Refueled VI Results

The show opens with a quick pan of a rabid arena. Many in the crowd hold signs, but most are illegible for some odd reason.

The Official Theme Song for War Games, “Gasoline” by I Prevail is blaring through the speakers.

Amongst the palpable excitement, the show feed cuts to the best in the business announce team.

Joe Hoffman: Hello everyone and welcome to the sixth episode of the Refueled era! I’m Joe. Benny’s next me drinking already, and boy do we have an action packed show for you!

Benny Newell: I better get blood tonight. Too many matches. Too much at stake. Too fucking hot outside. There needs to be blood. THERE WILL BE BLOOD.

Joe Hoffman: I’m thinking you might get your wish as the road to War Games get shorter, we will see–

The Official Theme Song for War Games, “Gasoline” by I Prevail suddenly scratches.

The arena turns pitch black.

Benny Newell: What the–

The sound of a shell cracking accompanies a golden beam; hitting what seems like a random section of the crowd. A second beam of the same color, also introduced with a corresponding crack, hits another.

Then another; _crack_.

And another; _crack_.

As more yellow beams continue to strike the crowd, they start dancing around in sporadic patterns.

“Yoke the Joker” by Naughty By Nature hits speakers.

If it couldn’t be more obvious, the eGG Bandits emerge onto the top of the ramp.

Benny Newell: Quick, somebody tell Stevens to start timing this.

Joe Hoffman: Salty, I think The Scorpion King is too busy “dining” out in other federations these days. Oh, and I meant sadly.

Thank god for the guys in the truck.

Benny Newell: Well fuck him then. And fuck these two guys if they think a half hour egging is going to erase a history of no showing.

COOL Jiles stops at the top of the ramp; golden locks slicked back, shades on, arms crossed. He’s in his casual, 97RED and black jumpsuit. The Dooze, doing his best brisk-walk out from behind his bandit brother, comes out sporting the same attire he has for 20 years now – that’s a backwards Red Sox cap, a Superman t-shirt, and a matching set of windbreakers. He jeers off to side of Jiles, raising his hands up to try and get the crowd going.

It doesn’t elicit quite the reaction Doozer anticipated.

The High Octane faithful strike up a chant-

 

WHO-ARE-YOU?

 

WHO-ARE-YOU?

 

WHO-ARE-YOU?

 

Quickly, Doozer throws his arms from stretched-up above his head down across his shoulders/torso as if to gesture ‘get-outta-here’. Jiles, still standing with arms crossed, can’t help but to laugh before twisting his head back and forth as if he’s judging each side of the arena for their treachery. The Dooze comes around behind him and pats him on the shoulder on his way by as if to get the COOLYMPIAN out of his speculative trance and headed down the ramp.

Without wasting much time…

 

Ha.

 

Ha.

 

…the two make their way to the ring. Once there, Doozer takes the steps and Jiles slides under the bottom rope.

Benny Newell: This is already too long. Not yet Zion Refueled 1 long. Not Best Alliance intro long. BUT, they are on their way.

Joe Hoffman: Lee told them to mind the clock at the last Refueled. Does this mean the Bandits are sticking to their old ways of sticking it to the boss?

Benny Newell: They won’t be here much longer if that’s the case, Joe.

Benny takes a deep breath and a swig of his Jack Daniels. Could there be a Century Club in his future?

In ring, Jiles motions for a mic and catches one that’s quickly tossed in.

Benny Newell: At least The COOLYMPIAN didn’t drop it a thousand times. As per the norm.

Proudly, Lord COOL stands tall in the dead center of the ring. The old man posts up in the corner to give his ailing knees a rest.

Jiles: WELL. I WASN’T WRONG– WAS I, BIG DADDY DOOZY?! THE EGG BANDITS ARE THE THIRD TEAM TO BE PARTAKING IN WAR GAMES!!!

The crowd cheers— although the visuals wouldn’t indicate so, and the sound seems to be coming from a P.A. System.

Shoutout to the Atlanta Falcons for first coming up with such a hijinx.

Jiles walks over to the corner so his partner can answer.

Doozer: No you were not, and while we’re it, NEVER CALL ME BIG DADDY DOOZY AGAIN! It’s bad enough these fine Octabandits don’t even know who I am. If that name were to catch on, no one would ever take me serious.

Damn.

I am really good at this.

I mean we.

Jiles: Noted, my aging friend. That said, while we might not be partaking in the End Game of… War Games… like so many of us had hoped…

The King of All Things Cool drops both arms, mic included, to his side and does his best mopey-O’dell imitation. Then, just like the Jiles he is, that smile manifests itself across his face. The COOL One quickly points his right index finger toward the sky.

Jiles: BUT! We will be stealing it! We, the Egg Bandits – so impressive! One win combined between us; thanks Big Da-

A stern finger wave cuts the new moniker off midstream.

Jiles: Right. Regardless, we will be the ones to light the match that burns the fucking house down! We, the Can’t Count on Them Bandits, will bring teams from near and far to frolic in our fire as if they actually had a chance of not getting burned! WE, the wait a second these dumb fucks actually throw EGGS Bandits, will proudly… and honorfully, be the TRUSTED Ringmasters to the Great Tag Team Circus that is rolling into  whatever War Games Town we are in on AUGUST THIRD.

The Lord of COOL boisterously marches about the ring.

The Octabandits in attendance cheer his message.

Oh, and it’s actual cheers this time, so not nearly as loud as the piped in ones.

Still… progress.

I know, even Benny is perplexed.

Joe Hoffman: I feel like, if you wrote these guys out to script, there would be way too many commas.

Benny Newell: Maybe the so called “Octabandits” here in attendance should start cheering when these egg clowns win another fucking match.

Joe Hoffman: Well then they could be waiting awhile.

Seemingly omnipotent, Jiles stops with the Ringleader marching and gazes a hole through wherever Hoffman’s heart is located. Joe feels it, and takes a few Tums.

The Dooze leans in and screams into the microphone as if he has tourettes.

Doozer: And WE… ARE GONNA DOOZE THEM!

He waits a split second to build the energy.

Doozer: AND ABUSE THEM!!!

Emphasis on emphaticness.

Jiles: Indeed we are, my old, mind-faded friend. Nice to see you going through the motions. And I know, my fellow Octabandits–

The COOL returns his focus to the crowd.

Jiles: This is some bold talk from two guys who’ve been living like a Flo with their shoulders against the mat. However, I beg you, to look at us now. And reconsider.

The two Bandits take another moment for everyone to take their yolky aura in. Obviously Jiles is more… eccentric. He even climbs the ropes so the people in the Sex and Money section can see him. He quickly descends when he spots M. Bison giving him a throat slitting gesture.

Jiles: Who else among our pipe-hitting roster could lose their way into a trusted and valued spot at War Games?

Doozer: Maybe Blobby Dean, but that’s just because he was raised properly… ya know.

The Dooze shoots Jiles a quick ‘you know, you know’ look. It was received like a slow-down message to Zion.

Jiles: Who?

Doozer looks at his tag partner like he’s lost his mind. Jiles shrugs, and a little smirk grows across his face.

Doozer: Ahhhh, right. The betrayal.

Quick to reign the promo back on track, Jiles snatches the mic from his aging friend.

Jiles: Who else could be gifted such an opportunity to challenge for the COVETED, DISTINGUISHED, ONCE MINE, High Octane Tag Team Championships? Inside the madness of two enclosed cages? With the belts dangling some many feet in the air?

The Dooze rips the mic out of Jiles’ grip.

Doozer: I’m thinking it’s…

Jiles casually snags the mic back.

Jiles: OH I’M NOT DONE, DOOZY BEAR! NOT EVEN CLOSE!

The Dooze frowns.

So does Benny.

Then he takes another drink.

Jiles: Who else could trot out the mummified remains of our beloved owner’s brother, and use them as a bargaining chip? AND STILL HAVE BOTH EYES AFTERWARDS! Who could get a piece of Cardboard more over than half the fucking roster?

To Cardboard Dan Ryan’s credit, he doesn’t mince words so that helps.

Jiles: Who I ask? WHO?

COOL Jiles throws out his arms as if to invite a response and pauses for rhetorical pondering.

Then, a lot of finger jabbing to the chest rotated with emphatic gestures in the direction of The Dooze.

Jiles: US. That’s who. The Greek God of COOLYMPUS. The Count of COOLsylvania. The Jiles. The Defeated. The FUCKING DEEP FREEZE! The Mongoloid Slayer. The Winless, and still the one you don’t fuck with. Still the one with which you don’t fuck? It doesn’t matter! The guy who never walks around with his fly down because just being me is cheaper than fucking air conditioning… oh, and Doozer. The Abuser.

Doozer: That’s it? You get like, ten, and I get one? You know, before you even stepped inside the squared circle, I was known as the Man of a Million Nicknames. AND I GET ONE?!?

Jiles: I’m just being time sensitive is all. Jeesh, Doozy baby. Didn’t know the big man was so sensitive.

Doozer: Well can I get the microphone for more than 5 seconds?

A shake of the head.

Jiles: Tick-tock.

The Dooze frowns again and returns to his corner.

Jiles: To all those who think that being inside the CAGE with US isn’t a fucking prize in itself… let alone competing for THE WORLD’S FAVORITE TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP– have fun watching the show get stolen. Have fun allowing your pride, and your tears, and your fucking steak get in the way of what will be remembered as the GREATEST TAG TEAM MATCH IN HOTv HISTORY.

The crowd cheers again.

The Octabandits anyway.

So like, 20% of the crowd. Maybe 30…

Definitely more than eight.

Jiles: And for those of you brave enough to take on a couple of losers like us, good luck. You will be facing the abominable shell storm known as The Egg Bandits. We will be at full power. We will bleed. So will you. And at the end of it, just for being DARING enough to watch us win and finally ascend the seemingly insurmountable High Octane mountain top… you’ll have earned our respect. As well as an egg on your face.

Finally content, Jiles tosses the mic to Doozer. The superhero of the squared circle bobbles the mic before dropping it like Brady in the Super Bowl.

Doozer: What he said. Tag titles. Circus act. COOL the ringmaster orchestrating it all without a win.

Jiles shoots a glare to the old man on the mic. Finally a smile emerges from The Dooze.

Doozer: And to any who end up volunteering as tribute, sadly the odds will not ever be in your favor.

Jiles facepalms. Doozer winks at him.

Doozer: Not against the Bandits. Because it only helps that you all don’t remember who we are. It only helps that you don’t know that, when teamed together, the Bandits long history used to lose as much as we have won individually here.

He directs another childish grin toward Jiles while holding his index finger up to indicate the number 1; referencing his victory a couple weeks back.

Doozer: Stay ignorant and keep complaining about our jokes and antics. We will keep putting on a show for our beloved Octabandits-

The old ring vet, having spent his entire career as a true face, flexes his old promo muscles and gives pause for the faithful Octabandits to make themselves heard.

Joe Hoffman: Are these yahoos actually getting over on this junk?

Doozer: We will keep scrambling your brains. We will make it look over easy. We WILL not stop the puns. WE. WILL. NOT. STOP. PERIOD.

Dooze drops the mic and both men begin to exit the ring and head back up the ramp.

The old man shows the effects of his aging mind as he spins back around, bends over and picks the mic back up.

Showing life for the first time, he climbs up the nearest corner turnbuckle, and shouts while throwing a fist in the air.

Doozer: DAMN IT FEELS GOOD TO BE A BANDIT!

The loudest pop since the show opened meets a reinvigorated Dooze as he jumps down and out of the ring, joining The King of COOL on his walk up the ramp.

More champagne pop than anything.

Benny Newell: Well Jiles ain’t lying about the whole going to bleed part. If you can count on him for one thing… it’s his blood. And if you know anything about Doozer’s past, the man doesn’t know what giving up is. Still, I’ll believe all this when I see it.

Joe Hoffman: Yeah, one thing is for sure. If you didn’t know there was a Tag Team Title match at War Games, you do now.

Benny Newell: I wonder… are these two extremely lucky for somehow finding a way into the good graces of The GOD of HOW– WITH ALL THE FUCKERY THEY LIVE AND DIE FOR, or are they just too stupid to realize Lee is feeding them to the slaughterhouse? Whichever the case, we will find out on August Third. Stay tuned!

Cut to commercial.


War Games Match for the World and ICON Championships
The Best Alliance (Eric Dane, Lindsay Troy, Dan Ryan, MJ Flair, ?? vs. The eMpire (Farthington©, Max Kael©, Scottywood, Halitosis, ??)

Tag Team Title Match with the titles hanging from War Games Cage above each ring
The Egg Bandits vs. ??


Killin In The Name Of by RATM hits as Noah makes his way to the ring and just slides under the bottom rope and goes to a corner to wait. Nothing flashy just business…

Joe Hoffman:  Ever since Noah Hanson has returned to HOW; he’s garnered some momentum.  Last week, Noah defeated former HOW World Champion Scott Stevens and this week…

Benny Newell:  Guy has an easy week against a rookie in Crash Rodriguez.  I heard him on the radio last week. When you have more facts about cat factoids and jokes than alcohol; he immediately caused me to tune out.

Joe Hoffman:  Don’t ride off our newest acquisition yet.  Crash honestly is untested, but I have a feeling Crash will put on a clinic.  He’s a hungry new HOW talent.

