Buddy Burns and YSL, better known as the tag team Rhyme Tyme do their ultra complicated handshake, shimmy dance, high five, chest bump combination. (Don’t even try it b, you ain’t built like that.)
Y.S.L: MAXWALE, best lightheavyweight in the bidness?!
Both say simultaneously and looking directly into the hard camera.
Rhyme Tyme: NINJA PLEASE!
They repeat their ultra complicated handshake, shimmy dance, high five, chest bump combination. Buddy immediately turns into a thinking emoji with two headbands. While Young Shanghai Lee immediately pulls out his smart phone.
Buddy: You know what b?!
Y.S.L: Wha?
Buddy: Embarrassin’ Maxipad on the twitter, switchin’ out his gear and watchin’ you body em’ earlier tonight made me realize one thang…
Y.S.L: Wha?
Buddy: He really…..REALLY don’t know who he messin’ wit b, we the first tag team EVER to main event Wrestlution…..
There is a copable pause in the air, we hear someone in the background cough loudly.
“PRIME.”
Buddy ignores this non-believer, he won’t get nobody to Tahiti with faith like that. YSL finally pulls his face from his smartphone with excitement.
Y.S.L: Yo...B........look….look…..we live!
YSL shows Buddy his smartphone, his eyes light up and a smile comes across his face.
Buddy: We the first wrestlers wit they own game console, da FIRST TO DO IT!
Y.S.L: NEVA SLOPPY SECONDS!
Buddy: YEAH BOI BOI, let me see Maxzero top that!
The camera fades with Rhyme Tyme already trying to shill their new gaming console to anyone that listens.
The camera fades in to see Bobby Minio readying himself backstage. He’s wrapping his wrists with the usual match tape. He stares down at his fists, rubbing his opposite hand over the tape job and nodding to himself.
Bobby Minio: That’ll do.
Minio glances upward, his eyes catching the camera as it jerks back and forth erratically. Every few seconds, the free hands of another member of the OCW staff can be seen to the side of the camera, desperately trying to settle it.
Bobby Minio: You drunk, new guy? I got the best remedy for a hangover. Found it in Barbados.
Bobby stands up and steps over to the camera guy, who’s dressed in a long sleeve baggy black OCW jacket.
Bobby Minio: It’s two parts “get lost” and one whole hardboiled egg.
He stares at the man who looks up with confused hesitation.
Bobby Minio: Do you really need me to write that down? Kick rocks, creeper!
The camera man hesitates again, the side of his face in frame beginning to wash with worry, he begins stammering out an explanation.
Cameraman: They don’t tell you how difficult it is to keep these gah’ damn things steady.
The One Man Revolution stops in his tracks, hearing the familiar voice.
The camera turns away from Bobby, seeming to walk to a nearby table. As the camera is placed still on the table, we can see Minio, who has his hands up in a defensive stance, but we do not see the cameraman just yet.
Bobby Minio: Good one… honestly that’s on me… I should have seen this right off the bat, that disguise is about as shoddy as your in-ring work.
As the jacket flies off into the view, the camera is lifted back up and seen being handed to the other staffer, who reluctantly takes it on. The large man who was struggling to hold the camera before steps in front of him. Two wings from a large back tattoo are seen peeking out of the shoulders of his tank top.
Quartz: Take this damn thing, Paul.
OCW Staff: My name is-
Quartz: Don’t care, Paul. Just hold the camera and shut the hell up.
Quartz stretches his shoulders and looks over at Bobby Minio with a smug grin on his face.
Quartz: I was going to smack you in the back of the head with that camera, but to be honest, I don’t think I need to.
Bobby scoffs and lowers his hands as he responds to his RIOT 521 opponent.
Bobby Minio: Yeah, you hear that, Paul? Quartz here wants to kick our match off early!
Quartz: Psh. As if. I don’t need any head start to beat down someone who is basically louder mouthed version of Harvey.
Bobby Minio: There’s worse ways to insult me than to compare me to a World Champion. Kid, we’re gonna have to sit you down and work on your trash talking, after I beat your ass in a few minutes sound good?
Quartz crosses his arms and a smug grin wipes across his face.
Quartz: I came to take out The One-Man Revolu-sham in person… but you know, I realized... I can’t bury you amongst the lockers back here.
Bobby Minio takes a few steps closer to Quartz, staring at him him eye-to-eye.
Bobby Minio: Whats the problem kiddo? Having second thoughts now? I bet this all sounded SO GOOD in your head, right, but not quite practical in person? I’ve been there, that’s how I ended up inside of a fake volcano...
Quartz: No, Bobby. I can’t bury you back here… Because I need those 20,000 people to watch me do it in the ring.
The tension continues to escalate as neither man seems to break their glare.
