Chaos 028

The camera pan around the SOLD OUT Simmons Bank Arena as we kick off Chaos 028 on The High Octane Television Network.  Fireworks go off and the High Octane Vision screen at the top of the entrance ramp comes to life, showing off the rabid audience on their feet.  The roar of their bloodlust calms as a bell immediately rings and standing center of the ring is Bryan McVay smiling as the action begins.

DING! DING! DING! 

Bryan McVay:  Our opening contest is set for one fall and is a HARDCORE MAAAAAAATCH!

Joel Hortega rushes down to the ring as the camera pan over to the commentary table.  Joe Hoffman stands alone—no Benny Newell in sight.  Joe Hoffman looks around confused but shrugs his shoulders opening tonight’s broadcast.

Joe Hoffman:  Welcome everyone to Chaos! I am Joe Hoffman and normally I am joined by Benny Newell but I am being told Benny is on his way here and will be here by the time of our next match…something about going to Arizona after a visit with Aceldama…..anyhoo…  We’ve got a stacked card with The Final Alliance in the main taking on the unholy alliance of Conor Fuse and Clay Byrd.

The lights dim down as we seen the words HATE flash across the HOV screen for a brief moment before hearing the familiar intro and Shinedown’s chorus line.

OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH, THE DEAD DON’T DIE

The faint sounds of “Beg” by Seether playing over the PA System echoes behind Hoffman.

Joe Hoffman: But tonight, we’re starting off with a blood bath here in Little Rock, Arkansas.  HOW’s devil reincarnated Scottywood takes on The Final Alliance’s Steve Solex in a hardcore match.  This is like a homefield advantage for Mr. Woodson.  Scottywood would love nothing more than to set an example for his team right here tonight.

There is a huge explosion of fire on the stage as the lights in the arena come back up and the song continues on as smoke pours out onto the stage.  From the smoke we see Scottywood emerge, dressed in his reverse retro New York Rangers liberty logo jersey, compete with Staley Cup playoff patch on the front and Zibanejad and the number 93 on the back.  In one hand is of course his trademark barbed wire hockey stick… and in the other…

Joe Hoffman: Is that a medieval mace in his hand?

Scottywood makes his way down to the ramp, tossing the mace towards the ground.  Scotty sits down on the ring step, waiting patiently.

Bryan McVay:  Introducing first from NEEEEEWWWW YOOOOOORK CIIIIITY, weighing in at 265 pounds—please welcome the Hardcore Artist….SCOOOOOOOOOTTTYWOOOOOOOOD.

The crowd cheers for the Hall of Famer who looks like he’s on a war path right now, pacing back and forth.  As McVay finishes his introduction, Scotty plants himself right on the steel steps as the beginning of “This Means War” by Avenged Sevenfold thumps from the sound system as the crowd explodes into a fury of boos and hisses.

Joe Hoffman:  Here comes one of the War Games Captains himself Steve Solex, marching to the ring.  It’s high stakes and high pressure for the MercDaddy tonight.  He’s coming fresh off a loss against JPD for the LSD Championship at March 2 Glory.  Both of these men are fresh, battle ready for War Games.  The question is…will they leave Arkansas tonight in the same condition?

A montage of Steve Solex plays on the HOV, flashing on and off in rhythm with the music.  As the music stalls, the HOV goes black as the lights throughout the arena go dark.  A bomb like explosion blasts at the top of the entry way sending a plume of smoke up and in front of the HOV in the shape of a mushroom cloud, and at that moment the music returns and Steve Solex makes his way out from behind the curtain.

Bryan McVay:  And his opponent from Huntington Beach, California, weighing in at 275 Pounds….THE MERCDAD STEEEEEEEEVE SOOOOOOOOOLEEEEEX!!!!!

Steve Solex stops atop the entrance ramp, pounding his chest twice.  He throws up his white-knuckled fists high into the air, taunting the Arkansas crowd.  He absorbs all their boos like it’s a symphony to his ears.  He closes his eyes with a huge shit-eating grin across his face.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!!!!  WAAAAAAM!  WAAAAAAAAAAAM!

Joe Hoffman:  OOOOOOHHH!  Scotty’s already waffled the MercDad straight across the back with his barbed wire hockey stick.  That’s one way to make a statement to start things off right here in Little Rock.  He’s relentlessly smacking Solex’s back harder each time.

Hortega wastes no time in motioning for the bell.

DING!  DING!  DING!  DING!

Scotty picks up his prey off the ground.  With one swift motion, he tosses Steve Solex head first into steel pillars holding up the HOV.  He then picks Solex off the ground, wrapping his hockey stick across Solex’s back.  He nails a picture-perfect weaponized Russian Leg Sweep straight into the steel rampway, leaving Solex screaming out in pain.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

The HOW comes to life as Scotty wraps one of the camera cords around Solex’s neck.  The MercDad fires a couple elbows into Scotty’s ribs, causing The Devil to release the hold.  Solex tries to get back up to his feet, but Scotty jumps on his back, wrapping his arms around Solex’s throat.  Solex drives himself back first, squashing The Hardcore Artist on the steel.

Solex scrambles to his feet.  He proceeds to walk over to Scottywood, pulling him off the mat.  He attempts to launch Scottywood into a nearby barricade, but Scotty plants his feet.  Solex capitalizes on the opportunity and nails an ugly clothesline, causing Scotty to drop his head against the barricade near some fans.

Joe Hoffman:  OOOOOOOH!  Solex’s scrambled the last remaining brains Scottywood’s got left.  The MercDad is looking to pounce.  He’s charging up a sick shoulder tackle.

CRAAAAAAAAAASSSSSH! SPLLLLLAAAAT!

Joe Hoffman:  That’s a big ole’ YIKES HARD LEMONADE right there!  Scotty moved out of the way, sending Solex flying into the barricade.  The barricade tumbled down sending Solex straight into our fans.

Solex attempts to crawl towards the ring.  However the determined Scottywood yanks a chair away from one of the nearby fans.  He wails the chair against Solex’s back multiple times.  Scotty pulls Solex up by his manly beard.  He placed the chair under Solex’s jaw and drops it with great force, smashing the MercDad’s chin.  Scotty scoops up Solex off the ground—proceeding to plant him with full force spine first onto the chair.

Joe Hoffman: While Chaos erupted on….well Chaos…both these men NEED to get to the ring.  A victory can ONLY be secured in the middle of the ring.   This isn’t a Falls Count anywhere match.  That’s later on tonight’s broadcast.

The hellbent Scottywood sends Solex sailing into another barricade, tipping it over.  The EPU immediately surround the area while both competitors continue to brawl.   Solex nails a few right hooks trying to fend Scottywood off.   But they’re to no avail!  Scotter picks up Solex and drives him spine first into the fallen barricade.  Scottywood begins to taunt as Hortega rushes over, trying to gain control over this match.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The Arkansas fans voice their rage at Hortega’s officiating. Scottywood grabs an untouched beer bottle and begins chucking it.  He spits some of the beer straight into Hortega’s face, chugging the rest—then barks a solid “FUCK YOU” straight as Hortega while flipping him the bird.  However, Scotty doesn’t realize that Solex has crawled right behind him.  Solex balls his fist up and…

WAAAAAAAAAAM!!!

Joe Hoffman:  OOOOOOOOOH!  Stiff right square into Scottywood’s balls.  Solex now gains an advantage on the Hardcore Artist.  He’s locked onto him and…

BAAAAAAAAAAAAM!

Scottywood goes flying into the steel steps gut first.  Solex rushes towards Scotty, dropping a knee straight into the steps with authority—right onto Scotty’s skull.  The Mercdad scoops Scottywood’s body up, tilting his head towards the steel steps.  He drops him head first into the cold steel.

Joe Hoffman:  Beautiful piledriver by Solex right into those steel steps.  I bet that cleaned Scottywood’s clocks right there…

Scottywood’s not moving.  Hortega runs straight over to the Hardcore Artist, making a quick check.  Hortega brushes it off while Solex climbs up on the apron.  He charges right towards Scottywood, leaping straight off the apron; his elbow drops right down on the sternum. Solex admires his work, taunting to HOW fans, screaming out.

“NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRDS!!!!”

Locking his sights back onto Scotty, he sees the Hardcore Artist trying to pull himself up towards the Apron.  Solex reaches over for the mace Scottywood left at ringside.  He swings it straight into the air…

BUUUUUUUT NOOOOO!

Scottywood darts like his life depends on it, tackling Solex right into a nearby turnbuckle.  Firing off lefts and rights into his opponent’s gut, Scottywood drops Solex hard.  Scotty’s smile widens while he rubs his hands together.  He sees the mace unattended.  Solex attempts to get right back up.  However, he’s unsuccessful as Scotty drives the mace handle into Steve’s gut.  With one dramatic swing, the sharp end of the weapon goes into the air….

Joe Hoffman:  NOOOO!  Hortega’s grabbed Scottywood’s shoulders.  Joel won’t let Solex die on his watch.  Both men now engage in a game of tug of war.  Scotty’s not happy.

Solex rushes towards both men.  As Hortega disengages, Scotty turns around only to get met with a boot straight into the gut.  Solex scoops up Scottywood, nailing a sick Belly-to-Belly Suplex against the ring apron.  His arms begin scrambling under the ring—emerging with a Kendo Stick.

WHAAAACK!  WHAAAACK!  WHAAACK!

Joe Hoffman:  HOLY MOLY!  Scotty’s gonna feel those welts in the morning.

Whack after whack from Solex continues to bruise Scottywood’s back.  Solex attempts to grab Scottywood, setting him up with a Kendo Stick version of the Russian Leg Sweep from earlier.  But Scotty thursts his foot straight back into Solex’s groin as payback for earlier.  Tumbling over, Solex reels from the pain.  Scottywood tosses Solex into the ring.  He pulls back the ring apron, pulling out a garbage can.  Right as he attempt to climb on the apron, Solex hits a baseball slide, sending Scotty backwards.  Solex gets back out of the ring.  Both men fire off lefts and rights.    Solex nails another boot to Scotty’s gut.  He tries to pull Scottywood up with a gutwrench powerbomb.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Scotty’s reversed his momentum!  Solex attempts to turnaround but gets met with an ugly drop kick.  Scottywood watches Solex pull himself off the ground slowly.  While Solex recovers, Scotty grabs the trash can, dropping it over Solex’s body.  He climbs up towards the apron, nailing a beautiful Flying Clothesline, causing crashing noise with the trash can.  Solex’s body flies into the announce table.  But Scotty’s not interested in a table spot yet.

The Devil reaches underneath the ring, throwing into a ton of different weapons.  The list is endless:

A Bag of Thumbtacks

A Stop Sign

Cookie Sheets

Trash Cans

A Fire Extinguisher

Kendo Sticks

Light Tubs

A Six Pack of IPAs

Scotty opens one of the bottles and chugs another beer.  He rushes over towards and smashes the empty bottle against Solex’s skull.  Scottywood picks up Solex and finally tosses him into the ring.  Scotty goes back under the ring, wrapping his arm in barbed wire.  He slides under the ring while Solex is getting back up.  Before Solex can see it—

Joe Hoffman:  THE BARBED LINE RIGHT AGAINST SOLEX’S FACE!

Blood begins trickling down Solex’s face.  The adrenaline begins to coarse through the Mercdad’s veins.  He’s grinding his teeth, pulling himself off the mat.  Scottywood tries to grab Solex, but the MercDad chomps as hard as he can down into the flesh of Scottywood’s arm.

The pissed off Solex, stumbles to his feet.  He yanks one of the light tubs off the ground.  SWING—AND HE CONNECTS!  Glass flies all over the place in the Simmons Bank Arena.  Scotty drops to his knees in pain.  This allows Solex to wrap his arms around him, hitting a ruthless German Suplex, driving Scotty’s head straight into a trash can.  Scotty’s body folds up and couples over as Solex gains the advantage.

Joe Hoffman:  Solex isn’t even attempting the cover.  That German into the trash can would take down any other man.  But Solex knows it only fuels the rage of the reincarnated Scottywood.

Solex rips the barbed wire off the right arm of Scottywood.  He proceeds to wrap it around the throat of The New York Native, cutting off his airways.  Scotty flails around, turning a shade of light purple.  Solex sinks in the camel clutch as Scotty’s eyes begin to bulge out of his skull. Hortega dashes over, yelling something in Spanish at Solex.

Joel Hortega:  ¡Lo dejó ir! ¡Déjalo ir ahora!

Joe Hoffman:  I believe Hortega’s trying to tell him to release the hold.  Hortega’s trying to pull get Solex’s attention, but he’s having no luck.  There’s no rope breaks!  There’s no disqualifications.  Hell, all Hortega can do is watch back idly as Solex suffocates Scottywood in front of this Arkansas crowd.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The Arkansas crowd shares their feelings while Solex absorbs their hatred.  He sinks in the camel clutch, deeper, further cutting off Scotty’s airways.  The crowd gets up on their feet and starts to clap.

Crowd:  LET’S GO SCOTTY!  LET’S GO SCOTTY!  LET’S GO SCOTTY!

Hortega rushes over, lifting Scotty’s arm into the air….waiting to call the match….

NOOOOOOO!  SCOTTY’S ARM SHOOTS UP INTO THE AIR!  The Devil of HOW pulls himself back to his legs.  Solex still has the barb wire around Scotty’s throat.  He…WILL…NOT…let go.  Scotty rushes and slams Solex back first into the turnbuckle.  Time after time, Scotty puts all his energy and thrusts his elbow deeper into Solex’s gut.  Finally, The MercDad releases the hold.  Scotty wastes no time in twirling around, kicking Solex straight in the gut, and spiking Solex head first into the stop sign with an Evenflow DDT.

Joe Hoffman:  SDT!  SCOTTYWOOD COLLAPSES STRAIGHT ON TOP OF SOLEX’S BODY.

UNO!

DOS!

NOOOOOO!  Solex kicks out as Scottywood’s arms drops towards the mat.  Both men lay on the mat, exhausted from the hell they’ve been through.  Scotty slams his arms into the mat.  With a quick burst of energy, he kips up.  As Solex attempts to get up—-WHAM!  Solid Ice Kick right to the temple of Solex.  Scottywood scoops Solex up for the Game Misconduct.

BAAAAAAAAAAAAM!

Joe Hoffman:  WOAH!  Scottywood connects with the Game Misconduct.  But The Hardcore Artist is exhausted from all the hell he’s been through in this match.  He couples over on the ground.  Both Solex and Scottywood are spent!!!!

A long roar of the crowd surges through the arena for a moment.  They’re pulling for Scottywood.  Hortega starts to the count as both men lay lifeless on the ground.

UNO!

DOS!

TRES!

QUATRO!

CINCO!

SEIS!

SIETE!

OCHO!

Scottywood starts coming around, turning to lock his sights onto Solex.  He sees The MercDad starting to come around as well.  He pounds the mat in frustration, realizing his window of opportunity has closed.  He reaches over to grab a nearby kendo stick.

NUEVE!

Solex tries to pull himself off the mat, also grabbing a kendo stick as a crutch.  Before Solex can get stabilized.

WHACK!

The crowd erupts into excitement as Scotty fires the first shot.  Solex hobbles around before returning fire.

