mario rolls over and crawls into a corner. His back is to Cyanide. Cyanide brings both hands (and rungs) together and brings them crashing down into the center of Mario’s back!! Maurako shoots upright and arches his back…he leans into the corner, facing AgCN~

Smith: The situation doesn’t look too good for Mario Maurako

Hood: No shit

Smith: I will say that his stamina seems to be holding up fairly well…so far

Hood: Well, I guess there’s a silver lining in every situation

~Cyanide slugs Mario in the face with a rung, via his right hand! He delivers a second blow with the rung in his left hand. He repeats this over and over, bashing Mario’s face in with these rungs. The crowd is booing! People are yelling at him to stop. Cyanide, though, is on a mission. He hasn’t look this great since returning to OCW…he’s performed more moves in this match than all his other matches combined! What a night for AgCN! He continues slugging away until his arms tire out. Mario’s head is pulled down by gravity, winning the war against his spine. A thick trail of blood drips from his bottom lip, staining the mat. Cyanide looks down at his friend…is it compassion? Hard to tell…but it’s enough to give him a slight pause~

Smith: I think you’ve proven your point, Cyanide! Now grab the stupid belt and show some mercy toward your friend.

Hood: He’s doing Mario a favor! We all know the old fucker is going to have a heart attack in a ring…he’s too stubborn to know when to quit. So, Cyanide is eliminating any option of moving forward with this doomed dream. He’s bringing Mario back down to reality. What a great friend!

Smith: What a warped view you have

~We suddenly realize if that look is compassion, it’s not MUCH compassion. Cyanide raises Mario up, using the rung in his right hand, he reaches back and he delivers the most vicious chop in OCW history!!! Mario yells out, reaching for his chest and stumbling forward. Cyanide stands over him, looking down. We see blood leak from Mario’s chest, onto the mat. The fans are aghast~

Smith: He just sliced Mario’s chest with that chop!

Hood: Maybe he got his medical license since we last saw him. He might be performing impromptu open heart surgery!

Smith: I highly doubt that!

~Cyanide brings both rungs together and delivers a crushing double axe handle into Mario’s back. Mario flattens out on the mat. Cyanide stands over him, calculating his next move. Mario struggles to get back to all fours. An ‘EAT SOME CYANIDE’ chant breaks out. Cyanide looks around like, “Really?” Mario reaches out, snaring one of the detached ladder legs. AgCN doesn’t notice…he stands at Mario’s side, preparing to hit him again. He brings both rungs (hands) together and raises them high in the air…Mario thrusts the end of the ladder leg into Cyanide’s crotch!!! AgCN stumbles back, dropping both rungs. The fans cheer! It’s arguably the most popular crotch shot in OCW history. Mario gets to his feet and charges forward, clotheslining Cyanide over the top rope and to the outside via this detached ladder leg!! Cyanide flips over the top rope with rapid violence, slamming against the apron and smacking head first against the outside floor. He’s down, moving very slowly. Mario throws the ladder leg out of the ring…the fans are chanting his name. We get a good look at his chest. A gash runs across it at a diagonal angle. Blood is leaking out. Scruff rushes over, inspecting the injury~

Smith: That’s a pretty nasty cut. He might need to get that looked at

Hood: Yea, I think we should stop the match. He can’t continue…declare Cyanide the winner

Smith: I wouldn’t go THAT far!

Hood: So you’re in the ‘I hope Mario dies in the ring’ camp?

Smith: NO!

~Mario shoves Scruff away…he doesn’t want ANYBODY giving him a check up, definitely not mid-match. He hops through the ropes and lands next to Cyanide’s slow moving body. He feels the blood slipping down his abdomen. Scruff holds up the ‘X’. Mario sighs and lets out a furtive ‘fuck’. He turns and heads for the crowd. He finds a gender neutral individual wearing a rainbow colored scarf. It’s the only thing he can think to snare on such short notice. THE KNIFE MAN is about to head down to the ring. So, he grabs it and wraps it around his upper body, concealing the cut, applying pressure, keeping it from leaking too much. The crowd goes wild! ‘HE’S ONE OF US!’ they shout. Mario pays no attention to this new found heroic visage. He’s simply trying to stay in the match~

Smith: Mario doing what he can to prevent a match stoppage

Hood: Pandering to these fans! I see right through you, Maurako!

~The Knife Man reaches the end of the aisle. He heads for Mario but Mario warns him to stay back and points at the rainbow themed scarf around his chest. The Knife Man acquiesces and backs away, keeping a stoic watch on the proceedings, just in case. Cyanide is on his knees…Mario reaches down and locks him in a Full Nelson! The fans pop! He deadlifts Cyanide and slams him down into the ground as hard as he can with SUPER MARIO!! Cyanide gasps for air…his lungs have suddenly been emptied of their supply. Mario looks at the two remaining ladders…one to his left (good) and one to his right (bad). He ponders~

Smith: To the left, Mario! To the left!!

Hood: SHUT THE FUCK UP

~The crowd chants “LEFT!” Mario hesitates…he looks to his left…then to his right. He begins to walk to…the RIGHT! The fans are perturbed. They murmur amongst themselves…why is he not listening to them? Is the old man deaf? Maurako grabs the right (bad) ladder and tosses it into the ring. He slides in behind it, popping to his feet. He kicks all the debris from the canvas, clearing out a spot. Cyanide starts to crawl…around the steps, inching closer to the good ladder without being noticed~

Smith: Mario blatantly disregarding the advice of the fans!

Hood: Can you blame him? Look what being a fan favorite has done to him? It’s split his chest wide open!

Smith: That wasn’t the fans fault, Hood!

~Mario sets up the ladder and stares at the foam belt. Again the thought runs across his mind like “What am I doing with my life.” But, he begins to climb. The fans plead with him to stop…they are still on his side. Mario gets halfway up the ladder and pauses. The fans pleas seem to be getting to him…he looks across the way and spots Cyanide. Cyanide, laughing, quickly shuts his eyes and plays dead. He’s near the ‘good’ ladder, waiting for Mario to falter. Mario looks around…the light bulb as gone off. He hops off the ladder! The fans go wild!!! Mario closes the ladder, walks over to the ropes and throws it, like a spear at Cyanide! The top of the ladder rams right into Cyanide’s abdomen!! His eyes open wide…his mouth is agape, gasping for air! He rolls around, writhing in pain! The fans chant “YES!”~

Smith: He figured it out!

Hood: Took him long enough

Smith: Cyanide was, perhaps, a little too early in his efforts to capitalize

Hood: Just call him Icarus

~Mario hops through the ropes, going for the TRUE ladder. He reaches the ladder and begins to fold it up. He turns, facing the ring…a loud THWACK is heard. Mario falters forward. Cyanide, on his knees, jams the ladder into Mario’s back. He stumbles to his feet, holding his abdomen with one hand, maintaining control of the ladder with the other. Mario turns around, more annoyed than anything. He has his ladder…the two begin to bang their ladders against each other, both men seeking an advantage~

Smith: A duel!

Hood: CLASSIC OCW, BABY

~The duel rages on. The ‘bad’ ladder is holding up surprisingly well. Cyanide keeps clashing his good ladder against it, hoping it’ll break apart, giving him access to Mario’s face. Cyanide grows frustrated. Mario is slightly winning the duel…the larger man, winning a duel, go figure. Cyanide finally throws his ladder at Mario, distracting The Marvelous One. Cyanide charges forward and throws his legs at Mario with a dropkick!! He kicks both ladders into Mario!! Mario falls back, the ladders being tossed over his head, tumbling backward, against the barricade. Mario lands near the steps, staring blankly overhead, at the chamber. Cyanide is back on his feet…he hops onto the top of the steps, leaps off and comes crashing down with a double foot stomp into Mario’s wounded chest. The fans BOOO heavily. Cyanide returns to his feet and looks at the ladders…he can’t figure out which is which~

Smith: Uh oh

Hood: Damnit! Is there some identifiable mark?

Smith: That would kind of defeat the purpose, don’t you think?

Hood: WEAK ASS BOOKING!

~Cyanide curses his luck and kicks at the ladders. They both hold up. He spots a bit of blood on one of the ladders…could this be the ladder Mario was holding? Cyanide decides that it was…and he grabs the other ladder, sliding it into the ring with utmost confidence. He begins to set the ladder up, looking at the foam belt overhead with a smirk. Mario sits up, spotting his former pal. He’s is immediately under the assumption that Cyanide has the correct ladder. He reaches forward, snaring the apron cloth and tugs on it, getting to his feet. He slowly rolls into the ring. Cyanide begins to accelerate his movements, climbing the ladder. Mario crawls forward, reaching the bottom rung with his hands…he starts to crawl up the ladder until he’s on his feet. He continues to crawl. Cyanide looks down…he’s shocked at Mario’s recovery. The man just won’t die! Mario continues to ascend…he’s nearing Cyanide…Cyanide takes another step and pauses…something doesn’t feel right. Mario, unaware, reaches Cyanide’s level and decks him with a right hand!! Cyanide leans back, nearly falling off the ladder. Mario pulls him forward and hooks him for what appears to be a suplex. Mario needs to step up one more rung to execute the move. He does so…he starts to lift Cyanide up…the ladder shakes~

Smith: Oh no!!!

Hood: It’s the wrong ladder!

Smith: Look out!

~Mario has Cyanide vertical when the ladder suddenly FALLS APART!! Mario falls to the mat…he releases Cyanide who free falls, landing right on top of Mario, back first!!! It’s a tremendous fall which shakes the ring and keeps both men down. Cyanide’s shoulders remain on top of Mario…both men’s chests heave up and down as they gasp for air. The fans are going wild with shock, awe, and anticipation. Who will get up first?~

Smith: Well, there’s no denying which ladder is true now

Hood: Nope, now all we need is for one of these fuckers to wake the fuck up

~The crowd resumes their chants of “MARIO!” They’ve moved past his dismissive attitude toward their attempted assistance from earlier. Cyanide, though, is the one who moves first. He sits up, shaking his head. A pile of ladder debris rests around him. He flings his hands around, slapping the debris away like a petulant child. He slowly returns to his feet and staggers, slightly. He finds solid footing and looks down at Mario, who is beginning to stir. Cyanide stalks Mario until he comes to rest, in a standing position, along Mario’s left side. He lifts his right foot up and begins to repeatedly stomp on the heart of Mario!! The fans shriek…they boo! They yell at Cyanide to stop~

Smith: Stop it!! You’re going to send him into cardiac arrest!

Hood: This is what it’s come to, Smith. Cyanide MUST win this match

Smith: No match is THIS dire…no match requires this sort of dramatic action! For the love, stop kicking him in the heart!

~Cyanide stomps and stomps. Mario finally rolls over and coughs up some blood. This gives Cyanide some pause. He looks into the crowd…he makes eye contact with the camera. It becomes obvious, in his eyes, that he’s gone too far. He looks down at his friend and places his hands on his hips, lowering his head. He says something along the lines of, “enough.” He hops through the ropes and heads for the true ladder~

Smith: Finally, a modicum of decency out of this man

Hood: I guess he felt as though he took things too far…got too caught up in the feud

Smith: That can happen in this sport at times…but the fact he realized it shows that there’s still some good deep down within AgCN

~Cyanide grabs the true ladder and slides it into the ring. He steps up onto the apron, entering through the ropes. He sets the ladder up, underneath the foam belt and begins to climb. Mario is still on his side, coughing, clutching his chest. This one is over~

Smith: Cyanide is going to breeze to victory here

Hood: Mario just can’t catch a break

Smith: I hate to say it…but maybe he should seriously consider retirement

~The crowd suddenly reacts~

Smith: What’s going on? Why are the fans screaming?

Hood: I…I don’t know…who the fuck is that guy?!

~The figure of an athletic man slides into the ring! Cyanide looks down, confused at first. The man is wearing a black t-shirt. The lettering on the front of the shirt is instantly blurred out. We were able to tell that it started with an ‘H’. Cyanide remains perplexed…until the individual looks up, making eye contact. Cyanide is suddenly shocked! He freezes on the ladder~

Smith: HOOD! I know that man!

Hood: I think every wrestling fan in the world knows who that is…IT’S MAX KAEL!

~It is, indeed, Max Kael! He hurries over and yanks Cyanide off the ladder. He takes AgCN down with a stiff lariat! He drops to his knees and begins to choke the OCW legend out. The fans are screaming, they are in hysterics…they don’t know what to make of this~

Smith: I know Cyanide isn’t the perfect role model at the moment…but he’s being screwed out of the win!

Hood: Yea, by some guy who…last I checked, doesn’t even work here

Smith: These two have a history, though. I don’t know what’s caused that history to bubble to the surface in 2019…but a history is there

~Max ceases the choking once he realizes Cyanide isn’t going anywhere for a while. He slides out of the ring, looks around and finds Cyanide’s hockey stick. Kael slides back into the ring, stick in hand~

Smith: Oh no…enough is enough! Get this foreigner out of here!

Hood: Whoa.…xenophobe alert!

Smith: You know what I mean!

~Cyanide rolls onto all fours, showing the fighting spirit that has made him a legend. Kael stands over him, raises the stick high and brings it slashing down across the back of AgCN!! The stick breaks in half!! Cyanide flips over, kicking his feet, writhing in pain. Max takes the broken end he’s holding and drops to his knees, he jabs it at the throat of Cyanide. Cyanide reaches up, attempting to keep the broken edges from piercing his throat~

Smith: Good heavens, no! This is too much!

Hood: We just saw Cyanide stomp on an old man’s heart. This is perfectly in line

Smith: No it isn’t!

~Kael seems enraptured by the impending violence. Cyanide notices the crazed look in Max’s eye and spits in his face! This stuns Max long enough for Cyanide to pull the jagged piece of broken stick away and toss it into the crowd. Max, though, locates the blade of the stick…he slams it into Cyanide’s head!! AgCN’s motions slow. His arms drop to his side. Max takes the blade, raises it high and slams it into Cyanide’s throat!! Cyanide rolls over, coughing, kicking his feet against the mat…his hands reach around his windpipe. The fans begin to boo~

Smith: I know Cyanide isn’t the most liked man but I think even the fans have seen enough of this brutality. It’s about humanity at this point!

Hood: Shit man, he’s going to ruin that perfect tape job Cyanide applied to that blade. Such a shame

Smith: Your commentary at this point is heinous. I just want you to know that

~Max rolls Cyanide back over and pins his shoulders to the mat using both knees. The takes the blade of the hockey stick and slams it into Cyanide’s windpipe. This time, he doesn’t release. He continues to add pressure. The fans are yelling “STOP! STOP!” Even Petia seems bothered by what’s taking place. Mario begins to rise in the corner, finally recovering from Cyanide’s assault. The fans plead with him to do something~

Smith: Mario! Save your friend!

Hood: Why?

Smith: Cyanide spared him earlier

Hood: Yea after being the one who dragged Mario’s near lifeless body to the brink of death…what a guy!

~Mario heads over, observing what Kael’s doing to Cyanide. Cyanide’s motions begin to slow. It’s getting dark all around him. He’s fading. Max looks over at Mario…Mario takes a step back, shocked at who’s in an OCW ring. Max motions for the ladder, telling Mario to win the fucking match. The fans yell “NO!” Mario pauses…he contemplates~

Smith: Mario! What’s more important…winning a stupid match or saving a dear friend?

Hood: Yea, a dear friend who’s been fucking you over nonstop over the past six weeks. Live for yourself, Mario! Show you have what it takes to be a champion!

Smith: Knock Max out, Mario! Do the right thing!

~Mario turns and HEADS FOR THE LADDER! The fans are stunned. They got into silence. Max keeps the pressure on Cyanide’s throat, watching Mario with a smile. Mario climbs the ladder with very little hesitation. He reaches up and snares the foam belt! The bell rings…the crowd remains silent. They can’t believe what Mario has done~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen…the winner of this match…“MARVELOUS” MARIO MAURAKO!!!!!

Smith: No! I’m disgusted…DISGUSTED

Hood: Mario’s played the bitch ass choir boy role for damn near 20 years. What’s it earned him? The third wheel in a three man team following behind Paras and Cyanide, his superiors in every way that matters? Yea, fuck that shit. Live for yourself, Maurako

~Mario hops off the ladder, he looks down at the foam belt, about to rip it up. Kael pops to his feet. Cyanide might as well be dead at this point. Max tosses what remains of the hockey stick into the crowd. He pats Mario on the chest and points at the foam belt. Mario remains in his position while Max turns back toward Cyanide. He rips his shirt off, down the middle and begins to wind it up, giving it some needed thickness~

Smith: Oh no…what’s he going to do

Hood: Some locker room hijinks? Ya know, ‘snap’ Cyanide with the t-shirt?

Smith: If only it were that innocuous

~Max drops to his knees, lifts Cyanide up by the head and wraps the t-shirt around his neck. The fans gasp. Petia points at Mario…the once rainbow themed LGBTQ scarf he used to cover his wound is now a uniformed shade of dark red. Petia yells out “HE’S TRYING TO BLEND OUR INDIVIDUALITY! BOO HIM!” That’s all they needed. The fans start to boo Mario! They chant “ASSHOLE” and “BIGOT” Mario looks at the fans…he seems to remain somewhat torn~

Smith: Not sure I 100% agree with their reasons…but I am glad they are giving Mario the reception he deserves!

Hood: Who knew Mario was such a homophobe

Smith: He may be a lot of things, but he’s not a homophobe!

~Max has his torn shirt wrapped securely around Cyanide’s throat. He hooks Cyanide underneath the arms, lifts him up and drags him to Mario. He positions Cyanide in front of Mario. Cyanide remains out. Mario looks down…the fans stop booing, for a moment…wondering if maybe…MAYBE Mario might rise above his current depiction. Mario takes the foam belt, he moves forward and he secures it around the waist of Cyanide! He then SPITS right in AgCN’s face! Max nods and pats Mario on the shoulder…he then proceeds to carry Cyanide up the ladder. The crowd is incensed…they are near riot levels of anger. They chant ‘FUCK YOU MARIO!’ Max laughs on his way up the ladder, enjoying the reaction~

Smith: Are they going to hang him?

Hood: That or attempt to use his head as a satellite…if that, ya know, makes any sense

Smith: I’m not sure it does

~Max ties the loose end of the t-shirt around the hook that once held the foam belt. He lets go of Cyanide and the former champion swings, hanging from it by his neck!! The fans scream! Many turn away…Max hops off the ladder, standing next to Maurako. He puts his arm around Mario’s shoulders, admiring his work. Mario, at first, finds it hard to look up…but, finally, he does…and, upon doing so, cracks a smile~

Smith: GET HIM DOWN! HURRY!

