High Octane Wrestling
Published: Written by: godofhow
The Best American

The Best Studios logo gives way to a live shot inside The Best Arena as a single spotlight is seen shining down into the center of the ring and the raucous crowd can be heard in the darkness as Turmoil is officially on the air.

The cameras quickly zoom into the figure in the center of the ring. We see that his head is down and he is dressed in all black…pants…shirt and jacket.

But the bald head gives away who the man is and as the head slowly rises to meet the cameras zooming in on his face we see the smiling face of the man who formerly owned this very arena which still bears his name…

Lee Best

The Chicago crowd erupts into a huge mixture of cheers and boos as Lee looks up and takes in the moment.

He smirks as he looks to his right and then to his left as the people who are cheering and booing him are trying to outdo the others. It is the definition of a mixed reaction, albeit one with such intensity that only someone like Lee would get.

Joe Hoffman: Ladies and gentlemen welcome to Thursday Night Turmoil and as you can see tonight is not going to be like any other show. Lee is back and as God as my witness I can barely hear myself as the passionate cheers and jeers from this Chicago crowd is deafening…..but thru the wonders of technology I can hear my broadcast partner telling me in not a very nice way to be quiet.

Benny Newell: Shut. The. Fuck. Up. …should I spell it out now?

Before Joe can retort, back in the ring Lee reaches into his brand new solid black sports jacket and pulls out a Best Studios microphone and as he raises it up to his lips the crowd goes quiet….deathly quiet.

Joe Hoffman: Does anyone else on the roster have the ability to control an arena like..

Benny Newell: I swear to Lee himself that if you say one more word when he is about to talk and I will build a fucking table….reach across it…smack the fucking vowels outta your vocabulary…..put you thru the table and then send you and the broken table thru a fucking wood chipper and I will then pop a bag of popcorn while I watch the maggots chomp on all the little pieces of Mr. Hall of Fame announcer Joe “I never shut the fuck up” Hoffman….got it???

Joe Hoffman: Um yaaaa….you need to get laid.

The cameras cut back to Lee just as we see Benny pull a piece of wood out and a hammer and some nails.

Lee Best: It has been a long fucking time and trust me as I sat back these last few weeks and watched the bullshit run rampant here on MY SHOW….airing on MY NETWORK…well let’s just say that Turmoil has been lacking a little Lee lately and that is why tonight…in my HOMETOWN….I decided that tonight needed to start with a certain tone…..and with a certain contract signing.

Lee takes a few steps back and the spotlight now shows there is a table in the center of the ring with a piece of paper lying on the top of it. Lee turns around and picks up the paper and with great care turns back towards the camera and continues.

Lee Best: They say that home is where the heart is and although this arena might be owned by Christopher America now….

There is a huge mixed reaction for the mention of the new owner of the Best Arena and newest AoA member.

Lee Best: ……but this city…this company…this fucking ring…..are mine and I do not give two flying fucks who spent some gambling money to gain control of this building it was still built BY ME FOR ME….fuck you FUBU.

Lee pauses as the crowd cheers…and boos….the cameras zoom in on a black couple wearing FUBU gear and Lee sees this on the huge High Octane Vision screen above the entrance ramp and he smiles.

Lee Best: Black history month is over…and the 90’s are long gone….so next time please do not buy tickets to my events and go pay your fucking phone bill…SECURITY ESCORT THOSE FREELOADERS OUT NOW!!!

There is an awkward feeling in the air as HOW security rushes in on the couple and forcibly make them exit the arena. The spotlight follows them kicking and screaming all the way to the back.

With that over the attention, and spotlight, return to Lee inside the center of the ring and we see he is holding up the piece of paper.

Lee Best: I am holding up a contract. A contract that insures the future of this company and insures that no matter what happens to me….my name will live on……hit the lights you fucking monkeys..

The arena lights turn fully on and we see that there are two men sitting opposite of each other at the table we previously seen…

Mike Best and Maximillian Kael who has Elenore Kael standing directly behind him.

The crowd boos loudly as we also see that David Black, Ethan Cavanaugh, Brad Jackson and James Varga are standing in a line behind the table…staring intently at their boss Lee Best.

The LSD Championship shines brightly around the waist of Jackson as we see that the ICON Championship is sitting on the table while Black, Cavanaugh and Varga are all wearing Tag Team Championship title belts around their wait.

But then the camera focuses in on the HOW World Championship that is sitting next to Mike and directly in the line of sight of Kael.

Everyone then slowly looks up and as they do the cameras pan back and we see the steel cage hanging high above the ring and then everyone slowly looks back down at the HOW Championship and Mike quickly snags it and puts it on his lap.

Benny Newell: That was the best choreographed scene since the water dance scene in Caddyshack…write that down.

Joe Hoffman: Huh?

Back in the ring Lee has now walked behind the table, in front of the rest of the Alliance and has placed the contract in the middle of the table where he has motioned for both Max Kael and Mike Best to pick up the pens that are sitting in front of them.

Lee Best: I told America that this contract signing would be the only time I was on the show tonight and I mean every word I am about to say….after tonight…I will never come back to this fucking arena….EVER!!

The crowd now boos in unison as Lee ignores them and focuses in on Mike and Max.

Lee Best: This contract brings my family and this Alliance closer together. This is something that I have thought about doing for years and now that the moment has come I would just like to say that I am ….

Lee stops as Max stands up and clearly states that he cannot do this, but as he turns he sees the look in Elenore’s face and she smacks him hard across the face and the crowd is buzzing as they wait to see how Max will react.

We see Lee is smiling from ear to ear as instead of lashing out at his family, Max instead sits back down and motions to Lee that he is ready.

Lee Best: Like I was saying…ah fuck it…..let’s get this over with before something else happens..this is a fucking wrestling show….

Lee and the rest of the Alliance look over their shoulders and around as if they are expecting the AoA or Foundation stables to show up at any moment.

Lee Best: This contract is legal and is binding…this contract will not only bring Mike and Max closer together than they have ever been….but it will also bring me a peace of mind as my days are literally numbered and this HAS to be done for the sake of my family…and this company…..so Mike…go ahead and sign..

A cameraman gets behind Mike and we see as Mike Best signs on the dotted line at the bottom of the contract. He then passes it to Lee who pulls out his Bottom line pen, which gets a bigger pop than anything Hall of Famer Shane Reynolds ever did, and he signs right above Mike’s name.

He then passes it to Max who looks it over and then pulls out a magnifying glass from his pocket and begins scanning the bottom of the paper.

Joe Hoffman: Well I guess you can never be too sure about a Lee Best contract…..

Satisfied and with one final look to Elenore, Max puts his pen to the paper and signs the contract and we see Lee literally wipe a tear from his cheek.


Lee grabs both Mike and Max by the shoulders and the father and sons share an awkward embrace as Mike and Max stare intently at one another while the Best Alliance claps.


Benny Newell: Who would dare to interrupt something so utterly moving?

The fans’ heads jerk to the entrance ramp. Their mouths fill with cheers and jeers as Christopher America steps from behind the black curtain into the light of the arena. With microphone in hand, America confidently addresses the three Best Alliance members.


Christopher: Wow. So, so moving. There are just some minor, real small, teensy, little problems.

Lee Best: What the—-?

Christopher makes a throat slashing gesture with his hand and suddenly Lee Best finds his microphone cut off. He turns to Mike Best and Max Kael who find their microphones also cut off.

Christopher: Firstly, Lee, SHUT. THE FUCK. UP!

Christopher smiles as the fans offer a mixed reaction.

Christopher: This is my building. Not yours. So, let’s right a few wrongs, shall we? Consider this. This arena may have been built by you, but it was filled by them.

America points to the fans in attendance.

Christopher: With that said, I am offering the black couple….. Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Settle down there David and Ethan. Your secret’s still safe. I’m talking about that black couple that just got forcibly removed from MY arena. They can expect front row tickets to the next Turmoil held in this arena, which will be in April.

Now, what to do with all the gutter trash littering my ring, right now? Hmmmm……

Oh! I know!


A security detail begins to spread out behind Christopher America.

Christopher: Any Best Alliance member who doesn’t want to be removed from this arena and stripped of their respective championship right now, better leave MY ring.

The members of the Best Alliance don’t move.

Christopher: NOW!

The Best Alliance look to Lee who nods. The members leave ringside and begin to make their way to the back, burning holes in Christopher’s head with their stares.

Christopher: Now… Leonard. I’m going to show you how we do things in MY arena. Security, remove that cum stain from my arena!

Benny Newell: He can’t do this!

Joe Hoffman: He’s throwing Lee Best out?!?!

Benny Newell: Someone do something! Someone stop this! Max! Mike! Cavanaugh! Someone!

The security detail surrounds the ring as Lee Best grabs the Bottomline Pen from the table. As the security enters the ring, Lee begins attacking them violently with the pen, slashing and thrashing. A few drops of blood are spilled, but the numbers game is too much as security finally takes Lee down and subdues him. Security then forcibly removes him from the ring and begins to walk him up the ramp. As Lee walks by America, he again lashes outward but is subdued by security. Despite having no microphone, the obscenities flowing from his mouth are unmistakable.

With Lee finally in the back, America re-addresses the fans.

Christopher: Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for the most momentous Turmoil ever…..

If you do not cheer for the AoA you support Osama

Its personal

Back live and as the cameras cut to backstage, the images of Fear and Valerie Belmont could be seen, the crowd let out loud cheers for the two Foundation members as Fear runs a hand across his wife’s cheek.

Fear: You ready for this night?

Valerie nods.

Valerie: Course. Gonna feel good to get back into that ring.

Fear smiled at her words and kissed her lips softly before they were interrupted by a stage hand that walked up to them.

Stage hand: Fear, can I ask what you think about what Varga said…

Fear snapped his head towards the stage hand and snarled at him.

Fear: I have nothing to say about what Varga said last week. He’s a loser and I’ve moved past that idiot. How about you ask about my match with Jimmy Thunder or how my wife is going to bring home tag team gold to Foundation?!

Valerie shakes her head.

Valerie: It’s not like he needs to. I’ve already said everything I need to say. Apart from the fact I kinda got caught up on the whole mythology thing about the AoA and that stuff. But seriously. I’m confident Brian and I have got this, no matter what’s said. Brian might be acting like a talentless waste recently, but I’m not going to let him do it now.

The stage hand nodded his head and looked back at Fear.

Stage hand: What happens if they win?

Fear: There is NO if this night. I have proclaimed a clean sweep for the Foundation and it starts with me. Jimmy Thunder will not get past me and his little losing streak continues. Then Pariah and Mark will move on to the LBI finals and the main reason we are all here… Valerie and Brian will walk out the tag team champions and we will do what the Best Alliance has done, freebird rule… you will NEVER know which members of the Foundation you will be facing off against.

Valerie: They forget that I haven’t been in that ring for the last two shows…I’m rested, ready to go. Facing a fresh competitor when the rest of them can hardly get a week off…it’s a pretty nasty thought when you think about it.

Stage hand: Where have you been, exactly?

Valerie: I didn’t realize that was your business.

The stage hand shrugged his shoulders at Valerie but pressed on.

Stage hand: I think your fans would like to know where you’ve been though.

Valerie: And I’m not going to make stuff that I don’t want to talk about public, okay?

Its obvious Valerie’s getting annoyed by the stage hand, and she reaches out and takes hold of Fear’s hand. Fear rolled his eyes at the stage hand and let out a sigh.

Fear: It is of no concern why my wife has not been around the last three weeks, so drop it.

Stage hand: Look if you are afraid of the Best Alliance just say so, Valerie.

Valerie blinks. Then she blinks again, letting go of Fear’s hand and trying to keep her cool.

Valerie: WHAT THE FUCK?! What reason do I have to be scared of them! If anyone’s got ANY right to be scared of anyone, it should be Mike fucking Best for killing a kid that I didn’t know I was fucking having!

After a second, her hands clamp around her mouth, realizing what she hit out with. The stage hand looked on shocked as well as Fear looked over at his wife and grabbed her hand tightly.

Fear: We’ve said enough, now if you’ll excuse us we have matches to prepare for!

Fear snarled one last time as he started to walk away with Valerie, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

Jimmy Thunder – 0% v Fear – 0%

“Your Disease” by Saliva plays over the PA system as Jimmy Thunder walks from behind the curtain. He taunts the fans as he slides into the ring for the first match of the evening.

Joe Hoffman: This should be an interesting match up between the two men who lost in the quarterfinals of the Lee Best Invitational.

