Screen fades to black as Nightmares song begins to play. Chains are heard crashing together in the background. Screen pans up to s shadowy figure wearing some kind of mask. A faint light is on in the back right backdrop as the room is filled with mist.
Play for background music
Nightmare: Dreams. They come, invited or not. They arrive at the doorstep of your sleep, without being asked. Gifts. Sleepy gifts from the Gods of your imagination. While you rest, they entertain you.
But not all dreams are sweet dreams. Not all dreams end with fairytale closure. Some dreams control you in your sleep. Some dreams awaken you like a cold, damp alarm clock from your inner most being. Those dreams are nightmares and these are not childs play. Instead they are my playground, the canvas in which I place my very best work. On the empty platform of your sleep, I perform for my own pleasure. I know what haunts you, I know what disturbs you, I know was scares you - and there is no avoiding me.
The OCW has lived a dream. The dream that has reached legendary status. Champions, pay-per-views, promos, characters, friendships and a large audience. But every dream needs a good nightmare, just like every good story needs villain. Though, I am not here to entertain you, no - instead I am here to make you face your fears. My invitation isn't needed and your cries for help won't be heeded. No one can keep you from me, for sleep avoids no one.
Run. Run as fast as you can, because the harder you run the quicker I arrive. Your drinks won't keep me away, your pills won't stop me from showing up. The more you try, the less successful you will be. Your attempts to avoid me will only help me arrive quicker. Your attempts to keep me away will only strengthen my pull on you. So run. Keep running - your building my power with our panic.
This week Joe Zhivago, your dreams turn into my canvas. Your sleep, is my invitation. It's time to face your fears - the fears of never reaching your full potential. You don't know me but you will dance with me. You've never met me, but you will be my subject. For dreams are powered by your inner most being - the strings of which I use for my performance.
Time for a nap. I'll see you on the other side Joe. Nighty night....
Screen fades back to darkness as music fades away.
It’s Thursday evening and even though he’s not booked, Jackson Montgomery makes his way towards Terminal 5 riding his custom black and red Harley Davidson Dyna Street Bob. Jackson is wearing is patented bandana, Jackson Montgomery shirt and tattered jeans. Around his waist? The Turmoil Heavyweight Championship. No black duffel bags today. Jackson exits the freeway and turns right towards the arena. He buzzes by the front to see the line slowly shuffling inside. Jackson makes his way around the back of the arena near the wrestlers entrance. He pulls up near the door, shuts the bike off, and props it up on its kickstand. He hops off and motions to man standing guard.
Jackson Montgomery: Keep an eye on this. If there is so much as a scratch on it when I get back, I’m hunting your ass down!
Jackson points at the man whose eyes widen as he nods his head in understanding. Adjusting the title on his waist, Jackson jerks the door open and heads into the building. With his nose turned up and his head held high, he walks past all the backstage crew, right past the disgusting mess that is Bill Ding and the catering table and on through the hall. He turns the corner to find exactly what he was looking for. Jackson turns the knob and when he finds the door is unlocked, he grins and heads inside.
As the door shuts, we see the nameplate says “ Daryl Bradley”. Inside the room, Jackson heads over to the desk and sits down in the oversized chair. He sees a television remote on the desk, grabs it, and turns on RushTV to watch Turmoil in comfort and in peace. He props his feet up on the desk before pulling out a Cohiba Red Dot cigar and just like at the Double Deuce, Jackson bites the end off and spits it on the floor. He pulls out his Zippo lighter and lights the end as smoke fills the office.
Joe Zhivago vs. Nightmare
 |
That guy gives me the creeps. |
 |
For once I actually agree with you! |
Dennis paced back and forth in his dressing room. Madison's eyes followed him from one side of the room to the other.
Madison: I'm getting sea sick just looking at you.
He stopped and turned to look at her.
Dennis: I can't go another losing streak, Madison...I refuse.
Dennis: Tank, Trance,..I barely escaped Loki. What's wrong with me?
Madison: You're still on a high from Lution. I think it's natural.
Dennis: I don't like it. Not one bit, Madison. I'm supposed to be a cut above the rest. I don't get distracted. The epitome of focus in the squared circle. Trance....that bastard. He's in my head. I won't get out of this slump until i face him again.
Madison quickly stood and placed both hands on her companion's shoulders.
Madison: He's not worth it. Don't fall for his mind games, Dennis. He got lucky. That's all..
Madison turned away from him and kneels to pick up the Television title.
Madison: Forget about Jacob Trance. Focus on Dustin White. The last thing we need is a new guy making his name off of beating the Television Champion in his debut, yea?
With the belt draped over her shoulder, she exits the locker room without another word.
Dennis: Yea...
As the duo exit their dressing room, they notice Jacob Trance causally chatting with fans who purchased all access passes to this week's episode. Jacob waved the pair over as he spoke to the group of fans.
Jacob: Want to get a picture with Dennis and Madison?
