Backstage we see FloJo walking around seemingly in deep thought. She grabs a chair a starts swinging around, drawing attention to herself.
FloJo: What are you looking at, mother F***ers?!
FloJo shouts causing the backstage crew to scatter.
FloJo: God dammit. I’m tired of losing to her…So…Tired. F*** Ashley Moore.
FloJo slams the chair to the ground. Then she leans against the wall and lets out a big sigh.
FloJo: Does any of this even matter? I could beat the shit outta everyone in that locker room with a F***in’ chair, it wouldn’t change anything for me.
FloJo: Harri is still the FI holder, Furiosa, is still the women’s champ, and Ashley F***ing Moore is the second Queen of OCW.
FloJo: I was the women’s champ of a time, y’know, where the stip was that if I didn’t win, I’d be gone for OCW??? Sometimes I wonder if La Muh hair-bush held back so her Sister-in-Kass could win it off of me.
FloJo: But whatever, this shit doesn’t matter to me. I wanted to challenge for the belt again, but I don’t think that’ll be a good idea. If I won it, Harri could cash in and win. Variables man. FloJo: F*** being Queen of OCW too, I suppose.
FloJo: I’ve let Trance down by losing to Ashley back to back. I’m I a joke, a walking punchline?
As FloJo talks, a figure looks in the background.
Trance: No, you are not. You are someone that needs more guidance, a voice in your ear to steer you towards who you really are. It is my fault you lost. I wasn’t there to give you your course, but I am here now… We. We are here now, is that not right Greed?
From behind Jacob emerges C-Note.
Trance: I have been absent lately, a poor father figure. So I want to make it up to you all, especially to you Greed. Soon you will face Jordan…
FloJo: Your so-
Trance: Envy, I understand you are emotional so I will permit that solitary step off the path… You’re doing so well but you can’t see it because others have what you deserve… That is why you were drawn to Greed. You compliment one another. Steel sharpens steel and as you cut your cloth to be more efficient we grow and grow…
C-N: Jacob speaks the truth Flojo.
C-N: What are a few losses in the battle for change?
C-N: Let those insignificant grunts enjoy their meaningless wins when in the end we will win the war.
FloJo mumbles: Would've meant a lot to me god dammit.
C-N: You have everything it takes to reign supreme over the woman's division. Now, all it takes is putting those pieces together to fulfill your full potential.
C-N: Nothing will stop us from getting whatever we want.
Trance nods along as C-Note speaks.
Trance: Exactly… Now on to next week… I trust the pair of you shall ensure that Jordan’s debts are… Paid in full?
Trance smirks, enjoying his joke as we go back to ringside.
Inside the ring, we return from the break to see Deborah Soto posing in the corner of the ring, looking at her watch, before snapping forward as the hard cam focuses on her and her theme music dies down.
Deborah: Can I talk now? Thanks.
The crowd lets her hear it.
Deborah: Thank you all so much. I’ve seen what makes you cheer, okay? I didn’t need your approval every week when I came out here busting my ass for no reason and I sure as hell don’t need it now.
Deborah leans over the top rope and hops over, softly tapping her toes on the apron on the way down. She trots a bit after landing on the ringside padding, she leans on the barricade right in a young female fan's face, who is wearing an Ashley Moore t-shirt.
Deborah: Look at you, hun.
Deborah: Your broke ass mommy and daddy brought you out here to get caught in 4K.
Deborah points above the fans head to the hard camera.
Deborah: That camera right there, that same camera saw you and all these other people give me nothin’ for the last 2 years. The last 2 years I spent showing why I am the greatest athlete this division has ever seen and tossing your fan faves around.
The fan jeers her and throws a thumb-down right into Deborah’s face.
Deborah: Oh yeah, looking forward to next week when you’re booing Ashley Moore and wearing some other girl’s shirt, sweetheart. You just as dull and fickle as the rest.
Deborah flicks her hand near the girl’s face in response. Suddenly, another female fan who was sitting behind the girl steps over her chair and near Deborah. Security leaps into action to keep the fan from touching Deborah Soto.