Powerman 5000’s “Heros and Villans Instrumental Edition” starts with a car crash kicking off the song, similar to Mick Foley’s “Wreck” entrance song.  Crash hits the ring and charges Noah Hanson before the bell rings. Hortega rings the bell as Crash nails Noah stiff with punches and kicks to the gut bringing him to the ground.  Crash grabs him and locks him into a crossface off to the side for a moment before Noah quickly pulls himself to the ring. Crash gets back to his feet quickly and nails a swinging neckbreaker quickly bringing Noah to the ground.  Hanson rolls towards the outside as Hortega begins to count him out.

Uno..

Dos..

Benny Newell:  Impressive!  Crash staying on top of Noah Hanson.  I might have written this fucker off a bit too soon.

Joe Hoffman:  See!  Crash keeps taking it straight to the veteran Noah Hanson on the outside.  Crash keeps tossing Noah into the steel steps as Hortega’s up to 5 now. Damage dealt more to Hanson’s shoulders making sure he can’t get up easily.  Crash had his strategy down pat.

Benny Newell:  Nope!  He’s about to go…

SPLAT!

Crash hits the ring post full force head first as Noah Hanson reverses what Crash threw at him.  Noah rolls straight back into the ring and picks up one of the cords to the camera and starts to strangle Crash with it as Hortega gets his count up to “Tres!”  Hanson lets off the move and rolls Crash back into the ring. Crash stumbles back up to his feet before Noah hits a sickening clothesline straight to Crash’s neck.  Hanson’s had enough. He leaps with astonishing feat to the top turnbuckle off pure adrenaline signaling for the Elbow drop. Noah takes off but.

Joe Hoffman:  Damn!  That’s hurts!

Benny Newell:  Noah’s elbow just got sent three states over.  I’ve got a bottle of Jack Daniels for him after that one.  Old Yeller’s on his last legs now.

Joe Hoffman:  Shut up, Benny!

Crash nonchalantly removes the turnbuckle corner off as Hortega looks on in confusion.  He lets these two men have some slack on the rules. Crash then hammers Noah’s head against the turnbuckle yelling “FUCK” at the top of his lungs.    Crash repeats this process as he keeps smash Noah’s fingers in. Noah struggles for a moment back to his feet. Crash rushes at him with a crossbody, but Noah nails a stiff drop kick straight to the rookie’s stomach.  Both men lie on the ground as Hortega begins his count.

Uno!

Dos!

Tres!

Quatro!

Benny Newell:  Cinco!  God damn I wish it were May!  I would get more alcohol to celebrate that glorious occasion.

Joe Hoffman:  God damn!  It’s 2 months past!  Get over it and move on to the action in the ring.  Crash pulls himself back to the rope and he’s going for his finisher to capitalize on Hanson.

Crash sets him up for the Avalanche DDT, but Hanson twists him around and hits a Rolling Elbow straight to Crash’s jaw causing him to buckle.  Hanson’s fury comes out as he motions for the Lady Killer. He picks Crash up, kicks him straight into the gut and nails his finisher. Hortega goes for the count.

UNO!

DOS!

TREEEEEEES!

Benny Newell:  Hanson wins!  DRINK! DRINK!  DRINK!

Joe Hoffman:  I didn’t know you were such a Hanson fan.

Benny Newell:  No dear God…fuck that dude! I am just drinking for that Hortega counting

Joe Hoffman:  Hortega raises Hanson’s hand up in victory!  Well deserved victory.

Hanson pulls Crash to his feet.  Crash and Hanson stare at each other for a moment before Hanson offers his hand and Crash shakes it.  Crash rolls out of the ring as Hanson celebrates his win as the scene fades elsewhere.


We cut to Blaire Moise standing next to Zion who looks to still be favoring his head from a couple weeks ago.  Blaire looks rather concerned at Darin Zion as he trouble focusing on the camera ahead of him, squinting. His eyes look full of hope with the opportunity presented to him tonight.

Blaire Moise:  Darin; we obviously know from last week you’re looking forward to your War Games opportunity later tonight.  You’ve clambered in regards to it the last few weeks from news posts to segments to every little social media comment you’ve made.  However, you still look rather out of it since we met last week. You don’t seem quite like yourself. You sure you will be ready for Stevens tonight?

Zion looks rather cross at Blaire for a moment, rather taken back at her comments.  He shirks it off acting more like himself than the last few weeks, providing the viewers at home with a snarky grin on his face.

Darin Zion:  Blaire, I’m not pulling a Stevens.  I’m not sitting my ass at home waiting for my paychecks with some bullshit doctors note.  I’m a tough son of a bitch. I signed up into the professional wrestling industry fully aware of the risks.  I’ve got the opportunity of a lifetime on my hands. The last two War Games matches I competed in never housed so many different talents.  We have multiple Hall of Famers; great external champions; and one hungry Zion waiting to sink his teeth into the competition. I couldn’t pass up the chance even if slightly injured.

Blaire Moise:  Stevens is on a tear lately.  Yesterday he threatened to end your career.  He’s out for blood. He’s snapped. He’s a former World Champion looking for respect that no one has showed him and…

Zion places his finger in Blaire’s face.  He silences her and looks at her warmingly.  He speaks rather calm and collected.

Darin Zion:  I told you last week.  I needed to do something selfish for me.  I don’t care about my health or my well-being.  I only care about one thing: War Games. It’s my last chance to get the HOW World Championship.  HOW could turn off the lights after War Games and we die. I lose the best chance I have at holding 97Red.  I’m not about to let an apathetic Scott Stevens sit his way to my championship opportunity. I’ve worked just as hard as he has.  I’ve climbed all the ladders; I’ve won championship opportunities. But when it comes down to the line; they always look past me for Stevens.  He’s won the World Championship. He’s got a wrestling pedigree. He’s clawed his way to the top and rightfully so. I would choose the pedigree too.

Blaire Moise:  Buuut….

Darin Zion:  You’re exactly right, but…I haven’t had my chance.  I’m a younger, hungrier lion. I’m the one tired of being that bridesmaid always getting passed up for the opportunity.  I got under Stevens skin two weeks ago. I need to back my words up and defeat him tonight. I need to prove exactly why I deserve to be picked by Mike and Lee.  I’m not looking for handouts, stupid social media campaigns, or pity. I want to fight. I want to earn my way to the top and prove exactly why the hell I deserve my chance at War Games.  Thank you for your time, Blaire!

Zion walks off looking to prepare for his match as the scene fades to black.


The ICON Championship will be decided later tonight in a Steel Cage match……..who will head into War Games as the ICON?


♫ “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked” by Cage the Elephant♫

The wait is finally over as a spotlight shines towards the top of the entrance ramp and Scott Stevens appears from behind the curtain, and as soon as he makes his way to the edge of the stage golden pyro begins to rain down behind him as he raises up his right fist high into the air.  Stevens doesn’t even wait. He slides into the ring motioning for Zion.

Joe Hoffman:  What a change of pace for Stevens.  After last week’s loss it seems like the class act Texan found himself an edge.

Benny Newell:  I can definitely drink to this, Stevens.  This is how a Texan should act.

The lights in the arena turn off as the opening to “Bow Down” by I Prevail blares across the speakers. After a few seconds the name “Darin Zion” flashes across the screen. Zion walks down the entrance ramp wearing his leather hoodie.  As Zion flips his hoodie down, Stevens viciously barrels down to the entrance ramp landing a Spear straight into Zion’s gut, causing his head to snap back on the steel ramp. Stevens yells “worthless fuck” towards Zion as he stomps the hell out of him.  Matt Boettcher runs down pulling Stevens off Zion. Zion holds his head for a while. Matt rushes to call EMTs, but Stevens grabs Zion and plunges him straight into the steel steps. Zion shifts his weight to his back as the crowd boos. Stevens eats it up and flips the off as he walks into the ring and taunts.

Benny Newell:  Stevens scrambled Zion’s brains more.  Sounds like he needs some Jack and Coke for that.

Joe Hoffman:  Zion’s a recovering alcoholic.  That would make things worse.

Benny Newell:  He’s a regular buzzkill at parties too.  Just look at him hunched over after Stevens took to him. Boettcher’s not wanting to start this match.

Stevens demands Matt call the match, but Zion waves it off.  He pulls himself into the ring as the bell rings. Stevens lays an onslaught of kicks into Zion’s neck.    Stevens runs over to the corner and lands a stiff Curb Stomp into Zion’s skull. Stevens doesn’t waste a minute of time and covers him.

ONE!

 

TWO!!!

 

Joe Hoffman:  Kickout by Zion!  A miracle of God! Zion’s taken punishment these last couple of weeks.  He’s got a lot of tenacity in him.

Benny Newell:  Who gives a shit about the underdog?  Everyone loves former World Champions.  Look at the Patriots! They’re a dynasty.

Joe Hoffman:  You’re comparing Stevens to them?

Benny Newell:  Fuck no!  He’s a champion, but no Tom Brady.  He’s more like the Dallas Cowboys.

Joe Hoffman:  You’re a heartless man sometimes.

Zion pulls himself up using the turnbuckles.  He motions towards Stevens. Stevens charges towards him with a stinger splash, but Zion leaps over him and Stevens collides with the turnbuckle.  Zion gets his second wind landing buzzsaw kick after buzzsaw kick straight into Stevens’ gut. He charges towards Scott Stevens with a drop kick in the corner, but misses and connects with the corner.  Stevens tries to hit the Remember the Alamo kick, but Zion grabs him and hits a Capture Suplex. Zion rushes towards Stevens and nails a Shining Wizard stiff to Stevens head and covers him.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Benny Newell:  Stevens kicks out with all authority.  God damn the fire in Stevens’ belly. Makes me think so kindly of my whiskey in the corner.

Joe Hoffman:  Just look at the anger in his eyes.  Zion almost caught him for the two and he’s bound and determined.  Zion’s tried to hit a roundhouse kick, but Stevens catches him. He’s elbowing Zion square in the ears discombobulating him.

Benny Newell:  Diskabobulate?  Sounds like something I would make for a BBQ.

Stevens lands the last elbow causing Zion to fall straight down towards the ground.  Stevens locks in the Dragon Sleeper stretching Zion’s neck towards a suffocating pressure.  Zion crawls slowly towards the ropes, but Stevens locks it in harder. Matt notices Stevens choking him legitimately and signals for Stevens to let go.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

FIIIII…

 

Stevens lets go and argues with Matt about the fast count.  While Stevens continues to argue, Zion immediately nails him with a Spinning Wheel kick to the back of the head while the crowd rallies more behind him.  Zion hits a rolling thunder from out of nowhere. Zion then motions for the top rope. He leaps to the top rope and motions for a leg drop. But Stevens leaps up to the turnbuckle and lands a massive superplex on the top rope.  Both men lie on the mat motionless.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

FIVE!

 

SIX!

 

SEVEN!

 

EIGHT!

 

Stevens gets back to his feet.  He picks Zion up and hits the Snake Eyes on him.  Stevens then cracks his neck and motions to finish the match with the Spike Piledriver.  The lights are off in Zion’s head. He goes to check on Zion. Stevens yells on Boettcher to “Fuck Off.”  Matt and him argue for a few moments. Stevens shoves Matt out of the way out of pure anger. Stevens pulls Zion up to attempt to Spike Piledrive him.

Benny Newell:  Good riddance, Darin Zion!

Joe Newell:  No!  Small Package reversal!  Zion’s got him! Matt’s counting it.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

Joe Newell:  Holy shitballs!  Zion’s going on to War Games!!!!!  Lucky pinfall to win the match! Fuck my life, Zion’s now beaten two former HOW World Champions since returning.

Benny Newell:  Fucking A!  Zion pulls off his fourth win.  Who selects this rambling idiot?  Will it be Mike or…

WHAM!

From out of nowhere before Zion could even celebrate, Stevens rolled out of the ring and grabbed a steel chair.  Stevens cracks Zion square in the ribs flooring him. Matt signals for the bell throughout the beating. The crowd chants “Fuck You, Stevens” as Stevens picks Zion’s body off the canvas.  He picks Zion up screaming at the top of his lungs.

Scott Stevens:  You think I’m a fucking joke?   You want to run your damn mouth off on Twitter again?  You want to insult a man who won a World Championship before your worthless ass did?  Huh? Here’s a lesson in Texas Justice you piece of shit.

Stevens throws the steel chair down on the mat and pulls Zion up by the hair.  He slits his throat and yells “Fuck You!” to the deafening boos in the crowd before landing Zion’s head square in the middle part of the chair.  A small cut appears on Zion’s head as medics rush towards the ring to help him out of the ring. The chorus of boos grows louder and Stevens screams out delusionally.

Scott Stevens:  Here is your winner……SCOTT STEVENS!!!!!

He laughs sadistically as the exits the rings before officials pull him out.  He motions towards his waist signaling he should get a title shot as he leaves the ramp.  Meanwhile, a crew picks Darin Zion off the mat. Dazed and confused, Zion tries to stumble his way out of seeking medical attention, but more officials prop Zion up forcing him straight to the back.

Joe Hoffman:  What did Zion do to deserve that?

Benny Newell:   He was obviously born!  Stevens lost his marbles the last two weeks since his month long return.  He might have lost tonight, but clearly he’s found a mean streak. He left Zion in a broken mess.  Anyone who does that is someone I like.

Joe Hoffman:  Of course, you like anyone who drinks you under the table.

Benny Newell:  That too!

Medics help Zion to the back as we fade to the backstage area.


“Christ on a fuckstick!” 

Rolling and stretching out his various aches and pains is possibly Eric Dane’s least favorite thing about the wrestling business. After more than two decades, coaxing his body into ring shape is almost as much agony as the matches themselves.