The fans eagerly accepted, but Madison had none of it. She rolled her eyes and headed in the direction of the curtain. She yelled for Dennis to follow suit.
Jacob: When I say you reminded me of myself, I meant it. Getting involved with the wrong people, who may seem right at the time, leads down a bad bath, kid.
Dennis stood there awkwardly, not making eye contact with the dissapointed fans. The valet could be heard yelling Dennis's name from down the hall.
Dennis: I gotta go.
Jacob frowned in dissaproval.
Jacob: Good luck. Don't break your neck out there.
Standing outside of Turmoil Arena, with the shimmer of the lights playing off of the reflective blacktop, B-17 stands with some papers in his hand. His relaxed demeanor is a common sight yet still startling consider the actions of Jackson Montgomery last week at the Double Deuce. He smiles wide at the camera before beginning to talk.
B-17: Hi, Jackson. I’ve got a question for you...Well it’s rhetorical. Because in order to have an answer you would have to posses the ability to comprehend. Something I know you struggle with.
B-17 dramatically brings the paperwork up next to his face with a mock smile on it and poses for effect: This is a copy of your contract, proof is here. B-17 points to jumbled mess of letters that serves as a signature: Now allow me a brief moment to recite something that I’m quite certain your dim witted mind will not grasp, but after I shall dumb down the language.
B-17 coughs before bringing the paper up reading distance: Due to the hazards and expectations that are associated to the environment of OCW it is not the responsibility of OCW for any lost or damaged personal belongings. It is also expected that the association of personal belongings are not subject to legal judicial conditions unless OCW decides to pursue charges. These charges can be sought by individuals but by signing this document you are acknowledging the working conditions of OCW and the waived legal rights associated with the following violations: assault, vandalism, or theft.
B-17 raises his eyebrows from behind the paper. And drops it away from his face: Now, that document tells me three things. One, OCW is a very dangerous place to work. Two, the consistent attacks of family members should come as no surprise. And three, your precious bike is fair game…
The camera pans over to reveal a blood red and black Harley-Davidson Dyna Street Bob. It’s sleek paint reveals the love put into it. Not a scratch can be seen.
B-17 walks over to the bike. Now holding a black baseball bat, he swings his legs over the the bike and sits: Oh, nice.
B-17: Now the question is, how goddamn stupid are you? B-17 points the bat at the camera: After Lution I walked out with a faint sense of respect for you! Congratulations to, Jackson Montgomery, he finally proved he deserved it! I said it live on TV! I looked at the world and said, “Jackson Montgomery earned it tonight” and out of respect I said to myself, let him him enjoy this moment! Let him and Kassidy destroy each other for a bit, I will be back, well rested, ready to take my rightful title!
B-17 lowers the bat and looks around at the night sky before taking a deep breath and staring at back at the camera with fire in his eyes: But you couldn't help yourself could you? You and your obsession to proving that you are better than me. You and your obsession with having more than me! You and your obsession with Ashley!
B-17 leaps off the motorcycle and swings with all his might at the bike, knocking it over with a grinding thud as it lands on the concrete.
B-17: You don’t fuck with my girl! B-17 brings the bat down with a metallic crack.
B-17: You were my friend! Another swing.
B-17: I covered for you! Another swing.
B-17: I fought for you! Another swing.
B-17: I protected you! When the bat makes contact with the bike the sound of cracking wood rings out.
B-17: You betrayed me! You fucking asshole! The bat cracks more.
B-17: You stole my opportunities! The bat splits in half and the barrel goes flying off in the distance.
B-17: You stalk, Ash! B-17 throws the broken bat aside and begins to stomp on the disfigured bike.
B-17 goes to stomp one more time but stops himself and stands silently for a moment before slowly turning to face the camera again. Tears are running down his face and he has to steady himself before continuing: You broke my heart.
B-17 walks slowly towards the camera. His face is a full display of anguish: You’ve hurt the things I love. Our friendship... the title….. my girl. So here is what is going to happen. I’m going to face you next week. I will earn my title shot, once again. And when I beat you. I will be the rightful contender again. You won’t deny me, because if you try to come after me again, if you refuse. I will leave a trail of destruction that leads to your front door.
B-17 walks off camera but quickly comes walking back holding a gasoline can. He proceeds to pour the fuel over the bike. As the liquid guzzles over the doomed bike B-17 continues to look as if he hates the actions he is going through with. He begins to pour a trail away from the bike. The camera man follows him hurriedly and at 20 ft away B-17 pulls out a lighter and with hesitation lights it was a sharp click and tosses into the trail.
Fire sparks to life and races towards the formerly expensive hog.
B-17 watches on as the flames begin to lick at the metal. He turns and walks away before a resounding explosion rocks the the stillness of the night.
Seb drove his new Aston Martin Vanquish into the arena carpark, the engine roared as he revved it into the spot.
Getting out Seb turned to admire the recent acquisition when the voice of a young man could be heard, turning Seb saw the intern.
Intern: Mr. Abbott, nice car.
