We open up backstage in front of the infamous pink ivory door associated with the Turmoil arena’s General Manager’s office. Two crystal nameplates are glued to the door and a third name crudely written in green crayon across the second.
OCW General Manager - EMP Tiber tRasH
OCW COO Drago Cesar knocks on the pink ivory door sternly. No one answers but he can hear obvious commotion from the other side. He knocks again, still no answer despite what sounds like a scandinavian war cry.
He kicks open the door 80’s style revealing absolute carnage. There are various plushies covered in syrup brandishing loaded nerf guns, a moose head shoved in a desk drawer, countless open shoe boxes and Ryu Matsumto (with a bandage around his head) hanging upside down from the ceiling fan to name a few.
Drago: What in the worlds is this craziness!
Unaware of the COO’s presence Tiberius Dupree and Emp are in a standoff shouting obscenities at each other. Tibby armed with two cans of hairspray and Emp swinging blue furry nunchucks slowly approach each other from opposite sides of the room.
Suddenly two random shoes fly across the room hitting Dupree and Emp square in the chest. The two spin towards the door as Ryu stops spinning from the ceiling fan.
Drago: Bing Bong.
RYU: How Rude.
Emp: Yeah, completely uncalled for.
Drago: Sorry no way to get attention. This has to stop, we need work together, not fight.
Dupree: I’m the only one here to phreaking work Drago, these two heathens are bent on mass destruction.
Emp: Only mass around here is your backside you goddamn purple people eater.
RYU: HA He’s FAT!
Dupree: See what I’m dealing with Drago, do something she is invading my space, I know you’re not as useless as Nate was. I’m at my phreaking wits end here.
Emp: Your space, don’t you think you take up enough damn space.
Tibby glares at Emp as Drago becomes a thinking emoji pondering on a strategy to solve this dilemma. Suddenly a light bulb goes off and an idea comes to mind.
Drago: Gorilla…
Ryu immediately starts making gorilla noises as he lands footless on Dupree’s desk.
Dupree & Emp: Gorilla what?
Drago: Gorilla tape!
From what seems like out of nowhere Drago pulls out a roll of purple gorilla tape and proceeds to split the room in half right down the middle. Dupree and Emp gasp in horror as their personal space is cut in half by the Great Hunter.
RYU: This all seems strangely… familiar
Drago: Now that its settled, this Tibby domain, this Emp domain. All even.
RYU: SIR?! This is not even close to even. I am OCW’s longest tenured Co-General Manager, I demand my half!
Drago, Emp and Dupree both stare at each other and shrug.
Drago: You can split bottom half.
Dupree: No, he’s not getting in my bottom half, ever.
Emp: Nothing can miss your bottom half and I ain’t splitting s$%.
With his classic half smile Dupree points to the small hole in the wall from the missing moose head. Emp shrugs and also points to the hole in the wall.
Spider looks at the hole, then back to Emp, who remains firm. He sighs gets on all fours, climbs up the wall and into the hole.
Drago, humbly proud of himself, folds his arms in success as the camera fades to black.
We cut to an innocuous-looking hotel room, perhaps the eighth floor, perhaps the eightieth, it’s dark outside - nighttime for sure.
The room itself is lit only by the glow from the sprawling metropolis below - an expert eye would recognise this as Tokyo, Japan.
The camera pans around to a hooded figure sitting in a wingback armchair - their face obscured, but their voice is crystal clear as they begin to speak in a gruff Mancunian drawl
Pugh: Fool me once… shame on you, fool me twice…
There’s a small table on his left-hand side with a beautiful art deco stained glass lamp sitting on top.
He flicks the switch - illuminating that side of his face in a mixture of different hues - a face filled with stitches - Antonio Everrett’s handiwork.
Pugh grins his usual grin, but his face is contorted with sadness - rage even. He’s tired, tired in a way we’ve never seen him before.
Pugh: I reached out a hand - an olive branch. I wanted to give back to this business - to the company that I loved… I wanted so much… and what did I get?
He touches his hand to his face
Pugh: See, many will say it’s my own fault - I provoked him - I was a naive old man who let his guard down… I was full of hubris, I disrespected him… I deserved it right?
He smirks and nods his head
Pugh: …and you know what. I absolutely deserved it. I walked into the ring knowing full well that Tony Everrett was dangerous. I knew what he is capable of. Yet I thought I knew better - I thought he was better… but no. He’s just another one of them.
He looks into the distance, out of the window
Pugh: See, when you’re on top as long as I was, they all come for you. Pretenders. I’ve been facing them for years. Dupree, Matsuda, Dimsmore, Mugen, Sean McGee, Cody Storm, Jacob Trance, H2O, Doc Green… they’ve all got one thing in common - they all came for me - for a pound of my flesh when they wanted to be famous… except none of them did what Tony did.
Pugh: See. Back when I was making them famous. Not a single time did I drop my defences. I was always ready - they’d never get one over on me… but Tony did. Tony…
He looks towards the camera and starts picking at the stitches in his face, causing them to bleed all over again
Pugh: In doing that you knocked some sense into me. See, that fighting spirit - that legendary Kid Ego attitude - it was dormant. I was too busy trying to look after the future of this business that I forgot who I really am.
Pugh: See Tony at Turmoil 300, you caught me cold - I wasn’t expecting what you did - the brutality… the downright meanness of it - but I’m glad it happened Tony.
Pugh: Because if that didn’t happen, I’d have still been walking around OCW Towers with my tie and my slacks - I’d still have been pretending to be something that I’m not… so I came out here… to the country that started it all - and I did some soul searching.
Pugh: You know what I found out Tony? I’ll tell you - but let me warn you, it ain’t good news for you.
He points at his bloody face and grins down the lens
Pugh: I am Paul Pugh. I am a fighter. I am one of the single toughest Pro Wrestlers ever to lace up a pair of boots. I am Pro Wrestling’s Last Hope - and Tony.
His expression becomes one of fury
Pugh: You are the next one to be famous. You won’t know how. You won’t know when… but you’ll be seeing me very, very soon.
He looks down at the lamp, and nods once more before sweeping the lamp off the table - shattering glass all over the room as the
