Post by PIC on May 31, 2022 9:12:15 GMT -5
.::Big Game Hunting may go down as one of the greatest wrestling PPVs of all time. Titles changed hands, allegiances were formed, international legends returned, bachelor pads were destroyed…it truly had it all. For me, Big Game Hunting proved that returning to the ring was no fluke, no mistake, that even at 41 years of age with close to 15 years worth of ring rust, I still have what it takes. I entered the Dadbod Invitational not knowing what to expect but knowing that I had to fight on this card. I knew Big Game Hunting was going to be epic, so I entered the Bachelor Pad and emerged…victorious? I thought I had the match won outright, but the debuting Jace Parker Davidson swooped in at the end and scored the double pin. Now, the Savage Championship match next month will be a triple threat between myself, JPD, and the new Savage Champion, Dylan Thomas. It looks as if fate has stepped in this week to prepare me for the title match with yet another triple threat match against OCW Hall of Famer Bob Grenier and CYPHER. So much for easing back into things…::.
--LAST WEEK--
~The scene opens on a dark African evening. The wind can be heard whistling past the camera as the trees off in the distance are rustling and swaying back and forth. In the center of our screen is the only lit area for miles. A single large kaipai, a building made of bamboo and coated with mud to create a stucco-like structure, sits in the middle of a dirt field. Two small single-wide trailers are located to the right of the structure, both worse for ware with the metal roofs nearly rusted through. Both trailers have several bullet holes in the sides. The entire compound is surrounded by a cinder block wall roughly 8 feet tall. At the top shards of broken bottles and nails stick out to deter animals or others from trying to scale the wall. The gate entrance is made of chainlink with barbed wire wrapped around the top. The entire perimeter is lit up by four large solar panel spotlights. Two dogs are seen to the back left of the kaipai fighting over the scraps of what used to be a chicken. Guarding the door stand two African men, both wearing similar gray military-esque jump suits and brandishing semi-automatic rifles. A commotion is heard inside, then a man is thrown out the front of the base and out onto the dusty earth. Another man follows him outside. He hovers over the man on the ground, spitting on him. His black eyes glow eerily in the spotlight, his dark skin providing the perfect backdrop for a menacing stare.~
Leader: Maxaad ku samaysay isaga? Aaway Burhaan?
(What have you done with him? Where is Burhaan?)
Man in the Dirt: Waxaan kuu sheegay, ma garanayo meel uu joogo. Labadii maalmood ka hor ayay ka baxeen, afartoodii. Ma aan awoodin inaan la xiriiro iyaga tan iyo markaas.
(I told you, I do not know where he is. They left out two days ago, the four of them. I haven't been able to get in touch with them since.)
~The leader, quickly losing his patience, grabs the rifle from the guard to his left and aims it at the man on the ground.~
Leader: Been la ii sheegi maayo. Meesha uu joogo ii sheeg ama ku dhimo.
(I will not be lied to. Tell me where he is or you die.)
Man in the Dirt: Ma garanayo! Waan ku dhaartay! Allaah baan ku dhaartaye!
(I don't know! I swear! I swear to Allah!)
Leader: Alle ha ku dhaartee. Waad igu dhaaranaysaa!
(You don’t swear to Allah. You swear to me!)
~The leader drops the rifle and squeezes the trigger, three bullets firing in succession into the left leg of the man on the ground. He reaches for his leg immediately, screaming in pain as blood begins to gush out. The guards to either side do not even flinch as the dogs around the side of the building begin to bark. At first, it seems as if they are barking about the gun shot, but their persistence indicates something is moving on that side of the compound.~
Leader: Warsame, Yasir…Tag iska hubi.
(Warsame, Yasir…go check it out.)
~He hands the rifle back to the guard as both run out of the gate and around the outer wall of the compound. The man on the ground continues to cry out as he writhes in pain. A few moments pass, and the guards return, carrying the limp body of an African man. His clothes are tattered and a large, gaping laceration can be seen on the side of his head. Clearly unconscious, this man is barely alive.~
Leader: Burhaan! Walaalkay!
(Burhaan! My brother!)
~The leader runs toward the limp man and lifts him further up, embracing him. He and the guards carry the man inside. Burhaan. Or as we have come to know him, the man in the passenger seat.~
.::Men and women will go to great lengths to protect their families and friends even if it leads to danger for themselves. I admit, I have a hero complex that more often than not gets me into far more trouble than necessary. Sunday evening I stuck my nose into business that wasn’t mine, but I saw Zybala in trouble. He’s a guy that I’ve respected ever since I first saw him compete. He tries to do things the right way, and I’ll stick up for anyone like that. The fact that it also meant aligning, even if only momentarily, with TLS and Killa Kali wasn’t something I thought about until after the fact. Now I’ve got a targets on my back from the Paramount. There’s a receipt in my near future, of that I am most assured. Until then, I’ll keep my nose to the grind stone and focus on the task at hand, defeating Bob Grenier and CYPHER at Massacre.::.
