Live from TERMINAL 5 in NYC

The camera pans to the announce team.

	Hello and welcome to Thursday Night Turmoil.
	We're back and we're live from Terminal 5.

	I wonder what Turmoil has instore for us tonight?
	Looks like something big is about to go down.

We now go to the center of the ring where a lone podium and five plush chairs are arranged. Without warning, the music of the Gentleman's Club kicks in on the PA. As the music builds, all five members of the Club, Gentleman Jack, Big Ed, Seb Abbott, Cactus Gauge and Dustin White begin to make their way to the ring. Every member actually looks like a gentleman for once as everyone but Big Ed is in a tuxedo. Ed, not being the most stylish of superstars, is wearing the beloved tuxedo t shirt and jeans.

All five men seem to be thrilled, with giant smiles on their faces as they threaten random children in the crowd on their way to the ring. Jack is especially having fun as he invites people in the crowd to take a swing at him before jumping behind Ed at the last second. Cactus, the epitome of a gentleman, is hitting on every woman between the ages of 18 and 80.

The five men eventually get in the ring. Each member takes a seat except for Jack who steps up to the podium. Let's listen in.

Jack: Ladies and fellow gentlemen, today is a historic day on Turmoil. Today, you see the culmination of months of hard work, backstage politics, and male prostitution pay off. Today, you see before you the finest collection of talent the Turmoil brand has to offer. For today is the day that our family is complete. Today, we welcome our newest member. The most dashing, international man of style and grace, the missing piece of the Club, the one, the only, Seb Abbott!

Seb stands up and takes a bow as the other members of the club and all the angry 18-35 year old men in the audience give him a standing ovation.

Jack: To celebrate this momentous occasion, we decided to do the classiest thing Turmoil has ever seen. For you see tonight, the Gentleman's Club, in association with Over As F*** promotions, proudly present you to you, The Gentleman's Club Roast.

Jack: Now while most roasts involve taking a loving shot or two at your best friends and most esteemed of colleagues, we're going to do things a little differently tonight. You see, the men standing before you today are pure perfection in every sense of the word. Try as I might, I can't find a single bad thing to say about any of them, even in jest.

Jack: But that's no excuse not to do what we do best. Entertain you drunken, uneducated, miserable pieces of human filth.

The crowd comes to life, showering the Club with boos.

Jack: So instead, we've put our collective heads together and decided to present to you, live on tape delay, the Gentleman's Club Roast of Jimmy Henry and those four child molesting, religious zealots known as the Rogue Convoy.

The crowd continues to boo, with the 18-35 year old men trying to start a “We love Jack” chant.

Jack: Thank you! Thank you! I love each and everyone of you too! Tonight, I, Gentleman Jack will be serving as your roast master. Up first, we have the silent assassin, the human teenage mutant ninja turtle, the man that pinned the current Turmoil champion clean in the middle of the ring, Mr. Dustin White! Dustin, get your beautiful self up here!

Dustin: Thank you Jack for allowing me to come up first, as the inaugural roaster of Jimmy Henry and the Convoy. I'd like to start off by saying hello to my mother. She once told me I would end up doing nothing with my life but sitting around getting drunk all the time. Well Mom, I guess I made it! I get to drink beer, hang out with these great guys, and kick ass 24/7.

The other members of the club applaud wildly and nod their heads in support of Mr. White.

Dustin: I know you people out there would love if I stood up here the rest of the show so you could look at this pretty face all day but that's not why we are here. I'm here to talk about Jimmy Henry.

Dustin: So last week I had the opportunity to face Jimmy boy in a singles match. Before the show started I was walking around the locker room and heard him talking to himself in his little Scottish accent.

Dustin: Anyways, I heard him giving himself a pep talk to make himself feel good about the ass whooping that I later gave him. Aside from Jimmy, I would love if the referee would come down to the ring to apologize for not giving me my rope break as my head was under the bottom rope at the end of the match before I come back there and slam your head through a wall like I did to Joe Z a few weeks ago!!! Get down here! You’re out of line! I’m out of line! Fire me! I’m already fired!

Dustin continues his rant and begins to go berserk in the ring. Thankfully, the other members of the Club are able to calm him down and get him in a seat. Jack steps up to the podium, bewildered and amused.

Jack: Thank you Dustin! Not really a roast but who cares?! You’re in the Gentleman’s Club! You can do whatever the hell you feel like, whenever you feel like it!

The angry, rebellious 18-35 year olds pop for the Gentleman, while the sane members of the crowd continue to voice their displeasure

Jack: I’d like to bring our next roaster up. Ladies and fellow gentleman, the newest member of the Gentleman’s Club, the Australian Playboy himself, Mr. Seb Abbott!