Still, a (relatively) small amount of pain now was worth saving the large amount of pain later. The one saving grace for The Only Star was that there was nobody around to see him in this state.

“Hey man, you okay?”

Christ on a fuckstick.

Dane looks up and over, and sees MJ Flair looking at him from the doorway. He laughs to himself at the irony of the oldest and youngest members of the team meeting like this.

Eric Dane: Yeah, kid. Joints are protesting, is all.

He gets himself to his feet as MJ walks into the room, nodding her assent.

MJF: Not surprised, man. Carrying Bobo can’t be good for ‘em.

That gets Dane to laugh.

Eric Dane: It is what it is.

She offers him a hand to get up but he waves her off and stands up on his own.

Eric Dane: So, how about you? You ready for the legends?

MJ shrugs.

MJF: At this point, does it matter? Ready or not, better than them or worse than them, it’ll be what it’ll be. Very least, they’ll remember me.

She folds her hands and begins to roll her wrists. Dane recognizes this as a nervous tic: anxiety and anticipation about the matches to come.

Eric Dane: You’ve got this.

At that, she notices what she’s doing and stops.

MJF: So d’you.

He shakes his head.

Eric Dane: Not exactly the same. My match has as much to do with what Bobby can do as myself. It might be you against Scotty and Sektor, but they’re in the same boat. Worst case, they gang up on you and enjoy the only moment’a triumph they’ll get because next time, you’ll have backup.

MJF: Yeah. Backup.

Her eyes wander the room. Dane raises an eyebrow.

Eric Dane: Yeah?

MJF: Listen. I know the deal. We all wanna be the Champ, but only one of us can be at the top’a the mountain. And I know you’ve fucked over your friends before in the name of the greater glory, just like Aunt Lindz and Mr. Ryan.

She pauses, but he doesn’t deny it.

MJF: And I haven’t done that, but I’ve also got the least number’a years in this thing. I’m sure it’ll happen.

Dane smirks.

Eric Dane: You really have a future as a motivational speaker, Flair–

She holds up her hand, gesturing that she’s almost done.

MJF: I know that this Best Alliance probably has an expiration date on it. I’m just… I’d like to know…

Hesitation. She takes a breath.

MJF: If this thing comes apart, I want your word that it won’t be until after War Games is over.

Dane’s instinct to laugh at her naivete is tempered by the sincerity of her words.

Eric Dane: You’re serious.

MJF: We, all four of us, man – we’re better than the world’s okayest alliance. That’s just high school math. But I can’t keep my eyes on the prize if I’ve gotta watch my own back for the knife.

Now, Dane is impressed.

Eric Dane: I would sooner live in New Orleans a thousand years and never have another drink than fuck up this alliance before War Games.

And he offers his hand.

After a moment, she shakes.

MJF: Good enough for me, man. Good luck out there.

And a brief hug follows.

MJF: Go kick their asses.

Eric Dane: You too, kiddo… you too.



Bryan McVay: The following contest is scheduled for one fall….

“World’s Greatest” by R. Kelly blares as the crowd erupts into boos.

Benny Newell: Awwww yeah.

Joe Hoffman: This one is going to be special, folks. An HOW original and an HOW stalwart are about to….

Benny Newell: Cut to my feed!

The camera then cuts to a still frame of Johnny O’Dell walking down the ramp.

Benny begins drawing and the telestration appears on screen. This is why Johnny’s going to win. You got these two strong legs here, you got some extra weight in this long torso and then you got this scraggly beard up top with…

Joe Hoffman: CUT THAT OFF! HE’S DRAWING A PENIS!

The camera cuts as O’Dell enters the ring and “Wolf Totem” by The Hu hits. The crowd roar into cheers as Kostoff slowly, menacingly walks down the ramp. The cheers soon turn into an all familiar chant.

Crowd: KOSTOFF’S GONNA KILL YOU! KOSTOFF’S GONNA KILL YOU!

Benny Newell: Cut to my feed!

Joe Hoffman: NO! No more!

Benny Newell: Aww, but I wanted to give Kostoff a vagina-belly.

Kostoff enters the ring and nods at Hortega.

DING DING DING!

Kostoff makes his way to the center and O’Dell is only too happy to oblige. O’Dell talks smack to Kostoff. Kostoff nods and smirks. O’Dell keeps talking trash and Kostoff motions for O’Dell to do something. O’Dell slaps Kostoff right across the face. Kostoff barely turns. O’Dell looks shocked before winding up and clocking Kostoff hard across the mouth with a punch. Kostoff’s face turns to the side, feeling the impact. Kostoff spits, smiles, and looks back at O’Dell. O’Dell goes for another punch but Kostoff catches it mid air. He turns it down and wrenches O’Dell’s arm. Kostoff then lifts O’Dell in the air and drops him to the mat.

O’Dell quickly back himself into the corner turnbuckle as the crowd roars for Kostoff.

Kostoff motions with his hand for O’Dell to bring some more. O’Dell scowls and shouts at Kostoff.

O’Dell: DON’T TREAT ME LIKE I’M NOTHING!

O’Dell charges Kostoff and eats a shoulder tackle. He tries to roll away but Kostoff grabs him by his ring gear and pulls him back towards the center of the ring. Kostoff goes to stomp on O’Dell’s head but O’Dell grabs Kostoff’s foot. With his other leg, O’Dell sweeps Kostoff and knocks the big man down. Like an animal, O’Dell leaps onto the fallen Kostoff and begins pounding away. After a few punches, Kostoff shoves O’Dell off but O’Dell quickly scurries into a mounted position and this time begins biting Kostoff.

Joe Hoffman: Come on, Hortega! Stop this!

Benny Newell: Might need to catch O’Dell in a bag and take him to the vet with Kostoff to see if Kostoff can get a rabies shot.

Hortega pulls O’Dell off but O’Dell quickly shoves Hortega aside. He goes to the fallen Kostoff and grabs a leg. He begins kicking at the inside of the leg, trying to disable Kostoff’s vertical base. Kostoff is grabbing at his knee and O’Dell merely switches to the other. Seeing an opening, O’Dell gets down in Kostoff’s face.

O’Dell: SAY IT! SAY IT YOU DUMB SON OF A BITCH!

Kostoff grabs O’Dell by the throat and squeezes hard. O’Dell begins writing as Kostoff drags himself and O’Dell up to a vertical base. Kostoff then throws O’Dell into a turnbuckle and begins kicking at O’Dell’s gut. O’Dell slumps in the corner and Kostoff runs to the other turnbuckle, makes his way back to O’Dell and drives a knee right into O’Dell’s head.

O’Dell falls into a heap. Kostoff pulls him, back on the mat.

UNO

DOS

KICKOUT!

Kostoff, like a true veteran, immediately grabs O’Dell’s head and wraps him into a headlock.

Joe Hoffman: No wasted time from Kostoff.

Benny Newell: Cut to my feed!

The camera cuts as Benny begins drawing.

Benny Newell: So you see here, Kostoff’s leg is there and O’Dell’s leg is there but in neither of these places is Kostoff grapevining the legs. Not here. And not here. And that’s why O’Dell kicked out.

Joe Hoffman: STOP DRAWING BREASTS!

Kostoff throws O’Dell into the ring ropes and bends down a split second too early. O’Dell stops, grabs Kostoff by the head, and throws him down into the mat.

O’Dell is sucking wind due to his lack of ring shape. He takes time to catch his breath and taunt the crowd.

O’Dell: SEE THAT? I DID THAT! LOOK AT YOUR HERO NOW!

The crowd boos, then begins to clap to help stir Kostoff up. As Kostoff gets to his hands and knees, O’Dell goes and drops a big leg right across the back of Kostoff’s neck. O’Dell then begins slapping the back of Kostoff’s head.

O’Dell: I’m better! I AM!

Kostoff begins stirring as the crowd come to life, growing louder as Kostoff stirs.

O’Dell can’t believe Kostoff is getting up. O’Dell gets to his feet and hits another leg drop across the back of Kostoff’s neck. But almost immediately, Kostoff begins trying to get back up. O’Dell is enraged and drops another leg across Kostoff’s neck. As if impervious, Kostoff starts moving and getting back up.

O’Dell finally goes to bounce off the ropes but instead of dropping a leg, he’s popped up into a powerbomb and planted in the center of the ring. The force of the powerbomb is so loud, it sounds like a gun went off.

UNO

DOS

TR-KICKOUT!

Joe Hoffman: I DON’T BELIEVE IT!

Kostoff looks shocked himself and turns to O’Dell who appears to be smiling and mouthing something.

The camera zooms in and O’Dell is telling Kostoff to respect him.

Kostoff backs away from O’Dell, and cracks his neck.

Joe Hoffman: Oh God, this isn’t good.

Benny Newell: Cut to my feed!

Benny Newell: Now this lady in the crowd, she’s got some fucking huge…

Joe Hoffman: CUT IT OFF!

Kostoff gets to his feet and goes to pick O’Dell up but O’Dell is like dead weight. Kostoff drags O’Dell to the corner and positions him prone. Kostoff backs up and goes for a shoulder tackle but O’Dell slumps to the mat, allowing Kostoff to drive his shoulder into the ring post. Kostoff grabs his shoulder and falls backwards onto the mat.

UNO

DOS

TRES

QUATRO

O’Dell comes to and looks around trying to get his bearings.

Joe Hoffman: O’Dell has to be the luckiest man on the planet with that dodge.

CINCO

O’Dell begins using the ring ropes to prop himself up as Kostoff begins to stir.

SEIS

O’Dell is to his feet and begins walking towards another turnbuckle. He leans against it and begins untying the turnbuckle out of view of Hortega.

SIETE

Kostoff finally gets to one knee and then pushes himself up.

Hortega sees what O’Dell is doing  and goes over there and admonishes him. As Hortega goes to re-tie the turnbuckle on. O’Dell walks over to Kostoff and hits a low blow. The crowd boo as Kostoff drops to his knees. O’Dell backs up and…

Joe Hoffman: THE FAB FOOT!

O’Dell connects with Kostoff’s chin and Kostoff falls.

O’Dell screams at Hortega who gets into position.

UNO

DOS

TRES!

DING DING DING

Brian McVay: Here is your winner: JOHNNNNNNY OOOOOOOOOOO’DELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Johnny rolls off Kostoff and puts his hands into the air. He smirks and looks at Kostoff. O’Dell begins celebrating and taunting the crowd as boos just rain down upon him.

Johnny O’Dell motions for a microphone from McVay.

Johnny O’Dell: I…I DID IT! I BEAT THE MONSTER! Now you son of a bitch… SAY IT! SAY…. YOU… RESPECT… ME!

Kostoff begins moving but is able to quickly muster a middle finger right in O’Dell’s direction.

Incensed, O’Dell slides out of the ring and grabs a steel chair from underneath. He slides back in and begins wailing on Kostoff’s back. O’Dell then backs up and winds up with the chair.

The crowd begin murmuring in small pockets before a massive cheer raises up.

Joe Hoffman: What the heck? Who?

Benny Newell: NO! DEAR GOD, NO!

As O’Dell goes for another chair shot, the chair is ripped from his hands. He spins around and eats a chair shot right on the top of his head. As he goes down, he rolls out of the ring and onto the floor.

The crowd cheers as standing in the ring holding the chair is Silent Witness!

Joe Hoffman: Silent Witness could take no more!

Benny Newell: He can’t do this! This is unfair!

O’Dell begins trying to walk up the ramp, holding his head and stumbling as he does so.

Kostoff stirs and looks up to see Silent Witness holding the chair. Silent Witness holds out his hand but Kostoff looks a little untrustingly at him. Silent Witness recounts what he did for Kostoff and points at O’Dell, still heading up the ramp. Witness then holds out his hand again. Kostoff looks into the crowd who urge him on with cheers. Kostoff looks up at Witness and then grabs his hand for support.

Witness pulls Kostoff up and hands Kostoff the chair and then holds up Kostoff’s arms.

Benny Newell: PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS DOWN! You didn’t even win the fucking match.

Witness lowers Kostoff’s hands and Kostoff begins to leave the ring when he shouts at Kostoff to wait. Witness goes to grab the microphone O’Dell dropped.

Silent Witness: I couldn’t stand in the back and watch that douchebag demand respect out of you while pulling dirty tricks like low blows or disrespecting you by slapping you in the face. You deserve better than that. Respect is earned and I’d like to think that over our years in HOW all the way up to what I just did, I’ve earned yours, cause you’ve certainly earned mine.

The crowd cheers as Witness takes in this moment.

And it’s because of that respect that I’m here to look you dead in the eye and say that at War Games, you and I are going to see what each other is truly made of… when we fight, together, for the HOW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS!

Kostoff smirks and nods his head.

Witness holds out his hand again. Kostoff shakes it firmly and both raise their arms high.

Joe Hoffman: KOSTOFF! WITNESS! THE HOW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS! AT WAR GAMES!

Benny Newell: NO! NO NO NO NO NO! THAT OLD FUCK WAS THE FIRST EVER TAG CHAMPION IN 2000 AND FUCKING 2!!!!

Benny is still ranting and raving at seeing the two Hall of Famers punch their ticket to War Games and the Tag Team Title match. as we cut to the back


The camera pans out to what is seemingly a random section of the arena which- for some reason, HOW backstage reporter Blair Moise is sitting on someone’s lap.

Some of the folks in that particular section of the Yuengling Center appear to be…familiar?

Blair Moise: Ladies and gentlemen.  For one night only, the Les Miserables have returned to High Octane Wrestling and I am sitting next to the man who would be the defending War Games winner if he was still in HOW- Ray McAvay.