Benny Newell: If America wanted this to be an interesting match up, he would’ve written it down on paper and wiped his ass with it. I can’t believe I’m having to watch this abomination.

As Thunder’s music fades, “Vox Populi” by 30 Seconds to Mars plays and Fear walks out to a chorus of cheers.

Benny Newell: The only good thing about Fear’s last match was that he lost, preventing that Foundation douchebag from making it to the semi-finals.

Joe Hoffman: It was a hard fought match against Scottywood, but the newly crowned ICON Champion picked up the win.

The two lock eyes as Rick Stevens calls for the bell.


The two lock up in the center of the ring with Thunder pushing Fear back to the corner turnbuckle. Fear begins to push his hands up and Stevens tells Thunder to break it up. Thunder complies and heads back to the center of the ring. Fear heads back and the two lock up. Fear gains the upper hand by kicking Thunder in the gut. Thunder bends forward. In a fluidic motion, Fear grabs the back of Thunder’s head. Fear jumps and drives Thunder’s head into his knees.

Thunder falls backwards, grabbing his forehead. Fear moves forward and begins to stomp on Thunder’s head. He does not relent for a moment before Stevens again has to break the two up.

Joe Hoffman: I’m getting the feeling that these two are not happy about losing in the quarterfinals.

Benny Newell: I got a feeling…. that tonight’s going to be a good night. That tonight’s going to be a good, good night. Especially after the Best Alliance retains all of the championships and fuck America’s world up.

Thunder rolls out of the ring to collect himself. After a few moments, he slides back in. The two tie up and Thunder hits a kick to the gut on Fear. He follows it up with a DDT. He then floats over and goes for a quick pin.




Thunder rolls off and grabs Fear. He brings him to a standing position and hits a snap suplex. He holds on, rotates his hips, lifts Fear up and hits another snap suplex. Thunder goes into another quick cover.




Joe Hoffman: Thunder is relentless here tonight.

Benny Newell: The only good thing coming out of this is watching Triple F get the beating of his life.

Joe Hoffman: Triple F?

Benny Newell: Foundation Fucker Fear.

Thunder shakes his head. He gets up, grabs Fear once more and lifts him up.

Joe Hoffman: He could be going for Thunderstruck!

Instead, Fear wiggles his legs, drops down, and reverses the hold into a suplex of his own. With Thunder and Fear down, Rick Stevens begins a ten count:


Thunder and Fear both stir.


Both wrestlers get to their knees.



Both wrestlers get back to their feet and immediately trade punches. Fear though gains the upperhand. He hits a hard clothesline sending Thunder down. Not letting up, Fear moves in, picks Thunder by the head and sets him up.

Joe Hoffman: Here comes the RAPTURE!

Benny Newell: Who the hell cares?

Fear goes to flip Thunder for a piledriver but when he flips, Thunder grabs hold and holds Fear.

Benny spits out his drink.

Benny Newell: He’s eating his ass!

Thunder stands up, holding Fear’s legs. Fear’s face and stomach are facing Thunder’s back.

Joe Hoffman: No he isn’t! Look!

Thunder holds the move before dropping Fear down.


Thunder goes for the pin.




Bryan McVay: Here is your winner in 8:21….. JIM-MYYYY THUNNNNNNNDERRRRRR!

Joe Hoffman: What amazing innovation from Thunder! I’ve never seen anything like it!

Benny Newell: I’m just glad I got to see a Foundation member put out of his misery.

See my Dick

The camera cuts backstage– more specifically, it cuts back into the parking lot of the Best Arena. HOW Champion Michael Best paces back and forth behind his rental car, fuming as he screams obscenities into his cell phone. The trunk has been popped open, revealing his gear and travel bags which nearly hang out over the lip.

Mike Best: …fucking CARE who owns the fucking arena! We don’t own the Staples Center, but they don’t SHUT OUR FUCKING MICS OFF THERE, DO THEY?!”

He grits his teeth, pulling the phone away from his head as he stares at the caller ID. The voice on the other line sounds frantic and terrified, though their half of the conversation isn’t quite legible.

Mike Best: Listen to you? FUCK YOU! YOU FUCKING LISTEN TO ME, YOU FUCKING COCKSUCKER! They froze me out of my own fucking locker room! I HAVE TO CHANGE IN MY FUCKING CAR! This is inhumane! It’s forty fucking degrees right now, and I swear to motherfucking Thor if my nipples chafe and it costs me my fucking title match tonight, I’m going to open the phone book, point to a random page, and sue every motherfucker on it. You hear me? FUCKING FIX IT!

He screams the last three words into the phone, pulling it away from his ear and yelling directly into the mouth piece. Once he’s finished, he presses the button to end the call and throws his cell phone as far as it will fly– with the Chicago wind, it’s anti-climatically not very far at all. It smashes against the side of the Best Arena, costing Michael Best his second cell phone in three weeks.

He stomps off to the trunk of his car, rifling through the bag containing his gear. After a moment, he turns back toward the camera.

Mike Best: You’re still here? Fuck off.

He goes back to digging through his bags, pulling out his ring attire for the main event. He looks around, first to his immediate left and then right, before grumbling to himself and beginning to unbuckle his belt. Before he finishes, he turns around again, just in case. Seeing the cameraman still standing here, he stops what he’s doing and turns around fully.

Mike Best: You’re serious? You’re just gonna stand there? I’m trying to fucking change.

The cameraman doesn’t move, nor does he make any attempt to turn off the camera. The World Champion’s fists ball up in rage and his teeth clench. For a moment, he closes his eyes, trying to calm himself, but he quickly gives up.

Mike Best: What the fuck do you want from me?! You wanna see my fucking dick? Is that it? America send you out here to see what the Atlantic City Savior is packing under the fucking hood? I’M ASKING IF YOU WANT TO SEE MY PENIS, DOUCHE BAG.

There is an awkward silence for a moment, as Mike Best stares a hole into the camera man– it especially appears as if he’s staring a hole into the camera itself. He begins to slowly unbuckle his belt, but then stops.

Mike Best: …the fuck is wrong with you? I’m not going to show you my fuckin’ dick, bro. This is bullshit– America takes my fucking locker room away, and now I can’t even get fifteen minutes of fucking peace in the parking lot to change my fucking clothes? Are you joking right now? Is Ashton Fucking Kutcher hiding inside a mini-van in this fucking parking lot trying to reignite his career? I’m done with this. This is America’s arena, but it’s not his fucking show. It’s not his fucking company. THIS SHOW BELONGS TO ME AND MY FUCKING DAD! That camera you’re holding? It’s ours, fuckface! We pay your fucking salary! We own the lights, the HOV, the fucking ring, and the fucking cage that America decided I have to fucking wrestle in tonight. It belongs to Lee and Mike Motherfucking Best!

Cameraman: And Max. Max Kael-Best.

As the cameraman mutters, chuckling, Mike’s eyes seem to grow wider as he pulsates into a new kind of rage. The adopted brother comment seems to be all he can take.

Mike Best:  You motherfu– you know what? No, I’m not going to let you do this. You? You’re fucking fired. Finish out your night working for the Analnauts and Chris America, and then don’t ever fucking come back. Understood? You’re fucking FIRED. And tell your wannabe boss that his one show a fucking month isn’t going to change a fucking thing. Better yet, you’re doing his dirty work with my fucking camera– I’ll tell him myself.

He lunges forward, ripping the camera out of the hands of the cameraman. He grabs it one-handed, using his other to shove the kid down to the ground, burying a mud caked dress shoe against his head over and over again. The camera shakes and quakes as it’s waved around randomly in the ten second assault, before finally it comes to rest on the asphalt parking lot. Mike Best bends down, his face sideways in the picture.

Mike Best: You’re a fucking choke artist, America. You think any of this matters? You put Varga in a fucking handicap match, but if he loses the Tag Titles, we’ll take ‘em back next week. You think anything is going to end Jackson’s undefeated run? And you really think locking the rookie inside fifteen feet of steel is going to protect him, America? I’m going to walk out of here with the HOW World Championship, and your one night in charge won’t have meant a thing.

He laughs, the dark kind of chuckle that says nothing is particularly funny– but it’s probably not a good thing.

Mike Best: I always have a plan, America. And tonight, you’re going to help me set mine into action. Don’t believe me? Watch and see.

He kicks the camera sideways, cracking the lens down the center– the picture cuts to static and then commercial after one final shot of the fallen cameraman.

The Marvelous One is back… and this time without Bishop Steele

Rhys Townsend – 0% v John Pariah – 0%

The cameras return to inside of the Best Arena just as the lights go out & a loud rock guitar is heard echoing throughout the arena. The fans in the arena have a mixed reaction, as “Watch Me Shine” by Fozzy hits the PA System, and John Pariah steps out onto the stage.

Brian McVay: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Making his way to the ring, representing the Foundation: John Pariah!!!

Joe Hoffman: I don’t think anyone expected a member of the Foundation to make it this far. But John Pariah has proved his critics wrong and is now one match away from a World Title shot.

Benny Newell: Shut up Hoffman. Even a stray bitch gets a steak every now and then. Pariah’s luck ends tonight; DRINK!

Pariah slides into the ring and ‘Fear Factory’ by Replica plays in the arena. Resolute, Townsend storms down the ramp and heads straight to the ring; ignoring the few slaps to the back he got along the way.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent, from Llanelli, Wales! Weighing in at 242 lbs…Rhys Townsend!!!

Joe Hoffman: And here’s a man who’s shocked the HOW locker room since the beginning of the year!

Benny Newell: Never thought I’d be cheering for this idiot. But its better than one of those Foundation douchebags getting close to the HOW Title!

The bell rings and the two waste little time; trading hard blows with each other immediately. Pariah gets the upper hand and backs Townsend to the ropes. Pariah backs up and goes for a kick but Townsend counters and back drops Pariah over the top rope. Pariah manages to hang on and goes for a punch, but Townsend blocks and brings Pariah back into the ring with a vertical suplex!

Joe Hoffman: Townsend is looking to take early control in this one.

Pariah crawls to the opposite side of the ring and pulls himself upright in the corner, but Townsend is there to keep him unsteady with a boot to the gut. Townsend clubs Pariah on the back and lets him stumble and fall out of the corner. Pariah seems a bit winded as he again pushes himself to his feet and Townsend goes for a belly-to-back suplex, but Pariah blocks it. Pariah hits Townsend with an enzuguri, which drops him and Pariah immediately goes for the cover.


Joe Hoffman: Not even a one count there.

Benny Newell: After that weak kick? Are you kidding?

Pariah hooks Townsend in a chinlock, really grinding in the hold to keep Townsend down. Townsend struggles and tries to push himself up, but Pariah bridges to hold. The referee tries to get in position for a count but Townsend rolls his shoulders off the mat and again tries to push himself up: this time more successfully.

Benny Newell: GO YOU WELSH FUCK!

Townsend forces Pariah to break the hold but isn’t able to stop Pariah from hitting him with a facebuster. Townsend hits the mat and Pariah goes to the corner, climbing up to the top rope and waits as Townsend climbs to his feet before springboarding off;

Joe Hoffman: Townsend ducks underneath the crossbody! That could’ve been the end of the match right there!

Pariah tries to get to his feet but Townsend runs him down with a clothesline. Townsend hits the ropes and nails Pariah with another clothesline. Townsend goes to the corner and charges again but Pariah dropkicks his knee. Pariah pulls Townsend up and whips him to the ropes, attempting a Lou Thesz-style Press but Townsend reverses it into a sambo suplex! Townsend pulls Pariah up and hits him with a German Suplex; bridging for the pin!



Joe Hoffman: And Pariah just kicks out! This has been a war to get to the Triple Threat match!

Benny Newell: Win this match or your fired Townsend!

Townsend gets up and tries to pull up Pariah but Pariah blocks him with a kick to the ribs. Pariah this a flurry of kick; stunning Townsend and dropping him to a knee. Pariah tries to lift up Townsend but Townsend reverses into a roll-up! Pariah kicks out before the count can start but Townsend grabs his arm and locks him into a brutal submission hold!

Joe Hoffman: Townsend calls this the Red Dragon Clutch! And he’s got it locked in!

Benny Newell: Choke him! Choke the bastard out!

Pariah yells in pain, struggling to get his arm to the ropes but Townsend powers down on the hold. Pariah tries again to reach out to the ropes but Townsend keeps him still and after another shout of anguish Pariah gives in!

Joe Hoffman: Pariah taps out! Pariah taps out!

Brian McVay: Here is your winner at 4:57…RHYS TOWNSEND!!!