Seb: She's a beauty isn't she Ginger? I picked her up last week as part of my inheritance.
Intern: It's Stephen with a PH, and I was going to say on your wages you couldn't afford this car.
Seb: Well Phephan with a PH what business do you have asking about my earnings? Huh Ginger?
Ginger looked down at his feet then back up to Seb.
Intern: Well it is a nice car. One more thing please? At the next Unleashed you face Andre Black, have you got a strategy?
Seb: Never heard of this kid, is he the brother of Dennis Black?
???: My brother?! Tad bit presumptuous. No family other than Madison... And Gretchin, of course.
Seb and Ginger turned to face the newcomer. It was Dennis Black.
Seb: Gretchin...?
Dennis: The title? She's with Madison getting polished.
The intern and Seb glanced at each other, awkwardly.
Seb: Well Dennis looking a bit yellow there after last week huh? I watched you abandon Loki to those painted goofs... I'd have done the same too haha.
Dennis: Those painted goofs keep multiplying. I did my best to help Loki, but I was exhausted from the match... That's all.
Abbott raised his eyebrows suggesting the was more to what Dennis was saying.
Seb: It almost seems that these geezers show up and bail you out when your mouth writes cheques your arse can't cash.
Dennis: Are you accusing me of collusion?
Seb smiled and nodded.
Seb: Yes, yes I am. What are you gonna do about it?
Dennis: I don't have to take this. What do you care anyway? It's not like your going to get a shot at MY title.
Seb: Let's make it interesting. One match, Me vs. You, I win I get a shot at the title against whomever is holding it after Savage Lands. You win, I'll... I'll shave my moustache and drop down the pecking order. How's that sound?
Dennis stood for a moment and pondered the stipulations, then Madison showed up holding an iced Frappuccino and the TV title slung over her shoulder.
Madison: Urgh this guy... What does HE want?
Dennis: He wants a match.
Madison snorted then laughed.
Dennis: It's not for the title, he said one match. If he wins he gets a future shot at the title against who ever holds it after the pay per view. I win, he shaves his moustache and drops the down the rankings.
Seb: It's Whomever.
Dennis waved it off.
Seb: It's a good deal, catch now though is for you to run it by the GM.
Dennis: And if Bradley doesn't bite on the future title shot?
Seb: We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Now you have a match to get ready for, I'll see you around.
Seb walked off clicking his keys as he left BEEPBEEP, Ginger the intern followed suit getting all he needed from this encounter.
Dennis and Madison stood there next to Sebs' Aston Martin remembering the last time they saw the moody Brit in the car park.
Madison: Watch this.
Dennis: Wait is that my fra-
She poured the iced Frappuccino all over the windshield of the expensive car, a fat glob of whipped crème slid down the centre of the window leaving a milky white streak.
Madison: Was.
The pair walked off laughing headed towards the arena...
Loki McGregor vs. Sinister Scot
Jackson Montgomery: That son of a bitch!
Jackson springs from his seat in Bradley’s office, knocking the chair over backwards. He makes his way to the back parking lot via Bradley’s office door, now hanging off it’s hinges. Jackson barrels down the hallway, pushing his way past backstage workers and other people wandering around finally making it to the door. Before going through, Jackson lowers his head and takes a deep breath in hopes he didn’t really see what happened. He pushes the door open slowly and the heat coming off the burning Harley Davidson slaps him in the face. He shoves the door open the rest of the way and takes a few steps towards the bike, but can’t get too close due to the flames.
Jackson flips out; yelling expletives at the top of his lungs, picking up anything close by and throwing it at the motorcycle. After a few minutes in his temper tantrum, his hair's a mess, he beard is covered with dirt and spit. He’s almost maniacal. Then, poking his out from behind a dumpster is the guy Jackson told to watch his bike earlier. Jackson spots him and heads right for him. Jackson snatches the punk up by his collar.
Jackson Montgomery: What the hell did I tell you! If something happened to that motorcycle Jackson’s pointing at the burning heap. I would hunt you down! Get ready to pay the piper!
Jackson raises his fist to hit the terrified man but lets up at the last second.
Jackson Montgomery: Get the hell out of here. If I ever see you here again, I won’t be so forgiving.
Jackson let’s go of the man’s collar and he scurries off into the darkness of the parking lot. Jackson is seething. He is physically shaking from the anger that is inside him. It wasn’t the guy’s fault his bike is flames. It was B-17’s fault. Jackson, again, began yelling expletives before heading back into the building. He opens every door down the long hallway looking for a camera man. Or B-17. Whoever he found first wouldn’t be happy to see him. The last door he opens, he sees the newcomer Matt Mercer in mid interview. Jackson walks up, pushes Mercer aside and stares the most evil look you’ve ever seen directly into the camera.
Jackson Montgomery: B-17! I know you’re still here. I can smell the coward coming off you throughout the halls. You want to talk about your heart breaking? You want to talk about betrayal? You’re buddy, Mr. Hobbs, didn’t do what you asked of him! He didn’t help me get back on my feet. To “help” me, he put me in a room, alone, for hours at a time. His method was solitary confinement and cold turkey. He tossed me aside to get to you and I made him pay for that mistake. I made YOU pay for that mistake!
