Lethal Lottery

The High Octane Television logo gives way and we fade inside the All State Arena as we are live for a special edition of Refueled as it is time for another Lethal Lottery.

The feed pans across the sold out building and we see the crowd is on their feet as literally no one in the building knows the matches for tonight nor who will be challenging for the Championships on the line.

We cut to the Hall of Fame announce team of Joe Hoffman and Benny Newell.

Joe Hoffman: Welcome everyone to another night of action here in the land of High Octane as tonight we bring to you a very special edition of Lee’s Lethal Lottery.

Benny Newell: Anything and everything can happen tonight…and I for one cannot wait to see who the fuck is going to walk out of here with the belts.

Joe Hoffman: No faith in the SON?

Benny Newell: I appreciate the SON and if you ever put words in my mouth again……there will be something going in your…

Joe Hoffman: ALRIGHT folks…..moving on. We are told that there is no time to be wasted as it is time for our first match of the evening…

The feed cuts away from the announcers and now pivots to the middle of the ring where HOW veternan ring announcer Bryan McVay is standing by on the ready.

Brian McVay: Ladies and gentlemen, your first Lethal Lottery match of the evening….will be a WAR. GAMES. DRAFT POOL QUALIFIER!

He pauses as the fans zomgpopsplode~!

Joe Hoffman: We’re wasting no time in getting down to War Games business, Benny. The winner will have his or her name entered into a pool for the chance to be drafted to a main event War Games team about a month and a half from now.

Benny Newell: Calling it now, Dan Ryan versus Max Stryker!!

Brian McVay: Introducing first…

The bass-heavy synth of “The Man” by The Killers cues up and Perfection swaggers his way out from behind the curtain. There’s no mixed reaction for 24K’s “mastermind” tonight; the Chicago crowd is showering him with boos from all corners of the Allstate Arena.

It’s almost like they watched his promos this week.

Brian McVay: …from Los Angeles, California, representing 24K and weighing in at 230 pounds….PERFECTION!

Perfection makes his way towards the ring, taking his time to jaw-jack with the fans near the rails. He walks up the stairs to enter the ring, posing for all to see, before wiping the bottom of his boots on the apron and climbing into the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Oh wow, the first draw of Lee’s Lethal Lottery is Perfection! We’re getting our first taste of 24K early and this is quite an opportunity for James Witherhold. To potentially represent his group in War Games’ main event is an achievement that only a few HOW competitors can say they’ve done. It’s entirely possible we could see a 24K vs. Group of Death matchup here if he’s drawn Dan Ryan. Or even 24K vs. 24K if Andy Murray is the next one out.

Benny Newell: Oh, I would like nothing more than to see Dan Ryan skullfuck this conspiracy theorist moronic piece of shit, Hofflehole. Not only did he come out and say titles don’t mean shit in HOW, but he accused GOD of rigging the Lottery. I bet he’s a fucking flat earther too.

Joe Hoffman: I think that’s a little excessive.

Brian McVay: And his opponent…

The easy guitar and violin intro to “Cats in the Cradle” by Harry Chapin begins to play through the sound system as the words “#1 Dad” display on the HOV. The crowd loses their goddamn minds as Steven Solex walks out onto the entrance ramp with a can of PBR in hand. He lifts it high into the air and then starts walking down to the ring.

Brian McVay: …from Huntington Beach, California, one-half of PBR, weighing in at 252 pounds….he is HOW’s #1 Dad….and one half of the PBR Tag Team….STEVEN SOLEX!

Steven holds a number one high up in the air, with the biggest, cheesiest smile on his face. He tosses the PBR can to a ring attendant, then rolls under the bottom rope and into the ring as the crowd continues to cheer, firmly behind the mustached half of DAD TAG! Solex goes camera side and again hoists a number one high in the air, and the crowd responds with number ones of their own while Steven shouts out “#1 Dad!”

Joe Hoffman: It’s gonna be a Golden State battle Benny! Solex versus Perfection to kick it off tonight!

Benny Newell: Totally rigged. Lee wants to see Perfection get a mudhole stomped in him by a pair of New Balances.

Joel Hortega checks on both competitors – Perfection smirking from his side of the ring, Solex double-knotting his New Balances – and calls for the bell.

DING DING DING!

Both men circle each other and Perfection is the first to strike, charging quickly at Solex, who side steps him and lets him hit the corner chest-first, then waggles a finger at him. Perfection sneers, whirls around, and charges at Solex again, who backpedals and evades, shoving the Vulture Capitalist hard across his back and into the opposite turnbuckles.

Joe Hoffman: Solex using his veteran wiles here, softening up Perfection’s upper body early.

Benny Newell: I’d suggest DAD aim for the head instead of the torso but we all know that dumb motherfucker’s got enough brain damage.

Solex looks to capitalize, throwing quick jabs at Perfection and sending the 24K member toppling out to the mats below. He hits hard, furious, and slaps his hands atop the protective covering. Steven parades around the ring, holding his pointer finger high in the air, but taking his eyes off Perfection proves to be a mistake. Witherhold slides under the bottom rope and dives at Solex, chop-blocking him to the mat. He rains down a few punches before sliding to his feet and walking around the ring, arms in the air, parading around like he just knocked out Ali.

BOOOOOOOOO!

Perfection drops back down to the mat and cinches in a headlock, grinding his biceps into the side of Solex’s head. The crowd’s displeasure grows, but Perfection only tightens the hold.

Benny Newell: Drink for every 9.7 seconds of rest holds.

Joe Hoffman: It’s a tactic that has brought the man a lot of success in past places, Benny.

Benny Newell: Past places don’t mean dick in HOW. You know the rules…

Perfection brings Solex back to his feet and sends him into the ropes. On the rebound, he drops to the mat and Solex hops over him. He pops back up and swings for the fences with a clothesline but Steven slides between his legs, scrambles back up, and tries for a kick, but Perfection catches his foot. He sends a blistering knife-edge chop to Solex’s chest, then quickly wraps his arms around his waist, picks him up, and brings him down with an atomic drop. Solex hops around in pain and Perfection brings him back to the mat with a kick to the gut and a swinging neckbreaker. He covers!

UNO!

DOS!

Kickout!

Joe Hoffman: Two count there for Perfection, and he’s yelling at Hortega about the ‘slow count.’

Both men back up, trading blows, and Solex gets the upper hand. He shoots Perfection across the ring with an Irish whip and sends him crashing to the mat with a clothesline! Pulls him back to his feet, into the ropes again, and another clothesline! Perfection is reeling, but Solex doesn’t let up. One more time into the ropes and now he drives Perfection to the mat with a thunderous spinebuster! Cover, hook of the leg!

UNO!

DOS!

TR-KICKOUT!

HOW’s #1 Dad keeps the pressure on, stomping away at Perfection, then pulling him off the mat and dragging him to a corner. He rams his head off the top turnbuckle, once, twice, three times, the fans counting along with each bounce of Witherhold’s face against the padding. Out of desperation, or maybe this was in the back of his mind all along, Perfection kicks up and back, catching Solex right between the wickets.

Joe Hoffman: Mule kick by Perfection caught Steven Solex right where no man ever wants it!

Benny Newell: FUCK THIS MAN, DISQUALIFY HIM, HORTEGA!

Joel immediately starts reprimanding Perfection, but unfortunately for Benny the DQ isn’t coming. Witherhold shoves his way past Hortega, but Solex is waiting with a running shoulder block that’s got his name all over it.

Joe Hoffman: BY GOSH!

Benny Newell: COME ON SOLEX!

Perfection hits hard but he’s immediately back to his feet. Solex runs forward with another shoulder block.

Joe Hoffman: BY GOLLY!

The crowd calls it out along with Joe.

Perfection back to his feet and Solex surges toward him with a head of steam!

Joe Hoffman: THE CLOTHESLINE FROM –

Benny Newell: FUCK!

Perfection’s got it scouted. He dips underneath Solex’s throwing arm, catches his wrist, swings them both around in one fluid motion, grabs Solex’s other arm and drives him to the mat with the Photo Finish!

Joe Hoffman: He hit it! This could be it! Hortega’s in position.

UNO!

DOS!

TRES!

DING DING DING!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Brian McVay: Here is your winner, PERFECTION!

Benny Newell: Fuck, fuck, fuck everything, Joe. Where’s Brian Bare? I’m gonna need something stronger than my Jack Daniels.

Hortega tries to raise Perfection’s hand, but the man won’t have any of it. He makes a motion like he’s going to hit the ref, and as soon as Hortega flinches, he laughs and raises his own arms skyward in victory.

Joe Hoffman: Well, Benny’s not happy about it, but Perfection has punched his ticket for a chance at a pay-per-view main event.

Action cuts away as we see a smug Perfection heading to the back.

The shot opens up backstage.

Doozer, dressed in his ring attire, is oddly enough holding a bouquet of roses.

Baby blue, still sweet like the day they were coated, roses.

Bobby, only viewable from his belly sticking out past the corner he’s tucked himself around, stalkingly awaits the flowers’ arrival. He’s also in his ring gear, hence the belly shot.

Also in view, Blaire Moise.

Blaire Moise: Doozer, thank you for asking me her–

The Dooze holds his open hand up, stopping the interview abruptly.

Doozer: It’s not what you think….

As The Dooze explains the situation to Blaire, The King of COOL, and his COOLEST wrestling tights this side of the equator, sneak up behind Bobby.

