Post by PIC on Apr 12, 2023 14:15:23 GMT -5
—June 18, 2004 | ICWF Saturday Inferno—
~The show comes back on the air outside of ODJ's office, where screaming can be heard. Inside the office, ODJ stands behind his desk red faced from shouting.~
ODJ: WHAT? You want to quit? I don't think so.
PIC: It's time to move on. I don't have the passion anymore.
ODJ: Well you better find the passion. I went out of my way to give you another shot, and you're sure as hell not walking out on me, not when you have two years left on your deal. Suck it up and get out there, I'm not letting you out for anything.
PIC: You don't think I'll walk out there right now and lay down for Justin Taylor? I don't care anymore Dougg. I couldn't care less if I win or lose. You can either let me go or I’ll lay down for every opponent you throw at me until this company goes belly up.
~Unbeknownst to PIC, ODJ has been having issues securing the financial backing necessary to keep ICWF open for some time. If PIC were to do what he’s threatening, it could be the final nail in the coffin to the greatest wrestling company in the world. ODJ pauses to think, then sighs.~
ODJ: Fine. You want an out, I’ll give you one. If you win your match next month at Bad Blood, I’ll rip up your contract.
PIC: So, all I have to do is win and you’ll let me out of my deal?
ODJ: That's what I'm saying. But, if you lose… you’ll owe me. Big time.
PIC: Who’s the opponent?
~ODJ suppresses a grin.~
ODJ: El Linchador and Jason Blood in a triple threat. First to score a pin wins an ICWF world title shot. Second gets the Hardcore Title.
~ODJ reaches his hand across the desk. PIC seems reluctant but eventually reaches his across as well, shaking ODJ’s.~
PIC: Deal.
ODJ: Now get the hell out of my office, and if you so much as think of lying down tonight against Taylor, this offer is null and void.
~PIC turns and walks out of the room as ODJ leans back in his chair, a smile beginning to show as we cut back to ringside.~
—April 11, 2023 3:38PM | Galveston, TX—
~The afternoon sky over Galveston is dotted with small patches of white clouds. Spring is in the air. The streets are alive with vehicles traveling to and fro as droves of pedestrians litter the city sidewalks. A square patch of grass sits on the edge of the city surrounded by benches overlooking the Gulf Coast. On one such bench sits Steve Wilson and his childhood sweetheart, Jessica Abrams. She had faked her own death over ten years prior after getting in trouble with some bad people, and only now has resurfaced due to pressure from Steve’s former boss turned stalker, ODJ. Now nearly two weeks removed from Steve’s second OCW title win, he finally gets his chance to chat with the only true love of his life.~
PIC: So where have you been all this time?
Jessica: West coast. I spent a couple years in San Diego. I eventually landed in a small town in Oregon. That’s where ODJ found me.
PIC: Oregon? Really? You swore you’d never leave the east coast.
Jessica: Yeah, well… ‘dying’ can change a lot about a person.
~The two share an awkward pause. They used to be able to talk for hours on end and not run out of things to say. But now, after all these years…~
PIC: Ok, I’m just gonna say something. It’s been on my mind ever since Tennessee and I haven’t been able to shake it.
Jessica: Ok.
~PIC hesitates for a second.~
PIC: I… I’m sorry. I never should have left you. I was just a dumb kid with crazy dreams and when you said it was either you or wrestling—
Jessica: I shouldn’t have made you choose.
PIC: Yeah, well maybe not. But you did, and I did and well, I just want you to know that I know I made the wrong choice.
~Jessica places her hand on his shoulder.~
Jessica: Steve, you are a multi-time world champion. You have used the money you’ve made throughout your career to raise my daughter, to build churches in Africa. You’ve done more with wrestling than either of us could have imagined. I’m the one who should be sorry.
PIC: For what?
~Jessica shoots him a look. After all these years their connection is strong enough for him to read her like a book.~
PIC: Sarah?
~Jessica nods.~
PIC: Who is it? Who’s her father?
~Jessica hangs her head but PIC lifts it up by her chin to make eye contact.~
PIC: Is it Matt?
~She nods again, tears beginning to form.~
Jessica: I was mad at you. I wanted to get back at you and the only way I could think of was sleeping with your best friend. When I found out I was pregnant I really wasn’t sure which one of you was the father. But I couldn’t tell you. I knew you’d choose to come back to me and I was so ashamed.
