Post by PIC on Jun 11, 2022 7:43:10 GMT -5
—JUNE 10, 2022 | NYC—
~The scene opens inside of a half empty subway cart. The train is moving at a quick speed as various stops can be seen flying by in the windows. Signs litter the walls inside the cart advertising various Broadway shows, encouragements for COVID-19 vaccinations and the like. A homeless man is huddled up sleeping across three seats to the far left of the scene. Most are generally seated or standing away from him. In the middle of the cart there is a cluster of people, with one in particular standing out. Half turned from the camera, his face is obscured by other passengers standing in front of him. His brown hair is pulled back into a pony tail. The conductor of the train comes across the speakers.~
Conductor: This is the southbound 1 train. Next stop, Canal Street.
~Amick grabs hold of the bar in front of him as the train grinds to a halt. He waits for the doors to open and for a few people to begin exiting. He walks past the homeless man, slipping a $100 bill into his pocket as he exits the train. He turns left and walks up a set of stairs. Once at the top, he walks through the turnstile and out onto the night streets of NYC.~
.::New York, New York. The Big Apple. The City that Never Sleeps. Maybe it’s the city with a million catchphrases. Whatever it is, there’s no place like it on earth. A starker contrast to the plains of Djibouti one could never find. So much opulence, so much glitz and glamor, and yet…it is all a facade. Behind every well lit area is an ally full of debauchery. OCW has decided to set up shop here for a few weeks before heading to the Amish Country of Pennsylvania. Last week, we sold out Madison Square Garden. This week, it’s the Barclays Center in Brooklyn.::.
.::I usually enjoy my time, however short it generally is, in this city. The sights, the sounds, the food…it’s all typically fantastic when here for pleasure. But it takes on a different feeling when you’re here on business. Last Monday I admittedly overextended myself, essentially throwing my name out to take on CYPHER and Bob Grenier in a triple threat match. I thought it would prepare me for the upcoming Savage Title Match, and I am sure that it did, but I took my eyes off the prize just for a split second and that allowed CYPHER to swoop in for the victory. No harsh feelings at all, at least from my side, he did what any wrestler would do and capitalized on his opportunity. Then, for him to have helped orchestrate the hostile takeover of the company on top of it all, truly remarkable. CYPHER, there will come a day when our paths cross again, and I for one, am looking forward to it. As for Bob, same goes for you. You’re a living legend, and it was an honor to share the ring with you. But that was last week, this week I am set to do battle with a different type of challenge in the form of Dane Princeton.::.
—MAY 30, 2022 | DJIBOUTI—
~The scene fades in on The Somalien, the leader we previously saw murder a man in cold blood, sitting in a chair in the middle of a modest room. The floors are old but clean, and the walls have seen better days. His two guards flank him on either side. In front of him is another African man, dressed in a purple and black striped shirt. His hands are bound together and his feet tied to the legs of the chair. His face shows signs of wear and tear at the hands of Warsame and Yasir. Even through the bruises and cuts it is clearly Amick’s friend Fatouma, the man that helped him escape after Big Game Hunting.~
The Somalien: الأمر بسيط للغاية ، لكن صبر ينفد. إلى أين يهرب صديقك الأبيض؟
(It is quite simple, but I am running out of patience. Where has your white friend run off to?)
Fatouma: قلت لك لا أعلم. لقد دفع لي ، حسناً ، لأعمل كحارس شخصي له. لقد كان هنا في بعض الأعمال ، داخل وخارج المنطقة.
(I told you, I do not know. He paid me, well, to act as his bodyguard. He was here on some business, in and out of the area.)
The Somalien: حسنًا ، دعنا نقول إنني أصدقك. قل لي اسمه.
(Very well, let's say I believe you. Tell me his name.)
Fatouma: دفع لي المال ولم أطرح أسئلة. أنا لا أعرف اسمه.
(He paid me the money and I did not ask questions. I do not know his name.)
~The Somalien, stands from his chair, clearly frustrated. He kicks the chair across the room, cursing something in Somali. He whispers in Yasir’s ear, who turns and exits the room.~
The Somalien: هل تأخذني لأحمق؟ هذا الكافر قتل ثلاثة من أعزائي ، وترك أخي ليموت ، وأنت لديك الجرأة على الكذب على وجهي!
(Do you take me for a fool? This infidel killed three of my best men, left my brother to die, and you have the audacity to lie to my face!)
~Yasir reenters the room, this time holding the hand of a little girl. Her little yellow dress brightens the dreary room. Her hair is braided with little white bows tied off at the ends. She looks scared but seemingly knows the severity of the situation.~
Fatouma: Amara!
Amara: Papa!
~The girl frees herself from Yasir’s hand and runs to embrace her father. The Somalien cuts her off and drags her back to the guards. He pulls his handgun from his side, cocks it, and puts it up against the young girl’s head. Without another word, Fatouma shouts out.~
Fatouma: أميك! اسمه أميك دوجيرون!