Jiles: [in his best Kostoff voice] Spread your cheeks and drop them! 

Bobby jump-scares for a second, clutching his heart suddenly, but quickly comes back down to earth. In an even odder turn of events, the Beautiful one then starts to push Cancer away, not wanting him to blow his cover.

Jiles: What’s going on? Who are we egging?

Bobby Dean: No one. Go away. You’re being too loud. Busy with something.

A single, skeptical, eyebrow raises up on Cancer’s forehead.

Jiles: What’s goin—

The Count of COOL peeks out from behind the corner. Time stops. He slowly turns his head, and looks at Bobby who is paying him zero for attention and utter dogshit for the effort.

Jiles: You gave them to him?! YOU GAVE THEM TO HIM!

Blair notices Jiles yelling at someone, and quickly scampers off to find safety. She knows how these things usually shakeout, and it’s going to be a long night. There’s no need to do it covered in egg.

Dean is irate.

Jiles: Did you even read the note? Did you even smell the roses?

Doozer comes walking over, flowers still in hand.

Bobby Dean: WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM? CAN I GET ONE THING? ONE? OR DOES IT ALWAYS HAVE TO BE ABOUT YOU?

Then.

It happened.

The shove.

Bobby, full of emotion, built some momentum and shoved the The Emperor of the Undercard with enough force to jar his sunglasses askew.

The roses fall out of Doozer’s hand in slow motion.

They take ten minutes to reach the floor. At least.

Heart beat.

Thump.

Thump.

You can see Jiles’ one exposed eye. It is inflamed with rage. He sneers menacingly at Dean like Dirty Harry, and brings a hand up to fix his shades like he was wiping off a drop of blood from a freshly busted lip.

Poor Dean, frozen in place, is almost as white as the trim on his robe.

Doozer: WHOA. Easy there guys. Jiles.

Not a flinch.

Doozer: JILES. NOT NOW.

The Maestro grits his teeth.

Then.

Like the magician he is, he reaches behind his ear and instead of producing a quarter, an egg.

Bobby sheds his sheep skin, and in one fluid motion, casts his robe from his body and retrieves an egg from his underbelly.

Doozer: GUYS. 

Bobby and Jiles start to slowly circle each other. 

Jiles: Say when.

Doozer, of course, is right where he doesn’t want to be.

Jiles: SAY WHEN.

Stuck in the middle of it.

Doozer: Listen.

Jiles: How about you shut your mouth and wait your turn, Blamer?

Well.

That did it.

Dooze removes his trusty Red Sox cap, and resting atop his barely visible head, you guessed it.

An egg.

A dustball rolls through the scene.

The three Bandits circle each other.

Jiles: Here we are boys. I hope you’re ready. And don’t even think about going after my hair.

Bobby Dean and Doozer: Of course.

A gentleman’s nod.

Bobby Dean: I’m gonna eat your fucking lunch. Both of yours. The desserts too! And it better not be sugar free bullshit again!

Doozer: I fucking dare you. I brought a protein shake and a salad today.

Dean turns beet red.

Bobby Dean: Tell me it’s chocolate.

A sinister smile forms on Doozer’s face.

Doozer: Vanilla.

Western movie noise.

Dean’s egg-target switches from Jiles to Doozer.

Jiles: Big mistake, Bobby. BIG. Fucking. Mistake.

Another dust ball.

Then.

Jiles cocks back like Nolan Ryan and lets his egg fly.

Doozer’s eyes pop. The actuality of it all finally hitting home. His egg drops to the floor with a solemn crack.

Bobby opens his mouth, as if he were going to try and swallow the incoming egg missile whole. He’s done it before.

However, it won’t be necessary.

The Superman of HOW, liking a speeding bullet, flies in front of his fat friend to the rescue.

SPLAT.

Cancer’s egg explodes over Doozer’s bare chest like a shotgun blast.

The whole fucking building gasps as we cut away.

We cut inside the locker room where Zeb Martin can be seen milling around.

Zeb Martin: Reckon it’s time to put on the ol’ armor.

While we’re not sure why the HOTv crew decided to follow the Watson Mill Kid into the most private of areas, it looks like the viewing audience might just be treated to some bare ass in the most pointless segment of all time.  Still clad in denim with a brand new pair of cowboy boots he’d treated himself to, he quickly unbuttoned the Chipper Jones jersey from his torso and tossed it to the floor.

Zeb himself seemed oblivious to it all, his thoughts racing in anticipation as he sat down on the wooden locker room bench and began to reach into his canvas-style duffel bag containing his ring gear.  Having been engaged with pleasantries in the catering area and focused on the ongoings of the night’s show thus far, he had left the parcel unattended for quite some time.

Which was the exact reason why he was being filmed.

Zeb Martin: Whut’n th’ hell?

Pulling his cobalt blue trunks from the bag, he raised them up and unfurled them to reveal that an artiste had taken it upon themselves to modify his attire.  A large, X-rated hole had been cut in both the front and the back of the spandex.

Bewildered, Zeb smacked his hand against his cap-covered forehead and released a deflating sigh.  There was no way he was going out there wearing these things, and it was entirely too late to get back to Berwyn to retrieve his spare pair.

Was this just a cruel rookie prank?  Or was someone merely purchasing their own insurance to make sure that he’d be thrown off his game?

He took a deep breath and sat in silence for a few moments.  Once he was able to gather himself, he looked into the bag once more to find yet another surprise.

Pulling out a yellow Post-it note, Zeb read the message aloud.

Zeb Martin: Stay what you are…

The action cuts to commercial as a puzzled Zeb continues to look at the post-it note.

Back live and a pre-taped video begins to play on the HOTv.

The scene opens we are greeted by a man dressed in full Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the dead) Attire. He stands around six foot two inches tall, I would consider him over the two twenty weight limit and has piercing blue eyes staring right at us through the eyelets off his mask.

“Tonight!, is the night, or is it?” He speaks in a with a soft accent as the camera pans out showing that he has brought balloons and streamers with himself.

“The name is Lucian Santangel, and tonight the Carnival arrives, I am bringing something to High Octane Wrestling that you have never seen before.”

Lucian pulls a very sharp and serrated pin out of his pocket and pops one of the balloons which scatters confetti all over the floor.

“Ha! So think about this, did that balloon just die when I popped it? No! It evolved into something of beauty!”

“Sometimes we can all find beauty in negative spaces”

Lucian ponders for a second scratching his head

“Tonight I will make everything in that ring beautiful, you see when I was younger and traveling around it was the bright lights of the fairground that pulled me in, I loved watching the lights flash so much that by the time they stopped flashing four long years had passed.”

“And now! Now those lights are in this arena! I love how they flicker, it reminds me of the fourth of July, and we all know what happens then!! we get firework’s and trust me when I say this, but tonight there will be fireworks in that ring”

Lucian’s facial expression turns from a happy face to a menacing stare with no emotion.

“fireworks go bang”

Lucian Pauses

“bang”

Another long Pause

“bang”

Lucian starts to rip at his hair,

“another bang and you are dead”

Lucian starts to laugh like a maniac….

As the video ends we cut away to our announcers as its time for our next match

As Refueled and the exciting world of Lee’s Lethal Lottery returns to in ring action, we find one of HOW’s newest signees Lucián Santángel standing in the ring, looking pretty stoic and revealing very little about himself to the braying crowd. Lucián slowly backs into his corner as we hear the voices of the Hall of Fame announce team.

Joe Hoffman: Welcome back to the Lethal Lottery folks, we’ve already seen Perfection manage to punch his ticket to the War Games draft pool with a victory over Steve Solex this evening and it seems that newcomer to High Octane, Lucián Santángel has secured himself in slot in the second of tonights War Games qualifying matches.

Benny Newell: If he manages to get to War Games in his very first match in the company, the heat in the back will be enough to solve the global energy crisis for generations.

Bryan McVay centres himself in the ring, holding his finger up to his earpiece. He nods and gives a thumbs up signal to the boys in the back.

Bryan McVay: This match continues LEE’S LETHAL LOTTERY and is a TAG TEAM MATCH WITH THE WINNING TEAM SECURING A SPOT IN THE DRAFT POOL FOR WAR GAMES!!

Joe Hoffman: Tag team match to secure a spot in the War Games draft pool??

Benny Newell: Second match in and we’ve already in chaos territory! I love it! It’s enough to drive a man to drink…

The microphone picks up the sounds of a solid glug from Benny’s headset as McVay continues.

Bryan McVay: Introducing first, already standing in the ring at this time… LUCIANNNNN SANTAAAAAAANNNGEL!

The focused newcomer gives a small nod, more to acknowledge he heard Bryan McVay yell his name than anything else.

Bryan McVay: And the man who drew the slot to be his tag team partner….

Zero by the Smashing Pumpkins blasts thru the Arena’s PA system

Joe Hoffman: What a partner to draw in your first night! The Hammer of GoD…

Benny Newell: He’s a scary motherfucker Joe, he tossed Kostoff around the ring last week, looking to avenge his March to Glory loss and my god, did he. I don’t think I’ve seen many just go toe to toe with Kostoff before…

The Smashing Pumpkins herald the arrival of the Group of Death’s Dan Ryan as he steps out from the back and onto the stage. He surveys the crowd for a few seconds from his view at the top of the ramp, the pyros explode at a rapid rate behind him.

Benny Newell: That young little Mexican shit in the ring should be thanking the beautiful and busty Lady Luck right now.

