After seeing the ice cream truck on fire Emp and Ashley Moore rush backstage. Emp runs to the parking garage looking for the sugar shack but is unable to locate it anyone.
While Emp is furiously kicking one of the equipment boxes in anger and swearing at the top of her lungs. Ashley Moore is on her phone talking to her lawyer.
Ashley Moore: Sue her, sue her for everything she owns. After all that truck was still technically mine. Emp just had the keys for it.
Emp puts her hands on Ashley’s hand removing the phone from her ear. Ashley turns to Emp.
Ashley Moore: Everything is gonna turn out fine. From the money we will get from her we can buy a whole fleet of ice cream trucks.
Emp: No..it won’t be fine. Because suing her won’t solve anything I’ve been here before this isn’t about money. This is about sending a message and the message has been received.
Emp: Terra is playing a game of chess and it’s our move.
Ashley Moore: If you want to send a message I might have an idea.
Emp and Ashley stare at each other for a moment as Emp throws an arm around Ashley’s shoulder as the two walk off camera.
WE BRING BACK THE GLORY! Hits over the arena intercom as El Parca makes his way out onto the stage holding both of his OCW World Tag Team Championships.
Flanked on his left by Dennis Dillinger and, on his right Christian Garcia. The three men make their way into the ring as Parca grabs a microphone. Getting into the center of the ring, Parca motions for the crowd to quiet down as they rain boos down onto the trio..
Parca: Tsk, tsk, tsk. Chris, Dylan, you really do not understand what you have just done. Do you not get it? Do you not recognize?
Parca turns toward Garcia and gives him a smirk.
Turning back to the camera Parca continues.
Parca: THESE are MY titles, THIS is MY division, I will do what I want, when I want, however, I want. As the SOLE proprietor of these championships, all decisions go through ME. So, you thinking that this little stunt against Christian will go unnoticed? Oh no.
Garcia: Ay, yo, Primero, I’m gonna let you finish, but I’ve got somethin’ I’ve been wanting to get off my chest for a minute. I got a little somethin’ botherin’ me, you see, and it’s that five-foot-change vanilla midget Chris Greene!
Garcia is clearly infuriated at the Wrestling Club member, pointing at the camera as if he’s certain Chris Greene is on the other side of it.
Garcia: Chris Greene, I ain’t normally the type to let things slide, but after you and John Carter ruined my debut, I was gonna take care of myself and the Head Superstar here, and make sure these Tag Team Championships stay where they were meant to stay, you feel me? The titles that… funny enough, you already had a shot at! Didn’t he already get his shot, Primero?
Parca: Why yes, yes they did! On the GRANDEST STAGE of them all! Wrestlution! And jeez… Garcia please remind me brotha, how did that end?
Garcia: Wellllll you see, my memory may not always be the best, but I distinctly recall Chris Greene gettin’ WHUPPED from one end of the ring to the other by a fat bastard throwin’ a temper tantrum, and another fat bastard that seemed to insist on showin’ up El Primero! And that biiiiiiiiiiigson of a gun with him, Dylan Kinder? Wasn’t he the first man eliminated?
Parca: Correct! By none other than me! The STAR! And that’s what these little weasels don’t understand. They step into Casa del Campeón once and they think they wanna try again, and again, and again. But the result would be the same thing I win, and stay Parca Dos Straps!
Garcia: And even if we humored your shenanigans, Chris, Dylan, there’s a way you go about this. You don’t bust into the Casa del Campeón. You knock on the door. You come pay homage. You recognize your Tag Team Champion, El Primero, the Head Superstar El Parca.
Garcia And maybe, maybe if El Primero is feeling generous, and Mr. Dillinger sees the money, you might just get a shot. But here’s a newsflash for you, Chris. You ain’t money. You ain’t even close. You’re a one-and-done has-been with blown up knees, and your only chance at relevancy is a man who retired a washed up old fool for a championship he’s gonna drop to Rust Cohle in a month or two, so tell me… who in the HELL do you think you are, to step to El Primero? To step to ME?
