Post by PIC on Jun 30, 2022 21:43:12 GMT -5
—June 27, 2022 | Lancaster, PA—
~The scene opens on the exterior of the Marriott at Penn Square in downtown Lancaster, PA. A few cars are seen passing by the hotel splashing up water from the overnight rain. A horse and buggy comes by at a slower pace driven by an Amish man complete with hat and beard. He tips his hat at the hotel maid sitting outside the front on a cigarette break. She waves. The scene then cuts to the inside of the hotel lobby, then to the fitness center. Several elliptical machines, stair masters, and treadmills line the back wall. A rack of free weights sits off to the left in front of a wall length mirror. The place seems empty, but sounds of grunting can be heard. As the camera moves into the room, we see a man in a sweat soaked gray t-shirt and black shorts hitting a heavy bag. His back is to us and his long brown hair is pulled up into a pony tail, revealing a hideous red ring around his neck. The cut is deep and fresh. He reigns down rights and lefts onto the bag at a feverish pace, sweat pouring off of his face and splashing onto the floor below. He hits a swift punching combination, then another, then begins laying into the bag with right after right after right. He lets out a very muted grunt, then collapses into a chair next to the bag. He leans back in the chair with his arms in the air, brings them to his mouth, ripping the velcro from both gloves with his teeth before removing them and throwing them to the ground in disgust.~
Male Voice: Geez, what’d that bag ever do to you?
~Amick reaches for his towel and begins wiping his face without turning to acknowledge the voice but speaks in a low, raspy and barely audible voice.~
Amick: I saw you in the crowd last night.
Male Voice: Crowd? You mean cess pool? Those Amish didn’t waste any time engaging in the debauchery. I had two used condoms thrown at me on the walk back to the car.
~Amick shrugs.~
Male Voice: That’s all I get? C’mon man, that was funny.
Amick: You’ll forgive me if my sense of humor isn’t what you’re used to. I’m not in the mood.
Male Voice: Give me a break man. You lost a match, no… you didn’t even lose. You just didn’t win. Big freaking deal. I’m just shocked you can hang with these guys at all honestly. I mean it’s been, what? Like 15 years?
~Amick turns his head slightly, side-eying the short, fat, white, balding man leaning on a treadmill. His blue polo shirt is half a size too tight, revealing much more of his “physique” than anyone wants to see. He’s wearing green Bermuda shorts, knee high white socks and a pair of generic white sneakers.~
Amick: Good Lord, Willie… what are you wearing?
.::Appearances can be deceiving. If you aren’t careful, you’d watch the Savage Title match at Reformation and think I had a good showing. I mean, I didn’t lose after all, right? Wrong! You can say whatever you want about how Jace got the pin-fall on Dylan Thomas. You can call it cheating or not fair. It doesn’t matter. He won, I didn’t. Am I supposed to go home with my head held high with some sort of moral victory in not eating the pin? Is that supposed to keep me in line? No, I didn’t throw away my peaceful life to return to wrestling to be the guy just happy to not lose. Maybe I’ve never been pinned or submitted in OCW, but I’ve also not won anything of significance. In my two short months with this company, I’ve been booked in five matches, three of which had multiple participants, and in all three I failed to secure the outright victory. Last night I really thought I had the match won. That match unlocked a part of me that I honestly never expected to see again. I’ve not felt that kind of rage in years, and if I’m being honest… it felt kinda good.::.
.::This week I’ve been given the opportunity to go one-on-one with Easton Alexander on Massacre. Easton, I’m going to be honest with you. You seem like a good egg. I’ve been watching your matches for the past few weeks, I’ve seen your promotional content, and… I’m liking what I see. You take a beating and keep on ticking, and here recently you’ve been able to do something I haven’t… win. So bravo for that. But Easton, I’m mad. Like… really mad. I’m mad that I couldn’t secure the victory in the Savage Title match last night. I’m mad that I wasn’t able to do what I promised in ending JPD’s career. But maybe most of all Easton, I’m mad because I want to be the best professional wrestler on the freaking planet, and as of today, I’m nowhere close. And that’s a bad thing for you my friend. Because an angry Amick Dogeron is an unpredictable Amick Dogeron. As nice as you may seem to be, I’ll have no hesitation kicking your teeth down your scrawny little throat, and I’ll do it with a smile on my face. Congrats on beating Brim and Ally in consecutive weeks. Big accomplishment… for you. But this week Easton, you’re not fighting a girl with a neck injury or a veteran still nursing his wounds after a brutal loss to the world champion. You’re stepping into the ring with a world class athlete with nothing to lose. So while you’re looking over your shoulder wondering if Ally’s lurking in the shadows, I'll be there, front and center, beating the ever living piss out of you.::.