Deborah: Haha, mommy! Truth hurts.
The former Gramazon slides back into the ring and leans back into the corner.
Deborah: Another person just out for themselves is Jasmin Kaffee. I’m not gonna front, girl… I am hella impressed. You had the right idea all along. I appreciate you pushing me in the right direction.
Deborah: I can’t imagine how much money I left on the table with all the charity work I gave these ungrateful people recently.
Deborah: Because after our little chat a few weeks ago, I was stopped by your boy Garcia. He told me all about you. All about how you operate, how you manipulate and always find a way to look like the poor sweet victim.
Deborah: Your sob stories about not fitting in, about never wanting to be here in the first place… Even that yee yee ass haircut of yours?
Deborah: It’s so smart. You are, Jas. I really think that. Make yourself look so helpless and unable to fend for yourself so you can leech off of the people who pity you. That’s one of your biggest weapons, girl. Pity.
Deborah: Shoot, I even fell for it for a minute.
Deborah: That’s not to say it’s your only weapon. Like I said, you really smart and anyone with an ounce of intelligence can tell how powerful and crafty you are inside this ring… and that’s just the thing.
Deborah: You always wanted to show off that talent. You didn’t just “land here”. You worked hard just like we all did. Quite frankly, to pretend you just happened to land in a place where most girls spent their LIVES working to get is flat out disrespectful.
Deborah: Abusing my helping hand to get ahead in the business? Disrespectful. Ruining MY MATCHES. MY CLIMB to the top with your domestic squabbling, DISRESPECTFUL.
Deborah: Bad news for you and everyone else here is that I’m done being disrespected. I’m 6’2 of bad bitch. All these scrubs in the front row who stalk my IG when their girl is not around know what I’m about and it’s about time the rest of you do.
Deborah: Debbie D. was already the strongest, hottest, most entertaining woman in the locker room. Deborah Soto is taking that to the next level. You already saw me at Queen of OCW. I didn’t even win and they’re still talking about MY matches. Sue? Furiosa? You’re welcome…
Deborah: …And Furi, don’t think I forgot about you and your little spit. You ruined my outfit and my chance to be the Queen. When I’m done with Jasmin, I’m coming for you and the world championship and every single red cent that comes with it.
Deborah: In fact, I can’t think of a better way to prove to management what kind of woman they have in front of them than by destroying their little pet project Jasmin Kaffee.
Deborah: I’m moving on from you onto bigger and better things, Jas. You wanted that rubber match, you get that and another taste of my boots.
Deborah steps forward and removes her designer shades, staring right into the hard camera.
Deborah: Just you and me, girl. Deborah Soto vs Jasmin Kaffee. Steel cage. I’ll make you famous like I do every other woman that steps inside this ring with me and then I’ll walk out hotter, stronger, richer, and ready to take a crown I shoulda been handed when I stepped in the god damn door. One Hunnid.
Deborah: Because after all, look at ME… now look at you.
Soto winces as she finishes the sentence, looking disgusted and drops the microphone and smirks as she flicks her shades back on and her theme plays her out.
We find Stacy Clark in a ‘split screen’ format backstage. On her left side, in a Scumchester ballcap and his recent signature green jacket, is Christian Garcia. On her right, in his own workout gear, and looking rather incensed, is TWC’s Marcus McMichaels.
Stacy: Good evening, OCW fans, I’m here today with Marcus McMichaels and Christian Garcia, and in my opinion, there needs to be a resolution to this situation.
Marcus: Good evening, Miss Stacy. I agree that there needs to be a resolution to this situation. Christian Garcia obviously needs something to get off his chest, so talk Mr. Garcia.
CG: Marky Mark, let me start by saying you look particularly brolic today, my guy. Clearly, your horse meat diet is working wonders for you.
CG: Now, Stacy, before this juicy gentleman bores you to death with his placid monotone-
Marcus, who was apparently seated, leans forward in his seat and raises his voice.
Marcus: You sound like you belonged in The Queen of OCW Tournament there Mr. Garcia. But you wouldn’t have made it out the first round you coward.
