Jim Black and a camera crew are standing outside Deborah Soto's private locker room. Black seems reluctant to approach, hearing the crashing and shouting from inside the locker room.
The camera crew and Jim approach slowly, as the loudest crash shakes the door and causes them to flinch backwards. The door flies open as OCW Senior of Officiating, Akita Sr., exits from the room quickly. As the door is open, you hear the voice of Soto.
Deborah: I'm so serious right now! Every one of you motherf*ckers are gonna' pay! Imma have all y'all jobs once I win that title!
Akita ducks down and closes the door behind him, again muffling Deborah's screaming.
Akita looks at Jim Black and the camera crew without words, he shakes his head and walks off.
Jim turns to the camera and talks in a hushed tone.
Jim Black: Well, we were scheduled to have an appearance from The Queen of the Indies, The Gramazon, Deborah Soto... But-
The door flings open again as he's speaking, slamming harshly against the wall as it opens.
Deborah stands, her luxury sunglasses and hat mostly falling off as she shakes with rage. She's already dressed to leave the arena as she sees Jim on the other side of the door.
Deborah: You want an interview, Jimmy?
She steps out of the locker room, as the camera gets a clear shot of the inside, the locker room completely turned upside down, the television shattered on the ground and various furnishings thrown about the room.
Deborah: First off, lemme tell y'all what I just told that crooked ass "ref".
Deborah: Lemme find that bald ass, broke ass referee who just cost me that triple threat match.
The Gramazon winces for a moment, pulling back from the camera, seemingly unable to find the words. Her face is blood red as she comes back, attempting to hold herself back.
Deborah: I did not lose. I still have not lost. I am UN-DE-FEATED since returning. Not one of these women can pin me. Not one of these women can submit me.
Deborah: I'm really trying with you people, Jimmy. These people upstairs too, don't matter if it's Empress, don't matter if it's Drago Dragovic or whatever, don't matter if it's Canadian Becky with the bad hair.
Deborah: Ain't ONE of you wanna see Deborah Soto thrive. It's pathetic. It's sad.
Deborah: But guess what? It's inevitable. Marisa can hold her consolation prize over her head all she wants. Congrats, you beat Ashley Moore - not me. Congrats, you won the match because that dumb ass, beady-eyed referee called for the bell prematurely.
Deborah: But all this stuff is over with, now. I'm done dealing with both of you little blonde barbies. Should be grateful I decided to step in the same ring with you both at all.
Deborah removes her glasses and steps back into the locker room, pulling her suitcase out with her.
She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.
Deborah: You're lucky you're cute or I'd knock your ass out right now, Jimmy bean.
She turns to leave as Jim stops her with another question.
Jim: Erm, Deborah... Do you have anything to say about Sue Plex, your opponent for Summercide?
Deborah: Psh, no. I don't. She's just the last inadequate stepping stone in my way before I become Women's World Champion and put every single one of you on notice. I'm handing out pink slips THAT NIGHT.
Deborah: But tonight? I ain't about to stick around this dusty ass city longer than I have to.
Jim: ...And one more thing... What about the continued focus Alexa Hayes has been putting on you?
This causes Soto to stop once more in her tracks, turning slowly with a disgusted look on her face.
Deborah: Ugh. Gross.
The Gramazon places her glasses back on and throws her hand up, dismissing Jim Black. She forcefully exits the arena as the camera takes another look into the destruction she caused in the locker room.
Backstage corridors are usually a great way to watch OCW superstars getting interviewed, preparing for an upcoming matchup, or simply getting jumped by black hooded men.
The second rule applies here, as the returning B-17 is preparing for his first Turmoil match in over 2 years and for his surprise opponent, on tonight's Turmoil 300 special event.
The Bingo Bomber is stretching and showing a bit of stress for what's ahead of him, but still takes time to advise a young prospect holding his towel.
B17: If I was your papa I would have shown you how to change your own oil, but I don't have time. I know this one Arabic guy....
As he was about to give a piece of information that would have changed the youngster's life for the worst, the former OCW Champion, FrenchBlade Rust Cohle, walks into the frame, trying not to disturb him too much, as he knows the stakes for him. He taps him lightly on the shoulder.
Rust:Hey my friend, you seem a little tense, don't you even worry. You got this. You always do, it doesn't matter who the coward behind those attacks is.
B-17:Mon ami ! I am not stressed at all, I feel rejuvenated, even though I would feel 70 with all these young people around.
He shouts in the hallway.
B-17: AND DON'T RUN IN THE CORRIDORS ! Jesus Christ. Sorry, where were we ?
Rust: I.. Yeah hum.. Right. I know times are wild right now, but last week I wanted to tell you something and..
He gets interrupted by a staff member coming from the gorilla position.
Staff: Bingo, you are up next.
B17: And it was a nice talk I guess, but now it's time to bake a little something for the fans, n'est ce pas ? Catch you later, Hon.
Rust: I guess that's fair.. Good luck out there.
As Bingo's theme plays through the arena speakers.
WHO ATTACKED B17
B17vs. ???????
Previously Recorded | July 2nd, 2023 | Suburban Denver, Colorado
We are brought into the scene outside a suburban home. Leaves fall from the nearby trees into the calm front yard. The camera pans down to see a quirky, homemade wooden sign pinned to the mailbox reading…
The Oceans
We transition from the outside to indoors, through a window. Mom2O is seen finishing drying her hands in the kitchen sink, as a knock on the door is heard.
Mrs. Ocean: Can you get that?
In the living room, Dad2O winces as he stands from his chair, letting out a painful sounding grunt as he rises to his feet. He steps over to the door and pops it open, a smile wiping across his face.