--TODAY--
~We open on the exterior of Dublin Airport in what appears to be mid-afternoon. The parking lots are full with traffic flowing in and out of the passenger pick-up areas. Planes are seen taxiing down runways as air traffic control workers hurry along to ensure the safety and efficiency of all planes. The scene cuts to inside the airport, focusing on a large line of guests waiting in customs. One man, seen from over his left shoulder, has his brown hair up in a ponytail. He’s wearing a white t-shirt, khaki cargo shorts, and what are becoming trademark flip flops for Amick Dogeron. He pulls the same suitcase we saw in Djibouti with him as he edges closer to the customs officer. When Amick is called upon, he walks over to the booth and hands his passport to the worker. The camera catches a glimpse of his passport as the officer takes it from him, but her thumb partially covers his face and name. Only the last letters “on” can be seen at the end. She flips the passport around, examining it while staring at Amick’s face.~
Customs Officer: This is you?
Amick: Yes.
Customs Officer: Old picture, eh?
Amick: Been a rough few years.
Customs Officer: I’ll say. Where're ya comin’ from?
Amick: Djibouti.
Customs Officer: Africa? What in God’s name were you doing there?
Amick: Missions work. I also wrestle.
Customs Officer: If I ain’t heard it all. A fighting missionary! How d’ya like that?
Amick: It pays the bills.
Customs Officer: N’where ya headin’?
Amick: The United States. Our company is relocating there this month.
Customs Officer: I see. Well, enjoy yer stay in Ireland, however short it may be.
Amick: Thanks.
~Amick retrieves his passport and puts it in his pocket. He nods to the officer and walks through the gate and into the terminal area where he is immediately surrounded by hundreds of travelers navigating the concourse to find their destinations.~
.::Have you ever stopped to think how intricate the airline business has become? Literally thousands upon thousands of flights occur every single day, and someone, somewhere, is responsible for making sure they are scheduled in a way that anyone can get anywhere they want with just a layover or two. It’s quite amazing when you think about the logistics of it all. Yet, no matter how much time and energy is placed into the planning out of these itineraries, it ultimately falls upon the traveler to make sure that each leg of the journey is fulfilled. I have a date with destiny on June 26 at Reformation, but in order to arrive at my final destination, I’ll have to navigate one of the biggest main events in recent Massacre history.::.
.::Amick, Bob, and CYPHER, the ABC’s of Online Championship Wrestling, are set to do battle this coming Monday. When I saw the notification pop up on my phone I honestly couldn’t believe it. I mean, Bob Grenier, a legitimate OCW Hall of Famer and former world champion and CYPHER, a guy who’s climbing up the ladder here with lightning pace. Shew! This will easily be the biggest challenge in my short stint here in OCW. The Dirtbag Kid is one thing, but this is big time wrestling.::.
.::I have the utmost respect for Bob as a wrestler and performer. What he has been able to accomplish over the years is remarkable against some of the stiffest competition the world has ever seen. But I do have to wonder if Bob is as focused as he used to be. BAM G is rolling along, riding high after their win at the last Massacre…no pun intended. Maybe Bob’s content in the tag division, messing stuff up and fighting their way to a World Tag Title opportunity. No one could blame him, really, I mean he’s done all there is to do in singles competition. Now that he’s older, and aren’t we all, it would be easy to sit back and let JAM G do all the work. The difference between Bob and I is that it has been years since I’ve tasted any sort of success in this business. I lost everything in the process, and now I will not stop until I have cemented my legacy as one of the greatest to ever step foot in the wrestling ring. Bob won’t be the first former world champion I’ve defeated and he certainly won’t be the first hall of famer either.::.
.::As for CYPHER, he’s no afterthought by any means. I see so much of my younger self in this guy. He’s driven, he’s focused, and he has reeled off some majorly impressive wins, most recently against the devastating force that is Sadie Ko. His girlfriend is equally as talented, and together, they’re as unstoppable a duo as this industry has seen in a long time. A win against CYPHER, one on one, would be enough to put me on the map all by itself. But with Grenier in the mix, it’s all the more challenging. These two will test me to the limit, of that I have no doubt. But I’m not running. I’ll be there waiting in Pennsylvania, and I will pick up another win on my way to Redemption.::.
--LAST WEEK--
~The leader emerges from the building with Warsame and Yasir, his two bodyguards, at his side. The man on the ground is still there, nearly unconscious from the blood loss.~
Leader: Fadlan iga aqbal raaligelintayda. Waxay u muuqataa inaad run sheegaysay.
