Ladies and Gentleman we are back on the scene! With RIOT 604!
The ROAD to WRESTLUTION ROLLS ON!
Out of nowhere, the longest reigning OCW Womens Champion Furiosa walks onto the stage. Few members from the OCW Medical Team try to stop her from walking down the ramp.
Furiosa grabs the one that stands in front of her by the collar and headbutts him to the ground. The other two grab each of her arms from behind and pull her away from him.
She takes one leg and low blows them with a mule kick. He feels the pain shoot all the up to his stomach as he keels over to the ground.
Furiosa bites her lips until it bleeds as she faces off with the last member of the medical staff. He shakes his head “No” as he runs away towards the backstage.
During the attack, Zoe Cohle has already grabbed a microphone from the ring announcer.
Zoe: Furi! Furi !
Not getting any responses from the former Champion, Zoe decides to take another approach.
Zoe: HEATHER !
Furiosa slowly turns her attention towards the ring now.
Zoe: Jesus Christ.. What have they done to you ?
Furi makes her way to the ring with eyes crazier than ever. Zoe waits until she steps through the ropes. She is not moving one bit. The 2 rivals once again reunite in a squared circle.
Zoe: I know why you are out here. Oh you mad mad yes. But you got it all wrong, again. Look at you, a demon, a mindless, soulless demon who thinks she knows what is happening around her.
Furi is ready to strike, still unhinged and bleeding from the lip.
Zoe: I am not the one who attacked you, Heather.
Furi: You b-
Zoe: Hold on now, before we do anything silly and just go at it like in the good old days, let me tell you something. You might not believe me right now, but there is some evil people around you, trying to manipulate you from within, and make you believe that I am the one who tried to end your career.
Zoe: And they did a tremendous job. Because you actually believe that I wouldn’t just face you like I already did in the past, and that I would require spiteful actions. And what gets you mad is that, deep down, you know it can’t be me.
Zoe: The fact is, someone is trying to manipulate your angry side, they try to ignite Furiosa to do their bidding.
Zoe: I don’t want to talk to Furiosa.. Your name is HEATHER ANGELO ! Whether you like it or not-
Furiosa raises her hand at Zoe as if she was about to strike her but Zoe doesn’t flinch. Furiosa grabs the mic from Zoe - Zoe puts her hands up and you can read her lips “I am not your enemy.”
Furi: You’re a conniving bitch just like your brother, Zoe. Whatever little respect you and Heather had at the last Queen of OCW has nothing to do with me.
Furi: But La Mujera on the other hand is a different story. She was very close to me until she betrayed me.
Furi: So whether it’s La Mujera or Zoe Cohle talking to me right now, I’m going to put the Final Nail in the both of you right now.
Furiosa drops the mic and immediately hoists Zoe Cohle into the air. Furiosa growl turns into a scream as she breaks free from the Final Nail.
Zoe lands on her feet as Furi turns around immediately. The 2 start brawling on the canvas, rolling onto each other and landing heavy haymakers and elbows.
Some more security comes out to separate the 2 former World Champions, putting Furiosa on the top left corner, Zoe on the bottom right.
Tensions are high as the officials try to restore order but Furi's anger towards Zoe takes over as she breaks free and launches herself onto the pile of security surrounding Zoe, landing her a huge blow to the eye that makes her bleed instantly.
A few security members leave Zoe Cohle, and go after the aggressive Furiosa. Zoe yells…
Zoe: I didn't do it, you b- !
Furiosa puts her thumb to her throat and slides it across her neck. As more security comes out to separate these to the camera fades to the next scene.
We go backstage to a camera focused on a giant, puffy, North Face jacket. Pop music can be faintly heard playing in the background. We cut around the lavish dressing room to see a counter with a huge makeup bag resting atop it, spilling over slightly.
Another cut shows a long leg slide into a sleek, leather boot. Again, a cut goes from a gold-studded black hat resting on a stool, as it’s grabbed and removed from the chair.
