OCWFED.com Presents Riot

The camera opens to the inside of a locker room. The door is closed, but only briefly, as it explodes open, swinging with speed before bouncing off of the brick wall with a crash that makes it sound as though the entire door frame had shifted in it's place. The One Man Revolution, Bobby Minio, stumbles through the doorway, gripping his Hardcore title belt in his left hand as if it were worth Minio's own life.

He falls in a heap to his knees, shuffling toward a metal folding chair. His body slumps over the seat of the chair, his lungs hungry for more air, his body starved for rest and rehabilitation. A moment passes of Minio struggling to catch his breath and center his body to a point where he has full motor control. Finally, Minio's labored breath settles, he mumbles something to himself, some motivational mantra, whispering "okay, okay", under his breath. He pulls himself up so that he's seated in the chair. He brings the Hardcore title up, looking deeply into the face plate as if it had eyes and it were staring back. He nods, breaking the trance, then palms the face plate of the title, before draping it over his shoulder.

Minio's eyes drop for a moment, now that he's regained control of his body, he focuses on collecting his thought. A few seconds pass, and his eyes turn upward, staring directly into the camera.

Bobby Minio: "Matsuda. I'm sure you're sitting somewhere, expecting me to thank you, expecting me to say, 'Oh Mr. Suda, you saved my title! You've given me yet another chance at greatness!'. You know what I say?"

Bobby Minio: "NUTS to that! I wouldn't thank you if I had a goddamned gun to my head! Do you know why?"

Bobby Minio: "BECAUSE I DON'T WANT YOUR HELP. I DON'T WANT YOUR CHARITY. Everything I've ever done, I did it with my own work. My own effort! Even you, offering up an Ex Division title shot... that was not you dropping a dollar in some styrofoam cup on the damn subway. I caught your attention. When I came out here, when I introduced myself to the OCW Galaxy, I caught your eye."

Bobby Minio: "Whether you're an honest enough man to admit that, I had something that made you say, 'I want to see what this man has in his tank.' and you did, and quite frankly, I think I exceeded your expectations. Would you have throwing your precious title up if you thought I could beat you? HELL NO. If you saw me as a push over, would you blow me off, refuse a rematch? HELL NO."

Bobby Minio: "I see it in your eyes, 'Suda, you're bored. You're bored of the Ex Division. You're bored of the mid card. You truly believe that you are better than this, and true or not, I think you believe that I could potentially be your successor as the Crowned King of the Ex Division, and I think that gives you pause."

He lets the statement breath for a moment, before reaching across his chest and grabbing the Hardcore title, holding it toward the camera.

Bobby Minio: "I won this without your help. I want to defend it without your help, and if I lose, I'm content to lose it without your help, because I'm not here to be a friggin' Matsuda charity case. If I wanted help from you or the rest of your potshot taking backpatting ego brigade, I would ASK FOR IT."

There is a pause, and Minio lowers his head, letting out a low laugh. He sets the title back onto his shoulder, before he repeats a portion of his previous statement as an aside.

Bobby Minio: "... Potshots... Dupree, you think I missed your little 'clumsy' comment last week? Everything I do is deliberate. EVERYTHING. I see it all... and I ALWAYS keep my receipts. Remember that."

Minio nods, closing off that side thought before he places his hand over his title, as if he were about the recite the pledge of allegiance.

Bobby Minio: "No thanks given Matsuda. NO THANKS. If you want to know how I feel about your 'help', and about your 'attention' to me... make the mistake again. Make the mistake of getting into that ring across from the One Man Revolution, and watch with your shoulders pressed against the canvas, as I thank you with a three count. My thanks, Matsuda? Will be liberating you of the burden that is your ego, and this insane concept stuck in that grapefruit of yours that the Ex Division begins and ends with you."

He stands, raising his title above his head with his left hand, the camera panning up to bring it into frame. Minio leans his head into the camera, his voice booms.

Bobby Minio: "MAN UP!"

His right hand cuts through the air, pawing the camera away from him. The image spins towards the left side of the room before the feed cuts to the next scene.