WHACK!

The crowd erupts in a chorus of boos.

WHAAAACK!  YAAAAAY!  WHAAAACK!  BOOOOOO!

This continues on for a moment before Solex gains a bit of an advantage, nailing Scottywood straight in the gut, shattering the kendo stick.  Solex charges at Scotty, nailing a Shoulder tackle, bring him to the mat.  Grabbing Scotty’s body off the mat, Solex attempts to hit another German before Scotty grabs a nearby Stop Sign and nails Solex square in the temple.  Scottywood picks Solex off the mat, nailing a sidewalk slam right into a pile of beer bottles and the last remaining light tube.  Shards of glass embed themselves into Solex’s back.  Scottywood hoists Solex over his shoulders, tossing him right over the turnubuckle.  The Hardcore Artist slides out of the ring.  He wraps his elbow with some more barbed wire.  Pulling Solex off the ground, he tosses him into the announcers table.

Joe Hoffman:  NO WAY!  Scottywood’s rushing back towards the ring and he’s climbing up on the top turnbuckle.  Slapping the barbed wire elbow—he’s planning on driving that straight into the heart of Steve Solex.  It’s time for takeoff….

CRAAAAAAAAAAAASH!

Solex rolls off the table, allowing Scotty to crash body first into the table below.  Solex wipes some of the blood trickling off his face—laughing his ass off screaming “NERD” at the top of his lungs.  The MercDad takes full advantage, tossing the exhausted Scottywood back into the ring.  Scottywood tries pulling himself up off the ground, but Solex nails him straight in the gut with the fire extinguisher, knocking Scotty against the ropes.  Quickly, Solex scoops a beer bottle off the mat.  He follows through with a sick looking hard armed clothesline.

Joe Hoffman:  THE CLOTHESLINE FROM HECK WITH A BEER BOTTLE!  OOOOOOUCH!

Solex has scrambled Scottywood’s brains.  He kicks Scottywood square in the gut, attempting the SOLEXECUTION.

Joe Hoffman:  Scotty grabbed the ropes, driving Solex straight into the mat tailbone first.  He’s scooping him up into the Game Misconduct again….

BAAAAAAAM!

Joe Hoffman:  Thumb to the eyes, Solex counters into a quick Solexexcution, making the cover.

UNO!

DOS!

TRESSSSSSS!!!!

The scrambling of a headset is heard in the background.

Benny Newell:  YEEEEESSSS!  SOLEX PULLS OFF THE WIN FOR THE FINAL ALLIANCE!

DING!  DING!  DING!  DING!

Bryan McVay:  Here is your winner in TWENTY MINUTES!!!  THE MERCDAAAAAAAADDDDD STEEEEEEVE SOLEX!!!!!

Both men’s body still lay on the ground after a brutal war for the opener.  Solex can barely celebrate the win—his body damaged from all the punishment Scottywood left.

Joe Hoffman:  Where have you been, Benny?

Benny Newell:  Don’t ask stupid question right now after A TRUE AMERICAN HERO and #1 Wrestler of all of HOW pulls off an amazing win like that.

Joe Hoffman:  But you missed all the carn—

Benny Newell:  SHUT UP YOU NERD!  Put your hand over your heart for this massive Final Alliance Victory.  Give Solex your damn respects!

Joe Hoffman:  But you missed it all from the barbed wire hockey stick to…

Benny Newell:  It doesn’t matter, Joe!  These idiots in Arkansas don’t even know what hockey is.  They probably think it’s a warped baseball bat or some shit like that.  What they DO know is that a true American hero pulled off a huge win going into War Games and showed WHY The Final Alliance is the most dominant faction in professional wrestling.

Joe Hoffman:  But Scottywood had a valiant effort.  It took everything…

Benny Newell:  Almost doesn’t count it.   Solex got the W and had SICK GAINZ for his War Games team.  Show your respects, Hoffman.

Benny continues to tout Solex’s win as HOW officials rush to ring side and we cut elsewhere…

We cut to the backstage part of the arena where Bobbinette Carey appears. She isn’t wearing her modest normal clothes. Instead she’s wearing a black midi dress. The dress is gauze material with a lace up corset front and a slit on the right leg. She’s got on a pair of black red bottom heels. Her hair is down around her shoulders and her face has darker makeup instead of her little to no makeup look. She has a smirk across her face as She spots a mirror and adjusts her hair looking at herself smiling. Someone walks up behind her causing her smile to fade. She sighs rolling her eyes as she turns around.

Nettie: Oh, it’s just you.

She starts to walk away. The person now in full view is none other than Xander Azula, a shade of both confusion and frustration showing on his face as he speaks up to grab her attention.

Xander Azula: Hey! Hold on a second, I wanna talk to you about–

Nettie stops in her tracks for just a moment, not looking at the Fighter but still cutting him off before he can finish that thought.

Nettie: I’m sorry did my walking away give you the impression I care?

She laughs over her shoulder as Xander presses on, a stern tone in his voice.

Xander Azula: It’s about War Games.

Nettie turns on the tips of her heels as her arms crossed tightly in front of her body.

Nettie: I don’t see what that has to do with you.

Xander Azula: We are on the same team.

Nettie: Are we though? Because I know I qualified for War Games. So, my spot is guaranteed. You’re a bench warmer.

Xander can’t help but smirk at this.

Xander Azula: So I’m you last year. I thought this sounded familiar. Look Carey, Ii–

She cuts him off taking two giant steps, her index finger poking him in the chest.

Nettie: It’s Nettie, bitch. She didn’t make it past the dairyman. How many War Games have you won? Cause we all know I’ve won one.

Xander Azula: I actually –

Nettie shakes her head.

Nettie: Rhetorical because I don’t care. So your attempt to “buddy up” and “let’s be friends” is denied. I am the wrong person for that nonsense. I don’t care whose team I am on.

Xander Azula: This only works if you work as a team, Bo–I mean, Nettie.

Nettie’s hands go to the side of her temples in annoyance. Xander opens his mouth to continue, but Nettie has clearly had enough of this conversation as she cuts him off once more.

Nettie: I am only here because of contractual obligations. I don’t care about you, I don’t care about these loser fans. I don’t care about breathing more of this awful Arkansas air. So, I’m going to go stay in my locker room, lock the door, and ignore that I’m in this hell hole or with these awful people, yourself included. Okay? Thanks, bye.

She turns around and power walks away before Xander can say anything else, the Fighter just shaking his head at the failed conversation before as we cut away..

The show cuts back stage where we find this happening.

Evan Ward: What do we want? WARD GAMES! When do we want it? AT WARD GAMES! Where do we want it? Uh.. AT THAT PLACE WARD GAMES IS BEING HELD!

Evan Ward, the Hall of Famer and War Games captain marches through the halls backstage welding a sign which had a War Games poster attached but defaced to read “Ward Games” while yelling through a megaphone.

Evan Ward: What do we want? Wa-

Random Backstage Worker: You to shut up!

Evan stops and stares at the roadie.

Evan Ward: You don’t like this? This is what the everyone wants, it’s what the Final Alliance want, it’s what Lee Best wants! Everyone wants Ward Games!

Ward lifts his megaphone up and points it at the man’s face.

Evan Ward: WHAT DO WE WANT?! WARD GAMES!!!

The man recoils and bats the megaphone away.

Random Backstage Worker: Shut up you absolute idiot!

Evan Ward: Oh, I get it, you must be a Scott Stevens? Hmm, no, you can’t be, he doesn’t have any fans. I know, you must be a Brian Hollywood fan. Sorry, dude, life must really suck for you. Your life must be shit. Don’t worry, I’m all for helping the downtrodden, so I’ll do you a favour.

Evan whacks him with the megaphone and, from somewhere, pulls out a can of #97Red spray paint and sprays him in the face. The guy collapses to the floor in pain as the paint burns at his eyes and throat. Evan rips off the poor man’s shirt and sprays “Ward Games” on his chest. Evan stands up and nods to himself a job well done.

Evan Ward: Glad I could help.

He picks up the megaphone and sign and starts marching again.

Evan Ward: What do we want? WARD GAMES! When do we want it? AT WARD GA-Ooo, pizza.

Evan stops at a food table and takes a bite from a slice of pizza, but quickly spits it out.

Evan Ward: Blergh! Pineapple! What sort of vile Connor Fuse fan ordered pineapple pizza?! Don’t worry, everyone, I’ve got this!

He pulls out the spray can against and starts spraying hazard signs all over the food and finishes up by signing Ward Games on the wall behind it. Evan backs up and nods some more.

Evan Ward: Brilliant.

He flips the table over for good measure and marches off again.

Evan Ward: What do we want? WARD GAMES! When do we wan- Hey, Jatt! Hey, Ryan! Good to see you!

The pair were walking past, in deep conversation about a nerd infestation.

Dan Ryan: Evan, just call me Dan.

Evan Ward: Oh right, I forgot you liked your surname better. Ten-four Mr. Dan Sir!

Ward marches off, leaving his two stable members to discuss what a prick he is.

Evan Ward: What do we want? WARD GAMES!

He walks past an open locker room where Steve Solex is sorting himself out after his gruelling hardcore match against Scottywood which opened the show.

Evan Ward: Hey, Steve, my MercDaddy, my soldier man, wassup?

Steve Solex: Fuck off, Evan!

He throws a wrestling boot at the door which slams it shut. Evan shrugs and marches on.

Evan Ward: What do we-

He bumps into a 6’4″ German brick wall called Aceldama.

Evan Ward: Hey man, good luck with your match later, hope you don’t fuck up like you did last week. Oh, did you like that dragon I left for you?

Aceldama: WAAAAARD!

Evan Ward: Look at the time, gotta go!

Ward picks up his pace to get away from the angry European as quickly as he could. When he was certain he’d got far enough away from Aceldama to feel safe.

Evan Ward: Phew… What do we… Ah fuck it.

Ward throws down the megaphone and sign and just starts skipping through the halls spraying paint across the wall as he goes. He stops just short of spraying STRonk who is working out, weight lifting a golf cart.

STRonk: STRonk! STRonk!

Evan looks at him cautiously.

Evan Ward: Good boy, STRonk, keep it up!

Ward wanders on, randomly spraying paint over anything he thought would be the most annoying to clean off. He spots his good friend and waves him over.

Evan Ward: Hey, Chris! Glad I could find you, we’ve got a lot to discuss! You see our Ward Games team? Isn’t it awesome?

The World Champion walks into shot looking incredibly depressed.

Evan Ward: Shit, dude, what’s wrong? Did STRonk eat your dog again?

Christopher America: There’s no other Americans on our team, Ward! None!

Evan Ward: Ah, don’t worry, dude. I know what’ll cheer you up: Beating the shit out of a couple of nerds! Oh, hang on…

He stops by a closed locker room door. Evan shakes up the spray can really well before he starts writing his message on the door. He finishes and walks off with the World Champion to make plans for their match later, leaving the camera to show the message to the fans. It reads:

Hey, Fuse!

Good luck at Ward Games.

Don’t get too injured tonight!

From Evan Ward

Ward Games Captain

Your idol

Soon to be winner of Ward Games

WARD GAMES!!!

The show cuts to commercial

As we come back from commercial and head to ringside where the Hall of Famer duo is ready to call the next match up of the evening.

Joe Hoffman: Welcome back ladies and gentlemen where the falls count anywhere match between Aceldama and Brian Hollywood is up next.

Benny Newell: Ace is going to murder Hollywood Hoffman.

Joe Hoffman: I highly doubt that…….well maybe not highly….but I doubt it.

Benny Newell: Oh, but he is. A little birdie told me that Ace has been stewing all week getting pinned by a lesser opponent and he is going to rectify it by murdering the Nerd from Hollywood.

The lights in the arena go dark as the HOV lights up and shows a small makeshift room in the basement of the Simmons Bank Arena, and Aceldama sits at the end of a bed, taping up his hands with black tape as two security guards are watching his every move. A red light above the only door in the room begins to flash and two large knocks are heard from the door. There is the sound of large locks unlocking and the door slides open. Eight men come through the door, each holding tasers, stand four either side of the door.

Aceldama stands up and turns. The two security guards check Aceldama top to toe, even inside his mouth. He takes his hands behind his back and a guard handcuffs them, then proceed to put a black blindfold on his head. The guards stand side by side of Aceldama and direct him towards the door. The two guards put Aceldama forward then the door closes. It’s an elevator which begins to lift upwards.

Meanwhile scene cuts back to the Simmons Bank Arena where we can see, from the entrance to the ring, armed guards either side. A hole opens up at the top of the entrance and Aceldama emerges.

Brian McVay: Introducting first, from Berlin, Deutschland… weighing in at 275 pounds…he represents the FINAL ALLIANCE! he is… THE AGENT OF CHAOS…. ACEL-DAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

Benny Newell: Countdown to Operation Chaos in 3-2-1……

No music accompanies him, no pyro, no visuals. His head downwards with the hood on. He walks down the rampway and is forced to stop by the ring steps, a guard removes the handcuffs, then the hood. One of the guards knocks out the other guard and as soon as Ace turns around, he takes a baton to the stomach doubling him over.

Benny Newell: What the fuck?!?!?!?!?

The guard strikes Ace again this time in the back.

Benny Newell: What the fuck is going on here Hoffman?!?!?!?

Joe Hoffman: I don’t know Benny.

Benny Newell: Well, you better fucking find out!

The guard looks down at Ace before slowly removing his mask revealing himself to be Brian Hollywood bringing a mixed reaction, mostly cheers from the crowd.

Joe Hoffman: That’s Hollywood!!!! Hollywood was dressed as an EPU guard!

Benny Newell: Like Stevens last week these pussies have to attack from behind!

Hollywood begins to beat Ace over and over with the button until he lets out a primal scream.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Joe Hoffman: And here we go I guess…….

Hollywood takes off the EPU gear and mounts the Walking Weapon and rains down right hands to the side of Aceldama’s face.

Benny Newell: Come on Bitcher! That’s an open fist! DQ!

Joe Hoffman: There’s no disqualifications in this match Benny….

Benny Newell: Fuck you Hoffhole! It’s no disqualification for Aceldama!

Joe Hoffman: Not this time.

Benny Newell: Lee dammit! Where the fuck is my Red Bull?

As Benny finds his Red Bull, Hollywood grabs Ace by the side of his head and begins to pound it on the ground. Hollywood slams it hard one last time before getting to his feet slapping his chest hyping himself up as the crowd roars. Hollywood pulls Ace to his feet and throws him towards the ring steps and the big German barrels into it like a high speed locomotive.

Joe Hoffman: Hollywood is bringing the fight to Aceldama here tonight.

Benny Newell: It’s only a matter of time before Ace gets his hands around that scrawny neck of his and breaks it. And when he does, I’ll imagine it being Darin.

Hollywood makes his over to Ace and picks him up and props him against the barricade. Hollywood backs up a few steps before delivering a sickening superkick.

Joe Hoffman: Executive Promise and Ace goes flipping over the barricade and into the crowd.

Hollywood goes for a quick cover.

One.

No.

Ace kicks out.

Benny Newell: Going to have to do better than that Pussywood!