Hood: Yea man, this is a bit much. I don’t want the fucker to die or anything

Smith: We need help out here, right now!

~The crowd pops! Max and Mario look to the entrance. We see Zybala, Knux, Roach, and Lurrr rushing to the ring! They all slide in! Max and Mario slide out! Roach goes after both men, narrowly missing getting a hand on them. Mario and Max rush around the ring, reaching the aisle. Lurrr points over the top rope, scolding Mario. “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU? THAT’S YOUR FRIEND!”~

Smith: Finally! Some help!! Now, please, get him down!

~Max leans into Mario, telling him not to listen to whatever Lurrr or anyone else says. Mario nods. The reach the backstage area but are banned from entering. So, they hop into the crowd, shoving fans away, making their exit. Knux scales the ladder, grabbing Cyanide by the legs and tearing the shirt in half. He throws Cyanide over his shoulder and brings him back to the mat, laying him down. Zybala drops to a knee, checking on the OCW legend. THE KNIFE MAN comes running down with a stretcher and several other medical personnel. The crowd…now that Mario is gone, goes silent, watching what’s taking place inside the ring~

Smith: Fans…I don’t really know what to say. Let’s just hope Cyanide comes out of this okay

Hood: Hey, everybody’s career has to end at some point, Smith

Smith: Would you please shut up

~They work to get Cyanide on a stretcher. He hasn’t moved. His face remains a depressing color. Lurrr yells at them to be careful. Roach stands back, shaking his head. Knux stomps around the ring, angry. Zybala is on one knee, his forehead resting against a fist, in deep concern~

Smith: Fans, I’m told we’re going to cut away…please, keep Silver Cyanide and his family in your thoughts and prayers tonight.

~Hood remains silent as we cut to something else~

~Somewhere inside the Twitter HQ. The sign on the door reads AUDREY BAXTER and outside of this door is a mountain of stuff! Bags from Hot Topic, FootLocker, Fredericks of Hollywood to name a few. There is also a 84” inch 4k TV, a wine fridge fully stocked with wine. A Barbie Power Wheels for some reason, A fur coat, a couple of gift cards to Olive Garden and Nanook and James Kelloggs holding a giant banner that reads:~

SORRY FOR MAKING YOU WET

~And yes, they are giggling. In middle of this pile of stuff is Bester. Wearing a nice suit and tie and is holding a jewelry box with the I’m Sorry bracelet inside of it. Bester is looking at the door and straightens out his tie. He is all nervous and takes a deep breath. Bester knocks on the door 3 times.~

~Bester then opens the box to reveal the bracelet and gets down on one knee and holds the bracelet up so when Audrey opens the door, she will see it…………..~

Will Audrey answer the door and forgive Bester?
Only time will tell.

~We cut back to the announce team~

Smith: Well fans, the situation out here has cooled. I have no update to report on Cyanide. I’m told he’s breathing and his vitals appear to be okay…but we won’t know anything for sure until he reaches a local medical…

Hood: HOSPITAL

Smith: Yea, one of those. As for Maurako…I’m told he’s meeting with Welsh and Zybala as we speak. They are trying to find out what’s going on and whether or not he planned this. If so, he will be banned from the rest of the event…if not, he will be allowed to return backstage

Hood: Where’s Kael?

Smith: We have been unable to locate Max Kael

Hood: Sounds like we’ve got a huge fucking mystery on our hands

Smith: Something like that –deep breath- anyway…the show must go on! I hope Bester’s final segment was a good palate cleanser for everyone because the ELIMINATION CHAMBER is up next

Hood: Glad I took a piss…this thing is going to go like an hour

Smith: It won’t be quick. Settle in, everyone…one of the most competitive matches in OCW history is up next

Elimination Chamber
“The Distinguished” CJ O’Donnell (29-6) vs. “The Marvel” Matt Meyhu (25-3) vs. Mack O’Connor (26-8) vs. The Incredible One (21-6) vs. The Big Bifford (5-1) vs. Chelsea LeClair (4-0) vs. Evin Empire (4-0)

~The Chamber begins to lower. The millennial fans all ‘oohh’ and ‘aahh’. A few complain over how many resources were used to concoct this monstrosity. But they are quickly hushed by the notion that there are more important things to worry about…mainly climate control. A few clouds seem to be assembling on the horizon. Could this be part of Global Warming? Who knows. The chamber has gripped itself around and above the ring. It’s black with some red trim. The majority of the structure is comprised of thick, steel chains. The four pods have a basic, steel structure with legit GLASS filling open areas, meant to restrain competitors from busting through. This thing is brutal, it is big, and it will hurt. Belvedere clears his throat~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen it is now time for the ELIMINATION CHAMBER!

~The timid millennial fans give a solid response whereas the fans below go ape shit, bat shit, lion shit crazy. They are buzzing hard from all the cheap beer and want to see some mother fucking violence~

Belvedere: Seven competitors will wage war within this steel structure. There are four pods. Four of the seven will be confined within a pod. Three of the seven will be forced to begin the match. After ten minutes a pod will open, releasing a competitor. After forty minutes all competitors will be active within the match. This match is an elimination style event…once a competitor is pinned or submitted they will exit the chamber. This will go on until one competitor outlasts the rest…and, whoever does so will leave the chamber as the #1 Contender to the OCW Championship!!

~The crowd down below goes wild. The fans on the roof nod and discuss. A few of them seem to be pulling for Chelsea saying “it’s HER time.”~

Belvedere: The first four competitors introduced will be confined to a pod until their order of entry is reached. These were all drawn, I’m told by GM Marcus Welsh…at random. Now, introducing first…

“LA… LA, LA LA… Wait Till I Get My Money Right…”
~The opening lyrics to “Can’t Tell Me Nothing” by Kanye West elicit a visceral reaction. The fans on the roof and down below boo heavily. It’s obvious these drawings were anything BUT random. The Marvel himself…the man, the former champion, the hall of famer…he emerges from within the ‘backstage area’. He’s decked all out in lime ring gear, looking especially bright this evening. He’s got a look of confidence stuck to his face. The boos continue to pour…this only seems to power Meyhu up. He marches toward the chamber…he pauses at the entrance, taking stock of what he’s about to enter. He sucks down some Bay Area air and enters…leaping over the top rope with ease. He spins around, arms stretched out, showing off~

Belvedere: From Chicago, Illinois…standing 6’5 and weighing in at 240lbs…he is a former two time OCW Champion, he is the newest inductee into the OCW Hall of Fame…he is ‘The Marvel’ Matt Meyhu!!!

Smith: Meyhu gets a pod, how – shocking

Hood: Is it just me or are his lyrics not as noticeable tonight. I mean they usually stand out during Massacre and other events. But tonight…I dunno, they sorta blend in with everything else.

Smith: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

~Meyhu finds a pod that suits him. He feels around the glass. The door is shut and a chain is wrapped around, featuring a padlock. Meyhu tells Scruff, “Make sure you lock that thing tight. I don’t want anybody coming in here. This is my space!” A few of the nearby fans seem to change their mind about Meyhu. They respect safe spaces. The mood suddenly changes as Blueprint 2 Instrumental begins to play! Heads turn toward the entrance to find OCW’s rookie sensation, Evin Empire! He pauses for a moment, soaking in the San Francisco breeze. He tilts his head side to side, refocuses and marches toward the ring. He’s getting a somewhat mixed reaction…although, the fans seem to be leaning toward boos~

Belvedere: From Reno, Nevada…standing 6’3 and weighing in at 215lbs…he is the reigning Newcomer of the Month…Evin Empire!!!

~Empire, showing the bravado of a newcomer, charges up the steps and wastes no time in getting into the chamber. He spots Meyhu. Meyhu points at Empire and seems to congratulate him on doing things ‘the right way’. Empire smirks but doesn’t respond. Meyhu is a challenge, not an ally. Meyhu simply shakes his head as if to say “fucking kids.” Empire locates a pod diagonal from Meyhu’s. He is secured~

Smith: Evin Empire receiving a pod. That will give him a huge advantage…he’s young, talented, and filled with ambition

Hood: This is shaping up to be tremendous! Meyhu gets a pod! Empire gets a pod! This is the very opposite of weak ass booking

Smith: You think Meyhu sees some of himself in Evin?

Hood: Only as long as Evin is winning

ARE YOU READY?!
~The ridiculously massive intro to Disturbed’s wildly popular song (and aptly named) “Are You Ready” disrupt a somewhat harmonious millennial rooftop vibe. A few of the weaker fans cover their ears. Several turn around with scowls on their face, wondering where this devilish music is coming from. Former OCW Champion, The Incredible One is standing in the entrance way, looking like he is fully prepared for what’s about to go down. He’s not arrogant like Meyhu. He’s not gung-ho like Empire. He’s grasping the full scope of what lies ahead. The fans start to converse…and they reach a decision that, at least the song is asking permission (Are You Ready) so they begin to cheer for TIO. He heads for the chamber~

Belvedere: From Halifax, Nova Scotia…standing 6’2 and weighing in at 235lbs…he is a former OCW Champion…he is in the OCW Hall of Fame…he is…The Incredible One!!!

~TIO cautiously enters and takes a look around. He walks around Evin’s chamber, taking a look at the impressive rookie. Evin stares right through TIO. TIO laughs, slightly. He heads for the empty pod in the back corner of the chamber. He pauses, spotting his nemesis – Meyhu. Meyhu puts up his fists, acting as though he’s going to tear TIO apart IF the pod weren’t in the way. TIO simply points at Meyhu before stepping into his pod. It gets padlocked~

Smith: At least someone with morality and decency is getting a pod

Hood: I don’t know how moral TIO is these days

Smith: I have no idea what you’re referencing

Hood: So who gets the fourth pod?

Smith: Might as well be Chelsea given her in-ring strategy

Hood: No, it has to be Bifford. Anything other than a pod could lead to a heart attack

Smith: Or, it could be Mack…give the guy a break finally

Hood: With Welsh in charge? You’ve got to be kidding

~The fans sit anxiously awaiting to find out who gets the final pod advantage. “GANGSTAS PARADISE” by Coolio hits!!! The fans on the roof boo their lungs out! They HATE this man. The way he treats potatoes. The way he treated Ka’Berryon. The way he treats Earl and Kenny. He’s such a fucking bully! Bifford appears and walks halfway down the aisle. He pauses and places his fists atop his beefy hips. A breeze blows through, tickling his magical fleece. A fan rushes forward and leans over the railing, dousing Biff in a bucket of blood~

Smith: Uh oh

Hood: They tainted the magical fleece!

Smith: I think that fan is upset over the treatment of animals. He sees that fleece as a symbol of animal cruelty

Hood: Or…and stop me if I’m way off base, that fan could simply be a fucking idiot…not to mention, where did he get the fucking blood? Are there rivers of innocuous blood floating around the city of San Francisco?

~Fire shoots off in Bifford’s eyes. He’s about to murder this fan. A trial of blood trickles down his upper lip and slides into his mouth. He licks his lips. “Mmm,” he says, “Kool-Aid.” Bifford deems the act acceptable and returns proceeding to the ring~

Smith: There’s your answer. It wasn’t real blood.

Hood: That just means that idiot isn’t fully committed to his bullshit cause

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 enters into the ring. Nothing frightens this man. And why should he be frightened? Do you even know what this man has been through? He’s seen…things. Bifford approaches the final pod. He approaches the pod very calmly and starts to wedge his way inside. There’s some immediate doubt as to whether or not the pod can hold Biff’s corpulent frame. Biff, though, goes about it without any concern or embarrassment. The crowd tries to laugh at him but they are quickly silenced for their ‘bullying’. This is a complex crowd, folks~

Smith: I’m not sure he’s going to fit, Hood

Hood: Weak Ass Planning

~A faceless OCW employee, helping Scruff try and shut the door, makes the suggestion that Biff should remove his red stained fleece. Biff reaches down and grabs the employee by the throat, tossing him into the ring. We hear a very loud and clear WILHELM scream as the employee soars over the top rope and lands, roughly on the canvas. Scruff, upon seeing this, doubles his efforts and finally gets the door shut and padlocked. The glass windows look like they could burst at any second. Bifford’s body is pressed and wedged against each one of them. His face, meanwhile, is stoic. He looks around, with narrow eyes, staring down the other three men~

Smith: Totally unnecessary of Bifford to throw that poor, young employee around

Hood: He disrespected the fleece, Smith

Smith: I guess he should have been carrying kool aid

Hood: That would have helped

Belvedere: And now…the three participants who will be start the match inside the ring. Introducing first…

~ “Chelsea” by STEFY fires up. The crowd stands and gives a strong ovation. A few signs read “HER TIME” The #MeToo movement is in full force. Chelsea emerges. She really hams it up in front of the camera. She’s carrying a larger than normal business card with her agent’s name and number on it. We hear her say, “I’m accepting non-wrestling bookings for those interested.” She smiles, throws a kiss at the camera and proceeds to approach the chamber. The four men inside look at her with derision. Well, except Bifford…he’s scowling at something off in the distance~

Belvedere: From Anaheim, California…standing 5’6 and weighing in at 128lbs…Chelsea LeClair!!!

Smith: The biggest surprise about all of this…Chelsea LeClair

Hood: She went from Andrea’s jealous friend to a fucking star in one night

Smith: Unfortunately she seems more interested in making movies than winning wrestling matches

Hood: And yet she’s where Andrea wants to be…can you imagine

~LeClair ascends the steps and enters the ring. She blows right past Scruff and eyes the four men in the pods. She finds the corner nearest Evin…feeling, perhaps he could be a good ally. The confident LeClair leans against the buckles and smiles for the camera, showing off her looks and charisma. That’s when…“Kings Never Die” by Eminem hits! The fans boo. They don’t seem to like The Distinguished. CJ marches out with zero hesitation. He’s focused. He’s got confidence in his eyes. He heads instantly for the chamber…a fan nearby says something. CJ flips them off without turning to look their way~

Belvedere: From Boston, Massachusetts…standing 5’11 and weighing in at 178lbs…he is a former OCW Tag Team Champion…“The Distinguished” CJ O’Donnell!!

~CJ pauses at the bottom of the steps, he snarls, shakes his head, pounds his chest and rushes up the steps, entering into the chamber. He enters through the ropes and marches around the ring, slapping his gloved hands against his head, fired up. Chelsea eyes CJ…she sees opportunity~

Smith: CJ looks ready!

Hood: Big chance for OCW’s Iron Man. He fell short in a triple threat a few years ago…tonight, he gets another shot to reach the main event

Smith: Chelsea looks happy to see him

Hood: Oh, I’m sure she’s done some research. CJ loves the ladies

~CJ finds a corner and continues to stay hyped. Chelsea begins inching closer to The Distinguished. Meyhu, in the background, laughs at what’s beginning to take place. TIO shakes his head. We go for Evin’s perspective…but our POV instantly shifts when “Vagabond” by the Greenskeepers hits. THE ROOF NEARLY CRUMBLES TO THE GROUND DUE TO THE MASS AMOUNTS OF BOOS. Mack emerges and pauses…the 100% negative reaction has taken him by surprise. He looks around at all the millennial fans, removes a flask from his pocket, downs a generous gulp of Jameson and tells them all to get fucked. He marches for the ring. He pauses a time or two, reaching back with his fist, aiming to sock an opinionated fan. The ‘brave’ fans heckling him duck or run away whenever Mack does this~

Belvedere: And, the seventh and final contestant…from Brooklyn, New York…standing 6’3 and weighing in at 220lbs…he is a former OCW Champion…he is in the OCW Hall of Fame…he is…Mack O’Connor!!!

~About to rush up the steps, Mack pauses. He looks out toward the side of the building. He leans that way, hand to his ear as though he’s trying to hear what’s going on down below. We cut to the fans on the street…they are chanting “MACK! MACK! MACK!” Mack nods and seems pleased those fans are behind him. He enters into the chamber and pauses at the ropes. Chelsea is talking to CJ…Mack laughs~

Smith: The older fans love Mack. The newer fans…not so much

Hood: The hell did Mack ever do to the millennial crowd?

Smith: I think they are still sore over the punch heard throughout New Orleans…when Mack cheated Andrea out of the Paradigm Title.

Hood: That was nearly six months ago…GET OVER IT

~Mack steps into the ring. There’s a pretty obvious line in the sand. Chelsea is working on CJ…they appear set on teaming up against Mack. Mack remains in the opposite corner, sucking back some Jameson. Belvedere hustles out of the chamber. The door is shut and locked. The bell rings…the fans on the roof and in the street go wild~

Smith: And finally! We are underway!

Hood: Longest intro sequence ever…why do we do this to ourselves?

Smith: Because, in OCW we give a shit about characters

~Mack keeps his focus on CJ and Chelsea. Meyhu is kind of chuckling, watching Chelsea gravitate toward CJ. TIO simply shakes his head. Mack yells out, “We guys gonna have a fucking picnic or are we gonna fight?” LeClair ignores Mack…but CJ takes the insult personally. He marches toward O’Connor. Mack smiles, ready for a fight. He heads CJ’s way. Both men get face to face and begin throwing insults back and forth. LeClair leans back, like an observer…very much like she did in her match one week ago. It doesn’t take long before things escalate…CJ head butts Mack. Mack says ‘what the fuck’ and throws a punch, drilling CJ in the jaw. CJ responds with one of his own…the two men are suddenly brawling in the center of the ring~

Smith: No love lost between these two!