Joe Hoffman: I don’t think you can call it a miracle run anymore Benny! Rhys Townsend is going to the Triple Threat Match! He will have a shot at the World Title!

Benny Newell: And at least this Foundation member will have to sit back and watch in the locker rooms. That counts a victory for me!

Over YOUR Dead Body…

The camera feed switches to the backstage area, namely the LSD Champion’s locker room. Jackson sits alone in the near darkness, illuminated only by the emergency lighting as he finishes taping his left wrist. His face is in shadows, obscuring his expression as he looks down at the floor, breathing heavily. He reaches into the bag at his feet, pulling out the golden title belt, staring at his warped reflection in the hammered gold for a long moment. With a sigh, he sets the belt aside, and reaches into the bag again, pulling out a creased Polaroid picture.

It isn’t hard to guess the identity of the dark haired woman in the photo, judging by the tension that radiates from him. His arm trembles as he holds the photo, but still he simply stares down at it, saying nothing, just breathing. Inhale. Exhale.

Brad Jackson: Mark O’Neal…

His voice is soft, yet strong enough to carry, the emotions all too evident in the careful enunciation of the words.

Brad Jackson: I’m sorry.

He bows his head, crushing the photograph in his fist with a sharp exhalation. Silence reigns again, filled with nothing but the sound of his breathing, and the soft sound of air rushing through the vents overhead. His shoulders rise and fall in a sullen shrug as his hand steals up to his face, fingers rasping over the few days worth of stubble that cover his cheeks. That right hand is wrapped more thoroughly in the flex tape, the middle two fingers still bruised.

Brad Jackson: You’ve opened my eyes… prevented me from making what would have been yet another in a lost list of mistakes. I damn near came into that ring filled with ego. I almost had myself convinced you would already be beaten before you got here tonight. You would have gotten your wish. Mistakes would have been made. I would have been arrogant and foolish. And here we come on a collision course like two speeding trains with varying velocities, destined for calamity. You reek of desperation in every word that passes your lips, and you start to wonder just what you’re peddling. Are you selling them a reality? Is the future of High Octane Wrestling being shaped tonight? Christopher America would have you believe so. But me? I’m not so sure.

He drops the photo and picks up the LSD belt, staring at his reflection in the gold.

Brad Jackson: It’s no secret that the Mechanical Animal has plans to eat you, and those other jokes you call allies alive. It would be ironically anticlimactic if I bought into my own hype this late in the game, don’t you think? So we’ll save that ego-huffing to the fools who believe themselves worthy. I don’t claim to be that. I never sat down and obsessed over wins here. They happened, and I rolled with it. They kept happening and it made me happy to think that maybe this was the place I’d always been looking for. And now, I’m hoping for one more hash mark in the column. I’m hoping to land this ass of mine in the finals. I’ll spare you the hows and whys and the game plan for how I intend to defeat you. Frankly I think we’re both above that garbage. This isn’t about any of that hero shit. It’s about two guys in their prime. Arguably both damned good at what they do between those ropes. Maybe you’re better. Maybe I am. I’m not a betting man. I don’t wager on long shot odds. I bet on what I know. Tonight, I’m outclassed.

He sighs, bowing his head for a moment.

Brad Jackson: Do not mistake this for respect, O’Neal. You’ve done nothing in my eyes to earn that. Don’t think for a moment that this means we’re cool. I still hate you; in fact, you’ve given me ample reason to just by swearing some fucked up little revenge game for something that wasn’t really your fight to begin with. What happened in that parking garage wasn’t about me and you– it was about us versus them. It was about the good guys versus the bad guys, but the lines are so blurred you never really know who’s who until the dust settles. I just hope you’re ready for this. This is personal. I didn’t want to make it like that, but shit happens.

He lets his head fall again, saying nothing more. A sardonic smirk crosses his lips, there and gone in a flash as he smooths the tape over his wrists.

Brad Jackson: I’m outclassed. They say that he’s going to beat me; they say I’ve gone soft– I hear that one, too. They say he’s gonna take me down a peg, and hand me that first loss. Winning, losing. That shit doesn’t matter to me anymore. That doesn’t change a fucking thing. Between those ropes, even when I’m broken and bleeding, I will never say die. I will never roll over and show you the white of my belly. I will NEVER be outwitted. I will never be outmatched. YOU WILL NEVER TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME!

The last words are a thunderous roar as he grips the belt so tight that his knuckles turn white.

Brad Jackson: Every little diss, every little lack of respect, underhanded tactic pile of bullshit you and your friends like you throw at me each and every week whittles away. I used to be such a nice guy, really. This business has stripped that away, turned me hard and mean– filled with spite and cynicism. I’ve seen it all before. The endless parade of shit. The insults. The cheap shots and the backstage screw-jobs. I endure. Why? Simple. I love this business. Where else are you elevated to God status for thirty minutes, holding the crowd in the palm of your hand? Where else can you make the crowd SCREAM just by pushing the envelope, and make them SHUDDER in horror by taking sick risks? If there’s a place, I don’t know it and frankly, I don’t want to. I am a wrestler. This isn’t just my 9-5 existence, putting in time for a paycheck. I’m not Greg Davis, Brian Hollywood, or some other bottom-feeding jobber. Unlike you, I am undefeated in this tournament. I’ve gone THREE months without losing a fucking match. I am a member of THE BEST ALLIANCE! I AM THE LSD CHAMPION! I. Am. The. Fucking. Best. Period!

Jackson stands, settling the belt over his shoulder as he walks towards the door. He hesitates in the doorway, and then smooths out the mangled photo still clenched in his hand. He slips this in the back pocket of his jeans, and nods. His final parting shot is brief, the words sounding oddly strained as he tries to rein in his emotions.

Brad Jackson: You think you can steal this spotlight from me? Over YOUR dead body, O’Neal, not mine.

Entertain Us

Paul Paras: Ethannnnnnn Cavanaaaaauuuugh!!!

Jatt Starr: I think McVay uses a bit more bass.  A bit more gravel.  Kinda like a young Prince of Jattistan singing Barry White at his wedding.  OHHHH DARLING, I…..CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF JATT STARR, BAYYYBEEE!!

Ryan Faze: That was terrible.

Greg Davis: My Golden ears are bleeding!

The collection of Awesome voices can be heard long before their owners finally appear on camera.  Rounding a corner of the Best Arena backstage, “Perfect” Paul Paras, “Phenomenal” Ryan Faze, “Golden” Greg Davis, and “No Prefix Needed” Jatt Starr walk into view, slapping high-fives with various members of Christopher America’s newly-hired backstage staff.  The AoA look to be enjoying themselves tonight, but also have an air of focus, with Paras and Davis already in their wrestling gear for their big Tag Title match later tonight.

Paul Paras: Seriously, gentlemen, Ethan deserves a monumental fanfare the moment he takes out that dilapidated simpleton, David Black tonight, showing the world that he is indeed the gem in the BA’s cardboard Burger King crown…and after a little convincing, the crown jewel in the AoA!

Jatt Starr: We should definitely go to Burger King after the show tonight to celebrate the Awesome new Tag Team Champions of the World!

Greg Davis: And stuff Whopper grease into the veins of THIS body?  No way!

Jatt Starr: Hey, they have RANGO toys!  You don’t mess with RANGO!  Rango could kick Mike Best’s sorry buns from here to Jattlanta!

The Argonauts halt in place as Paras blockades their path with his Singapore cane.  The camera shifts to show that they have arrived at the gorilla position, with Paras peeking his chiseled face through the curtain, causing the fans watching on the HOv to let out a loud cheer in response.

Paul Paras: Now this…THIS is what HOW is all about.  The pomp, the circumstance, the Awesome.  Say there, flunkie…

Triple P shifts the cane over to a man sitting at a sound and light board next to the curtain.  The worker holds up his hands nervously, as if being held up at gunpoint.

Paul Paras: What, pray tell, is up next on this Perfect show’s ledger?

Effects Man: We’re due for a station break, then Black and Cavanaugh with Kostoff as referee.

Paul Paras: Well what do you know; it’s up next!  Argos, what say you we class up this place a bit?  The fans are buzzing, the air is just right, and the BA and Chris Kostoff are set to destroy one another in a matter of five minutes or less!

Greg Davis: Unless they show one of those abused and neglected animal commercials during the break.  Those things go on forever!

Ryan Faze: He’s got a point.  The old BA and Elite in-ring promos took a shorter time.

Paul Paras: They were equally as sad as the abused animals, however.  Regardless, this will only take an Awesome minute.  We’ll simply flip this switch…

Paras reaches over to the worker’s effects board, causing the lights in the Best Arena to shut off and be replaced by a flood of laser lights emitting from the stage.

Paul Paras: Then the AoA’s fans will go wild…

They do.

Paul Paras: Followed by the cue-up of the AoA’s HOv video and this little number right here…

“Ladies and Gentlemen” by Saliva begins the moment Paras presses the appropriate button, causing the hardcore fans to go into even more of a frenzy.

Paul Paras: …And we let the entertainment begin.

The group throws aside the curtain and marches into the arena, with Jatt taking an extra random press on the special effects board, causing a burst of pyro to blast from the stage upon their entrance.  The AoA strut confidently down to ringside, each grabbing a folding chair and opening it in front of Joe and Benny’s announce desk.  Faze reaches under the ring, pulling out a large cooler and a tray filled with bags of popcorn.

Joe Hoffman: The AoA are joining us at ringside for the next match, and they look ready to go to the movies!  Three members of HOW’s other top teams will be involved in this next match, and Triple P in particular has been very involved with Ethan Cavanaugh’s career the past month.  Is this a scouting mission, or just the AoA creating its own brand of chaos?

Benny Newell: That’s not important, Joe!  What’s important is that these Lame-o-A idiots had an entire cooler under the ring and nobody told ME!!!

On cue, Faze hands a bag of popcorn to Joe Hoffman, then hesitates before tossing a bottle from the cooler to an excited Benny.  The Hall of Famer’s joy quickly fades when he sees a bottle of Dasani water in his hands.

Joe Hoffman: Ask, and you shall receive, Benny.

Benny Newell: I hate the fucking AoA… I hate fucking Chris Kostoff…  I hope Black and Ethan beat all their asses.  Gimme some popcorn, Hoffman!!

The Argonauts take their seats at ringside and survey the crowd, enjoying their snacks and drinks as Turmoil heads toward a commercial break.

Joe Hoffman: Well folks, in the immortal words of Terrell Owens, “getcha’ popcorn ready,” because Black vs. Cavanaugh with Kostoff as referee is next!

Awesome Return in the cards?

David Black – 0% v “The Shadow” Ethan Cavanaugh – 0%

Benny Newell: This is bullshit Joe, complete fucking bullshit!

Joe Hoffman: ….Well welcome back to Turmoil, and as you can tell Benny is not very pleased with the AoA sitting at ringside for this upcoming BA versus BA match.

Benny Newell: “Not very pleased?”  I’m fucking pissed!  These men aren’t here to enjoy the BEST wrestling match of the night, they are here make fun of it, to laugh at it!  Lee would never let an abomination like this happen on his show.

Joe Hoffman: Well it isn’t his show tonight Benny and Black and Ethan will have to just deal with the AoA at ringside and Kostoff as referee.

Benny Newell: Fuck!  I almost forgot about Kostoff… Fuck!  I don’t have enough Jack for this fucking match!

Joe Hoffman: Speaking of Kostoff, he must be loving this match, as he and Fear will be facing Black and Cavanaugh at March 2 Glory in tag team action.  So one would assume Kostoff will be in no rush to see this match end…

“Cry Little Sister” by Seasons After hits and the crowd in the Best Arena erupts as Kostoff makes his way out onto the stage wearing the HOW referee shirt as he has a huge smile on his face.

Bryan McVay: The follow match is scheduled for one fall; now making his way to the ring is the special guest referee for this match HOW Hall of Famer… Chris Kostoff!!!

Walking down to ring, Kostoff stares down the AoA who wave back at Kostoff as he slides into the ring.

“If I Was Your Vampire” by Marilyn Manson cuts off Kostoff’s music as David Black makes his way down to the ring, ignoring the boos from the crowd, visually unhappy about this upcoming match.

Bryan McVay: Making his way to the ring first…. Best Alliance member and part of the Tag Team champions… David Black!!!

Sliding into the ring Black heads to corner, keeping an eye on both Kostoff and the AoA.