Stacy: Mr. McMichaels does raise a good point.
CG: Oh, you wanna hear a good point? Let’s stop talking about your side bitch's abysmal performance and let’s start talking about the people who really matter here-
Stacy: Garcia, language-!
CG: Shut up, I am talking here, we’re on [B]MY[/B] show now, Stacy. If you wanna control the conversation, put me on a Clark Effect and watch your ratings go BOOM, now where was I? Oh, right, your stupid ass, Marcus.
CG points at the camera, getting more animated and loud himself.
CG: Let me talk to you about this man right here, this roided-up mutant freak right here. He got into the S-Cup after doing NOTHING, after impressing NO ONE, after earning NO opportunities, while I had to fight tooth and nail for my spot, lost my spot to a champion, a man that this man, Marcus McMichaels CANNOT beat!
CG: So what did I do? I went back into the lab, I built myself back up from scratch, and I went to bloody war with my good friend Wrex to claim my first championship in OCW, one of the most prestigious titles in OCW, the North American Championship and defended it in the technical wrestling masterclass of the YEAR at Wrestlution!
CG: You won the S-Cup, Marcus, but what have you done with it besides hitch your dead weight to an already draggin’ wagon in TWC, pick up a gas station whore on your way downtown, and then stand there, slack-jawed, like a dumbass while I humiliated Aisu?
Marcus: You’re just like every opponent I ever faced. You guys tend to forget how quickly I tossed you around like Matteo does his pizza dough.
CG: Yeah, yes sir, you did, and all it took to get you to drop this professional farce was to make a fool out of Trash Wrasslin’ Charades on Turmoil.
Marcus: Garcia! You don’t know that I’m one second away from really dropping this professional stance and squeezing your neck until your head pops off!
While Marcus is talking, CG makes a show of yawning and taking a Kasstianity pamphlet out of his jacket, pretending to read it as Marcus finishes his statements.
Marcus: Now you take a Kasstianity pamphlet? You'd sell out anyone! Scumchester, GOAT Academy even Jasmin!
CG: You know, I’m trying really hard to give a shit about what you’re saying, but I can’t, Marcus, I really can’t. I have better things to do, I have higher aspirations, and unlike you, I have the ambition, the drive, and the ALL NATURAL talent to achieve them!
Marcus: Yeah you just wish you could be like me. You sound jealous. Hell, you even sound as envious as me when I saw Harris Turner take all the shine while I accomplished more than he did.
Marcus: The difference is I KNEW I could fold Harris. You on the other hand don’t know that you can fold me. That’s why you constantly run from me. I never ran from Harris.
CG: Tell me I’m running from you when you’re on this bitch-made shit right now, bringing up some deadbeat failed crossover act from bum fu-
Marcus: I am TALKING, Mr. Garcia. I chased him. I called him out. I even stooped as low as you’re doing to Jasmin right now and stalked him. In the end, Harris ended up folded and left in a drawer never to be seen again. You can’t and won’t do the same to me. You don’t have the balls. So runaway you coward.
CG: Running? My boy, come talk to me at the Clash and let’s talk about running so I can send you to the shadow realm to disappoint your bum-ass father one last time, how about that-
That statement is enough to crack the facade. Marcus stands up to his full height, his chair sent flying to the other side of the room he's in.
Marcus: YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT MY FATHER!!!
Stacy: Gentlemen, I think this has gone far enough.
CG: No, no, no, Stacey, baby, you don’t get to tell me this is over on MY SHOW! THIS IS MY HOUSE YOU WALKED INTO, MARCUS, AND IT WILL BE MY BOOT ON YOUR ASS TO SEND YOU OUT OF IT-!
The camera cuts to the next segment before Garcia and Marcus can continue their rants.
TAG TEAM TURMOIL MAXX STORAGE
vs.
ELLIOT PARKER &
CONNER MCGREGOR Jr.
The spotlight shines inside the P3 office to reveal a medium sized table with our fellow human resources team taking their seats, Drago and Mugen sitting at one side, with Wrex and B-17 sitting opposite them.