—June 29, 2022 | Middlesex, NJ—
~Amick and Willie are driving down the road in a silver Toyota Corolla, Willie’s rental car. The camera is located in the backseat, obstructing a clear view of Amick’s face. He’s got a huge bandage around his neck protecting the wound he received at Reformation. Both men are wearing sunglasses.~
Willie: A daughter, huh? I never knew Jessica and you had a kid.
Amick: I didn’t find out until after I got out of prison. She never bothered to tell me until she knew she was dying. But I’m telling you man, Sarah’s the best thing that’s happened to me.
Willie: I’m excited to meet her.
~Amick yawns.~
Willie: I told you I would drive.
Amick: Not on your life. I like praying as much as the next guy, but I spent way too many years in the passenger seat just praying we’d make it to the next show.
Willie: Ahh, the good ole days.
Amick: I’ll be honest… I was really surprised to see you at Reformation. How did you even know who I was?
Willie: C’mon man, give me a little credit! I spent the better part of 10 years as your manager. We went everywhere together. I’ve seen you wrestle thousands of matches. When I saw your match with The Dirt Bag Kid on Massacre a few weeks back, I knew.
Amick: Why didn’t you call?
Willie: I’m retired man. You might have gotten a wild hair to return to this nonsense but I haven’t. I wasn’t even gonna reach out at all, but… I wondered if you had heard about—
Amick: —I did. I still can’t believe it. He was so young and full of life.
Willie: It was a shock to all of us. He and I would get together from time to time after I retired and go catch a wrestling show somewhere. The company or show didn’t really matter, it was just about reminiscing on old times. It just made sense to honor him by coming to Reformation.
Amick: Sorry I couldn’t put on a better showing.
Willie: Give it a rest already. You’ll get another chance at some gold down the line. This week you need to heal up and focus your attention on your Massacre match. I mean, I assume you have one.
Amick: Easton Alexander.
Willie: The guy who dropped Alexandra Calloway on her head?
Amick: One and the same.
Willie: Wow, they really aren’t playing in OCW. You wrestle a brutal match on Sunday and only get a week off before another intense battle…
Amick: It’s fine Willie, I actually like it this way.
Willie: Not much time to sulk.
Amick: It keeps me sharp. Easton’s a heck of a talent. He’s proving doubters, even his parents, wrong each week, and it’s clear that he’s on the way up in this company.
Willie: But…
Amick: But, he’s preoccupied.
Willie: What do you mean?
Amick: He gets distracted by things that don’t even matter. For example, a couple weeks ago he dropped Ally on her head with his finish to get the win. Put her on the shelf for a bit, so the new owner—
Willie: Thad?
Amick: Right, Thad bans him from using the move. So instead of dealing with it and learning how to do literally any other wrestling move, he goes on Twitter and won’t stop begging the new boss to unban his move.
Willie: Are you serious?
Amick: That’s not all man. He’s got this budding teenage drama romance with Ally. It’s like, why don’t you two just go ahead and hook up and get it over with, you know?
Willie: Like Dawson and Joey! Or… Dylan and Brenda!
Amick: I forgot you watched that stuff.
Willie: Speaking of which, there’s this show on Netflix, Outer Banks. It’s CRAZY!
~Amick shakes his head.~
Amick: I’ll tell you what’s crazy…
Willie: Chris?
~Amick side-eyes Willie who seems pleased with himself at the Danger Boiz reference.~
Amick: No, what’s crazy is the fact that this kid got completely blindsided at the PPV, then has the audacity to accuse me of taking my eye off the prize. He questions my killer instinct? It won’t take him long to figure it out Willie. I might still be a nice guy overall, but I’m done taking a back seat around here. I’m going to start making things happen. Poor Easton is just standing in the way.