Hood: Mack likes poking fun at people…and he’s poked a lot of fun at CJ

Smith: Yep and CJ has probably had just about enough of it

~Mack gains the upper hand. His size and bar room brawl experience overwhelm CJ. CJ begins to falter into a corner. Mack punches increase in volume and velocity. The smacks emanating from each blow echo louder and louder. CJ is reeling. Mack appears to have him on the ropes…until he suddenly crumbles to the mat!! We cut to a different shot to find Chelsea kneeling next to Mack. A replay shows LeClair clipping Mack in the back of the knee. CJ shakes off the punches and works his jaw back and forth. He hops onto the middle rope and leaps off with a dropkick that takes Mack off his knees and onto his back. CJ pops back to his feet and he helps Chelsea up. It SEEMS like the fans on the roof want to boo but it is, after all “HER TIME” so they remain quiet. The fans on the street, however, are losing their shit…they are booing, cussing, casting votes for libertarian party candidates…it’s getting wild down there~

Smith: Chelsea doing what she does best

Hood: She’d better hope Mack doesn’t get his hands on her

Smith: I’m pretty sure Mack is NOT a fan of Chelsea LeClair

~Chelsea throws some well-placed kicks into the rib cage and chest of Mack, keeping the former champion down. CJ continues to tend to his battered jaw before snapping back into attack mode and joining LeClair in stomping O’Connor. The boos echo from down below. These old school fans hate what they are seeing. CJ pulls Mack up and secures his arms, points Mack toward Chelsea. Chelsea slaps Mack across the face. More boos from down below. Chelsea rears back with her leg, looking for a swift kick to the crotch. Mack drops down and rattles CJ’s already vulnerable jaw with a jawbreaker!! He pops back to his feet and reaches out, grabbing LeClair by the throat. The rooftop audience gasps! The people below pop! Mack bullies Chelsea into a corner…he’s debating several different methods of destruction. CJ runs forward and knees him right into the kidney!!! Mack releases Chelsea, who slips through the ropes, onto the metal surface of the chamber. Mack drops to one knee. CJ begins to pummel Mack in the back of the head with right hands~

Smith: I just don’t see how Mack can get anything going with the odds the way they are right now

Hood: CJ and the women, man. They are drawn to him like Michael Jackson is to a little league game

Smith: I take it you’re watching that new documentary?

Hood: Not yet, but I’ve heard things

~CJ grabs Mack by the head, dragging him into the center of the ring. Chelsea yells out. CJ watches her leap up onto the top rope and springboard off. CJ moves out of the way and LeClair comes down with a cross body on top of Mack!! She makes the pin…Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

KICK OUT!

Smith: Whoa…massive kick out by Mack

Hood: Yea, I think he’s getting sick of this shit

Smith: I’d imagine he’s feeling a fair amount of frustration, yes

~Mack’s monstrous kick out sends LeClair flying. She crawls under the bottom rope to perceived safety. Mack tries to get up but CJ applies a side head lock, taking him back down to the mat. Mack isn’t down for long…he grunts and stares into the camera like “Enough of this bullshit.” He fights to his feet and hoists CJ up. CJ punches Mack atop his bald head…but Mack falls backwards, dropping CJ on his head with a belly-to-back suplex!! CJ hits hard and reaches for his head. Mack climbs to his feet and locates Chelsea. The ropes are all that separates the two~

Smith: Mack feels like Chelsea cheated her way into this match

Hood: She smarted her way into this thing, Smith. She used her brain…ya know, a functional brain…one that hasn’t been ravaged and raped by Jameson whiskey for several decades.

Smith: While I don’t condone Mack’s alcoholic activities, I highly doubt his brain has been raped by anything

~Mack climbs through the ropes to get after LeClair. She jumps forward and kicks the middle rope…it bounces up, racking Mack’s ballsack! Mack stumbles back into the ring and doubles over. He looks at Chelsea and says “You bitch!” LeClair seems conflicted…does she get into the ring? She leans through the ropes and shouts words of encouragement at CJ, urging him to get up. CJ nods and complies~

Smith: We’re nearing the ten minute mark which means this lopsided action will come to a close

Hood: Maybe…although I’d wager three of the four pod people are enemies of Mack

Smith: Pod people?

Hood: Well, what the fuck else would you call them?

~CJ returns to his feet and kicks Mack in the face!! Mack straightens up and stumbles back against the ropes. CJ throws a knee into Mack’s gut. He whips Mack across off the ropes…Mack reverses and grabs CJ dropping him with HOLLOW POINT!! The fans down below pop! The fans on the roof follow suit, realizing something big just happened. CJ is down!! Mack stands over him…a blonde blur flies across the ring…it’s Chelsea LeClair!! She takes Mack down with a springboard flying forearm!! Mack hits hard, holding his nose. Chelsea crawls over and covers CJ! Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

SHOULDER UP

Smith: Chelsea nearly eliminated CJ!

Hood: Damnit, CJ! Get the blood out of your cock and back into your fucking cranium!

Smith: I get what Chelsea was thinking but that may not have been the best idea

~Chelsea looks around, nervously. She didn’t entertain the notion that CJ might kick out. CJ rolls onto all fours and looks over at Chelsea. His eyes are filled with anger. Chelsea tries to talk her way off his bad side. CJ rises to his feet with his fists clenched. Mack has rolled out of the ring and is sitting up against the chained side of the chamber, laughing at what’s going on. Suddenly, a clock appears and a countdown begins~

Smith: The first pod is about to open!

Hood: Who do you think it’ll be?

Smith: I hope it’s Meyhu…he’s had enough of an advantage

Hood: Nah, it’ll be Evin. Get the kid in there, let him get some shit in before he’s pinned and sent away

~The clock winds down and hits zero. We hear a loud buzzer. A red spotlight hits the pod of – TIO!! The crowd pops!! TIO slaps the glass with both hands, eager to get out. The door opens and he hustles free, hopping over the top rope. CJ isn’t looking, he’s got Chelsea corner. TIO runs up, he grabs CJ around the waist and tosses him over his head with an overhead release German Suplex!!! CJ hits hard but scurries to his feet…TIO runs him over with a huge clothesline!! CJ hits the mat, hard! The fans are on fire!! LeClair slips out of the ring, looking to find a safe space~

Smith: TIO is giving CJ what he deserves!

Hood: Go easy on him, TIO! He was recently in a wheel chair! Show some damn compassion!

Smith: He was never THAT hurt…it was all a ploy, a ploy to mess with TIO’s head!

Hood: Ha, yea right…I don’t think anyone wants to get inside TIO’s head. It’s a dark, strange…perverse place.

~Chelsea is sneaking around outside of the ring. She sneaks by Biff’s pod and stops, looking at the giant man with every inch of his rotund flesh pressed against the glass pod. She nearly gags. Biff doesn’t care. He’s still scowling, surveying the crowd for any Dan fans. His fleece appears to be nearly rid of all the red stains…it is a magical fleece, after all. LeClair continues to sneak around…a hand reaches out and grabs a handful of her blonde hair!! Her eyes widen and she turns around…Mack’s got her! LeClair puts her hands up, trying to broker an arrangement but Mack isn’t hearing it. So, she throws a kick at Mack’s crotch. Mack catches her leg! Chelsea hops around on one leg…Mack reaches forward and pie faces LeClair!! Her body jerks backwards…the back of her head SLAMS into the steel floor of the chamber! She reaches back, wincing. Mack laughs~

Smith: A small bit of revenge for Mack O’Connor…I’m not sure how these Bay Area fans are going to take that type of violence

Hood: We’ll just pay Petia off…tell him to tell them it’s okay. He seems to be their leader for some fucked up reason.

Smith: I think we’ve given Petia Horamos enough for one evening

Hood: Oh no, Smith…we have not. More is to come

~Mack stalks after LeClair. Chelsea rolls into the ring, under the bottom rope. Mack scowls and steps through the ropes. Chelsea crawls over, grabbing TIO by the leg. TIO looks down, confused. He looks at Mack. Mack shrugs. Suddenly, out of nowhere, CJ comes flying into view with IRISH KNOWLEDGE into TIO’s face!!! TIO crumbles to the mat! Chelsea backs away from the fallen champion. CJ pops back to his feet and goes after Mack with some lefts and rights~

Smith: CJ opting NOT to pin TIO

Hood: He’s caught up in the action, Smith. He’s trying to weaken all his competitors…it’s systematic

Smith: Maybe…he may also think TIO, when the chips are down, might still take his side…although that could be out the window after kneeing him in the face

Hood: Well he’s got TIO weakened. If he can weaken Mack and reform an alliance with Chelsea…while keeping one eye open, obviously…then he might be able to swing things his way

~Chelsea crawls over and covers TIO. Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

SHOULDER UP

Smith: TIO survives!

Hood: I think it’s pretty obvious that Chelsea is going to try to pin anyone, at any time

Smith: Yea, she’s taking a more traditional approach

~The count snares CJ’s attention. He turns around, spotting Chelsea hovering over TIO. TIO rolls away. LeClair gets to her feet, looking at CJ, wondering what he’s going to do. Mack slugs CJ in the back of the head!! CJ stumbles forward…right into a small package from Chelsea! Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

3!!!

Smith: WHAT?!

Hood: CJ’s been eliminated! Are you fucking kidding me?!

Smith: He was pinned by Chelsea!

Hood: This is why you NEVER trust a fucking woman

Smith: I’m not sure he was trusting her at that point…just…man

~CJ, realizing what’s happened, slaps the mat with his fists. Chelsea starts to celebrate before realizing the match isn’t over. She spots Mack, who takes a step in her direction. She hustles through the ropes, out of the ring. Mack stands over CJ, hands on his hips, shaking his head. CJ rises to his feet and glares at Mack~

Smith: CJ is not happy.

Hood: Ya think?

Smith: I think he’s about to square up with Mack

Hood: I know Mack hates CJ and would love nothing more than to fight the guy…but now’s not the time. It’s a no win situation for O’Connor

~Mack seems to agree. He steps aside and motions for CJ to exit. CJ calls Mack a ‘pussy’ and steps through the ropes. He pauses and feels something. His head turns to the right and he sees Bifford glaring…not at him, but through him. CJ extends his arms and yells “WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?” Bifford doesn’t respond. CJ continues to taunt the OCW legend as security tries to coax him out of the chamber. CJ yells, “FUCK OFF, FAT ASS. MAURAKO WILL WIN THE OCW TITLE BEFORE YOU DO!” Bifford suddenly snaps out of whatever functional coma he had been enjoying. He is no longer glaring through CJ, but at him. CJ smirks, realizing he’s getting under Bifford’s skin~

Smith: Uh oh

Hood: Don’t awaken the bear, CJ! Head to the back, shower up and go crush some millennial ass

~CJ, “Ya know what? Fuck that…DANGEROUS DAN will win the OCW title before you do you fat fuck!” This is too much. Biff suddenly EXPLODES THROUGH HIS CHAMBER!! It busts out into a thousand pieces…glass and metal fly everywhere. CJ’s eyes pop…he’s like “OH SHIT” He turns and hops out of the Chamber. The door is slammed shut and locked. Bifford hustles over and begins shaking the side of the chamber. The entire structure rocks. Mack, TIO and Chelsea all look on like ‘Thanks, CJ.” CJ talks some more shit from outside the chamber before being forced to the back by security. Bifford, enraged, begins storming around the chamber, bashing his fist into the sides. He pauses and spots Meyhu…he stares at the OCW icon. Meyhu’s head jerks back like “The hell did I do?” Bifford points at Meyhu…does he see Dan in Meyhu’s face? A timer begins to go off~

Smith: Another pod is about to open up!

Hood: What if it’s Biff’s pod?

Smith: Well, then I guess he got released prematurely

~The timer continues to tick. The fur on Biff’s MAGICAL FLEECE stand upright and almost lean in Meyhu’s direction. The timer goes off and a buzzer sounds. EVIN EMPIRE’S pod opens up! The young, confident rookie hopes out and throws a superkick into the back of Biff’s head!!! Bifford stumbles forward. He slowly turns around…the fans are like “OH SHIT” Mack is leaning in a corner, laughing at what’s going on. Chelsea is crouched behind a ring post, trying to stay hidden. TIO is back on his feet, working his jaw back and forth while checking his nose. Bifford storms toward Empire who hops over the top rope, back into the ring. Mack gets in his way as Bifford squeezes through the ropes. Evin tries to escape via another side…but TIO gets in his way. Empire is like “What the fuck, guys?” He spins around, right into the giant hands of Bifford! Bifford lifts Empire up and powerbombs him directly into the mat! The rooftop crowd is sorta cheering the action…although they find Bifford to be something of a heinous character…however, they don’t want to judge him based on his weight…so they are truly conflicted~

Smith: Welcome to the big time, Evin Empire!

Hood: You don’t just kick Bifford in the head, man! The kid will learn

Smith: Indeed…fortunately for Evin, the mistake has not cost him the match…yet

~Bifford looks at both Mack and TIO. TIO and Mack look at one another…an unspoken agreement is reached. They rush toward Bifford and start to pummel the behemoth with lefts and rights!!! Bifford stumbles backward, into a corner. Mack and TIO continue to slug the former champion. Evin rolls out of the ring, onto the steel grating. Chelsea sneaks over, kneeling next to him, rubbing the back of his neck~

Smith: Oh come on

Hood: What? She clearly cares about Evin’s safety. What a compassionate woman!

Smith: Whatever! She’s clearly looking for someone she can cling to…she tried CJ and, well, he’s gone…after her venomous poison cost him a shot at the OCW Title. Now she’s trying to get her claws into Evin

Hood: Is that anyway to speak about a woman…especially less than a week removed from international vagina day?

Smith: Nothing I said was as offensive as that!

~Evin backslides against the chamber. He’s careful to avoid some shards of glass from Bifford EXPLOSIVE entrance. Chelsea kicks some debris away and crouches next to Evin. TIO and Mack, meanwhile, find some synchronization with their punches. Bifford’s hair, fat face jiggles and flops around after each punch. They’ve got the big man reeling. They share a quick nod, reach out, hook Biff by the arms and hip toss him out of the corner, into the middle of the ring!! The entire ring and chamber shake with impact! Chelsea points at the action in the ring, trying to give Evin some pointers. Evin halfway listens to her, still recovering from Bifford’s powerbomb. Mack and TIO stand over Bifford…they look at one another, both wondering when and how this union will fail~

Smith: Mack and TIO teaming up…I never thought I’d see the day

Hood: Mack likes tartare?

Smith: I don’t even know what that means

Hood: No one does…not even Mack. But, rest assured, it means something

~LeClair notices the legendary union and seems perturbed. She leaves Evin, who begins to pull himself up. Mack and TIO cease sizing one another up and turn their focus down to the beached…err, fallen former president. LeClair climbs onto the second rope and SLAPS Mack in the back of the head. She hops down and scurries off. Mack turns to TIO…assuming him to be the culprit. TIO is like “The hell are you glaring at me for?” Mack shoves TIO. TIO shoves Mack. They begin to brawl! The crowd gives a mixed reaction. We cut to Chelsea leaning against the cage, with an achieved grin. Evin walks up next to her, perhaps more intrigued by the notion to stick at her side~

Smith: Stirring the pot instead of actual wrestling…Chelsea LeClair everyone

Hood: Work smarter, not harder Smith

Smith: Well there is some truth to that saying, yes. But the way she works…it just irks me

Hood: That’s because you hate women and want to see them fail…you think they have small brains and teeth in their privates

Smith: I DO NOT

~LeClair’s eyes sparkle with opportunity. She motions toward the corner…then at TIO and Mack. Evin looks on, contemplating. Chelsea encourages him. He finally takes the plunge and heads for the corner. He scales it quickly and leaps off, diving at Mack and TIO…he divers OVER them and takes them both down with a double Blockbuster!! They hit hard, grabbing their necks!! Empire winds up landing on top of Bifford!! He tries to escape, but it’s like trying to scurry off a waterbed. This waterbed is living and has arms…those arms wrap themselves around Evin. Bifford rises! He’s got Evin in grasp….he tosses Empire over his head with a release german suplex!!! Evin hits hard, holding the back of his head in pain~

Smith: Bifford has risen!

Hood: Poor Evin…never listen to the suggestions of a beautiful woman. It will and has always led to the downfall of man

Smith: Okay, now THAT’s sexist

~Bifford stands in the ring, points his thumbs and does his infamous ‘T! B! B!’ thumb pose! The fans sorta chant along…most of the chants come from the street. Bifford stands proud, acting as though the entire world erupted in unison. He’s more unifying than a fresh, cold, crisp bottle of coke. His magical fleece feels a nice, bay area breeze…shivering along the invisible wave. Biff’s head turns, he spots Chelsea. Her eyes widen as the mammoth makes his way toward the ropes~

Smith: Uh oh

Hood: Good news is…she can probably out run him

Smith: He’s fast when he wants to be, Hood.

Hood: True, he did manage to catch all those homeless people.

~Biff wedges his way through the ropes. LeClair takes off running, keeping some distance between herself and this menacing psychopath with an impressive sense of humor. He gives chase, stalking her much like an unstoppable force would stalk its teen victims inside the real of a slasher flick. Meyhu takes this all in or, well, doesn’t. He’s got his back to the action, looking over the crowd, shaking his head in disappointment. We’re not entirely sure why. TIO begins to stir in the ring…he sees Mack doing the same. Evin is still down~

Smith: Must be nice to be the boss’s favorite

Hood: I think CJ would disagree

Smith: I’m not talking about CJ!

~Evin finally begins to move. He spots Mack and TIO getting to their feet and decides to roll out of the ring. Biff is still stalking Chelsea. She’s running around the ring. Empire rolls out of the ring, onto the grate and gets to his feet. Chelsea runs right into him! Empire looks down at her, not exactly enthused. LeClair decides the best defense is a good offense, berating him over failing to capitalize after the double blockbuster. Evin bites his tongue for a moment, doing his best to keep from slugging her. She pokes him in the chest. He finally gives her a big shove! She stumbles back, running into Bifford’s giant gut. She turns around and receives a big head butt from Biff!!! Her body thrashes, violently onto the grating! The fans begin to boo, not exactly enjoying the male on female violence. Evin hustles forward and cracks Biff in the jaw with a SUPERMAN PUNCH! Bifford staggers, dropping to one knee. The countdown begins again~

Smith: And we’re about to FINALLY get our first look at The Marvel

Hood: I still think he needs a few more minutes to really find himself

Smith: Vetoed

~The countdown nears the end. Meyhu turns, facing the ring and begins to limber up, ready for combat. The buzzer goes off and a light shines down on…BIFFORD’S POD. The fans are confused. Meyhu smiles and claps his hands, deeming this a welcomed swerve~

Smith: What?!

Hood: Oh shit, that’s right…Bifford was never officially released…his pod just sort of exploded due to the pressure of his rage

Smith: This is insane! Get Meyhu in there!

Hood: Nope, these are the rules

~Evin is going off on Biff with right hands bashing the big man across his face. Mack and TIO, back on their feet, continue to argue. TIO swears he didn’t slap Mack in the head…he points at Chelsea. Mack shoves TIO out of the way, marching for LeClair. She’s crawling on the metal grating, holding her head. Mack steps through the ropes and snares Chelsea by her blonde hair, yanking her to her feet. Chelsea turns around, eyes wide…she freaks out when she sees Mack. She begs him not to hit her. Mack reaches back…she yells out “IT WAS EVIN!” Mack pauses…his face contorts. He turns and looks at Evin. Evin has Bifford down…he’s looking back at Mack, having heard Chelsea’s lie. Mack grunts and throws Chelsea down, heading for Evin~

Smith: Why does everyone believe her?!