	Minio is furious...
	SOMEBODY LIT A FIRE. LETS GO BOBBY!
	Matsuda lit the fire... he always lights the fire.

 

Again Tiberius Octavian Dupree and Madeline Osiris stand in front of the A-Team locker room door. But this time, they are poorly dressed like "The Lord of the Lariat" Mugen, and OCW World Heavyweight Champion Paul Pugh.

Dupree has what looks like yellow paste on his face, scotch tape on each end of his eyes-stretching them and a stupid grin on his face. Next to him is Madeline, wearing a bleach blonde wig too small for her head, and a cheap title replica. Both dawn generic C4 shirts, instead of knocking they barge in.

Not even a half second later we see them run out the door and slam it behind them. Both completely out of breath as if they just ran a marathon. Tibby mumbles over to Madeline.

Dupree: Was that....was that what I think it was?

Madeline: I dunno, one thing for sure, that wasn't a super soaker.

Dupree: Squatting Tiger Punisex ain't worth our beautiful lives. God I just wanted to make sure there was something left of C4 after tonight so they can pay for what they did to Dims.

Apparently thinking too himself.

Dupree: Eh...won't be the first time I settled for sloppy seconds.

Madeline looks over at him, puzzled.

Dupree: I just said that out loud didn't I?

She cracks a classic half smile of her own as the camera fades to commercial.

 

KD vs Tobin Frost

We return once again to the epic mini-series thatis “In Your Crib” with Trisha Waldrop. Now we find the ladies, Trisha and Lacy Love, pool side back at Dimsmore and Lacy’s residence. Trisha is wearing a modest two piece suit with her lower half covered in a shimmery wrap. Lacy, as you would expect, is scantily clad. With a lot of cleavage and sideboob out, she may as well be naked. Luckily they are both sitting down and not jeopardizing our wholesome TV rating.

Lacy has some kind of fruity alcoholic beverage in her hand. This has more accessories like straws, mini umbrellas, cherries and other items in it than actual beverage. 

Trisha Waldrop: Well Lacy, I’d like to thank you for having us spend the day with you here in beautiful Vegas.

Lacy Love: Pleasure was all yours Trisha. 

Trisha Waldrop (Looking at the camera): I’m Trisha Waldrop, and this has another edition of In Your Crib.

Producer: And we’re out.

Just as the live feed ends, you hear a door slam back at the house. The camera pans over to see Dimsmore walking towards Trisha, Lacy and the crew. He is wearing his OMG zip up hoodie, hood up and tied rather snug to his head, ratty looking jean shorts and untied workman like boots. He’s wearing sunglasses to hide the obvious damage to his face that Pugh inflicted on him. 

Dimsmore is pushing a wheelbarrow with a large stone object in it. He slowly makes his way in between the camera crew and the ladies in the chairs. As he walks past the camera begins to follow him. He has a rolled up paper sticking out of his back pocket. The paper seems to be stained red. He heads to a section of the backyard about 20 feet from where the girls are sitting. Dimsmore sets the barrow down next to a large mound of dirt and a sizeable hole in ground. 

Dimsmore muscles the stone slab out of the barrow and slowly drags is over to one end of the hole. Dimsmore lays the slab flat on the ground next to the hole. He seems to stand there, staring into the hole, for what feels like an eternity. He reaches in his back pocket and pulls out the rolled up paper that was there. He unrolls it as the camera moves right over his shoulder. The paper is his Future Investment contract. The red is his own blood that Paul Pugh used to sign Dimsmore’s name to it. 

Dimsmore rolls the paper back up and puts it in his back pocket. He goes back to the barrow and pulls out the battered F.I. briefcase that was underneath the slab of stone. A myriad of dents and dings and a stain or two of blood are present on the case. He tosses the case into the hole. Dimsmore walks over to the stone slab and he stands it up on its one flat end. The front of the slab reads “Here Lies Paul Pugh” on the top line. Underneath that it reads “Death Date: The Clash”. Dimsmore begins to shovel dirt on to the case as the scene fades.

	Epic Work...
	I hope Pugh brains him again. Busta got no class