~Willie shakes his head from left to right.~
Amick: What?
Willie: Pacey!
Amick: Huh?
Willie: Freakin’ Pacey man. I still can’t believe Joey ended up with him instead of Dawson.
.::Kiss her, don’t kiss her… Easton, none of us really care. We’re just done hearing about it. As bad as you may want it to happen, OCW isn’t some teen drama on the CW. Neither of us are characters and neither has our lines written for us. You’re going to have to come up with your own story, and I hope for your sake it’s a good one. But Easton, buddy, I’ve got a little bad news for you. The story of Amick Dogeron is just getting started. The next chapter takes place live on Monday, July 4th… from New York City! The nation’s birthday in its most iconic city at the mecca of wrestling… Madison Square Garden. There couldn’t be a better setting for this great reset. I’d like to thank you for your willing participation in my redemption story. Without you Easton, I’d probably just wipe the floor with some random enhancement talent and hit the hotel early. Thanks to you that won’t be the case. I’ll have a prime slot on the show, millions of eyes watching, as I turn another page in my story. And Easton, unlike your little winning streak… this story is nowhere close to being over. I’m gonna take that precious little finishing move you can’t seem to get over and I’m going to end you with it. That you can count on… that is a promise! See ya Monday, bud.::.
—July 1, 2022 | Manhattan, NY—
~The scene cuts to the exterior of Ford Hall on the campus of Columbia University in New York City. Sarah Abrams is walking with one of her girl friends, laughing. The two of them are passing by a black man holding a notebook with his back to the camera, who takes a step backward into Sarah’s path. She bumps into him, knocking him over as her purse goes flying to the ground along with several of his papers. The two both drop to the ground to collect their belongings.~
Sarah: I am so sorry! I didn’t see you there!
Man: Do not worry. It was my fault. I was not paying attention.
Sarah: Wow, that accent. Are you from Africa?
~He smiles.~
Man: Somalia.
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Word Count: 2115
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~The scene opens on the exterior of the Marriott at Penn Square in downtown Lancaster, PA. A few cars are seen passing by the hotel splashing up water from the overnight rain. A horse and buggy comes by at a slower pace driven by an Amish man complete with hat and beard. He tips his hat at the hotel maid sitting outside the front on a cigarette break. She waves. The scene then cuts to the inside of the hotel lobby, then to the fitness center. Several elliptical machines, stair masters, and treadmills line the back wall. A rack of free weights sits off to the left in front of a wall length mirror. The place seems empty, but sounds of grunting can be heard. As the camera moves into the room, we see a man in a sweat soaked gray t-shirt and black shorts hitting a heavy bag. His back is to us and his long brown hair is pulled up into a pony tail, revealing a hideous red ring around his neck. The cut is deep and fresh. He reigns down rights and lefts onto the bag at a feverish pace, sweat pouring off of his face and splashing onto the floor below. He hits a swift punching combination, then another, then begins laying into the bag with right after right after right. He lets out a very muted grunt, then collapses into a chair next to the bag. He leans back in the chair with his arms in the air, brings them to his mouth, ripping the velcro from both gloves with his teeth before removing them and throwing them to the ground in disgust.~
Male Voice: Geez, what’d that bag ever do to you?
~Amick reaches for his towel and begins wiping his face without turning to acknowledge the voice but speaks in a low, raspy and barely audible voice.~
Amick: I saw you in the crowd last night.
Male Voice: Crowd? You mean cess pool? Those Amish didn’t waste any time engaging in the debauchery. I had two used condoms thrown at me on the walk back to the car.
~Amick shrugs.~
Male Voice: That’s all I get? C’mon man, that was funny.
Amick: You’ll forgive me if my sense of humor isn’t what you’re used to. I’m not in the mood.
Male Voice: Give me a break man. You lost a match, no… you didn’t even lose. You just didn’t win. Big freaking deal. I’m just shocked you can hang with these guys at all honestly. I mean it’s been, what? Like 15 years?