The camera zooms in on Blair sitting on General DeBauchery’s lap.  He looks like a bizarre combination of the AWA’s Colonel DeBeers and Lt. Aldo from Inglorious Basterds, sporting a black captain’s hat right out of World War II.  He also smokes a cigar and grins obnoxiously.

The camera pulls back to reveal former HOW World Champion Ray McAvay and the cast of characters known as the Les Miserables.  McAvay’s wife Dark and her fellow West Texas Adult Entertainment legend Stormy are there.  Both Dark and Stormy rock the throwback HOW Ray McAvay baseball jerseys with ‘Racks for Ray’ stenciled in front.

Benny Newell (off camera): YES!  YES!   TITTIES! NOTHING BETTER TO GET MY MIND OFF KOSTOFF AND WITNESS AT WAR GAMES!!!

The camera then pans to show HOW’s former sanitation engineer Bert the Janitor is also there along with the Sunshine God Rah…

Benny Newell (off camera): RAHHHHHHHHHHHH!

…and his eclectic entourage: Happy Mango, Bob Nye-Foot Fetish Guy, and the well-tanned BeachBronze Bikini Suntan Team.

Blair Moise: Halitosis did not want to talk tonight because he wanted to focus on the tag match coming up so Ray, I really appreciate you taking some time for me.

Ray McAvay: My pleasure Blair.

Blair Moise: Two weeks ago at Refueled Five, your good friend Halitosis and Max Kael had an old fashioned knockdown, drag out battle for the world title and Max came out on top.

Ray McAvay: Speaking from experience, Max Kael is hard enough to beat once.  Twice in a short time frame is a tall order.  Both Halitosis and Max put on a show, certainly worthy of a HOW title match.  Halitosis put everything he had into it and I don’t think he could have done any better than he did- he just came up a little short and that’s the way it goes in wrestling sometimes.

Blair Moise: What’s your take on his success in HOW so far?

Ray McAvay: Halitosis won the World Title five matches into his HOW career.  I don’t think many people can say that.  I know both of his opponents tonight, Dean and the old guy from Defiance, can’t.

Blair Moise: Talk about your experience at War Games.

Ray McAvay: Well.  I finished third in 2015 and won the LSD title until Max Kael defeated me.   Max went on to have a fourth month plus title reign from there.  For War Games 2016, I was the ICON champion at the time.  I knew I wanted to be on Scott Stevens’s team because one, I thought that a team of Stevens, McAvay, McKenna, and Zion had a real good chance of winning the match.  Two, yeah I’ll admit it- I thought it might be a perfect avenue to win the world title.

Blair Moise: And it was.

Ray McAvay: Yep.  I ended up being right and won the World Title.

Blair Moise: What’s your take on this year’s match?

Ray McAvay: Well, I see this year’s War Games as a battle for the heart and soul of High Octane Wrestling.  You’ve got the best team money can buy wrestling against years of High Octane Wrestling tradition.  Lee’s probably still sore over the fact that the Best Alliance team finished third behind Team 4CW in 2016 so this time he’s packed the Best Alliance with a bunch of high priced mercenaries.  I don’t know much about Ms. Flair but I know that Dan Ryan, Lindsay Troy, and Eric Dane are great wrestlers and that’s going to be a formidable team.

Blair Moise: Hold on.

She looks down.  Bob Nye-Foot Fetish Guy is doing what he does- perched in front of Blair and admiring her feet.

Blair Moise: Bob?  What did we say before the interview?

Nye sighs.  He pouts and crawls back to his seat.

Blair Moise: Okay.

Ray McAvay: On Mike’s team, you’ve got Halitosis- former HOW World Champion, Max Kael- three time HOW World Champion and Cecilworth M! Farthington from the eMpire and finally, someone I consider to be the ‘Heart and Soul of HOW,’ former HOW World Champion Scottywood.  So while they don’t have the resumes and experience that Ryan, Troy, and the old guy from Defiance have, at least three of them have something they don’t have and that’s years of HOW experience.  And I contend that’s a difference maker.  This is their home.  This is their company.  Then you have Halitosis who walked into the company cold and won the title in his fifth match in a stacked HOW tournament- something that Ryan, Troy, Flair and Dane have not done.  So yeah, there’s a lot of interesting dynamics in play here already- there’s still one spot left on each team to fill so we’ll see.

Blair Moise: Last question.  Who do you got in the upcoming tag match between Kael and Halitosis versus Dane and Dean tonight?

Ray McAvay: I know at least who I’m rooting for Blair.  I would pay money to see Halitosis ‘Breath of Death’ Dane.  I would pay even more money to see Jackson C. Horne come to the ring and conk Dane with his cornet and I would pay a lot of money to see that Foul Pole guy run down and punt Dane in the balls.  But seriously folks, I think Max and Halitosis will work well together.  I don’t think Dane can beat Max and Halitosis all by himself so it will come down to how much Bobby Dean can help him.

Blair Moise: Good to see you again.

Ray McAvay: Always good to see you.

Refueled cuts to commercial as we see Blair and Ray exchange knowingly looks.


War Games Match for the World and ICON Championships
The Best Alliance (Eric Dane, Lindsay Troy, Dan Ryan, MJ Flair, ?? vs. The eMpire (Farthington©, Max Kael©, Scottywood, Halitosis, ??)

Tag Team Title Match with the titles hanging from War Games Cage above each ring
The Egg Bandits vs. The LOD (Kostoff and Silent Witness)


As we come back from commercial break we see The Fabulous One, Jonny O’Dell, going ballistic backstage.

Jonny O’Dell: What in the name of naked Shane Reynolds was he doing here!

O’Dell screams as he kicks a trash can over.

Jonny O’Dell: You two think you can put your hands on me and get away with it!

O’Dell yells as he turns a table over.

Jonny O’Dell: There is going to be hell to pay!

He vows as he kicks over a trunk full of equipment and stops his tirade when Scott Stevens stands before him.

Scott Stevens: What the fuck are you complaining about?

Stevens asks and before O’Dell can respond the Texan cuts him off.

Scott Stevens: At least you won! I lost to Darin Zion. Z-I-O-N!

The crowd cheers Stevens misfortune early and begins to chant his favorite chant of Lonesome Loser.

Scott Stevens: It doesn’t get worse than that so shut the fu……

Before Stevens can finish his statement, the eGG Bandits interrupt.

Cool Jiles: Guess all that fact collecting didn’t work for Stevenspedia.

Doozer: Sure didn’t Jiles.

Cool Jiles: That’s why he’ll forever be the Lonesome Loser!

Jiles and Doozer high five one another and begin to walk away when Doozer turns to O’Dell.

Doozer: The toilet is stopped up again and overflowed we need it cleaned up asap! Bobby Dean did a number on it.

As the Bandits walk away Stevens blasts Jiles from behind while O’Dell hits Doozer. The two scramble the eGG Bandits’ brains as they stomp away at their head. Stevens picks up Jiles and throws him full force into the concrete wall while O’Dell snap suplexes Doozer onto the floor. Stevens goes a sets up a table and positions Jiles between his legs. Stevens lifts him up and with O’Dell adding extra force delivers a powerbomb through the table. Stevens surveys the damage before picking up a chair and placing it across the face of Doozer while motioning for O’Dell to deliver a Fab Foot. Stevens shows Doozer’s face print in the chair before tossing it to the side.

Scott Stevens: War Games?

Stevens asks and O’Dell nods.

Jonny O’Dell: War Games.

O’Dell replies and the two head in the opposite direction as we go back to ringside.


We return back to ringside as we hear “Binge and Purge” by Clutch hit as we see both Eric Dane and Bobby Dean make their way out onto the stage to a chorus of cheers from the HOW fans.

Bryan McVay: The following tag team match is scheduled for one fall.  Now making their way to the ring… Eric Dane and Bobby Dean!!!!

We see Eric run down to the ring encouraging Bobby to get one last warm up in as the big man trots down the ramp and makes it to the ring as it seems he is out of breath, but he shakes his head and climbs the steps up and into the ing.
Joe Hoffman: Bobby Dean was working on that cardio this week and it seems it’s paying off for him.

Benny Newell: It’s paying off like dropping just the minimum on your credit card bill.  But gotta give Eric Dane credit for pushing his lard ass this week to actually do something.

“Mas Tequila” by Sammy Hagar follows as Halitosis comes out and pumps his first in the air and then starts down the ramp towards the ring. He slap people’s hands along the way and then says hello to a young fan in the front row- the fan promptly collapses when he get a whiff of his breath.

Bryan McVay: And their opponents…. first…. hailing from the Island of Misfit Wrestlers and weighing in tonight at 170 pounds. He is the ‘Luchador with Insanely Poor Oral Hygiene.’…. Halitosis!!!!

Joe Hoffman: Halitosis lost his HOW World Title in a very close match with the man he will be teaming with tonight as.  One obviously has to question if they can work together as a team better than Dane and Dean.

Benny Newell: And the obvious answer is no Joe… I don’t even think Max could get close enough to halitosis to even talk strategy tonight.  Heard he only sent him carrier pigeons with that said please don’t breathe on me.

The stage lights darken as a single spot like shines down on the entrance. The proper and noble notes of “Prelude to the Te Deum” by Marc-Antoine Charpentier fills the arena as the Herald, Sub-Marquis Bentley Tennyson Farthington-Primrose prances out on stage wearing his garish renaissance style garb with large, floppy hat, a collection of fancy feathers dancing high above his head. Under one arm he carries a long brass horn which he retrieves and swings about like a musical cudgel.

The music slowly dies as he lifts the horn to his lips blasting a loud, awful note that shrieks hideously around the arena causing fans to wince and boo.Lowering the horn the Herald retrieves a microphone from his pocket and lifts it to his lips.

Herald Fathington-Primrose: I, Sub-Marquis Bentley Tennyson Farthington-Primrose, the Herald to the Prime Minister of Maxopotamia, the Lord of Kaelsalvania, the Right and Ruthless Maximillian Kael, First of his Name! Long May He Maim, extend to Bobby Dean an offer from the HOW World Champion! He cares deeply about your well being and feels you are without a doubt the rising star between yourself and Eric Dane! As such he offers you the chance to FORFEIT this match sparring you any potential bodily harm and mental anguish!

He offers a low, overly exaggerated bow before he pops his head back up, a churlish grin on his face.

Herald Fatherington-Primrose: I lied. He made no such offer! Ha-ha! Retrieve your Gongs of Joy and fall to your knees, plebeians and prepare yourself!.. INTRODUCING THE HIGH OCTANE WRESTLING WORLD CHAAAAAMPION!!

The Herald’s voice carries over the arena who are a mix of boos and cheers, not necessarily for the Herald but more toward a growing, begrudging interest in the HOW Hall of Famer, Maximillian Kael.

The stage lights darken leaving a dramatic shadow over the arena. “The Funerals/Jen’s Journey” by Trevor Jones breaks out over the P.A. system, a deeply dramatic blaring of organs and trumpets squashing the sounds of fans reaction. Suddenly the stage comes alive with bright silver sparkling pyro, the silhouette of the Prime Minister of Maxopotamia flanked by the Herald becoming intensely visible. The bright, hissing pyro slowly dies down as the dark shapes come into focus. Wearing his black tracksuit is Maximillian Kael with the #97Red World Championship slung over his shoulder, both of his hands gripping it tightly.

As the music blares the two slowly make their way toward the ring, Max’s single blue eye locked on those already there while his face is covered with a deep, unpleasant looking scowl. Following behind him is the Herald who blares his horn occasionally between screaming “HAIL KAEL” as loudly as possible. He is joined in his chorus by a few fans who apparently have been won over by the HOW World Champion. He occasionally breaks eye contact with the ring to glare out at the fans with a confused expression before returning his attention forward.

Reaching the ring Max climbs the steps and quickly wipes his feet off on the apron. The Herald quickly skitters into the ring and sits on the middle rope while pulling up the top allowing Max to easily slip in. He casts a weary gaze toward Dane and Dean before moving toward the center of the ring, lifting the HOW World Title high into the air while silver sparks rain down from the ceiling like a waterfall of light. His mouth parts into a cruel looking sneer, the bright sparks from above causing his eye patch, teeth and title to shimmer and dance with light. As the pyro slowly dies out so to does his music, retreating toward his corner nodding to Halitosis whom he exchanges a few words with before preparing for his match. The Herald collects from him the World Championship before slipping out of the ring.

Bryan Mcvay: And his partner, from Arkam… weighing in at 230 pounds… he is the HOW World Champion…. Maximillian Kael!!!!!!!

Before the bell can even ring we see Eric Dane pulling Kael off the ring after sneaking up behind the man during his Champion entrance.

Joe Hoffman: Dane out of nowhere blindsiding Max Kael before this match has even started.

Dane pushes a fan off their chair, picks it up and slams it across the back of Kael once, twice, three times before we see Halitosis drill Dane in the back with a clubbing blow.  Referees and staff rush down the ring to attend to the dancer as Halitosis clubs Dane across the back again but then catches an upper cut to the throat. Halitosis starts gagging as he spits involuntarily as he doubles over in pain.  Dane nearly gags at the smell but controls his stomach and drives his knee brace into the skull of Halitosis.

Benny Newell: Starbreaker by Dane!

Joe Hoffman: That Vibranium brace cracking off the skull of Halitosis and I think I can see blood running under his mask.

The referees try to gain control outside as Dane picks Max Kael up and throws the World champion into the ring.  Dane slides into the ring as Max removes his World title and clocks it off the skull of Dane who collapses to the mat and rolls out of the ring.  Referee Matt Boettcher tries to reign things in as he calls Dean into the ring to start this match.