Brian shoots Boettcher a look and Hollywood just shrugs that his old finisher didn’t faze his opponent much. The momentary glance at the official has allowed Ace to roll onto his belly. Ace is trying to get back to his feet when Hollywood picks up a steel chair and smacks it into the back of Aceldama.

Joe Hoffman: All it took was a few seconds and Aceldama would’ve been on his feet once again.

Benny Newell: And Pussywood would’ve had his neck snapped.

Hollywood snatches a beer from a fan and chugs it.

Benny Newell: Thief! That fan needs to sue Pussywood!

Once finished, Hollywood begins to beat the aluminum bottle onto the concrete floors until head his made into a makeshift shiv.

Benny Newell: Get the fuck out of there Ace!

Hollywood sees Ace crawling away and runs towards him and punts him right in the ribs. Hollywood takes the shiv and slices Ace open across his back forcing him to roll over to his back in pain and Hollywood takes this opportunity to cut Ace’s left cheek before mounting Ace and raising the bottle over his head and slowly pointing it downward.

Joe Hoffman: Hollywood is looking to send a message to the Final Alliance tonight by cutting Ace to pieces.

Hollywood goes to stab Ace in the chest but the Walking Weapon stops him. Hollywood tries to muster enough strength to press it into the skin of Ace’s chest, but the Hall of Famer doesn’t let him and a sick smile starts to form on his lips.

Benny Newell: The beginning of the end is about to begin.

Hollywood spits into the eyes of Ace causing the big man to lose his grips and the shiv pierces the chest of Ace. Hollywood places both hands at the bottom of the bottle and stands up with all of his weight pressing down in the process causing Ace’s shoulder to stay on the floor.

One.

Two.

No.

Ace pops his shoulder while grunting in pain.

Joe Hoffman: Unique pin there.

Hollywood pulls Ace to his feet and whips him to the aisle stairway. Hollywood watches and gets into position. Brian waits for Aceldama to pull himself up before running full speed towards his opponent. Hollywood jumps and extends his leg.

Joe Hoffman: Executive Decree coming…..

Before Hoffman can finish his statement, Ace catches Hollywood and Brian begins a flurry of punches as Ace slowly rises to his feet. Hollywood realizes his punches are having no effect and decides to use his momentum and swings backwards.

Joe Hoffman: Hurricanrana attempt blocked by Aceldama.

Ace uses his strength to slingshot Hollywood back up and him onto the stairs with a reverse alley oop powerboomb.

Benny Newell: Take that Pussywood!

Ace looks down at the bottle protruding from his chest and pulls it out.

Joe Hoffman: I think I’m going to throw up.

Benny Newell: Grow a sack Hoffman.

Ace looks at the beer and sees that it is a Corona and tosses it to the ground before turning to Hollywood.

Aceldama: Shite beer for a shite wrestler. This is why you fail genosse.

Ace grabs Hollywood’s arm and starts marching up the stairs.

Benny Newell: Ace is going to take Hollywood up to the concourse before throwing him off of the balcony outside.

Ace and Hollywood reach the top of the stairs and Ace throws him onto the concourse. The big man returns the punt earlier by delivering one to Hollywood causing Brian to hover in the air for a few seconds. Ace picks up Hollywood and long darts him on top of a pretzel cart.

Joe Hoffman: And down goes Big Joe’s Pretzel Cart.

Big Joe not loving his business being assaulted by the two wrestlers begins to berate Aceldama to the point he gets in between Ace and Hollywood. Ace levels Big Joe with a big boot.

Benny Newell: Down goes Big Joe by Das Boot! Shizer!

Ace turns his attention back to Hollywood who blinds the German with a flurry of mustard shots to the eyes.

Joe Hoffman: Mustard to the eyes of Aceldama has temporarily blinds the big man.

Benny Newell: Hollywood should’ve tried mustard gas instead Hoffman.

Hollywood knows he needs to distance himself from Ace to catch his second wind but stumbles as he tries to walk away.

Joe Hoffman: The power of Ace is undeniable and the little offense Ace has displayed is showing the results.

Benny Newell: He’s called the Walking Weapon of Mass Destruction for a reason.

Ace finally regains his sight and sees Hollywood crawl over into the window of Archie’s Burgers and Hotdogs. The German does his best Embosser impression and he efficiently makes his way over to the window and slowly peers in. Ace sees Hollywood catching his breath on the floor and reaches inside with both hands and claps his hands around the head of Hollywood.

Joe Hoffman: A variation of the Iron Claw.

Ace channels his rage as he attempts to pull Hollywood out of the window but Brian grabs a serving tray and swings backwards.

KLANG!

Hollywood falls to the ground and looks at the heavily dented try. Brian slowly rises up and looks at a seething Aceldama standing in front of him. The Hall of Famer places a single finger to his nose and exhales out of one nostril as blood comes out as Hollywood mouths, “Oh shit.”

Benny Newell: It’s more like I’m fucked!

Ace dives threw the window and tackles Hollywood to the ground and unleashes a flurry of punches. Ace begins to bite the forehead of Hollywood causing the former world champion to scream in pain.

Joe Hoffman: Aceldama is turning feral!

Benny Newell: You think he wasn’t doing this in prison Hoffman? Those Russian prisoners thinking they swung the biggest dick in the yard when the whole time it was Ace.

Ace pulls Hollywood to a seated position before leveling him with a big boot.

Benny Newell: DAS BOOT SWEATER TALE!

Joe Hoffman: I don’t think that’s correct.

Benny Newell: How do you say shut the fuck up Hoffman in German?

Joe Hoffman: No idea.

Benny Newell: It’s….SHUT THE FUCK UP HOFFMAN!

Joe Hoffman: Of course, it is.

Ace picks up Hollywood and places him between his legs and places his hands around his waist. Ace lifts Hollywood up and powerbombs him onto the concrete.

Joe Hoffman: Massive powerbomb!

Ace doesn’t let go and powers Hollywood back up and drives him onto the top of the fryer causing Hollywood to yell out in pain.

Benny Newell: BURN! BITCH BURN!!!!!

Hollywood tries to roll off of the fryer but Ace holds him down and motions with his head for Boettcher to start counting.

One.

Two.

Three.

NO!

Hollywood kicks out and tries to slither his way off of the fryer and he finally does.

Benny Newell: Burgers anyone?

A shot of Hollywood’s back shows his skin heavily burned and bumbling.

Aceldama: Smells like prison food genosse.

Ace picks up Hollywood and throws him through the window and back onto the concourse. Ace jumps through the window and begins to stalk Hollywood.

Benny Newell: Finish him Ace!

Ace makes his way over to Hollywood and delivers a vicious stomp to the spine of the former world champion. Ace reaches down and as he pulls Hollywood up; Brian delivers a sucker punch to the German’s capital region.

Joe Hoffman: Low blow by Hollywood!

Benny Newell: Cheating bastard!

Hollywood starts to distance himself again this time making his way to an elevator and pressing the down button.

Benny Newell: You can run but you can’t hide Pussywood.

The doors open up and Hollywood darts inside barely standing and heavily breathing. As the door come to close, they suddenly stop as Hollywood looks forward and sees the doors slowly pried open by Aceldama. Aceldama steps in the elevator.

Aceldama: Hi genosse.

Ace says as the doors close behind them.

Benny Newell: We need a camera feed now!

Joe Hoffman: We have camera at every elevator.

DING!

The elevator door to the parking lot slowly opens and Hollywood does his best Jazz impression from Fresh Prince as he is launched out of it by Aceldama.

Benny Newell: Uncle Phil would be proud……man I miss that man.

Joe is thrown off his game by Benny showing emotion……but quickly shakes it off as the the action continues.

Ace emerges from the elevator and slowly makes his way towards Hollywood who his on all fours crawling.

Benny Newell: In the movies you can’t escape Jason Vorhees and in HOW you cannot escape Aceldama.

Hollywood reaches limo and pulls himself up as he leans on the driver’s side door to catch a breather and as he opens his eyes, he sees a size fifteen boot coming his way.

Benny Newell: DAS BOOT!

Hollywood rolls out of the way and Ace’s foot goes crashing through the window of the car and Hollywood on instinct jumps up and nails Ace with a stunner.

Joe Hoffman: Stunner by Hollywood!

Ace falls to the ground and Hollywood goes for a cover.

One.

Two.

Three.

NO!

Ace pops the shoulder up and Hollywood can’t believe it. Hollywood kneels down and motions for Ace to get up.

Joe Hoffman: Hollywood may be looking to end it here.

Ace pulls himself to his feet and Hollywood runs towards his opponent looking to kick his head off.

Benny Newell: ACE DUCKED!

Hollywood immediately spins around and gets speared into the side of the limo. Ace looks down at his opponent and then looks at the limo and then back at Hollywood and a sick grin forms over his face. Ace goes to the driver’s side door and reaches through the hole in the window from his foot and opens the door. Ace doesn’t find the keys so he begins to hot wire it.

Joe Hoffman: He’s not……

The limo comes to life and Ace puts the vehicle in reverse and the tires screech as he hits the gas.

Benny Newell: This is going to be beautiful.

Ace turns on the high beams and begins to rev the engine. Once Hollywood looks towards Ace, he puts it in drive and punches the gas. Hollywood rolls out of the way at the last instance and Ace immediately hits the brakes. The reverse lights come on and Ace punches the gas again and Hollywood jumps out of the way at the last minute.

Joe Hoffman: Ace is sick. He’s trying to kill a man out there!

Benny Newell: Told you.

The limo screeches to a halt and before Hollywood can catch his breath the limo is barreling down on him once again and he has no choice to jump up causing the limo to clip him on the side.

Joe Hoffman: Hollywood is hit! We need medical attention!

Benny Newell: All very legal.

Ace circles the lot and sees Hollywood lying against a garage wall in front of him. Ace revs the engine before flooring it again and he crashes the limo into the wall.

Joe Hoffman: ACE KILLED HOLLYWOOD!

The limo is trashed as steam rises from the engine. The door to the driver’s side falls off and Ace is shown holding his head.

Benny Newell: So Ace wins by massacre?

As Aceldama turns to get out he eats a boot and Hollywood pulls him out and hooks him.

Joe Hoffman: HOLLYWOOD DODGED THAT LAST ATTEMPT OF MURDER!!!!

Benny Newell: THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN GOLD IF ACELDAMA TURNED HOLLYWOOD TO DUST…SO MUCH ROWDINESS!!!

Hollywood tries to lift Ace but he drops to a knee holding his side and that’s all the opportunity Ace needs to knee him in the gut before grabbing him by the throat and choke slamming him onto the broken hood of the limo. Ace climbs onto the hood as well and grabs Hollywood and turns him upside down. Ace steps onto the roof of the limo and spikes Hollywood with a tombstone piledriver.

Joe Hoffman: Ace with the Final Solution! That has to be it!

Ace places his hands onto the chest of Hollywood and Boettcher begins his count.

One.

Two.

Three.

Benny Newell: FUCK YEAH!

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Brian McVay: And your winner by pinfall, he is… THE AGENT OF CHAOS…. ACEL-DAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

Ace leans down and stares at Hollywood.

Aceldama: In stucken verrotten.

Joe Hoffman: Ace picks up the win here tonight in brutal fashion.

Benny Newell: Was there any doubt Hoffman. Ace just sent a message to all the Nerds in the back you don’t fuck with the Final Alliance.

EMTs and doctors rush to check on Hollywood as Ace prepares for the EPU agents to take him away as we cut elsewhere.

We cut backstage to show Christopher America walking down a hallway in the Simmons Bank Arena, looking depressed and dejected as he heads back toward his locker room. As he gets closer, he sees a dozen red roses outside of the door.

Christopher America: The fuck is this?

America bends down and picks up the flowers. He turns them in his hand looking them over, until his eye finally catches the card. He pulls it and reads it to himself.

Christopher America: Fucking Stevens.

America begins to crumple the card in his hand as he opens up the door and the camera sees the other deliveries that have been coming throughout the day.

Christopher America: That NERD is a fucking HOMEWRECKER! Like I ain’t got enough shit on my mind. Dweebens trying to fuck with me.

America drops the bouquet of flowers into the trash. America unstraps 97 Red from his waist and places her in a chair when there is a knock at the door.

Christopher America: Ward is that you?

No response.

Annoyed, America turns and heads back to the chair where the championship is lying provocatively when there is another knock.

Christopher America: Ward! I’m not in the mood to play games!

Silence.

Frustration builds in America as he tries to annoy the door and focus on his wife.

Christopher America: Come here beautiful.

America seductively says to the world championship when the door sounds like someone is trying to kick it in.

Christopher America: Mother fucker….

America mumbles to himself in anger as he heads to the dear and yanks it open.

Christopher America: WHO THE FUCK IS BANGING ON MY…..

America suddenly stops mid-sentence when he sees the person in front of him drawing a ballad of cheers from the audience.

Scott Stevens: Hello Christopher, can the wife come out and play?

Stevens asks with a cocky shit eating grin on his face and the world champion quickly looks inside to check on his significant other when the Texan peeks his head in.

Scott Stevens: My, my. She’s looking sexier than ever, Christopher.

Stevens crudely comments causing the world champion to push Stevens back as he slams the door.

Christopher America: DON’T LOOK AT MY…

America stops his threat and slowly backs up when Stevens produces a flat head screwdriver. Stevens sees America’s reaction and chuckles.

Scott Stevens: This isn’t for you.

America being as cautious as ever asks the important question.

Christopher America: Who is it for then?

Scott Stevens: Your wife silly.

America cocks an eyebrow.

Christopher America: Excuse me?

Scott Stevens: You heard me boy. I didn’t stutter.

Stevens starts making his way over to the world champion.

Scott Stevens: You see Chris, she deserves better and in a few short weeks she will get better when I send you your divorce papers when I win War Games and become the new world champion. I will use this screwdriver to take that cubic zirconia off of her so she is not a slave to you any longer. And then I’m going to strip her of your name plate.

America smirks.

Christopher America: So that’s the only way you can screw a woman now, is it? You aren’t beating me, the Alliance, or winning War Games. This is 2023, not 2016. You’re not getting near her.

America steps up to Stevens.

Scott Stevens: It may be 2023, but I’m not the one trying to reclaim the past. Isn’t that why you went and crashed a high school prom so you could become King and Queen? You and I both know you did that because a hot piece of ass like 97 Red wouldn’t give you the time of day and that night wasn’t about her; it was about you.

Stevens states as he pokes America’s chest and the champion slaps it away.

Christopher America: Don’t touch me.

Scott Stevens: Or what? You’re going to get the EPU and your bitch boy, Evan Ward, to beat me up again?

Stevens lets the question linger.

Scott Stevens: I’m so scared.

Stevens feigns being terrified before turning serious again.

Scott Stevens: You are right about one thing Chris, I am a threat to the Final Alliance, to Lee Best, but more importantly to you and that championship you carry around.

America starts to crack his neck.

Scott Stevens: You can act like a tough guy all you want but the only reason why she is with you is because she has Stockholm Syndrome. How else do you explain only winning her at War Games. She felt so scared that her former lover was beaten within an inch of his life; she had no choice but to go with you or she’d suffer the same wrath.

Christopher America: LIES!

