We cut back to Cort Marshall, now with Jim Black and seemingly free of Our Hero’s two cronies--but it’s more likely that they’re keeping watch just barely offscreen. The setup is less impromptu than usual, with the two sitting in chairs, and a black cloth draped over the background with the OCW and Turmoil logos. Cort also has a nondescript blue bag next to his chair.
Jim: Once again, I’m here with Sergeant Cort Marshall, and why don’t you tell us why you’re here?
Cort: Well Jim, I’m here to protest against Mr. Sensation’s barring of me from active competition.
Jim: But aren’t you already doing that?
Cort: Yes, but this time more politely.
He pats the big bag next to his chair.
Cort: Here I have a bag--a full recycling bag--full of fan mail to OCW in support of me, and I have some emails on my laptop here as well.
Cort lifts an ancient-looking, beige laptop next to the chair and holds it up for the camera to see.
Jim: Now, hold on a minute, what about your wrist? Sensation isn’t barring you from the ring because of a vendetta, he’s doing it because you’re injured!
Cort: My wrist? Fuck my wrist! I don’t need that shit! I can do it all one handed, except for the one thing, if you know what I--
Jim: We know what you mean. Please, let’s move on.
Cort: Well, okay then.
He reaches into the bag and pulls out a letter.
Cort: This one is from Timmy, age 7. He says, “Kort my dad sez ur a real american hero and he wants you to beat shepherd up rly bad. Me to.”
Cort: Isn’t that nice! Thanks Timmy. Tell your dad you love him even when he drinks.
He throws it over his shoulder and grabs another.
Cort: This is from Hank. Hi Hank. He says that “Cort Marshall is the last bastion of old-school wrestling and the only reason I watch OCW in this AWFUL anime era!”
Cort: Thanks, Hank. Couldn’t agree more. Next!
Cort: This is just a flyer for Canadian Tire. I’m not even Canadian!
He chucks the letter again.
Cort: One more, from… Bill Clinton? It can’t be. It says “I did not have sexual relations with that woman. But if I did, it would have done it to the tune of Jane by Jefferson Starship!”
Once again he throws the letter back into the growing pile with the rest.
Cort: I’m 99% sure that wasn’t actually from Bill Clinton, but I’ll take it. Anyway, now for the comments over on our WEB PORTAL!
He excitedly hefts the laptop and turns it on, a puff of dust escaping from the case vent as its long-suffering fan wheezes to life. The keys clack-CLACK as he concentrates on typing the URL, one letter at a time. Haitch, Tee, Tee, Pee, Ess…
Cort: A-ha. Here we are. Someone with a username I can’t say on TV says… uh… wow. That’s a little much. I suggest dealing with your anger problems. But I appreciate the support, you possible psychopath!
Cort: Further down, this one comes from a certain “A. Moore.” Feel like I’ve heard that name before... it simply says “You are disgusting. Ditch the five o’clock shadow, you creep!”
Cort scowls.
Cort: It’s manly. Whatever, next.
Cort: RedWhiteandBOOM says “The Pride Title needs a true patriot! Shepherd=BAD BUSINESS!” Now that’s what I’m talking about.
Cort: SmarkyMark says “Duh, everyone knows this is all just a big swerve to have Cort feud with a zombie dressed as Steely Dan frontman Donald Fagen.” I don’t even know what to say to that. Next!
Cort: And here, Pughfan95 says “Hate him. No psychology. Most boring wrestler on the planet. Go back to your mole hole and gives us more PUGH!”
Cort: Well, we would, kid, but I don’t think his spine could take it. Next one is from LOVEHATENEWYORK, who says “I’m a fan, but only on Wednesdays. And it’s Friday. So fuck you. Stupidhead.”
Cort coughs.
Cort: Well maybe appreciation isn’t universal. In fact, there has been a group of concerned mothers who formed to protest the language I use on TV. Angry Nannies Against Language, I think it was called...
Jim: Oh, really now? Can’t imagine why!
Cort completely misses the sarcasm.
Cort: I know, right!? If they were here during the golden era, they would have gone apoplectic! I just use good, clean, American swears, like slack-jawed fa--
As he’s about to say something the TV network certainly wouldn’t be happy about, the laptop suddenly powers off with a death rattle. Jim Black breathes an audible sigh of relief.
Cort: Darn. Battery life on these things isn’t so good. I really don’t get why kids are so enamoured with this “technology” stuff.
Cort throws the laptop back over his shoulder as well, which lands with a heavy CRACK.
Jim: Well, Cort, thank you for being here…
Cort: No, Jim, thank YOU for helping me convince our tyrannical overlords to let me kick Christian Shepherd AND Bobby Minio’s asses, one hand or no hand.
He reaches out to shake Jim’s hand, and mistakenly goes in with the cast before awkwardly switching to his left as we fade out.