Joe Hoffman: It’s hard to argue, although not necessarily known as a tag team expert, Dan Ryan is a former two time Tag Team Champion in HOW and I would be hard pressed to name a better partner for young Mr. Santangel.

A smirk creeps across the face of Ryan as he takes a powerful and casual stroll towards the ring.

Bryan McVay: Representing the Group of Death… he is The Egobuster… DAN RYANNNNNNNN!

Ryan rolls under the bottom rope and barrels past the slightly confused Lucian to climb the turnbuckle, looking out and surveying the crowd once more.

Bryan McVay: And introducing their opponents. First…

“I Am The Cool” by Screamin’ Jay Hawkins blares over the speaker system.

Joe Hoffman: It looks like the Lethal Lottery is about to get very eggy!

Benny Newell: Last time I made a room eggy it was declared a biohazard for six months.

The crowd anticipate the arrival of Cancer Jiles but he is not the man who appears from the back, rather an irritated looking Doozer steps out from the back, seemingly very unhappy at the HOW production staff.

Joe Hoffman: Doozer has declared himself something of a chameleon this week, fading into the background of High Octane. Watching… observing… waiting…

Benny Newell: He faded into the background so much the fucking crew forgot to queue up his entrance music.

Doozer and Dan Ryan lock eyes as Doozer begins to stroll down to the ring, clearly trying to hide his fury at entering to the theme of the Bandit member that he is not necessarily on the best terms with at the moment.

Bryan McVay: Representing the Egg Bandits… he is DOOOOOOOOOOOZERRRRRR!

“I Am The Cool” fades away as Doozer steps up into the ring, not breaking eye contact with Ryan for a single second. Lucian Santangel for his part remains in his corner and away from the history that oozes out of the two veterans standing in the ring.

Bryan McVay: And the man who drew the slot as Doozer’s partner…

Benny Newell: If this is Jiles, I might laugh so hard that I follow through…and he better have hustled to get the Dan Ryan cardboard cut out!

Joe Hoffman: I’d prefer it if you left your eggy moments to the backstage area.

The voice of Ben Nichols pierces through the melody as “Everything Has Changed” by Lucero blares over the sound system.

Joe Hoffman: It’s not Jiles, it’s not Bobby, it’s Zeb Martin, another newcomer to High Octane and indeed the industry as a whole. Last week Zeb Martin made a very impressive showing in his victory over former HOW World Champion Brian Hollywood and he’ll be looking to continue that momentum here, tonight, with this major opportunity.

Benny Newell: Fuck….no Dan Ryan cardboard cutout…..which by the way has more personality than his namesake…

The Watson Mill Kid steps out to greet everyone with the bill of his Levi Garrett Racing hat worn low to shield his eyes. A friendly grin on his face, he attempts to pull the hat down even further as he makes his way down to the ring while making sure to outstretch his arm for some old-school hand slapping.

Bryan McVay: Hailing from Comer, GA…

Benny Newell: Ha ha! Comer!

Joe Hoffman: Jesus Christ…

Bryan McVay: Zeb Martinnnnnnnnnnnnn!

Martin leaps up on the apron, cleaning off his boots like the good boy he is as he enters the ring. He walks over to his tag partner, Doozer and extends the hand of friendship. The veteran looks a bit uncertain for a few moments but ultimately obliges to the country charms of Martin. With the pleasantries complete, Doozer signals for Martin to head to the apron, glaring at Dan Ryan and beckoning him to the middle of the ring. Ryan for his part simply chuckles and tosses Lucian Santangel forward, straight into Doozer’s path. The Hammer of GoD steps out on the apron and Zeb Martin matches on the other side of the ring. Matt Boettcher signals for the bell.

Ding ding ding.

Joe Hoffman: What a fascinating match the lottery has brought us for this second War Games qualifier. Two long time veterans, each paired with someone who has spent mere weeks in a major wrestling promotion. Veterans with grudges, hungry young lions… this is going to be a spectacle!

Benny Newell: I’ll vomit if the redneck fisherman taints War Games, I swear.

Joe Hoffman: Ignoring that completely, it looks like Doozer and Lucian Santangel are going to kick this one off. Doozer clearly wanted Dan Ryan but it seems The Hammer wants to bide his time on this one.

Lucian attempts to start the match using youth and speed to his advantage. He backs up out of the middle of the ring and clears some space between himself and The Dooze. Happy that the gap is large enough, he rushes towards Doozer but the much more experienced Dooze is ready for it, slamming his meaty, large big boy shoulder right into the gut of the rushing youngster. Santangel doubles over in pain and The Dooze continues to abuse, slamming his bear paws across the back of Lucian with a double axe handle. Lucian drops down to one knee, Doozer backs himself up and knocks the youngster down flat with a rushing knee straight under his chin. Doozer turns his attention to Dan Ryan on the apron, beckoning him into the ring but Ryan simply smirks and waves him off.

Joe Hoffman: Doozer seems to want to prove himself tonight at the expense of Dan Ryan. Maybe he hopes it will send a message to Cancer Jiles, he’ll certain be wanting to squash the age jibes.

Benny Newell: Amazing that someone who elects to call themselves Cancer may not be the best friend to have around.

Doozer, unsuccessful in his attempt to get The Egobuster into the ring, walks over to his corner and tags into the eager Zeb Martin.

Joe Hoffman: Battle of youth, here we come!

Lucian slowly hoists himself back up as Zeb Martin and Doozer switch places. A determined Santangel looks intensely at Zeb Martin as he approaches and jumps up, drilling a picture perfect dropkick into the chest of the good Georgia boy. Martin gasps for air and staggers back, Santangel remains on the attack, smashing a series of forearms across the jaw of Zeb. Lucian hooks the arm of Martin and tries tossing him into the ropes but Martin manages to slip behind Santangel, lifting the eighteen year old up high and drilling him down to the mat with a picture perfect belly-to-back suplex. Martin floats over for the pin and Matt Boettcher drops for the count.

ONE!

TWO!

Dan Ryan finally steps into the ring and drills a boot straight to the back of Zeb Martin’s skull to break the victory attempt.

Joe Hoffman: Dan Ryan breaks the pin as we see some of the much vaunted catch wrestling style of Zeb Martin.

Benny Newell: The only thing I hope that hick catches is leprosy so he never darkens our doors again.

Zeb Martin rolls off of Lucian Santangel, clutching the back of his head. The Egobuster has finally had enough and drags Lucian to his corner, forcing the tag and dumping the HOW newcomer out on the apron with very little regard for his safety or wellbeing. Zeb eyes up the man with the six inch height advantage. Martin stares down the very irritated looking Ryan but does not back up a single inch. He’s ready to fight, that is, until Doozer yells over in his direction. Doozer asks for the tag, Martin looks up and down Ryan one more time but ends up respecting his elder and tags out. Doozer and Ryan stand in the centre of the ring, trying to kill each other with looks alone.

Joe Hoffman: I’m getting the feeling that the six foot seven monster in the ring didn’t fully appreciate the Cardboard Dan Ryan antics of The Bandits…

Benny Newell: Dooze is looking to prove his brain is rotting. Who the hell demands going toe to toe with Ryan in the middle of the ring? Dementia patients who still think it’s a decade ago, that’s who!

Doozer makes the first move, bouncing off the rope and smashing into Ryan with a running shoulder block. It staggers Ryan but does not knock him down. So Doozer decides to do it again. And again. And again. On the fourth shoulder block, Ryan manages to catch Doozer and hoist him up for a powerslam but as the momentum shifts, Doozer manages to lock the neck of Ryan and as Doozer gets slammed to the mat, he manages to spike Ryan’s head with a flowing DDT in the process. Both men show signs of damage from the exchange but Doozer is the first to make a move. He rolls over and drops an arm on top of Ryan.

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Joe Hoffman: Still quite a powerful kickout from Ryan there. He may have been rattled but he’s still very much in the game.

Benny Newell: I refuse to allow a single egg fucker to participate in War Games. Absolutely refuse.

Joe Hoffman: Ignoring everything else you’ve said, this victory is so important for everyone in this match. A chance to compete at War Games, the biggest match of the year where we often see every singles championship on the line. That’s what these men are fighting for… opportunity!

Doozer yanks up Dan Ryan but the hair that remains on his head but given Ryan’s must larger frame, this does appear to do some damage to the back of Doozer. Doozer launches Ryan into the ropes but showing that he’s a true ring veteran, Ryan smashes a back elbow into Zeb Martin’s face as he bounces against the hostile ring corner. Zeb is rocked by the elbow and crumbles off the apron down to the ground below. As Ryan turns his attention back towards Doozer however, he is caught short. Doozer leans down and hoists the larger Ryan up on his shoulders.

Joe Hoffman: Could Doozer be looking for an EggU here?

Benny Newell: Excuse me, a fucking what?

The momentum from being propelled from the ropes works in Doozer’s favour and he is able to clutch Ryan up on his shoulders. He looks around at the excited crowd who surprise Doozer by roaring his name. He basks in this unexpected moment for a few seconds but it is short lived as a sharp pain shoots up his back. Doozer struggles with the pain, trying to bury it down as Ryan remains upon his shoulders. Sadly for Doozer, his hold weakens just enough for a series of beefy elbows to be drilled into his skull from Dan Ryan.

Joe Hoffman: I don’t know if it was age or ego that gave Dan Ryan the opening to try and escape  Doozer’s grip there.

