Scotty’s 1st Piece of Flair

The headlights of the U-Haul truck pierce the darkness of night as it rolls down I-95 somewhere South of Savannah, Georgia.  It’s been a long 48 hours as Scotty and Frankie have finished packing the truck their belongings from the sale of the NGW Arena, which housed their New York City apartment for many years.  Now driving down to Florida for both War Games… and to find a temporary apartment to call home until they can sort shit out.

Frankie, sitting shotgun is both recording video with one iPhone while playing Jurassic World Alive on other… he is a poster child for ADD in this country… never able to focus on one thing completely.  Needing to have a bevy of shit to keep them occupied.  

All Scotty needs right now though is the radio which right now has a feed of HOW’s High Octane Radio.  They are tuned in live to listen to Lee and Mike Best announce who will start off War Games for each of their teams.  After that, the entry order will remain a mystery.

The rambling of Mike Best’s voice might be a deterrent to staying awake… but luckily the content is enough to make up for it.  Oh and a copious amount of energy drinks. Plus this is a match that will make or break Scotty’s career in HOW. A true test to see if he has really refueled the tank and has anything left to try and get past this first HOW Pay Per View.  Or if he will be left behind as a new era of wrestlers carry HOW on in this era.

“So the first entrant into War Games for Team eMpire will be… The Hardcore Artist, Scottywood.” says Mike Best on High Octane Radio.  The words piercing Scottywood with a sense of familiarity and absolutely zero shock.

“Knew it.” Comments Scotty to himself as he smiles and takes another drink of his NOS that sits in his Alchemist koozie… wishing so badly this trip was over so it could be a beer.

“Now don’t take that as a rip on Scotty… or that I think he is the weak member of Team eMpire.” Adds Mike, as if he can hear Scotty’s disappointment with his pick live on the air.

“He is a hardcore specialtist and I wanna take full advantage of the carnage that he can cause in that cell.” Explains Mike as Scotty chuckles and rolls his eyes a bit.

“Spin it however you want Mike.  Everyone can see the bias… and we all knew Max nor Cecil was going to be your pick.  But despite all that… I also can’t argue that your wrong…” Admits Scotty as flies by some tractor trailer whose driver is probably on cruise control and half asleep.  I mean those things pretty much drive themselves… right?

“When it comes to matches like this… no one knows how to inflict more pain on an opponent than me.  Nobody thrives on the anarchy and brutality more than me. No one in this match… minus maybe Max… has more experience inside this cell… than me.  So on that level, I’ll agree with your choice Mike… and as much as it will hurt me… I’ll prove you right.” Struggles Scotty as it eats him alive to say that Mike Best May be right.  I think it’s something coded into his DNA maybe.

“So my first entrant for War Games…” Starts Lee as the DEVIL starts to talk over the GOD of HOW.

“Yes Lee, who is going to be the poor son of a bitch to have to step into that cell with me all by themselves.  What HOW rookie is going to have their War Games cherry popped by The Hardcore Artist in the most brutal and bloody way possible?” Question Scotty over Lee’s build up for his first entry pick.

“MJ Flair will be my first entrant son.” Announces Lee to Mike as Scotty just smirks… as it’s obvious to everyone the history these two already have in her short HOW career.

“Or what daughter of a bitch…” Chuckles Scotty as instead of being angry at having to start against the rookie that pinned him in his last match, he’s actually yearning at the chance for payback.  

“Actually fits perfectly.  Daddy Eli doesn’t have what it takes anymore… so his daughter will now pays for daddy’s sins in PTC.  Ya, I didn’t wanna bring up PTC… cause fuck them. But now after MJ beat me up at Refueled VI, now that she stands in front of me and War Games… it’s all on the fucking table.  So now I’m gonna destroy your daughter Eli cause your a fucking quitter. You’re an embarrassment to New Yorkers… not willing to fight until someone drags your dead fucking body out of that ring because you have given EVERYTHING that you fucking have.”

Scotty has to reach for the NOS again to try and calm himself with some form of a drink… it doesn’t help like a beer… but it’s a momentary relief from the stress.  Like super fucking momentary…

“Fuck your retirement!  Retirement is for the fucking weak.  Those that can’t fucking hack it anymore and wanna relax.  HOW the fuck can one who is really passionate about something ever fucking relax from it?  You’re a pussy Eli and I’m gonna kick your daughter right in her’s before I Game Misconduct her ass into that canvas and pin her bloodied fucking ass to eliminate her from War Games.  I think they call that poetry or something fucking like that.” Sorta fucking questions Scotty… likely never having read a line of real fucking poetry in his life.