Cort: Oh, and before you ask… yes, I’m ACTUALLY paying him back. Later tonight, like I said.
Jim: You heard him, fans… though I’m not sure I believe it!
Cort shakes his head.
Cort: Oh ye of little faith.
The legend continues.
Yea man he's been keeping up big time.
HIJO DE MISTICO vs ARIES
The camera pans to the announce team.
Winner winner...
Chicken dinner...
*****
We transition to the catering area, where we see the Women’s Champion Dragana and her mouthpiece Johnny Law eating some sandwiches together. Johnny is watching some videos on his phone while Dragana seems to be in deep thought while chewing her sandwich.
Dragana: …
Johnny: ‘Ana, I got to thinking about something.
Dragana: Hm?
She snaps out of her deep thought and turns to Johnny.
Johnny: At the bar the other day with Blaine the other night. She told you something that I didn’t get a chance to hear.
He turns toward Dragana.
Johnny: Then she called you a freak. But she called you that in an almost...endearing way? I don’t know how to put it. What the hell was that about?
Dragana turns away from Johnny and lowers her gaze. She puts her hands and legs together, looking rather anxious. Johnny doesn’t really know what to make of this, so he turns back to his videos. He taps Dragana on the shoulder.
Johnny: Hey, check this out.
Dragana turns toward his phone screen and her eyes widen in shock.
Johnny: I’ve been watching some videos from the “homeland”, so to speak. Kinda need to brush up on my Serbian. Never know when my cameraman services are gonna be needed there again.
Johnny: This looks to be some kinda talent show. What’d they record this with, a potato?
The video looks to be recorded on a camcorder, and as such the quality is much worse than what you’d find these days. The video shows a banner over a stage that translates to “Talent Show”. A few minutes pass by of children and teenagers awkwardly stumbling through songs and comedy skits.
Dragana: Tch….
Johnny: And who’s this?
The next contestant in the talent show arrives, and it’s a young girl looking like she’s in her teens. Her brown hair stretches down to her shoulders. Dragana’s breathing starts to speed up, and her hands start shaking. The girl in the video stands at the center of the stage and starts to sing a song while a piano is being played in the background.
Johnny: Sounds like something from an opera….I don’t really understand too much of it, but she’s good.
The crowd in the video starts cheering for the girl as she’s about to wrap up her song. Dragana's lips quiver, and she reaches for his phone, stopping the video and instead playing a video of funny moments with cats.
Johnny: Hey! I know she ain’t perfect, but come on, she wasn't that bad! But I do like cats....
Dragana places the phone back on the table and Johnny can't help but laugh at cats being cats. The Silent Queen closes her eyes and breathes a sigh of relief. The scene fades.
*****
We cut back to Cort Marshall, in the parking lot this time. As always, he’s flanked by Billy and Chuck.
Billy: Remind me again why we’re here?
Cort: Just waiting for the payment. Dunno why the driver’s taking so long, I specifically instructed the delivery be made ASAP…
Billy: Yeah, not sure why you had to get somebody else to grab the money. Don’t think I’m going to fall for anything underhanded this time.
Cort: Of course not, of course not. I’m long past that immaturity. I just had to make some arrangements, you know how it is.
In the background, a light beeping starts.
Billy: Right. At least you paid for the shirt.
Cort: I am a man of my word.
The beeping gets louder.
Billy is distracted by the repetitive noise and turns his head to look. The camera turns with him; we see a large dumptruck backing down into the parking lot.
Billy: What is that doing here?
It’s getting close to a suspiciously familiar black Mercedes, and the driver stops. He shouts to Cort:
Driver: Hey, this is a bit close, there’s no free space here. You want it outside?
Cort: No, it’s fine! Riiiight over the car.
Driver: Uh. No?
Cort walks up to the driver’s door and slips the man a crisp hundred-dollar bill.
Cort: Accidents happen.
The driver nods and moves right up to the car, before starting to dump the load. Billy recovers from his state of shock.
Billy: Oh god, not again. Sensation is going to kill us! He’s going to kill YOU!
Chuck, meanwhile, allows a ghost of a smile to pass by his authoritarian features.
Cort: Shush, there’s plenty extra in there to cover the NEW damage.
The dumptruck hits the tipping point and the load starts flowing out, revealing itself to be pennies. Hundreds of pounds of them, flowing from the bed onto the newly-repaired Mercedes! The abrasive sound of metal hitting metal can be heard as they first hit the hood, then the windshield, the roof… in the span of a minute, the entire car is buried. One last coin falls off the top of the stack and rolls to Cort’s boots. He bends down to pick it up.
Cort: Ooh, a penny.
He looks over at Billy, whose face is white as a sheet even with the tan.
Cort: Here you go.
He stuffs the penny into Billy’s pocket.
Cort: For a job well done!
Cort pats Billy on the back as the put-upon employee tries to recover from his shock, and we fade out.