Benny Newell: Doozer is a dementia riddled broken old fuck. DRAW A CLOCK DOOZER!

Doozer keeps his grip on Ryan, trying to fight off the onslaught of elbows that are designed to secure The Egobusters’ release. The pride of Doozer allows him to maintain his grip on Ryan for longer than most mere mortals but as the pain shoots through his body, Doozers’ knees begin to buckle. Ryan manages to slip down behind The Dooze as the Bandit clutches his left knee in agony. In a desperate rush, Ryan flies a knee straight into the gullet of Doozer.

Joe Hoffman: I have to wonder if the determination to hit that EggU cost Doozer here. He could have let Ryan down and still controlled the flow of the match.

Benny Newell: Pride is a hell of a drug Hoffhole.

Keen not to present a single other opening, Ryan quickly glances behind him to check if Martin has made his way back to his corner yet. He has not. Acting fast, Dan Ryan hoists up Doozer with the fastest Humility Bomb he may have ever managed. Doozer crashes to the mat from the high angle Powerbomb and Ryan jackknifes it for the pin. Boettcher checks on the situation and begins the count.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

An unusual look of relief creeps across the face of the Egobuster as Matt Boettcher’s hand slaps the mat for a third time.

Ding ding ding

Bryan McVay: Here are your winners… DAN RYAN AND LUCIAN SANTANGEL! Both men have qualified for the War Games draft pool.

Benny Newell: Lucian Santangel better buy Dan Ryan an expensive and domestic bottle of fucking booze. Doozer caught Ryan by surprise but the fall came after the pride.

Joe Hoffman: The chaos of the Lethal Lottery in action here. Lucian Santangel, in his first match in HOW manages to qualify for War Games thanks to drawing Dan Ryan as his tag partner. Zeb Martin and Doozer looked in control in the early going but the power of Dan Ryan was just too much in the closing seconds.

A frustrated Doozer rolls over up to his knees and slams the mat in complete frustration as Matt Boettcher raises the arm of Dan Ryan. Lucian Santangel seems satisfied that he hasn’t revealed too much of his wrestling technique tonight as he hops off the apron as we cut elsewhere.

Over the distant sound of North Koreans singing a passionate Patriotic tune about the joys of working sixteen hours a day and the freedom to die in the glory of the Supreme Leader a low, not entirely pleasant chuckle can be heard. By not entirely pleasant I mean, of course, that it sounds like clumpy sour milk gurgling down a drain, but you know, happy. 

Slinking into frame was the LSD Champion, Maximillian Wilhelm Kael, his rigor grin pulled tight across his scarred face. His neon blue eye burned a cold lance of frost that made his face all the more strange and uncomfortable to look at. With looks this devilishly handsome he was voted the #2 Sexist Man in North Korea just after jellybelly dictorypoory Kim Jung-Un. 

Max Kael: Friends! Talents.. It is I, your Lord Supreme Dictator! Later tonight I’ll be facing one of you for my LSD Championship. I spent a lot of time this week thinking about all of you. I spent a lot of time reading up on a lot of you I didn’t even know existed until I watched last week’s show. My bad. 

Lifting his hands excitedly Max tapped his fingertips together as another unpleasant, gurgling chortle was coughed up. 

Max Kael: After checking my Discord again for the first time in a month I finally saw something about 24K pop up! Now.. I know the G.o.D. lost the Tag Titles to them, a feat that in and of itself should have grabbed my attention because defeating Lindsay Troy and Dan Ryan is no easy feat. I mean, I could probably do it, but I’m the #1 Ranked Wrestler in High Octane Wrestling, that’s not exactly fair. Now is the part where I provide props to break up this dialog, I’ve been taking Promo classes with my adopted brother, Michael. 

He winked at the camera before reaching down and pulling up a small plastic bag filled with dirty blue raffle tickets.

Max Kael: Now as I said last week I fully intend to follow through with my LSD Raffle, however it turns out we had the Lethal Lottery this week, Michael told me but, like, I don’t remember it. So he showed me the security footage and I was like, I don’t remember any of that. Weird, huh? Where was I? LSD RAFFLE! Right. Okay, so, after I win tonight against high quality, Octane filled Talents we’ll be movin’ on up to the RAFFLE! Which, okay, so the House Always Wins belongs to Mike so..

Reaching into the bag Max grabbed a few handful of tickets before tossing them into the air like confetti. 

Max Kael: When you gamble on the LSD Title.. You have Max Odds! Yeah? Yeah?! Fuck you, I like it. Cause I’m Max Kael and if you enter this contest, if you win, you face me! So the Odds are Max.. but hm. If you buy a ticket there is no guarantee you face me.. That’s not Max Odds.. wait, was it supposed to be a pun or.. FUCK. Nevermind. 

Tossing the bag to the side Max threw his arms up in frustration, the smile melting away from his face as he still tried to puzzle his new LSD Raffle Catchphrase. After a few moments Max realized he’s still in the middle of cutting a promo and snapped back into character.

Max Kael: Anyway, the LSD Raffle is still happening, I’m still marching through whichever dipshit draws me. Then, if Scott Woodson gets his wish and mine, I’ll remind Scott Woodson who the real LSD legend is. And after that I’ll continue to march through opponent after opponent because I’m the fightingest champion in HOW. Nobody has what it takes to take this title off me. Nobody has what it takes to keep it as long as I have. And in a few short months not only will l be the longest reigning LSD Champion in the history of High Octane Wrestling but I will have held it for the most consecutive days! 

Another tight, predator smile stretched over Max’s chin, those metal teeth flashing visibly behind his scarred lips. 

Max Kael: And so… friends. Talents.. As always I’m the Worthiest, the Terrific and Terrifying Maximillian Wilhelm Kael, Lord of Kaelsalvania, Prime Minister of Maxopotamia, the General of North Kaelrea, the Lord Supreme Dictator of High Octane Wrestling, LSD Champion, Number One Ranked Wrestler in High Octane Wrestling, First of my Name.. Long Will I Maim!” 

One last burst of hideous laughter escaped from Max as spittle and phlegm splattered across the camera as though leaping to escape his rancid food hole as we cut to commercial break.

As we come back from commercial we see the Hall of Fame team ready for the next highly anticipated match up.

Joe Hoffman: Welcome back ladies and gentlemen and what a night it’s been so far.

Benny Newell: Damn right Hoffman. Lethal Lottery can turn friends into enemies and enemies into friends based on luck of the draw and tonight we’ve seen just that.

Joe Hoffman: We sure have Benny as three men have already qualified for the War Games draft pool.

Benny Newell: And its War Games or bust just asked that numbers cruncher Stevens.

Joe Hoffman: And tonight three men have become eligible for the draft pool, and those three men are Perfection with his victory over Steve Solex.

Benny Newell: Sucks to see the #1 Dad lose, but that’s how the cookie crumbles sometimes.

Joe Hoffman: The other two were Dan Ryan and HOW newcomer, Lucian Santangel, with their victory over Zeb Martin and Doozer.

Benny Newell: Dan Ryan represents GOD so of course he’d be there Hoffman and Santangel being there is just biblical Hoffman, but as far as Doozer and Zeb Martin goes…FUCK THEM.

Joe Hoffman: Benny, they put up a good fight.

Benny Newell: Whatever, now they can join Stevens on the sidelines since they have plenty of time for fishing and dropping doozes or what ever the hell they do for fun.

“Go to Hell!”

Screams throughout the arena before the opening riffs of “Fucking in the Bushes” by Oasis begins to play as the lights in the arena turn gold and the High Octane Vision has images of the Hollywood sign, 24 karat gold jewelry, Oreo frappes before a single spotlight shines down injunction with the video screen displaying, HOLLYWOOD. BRUVS.

Bryan McVay: Introducing first, representing 24K and weighing in at a combined weight of 448 lbs….they are ONE HALF OF THE REIGNING! DEFENDING! UNDISPUTED! HOW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS OF THE WOOOOOORLD! MIKEY! UNLIKEY! KENDRIX! THE HOLLYWOOOOOOOOOD BRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUVVVVS!

The Bruvs make their way onto the stage with Frappes in hand and stop just before the entrance ramp. The Bruvs look out towards the crowd and Kendrix needs a better look as he lowers his shades down as his takes a sip as Mikey cracks that Hollywood smile.

Joe Hoffman: Even though they didn’t win the championships at March to Glory The Hollywood Bruvs have the duty of defending them here tonight.

Benny Newell: Got to love Freebird Rules.

Mikey unfastens his tag title and motions for his partner to do the same and once they glue fist their championships together there is a loud explosion and things begin to fall from the rafters of the arena.

Benny Newell: MIKEY MONEY HOFFMAN!

The golden tickets continue to litter the arena as the Bruvs walk down the ramp and climb up the ring steps.

Joe Hoffman: The Hollywood Bruvs are going to prove to be a difficult challenge for whomever drew them tonight.

As the Bruvs continue to sip on their frappes, Mikey shines his tag title while Kendrix uses it as a mirror as they await their opposition as

“I’m sinfully delicious!”

Barbie-Q’s high-pitched, squeaky tone (done in annoyingly brainless blonde bombshell sing-song tone to the tune of the tag from the Lucky Charm’s cereal commercial) heralds the arrival of HOW’s Master Griller- Barbie Q.

Benny Newell: I’d like to show her my seven inch deadly sin Hoffman.

Joe Hoffman: BENNY!

Benny Newell: What?!?!?!?