We make one final cut to see the large jacket being slid on, one arm at a time. The zipper conceals the person wearing it almost completely as it slides all the way up to the neck.
As we zoom out, we see Deborah Soto in the reflection of the mirror, above the counter with the spilled makeup bag. She removes a brush from the bag and begins softening her makeup. The camera follows the brush as she gently places it back down on the counter, grabbing a lash brush to add more mascara. As she raises the brush, she’s no longer alone in the reflection of the mirror.
Deborah: AGHHH!
Deborah jumps, physically startled to see Alexa Hayes standing behind her in the mirror. She spins around as her fear becomes frustration.
Deborah: Are you actually kidding me right now? I am getting changed in here, freako.
Alexa: Ah yes, preparing to set women in wrestling back decades with your strip off. What is this, 2003?
Deborah rolls her eyes.
Deborah: Girl, if there’s one thing I know you don’t understand, it’s how to show off your assets.
Alexa: I am happily married to a man who also stands up for the values of women so I don't need to trot out there mostly naked or post on instagram as that is basically a dating service.
Soto puts her hand up directly in Alexa’s face as she slowly turns back around to continue applying her makeup.
She lifts the lash brush to her face, but before it makes contact with her long eye-lashes, Alexa snatches her by the wrist and moves in close to her.
Alexa: Look at me while I’m speaking to you. This isn’t over between the two of us, You think my husband is the only one who has power around here? Because I got the last rematch and am going to get another in which you can’t luck your way to another fluke.
Alexa: I may not be the one who is on the posters, or the woman flashing herself on television for attention, but trust me when I say that I am the one you should be focused on because I will break every bone in your body and not think twice about it.
Alexa releases the Gramazon’s hand as she pulls away, aghast at the situation. Alexa takes a few steps backwards and smirks.
Alexa: Enjoy your shameful little debacle tonight, but just remember what your future holds.
Alexa points both her index fingers at herself,
Deborah says nothing, mouth agape, as Alexa quietly exits the locker room. Deborah turns and looks back in the mirror slowly, seeing a darkened mark on her arm where Alexa’s grip dug in just moments ago.
Backstage, Christian Garcia seems to be rattled by his confrontation with Marcus McMichaels last week. He sits at the decorated table Los Sicarios are quickly making their signature, though this time, The G-Man is nowhere in sight.
CG, once again, is alone. He eyes the cigar in his hand, all but burnt to the end, and doesn’t even so much as blink when an ember falls onto his finger, burning it.
CG: … It wasn’t worth it. None of this was.
A loud, weary sigh. The former North American Champion’s phone is on the table, too. Improperly supported, it falls over, revealing an image of the self proclaimed Haterweight Champ with his former protege. They’re younger, noticeably so in CG’s case. His ‘Ambition Szn’ shirt clearly dates the image to his rookie year.
CG turns around just in time to notice someone standing behind him. A dead silent Jasmin Kaffee. Garcia startles, his chair practically howling as it skids across the concrete floor.
Jasmin’s lower lip is caked in blood, likely from an attempt to talk and an ensuing hacking fit. Her eyes, bloodshot and bleary, are locked on Garcia, who quickly relaxes. The turn he’s made to face her makes the bruise on his left eye from Marcus’ assault stand out prominently to the camera.
CG: I think you’ve earned a swing.
Jasmin, predictably, doesn’t respond. She looks at the phone. As opposed to CG’s wistful glances, there’s a new, and completely alien emotion to the usually friendly Pro Wrestling Powerhouse on her face.
Turning away from the phone and back to Garcia, she speaks in the same raspy, halting tone she’s spoken to others.
Jasmin: I…
Jasmin: …Hate…
Jasmin: …You.
Jasmin clearly feels another coughing fit coming on, but she holds it together, instead continuing to shoot a withering, hateful glare at Garcia before slowly turning to walk away.
