Turmoil 199 cuts to Jack Rogue, walking slowly backstage with a hand on his jaw, with a cameraman to the side of him, shaking his head after a narrow, fifteen-minute defeat to Capo Genovese.
Rogue: Damn it… swear to God, never in my life have I thrown someone around like that, hit them in the head that hard, hit Karmic Wrath twice and not beaten them.
Rogue:
I suplexed that 250lb twat from London to Birmingham and back, and then… what, he thinks I’m a ten-year vet who doesn’t know what brass knuckles feel like?!
Rogue:
Bastard…
Jack’s frustrated, incoherent ramble is cut short, as he looks up to see that he isn’t going to be left alone following his loss.
To a muted cheer from the crowd, Rogue’s Turmoil 200 opponent, Connor Rawson, walks onto screen.
Rawson: Don’t worry, I ain’t here to fight you, actually I wanted to congratulate you.
Rawson:
Even though you lost, you still put up a good fight, which makes me more excited for our match next week.
Rawson:
One piece of advice, however: don’t slip up against me like you did tonight.
Rogue: Thanks, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m not sure I need advice from you.
Rogue:
I’ve lost more matches than you’ve ever watched, kiddo - but I’m not sure I’ve ever lost one that dirty.
Rawson: Firstly, don’t call me “kiddo”.
Rawson:
Secondly, you won’t have to worry, I ain’t like that no good, waste of space Capo.
Rawson:
I play fair. I don’t cheat. I win.
Rogue: Glad to hear it.
Rogue:
You’ve got the right attitude, at least.
Rogue:
Don’t forget, that was Turmoil 199, no-one is going to give a shit about that match in a few months.
Rogue:
Next week is different, and only one of us gets to win.
Rogue:
It’s the kind of spotlight you’ve never dealt with.
Rawson: And it’s the kind of spotlight I’m gonna be dealing with for the next few years - hell, maybe even longer.
Rogue:
All I’m gonna say is that next week, we’re gonna tear the house down.
Rogue: Hehe… we’ll see if you’ve got what it takes. Good luck, kid.
Rawson: Good luck to you too, man… may the best man win.
As Jack walks past Connor towards the locker room, the younger rookie looks after him, his expression filled with determination, before we fade back to ringside.
The camera pans to the announce team.
Honor!!!
In that ring next week?!!!
Thomas Archer vs Butcher Barnett
The camera pans to the announce team.
Brutal....
Indeed....
Jackson sat on the floor near the back of the arena just staring off into space. Remembering his time in OCW before his "accident" as well as his time in the military.
Lately, if felt like OCW management was testing him. Just as he's about to get into deep thought, he feels a hand on his shoulder.
Jackson jumps to his feet and grabs the persons collar all in one motion. It was Jim Black.
Jim Black: Jackson! It's me. Jim Black!
Jim was terrified. Jackson realizing his mistake, let's go of Jim and beings to straighten out his clothes.
Jackson: Jimmy! I'm sorry man. You scared me worse than one of those cat videos where they jump after they see a cucumber!
Jim looked confused.
Jackson: I'll show you sometime.
Jackson smiles his somewhat toothless and disgusting teeth at Jim. Jim quickly turns away grabbing at his notepad and pen.
Jim: I see you made it into the building just fine today. That's good because you've got a match tonight against CJ O'Donnell.
Jackson: Yea! What's with that?
Jackson:
First I have to talk to this meatball of a man Capo and he tries to kill me!
Jackson:
Then, I take on this Jackson uses air quotes "Mexican-American", what the hell is that even?
Jackson:
You're American or not!
Jackson:
THERE'S NO IN BETWEEN! CLAIM THE COUNTRY YOU LIVE IN OR GET OUT!
Jim see Jackson begin to head off the rails and quickly brings him back down: Jackson, your match tonight?
Jackson is breathing heavily: Oh yea. First those two guys and now an Irishman?
Jackson:
I came prepared Jimmy!
Jackson reaches into his bag and pulls out a potato and some vodka: Potatoes and booze!
Jackson:
He'll like that, right?
Jackson:
Of course he will.
Jackson:
I'll bring these to the old turf-cutter and everything will be straight!
Jackson:
He'll love it.
Jim sees the old Jackson coming out and decides enough is enough.
Jim with a heavy sigh: Why do I even bother anymore?
Jim:
Good luck Jackson.
Jim:
Please don't take these things with you to ringside.
Jim:
Please?
Jackson: I would never! I'll meet him in his locker room before hand!
Jackson laughs out loud and elbows Jim Black in the arm, pushing him out of the way as Jackson heads down the hall doing a terrible impression of an Irish accent.