Joe Hoffman: Chaos to start this tag team match as both Dane and Halitosis are laid out on the outside and it seems Kael and Dean will start this match.

Finally the bell ring as Kael and Dean lock up as Max knees Dean in the stomach, but Dean’s gut absorbs the blow and Dean connects with a knee of his own and clubs Max across the back that just took the two flap shots from Dane.  With Max down to one knee Dean chops away at the chest of Kael once, twice and a third time before Kael falls to the mat. Dean then hits the ropes and goes for a big splash but Max rolls out of the way and Dean catches nothing but mat.

Benny Newell: I think I heard a board in the ring break after that splash attempt.

Max looks to his corner for Halitosis who has made it to his feet over by the entrance way, but is still not in his corner.  So he turns back to Dean who starts to pull himself back up but Max takes his boot to the back of Dean’s head and stomps it straight into the mat as the crowd gasps and Max struggles to shoot the half on Dean for the cover.

 

One……

 

Two……..

 

Thr…..

 

Dean manages to push Max off him rather than kick out to break the count as Max then goes to drive his head into Dean’s but Dean gets his elbow up… or what we think is the elbow that stuns Max as Dean gets up and crawls to the corner where Dane is back up and reaches out to tag Dean.  Dane isn’t as quick into the ring but he aims his knee again and goes for the skull of Max who just barely gets out of the way as he pops back up to his feet and grabs Dane and uses his momentum to help throw him into the ring post.

Joe Hoffman: The knee back fires that time as Dane eats the ring post.

Max pulls Dane off the post and stand him up in the corner as he connects with a couple rights.  Max now is able to tag Halitosis in who spring boards off the top rope and connects with a hurracanrana that sends Dane flying into the middle of the ring.  Quickly going back to the corner, Halitosis climbs the turnbuckles and launches off with a 450 splash that seems to connect but Dane somehow gets up just enough to grab Halitosis mid air and use his momentum to roll him up.

 

One…….

 

Two……..

 

Thre….

 

Halitosis kicks out as Dane pulls the luchador to his feet and connects with three german suplexs and releases on the third which folds Halitosis up like an accordian as Dane goes for another pin.

 

One…..

 

Two……..

 

Halitosis kicks out again as Dane pulls him up and whips him into the ropes and goes for another knee but Halitosis does a front flip over Dane’s knee and as Dane turns around catches him with a spinning heel kick that send Dane reeling back towards his corner.  Halitosis tries to grab Dane before he can tag Dean and does just inches before. But Dane comes back with a hard elbow strike to the skull of Halitosis.

Joe Hoffman: And that one has stunned the luchador… same place he took that knee earlier tonight.

Dane is now able to tag in Dean who makes his way slowly into the ring which allows Halitosis to stumble back to Kael who reaches out and tag himself in off the back of Halitosis.  Max charges in and nails Dean with a spinning forearm smash that connects as he goes for the head butt but Dean counters with an open palm slap to the skull of Max. Dean then reaches into his tights and pulls out what seems to be a half eaten donut.

Benny Newell: What is the fat fuck is he doing?  He’s not….

Yes… Dean eats the remains of the donut.

Benny Newell: That’s fucking disgusting!

Dean perks up like Popeye as he picks Kael up over his head with a military press and goes to slam Kael down but Kael thumbs Dean in the eye as he lands on his feet and connects with the headbutt with his titanium ocular bone and eyepath as Dean stumbles, possibly concussed asMax grabs his head and hits the jumping inverted shoulder jawbreaker.

Joe Hoffman: The Weapon of Max Destruction!!!!

Dane comes flying back in the ring but a spring boarding Halitosis nails him with a huge crossbody as Boettcher slides in for the cover by Max.

 

One……..

 

Two………….

 

Threeeee…………….

 

DING DING DING

 

Bryan McVay: The winners of this match…. Halitosis and the HOW World Champion…. Maximillian Kael!!!!!

The boos reign down on Max who is handed his World Title and raises it high in the air, ignoring the referee as he slides out of the ring.  Halitosis gets his arm raised by Boettcher as Max continues to walk up the ramp with the HOW World Title raised high, making sure everyone knows who is the HOW World champion

Joe Hoffman: Max and Halitosis may not be on the same page perfectly… but they were able to work together enough to beat Robert Dean and….

Benny Newell: Stop there Joe… they beat Robert Dean…. Not Eric Dane.  He was never pinned.

Joe Hoffman: It’s a tag team match Benny… but whatever you want to believe.

Max still stands at the top of the ramp as his music continues to play holding his title high in the air almost seemingly in the face of Dane as he sneers as we head to commercial.


War Games Match for the World and ICON Championships
The Best Alliance (Eric Dane, Lindsay Troy, Dan Ryan, MJ Flair, ?? vs. The eMpire (Farthington©, Max Kael©, Scottywood, Halitosis, ??)

Tag Team Title Match with the titles hanging from War Games Cage above each ring
The Egg Bandits vs. The LOD (Kostoff and Silent Witness) vs. Scott Stevens and Jonny O’Dell


Backstage, The Gold Standard John Sektor is positioned at ‘Gorilla’, stretching his neck from side to side and loosening the shoulders. His eyes are focussed as he lets out a few grunts to pump himself up for the triple threat match that awaits him. Suddenly..

The Herald: JOHN SEKTOR, SON OF..of.. Mister Sektor! I bring WORDS from the Great and Gallant Maximillian Kael, First of his Name, Long May He Maim!

The waifish form of the Herald Bentley Tennyson Farthington-Primrose appears behind Sektor wearing his foppish uniform, his youthful eyes bright with a mix of arrogance and impish zeal. He lifts a small brass horn and blasts a sour note in Sektor’s direction before grinning a pearly white smile.

The Hall of Famers eyes are pinched shut from the blast of the horn. He wipes an index finger across the lid of one of them, clearly feeling some residue.

Sektor: Listen, kid. Your timing is as shitty as your ridiculous getup!

He says, motioning up and down at the Heralds clothing.

Sektor: Do you realise where the fuck I am right now? Where I’m about to go and what I’m about to fucking DO? Surely Max taught you not to interrupt a man about to head down to the ring?

The Herald: Mine is not to question why! Mine is simply to do the will of my Lord! Why, are you about to walk down to the ring or something?

Bentley arches an eyebrow and stares at Sektor with a clear expression of confusion. The smile wavers for a moment but cinches back up once confident that he was still doing Max Kael’s will.

The Herald: Nevermind! We waste precious time as you will be.. Doing whatever it is you are doing after I complete my task! And my task is delivering to you the word of the Loveable and Likeable Maximillian Kael so prepare your ear holes, my mustached man at arms!

With a despondent roll of the eyes Sektor plants his hands on his hips and lets out a deflated sigh.

Sektor: Well come on then. Spit it out, what are these important words? 

Retrieving a scroll from his tunic the Herald unfurrels it and holds it high, clearing this throat.

The Herald: I once thought of you as a great and good friend, John Sektor, but then you betrayed me, helped the Best Alliance take one of my eyes and had your Security team attack me. This is a wound that I have never truly recovered from and it pains me every day to know that someone that I trusted, someone that I once even Crimped with, could be so cold and turn his back so easily! However with the upcoming War Games I am willing to forgive you..

The young man takes a moment to clear a single tear from his eye before he returns to reading the note that Max has written for him.

The Herald: Join me and the rest of the Mike Best Team, help us to cast down Lee Best and the other members of the so called Best Alliance! Help bring an end to this terrible incarnation of High Octane Wrestling and regain what means the most in life.. True Friendship!

Upon screaming the word Friendship the Herald rolls the scroll back up and stares at John with his goofy looking face, his feathered hat fluttering despite a lack of a breeze in the back.

There’s a moment of pain on Sektor’s face as he seems to be struggling not bursting out laughing. He eventually takes a deep breath and regains composure.

Sektor: So, Max is willing to let go of this grudge he holds against me if I’m willing to join Mike’s team..

Sektor purses his lips together and nods before holding out a relaxed, yet gesturing, hand towards the Herald.

Sektor: Here’s my problem. If Max truly cared about our friendship? He would have come here and spoken to me personally. Instead of sending..

His hand twirls around as he arches his lip in a kind of disgusted manner.

Sektor: Whatever the fuck, you are. I mean I’d love nothing more than to squash Max’s beef..

There’s a moment of awkward reflection from Sektor as he hears how his own words sound. The Herald also seems caught off guard by this.

Sektor: I would love nothing more than for Max and I to settle our differences. But I wanna hear it from him. Not you..

Reaching into his tunic again the Herald retrieves a small folded note, unfolding it as he eyed it carefully.

The Herald: The Regal and Realistic Maximillian Kael, First of his Name, Long May He Maim, expected you to pose this argument and had sent me armed with this note in case you went down this path!

Clearing his throat again the Herald narrows his eyes attempting to read the words scrawled over the stained parchment he was looking down at.

The Herald: If John Sektor had truly been interested in putting this friendship back on the sea he could have visited me in person over the last six years to discuss it. You could have visited me during my many hospital stays. You could have come backstage at any point to put things at peace. You could have called me directly, sent an email, skyped, face timed, any means of communication. However your failure to do so has led us to this point..

Folding the paper up the Herald beams another smile at Sektor, the note disappearing into his tunic as he pulls free a small gong and mallet.

The Herald: So now, in this time, at this place, you get the VOICE OF MAXIMILLIAN KAEL! The honor and the privilege of working through Sub-Marquis Bentley Tennyson Farthington-Primrose, the Herald! A traditional tradition in the great nation of Maxopotamia, a cultural connection to the city of Kaelsalvania. And now I ring the Gong of Completion for my task is done!

Bentley strikes the small gong as it creates a tinny crashing noise that echoes up and down the backstage area. Sektor watches, literally gob-smacked, as the Herald turns on a sixpence, plants a meaningful foot down and marches off out of site. Eventually the Gold Standard shakes it off and turns back to the curtain, focusing his eyes ready for the match as the action cuts back to ringside.


Joe Hoffman: Up next ladies and gentlemen is the triple threat of the evening with the man we just saw, John Sektor, taking on Scottywood and newcomer, MJ Flair.

Benny Newell: You got that right Hoffhole, the Best Alliance is going to secure that victory here tonight and Sektor can finally make his decision to come home.

♫ “Goodnight” by The Birthday Massacre ♫

The lights dim as the music builds. MJ Flair walks out with purpose, stopping right at the top of the ramp for just a moment before she heads to the ring. A few outstretched hands are slapped, but for the most part, she remains focused.

Bryan McVay: Hailing from Warwick, New York and weighing in at one hundred thirty-five pounds, she represents The Best Alliance….EMM! JAY! FLAAAAAAAAIR!

MJ takes a lap around the ring to greet another handful of fans, then stops by the far ringpost. In one fluid motion she climbs from the floor to the top turnbuckle on the outside of the ring, raising her hands while encouraging as much noise from the fans as possible.

“Whoooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!!”

♫ “Drink, Drank, Drunk” by Hellyeah ♫

booms over the PA system as the crowd erupts in cheers as Scottywood makes his way out onto the stage dressed in his black Anarchy jeans and his New York Rangers jersey with a Samuel Adams beer in his hand.

Bryan McVay: And making his way to the ring from New York City, New York and weighing in at 265 pounds….The Hardcore Artist…. SCOTTYWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDD!!!!!!!!

Scotty takes a moment to finish his IPA before tossing it behind him as he makes his way to the ring. Scotty makes his up the steps and stops and looks towards the crowd as a “Fuck Her Up Scotty” begins to resonate throughout the arena. A devilish grin appears over the Hardcore Artist’s face as he gets into the ring.

Joe Hoffman: The audience letting MJ Flair know how they feel about her and what they want Scotty to do to her.

Benny Newell: This filth doesn’t understand the Word Of GOD Hoffman. Lee has never been wrong and him picking MJ Flair to be in the Best Alliance.

Joe Hoffman: ……

Benny Newell: What?

Joe Hoffman: You said Lee doesn’t make bad decisions and that was one of them.

Benny Newell: Shut the fuck up Hoffhole!

As his music fades…..

♫ “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” by AC/DC ♫

Joe Hoffman: The familiar tune of The Gold Standard and Sektor re-emerged as his old self with quick work at Refueled V.

Benny Newell: Pump the breaks Hoffman. It’ll take more than a shave, haircut, tattooing Gold Standard on your ass to show your back to your prime form when you defeat that male gigolo Chris Diamond.

The HOV lights up, bringing on an avalanche of appraise as a giant handlebar mustache appears on the screen. Highlights of John Sektor’s Hall of Fame career flash in, as well has his dual reign as ICON and World heavyweight champion and most recently his dominant victory over Chris Diamond. As the video montage fades, the Master of The “Stache” steps out from behind the curtain and onto the stage.

Joe Hoffman: The former world champion looking very confident.

Benny Newell: He beat Diamond, Hoffman. D-I-A-M-O-N-D!

Sektor hams it up, deviously stroking his ‘stache as he cockily marches down the ramp. No sooner has Sektor stepped into the ring than his music begins to fade out.

Bryan McVay: And their opponent, from Miami, Florida… he stands at 6’1” and weighs in at a formidable 235 pounds… He is the one, who said fuck off to Scottywood and his black tar heroin, but most importantly he is the man with the most distinguished Mustache in Professional Wrestling, he is… THE GOLD STANDARD! JOHN…SEEEEEEKTOOOOOOOR!