Seb receives another standing ovation from his new brothers. As he steps to the podium, he pauses briefly to soak in all the love and hate.

Seb: Ah thank you very much Jack. I have a match with some geezer from this Convoy group at some show called Momentum.

A poorly photo shopped picture of Nate Dunn with buck teeth and acne popped up on the X-tron causing the crowd to start laughing but Seb waved them quiet. A few pockets of the crowd booed a little.

Seb: Look at his pimple face, snot nosed poor excuse of a f*** trophy. This kid probably let that Jakub De'Relic fella run a convoy on his sister. Skeet skeet am I right fellas?.

At that another hack photoshop picture was on the X-tron, this time it was blurred out. The only things visible were the faces of the Convoy photoshopped over a group of black guys on top of a white woman, coincidently Nate Dunn's face was superimposed over the woman's.

Jack: That's too good.. What about Jimmy?

Seb: Jimmy is as stale as the juice that drips from his pikey mothers c***..

The crowd started booing as Seb laughed at his own jibe.

Seb: I just can't believe that this came out of that.

Turning and pointing at the X-tron a picture of a smiling Jimmy Henry appeared next to that was a picture of a sheep wearing makeup and a smiling photoshopped old man with Jimmy's face smiled back at the crowd holding a wrapped bundle in his arms.

Seb: Jimmy's proud parents everyone.. Large Edward I see you simmering there, here catch.

The moustachioed Brit tossed the mic to Big Ed who deftly caught it and brought it to his lips...

Big Ed: You know, it’s bad enough I have to be in Jew York City tonight. But what really pisses me are all of the ****** and the ******, not to mention all the foo foo ****** and their limp wristed ****** lovers.

Big Ed: You can’t even hail a cab in this cesspool without five ****** trying to wipe their smelly **** all over any dumb **** that hoves into their sight. And the ******! Don’t even get me started on those miserable *****.

Jack and Cactus rush to big Ed to stop him before he can spew anymore of his racist filth.

Jack: Ed, Ed, Ed! This isn’t the RNC my friend! Let’s tone it down a tiny bit! What about Jimmy Henry and The Convoy?

Big Ed: The Convoy? Bunch of children ******! That’s what they are! You know I might give two ***** about them if they weren’t just a bunch of hypocritical *****! They remind me of those filthy Samoans! You know the type. The ones that like **** white women and then **** ***** ***** their mothers!

Big Ed: But Jimmy Henry? I’d let my sister ***** a ***** before I’d even consider losing to that midget! Speaking of *****, while they’re bad, they’re nothing compared to those dark skinned….

The screen cuts to a picture of Bill Ding plunging a clogged toilet with the words “Technical Difficulties” imposed over the image. After a few moments that seem like an eternity, the feed is restored. Ed is now sitting down, still fuming from his rant. Jack can be seen discussing something with a group of OCW officials as the other members of the Club try to calm down their beast. Jack apparently appeases the officials and steps back to the podium.

Jack: Well that was certainly educational wasn’t it folks? I think it’s time we get back on track here. Cactus, how bout you class this scene up my man?

Cactus steps to the podium, shaking hands with his mentor, Gentleman Jack, before speaking.

Cactus: Thank you Jack, always a pleasure to be near your aura. You’re a hero and national icon for these miserable people in this place tonight.

Cactus: Speaking of miserable, let’s take a moment to speak about the Convoy’s parents. After hearing the dumpster fire which falls out of your faces week in and week out, it is a wonder why the gods didn’t remove your mother’s ovaries themselves, to keep us from your mindless blabber.

Cactus: I am surprised abortion is even a debate with you on this planet. You’re a walking billboard for planned parenthood.

Cactus: You speak of saving people, yet the only thing you manage to keep people from is being entertained any time you step foot on the Turmoil stage.

Cactus: Bill Ding had more entertainment in his last Subway dump than your whole group does combined.

Cactus flashes a grin to the crowd.

Cactus: I have great news for you all though - it’s not too late. Maybe, just maybe you can make something of our pathetic excuse for a career.

Cactus: True, that it may be in adult gay porn, but either way, I am sure you can all take it for one another.

Cactus: Look at the bright side - you can all still fight about who’s going to be on top.

Cactus: Give me a yell boys. OAF productions can make the right connections for you to make that happen.

Cactus steps back from the mic and makes a recording motion with his hands, then throws up his patented hand symbol as he walks away from the mic. Jack gives his protege a few worshipful bows before stepping back to the podium.

Jack: Fantastic! Folks, let’s hear it one more time for the finest collection of talent in all of OCW, The Gentleman’s Club!