John's music plays and he walks to the ring in a Lucha Country T-shirt, he smiles and looks at all three men as he steps into the ring.
John: Well hey guys! Funny seeing you here. Like the shirt Parca? I think it could be better without the Lucha part, but it is what it is. I’m just going to ignore what your young boy said about me because I could care less about what he says. I’m going explain to you, the so called “tag team champions”, why TWC is better than your little group.
John looks straight at Parca taking a step towards him
John: Unlike you, we aren’t built off money, we are built off of love for this sport and for each other. Unlike everyone in this building, including you, we aren’t corporate sellouts. We do what we want, when we want, because we want to do it. We don’t need to ask our manager for permission, we just do it. This is why we want another shot at those.
John points at the tag titles and smiles
Dillinger, intervening, gets between Parca and John.
Dillinger: Gentlemen, please.
Dillinger shoots Parca a knowing look, Parca nods and smirks back at him.
Dillinger: Listen little man. Nobody is buying this “love of the game” crap from you. You’re just another talentless indy darling who couldn’t draw a dime if I gave you a box of crayons.
Dillinger: And if anyone’s talking about “giving permission”, I for one, am surprised you let your pets out here without their leash. That’s irresponsible, you know.
Dillinger: Now, why don’t you do everyone here a favor and throw a punch at me so I can drain your bank account and stick you with the rest of the washout fry cooks in the back
Christian Garcia, yet again steps up into the middle of the ring separating Parca and John even more.
Garcia: Ayo, hol’ up a minute, chico.
Christian turns to look at El Parca with a grin on his face
Garcia: Look at this man. He doesn’t recognize.
Parca drops his head into his hand as he let’s out a deep sigh.
Parca: Christian, PLEASE tell this rookie he better recognize. I don’t like when people don’t recognize their El Primero.
Christian grins ear to ear and places his hands on his forehead, leaning back with a loud, obnoxious laugh.
Garcia: Tee-Dub-Cee, I think it’s about time you RECOGNIZED the tag team champion. The man who SINGLE-handedly carried Lucha Country on his back. The man who was tasked with starching both of you on the opening night of the grandest stage of them all, because the board knew Chris Greene, Dylan Kinder and John Carter can’t sell tickets.
Parca leans in the corner smirking with devilish intent as he enjoys what he’s hearing. Christian carries on.
Garcia: The man who’s had TWO, count ‘em, TWOOOO title reigns, including TWO SEPARATE double championship reigns, while TWC have done nothing but lose their ONE CHANCE at El Primero’s gold, and John… you brought an old man out behind the shed and kneed him in the back of the head, so congratulations, you get to be Rust Cohle’s rent boy until he comes back to get that North American title. The last Light Heavyweight Champion, ayudame what a joke.
Parca walks up to Christian and taps him on the shoulder.
Parca: Let’s go Chico, ayo, Double D, close this up for us my man. We’ll see you in the back and have the drinks ready for you.
Parca takes both his and, Christian’s microphones as he chucks them to the ground. The duo make their way out of the ring but right before, Parca and Christian both give John the bird as they both laugh their way up the ramp.
Dillinger clears his throat and approaches the middle of the ring with just himself and John Carter.
Dillinger: Now that was real fun and all, but let’s be professional for just a second, if you can manage that.
Dillinger: Casa del Campeón is on an invite only basis and I for one, couldn’t care less if the scene-queen over here kicked out of 40 suplexes in Los Angeles. Your little group is full of losers and Dillinger Enterprises does not do business with losers.
The Ace Agent flips out a business card and sarcastically flicks it at John Carter.
Dillinger: When your little group has earned a title shot, why don’t you give us a call. Hahahaha!
Dillinger drops the mic as he makes his way out of the ring, leaving John Carter in the ring the cameras fade to black.