Quartz: It’s cute you and those other Quartz casualties are fighting over a worthless Pride Championship. I haven’t had the chance to make it more significant since Cort dodged me last week, but since you popped your head in, it’s perfect!
Bobby Minio: Tell ya what, after I take that thing off of Shepard, I’ll give you a chance at earning back the pride you’ll lose tonight in the ring. It’ll be like poetry. It’s rhymes.
Quartz takes a few steps back and shoves the other staff member (Paul) down.
Quartz: You’re gonna need some more tape, bub!
The Tag Team Champion exits the room, leaving Bobby and a downed cameraman in there to simmer. Minio glances down at the original camera man, only just now realizing he had been there the entire time during Quartz’s ruse. His expression and his shoulders relax as he stares down at the injured man.
Bobby Minio: Guess I should have caught that a bit earlier…
He looks down at the roll of tape he was using on his wrists and hands sitting on a folding chair, before staring back in the direction Quartz had walked. With a burst of violence, Minio boots the chair against the nearest wall, the tape flying off at random. Minio paces a few steps before staring back in Quartz’s direction, his brow furrowing over his narrowing eyes. The image fades to ringside.
The Following Clark Effect is scheduled for one fall and is only slightly three days late. That’s right, it’s a return to the strange inner monologue narration promos I used to do because why the hell wouldn’t I? It’s called creativity, look it up.
Anywho, we find our way back into the middle of the most recent episode of OCW Riot. Our star? One Paul Pugh. The greatest professional wrestler in OCW history. The other star? Sta…
Clark: Hello and welcome to another exciting edition of The Cla…
Pugh kicks Stacy’s spinny office chair, like a child trying to get attention from his terrible mother
Clark: Umm…
Pugh: There are wheels on this right?
She nods but tries to recompose herself
Clark: I...Tonight’s guest is… AHHHH
Before she can even finish her sentence, Pugh boots her chair out of shot, leaving a gaping gap(?) to the left of the scene. He then does a “come to me” motion to the camera.
Pugh: All the way in please Terry. You’re called Terry now Mr Camera Man. Welcome to the Ego Effect with me - The Greatest Professional Wrestler in the history of this once great company. Hey listen, I’ve seen this show before and I’ve seen how it normally goes and I’m not about to do the standard song and dance.
He grins
Pugh: Ladies and Gents - The Clash is upon us. The Main Event is fast approaching. One of the most anticipated matches in recent memory. A triangle match for the most important title in the universe. In One Corner… Tri… whatever the point of a triangle is called… This Guy.
He points at himself
Pugh: You know who I am. We don’t need to discuss it. However in the next corner… Radius? Diameter?
He pauses to think
Pugh: ..Kassidy Hayes. A man who was never pinned to lose his World Title. A man in a similar ilk to myself. Cult leader - Check. Never pinned to lose the World Title… Check… Hall of Fame Car...nope. Actually, that’s where the similarities end. See, all Kass has done for the past few weeks is send his cronies to tell the world that he never lost. Whine about how he deserves another chance. How he’s earned it. How he’s going to reclaim it. How I’m past my best…
He smiles broadly
Pugh: Kassidy I’m going to tell you something I’ve told hundreds of uppity Rookies like yourself down the years. If you play with feathers, you’re going to get your arse tickled… and when we get in that ring two Sundays from no… you’re going to wish I was the proverbial Jive Turkey with no feathers because… Something about having no feathers. I don’t know what I’m saying. My point is - when we met at Devils Night you didn’t have a target on your back… this time. You’ve messed with the bull and you’re going to get the horns.
He rubs his hands together
Pugh: Which brings us to the final part of our trio. Harvey Fucking Waterman. A man who has spent so much time building himself in the image of those that came before him that he forgot to move with the times he currently finds himself in. Harvey, I don’t care about your Stable Wars. I don’t care that you took my boy from me. I care about one thing. The thing around your waist. Like I told you last week, you’ve spent so much time concerning yourself with what other people are doing that you’ve not paid attention to the danger right under your nose… and it will be your undoing.
He looks down at the ground and back up at the camera
Pugh: Boys, OCW has been lacking a World Champion it can be proud of. You two are a couple of baby boy hoot pets who have no concept of how to carry yourselves let alone a full frigging company. I didn’t come back here for a payday. I didn’t come back here for some last dash ego trip. I am back here because OCW has lost its way… and at The Clash. I’m putting it back on the Road to Glory. Stacy Dear…
He stands up and the camera cuts off his upper body
Pugh: Get up you’re making a fool of yourself
He lifts her back to her feet and brushes her shoulders off
Pugh: Thanks for your time…
He leaves the area as a baffled Stacy Clark looks on
TELOS vs TRE GOLDEN
The scene opens with the Uncrowned sitting in catering together, grabbing a drink and bite to eat in preparation for Everrett’s match tonight against one half of the OCW Tag Team Champions, Rust Cohle.