(Amick! His name is Amick Dogeron!)
.::Sometimes it amazes me the lengths a father will go to protect his children. No matter the circumstance or danger that may abound, a good dad will risk life and limb to ensure that they stay safe. The same is sometimes true of good friends. The Bible says there’s no greater love than for a man to lay his life down for his friends. It’s a dying sentiment to be fair, but it’s nonetheless true. In OCW I am surrounded by factions, groups of likeminded men and women who have united on common ground and pledged their undying loyalty to each other. I find myself standing in the midst of it all, a stranger in a strange land, doing my best to be my best in every situation.::.
.::In my brief time here, I’ve won matches, secured a title shot, taken two of the best OCW has to offer to their absolute breaking points, and I’ve come out on the other side having never been pinned or submitted. I aim to keep that streak alive this Monday as I go toe to toe with Dane Princeton. I can assure you Dane that I do not plan on taking you lightly this week, but even still, there are bigger fish for me to fry. On June 26 I will once again be involved in a triple threat match, this time for the OCW Savage Championship. My opponents, the highly decorated Dylan Thomas, and the new arrival, Jace Parker Davidson, are as good as they come in this business. Personal feelings aside, this match will be the best of the night, and whoever emerges victorious will have solidified themselves in the upper echelon of OCW superstars. I’ll have more words for them later, but for now, just know…not a day will go by between now and Reformation that I don’t have my eyes set on that championship gold.::.
—JUNE 10, 2022 | NYC—
~Amick reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone.~
Amick: Hey, it’s me. Yeah…I just got off the subway. Italian? Yes I remember where that is…I’m just around the corner. Be there in a minute.
~Amick puts his phone back into his pocket and begins walking down the street toward Soho. The New York City skyline is lit up for miles making even the darkest of evenings well lit in every direction. As he gets to the end of the street, he takes a right, and comes upon a store front restaurant. The sign reads “Aurora Soho”. Amick enters the building and walks up to the host.~
Host: Good evening sir, how may I help you?
Amick: Yes, I uh…I am meeting someone. She should already be here.
Host: Ah yes, of course, the young lady is just around the corner.
~Amick thanks the man, then walks in the direction he referenced. Three booths down on the left sits a beautiful young blonde. She is modestly dressed with just a hint of makeup, what many would refer to as a “natural beauty”. Her eyes light up as she sees Amick and she slides out of the booth the two embrace for several seconds.~
Amick: Sarah! You have no idea how much I have missed you.
Sarah: I know. I missed you too…dad!
~The scene fades to black.~
~The scene opens inside of a half empty subway cart. The train is moving at a quick speed as various stops can be seen flying by in the windows. Signs litter the walls inside the cart advertising various Broadway shows, encouragements for COVID-19 vaccinations and the like. A homeless man is huddled up sleeping across three seats to the far left of the scene. Most are generally seated or standing away from him. In the middle of the cart there is a cluster of people, with one in particular standing out. Half turned from the camera, his face is obscured by other passengers standing in front of him. His brown hair is pulled back into a pony tail. The conductor of the train comes across the speakers.~
Conductor: This is the southbound 1 train. Next stop, Canal Street.
~Amick grabs hold of the bar in front of him as the train grinds to a halt. He waits for the doors to open and for a few people to begin exiting. He walks past the homeless man, slipping a $100 bill into his pocket as he exits the train. He turns left and walks up a set of stairs. Once at the top, he walks through the turnstile and out onto the night streets of NYC.~
.::New York, New York. The Big Apple. The City that Never Sleeps. Maybe it’s the city with a million catchphrases. Whatever it is, there’s no place like it on earth. A starker contrast to the plains of Djibouti one could never find. So much opulence, so much glitz and glamor, and yet…it is all a facade. Behind every well lit area is an ally full of debauchery. OCW has decided to set up shop here for a few weeks before heading to the Amish Country of Pennsylvania. Last week, we sold out Madison Square Garden. This week, it’s the Barclays Center in Brooklyn.::.
.::I usually enjoy my time, however short it generally is, in this city. The sights, the sounds, the food…it’s all typically fantastic when here for pleasure. But it takes on a different feeling when you’re here on business. Last Monday I admittedly overextended myself, essentially throwing my name out to take on CYPHER and Bob Grenier in a triple threat match. I thought it would prepare me for the upcoming Savage Title Match, and I am sure that it did, but I took my eyes off the prize just for a split second and that allowed CYPHER to swoop in for the victory. No harsh feelings at all, at least from my side, he did what any wrestler would do and capitalized on his opportunity. Then, for him to have helped orchestrate the hostile takeover of the company on top of it all, truly remarkable. CYPHER, there will come a day when our paths cross again, and I for one, am looking forward to it. As for Bob, same goes for you. You’re a living legend, and it was an honor to share the ring with you. But that was last week, this week I am set to do battle with a different type of challenge in the form of Dane Princeton.::.
