LIVE FROM MIAMI, FLORIDA
The Arena Explodes in a cascade of Pyro technics as Summercide 2017 Theme blares.
The pyrotechnics kick off as OCWFED PRESENTS Summercide 2017 gets underway.
The Camera pans to ramp as an old nostalgic tune hits and the duo of Scaggs and Poling
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Welcoem to the hottest party of the Summer! |
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We finally made it Miami!!! |
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We got an amazing show for you tonight! |
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So grab a cool drink, sit back, relax! |
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Or kick your feet up and make some noise! |
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Because OCW IS LIVE!!! |
The scene fades into the backstage area, hours before the show starts. The whole building is almost entirely empty, with the exception of one Drago Cesar walking through the hallways, carrying a large duffel bag.
He finds a few crates and hops on one of them, setting the bag right next to him. He covers his face with his hands and lowers them so that his eyes can see what's around him; several pieces of OCW memorabilia line the walls, mostly posters of past events. He unzips the duffel bag and reluctantly takes out what's in it; a blue/red patterned military outfit, still fairly dusty.
He pulls out a pair of photos. One of them is a younger Drago in that same military gear with his squad. The other is what looks to be a family photo, with a teenage Drago and an even younger Dragana embracing while their parents are behind them. He lowers his head as he slowly shuffles the photos around before hastily returning them to the bag along with the uniform.
The camera cuts to the ring, where we see Drago sitting on the apron, holding the OCW Championship in his arms. He looked at it, his legs slowly swinging back and forth.
Drago: Been a fun ride, hasn't it?
Drago stares at the championship, admiring the gold before he's cut off by a custodian at the ramp.
Custodian: Everything all right sir?
Drago keeps staring at the title for a few seconds before his eyes move to the custodian. He gives a slight smile.
Drago: ....Everything is just fine. Thanks.
The feed fades to black.
The Camera pans to the announce team!
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Once more into the breach! |
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You got this Drago! |
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We kick things off with a bang. The Turmoil Champion Dennis Black performs double duty tonight. When he takes on The #1 Contender Jacob Trance! |
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This is going to be a fight for survival! |
Jacob Trance vs Dennis Black*
The Camera pans to the announce team!
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Wow! |
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Holy sheet! |
Cort Marshall stands backstage with Jim Black as Summercide continues to rock Miami. His outfit is the usual, but he's got a brown leather jacket draped over one arm.
Cort: What does summer mean to you, Jim? Does it mean sundaes with chocolate sauce? Cruises down main street with the top down and the stereo blasting Stan Bush's Greatest Hit? Days at the beach watching fat women trying in vain to get the sand out of their ham curtains?
Jim starts to speak before Cort characteristically interrupts him.
Cort: Whatever you were going to say, you're wrong. Because summer means only one thing right now, the whole world over...
Cort: It means Sergeant! Cort! Marshall! Is going to knock his first pay-per-view appearance out of the park as he kicks over H2O's little sandcastle of a mental state! He's going to have to go home and let mommy feed him tomato soup for months after this one, Jim. And I... I'm just soaking in the sense of satisfaction.
Jim: You haven't even won yet, Sergeant.
Cort: Are you implying I could possibly lose? Look, look. The match with Dennis Black didn't go so well. A minor setback. I've never fought him before! How was I supposed to know he spends 8 hours a day on leg exercises?
Cort: H2O, on the other hand, I've beaten. No sweat. No chance. No problem.
Jim: That wasn't exactly how it looked to me. It looked like you barely got him before he could kick your head clean off.
Cort: Jim, I suggest you go see an eye doctor. But don't drive there. You might end up in Alaska. H2O's playbook is a very long binder in which every page says “superkick.” Without it, he's got nothing and he knows it. Take away his best move and all you've got is a participant in your local pride parade, and I've physically assaulted plenty of them until the cops decided to show up.
Jim Black looks shocked, but at the same time, not surprised.
Jim: You are a disgusting individual.
Cort: That's what they said! And I told them... what kind of role model do you want the children to have? A guy who does yoga and eats kale and covers his mouth when someone says something catty on The Real Housewives of Mooseknuckle?
Cort:
Or a real man's man who reads magazines about suplexing bears and moisturizes with BBQ sauce?
Cort:
A man whose finisher hits about as many men as cervical cancer or a consummate professional whose win-loss ratio is rivaled only by Michael Vick's dogs? I know who I would rather idolize. Myself.
Cort: Unfortunately, the fans have other ideas. I can't deny H2O has the crowd on his side. They hate me more than New Yorkers hate health food. They want nothing more than to see my big mouth get stuffed full of wrestling boot.
Cort:
It's a shame I'll have to disappoint them, Jim. When I hit H2O with the Cort Summons, the dream of all these Miami fans is going to evaporate just like their water supply.
Cort cracks a self-satisfied grin, then throws the jacket on. You can see just a bit of the slogan on the back as he strides off camera.
Jim: We'll see about that, as their match is up next at Summercide! I wish good luck to both competitors.
Jim watches Cort walk off, and when he's sure he's out of earshot...
Jim: To be honest, fans, just one competitor. That guy is a total jackass.
The Camera pans to the announce team!
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Confident as ever! |
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I cant wait for this! |