(Please accept my apologies. It appears you were telling the truth.)
~The man tries to speak, but the leader abruptly pulls a pistol from his side and fires a single shot into the forehead of the man, killing him instantly.~
Leader: Nadiifi wasakhdan oo diyaari gaadhigayga. Waxaa jira wiil cadaan ah oo u baahan in la baro cashar ay ku mahadsan yihiin Somalien.
(Clean up this mess and get my truck ready. There's a white boy that needs to be taught a lesson courtesy of The Somalien.)
--LAST WEEK--
~The scene opens on a dark African evening. The wind can be heard whistling past the camera as the trees off in the distance are rustling and swaying back and forth. In the center of our screen is the only lit area for miles. A single large kaipai, a building made of bamboo and coated with mud to create a stucco-like structure, sits in the middle of a dirt field. Two small single-wide trailers are located to the right of the structure, both worse for ware with the metal roofs nearly rusted through. Both trailers have several bullet holes in the sides. The entire compound is surrounded by a cinder block wall roughly 8 feet tall. At the top shards of broken bottles and nails stick out to deter animals or others from trying to scale the wall. The gate entrance is made of chainlink with barbed wire wrapped around the top. The entire perimeter is lit up by four large solar panel spotlights. Two dogs are seen to the back left of the kaipai fighting over the scraps of what used to be a chicken. Guarding the door stand two African men, both wearing similar gray military-esque jump suits and brandishing semi-automatic rifles. A commotion is heard inside, then a man is thrown out the front of the base and out onto the dusty earth. Another man follows him outside. He hovers over the man on the ground, spitting on him. His black eyes glow eerily in the spotlight, his dark skin providing the perfect backdrop for a menacing stare.~
Leader: Maxaad ku samaysay isaga? Aaway Burhaan?
(What have you done with him? Where is Burhaan?)
Man in the Dirt: Waxaan kuu sheegay, ma garanayo meel uu joogo. Labadii maalmood ka hor ayay ka baxeen, afartoodii. Ma aan awoodin inaan la xiriiro iyaga tan iyo markaas.
(I told you, I do not know where he is. They left out two days ago, the four of them. I haven't been able to get in touch with them since.)
~The leader, quickly losing his patience, grabs the rifle from the guard to his left and aims it at the man on the ground.~
Leader: Been la ii sheegi maayo. Meesha uu joogo ii sheeg ama ku dhimo.
(I will not be lied to. Tell me where he is or you die.)
Man in the Dirt: Ma garanayo! Waan ku dhaartay! Allaah baan ku dhaartaye!
(I don't know! I swear! I swear to Allah!)
Leader: Alle ha ku dhaartee. Waad igu dhaaranaysaa!
(You don’t swear to Allah. You swear to me!)
~The leader drops the rifle and squeezes the trigger, three bullets firing in succession into the left leg of the man on the ground. He reaches for his leg immediately, screaming in pain as blood begins to gush out. The guards to either side do not even flinch as the dogs around the side of the building begin to bark. At first, it seems as if they are barking about the gun shot, but their persistence indicates something is moving on that side of the compound.~
Leader: Warsame, Yasir…Tag iska hubi.
(Warsame, Yasir…go check it out.)
~He hands the rifle back to the guard as both run out of the gate and around the outer wall of the compound. The man on the ground continues to cry out as he writhes in pain. A few moments pass, and the guards return, carrying the limp body of an African man. His clothes are tattered and a large, gaping laceration can be seen on the side of his head. Clearly unconscious, this man is barely alive.~
Leader: Burhaan! Walaalkay!
(Burhaan! My brother!)
~The leader runs toward the limp man and lifts him further up, embracing him. He and the guards carry the man inside. Burhaan. Or as we have come to know him, the man in the passenger seat.~
.::Men and women will go to great lengths to protect their families and friends even if it leads to danger for themselves. I admit, I have a hero complex that more often than not gets me into far more trouble than necessary. Sunday evening I stuck my nose into business that wasn’t mine, but I saw Zybala in trouble. He’s a guy that I’ve respected ever since I first saw him compete. He tries to do things the right way, and I’ll stick up for anyone like that. The fact that it also meant aligning, even if only momentarily, with TLS and Killa Kali wasn’t something I thought about until after the fact. Now I’ve got a targets on my back from the Paramount. There’s a receipt in my near future, of that I am most assured. Until then, I’ll keep my nose to the grind stone and focus on the task at hand, defeating Bob Grenier and CYPHER at Massacre.::.