As she stalks off through the back lot, Garcia is deeply shaken, moreso than he’s been since the collapse of DDE and the GOAT Academy. A dawning understanding crossed his face, and he slowly rises from his seat.
CG: Jasmin, don't do it! This isn't going to make it right! It isn't worth it!
Jasmin doesn't seem to be interested in stopping or listening, leaving a frustrated and rattled CG as the focus when the camera fades.
ROOKIE CHALLENGE HARPER LeROUX vs. ZOE COHLE
After a few seconds of complete darkness, the lights in the arena come on to reveal Colin Locke and John Carter sitting opposite each other in the ring with what looks to be a card table between them with Colin’s OCW Tag Team Title perched on the side.
John: You know, we could’ve made a proper entrance. Especially you, not seen you in a while, Colin. Plus everyone loves hearing Runaway.
Colin: Hey, if there’s three things the OCW audience don’t need it’s me wasting time running to the ring and doing an ‘in this-a business-a’ speech to get you out here, and to listen to more Bon Jovi.
John: Hey, leave Bon Jovi out of this, they’re an amazing band! But what’s the third thing?
Colin shuffles the cards in front of him and looks up at John.
Colin: Dave the referee dealing cards. If there’s anything I learned from watching Atsushi Hada matches…
One person in the audience screams loudly and tries to start a ‘Wrassle Castle’ chant. No one joins in.
Colin: … It’s that Dave can’t count for shit, so we’re gonna be playing a game where we deal our own cards. Choose our own destiny, hold ourselves accountable for our successes and failures, all that fun stuff.
Colin places his first card upon the table. Bulbasaur, 40hp.
Colin: That’s my turn, Johnny boy. Now you go, amaze me.
John looks completely bewildered.
John: What the hell are we playing? I was told I was coming out here to cut s promo, I don’t even understand what card game we’re playing.
Colin: What, you’re gonna say that John Carder has one single card game he doesn’t know the rules of?
John: Its Carter with a T. Don’t give Jay anymore ideas.
Colin: Yeah, yeah, what I thought, Carder.
John: It’s Carter Colin, stop saying Carder!
This time, John overly enunciates the ‘T’, and as soon as he does, Colin’s face goes white as a sheet.
Colin: Ah shit, now this whole bit makes no sense.
John: None of your bits make sense, Colin! All these stupid games you play make no sense. I don’t understand how anyone in OCW could find this entertaining!
Colin: Man, that accent still messes me up, sorry.
John:My accent still messes you up? Coming from you? I don’t want to hear that from you mate that’s bollocks.
John breathes out aggressively before slapping one of his own cards onto the table opposite Colin’s. Kangaskhan, 90hp. Colin raises an eyebrow. The crowd gasp.
Colin: … Okay, you’ve got my attention.
John looks at his hands and attaches a double-colourless energy.
John: Judging by the reaction of the crowd I think this means I can draw a card?
Colin: Go for it.
John draws another card and his turn ends. Colin draws a card, looks at it and immediately smiles. He reveals the card dramatically. A leaf energy. He attaches the leaf energy.
Colin: You might be in trouble next round.
John: I don’t understand what any of this stupid nerdy bullshit means.
Colin: Sounds like you’re starting to remember what it’s like to spend any amount of time with me.
John: I didn’t forget. You say basically anything, people lap it up, and you just get things that people like me had to work for.
Colin: Hold on, you think that’s the difference between us?
John places another card onto the table. Staryu, 40hp. Colin winces.
John: You don’t think that people are gonna see through this? You’ve been at this for years now and you’re still playing the clueless comedy guy every time you just start beating the shit out of people in the ring. You’ve beaten and stood toe to toe with some of the best wrestlers to ever do it and you don’t even break a sweat.
Colin: You’re still onto this?