Jack: But before we leave tonight, I’d just like to share my thoughts on our esteemed opponents. Jimmy, I won’t lie. I’m not looking forward to watching your match tonight. If I wanted to see a midget get raped I’d just buy Madison a strap on.

Crowd: OOOOOOOOHHHHHH

Jack: Jimmy, you look like what happens when Plan B kinda works.

Jack: Now as we all know, Jimmy is Scottish. Do you know what the most confusing day in Scotland is? Father’s Day.

Jack: Jimmy, I have to give you credit. You are without a doubt the most optimistic guy in the locker room. However, as optimistic as he may be, Jimmy isn’t the best in ring performer. Jimmy, watching you wrestle is like watching Michael J. Fox masturbate.

The other members of the Club and half the crowd go wild while the other half are simply stunned.

Jack: Don’t worry Convoy, I haven’t forgotten you. Here’s a question for you guys. How do you circumcise Jakub Da’Relic? Simple, punch the choirboy in his chin.

Jack: Now as we all know, Nate Dunn used to have a drinking problem. He did, very sad. One night Nate, a pedophile, and a retard walked into a bar. The bartender said, “Hey you’re the only customer I’ve had all night.”

Jack: Jesus every member of the Convoy is hideous. The only time any of them have been inside a woman was when Jason Williams visited the Statue of Liberty. The only way you pious ******** will ever get laid is if you crawl up a chicken’s ass and wait.

Jack: As much fun as I have making fun of the religious, I think it’s time we get back to Jimmy Henry. Jimmy, you’ve accomplished a lot during your time in OCW. However, no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be half the man your mother is.

Jack: You know Jimmy, a lot of the boys in the back think you’re gay for liking soccer. I disagree, I think you’re gay because you love ****.

Jack: Now, a lot of you don’t know this but when Jimmy was breaking into the business, he worked part time at a sperm bank. True story. However he got fired 2 weeks in for drinking on the job.

All the other members of the Club leap to their feet to applaud their beloved leader and moral compass.

Jack: Thank you OCW! Thank you Gentleman’s Club! A big **** you New York! Jimmy, Convoy, we’ll see you at SummerCide! Gentleman's Club out!

With that our scene comes to an end as Jack drops the mic and the members of the Club high five and celebrate the momentous occasion. Will the Gentleman’s Club get what’s coming to them? Tune into the hottest party of the summer, OCW’s Summercide, Sunday August 28th. Call your local cable or satellite operator now!

The camera pans to the announce team.

	Savages, all of them.
	The club just keeps getting bigger.

	Alex Robinson was set to fight Amber but I am being told she isn't here tonight.
	Does that mean we get to see Sophia in action?

	Nope, but a womens match is under way and it's next.
	...

Amber Fowler

vs

Casey Garrett

The camera pans to the announce team.

	She's slowly climbing that ladder.
	I wonder if she can keep on climbing.

Stacy Clarke and Jordan stand backstage prior to the match.

Stacy Clarke: Jordan, last week you were defeated in a brave, back and forth effort against Alex Fischer. It has been rumoured recently that he is no longer going to compete in the OCW, do you have any words for him?

Jordan Jax: First of all I got some words for the GM who decided it's a great idea to put me in a match tonight while I got this piece of trash on me.

Jordan flexes his right bicep and shows off bruising from his recent match against Alex Fischer. He wears a bandage covering his upper arm up to his shoulder.

Jordan Jax: Whoops, I just broke the fourth wall, how you doin'!?

Jordan Jax: Second of all Stacy, fuhgeddaboudit. I didn't lose last week. I'm still here. Alex Fischer don't give a monkey crap about the fans here on Turmoil.

Jordan Jax: His contract expired or what the hell ever it was, who cares? I'm here to talk Turmoil, not about some vanilla ice cream chump who had two or three matches here. Capiche?

Stacy Clarke: Tonight you face Loki McGregor, a known formidable opponent here in the OCW, and arguably your first real test. Do you have any worries about your injury taking it's toll on you in the match?

Jordan Jax: Hey, Stacy, fuhgeddaboudit. I float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. Only thing I'm scared of in this world is catching HIV!

Jordan Jax: Injury or no injury, I'll take on whoever. The Double J'agermeister ain't no fugazi.

Jordan Jax: I'ma keep working and working and working til' I get my respect round here. Backstage crew don't eff with me, Stacy.

Jordan Jax: Like who's freakin' welfare cheque I gotta cash in to get a slice of pizza roun here?

A group of semi attractive girls slide past the camera. Jordan visibly checks them out from behind, ups his chin and mutters.

Jordan Jax: How you doin'?