~Amick turns his head slightly, side-eying the short, fat, white, balding man leaning on a treadmill. His blue polo shirt is half a size too tight, revealing much more of his “physique” than anyone wants to see. He’s wearing green Bermuda shorts, knee high white socks and a pair of generic white sneakers.~
Amick: Good Lord, Willie… what are you wearing?
.::Appearances can be deceiving. If you aren’t careful, you’d watch the Savage Title match at Reformation and think I had a good showing. I mean, I didn’t lose after all, right? Wrong! You can say whatever you want about how Jace got the pin-fall on Dylan Thomas. You can call it cheating or not fair. It doesn’t matter. He won, I didn’t. Am I supposed to go home with my head held high with some sort of moral victory in not eating the pin? Is that supposed to keep me in line? No, I didn’t throw away my peaceful life to return to wrestling to be the guy just happy to not lose. Maybe I’ve never been pinned or submitted in OCW, but I’ve also not won anything of significance. In my two short months with this company, I’ve been booked in five matches, three of which had multiple participants, and in all three I failed to secure the outright victory. Last night I really thought I had the match won. That match unlocked a part of me that I honestly never expected to see again. I’ve not felt that kind of rage in years, and if I’m being honest… it felt kinda good.::.
.::This week I’ve been given the opportunity to go one-on-one with Easton Alexander on Massacre. Easton, I’m going to be honest with you. You seem like a good egg. I’ve been watching your matches for the past few weeks, I’ve seen your promotional content, and… I’m liking what I see. You take a beating and keep on ticking, and here recently you’ve been able to do something I haven’t… win. So bravo for that. But Easton, I’m mad. Like… really mad. I’m mad that I couldn’t secure the victory in the Savage Title match last night. I’m mad that I wasn’t able to do what I promised in ending JPD’s career. But maybe most of all Easton, I’m mad because I want to be the best professional wrestler on the freaking planet, and as of today, I’m nowhere close. And that’s a bad thing for you my friend. Because an angry Amick Dogeron is an unpredictable Amick Dogeron. As nice as you may seem to be, I’ll have no hesitation kicking your teeth down your scrawny little throat, and I’ll do it with a smile on my face. Congrats on beating Brim and Ally in consecutive weeks. Big accomplishment… for you. But this week Easton, you’re not fighting a girl with a neck injury or a veteran still nursing his wounds after a brutal loss to the world champion. You’re stepping into the ring with a world class athlete with nothing to lose. So while you’re looking over your shoulder wondering if Ally’s lurking in the shadows, I'll be there, front and center, beating the ever living piss out of you.::.
—June 29, 2022 | Middlesex, NJ—
~Amick and Willie are driving down the road in a silver Toyota Corolla, Willie’s rental car. The camera is located in the backseat, obstructing a clear view of Amick’s face. He’s got a huge bandage around his neck protecting the wound he received at Reformation. Both men are wearing sunglasses.~
Willie: A daughter, huh? I never knew Jessica and you had a kid.
Amick: I didn’t find out until after I got out of prison. She never bothered to tell me until she knew she was dying. But I’m telling you man, Sarah’s the best thing that’s happened to me.
Willie: I’m excited to meet her.
~Amick yawns.~
Willie: I told you I would drive.
Amick: Not on your life. I like praying as much as the next guy, but I spent way too many years in the passenger seat just praying we’d make it to the next show.
Willie: Ahh, the good ole days.
Amick: I’ll be honest… I was really surprised to see you at Reformation. How did you even know who I was?
Willie: C’mon man, give me a little credit! I spent the better part of 10 years as your manager. We went everywhere together. I’ve seen you wrestle thousands of matches. When I saw your match with The Dirt Bag Kid on Massacre a few weeks back, I knew.
Amick: Why didn’t you call?
Willie: I’m retired man. You might have gotten a wild hair to return to this nonsense but I haven’t. I wasn’t even gonna reach out at all, but… I wondered if you had heard about—
Amick: —I did. I still can’t believe it. He was so young and full of life.
Willie: It was a shock to all of us. He and I would get together from time to time after I retired and go catch a wrestling show somewhere. The company or show didn’t really matter, it was just about reminiscing on old times. It just made sense to honor him by coming to Reformation.