Joe Hoffman: This is a family show?

Benny Newell: Since when? We punt babies around here and stab lions in the backyard.

Wearing a half t-shirt with ‘Barbie-Q’ on the front and a pair of torn Daisy Duke shorts, Barbie-Q struts her way down the ramp carrying a platter full of brats, burgers, and steaks and stops intermittently to hand out food and pose for the fans.

Then a quick hammer-like drumbeat blasts out of the arena speakers:

bass drum-*thwack*

bass drum-*thwack*

bass drum-*thwack*

bass drum-*thwack*

bass drum-*thwack*

bass drum-*thwack*

bass drum-*thwack*

bass drum-*drumfill* right into the guitar intro to the Michael Stanley Band’s epic Midwestern anthem “My Town” cueing Joe Bergman to step out on stage.

Bryan McVay: And their opponents, first, hailing from St. Louis, Missouri and weighing in at 195 lbs…..he is ORDINARY JOE! BEEEEEERRRRRRRG! MAAAAAAAAAAN!

He slaps people’s hands along the way.

Benny Newell: Who does this guy think he is? Evan Ward?

“This old town’s been home long as I remember
This town’s gonna be here long after I’m gone
East side, West side- give up or surrender
Been down, but I still rock on . . .”

Joe continues on to greet the fans along the way.

“Oh, and this town – Is my town
Alright?
Love or hate it–it don’t matter
’cause I’m gonna stand and fight 

He reaches the ring area and joins up with Barbie-Q.  They continue to greet people around the front row.

Bergman then climbs up on the ring apron and leaps over the top rope into the ring.

This town – Is my town
It’s had its ups and down
Love or hate- it don’t matter.
‘Cause this is my town. . .”

Bergman climbs onto the turnbuckle and raises a can of PBR to the people in Section 214.

Joe Hoffman: Bergman is more than enough challenge for the Bruvs as was the first World champion of the Refueled era and only two time champion as well since we came back.

Benny Newell: I’ll give credit where credit is due Hoffman and Bergman can get the job done in the ring.

The Bruvs seems confident as they make fun of the ordinary one, but their expressions change when they hear……

“The Facts” by Trap Them

fires up with its driving rhythm and razor-sharp guitar tone, heralding Andy Murray’s arrival.

Bryan McVay: And his partner, representing 24K, hailing from Aberdeen, Scotland and weighing in at 280 lbs…..he is one-fourth of the HOW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS! HE IS THE KING! OF WRESTLING! ANDY! MURRRRRRRRAAAAAAY!

The big man strides out from the back with a loose swagger. He’s got a leather jacket on, the battered cricket bat slung over his shoulder.

Joe Hoffman: Uh oh.

Benny Newell: The fuck is this Hoffman?!?!?!?!?

Joe Hoffman: The Lottery doing it’s job.

Benny Newell: Fuck you!

Murray has a whole lot of bile in his body as he walks down, mouthing off at anyone dumb enough to hurl an insult in his direction.

Benny Newell: Slap that idiot Murr! It’s probably the most skin contact that fat ass will get besides from himself!

Halfway down Murray switches to casually dragging the bat behind his back and occasionally shaking his head at the filth trying to challenge him before finally making it down to the ring, rolling under the bottom rope, and readying himself to hurt somebody.

Joe Hoffman: Murray and the Bruvs did battle at March to Glory and it was Murray who eliminated them when he pinned Mikey.

Benny Newell: Got to keep poking the bear don’t you Hoffman.

Senior official, Matt Boettcher, checks both individuals as the ring announcer exits the ring before calling for the bell.

Joe Hoffman: And here we go.

The three members of 24K stand in the center of the ring and when they hear the bell they slap hands and go to their respective corners and Bergman confronts Murray.

Joe Hoffman: Looks like Bergman didn’t like Murray being bruvly with the Bruvs.

Benny Newell: How is he supposed to act then Hoffman? They are his buds.

Murray shakes his head as he pushes Bergman aside and heads to the apron as Kendrix and Mikey do paper, rock, scissors to determine who will start.

Joe Hoffman: Looks like we have Joe Bergman and Kendrix starting the match tonight.

Benny Newell: GO BRUVS! GO MURRAY! GO BARBIE-Q! DRINK!

Bergman and Kendrix come out of their respective corners and meet in the center of the ring and Joe extends a hand.

Joe Hoffman: What’s this?

Benny Newell: Ass kissing 101.

Kendrix looks down at Joe’s extended hand and smacks to away and drives a knee into the stomach of the former world champion.

Joe Hoffman: So much for good sportsmanship.

Benny Newell: The Bruvs are here to win not make friends because they already have friends.

Kendrix snapmares Bergman to the mat only for the former world champion to somersault through and kip up stunning Kendrix by his quickness.

Joe Hoffman: Ordinary Joe isn’t ordinary when it comes to speed and quickness.

Benny Newell: Fucking flippy shit.

Kendrix goes to attack but Joe cuts him down with a dropkick to the knee before running and hitting a flying head scissors.

Joe Hoffman: Running head scissors by Bergman.

Benny Newell: Maybe he’ll stab himself with those scissors. DRINK!

Cover.

One.

Two.

No.

Mikey breaks up the pinfall and Boettcher pops off of the canvas and tells Mikey to get out of the ring. Mikey throws up his hands and using every bit of the five count to get the ref’s attention, but more importantly, Joe Bergman’s attention.

Joe Hoffman: Backstabber by Kendrix!

Bergman goes flying into the air after Kendrix drives both knees into the small of Bergman’s back.

Benny Newell: Stay on him!

Kendrix stomps away on the down Bergman before he tags in his Bruv and the two execute a double suplex. Cover.

One.

Two.

No.

Mikey breaks the pin as he sees Andy Murray coming into the ring causing the big man to smirk before exiting the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Looks like Murray wants to win.

Benny Newell: Of course Hoffman, he’s the fucking King for a reason.

Mikey reaches down and picks up Bergman and whips him towards the ropes.

Joe Hoffman: Bergman with the reversal!

As Mikey approaches the ropes the King of Wrestling pulls down the ropes and Mikey Unlikey goes crashing to the outside.

Joe Hoffman: You see that Benny? He pulled down the ropes.

Benny Newell: Looks like he slipped to me Hoffman.

Murray hops down to check on Mikey and in doing so he uses the athletic tape from his wrist to begin choking the Hollywood C-Lister causing Kendrix to make his way over there and Boettcher to roll out of the ring and telling Kendrix to get to his corner.

Joe Hoffman: This is certainly going to cause a rift in 24K.

Benny Newell: Fuck no. If Murr wasn’t doing it Mikey Money and Kendrix would be doing it.

As the ref is distracted with Kendrix, Murray introduces Mikey to the steel ring post.

Benny Newell: CLANG!

As the ref turns around Murray picks up Mikey and pats him on the back before rolling him into the ring.

Benny Newell: See Hoffman, friends to the end.

Joe Hoffman: Chucky said the same thing before trying to stab little Andy in the back.

Benny Newell: The fuck you rambling about?

Joe sees the downed Mikey and makes his way to his corner and begins to ascend to the top as he slowly rises and steadies himself, Murray gives him a boost of confidence with a touch on the boot.

Joe Hoffman: Bergman’s looking for that Senton bomb.

Kendrix approaches Bergman who halts his flight plan temporarily, but Bergman waves at Kendrix before leaping of.

Benny Newell: MOVE!!!!!!!!!!!

The momentary distraction was all the time Mikey needed to buy himself as he rolled out of the way.

Benny Newell: 24K BAYBAY!

Mikey goes to pick up Bergman only to eat a boot to the face for his effort. Bergman charges in looking for a clothesline but Mikey ducks underneath and grabs Bergman from behind and runs him towards his corner, but Bergman slips underneath and the forward momentum causing Bruvs to collide and as Mikey staggers backwards grabs him.

Joe Hoffman: Bergman looking for the dragon sleeper.

However, there will be no dreaming of dragons tonight as Mikey trick knee acts up causing it to twitch and Mikey’s left leg somehow finds itself colliding with the family jewels of Ordinary Joe

Benny Newell: Hahahahaha!

As Joe drops to a knee, Mikey goes behind Bergman and hooks him.

Joe Hoffman: Inverted ddt or dragon sleeper.

Benny Newell: He’s gonna roll the dice Hoffman.

Before Mikey can do anything the massive bicep of Andy Murray wraps itself around the neck of Mikey Unlikey and the Scotsman picks up his stablemate and drops him on his head.

Joe Hoffman: Spirit crusher!

Cover.

One.

Two.

Three.

Benny Newell: YES! Wait…….FUCK IT! DRINK!

Bryan McVay: And your winners by pinfall, AND NEW! HOW WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS!…..JOE! BERG! MAAAAAAAAAN! AND THE KING OF WRESTLING! ANNNNNNNNDY! MURRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAY!

As Boettcher comes into the ring Murray grabs both tag titles and looks at both before tossing one towards Joe Bergman and the big man helps Kendrix get Mikey out of the ring and all three members of 24K head towards the ramp as Bergman looks on.

Joe Hoffman: Interesting dilemma going forward.

Benny Newell: Why’s that?

Joe Hoffman: Bergman and Murray are the tag champions, but they aren’t each other’s main partner.

Benny Newell: Bergman can forfeit his half of the title back to 24K.

Joe Hoffman: He isn’t going to do that.

Benny Newell: I never said he was smart.