John: Yeah, ‘cause a few years ago, everyone out here, everyone in the back, everyone was pissed at me for taking DOC out. I had to get better and show everyone that I was just as real a wrestler as I said I was before I got another chance. I did exactly what you did to Danny but people only cared because I was the one doing it! They baby you Colin, they think you’re the funniest thing in the world. They let you get away with more than anyone else in this company. What other person would just be able to steal someone’s contract and start working here? Who else would be able to cheat in the biggest match of their career and get a slap on the wrist?
John: If you’d have ended my career, taken me out for months, whatever, you’d have everyone laughing with you and shouting ‘SCOOOOP’, just like they always do, while I get shoved in an ambulance.
John angrily attaches a second double-colourless energy to his Kangaskhan.
John: Comet punch? I think that’s really good! I’m going to win.
Colin: Not yet. Read it again.
John takes a closer look at the card.
John: Flip four coins? Whatever, I’ve still got good odds.
Colin: How’d those odds work out for you against an injured Quartz?
John scowls at Colin and flips the first coin. Tails. He flips a second tails again.
Colin: You might want to cross your fingers.
John: Shut up! You aren’t funny.
John flips the third coin. Tails.
John: Why are we even playing this stupid game!?
He flips the final one. Tails.
John: WHAT?! YOU DID SOMETHING TO THIS COIN ITS RIGGED!
Colin: Relax, mate, you’ve still got the advantage.
John: Oh yeah, and while I’m sitting here with everyone laughing at me while I flip coins like an idiot, you’re gonna be taking the advantage right back, overcoming the odds from behind like you always do, Colin. I’m sick of it.
Colin: John, only you could have a better hand that can legitimately win you this entire game in one turn and still find a way to blame me that you didn’t win earlier. You’ll get so many chances, just wait and see.
Colin draws a card and immediately plays it. Pikachu, 60hp.
John: Oh, come on! How many times are you gonna get the exact card you need? This has to be rigged! There’s no way you can just do that every time!
Colin: What?
John: Twice now! Twice! You’ve drawn a card, immediately played it, and it’s exactly what you need.
Colin: You said you didn’t know how to play.
John: I don’t! That guy in the front row with the circle pink thing on his shirt is making dumb noises every time something happens, that’s all I need to know.
Colin: First of all, EMP won’t be happy you called her a circle pink thing, second of all, calm down, you’ll get a shot.
Colin places a fire energy next to the Pikachu and a fighting energy on Bulbasaur. He trades their places on the board.
Colin: Cool, gnaw, you take ten damage.
The crowd let out an ‘oooooh’ and John rolls his eyes. He places one hit counter on his Kangaskhan.
John: Whatever. You said yourself I’ve got more chances to win.
Colin: Three at most.
John: WHAT?!
Colin: Oh yeah, next turn I’m gonna start doing 30 damage per turn, your Kangaskhan’s gonna be dead as hell if you don’t wipe me out in three turns.
The crowd laugh and John stands up, his hands on the table as he looks down at the smirking Colin.
John: See! No one in here cares, but I do. We’re in a wrestling ring playing this dumbass card game with stupid animals on it, and you’re getting all high and mighty even though you know that if you hadn’t cheated last time we were in the ring, I’d be wearing that belt!
John gestures to the tag belt angrily. He leans over, getting his face closer to Colin’s.
John: And, knowing you, you’d be taking a holiday somewhere waiting to be handed your next world title shot, because you don’t care about the tag division, or about real wrestling, or even about being a team player with Maxx. You just want to do your stupid shit and get worshipped for it, even if people like me have to wait in line until everyone stops laughing.
John: I actually care about this tag division, I want to make it as great as it once was. All you care about is making people laugh! This is a game Colin, wrestling is my life. This is serious, I’m sick of these stupid games I just want another shot at those tag team championships!
There’s a moment of silence. Colin’s face is far more serious, and it’s clear that he doesn’t have a response.
Colin: Sit down and play the game, John.