Benny Newell: Too bad Stevens never said no to that Scottywood’s Heroin. DRINK!

Joel Hortega goes over the rules with all three individuals and checks them before signaling for the bell.

Ding. Ding.

All three come out of their respective corners and Scotty and Sektor have a staredown.

Joe Hoffman: Sektor and Scotty know each other really well and Sektor wanted Scotty to be The Hardcore Artist and not Cry Baby Scotty.

As Scotty and Sektor continuing to stare at one another MJ Flair feeling left out turns both men towards her and as some choice words for them.

Benny Newell: That’s not smart girly.

Sektor and Scotty simply look at one another and the Hall of Fame duo deck Flair sending the newcomer to the canvas. The crowd goes wild as the duo stomp away on Flair. Sektor picks up MJ and throws her towards Scotty who delivers a shot to the gut before sending her flying out of the ring. As Scotty turns around Sektor slaps the shit out of The Hardcore Artist.

Joe Hoffman: Holy cow!

Benny Newell: See I knew Sektor was Best Alliance.

Scotty rearranges his jaw as he goes chest to chest with The Gold Standard.

John Sektor: Hit me!

Scotty looks at Sektor confused.

John Sektor: I said hit me you pussy!

Sektor says as he slaps Scotty again and the Hardcore Artist throws a heavy right that staggers Sektor a little bit and Sektor smirks before delivering his own right hand.

Joe Hoffman: Sektor and Scotty exchanging rights in the center of the ring.

Benny Newell: Well Sektor wanted this.

As the Hall of Famers continue to throw hands in the ring, MJ Flair, climbs back onto the apron and positions herself.

Joe Hoffman: Springboard dropkick!

The move connects on both Hall of Famers sending both to the canvas. MJ Flair looks down at both men and begins to stomp away.

MJ Flair: Going to fuck me up? Huh?

She yells with a kick to Scotty.

MJ Flair: I don’t think so!

She says with a kick to Sektor.

Benny Newell: That’s that Best Alliance attitude Hoffman! DRINK!

Flair drops the leg across the throat of Sektor before mounting Scotty and delivering right hands herself. Flair showing her agility as she jumps straight up and knocks the wind out of Scotty when she lands with a seated senton. Flair picks up the Hardcore Artist and whips him, but Scotty reverses the attempt. Scotty bends over for a back body drop but Flair leap frogs him to a waiting John Sektor who delivers a spinebuster. Cover.

 

Uno.

 

Dos.

 

No.

 

Scotty delivers a kick to the side of Sektor’s head.

Joe Hoffman: Scotty breaks up the pin with his Ice Kick that send Sektor for a loop.

Scotty throws Sektor to the outside before mounting Flair and begins punching her senseless.

Benny Newell: Come on MJ!

Scotty picks up Flair and throws her towards the nearest corner and Scotty looks to follow it up with a clothesline but the sparkplug known as MJ Flair has other ideas.

Joe Hoffman: Drop toe hold!

Scotty’s face gets even uglier as it smacks the middle turnbuckle and MJ turns Scotty over and begins to wail on him.

Benny Newell: Fuck em up!

Hortega warns MJ to back it out of the corner and he forcefully interjects himself to back Flair off.

Benny Newell: The fuck is that beaner doing?!?!?!?

Joe Hoffman: His job Benny or do you want MJ to be disqualified?

Benny Newell: Yeah we don’t need any stupid finishes especially after the ICON title match last show.

Hortega and MJ get into a heated argument as he backs her away from Scotty which gives the Hardcore Artist the opportunity to untie the top turnbuckle. MJ has heard enough as she pushes Hortega to the side and rushes towards the corner and Scotty was playing possum as he lifts MJ up and tosses her behind him as her head smacks on the exposed steel and cuts her open.

Benny Newell: What the fuck!

Blood begins to trickle down the face of MJ Flair, and her once black locks begin to turn crimson. Scotty makes his way towards her and Flair wipes the blood from her eyes and face and using her bloody hand to slap the bloody hell out of the Hall of Famer who staggers towards the ropes and falls backwards as Sektor holds the ropes down.

Joe Hoffman: Sektor lying in wait sends Scotty to the ouside.

Sektor slides into the ring and positions himself and after a stroke of the mustache doubles over Flair with a kick to the gut.

Joe Hoffman: C-Sektion!

 

Uno.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dos.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Benny Newell: Kickout! Kickout!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tres.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Flair is able to pop her shoulder up at the last instant and The Gold Standard doesn’t allow his opponent to comprehend a thought as he pulls her to her feet and delivers a spinning elbow smash.

Joe Hoffman: Hall of Fame Elbow.

Sektor delivers another kick to the gut and hooks MJ to deliver a double arm ddt.

Benny Newell: DIRTY DEEDS!

Joe Hoffman: And they’re done dirt cheap.

Benny Newell: Damn right!

As Sektor was delivering his DDT unknowingly to him Scotty had made it back onto the apron and began to ascend to the top rope.

 

Uno.

 

Dos.

 

NO!!!!!!!!!

 

Joe Hoffman: Oh my! Scotty with a flying elbow breaks up the pin!

Benny Newell: He only has half a brain Hoffman, but even he knows he has to pull out all the stops tonight.

All three individuals are laying on the mat and Hortega begins his count.

 

Uno.

 

Dos.

 

Tres.

 

Cuatro.

 

Cinco.

 

All three begin to stir.

 

Seis.

 

Siete.

 

All three are on all fours.

 

Ocho.

 

Scotty gets to his feet.

 

Nueve.

 

Sektor gets to his feet.

 

Die…..

 

MJ pops up at the last second.

Scotty charges at Sektor and Flair, but the two duck under the attempt and double over Scottywood and deliver a double DDT.

Benny Newell: Good to see Best Alliance members getting along.

Joe Hoffman: But Sektor isn’t in the……

Benny Newell: Shut the fuck up! You’ll ruin the moment!

MJ Flair barks orders to Sektor and The Gold Standard shakes his head in agreement and allows Flair to walk in front of him so he can grab her by the hair and deliver a neck breaker. Sektor goes for a cover and drives his forearm into the face of Flair.

 

Uno.

 

Dos.

 

Kickout.

 

Sektor stomps all around MJ’s body especially her legs. Sektor picks up her right leg and snaps it into the canvas like a DDT before barring the leg and pulling back on the ankle.

Joe Hoffman: Sektor just demonstrated why he is one of the most cerebral guys HOW history and outside of Rhys Townsend one of the most technical as well.

Benny Newell: Hard to argue that, but fuck Sektor stabbing his comrade in the back!

Hortega asks if Flair wants to quit but she says no and Sektor is suddenly trying to hold the submission and fight off Scotty as he begins to choke the Gold Standard. Scotty breaks the choke before the count of cinco and goes to lock in a New York Crab. As he turns Flair and before he can sit down Sektor is back to his feet so the Hardcore Artist has no choice but to knock Sektor out of the ring with a spear. Scotty talks smack to Sektor before giving him the finger.

Joe Hoffman: That’s nice.

Scotty turns his attention back to Flair who is lying on the canvas and as he reaches down to pick her up she grabs him by the dreadlocks.

Joe Hoffman: Small package!

 

Uno.

 

Dos.

 

Tres.

 

Benny Newell: Yes! Fuck you Scotty!

After the count of tres MJ Flair slithers out of the ring and to the outside as she hears her name announced as the victor and Hortega raises her hand. The newcomer looks into the camera and mouths, “Told ya” before drawing 2-0 using her blood onto the camera lens.

Joe Hoffman: Hard fought victory for Flair here tonight as her undefeated streak remains intact.

Benny Newell: Told you Lee knows how to pick them!

MJ leans against the barricade as Scotty stares at her from the ring and Sektor from the stage as we go to commercial.


What does the SON of GOD have in store for his Fivetive Academy and the future of High Octane Wrestling? More to come this weekend


Brian Hollywood is seen talking on his phone backstage. He is in business mode and seems to be focused on something. Hollywood’s conversation is able to be picked up. It’s unknown who he’s talking to, though.

Brian Hollywood: Yes. I’m telling you man it’s about to go down. All of it. I need to know if your in. This is something that needs to happen. I don’t care what the effect is. I’m getting what I want.

Hollywood pauses as he listens to the mystery person on the other end of the phone. A very focused Hollywood all of a sudden smiles and speaks again.

Brian Hollywood: Excellent! That’s what I love to hear! I know we’ve had history in the past…plenty of history in fact. Heh. But it’s time to make more of it..this time on the same side! It’s gonna be a fucking blood bath but it’s what NEEDS to happen if I’m going to get what I want…and I ALWAYS get what I want!

Hollywood pauses as he looks up and sees the camera. He slightly smirks and continues.

Brian Hollywood: War Games is coming up fast and it’s going to be exactly that! I’m taking everything back. One way or another. This time, man, I’m not going to be…alone! I’ll talk to you soon my friend.

Hollywood hangs up the phone as Jace Savage walks up. Hollywood nods his head as the two shake hands.

Jace Savage: Hows everything going man? Good?

Hollywood smiles and nods his head.

Brian Hollywood: Everything’s perfect. Just got done with a business call. Setting everything up as they need to be. No matter what happens…either way…I’m getting my way! All this business has been about the War Games main event and I’m GETTING on that fucking team! Lee has no idea what he’s doing with this best alliance war games team. I don’t understand why he’s got outsiders when he damn well knows he’s got a main event caliber Star right here in me! I’ve carried this fucking company once…I fully intend on doing it again!

Jace Savage: But what if you don’t get on that team?

There is a pause as Hollywood takes in that last question from Jace. It would anger Hollywood…more importantly it would confuse him as he couldn’t understand what’s so hard to enlist him from what he’s done for HOW. Hollywood looks at Jace and simply smiles as he seems to have everything figured out. That’s what Hollywood does. He always has a contingency.

Brian Hollywood: IF…and that’s a big if Lee doesn’t chose me…he would be making not only the biggest mistake of his life…but set into motion something Lee doesn’t want to surface in HOW. Lee knows what I’m capable of and he knows how far I’ll go to get what I want and to make what’s BEST for HOW. But I’ve always got a plan, Jace. It all comes down to what Lee decides. His decision will decide the fate of which path HOW goes down. Trust me…I’ll be ready.

Hollywood pauses again as he lets the words and the meaning of his warning set in. Hollywood smiles again and looks up seemingly directly at the camera.

Brian Hollywood: It’s your move Lee. You have one decision and you know what you have to do. But I’ve been watching everything you’ve been doing and it concerns me. Now…the next move you make will dictate if I’m right about what needs to be done next. Chose wisely Lee…I’ll be watching. But most importantly…I’ll be ready.

Hollywood stares into the camera intently as his message to Lee was loud and clear as a focused Hollywood continues to look forward as the show pans elsewhere.


The camera fades back to Lee Best’s office.  Lee sits with his arms folded reviewing everyone’s credentials carefully for the last spot on the War Games match.  In the middle of his thought process, the door to his office slams open. Variably upset, Lee stands up looking rather annoyed as Darin Zion rushes up to him and gives him a handshake, which Lee immediately ignores.

Darin Zion:  Thank you, Lee!  Thank you so much for letting me prove myself worthy of a War Games spot.  Can’t wait to wrestle alongside your team. You know my credentials, boss man.  I’ve busted my ass in that match. I came within inches after wrestling two matches in one night to winning the whole damn thing.  I won’t underestimate Mike’s team like I did with Jace’s when I first came into HOW. It’s my year to win War Games and together; our team will dominate the…

Lee Best:  Don’t you dare come barging into my office like that again.  Sit your ass down and shut the fuck up. First Hollywood is making demands and now you are assuming that you are on MY TEAM??

Zion looks rather confused with Lee’s anger.  He shirks it off and obliges with Lee’s request.  He sits down in the fancy leather desk chair as Lee firmly leans forward with fire in his eyes.

Lee Best:  I do agree with you however….you will not be letting me down because you will NOT be on my War Games team.

Zion’s eye twitches.  His face becomes expressionless.  All hope in humanity drains from his face.  All brain activity shuts down. Zion clears his throat for a moment while calmly standing up and speaking.  His tone doesn’t match the red in his face. Zion’s trying to remain composed without yelling or killing Lee Best in this moment.  Zion’s breathes grow longer with each passing sentence he speaks.

Darin Zion:  Excuse me?!  I won the match.  You have the audacity to tell my ass your not selecting me let alone not allowing me to wrestle at War Games.  Do you know what the fuck I’ve given to come into HOW? You’re talking to a man who sold his soul from Pariah like that?!  A man who by far has more experience in a War Games match than your entire fucking team. Yet you let your roster call me the delusional fuck?  You’re fucking kidding me right now.

Lee slams his fists straight into the table bringing Zion back to reality.  Lee’s visibly upset. He’s holding back from lunging across his own desk and killing Zion.  It’s not worth his time or the paperwork. Lee’s voice raises.

Lee Best:  Talk to me like that again and I’ll make damn sure you go back to pulling Excel reports behind a fucking desk never to utter a single worthless tweet again.  Now listen here fuckstick….you obviously suffered another concussion. Don’t lie to me. I spoke to the medical staff personally. It’s your third fucking concussion.  You KNOW your ass is going to get hit in the head at War Games and I’ll be damned if you fucking die on my watch…on my team….and cost me a win…..and your life I suppose.

Darin Zion:  And it isn’t to me, Lee?  I’ve come up short the last two damn War Games.  I need this win! I’ve waited three long…

Lee Best:  Three long years, blah blah blah!  Just shut the fuck up and quit whining. You are NOT going to cost me THIS match…not THIS year…..