“Revolution Man” by The Union underground starts up as the boos continue as Ethan Cavanaugh walks out onto the stage and down to the ring, staring down the AoA… or most likely Paul Paras specifically.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent, also a Best Alliance member and part Tag Team champion… Ethan Cavanaugh!!!

Ethan climbs the stairs and enters the ring as he walks over to the ropes and starts yelling at Paras who takes a big handful of popcorn and shoves it in his mouth as he applauds for Ethan.

Kostoff doesn’t care to even check either man over as he calls for the bell and falls back into the corner.  Ethan and David meet in the center of the ring and both look over at the AoA before they shakes hands.

Benny Newell: Look at that sportsmanship Joe!  These men are going to put on a wrestling clinic tonight!  No pussy finger pokes of doom, yeah I talking to you @RealKevinNash!

Joe Hoffman: Please don’t start tweeting mid match.

Benny Newell: Too late.

Black and Ethan lock up in a collar and elbow tie up as most struggle for control as Ethan whips Black into the ropes and comes back to lock right back up into a tie up as Black takes control and whips Ethan in to the rope and comes right back into another tie up as the crowd quickly starts to boo.  Ethan gets an elbow into the gut of Black and locks him into a headlock as the boos just keep to continue.  Even the AoA chuck some popcorn at the ring in disapproval.  Black turns it around though into a wrist lock as Kostoff  comes out of the corner and casually sticks his leg of as Ethan trips over it and falls to the mat to the crowd’s delight.

Benny Newell: What the fuck!

Joe Hoffman: Hey, Kostoff is not used to refereeing matches, his positioning isn’t up to Boettcher standards yet.

Black glares at Kostoff as he quickly springboards off the second rope and connects with a moonsault on Ethan as he goes for the first cover of the match.  Kostoff takes his time getting down onto the mat as he cracks his neck and stretches his shoulder out before making the count.


Benny Newell: Come on!  Are we counting ballots in Florida or something?

Joe Hoffman: Really?  Decade old jokes?  Plus we don’t want Kostoff pulling a muscle out there.  Refereeing can be dangerous, I mean just look at those hockey refe….

Benny Newell: No one gives a shit about hockey or Kostoff muscles.  I know three might be the biggest number he has ever counted to, but someone teach him how to do it right!

Black starts arguing with Kostoff who tries playing innocent, not knowing what he did wrong.  Black shakes his head in anger as he lifts Ethan to his feet and scoop slams him to the mat as Black starts to climb the turnbuckles and leaps off with a leg drop but Ethan rolls out of the way as Black lands hard on the mat as you can see the AoA laughing in the background.  From his knees Ethan swings his leg around and connects with a kick to the side of Black’s head as Paras stands up and cheers as Ethan stands up and glares at him before hitting a guillotine leg drop on Black and going for a cover.  This time Kostoff spring right into position for the count.


Kostoff checks that Black’s right shoulder is down as he gets up and swings around to the other side to check Black’s left shoulder as Black kicks out of the cover.

Benny Newell: This is bullshit Joe!

Joe Hoffman: That is thorough officiating right there.

Ethan now gets in Kostoff’s face who just smiles and hold up one finger as Ethan just drills Kostoff with a punch to the head which gets the crowd in an uproar.

Benny Newell: DQ!  DQ!  This match is over!

But Kostoff just shakes his head and as he fires back at Ethan with a handful of rights as the crowd explodes with cheers.  Paras gets back to his feet and comes to Ethan’s aid as Kostoff cuts him off with rights to Paras.  Kostoff switches back and forth from the two men, firing away with punches on them as the crowd is going crazy.

Benny Newell: Kostoff has fucking lost it!  He can’t do this!

Joe Hoffman: He can and he is!

But the numbers start to get to Kostoff as Paras is able to get a chop block in and Ethan and Paras start stomping away on the Hall of Famer.  Boettcher and Stevens make their way down to the ring to try and get some order as Boettcher calls for the bell to end the match, which does nothing to stop Black and Ethan.  Kostoff tries to battle his way back up and gets up to his feet with a couple wildly connecting punches but Black stops that with a Blackout from almost nowhere that lays the big man out.

Joe Hoffman: Well should have known something like this would happen as the BA is now picking apart Kostoff… here we go!

The rest of the Foundation burst out from the backstage, running down the ramp as Black and Ethan spot them and quickly roll out of the ring and jump into the crowd and make an exit.

Joe Hoffman: Well the rest of the Foundation come to the aid of Kostoff.

Benny Newell: Kostoff got exactly what he deserved Joe!  That was some of the shittiest officiating I have ever seen!

The cameras show Black and Ethan up in the crowd, smiling back at The Foundation as they make their exit.  Now it’s the AoA who rise to their feet, especially Paras and Davis who start staring down Belmont and Hollywood.

Joe Hoffman:  Looks like we have a bit of a standoff between the AoA and The Foundation members who will be facing off later tonight for the Tag Team titles.

Benny Newell: Let them stare all they want, Varga is going to beat them all… by his fucking self!

Bryan McVay: The winner of this match by a disqualification is David Black!!!

Joe Hoffman: Well it looks like Boettcher has made the call to DQ Ethan for hitting Kostoff and Black will pick up the win.  Though I doubt Ethan or David really care about the result here tonight.

Belmont and Hollywood make a sign of the Tag Team titles around their waists as Paras just shakes his head and laugh as The Foundation help Kostoff from the ring and slowly walk backwards up the ramp, keeping an eye on the AoA .

Who owns the owner?

The scene cuts backstage to Christopher America’s office. It is ornately decorated with pictures of the White House, Mount Rushmore, and Captain America. Christopher America sits confidently behind his desk. His feet are on top of the desk and he’s bragging proudly to someone anonymous on the phone.

Christopher America:So, get this. Not only am I the new owner but I screwed this one piece of shit wrestler by making defend the tag team championships…. ALONE! HAHAHA!

Oh! Get this… The best part of it is….

Suddenly, the door to Christopher America’s office bursts open. The camera slowly pans around to show James Varga, flanked by Eddie Pirelli. In James’ left hand is the severed head of Mike Best. Upon entering, Varga marches right up to the desk and slams the severed head on America’s desk, knocking over the Statue of Liberty paperweight and allowing the head to drip puss and ooze all over some very important paperwork.

Despite this, the smile does not fade from America’s face.

Christopher America:Uh…. let me call you back.

Christopher clasps his cell phone shut and smiles giddily at Varga.

Christopher America:James, what’s up?

Varga:What’s up? Are you in Kid ‘N Play or something?

Christopher America:Heh.

Varga:Well since you asked, I’ll tell you what’s up. First, I’m here to tell you that your plan has failed. You booked me in, let’s face it, a four-on-one handicap match. However…however I must tell you personally that this… exhibition match is going to be a piece of cake for me. You’ve got me in here with a guy who’s going to be fired, an egomaniac, muscle flexing douchetard, a gaystached jobber, and a chick on her period. This is going to be too easy for me, so thank you for the workout.

Christopher begins to feign mock outrage.

Christopher America:Kid ‘N Play? KID ‘N PLAY?!? Did you just fucking mention Kid ‘N Play on my show? Jesus, Retardga, everything about you is trapped in the 80s, your stupid ass manager, your stupid ass promos, and now your stupid ass references. Since you seem to be so fond of the 80s, here’s one for you. 2011 called, they’d like you to be relevant in this decade.

As for the match, believe me, Varga, after seeing you lose to Fear, who I had curtain jerking tonight, you don’t scare me, the AoA, the Foundation, or anyone else for that matter. Let’s face it Varga, you couldn’t handle Fear in a one-on-one match. How are you going to handle the AoA and the Foundation in, as you put it, a four-on-one handicap match?

Varga:Let me set the record straight right now. 2011 has been a shit year… and speaking of shit, Fear got lucky. He had the referee in his back pocket just like the Steelers do every game they play. I’m sure Kostoff gave Boettcher some money in the back before the match to call it his way but it wont matter anyway. I’m going to tell you right now how I’m going to handle both the AoA and the Foundation.

Firstly, I’m going to kick Hollywood’s ass to the floor and he can stay there because that’s where he belongs. Second, I’m going to make Belmont’s face look like a bloody tampon using my fists. Then I’ll rip off Davis’ ugly little gaystache and shove it up Paras’ ass before pinning the Perfect One for the one, two, three. It’s that simple.

As far as you go, you can say what you want because I really don’t give a damn. It’s all talk and no action. However I’m going to knock that smug look off your face and retake the Best Arena in the name of your God, Lee Best, after I kick your ass all over Mexico, Christopher Columbia.

Amerigo Vespucci didn’t discover North America, but South America so basically that alone makes you and everything you stand for more of a joke than Scottywood’s pepperoni nipples.

Christopher America slowly takes his legs off his desk and sets them on the floor. He readjusts himself on his chair and places his hands on his desk. His smile fades as he leans in. His voice menacing in tone.

Christopher America:Let me explain something to you, Gay-mes. You can beat me down all you want, but the fact of the matter is that you will never reclaim the Best Arena. It’s in contract form, which, in America, is like placing it in stone.

As for your match, let me explain how it’s going to go down. The AoA are going to sit back and watch the Foundation pick you apart little by little. In fact, I’m pretty sure they’re going to break every single bone in your body. It’s going to be so fucking brutal that you’ll wish Scottywood would’ve actually murdered you in the center of the ring. Then, the AoA will swoop in and attack the Foundation, easily securing the Tag Team Championships for the single greatest stable in HOW history.

As far as your history lesson goes, it means absolutely nothing. It, like you, is irrelevant.

I am a World Champion, a War Games winner, an LSD champion, a two time HOFC Champion, a two time Stable Champion, and 1/2 of the team that brought the God damned Tag Team Championships to the Best Alliance in the first place. Believe me, Jimbo, what Christopher America giveth, Christopher America can taketh away.

Varga:Giveth and taketh away? What the hell is this, Sunday School? We’ll see who means nothing after I fuck up your little scheme. Just remember one thing. No matter what happens, I’m coming to kick your ass and we’ll see just how irrelevant I am when  we finally meet in the ring.

Christopher America:Believe me, you are irrelevant. Make no mistake. I’ll show you and everyone how irrelevant you are at March 2 Glory. You see, Jim, I’m undefeated at March 2 Glory. I defeated Scottywood, the current ICON Champion, the man who beat Max Kael… you remember him, don’t you? And then last year, I beat Mike Best, the current and… soon to be former World Champion. It’s my Pay Per View. Will you kick my ass, Jimmy? I’m sure you will. But this isn’t an ass kicking contest. This is a fucking wrestling match and I… won’t… lose.

Christopher clenches his teeth and leans even closer to Varga.

Christopher America:I… DON’T… LOSE!

Varga leans in, looking America dead in his eyes.

Varga:There’s a first time for everything, Christoph. Sure, you’ve beaten all those guys but you also fail to take into account that the last time people wrote me off I came out like a freight train from Hell and won the ICON Championship at ICONIC in a match where I was supposed to be an afterthought. You’re already assuming that you’re going to beat me. Well assumptions are the mother of all fuck ups and I plan on showing you and the world that first hand at March 2 Glory.

Christopher America:Well, then, if your plan for me at March 2 Glory is like all the other plans you’ve concocted in 2011, I have nothing to worry about. Now, do be a good little wrestler and GET THE HELL OUT OF MY OFFICE….

Christopher’s smile spreads across his face once more.

Christopher: You’ve got some Tag Team Championships to lose.

Varga points his finger right in America’s face.

Varga:If I win and I WILL, I’m coming for you after the match.

He then storms out of the office, slamming the door behind him as he leaves with Pirelli in tow.

The camera turns to America’s smiling face as he begins to redial a number on his cell phone.


LBI Winner vs. World Champion

Last Chance Match

(Winner becomes No.1 Contender for the World Title, Loser must start at the bottom)

Loser of the LBI Triple Threat Final will square off

Triple Threat Ladder Match for Unknown Title Shot

Pariah vs. ??? vs ???

Tag Team Match

The Foundation (Kostoff and Fear) vs. The Best Alliance (Black and Cavanaugh)

Singles Match

Christopher America vs. James Varga

Singles Match

Jimmy Thunder vs. Golden Greg Davis

Jackson© – 0% v ‘Big Country’ Mark O’Neal – 0%

Back live on Thursday Night Turmoil, “Hillbilly Bone” by Blake Shelton ft. Trace Adkins erupts through the speakers of The Best Arena, bringing the crowd to their feet for hometown favorite “Big Country” Mark O’Neal.  After a few moments of anticipation, the Foundation member emerges from the curtain, fresh off of his upset victory over David Black last week.  The Chicago fans explode (pun intended) at the sight of O’Neal, who poses briefly atop the stage before heading towards the ring.