Hood: It’s 2019, Smith. The MeToo movement…it means women are never wrong

Smith: That’s not what it means

~Evin backs up, hopping over Bifford’s body. Biff rolls toward the ring. His body hits the bottom rope…he’s having trouble rolling underneath it. TIO steps through the ropes and walks up behind the backtracking Empire. He hooks his arms! Evin is trapped. Mack works his right fist in and out before hauling off and drilling Evin in the face. Empire’s knees go weak. Mack slugs him in the gut. Empire tries to double over. TIO throws his weakened body at Mack…Mack tosses Empire back into the ring. TIO heads toward Bifford. Mack steps inside the squared circle, waiting for Evin to get to his feet~

Smith: I think Evin Empire’s night might be about to come to an end

Hood: Word of advice to EVERY WRESTLER IN OCW…stay away from Chelsea LeClair

~Evin gets to his feet…Mack hits HOLLOW POINT!! Evin spins around and falls into the ropes, spilling onto the metal grating. A frustrated Mack reaches through the ropes, grabbing Evin by the legs. He drags Evin back into the ring. Empire reaches up and grabs the bottom rope. He climbs to the middle rope. Mack tries to pull him free but Empire knows what awaits him if he lets go. Mack yells “FUCK!” He drops Evin’s legs and moves in…Empire snares Mack by the head, gains his footing and drops O’Connor with a Swinging Neck Breaker!!! ~

Smith: Somehow the Newcomer of the Month managed to survive a Hollow Point and get himself back into this match

Hood: Kid’s special, Smith

Smith: He appears to be exactly that

~TIO is stomping on Bifford, understanding the importance of keeping him down. Chelsea sneaks back into the ring. She sees Evin in control. She heads over and starts to stomp on Mack. Evin sits up and slowly rises, still feeling the effects of Hollow Point. He watches LeClair stomping on Mack. Cheslea invites her to join in…they’ve got Mack where they want him~

Smith: Don’t listen to her, Evin! She’s gonna stab you in the back!

Hood: Hey, the kid needs allies, Smith. Gotta roll with what you got

~Empire nods and throws a kick at Mack. Chelsea starts to back away, allowing Evin to do all the hard work. Evin throws another kick. He hesitates…Chelsea yells ‘KICK HIM AGAIN’. Evin lifts his leg…puts it down, turns around and drops Chelsea with a lariat!!! Chelsea hits the mat hard, stunned~

Smith: He’s smartening up!

Hood: Oh man, he just hit a woman in the year 2019…this may not go over well

Smith: What are you talking about? We watched Bob beat on Andrea like she sued him for child support earlier this evening

Hood: Impossible…I’ve heard Bob can’t have children

~Evin pulls Chelsea up. She’s somewhat dazed but aware enough to try and convince him to stop. He knees her in the gut…lifts her up in the crucifix position and plants her into the mat with Reno 911! TIO stops kicking Biff to look on. Mack rolls over, holding his stomach, watching. Evin makes the pin…Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

3!!!!

~The chamber door is opened. OCW officials rush in to grab Chelsea. Evin returns to his feet~

Smith: And Chelsea LeClair has been eliminated!

Hood: That should make Andrea happy

Smith: Why can’t those two get along?

Hood: Because they’re women

~TIO goes back to stomping Biff, who looks like he’s either dead or in a very peaceful slumber. TIO stops kicking, feeling he leg beginning to cramp up. He takes a second to stare down at Biff before realizing he should maybe divert his attention elsewhere. He steps into the ring. Empire is already going back after Mack. Mack reaches for the ropes…Evin drags him toward the center of the ring. Empire runs into the ropes, he bounces off but eats a SPEAR from the side by TIO!!! Evin goes flying, into the ropes, through them and splatting on the metal grating! What a spear!! The fans pop due to the impact of the move!! TIO is fired up! He doesn’t go after Empire…instead, he turns his focus to the injured Mack O’Connor~

Smith: I think TIO sees an opportunity to eliminate Mack!

Hood: Nothing against Evin but everyone aside from Mrs. Empire would tell you that Mack is the bigger threat

Smith: I can’t argue that

~Chelsea is removed from the chamber and the door is shut and relocked. We get a shot of Meyhu, in case you had forgotten he was in this thing. He’s watching some fan nearby work his phone, tweeting. Meyhu asks if he’s trending. The kid says “Yes, right under Mario.” Meyhu frowns and tells the kid to get off twitter and do something with his life. The kid has his feelings hurt, so he likely tweets something nasty about Meyhu. The Marvel couldn’t care less. He turns and resumes watching the match to find Bifford and his MAGICAL FLEECE rising from the dead. TIO has Mack on his feet and clobbers him with a huge forearm. Bifford coughs…he then does the “T! B! B!” pose to minimal chants…he, however, acts like the entire world is responding. He then steps through the ropes and removes his MAGICAL FLEECE like a matador would remove his cape. He charges at TIO. TIO sees this incoming tank out of his peripheral and lets Mack go. Bifford lunges at TIO and smothers him with the MAGICAL FLEECE while taking him down with a humongosized Lou Thesz Press!! The entire structure vibrates. The roof’s stability is tested~

Smith: I don’t even know what to say

Hood: Mario trending AHEAD of Meyhu? Twitter is so gay

~Mack returns to his feet. He sees Bifford on top of TIO…it looks like a giant bear mauling – something. Mack’s taken in by the imagery. Evin climbs the corner. He reaches the top and leaps off with a double foot stomp onto the back of Bifford!! He is then able to seamlessly leap off Biff’s back, toward Mack and toss Mack across the ring with a Hurricanrana!!! What athleticism! Holy shit! Evin pops back to his feet, fired up. He drops to the mat, places both feet in Biff’s ribs and kicks him off TIO – the man he’s anxious to get his hands on~

Smith: Evin is looking for retribution over that spear! He wants to make TIO pay!

Hood: TIO might see Evin and think he’s looking at the Meyhu thus experiencing some PTSD

Smith: I doubt TIO is afraid of Meyhu

Hood: That’s exactly what a coward would say

~Evin pulls TIO to his feet and leans him against the ropes. He slams him with a few forearm uppercuts, sending TIO reeling against the ropes. Evin takes a few steps back and charges in, clotheslining TIO over the top rope, onto the metal grating!! TIO hits hard, arching his back in pain. The timer goes off…the entire crowd holds their breath with anticipation…THE MAN is about to enter the chamber~

Smith: About time

Hood: That seemed a little quick

Smith: No, if anything it felt way too long

~The countdown finishes and the buzzer goes off! A LIME GREEN light shines down on Meyhu’s pod. The Marvel looks around, surprised. “Me? ME?” He arrogantly steps from his pod. The fans boo the arrogance. Way too arrogant for a white man in 2019. Meyhu looks toward the ring but spots THE MAGICAL FLEECE. He decides to avoid that and its owner (who is on his back). Instead, Meyhu heads for TIO, who is wincing from a fall on the metal grating. Meyhu pauses…he sees Evin jump up onto the top rope…springboard off and perform an amazing Shooting Star Press down onto TIO!! Meyhu gives the kid a round of applause and yells for Scruff to get out there and make the count. Evin covers TIO~

1!

2!

KICK OUT!

Smith: TIO kicked out! But, man…what an impressive move by Empire!

Hood: The body control…the athleticism…this kid…this kid!

Smith: He’s the star of the future here in OCW, Hood

~Meyhu walks over and helps Empire up. Patting him on the back and recanting some story about how, when he was younger, he used to actually win matches with moves like that. Evin replies, referring to Meyhu as an old man. Meyhu’s eyes light up. He grabs Evin and throws him into the ring. The crowd boos. Meyhu leaps over the top rope with ease and says “DOES THAT LOOK LIKE AN OLD MAN TO YOU?” Evin rushes to his feet. Meyhu throws a right hand…Evin blocks the right hand and counters with one of his own! He drills Meyhu in the face!! Meyhu fires back, this time connected. The two men trade punches back and forth~

Smith: Meyhu’s ego is too large to share space with anyone

Hood: That’s why he’s the Alpha of Alpha Alpha Alpha

Smith: Are we sure that’s a legit fraternity?

Hood: Dude, don’t shatter Butterfingers’ memories

~Evin is getting the better of Meyhu! This is shocking!! The Marvel is reeling!! Meyhu throws a lariat…Evin ducks, runs into the ropes, springboards off and turns around with an Enziguri!!!! Meyhu drops to one knee…the marvel is almost down!! Mack, having rolled out of the ring, looks on. TIO, outside the ring, looks on. Evin runs toward the ropes…he leaps up, onto the top rope, springboards off, performs a picture perfect moonsault, comes down and drops Meyhu with an inverted DDT (Empire Strikes Back)!!! Mack is like, “Oh shit.” TIO’s eyes widen, “Unbelievable.” Evin crawls over, making the pin…the fans are on their feet~

Smith: Oh my gosh! Evin is going to eliminate Meyhu!

Hood: Forget this kid talk…Evin is the man, NOW

~Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

3!!!!

Smith: NO!

Hood: What?!

Smith: It wasn’t three! Bifford!

Hood: Bifford SAVED Meyhu?

~It’s true. Bifford yanked Empire off Meyhu right at the count of three! Scruff holds up two fingers. The crowd BOOOOOOS. Empire looks up at Bifford like, ‘what the fuck, man?’ Bifford jumps at Empire without warning. Empire rolls out of the way! Bifford splats on the mat. After rolling away, Empire lands on the MAGICAL FLEECE and, somehow, gets tangled up in it. Meyhu is still down, but beginning to wake up~

Smith: GET THAT FLEECE OUT OF THERE

Hood: THE MAGICAL FLEECE IS ATTACKING EVIN EMPIRE

Smith: No, it’s not

~Evin reaches his feet and throws the MAGICAL FLEECE out of the ring. It slams into the chamber door. Empire is PISSED. He turns around to find an ENRAGED Bifford charging his way!! Empire backs up but can’t get out of the way fast enough and is SQUASHED in the corner by a Bifford splash!! Empire staggers forward…Bifford catches him, lifts him up and drops him in the middle of the ring with his JUMPING PILEDRIVER!! The BIFF END!!! Bifford holds on for the pin~

1!

2!

3!!!!

~The crowd is a bit down that Empire is no longer active in the match. They had started to rally behind him. Empire rolls out of the ring. The chamber door is opened and Empire is helped out. They also remove THE MAGICAL FLEECE. Bifford returns to his feet looking like an unbeatable entity~

Smith: And there goes Evin Empire. Heck of a showing

Hood: Kid had Meyhu BEAT, man….he HAD him

Smith: Yea but Bifford traded a Meyhu elimination to pin Empire…strange

Hood: I think, deep down, Bifford wants Meyhu.

Smith: Be careful what you wish for

~Mack looks across at TIO. There’s this giant creature in between them that needs to somehow, someway be subdued. Mack says, “fuck it” and enters into the ring. He approaches Bifford from behind and slugs him in the back of the head. Bifford staggers forward a bit before spinning around with incredible finesse. He tries to do the “T! B! B!” at Mack but Mack punches him in the face!! Bifford nearly loses his balance. Mack hits him again and again!! Bifford falters into the nearest corner. Mack steps up, onto the buckle and starts to pummel Biff in the head~

Smith: Mack is giving Biff what for!

Hood: What for?

Smith: Yes, what for

Hood: Yea, but what for?

Smith: Shut up

~Mack is trying to draw blood…or knock Biff out…or both. Biff, realizing he’s in trouble, balls up his fist and punches Mack right in the GUT! Mack grimaces and stumbles back, to the mat. Bifford lunges at Mack, tackling him to the mat. He remains on top of Mack, near the brink of consciousness. Mack continues to look pain riddled…probably a combination of the gut punch and Biff’s giant body pressed on top of him~

Smith: Well, Biff did it…he punched Mack in the ‘bullet wound’

Hood: Right in the gut…way to go, Biff!

~TIO re-enters the ring. Meyhu is finally returning to his feet. Meyhu turns and sees TIO. TIO walks right up to him, getting in his face! The fans go wild! Meyhu, the taller man, looks down at TIO and scoffs. TIO has pure, raw emotion in his eyes…the man has been through a lot. He shoves Meyhu. Meyhu smirks and winds up for a punch but, before he can, TIO is on him like Belieber in the same room as Justin. He’s pummeling Meyhu…the Marvel is reeling!! Meyhu backs against the ropes and TIO dives at him, sending both men over the top rope, slamming into the steel grating~

Smith: No love lost between these two

Hood: You could argue that everything that’s happened to TIO is a result of his loss to Meyhu last year at The Greatest Show on Earth

Smith: Good point…his career spiraled out of control instantly after that loss

~TIO doesn’t favor the harsh landing. He fights through the pain, his lust for vengeance outweighing any physical ailment. He pulls Meyhu up and throws him into the side of the chamber!!! Meyhu’s body SLAMS into the steel!! Meyhu tries to go down, but TIO grabs him by the hair, keeping him up. He walks him along the side of the ring and throws him, shoulder first into the ring post!! Meyhu’s body PINGS against the post, causing his body to spin around before falling down. TIO heads right back for The Marvel…the man is possessed~

Smith: TIO isn’t trying to beat Meyhu…he’s trying to HURT Meyhu

Hood: Well, it’s about time SOMEBODY started using the chamber as a weapon

Smith: I was really hoping we’d matured beyond succumbing to violent temptation

Hood: Are you kidding me?

~TIO pulls Meyhu back up. Meyhu tries to speak. TIO pauses. Meyhu says “hey, Aptitude buddy…how about one more for the team?” TIO head butts Meyhu right in the nose!! Meyhu reaches up, covering his face. TIO kicks Meyhu in the gut, hoists him up and throws him through the glass casing of one of the pods with a jackknife powerbomb!!! The glass shatters!!! Meyhu’s body crashes down!! The fans are stunned. TIO, finally, drops to a knee, catching his breath and resembling something human. The fans on the street chant “HOLY SHIT”~

Smith: He just killed Meyhu!

Hood: Is he trying to kill OCW? HANDS OFF THE FACE!

Smith: He’s trying to win, Hood

~Mack is finally able to shove Bifford off him. Bifford, for the second or third time this evening, seems to be napping. Mack decides he may as well try for a pin. So he climbs atop the beached whale and yells at Scruff. Scruff slides in~

1!

2!

KICK OUT!

Smith: HUGE kick out!

Hood: He’s awakened the KRAKEN

~Biff’s kick out features his arms shoving Mack into the air!! The momentum causes Mack to spill through the ropes, onto the metal grating. Bifford sits up and looks around. He eyes a turkey leg in the crowd and licks his lips. Mack throws his hands at Biff and heads over to TIO and the carnage he’s created~

Smith: Bifford is that opponent you can scout all you want but you can never truly prepare for

Hood: So glad he’s back

Smith: I’m surprised someone on the roof is eating a turkey leg, to be honest

Hood: Everyone breaks when the scent of freshly cooked meat is in the air…even vegans

~Mack places his hands on his hips and looks at what used to be Meyhu. TIO looks at Mack…Mack says, “Let’s finish him.” TIO replies, “I get the pin.” Mack doesn’t care, less work for him. They reach in and grab Meyhu, yanking him out of the pod. Meyhu’s head is cut open, his hair is soaked with blood. Mack and TIO lifts him up…the steel post is in front of them. Together they toss Meyhu over the post and the corner…Meyhu flips over, landing on his back atop the mat with a thunderous boom. TIO and Mack hurry into the ring~

Smith: It is nice to see these two getting along

Hood: I guess…they’re only gonna stick as long as they have a common enemy acting as glue

Smith: Yes but a year ago Mack would have never helped TIO…growth, Hood. Personal growth.

Hood: Like an erection?

~Bifford is still seated on the mat, evidently keeping a sharp gaze on that turkey leg. TIO reaches Meyhu first, pulling the Marvel to his feet. TIO leans in with an elbow to the side of Meyhu’s head. Mack reaches out, looking for Hollow Point. Meyhu runs his hand along his face, covering it with his own blood. He reaches out and wipes the blood all over Mack’s face! Mack is blinded! He stumbles back before reaching out, grabbing TIO and dropping him with Hollow Point! The fans are stunned! Mack pops back to his feet and clears his eyes out. He sees TIO down and shakes his head. Meyhu leans against the ropes, rubbing the blood out of his eyes. Mack charges forward and clotheslines Meyhu over the rope, onto the metal grating!! Meyhu hits hard. Mack then does…well, what any other competitor would do. He covers TIO~

1!

2!

SHOULDER UP

Smith: TIO survived!

Hood: And now Mack has no friends

Smith: He’s still got Vargas

Hood: INSIDE THE CHAMBER

~Mack returns to his feet, slightly conflicted. TIO starts to sit up. Mack sighs and stays hovering over TIO like a predator over prey. Suddenly, a giant nemesis approaches from behind. Mack’s eyes widen. He turns around and receives a bear hug followed by a belly to belly!!! The entire ring shakes!! Bifford pops back to his feet and pauses…he looks out into the crowd, acting like they are going wild. Instead, they are booing. He reaches out and does the “T! B! B!” Right when he’s finishes he receives a running knee into the back!! Bifford falls forward, into the ropes. He hits his knees, with his arms and upper body draped over the top rope. TIO looks at Biff…but then turns toward Mack, furious. Mack is trying to get up. TIO grabs him, helps him up and gives him two knees into the gut (bullet wound?). He yanks Mack up, onto his shoulders, spins him around and drops him with THIS DAMN INCREDIBLE!!! Mack’s neck gets compressed against the mat. TIO holds on for the pin~

1!

2!

3!!!

~The crowd is surprised to see Mack eliminated. A lot of people had him pegged to go all the way. Mack rolls out of the ring, stunned. Not shocked…just dazed from the trauma to the head. He’s quickly removed from the chamber before he realizes what’s happened. The door is shut and locked. TIO sits up and looks around…Meyhu is outside the ring, in bad shape. Biff is, again, napping and/or temporarily dead~

Smith: And we’re down to three! Three former OCW Champions…three current Hall of Famers

Hood: Hey! We had FOUR a few seconds ago

Smith: Indeed…Mack O’Connor looked like a winner early on but, as the match went on….he just seemed to lose his momentum

Hood: Yep, I keep thinking it’s going to be Mack’s night and something derails him. Here’s hoping he can win that tournament

Smith: Indeed!