John: No. But I wanna make this interesting.
John stays standing and starts flipping coins. Three come up heads, one comes up tails. Colin starts unbuttoning his shirt as he removes his dead Pikachu from the board.
John: What the hell are you doing! Put your shirt on. I mean a stipulation or something. I win, and you’re not allowed to suck me into any more of your bullshit ‘til we fight you and Maxx at Lution. I’m here to wrestle and focus on a wrestling match. I’m not here to play these stupid card games. No one even likes Yu-Gi-Oh!
Colin raises an eyebrow in intrigued agreement.
Colin: And if I win, you pay the vet bills for The Artist Formerly Known As The Maxximum Hot Storage Dog.
John: That dog… Fine. Fine. Let’s do it.
Colin draws a card and places a leaf energy next to his Bulbasaur. The pace increases, as John then tries another comet punch, with only one card coming up heads, damaging the Bulbasaur. Colin attaches a second leaf energy.
Colin: You take twenty damage, I heal ten damage, you’re back where you started, John.
John: You said yourself I keep getting chances. Next chance I get, your green plant dog or whatever it is goes down, and next chance me and Jordan get, we’re taking your titles.
John’s turn starts. He immediately flips all four coins, two of which come up heads.
John: … Did I win now?
Colin nods.
Colin: Well done, John, you won.
Colin takes a final look at his hand, having been defeated, and shows John an Ivysaur, 60hp.
Colin: Because I really wanted that second Lution match.
John’s face immediately turns into a scowl.
John: Now I dunno what the hell that thing is, but are you telling me you let me win?
Colin shrugs.
Colin: What’s this, John, the second time you’ve tried to cast doubt on a match result between us this month? You get the match you wanted, again, only you could complain.
John: And only you could give me something to complain about while everyone here claps like trained seals. I’m outta here, see you next week. Those tag title are coming home with the Future Idiots! With an S not a Z!
John kicks the card table over, leaving Colin sat there as John leaves the ring, the segment drawing to a close.
PREVIOUSLY RECORDED
Unenthusiastic elevator music is playing as we notice the count of the floor going up more and more as time passes. As the elevator reaches the twentieth floor it opens up and we see the wonderful Dennis Dillinger. Dillinger, dressed dapperly as usual, adjusts his tie as he walks out of the elevator.
He walks down a hallway and makes his way in front of a normal looking apartment door. Outside next to the doorknob is a ring camera, Dennis, bends down and looks at his teeth and winks at the camera.
Footsteps approach the other side of the door as we hear a number of locks begin unlocking. The doorknob twists and opens up as we see Dennis Dillinger welcomed by none other than El Parca. Parca smiles at Dennis and welcomes into his home.
Parca: I’m glad to see you could still find the place.
Dennis: Aha! I don’t know if you know this about me, but I’m a bit of a master of direction. You could drop me in the middle of the forest and I’d use GPS to get out. I don’t know why none of these “survival guys” don’t ever do that? Really stick it to nature, you know? Just like you stuck it to that bumpkin KC last week.
Parca walks over to his open concept kitchen and begins rummaging through numerous glass bottles. Parca looks toward Dennis who is sitting on one of Parca’s couches.
Parca: Your usual? Club soda with a lime?
Dennis smiles and playfully waves a hand at Parca.
Dennis: You know me too well, kiddo!
Parca makes Dennis his drink and walks it over to him. He hands him the drink and walks over to a window where he looks outside.
Parca: Ya think I went a little overboard last week? I feel like it might’ve been too much. Harry, I feel wouldn’t have necessarily approved of it.
Dennis: Harry? Who the- is that the shrink you’ve been seeing?
The Manhattan Mogul sets his glass down on the table in front of him and puts his hands on his hips.
Dennis: No disrespect, Miguel… But does this “Harry” character even know his stuff? That was a Grade A verbal takedown last week, my boy!