Matt Mercer is now trying to find a place to butt in, but Jackson throws him a look and Mercer backs off with his hands up. Jackson shifts his weight to his other foot before stroking his beard; dirt sprinkles his clothes and floor beneath him.
Jackson Montgomery: I took ALL the things you hold dear and close and ripped them away. Our friendship, the Turmoil Heavyweight Championship and any opportunity you ever had. I took those and stood in your place because YOU turned on ME! YOU betrayed ME! And since you couldn’t see it, that made it all the more worse. Austin Lee, Sid Harrison? Who are these guys to come in overshadow me?! I did what was necessary because YOU didn’t have the guts!
As far as stalking Ashley, heh, stalking I was not. A stalker lays in the shadows and watches from a distance. I wanted to be up close and personal with Ashley. I wanted to smell her. I wanted to see, in her eyes, how she felt about you! Once I got what I wanted, I tossed her to the side like the street trash she is.
You want a one on one with me next week? You want to take a shot at the champ? In any other circumstance, I wouldn’t allow a sniffling child who complains and whines when they don’t get something but for you, I’ll make an exception.
Jackson is again physically shaking. In matching B-17's emotions earlier in the night, Jackson's anger is welling up inside him to the point a few tears roll down his cheeks.
Jackson Montgomery: You want a match? YOU GOT IT. You say I broke your heart? Make sure to leave it with Ashley because after next week, that’s all that’s going to be left of you.
Jackson stares into the camera before storming out of the room and down the hall. The cameraman turns back to Matt Mercer and asks if he’d like to continue.
Matt Mercer: Um...no thanks. I’m fine.
Carlos and Sever are sitting in the locker room, talking between each other.
Carlos: Somethings never change. This bench, those lockers, that poster of George Micheal I hung on the door signed "To Leon, Love George xxx"
Sever: You do realise this is a completely new arena, all of this stuff is brand new....well except that poster. Why do even have that?
Carlos: Even that faulty light fitting above us, ah how I've missed this place.
Sever rolls her eyes at Carlos
Sever: They've ran out of Burritos.
Carlos: Don't lie to me woman.
Sever: So you can hear me then?
Carlos: Unfortunately yes. I'm trying to reminisce here but you keep flapping your gums.
Sever: I'm trying to have a conversation with you.
Carlos: Are you my manager or my wife?
Sever: Thankfully I'm just your manager.
Carlos: As I thought. Now what do you want to talk about.
Sever: Do you care to elaborate on what you said last week.
Carlos: I think last week was self explanatory but If I must. 4 Years ago I was robbed out of my match at Wrestlution which is kind of Ironic in a way but still, I had the Future Investment Briefcase in my sights. Everyone was down except one weird singular colored costume wearing thing called D-Jack, he ascended that ladder faster than anything I've ever seen and stole it away from me, and with it my soul and passion for this business, just mere weeks later I suffered my worst defeat in OCW and I've lost.....a lot, but I just, I just couldn't do it anymore so I walked away, no goodbyes, I just walked away and never looked back. Parts of me regrets that decision, but if I never did that I'd have never been able to travel the world, wrestle in numerous different countries I never knew existed make many more friends and foes alike.
Sever: And me?
Carlos: I suppose you fit in their somewhere.
Severs face just fills with shock
Carlos: Got'cha
Sever slaps Carlos around the back of the head.
Carlos: Ow!
Sever: Serves you right. Now Continue.
Carlos: I have a lot of memories here, good and bad, so I was hesitant at first to come back, but after watching the shows and seeing what a disgrace these people are doing to it, I knew I needed to come back. This show was built by loyal, respectful people and champions alike but now, now it's a hollow shell of what it used to be and I can't stand to watch that happen any longer. I was one of the few who made this show shine among many others who are no longer here and I'm going to make it shine once more.
Carlos stands up and raises his right fist into the air.
Carlos: I maybe a Schizophrenic, but I am not the same person I was back then and these worthless plebs will find that out soon enough. Now you mentioned Burritos earlier, where abouts is the vendor?
Carlos walks out of the locker room as Sever is still sat on the Bench looking slightly stunned.
Sever: Did he say what I thought he just said? Did he....no...I must've misheard him. Yeah he didn't say that.
Carlos pops his head around the door frame
Carlos: No I did, long story short, I got stressed, took some medication which I later found out worsened my condition, started hearing voices, you know because that's how the universe works and all. Now come on I'm hungry.
Carlos's head disappears from the doorway as Sever stands up and walks out of the locker room.
The crowd is on their feet in shock and disbelief at the sight of Casey Paine on Turmoil. Casey prances and struts around the ring for a few moments, playing to the crowd as Sophia, even though smiling and visibly excited that Casey Paine is in the ring with her, keeps a concerned, uncertain eye on her. Casey then makes her way to the edge of the ring and calls for a mic. We see a stagehand at ringside hurry over to the ring and hand Casey a mic through the ropes. Casey takes the mic, turns and walks to the center of the ring.