~TIO charges at Biff’s back. He leaps into the air and lands across Biff’s shoulders, crushing his throat against the middle rope. Biff remains in position…it’s hard to tell how much damage this had on the giant man. TIO slides out of the ring, upon impact, through the top and middle rope. He turns and sees Meyhu, laying on the crate, holding the top of his head. TIO marches over and stomps Meyhu in the crotch. Meyhu shifts into the fetal position, quivering in pain. TIO pulls him up and throws him, front first into the side of the chamber!! The entire chamber shakes from impact. Meyhu remains standing, his hands clutched around the chains, keeping him upright. TIO looks around the nearest pod (THE BIFF POD). He finds a giant shard of glass and carries with him, over to Meyhu~

Smith: Oh no…this is too much

Hood: It’s a good thing Meyhu was able to relive his glory days one last time as The Marvel. Next time he’ll be Scarface…or maybe even Picasso

Smith: Please don’t use that on him, TIO! I know the man may, in some way, signal the beginning of the roughest period of your life…but two wrongs don’t make a right!

Hood: Besides, it’s not like he did anything wrong. He just WON A FUCKING MATCH

~TIO walks up and jams the glass into Meyhu’s back!!! Meyhu instantly reacts!! He swings around wildly, with feral eyes. The glass pokes out of his back. It’s not in very deep…at least not deep enough to do any permanent damage…but it’s in there far enough to fucking hurt. Meyhu charges at TIO like a wounded animal. TIO spits in his face! This doesn’t stop Meyhu…he reaches out, grabbing TIO by the chin. TIO kicks him in the knee. Meyhu staggers. TIO reaches around Meyhu and removes the glass. He tries to slash Meyhu with it but Meyhu blocks the blow and jumps into the air with a dropkick!!! He connects!! TIO flips over the top rope, back into the ring, dropping the glass. Meyhu kicks the glass out of the way and hops over the top rope, looking like he’s caught a second wind. Blood covers his face and chest…the man needs some stitches. But, those will have to wait~

Smith: TIO flipped a switch inside the Marvel

Hood: Yea, it’s all fun and games until someone gets stabbed

Smith: Evidently

~TIO sits up and tries to back away from the incoming, furious Meyhu. His back hits the ropes. He rises, like a person trapped up against a wall. Meyhu shoots him off the ropes. TIO reverses. Meyhu leaps into the air and springboards off the middle rope with a moonsault. HOLY SHIT, THIS GUY IS ATHLETIC. TIO CATCHES MEYHU! He’s got Meyhu over his shoulders. He swings Meyhu around for This Damn Incredible. Meyhu, though, rakes TIO in the eyes and drops to his feet and drops TIO to the mat with THE EGO TRIP!!! The crowd is flabbergasted!!! Meyhu rolls TIO over and goes for the pin~

1!

2!

3!!!!

~TIO is on his back, out. Meyhu sits up and backslides into a corner, holding the cut in his head. OCW officials grab TIO and pull him out of the ring and chamber. We’re down to two~

Smith: I have to give credit where it’s due…the OCW officials have been very efficient in removing the competitors instantly upon their eliminations

Hood: Yea, almost TOO efficiently

Smith: Well, it’s worked

~TIO comes to as his feet hit the outside. He freaks out, pushing people off him. He grabs the door before it can be shut. He re-enters the chamber~

Smith: I spoke too soon

~TIO removes the lace from one of his boots. He wraps it around Meyhu’s throat from behind (the ring post). He yanks back, choking the life out of Meyhu! The fans boo, deeming this unfair. The fans on the street are like “Hey, the guy held the title for like a year, he’ll be fine.” OCW officials are working to pull TIO away from Meyhu~

Smith: It’s hard to blame TIO for these actions. The man is clearly an emotional wreck…he’s got so much going on with his daughter, his career, the loss of Leslie

Hood: Man you’d fit right in with this millennial crowd of pussies. Can’t blame him for…what? CHOKING A MAN OUT? Give me a break

~Bifford rises!! There’s an OH SHIT vibe. He sees TIO choking Meyhu out. Biff does the ‘T! B! B!” hand gesture and charges forward. He turns around and slams his backside into Meyhu’s head!!! The impact sends TIO and the officials flying through one of the untouched, empty pods, shattering glass everywhere. The crowd is taken back. The fans on the street start to chant “T! B! B!”~

Smith: Bifford is awake!

Hood: Turning back the clock!

Smith: It’s just Biff and Meyhu…unbelievable…who would have ever thought we’d see these two legends compete on such a stage with so much at stake?

Hood: Marcus Welsh did…the man is a visionary

~Bifford drags Meyhu back into the center of the ring. He hits the ropes…they nearly snap. He bounces off and jumps into the air, coming down on Meyhu with a BIG splash. Scruff slides in as Biff’s massive girth smothers The Marvel~

1!

2!

SHOULDER UP

Smith: The Marvel survives pin via suffocation!

Hood: I don’t know who to pull for…I like both these guys!

Smith: Well, one was reliving his college days. The other was degrading the homeless…shouldn’t be that hard, Hood

Hood: You’re right…GO BIFF

~Biff pops back to his feet, looking spry. OCW medics are seen helping TIO and the crew members that went through the pod. TIO is a bit loopy. We see some blood on his upper torso due to various cuts. As they try to get him out, someone shouts ‘GET THIS OUT OF THE WAY’ and they toss the MAGICAL FLEECE back into the Chamber. Biff’s eyes light up. He heads for THE MAGICAL FLEECE~

Hood: THE MAGICAL FLEECE!

Smith: Oh dear lord

Hood: Biff’s got the advantage!

~Biff grabs THE MAGICAL FLEECE and twirls it around. Meyhu slowly starts to get to his feet. Bifford heads into the ring and wraps THE MAGICAL FLEECE around Meyhu’s head. He begins to choke/suffocate The Marvel!! The fans are near riotous over the way the Marvel has been treated in this match. Stabbed, cut, and now choked! The fans on the street are far less irate about it. Meyhu’s movements slow…he leans over, into Biff. He’s apparently out. Like a magician, Biff removes THE MAGICAL FLEECE to reveal an unconscious Meyhu. BOOO goes the crowd~

Smith: These fans know who they are rooting for

Hood: Can’t believe kids these days…fat shaming, unbelievable

~Biff pauses and does the “T! B! B!” Meyhu jumps up! HOLY SHIT! Biff is stunned, the fans are stunned! Has THE MAGICAL FLEECE betrayed Biff? Meyhu grabs Biff and drops him with THE EGO TRIP!!! The fans go crazy!!! The ring shakes!! Biff is face down. THE MAGICAL FLEECE looks a little less magical…and Meyhu is on his back, breathing heavily, eyes shut. The fans are shouting “PIN HIM!” But Meyhu is too beat down to move~

Smith: He’s hit the Ego Trip but he can’t cover Bifford!

Hood: Even if he could…he’d have to roll the big guy over…no easy task

Smith: Not at all

~Meyhu FINALLY begins to move. He tries to roll Bifford over. It’s harder than he realized. He struggles and strains, getting a good grip and plowing OCW’s largest legend onto his back. The blood pours down his face due to the strain but…he gets him over!! Meyhu jumps on top for the pin…Scruff slides in, with the count~

1!

2!

3!!

NO!!!

Smith: Biff shot the shoulder up!

Hood: IT’S ALIVE

Smith: He’s alive

Hood: No, the MAGICAL FLEECE…it obviously shot some extra energy into Biff at the last possible second!

Smith: No, it did not

~Meyhu rolls over, his head resting on Biff’s Buddha like belly. His eyes are heavy…he’s lost a lot of blood. He’s exhausted. He gets to his knees and grabs Biff by the arm. It’s so fucking heavy. He drops it and walks, on his knees, to the ropes, leaning against the middle ropes, shaking his head. It sounds like he’s saying “He’s too big. I’m too tired…I…I can…” Before he can finish, THE MAGICAL FLEECE is wrapped around his throat and he’s dragged back into the center of the ring. Women (or men, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the high pitched shrieks belonged to men) shriek as if this is some sort of horror film. Biff, smiling, with that disturbingly comical and innocent look on his face as he enacts the most vile form of violence imaginable, goes back to work on Meyhu~

Smith: Bifford is too much!

Hood: That’s what she said!

Smith: Now is not the time for sophomoric humor!

Hood: Why is it sophomoric humor? Why not Freshmaric? Or Junioric? Or, hell, even 8th graderic?

Smith: PAY ATTENTION TO THE NUMBER CONTENDER MATCH INSIDE THE ELIMINATION CHAMBER

~THE MAGICAL FLEECE is drenched in marvel blood. Biff places THE MAGICAL FLEECE down, revealing a worn Meyhu. He pulls Meyhu to his feet and does the “T! B! B!” to a thunderous ovation of BOOOS. Biff kicks Meyhu in the gut and hooks him. He leaps into the air for The Biff End!! Meyhu wiggles free, mid air, and is able to contort his body in enough time to drop Biff face first on top of THE MAGICAL FLEECE with a face buster!!! Biff pops back to his feet, stunned. Meyhu is on his back. Bifford throws punches and stumbles around. He’s like a video game boss who’s shield has been cracked. Meyhu’s got an opening~

Smith: Biff was slammed face first into the fleece!

Hood: Is that his weakness?

Smith: I don’t want to breathe life into such a ridiculous notion but…maybe

~Meyhu fights to his feet. He sees Biff wandering around, shaking off the impact. He grabs Biff by the hair and drags him near THE MAGICAL FLEECE (putting two and two together?). He delivers a right hand, which is blocked. Bifford rakes Meyhu on top of the head! Meyhu lets out a visceral yell, nearly falling to the mat. Bifford steps back and spins around, looking for a spinning lariat. He brings his arm flying toward Meyhu…The Marvel Catches Biff’s arm and drops him onto THE MAGICAL FLEECE with THE EGO TRIP!!! The Bay Area explodes!!! Meyhu fights and digs the toes of his feet into the mat, rolling the giant man over. He gets him onto his back and leaps on top of Biff…Scruff slides in with the count~

1!

2!

3!!!!!

~The bell rings and the place erupts!!! When asked tomorrow…they couldn’t be able to tell you why…but for tonight, right now, this moment, they are all MATT MEYHU FANS~

Belvedere: Here is your winner of the Elimination Chamber…AND THE #1 CONTENDER TO THE OCW CHAMPIONSHIP….“THE MARVEL” MATT MEYHU!!!!!

Smith: Meyhu did it! I can’t believe it…I’m actually overcome with emotion over here!

Hood: Why? WHY?

Smith: He just…I don’t know, he was targeted so heavily throughout that entire match…it felt like we were witnessing the end of an era

Hood: That’s why he’s called the MOTHER FUCKING MARVEL

~Meyhu gets the HELL away from Bifford as soon as he realizes he’s won and the match is over. He kicks at the door, impatiently waiting for it to be opened. Bifford begins to stir. The door is opened and Meyhu jumps out. He looks back at Biff, shaking his head…he’s never faced a man like that in his career – ever. The KNIFE MAN rushes up and begins applying medicine and wraps to Meyhu’s head. Meyhu turns around and jumps, upon seeing a giant blade. But he quickly relaxes, understanding he’s in the care of the best medicine man OCW has. Bifford slowly gets to his feet. He glares at Meyhu. He begins to make his way toward the Chamber exit. Meyhu lunges forward and slams the door shut, locking it. All the OCW officials surrounding him, look up, surprised. Meyhu turns and heads up the aisle, leaving the beast trapped in its cage~

Smith: How does it feel, Bifford? How does it feel to be trapped inside a cage, huh?

Hood: Quiet! He’ll come over here and murder us

Smith: Trapping all those poor homeless people. SERVES HIM RIGHT

Hood: Whatever…I think it’s safe to say Meyhu is fine with never facing Bifford again

Smith: Bifford might be the scariest man…thing…being in OCW history

Hood: I’d second that

~We get a shot of Bifford. He puts THE MAGICAL FLEECE back around his shoulders. It’s stained in Meyhu’s blood. He shoulders into the door, busting it open. OCW officials go flying. Biff hops out of the chamber and walks around the ring…he finds a fan and TAKES THE TURKEY LEG. He begins to finish it off as he heads up the aisle~

“Do not adjust your TV screens, what you are seeing is very real and this bitch? She’s wearing a smirk on her face for a reason,” The Rebel said as she stepped into a long black corridor, twin light sources of camera lighting and a back light at the end of the hall illuminating her for the world to see. She’s attired in a sheer black blouse with a solid black camisole beneath it, tight black jeans, a silver chain on her wrist, solid steel skull ring on her middle finger, and laced high heel ankle boots that click as she steps towards the camera.

The raven haired, pale skinned beauty with smoke shadowed eyes and ruby red painted lips hadn’t shown her tattooed hide on OCW Television for quite some time but now here she was in all her questionable glory. Controversy courted was with this appearance, the locker room in uproar and joy all at the same time. She knew it well and even to a small extent, delighted in the buzz it caused. The Rebel was no stranger to the polarization she caused among her peers in the industry and there she stood with a smirk on her face and as few fucks as possible to give.

“Last time anyone saw me, I’d lost a championship, got in a behind the scenes ‘altercation’ with Mack O’Connor and his boy Bob Grenier and things go so out of hand that I was fired from the company,” She tilted her head a bit and leaned against the black curtained wall, crumpling the fabric a bit in the process.

“Ever since then, I’ve quietly sat back as I’ve been labeled everything from a disappointment to even job squad material, nevermind that I’d only suffered three losses my entire run in OCW and that outside the promotion I’ve been rather successful at proving every single statement made in those regards abso-fucking-lutely ridiculous,” Her brow furrowed a bit, arms crossing over her ample chest.

“I hear things like my ‘quitting’ was even a great boon to one Vincent Langston, even though I was fired and did not voluntarily leave my contract with OCW. In fact, when my lawyers were finished, OCW paid me a hefty sum due to an early termination clause in my contract. I suppose it was worth it to silence me in the end.”

~She pushed off the wall and walks in closer to the camera.~

“Vincent piggy backed off of both my success and my misfortune and good for him, really. He’d rather have enemies? Fine by me, but sunshine, the real disappointment is you and I see you’re fine with that. Keeping being delusional, keep lying to yourself so you can sleep a little better at night, but I never once abandoned you when we were a team.”

Melinda pointed her finger at the camera, her gaze stern and unyielding in it’s intensity as she stated in a flash of anger, “Motherfucker I almost drowned in a cave in trying to get to you because I was scared that my friend was hurt and dying under a pile of fucking rubble. I could’ve left your ass to die but I didn’t, did I?”

~A disappointed shake of her head was given.~

“Then you have the boys, Mack, Bob, Chad, and my opponent in the Scorpion Bracket 1st round of the upcoming OCW Championship Tournament, TLS, who pretty much consider all women an anathema to their wrestling ring. I’ve watched them bully and belittle the female talent, marginalizing everything they do simply because they are so insecure in their masculinity that they are afraid of the thought of a woman out performing them. The only one out of this ‘Boy’s Club’ that has any kind of victory over me is a man who has since degenerated so much that the motherfucker is an absolute joke. Like Andrea Hernandez has said time and again, Bob’s overrated and falling apart both physically and psychologically and instead of doing the sensible thing and hanging up his boots? The scruffy old fuck wants to keep going.”

~Her face became creased with a slight twist of a smirk.~ “Bob-a-rooni, you have to realize that the more broken down you get, the more you risk having your worst nightmare come true because your body is going to fail you before your spirit does and I relish the day when you are forced to admit you’re wrong and that you need to hang those boots up.”

“Mackles? Smackedy Mack? The Mackster? The O’Connor that doesn’t save the human race but somehow managed to not get swallowed by Momma’ Sarah on the night of his conception, dude you succeeded in doing what nobody else could have. You lit a big enough fire under my ass that I blew up and then blew out, forcing Marcus Welsh to step in and protect you from me. The truth why I was fired? Because I threatened to cripple and possibly kill you over the phone, to Marcus Welsh. I wanted your ass in the ring so bad because I knew in my heart of hearts that I would fucking thrash your miserable, bald, scuzzbucket ass into oblivion.”

The Rebel nodded her head, “Oh yeah, place your bets, but if you bet on Macky Moo versus me? You’ll lose everytime.”

~She wasn’t done, oh no no no. Mrs. Rhodes-Spade had been saving these bullet points for months now and the shots kept coming!~

“Then there’s Chad Vargas, a guy who has been hired and fired more times than Josie Barnes has pissed off entire locker rooms. Chad! CHHHAD! Dude, you need to get silent in a hurry because just like Macker McMuffinhead, I’d punt kick your head right into the third, maybe fourth row of the audience. I’m sure someone’s kids would wind up playing catch with it and probably have big man PerZag sign his autograph on your left cheek so they can take what’s left of you home as a fucking souvenier!”

“And TLS? Son, it’s not the size of the bitch in the fight, it’s the size of the fight inside that little bitch. You want to say that women can’t win because they are under 200 pounds and light built but I bet you’d never say one word about some 5′ 6″ and 115 pound cruiserweight male wrestler absolutely dominating in a wrestling match. You’d probably be pretty impressed with the scrawny man’s accomplishments, nevermind that a woman with the same frame can do exactly the same goddamn thing. I cannot wait until I get to humble your 235 pound ass despite the fact that I give up an easy 90 or so pounds. I’ve beaten women bigger and scarier than you, sunshine.”

~Now that she was done firing shots, she moved on to the most important part of it all….~

“Now you may ask yourself that if it’s ‘so unfair’ why did I come back? Why did I accept Mike Zybala’s offer to return when I can and have been doing so much better elsewhere? Three words……Redemption…..Vindication….Justice….. I came back to partake in a tournament to beat the odds against 32 other people, prove some motherfuckers wrong, and because if I win it, take on The Perfect One Paul Paras, and win the OCW World Championship, then motherfuckers like Bob, Chad, TLS, and Mack will all have to bow down and shut the fuck up because at that point, every statement they’ve made, every doubt they ever had, and every opinion they thought ever mattered will be rendered meaningless because the moment I’m declared the OCW Champion is the moment that kills their male power fantasy harder than dropping a fucking steam roller on their heads.”

~At this point, she now stands face to face with the camera.~

“Rebel Rhodes is back motherfuckers and the only way I’m going away is if this company burns to the fucking ground.”

~And with a shove, the camera is sent spinning on it’s swivel as she walks away.~

Smith: She’s back

Hood: What has Zybala done?