Amick: Sorry I couldn’t put on a better showing.
Willie: Give it a rest already. You’ll get another chance at some gold down the line. This week you need to heal up and focus your attention on your Massacre match. I mean, I assume you have one.
Amick: Easton Alexander.
Willie: The guy who dropped Alexandra Calloway on her head?
Amick: One and the same.
Willie: Wow, they really aren’t playing in OCW. You wrestle a brutal match on Sunday and only get a week off before another intense battle…
Amick: It’s fine Willie, I actually like it this way.
Willie: Not much time to sulk.
Amick: It keeps me sharp. Easton’s a heck of a talent. He’s proving doubters, even his parents, wrong each week, and it’s clear that he’s on the way up in this company.
Willie: But…
Amick: But, he’s preoccupied.
Willie: What do you mean?
Amick: He gets distracted by things that don’t even matter. For example, a couple weeks ago he dropped Ally on her head with his finish to get the win. Put her on the shelf for a bit, so the new owner—
Willie: Thad?
Amick: Right, Thad bans him from using the move. So instead of dealing with it and learning how to do literally any other wrestling move, he goes on Twitter and won’t stop begging the new boss to unban his move.
Willie: Are you serious?
Amick: That’s not all man. He’s got this budding teenage drama romance with Ally. It’s like, why don’t you two just go ahead and hook up and get it over with, you know?
Willie: Like Dawson and Joey! Or… Dylan and Brenda!
Amick: I forgot you watched that stuff.
Willie: Speaking of which, there’s this show on Netflix, Outer Banks. It’s CRAZY!
~Amick shakes his head.~
Amick: I’ll tell you what’s crazy…
Willie: Chris?
~Amick side-eyes Willie who seems pleased with himself at the Danger Boiz reference.~
Amick: No, what’s crazy is the fact that this kid got completely blindsided at the PPV, then has the audacity to accuse me of taking my eye off the prize. He questions my killer instinct? It won’t take him long to figure it out Willie. I might still be a nice guy overall, but I’m done taking a back seat around here. I’m going to start making things happen. Poor Easton is just standing in the way.
~Willie shakes his head from left to right.~
Amick: What?
Willie: Pacey!
Amick: Huh?
Willie: Freakin’ Pacey man. I still can’t believe Joey ended up with him instead of Dawson.
.::Kiss her, don’t kiss her… Easton, none of us really care. We’re just done hearing about it. As bad as you may want it to happen, OCW isn’t some teen drama on the CW. Neither of us are characters and neither has our lines written for us. You’re going to have to come up with your own story, and I hope for your sake it’s a good one. But Easton, buddy, I’ve got a little bad news for you. The story of Amick Dogeron is just getting started. The next chapter takes place live on Monday, July 4th… from New York City! The nation’s birthday in its most iconic city at the mecca of wrestling… Madison Square Garden. There couldn’t be a better setting for this great reset. I’d like to thank you for your willing participation in my redemption story. Without you Easton, I’d probably just wipe the floor with some random enhancement talent and hit the hotel early. Thanks to you that won’t be the case. I’ll have a prime slot on the show, millions of eyes watching, as I turn another page in my story. And Easton, unlike your little winning streak… this story is nowhere close to being over. I’m gonna take that precious little finishing move you can’t seem to get over and I’m going to end you with it. That you can count on… that is a promise! See ya Monday, bud.::.
—July 1, 2022 | Manhattan, NY—
~The scene cuts to the exterior of Ford Hall on the campus of Columbia University in New York City. Sarah Abrams is walking with one of her girl friends, laughing. The two of them are passing by a black man holding a notebook with his back to the camera, who takes a step backward into Sarah’s path. She bumps into him, knocking him over as her purse goes flying to the ground along with several of his papers. The two both drop to the ground to collect their belongings.~
Sarah: I am so sorry! I didn’t see you there!
Man: Do not worry. It was my fault. I was not paying attention.
Sarah: Wow, that accent. Are you from Africa?
~He smiles.~
Man: Somalia.
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Word Count: 2115
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