"A Massacre after Massacre" [Part 2 of 2]

[Vossler]

Hi there. So since Langston and I made bits we sent off to Will for judgement for the impromptu title match on Massacre. And while I'm happy with the result, I'm quite sad a lot of people didn't get to read it. I felt like this piece has a lot of character development in it and gives you a good insight to Vossler. So, here it is;

For context, this piece is supposed to be read AFTER Part 1. If you haven't read Part 1 yet, please read it first. For context, this takes places at last week's Massacre (July 9th, 2019)

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Vincent Langston and Vossler are being "guided" backstage by the OCW security staff as they're still shouting at each other. Langston is quickly dragged off to the production truck while Vossler is quickly approached by Welsh.

WELSH: "Do you h--"

Vossler quickly interrupts him with sheer aggression.

VOSSLER: "What the fuck do you expect to happen out there with bullshit like that, Marcus?! Depth next week? FUCKING DEPTH!?"

A stray kick is thrown to a production crate that didn't appear to be locked as several other production crates seem to follow suit in falling over or creating more damage.

VOSSLER: "And don't fucking pretend you didn't have any fucking shit to do with this! This is your fucking company, you get to call the shots for shit like that in terms of booking and what appears on that motherfucking screen! Don't tell me this is still Langston's booking! Because you know as well as I do that that expression he had in the ring speaks fucking volumes! Who is this then? ZYBALA!?"

Welsh appears to want to respond but Vossler quickly pushes the face away of one of the security guards restraining him giving him enough room to move and break free. The other guards are quickly floored by punches and knees. Vossler marches around the backstage area as various staff members and wrestlers look on.

VOSSLER: "WHERE THE FUCK IS ZYBALA!? ZYBALA!"

No one answers, no one genuinely appears to know. Two new security guards run up behind Vossler but as soon as he turns around they stop and refrain from trying to engage in a fight with him. Probably for the better with how enraged he is.

Vossler comes to a realization that this rogue hunt of his might not result in what he would like.

He shakes his head in rage, but then finds this to be the most opportune time to return to his locker room. He begins a march for it although more security guards block his way as if he's some sort of wanted criminal. Behind the crowd is Welsh, however.

WELSH: "Come on. We need you to calm down since all you're doing now is creating more and more damage. We don't need there to be more hazard with all the commotion going around as is."

Vossler approaches the group as they hold him back, but Vossler is able to get close to Welsh regardless.

VOSSLER: "When you put the pen to the paper, you told me exactly what you wanted and I told you how I'm going to achieve this, Marcus. You know this would happen. I warned you and as I did, you couldn't help but keep that slimy smile of yours hidden while you signed that contract. You knew exactly what I was going to do and what I would do to do achieve what I want to achieve. I am going to get that fucking match with Langston, Marcus! And whether it's by your weak-ass hand or whether it's by your bullshit lackey Zybala, whatever he might be to you, I'm going to get it. You and your company will not ignore me further. We're allies, Marcus. And don't forget this. But that's the only benefit for you in this whole situation. I would drop each and every single one of these fucking guards to get to you if you weren't. Be very, very fucking happy you aren't Zybala. Understand?"

WELSH: "I never understood it any other way. And it's like you said. I was warned this was going to happen. I wouldn't have had it any other way. But my hand is forced here and I, for the sake of legal reasons, cannot permit you to be in the arena for the rest of the night. These fine gentlemen will guide you to your locker room where you can get changed and then leave. Understood?"

Vossler scoffs as one of the guards begins pushing him. Vossler quickly floors him with a simple push and trip.

VOSSLER: "These fine gentlemen will not restrain me. These fine gentlemen, as you call them, will not fight me. That is my order for you to give to them. If you do not give this order or they disobey your instructions, their wives will have another reason to file for divorce since they don't want to wake up to a walking nightmare every fucking morning. Do you understand? And if I just so happen to magically bump into Zybala along the way... You know what's going to happen."

WELSH: "Don't push yo--"

VOSSLER: "Do I make myself clear, mr. Welsh?"

Welsh is reluctant, not wanting his authority questioned. But this wasn't a situation he would see himself to be able to haggle down.

VOSSLER: "If you can't remember right now, let me refresh your memory. Your word has meant very fucking little so far for me despite you giving me it when you signed my new deal. So I suggest you use what little authority you have left to instruct these gentlemen."

Welsh nods.