Parca: Yea… but Harry says a negative mindset can lead to a negative outcome. So I was pretty much asking for KC to respond like that.
Dennis: Does Harry know what exactly you do? Does he know the industry you’re in? Especially YOU, does he know how deep we are into this business by now?
Parca turns around looking over at Dennis as he gives him an ugly look with his eyes.
Parca: I don’t understand the weirdness toward Harry. I’m trying to find a way to balance these feelings and understand myself. Besides, what he doesn’t fully know won’t kill him.
Dennis: Kid, the only thing I’m worried about balancing is my checkbook.
Parca peers over to his manager after the comment, to which Dennis throws his hands up and leans back on the couch.
Dennis: Hey now, just kidding. You know I’m doing my best trying to understand all of this.
Parca walks over closer to Dennis, he turns near a bookcase. Inside of this bookcase we see all the championships Parca has won. He scans the bookcase up and down as there is one empty spot.
Parca: I know, but you and I know I’m not a one step man Dennis. I like to progress and what a better time to progress than the hottest season in OCW.
Parca: Lution season and the summer. The hottest time period to be in OCW, legends return, legacies are forged, and history is made.
Parca: Which is why I can’t spread myself too thin. I need to focus on KC, I don’t know what his game is but I’m not that naive to sit back and wait.
Dennis leans forward once again and lifts his drink from off the table.
Dennis: Now we’re talking. What do you need from me?
Parca: Do some more digging around. The stuff you found for me last week was good, but I need to know more about him. I need to know the man behind KC Barrett. Not this Kurt Kopay that he likes to show off.
Dillinger nods and takes a swig of his drink as a couple hard knocks can be heard at the door. Parca’s ring doorbell also begins going off. His phone begins vibrating with notifications as we hear a small voice outside the door.
???: Hellooooo? Hello? Miguel? Are you in there? It’s Dr. Malloy, did you forget our appointment?
Parcas head snaps toward the door as he fast walks over and unlocks it. He opens the door to reveal a small Caucasian man with a nice suit standing in the doorway. Parca welcomes him in and closes the door behind them.
Parca: Of course I wouldn’t forget our appointment, Harry. I just mismanaged the time, is all.
Dennis stands up from the couch and looks bewildered by the small man in the apartment now.
Dennis: Hey, hey! What’s all this now? You’re not trying to replace me with this little man, now are you?!
Parca: Dennis, now, now play nice. This is Harry, y’know the therapist I’ve been seeing.
Parca: Harry, why don’t you have a seat? Me and Dennis were just wrapping up anyway.
Harry looks over to Dennis and walks past him sitting down on a nearby chair.
Harry: So you’re the infamous Mr. Dillinger. You’re an interesting man, I’ve heard quite a lot about you.
Dennis raises an eyebrow with slight irritation on his face. He swings his head back and forth, alternating his gaze between Parca and Dr. Malloy.
Dennis: Is that right? And just what does a scam artist quack like you think he knows about a man li-
Parca quickly swoops in and pulls Dillinger away from the situation before it continues to escalate.
Parca: Yea haha, maybe a different day. Cmon Dennis I’ll walk you out.
Parca continues walking his manager to the door as Dillinger resists his temptation and murmurs the rest of his insults under his breath at the respect of his client and friend. As they walk through the door, Dennis turns around and looks at Parca.
Dennis: You know, I bet I could take that guy.
Parca: Dennis…
Dennis: I know, I know! I got you, Primero! I’m going to stay focused on getting you the information you need about KC Barrett. Don’t burn too much of that money in there, alright?
Parca: I’ll see you soon Dennis. Stay in touch, we can go to the Clocktower sometime.
As Parca backs away, we see Dennis pull his hands together like a kid on Christmas morning.
Dennis: Yes! I love the Clocktower and you owe me a club soda!
The scene fades as Parca smirks at the comment and shuts the door behind him to return inside…