Joe Hoffman: Regardless, we have new tag champions crowned.

We cut to somewhere backstage…

WHAM!

WHAM!

WHAM!

Darin Matthews:  Let me in right now!   I deserve to be sitting in there.    Don’t you know who I am?  I’m Darin Matthews!  M-A-T-T-H-E-W-S!  Look it up on Stevenspedia!  I’ve held 23 different pro wrestling championships.  I’ve accomplished over 100 other wrestling accolades and other milestones in my 15-year career.  I’m the Pinnacle of Professional Wrestling.  The Artiste of Atlantic City.   The Ivory of Indiana!  The Mauler of Missouri!  I’m YOUR Independent Sensation and the Tyrant of the Territories!  Stop being disrespectful to me right now or I will speak to my lawyers!

Clearly, no one is coming to the door to let him in.  Darin Matthews continues barking annoyingly while hammering his fists against the door to the HOW Skybox.  He craves the attention.  After all, in his mind, he’s a legend.  He’s put his body on the line for multiple promotions over the years:  including HOW.  He deserves to be schmoozed while he’s amid his renegotiation for a new HOW contract.

Defeated and frustrated Matthews turns back from the door only to find a strapping, young blonde woman struggling to pull his suitcase filled with championship belts behind her.  While she looks thin and in shape, clearly the bag is over her capacity to pull alone.  This woman looks desperate for work and she’s out of place.  She’s wearing a business suit and high heels almost like she’s dressed for an office job.  Sweat drips down off her face profusely, trying desperately to make it over towards the sky box.  Looking rather disgusted while crossing his arms across his chest; Matthews storms towards her and begins to berate her.

Darin Matthews:  Meredith?  Where have you been?  I needed my 23 championship belts to get me in to that skybox.

Meredith:  I’m sorry; I…I…was l-l-ate…

Darin Matthews:  Meredith!  Haven’t I told you; business managers are to be seen and not heard.  I don’t want excuses.  Late to your first shift under the Magnificent Matthews.  You failed!  Failed!  Absolutely failed your first task.  God, this is what I get for ordering help off Career Builder.

Meredith’s posture locks up and she begins trembling as Darin Matthews yanks for his custom Dior Black Aluminum Suitcase pulling out his HOW LSD Championship replica, 2 HOW Tag Team Title replicas, and his 3 HOW ICON Replicas out along with his MVW Men’s Heavyweight Championship and holds them up, flaunting them at Meredith.  He sets the other 17 championships up in his suitcase on the table nearest to the door in plain sight, preparing to present to someone in case they open the door.  Darin Matthews strides more, showing off how magnificent he thinks he is.

Darin Matthews:  You see Meredith. I learned outside of HOW you don’t ask to prove your status in this business. You must own it.  You must dress to show the success you’ve achieved.  I wear fancy suits, expensive clothes, holding the finest accessories and flaunt my gold to get the job I deserve:  a job with the top wrestling promotion in the world:  HOW!

Meredith:  You already have a good working relationship with…

Darin shoots a nasty glare at Meredith while he adjusts the championships around a bit more to look more prestigious for the skybox.  Meredith’s head droops down with disgust as she murmurs her next sentence quietly.

Meredith:  Seen not heard, got it!

Darin Matthews:  You realize when they released me from my wrestling contract 3 months ago, I needed to adapt and evolve.  I rebranded myself killed a 15-year brand associated to me just to reclaim the money, fame, and glory I deserve.  It made me realize that Darin Matthews NEEDS HOW to evolve, to grow, and to become a legend in this industry.   HOW has brand recognition!  It’s championships and accomplishments will bring recognition to my brand as well.

Darin Matthews looks over to the table with his other championships and stares at them with pride.  He points his arms directly at them as Meredith turns her eyes over towards those belts.

Darin Matthews:  Sure these 23 championships built my resume.  They show just how determined I am.  They made me an Independent Sensation, the Tyrant of the Territories.  But championships 24 and beyond with HOW behind me:  that will cement my status, my name, and my legendary legacy in all of professional wrestling.  I need this second chance!  So do your job, Meredith, get #24andbeyond trending for me, doll.

Matthews reaches into his pocket and tosses iPhone 11 Max towards Meredith with the Twitter app open.  Matthews walks over towards the door and begins to pound on it incessantly rapidly.  He screams out at the top of his lungs.

Darin Matthews:  Let me in now!  I deserve to scout my future opponents in luxury.

Suddenly, a big, burly, shadowy figure wobbles towards the door.  He throws open the door with the most intense look on his face.  It’s an arena security guard.  The veins pop out of his bald forehead as he stands face to face with Darin Matthews.   His voice bellows a deep, rich, and stern tone.  Matthews’ eyes widen completely out of fear.

Arena Security:  Knock this commotion off right now, or I’ll report it straight to Mr. Best.  I told you earlier.  You’re not entitled to a spot up here.  Now get out of here.

Matthews recovers and sticks his nose up proudly.  This gesture offends him.  He snaps his fingers twice motions for Meredith to collect his things.  He hands her his title belts he’s wearing, and he scoffs at security as he starts to walk away.

Darin Matthews:  Come Meredith!  I get Officer Donut Ass’ message loud and clear.  This isn’t how you treat your Independent Sensation.  We will be taking our talents and brilliance elsewhere.  That way I can focus on watching my future competition in the glory I deserve.  Such disrespect!  Good night!

Matthews and Meredith storm off away from the skybox as the scene fades to black…

We cut to high above the ring in the AllState Arena we enter the 24K! Suite, where a distraught stable is trying to figure out what happened. Sitting on a plush chair reaching down to untie his wrestling boots, Mikey Unlikely is clearly frustrated. He’s unable to get his boots undone quickly and reacts as such. He flails his leg, rips the boot off and throws it across the room. Perfection is quick to try to calm him down.

Perfection: Woah, Woah, Mikey it’s alright… Listen these things… 

He’s cut off by the other Hollywood Bruvs who enters the frame very heated. 

Kendrix: Mikey, What the fuck happened out there! How did you let this happen? 

Unlikely stands right up and goes nose to nose with his bruv. Perfection slips an arm between them as Andy Murray sits in the corner showing little emotion.  

Mikey Unlikely: How did I LET this happen? Where were YOU! Why am I out there battling alone? Where’s all the FOCUS we talked about?

JFK shakes his head. 

Kendrix: I don’t think so Bruv, this one is not on me! I had my eyes on the prize, the ones YOU Let slip out of hands. Maybe you were too worried about ME that YOU were the one not focused. 

He pokes his American Bruv in the chest with accusations. 

Perfection: Boys, MEN! This is not who we are, c’mon. Easy, eaaaassyyyyyy. 

James is able to get between the men and seperate them a bit. 

Perfection: If there’s one thing we do well, it’s handle ANY situation that comes our way. This is just another one of those situations. We’re not here for the short term, we’re going to get those belts back. 

Perf turns and looks directly at Mikey. 

Perfection: You’re going to get those belts back! Both of you! This is still just the beginning of 24K! This is just the beginning of the Bruvs Reunion tour guys! Chess not checkers. 

Mikey wipes the sweat off his forhead and nods. JFK on the other hand is yet to be ok with it. He knocks a frappe off a nearby table, launching it against the wall. 

Mikey Unlikely: Party Foul! 

Kendrix walks out of the suite without a word. Clearly frustrated with tonights result. James looks at where Kendrix was, and then back to Mikey. 

Perfection: He’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. It’s all Gold Bruv! 

Unlikely goes to work on his other boot. Perfection shakes his head and looks over to Andy Murray with a look of exasperation as we cut to our final commercial break.

Joe Hoffman: were back here at ringside folks and ready for Max Kael to defend his LSD Title in the third of two title matches tonight.

Benny Newell: Just chalk up another win for Max Kael, no one is ever prying that LSD Title away from him.

Joe Hoffman: Well we have already seen one title change hands somewhat tonight as 24K both lost and half won the Tag Team Titles.  The Hollywood Bruvs lost to Joe Bergman and Andy Murray… in the kind of tag team match only the Lethal Lottery can give us.

Benny Newell: So do all four of them hold half the titles now?   How’s that shit gonna work?

Joe Hoffman: I don’t have the slightest idea.  What I do know is we have our first three confirmed wrestlers in the War Games draft pool as Perfection beat Steve Solex in the first qualifier.  Then we had the tag team of Dan Ryan and Lucian Santangel defeat Zeb and Doozer to gain their entry into the War Games pool.

“Shit Just got Real (FEAT. Sen Dog)” by Die Antwoord hits over the speakers as the fans jump to their feet when the beat thumps out over the speakers.  The stage is lit up with green and Ted flashing lights as we see the LSD Champion make his way out.

Bryan McVay: The following match is for the HOW LSD Title… and will be contested under first blood rules!

Joe Hoffman: Wait?  What?

Bryan McVay: Now making his way to the ring, he is the LSD Champion… MAX KAEL!!!!!

Max takes the match swerve in stride as he nods his head and keeps making his way to the ring, looking out across at the fans with both his eyes before reaching the ring.

Joe Hoffman: A bit of a curveball for the champion as this LSD match will now be contested under first blood rules.  Anything will go and the only way to win is to make your opponent bleed.

Benny Newell: Sounds like a hardcore wrestler’s dream… I wonder who he’ll be facing.