Joe Hoffman:  Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen.  As you can see, it’s time for our mid-show Main Event, where The Best Alliance and The Foundation will wage war yet again in this anticipated LBI semi-final match up!

Benny Newell:  How David Black lost to this fucking douchebag last week, I’ll never know.  What I do know is that the “Mechanical Animal” will be quick to knock this… this… Best Alliance traitor back down to size and secure his place in the LBI Triple Threat Final where he belongs.

As if on cue, “Lies” by Evanescence (JAX Remix) replaces O’Neal’s music, prompting Jackson from the back, the LSD championship belt strapped securely around his waist as he walks onto the stage and slowly down the entrance ramp.  Benny applauds him wildly from the announcer’s booth as Jackson approaches; the boos raining down upon the LSD champion as he demands and motions for referee Joel Hortega to hold the ropes open for him to enter.  Reluctantly, Hortega obliges and the two exchange a look with each other after squaring off in an LBI match of their own a few short weeks ago.  With Jackson now in the ring and O’Neal closely watching his every move, ring announcer Bryan McVay proceeds with the introductions.

Bryan McVay:  Ladies and gentlemen, this match is scheduled for one fall and is for the High Octane Wrestling LSD championship!  Introducing first, the challenger, representing The Foundation, weighing in tonight at 250 pounds… he is from right here in Chicago, Illinois… “BIG COUNTRY” MARK O’NEAL!!!

The Chicago fans pop loudly for the High Octane Hall of Famer as he smiles and raises his arm as a show of appreciation for the applause.

Bryan McVay:  And his opponent, representing The Best Alliance, weighing in tonight at 277 pounds… he is from New York City, New York and is the High Octane Wrestling LSD champion… “THE MECHANICAL ANIMAL” JACKSON!!!

Unfazed by the eruption of boos that he receives from the crowd, Jackson simply un-straps the LSD title belt from his waist and hands it to Joel Hortega, his eyes focused squarely on his opponent’s as the referee presents the title to the challenger before raising it into the air for the crowd and cameras to see.

Joe Hoffman:  So much at stake in this match for both men as they look to punch their ticket to the finals of the 2011 LBI tournament.  It’s been a long road, Benny, but only one of these men will move on!  Who is it going to be?  By God, the suspense is killing me!

Benny Newell:  Sounds like your panties are bunching again, Joe.  How about you relax and just watch Jackson obliterate this washed up piece of trash, eh?


The sound of the bell sees O’Neal and Jackson circle each other a bit in an effort to try and feel each other out, however it doesn’t take long before the two meet in a collar-and-elbow tie up with Jackson gaining the upper hand.  Jackson uses his slight strength advantage to back Mark into the turnbuckle where he refuses to adhere to the break called by Hortega.  Instead, he keeps the hold locked in and drives his knee into the mid-section of his opponent, doubling O’Neal over.  A swift Northern Lights Suplex gets Jackson off to a quick start as he transitions the move into a pin that O’Neal quickly kicks out of.

Joe Hoffman:  Near fall there by Jackson, who has been one of the favorites in the LBI tournament from the start.

Benny Newell:  And rightfully so!  Jackson has proven to be a dominant force in High Octane Wrestling as he’s been plowing through the competition for months.  Just look at what he did to the “almighty” Kostoff last week, Joe.

Joe Hoffman:  Well, there’s no denying the talent of one Brad Jackson, but don’t discount “Big Country” Mark O’Neal from this contest either, Benny.  He’s a former World and LSD champion and if anyone has the ability to derail the “Mechanical Animal”, it’s him.

As Benny argues with Joe, Jackson maintains the upper hand on Mark O’Neal with a body scissors that appears to drain some life from the former “Explosive One”.  Before long, however, both men are back to their feet and Mark is able to turn the tables after catching Jackson in his Springboard DDT attempt and countering with a Spinebuster.  This time, O’Neal hooks the leg but Jackson immediately gets the shoulder up.  O’Neal tries to keep his larger opponent grounded with a side head-lock, but it’s not long before both men are back to there feet, where Jackson pushes O’Neal off, sending him into the ropes.  Jackson raises the boot, but “Big Country” hangs onto the ropes, taunting Jackson with an “I’m smarter than you” pose.  This angers the “Mechanical Animal”, who charges but O’Neal ducks under, pulling the top rope down with him to send Jackson crashing to the outside!

Joe Hoffman:  Jackson lands hard right in front of us, Benny and– LOOK OUT!  Mark O’Neal goes airborne!  Uncharacteristic of “Big Country” but certainly effective, especially with the LSD championship on the line!

As Joe describes, O’Neal launches himself over the top rope from the ring and lands on Jackson with a Suicide Dive!  Joel Hortega administers the ten-count for both superstars, who prove to be slow to their feet.  As expected, O’Neal is first to his but Jackson slips away from his grasp and Irish Whips him into the steel ring steps!  Mark cringes upon impact but Jackson keeps the pressure on and rolls him back into the ring.  The LSD champion slides in behind O’Neal, breaking the ten-count from Hortega and motions that he’s going to finish the challenger.

Benny Newell:  Here it is, Joe!  ‘Therapy’ should put Mark O’Neal away for g–

Joe Hoffman:  O’Neal countered!  Small package!




O’Neal can’t believe it as he pops up in disbelief after countering Jackson’s Michinoku Driver finisher.

Joe Hoffman:  New champion!  New champion!

Benny Newell:  NO!  Jackson kicked out!  Hortega is signaling two!

Benny proves to be correct as Hortega adamantly tries to explain to Mark O’Neal that he didn’t win the match.  Amidst the confusion, however, Jackson climbs to his feet and stalks O’Neal from behind, who turns unsuspectingly into yet another ‘Therapy’ attempt from Jackson.  The crowd gasps, but O’Neal blocks the finisher once again and slips behind Jackson for a release German Suplex into the turnbuckle!  Immediately, Jackson falls to the mat where he favors his neck in tremendous pain.

Joe Hoffman:  Mark O’Neal is going up top here, Benny!  This one could be over!

Sure enough, O’Neal leaps off the top rope and nails his “Hoe Down” splash on Jackson!  He favors his mid-section from the impact, but fights through the pain to make the cover!





Bryan McVay:  Here is your winner by way of pin fall in 9:14… and NEEEEEWWWWWWWW High Octane LSD champion… “BIG COUNTRY” MARK O’NEAL!!!

Benny Newell:  You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?!?

“Hillbilly Bone” kicks through the speakers once again as Joel Hortega is handed the LSD championship belt and presents it to Mark O’Neal, who accepts it with an exhausted smile.

Joe Hoffman:  He did it, Benny!  Mark O’Neal has defied the odds once again!  Not only did he defeat the near-unstoppable Jacksonto become new LSD champion, he now moves on to the finals of the LBI tournament!

Benny Newell:  This is bullshit!  Complete and utter, BULLSHIT!  Jackson was fucking sick tonight and was still forced to compete here tonight and defend his LSD title belt.  Where the fuck is Christopher America?!?  I’m going to have words with that fucking douchebag!



Ran by Americans….true Americans tonight

The Best Mouthpiece?

Back live and the camera cuts to Brian Bare who is standing outside of the AoA locker room as the AoA are no doubt preparing to win the HOW Tag Team Titles. Bare goes to knock on the door but it suddenly opens and Mario Maurako steps out, closing the door behind him. Mario stares at Brian Bare and the camera focuses on Mario’s T-Shirt, which is light blue in color and reads “Mustache Rides: $5” and has a picture of a Burt Reynolds Mustache.

Brian Bare:Ladies and Gentlemen, the man who returned to HOW last week and recruited Golden Greg Davis as the newest member of the AoA- Mario Maurako.

Mario chuckles at the introduction given by Bare.

Mario Maurako:That’s funny Brian. Do you think that for one second these people forgot who I am? They know exactly who I am, and they know exactly what my presence in the AoA locker room means for the Argonauts, and for ALL of the women in HOW.

Brian Bare:You’re right, I’m sorry.

Mario Maurako:You bet your ass you’re sorry. Because just like that *Mario snaps his fingers* I can lift your skinny little ass right up off the ground and hit you with a contract kill. Speaking of which, you need to start working out man. I’ve whacked bigger women than you. Here here… take two of these and call me in the morning.

Mario pulls out an orange bottle of Marvelous Muscles, and gives it to Bare.

Mario Maurako:Now you give me this *Mario takes the Mic*, and you take those and get out of here. I’ll carry the rest of this interview myself. Got it? Good!

Brian Bare dejectedly walks away holding the bottle of Marvelous Muscles.

Mario Maurako:So here we are again HOW. The Marvelous One has returned once again. But this time it’s going to be a lot different then you are used to seeing me. Gone are the days of the Frog Splashes, the Diving Headbutts, the Simply Marvelous’ the full nelsons. I stand before you all tonight as a Manager of Awesomeness. I’m talking about me resurrecting the long lost role of the Manager in wrestling. And what better group of guys to start managing then my old running buddies America, Paras, Starr, Faze and newly acquired Greg Davis. Speaking of Golden Greg I’ve got a little something for him as a token of my appreciation for him.

Mario raises an Oscar from the 2009 Oscar’s into the view of the camera.

Mario Maurako:As my fans know back in ’09 I won two Oscars, one for best supporting actor, and one for best music. I know Heath Ledger’s family and A.R. Rahman “disagree” with me. But possession is nine tenths of the law suckers! Tonight I’m presenting my client “Golden Greg Davis” with the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor.

The door to the AoA locker room opens up and Greg Davis steps out and Mario Maurako graciously hands him the Oscar…

“Golden” Greg Davis: Thanks for this Golden opportunity Mario. Tonight I will not let you down, and Paul and I are going to go out there tonight and win the Tag Team Titles in your honor.

Mario pats Golden Greg Davis on the shoulder.

Mario Maurako:I know you will. James Varga, prepare yourself as the Future of Awesomeness has arrived.

Mario smiles and high fives Golden Greg Davis as we go back to ringside.

“Perfect” Paul Paras – 0% v Greg Davis – 0% v “The Franchise” James Varga – 0% v Valerie Belmont – 0% v Brian Hollywood – 0%

Joe Hoffman: We’re back and we have seen one of the BA’s three titles slip from their grasp as Mark O’Neal pulls off what many call a big upset and beat Brad Jackson, taking his LSD title and eliminating him from the LBI.

Benny Newell: Whatever!  The BA still has Max Kael in the LBI and that is all that matters.

Joe Hoffman: Until Scottywood eliminated him later tonight.

Benny Newell: No!  You shut your mouth Hoffman!  Don’t you speak such blasphemy!

Joe Hoffman: Right…. Well right now it’s time for the second of three BA title defenses as James Varga who is already in the ring will be defending the Tag Team titles by himself against two other teams.

Benny Newell: This is a complete injustice Joe!  Not only is Varga handicapped but America made him enter during that mind numbingly boring ass AoA segment.

Joe Hoffman: Well regardless, the titles are in severe jeopardy as Varga doesn’t even need to be involved in the decision to lose the titles under these triple threat rules.

Benny Newell: What is the AoA and Foundation are in collusion?!?!

“The Great Pandemonium” by Kamelot as we see Valerie Belmont and Brain Hollywood make their way out onto the stage to a warm reception from the Chicago fans.

Bryan McVay: And his challengers, representing The Foundation and weighing in tonight at 370 pounds… the team of Valerie Belmont and Brian Hollywood!!!

Joe Hoffman: Both Belmont and fell short in the group play during the LBI, but tonight they could get a big redemption by winning the HOW Tag Team titles.

Benny Newell: But instead they are going to lose and Brain Hollywood is going to be fired!  He went 0-3 in the damn LBI!  He couldn’t even beat Greg Davis!

Belmont and Hollywood enter the ring with smiles on their faces as Boettcher has to get in between the three as Belmont and Hollywood are eager to get going.  But there is still one last team to enter as “Ladies and Gentlemen” by Saliva hit and the crowd roars as Paul Paras and Greg Davis, flanked by Mario Maurako walk out onto the stage.

Bryan McVay: And the other challengers, representing the AoA and being accompanied by Mario Maurako… weighing in at 519 pounds…. “Perfect” Paul Paras and “Golden” Greg Davis!!!

Joe Hoffman: This has to be your obvious favorite Benny, Paras with lots of tag team experience, previously holding the stable titles with the AoA during their record setting reign in 2008 and 2009.

