The new Light Heavyweight Champion is sitting in his locker room. He has changed out of his ring gear, the Light Heavyweight Championship rests on the table next to him.
Stacy Clark walks in to interview him.
Stacy: Spider how do you feel after that big win?
RYU: This morning I woke up as the worst wrestler in OCW. Nate Ortiz ran through me at Beach Party and I haven’t been able to live it down.
RYU: But tonight I righted that wrong, and I passed the title of worst wrestler in ocw back to its rightful owner Air Conditioning Cobra.
Stacy: So it must feel great to be able to call yourself Light Heavyweight Champion.
Ryu stands up, walks over to the Belt and picks it up and looks at it for a moment
RYU: This belt, is relatively new, and a lot of guys have held it.
Stacy: We have had this Championship for the last 3 years.....
RYU: As I said NEW! Guys like Paul Pugh, Tiberius Dupree, Mugen, Drago Cesar… H2O, Antonio Everett, and AC Cobra are all part of this Belt’s legacy.
RYU: And now this Belt is where it belongs…
Ryu walks over to the trash can in the corner of the room and casually tosses the belt into the garbage
RYU: You will NEVER insult me again by calling me Light Heavyweight “””Champion”””.
Ryu walks back over to his locker and reaches in, grabbing a brand new Championship
RYU: I am and always will represent a greater Legacy, one that hasn’t been tainted by the mediocrity and ego of men like Paul Pugh and Tiberius Dupree.
RYU: No one is, or ever has been greater than this Championship...
RYU: I am EX!
Ryu pushes past stacy and out of the locker room with the new EX Division Championship in hand
Ashley Moore is going up and down the hall, she looks visibly nervous. As she has build up enough courage she enters the door she was walking in front the whole time.
Ashley Moore: Before you hit me again, please hear me out.
Ashley Moore: I now know why you hate me so much and I understand why you attacked me after our match.
She speaks to Zoe Cohle who is standing in front of her with crossed arms and a stare that could kill.
Ashley Moore: Apparently we went to the same High School in Paris and there you witnessed the worst of me.
Ashley Moore: I picked on everyone who wasn’t popular. I made everyone's live worse there.
Ashley Moore: I understand how wrong, how stupid I was.
Ashley Moore: I did this because everyone in my life told me that I have to be stronger than everyone else, that I have to show that I am the best. And the only way I knew was to make everyone else worse.
Ashley Moore: The only reason why I got send to Paris was so that my CV looks better. That’s the kind of people I grew up with. No one cared how I feel. The only thing that mattered is that it looks good.
Ashley Moore: Please, can you forgive me?
Zoe is still looking with the same expression at Ashley Moore and after a few moments she responds to her.
Zoe: You know what, you can shove your apology anywhere.
Zoe: Do you even realize how bad you made everyone lives? I had so many friends who had to retake a year or even dropped out.
Zoe: Back then my friends and I swore that we will never forgive you for what you did to all of us.
She goes closer to Ashley and and tries to hit her in face, but Ashley who expected the attack now ducks down and just runs away.
Zoe: If you get in my way again you will pray that you will wake up in the infirmary.
And the scene fades to black with Ashley sprinting around the corner out of the picture.
THE UNCROWNED vs C.Q.C(c)
The scene is set in General Manager Tiberius Octavian Dupree’s pseudo office, as he sorts through some papers on his desk with a look of disappointment.
Dupree: This sed, berry sed...
He tosses the papers back down, disgusted.
Dupree: Nobody knows how to do a proper resume anymore. The fonts, the colours… everything, all mediogre. Forget wrestling school! These people need to go to the goddamn Sunday School… of Certified Betterness.
His new intern nods in sympathy, before both are distracted by a knocking at the door--or more accurately, a frenzied pounding. The slamming of fist-on-door is quickly followed by shouting and jostling of the doorknob, whoever it is on the other end clearly distressed.
Dupree: Kneesus Christ, it sounds like Pugh after a rookie match out there.
He grimaces and adjusts the color of his bright shirt.
Dupree: Perks of the job.
He motions for the secretary to open the door.
Dupree: Come in.
The moment he unlocks it, the door bursts open, nearly throwing the poor man off his feet. Standing in the sudden vacuum of space is Cort Marshall, clothes a-flutter and head darting from side to side.
Cort: HAVE YOU SEEN HIM?
Dupree looks quizzical.
Dupree: Have I seen who?
The all-american grasps his head in despair.
Cort: I DON’T KNOW!
The General Manager is now even *more* confused.
Dupree: Then why you looking for them?
Cort: My… case!
He breathes heavily, rushing up to Dupree and practically tugging on his lapels. The Betterness’ face crinkles in disgust.
Dupree: Personal space.
Cort: MY CASE! MY. FUTURE. INVESTMENT. BRIEFCASE! It’s gone! Someone took it. Someone is going to pay very, VERY dearly, and you are going to tell me who and you are going to tell me NOW!
Dupree holds up two fingers.
Dupree: Firstly, you don’t make the demands around here. Secondly, why do you think I would know who took your damn briefcase? Do you think thieves often wander into the offices of their superiors to confess?
Cort: I DEMAND that I have what is rightfully MINE! This was my night! That is my TITLE around the waist of that Mike’s Hard Lemonade sipping ballet instructor you call a champion!
Cort:
You are the general manager. If you are not informed of everything that is going on, during your show… you’re clearly doing a PISS. POOR. JOB.
Cort finishes his rant by getting in Dupree’s face, but the legend doesn’t react.
Dupree: Fine, Karen. You’ve convinced me.
Dupree waltzes over to his desk and unhooks his phone, broadcasting to the arena speakers.
Dupree: Will whoever accidentally took a disgustingly un-chic briefcase from the baggage claim please bring it to the front desk?
A vein bulges in Cort’s temple, and he slams his hands down on the desk.
Cort: On that contract it is written that I can cash in anywhere, at any time… as long as a referee is present to ratify that cash-in. Correct?
Dupree nods.
Cort: SO. I have a right to cash in, anytime I want… and right now, I cannot cash in due to your shamefully lacking security. I have been robbed of the opportunity I earned because of your incompetence? How very… unamerican.
Dupree sighs then shakes his head.
Dupree: As the terms state, you have the right to cash in at any time you wish. But, we do not have to ensure that you can. The history of that case is ripe with betrayal and trickery. That is the price you pay for what is one of the best chances to steal your way into OCW gold.
Dupree: But there is something you must learn. The briefcase does not make the man. Does anyone remember who held it last?
He pauses for a beat.
Dupree: Neither do I. The briefcase, in the wrong hands… is a bullet with no gun. You’ve earned the case. Now you must earn your chance to pull the trigger, while everyone in the company eyes your back.
Dupree:
I’ve seen greater men than you fail… and I’ve seen worse succeed. At this point there is nothing I can do for you. You only have to do exactly what you keep bragging about.
Dupree cracks his classic half smile.
Dupree: Handle it yourself, Mr. Future Investment.
Cort stares down at the General Manager’s placid grin, teeth grit shut. After a moment he simply growls:
Cort: You’ll regret this.
He spins on his heel and leaves the room, leaving Dupree to his business and his intern to cleanup duty.