A strange knight in shining gold armor sits at one end of the table. Emp sits at the head of the table, wearing a blue wizard’s robe that looks like it’s three times her size, and an obnoxiously huge hat to go with it.
She throws a large map onto the table, covering the majority of the surface. She then covers her side of the table with a piece of cardboard.
Emp: Welcome one and all to a land of myths and monsters, hoots and hooters, this is Hootlandia!
Wrex: What the f*** does that mean?
Emp scoffs and frowns at Wrex.
Emp: This is a team building exercise. Dungeons & Dermies (tm) requires cooperation and coordination in order to succeed. If we can win a simple game, we can function as a cohesive HR unit.
Drago: This gonna be complicated.
Mugen puffs his chest out and slaps Drago’s shoulder.
Mugen: No worries old sport, leave the number crunching and dice rolling to me. After all, I am Asian.
Drago: So is Emp.
Mugen: Exactly, we got this.
B-17 raises his hand.
B-17: I have two questions. Number one: do I have to wear armor for this? I’d rather just be in my birthday suit.
Emp: Bee, you’ll die from the wind blowing on you the wrong way.
B-17: I’ll take that risk! Number two….
He points to the knight on the other side of the table.
B-17: Who the heck is that? That suit of armor is giving me the creeps.
The knight waves at him with both hands.
Emp: That’s Dragana. She wanted to participate. And it’s called getting into character. Anyways, let’s begin!
Emp: I have taken the liberty of assigning classes for you all and giving you equipment to start out with. We have Wrex the barbarian, Bee the bard, Drago the fighter, Mugen the sorcerer, and Dragana the paladin.
Emp: Our journey starts after you all depart from an inn. Upon starting your trek through the woods, you come across a platoon of orcs blocking your path. What do you do?
Mugen: I’m gonna cast a fire spell to light them all on FIRE. SAFELY.
Emp: Okay then, roll twenty for initiative. You need at least a five.
Wrex coughs as Mugen rolls the die and gets a two.
Mugen: S***!!!!!
Emp: In attempting to set the orcs on fire, you come ablaze and melt yourself to a crisp. You are dead.
Mugen: This is bulls***!!!!
Wrex: So much for number crunching.
Mugen: F*** you, you unsafe WANKER. YOU DISTRACTED ME!
Wrex stares daggers into him.
Wrex: I’d like to take my club and bash what’s left of him into pieces.
Emp: Uh…ok, you need at least a two-
Wrex rolls a one.
Wrex: WHAT?
Emp: You swing at his ashes, but instead you trip and cleave your skull on your club. You are dead.
Wrex: MOTHERF*****!!!!
Wrex slams the table in rage.
Emp: Knock it off! We have three party members left, who will step up to the plate?
Drago scratches his head.
Drago: I’m not know what to do.
Emp: Bee?
B-17: Hey, I don’t have any armor! A piece of paper will kill me.
Emp: I literally warned you about this five minutes ago and you were ok with it.
B-17: Yeah but me wearing anything just wouldn’t feel right!
Emp rubs her temples in disappointment. Dragana raises her hand.
Emp: How are you going to save everyone here?
Dragana stops for a moment and does a hugging motion.
Emp: ….Okay, she wants to negotiate with the orcs….with a speech stat of one that means….you have to roll a twent-
Dragana rolls a twenty.
Wrex: THAT DIE IS LOADED!
Emp: Well then. The paladin approaches the head of the orc platoon and gives him a hug, charming him and clearing the way for our travelers.
Wrex: And I’m still DEAD.
Mugen: You’ll STAY DEAD AFTER ANIMOL HOUSE YOU SON OF A BITCH!
Emp: ENOUGH! You boys need to settle your petty nonsense at the charity show. And to make sure it’s settled, it’ll be EXTREME RULEZ TEXAS TORNADO IN COLORADO MATCH!
Mugen smirks at Wrex. Drago raises his eyebrow at B-17. Suddenly, a wild Young Ryan appears and steals Emp’s wizard hat. But before he can escape, he is zapped into dust by Graham Greene III.