Casey: Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up on Turmoil!
The crowd erupts into cheers as a 'Cas-ey has crabs!' ***Clap, clap...clap, clap, clap*** 'Cas-ey has crabs!' chant starts up. In the ring Casey rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
Casey: Yeah...thats what Ive heard.
Casey laughs to herself before she continues.
Casey: Now i know some of you may be wondering why im out here tonight when Sophia here....
Casey pauses and motions towards Sophia, whos standing in the corner with her Turmoil Womens Championship slung over her shoulder, just watching and listening to Casey, unsure of whats going on.
Casey: ...by the way, congrats on winning that Title, Sophia! Ive been wanting to tell you that for a couple of weeks now, but youre a hard person to get in contact with.
Casey then walks towards Sophia and extends her hand. Sophia hesitantly reaches out to shake Caseys hand.
Casey: I just wanna let you know that Ive been watching and Im very impressed with what you have done with the Womens Division here on Turmoil. Trust me. I know its not easy.
Sophia smiles and mouths the words 'Thank you'. Casey returns the smile and nods her head. She then lets go of Sophias hand and starts to walk around the ring.
Casey: So as i was saying. Why am i out here tonight during a match scheduled for Sophia and Masked Bombshell X? Well...2 reasons.
Casey pauses and giggles to herself.
Casey: And no,...Im not Masked Bombshell X! Im out here tonight for:
1. This is apparently the only time I can actually get in some face to face with the Turmoil Womens Champion.
And 2.
Casey turns back towards Sophia and smiles. She then slowly raises her free hand and points to the Womens Championship draped over Sophias shoulder.
Casey: That nice new shiny belt you have there, Mrs. Sophia.
Sophia turns her head to look at the Title on her shoulder. She then looks back at Casey with a look of 'Im listening' on her face.
Casey: You see Sophia, I told you at Wrestlution now that youre the Champ, you need to watch your back. You never know who might just show up to try to take that Title off of you. I....
Before Casey can finish, Sophia walks up to Casey. With one hand, Sophia holds up a finger, motioning Casey to 'Hang on a sec', and with her other hand, she reaches over to Caseys mic and, with Casey still holding it, brings it to her mouth.
Sophia: Casey, you want a match, all you have to do is say the word. Id be honored to have a match with an OCW Hall of Famer and OCWs very first Womens Champion. I....
Casey returns the favor, raising her free hand and extending her finger, motioning for Sophia to 'Hang on' a sec. Casey then brings the mic back to her.
Casey: No, no, no, hun. While i do appreciate the offer,...thank you,... Im not out here to make a match for myself. No. You see,...
Casey begins to rub the back of her head.
Casey: ...these 8 staples in the back of my head from Wrestlution tell me I have a lil unfinished business to take care of back on Riot soon as Im cleared before you guys will see me back on Turmoil again.
Casey pauses for a moment, then stares directly into the camera.
Casey: So, im sorry Alex. Our little play date will have to be on hold for a while. But dont you worry your pretty little panties. Our paths will cross soon enough.
Casey then turns her attention back to Sophia.
Casey: Anywho,...as i was saying. Tonight Im out here to announce to Turmoil, that after a little teeny weeny bit of contract renegotiating, Riot came to terms with allowing one of its newest signed superstars to be transferred here to Turmoil. Ya see, like i said earlier. Ive been watching. And I didnt lie. I am impressed with what you girls have going here.
Casey slowly starts to smile.
Casey: And so is this young lady who is about to be joining me. You see Sophia, Im not the one you need to worry about coming over to this show and taking your Title.
Casey slowly raises her free hand, and points her finger in Sophias face.
Casey: YOU,...need to worry about...
Casey smiles as she moves her hand from Sophias face to motion over her shoulder towards the top of the rampway.
Casey: ...HER.
Sophia vs. Masked Bombshell X
Big Ed vs. Gentleman Jack
The arena lights dim and spooky music begins to play. A murmur of confusion ripples through the crowd. The stage lights up as a woman appears, skillfully spinning fire poi - the motion is hypnotic and the audience are eerily silent.
As the woman makes her way down the ramp she is followed by a procession of three other figures - two of them wearing black and white clown paint, while the considerably larger one, is wearing a gruesome mask of tanned hide.
As they reach the ring, the two smaller men slide in, under the ropes, followed by the masked man who slowly climbs the steps and over the top rope.
The fire spinner raises the two flaming orbs to her lips and breathes out a huge bright ball of fire followed by the arena being plunged into darkness and the music stopping suddenly.
The crowd begin to cheer, but a bolt of lightning interrupts them, striking the center of the ring followed by the lights coming back on. As everyone's eyes adjust they can see all four of the procession in the ring, surrounding a new, fifth person.