--TODAY--
~We open on the exterior of Dublin Airport in what appears to be mid-afternoon. The parking lots are full with traffic flowing in and out of the passenger pick-up areas. Planes are seen taxiing down runways as air traffic control workers hurry along to ensure the safety and efficiency of all planes. The scene cuts to inside the airport, focusing on a large line of guests waiting in customs. One man, seen from over his left shoulder, has his brown hair up in a ponytail. He’s wearing a white t-shirt, khaki cargo shorts, and what are becoming trademark flip flops for Amick Dogeron. He pulls the same suitcase we saw in Djibouti with him as he edges closer to the customs officer. When Amick is called upon, he walks over to the booth and hands his passport to the worker. The camera catches a glimpse of his passport as the officer takes it from him, but her thumb partially covers his face and name. Only the last letters “on” can be seen at the end. She flips the passport around, examining it while staring at Amick’s face.~
Customs Officer: This is you?
Amick: Yes.
Customs Officer: Old picture, eh?
Amick: Been a rough few years.
Customs Officer: I’ll say. Where're ya comin’ from?
Amick: Djibouti.
Customs Officer: Africa? What in God’s name were you doing there?
Amick: Missions work. I also wrestle.
Customs Officer: If I ain’t heard it all. A fighting missionary! How d’ya like that?
Amick: It pays the bills.
Customs Officer: N’where ya headin’?
Amick: The United States. Our company is relocating there this month.
Customs Officer: I see. Well, enjoy yer stay in Ireland, however short it may be.
Amick: Thanks.
~Amick retrieves his passport and puts it in his pocket. He nods to the officer and walks through the gate and into the terminal area where he is immediately surrounded by hundreds of travelers navigating the concourse to find their destinations.~
.::Have you ever stopped to think how intricate the airline business has become? Literally thousands upon thousands of flights occur every single day, and someone, somewhere, is responsible for making sure they are scheduled in a way that anyone can get anywhere they want with just a layover or two. It’s quite amazing when you think about the logistics of it all. Yet, no matter how much time and energy is placed into the planning out of these itineraries, it ultimately falls upon the traveler to make sure that each leg of the journey is fulfilled. I have a date with destiny on June 26 at Reformation, but in order to arrive at my final destination, I’ll have to navigate one of the biggest main events in recent Massacre history.::.
.::Amick, Bob, and CYPHER, the ABC’s of Online Championship Wrestling, are set to do battle this coming Monday. When I saw the notification pop up on my phone I honestly couldn’t believe it. I mean, Bob Grenier, a legitimate OCW Hall of Famer and former world champion and CYPHER, a guy who’s climbing up the ladder here with lightning pace. Shew! This will easily be the biggest challenge in my short stint here in OCW. The Dirtbag Kid is one thing, but this is big time wrestling.::.
.::I have the utmost respect for Bob as a wrestler and performer. What he has been able to accomplish over the years is remarkable against some of the stiffest competition the world has ever seen. But I do have to wonder if Bob is as focused as he used to be. BAM G is rolling along, riding high after their win at the last Massacre…no pun intended. Maybe Bob’s content in the tag division, messing stuff up and fighting their way to a World Tag Title opportunity. No one could blame him, really, I mean he’s done all there is to do in singles competition. Now that he’s older, and aren’t we all, it would be easy to sit back and let JAM G do all the work. The difference between Bob and I is that it has been years since I’ve tasted any sort of success in this business. I lost everything in the process, and now I will not stop until I have cemented my legacy as one of the greatest to ever step foot in the wrestling ring. Bob won’t be the first former world champion I’ve defeated and he certainly won’t be the first hall of famer either.::.
.::As for CYPHER, he’s no afterthought by any means. I see so much of my younger self in this guy. He’s driven, he’s focused, and he has reeled off some majorly impressive wins, most recently against the devastating force that is Sadie Ko. His girlfriend is equally as talented, and together, they’re as unstoppable a duo as this industry has seen in a long time. A win against CYPHER, one on one, would be enough to put me on the map all by itself. But with Grenier in the mix, it’s all the more challenging. These two will test me to the limit, of that I have no doubt. But I’m not running. I’ll be there waiting in Pennsylvania, and I will pick up another win on my way to Redemption.::.
--LAST WEEK--
~The leader emerges from the building with Warsame and Yasir, his two bodyguards, at his side. The man on the ground is still there, nearly unconscious from the blood loss.~
Leader: Fadlan iga aqbal raaligelintayda. Waxay u muuqataa inaad run sheegaysay.
(Please accept my apologies. It appears you were telling the truth.)
~The man tries to speak, but the leader abruptly pulls a pistol from his side and fires a single shot into the forehead of the man, killing him instantly.~
Leader: Nadiifi wasakhdan oo diyaari gaadhigayga. Waxaa jira wiil cadaan ah oo u baahan in la baro cashar ay ku mahadsan yihiin Somalien.
(Clean up this mess and get my truck ready. There's a white boy that needs to be taught a lesson courtesy of The Somalien.)