America shouts at Stevens.

Scott Stevens: Is it? I mean you tell her to cover up when people look her way. You basically threaten to beat up Brian Bare for looking at her. You grab her so tightly she is starting to bruise. I tried to be honest with you and tell you that your wife was looking for an escape and you sent your bitch boy and his bitch boys to attack me. You can’t turn a hoe into a housewife Chris.

America punches Stevens and the Texan stumbles backwards.

Christopher America: How hard is it, right now? Puffing out your chest, flexing your muscles, threatening me and my title with a screwdriver, and acting like you mean something in this company? You touch me, I’ll make sure you don’t make it to War Games.

America threatens as he starts walking forward when Stevens holds the screwdriver forward towards America causing the champion to stop.

Scott Stevens: Enjoy your final weeks with her America because you’re looking at her next life partner when I defeat you at War Games and there isn’t anything you or any Godly figure can do about it.

Stevens cracks a smirk before slowly backing away from America.

Scott Stevens: Oh, one last thing champ.

America stares at Stevens.

Scott Stevens: If there happens to be any shenanigans tonight in the tag match I’ll be out there protecting my War Games teammate’s back. Comprende?

Christopher America: I don’t speak Mexican.

Stevens shakes his head as he backs away.

Scott Stevens: Good luck tonight… champ.

Stevens leaves as America turns and begins smashing the vases of flowers in his locker room as we cut away.

The scene opens backstage to one-half of the HOTv Tag Team Champions, Jatt Starr, banging on a door. The Marquis of MadagaStarr is sporting his black and red checkered pants, a black dress shirt, and his Final Alliance Letterman’s jacket.

Jatt Starr: Open up! I know you are in there, Conor!

The Baron of Boca Jatton continues to bang his hand on the door.

Jatt Starr: What are you doing?! Are you watching pornographic films?! “A Streetwhore Named Desire”? “The Adventures of a Very Randy Vampire”? “Cum Hard Two: Cum Harder”?

The Sheriff of Jattingham bangs a few more times before grabbing the door handle, ready to burst through. He turns the knob, it was unlocked the whole time. Jatt Starr enters the room finding Conor Fuse not watching adult cinema but listening to music on his iPhone with his new Beat headphones on. The Game Boy is also there, merely on guard. Conor looks over to Starr entering his locker room. He slowly peels his headset off, staring at the Hall of Famer in bewilderment.

Jatt Starr: You don’t call your mother for Easter? What the heck’s the matter with you?

The Rembrandt of Wrestling walks over and slaps Conor on the back of the head. The Game Boy who had been, until then, staring at the wall, turns around. Jatt Starr raises an admonishing finger at the Vintage’s silent cohort.

Jatt Starr (to Game Boy): Back off big man, this has nothing to do with you.

Conor tells his henchman to stand down so he does. The Jattlantic City Idol turns his attention back to Conor Fuse.

Jatt Starr: Well? What do you have to say for yourself, mister?

Conor Fuse opens his mouth to respond.

Jatt Starr: I don’t want to hear it! And then we find out that you’re driving a limo? Driving without a license! Care to explain that?

Conor Fuse, once again, opens his mouth to respond but is cut off.

Jatt Starr: I don’t want to hear it! This is clearly Bobbinette Carey’s fault! She is a bad influence on you! She’s driving a wedge between you and your family. I can see her putting ideas into your head about hijacking a limo and telling you that you can joyride all over town pretending you’re on Toad’s Turnpike or whatever! Mark my words, one day you are playing Mario Kart and the next she’s tugging at your joystick telling you how kidnapping crack babies and selling them to childless couples on the black market is a capital idea!

Finally, Conor attempts to open his mouth for the third time but is cautious at doing so, assuming he will be cut off. He goes to speak and then stops, thinking Jatt will say something… but the Hall of Famer doesn’t. Conor tries to speak again, thinking this time he will for sure be cut off. Except Jatt remains mute. Starr simply looked annoyed that Conor’s wasting his time.

Fuse goes to speak.

Jatt Starr: Well!? I’m waiting…

The Ultimate Gamer gives a friendly wave.

Conor Fuse: I was gooooing to say, hey man! And also sorry, I didn’t hear ya there, I was jamming out to some old 8-bit music off YouTube. You know how good this Metal Gear soundtrack is? I mean the original, the NES version, before it got all BIG TIME with the OG PlayStation.

Starr is deadpan and clearly not following.

Conor Fuse: As for calling my mom on Easter… ummm, okay??? I mean I don’t need to call her often. I talked to her about a month ago and I’ll reach out again shortly. Been meaning to, but, yeah know… got busy and all. Got INJURED and all. Then I signed up for SUV “driving” as you’re aware lol.

Fuse pauses to think about things further.

Conor Fuse: Besides, what’s it to you? You think you’re my dad or something?

Conor clearly says this off-the-cuff, without much thought to it whatsoever. Starr is going to respond but this time Conor is the one who cuts him off, albeit unintentionally.

Conor Fuse: Anyway, Game Boy and I are chilling. He’s back, yeah. Like, he’s not gonna come to the ring with me but he’s gonna make sure I don’t get jumped backstage by stupid n00b World Champions, forcing me outta action for a month. You know, I came so close to winning the World Championship at March to Glory and now I’m on a WarGames team.

Conor realizes he’s rambling. He places his headphones down, stands and gives Jatt a surprise hug. Starr doesn’t know exactly what to do.

Conor Fuse: I know we’re kinda, like, on opposite sides bro but you’re still my guy. Actually… you’re right. Bobbie prob hasn’t been the best influence on me, either. I gotta make some changes with my career, I get it.

Fuse drops the hug and gives Starr a serious look.

Conor Fuse: But Bobbie’s still pretty dope. I ain’t about to kick her to the side. I am, however, gonna focus on me MOAR.

Jatt Starr: Are you on the dope? Bobbinette Carey been giving you drugs?! That filthy harlot! You and her are done, got it?! D-O-N-E! I get it. You have not had a positive male influence in your life. You have this void that can only be filled by someone with facial hair that resembles Mario, hence why you have gravitated towards Bobbinette Carey. That’s going to change, sport. We might be on separate War Games teams but the Ruler of Jattlantis will look out for you.

The Mayor of ManJattan pulls out his wallet and hands Conor some cash.

Jatt Starr: Here is five bucks, go get an ice cream soda.

Fuse has an “okkkkaaaayyy?” look on his face. He glances back to The Game Boy. Game Boy shrugs.

Conor Fuse: Yeah. Yeah, I like ice cream. Okay. I dunno where this gratuity is coming from -prolly because we’re on different teams and you’re just trying to be nice- but hey, I appreciate it and love ya and all that, you’re the best out there man.

Conor is about to tussle Jatt’s hair until he realizes how unhappy that would make him.

Conor Fuse: So uh, male influence or whatever you’re talking about that’s cool. I’ll see ya out there whenever, dude. Imma go get some ice cream before the main event, when Clay and I fucking crush America and Ward.

Jatt Starr: WHOA! LANGUAGE! Did your mother raise you to talk like Tony Montana? I don’t think so! I am going to let it slide this time, but you drop another F-Bomb, the Hero of Jattlanta will be forced to shove some Irish Spring down your—-Wait…did-did you say you loved—?

The Thane of Starrkarth turns away, there is a slight whimpering sound before he turns back and hands Conor some more cash.

Jatt Starr (voice cracking): Here’s a fifty. Go to Dave and Busters. Have a good time. Deep down, you’re a good kid.

Jatt Starr proceeds to give Conor a hug….a rather long hug….before letting go. Without saying another word, the Starrson City Icon pats him on the cheek and leaves.

…Leaving Fuse dumbfounded. The gamer stares at The Game Boy.

Conor Fuse: I guess he really missed seeing me.

Chaos heads to a commercial break…

We cut back from commercial break to a shot of the crowd of the Simmons Bank Arena in Little Rock.  Everyone’s rabid from all the exciting action from this evening.  The opening chords of REO Speedwagon’s “Keep On Loving You” hit over the PA system.  On the HOV, a giant heart appears to beat to the song.

♫ You should have seen by the look in my eyes, baby

There was somethin’ missin’ ♫

Joe Hoffman:  It looks like Darin Zion’s coming out to address the crowd here in Little Rock, Arkansas tonight.

Benny Newell:  For fuck sakes!  Who in their right mind would give this loser a fucking microphone?  I am outta here…

THUUUUUUUUUUUUD!

The words “REAL LOVE” appears on the HOV, but Zion isn’t walking down the ramp.  Cameras frantically scan all around the arena as fans leap from their seats.  Still no sight of Darin Zion.  Everyone looks confused for a moment as the chorus revibrates through the arena.

♫ And I’m gonna keep on lovin’ you

‘Cause it’s the only thing I want to do

I don’t want to sleep, I just want to keep on lovin’ you♫

Joe Hoffman:  This is odd!   It’s unlike Darin Zion to even cut an unscheduled in-ring promo…

The cameras scan through the usual Section 214 for HOW fan favorites, but nothing.  As the cameras flip—the crowd in section 111 erupts with excitement as a hooded figure pulling a chair emerges towards the front of the section.  He drops his hood, revealing Darin Zion, sporting a head bandage from all the skull trauma he received in his losing effort against JPD for the LSD Championship.  Pulling off his hoodie, Zion’s wearing his #LoveStillDominates #97Purple Shirt.  He plops right down in front of the section crossing his arms.

Crowd:  REAL LOVE!  REAL LOVE!  REAL LOVE!  REAL LOVE!

Zion’s face remains stoic while he sits absorbing the crowd reaction for a few more seconds.  Reaching into his jean’s pockets, the dejected Zion reveals a microphone.  He twirls it around, contemplating his words for a moment.  He bites down on his lips, shocked by all the love he’s received from the HOW faithful.  He takes in a deep breath before talking.

Darin Zion:  Little Rock, Arkansas!!!!!

The crowd erupts, cutting off REAL LOVE mid-sentence.  Zion’s eyes sink towards the ground, still no smile on his face.  Just a blank stare covers his face.  After a few seconds, he adjusts his brunette weave to appear more camera ready.

Darin Zion:  Last week, I won the hearts of millions across the globe in my valiant quest for the HOW #LOVESTILLDOMINATES Heavyweight Championship.  Truly, I’m appreciative of all the love and support every fan and wrestler has shown me.  It’s a great feeling, I LOOOOOVE every minute of it.  I’ve have numerous people come up to tell me being in the main event of Chaos is a huge win in itself.  I’ve strived to get back to the levels of competition I once attained in 2016.  And every one of them pointed out—I’ve excelled some of those levels since returning back to HOW.  I should give myself a pat on the back and be PROUD of what I accomplished last week.

Zion wipes the palm of his hand against his face while the crowd chants his name.  The only reaction REAL LOVE can do is shake is head.

Darin Zion:  But I’m not proud of it.  Once again, I came up short against the Final Boss.  I collided with that glass ceiling and crashed right back down towards the ground.  I got ceremoniously shoved to the back of the line for the LSD Championship.  And worst of all, I let you all down.  And I’m truly sorry for failing you.  I’m sorry I didn’t take into consideration Jace’s violent and abusive nature.  I made a miscalculation, and the blame falls on me for coming up short at Chaos 027.

Crowd:  ZIIIION!  ZIIION! ZIIIION!

Darin Zion:  Sure, wrestling is a video game like Conor Fuse says.  It’s all about evolution.  You don’t beat that Final Boss the first, second, or even the 400^th try at it.  You keep studying their patterns, evolve your strategy, hone in those sequences until finally you get the right combination and succeed and conquer your enemy.

The camera zooms into Zion’s face, a tear rolls down the side of his cheek.  As the crowd gets louder, Zion holds his head, throbbing from the pain of Jace’s violent Bend The Knee stomp to his head.  He cringes, before looking around the arena.  Zion’s tone changes, his voice becomes more serious.

Darin Zion:  But time isn’t on my side right now.  I’ve only got 12 matches left to win the LSD Championship and ascend the mountain top.  11 if you count my upcoming War Games match.  Even less if Lee Best throws a wrench into my plans.  We all know the pressures on REAL LOVE to accomplish something huge.

The crowd roars as a smile cracks on Zion’s face.

Darin Zion:  Jace, I meant what I said.  I’ll keep chasing you and that LSD Championship until I’ve got 0 matches left on my HOW contract.  I’ll put myself through hell and high water to ensure I beat you with everything I got.

A sombering look comes across Zion’s face, he shakes his head clinching his lips together, forcing himself to say the words.

Darin Zion:  Even if I have to put aside petty squabbles at War Games.  Even if I have to work together with 3-4 other men that have issues with me.  If it means I walk out with the LSD Championship….or maybe even getting lucky and capturing good ole #97RED.  I’ll do ANYTHING to gain some gold and save my damn job.   All that matters to me is ending your damn reign at War Games.

REO Speedwagon’s “Keep On Loving You” queues over the loud speakers as Zion throws down his microphone and heads to the back.  The scene fades to ring as Zion shakes hands with each of the members of the crowd he passes.

We shift near the back entrance of the Simmons Bank Arena where the current LSD Champion Jace Parker Davidson can be seen arriving late to the building. Davidson is dressed casually while pulling his suitcase behind him. Davidson walks through the hallways of the building until he’s met by Brian Bare and a cameraman.

Brian Bare: Mr. Davidson, you’re not scheduled to compete here tonight but can I get a few words from you?

Davidson: Nope.

Jace says plainly and just continues walking past Bare. However, Brian is persistent and decided to walk alongside Davidson with the cameraman.

Brian Bare: The War Games draft happened earlier this week and we found out there was a mystery fourth team in the match. The team is Captained by Michael Lee Best and you got drafted to that team along with Conor Fuse, Scott Stevens, Scottywood, and possibly Zach Kostoff. Your thoughts?

Jace stops in his tracks and sneers before whipping his head around to look at Brian.

Davidson: My thoughts? My thoughts are that I don’t fucking care.

Brian Bare: You don’t care about War Games?! Everyone cares about War Games! It’s the biggest event of the whole year!

Davidson: Okay, and?!

Brian Bare: What about the fact that Michael Lee Best is going to face three of the four for you in a HOFC match before War Games?

Davidson: Couldn’t be less interested in facing a retired wrestler in a cage while spouting TikTok-length insults at each other. I beat Michael Lee Best the wrestler, Michael Lee Best the man doing paperwork behind a desk pushing a pencil doesn’t even slightly pique my curiosity.

Bare blinks a couple of times and then begins to stammer over his words. Davidson sighs and then interrupts him.

Davidson: Everyone knows the deal, right? The draft was rigged but then again a majority of the time the War Games draft is rigged. Every one that was against Lee and The Final Alliance or considered a weak link got placed on this so-called mystery team. So, I’m stuck on the team that is handicapped from the jump. That is nothing new.

Brian Bare: You get to team with the former HOW World Champion Conor Fuse.

Davidson: Conor can go fuck himself.

Brian Bare: You and Conor were once friends!