Mr. Ocean: Son!
Standing on the other side of the door is one half of “Perfect Storm”, Harvey Hamilton Ocean.
H2O: Ahh! Dad! How’ your knee?
Dad2O slaps his bum knee and laughs the pain off.
Mr. Ocean: Oh, you know how it is. If I can still get back up and move around, I’m going to do it. You get it from me. Now come here!
Harvey stops his dad from approaching, instead looking behind him and opting to step inside the home to hug his father.
Mrs. Ocean: Harvey!! What a surprise!
Mom2O rushes from the kitchen and embraces her son.
Mrs. Ocean: Please, come on in and sit!
Harvey looks behind him again, nervously laughing. His mother tries to welcome him in and shut the door, but H2O puts his hand up to stop it from closing behind him.
H2O: It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you guys. Come to think of it, it’s the longest time. It’s great to see my family. I’m glad you’re both doing well.
H2O: I uh-
Mr. Ocean: Harvey, what’s the deal, you look like something’s wrong?
Mrs. Ocean: C’mon, Harv. It’s been hard enough to see you over the last year. What’s going on?
H2O: I uh, I brought someone to see you both.
H2O turns again to the open doorway, as Ijitu Quartz slides in from just right of the outside, he smirks at the both of them, as Mom2O flinches and backs away quickly, stepping behind Dad2O.
Mr. Ocean: What the hell is this!?
Quartz puts his hands up, attempting to show he poses no threat, but the frightened demeanor remains on the faces of his biological mother and father.
H2O steps between them to maintain the peace.
Mrs. Ocean: Harvey, what - you can’t just spring this - you can’t just…
H2O: Mom, Dad, relax.
H2O: This isn’t what you think it is, I promise. My brother and I have made peace with the past.
H2O: You told me to try and understand you when you told me, right? Well I’ve had 2 years to do that…
Mr. Ocean: Harvey. What is this? Some kind of church thing you’re involved in?
H2O: Absolutely not. I… I’m leaving the Church. It’s time to move onto something bigger than all of that. I thought finding my own family was the better choice. But I realized that this is family.
Quartz carefully steps forward towards his biological parents.
Quartz: I assure you, my motivations are honest. I don’t regret anything I did in the past, just as either of you shouldn’t.
Mr. & Mrs. Ocean ease up slightly and look at one another as Quartz continues.
Quartz: You gave me a chance to become the man I am today. I won’t pretend to know what you were going through all those years ago, but I am done being bitter. I- We… Have too much left to accomplish in life to spend it that way.
Quartz: You’re not my enemies. You don’t have to be my parents either, but we’re certainly not enemies.
Quartz: I’m here to make amends.
Quartz: I’ve spent too long harboring resentment against all of you.
The elder Oceans look cautiously as Harvey slowly closes the door.
H2O: We have a lot to talk about. Please, sit.
Quartz and H2O nod to one another as the door closes behind them, and the camera pans back out to the outside of the home and fades to black.
BLOOD FEUD
MARK REESE vs. KASSIDY HAYES
We cut backstage, with Paul Boulet walking--practically strutting--down a corridor, newly-won North American title on his shoulder. He’s talking to it, and admiring his reflection.
Boulet: You and me, baby, we are going to do such things together. Go to the movies… watch the stars… eat at only the finest cheeseries…
He suddenly stops, bumping into someone taller, skinnier, and with even wilder hair.
Boulet: EXCUSEZ-MOI! THERE IS A CHAMPION ON THE RUNWAY!
Karmine: I guess congratulations are in order… Though I’m not sure a guy who’d abandon A-Mart like that is worthy of holding that prestigious title.
Boulet: What do you care? He your adoptive uncle or something?
Karmine: I’m just saying… You strut around here like a tough guy, but you seemed real scared of DNS. Almost like… A coward.
Boulet: Coward!? I was leaving him to his own devices. He overextended, he lost. According to THE RULES, if I interfered, I lost. So there was nothing to gain. Not my fault, not my problème.
Karmine: Geez… You know, even at my worst, I never ran away from anything. This is the fighting business, Boulet. That kind of cowardice and selfishness is part of the reason why these DNS goons are running roughshod around here.
Boulet: No, that kind of selfishness is why I don’t have a worm in my ‘ead. And why, right now… I am the hottest new star in the business, holding this BEAUTIFUL white and gold title adorned with the flags of many mediocre countries AND CANADA, and you… are just a funny man trying to convince people you ‘ave changed.
Karmine: How’d that selfishness work out for you at Wrestlution? Trust me, Paul… I tried this whole “super cool loner” thing, this isn’t going to end the way you think it is.
Karmine pulls up the sleeves on his jacket and steps towards the new champion.
Karmine: And speaking of which, I can think of a great way to prove to those fans out there that I’ve locked the door to Pandora for good… By kicking each and every unwashed hair on your ass, one by one.
Boulet: Last time you couldn’t even get halfway down the crack before I put you and your chicken legs away, eh. What makes you think you deserve another round?
Boulet: You feel so bad for Mr. Martin, go be his shoulder to get pinned on. I have things to do, people to slap.
Boulet attempts to step by, but is once again cut off by Karmine.
Karmine: You’re a talented guy inside that ring, but take it from me… Sooner or later, all of this arrogance and selfishness is going to come to a head and give you the humbling you deserve… and when the time comes, I hope I’m the one who gets the chance to do it.
The two stare each other down for a moment…
Boulet: Who knows. Maybe you will be. But you’ll have to get in line… and I’ll have to check my schedule.
Karmine reluctantly steps aside as Boulet marches around him and continues proudly strutting down the hall, murmuring to himself in celebration.