Doc’s hands are noticeably fuller with food compared to his tag partner’s, mostly due to the fact that he is not scheduled to compete tonight, as Everrett’s opts for a couple of dark chocolate digestives to get a bit of last-minute glucose on board ahead of his big fight.
The camera follows them as they make their way out of the canteen, and are making their way through the backstage area, with Antonio throwing kicks and punches at the air as a warm-up, while Doc, dressed in street attire, trails a couple of steps behind, still eating an apple he’d picked up from the buffet table.
As they make their way past the car park, towards the rookie locker room, they notice something strange and unfamiliar to them going on in the car park.
There, was Rust Cohle, title belt over his shoulder in one hand, suitcase in the other, dressed sharply in a black blazer/suit pants combo, with a ‘CQC is BDC’ shirt and brown smart shoes to finish his outfit, flanked by a vaguely familiar man sporting a luchador mask.
That would be Aisu, a protegé of Cohle, who’s been getting used to the place under the guidance of his fellow countryman. Both Doc and Antonio take cover behind a wall, snickering to themselves at the opportunity that has presented itself.
Doc (whispering): Oh, this is rich.
Everrett (also whispering): About bloody time we got payback on that fool.
Doc: Oh, no no no. We’re not gonna attack him bro, that’d make us just as bad as them. I say we just scare the shit out of him, you know, see how he feels when being ganged up on.
Antonio nods in agreement.
Everrett: Yeah, yeah, good idea. But what about that guy with him, Aisu is his name?
Doc: Oh, don’t worry about him, he won’t know what to do. You just go over there and look intimidating and I’ll do the talking. Easy peasy?
Everrett: Lemon squeezy.
Doc: Hell yeah. Alright, what’re you waiting for, go get that prick!
Antonio makes his way into the large archway separating the backstage area and car park, crossing his arms and staring directly at Rust. Eventually, Cohle sees this and looks bewildered, scoffing at the sight and trying to push his way past the man blocking his path.
Everrett steps back to prevent him from getting past, agitating the Frenchmen while Aisu looks on, confused. Everrett just smiles in ignorance while Rust tries to get in his face, pointing at his title and shouting obscenities in French.
As this is happening, Doc makes his way round, with a steel chair in his left hand, casually whistling to himself as he comes over to the commotion.
Doc: Not so fun when it’s two on one, is it mate?
Everrett begins to chuckle.
Doc: It would be just so easy for us to take you out right now, wouldn’t it Ant? But somehow, you think we wouldn’t do it to you. We don’t have the ‘killer instinct’, or whatever wanky danky bullshit your mates at TTT have been telling you sets you apart from the rest of the roster. You’re so full of shit, mate, all of you are. I wonder if you actually believe any of the crap that comes out of your mouth sometimes, but then I remember; you’re all products of egomaniacal delusions that make you feel so untouchable, like you’re not human like the rest of us.
Doc pauses for a moment. Rust just clenches his fists, absolutely incensed, but doesn’t open his mouth.
Doc: What’s that, Rustin? Nothing to say? That’s what I thought.
Doc throws the chair down by his side and the Uncrowned both burst out in laughter.
Rust: Oh so you think you this is funny ? You know what, ganging up on me would not make you closer to this title. In fact, that is the closest you will ever get.
Aisu looks at the 3 men, confused.
Aisu: Sorry.. I don’t understand issue here. C'est quoi le probleme ?
Aisu suddenly points at the Uncrowned.
Aisu: Doc Everett.. And.. Antonio Green… The Uncrowned ! Good fight last time ! But I want one on one.
Doc: That’s… us? You know what, yes it is. If you want a one on one, I’m sure someone can get that sorted for you, but for now, we’re just dealing with this prick.
Doc aggressively pokes Rust, prompting him to slap the finger away.
Aisu: What ? Rust ? He been nothing but a good guy since I met him ! Why you have problem with him ?
Everrett: None of your business, mate. If you want a fight with one of us, that’s on you to go and get it sorted, but stay out of our business.
Aisu: I don’t want to face you anyway, Antonio. I want to face Doc, he a good guy like Rust.
Doc: That’s fine by me. You’re on, mate.
Aisu extend a hand in sign of respect. The 2 friends look at each other and hesitate before Doc step forward to check his hand. Antonio follows. Rust angrily interrupts and step between the guys.
Rust: Don't think for a second you'll get away with that. I am your opponent tonight, and after that, you'll finally understand what TTT really stands for.
Cohle is laser focused on Everett. The two guys are nose to nose as Everrett just smiles in his face.
Rust: You can talk all the trash you want, consider yourself lucky to step into this ring with me. YOUR CHAMPION. Cause it will be the last time you'll see one.
Cohle holds his championship tightly before leaving in fury. Aisu stands still, still as confused as ever.