He switches off the radio show as he can’t listen to Lee or Mike’s voice anymore without wanting to turn this truck into a fucking battering ram and taking out a stream of fucking cars on this shitty fucking highway.  Trust me… fuck I-95 in New York and Connecticut…. FUCK IT!

Instead he switches on Octane from his Sirius subscription and we hear “All Animal” by Throguth Fire blasting over the speakers as Scotty starts banging his head to the beat.  

“There’s nothing human about me now… ‘cause you woke up the beast… it won’t go back to sleep now… there’s nothing human left of me!” Sings Scotty as he beats his hand on the steering wheel.

“You might have snagged a pin against me in our last match MJ… but trust me when I warn how that fucking woke up something that you don’t wanna face inside the War Games cage.  A fucking animal… an artist of hardcore… the DEVIL of HOW. Cause that is the only way to take out a fucking GOD… and that means one of his pawns… angels… disciples… whatever the fuck you wanna call yourself will stand no chance against me when that cell door locks and it is just me and you one on one inside.  Beat me once MJ… shame on Sektor… beat me twice… it won’t fucking happen.” Somewhat promises Scotty… or as much as anyone can really promise a fucking victory in wrestling. But one can not argue that he seems motivated as fuck to get his retribution against Flair.

“Sorry MJ, but the focus is on your tonight.  You are the first step between me and War Games immortality.  Or at least not walking out that door first like everyone fucking thinks I will.  Who the fuck knows what will happen… but I pomise that I will cause chaos… I will inflict pain… and there will be fucking anarchy.” Smiles Scotty as he may even seem too fucking hsppy about all of that.  Probably why Mike picked him to start off War games. The only question is can Scotty body really handle the punishment he will put himself through to hurt his opponents.  

War Games is a war on so many levels and the one of attrition may be the most important.  You may hurt your opponent… but what does it take out of you. What is the price and will your body have anything left in the bank come the end of the match when it matters?

“You will become my first piece of Flair in HOW… and trust me when I don’t plan on just getting a single minimum piece of Flair come War Games.  I want to go above and beyond and get a piece of Ryan… Flyer… Troy… and of course Dane. Shit…. Maybe even daddy will be at ringside for your first big match and I can rip a piece of flesh from his quitting fucking ass too.  I’m sure High Flyer and him can jack off to memories of the fWo World Title… but it’s the HOW World Title everyone is chasing at War Games… and it’s only me, Max, Sektor and Halitosis who know what it takes to win THE title in wrestling.  Fuck fWo, IWO, PCW, NTICW, PRIME and all those other feds that have fucking faded to the wayside of history… while HOW has stood tall and returned time and time again to prove they are THE machine of wrestling that can not be fucking killed.”

This is where someone in a live audience would start a HOW chant… but in the truck we only have Frankie… and I doubt he is even paying attention to Scotty.  There are dinosaurs to catch on his iPhone and that shit is way more interesting to him at this moment.

“We have put PTC and there circle jerking shit fuck of an interfed to fucking shame over the years with HOW and HOTv.  Booker of self fucking Phantoms, Mister Argyle Sweater, Duke I envy the HOR Williams and all the other fuckers who thought THEY were hot fucking shit… are where now?  Done. Gone. Quit. Out of fucking bussiness while HOW returns for a third time and after a speed bump or two… is back in fucking fucking cruise control flying down the carpool lane to another era that will hopefully surpass even the second era of HOW.” Rants Scotty as the PTC gloves come flying off after years of buried frustration with an interfed that had clear cut walls between member fed and then their so called top feds.  NGW was never looked at as equal to PCW… and maybe it shouldn’t have been… but feds like NGW were treated like second class feds. Never working together like those in HOTv do and have. Because why help others when you can just hold them down just to keep your spot on the throne?

“So now everyone wants to flock to HOW… because we are the lone alpha wolf left standing after the landscape of wrestling has collapsed.  All of Team So Called Best Alliance are people who never wanted SHIT to do with HOW but are now flocking to one of the last ships left standing.  Dane… Troy… Flyer… all have traveled the world and snubbed their noses at HOW in the past. But now that we are back… now that there is a legit top league back in the world of wrestling… they all want in.  They never stressed week after week if HOW would return back in twenty-sixteen. They never cared about the Twitter campaign to try and get Lee to resurrect this shit. They never put in shit when Lee said HOW was coming back.  But now they think they are going to take this moment at War Games. OUR FUCKING MOMENT! MY FUCKING MOMENT!” Screams Scotty in the truck as Frankie even jumps a bit from the raw fucking emotion that is flowing from the mouth of Scotty.  