Davidson: Conor and I used to be friends and where did that get me? Absolutely fucking nowhere. I’m sure Conor will get beat up and take a few weeks off at least four or five more times before the War Games event even happens. Conor loves to cling to the fact that he’s the former HOW World Champion but honestly? Conor Fuse hasn’t been the fucking same since Lee Best came back to HOW and fed him his own pre-pubescent nut sack. I helped Conor Fuse win the HOW World Championship belt a second time. The fuck I look like doing that all over again?

Brian Bare: It’s not just you and Conor. There is also Scott Stevens.

Davidson: Well fuck me, the day is saved!

Jace throws his hands up into the air sarcastically.

Davidson: Tell me, when was the last time that Scott Stevens ever had a morsel of success? Oh wait, that’s right, it’s when I carried him to an HOTv World Tag Team Championship reign. Benn there, done that, brought the t-shirt. I have zero desire to do it again.

Brian Bare: You’re forgetting about–

Jace interrupts Bare again.

Davidson: Don’t even dare say his fucking name. Yes, I get the pleasure of working with the fake dead guy that is now living again and this all happened right around Easter. How fucking fun. A man just like Scott Stevens, that loves to talk himself up like he’s some kind of threat or top talent but yet has fuck all to show for it. I’m sure at the 11th hour he’ll have plenty to say even though the safest bet of the whole fucking event is him being in the first three eliminated from the match. Fuck that guy with every dead former NY Rangers player’s dick. He should have stayed dead.

Brian Bare: But these guys… well… Conor and Stevens have been fighting back against The Final Alliance while you…

Bare’s voice begins to trail off.

Davidson: While I’ve done fuck all to lift a finger to help. Is that what you’re trying to say?

Bare nods his head slowly.

Davidson: Allow me to explain myself then. I’m sure those of you out there think that I’m scared to ‘join the fight’ against The Final Alliance or that I’ve just ‘given up.’ No, see the thing is, I’m not a fucking moron. If Conor Fuse, Scott Stevens, or anyone else wants to run headfirst into a buzzsaw over and over again then that’s their business, not mine. I know that The Final Alliance attacked me and I know that Lee Best not only stabbed me in the eye but then pissed on my head. None of that is lost on me. However, running into a fucking brick wall week after week isn’t smart, it isn’t brave. It’s fucking dumb!

Suddenly, Davidson begins to scream in pain at the top of his lungs. He doubles over and grabs at the eyepatch over his bad eye.

Brian Bare: HELP! WE NEED SOME HELP OVER HERE!!!

Bare shouts before leaning down and placing his hand on Davidson’s back. Bare tries to help Jace but he shows the interviewer away.

Davidson: DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!

Jace shouts as he straightens back up slowly. Davidson takes a few moments to stop his heavy breathing and compose himself before lowering his hand from the eyepatch.

Davidson: Like I was saying. I don’t care to do any of that shit. Conor Fuse, Scott Stevens, Scottywood, and everyone else are going to try and defeat Christopher America. They are going to try and become HOW World Champion, and finally end The Final Alliance. I’m smarter than that. Nothing is going to end at War Games. There will be events after War Games just like there are every single year after the War Games match. If you win the title, if you win War Games, then what? Do you think it’s game over? Do you think that the curtains just close and everyone just goes home?

Jace begins to pace around a bit.

Davidson: It doesn’t work like that. IT HAS NEVER WORKED LIKE THAT. Conor, Stevens, and Scottywood. All of them are still looking for their War Games moment. They are all looking for that magical War Games win. I’ve won War Games before. I’ve been there and done that. I don’t care about fighting their battles. All I care about is being the HOW LSD Champion. I will step into that cage, I will fight anyone I have to fight, and I will do everything in my power to make sure that I walk out of fucking Mexico still the LSD Champion.

Jace stops pacing and then leans toward the microphone.

Davidson: IF… and I mean IF I were to put my neck on the line to fight this war against The Final Alliance alongside the band of misfits. Everyone with half a brain knows if you want to slay a monster, you have to cut it off at the head.

Jace smirks before grabbing a hold of his suitcase again. The LSD Champion continues his way throughout the building leaving Bare standing there as we cut back to the ringside area.

Back to the ringside area. The crowd is electric as it’s time for another match here on Chaos 28. The camera pans over to the announcer’s table where Hall of Fame broadcasters Joe Hoffman and Benny Newell are ready to call the action.

Joe Hoffman: It’s time for our next match here on Chaos where…

Benny Newell: Fucking ugh!!!

Joe Hoffman: Something wrong, Benny?

Benny Newell: Darin Zion.

Joe looks confused for a moment.

Joe Hoffman: Darin Zion isn’t in this next match.

Benny Newell: Thank Lee, but he was just in one of the last segments. My contract clearly states that I don’t have to witness Darin Zion on our broadcasts. Yet, there he was NERDING it up, poisoning my eyes.

Joe Hoffman: Your contract only stipulates Darin Zion matches.

Benny Newell: It should stipulate anything that involves Darin Zion. Fucking NERD.

Joe Hoffman: We also heard from the LSD Champion.

Benny Newell: Traitorous Pirate NERD.

Joe shakes his head and tries to return focus to the next match.

Joe Hoffman: Up next we have a rematch of sorts from Chaos 25 as the man known as STRonk takes on HOW Hall of Famer Scott Stevens.

Benny Newell: The Demi-God of FUCKING NERDDDDS!

Joe Hoffman: Let’s send it to the ring where Bryan McVay is ready to make the introductions for this matchup.

The camera shifts to the center of the ring where Bryan McVay stands with referee Joel Hortega by his side. Bryan has his microphone in hand but waits for the crowd to quiet down before speaking.

Bryan McVay: The following contest is scheduled for one fall and it is a No Disqualification match!

The crowd pops at the prospect of violence and blood that is about to take place.

Bryan McVay: Introducing first…

The lights in the arena go black as the sound of bells is heard throughout the arena as the High Octane Vision comes to life as images begin to appear.

Shattered murals.

An abandoned church falling apart.

A field of tombstones.

The Book of Best with the Cross of Best is driven through it with blood pouring down it.

The blood pours down into it and forms the words…

THE… DEMI… GOD… OF… H… O… W

The crowd knows who is about to walk out and they are letting him know it by chanting his favorite chant as the video screen goes black.

“FUCK YOU, STEVENS!” Clap x5

The wait is finally over as a spotlight shines towards the top of the entrance ramp as “O FORTUNA EXCALIBUR REMIX” by Apotheosis begins as Scott Stevens appears from behind the curtain wearing a black duster trench coat, a black Stetson hat, and his trademark 97Red-colored circular sunglasses.

Joe Hoffman: Earlier this week we found out that Scott Stevens would be a member of Michael Lee Best’s War Games team. We’ll see if he can get a bit of momentum heading into that grueling match by doing some damage to a member of The Final Alliance.

Benny Newell: Stevens and positive momentum are things that don’t go together. Did you see that poor excuse for a sob story earlier this week? The man was pretty much wetting himself on live television just thinking about this match.

Bryan McVay: Introducing! From The Great State of Texas, weighing in at 256 lbs. He is the “Demi-God of HOW!” SCOTT! STEEEEEEEVEEEEEEEENS!

Stevens’ 97Red circular sunglasses glisten in the light and his usual devilish grin is replaced by an emotionless stare before he begins to slowly walk toward the ring. Once he reaches the nearest set of ring steps he climbs up and wipes his feet on the apron before proceeding inside the ring. Once inside, The Demi-God takes off his coat and tosses it outside. He begins to slowly take off his Stetson before taking off his sunglasses to reveal a red eye as he places the glasses in the hat as waits for his opponent.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent…

The lights in the arena go down as “STRONKER” by FLAV RILLE begins to play. Michael Oliver Best walks out on stage dressed to the nines and holding his cane. He looks out at the Little Rock crowd with disgust written all over his face. MOB steps aside as STROnk Godson makes his way out onto the stage. However, Godson isn’t alone. He’s carrying a large heavy-duty ladder completely wrapped in barbed wire over his shoulder like a boombox.

Bryan McVay: From his Sky House in Chicago, Illinois, weighing in tonight at a hefty 285 lbs. He is representing The Final Alliance, here is STRONK! GODDDDDDDDSONNNNNN!

STROnk stands there looking at the crowd with an expressionless stare. MOB points down toward Stevens inside of the ring and gives STROnk a set of orders. The King of Stallions nods his head and begins his march to the ring. STROnk circles the ringside area, never once taking his eyes off of Stevens, before sitting the ladder down. STROnk stomps up the steel ring steps and enters the ring as MOB stands stoically at ringside in Godson’s corner.

Joe Hoffman: Godson has brought a barbed wire-wrapped ladder down to the ring here for this No DQ match versus Scott Stevens. I don’t know if this is going to be used to try and cripple Stevens before War Games or to send a strong message to our LSD Champion.

Benny Newell: It’s fucking both. How many times do you think STROnky Baby and MOB want to deal with Scott Stevens? They are going to use that ladder like a cheese grater at Olive Garden to sprinkle what is left of Stevens over STROnk’s next meal. Maybe then that Pirate NERD will give him back what is rightfully his.

Joe Hoffman: The STRONKUMMS company or the LSD Championship belt?

Benny Newell: Yes.

Bryan McVay exits the ring as Hortega waits to see if both men are ready. Once everyone is set, Hortega calls for the bell to signal the start of the match.

DING DING

Both Stevens and Godson come out of their respective corners to stand in the center of the ring. Stevens tries to keep moving but STROnk just stands in place like the brick shithouse that he is. Stevens decides to dart in and hit Godson with a series of knife-edged chops to the chest. The sound of skin slapping skin echoes throughout the arena but Godson doesn’t even flinch. Stevens darts away trying to stay out of Godson’s grasp before bouncing around again. Stevens darts back in with a boot to the midsection that only doubles over STROnk slightly. Stevens grabs a hold of Godson by the arm in a wristlock. Stevens tries to begin hitting STROnk with multiple shoulder blocks. However, after the first shoulder block, Stevens releases Godson and then recoils holding his own shoulder in pain.

Joe Hoffman: Stevens really tried to lean into the shoulder block on Godson but it seems like it was Scott that took all of the damage there.

Benny Newell: He just tried to shoulder block a building with tree trunks for legs. What the fuck did he think was going to happen?! NERD!

MOB yells from the outside and that causes Godson to start moving. STROnk gets a running start toward Stevens but the Hall of Famer sees him coming. Stevens drops down and manages to trip up Godson causing him to fall throat first along the middle rope. Stevens gets to his feet quickly and then races toward the opposite ropes. Stevens bounces off and then connects with Don’t Mess With Texas to the back of Godson’s head.

Joe Hoffman: Stevens just hit the running knee tumbler on STROnk and I think the use of that knee just rocked the former HOTv and LSD Champion. Godson might be in trouble here!

Benny Newell: That fucking NERD Stevens is resorting to cheating right off the bat! He’s been coming to the ring week after week using that fucking knee brace as a weapon. Do your fucking job, Hortega!

Joe Hoffman: It’s No Disqualification! Everything is legal!

Godson slumps down to the canvas after the shot as Stevens looks to capitalize now that the man is off of his feet. Stevens begins dropping repeated knee drops onto Godson using the knee brace. Godson fights his way back up to his feet slowly but Stevens hits him with a stiff forearm shot before shooting STROnk off into the ropes. Godson bounces off the ropes but Stevens charges in and hits Godson with a massive Texas Hammer to the chest. Godson is rocked and is staggering on one leg trying not to hit the canvas. Stevens charges again before leaping into the air and hitting the teetering Godson with The Fist. Godson hits the canvas hard on impact as the crowd cheers. Stevens hooks the leg and makes the cover as Hortega slides in.

UNO

DOS

Joe Hoffman: Godson powers out of that pin attempt at two. Stevens has a good strategy going in this match. He’s using his speed advantage to hit STROnk with high-impact moves while making sure that he doesn’t get caught in Godson’s massive hands.

Benny Newell: It’s been effective so far, but how long is Stevens going to be able to pussyfoot around Godson? Eventually, STROnk is going to get tired of this little game of tag that Stevens is trying to play and go primal on his ass.

Stevens doesn’t let the fact that STROnk’s kickout launched him into the air. He quickly gets back up to his feet and then grabs a hold of Godson. Stevens pulls STROnk up to a vertical base and then tries to lift the man up to his shoulders. Clearly, Stevens is trying to go for Houston We Have A Problem but Godson is rooted on the canvas. Stevens continues to try and lift STROnk but Godson hits him with several clubbing blows to the back of the head and neck that floors him. STROnk stands there looking angry before grabbing a hold of Stevens by the hair. STROnk lifts Stevens up to his feet then deposits him over the top rope down to the arena floor with ease. STROnk steps through the ropes and gives chase to his opponent.

Joe Hoffman: Godson has taken this fight to the outside of the ring and that is bad news for Scott Stevens.

Benny Newell: Showing up to work tonight was bad news for Scott Stevens.

STROnk grabs a hold of Stevens as he gets back up to his feet. STROnk hits Stevens with a headbutt before whipping him hard into the barricade. Stevens hits the barricade spine first hard as Godson gets a running start. Godson leaps and hits Stevens with a big splash that puts both men through the barricade and into the crowd. The fans stand on their feet and begin chanting.

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

Benny Newell: STROnky Baby just squashed Stevens like the bug that he is! I love it!

Joe Hoffman: I could feel the impact here at the announcer’s table!

STROnk gets up to his feet and then pulls Stevens back up. STROnk tosses Stevens deeper into the crowd and the fans are loving it. However, MOB comes over and stops Godson. MOB begins giving STROnk orders before pointing back toward the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Godson was looking to take this fight all over the arena but Michael Oliver Best is trying to make Godson keep the fight here at ringside.

Benny Newell: You can only win the match inside of the ring. This is why Lee’s brother is the perfect person to guide STROnk to the top of this company.

STROnk grabs a hold of Stevens and then yeets him back toward the ringside area. Godson marches after his prey before tossing Stevens back into the ring. Godson then grabs a hold of the barbed wire-wrapped ladder and slides it into the ring. The crowd is in hushed silence as Godson climbs back into the ring. Godson grabs a hold of a ladder and then slams it down hard onto Stevens’ back. Stevens arches his back and howls in pain as STROnk grabs a hold of the ladder. He lifts it high into the air and then once again slams it down hard onto Stevens’ body. Stevens tries to scratch and claw his way to safety but Godson grabs a hold of him. Godson deadlifts Stevens high into the air and then hits him with a backdrop driver. The back of Stevens’ head collides with the barbed wire-wrapped ladder hard. Stevens’ body goes limp as STROnk presses his hands on his opponent’s chest while Hortega slides in.

UNO

DOS

TR–

Joe Hoffman: Stevens manages to get his shoulder off of the canvas before the three count! That backdrop driver onto the ladder was devastating but Stevens is still in this!

Benny Newell: Scott Stevens is a glutton for punishment. Who does he think he is? ScottyNERD?! Stay down your fucking idiot. It’s only going to get worse for you the longer this goes.

MOB shouts into Godson to remember to hook the leg when he covers his opponent. STROnk nods his head but it’s unclear if he understands what MOB is trying to teach him. STROnk turns around but runs right into Remember The Alamo from Stevens.

Joe Hoffman: Godson just ate all of that superkick!