Smith: He’s filled out the tournament, that’s what. Rhodes is apoplectic. She can be her own worst enemy, true. But there is no denying the fact that she is one of the most talented wrestlers in this industry

Hood: Well here’s hoping she can keep her emotions in check and stick around

Smith: Indeed. Fans, I’m told we’re now going to head to the ring for a special word from tonight’s guest of honor…PETIA HORAMOS!

~We cut to the ring. Who’Re, again, is standing in the center. The chamber hangs above the ring, once again. The glass, blood, and MAGICAL FLEECE debris have all been cleared~

Who’Re: How’s everyone doing tonight? Good? GREAT! What a night it’s been so far…so much justice being served…and in such a social manner! A revolutionary night for OCW! And, speaking of revolutionists…I’d like to welcome tonight’s guest of honor…the true, the brave, the honorable…PETIA HORAMOS!!

~The roof crowd chants “JUSTICE FOR PETIA!” He walks up the steps and enters the ring, leaving his chair behind in the ‘front row’ behind. He enters the ring and yanks the mic from Who’Re. The guy has a speech prepared. The fans on the street begin to walk around and discuss the chamber, the upcoming main event…a few relieve themselves on the side of the building~

Petia Horamos: Thank you, thank you. I, Petia Horamos, have a lot on my mind. Sitting back, watching this barbarism has showed me that our society needs help. My friends, all of you around me have been swept up in this violent event. It’s proof that we, as a society, need to further evolve so that we can become our best selves. I know this. I plan to implement this.

~The crowd continues chanting ‘JUSTICE FOR PETIA’. The fans on the street are like “Who the fuck is that guy and why is he talking?”~

Petia Horamos: That is why I am officially announcing that I will be running for congress during the next election season. You can find me at my brand new twitter account…@Justice4PetiaisJustice4TheWorld. I will be tweeting about all my upcoming rallies and speeches. We are going to make a change…we are going to rid the world of events like this filthy excuse for entertainment…we are going…

~”Sanctioned Annihilation” by High on Fire blasts atop the roof of Twitter HQ. It cuts Petia off mid-sentence. Petia is furious! Out, from the back emerges a mountain of a man. He marches directly for the ring~

Smith: Hood!

Hood: Who the fuck is that…he’s massive!

Smith: That’s OCW newcomer Osidius Rex!! I think he’s heard about enough from Petia Horamos

~Rex steps up onto the apron and over the ropes, into the ring. He looks down at Petia, dwarfing the diminutive, loud mouthed ‘guest of the evening’~

Petia Horamos: How dare you interrupt me! This is MY time! I’m the guest of honor! Do you know what I’ve overcome? Do you know the circumstances surrounding my rise? I’m a Warrior! A hero! I’m someone who should be admired, followed, emu…ECK

~Rex has heard enough. He grabs Petia by the throat and chokes him out, instantly. He lifts Horamos over his shoulder and exits the ring. He steps over the barricade. The fans party like the red sea, giving his man passage. He circumnavigates the stands in the back, reaching the fenced siding to keep people from accidentally falling off the building~

Smith: Oh no!

Hood: Well, I did allude that it’d be a disappointing event if SOMEONE didn’t go over…thought I’d be a wrestler, though

~Rex throws Petia, like a javelin, through the fencing!!! He slices right through and falls over the roof, to the ground. The crowd below is heard cheering. We refuse to show the fall, instead focusing on Rex heading back through the crowd, over the barricade and toward the backstage area. The fans are silenced. They start to get upset. They start to boo~

Smith: Petia is gone…but these fans remain and they are NOT happy

Hood: Shit, we need to get this fixed PRONTO…how about that statement by Rex, though? Guy could be a player!

Smith: Look!! Here comes Leo!

~Leo the intern turned full time employee rushes down to the ring. He slides in~

Leo: Fans! Fans! I know you’re all upset over what you’ve just seen. And, it is pretty upsetting. However, I’m here to let you all know that as of right now, OCW has decided to donate 40% of tonight’s proceeds to the BERNIE SANDERS PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN…

~The roof top is silent, at first. Then…it happens…WOOOO! YAYYYY! HOOORAYY!! JUSTICE FOR BERNIE! FEEL THE BERN!! Leo smiles…he tries to talk again but realizes there’s no point. So, he exits the ring, a job well done~

Smith: Well that solved that…but now I’m told the fans on the street are angry

Hood: Man, you just can’t please people these days, can you?

~We cut to the street where Jones is standing by. The fans are throwing beer bottles and cans at Twitter HQ, cursing at the announcement they just heard. Jones has to get them under control~

Jones: Okay, the feed is cut on the roof? Great. I’ll get going

~Jones turns and addresses the fans~

Jones: Fans! Fans! Listen up…eyes over here, thank you. Forget what you just heard…we were simply trying to placate those bratty liberal millennials.

~The street fans nod saying “They are bratty.” “So bratty”~

Jones: In all reality we will be donating 40% of tonight’s proceeds to the DONALD TRUMP CAMPAIGN!

~The fans on the street respond with YESS!! YAYYY!! FUCK YEA!! IT’S RAPIN TIME! They jump around, firing guns into the air and shot gunning beer. Jones quietly heads back into Twitter HQ as we cut back to Smith and Hood~

Smith: Well, okay the…

Hood: What are these rooftop fans doing?

Smith: They are memorializing Petia by placing items on his empty chair which symbolize his brief, yet impactful time in the spotlight

Hood: Geezus…just, please, toss us to the main event…I can’t take anymore of this crap

Smith: Folks…buckle up…the main event is next!

OCW Championship
‘Perfect’ Paul Paras © (11-0) vs. Vincent “The Legend” Langston (22-2)

~The fans are still rabidly chanting “OCW!” The chants echo from the roof and down below. What a show of unity…even if they are unified for reasons that rest on polar opposite sides of the idyllic spectrum~

Smith: Kind of sad that it took deceit and trickery to unify two generations of americans

Hood: I fucking love this country

~Belvedere stands in the ring with a very serious look. He clears his throat. The OCW chants continue to fire off, drowning everything else out. Belvedere clears his throat a second time. This has as much impact as the first. Finally, Belvedere clears his throat so fucking loudly that you’d think the dislodged his vocal cords. The fans all quiet down and sit, peacefully. We hear one fan who just doesn’t know when to shut up whisper “Feel the Bern.”~

Belvedere: Ladies and Gentlemen it is now time for our Main Event of the evening!! This match will be contested for the OCW Championship! Now, if you all don’t mind removing your cell phones and pulling up the OCW app for one, final time.

~Of course these fans don’t mind snaring their phones…but they may mind closing out whatever other app they are currently using. But, they all comply. The fans down below are screaming “PSYCHOPATHIC HELL IN A CELL” They are DYING to see one of these – it’s been years. They feverishly write it down on receipts, cup containers, the back of their hands…any kind of surface that may hold ink~

Belvedere: You have been given the option to choose between the following two match stipulations. The first, selected by the champion, Paul Paras is…A Russian Chain Match!

~The fans boo~

Smith: Not looking good for the chain master. He’s staring 0-2 right in the face.

Hood: I’m thrilled, honestly. I love Psychopathic Hell in a Cell! But…I…don’t see a cell…only a chamber above the ring.

Smith: I’m told we’d have to wait while they put it together, Hood

Hood: Haha…Classic OCW, baby

Belvedere: And, the second option, selected by the military vet and savage champion, Vincent Langston is…a Psychopathic Hell in a Cell!

~A voice rings out “Did he say VETERAN?” The rest of the people catch onto this…they conjure up images of third world genocide and begin to boo heavily. They look toward Petia for advice but, he’s gone. Their minds are so fleeting, so capricious that they’ve already forgotten what happened to citizen Horamos~

Belvedere: The choice is yours…you may now vote!

~The fans get to voting. The people down below seem confident that they will be getting the goriest match in OCW history~

Smith: I think Langston’s will win out…but these fans on the roof certainly didn’t like it when they heard Langston is a veteran

Hood: Ugh, weak ass people

~The buzzer sounds off and the chart is revealed~

Smith: They went with Russian Chain Match! I can’t believe it!

Hood: So these people would rather vote for Russia than a US military vet? The fuck is going on here?

Smith: I…I honestly couldn’t tell you

~We hear a loud “Yippee!!!” The CHAINMASTER comes sprinting down to the ring with his custom made chain rattling in his arms~

Belvedere: This match has officially been selected as a Russian Chain Match!! Both competitors will be connected via a custom made chain at their wrists. The chain cannot be removed. In order to win, an individual must touch all four corners of this ring, in succession. The first wrestler to do that will be declared the winner and will leave here tonight as the OCW Champion!

Smith: So no pinfalls, no submissions…just beat the heck out of your opponent so you can touch all four corners

Hood: We’ll see how this goes…I’m typically not a fan of these kinds of matches

Smith: Hey, it’s something different…let’s give it a shot!

~”I Am Legend” by Colton Dixon begins to play. The fans see the name “VINCENT LANGSTON” in camo coloring airing across one of the big screens and they begin to boo. Langston emerges from the backstage area, Savage Title over his shoulder. He’s blocking out all the negative energy, focusing on the ring. The man looks grizzled and rough…he looks ready for war. He reaches the ringside area and doesn’t hesitate, sliding in and getting a good look at the CHAINMASTER and his chain~

Belvedere: Introducing first…from Washington D.C., standing 6’4 and weighing in at 240lbs…he is the OCW Savage Champion…Vincent “The Legend” Langston!!!

Smith: Langston has been nearly flawless since coming to OCW. He’s never lost in singles competition, Hood

Hood: That is true…his two losses were some fucked up tag match at Serial Thrillers and Death March

Smith: Indeed…so, you might could argue he’s the favorite here tonight

Hood: Ehh…I wouldn’t go that far. Maybe if the fans had chosen the CORRECT match he’d be favored. But in this match, I don’t know. This shit reeks of strategy…which is Paul’s arena.

Belvedere: And, his opponent…

~Langston stares at the entrance, ready for the champion to emerge. He doesn’t. There’s no music, no sound. All we can hear is the silence that confusion brings. Fans look around, wondering what the deal is. The wind begins to pick up~

Smith: It’s getting a little windy out here. We saw some clouds forming awhile back…could we be in for a storm?

Hood: I don’t know, but this is some funky wind. It’s almost like it’s man made…hey, have you ever heard of HAARP –

Smith: We don’t have time for conspiracy theories!

Hood: Why not?

Smith: Because we’ve got incoming!

~Smith points overhead at a shiny, brand new helicopter descending toward the roof of Twitter HQ. All the fans on the roof reach up, holding onto their beanies and thick rimmed glasses. Langston looks up and frowns…he possibly even growls. He knows what’s going on. He turns his gaze down upon the CHAINMASTER. The CHAINMASTER smiles and pats his chain saying, “It’s a fine looking chain, isn’t it?” Vincent leans in and headbutts the CHAINMASTER, knocking him out! Nobody notices because they are all too busy watching the helicopter strategically place itself atop the helipad. It lands right on top of the giant, blue P which sports a few blood stains from the Paradigm match that took place earlier today~

Hood: The Pope has arrived!

Smith: That’s not the Pope, Hood. That’s PAUL PARAS!

~On cue, the OCW Champion steps out of the helicopter and plants both feet atop the helipad. He’s got the OCW title secured around his waist. The fans are going crazy chanting “PARAS! PARAS! PARAS!” Langston leaps over the top rope, with the chain in his grasp. He hops over the barricade and makes his way toward the ladder which leads to the helipad. Paras, unaware, throws his head back and takes in the very unique aura. He’s soaking in the manufactured, strong wind of the helicopter as it’s coated, thick with fans chanting his name~

Smith: An entrance that fits arguably the greatest wrestler in company history!

Hood: That’s great and everything but he’s got a maniac heading his way.

~Smith looks and sees three things in the ring. A knocked out CHAINMASTER, a stoic Belvedere, and the Savage Title. There is no chain…there is no Langston. The camera cuts to find Langston reaching the helipad. Paras, his eyes still shut, has no idea what’s about to breach~

Smith: Paul!! Look out!

Hood: Get him, Vinnie!

~Paul finally opens his eyes only to find the giant frame of Langston rushing at him. He’s too late to react and takes a chain wrapped fist right into the chest!! Paras drops to his knees, gasping for air. The helicopter, realizing how dangerous this could get, starts to move around, preparing to ascend and fly away. Langston takes the chain and slaps one end around Paul’s left wrist. He then drags the OCW Champion toward the chopper~

Smith: No!

Hood: Oh shit!!

Smith: Don’t do this! NO!

~The chopper has floated a few feet off the helipad, getting ready to soar away. Langston starts to wrap the chain around one of the chopper’s “legs”, making it obvious as to his intentions. Paras, noticing what’s taking place, throws a head butt into the side of Vincent’s knee!! Langston stumbles back, holding onto the chain. Paul manages to get to his feet and remove the OCW Title. He blasts Langston in the face with the belt!! Langston drops the chain and stumbles backward even further. The chopper starts to fly away…Paul frantically manages to pull the chain free from around the leg, preventing serious injury – or worse. He turns his focus to Langston~

Smith: You’ve got the champion’s attention, Langston

Hood: I don’t know why Paras is so upset. He brought the chopper into play!

Smith: Langston basically tried to kill him!

Hood: Nah…this is OCW…we’ve sworn off on-air murder.

~Paras has the OCW Title in one hand and the chain in the other. He approaches Langston without any sort of plan. This entire charade came out of nowhere. Langston boots Paul in the gut, causing the champ to drop his belt. He snares the chain and yanks on it, whipping Paras forward, trying to toss him off the helipad~

Smith: We saw Ed jump off this earlier today!

Hood: Yea but that guy weights like a buck fifty. Paras and Langston are WAY heavier. If one of them goes over that won’t be good for anyone involved

Smith: Indeed

Hood: Or, well, I take it back…it’d be good for the one who DIDN’T go over

~The millennials all rush over, near the protruding structure, looking up at the roof. They see Langston and Paras nearing the edge. Paras stumbles toward the edge but manages to hold himself up to keep from falling. Langston wraps some loose chain around his fist and runs forward, trying to bash Paras in the head…a move that would surely send him careening down below. Paul ducks!! Langston has to hold up at the edge…he nearly goes over. The two men stand on the edge, staring down. Paras throws a side elbow…Langston turns around, his back to the fans. Paul reaches over to throw Langston off…Vincent pushes him away and acts like he’s going to throw a lariat. Paul blocks the lariat…Vincent spins back around, his back to the edge…Paul’s back is also to the edge. Vincent grabs Paul by the hair, trying to pull him over the edge. Paul responds by hooking Langston by the neck…he pulls back and…~

Smith: OH MY GOSH!

Hood: OH SHIT

~Paras takes both he and Langston over the edge with a Russian Leg Sweep!!! They fall all the way down, landing on top of a bunch of millennial fans. This prevents their fall from being much, much worse. It’s still bad, however, leaving both men lying atop a pile of unconscious fans. Scruff finally appears into view, checking on both competitors~

Smith: I don’t think the bell’s even sounded yet

Hood: That’s because it hasn’t…but, hey, it’s nice to see Scruff decided to show up for tonight’s main event

Smith: In his defense…this entire thing has kicked off to such an unexpected start

~Scruff does the only thing he can think to do. He slaps the other end of the chain onto Langston’s wrist. He then motions for the bell – it rings and the match is underway!! Belvedere exits the ring with the Savage title. The CHAINMASTER is carried to the back. The fans who aren’t hurt, look on, stunned. The fans down below are going wild with ‘HOLY SHIT’ chants~

Smith: And we’re finally underway!

Hood: Paras might be dead…that’d mean Mario has lost two friends tonight

Smith: I refuse to talk about what took place earlier tonight

Hood: Not me…Max Kael laid waste to that hockey loving freak. Mario is finally supplying himself with the weaponry necessary to win the OCW Title

~Langston begins to stir. He looks around, groggily. He feels around the back of his neck, wincing. The man seems to be having an innocuous flashback to his time in the military. Carnage, waking up the midst of destruction. To his left is the enemy – Paras. The OCW Champion has yet to move. Langston gets to his feet, his left arm pulled downward thanks to the chain. It takes The Legend a minute to recognize that he’s chained to his opponent. He looks toward the ring and the four corners. Langston bends over and, like he’s done several times before (in drastically different scenarios) hoists Paras up, over his shoulder and begins carrying The Perfect One toward the ring~

Smith: Langston’s carried many a man beyond the clutches of battle. Tonight he’s tasked with toting an opponent over his shoulder, into the ring.

Hood: Yep…I’d say to safety but given what’s at stake the ring is probably the most dangerous location for Paras, given his current state

Smith: Indeed

~Langston steps over the barricade. The man possesses a scary combination of strength and stamina. He heads for the steps. We see Paras open his eyes. He’s awake and aware! Langston, however, isn’t. Langston marches up the steps and forces his way through the ropes, with Paras over his shoulder. He reaches the ring and pauses for a moment, to catch his breath. Paras suddenly thrusts a knee right beneath Langston’s sternum!!! Vincent is stunned! Paras secures Langston’s head and drops him with a DDT!!! The fans go wild!! Langston remains face down on the mat while Paras is on his back. He, like Langston, takes a moment to collect his thoughts and massage the back of his head and neck~

Smith: Paras, once again, uses his mind to outsmart his opponent

Hood: I fucking hate this guy sometimes…he’s like that douche in math class or whatever that always raises his hand to shout out the answer. We get it! You sit around all day studying shit…get a fucking life ya nerd!

Smith: Wow, some unresolved issues surfacing here on national television

Hood: Fuck off

~Paras tests the strength and resolve of the chain. It’s pretty damn sturdy – the CHAINMASTER should be proud. The Perfect One is near a corner so he stands and slaps it, might as well. He looks toward the nearest corner and starts to drag Langston. Vincent yanks back – this isn’t going to be easy. Paras turns around and stomps on Langston, trying to kick the fight out of the Savage Champion. The more he kicks Langston, the angrier Langston gets. The kicks seem to be firing him up. Vincent fires up to his feet. Paras seems perplexed…the hell is this guy’s deal? Paul rears back and throws a straight right hand…Langston blocks it!! Langston lunges forward and drills Paras with a clothesline!!! Paras flips over the top rope! He lands on the apron…the chain is hanging across the top rope. Vincent drops to his knees, finally showing the effects of Paul’s kicks. Both men share a glance on opposite sides of the ropes with the chain keeping them connected…their arms slightly stretched by the chain~

Smith: Still pretty early in this match but both men have already absorbed quite a bit of punishment

Hood: Yea, falling off that helipad will do that

Smith: I honestly don’t know what it’s going to take to incapacitate one of these individuals long enough to strike all four corners.