The fifth person is none other than the mysterious Vincent Winters. He raises a microphone to address the confused audience.
Vincent Winters: Ladies and gentlemen - Thank you all for coming here tonight to bear witness to the birth of a new era for Turmoil.
The audience don't know how to react, a large number of them have become disappointed and are booing now.
Vincent: When I found these creatures here, they were orphans... Orphaned by those who would deem them freaks - a shallow society too feeble minded to see their true worth. Well I stand here today, with my beautiful family to tell you all the truth... The real freaks are all of you, sitting here, swooning over all your favourite pretty boy superstars and whorish bombshells.
The audience boo like hell at the group, standing proudly together in the ring.
Vincent: Times are changing here at Turmoil and we, the Orphanage are the winds of change - ripping through this arena, taking everything down in it's wake! I won't rest until this place becomes family friendly once more! For ‘my’ family.
Vincent: We stand here as the strongest, the fastest, the most beautiful and the smartest.
Vincent points at the masked man.
Vincent: This here, is Bubba Mitchell. Forced by a fearful society to hide his disfigured face. We gave him a place, somewhere he can stand proud.
Bubba Mitchell nods solemnly at Vincent Winters.
Vincent points at the clowns.
Vincent: I'm sure you all know Little L and Corey Ford by now.
The two clowns throw their hands in the air to a mixture of boos and cheers.
Vincent points at the gorgeous fire spinner.
Vincent: This lovely creature is Pyra. She will either ignite your fears, or set all your hearts and this ring ablaze, soon enough.
Pyra struts forward with a hand upon her hip, gives a bow and blows a kiss to the camera.
Vincent: And I, Vincent Winters will usher in this new era. All who oppose the Orphanage will be crushed… You have been warned…
The lights suddenly cut out - when they flash back on, the ring is empty…
The X-tron flickers on and Stacy Clark is laying in wait as Joe Zhivago walks down the corridor towards her. He has changed into his regular clothes and his gear bag is slung over his shoulder.
Stacy Clark: Good to see you Joe Zhivago. I was hoping to ask you some questions this evening!
As he nears, Joe grabs the camera by it's lens, shoving it out of his way as he moodily walks passed Stacy.
Joe: Get that stupitt camera out ma face!
The camera refocuses on a very disgruntled Stacy Clark.
Stacy Clark: Well… Um, thanks for joining me here backstage… Enjoy the rest of the show!
The camera fades…
|
Serves him right for what he tried to pull! |
|
Let's cut back to the rookie as well, I heard they've finished scraping him off of the locker room floor. |
We now go live backstage where OCW trainers and physicians are attending to Gentleman Jack. He looks in pretty rough shape after his match with the behemoth known as Big Ed. Also in the back we see Jack's trusted confidant Barry pacing around the room. One of the trainers begins to check Jack for signs of a concussion.
Trainer: Jack, are you with us?
Jack: Mommy?
Trainer: No Jack, I'm not your mother. Do you know where you are right now?
Jack: Pittsburgh?
Trainer: Oh God no!
Barry, stricken with grief, tries to interject.
Barry: Oh no! He scrambled his brains didn't he? Jacky boy, I'm so sorry!
The sound of Barry's voice seems to have triggered something in Jack's mind.
Jack: That voice.... Barry, Barry, are you here?
Barry: Of course Jacky boy! I'm right here!
Jack: Barry... cough.... This is... your fault...isnt it?
Barry: What?
Jack: You were supposed to buy him off with prostitutes and drugs... What happened?
Barry: Well, I mean, I, you know, what with the things, and then all that stuff, and then you, my god you, so of course....
Jack: cough cough cough You did them all didn't you? All the prostitutes, all the drugs, you did them all... You son of a....
Barry: Well what with the economy and all...
Jack: I hate you Barry. I hate you so very, very much.
A doctor forces Barry away so the trainer can work on Jack unimpeded.
Trainer: Jack, do you know what happened tonight?
Jack: My friend screwed me and then I was hit by a bus. Repeatedly. Then the bus backed over me a few times and left me for dead.
Trainer: Close, but not quite. You're in the back of Terminal Five. You had a match on Turmoil with Big Ed. You lost, badly I might add. Between this and your match Sunday with Bray Spur, well Mr. Jack, you aren't in the best of shapes right now.
Jack: How bad is it doctor?
Trainer: Oh I'm not a doctor, that's the doctor.
The trainer points to an older man standing by Barry in the corner. The two gentleman appear to be in indulging in a small to moderate amount of cocaine.
Jack: This is all a dream right?
Trainer: No Mr. Jack I'm afraid not. This, for some reason, is the life we've all chosen. You decided to become a wrestler even though you aren't very good. I became a trainer for the most bizarre collection of “people” I've ever met. And the good doctor there, well let's just say he hasn't been the same since the front office sent him to work with Versus on his rehab a few years ago.
Jack: So this is real?
Trainer: Very real, very sad.
Jack: Anyone ever tell you that you look and sound like Stephen Tobolowsky?