Max enters the ring as Joel Hortga tries to explain the new rules to Max, but the champions just ignores him as he stares back up the entrance way waiting for whoever his challenger will be.

“All Aboard! AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA…” A light fog rises up from the entrance way as the opening guitar rift kicks in. Parting the smoke is High Flyer, who stands confidently at the top of the entrance ramp. He tosses one hand up in a devil horn taunt, and smiles slyly to the camera.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent, from Bethlehem, Pennsylvania and weighing in at 224 pounds…. High Flyer!!!!

Joe Hoffman: A rematch from ICONIC!

He stomps his way to the ring, paying very little attention to the crowd. Once he reaches ringside, he slips in under the bottom rope, then sprawls on his back. He begins to make snow angels while residing on his back, looking up at the lights before recovering to his feet.

The two men stare each other down as Hortega looks ready to ring the bell.

“Welcome to the Party” by Diplo, French Montana & Lil Pump begins to blast over the speakers, as we see Teddy Palmer walk out onto the stage as both Kael and Harmen turn with a confused look on their faces.

Bryan McVay: And their opponent in this triple threat match…. From Toronto, Ontario and weighing in at 221 pounds…. Teddy Palmer!!!!

Joe Hoffman: Now THIS is a real twist!  Max Kael will have to defend his title against not one… but two competitors tonight!

Benny Newll: How is this fair?!?

Joe Hoffman: It was Alex Tedding who got a shot against Max at March to Glory… now his tag team partner Teddy Palmer gets his.

Tedding slides into the ring as the stare down grows by one as Hortega takes the LSD Title from Max as he raises it above his head before calling for the bell.  Ted and Flyer shoot each other a quick look as they join together firing rights at Max Kael who does his best to try and fight off two men. But he’s sent back towards the ropes where together they double clothesline Max over the top.  Flyer and Ted though waste little time as they turn to each other and with the same idea connect with drop kicks that send both men rolling away and out of the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Temporary alliance breaks down quickly in this triple threat match.

All three men make their way up as they all throw the ring skirt up and start to search under the ring as they each pull themselves a kendo stick out from under the ring.  Ted and Flyer start to close in on Kael from each side as Kael darts his attention back and forth between both wrestlers before he just goes for it and attacks Flyer as both men block the kendo shots to each other as Ted comes in from behind and cracks Max across the back.  Flyer then is able to wrap the stick across the stomach of Max as he doubles over and Ted again cracks Max across the back.

Joe Hoffman: The alliance is back on as Ted and Flyer try to rip the flesh from Max with those kendo sticks!

Max arches his back as Flyer goes for a headshot with the stick but Max kicks Flyer below the belt as Max spins around and cracks Ted in the mid section.  Dropping the stick, Max whips Ted hard into the steel steps as they dislodge and Max pulls Flyer up to his feet and whips him hard into the crowd barricade.

Benny Newell: Two on one odds aren’t even enough to take down the number one ranked wrestler.

Max takes the dislodged steel step and drives it into the back of Flyer as he is laid out on the floor as goes for a second attempt but he catches a kendo stick from Ted to the back as Max drops the stairs as he tries to stumble away.  Ted chases though and strikes Max again as he falls into the timekeepers area. Going for a third hat trick shot, Ted swings away as Max spins and comes back with the ringbell to the side of Ted’s head as he falls back onto the mat clutching his face.

Joe Hoffman: Has Max just busted Ted open?

Benny Newell: It’s over already!

Hortega checks on Ted but as he moves his hand we see no blood as Max had struck Ted with the wood backing instead of the bell itself.  Max tosses the bell as he steps over Ted as High Flyer is starting to pull himself back to his feet. Max pulls Flyer all the way up and goes to irish whip him into the ringpost… but Flyer reverses and sends Max face first into the ringpost!

Benny Newell: Come on Hortega!!! He can’t do that!

Joe Hoffman: Stop being ridiculous Benny… but is Max busted open?

Again Hortega checks for blood, but there is none as Max holds his head.  Flyer arches his back to try and flex out the pain from the earlier steel step shot while Ted is getting back to his feet.  The two men who were teaming up earlier starts to trade punches as Flyer gains an advantage and goes to slam Ted off the announce table but Ted blocks the move and grabs Flyer and spinebusters him on the announce table which doesn’t give way from the move.

Benny Newell: Watch my Jack… Jack!  Almost spilled my drink!

Joe Hoffman: Flyers back may have been broken in half there as our announce table didn’t break!

Benny Newell: Someone used an extra screw I guess this week.

With Flyer laid out, Ted goes and grabs himself a steel chair as he lines Harmen up while he starts to stand up from the announce table.  As Flyer gets to his feet Ted goes for a headshot with the chair… but a chop block from Max knocks Ted down to his knees as Max grabs his head and takes Ted out with an inverted DDT.

Joe Hoffman: Max Kael may have just saved his LSD title there!

Max now picks up the dropped steel chair as he goes and swings for the fences at High Flyer’s head and connects with a shot denting the chair in the process.  Hortega rushes in as Flyer falls back onto the announce table. Max cocks his head hoping for blood but Hortega throws his arms out for wash out as Max goes for a second shot… but there is a grab at his ankle that stops Max.

Joe Hoffman: Ted now holding Max up!

Benny Newell: Give it up Ted!  That is Max’s title!

Turning back to Ted Max snarls as he swings at Ted’s head but Ted rolls out of the way and jumps back to his feet as Max swings again with the steel chair but Ted ducks and boots Max in the gut as he pulls the steel chair away from Max and slams it across his back.as Max now falls across the announce table.

Joe Hoffman: Ted with the steel chair as High Flyer is getting back to his feet!

Flyer pulls himself back up to his feet as Ted swings away and cracks High Flyer across the head with the chair as again Flyer collapses onto the announce table.  Hortega rushes in but Ted pushes him away as he tables the steel chair and goes to crush Flyer’s head between the announce table and the steel chair with a second shot.

Benny Newell: He’s gonna Gallagher Flyer’s brain all over us!

Ted swings as Max Kael rolls over across the announce table on top of Flyer as he throws his leg back and between the legs of Ted before he can connect with the chair shot.

Joe Hoffman: Another low blow my Max!

On top of Flyer, Max has Benny’s Jack Daniels bottle in his hand as he takes the bottle and smashes it across the head of Flyer as whiskey is sent spraying everywhere and Benny Newell is heard screaming while Hortega slides in.

Joe Hoffman: Is that Whiskey or blood?

Benny Newell: I’ll drink it still!

But Max doesn’t let Hortega check as he takes a broken shard of glass and starts digging it into Flyer’s forehead as we see blood pouring out of Flyer.

DING DING DING

Hortega calls for the bell as Max again takes the glass shard and stabs it into the forehead of Flyer as Hortega does his best to pull Max off Flyer.

Joe Hoffman: Flyer bleeding like a stuck pig and Max will retain the LSD Title!

Benny Newell: Still number one!  Max is still number one!

Hortega is able to pull Max off Flyer as he raises his arm to Max almost stabbing Hortega with the glass while he is handed the LSD.

Bryan McVay: Your winner and still the HOW LSD Champion…. Max Kael!!!!

Joe Hoffman: Max Kael overcomes the odds in this surprise triple threat first blood match to retain his LSD title which he has held for 161 days now.

Benny Newell: Impressive doesn’t even start to describe it Joe.  But he owes me a new bottle of Jack!

Max starts to make his way out of the ringside carnage, shard of glass still in his hand just in case as he raises the LSD Title in the air just daring anyone else to try and take it from him.

Joe Hoffman: Four matches down and that just leaves us with the ICON title match feature Mike Best… stay tuned for our main event folks!

The action cuts elsewhere as the Lottery rolls on…

As the Lethal Lottery continues, the High Octane cameras find themselves in the backstage area. Standing in front of a black backdrop is a rather smug looking man, bearing an unsettling shark smile. He’s dressed in a simple black t-shirt and jeans that are ripped in one knee. Reporters were unable to confirm if this was by design or if he’d actually just ripped them. As we get a better look at him, we see the #97RED leather that sits atop his shoulder.

The HOW World Heavyweight Champion, Cecilworth M. J! Farthington.

Farthington lifts the #97Red microphone up to his juicy, moist lips.

Cecilworth Farthington: Ah, it has been too long, has it not? It is I, the Lion of GoD and your blessed World Heavyweight Champion. I know the fact that my absence from the last Refueled was noted by the chattering classes. To be honest, I was still on a celebration bender after my magnificent LBI victory in Rome. All those poor little peasants rushing to ring to cheer on precious Teddy Palmer… seeing the hope and faith they had put into that man be crushed at the ringing of a bell. The fire in their eyes being doused to a dead blackness. That was intoxicating! The large amount of champagne I consumed after such a spectacular victory was even more intoxicating than that. Unlike Tedward, I can consume responsibly, you see.

HOW’s Best Boy pats the plate of the World Championship.

Cecilworth Farthington: Teddy Palmer thought he was the hero of the High Octane fable, the Aladdin, the Batman, the Dorothy… that sense of moral righteousness can truly be a man’s worst enemy because it results in broken promises. He wanted this beautiful vision in red that sits atop my shoulder to fulfill his childhood dream. He wished to defeat and humiliate me as revenge for the people I mock and shame. He was too caught up in his hero’s journey and now sadly he resides in the pit. Much like the vast majority of HOW’s dimwitted dullard dolts, he didn’t quite recognise that your beautiful champion didn’t just Mr. Magoo his way into being undefeated for an entire year. Put up one hell of a fight though. Had me scared. He beat Max… and that was his greatest mistake. He raised the alarm too early and he got me at my very best in Rome. Thanks to him though, I did reach a special little milestone.