Hood: A gun, maybe

~Paras, seated on the apron, reaches up and grabs the chain. He begins to violently pull on it. Langston yells out, reaching for his left shoulder. Paras pulls and pulls. Langston gets to his feet and throws a kick through the ropes, right into Paul’s face!! The Perfect One slides off the apron and falls to the floor. There is no slack in the chain…Langston’s body is pulled forward, his left arm hanging over the top rope. He winces and reaches for his left shoulder before hopping over the top rope and taking a seat on the apron. He starts to massage both left arm and shoulder~

Smith: Paras already locating a body part and attempting to wear it down

Hood: Yea I don’t know what Langston can do to protect that left arm…it’s pretty vulnerable attached to that chain

Smith: Yep, he’s going to have to give as good as he gets. He needs to do the same to Paras, I’d think

~Langston drops onto the floor and heads over toward the ring steps. Paras remains on the ground. Langston starts to slam the lock (around his wrist) against the steel steps. The fans at ringside all react with curious gazes. Paras is unaware, still shaking off the giant boot he took the head. Scruff hears the banging and hops through the ropes. He grabs Langston, asking him what he’s doing. Vincent shoves Scruff away. The vibrations sliding down the chain and into Paul’s arm revive the OCW Champion. He sits up and sees what Langston is doing. He gets to his feet and hustles over, kneeing Langston in the back of a knee. Vincent drops to one knee. Paul wraps his right fist with the chain and looks down at the Savage Champion. He drills him right into the forehead with the chain wrapped fist!! Vincent’s body falls back…his head hits against the edge of the apron before the upper portion of his body disappears underneath the ring~

Smith: Vicious right hand by Paul!

Hood: I think that knocked Langston out

Smith: It may have

~Paul takes a few steps back, gathers the chain slack and yanks violently backward! Langston’s body jerks, violently to its left, out from under the ring. He instinctually reaches for his left arm and curls up in a protective position. Paul drops the slack and snares Vincent by his hair…he muscles Vincent to his feet and drapes him over his shoulders. He flips Langston off his shoulders, over his head and into the ring. Langston rolls in under the bottom rope. Paul slides in and pops to his feet. He pulls on the chain repeatedly, adding more and more damage to Vincent’s left arm and shoulder. The Legend yells with each pull~

Smith: Paul is really working that left arm

Hood: Yea, I think it’s working…that’s why Langston was trying to break free

Smith: Yep, it’s probably the only way he can imagine effectively protecting that arm

~A red welt is forming on Vincent’s forehead from the right hand he suffered moments earlier. Paras ceases with the pulling and drops to his knees. He grabs at Vincent’s left arm and tries to lock in the Messianic Complex!!! Langston struggles and squirms…he cannot let Paul get this thing synched in. He reaches up with his right hand and grabs Paras by the nose. He wedges his fingers into the nostrils and pulls, trying to rip it off. Paul yells out and finally let’s Vincent’s left arm go! He fights Vincent’s right arm off his face and quickly covers up. We see a few droplets of blood hit the mat~

Smith: Vincent Langston is one vicious individual

Hood: Yep, he’s suffered war, genocide, and Melinda Rhodes. The man is double tough

~Paul gets to his feet, shaking his head. He runs his left hand over his face and looks at a streak of blood tracing his palm. He starts to turn around but is met with a stiff forearm into the rib cage from a kneeling Langston. Langston pops to his feet and hooks both of Paul’s arms. He lifts Paul up and drops him on his head with a Tiger Suplex!! He holds on for the pin for a few seconds before realizing that isn’t an option, so he lets go~

Smith: What strength by Langston! The man is a freak!

Hood: He’s wrecked shop since joining OCW…I don’t know why anyone would doubt the man could be the person to stain Paul’s unblemished record

Smith: Paul’s got this mystique about him, right now. He won Death March. He dethroned the Marvel…but, you may be right…Langston might be too good

~Langston returns to his feet. Paras does the same, albeit much slower. Langston drills Paul across the face with a right hand. Paras turns around…Langston hooks him in a Full Nelson and hoists him up, dropping Paras once again on his head, this time via a Dragon Suplex!!! Langston does not hold on for the pin. He returns to his feet and stands over Paul who remains on his back~

Smith: It’s the Vincent Langston show at this point

Hood: Yea, if this keeps up he’s going to be able to slap eight buckles, not four

Smith: Let’s not get carried away…this isn’t Wallace we’re talking about

~Langston reaches down, snaring Paras by the nose. Paul’s nose is red and bleeding. He winces but doesn’t yell. Instead, he reaches one knee, grabs the chain and yanks on it as hard as he can!! Langston releases his grip on Paul’s nose and falls to one knee, clutching his left shoulder. Paras begins to throw right hands into Langston’s face. The Legend is reeling. Vincent thrusts his head forward, looking for a head butt but Paras snares it and locks in a front face lock!!! Both men are on their knees as Paul clamps down, looking to choke Langston out~

Smith: Here we go!! Paul’s got him!

Hood: Damnit…how does he come up with this shit?

Smith: While some people may be stronger, quicker, faster…Paul is always one step ahead in the mental aspect of professional wrestling

~The fans rally behind Paras…both on the roof and down below. The muscles in his arms flex. They are coated in sweat. A small stream of blood runs down his lips, onto the edge of his chin. His face is focused on choking out his adversary. Vincent’s face is hidden. His features obscured by the lock. His palms are flat on the mat, keeping the hold from reaching its potential. Every few seconds Paras re-cinches the grip, adding more pressure, keeping things from getting slippery. The Paras chants continue~

Smith: This is something of a home crowd for the OCW Champion

Hood: What are you talking about? Minnesota is THAT way

Smith: You’re pointing toward Hawaii you idiot. Aside from your total lack of geographical awareness…Paras has made San Francisco his hometown, twice

Hood: Then how is he the Minnesota Messiah or whatever

Smith: He was exiled from Minnesota. He moved out to the Bay Area, fought in some underground fight clubs and eventually won the HOW World Title.

Hood: HOW?! That place where that guy who murdered Cyanide is from?

Smith: You mean Max Kael? Yes. That’s the place. But let’s not announce Cyanide’s departure from the living just yet…word I got was that he’s still alive back there, just in terrible shape.

~Langston begins to fire up! The fans try to chant “PARAS” as loud as they can to stymie Langston’s revival. Langston powers to his feet. Paras does everything he can to keep the pressure applied. He’s got his left arm wrapped around Langston’s head and neck. Langston starts to lift Paras off the mat…Paul, realizing he’s in trouble, eliminates all the slack in the chain and yanks back on it with his right arm as hard as he can!! This sends shockwaves of pain through Langston’s body, causing the big man to crumble to the mat. He’s in worse shape than before. The crowd cheers! Paul continues applying pressure. Langston’s arms are going limp…he’s about to be completely within the Perfect One’s grasp~

Smith: And while out in San Francisco he became a polygamist and married twelve women…all of whom were named Ashley

Hood: Did you research him before the match or something?

Smith: No, he’s just had a really interesting history

Hood: What about the match? Ya got any thoughts on what’s happening RIGHT NOW?

Smith: Paras is working the big man into submission…it’s going to be up to Langston to maintain his composure, stay on his feet – mentally, and combat Paras in the best manner he can assemble

~Langston’s arms go limp. He’d fall face first into the mat if it weren’t for Paras keeping him elevated via the choke. Paras wrenches in the choke once more, for good measure. The crowd is urging him to start slapping the buckles. Paras, though, has been around the block at time or twelve…he knows the clearing he sees is potentially a mirage. As if on cue, Langston starts to move. Paras, frustrated, throws a few forearms into Langston’s back with his free arm. Langston lets out a visceral yell, hoists Paras up and runs forward like a bull. He RAMS Paras into the corner!!! Paras gasps for air, releasing Langston. Vincent rams him again and again and again and again until Paras falls to his knees before landing face first on the mat. Langston leans forward against the middle buckle, gasping for air, eyes shut. Both men appear to be out~

Smith: Vincent knew he had to do something and he used what reserves he had left to basically power his way free

Hood: Felt kind of like Mustard’s last stand

Smith: Geez

Hood: What?

Smith: Mustard’s last stand? Are you serious?

Hood: …

Smith: CUSTER’S LAST STAND

Hood: Well excuse me! I must be having horrific flashbacks to that night when Alice spilled her homemade mustard on me

~With both men down the crowd begins to react. There’s a major commotion going on where the hard camera points. A man carrying a chair is heading down to the front row, right where Petia was seated. His empty chair – now acting as a social justice vigil, remains. The hard camera pulls back, instantly, refusing to get a close look of the patron making their way toward Petia’s seat. We can tell it’s a man. He grabs Petia’s chair and hurls it as far as he can (which is pretty fucking far). Panicked fans scatter. The chair SLAMS into the ground. The candles, impromptu poems, and tear filled selfies fly everywhere upon impact. Petia’s presence has been eviscerated. In place of Petia’s former seat a new chair is placed. This individual plops down into the cushioned seat. The hard camera goes out. We cut to another shot…a shot away from what’s taking place~

Smith: What is going on over there? Why did that guy destroy the memorial of Petia Horamos?

Hood: Because he’s a man and not some millennial [censored]!

Smith: Whoa, easy Hood

Hood: Sorry…I’m just not a fan of Petia. But, yea, I don’t know who that guy is…but it’s pretty obvious OCW has ordered that he NOT be shown on our program!

~We’re forced into watching the match from alternate viewpoints. It’s not much of an inconvenience, just different. The Perfect One is the first to get back to his feet. He snares Langston from behind, around the waist. He tries to hit a snap german…but Langston holds onto the top rope. Paras reaches for the chain. Langston, well aware by now of Paul’s go-to counter, snares the chain with his right hand and yanks forward, darting out of the way! Paras runs front first into the corner…he comes staggering out…Langston kicks him in the gut and drops him with SCARS OF WAR!!! The fans boo heavily!!! Paras is face down on the mat. Langston sits up, holding his left arm and shoulder. He winces…but understands the opportunity~

Smith: Scars of War!!! All he has to do now is touch all four corners!

Hood: Gee, that’s it? Sounds so easy!

Smith: Well, it isn’t

Hood: I know that

~Langston stands and reaches out with this right hand, slapping the buckle. One down, four to go. He keeps his left arm in, tight. It’s severely wounded and pulsing with pain. Langston grabs part of the chain with his right hand and begins to drag Paras toward the nearest corner. The fans are all chanting for Paras to wake up. Langston is strong, but the situation is taking its toll on the legendary veteran. Dragging two and a half bills of dead weight with one arm across a canvas after nearly twenty minutes of exhaustive competition is, well, tiring. Paras nears the second corner. He lets go of the chain with his right hand, reaches out and slaps the top buckle. He leans against the ropes, gasping for air in the humid, bay area climate. The fans grow in consternation, cheering their OCW Champion on, willing him to wake up. He remains down~

Smith: Langston is exhausted

Hood: Reminds of that scene from Cold Mountain when Jude Law and his receding hairline is trying to drag all those dead bodies with him.

Smith: Good, albeit depressing movie

Hood: Yea man I nearly cried when the albino fucker got killed. Only the good die young, Smith

~Langston sucks it up and heads for the third corner. Like before, he snares the chain with his right hand and begins dragging Paras. The fans are pleading with Paras to wake up. Langston reaches the third corner and extends his right arm, releasing the chain. He slaps the third corner. Before he can relax, there is a yank on the chain!! It violently jerks down on Langston’s suddenly prone left arm! Vincent yells out and reaches for the ropes with his right hand…his knees buckle. He falls to the mat, leaning over the middle rope, wincing, pulling his left arm in as tight as he can. Paras begins to move, looking over at the challenger. The crowd pops~

Smith: Paul continues to exploit that left arm!

Hood: Langston needs to hit another Scars of War…that or shoot Paras in the head.

Smith: Let’s hope it’s not the latter!

Hood: The hell is going on down there? Is the guy in Petia’s seat signing autographs?

Smith: I…I can’t tell. I think he paid a fan to sign autographs for him, while he takes in the match

Hood: Haha, what a dick

~Langston fights to his feet. Paras is still down, shaking off one of OCW’s most dominant finishers. Langston reaches over with his right hand, grabbing Paras by the hair. It’s assumed that he’s looking to hit another Scars of War. If he does, this thing is likely over. He pulls Paras to his knees…Paras suddenly lashes out and grabs Langston’s left arm! He’s looking for a Kimura!! Langston begins freaking out, doing whatever he can to protect the wounded wing~

Smith: Oh no! If Paras locks this in it could do some permanent damage!

Hood: Yea, I think Langston realizes that…ya know, judging by the way he’s freaking out

Smith: That arm is in bad shape

~Paras is having trouble locking the Kimura in. Langston still has enough strength in that arm, in his body, to stave it off. Paras, knowing he’s in trouble, reaches for the chain with his bound hand. He continues to use his left hand to wrestle with Langston. Paras yanks on the chain as hard as he can. Shockwaves of pain run through Langston, paralyzing him for a split second. Paras swivels over, switching his position and he quickly locks in Messianic Complex!!! The crowd leaps to their feet. We manage to catch the front row in our peripheral…that individual who took Petia’s spot remains seated, evidently unimpressed. The fans on the street go wild!! Langston writhes around, the pain is immense, it’s tortuous. People looking on wonder how this man can withstand so much. Even Paras looks at Langston with a hint of admiration – the type that can only come from competition~

Smith: This is too much! Langston’s arm is going to be severely injured…he may never be the same, Hood

Hood: That one fan, the new guy…he doesn’t seem impressed, Smith

Smith: I’m told we’re not supposed to acknowledge him

Hood: Well then the cameramen should do a better job of ensuring he doesn’t slip onto our screen

~Langston’s movements slow. The pain seems to be blacking out his awareness. He’s losing consciousness. But, to his credit, he’s yet to tap. It’s incredible. Paras grunts and yells…the sweat leaks from his hairline, down his wrinkled forehead, tickling the cliff of his nose. He blows upward, constantly to remove the annoying sensation. Scruff comes in to check on Langston. Paras diverts his awareness from the lock to his opponent. The Legend is out. Paras asks Scruff to check Langston’s arm. Scruff does…it falls limply to the mat. Paras hesitate…he contemplates…he’s in a great position BUT he must release the hold if he wants to win the match…so, he lets go. He takes a moment to stretch his limbs, loosening the strained muscles. He pops to his feet and slaps the top buckle, breaking Langston’s streak and starting his very own~

Smith: Vincent’s out! If this were any other match Paras would have retained

Hood: But it’s a Prussian Chain Match…dude’s gotta slap all four corners

Smith: Prussian?

Hood: I dunno…match type seems old as fuck so I wanted to go WAY back

~Paras throws the chain over his shoulder. He starts to drag the Savage Champion across the mat. It’s not as much of a chore for Paras given the fact he’s got full usage of BOTH arms. He quickly reaches the second buckle and slaps it with his left hand. He turns and begins the trudge toward buckle number three~

Smith: He’s half way there!

Hood: Another Paras victory…should have fucking known.

Smith: He hasn’t done it yet…but, I’ll admit, the odds of Langston stopping The Perfect One are pretty low

~Paras slaps the third buckle!!! The fans are as loud as they’ve been all evening. “PARAS! PARAS! PARAS!” The aging veteran looks around…memories of San Francisco, good and bad, flash before his eyes. All the nostalgia, the regrets, the triumphs…they all hit him at once. He swallows an amalgamation of emotion, throws the chain over his shoulder and moves forward. The crowd explodes. He marches for the fourth and final buckle with sheer determination in his eyes. He reaches the corner and extends his left arm. He slaps down and…comes up short! The crowd goes silent! Paul looks around…he reaches again, but comes up short a second time. He looks over his shoulder to find Vincent Langston, with whatever he’s got left in his body, holding onto the chain with his right hand. Paras tries to hit the buckles for a fourth time…he’s close…he’s closer…he’s…he can’t get there! Langston’s defense is not breaking~

Smith: Langston has risen from the grave!

Hood: Man that felt like a Paras victory

Smith: It was his…until it wasn’t. The Legend is refusing to go down!

~Paul relents, for the moment. He’s got a little additional work to do. He turns around and drops the chain from his shoulder. He holds it with both hands and gears up to yank as hard as he can. Langston swivels his hips upward and wraps his legs around the chain! He twists to the side, tossing Paras onto his back! Paras, quickly, pops back to his feet. He sees the fourth corner. Langston sees the idea forming in Paul’s mind. Paras charges for the final corner. Langston pops up and gets in the way…he ducks and hoists Paras into the air!! Paras reaches out to touch the winning corner but can’t…he’s too high!!! He flies over the top rope and crashes to the outside, narrowly missing the steps. The chain is yanked on his way down…it pulls Langston over the top rope, causing the Savage Champion to damn near fall on his head, next to Paras!! The fans down below chant HOLY SHIT!!! The fans on the roof finally adopt the old, rated r chant…everyone in the Bay Area seems to be chanting “HOLY SHIT!” Langston is holding his left arm, lying on the outside with his back to Paras. Paras is down, eyes shut, face pointed toward the sky. Scruff looks down from inside the ring, torn…what does he do? He flies through the ropes and tries checking on both men…neither are responsive~

Smith: OH MY!!

Hood: OOHHHH SHIT! They’re both fucked up!

Smith: Langston’s survival instincts took over…he forgot about the chain!

Hood: Guy did what he had to do to in order to keep from losing. That’s a fucking champion right there

~Scruff seems concerned, more so than usual. For the second time this evening, he begins to make the ‘X’. A hand reaches up, grabbing him by the collar – it belongs to the OCW Champion. Paras shakes his head, telling Scruff to stand down. Paul sits up and places his back against the ring steps. He takes a moment to gather his wits and shake the fall off. His equilibrium works to relocate its footing. He blinks a few times before turning his attention to the Savage Champion. Langston is still down, holding his left shoulder…instinct kicking in, protecting the wounded appendage. Paras stands…he staggers around, clearly off. He stumbles into the barricade and stares at the ground, swallowing hard as though he’s trying not to throw up~

Smith: These men are pushing each other to the very limits of their stamina…their pain threshold…whatever else a wrestler has that is known to break under immense pressure

Hood: Speaking of BREAK…I think Langston is broken, man

Smith: I hope not…the man is turning into a legendary in-ring competitor.