~PIC sits back a bit on the bench, nervously adjusting his posture.~
PIC: You’re right. I would have come back.
Jessica: And even if you could’ve someone forgiven me for sleeping with Matt, I couldn’t spend the rest of my life wondering if you were with me because you wanted to be or because you had to be.
~Another awkward pause. PIC reaches into his back pocket and gives Jessica his handkerchief as she begins to cry.~
PIC: I guess there’s not much reason to be upset about it now. Sarah’s turned out to be such a great young lady. You’d be so proud of her.
~Jessica’s crying increases making her words nearly inaudible.~
Jessica: I know. I follow her social media pages and I can’t get over how beautiful she is. She’s thriving. You gave her the life I never could. I can never thank you enough for that.
~Before they can continue, former ICWF president, ODJ walks up from behind.~
ODJ: Sorry to interrupt you two love birds. PIC, a word?
~PIC stands up and follows as ODJ begins to walk around the park.~
ODJ: First off, congratulations on once again winning the OCW world title. I always saw great things in you, even when you were raw.
PIC: I’ll forever be in your debt for giving me that chance way back when, but what does any of that have to do with now? Why go to all this trouble just to get my attention?
ODJ: I needed you to know how serious I was. How serious I can be.
~ODJ stops and turns to face PIC.~
ODJ: Do you remember? Do you remember that little deal we made 19 years ago?
PIC: About you letting me out of my contract if I won at Bad Blood. Yeah, I remember it. And I did, I won the Hardcore Championship.
ODJ: Well… yes and no. You did walk out of the match with the Hardcore title, but it was a triple threat and El Linchador won the ultimate prize of a world title shot. So technically, you finished second.
PIC: Whatever. First, second… what does it matter? You closed the company right after that show anyway.
ODJ: Yes, my financial backer went belly up and I was forced to close. Years went by. Years of lobbying and looking at every angle I possibly could to get ICWF up and running again. We were the best in the world and I wasn’t about to let anyone be better. Not Jonathan Barrows. Not Chris Page. And sure as hell not Marcus Welsh.
PIC: I just don’t get what any of this has to do with me.
ODJ: You came back. But you didn’t come to me. You didn’t seek me out to help bring ICWF from the grave. No, you went to Welsh. You went to my biggest rival and not only did you succeed, you managed to bring OCW to heights it’s never been before. OCW is now the top wrestling company in the world and ICWF is nothing but a distant memory. But not anymore.
PIC: What are you saying?
ODJ: It’s simple. We made a deal 19 years ago that you didn’t follow through with. You didn’t win the match and because of that, you owe me. Well, PIC… it’s time to settle your debt.
PIC: So what? You’re going to reopen ICWF? Make me honor the rest of that contract?
~ODJ suppresses a laugh. He smirks as he pats PIC on the shoulder.~
ODJ: No, PIC. We’re not bringing ICWF back. We’re going to kill OCW.
~The show comes back on the air outside of ODJ's office, where screaming can be heard. Inside the office, ODJ stands behind his desk red faced from shouting.~
ODJ: WHAT? You want to quit? I don't think so.
PIC: It's time to move on. I don't have the passion anymore.
ODJ: Well you better find the passion. I went out of my way to give you another shot, and you're sure as hell not walking out on me, not when you have two years left on your deal. Suck it up and get out there, I'm not letting you out for anything.
PIC: You don't think I'll walk out there right now and lay down for Justin Taylor? I don't care anymore Dougg. I couldn't care less if I win or lose. You can either let me go or I’ll lay down for every opponent you throw at me until this company goes belly up.
~Unbeknownst to PIC, ODJ has been having issues securing the financial backing necessary to keep ICWF open for some time. If PIC were to do what he’s threatening, it could be the final nail in the coffin to the greatest wrestling company in the world. ODJ pauses to think, then sighs.~
ODJ: Fine. You want an out, I’ll give you one. If you win your match next month at Bad Blood, I’ll rip up your contract.
PIC: So, all I have to do is win and you’ll let me out of my deal?
ODJ: That's what I'm saying. But, if you lose… you’ll owe me. Big time.
PIC: Who’s the opponent?