Aisu:.. You guys.. Seems to like each other very much! Maybe I was wrong about you, Antonio, you seem like a good guy after all ! See you later mates !
Aisu walks out of frame, as Everrett and Rust inaudibly talk smack at each other as the camera cuts back to the announce team.
We cut to backstage, with Cort Marshall standing in front of the camera. Billy and Chuck remain behind him, but he ignores them, staring into the lens pensively.
Cort: So as you’ve all seen, I haven’t been cleared for Clash. I probably won’t be cleared for Clash. But I want to put that aside for a moment; I want to talk about disrespect. Every show, every week, somebody is running their mouth. Minio, Shepherd, TTT… it never ends. They call me a loser, they call me a joke. Paper champion.
Cort: I’m almost bothered. But I’m used to it, you see. America is often disrespected by the rest of the world. They think we’re a joke. A big, 10 billion dollar military-having joke. Stupid kids, hate mobs, half the country is lost in the past century and the other are too busy yapping at the barista about the silent y in their name to recognize how screwed we are. Maybe they’re not wrong.
Cort: But I don’t care. Isn't it the American way to keep pushing forward, no matter what? No matter who tells you you can't do it? No matter what the odds? I don’t care how many people pin me. I don't care how many people doubt me. I don't care how many of you insult me. I only care about how many people in that crowd look up to me. I will fight for them the same way I fought overseas, the same way I fight to get my ass out of bed every day. Because that’s what I do. That’s what a real. American. Does.
Cort: No matter what, I’m proud of myself. I come here to do what I do, rain or shine, grit and grime. And nothing any of you can snidely spit during your weekly promo can stop me. No injury, no doctor’s orders, nothing. This isn’t over. This will NEVER be over.
Suddenly, Cort is interrupted from offscreen. The One Man Revolution, Bobby Minio, saunters into the frame, holding his fist up as an imaginary microphone.
Bobby Minio: We interrupt this afterschool special with an IMPORTANT announcement, which is as follows: No one wants to hear about your worldview through those red, white and blue tinted safety goggles, Corporal Upham, we want you to get through your speech for whatever pity gesture Sensation is paying you after you ‘overcame the odds’ and learned to walk again after your medical discharge.
Cort moves forward angrily, but the guards hold him back. The One Man Revolution laughs at Cort’s inability to respond, then turns side to side, looking around, expecting something.
Bobby Minio: Hey Sensation! Where’s this guy’s complimentary Ford Focus or the oversized check? Or is all he gets these two goons to make sure he doesn’t trip over his service rifle again and break his neck?
He turns to Cort, shrugging with feigned concern.
Bobby Minio: My fault fella, I guess they forgot about ya! You know, they may have been focused on waiting for someone… a little more main event caliber. Someone who has consistently main evented Riot over a number of years, someone who SHOULD be main eventing Riot tonight.
Cort: You talk a lot about what you should have, Minio. I know you're talented, I know you've got what it takes... but have you taken a moment to consider that maybe everything doesn't go your way because you're a colossal asshole?
The crowd pops at this and Minio looks around again, before chuckling to himself as he forces out bravado like a force field. He gets right up in the guards’ personal space, neither of whom flinch as he practically spits in their faces.
Bobby Minio: You know why I'm an asshole, Cort? Because I've earned that right. Because I AM everything I say I am, because I am the best this company has to offer. I know I sure as hell should be main eventing tonight. A former Pride Champion in spirit, the Uncrowned Golden Mic of OCW, the ONE MAN REVOLUTION… going to touch in the ring with Quartz for the first time ever. You know though, I’ll live, I understand that Sensation probably signed some crooked paperwork that contractually guaranteed Shepherd at least one main event appearance in the 2019 calendar year.
Minio turns, shouting into the hallway at no one in particular.
Bobby Minio: GOTTA WATCH OUT FOR THOSE GUARANTEES IN WRITING, SENSATION, THAT’S WHERE THEY GET YA!
He turns back to look at Cort, the smarmy expression rinsing from his face leaving only a blank stare, his braggadocious behavior taking a backseat with a quickness.
Bobby Minio: See, that’s how it looks when someone who is actually interesting puts on a show. Who knows, maybe if Shepherd stops ducking me, I just might show you more of how that all looks.
Cort shakes his head, speaking seriously into the mic.
Cort: You've got another thing coming, Bobby. You and Shep both.
Bobby Minio: That’s right, I do have another thing coming for me. That title you used to carry around for me.
Minio raises his “microphone” in Cort’s direction and just as he is about to pantomime dropping the mic, his muscles lock for a split second, before he brings his hand back, blowing the non-existent mic into the air around the hallway.
He whips his index finger in a quick circle, pivoting on his toe and walking back out the way he came. The guards step back from Cort, who stares after Minio with anger in his eyes as we fade out.