Zion stands up, grabs Lee’s collar and pulls him in yelling.

Darin Zion:  Damnit, Lee!  Put me in War Games!  I’m tired of this shit.  Put me in or I walk over to OCW full time.  They’d offer me a main event slot…

Zion tosses Lee back down.  Lee stares daggers into Zion’s eyes and the man slowly sits back down…realizing he is in dangerous waters.

Lee Best:  I am going to chalk that one up to you being fucking concussed. Tough me again and you will be a one eyed fucking concussed twat…..got it??

Tampa’s finest, who are Lee’s personal bodyguards tonight,  open the door and in walks Noah Hanson. Zion immediately stands up in his chair.  Both Hanson and he bicker back and forth for a moment as the camera focuses back on Lee chuckling his ass off at how much he pissed Zion off.

Lee Best:  You don’t get THE War Games match, Zion.  But how about we reunite Hanson and Zion in the Tag Team Championship match.  Sex and Money baby…wasn’t that your old stable here in HOW…don’t you have something going on in the other timeslot on HOTv?

Hanson looks Zion square in the face.  He shakes his head, scowling straight at him rather disappointed.

Noah Hanson:  I hate this as much as you do, Zion.  You stabbed me in that back. I’d much rather tag with anyone else in the world, but…

Darin Zion:  Shut up!  Can’t you see important people would rather conduct business negotiations.  Now Lee you fuck…

Hanson slaps the piss out of Zion.  Zion’s face turns completely beat red.  He wants to level Hanson straight in the temple.

Noah Hanson:  Don’t disrespect the boss, Zion.  I taught you better than that. I hate Lee Best too.  But he knows what’s best for you, Zion. We need to work out some of our problems.  I offered to tag with you to keep you safe because I still care. You need to take it easy.  I can care us to the Tag Team Championships, like I always did back in PWX.

Darin Zion:  You still want to hold me down, put me on a leash, and act like everything’s fine after what you and Hollywood did to me.  Hell, you cost us the Tag Team Championships the last time we held them. Why in the hell would I want a grandpa like you as a tag partner when I deserve that shot in the War Games match like I earned.

Lee Best slams his fists straight down on the table as he stands right behind Zion ready to kill him.  He glares a hole straight in Zion’s face.

Lee Best:  Twenty second timeout children.  Zion, your next words out of your mouth better be ‘Thank you, Lee for giving me a spot on the War Games card in general, I’ll take the match’ or I send your ass home indefinitely to think about respect.  You seem to still lack that basic concept here in HOW.

Zion flips Lee Best off before reaching in to shake Lee’s hand but Lee just scoffs at the thought of shaking his hand.

Lee Best: Get the fuck outta here. I don’t need to shake your hand. You do whatever the fuck I tell you to do….this is not a negotiation…it’s a motherfucking order.

Darin Zion:  Fine, thank you twat waffle for giving me jack shit as usual.  I will become the Tag Team Champions myself. But mark my words; it would be a DAMN shame any War Games participants had an ‘accident.’

Zion winks as he starts to head towards the exit.  Hanson extends his hand to shake, but Zion slaps it out of the way as he storms off into the backstage area.

Noah Hanson:  I would expect that move from a Best and not you.  Stop being a disrespectful little asshat.

SLAM!

Noah rolls his eyes as Zion slams the door to Lee’s office shut.  Appalled at Hanson’s comments, Lee Best points Noah towards the exit.

Noah Hanson:  What?  I’m sorry for creating Zion.  I don’t have to show you any praise in return for my regrets.

Hanson leaves Lee’s office as the scene fades to black.


High Octane Television is happy to announce a new signing for the full time staff. They will begin work this week and will help oversee a change in direction for the network


Joe Hoffman: Do not adjust your devices, HOW faithful, this is NOT a rerun– this is your main event, and boy, this one is going to get out of control. Two weeks ago, Dan Ryan and Cecilworth Farthington battled it out to a double countout for the ICON Championship, a completely unprecedented event in HOW history.

Benny Newell: I always wondered what happened when Boettcher counted to ten, Hoffman. It turns out, a member of the Best Alliance gets FUCKED! That’s what happens at ten. A BRUTAL MISCARRIAGE OF JUSTICE!

Joe Hoffman: Well there will be no count outs tonight, Mr. Newell– both Michael and Lee Best came to an agreement on the stipulation for tonight’s match, which explains the fifteen foot cage you see just above the ring here tonight. Tonight’s match will end decisively– escape, pinfall, or submission.

Benny Newell: There’s no escaping Dan Ryan, Joe. There’s no pinning or submitting him, either– this should have been a Buried Alive match, just to save Dan the trouble of putting him in the ground AFTER he wins the title.

“Zero” by Smashing Pumpkins begins to blast over the speakers, as the lights go out and a dual-spotlight makes an encircling pattern on the entrance area. Dan Ryan steps out with a mean grin on his face, lifting the sunglasses off his eyes and looking out into the crowd as walks intently down the ramp, pyro blasting off behind him.

Dan rolls in under the bottom rope and climbs the nearest turnbuckle, looking out into a mostly booing crowd as the music plays. A few diehard fans respect the man too much to shit on him, but the majority of the Tampa audience is ready to see the Best Alliance get their due here tonight.

Joe Hoffman: Here comes the challenger– Dan Ryan was focused for the last confrontation between these two men, and had his emotions in check. Unfortunately, a brawl at ringside lasted longer than either man meant for it to, and here we are tonight. Will he bring that same focus to a championship match? Tempers really flared this week in the buildup to this match.

Benny Newell: Dan doesn’t need focus. He just needs fists and to outweigh his opponent by almost 150lbs. Farthington looks like a SCARED CROW. HA! Get it? Cause he’s a FUCKING COWARD AND HE IS A SMALL MAN.

“Money” by The Flying Lizards begins it’s funky drum and bass groove as the Cecilworth Farthington steps out from behind the curtain, wearing just one of his championships tonight– the HOW ICON Championship. He isn’t putting on any show tonight, making his way down to the ring to little fanfare as he locks eyes with his mentor and rival in the ring.

Joe Hoffman: And here comes the champion, a man some would say has become more dangerous than ever in 2019. After a slow start in the HOW World Title Tournament, Cecilworth Farthington regained his focus and captured the HOW ICON Championship. There’s a gleam in that man’s eyes, and I’d hate to be inside that cage tonight.

Benny Newell: This isn’t a cage, Hoffman, it’s a prison– it’s lights out for Cecilworthless tonight. NEW CHAMP, GOOD BOOKING! NOW DRINK GODDAMNIT!

Farthington avoids the ring steps, instead walking over to the timekeeper’s table and snatching a steel chair, bringing it with him as he slides into the ring and drops it beneath him to the canvas.

Referee Joel Hortega comments on the chair, but in this match it’s completely legal. Hortega takes the championship from Cecilworth, holding the ICON Championship aloft to signify that the title is on the line as the cage slowly begins to descend from the ceiling. As it covers the ring, Joel makes his way to the door, opening it and handing the belt off to the timekeeper.

Hortega tests to make sure the door is soft-locked, and once he’s assured he signals for the bell to be rung, officially starting this title match.

 

DING DING DING

 

As soon as the bell rings, Cecilworth Farthington turns and sprints for his side of the cage, not missing a beat as he begins to ascend the steel. Dan Ryan shakes his head, looking disgusting as he slowly walks toward the fleeing champion, disappointed that he isn’t going to get a straight up fight out of the–

*CRACK!*

The knee of Cecilworth Farthington collides with the face of the challenger, as he leaps off the cage with a modified springboard shining wizard, sending Dan Ryan flat onto his back in the center of the ring!

Joe Hoffman: WHOA! DIDN’T SEE THAT COMING!

Benny Newell: That’s fucking THEFT, you piece of shit! That knee belongs to the High Octane MOGUL!

Indeed, Farthington has borrowed a page out of the book of his BEE-EFF-EFF Mike Best, as he rolls to his feet and looks down at Dan Ryan, fire in his eyes.

CMF: Comedy Hour is over, Dan!

The crowd explodes into cheers, as Dan Ryan stumbles to his feet, met with a club in the back from the fist of Farthington. He shoves the champion backward, rubbing at his jaw with a smile on his face– this is the war that he was looking forward to, but he’s going to slow it down as he backs up a few steps, resetting the fight against an opponent who is undoubtedly leaner and faster.

Dan Ryan shakes his hands out, getting into a circling stance with CM!JF as the two stare down, each waiting for an opening. In an instant, both decide to strike, and they meet in the center of the ring with fierce back and forth blows. The challenger gets the better of the exchange, blocking a right hand and countering with one of his own as he takes over on the offense. Farthington recoils from the oncoming barrage, stumbled by the force of the flurry of punches.

Dan Ryan continues the assault, backing CM!JF up into the ropes with his back against the steel cage. As he rears back to connect with a haymaker, Cecilworth ducks, and the packed crowd goes nuts as Dan Ryan’s hand collides full impact against the side of the steel. He cries out, staggering backward and holding his hand as CM!JF capitalizes on the mistake– he battles back with a haymaker of his own, and backs up into the ropes to launch a flying clothesline that sends Dan down to the mat!

Farthington goes right to work, not giving his old mentor time to regain his composure. He drops to a knee, grabbing hold of the forearm and wrist of Dan Ryan and locking on a savage looking armbar.

Joe Hoffman: This is a smart strategy by CM!JF.  One of the ways to escape it to climb the cage, so he’s going to work that arm early and make it as difficult as possible for Dan Ryan to–

Benny Newell: He’s a cheater.

Joe Hoffman: It’s strategy, Benny. If you work the–

Benny Newell: He’s a dirty cheater.

Joe Hoffman: You can’t cheat in a–

Benny Newell: CHEEEEEEAAATER!

In the center of the ring, Dan cries out in pain as the champion cinches up on the hold. He kicks his legs, trying to gain any kind of leverage, but Cecilworth simply pulls tighter. It’s as if he’s trying to pull the arm right out of its socket. Dan roars again, trying to wriggle his way free– finally, he manages to roll his shoulders and power out, clutching his shoulder as he scrambles to his feet, putting some distance between him and the champion.

Cecilworth climbs back to his feet, making is way back toward the hopefully weakened challenger. Dan Ryan is ready for him, though, and he charges up out of three point stance to lift CM!JF off his feet. He carries Farthington through the air, jarring his back against the cold hard steel as he spears him into the side of the cage!

Dan tries to stretch out his shoulder, climbing to his feet. He watches in a sadistic glee as CM!JF holds his back, slowly trying to get back off the canvas. With a snarl, Dan rears back and kicks the challenger directly in the ribs, knocking him back into the cage a second time.

Joe Hoffman: What an impact, ladies and gentlemen– Cecilworth Farthington proudly called himself the King of the Cage, but it seems to be working against him so far tonight.

Benny Newell: That’s what he gets for being a dirty cheater.

Joe Hoffman: He’s not a cheater, you idiot! It was an armbar!

Dan grabs a hold of the cage, using it for leverage as he continues to stomp down on the back and head of Cecilworth Farthington. The Double Champion Prince tries to cover up and avoid the brunt of the blows, but it doesn’t do much good as he’s repeatedly punted.

Dan seems to get bored of his own aggressive behavior after a moment, and he backs off suddenly. Seeing the steel chair still laid on the canvas, he smiles savagely and scurries over to collect it. Picking up the chair from the mat, he bends his knees and cocks it back like a baseball bat, waiting for CM!JF to get to his feet. The champion climbs slowly, pulling on the ropes to assist his recovery…

 

*THWACK!*

 

The sound resonates throughout the arena as the chair makes contact with the skull of Cecilworth Farthington. He collapses to the mat, but before Dan can discard the steel chair, Farthington begins to pull himself back up! The fans go nuts, almost as unable to believe it as the man staring down at him in the ring. Flaring his nostrils, Dan pulls the chair back again, ready to swing for the fences.

 

*THWACK!*

 

Farthington goes down again, this time cracked even harder in the side of the head than the time before. The impact is sickening, and the familiar sticky crimson of human blood begins to trickle onto the canvas as it leaks from the face of Cecilworth Farthington.

Joe Hoffman: I know it’s legal, but I just can’t understand why Joel Hortega would allow something like this to happen. I know these men wanted a fight, but this has gone beyond a wrestling match already– this is very personal.

Benny Newell: So Farthington cheats and it’s okay, but Dan gets a LEGAL chair and all of the sudden he’s the bad guy? You’re such a hypocrite.

Albeit slower this time, Farthington begins to pull himself up from a small pool of his own blood, which is now smearing across the canvas. The crowd is 100% behind him, leaving a look of both hatred and astonishment on the face of Dan Ryan as he readies the chair one more time, preparing to take CM!JF’s head off as he stands to his feet.

*CLAAAAAAAAANG!*

The chair ricochets off the side of the cage as Cecilworth ducks, this time prepared for the assault! Dan stumbles backward, narrowly avoiding smashing himself in the face with his own attack. Farthington boots him in the stomach, hard, forcing him to drop the chair down in front of him. Ryan keels forward, and Cecilworth grabs him into position, hooking the knee of the challenger and measuring him up over top of the steel chair…

Joe Hoffman: MY GOD, WORTHLESS ONTO A STEEL CHAIR!

Benny Newell: What the FUCK?! WHERE THE FUCK DID THAT COME FROM?!