~ODJ suppresses a grin.~
ODJ: El Linchador and Jason Blood in a triple threat. First to score a pin wins an ICWF world title shot. Second gets the Hardcore Title.
~ODJ reaches his hand across the desk. PIC seems reluctant but eventually reaches his across as well, shaking ODJ’s.~
PIC: Deal.
ODJ: Now get the hell out of my office, and if you so much as think of lying down tonight against Taylor, this offer is null and void.
~PIC turns and walks out of the room as ODJ leans back in his chair, a smile beginning to show as we cut back to ringside.~
.::This isn’t easy.
Crushing someone’s dreams never is.
But that’s exactly what I’ve been tasked to do with Easton Alexander once more. They say doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results is the definition of insanity.
Sounds more like religion to me. And the false, self-worshiping religion of Eastonism is about to come to a grinding halt.
Easton is someone I once called a friend. I saw an untapped potential in him and a desire to be great in this business that I could relate to. I thought the kid was driven. I thought the OCW Faithful would be treated to his gritty determination and strong work ethic for years to come. But what they’ve been given instead is a giant piss baby who disappears when things get tough.
His record in this company has been discussed at length. It’s terrible. There’s nothing wrong with losing. In fact, sometimes it can be the best way to learn how to win. But losing six in a row? When a win over Mark Storm is your bell cow, you know you have issues. And honestly, all that could be overlooked. Easton’s lack of competitive spirit isn’t even close to his biggest issue.
The dude’s just a little prick.
I know, I know. I’m supposed to be the good guy. Never supposed to say a bad word about anyone. And normally I wouldn’t. Normally, I’d never say an ill word about someone who supposedly sheds his own blood, sweat, and tears for OCW.
Except it’s a lie. While Easton definitely has done nothing but cry over the last six months, he doesn’t bleed OCW. He doesn’t sweat in OCW. He’d have to show up to do both of those. And showing up isn’t something Easton does. Not since he went on OCW TV and rage quit last October. The cry baby was upset that I didn’t ‘show him respect’ after another humiliating loss.
Bitch please.
It’s not my fault you kidnapped a kid and ended up LOSING in the feud. It wasn’t me who lost a chance at the Savage Championship and then went on to create an epic losing streak against Brim and Harmon Egan. And then, after losing those FOUR matches in a row, you had the audacity to call out then world champion, Outcast, one week before he was set to put his belt and career on the line against yours truly.
And when you lost… again, you took your made up ‘Canadian Dragon’ moniker back north and left your protégé high and dry to do all the work.
But like any good wrestling story, the prodigal returned home to OCW, and lost.
AGAIN.
Anyone noticing a pattern? No matter how many big words you try to use to try to prop yourself up and make others take notice, you just aren’t good enough.
We were wrong about you. All of us… yourself included. You’re not full of potential. You’re not on the verge of something great, and you’re sure as hell not the future of this business.
It’s time, Easton. After I once again defeat you in the middle of the ring, your wrestling career is dead and gone. It’s time to pack up and head back up north for good. Train the next crop of spot fest junkies and leave the real wrestling to those of us with a backbone.
You know the expression: those who can, do. Those who can’t? Easton.::.
—April 11, 2023 3:38PM | Galveston, TX—
~The afternoon sky over Galveston is dotted with small patches of white clouds. Spring is in the air. The streets are alive with vehicles traveling to and fro as droves of pedestrians litter the city sidewalks. A square patch of grass sits on the edge of the city surrounded by benches overlooking the Gulf Coast. On one such bench sits Steve Wilson and his childhood sweetheart, Jessica Abrams. She had faked her own death over ten years prior after getting in trouble with some bad people, and only now has resurfaced due to pressure from Steve’s former boss turned stalker, ODJ. Now nearly two weeks removed from Steve’s second OCW title win, he finally gets his chance to chat with the only true love of his life.~
PIC: So where have you been all this time?
Jessica: West coast. I spent a couple years in San Diego. I eventually landed in a small town in Oregon. That’s where ODJ found me.
PIC: Oregon? Really? You swore you’d never leave the east coast.
Jessica: Yeah, well… ‘dying’ can change a lot about a person.