Benny Newell: Varga is already at a disadvantage in this match, and America is going to allow Mario to be in the AoA’s corner?  Bullshit!

Paras and Davis climb into the ring as words quickly start being exchanged as Boettcher tries to get the teams to their corners and manages to sort things out as Paras, Hollywood and obviously Varga will start things out as the senior official calls for the bell to start the match.  Paras and Hollywood exchange looks as they go right after Varga who gets backed into the corner and double teamed by the two with a hailstorm of punches and boots until Varga crumples to the ground and Boettcher has to pull Paras and Hollywood back.  Which at that point the alliance ends as Paras lays out Hollywood with a muay thai roundhouse kick as he quickly tags Davis in.

Joe Hoffman: Every team for themselves as Hollywood quickly learns and Paras being the tag team specialist makes a quick tag to Davis.

Benny Newell: And who can Varga tag?  No one!  Fucking America!

Davis comes into the ring takes out Hollywood with a clothesline as he tries to get back up and connects with a drop kick on Varga in the corner as the crowd is roaring and Davis goes to hit a drop kick on Hollywood but he side steps it and tags in Belmont who comes in and connects with a couple stiff kicks to the mid-section of Davis’s body and lays him out with a pele kick to the head.

Joe Hoffman: Belmont on fire here as Davis just got a schooling from Belmont’s feet.

Benny Newell: Stop with your foot fetish as here comes Varga back!

Varga comes out of the corner with a high knee to the head of Belmont as Varga quickly goes for the cover on Davis.



Joe Hoffman: Davis kicks out as Varga almost pulled off a big upset.

Varga slams the mat a he starts to flip out a little and starts choking Davis as Boettcher tries to break it up.  Mario spots the distraction and hops onto the apron and lines Belmont up who is climbing back up to her feet.

Benny Newell: I hate to cheer for him, but I think the whack-o-meter is going to tally another victim!

Mario’s open hand swings away for Belmont’s face, but the Foundation member ducks the attack and drill Mario with an elbow and pulls The Marvelous One into the ring.  Boettcher manages to pull Varga off Davis as he spots Mario in the ring and starts yelling at him and throws him out of the match.

Benny Newell: Hahaha, See ya Mario!

Joe Hoffman: Well Mario did try and get involved and Boettcher caught him, so that will even things up somewhat.

Mario throws a mini fit as he is sent up the entrance way and backstage as Davis has managed to get back to his corner and tag in Paras while Varga and Belmont trade blows.  Varga gets the advantage with an elbow to Belmont’s throat and goes for a gutwrench suplex but Paras cuts it off with superkick to Varga’s head as he goes for the cover.



Joe Hoffman: Broken up by Hollywood!

Boettcher quickly grabs him and pulls him back to his corner as Paras pulls Varga to his feet, but Varga counters with a low blow behind Boettcher’s back.  Varga wants to go for the cover but Belmont comes back with a missile drop kick to Varga as she locks in the spider twist submission move.

Joe Hoffman: Could be all over right her!  We could have new Tag Team champions!

But Paras has crawled over to his corner and tagged in Davis who charges into the ring and breaks up the submission move.  Not wanting Davis to gain an advantage, Hollywood again charges into the ring, this time at Davis who side steps Hollywood and throws him towards the ropes.  Paras who is lying on the apron has the awareness to pull the top rope down and Hollywood goes crashing to the outside.

Benny Newell: Haha!  This is why you’re getting fired after this Hollywood!

Paras drops off the apron and starts pumpling Hollywood with punches as Davis connects with a german suplex on Belmont as he pulls her to his feet and goes for trademark fisherman’s DDT.  On the outside Paras see’s Davis set up for the finisher and locks Hollywood in the Anaconda Vice to tie him up.

Joe Hoffman: Messianic Complex locked in on Hollywood and the Davis DDT coming up on Belmont!  “Golden” Greg Davis is second away from Tag Team gold!!

Benny Newell: CAP LOCK CUTTER!!!!

Varga springs up from the mat and hits the finisher out of no where as the boos rain in and Varga goes for the cover.

Benny Newell: YES!  YES!  YES!




Joe Hoffman: Twisted Consequence locked in!!!

Belmont breaks up the pinfall by rolling over and wrapping her legs around Varga’s head and pulling him off Davis as she locks in the spider twist submission.

Benny Newell: That was three!  That was three!

Joe Hoffman: Belmont has it synched in and Varga is in tremendous pain.  Paras on the outside can’t see it the submission!

Benny Newell: Someone save Varga!

Varga tries to use his legs to pull himself over to the ropes, but Belmont is tightening the hold and Varga is losing consciousness.  He can’t pull himself anymore as he kicks his legs, trying to get the ropes.  Paras breaks his hold as he finally sees what is going on as he slides into the ring….


Joe Hoffman: Varga taps out!

Benny Newell: NO!  Fuck you Paras!


Bryan McVay: The winners of this match and NEW!  HOW Tag Team Champions…. Brian Hollywood and Valerie Belmont!!!

Paras rolls out of the ring with disappointment as Hollywood crawls in and Belmont helps him up as Boettcher hands them their newly won titles, which they raise proudly above their heads.  The HOW fans giving them a standing ovation, happy the belts are no longer in the possession of The Best Alliance.

Joe Hoffman: A 136 day reign comes to and end… granted I felt it ended at ICONIC, but regardless it is truly over now as The Foundation now has custody of those titles.

Benny Newell: TAINTED!  Varga was all by himself!

Joe Hoffman: Say what you want Benny, but those belts are gone!  Now all the BA has left is the World title and that could be gone by the end of the hour.

Benny Newell: Fuck you Joe… fuck you!

Joe Hoffman: The BA implosion continues later tonight folks!


Backstage we see The Hardcore Artist standing in front of a monitor, watching Belmont and Hollywood celebrate their newly won Tag Team titles as there is a huge smile on Scotty’s face.  We see Brian Bare walking up to Scottywood, hesitant after his encounter with The Hardcore Artist yesterday.

Brain Bare: So The Best Alliance has lost two of their three….

Scottywood: Really?  Get the fuck out of my face and give me that microphone.

Ripping the microphone from Bare Scotty pushes him away and continues to smile at the camera.

Scottywood: The LSD and Tag Titles have been freed from the BA and that brings a huge smile to my face as they are two titles that have meant a lot to my career.  Now all that the BA has left is Max in the LBI and Mike Best’s World title…. which will change in mere moments when I beat Max once again and eliminate him from the LBI.  How will that feel Lee to not have a single one of your “BEST” Alliance members in the finals of your tournament of the Lee Best Invitational?  How will you feel when The Hardcore Artist wins it all and finally headlines a HOW PPV and gets his long deserved World title shot!!!

With his barbwire hockey stick in hand Scotty’s breathing is getting deeper and deeper as you know he is imagining breaking that hockey stick over the head of Max once again….

Chris: Scotty!  Scotty!

Snapping his head around, The Hardcore Artist spots his P.R. agent Chris running over to him in a panic.

Scottywood: What the fuck?

Chris : Baal!  He’s been attacked!

Scottywood: By who?

Chris: I’m not sure, but there was a black rose left on top of him and a notecard with a “K” written on it.

Scottywood: Kelly!  Fuck!  Where is he?

Chris: Your locker room, but you got your match with Max now, you don’t have time.

Scottywood: Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!  Fine, go with him to the hospital and I’ll take care of Max.  I don’t need Baal to beat Max and I’ll prove that tonight.

Chris: Ok, man.  Good luck

As Chris runs off back to Baal, The Hardcore Artist stands there and runs his hand through his beard, possibly now worried about his match with Kael as we cut to commercial break.

Only in America…

Championship BOTF

The feed cuts backstage to America sitting in his office. The office has been rearranged from earlier to make it look somewhat Presidential as he is flanked by American flags.

The same wide smile that has been spread all over his face since the beginning of the show continues to reside there.

Christopher: Ladies and gentlemen. I have just received the following PPV contract in my possession.

Apparently, Mr. Best thinks that the Tag Team Championship match I just had was shitty booking. Well, fuck him. He’s just pissed that Varga ate shit and lost the titles. Luckily, in order to regain the titles, Lee texted me and boasted that his team from the Best Alliance could regain the titles by beating anyone. I called him a shit-faced liar and told him to prove it.

Lee gave me the opportunity to make any match for the Pay-Per-View so long as I did not fuck up the LBI seeding currently in place.

So, at March 2 Glory, I am proud to present the following match-up for the Tag Team Championships.

David Black and Ethan Cavanaugh of the Best Alliance


Chris Kostoff and Fear of the Foundation




PERFECTLY MARVELOUS OF THE AOA! Think your guys can beat anyone, Lee? As I said…. FUCKING PROVE IT!

Scottywood© – 0% v Max Kael – 0%

Joe Hoffman:Alright folks, we now know that both the AoA and BA desperately wanted and will get another chance at Tag Team gold at March to Glory but right now we are here for our final Lee Best Invitational match of the evening. We’re going to see “The Minister” Max Kael, former ICON Champion, and the man who took the belt off him, Scottywood, face off in what’s sure to be a corker of a semi final. Both these men are vying to join Townsend and O’Neal in the finals, and, well, if the two earlier matches were any indication, we’re in for one heck of a ride here!

Benny Newell: Kael is going to save Scottywood this week, Joe. He will be saved, mark my words. In fact, I’ll drink to that.

Joe Hoffman’s sighs of resignation are quickly cut off by an all too familar glugging sound, before “Puritania” by Dimmu Borgir cues up as the arena lights flash over to red giving the area a rather sinister glow as Maximillian Kael steps out onto the ramp wearing his wrestling gear.

Bryan McVay: Introducing first, he is a Best Alliance member, from Arkham, Massachusetts, he is The Minster….MAX KAEL…err….MAX BEST!!!!

The crowd boos loudly as he slowly makes his way down to the ring with his hands held in the air before sliding into the ring where he goes to the corner and awaits Scottywood, evil grin plastered across his visage.

Benny Newell: There he is Joe, all ready to do some saving!

Joe Hoffman:I don’t know, Benny, Scottywood took the ICON Championship off him, there’s a chance that he could do the same thing again here tonight.

Benny Newell: Not happening, Joe. In fact if Kael loses I’ll not have another drink for the rest of this fucking event.

Joe Hoffman:I’ll believe that when I see it…

OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH, You Gotta Keep ’em Separated

“The Animal” by Disturbed kicks in as we see Scottywood appear from backstage holding his trademark barbwire wrapped hockey stick and wearing his Hardcore Artist hockey jersey as he starts to make his way down to the ring.

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

Joe Hoffman:Scottywood without his ally Baal here tonight, what with him being laid out by an unknown assailant, so I wonder if that’ll play on Scotty’s mind at all.

Benny Newell: Who gives a fuck, Joe? It’s Scottywood. SCOTTYWOOD. You know, Mr. I sit down for a piss? Yeah.

Joe Hoffman:ICON Champion, Benny, ICON Champion.

Benny Newell: Temporary. That belt’ll be around The Minister’s waist soon enough, Joe.

Hoffman, once again, sighs, as referee Boettcher signals a start to the contest.  The two men stalk each other, well aware of the other’s capabilities. Scottywood shoots off the ropes, looking for a lariat but The Minister ducks under it. Scottywood flies back off the ropes on the other side but before he has much of a chance to do anything, The Minister fires a thumb into his eye before stomping, hard, on Scottywood’s toe. Scottywood, dazed and confused, loses his orientation for a moment which is more than enough time for The Minister to swing through three hundred and sixty degrees, firing a vicious, momentum fuelled elbow at Scottywood’s head, knocking him straight down to the canvas.

Benny Newell: See Joe? See? Kael will dominate this. I’m always right about things like this.

Joe Hoffman:Sure, Benny, Kael has been impressive in the early going, but we’ll see what happens as the match carries on. Scottywood’s showed tremendous heart lately.

Benny Newell: Pff…

Scottywood recovers quickly however, and starts throwing right fists at The Minister’s head, connecting with a few and sending The Minister staggering backwards. He follows up, throwing fists every which way, connecting with any part of Kael that isn’t covered up. Kael literally pushes him away, staggering Scotty for the brief second it takes to run and throw a knee into the midsection of a man. Scottywood picks himself straight back up off the mat though, and with a swift boot to the gut, he wastes no time connecting with a DDT to a roar from the crowd! Scottywood, looking fired up, drags Kael up off the mat, before delivering a crushing backbreaker! He goes for the cover and Matt Boettcher drops for the count…


Kael shoots his shoulder off the canvas with plenty of time to spare!