—MAY 30, 2022 | DJIBOUTI—
~The scene fades in on The Somalien, the leader we previously saw murder a man in cold blood, sitting in a chair in the middle of a modest room. The floors are old but clean, and the walls have seen better days. His two guards flank him on either side. In front of him is another African man, dressed in a purple and black striped shirt. His hands are bound together and his feet tied to the legs of the chair. His face shows signs of wear and tear at the hands of Warsame and Yasir. Even through the bruises and cuts it is clearly Amick’s friend Fatouma, the man that helped him escape after Big Game Hunting.~
The Somalien: الأمر بسيط للغاية ، لكن صبر ينفد. إلى أين يهرب صديقك الأبيض؟
(It is quite simple, but I am running out of patience. Where has your white friend run off to?)
Fatouma: قلت لك لا أعلم. لقد دفع لي ، حسناً ، لأعمل كحارس شخصي له. لقد كان هنا في بعض الأعمال ، داخل وخارج المنطقة.
(I told you, I do not know. He paid me, well, to act as his bodyguard. He was here on some business, in and out of the area.)
The Somalien: حسنًا ، دعنا نقول إنني أصدقك. قل لي اسمه.
(Very well, let's say I believe you. Tell me his name.)
Fatouma: دفع لي المال ولم أطرح أسئلة. أنا لا أعرف اسمه.
(He paid me the money and I did not ask questions. I do not know his name.)
~The Somalien, stands from his chair, clearly frustrated. He kicks the chair across the room, cursing something in Somali. He whispers in Yasir’s ear, who turns and exits the room.~
The Somalien: هل تأخذني لأحمق؟ هذا الكافر قتل ثلاثة من أعزائي ، وترك أخي ليموت ، وأنت لديك الجرأة على الكذب على وجهي!
(Do you take me for a fool? This infidel killed three of my best men, left my brother to die, and you have the audacity to lie to my face!)
~Yasir reenters the room, this time holding the hand of a little girl. Her little yellow dress brightens the dreary room. Her hair is braided with little white bows tied off at the ends. She looks scared but seemingly knows the severity of the situation.~
Fatouma: Amara!
Amara: Papa!
~The girl frees herself from Yasir’s hand and runs to embrace her father. The Somalien cuts her off and drags her back to the guards. He pulls his handgun from his side, cocks it, and puts it up against the young girl’s head. Without another word, Fatouma shouts out.~
Fatouma: أميك! اسمه أميك دوجيرون!
(Amick! His name is Amick Dogeron!)
.::Sometimes it amazes me the lengths a father will go to protect his children. No matter the circumstance or danger that may abound, a good dad will risk life and limb to ensure that they stay safe. The same is sometimes true of good friends. The Bible says there’s no greater love than for a man to lay his life down for his friends. It’s a dying sentiment to be fair, but it’s nonetheless true. In OCW I am surrounded by factions, groups of likeminded men and women who have united on common ground and pledged their undying loyalty to each other. I find myself standing in the midst of it all, a stranger in a strange land, doing my best to be my best in every situation.::.
.::In my brief time here, I’ve won matches, secured a title shot, taken two of the best OCW has to offer to their absolute breaking points, and I’ve come out on the other side having never been pinned or submitted. I aim to keep that streak alive this Monday as I go toe to toe with Dane Princeton. I can assure you Dane that I do not plan on taking you lightly this week, but even still, there are bigger fish for me to fry. On June 26 I will once again be involved in a triple threat match, this time for the OCW Savage Championship. My opponents, the highly decorated Dylan Thomas, and the new arrival, Jace Parker Davidson, are as good as they come in this business. Personal feelings aside, this match will be the best of the night, and whoever emerges victorious will have solidified themselves in the upper echelon of OCW superstars. I’ll have more words for them later, but for now, just know…not a day will go by between now and Reformation that I don’t have my eyes set on that championship gold.::.
—JUNE 10, 2022 | NYC—
~Amick reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone.~
Amick: Hey, it’s me. Yeah…I just got off the subway. Italian? Yes I remember where that is…I’m just around the corner. Be there in a minute.
~Amick puts his phone back into his pocket and begins walking down the street toward Soho. The New York City skyline is lit up for miles making even the darkest of evenings well lit in every direction. As he gets to the end of the street, he takes a right, and comes upon a store front restaurant. The sign reads “Aurora Soho”. Amick enters the building and walks up to the host.~
Host: Good evening sir, how may I help you?
Amick: Yes, I uh…I am meeting someone. She should already be here.
Host: Ah yes, of course, the young lady is just around the corner.
~Amick thanks the man, then walks in the direction he referenced. Three booths down on the left sits a beautiful young blonde. She is modestly dressed with just a hint of makeup, what many would refer to as a “natural beauty”. Her eyes light up as she sees Amick and she slides out of the booth the two embrace for several seconds.~
Amick: Sarah! You have no idea how much I have missed you.
Sarah: I know. I missed you too…dad!
~The scene fades to black.~