He realizes he is being caught on camera and almost immediately snaps out of it, putting on a faux serious face.

Jordan Jax: You ever feel like nothing good was ever gonna happen to you?

Stacy looks somewhat awkwardly. Jordan speaks and cuts her off before she can get a word in.

Jordan Jax: Yeah, I did before I got the call up here. This is my only shot, so I think I'ma take it. The injury impedes me and I lose the match? Pff, fuhgeddaboudit.

Jordan Jax: I don't need no chances on a plate, Stacy. I'll do what I gotta to make my own spot. Capiche?

Stacy rolls her eyes and the scene fades out.

The camera pans to the announce team.

	I am starting to like this kid.
	I think someone got a bit excited there for a second.

A crash of breaking glass shouldn’t have been heard. The second floor should have been empty, the only person that should have been present was Ashley Blain. The crash from her office should not have altered anyone, but it did. And of all people that could have sauntered into her office arms behind their back, B-17 was the last one she would want.

She picked up a small iron lamp and glared at him. He smiled in return with a smugness that suggested he had heard the news.

B-17: I hear you’ve been fired.

Ashley flung the lamp across the room, but it missed just to the left of B, who simply watched it shatter harmlessly.

B-17: Touchy subject?

Ashley clenched her fists and screamed. It was loud, ear piercing. It was filled with pain and frustration.

Ashley: Demoted!

B-17 pulled his arms out from behind his back and held up two Coors: Old times?

Ashley pushed off the scatter of paperwork resting on her desk and tapped her fingers on the wood.

B-17 obliged and walked over. He popped the cap off the top of one then the other and passed it over to Blain who tipped back the bottle and gulped down close to half in one swallow.

B-17: Cheers.

He followed suit and took a long drink.

Blain: Too emotional.

B-17: Excuse me?

Blain: Too emotional, they think that I will be too emotional. That I would be able to control my feelings with you back.

B-17: I see.

Blain: You screwed it all up. You. You. You. You. Corruption on Turmoil. Can you believe that? They would call me corrupt?...I mean I am, but it was for the greater good! It’s...it’s just...frustrating. You know I actually liked this job...thought I would be a benefit to Turmoil.

B-17 took a seat and let out a deep sigh: Yeah, I know the feeling.

Blain took a seat opposite of him and kicked her feet on the desk. She took another drink and let her eyes drift across the room. They sat silent for a moment before she finally spoke again.

Blain: Why didn’t you do it? You could have claimed the belt months ago. You could have sat atop Turmoil, could have...you could have kept me. What stopped you?

B-17 took a large drink and tossed aside the empty bottle, it clinked off in a dark corner: You see what that title does to people? You see that thirst? It changes them. I guess If I ever won the title I wanted to make sure it didn’t change me. Putting Jackson down...I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be the one to take away what he loved so much.

Blain: Why does it matter? Someone better took it from him anyways. It’s a new game out there. Flips and shit.

B-17: Artistic falling, more like it.

Blain tipped her beer bottle.

Blain: He’s good, you know? They both are.

B-17: Yeah...I know. I’m not here for them though.

Blain: You’re not the best anymore, you know? I don’t even know if you ever were.

B-17 smiles and kicks his feet up up the desk.

B-17: I guess we'll find out eventually, but that’s not why I’m back.

Blain: Why did you come back?

B-17 drops his feet and leans over and takes the near empty bottle from Blain. He finished it off and tosses it to join the previous bottle.

B-17: Emptiness.

Blain: The beer?

B-17: That too.

Blain: Mmm….you’re an idiot...Well care to help me carry my stuff?

She points to one of boxes. B-17 stands up and picks up the box. She takes a much smaller one from her desk and leads the way out of the office. They don’t talk. B-17 just follows her, enjoying the view. She stops at the elevator and presses the button.

The elevator finally arrives and they both squeeze in.

Blain presses the top floor. B-17 looks at her with his eyebrows raised.

B-17: I thought you were demoted?

Blain smiles….that wicked smile: Less money, better view, different job.

The elevator stops at the top floor. She exists and B follows. She walks down a hallway on the right and stops at an office door that leads to...a bigger office...a better view. B-17 is confused and stands in the door.

Blain turns around and looks at him. She drops her cargo on the floor and then takes the box from B-17.

Blain: You didn’t actually think I was leaving did you?

B-17: So...what do you do now?

Blain: You will find out soon enough, sweetie, oh and enjoy the handicap match tonight. With that she slams the door in his face.

B-17: Damn bitch.

The camera pans to the announce team.

	Looks like they got some issues they need to work out.
	B-17 needs to put his HOE in check.

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