Dan Ryan’s skull collides with the steel chair, rag dolling him out across the mat after a bridging fisherman’s suplex by Cecilworth M. Jamela Farthington! Dan is laid out in the center of the ring, as CM!JF holds on for the pin! This one is over!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

 

NO! DAN RYAN POWERS OUT!

 

Smacking the mat in frustration, Farthington lunges for the ropes, pulling himself up as quickly as he can to his feet. He looks up to the top of the cage, and through blood and sweat masking his face he breaks out into a bright grin. He glances at his nearly motionless opponent, and then back at the top of the cage– back at Dan, back at the cage. The crowd begins to lose their shit, screaming at the top of their lungs as he ascends the top of the ropes, using them for momentum as he begins to climb the cage.

Joe Hoffman: This could be it! AND STILL CHAMPION!

Benny Newell: WAKE UP FUCKER! COME ON DAN YOU CAN DOOOOO ITTTTT! DO IT FOR LEE!

Farthington strains to climb, fighting against blood and beating as he ascends the cage. Dan Ryan sits up in the ring, holding his neck as he shakes his head. He rolls to his side, seeing CM!JF making his way up the cage and frantically begins to crawl toward the ropes.

Joe Hoffman: Farthington could have it here– he’s almost to the top!

Benny Newell: GOD FUCKING DAMNIT DO SOMETHING! ANYTHING! THROW A SHOE AT HIM!

Dan Ryan reaches the cage, pulling himself to his feet and climbing up onto the ring ropes. He holds the cage for balance. Cecilworth reaches the top, swinging his first leg up and over the cage……

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DAN RYAN GRABS HOLD OF FARTHINGTON’S OTHER LEG!!!!

 

The crowd can’t believe it, and neither can CM!JF as Dan drops down from the ropes, holding on to the right leg of Farthington and pulling down with all his weight. He is literally swinging on the leg of his opponent, pulling Farthington’s groin taught against the steel in a kind of split-submission hold at the top of the cage! CM!JF screams out, trying to hold on to the cage and release the tension, but he has no choice but to swing his leg back around! He falls from the cage, and both combatants land back on the canvas in a heap of blood and chaos!

Joe Hoffman: So close! Cecilworth Farthing almost just retained!

Benny Newell: Horseshoes and hand grenades, FUCK FACE! HA HA, DRINK!

Joel Hortega leans in to check on the participants, both of whom are laid out and hardly moving. A leg twitch here, a shake of the head there, but both men seem to have the lights out and no one over the age of eighteen at home.

It’s Dan Ryan that begins to stir first, having fallen a shorter distance. He rolls to his knees, pushing himself up with his arms and eventually getting to a wobbling stand. Groggily, he yells at Farthington to get up, screaming down at him and slapping him in the side of the head. He grabs the opponent, picking him up by the head and getting him to his feet. He kicks the steel chair over a foot or two, setting it up in the target zone behind Cecilworth Farthington, and then grabs the champion into a rough tie up from behind, putting him into full nelson position…

Joe Hoffman: I don’t know if I like the look in his eyes…

Benny Newell: DO IT! DO IT! FOR THE LOVE OF LEE MOTHERFUCKER BEST, DO IT!!!

Dan Ryan launches CM!JF backward, sending him headfirst into the steel chair with a sickening crack! Both men take the brunt of the chair, with Farthington taking it much harder– both combatants are laid out in the ring, as a “HOLY SHIT” chant begins emanating from the Tampa crowd. The sheer sound of the blow was enough to make everyone in attendance cringe.

Joe Hoffman: That vicious, terrible Dragon Suplex– I… I think Farthington might be dead.

Benny Newell: Hey, you wanna call HOW a Shitty Deathmatch Promotion? Die in the fucking ring. That’s called Karma, Joe– and Dan Ryan is called the next ICON Champion.

Dan Ryan rolls over, throwing an arm over Cecilworth Farthington, as Joel Hortega drops to make the official count.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO! FARTHINGTON KICKS OUT AT 2.999999!

 

The arena just about has it’s roof blown off as Cecilworth just gets a shoulder up, rolling away from Dan’s halfway pin. The challenger just wasn’t in position enough to hold the champion down, and Farthington clutches the ropes, trying to get his bearings as both men remain down.

Dan is a man on a mission now, as he pushes himself up to his knees, and then stands to his feet. He’s running on something other than oxygen at this point, as he reaches down and snatches CM!JF by the hair, dragging him to his feet and into the middle of the ring and punching him about as hard as he can, right in the mouth! Farthington starts to slump to the floor, but Dan holds him by his hair, and socks him one again! The HOW ICON Champion is out on his feet, and now Ryan tucks his head between his knees, signaling that it’s time to put this one away!

Joe Hoffman: THE HUMILITY BOMB! Dan Ryan might be about to end this!

Benny Newell: PUT HIM THE FUCK AWAY, MOTHERFUCKER!

Dan Ryan lifts CM!JF up for the powerbomb, but his worn down shoulder gives out on him and gives Cecilworth a chance to wriggle free! Dan drops to a knee, the sharp pain in his shoulder taking him by surprise, as Cecilworth drops to his feet behind the challenger!

With Dan on his knees, Cecilworth grabs him stiffly by the side of the head, the crowd buzzing.

CM!JF: MURDER! DEATH! KILL!

With the most force he’s ever thrown behind a strike, Farthington’s heavy forearm slams into the side of Dan’s temple, dropping him to the mat with a perfectly timed and executed strike! The impact is sickening, slumping the challenger over in the middle of the ring, as Farthington drops to a knee out of fatigue, looking at Dan Ryan and then looking at the door of the cage.

Benny Newell: Don’t you fucking do it, you coward. You fucking cheat. STAY AND FIGHT!

Farthington stands to his feet, taking a deep breath and looking down at Dan Ryan. He’s done here. He shambles for the door, ordering Joel Hortega to open it up, as Dan rolls onto his stomach, trying to get his bearings after having his bell fucking RUNG.

The door to the cage is open, and Farthington looks back at Dan Ryan again, before stepping down onto the ring stairs. Dan starts to sit up, seeing Farthington ducking through the ropes, and the frustration fills his eyes, realizing he’s just a second too late.

DING DING DING

Farthington’s feet touch the floor, as he steps off the ring steps and greedily snatches his HOW ICON Championship from the timekeeper.

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner… AND STILL HOW ICON CHAMPION…. CECILWORTH…. EMMMMM…. JAAAAAY…. FAAAARTHINGTONNNNN

Farthington holds the title aloft, looking back into the ring at Dan. He looks like he’s finally got a weight off his shoulders, and he and Dan share just the slightest nod of respect. Dan climbs to his feet, still stretching out his should as CMF makes his way toward the—

*CRACK!*

The steel pipe collides with the back of CM!JF’s head as he collapses to the concrete with an unceremonious crunch. Eric Dane, the de facto in-ring captain of the Best Alliance stands over him, smoldering as he stares at the ICON Championship that has fallen to the floor as well.

Joe Hoffman: No, not now… come on, Eric, these men have been through war…

Benny Newell: Maybe if he hadn’t been a baby-back bitch and ran away from the cage, he’d still be safe!

Dane climbs over the guardrail he was standing behind, followed shortly in tow by a lightly bandaged Mary Jane Flair. He drags the champion back toward the cage, stuffing him up the steps and through the ropes. Dan Ryan has climbed to his feet inside, but is admittedly looking a little bit uneasy about smashing in the face of a man he just went through a respectable war with.

Eric Dane gets impatient with Dan’s hesitation, seeing Farthington getting up to his knees. Dane backs up into the ropes, hollering as he thunders forward and collides titanium-brace first with a knee to the face of CM!JF! The impact is sickening, as Farthington is knocked clean out in the ring. Dane isn’t finished though, as he lays stomps into the champion– Dan steps toward the turnbuckle, trying to catch his breath and looking the other way, as MJF joins the dastardly Dane in the beatdown.

Joe Hoffman: WAIT! HERE COMES THE CAVALRY!

Benny Newell: FUCK A CAVALRY LOCK THE CAGE! LOCK IT!

From behind the curtain, Max Kael, Halitosis and Scottywood rush the ring, hurrying down the ramp to come and save their ally and team member. Scotty starts climbing the cage outright, while Max and Halitosis jockey to be the first in the cage door.

Eric Dane realizes that he’s about to be surrounded, as he backs up and grabs the discarded steel chair from the canvas, brandishing it in front of him as MJ backs up as well, picking up the pipe that Dane dropped when they got into the ring.

Max and Halitosis sprint for the pair, as Max eats the business end of the pipe from MJ Flair but battles back anyway, rallying with right hands and an elbow. Halitosis avoids a chair shot from Dane, and before Eric can swing again, Scottywood comes down from the top of the cage with a huge splash that knocks everyone in the ring down, sprawling them out to the mat!

From the back, Lindsay Troy comes railing out to the ring to even out the odds, as Dan Ryan picks Max Kael up off the canvas, throwing him into the side of the cage as the two begin to brawl. Scottywood scrambles to his feet, booting MJF in the stomach and hitting a GAME MISCONDUCT! It’s absolute anarchy in the ring, with no sign of slowing down. Both sides are brawling out of control, with Joel Hortega having no ability whatsoever to stop it.

Joe Hoffman: Wait a minute… it’s Sektor! JOHN SEKTOR IS HERE!

Benny Newell: Ohhhhhh shit here we go! It’s time to choose! CHOOSE WISELY JOHN!

Whatever Sektor has on his mind, he’s clearly long since made it up– the Gold Standard bullrushes the ring, sliding in through the open door and scrambling to his feet. He grabs the again-fallen chair off the canvas, taking a swing… and clobbering Dan Ryan in the back of the head with it! The fans in the arena explode, but he isn’t done yet– Lindsay Troy?

Chaired!

MJ Flair?

CHAIRED.

Eric Dane?

The End Boss steps foward, daring Sektor to take a swing with that chair as the two go nose to nose in the ring– Eric Dane looks as though he feels betrayed, and Sektor looks like he’s about to kick some ass. The fans are at a fever pitch, but Sektor boots Dane in the stomach, grabbing his arms and nailing a C-SEKTION IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING!

Team eMpire re-convenes in the middle of the ring, everyone looking at John Sektor as though they’ve known he was part of the team all along. He helps Cecilworth Farthington to his feet, holding the ICON Champion’s air high in the air, as the HOW copyright appears at the bottom of the screen.


There’s an abrupt cut of static, as we interlace that static with the conclusion of tonight’s HOTv. The static bleeds into a still but capacity packed parking lot, with the rush of cheers resonating and echoing around the lot like the echo in a cave. HOTv is officially over for those in the arena, but those at home?

The cold metallic doors to a far side of the arena are thrust open. We see the hands of a nervous man, fumbling and squeezing his own fist in frustration. The cameraman stops and let’s this man continue, as we see Lee Best from behind. He walks toward his black Hummer Limo waiting for him in the far distance. His driver stands there dressed in his finest, arms folded in front of his body with a sturdy demeanor. Flanking Best on either side as he walks with purpose are two of Tampa’s finest, dressed for action.

Another cameraman picks him up from behind the Hummer, pulling up just as Best gets to his driver. Lee is talking over a cellphone held to his ear as he hands a briefcase to his driver. The driver opens the door, as one of the detectives stops Best to check around the vehicle. Best seems to be at his wits end, a bead of sweat slipping down his cheek.

“Look man, I do not care what it takes…” Best ran his free hand across the back of his head. “I will take a fucking pay day loan to get you as my wildcard…” Best paused, and frowned confused. “No, no… my asshole Son got Sektor and the idiots just laid out my whole damn team with some cheap shots…” Best nodded along with the conversation. “…well I consider them cheap shots… look man…” Best just sighed, tossing his head back. “What is it…” Best has had enough. “Yes? Or no?”

Lee pauses just outside of the limo as he listens intently to the voice on the other end. There is a look of true concern on his face as he reacts with each syllable that is uttered.

“What? You gotta be shitting me???”

Lee continues to listen to the voice but now he is frantically looking all around the parking lot…..for someone…..or something? His eyes are wide and worried, and his bead of sweat gains a brother and a sister.

“You…” Best laughs. “No. You’re…” Best says it with a bit of disbelief. “You’re serious…”

Lee quickly opens the back door and leans in to see…….

Nothing.

No one.

But something.

“Is this a joke?” Best says, as one of the detectives inspects inside. He tells Lee to take a second look inside, to which Lee leans his head into the Hummer.

There is a plain manila envelope sitting on the backseat. As Lee reaches out to grab it, a dial-tone is loudly heard over Lee Best’s phone as he quickly stows his 97red colored iPhone.

There’s a highly stylized shot of the manilla envelope taking up the bottom of the frame as Lee Best holds it up to his face, his eyes wide filled with emotion. He unwraps the 97red cord and flips open the flap, before gently pulling out the thick stack of papers. He just lets out the quietest of laughs.

Lee lowers the papers and smiles from ear to ear as he reads it.

We see a shot of a large legal document, with two names sign on the bottom.

One is Lee Best, with a dick drawn in different handwriting above his name.

The other?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

HIGH FLYER


War Games Match for the World and ICON Championships
The Best Alliance (Eric Dane, Lindsay Troy, Dan Ryan, MJ Flair, High Flyer vs. The eMpire (Farthington©, Max Kael©, Scottywood, Halitosis, John Sektor)

Tag Team Title Match with the titles hanging from War Games Cage above each ring
The Egg Bandits vs. The LOD (Kostoff and Silent Witness) vs. Scott Stevens and Jonny O’Dell vs. Darin Zion and Noah Hanson

Roleplay Countdown

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