Joe Hoffman:Scottywood being maybe a little optimistic there…

Benny Newell: That’s what I’ve been saying, Joe – he’s an idiot.

Kael quickly pulls himself up off the mat, determined not to let Scotty seize the initiative. Scottywood throws a right hand at Kael’s head, but it never gets anywhere near connecting as Kael drives his knee straight into Scottywood’s nether regions, sending the tattooed superstar crumpling to the canvas, clutching at his groinal area in obvious distress. Kael drags Scottywood back to his feet by his hair, before delivering a hair assisted neckbreaker! Boettcher gives him a dirty look as he drops to count Kael’s pin…



And Scottywood uses his power to send Kael flying off of him!

Joe Hoffman:Close call there for Scottywood.

Benny Newell: Lucky escape morelike.

Scottywood leaps to his feet, obviously aware of how much is on the line, and leaps at Kael, spearing him straight to the floor, just as The Minister was starting to get his footing. He lands on top of Kael and immediately starts to unload punch after punch into The Minster’s face, stopping when The Minister seems sufficiently stunned. He picks The Minster back up and walks over to the turnbuckle with him, making the timeless symbol for a Tornado DDT. He grabs Max’s head in a DDT clutch once he’s sat atop the turnbuckle, and leaps off, spinning through the air, only to find that Kael pushes him at the vital moment, avoiding the suplex! Scottywood lands on his feet and charges straight back in with a clothesline, but Kael ducks under the clothesline again! Scottywood stops dead in his tracks, and quickly turns around, clocking Kael with a vicious straight punch! He takes a moment as the crowd roars it’s appreciation for that fine punch!

Joe Hoffman:Hotly contested match here folks, both of these guys want the chance to advance to the final, to go and meet Townsend/Pariah and O’Neal/Jackson in the finals!

Scottywood turns to continue his offense, but Kael has ducked under the referee. Scottywood walks over towards the Kael, but before he gets much of a chance to do anything, Kael pushes the referee into him! Scottywood throws Boettcher out of the way, only to for his forehead to find it’s way straight into Max Kael’s fist. Stunned by the sudden impact, Scottywood staggers back, only to find that the dastardly Kael has swung for the fences and connected with his testicular region, just before Boettcher turns around to face the match. The Minister takes advantage of Scottywood’s clearly weakened state and grabs ahold of his head and leg, delivering a particularly vicious version of The Singularity!! He hooks Scottywood’s leg as Boettcher drops for the count…




Bryan McVay: Your winner, and the man who advances to the final of the 2011 Lee Best Invitational…he is The Minister…MAX KAEL……MAX BEST!!!!!!!

Action cuts backstage where the new LSD Champion is standing by!!

No Tears in these Beers

The scene cuts to the backstage area, into the locker room of the new LSD Champion.

‘Big Country’ Mark O’Neal and his manager/caddie Jethro McGuiness are in the locker room celebrating Mark’s huge victory.  With the LSD Title firmly around his waist Mark has his car keys out and is penetrating a can of Budweiser with his keys, making a hole on the side of it and tosses them over to Jethro who does the same thing.  The two bang the cans together, pop the tops and shotgun the beers.  Mark finishes first and crushes his can, throwing it against the wall.  Jethro finishes a few second later, attempts to crush it, but struggles to so just tosses it, but doesn’t throw it far enough to hit the wall as it falls short.

‘Big Country’ Mark O’Neal – “WHOOOOOO!!!!!!  What a night.  Mark O’Neal is back on top.  The LSD Champion, and Chicago….It feels damn good to be able to win it right here in my great hometown!!!”

The Chicago High Octane fans in attendance start going crazy.  Yelling and screaming for Big Country.

‘Big Country’ Mark O’Neal – “I said weeks ago I had a dream to win this thing and that I was going to do everything I could to do it.  Well I am almost there.  One more match and I win this whole damn tournament.  This LSD Title was just the beginning of it.

The last two weeks before my matches I had to listen to my opponents come out and talk about how they are better than me and there is no possible way I can beat them.  And what happened?  I whooped both their asses.

First David Black and now Brad Jackson.  I have been an underdog in every match, and I just keep on moving along all the way to the finals.  I took personal enjoyment beating those two being Best Alliance punks.

Hey Mike…how do you feel about kicking me out of the Best Alliance now?  Shouldn’t have ever done that.  Worst mistake of your pathetic life.  Made me realize I was wrong all this time, and I will continue to right those wrongs by dominating the Best Alliance in that ring.  I did the last two weeks and next week it continues.

In the finals when I square off against Townsend and Max, I will walk out the victor once again and that will be three Best Alliance members I was triumphant over in three weeks when Max goes down.  All leading up to you Mike.  Be afraid.  Be very afraid.  Because Big Country is coming for you.

Now let’s celebrate!”

At that Mark turns back to Jethro who tosses him another beer that Mark cracks open and starts guzzling down as the scene fades.


A record scratch is heard as the American National Anthem gives way to “Headstrong” by Trapt. Fans erupt into cheers as Christopher America walks out from behind the curtain. The cheers get even louder as Christopher stops at the top of the ramp. He looks out into the crowd before raising his arms, forming an “A” with his hands. When he jerks his hands downward, red, white, and blue, pyrotechnics rain down.

Benny Newell:This night just went from bad to worse. Is there any more damage this fucker can do?

Joe Hoffman: I wonder why America is coming out here.

Benny Newell:Isn’t it obvious? He’s probably going to find another stipulation to screw Mike Best out of the World Championship.

Christopher America climbs the ring steps and enters the ring. He’s handed a microphone and turns to the HOW fan base.

Christopher America: Thank you, Chicago for that warm reception!

Crowd: U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!

Christopher America: I’m out here just because I got a few things to say and well, let’s face it. It’s my arena. It’s my show. And with the way things are going… this is definitely my night.

Let me first address the Best Alliance.

Christopher clears his throat before talking in a sing-songy voice.

Christopher America: Some-one-lost-their-tiiiitles. Some-one-lost-their-tiiiitles.

The crowd cheers as America smiles confidently.

Christopher America: Man, I just can’t fathom what it must feel like to know that the LSD and Tag Team Championships no longer reside in your control. I mean, first Scottywood… FUCKING SCOTTYWOOD…. takes away the ICON Championship. Then, Mark O’Neal takes not only the LSD Championship, but a finals spot away from the Best Alliance. Finally, Valerie Belmont and Brian Hollywood secure the Tag Team Championships. You know what would complete my night? Seeing Adonis Smyth take away the World Championship from Mike Best. And then, in the stroke of a single night, I will have personally SCREWED the entire Best Alliance out of every single fucking championship that they have.

Joe Hoffman: America is really reveling in this.

Benny Newell:It’s fucking disgusting. The Best Alliance didn’t have a chance tonight. This was a screwjob from the beginning.

Joe Hoffman: How is that different from the screwjobs the Best Alliance gives the rest of the roster every other week? They destroyed the Foundation in front of a child!!!

Benny Newell:It’s different because the Foundation stepped over their jurisdiction. If they assumed their rightful place from the beginning, none of this would’ve happened.

Christopher America: You know what the funny part about it is?

Everyone forgot just how fucking smart I am. I AM THE SINGLE GREATEST WRESTLING MIND IN HOW. And I fucking proved it!


Christopher’s smile fades.

Christopher America: With that said, I need to talk to Greg Davis. Davis, get out here. Now.

“King Nothing” by Metallica blares over the speakers as “Golden” Greg Davis walks out. He looks curiously at Christopher America on his way down the ramp. He slides into the ring and stands a few feet from America.

Joe Hoffman: I’m unsure why America is calling out Davis.

Christopher America: Greg. I don’t have to tell you this, you know it. But you fucked up tonight. Those Tag Team Championships were supposed to be ours. Instead, that… that walking succubus, that whore, that… that Whack-O-Meter candidate named Valerie Belmont and Brian “I’m here one week, gone the next” Hollywood are the proud owners of our titles.

Christopher points and juts it forward at Davis.

Christopher America: DON’T fuck up like that again. There are losses and then there are fuck ups and YOU fucked up. I threw in my support for you joining the AoA and I don’t want to regret it… EVER. Fucking up isn’t American. Hell, Greg, it isn’t even Golden. But above all, it sure as hell ISN’T AWESOME!

America’s eyes continue to stare a hole in Davis who stands there solemnly.

Suddenly, “Monster” by Skillet plays as both America and Davis turn their attention towards the entrance ramp.

Joe Hoffman: This may get volatile.

Benny Newell:I’m excited! This could be the fucking implosion of the AoA!

Mario Maurako walks down the ramp, Mario stops and points at a hot chick leaning over the railing. Mario points to his “Mustache Rides: $5” T-Shirt then points back at the chick. She smiles but instantly flees from the railing when Mario raises his right hand as if he was going to back-hand her. Mario smiles and then continues towards the ring where America and Davis anxiously await him. Mario climbs into the ring and then stands between Christopher America and Golden Greg Davis.

Mario Maurako: First things first. Give me that!

Mario grabs the Oscar from Golden Greg Davis’ hand.

Mario Maurako: You will get it back when you prove to me that you are the “Best Supporting” anything in the AoA.

Benny Newell:Here it is! The AoA is toast!

Joe Hoffman: Or maybe just “Golden” Greg Davis.

Mario Maurako: Chris is right Greg. Tonight you fucked up plain and simple. The fact that you lost to a girl is even more deplorable by my standards. But I think that ALL of us are to blame for that, even you Chris. We all had our sights locked on the Best Alliance that we didn’t think about The Foundation. That has changed tonight… Foundation I want you to take notice right now. We don’t like you…. We REALLY don’t like you, and we plan on claiming those HOW Tag Team Titles in the name of Awesome! And Greg, you’re going to be a part of that, as you’re going to prove your worth to us and help us win those Tag Team Titles, because I know you are capable of better, and I know next time you will deliver.

Mario Maurako: And I know you will deliver because next week…. you will be competing in tag team action, Davis. And your partner is none other….. than Mario Maurako!

Benny Newell:WHAT?!?!

Joe Hoffman: My God! Mario Maurako is going to return to the ring!!!

Mario Maurako: Does that sound good to you Chris?

Christopher stops looking at Davis and glances at Mario. He takes a deep breath and nods silently in agreement.

Christopher America: Alright.

Benny Newell:What?!?! They’re not going to fight? Someone do something! America kick his ass! Davis throw a punch! Something! ANYTHING!

Christopher America: But before we focus on the Tag Team Titles again, I’ve got to watch the Best Alliance lose another damn championship. MAKE PREPARATIONS FOR THE CAGE TO BE LOWERED!

America drops the microphone and the three head back up the ramp. The crowd gets riled up as the lights on the cage begin to flicker.

Joe Hoffman: You heard it here. Coming up next…




WORLD TITLE MATCHLBI Winner vs. World Champion

Last Chance Match

(Winner becomes No.1 Contender for the World Title, Loser must start at the bottom)

Loser of the LBI Triple Threat Final will square off

Triple Threat Ladder Match for Unknown Title Shot

Pariah vs. Scottywood vs Jackson

Tag Team Title Match

The Foundation (Kostoff and Fear) vs. The Best Alliance (Black and Cavanaugh) vs. AoA (Paras and Maurako)

Singles Match

Christopher America vs. James Varga

Singles Match

Jimmy Thunder vs. Golden Greg Davis

Not Happy

Back live…

A horrible bellow splits the silence in the deserted corridor, followed by a crash. The former LSD Champion, Brad Jackson stands in the middle of the destroyed locker room. Breathing like a bellows, hands curved into fists as he steps over the overturned lockers, he approaches the mirror, glaring at his reflection.

Brad Jackson: You make me sick, you disgusting puke.

Bringing himself nose to nose with his wild-eyed reflection, he snarls.

Brad Jackson: You worthless maggot. Who the fuck do you think you are? You think you’re a GOD?! Do you fucking think you’re untouchable?!

Those blue eyes narrow, the lips skinning back from his teeth as he snarls.

Brad Jackson: They’re laughing at you right now. You know that, don’t you? You’re a joke! You and Varga both. Pathetic! You’re not worthy to lick the floors in a place like this, let alone step inside that ring!

He draws his fist back and smashes it into the glass, over and over, remaining eerily quiet as he does so. Blood flies from his hand as he pulls it back, continuing to pummel the mirror over and over until all the broken glass has rained down to the floor, leaving him looking at a bare wall.