The trainer leans in and whispers to Jack.
Trainer: I am Stephen Tobolowsky, I'm just here researching a role.
Jack: So I'm not getting any real medical attention here am I?
Trainer: None whatsoever.
Jack: Can you write prescriptions?
Trainer: No, but Cokey McSnortf*ck over there can.
The doctor and Barry look up from their cocaine long enough to smile and wave.
Jack: This is a waste of time isn't it?
Trainer: Isn't everything Mr. Jack?
Jack: Why do you keep calling me Mr. Jack?
Trainer: There's no last name listed on these forms and I'm trying to be professional. Do you have a last name Mr. Jack?
Jack: I haven't thought of it yet....
Trainer: Fascinating.
Jack: This is weird... Even for me kinda weird...
Trainer: Of course it is Mr. Jack. You've sustained an incredible amount of punishment to your brain and ribs. I suspect everything would seem weird.
Jack: What do you know? You don't even have any training! You're just a character actor. A damn fine one, but a character actor none the less.
Trainer: Mr. Jack, I don't need training to see the absurd amount of trauma your body has taken tonight. You very clearly have a concussion, but this is Turmoil, not the nfl, so who cares? Your ribs are obviously busted, and if I were a betting man, which I am, I'd say you've sustained some internal injuries leading to blood loss. But what do I know Mr. Jack, I'm just a character actor.
Jack: So, what do I do?
Trainer: Seek medical attention! Quickly! You shouldn't be here Mr. Jack.
Jack: Do the guys on Riot have to go through this?
Trainer: No, they actually pay for a staff of competent medical professionals over there.
Jack: I hate those guys...
Trainer: They'd hate you too Mr. Jack, if they knew who you were.
Jack: Here's a note for your research. Your bedside manner, it could use a little work. Just a little.
Trainer: Noted Mr. Jack.
Jack: Barry!
Hearing his name, Barry leaves the good doctor's cocaine party and joins Jack.
Barry: Right here Jacky boy, what can I do?
Jack: You can get me to a hospital.
Barry: Hospital? Why? There's a perfectly good doctor right over there!
Barry turns around to point out the doctor but sadly the good doctor has collapsed into a small pile in the corner.
Jack: Hospital, now.
Barry: All right, just hang on. We'll get you to the hospital. You, trainer, can you help me get him to the car?
Trainer: No sorry, I'm having cocktails with Bruce McGill and David Paymer.
Barry: Who?
Trainer: Just imdb them.
Barry: What?
Jack: He isn't a trainer, this guy is an actor. This has all been a waste of time. Hospital, now.
Barry: I'm so confused.
Jack: Hospital.
Barry: Was the doctor an actor too?
Jack: Hospital.
Barry: And do we think he's going to be ok over there?
Jack: Hospital, hospital, HOSPITAL!
Barry: Ok, ok, jeez Jack, I'll get you to a hospital.
Jack: Thank you! I was just assaulted in the middle of the ring by Turmoil's largest athlete. I probably have internal bleeding from it by the way, and all I want is a little medical attention! Is that too much to ask for?
Barry: Sorry Jack, you're right.
Jack: And again, we wouldn't be here if you just would have sent Ed the prostitutes and drugs like I asked you! I'm getting sick of being beaten up Barry!
Barry: C'mon kid, it ain't that bad. Your luck is bound to change soon.
Jack: My luck? To hell with luck Barry! We need to make changes, drastic ones at that!
Barry: Sure thing boss, drastic changes...
Jack: The office just thinks they can keep putting me out here, week after week, to get my butt handed to me? No more Barry! No freakin more! Changes Barry, we need changes!
Barry: So what are you going to do?
Jack: It's Ed. He's the key.
Barry: What do you mean?
Jack: Oh you'll see, they'll all see....
Our scene ends as Barry gathers Jack to hopefully take him to the hospital. Oh and the doctor overdosed and died. But it's not sad, I heard he was a pedophile.
Dennis Black vs. Dustin White
Malu vs. Kassidy Hayes
After Dustin White's debut match in OCW, the interviewer catches up with him to discuss his views and goals in OCW.
Interview: I'm here with Dustin White after his match with the TV Champion. White, how do you feel after your first match here in OCW?
Dustin "Showtime" White: Well to be honest, I'm a little worn out already.*Chuckles* I wasn't expecting to face that type of competition so early but it must mean something that I was so close to pinning the TV Champ in my first match.
Interviewer: What are some of your long term goals here in OCW?
Dustin "Showtime" White: I have held many championships in my career but the talent pool here in OCW is just overwhelming. But, I will tell you this, one day down the road, I will have my hands on OCW gold, and when that happens... it will be SHOWTIME!
Dustin White walks off camera.
Interviewer: Thank you for your time.