STROnk staggers backward as Stevens takes a moment to recover. STROnk steadies himself and then charges at Stevens. However, Stevens dips down and catches Godson before hitting him with a massive Double S Spinebuster.

Benny Newell: I think the ring just literally bounced!

Stevens pulls himself up to his feet and then goes over toward the ladder on the canvas. Stevens grabs it and sets it up against the turnbuckle in one of the corners. Stevens turns back around and grabs a hold of Godson as he fights his way back up to his feet. Scott grabs STROnk and then uses his whole body to wipe Godson into the corner. STROnk hits the ladder spine first hard as the crowd goes wild. MOB begins to pace a bit on the outside as Godson tries to pull himself from the ladder. Stevens gets a running start and then leaps into the air…

Joe Hoffman: STINGER SPLASH INTO THE LADDER!

Benny Newell: THIS ISN’T GOOD! SOMEONE GET STRONK SOME LIQUID STRONKUMMS IMMEDIATELY!

Stevens peels STROnk away from the ladder and tosses him to the canvas. Stevens opens the ladder up in the corner and then begins to climb up it. The crowd stands on their feet as Stevens carefully climbs to the top of the ladder. Stevens makes it to the top of the ladder and then looks down at Godson on the canvas. Stevens leaps off of the ladder and hits Godson with a huge diving headbutt. Stevens almost knocks himself silly from the impact of the move as the crowd explodes. Stevens crawls over and hooks the leg on Godson as Hortega slides in.

UNO

DOS

TRES!!!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Joe Hoffman: STROnk kicked out, and I mean just barely, before the three! I think if Stevens didn’t almost give himself a concussion with that move he’d have been able to make the cover quicker and would have beaten Godson!

Benny Newell: That was a little too close for comfort but STROnk will never lose to Scott Stevens. It’s not humanly or mathematically possible. That was Stevens’ big shot and Godson still kicked out!

Stevens looks up at Hortega and holds up three fingers but Hortega sticks two fingers into the air. Stevens pulls himself up to his feet and then races towards the ropes as Godson begins to fight his way off of the canvas. Stevens leaps to the middle rope and then springs off backward toward STROnk.

Joe Hoffman: TOXIC STING!

Benny Newell: NOT JUST YET!

Stevens goes for his finisher but STROnk is still too big and too strong to go down. Godson grabs Stevens and tosses him off of his neck down to the canvas. STROnk gives Stevens a stiff kick to the ribs that sends him under the bottom rope and down to the arena floor. Godson turns around and looks at the barbed wire-wrapped ladder in astonishment. Godson looks at the top of the ladder with childlike wonder as his mind tries to comprehend that you can climb and jump off of a ladder.

Joe Hoffman: I think STROnk is fascinated by the fact that Stevens jumped off the top of that ladder, moments ago.

Benny Newell: I’m all for Godson’s mind cooking up various means of destruction but he needs to focus on the match right now! He’s going to end up disappointing Papa Best!

MOB slams his hand down on the ring apron and shouts toward Godson. STROnk comes out of his trance as MOB points over to Stevens who is up on the ring apron. STROnk lumbers over toward Stevens but the Hall of Famer grabs Godson and drops him throat first across the top rope. Godson hits the canvas and then crawls for safety as Stevens slides back into the ring. Stevens gets back up to his feet holding something in his hand as Godson lies against a turnbuckle pad in the corner. Stevens gets a head of steam and then charges toward Godson. Stevens dives and tries to strike STROnk but he rolls out of the way.

Joe Hoffman: Oh my God! Stevens just tries to stab STROnk with a screwdriver!!!

Benny Newell: Where the fuck did he get a screwdriver from??!?!

Joe Hoffman: Stevens must have found a toolbox under the ring while Godson was busy looking at the ladder!

Stevens moves away from the corner as the crowd gasps at the screwdriver that is jammed into the middle turnbuckle pad. Stevens begins to pull himself up to his feet but Godson grabs a hold of him from behind. Godson lifts Stevens into the air and tosses him. Not so much a German suplex as it was a mighty heave up and over. Stevens crashes down to the canvas hard as STROnk gets back up to his feet. Godson stares at the screwdriver embedded in the turnbuckle but then turns toward Stevens with fire in his eyes.

Joe Hoffman: If I were Stevens, I would run.

Benny Newell: Not-so-great Scott has fucked up now!

Godson grabs a hold of Stevens and then lifts him up onto his shoulders. Godson goes for Squat Rack Breaker but Stevens uses elbow shots to the side of the head to escape. Stevens lands on his feet behind STROnk and then locks in a rear naked choke.

Joe Hoffman: Stevens has STROnk in a rear naked choke! Can you imagine the irony if Scott Stevens makes Godson tap out to a chokehold?!

Benny Newell: This is blasphemy! Stevens has gone too far!!! Revoke that NERD’S spot in the War Games match! Fire him again! Deport him back to Fisher Price Island!!!

STROnk staggers around looking for a rope to grab but it’s a No DQ match and there are no rope breaks. Stevens continues to squeeze and try to cut off the oxygen to Godson’s brain as the crowd begins stomping their feet and clapping. Godson begins to fade and drops down to one knee as Hortega begins to ask if he wants to submit. Godson begins to fight his way back up to both feet but Stevens hops up onto his back and keeps cranking on the hold. STROnk does the only thing he can do and that straightens up and falls back to the canvas.

Joe Hoffman: Godson just fell backward with Stevens on his back and crushed him down to the canvas!

Benny Newell: Someone get a spatula! We got roadkill in the ring!

All of the air leaves Stevens’ body in a hurry as Godson rolls off of him. STROnk gets up to his feet on unsteady legs but then looks over at the ladder. STROnk staggers up and then pulls the ladder over toward Stevens and opens it up. Godson begins to slowly climb the ladder as the crowd and everyone else senses the impending doom.

Joe Hoffman: Godson is climbing the ladder and this will not be good.

Benny Newell: Stevens jumped off of STROnk’s ladder and almost beat him. Payback is a motherfucker, Hoffhole!

STROnk slowly reaches the top of the ladder and tries to gather his balance. STROnk looks down at Stevens on the canvas and realizes that the Hall of Famer looks like an ant from up there. Godson leaps… or rather falls over the ladder and hits Stevens with a big tsunami splash from above.

Joe Hoffman: HOLYYYY…

Benny Newell: FUCK YEAHHHHH!!!

The ring nearly buckles from the impact. Hortega scrambles over and begins to make the count.

UNO

DOS

TRES!!!

DING DING DING!!!

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner… STRONKKKKK GODSONNNNN!!!

Joe Hoffman: There was no doubt after that move. STROnk picks up the win here tonight over a very game Scott Stevens.

Benny Newell: Very game? The fuck are you talking about? STROnk just turned Scott Stevens in The Lonesome Pancake! It was a dominating win for the most dominating member of The Final Alliance….you could almost say that Stevens got pinned three times today….it had to feel that way!!!!!

STROnk gets to his feet and gets his arm raised in victory. However, STROnk looks down at Stevens on the canvas. Much like in their last match, Godson leans over and tries to pluck the red glass eye from Stevens’ skull.

Joe Hoffman: Enough is enough, someone stop him!

Benny Newell: Would you like to get up into the ring and try to stop him?!

Suddenly, the crowd goes wild as the LSD Champion, Jace Parker Davidson races down the ramp and slides into the ring. Jace gets to his feet and shoves Godson away before he can capture Stevens’ eye.

Joe Hoffman: The LSD Champion is here to make the save for his teammate and confront Godson!

Benny Newell: Fucking NERDS everywhere!

Godson turns and looks at Davidson. The two men stare each other down before Davidson reaches down and grabs a hold of Stevens. Jace pulls his fellow Hall of Famer up to his feet but then tosses him over the top rope and down to the arena floor below.

Joe Hoffman: What is happening here?! Davidson just tossed one of his own War Games partners to the outside of the ring!

Benny Newell: I told you that Pirate NERD was a fucking traitor!

Davidson turns around and begins trying to reason with Godson. STROnk just stands there and looks at Davidson with a blank expression. Jace continues to try to get through to STROnk but MOB slams his hands on the ring apron and yells toward Godson.

MOB: HE KILLED MONGO!!!

The words hit Godson and flip a switch inside of the man. STROnk and Davidson begin trading shots in the middle of the ring as the crowd erupts. Godson gets the better of the exchange and then grabs a hold of Davidson. Godson lifts him high up into the air going for a vertical drop brainbuster but Davidson counters with knee strikes to the top of the head. Godson loses his grip as Jace lands on his feet behind him. Davidson hits Stronk with a low dropkick to the legs. Godson staggers forward and falls to his knees. Davidson charges and…

Joe Hoffman: V-Trigger knee strike to Godson!

Davidson rocks Godson with the knee strike. However, Godson pulls himself back up to his feet immediately like he was never even hit. Godson lets out a primal roar as he begins to stalk toward Davidson.

Benny Newell: That V-Trigger was about as useful as hitting STROnk with a pool noodle!

STROnk grabs a hold of Davidson but Jace thinks fast and kicks Godson between his legs hard. The low blow drops Godson like a sack of potatoes as Davidson backs up toward a corner. STROnk holds his groin in pain and tries to pull himself off the canvas. Davidson explodes out of the corner and…

Joe Hoffman: BEND THE KNEE!!!

Benny Newell: HE DIDN’T DO IT!!!

Davidson leaps into the air for the curb stomp but stops himself. Davidson decides not to further attack the man he considered a friend. Davidson screams and begins shaking the ropes in frustration, mad at himself. MOB makes his way up onto the ring apron and begins to argue with the LSD Champion. Jace is in no mood and has no issues with dealing out punishment to a man with the last name Best. Jace rears back to level MOB but a massive hand reaches out and stops him.

Joe Hoffman: OH MY GOD IS THAT BARBED WIRED WRAPPED AROUND HIS ARMS?!?!

Benny Newell: I AM SO ERECT RIGHT NOW! END THAT NERD!!!

Jace turns his head and sees Godson standing there with the barbed wire from the ladder wrapped around both of his massive arms. Godson grabs a hold of Davidson and then pulls him to the canvas while locking in the banned Body Dysmorphia hold. The large arms and barbed wire dig into Davidson’s neck and body. MOB steps into the ring with a devious smile on his face STROnk continues to crush Davidson.

Joe Hoffman: The man has a surgically repaired neck! This is too far and it’s getting tough to watch!

Benny Newell: All Davidson had to do was give Godson back his company and keep his nose out of his business. But he just couldn’t do that! Now he’s going to pay the price for killing poor, sweet MONGO!

Joe Hoffman: GODSON WAS CHEWING ON MONGO’S BONES LIKE AN ANIMAL!

Benny Newell: CIRCLE OF LIFE BABY!

Godson squeezes with all of his might as Davidson’s body goes limp. STROnk continues to torque on the hold while MOB berates an unconscious LSD Champion. EMT’s begin racing down to the ring to try to pry Godson off of Davidson and give him medical attention as we cut away.

We cut from the ring to the backstage area locker room. Brian Bare stands about seven feet away from a shirtless Behemoth. The enormous man snarls, while wiping his hands along his scraggly, matted beard.

Brian Bare: Hi Clay.

He looks up at Bare as Brian begins to speak, with Clay almost growling a response.

Brian Bare: So it’s… uhm… you know… it’s been a…

Finally some EPU step into the frame around Bare, Clay seethes.

Brian Bare: It’s been awhile since you were out here and did some talking. Is that what you’re looking to do?

Clay’s snarl stays intact as he walks over towards Bare. The big man looks up and down the two EPU guards beside Bare, and then looks Bare dead in the eyes. He snatches the microphone out of his hand.

Clay Byrd: I don’t need you Bare, get the fuck out of here.

Clay looks up at the camera.

Clay Byrd: Christopher America thinks I’ve rolled out of my grave, and came trudgin’ on back ‘cause Christopher America called me a chicken shit coward.

Clay nods for a moment, looking away from the camera, pursing his lips together tightly.

Clay Byrd: He said if I came out here tonight, on CHAOS, it only happened ‘cause he mentioned it. It only happened ‘cause he brought it up. Christopher fuckin’ America is the GOD damned Pied fucking Piper of the drunk and the disorderly. This man parades around, playing his little american made recorder, tapping away with his little fingers, huffing and puffing.

Clay smiles.

Clay Byrd: Just so he can drag some fucking drunk out of the abyss. Out of the nothingness. That’s how fucking great Christopher America is. He speaks, and I do as commanded. He wishes, and I oblige. Christopher America is all encompassing. All fucking powerful. Om-fucking-niscent Chris. Doctor Manhatten from the Watchmen be damned, Christopher America is fuckin’ infinite.

He shakes his head.

Clay Byrd: No, Chris.

He looks down at the floor, and his steel blue eyes shoot back up at the camera.

Clay Byrd: I’m here because she asked me to be here. I’m here because she wanted me around, I’m here because she needed me around. She yearns to find her way back to someone that can respect her, that can treat her like she should be treated. That will put her on a pedestal.

Another pause.

Clay Byrd: But even then Chris, even then I didn’t know if I was going to come. I didn’t know if I was going to be here. I didn’t know if I was going to march out of this backstage, team up with a man I fucking despise, and beat the fuck out of you. I didn’t know until I heard what Evan Ward had to say about ‘Clyd Byrd.’

Another snarl.

Clay Byrd: That stupid motherfucker can’t even say my name right. Evan fucking Ward can’t even say the name of the man that captains against him at War Games. He doesn’t know who I am, four months ago Chris. Four months ago, we were the talk of the entire industry. Everyone was on the edge of their seats. Everyone believed in us. Everyone knew we were going to tear the house down. Blue be damned. Red for life. All that shit.

He points at the camera.

Clay Byrd: I’ve worked hard Evan, I’ve worked damn hard. I’ve trudged forward through adversity. I’ve fought the Best family at every turn. I’ve been apart of every fucking Pay-Per-View up to March To Glory this year. For two and a half years Evan, I’ve been the ENTIRE show. And you waltzed right back in, thinking you were just going to be the show again.

Another head shake.

Clay Byrd: That everyone was just going to bow down and worship Evan fucking Ward.

He takes off his hat, revealing his slicked back greasy hair.

Clay Byrd: No Evan, the only thing that’s going to happen to you tonight. Is that I’m going to beat the fuck out of you, and Christopher. And I’m going to do it really fucking bad. I’m going to beat the piss out of both of you.

Clay drops the microphone as he starts to walk towards the door. He looks back at the camera.

Clay Byrd: And then maybe you’ll remember my fucking name.

CHAOS fades to commercial.

Back from commercial, the HOV fires up.

Joe Bergman’s voice: Well, hello Little Rock!

The fans in Little Rock AND Joe’s new-found fans on the bus he’s riding in erupt as Joe Bergman appears and talks into a Go-Pro camera.

Joe Bergman: As you can tell, I’m on a bus.  We’re headed back to Wrexham, Wales following this afternoon’s match between Wrexham and Barnet outside of London.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Joe Bergman: Today’s result was a 1-1 draw. Disappointing as three points would have put Wrexham closer to the finish line but the point number to clinch the title now stands at six points.  Wrexham has two matches this week and if they win both- they will be promoted to the English Football League.  But that’s not what you want me to talk about, is it?