WELSH: "Fine, you get your wish. But. I will see any transgression before this talk as nill and no one is going to raise a fuzz. But if I hear so much as you killing a fly in your own fucking locker room, there will be an instantaneous termination of your contract and that's not even to mention the lawsuit I'm going to force on you. That's what my authority means now."

VOSSLER: "You mother--"

WELSH: "I will see you next week, Phil. And I will pretend like we never had this talk. This only hurts this partnership we have. You don't want that, I don't want that. So let's just write this off as a momentary lapse of judgement. Yeah?"

Welsh extend his hand.

Vossler looks at the hand, and almost wants to spit on it and tell Welsh to go stick it. But Vossler's judgement is not so poor, and he shakes the hand.

WELSH: "Good man. Now go home. I will see you... maybe next week, if I book you. You've been consistently showing up, maybe you need a week off."

VOSSLER: "I'll see about that."

WELSH: "Good, I'll le--"

VOSSLER: "You misunderstand. I will see about it. Me, not you. I will. Do you understand?"

Welsh sighs with a smile and shakes his head.

WELSH: "Fine, have it your way. I'll see you when I see you. Bye, Phil."

Welsh turns around and walks off, while Vos is then escorted by the security guard group who seem rather pushy about their 'escorting' duties.

VOSSLER: "If you push me one more fucking time, I don't care what the consequences are. I will drop you where you stand. Give me a fucking reason, kid."

SECURITY: "You know what'll happen, Mr. Chiari. I wouldn't suggest pushing your luck further."

While it is hard to accept, Vossler doesn't respond because he knows the security guard is right.

They arrive at Vossler's personal locker room, to which Vossler pauses at.

VOSSLER: "What, are you gonna watch me change now too? Stay the fuck out of here. Or you're going to leave this arena in a fucking body-bag."

Security seems reluctant at first, but then agrees that might be better as Vossler heads in alone.

A few minutes later, Jolon Stevenson arrives. The security stops him at first but one of them recognizes him and lets him pass into the locker room.

Inside the locker room, Vossler and Jolon begin an argument.

JOLON: "What the fuck are you thinking?"

VOSSLER: "Who's fucking side are you on is what the question oughta fucking be! So which is it Joe!?"

JOLON: "I'm on the side that makes sure you don't end up in jail or in a court room, you dimwitted fuckwad!"

VOSSLER: "Yeah!? Then how about you start trying to pull some strings back here and make sure I get what I fucking get! Fuck Logan! Fuck Langston! Fuck Zybala! Fuck Welsh, and fuck you! You come into this locker room shouting shit at me, not knowing anything that went down and just because it happened to piss off some security guards it automatically makes you right!? Fuck you Jolon. Don't you fucking follow me."

Vossler rushes past Stevenson who seems somewhat dumbfounded by the aggression also being aimed towards him. Albeit understandable with the tone he came into the locker room with, that didn't deem it a worthy response.

Vossler charges out of the locker room with his bag and in his casual street clothing. The security tries to stop him but as it appears he's headed for the parking lot, it doesn't seem feasable or necessary to try and chase him down. Jolon now steps out of the locker room.

JOLON: "Excuse me, sirs. I've gotten a very brief rundown of what happened but could you actually explain to me what happened here?"

And as the security guards explain, a screeching tire is heard. Vossler is clearly leaving the arena.

Jolon is left behind with security, receiving an explanation that only draws a sigh as a reaction.

JOLON: "Goddammit..."

But it is as the saying goes, the show must go on.

Jolon thanks the security guards and picks his phone out of his pocket, using speed dial to call a number.

JOLON: "Yeah? Hey honey, it's me. Yeah, uh... I'm going to be staying in Key West tonight and for the next week. I've got some cleaning to do, basically."

Silence.

JOLON: "Mhm... yep. Philippe is making a mess of things again... No. No I won't be solving this right now. Yeah, I know. But I can't go over there right now and try to fix something. The fire's too hot, and I don't wanna get burned or cause anymore damage. I'm gonna wait a few days."

Another moment of silence.

JOLON: "Yeah. Don't worry. I'll be fine. I'll just need a few days down here and I'll be back in no time, hopefully with this situation resolved."

...

JOLON: "Mhm. Thanks babe, love you too. Tell Shaun I love him too. Thanks, bye."

The security guards laugh as Jolon hangs up.

SECURITY: "Weak-ass."

JOLON: "Punk-ass."

And Jolon leaves.

[Vossler]

I should note here, Welsh's part was also written by me so... if it seems a little uncharacteristic of him at times, my apologies. I tried to represent him as best as I could.