The familiar theme of B-17 breaks over the loudspeakers and the crowd roars to life. B-17 is all smiles tonight. With all the action of the night, it is no surprise that B-17 seems to have some extra pep in his step as he does his traditional machine gun motion. Following behind him is Ashley Blain, confident as she plays to the crowd. B-17 waits for Ashley and they walk hand in hand to the ring. Climbing onto the apron, B-17 sits on the rope and motions for Ashley to climb through. She accept his outstretched hand and slides through the ropes with a sly smile. Climbing into the ring B-17 holds up two fingers to motion for two mics. He catches the first one and passes it Ashley. The second one he catches in one fluid motion and brings it to his mouth: Well hasn’t this just been one hell of a night!
The crowd which had been brimming with tense excitement all night finally exploded. After seeing Jackson get one upped by B-17 they were ready to hear more.
B-17 struts around and soaks in the cheers: Now, I’m out here to state the obvious, and it might not be the most excit…woah, woah, woah. B-17 looks around at the crowd with a smile on his face: Actually it’s damn exciting, I just blew up Jackson Montgomery’s bike!
The crowd laughs.
B-17: I love Jackson. I really do. No lies when I said he broke my heart. We both broke into OCW at the same time, we spent hours on the road together, but that’s the past. Whatever emotions I felt for Jackson currently lay smouldering just outside. I now turn my attention to the future...and the future sure is bright.
B-17 looks at Ashley. The crowd responds with some wolf whistles. Ashley in turn brings the mic up to her mouth.
Ashley: Jackson Montgomery, I guess I don’t have much to say, except that he won’t deny you the opportunity next week. He can’t, he is a man driven by delusions. He is a man that can’t compare to the real face of Turmoil, B...
The lights go out as a familiar music starts to play……
As The Lord of the Lariat, The Overlord of OCW, Mugen and The Voice of the Purge, Bobby Minio walk around pandering to the shocked Turmoil audience, they grab microphones out of their suit jackets.
Mugen walks over to B-17, who is now standing in the corner of the ring with Ashley, and pats him on the shoulder as Bobby gives B-17 a head nod. B-17 has a perplexed look on his face as he can’t understand why The Purge has interrupted him.
Bobby: So, tell me why Mugen….why the hell did we enter through the crowd?
Mugen: Honestly…...I don’t know, I don’t even know why we would spoil the audience with our presence here on the red-headed step-sister show we call “Turmoil”.
Mugen and Bobby share a laugh as a negative comes from the crowd.
Mugen: But seriously, I, your Superior Overlord of OCW, the Grand Poobah, the one and only Mugen is the owner of OCW and……..
Mugen let’s out a big sarcastic sigh
Mugen: ........Turmoil is an OCW show. Soooooo……..I have to remind not only the audience here, but also all the girls and boys in the locker room, that I do have both eyes on all of you.
Mugen points back and forth between his eyes and at the crowd.
Bobby: Let me remind the audience as well that The Purge can and will wipe out anybody opposing us just like we have been doing on Riot.
Bobby and Mugen both turn to B-17 who has been standing in the corner surprisingly quiet.
Bobby: And that leads to you, the only reason why we would even consider showing up here.
Mugen: The shining light of Turmoil, the money maker of the C4 Sports Agency. Mr Caine AKA, B-17.
Mugen and Bobby now take a look at Ashley who is standing next to her man, not exactly sure what’s going on here. They both give him a look that says “That’s my boy”.
Mugen: Look at you now. Ever since you signed that contract with the agency, you have got title shots, elevated yourself to the main event scene and most importantly…..
Bobby: You got the girl!
Bobby holds out his fist towards B-17 for a fist bump to which B reluctantly obliges. Bobby then winks at Ashley and blows a kiss which instantly makes B-17 step in front of her. Mugen has to step in between his client and his friend before a fight can start.
Mugen: Easy, easy there. You do not want to touch Bobby here, Mr. Caine.
B-17: No...no...no. I guess I just thought Mr. Minio was smarter than that, I mean. Look what I just did to my former best friend...
Mugen: Let me remind you, Mr. Caine. C4 Sports Agency does own your endorsement contract and….I still have a majority share in C4 Sports Agency so…..I kind of own you. Now, I wouldn’t want my money maker to get hurt just because Bobby or myself had to show some tough love.
Bobby: Speaking of which, she looks like a real money maker to me too if ya catch my drift, I’m sure she could be “useful”.
Bobby winks at B-17 who smiles back and then lashes out with a straight right into the face of Bobby. Mugen grabs B this time and moves him in the opposite direction of Bobby. Bobby picks up the mic from the floor that he dropped.
Bobby: Nobody makes me drop my own mic! Only I can drop the mic! Screw this Mugen, this stopped being fun, let’s get the hell out of here.
Mugen nods and begins to leave the ring. He pauses for a moment on the apron and brings the microphone back up to his face.
Mugen: And if you Turmoil boys want to make a name for yourselves. Come to Riot where the big boys play. We’ll be back.
Mugen drops the microphone as the two go through the crowd to exit. B-17 is seen back in the ring speaking with Ashley who is watching Mugen and Bobby curiously, she flips them off and then winks, bringing the show to a close.