Joe pauses.

Joe Bergman: What do you want to talk about today?  Oh I know… War Games.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Joe nods.

Joe Bergman: It looks like there was a draft this past week… and it appears Steve Solex has chosen me to be on his team.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Joe Bergman: I know… I know.  I made it clear a couple weeks ago that if I was not on Clay Byrd’s team I probably wasn’t coming to War Games.  Despite that, Steve Solex… or more likely Lee Best because Solex doesn’t have the brainpower to light up a small Christmas bulb… decided I should be on Steve’s team.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Joe Bergman: Apparently, Steve’s been trying to call me but I guess he’s been having trouble reaching me.  That’s probably because I changed my cell phone number when I found out I’d been…

Joe does the air quotes gesture with his hand.

Joe Bergman: …‘drafted’ onto a team captained by Steve Solex.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Joe Bergman: There’s a reason for that Steve.  You see, I saw the Twitter post that said… and I quote… the last man in wrestling-…

Joe stops and has hold back his laughter.

Joe Bergman: …sorry, I thought that was really funny, but I digress…  and War Games Captain Steve Solex is ready to whip his team into shape over the next month.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Joe Bergman: How can I make this clear for even you to understand, Steve.  “Hashtag- Not My Captain!”

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Joe Bergman: You can take your ‘whipping your team into shape’ bullshit and shove it up your ass.  And if you have a problem with that and want to get in contact with me to discuss this further, Steve feel free to call my new phone number… 1-800-FUCKYOU!

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Joe Bergman: Or is it… 1-800-EATSHIT…

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Joe Bergman: …no no… it’s 1-800-FUCKOFF… extension number- ANDDIE.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Joe Bergman: I get those so confused sometimes.  But… sorry Steve.  I’ve worked with you twice already and I’m over it.  You suck as a tag team partner.  You suck as a stablemate.  And I have no doubt in my mind that you’re going to suck as captain of a War Games team.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Joe Bergman: Steve, you’re not fit to share the same ring much less be on the same team with me. Who won tag titles with Andy Murray, Steve Harrison, Clay Byrd, and… oh… Rah?  I did.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Joe Bergman: Who literally had to carry you through the best of seven series with the Egg Bandits that you ultimately lost for us… *I* did.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Joe Bergman: Who beat you at ICONIC in 2020, when I NEVER should have been in the ring in the first place FIVE MONTHS after major heart surgery… I did.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Joe Bergman: And who made the colossal mistake of listening to the bullshit that came out of your mouth when you came to me- hat in hand- to start up the Highwaymen… I did.

Joe gives himself a self-Gibbs slap to the back of his head.

Joe Bergman: So Steve, I may have to be on the same ‘team’ as you… I may be ‘forced’ to be on the same team as you… and at War Games, I will do everything in my power to help our team overcome your abject incompetence inside the ring.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Joe Bergman: But if you really think I’m going to train under the thumb of someone who bullies his poor father and squawks ‘nerd’ like Pavlov’s dog at anyone who doesn’t think that’s ‘badass’- which is most people by the way- that’s on you.  Steve, you’re a ‘bad man’ all right…  bad as in being of poor quality and of low standard.  So no thanks… I will show up at War Games but I will not be participating in your ‘whipping your team into shape’ bullshit.  In conclusion, Steve… I say this in the most respectful tone possible… kindly fuck off and lose my number.  Bergman OUT.

The screen turns black as we head elsewhere.

We cut elsewhere we we see Dan Ryan and Jatt Starr sitting on a bench in the Final Alliance dressing room. The walls are a nice 97Red, as are the benches themselves. Both men have B-emblazoned varsity jackers on, each have a tag team championship belt around their waists, and Dan has the HOTv championship belt over one of his shoulders.

Dan Ryan: So here’s the deal. I’ve got your back. You’ve got mine. That’s all good and well.

Jatt Starr: Good and well.

Dan Ryan: Here’s the problem…

Jatt Starr: What’s the problem?

Dan Ryan: The problem is, Clay Byrd is our team captain and Bobbinette Carey is our teammate as well. Now, last time I checked, Clay was knee deep in sad cowboy Jim Beam therapy, and the one thing most associated with Carey is that she once screwed over her own War Games team to put the championship around her own waist.

Jatt Starr: That is a problem.

Dan Ryan: Fortunately I have one teammate who I can trust.

Jatt Starr: Who?

Dan Ryan: You.

Jatt Starr: Besides me.

Dan Ryan: No one. You had the same chance she had, to screw me over and take the HOTv title for yourself, but you were a good partner, shall I say a good friend, and you did what partners do. I don’t know if we can trust her to make the same wise decision. After all, we will win together or lose together, and I don’t know if you remember, but I don’t have the best War Games record. Never higher than fourth.

Jatt Starr: I remember.

Dan Ryan: So here’s the plan…

Jatt Starr: Ooh! We get a letterman’s jacket for Clay and Bobbinette and go beat up nerds?!

Dan Ryan: Um, no.

Jatt Starr: We invite them over for dinner and I make my world famous souffle’?

Dan Ryan: Do you actually have a world famous souffle’?

Jatt Starr: No. It’s more “city” famous. More like “town” famous. But you’re right. Nothing ever rises when Bobbinette Carey is around…

Dan Ryan: Look, I think I can talk some sense into Clay. We come from the same place and we speak the same language. All we need is for him to pull himself together enough to make this happen. The Clay I’ve heard of doesn’t back down from a fight, and I’m betting I can get him to remember that.

Jatt Starr: Aces.

Dan Ryan: And you… well, you apparently have a way with the ladies, even though I don’t see it. You go talk some sense into Ms. Carey, if you don’t mind. Work your magic. Do your thing. I have faith in you.

Jatt Starr: Ehhh….The Duke of Jattmandu isn’t too keen on talking to Dweebinette.

Dan Ryan: I know. No one ever is. But if we want to win at War Games, we’re gonna have to get everybody on the same page. For one night at least, we’ve got to make this work.

Dan and Jatt both stand up, and Dan adjusts the belt over his shoulder. Jatt adjusts the one around his waist, even though it doesn’t need adjusting.

Dan Ryan: Look, I would go talk to her myself, but every time I mention her, I make some wisecrack…

Jatt Starr: Like when you told me she looked like Grimace?

Dan Ryan: That would be one example, yes.

Jatt Starr: Or when you said she looked like an old sandwich that someone forgot to cut the crust off of?

Dan Ryan: Another accurate example, yes. Look, I just wanna win.

Jatt Starr: Okay okay, never let it be said that the Ruler of Jattlantis won’t do his part. I’ll give it a whirl. What’s your feeling about communicating with her via carrier pigeon?

Dan Ryan: Jatt….

Jatt Starr: Hear me out! It might poop on her! It’s a win-win.

Dan Ryan: Jatt!

Jatt Starr: Fine! I will talk to her. I will get a gift basket of…what does she like? Dildos or something?

Dan Ryan: I hope to God I never know the answer to that question. Why don’t you just sing her a song or something? Serenade her. You know. Chicks like that.

Jatt Starr: They do?

Dan Ryan: They did in the 90s.

Jatt Starr: I’m not convinced, but hell, why not? But I have to call my ludicrously scorching hot wife, wouldn’t want her to think there’s anything going on with Bobbinette.

There is a beat and both men bust out laughing.

Dan Ryan: Good. Yes, do that. Also, when you sing the song, record it. Also email me a copy.

Jatt Starr: Can do!

Jatt gives a little salute, then walks past Dan, opens the dressing room door and disappears out into the hall.

Dan stays behind and digs into his jacket for his phone. Holding it up, he thumbs his way over to Google.

“How to cheer up a sad cowboy.”

He reads the results, then smiles.

Dan Ryan: Excellent…

And walks out as we take our final commercial break of the evening.

Back from commercial and the HOV comes to life…

“So I drafted the Bad News Bears.”

That’s it. Those are the first words the High Octane Faithful have heard from their CEO in months, as the HOV lights up to reveal him sitting on the couch of his home.

He looks… sloppy.

While Michael Lee Best has clearly stayed in shape during his absence, the lack of television presence has obviously allowed the usually vain Son of God to care a lot less about how he presents himself. His sweatpants-clad legs are kicked up onto his coffee table, a PlayStation controller in his hands as he barely even looks into the camera. He snidely points to his t-shirt, which unabashedly reads “Retired”.

It’s PRIME blue.

Mike Best: May as well feed into The Perception, right? Mike Best isn’t High Octane anymore, he’s a PRIME guy. You all think so. The fans think so. The wrestlers think so. Even my Dad thinks so— I get Timberlaked every time I don’t answer my phone, and when my son Tyler won the Culture Shock Battle Royale, the texts were so salty I could have dumped them on my popcorn at a 97 degree angle.

Somewhere Lee is screaming “Assault” as Mike gives a little shrug, before going back to mashing on his controller. We can’t see what he’s playing, but it looks intense.

Mike Best: Look, guys.  I’ve done everything that there is to do inside of that ring. Won every title. Every major match. Broken every record I cared to break. I ran marketing for close to a decade, designed merch, overhauled websites alongside my father. You wanna know the truth? It’s not that I don’t need HOW anymore, it’s that HOW doesn’t need me. New guys get to shine now. New names in the main event. Chris America broke my title record… you think I’m angry about that? Good for him. He deserves it. Fuck yeah, man. I’m so goddamned proud of you. There’s nothing left for me to do here but watch from the wings and be proud that this machine is STILL rolling.

He leans in toward the television, straightening up as the gameplay is obviously getting sweaty.

Mike Best: Lee Best doesn’t need me to design new show graphics— he’s surpassed me, and he’s just too insecure and needy to believe me when I tell him. Love you Dad, but it do be like that, and yes I know this is assault. War Games doesn’t need me stealing a spot from someone else who still has a passion for this. The truth is that I’m appointment booking now. I’ll be here when it makes sense for me to be here, no more and no less, and that’s a promise. I will always bleed 97 red. This will always be my home. Whether I’m wearing tights or sweatpants, this is HOME. So now that we’re done talking about the elephant in the room… can we… can we finally fucking talk about War Games? Because like I said…

He smirks.

Mike Best: I drafted the goddamned Bad News Bears.

He smashes a button on his controller, finally sinking back into the couch as the final bell rings on his video game. It’s the HOW game released a couple of years ago, with Conor Fuse still haunting him from the cover. The Mike Best avatar has just finished smashing the face of a Conor Fuse avatar, and the match is over by knockout.

Mike Best: These are my goddamned Mighty Ducks, and that’s the last thing I’ve yet to accomplish in HOW. I’ve yet to achieve my Gordon Bombay moment. I’ve had the privilege of teaming with some of the greatest in the history of the sport, but I’ve never taken a team like this to the War Games match. So I’m not ready to tip my whole hand just yet… we’ve got three weeks left for that… but this is what I’ll say:

He leans in toward the camera.

Mike Best: This team can win War Games. Even if I have to whip them into shape myself.

Setting the controller down on the coffee table, his full attention is now on what he’s saying.

Mike Best: Next week, Mike Best vs Scott Stevens, HOFC rules. Show me that you’re worth a fuck or I’ll break your goddamned nose again, Stevens. There will be no crying. There will be no complaining. There will be none of the usual bullshit that gets you capped the second we step into that cage. You will show me that you can step it up to another level for War Games, or you will leave on a fucking stretcher. I told you… I’ll always be here when HOW needs me. And this War Games team I’ve drafted?

A smile.

Mike Best: …they sure as fuck need me.

With that the video comes to an end and the HOV goes black as we head back to ringside.

Back to ringside as a guitar and harmonica begin to blare through the arena, the start of “Gunning For You” by Nick Nolan sends a silence across the crowd as Nick Nolan’s lyrics echo through the arena. Red letters slash across the screen as “BYRD” is spelled out. Clay appears through fog on the entrance ramp, cowboy hat low over his eyes, a long black duster on and a rope in his hand.

“My Gun is loaded it’s getting time

Two shots of whiskey i’m takin’ what’s mine

Ain’t what you’re sayin it’s what you do

Your time has come boy i’m Gunnin for You”

Benny Newell: The CEO making an appearance…even if remotely….should pop some extra eye balls to tonight’s show…..maybe we can get that Jacksonville fanbase to tune in.

Joe Hoffman: I am just going to ignore that I like I do my twitter feed on Thursdays…….Ladies and gentlemen, I don’t say this often, but considering the men in this match, I think it’s safe to say we’re about to get a Pay-Per-View quality main event right now!

Clay Byrd steps out from the back to a mixed reaction from the crowd.

Bryan McVay: The following contest is a TORNADO TAG TEAM MATCH scheduled for ONE FALL! Introducing first, from Plainview, Texas, “The Behemoth” CLAY BYYYYYYRRRRRRRD!

“When hell is rainin down you’ll see my face won’t heara sound

You’ll feel that bullet burnin through

Take your last breath boy

I’m Gunnin for You”

Clay begins his slow walk down the ramp. His eyes are fixed on the ring, and he trudges on. Not paying any notice to any of the fans in attendance.

“There’s desperation deep in your eyes

No turnin back now no compromise

Cause only one of us walks out that door

The other bleedin out on the floor”

Clay walks up the steps, and climbs into the ring. He looks out into the crowd and turns back towards the entrance ramp, his duster following suit. Clay removes it and his hat, handing it off to the ringside attendant.

Benny Newell: Awww look at him. The sad, lonely cowboy! I’d drink his tears if I could, but the doctor says I have to cut back on my salt.

Joe Hoffman: Clay Byrd looks to be in a foul mood considering everything that’s happened as of late. The betrayal by Steve Solex. The dissolution of the Highwaymen. The loss to America. And then Solex ambushing him in the back.

Benny Newell: Boo fucking hoo.

“Bloody Tears” from Castlevania II begins. A purple mist floods the entrance way as “The Vintage” Conor Fuse emerges from behind the apron 23-seconds into the theme. He stands at the top of the rampway, heads down, sporting a dark purple jacket with its high-collar raised. The jacket is open, showing his vintage SNES tights as he slowly raises his head. The fog continues to pump from the stage as Fuse methodically makes his way down the ramp.

Bryan McVay: And his partner, from Toronto, Ontario, Canada, “The Vintage” CONOR FUUUUUUUUUUUSE!

The crowd starts a “!RANK” chant, pointing in Conor’s direction as he marches towards ringside. Once in front of the squared circle, The Vintage leaps onto the apron and then with ease clears the ropes by jumping over them and somersaulting into the middle of the ring.

Fuse tilts his head back and zen cries into the rafters while the fans in attendance continue to cheer him on.

Conor removes his trench coat, revealing his trademarked light purple arm sleeve on his left arm. Fuse walks over to Byrd who just glares at him. Fuse begins mouthing words to Byrd who looks unfazed.

Joe Hoffman: This is a volatile situation considering the history of Fuse and Byrd.

“Bloody Tears” fades as Conor continues to talk to Byrd who just stands there. Fuse holds out his hand, continuing to talk.

Joe Hoffman: Fuse looking like he wants to put the past behind him.