~The two share an awkward pause. They used to be able to talk for hours on end and not run out of things to say. But now, after all these years…~
PIC: Ok, I’m just gonna say something. It’s been on my mind ever since Tennessee and I haven’t been able to shake it.
Jessica: Ok.
~PIC hesitates for a second.~
PIC: I… I’m sorry. I never should have left you. I was just a dumb kid with crazy dreams and when you said it was either you or wrestling—
Jessica: I shouldn’t have made you choose.
PIC: Yeah, well maybe not. But you did, and I did and well, I just want you to know that I know I made the wrong choice.
~Jessica places her hand on his shoulder.~
Jessica: Steve, you are a multi-time world champion. You have used the money you’ve made throughout your career to raise my daughter, to build churches in Africa. You’ve done more with wrestling than either of us could have imagined. I’m the one who should be sorry.
PIC: For what?
~Jessica shoots him a look. After all these years their connection is strong enough for him to read her like a book.~
PIC: Sarah?
~Jessica nods.~
PIC: Who is it? Who’s her father?
~Jessica hangs her head but PIC lifts it up by her chin to make eye contact.~
PIC: Is it Matt?
~She nods again, tears beginning to form.~
Jessica: I was mad at you. I wanted to get back at you and the only way I could think of was sleeping with your best friend. When I found out I was pregnant I really wasn’t sure which one of you was the father. But I couldn’t tell you. I knew you’d choose to come back to me and I was so ashamed.
~PIC sits back a bit on the bench, nervously adjusting his posture.~
PIC: You’re right. I would have come back.
Jessica: And even if you could’ve someone forgiven me for sleeping with Matt, I couldn’t spend the rest of my life wondering if you were with me because you wanted to be or because you had to be.
~Another awkward pause. PIC reaches into his back pocket and gives Jessica his handkerchief as she begins to cry.~
PIC: I guess there’s not much reason to be upset about it now. Sarah’s turned out to be such a great young lady. You’d be so proud of her.
~Jessica’s crying increases making her words nearly inaudible.~
Jessica: I know. I follow her social media pages and I can’t get over how beautiful she is. She’s thriving. You gave her the life I never could. I can never thank you enough for that.
~Before they can continue, former ICWF president, ODJ walks up from behind.~
ODJ: Sorry to interrupt you two love birds. PIC, a word?
~PIC stands up and follows as ODJ begins to walk around the park.~
ODJ: First off, congratulations on once again winning the OCW world title. I always saw great things in you, even when you were raw.
PIC: I’ll forever be in your debt for giving me that chance way back when, but what does any of that have to do with now? Why go to all this trouble just to get my attention?
ODJ: I needed you to know how serious I was. How serious I can be.
~ODJ stops and turns to face PIC.~
ODJ: Do you remember? Do you remember that little deal we made 19 years ago?
PIC: About you letting me out of my contract if I won at Bad Blood. Yeah, I remember it. And I did, I won the Hardcore Championship.
ODJ: Well… yes and no. You did walk out of the match with the Hardcore title, but it was a triple threat and El Linchador won the ultimate prize of a world title shot. So technically, you finished second.
PIC: Whatever. First, second… what does it matter? You closed the company right after that show anyway.
ODJ: Yes, my financial backer went belly up and I was forced to close. Years went by. Years of lobbying and looking at every angle I possibly could to get ICWF up and running again. We were the best in the world and I wasn’t about to let anyone be better. Not Jonathan Barrows. Not Chris Page. And sure as hell not Marcus Welsh.
PIC: I just don’t get what any of this has to do with me.
ODJ: You came back. But you didn’t come to me. You didn’t seek me out to help bring ICWF from the grave. No, you went to Welsh. You went to my biggest rival and not only did you succeed, you managed to bring OCW to heights it’s never been before. OCW is now the top wrestling company in the world and ICWF is nothing but a distant memory. But not anymore.
PIC: What are you saying?
ODJ: It’s simple. We made a deal 19 years ago that you didn’t follow through with. You didn’t win the match and because of that, you owe me. Well, PIC… it’s time to settle your debt.
PIC: So what? You’re going to reopen ICWF? Make me honor the rest of that contract?
~ODJ suppresses a laugh. He smirks as he pats PIC on the shoulder.~
ODJ: No, PIC. We’re not bringing ICWF back. We’re going to kill OCW.