~Paras straightens his posture, reaching for his back. He looks up into the sky and opens his eyes. He swallows a hearty helping of the bar area breeze. A few ringside fans shout encouragement his way. Paras turns to them, nodding with an unspoken ‘thanks’. He sees one fan…a fan who isn’t moving. A fan who seems intent on staring – glaring a hole through the OCW Champion~

Smith: It’s that fan!

Hood: Are we SURE that’s a fan?

~Paras’s brow furrows as his eyes settle on the fan that took Petia’s place. He blinks, wondering if he’s seeing things. But, he isn’t. His eyes are true. They widen. Paras is shaken. The man in the seat stands. We try to cut away, but can’t. We’re stuck focusing in on the identity of the individual. It’s…it’s…~

Smith: Hood…LOOK

Hood: HOLY SHIT…WHAT’S HE DOING IN OCW?!

Smith: It’s a nemesis from Paul’s past…it’s…IT’S MIKE BEST

~Paul is frozen. The fatigue combined with the shock factor has the OCW Champion reeling. His brain seems to be malfunctioning. Mike Best puffs his chest out and stands as close the barricade as space will allow. He thrusts his chin out in arrogant fashion, looking derisively at the OCW Champion. Paras seems like he’s about to speak…we’ll never know. His head jolts forward, violently. Mike Best turns sideways, avoiding getting dirty. Langston stands behind Paul with his right hand wrapped in chain. Paul leans over the barricade, blood running from the back of his head…it cascades down the sides and front of his face. Langston yanks Paul back and hooks Paul’s head under his right arm in an inverted facelock!! He’s got his bicep flexed into Paul’s windpipe. He pauses for a moment, taking the time to look at Mike Best. Best seems to encourage Langston to finish Paul. Langston hesitates for a moment, unsure what to do…but instinct kicks in and he turns away from Mike Best, dragging a struggling Paul back toward the ring. The crowd is booing!! Mike Best reclaims his seat. A fan is seen throwing some trash at him. Best picks up the trash, autographs it and throws it back at the fan. This only draws an increased amount of boos. We cut to a different angle and, more importantly, away from Mike Best~

Smith: Mike Best is arguably the most legendary competitor in HOW history! He def…

Hood: You okay?

Smith: I’ve said too much. All I’ll say is with Max Kael interrupting the Hazardous Ladder match and now…this…it seems like something may be afoot, Hood

~Langston keeps the inverted facelock clamped down and hops onto the apron, dragging Paul along for the ride. He gets into the ring, returning to his feet. He drags Paul, while walking backward, and reaches over, slapping the buckle. That’s one! Langston continues dragging Paul…his heels scrape across the top of the mat (not a good sign if you’re a Paras fan). The fans begin to chant “PAUL! PAUL!” Langston’s grip seems to tighten with every chanting of his adversary’s name. Langston reaches the second corner and slaps it – that’s two!~

Smith: I know Langston has earned this opportunity and he’s a heck of a competitor…but to win like this would be such…such a letdown. After everything Paul has accomplished since returning!

Hood: Hey, when Mike Best is around Paul Paras…shit goes south for The Perfect One

~Langston drags Paul to the third corner and slaps it (with his left hand). That’s three!! One more to go. The crowd is urgent, now. They are yelling, screaming for Paul to wake the fuck up. Paras doesn’t seem any closer to revival than he did two corners ago. Langston drags him like a murderer dragging a corpse. He looks over his shoulder, nearing that ultimate corner~

Smith: C’mon, Paul! Wake up!

Hood: It’s over, Smith. He’s done. The dude is drowning in a river of millennial tears

Smith: Don’t let the awakening…the rebirth…don’t let it end this way!

~Langston struggles getting close enough to this fourth corner. His left arm is aching. His right arm is wearing down, doing all the choking and dragging. He nears the fourth corner. It’s almost within reach. The crowd yells out “PAUL!” The Perfect One’s eyes open. He gasps for air!! He’s awake!! Langston looks down and feels a sense of urgency. He hurries, extending his left hand. He’s ALMOST there. Paras kicks his legs out and reaches the ropes. He wraps them around the middle rope for leverage. Langston reaches out but can’t get any closer…he’s INCHES from the buckle. He looks over and sees Paul’s feet holding onto the ropes. Vincent tries to pull him loose, but his arms are too tired. His shoulders are full of lactic acid. He just wants to let Paras go…but, he’s fighting through the fatigue. Langston gets sloppy…his technique is slipping. He yanks wildly at Paul, doing whatever he can to pull him free. In doing so, he gives up the corner…Paul legs go and kicks his legs to the side…their positions are nearly reversed. Paul’s feet now face the corner with his body between Langston and buckle. Vincent bulls forward, bending Paul at the waist (forward). He reaches out with his left hand. Paul’s head still trapped under Vincent’s (no doubt smelly) armbit. Paul kicks off the buckles with both legs, sending Langston tumbling backward!!! On the way down, Langston releases Paul, in an effort to break his fall. Paul manages to land safely on top of Langston. The crowd is cheering him on! He’s free! Langston remains on his back, eyes open…his chest heaves up and down, up and down…the man is EXHAUSTED. Paul, while tired, appears to have much more in the tank~

Smith: Paul’s free!!

Hood: Yea but he’d better start slapping buckles…all Langston has to do is slap that final buckle before Paul touches one and he wins

Smith: That is true

~Paul’s face, featuring red streaks running down it as if they were painted on by a man suffering a severe hangover, surveys the surroundings. It’s like he’s come back from the head. He reaches up, feeling the back of his head. It’s pretty tender. He looks at his finger tips to find thick, warm, dark, fresh blood. He nods, knowing it’s only going to get worse…time is of the essence. Paul fights to his feet. He looks around, as the chain dangles from his right wrist. He spots Mike Best, who is sitting back, arms folded, taking in the action as though he were a casual fan. Paul frowns and turns away from Best, heading toward the corner furthest from his rival from years ago. He doesn’t have to drag Langston far before slapping the corner to a resounding ‘ONE!’~

Smith: Alright! He broke Langston’s streak!

Hood: Fuck…well, that just means Langston is going to have to start the process all over again

Smith: IF he gets that chance, Hood

~Paras yanks on the chain, jarring Langston’s left arm. Langston twitches, reaching for his left shoulder joint…he’s still pretty out of it, though. The fatigue, the sweat, the stress has him in a similar state Paras was in moments earlier. Paul slaps the second buckle…the fans yell out “TWO!”~

Smith: He’s halfway there!

Hood: Still a long way to go, Smith

Smith: Yea, but Langston appears to be finished

Hood: The dude was nicknamed THE LEGEND due to his ability to survive and kill in the army. I don’t think he’s finished

~Paras nears the third buckle. He’s starting to labor. Dragging a man the size of Langston isn’t easy. Speaking of the ‘dead weight’…Langston begins to stir. The fans yell, pointing that fact out to Paul who strives forward, trying to remain undistracted. He slaps the third buckle and promptly turns toward the fourth…the finish line…home~

Smith: It’s such a short distance but it feels so far away

Hood: Yep and that big son of a bitch, Vincent Langston is starting to power up. This won’t be easy

Smith: C’mon, Paul! You can do it! You’re almost there!

~Paras drags Langston…he gets about halfway between the buckles. In the background we get a shot of Mike Best leaning forward. Paul feels resistance. Langston is starting to fight back. Paul powers through. He’s closer and closer. He nears the corner. Langston gets to one knee. He grabs the chain with his right hand, leaving a bit of slack in between his grip and his left arm. He flexes, making a stand. Paul comes to a halt. His hand is about six inches from the buckle. He turns around and sees Langston bearing down, unrelenting. The fight in Langston’s eyes is impenetrable. He’s showing his teeth, giving it everything he’s got. Paul’s eyes widen as he realizes he’s got quite the fight on his hands~

Smith: Langston is holding firm! He’s not going down without a fight!

Hood: Look at that man! He’s a fucking beast

Smith: Indeed…even Paul is somewhat struck by the ferocity within the facial features of The Legend

~Paul pulls back with his chained arm, while reaching with his left, free arm. Vincent yanks. He pulls Paul toward him. Paras realizes he’s got to fight harder so he faces Vincent, fully while reaching back with his free arm. Langston pulls him closer! Paul shakes his head, finding Langston to be extremely difficult to vanquish. He takes his free hand and grabs the chain with it, using both arms to pull against Langston. At this point, if Langston were to give, Paul would fall back, into the corner, essentially ending the match. Langston knows this and remains solid in his foundation. They’re at a stale mate for a few moments. The fans rise up, cheering. Well, most of the fans…a certain MIKE BEST, remains seated. They clap their hands and urge Paul on. Paul nods along with the cheers, pulling back. Langston leans forward. He’s about to give~

Smith: Langston is giving way!

Hood: Hold on, Vincent! Don’t give up, man! You’re still in this you big, murderous fucker!

~Paul is feeling it. He’s got momentum…he’s got the crowd. He looks over his shoulder. He’s almost home. Langston nearly topples forward! He manages to hold on…he then yells out and pulls back!! The strength in Langston is AMAZING! Paul steps forward! Langston pulls again…Paras loses even more ground! Paras is in serious trouble~

Smith: Holy smokes!

Hood: That is one scary fucker, man. Paul’s got leverage, TWO arms and Langston is still dragging him along.

Smith: Maybe Paul can’t win this…maybe Langston is just too big, too strong, too resilient to be defeated in a match like this.

~Paras realizes his path toward victory has been blocked. So, he must create another one. He suddenly charges forward, going along with Langston’s force. Why fight it? He charges forward, leaps into the air and kicks Langston in the left shoulder with ACID TEST!!! The crowd goes wild!!! Langston hits the mat, clutching his shoulder, grimacing…he won’t yell, he won’t scream. But the dude is in serious pain. The fans chant “PAUL! PAUL!” Paras looks around…the corner is several feet away…he starts to crawl~

Smith: Acid Test!! Right into the wounded shoulder of Langston!

Hood: Ah shit!

Smith: It’s almost over…c’mon, Paul! You’re about to win your very first OCW Title defense!

~Paul reaches his feet…there is resistance within the chain. Paul looks down. Langston, like a wounded animal who won’t give up, holds on for dear life. Paul grabs the chain and yanks on it as hard as he can, traumatizing the already wounded shoulder of Langston!! Langston’s body is paralyzed with pain. Paras marches forward, he dives ahead and hugs the fourth buckle!!! The crowd goes wild!! The bell rings!!~

Smith: He did it! He did it!

Hood: Holy shit, mother fucker…those two guys whipped each other’s ass

Belvedere: Here is your winner…AND STILL OCW CHAMPION…“PERFECT” PAUL PARAS!!!!!

Smith: Oh man…I’m exhausted, Hood. I’m spent!

Hood: Man…an epic ending in the chamber followed by that epic match. Now I know how porn stars feel, having to climax over and over again…whew!

Smith: Well, I don’t know about all of that.

~Paras is handed his OCW Championship. He clutches it with his free arm, leaning in the ‘winning’ corner. He holds up his chained wrist. Scruff nods and exits the ring to get the key. Paras waits patiently. Langston is still down, holding his shoudler~

Smith: What an effort by the Savage Champion. Vincent Langston will wear that OCW Championship at some point, Hood

Hood: No doubt

~Paras can’t help himself. He looks over at Mike Best, who is now standing. Paras drapes his OCW title over the ropes…is he mocking Best or is he simply relaxing? Mike Best begins to hop over the barricade. The fans are like “OH SHIT!” Paras straightens up…he didn’t expect this. A loud scream sounds from behind Paras. He turns around and sees Max Kael standing over an unconscious Scruff! Kael has the key! He tosses it into the crowd! Paras begins to panic. Best is now at ringside…Kael is at ringside. They head for the ring~

Smith: What is this?!

Hood: Paras is fucking trapped, man!

Smith: Why are these HOW guys here?! What do they want with our champion? He just went through war…leave him alone!

~Paras bends over. He tries to wake Langston up. His enemy must become his ally. Langston shoves Paras away, still in defense mode. Paras snares his OCW Title and tries to get into the center of the ring. His right arm, the chained arm, lags behind. He looks to his right…Mike Best. He looks to his left…Max Kael. They are on the apron…about to enter into the ring~

Smith: We saw what Max did to Cyanide earlier tonight…does the same fate await our champion?

Hood: Look, I’m all for badass wrestlers appearing on our shows…but we can’t have these two fuckers just walk in here and decimate our champion…especially when he’s chained like a fucking prisoner.

~The crowd leaps to their feet! They turn toward the ‘backstage area’ to see MARIO MAURAKO running down~

Smith: It’s Mario! He made some questionable decisions earlier but was, apparently, allowed backstage once again after he apologize and promised he had nothing to do with Kael’s interference

Hood: Well, thanks for the update, man!

~Mario is carrying bolt cutters with him. He slides into the ring and swings them at Max and Mike, keeping the sharks at bay. Both men appear ready to strike Mario and Paul, the moment there is an opening. Paul looks at Mario. He isn’t exactly 100% trusting. Mario extends his hand. Max takes a step forward. Mario threatens him with the bolt cutters…Max steps back through the ropes, holding his hands up as if to say “Alright, I’m cool.” Mike remains coiled, ready to strike. Mario swings the cutters at him wildly, sending Mike back onto the apron~

Smith: Keep those men at bay! Way to go, Mario!

Hood: Yep…Mario and Paul are basically brothers. Plus, Paul…to my knowledge has never wronged Mario. So it would make sense he’d have his back regardless of how things went down with Cyanide.

~Mario motions extends his hand again. Paul looks at it and then shakes it! The crowd erupts!! “PM! PM!” They chant the initials of their favorite tag team! Paras motions for Mario to get him out of that chain. Mario nods and gets a good grip on the bolt cutters. He raises them up and smashes them against Paul’s back!!! The crowd is shocked!! Paul falls to all fours, dropping his OCW Title. The fans chants “FUCK YOU!” at Mario. Mario uses the cutters to finally sever the chain. Max and Mike enter the ring and begin stomping on Paras while Mario grabs the OCW Title~

Smith: NO!! Mario! What the heck are you doing?!

Hood: Mario’s got a brand new bag, Smith! This IS what an OCW Champion looks like…not some douche bag trying to placate a capricious fanbase.

~Mike motions for Max to get Paras up. Max does. He talks shit to Paul while positioning him, holding his arms back. Mike walks up, lifts Paul’s head up, via his chin to make sure Paul sees him and then delivers a straight right hand into Paul’s mouth. Paras’ legs give out, but Max keeps him standing. Suddenly, Langston goes after Mike Best! The crowd pops~

Smith: Yes! Langston!! Fight for this company! Don’t let these guys ruin the ending of a great event!

Hood: What the hell? Langston, hit the showers, punk. Get that shoulder iced down!

~Best is caught off guard. Mario runs in and blasts Langston in the left shoulder with the belt. Langston freezes and falls into the ropes. Best charges forward, clotheslining Langston over the top rope, to the floor. The crowd BOOOS. Best looks at Mario…the place is getting unstable. He motions that it’s time to wrap this shit up. Mario looks at Max. Max has Paul in place. Mario takes his finger and motions for Max to turn Paras around. Kael smiles and nods, understanding Mario’s plan of action~

Smith: Oh no…not the back of the head! That’s where he was busted open earlier!

Hood: Mario’s out for blood, man. He’s not fucking around.

~Mario lunges forward and SMASHES the OCW Title into the back of Paul’s head. Max tosses Paul to the mat like a bag of trash. Mario looks at the OCW Title…it’s stained with Paul’s blood. He holds it up, looking directly into the camera. The fans boo. “FUCKING TRAITOR!” they yell. Mario turns…he sees Zybala and several security members sprinting to the ring. Mario throws the title on top of Paul and turns to Max and Mike. They hop through the ropes and into the crowd, escaping before security can reach them. Zybala slides into the ring and crawls toward Paras. He yells to people outside the ring “CHECK ON LANGSTON!”~

Smith: I can’t believe Mario’s actions tonight. This is his home. That’s his brother. What’s gotten into him?

Hood: He’s becoming a man, Smith. Becoming a man means putting your dreams and goals above everything else…welcome to adulthood, Mario.

Smith: And where is Welsh? Why is Zybala out here and not our ‘acting’ GM?

Hood: He’s probably backstage loving every minute of this! Ratings, baby!

Smith: Fans, I don’t even know what to describe tonight’s closing events. I never in my wildest dreams thought we’d see Mario act in such a manner toward his best friend. And these intruders…this Mike Best…this Max Kael…what are they doing here? Why are they in OCW? What have we done to draw their ire? I just…I don’t even know, Hood

Hood: You just summed up your entire career, man

Smith: It’s a chaotic and somewhat sad scene out here. I don’t even know what to say…we’re about to wrap things up. I’m told AKB is on the street with some closing statements.

~We linger on the scene inside the ring. Smith and Hood think they are off air but they aren’t~

Smith: What the hell was that, Hood? Can you believe that?

Hood: Wild shit, man. I’m gonna go get drunk and fuck some mildly attractive hooker that was hopefully born a woman. You?

Smith: I don’t even know. I’m stunned…

~We finally cut away to the street for our final segment of the evening~

~We cut back to the street. The slighted fans are hammered. A few millennial’s exiting (getting an early jump on heading home) make some acerbic remarks, demeaning the street fans. A tipping point has reached. The street fans begin to fight against the police guarding Twitter HQ~

Deangelo Vickers: Umm, excuse me, could we all calm down and have a chat about this?

Angry Fan: FUCK YOU! WE’RE GETTING IN THERE!

Deangelo Vickers: Now, is that any…who…who is that pulling up…on a bicycle

~A bicycle with a flower basket comes rolling up. Riding it is none other than OCW’s own IGGY HARDY! He’s got cocaine residue all over his mouth and a needle hanging out of his arm. In the background we see a body covered in bandages being loaded into an ambulance. We assume it’s Petia. Iggy walks up, leading the angry mob on the street. He looks at Deangelo~

Deangelo Vickers: Now, now…Mr. Hardy. I see you’ve had quite the evening. Perhaps we should get you some coffee, all calm down and talk…

Iggy Hardy: GET FUCKED!

~“Duality” by Slipknot begins to play as Iggy Hardy and the street fans rush forward, barreling over Deangelo and the San Francisco police force. Iggy lowers his head, bashing through the front doors of Twitter HQ. The rest of the street fans flood in behind as we fade to black~

Show Details

Twitter HQ

San Francisco, California

Show times

  • 9:00PM

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