GGIII: Oi, I’m like a black Gandalf or somefin’.
It’s a windy day as the cameras open up. We’re back at a familiar house, the house of El Parca’s parents, Isabella and Hector. Inside of the house we see Isabella, Hector, and a few others roaming and having casual conversation. Inside no one can hear the approaching footsteps on the porch as finally a knock on the door is heard.
The music inside and laughter quiets down as Isabella goes to the door and asks “Who is it?” A voice she hasn’t heard in quite sometime calls out to her.
Parca: It’s me.. mama.. it’s Miguel.
The door whips open as Isabella throws open the screen door as well and yanks Parca in for a hug as she holds her son. Parca wearing his current Gran Primero mask begins weeping into his mothers shoulder as she consoles him.
Isabella: Shh… shhh… it’s okay mijo. You’re home honey, we’ve missed you for so so long. I’m so glad to see you, I’ve missed you more than I can tell you.
The two embrace for a moment before finally separating as Parca looks at his mother and wipes the tears from his face. Isabella, puts a hand on his face and slides the mask off as she smiles.
Isabella: There. Much, much better wouldn’t you say mijo? It’s been so long since I’ve seen that face of yours.
The cameras stay behind Parca not revealing his face but show his long hair as it’s all down and not tied up. They walk into the house as Hector walks out from the kitchen noticing Parca.
Hector: My-my son.
Hectors voice cracks as he speed walks up to Parca and embraces him as the two begin crying together.
Hector: I’m so sorry for not being there, I’m so sorry for failing you as a father. I never should’ve left you alone after the incident with Mark, I’m so sorry Miguel, please forgive me someday son.
Parca: I made those decisions Papa. I should’ve never turned on Reese, I never should’ve turned on those who loved me and helped me. I made mistakes, but now I must pay for them Papa.
The two separate as Parca, Hector, and Isabella walk into the kitchen and sit down at the table together. The camera can see Isabella and Hector as Parca’s back is facing the camera.
Parca: I’m scared. Never in my entire time being in this industry have I been scared. I fought the scariest man in Mark Reese, I fought so many monsters, legends, warriors, but this man… OWEN.
Parca: I-I don’t know if I can beat him. I don’t move as fast as I used to, and I surely don’t hit as hard as him.
Hector raises his eyebrows as he’s shocked by his son's tone and responses.
Hector: So what will you do? Let him manhandle you? Let him walk away with the championship you so desperately needed to validate yourself?
Isabella slaps Hector in the arm and gives him a scowl.
Isabella: Knock it off. He finally decides to come home and open up and that’s how you think you should talk to him? Have you learned anything you idiot?
Parca: No mama. It’s okay, he’s right. I did desperately win the championship to validate myself. I felt my heart break when I lost at Lution, and now? I don’t know but part of me doesn’t want to show up to The Clash. How am I supposed to beat a man that one powerbomb can amplify my back problems?
Parca: The only way I see this ending “positively” is if I throw all caution to the wind. Regardless of what either of you think about Dennis, he’s been taking care of me, he’s been looking out for me, but this time? I need to go against everybody’s well wishes. I need to put everything on the line.
Hector has a smile on his face as he sees the fire in his son’s eyes. He nods at Parca as he clenches his fist.
Hector: That’s my boy, that’s my son. That is the El Parca who is worthy of carrying on the family name, that is the El Parca who is worthy of carrying the family mask like he once was.
Parca’s eyes open wide as Isabella pulls out his old mask that she took away from him. Tears well up in his eyes as he puts his hand up refusing the mask.
Parca: No. Not yet. I don’t deserve that right now, maybe… if I defeat OWEN, I will wear the mask once again. But for now… I just can’t, for all that I’ve done I wouldn’t feel right. I still don’t feel right. It’s why I’m here, it’s why I’m scared, it’s why I need my family.
Parca: Do you think… one of you could call Mark? Maybe Mama Reese? I know they probably hate my guts… but, I just want to apologize… for everything.
The cameras back away and fade to black as Parca and his parents continue talking as the show moves forward