“FUCK NO.  Fuck you… and you… and you… and everyone who thinks that this is going to be their moment and not ours… the people that poured everything we had in HOW for a fucking decade.  This is our fucking fed… whether Lee wants to believe that or not and we don’t plan on letting some outsiders who had no connection to… or emotion invested into it come in and steal fucking War Games.” Proclaims Scotty as he slams his fists on the steering wheel to try and hammer his point across… even though he knows the camera could never truly capture the emotion that is flowing through his fucking body about not only this match… but of HOW in general.

“While I could care less who starts War Games against me… MJ does give it a bit more of a convenient story.  Everyone can fucking see why I want to pummel MJ into a bloody pulp and make her beg for a different time of the fucking month.  This shit isn’t going to be pretty and nothing is getting held back for Miss Flair or Troy. I’ll torture their ass in that cell just like Ryan, Flyer and especially fucking Dane…. Oh fuck ya all for falling into the same fucking category as Mister Dane.  Someone who I personally can not wait to get my hands on and prove I can do more than utter two retracted HOW words. Though luckily the word FUCK on it’s own is ok still. You just can’t definitely defy Mikey and say something that gets Dane’s g-string panties twisted in his fucking asshole.” Smiles Scotty as then shakes his head in disgust as an unintended mental image makes his head want to fucking explode.

“Daney-ole-boy has wanted to get his hands on me for months and now is his chance… now is my chance.  Can you handle the pressure still Dane? Cause I’m the one with nothing to lose here. It’s already all gone.  My arenas, my fancy apartment, most of my brewpub… no one is expecting shit from me here in War Games. But you Dane, you they expect the world.  You and Troy are the headline pieces to Lee’s team and if you fail Lee… oh boy do you not want to see what happens when you fail Lee. Let me just say you better protect your fucking eyes.” Chuckles Scotty as the glorious memories of stabbing people in the fucking eye bring him a disturrbing amount of joy.  Where is Mister One Eyed Mamba at? I hear he’s returning to HOW maybe?

“So my strategy is simple boys and girls… and I have no problem sharing it with you all right now, cause there is fucking jack shit you can do about it.  I plan on walking into that cell in Tampa… cause as much fucking anarchy as possible. My expectations for myself aren’t that fucking high… so in the end… if I can bloody all of Lee new flavors of the month up and keep them from winning War Games… fucking win.  If I can walk out with a title… then that’s just bloody icing on my fucking hockey rink. Regardless I’m leaving whatever I got left in that cell to prove to everyone I still belong. You think I still got it Frankie?” Asks Scotty fully knowing what his son is going to say.  But a little encouragement from another can go a long way. Especially when your fighting for both of your futures.

“Fudge ya Scotty!  We ain’t dones yets here in the HOW!  You gonnas tear ups dat orange juice field at War Games.” Answers Frankie in a way that would make most English teacher’s ears bleed.

“You heard it from the expert folks… I’m tearing things up at the orange juice field.” Laughs Scotty at Frankie’s arena butchering… probably just cost HOW some sponsor revenue… but fuck it.

“And I got you’s back at War Games.  If Eli Flair is there I’ll keep his old butt in checks.  He won’t wanna mess with The Frankster. Cause what ya gonna do Eli…” Starts Frankie with his own rant that Scotty has to cut off before it gets going.

“I don’t have the money for us to get sued right now Frankie, so ya can’t start cosplaying while the camera is on.  Save it for later and I’ll even let ya tear up a shirt.” Offers Scotty as Frankie nods his head in excitement.  

“So the time is ticking MJ… soon it will be just me and you… locked inside that cell alone for five minutes.  Five minutes with no reprieve from anyone. Five minutes of fucking pure torture that no one can stop. I’m sure you’ll have your tough face on.  Say you’re not worried. Say you’re not afraid. Cause that’s what you need to try and tell yourself. But we both know it’s a lie. Cause you would be a fucking fool MJ not to be afraid.  Are you a fool MJ?” Snickers Scotty as we see him drive past a big ass sign that says “Florida Welcomes You”

“Fuck you Florida!” Reacts Scotty as he flips the sign off… though at least he is out of fucking Georgia and he knows that his drive is nearing some kind of fucking end.  Though the roughly four hours remaining is still no small drive. Thanks Florida for being so fucking big and Tampa being so far south in the state. What was wrong with Jacksonville?  Cause four more hours with a sleep and beer withdrawing Scottywood is not gonna be fucking fun.  

Then again… that might just be the spark that he needs…

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