Brad Jackson: I hate you. I won’t let you drag me under again.

He storms across the space, not even bothering to grab his gear before he rips the door open, nearly tearing it off its hinges in the process.


And like that, he’s gone, still ranting to himself as he disappears into the bowels of the Best Arena.

Mike Best© – 0% v Adonis Smyth – 0%

Joe Hoffman: It’s time, ladies and gentlemen. For the last month, Adonis Smyth and Michael Best have battled it out for the rights to go to March To Glory with the HOW World Championship around their waist, and tonight decides it all. Each man holds a win over the other since Adonis Smyth’s shocking debut title win, and tonight Christopher America has demanded a tie breaker inside a fifteen foot steel cage!

Benny Newell: This is ridiculous. How many times does Mike Best have to prove he’s the best? It’s his fuckin’ last name, for Christ’s sake! This is just an abuse of power by America.

Joe Hoffman: That sounds awful unpatriotic, Benny.

Benny Newell: Not the country, the– you know what? Fuck you, Hoffman. You fucking mark.

“Whoa Is Me” by Down With Webster begins to blast it’s heavy bass over the sound system of the Best Arena, deriving an explosion of cheers from the Chicago crowd as Adonis Smyth steps through the entrance way and down onto the stage. He pantomimes a belt around his waist, playing to the fans as he stands upon the ramp. A volley of emerald colored pyro explodes behind him as he makes his way down the ramp, climbing into the ring.

Joe Hoffman: You have to respect this man, Benny. Adonis Smyth came out of nowhere and exploded into the main event scene– he won the HOW World Championship his first night on television, and has repeatedly pushed Mike Best to his absolute limits.

Benny Newell: Are you sucking this kid’s dick, or just hoping to sometime in the near future?

Smyth raises his arm in the center of the ring, taking in the adoration of the crowd as he slowly raises his head, staring at the steel cage hanging above the ring.

The lights in the arena dim to a dull red hue, cascading over the crowd as “Power” by Kanye West pumps out over the PA. Michael Best emerges regally from behind the curtain, the HOW World Championship slung over his shoulder and glinting against the crimson lighting. He slaps the front plate of the belt aggressively, three times, inciting the masses as they rain down their hatred upon him. An evil smile curls up from his lips as he makes his way down the ramp toward the ring.

Joe Hoffman: And here comes the champion, a man some would say has become more dangerous than every in 2011. After a slow start, last year’s Wrestler Of The Year seems to have regained his focus after a startling loss to Adonis Smyth. There’s a gleam in that man’s eyes, and I’d hate to be the man he’s staring down tonight.

Benny Newell: This isn’t a cage, Hoffman, it’s a prison– it’s lights out for Adonis Smyth tonight. NOW DRINK GODDAMNIT!

Mike Best avoids the ring steps, instead walking over to the timekeeper’s table and shoving the timekeeper out of the way. Best reaches down and snatches his steel chair, bringing it with him as he slides into the ring and drops it beneath him to the canvas.

Referee Rick ‘Even’ Stevens comments on the chair, but in this match it’s completely legal. Stevens takes the HOW Championship from Mike Best, holding it 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, Stevens makes his way to the door, opening it and handing the HOW Championship off to the timekeeper. As he does, he reaches into his pocket, producing a padlock and securing it around the door of the cage, locking all three men inside the fifteen feet of steel.

Joe Hoffman: By order of Christopher America, the only way to win this match is via escape, and the only way to escape is up and over the fifteen feet of cold, unforgiving steel. He ordered the cage door padlocked in order to ensure that the tiebreaker here tonight would be a fair one.

Stevens tests to make sure the lock is secure, and once he’s assured he signals for the bell to be rung, officially starting this title match.


Best shakes his hands out, getting into a circling stance with Adonis Smyth 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 champion gets the better of the exchange, blocking a right hand and countering with one of his own as he takes over on the offense. Adonis Smyth recoils from the oncoming barrage, stumbled by the force of the flurry of punches.

Mike Best continues the assault, backing Adonis up into the ropes with his back against the steel cage. As he rears back to connect with a haymaker, Adonis ducks, and the packed crowd goes nuts as the champion’s hand collides full impact against the side of the steel. He screams, staggering backward and holding his hand as Adonis capitalizes on the mistake– he battles back with a haymaker of his own, and follows it up with a standing clothesline that sends Mike Best down to the mat!

Adonis goes right to work, not giving the champion time to regain his composure. He drops to a knee, grabbing hold of the forearm and wrist of Michael Best and locking on a savage looking armbar.

Joe Hoffman: This is a smart strategy by Adonis Smyth. The only way to escape is to climb the cage, so he’s going to work that arm early and make it is difficult as possible for Mike Best 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–


In the center of the ring, Best cries out in pain as his challenger cinches up on the hold. He kicks his legs, trying to gain any kind of leverage, but Adonis simply pulls tighter. It’s as if he’s trying to pull the arm right out of it’s socket. Best screams again, trying to wriggle his way free– finally, he manages to roll his shoulders and flip himself out of the arm bar, curling up to protect himself as he clutches his shoulder in agony.

Adonis Smyth climbs back to his feet, making is way back toward the weakened champion. Best is ready for him, though, and he charges up out of three point stance to lift him off his feet. He carries Smyth through the air, jarring his back against the cold hard steel as he spears him into the side of the cage!

Best tries to stretch out his shoulder, climbing to his feet. He watches in a sadistic glee as Adonis Smyth holds his back, slowly trying to get back off the canvas. With a snarl, the champion 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– Christopher America put this match in a cage seemingly to protect Adonis Smyth, 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!

Best grabs a hold of the cage, using it for leverage as he continues to stomp down on the back and head of Adonis Smyth. HOW’s “One True Champion” tries to cover up and avoid the brunt of the blows, but it doesn’t do much good as he’s repeatedly punted.

Mike Best 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 Adonis Smyth to get to his feet. The challenger climbs slowly, pulling on the ropes to assist his recovery…


The sound resonates throughout the arena as the chair makes contact with the skull of Adonis Smyth. He collapses to the mat, but before Mike can discard the steel chair, Adonis 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, Mike Best pulls the chair back again, ready to swing for the fences.


Smyth 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 Adonis Smyth.

Joe Hoffman: I know it’s legal, but I just can’t understand why Rick Stevens would allow something like this to happen. Where’s the sportsmanship? Where’s all that talk about being a real champion?

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

Albeit slower this time, Adonis Smyth begins to pull himself up from a small pooling 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 Michael Best as he readies the chair one more time, preparing to take Smyth’s head off as he stands to his feet.


The chair ricochets off the side of the cage as Adonis Smyth ducks, this time prepared for the assault! Best stumbles backward, narrowly avoiding smashing himself in the face with his own attack. Smyth boots him in the stomach, hard, forcing him to drop the chair down in front of him. Best keels forward, and Adonis Smyth tucks his head between his legs, measuring him up over top of the steel chair…



Hoffman isn’t kidding. Mike Best’s skull collides with the steel chair, rag dolling him out across the mat after an underhook flip-forward piledriver from Adonis Smyth! Best is laid out in the center of the ring, motionless as Smyth climbs slowly to his feet. He lunges for the ropes, pulling himself up faster– suddenly, 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 motionless opponent, and then back at the top of the cage– back at Mike, 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: We might have a new champion, folks!


Adonis strains to climb, fighting against fatigue as he ascends the cage. Mike Best begins to stir, holding his neck as he shakes his head. He rolls to his side, seeing Adonis making his way up the cage and frantically begins to crawl toward the ropes.

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


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


The crowd can’t believe it, and neither can Adonis as Best drops down from the ropes, holding on to the right leg of Adonis Smyth and pulling down with all his weight. He is literally swinging on the leg of his opponent, pulling Smyth’s groin taught against the steel in a kind of split-submission hold at the top of the cage! Adonis 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! Adonis Smyth was almost a two-time HOW Champion!

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

Rick Stevens 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 Mike Best 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 Smyth 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 right behind Adonis Smyth, and then takes a few steps backwards, to get a running start…

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


Best takes off from the ropes, sidling behind Adonis Smyth in crucifix position…



Adonis Smyth holds on to the crucifix, planting his feet and sending Mike Best crashing down onto the chair with a Somoan drop! The crowd explodes, going ape shit as Adonis Smyth sits up, looking at an out-cold Mike Best in the center of the ring. They’re cheers appear to get him going, hyping him up on adrenaline as he charges for the cage, scaling up the steel and heading straight for the top.

Joe Hoffman: At the speed he’s going, there’s no chance to stop him! This one is over!

Benny Newell: This is bullshit! Fucking cheater! FUCKING CHEATER! NOOOOOO!

Adonis reaches the top of the cage, and in the ring Mike Best still hasn’t moved. Adonis swings his leg, getting the first one over the top– and then the second! He’s on the other side!

Joe Hoffman: Mike Best isn’t going to be happy when he wakes up from this. Adonis Smyth has just become a two time HOW Champion!

As Adonis makes it to the other side, Mike Best pops up off the mat in a flash. The crowd is confused, but Adonis doesn’t see what’s happening till it’s too late.

Benny Newell: Think again, fuckface! HE WAS PLAYING POSSUM! HA HA I FUCKING LOVE IT!

Joe Hoffman: Who cares? It’s too late!

Mike slams against the cage, grabbing a hold of Adonis’ by the right hand. The champion reaches into his own trunks, producing something smallish and metallic from their confines– a pair of handcuffs! He slaps one half onto the wrist of his opponent, and the other onto the cage!

Best slams harder into the cage again, knocking Smyth from his grip as he falls toward victory– except that he doesn’t! The handcuffs keep him suspending at the wrist, three feet from the floor! The crowd goes ballistic, screaming for the head of the evil Mike Best as he cackles in the ring, losing his mind as he practically rolls on the mat, holding his stomach.

Joe Hoffman: This is disgusting! Adonis Smyth earned this victory, he was feet from becoming champion! This is cheap. Just plain cheap.

Benny Newell: But legal, Hoffman. Completely, 100% legal. Christopher America made it that way.

Best finally composes himself, climbing up the opposite side of the cage and taking his time. With every step, the crowd gets louder, a “FUCK YOU MIKE!” chant resonating from the front row all the way to the cheap seats. Adonis fights to pull the handcuffs free, the metal digging into his wrists as a small trickle of blood flows down toward his palms. Meanwhile, Mike Best swings his legs over the top of the cage, making his way to the outside.

Joe Hoffman: OH MY GOD!


The announcers lose their mind, and so does the rest of the packed house– from the entrance way, Christopher America begins to sprint toward the ring, a pair of keys in his hand! He reaches the cage, searching the keyring as he tries to find one to fit the lock on Smyth’s handcuffs.

Seeing America at ringside, Best climbs faster as a panic washes over his face. America finds the handcuff key, jamming it into the lock on the handcuffs and freeing Adonis Smyth from his prison. Mike Best stops climbing and dives off the cage as BOTH MEN ARE HEADED FOR THE FLOOR!

In unison, Best crashes into the guardrail and Adonis Smyth crashes into America, sending the new owner of the Best Arena to the floor with a tremendous crash!




Referee Rick Stevens holds a finger up to the timekeeper, telling him that he needs a moment. The cage around the ring begins to raise back into the rafters, and as it does senior referee Matt Boettcher and Senor referee Joel Hortega make their way down from behind the curtain to come conference with Rick Stevens.

The three make their way down to the timekeeper’s table, watching the replay on the monitor. Meanwhile, a replay is shown on the HOV as the fans speculate over what in the fuck just happened. After a moment, Rick Stevens takes the microphone from ring announcer Bryan McVay and the HOW World Championship from the timekeeper before climbing back into the ring.

Rick Stevens: Ladies and gentlemen, after reviewing the instant replay, though both men made impact at roughly the same time, Adonis Smyth…

The crowd goes ballistic, exploding for the brand new HOW Worl–

Rick Stevens: …collided with Christopher America, causing him to touch the ground after Michael Best. It is therefore decision of the HOW officials that the match is awarded to the reigning champion, Michael Best!

Outside the ring, Mike Best begins to pull himself onto the apron. He rolls under the ropes and into the ring. He snatches the World Championship from Rick Stevens, forcing him to raise his hand in the center of the ring. Heaving and in obvious pain, an evil smile is plastered across his face as he stares at Adonis Smyth and Christopher America outside of the ring. He laughs, a biting, sinister cackle at both men as they make their way back up the ramp.

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