Benny Newell: Fuse looks like he wants Byrd to do a secret handshake and then sleepover in their secret clubhouse.

Byrd looks down at Fuse’s hand and then back at Fuse. The crowd roars their approval egging Byrd to shake but before he can choose…

“UNDEAD!”

“Undead” by Hollywood Undead hits as Evan Ward and HOW World Champion Christopher America make their way out.

Benny Newell: Gotta love it, Joe. The Alliance coming out as a team while those two dickheads in the ring couldn’t get over their own egos and had to come out separately!

Joe Hoffman: I don’t know, judging by America’s face, he doesn’t seem to be too happy about his continued pairing with Evan Ward.

The camera cuts to the Alliance members with Ward taunting the crowd and his opponents, purposely walking and hotdogging in front of America.

Bryan McVay: And their opponents, Evan Ward and the HOW World Champion, Christopher America… THE FINAL ALLLIIIIIIIIANNNNNNCE!

Joe Hoffman: America has not been happy since finding out his entire team is filled with Un-Americans.

Benny Newell: You know what they say, in GOD you trust. America may not like it, but he knows that Lee knows that he knows that Lee knows that he knows that….

Joe Hoffman: We get it, Benny.

America barely acknowledges the crowd, instead looking down at the floor and shaking his head, mumbling to himself. As he makes his way to the ring, he holds the HOW World Championship close to his chest as he swats away a few outstretched hands. Ward cockily slides into the ring and taunts the crowd further.

America lovingly hands the championship off as Matt Boettcher calls for the bell.

DING DING DING

Joe Hoffman: These are four World class wrestlers. To put just how good these men are into perspective, you’d have to go all the way back to March To Glory 2021 to find a Pay-Per-View that at least one of these men hasn’t main evented.

Ward casually strolls up to the center of the ring as Conor Fuse walks right up to Ward, looking a little bit down on him. America then pushes Ward out of the way and looks down on Fuse. Finally, Byrd walks over and pushes Fuse to the side looking down on America.

America looks briefly back at Ward before turning to look at Clay. The two men then just start unloading and wailing on each other with punches. The crowd roars as the two men go at it before America backs to the ropes, he pushes Clay off, whipping him to the other side of the ring. America swings wildly but Byrd ducks, continues running, and clotheslines America over the top rope. As he goes over, America grabs Byrd and the two fall out together.

Also inside the ring, Ward is jaw jacking with Fuse before he goes for a punch. Fuse ducks and immediately wraps Ward in a headlock. Ward backs to the ropes and pushes Fuse off. Fuse runs the ropes with Ward dropping to the mat. Fuse jumps over as Ward pops up and runs after him. As Fuse hits the opposite ropes, he jumps to the second and springboard moonsaults. Ward catches him and attempts to throw him, but Fuse holds the head, rotates and lands a big DDT in the ring.

The crowd roar their approval as Fuse covers.

1

2

NO!

Ward quickly gets the shoulder up at two.

Back on the outside, Byrd has shoved America against the barricade and begins unloading a series of hard chops across America’s chest. The crowd WOO! with every chop.

Joe Hoffman: If it weren’t for the red singlet, America’s chest would be as red as the singlet is.

Benny Newell: COME ON, AMERICA!

After a few more chops, Clay looks to the side, grabs America’s arm and whips him, but America quickly reverses the whip, sending Clay flying shoulder first into the steel steps. Bryd grabs his shoulder as America, on all fours, rubs his hurting chest. He quickly pulls himself on to the ring apron and then climbs into the ring.

Meanwhile, Fuse and Ward have continued going after each other. Fuse whips Ward across the ring. This time Ward leaps to the second rope and bounces off trying for a backwards facing senton but Fuse catches him and falls backwards hitting a back suplex. He tries to go for the cover but America quickly breaks it up.

America checks on Ward and helps him up as the two begin to go to work on Fuse. America grabs Fuse and Ward joins him, lifting Fuse up into a suplex. The two men don’t cover, instead with America grabbing Fuse by the legs. He begins pulling and spinning as he gets him into a swing. After three rotations, Ward bounces off the ropes and hits a double dropkick to Fuse’s face. America falls into the cover.

1

2

NO!

Fuse gets the shoulder up.

America sits up and grimaces as Ward comes over. He begins yelling at America to get him up. America scowls at Ward and mouths something back.

Joe Hoffman: Tensions rising as I don’t think America likes being yelled at by Ward.

Benny Newell: Just calm down, America. Don’t do anything rash! Ward is captain.

America picks Fuse up and walks him to the center of the ring. Ward runs the ropes and then leaps off of America’s back adding extra weight and impact to a World’s Strongest Slam.

America rolls away, holding his stomach as Ward covers.

1

2

NO!

Joe Hoffman: Two and a half!

Benny Newell: Boettcher you slow counting fuck! Give me a 3! COME ON WARD!

America rolls towards the corner, still holding his stomach as he reaches out to the ropes to pull himself up. He struggles and finally gets himself up, leaning against the turnbuckle. The camera zooms to show his pain. Suddenly, the hulking frame of Clay Byrd rises into view.

The crowd roars as America slowly turns to see him. He tries to move but Byrd grabs him by the hair, pulling him back. He reached across the ropes and begins clotheslining America over and over for a total of seven times before America slumps to the mat.

Byrd then climbs into the ring. He scowls at Ward who holds his hand out, begging him off. Instead of going after Ward though, Byrd picks Fuse up by the hair. Clay turns and spits on the mat before looking at Ward. Ward, leaning on the turnbuckle smiles wide as he nods giddily.

The crowd boo loudly.

Joe Hoffman: NO! IS THIS ABOUT WAR GAMES?!

Benny Newell: It has to be! I knew Byrd was a turncoat! He couldn’t last 5 seconds with Fuse.

Byrd picks Fuse up onto his shoulders and then lawn darts Fuse right into Ward’s stomach.

The crowd roars their approval at the Behemoth.

Benny Newell: YOU IDIOT!

Joe Hoffman: What a double team move!

Benny Newell: Oh yeah, like Fuse had any say in that.

Ward’s eyes go wide as he doubles over with pain. Fuse also slumps to the mat and Byrd begins moving quickly towards Ward. But before he can reach him, Ward rolls to the outside, landing with a splat on the mats below. Byrd turns and goes for America. He pulls him out from under the ropes and covers.

1

2

NO!

Byrd immediately begins punching America in the face, reopening the gash on his lip that Fuse inflicted last week. Blood flows into and out of America’s mouth as Byrd covers again.

1

2

KICKOUT!

Joe Hoffman: Another close one as the champ barely kicks out!

Byrd wastes no time and immediately grabs America, picks him up, and then plants him in the ring with a running powerslam. America’s body bounces a good 3 inches off the mat as Byrd again covers.

1

2

NO! America rolls his shoulder.

Fuse now begins to get back to his feet, using the ropes for assistance. He looks outside and sees Ward stirring on the outside. Fuse looks at America and then Byrd. He shouts at Byrd to stand up and remain still. Byrd does as Fuse runs at Byrd and uses all 6 feet 7 inches of his body to run up and backflip on to America.

Joe Hoffman: INCREDIBLE!

1

2

KICKOUT!

Byrd motions for Fuse to cover again, this time, Byrd puts his hands on top of Fuse adding extra weight.

1

2

3!

NO!

Benny Newell: My fucking heart!

Joe Hoffman: My GOD! Ward broke it up at the last second! He just saved this match for his team!

Byrd grabs Ward by the hair and just headbutts the back of his head. Ward staggers on two legs as Byrd shoves him towards Fuse. He points and Fuse whips Ward into the turnbuckle. Ward staggers out and Clay charges.

Joe Hoffman: SPEAR! SPEAR! SPEAR!

But Ward moves out of the way, shoves Byrd on the back and drives Byrd into the steel ring post. Byrd’s massive frame stays in between the ropes as Ward struggles towards Fuse. He swings wildly but Fuse easily ducks. As Ward spins from the wild throw, Fuse picks Ward up and hits an atomic drop. He then backs into the ropes and hits a dropkick to the back of Ward. Ward stumbles forward bounces off the ropes and backs into a back suplex. But Ward rolls through and lands on his feet. Now behind Fuse, Ward hits a hard forearm to the back of the head.

Benny Newell: Now, we’re back on track. Let the NERDS enjoy a taste of glory before snatching it away!

Fuse stumbles as Ward begins unleashing an all out assault of quick jabs, kicks, palm thrusts, and pin point strikes. Fuse’s body takes blow after blow and he falls to his knees. Ward smirks, backs into the ropes, and taunts the crowd, slapping his knee.

Joe Hoffman: Ward calling for the knee!

Ward starts to run but stops as Fuse slumps to the mat. Behind him stands a deranged looking America.

Benny Newell: PLEDGE YOUR ALLEGIANCE!!!

America then drops the straps on his singlet. He mounts Fuse and just begins wailing on his face. Boettcher attempts to get America off but he won’t relent. Boettcher begins administering a five count and gets to four and a half before America backs off. He drags Fuse over towards the turnbuckle and motions for Ward to climb.

Ward gets to the top rope, steadies himself, and then falls right on to the ropes. America turns and sees Byrd having shaken the ropes. Byrd looks at America, rotates his shoulder and then motions for the two to pick up where they left off. America obliges and the two meet each other in the center of the ring. They continue beating each other in the face as the blood pours down the front of America’s face.

Just as it seems as if Byrd is getting the upper hand, America throws his thumb into Byrd’s eye. Byrd staggers back as America dips behind and hits an AMERICAN (Not German) Suplex. He holds on tight and hits another. He pops his hips and hits another. With Byrd down, America goes to check on Ward who is still feeling the pain in his groin.

Christopher America: NO MORE BULLSHIT! I’M GONNA FINISH THIS NOW!

Ward frown at America taking command but nods as the two grab Fuse. America goes behind and hooks him.

Joe Hoffman: FOR AMERICA!

America rotates and drives Fuse into the mat.

He covers.

1…

KICKOUT!

The crowd ERUPT as America and Ward look horrified.

Benny Newell: WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!?!

Joe Hoffman: OH MY GOD! FUSE JUST KICKED OUT AT ONE!

Benny Newell: NO! THAT’S NOT TRUE!

Crowd: !RANK !RANK !RANK

Fuse now looks like the man possessed. He pumps his fists and lets a roar as he sits and starts wailing on America. Ward comes over and kicks Fuse in the back but it doesn’t seem to affect him. Fuse continues wailing on America. As Ward winds up for another kick, Fuse catches it and then sweeps Ward’s other leg. Ward falls to the mat as Conor jumps and stomps both feet into Ward’s chest.

Fuse then sits on Ward, grabs his legs and yells at Boettcher.

1

2

3!

NO!

Ward kicked out at the last possible moment.

Fuse immediately gets up, hits the ropes and connects with a lionsault. He then kips up, hits the ropes and hits a sliding dropkick right into Ward’s face. Ward tries to slide out under the bottom rope but Fuse catches him by the legs and pulls him back inside. With Ward’s legs still held onto, Fuse leans back, launching Ward right into….

Joe Hoffman: TEXAS LARIAT!

Benny Newell: NOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The rings is a mess of bodies as Byrd crawls into the cover.

1

2

3!

NO!

Benny Newell: AMERICA BROKE IT UP!

All four men look spent as they’ve been going 100 miles a minute since the match started. America begins to roll away as Fuse attempts to help Byrd to his feet. Byrd shrugs off the help, opting to stand on his own. With both men to a vertical base, Fuse takes America and Byrd takes Ward. Both men attempt a suplex but the heavier America blocks Fuse’s attempt. Fuse goes to swing at America who ducks behind and shoves Fuse into Byrd, causing him drop Ward.

America immediately falls to the mat as Byrd turns and looks at Fuse.

The crowd all try to shout what happened as Byrd looks enraged. Fuse holds up his hands and shakes his head. Byrd is practically foaming at the mouth with anger until he sees America pop open an eye to see what’s going on. Enraged, Byrd shoves Fuse away and grabs America. He holds America by his neck and just starts paintbrushing America’s cheeks with the palm of his hands. The dominating show of strength causes the crowd to go silent in shock and the slaps echo throughout the arena.

As Byrd slaps around America, Fuse now goes over to Ward. He picks Ward up and drapes his arms over the top rope. He chops away at Ward’s chest. Ward slumps as Fuse backs up and hits a kick to the side of Ward. Ward screams in pain as the kick connects with his kidney. Fuse backs up and connects with a kick to the other side. Ward slumps with only his arms propping him up.

Byrd gets Fuse’s attention and the two agree. Byrd positions America in the corner. Fuse and Byrd grab their opponents and whip them towards the center of the ring. Thinking quickly, America slides as Ward jumps over and drives his shoulder into Clay’s gut. Clay shoves Ward away out of desperation America scrambles back to his feet but eats a clothesline from Fuse. He gets up and eats another. He gets up one more time as Fuse kicks him in the gut. America falls to his hands and knees and THWACK!

Joe Hoffman: THIRD GENERATION AWARD WINNING KNEE!

Benny Newell: THEY MEANT TO DO THAT!

Replays show that Ward used America’s back to launch himself at Fuse. Fuse falls, slumped over into the corner. Ward begs America to get up to help him with Byrd. America stumbles to his feet and the two move in on Byrd but Byrd flies out of the corner hitting a double clothesline. Both men go down hard as Byrd signals he’s had enough.

He goes outside and climbs to the top rope.

The crowd jump to their feet as Byrd is screaming at Ward to get up. America and Ward stir. Ward being the quicker of the two, gets to his feet first. Byrd dives off the top.

Benny Newell: FUCK YOU, TEXAS!

Joe Hoffman: TEXAS LARIAT!

THWACK!

Byrd falls to the mat hard as we see Evan Ward connected with a superkick that caught Byrd flush under the jaw. America is also up as he and Ward grab the massive frame of Byrd together. They hoist him on top of America’s shoulder.

Joe Hoffman: PLANTING THE FLAG!

America drives Byrd face down into the mat.

America rolls away towards the middle of the ring, clearly in a lot of pain. Ward scrambles for the cover in his place.

1

Fuse gets to his feet.

2

Fuse dives.

3!

But America grabs his legs and pulls him back.

Fuse misses by a couple of inches.

DING DING DING

Bryan McVay: HERE ARE YOUR WINNERS, THE HOW WORLD CHAMPION CHRISTOPHER AMERICA AND EVAN WAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRDDDDDDDDDD!

Benny Newell: WARD GAMES! NOW AND FOREVER!

Joe Hoffman: What an amazing match! Ward and America escape with the win tonight just barely!

But what does this mean for War Games?

Benny Newell: You mean WARD Games!

Joe Hoffman: For Benny Newell, I’m Joe Hoffman. GOOD NIGHT!

Fuse kicks America off of him as America quickly rolls to the outside. An attendant runs over with the World Championship as he hugs it tightly. Ward rolls out of the ring and runs over to America, his hands triumphantly in the air. Ward grabs America’s hand that has the World Championship in it and raises it high into the air.

As the show draws to a close, we see the smiling, happy face of Christopher America taunting Conor Fuse and Clay Byrd, while Evan Ward looks at America and then up at #97Red. He nods to himself as we fade to black.