As the disconcerting smile of the champion grows deeper, he pulls out a small party horn from his back pocket and gives it a little blow. There’s a small squeak of sound that is rather amusing to CM!JF.

Cecilworth Farthington: Gotta celebrate that one year without a loss somehow, don’t you?

Cecilworth chuckles to himself, clearly very amused by his own antics.

Cecilworth Farthington: Which brings us to tonight. Lee’s Lethal Lottery. I’ve sat and listened to the braying and complaining from those who have been in High Octane for a hot cup of coffee that they don’t get the opportunity to randomly stumble their way into a World Championship opportunity tonight. Some even went further than that, putting down the STAR MAKING ICON Championship as a somehow lesser opportunity. Most didn’t even acknowledge the chance to become an LSD Legend like the number one ranked wrestler in HOW. Boy, how ungrateful…

Cecilworth listens back to himself and half rolls his eyes at the last word that spews forth from his mouth.

Cecilworth Farthington: I don’t mean that in the Perfection sense where you repeat the word over and over again in lieu of an actual personality, I mean that those of you who complained for even one second that the World Championship wasn’t part of this event are ungrateful little shitehawks. You have been presented a BOUNTY OF RICHES tonight. A chance to defeat the number one ranked wrestler in HOW. A chance to qualify for the biggest match of the year. A chance to win the tag titles, a belt that launched my career in High Octane. A chance to ruin Mike Best appreciation month and take away from him the most important championship that he and I have ever held. Yet… it’s not enough for some of you. A chance to stun the world, a chance to claim a High Octane championship is somehow not good enough. You scream for more like a pathetic greedy orphan child trying to raise the daily gruel costs of those kind enough to take in his filth ridden figure.

Cecilworth mutters “please sir, may I have some more” to himself, this is quickly followed by him making a fart noise with his mouth to fully register his disgust at the idea of an orphan trying to consume enough food to avoid death by starvation. “Won’t someone think of the poor workshop owners” he continues in his mutterings. His brain snaps back into place as the gleam of the World Title hits the corner of his eye.

Cecilworth Farthington: Let me make something very clear to the Murrays, the Woodsons, the Stevens of this world. If you want to win this from me. If you want to try and claim yourself to be the person who can claim to deliver me my first loss in AN ENTIRE YEAR then you will fucking earn your shot. Qualify for War Games, win a contendership match. Fucking. Earn. It. I’m sick to death of people feeling they can waltz into this company, talk down the high level of competition and think they will just be offered a World Championship opportunity on a silver platter because they said a few mean words. Made a few harsh tweets. Hit me in the back of my head when I wasn’t looking. Yeah, Harry Potter and the Golden Goblet of Piss, I remember your High Octane arrival.

The muscle memory of 24K’s debut triggers Cecilworth to tenderly rub the back of his skull. He gently prods at the lump that hasn’t yet descended, allowing the pain to wash over him, the anger to rise.

Cecilworth Farthington: Last week, 24K had the infinite wisdom to throw down the gauntlet to myself, Max Kael and Mike Best. They seem to be a little bit upset that I haven’t given our precious little babies the time of day since their remarkable arrival. Boys, daddy was rather busy, he had twenty people fighting for the right to challenge for his World Championship and nothing gets in the way of me and my glorious reign. The LBI was a bit more of a pressing issue than your watersports.

Cecilworth reaches what I could generously describe as the “lickspittle” stage of his little rant. His face slowly drifting from red to purple.

Cecilworth Farthington: The free rides are over. Sneak attacks will not get you a World Championship shot. Tweets will not get you a World Championship shot. “An Idiots Guide To Basic Trash Talk” will not get you a World Championship shot. Prove yourself. Prove your worth. Teddy Palmer gave me the fight of my life in Rome, Teddy Palmer sought to bring the streak to an end before the magical milestone of a year. He failed but he earned the right to fail on HOW’s grandest stage. I would be disrespecting his memory to settle for anything less.

Cecilworth slaps the championship title a few times in excitement.

Cecilworth Farthington: You want this? Earn it.

Farthington flips the microphone of his hand to the floor below as he walks out of shot and we head to commercial break.

Joe Hoffman: The Lethal Lottery never disappoints, ladies and gentlemen, and tonight has been absolutely no exception! Max Kael successfully defends his LSD Championship against not only his opponent from this year’s ICONIC, but also the man who defeated him to win the LBI! And in case it hasn’t been made clear how preposterously amazing this statistic is, Andy Murray set an unprecedented record tonight, becoming the first wrestler in HOW history to essentially win a title from himself. 

Benny Newell: So many questions, Joe. I have so many fucking questions about how that shit even works.

Joe Hoffman: It’s the Lethal Lottery, Benny. Literally anything can happen. I believe it even more now more than I believed it before tonight’s show began, but we’ve still got one… match… left. And speaking of unprecedented events, Benny, tonight’s main event is another HOW first. In the 18 years since HOW first opened its doors, the ICON Championship has never been featured in the main event of the Lethal Lottery.

Benny Newell: No time like the present, Joe, and Mike Best is a gift. What other wrestler in history would choose to defend his title, against a RANDOM opponent, in the middle of his own Appreciation Month? I don’t know about you fucking morons, but I APPRECIATE MIKE BEST. I appreciate the only six time ICON Champion in history. I respect the man who has PROMISED to set the record for most defenses before this reign is up.

Joe Hoffman: A bold claim. Especially since he’s officially declared that if he FAILS to reach his ninth defense, he will NEVER challenge for the HOW ICON Championship again.

Dad, how come nobody likes me?  

Cause you’re a mothafuckaaaaaaaaaaaa… 

The head bopping intro to “Motherfucker” by Hopsin begins to slap over the sound system, heralding the arrival of the SON OF GOD, Michael Lee Best.

The subject of MIKE BEST APPRECIATION MONTH steps slowly out onto the stage, making his way toward the ramp with the HOW ICON Championship slung over his shoulder and his head bobbing along to the sweet jams of his own entrance music.

Joe Hoffman: Love him or hate him, Michael Lee Best has been an ever present staple of High Octane Wrestling for a period that now spans an actual decade. Tonight is his 396th match in HOW, and you could say that he’s actually defending his championship against Fate itself.

Benny Newell: Well who the fuck is even left, Joe? Who hasn’t he beaten? Who does this DEMIGOD AMONGST MEN have left on his list, huh? I’LL WAIT.

Joe Hoffman: Andy Murray?

Benny Newell: Yeah well, he beat himself for his own tag title tonight so tough fucking titty.

The SON OF GOD slowly approaches the apron, rolling under the bottom rope and standing to his feet in the ring. He hands the HOW ICON Championship off to HOW senior official Matt Boettcher, showboating to the crowd as the arena offers him an outpouring of… “appreciation”. The fans are already pretty sick to death of being told to appreciate Michael Best, and he smirks to himself as he takes his corner, using the ropes to stretch out.

Joe Hoffman: The time has come, ladies and gentlemen. Only a handful of names remain in play for tonight’s Lethal Lottery, and we’re mere seconds away from finding who will leave the HOUSE OF GOD with empty pockets, and who will hit the JACKPOT.

Benny Newell: Please don’t be Kostoff. Please don’t be Kostoff. Please don’t be Kostoff. 

As Benny prays to whatever gods will still take his phone calls, a giant #97Red slot machine appears on screen, emblazoned with the slowly scrolling faces of the remaining wrestlers in tonight’s Lethal Lottery pool, each on a different payout line. The live crowd in the arena is buzzing as the lever is pulled, and the digital slot machine begins frantically spinning toward its final destination.

One by one, the spinning payout lines begin to slow, until finally the “JACKPOT!” sign at the top of the machine lights up. The HOV stops on three-of-a-kind, and the crowd… goes… crazy.

“BEAUTIFUL” BOBBY DEAN

In a cosmically beautiful turn of events, “The Best Around” by Joe Esposito begins to blast over the speakers of the Rosement, bringing down a near record-setting cheer as “Beautiful” Bobby Dean steps out from behind the curtain, looking nearly as in-shock as the crowd is that he is receiving an ICON Title Shot here tonight in Chicago.

Joe Hoffman: IT’S BOBBY DEAN! IT’S BOBBY DEAN!

Benny Newell: Hoooo-leeee shit. I thought that fat fuck wasn’t allowed to challenge for a title until he made weight? This is rigged. Somebody rigged Lee’s own lottery against him! I bet you it was fucking Perfection– he couldn’t shut up about rigging the lottery this week!

Joe Hoffman: Anything can happen in the Lethal Lottery, Benny, and it’s happening! Bobby Dean, the man who won his very first LSD Title from Mike Best back in 2012, is challenging him right here tonight for the ICON Championship!

Benny Newell: He wrapped him up in a volleyball net and staked him to a beach, Joe. I don’t see any fucking lifeguard towers out here. But hey, that’s me.

The recovering super-heavyweight of HOW has some bounce in his step as he makes his way down the ramp, so amped up on adrenaline that he doesn’t even feel out of breath. He nearly skips down the ramp, the fans getting louder as he jogs toward the ring.

With a fire inside of him, Bobby doesn’t climb the steps– he slides in under the ropes! It’s practically the Bobby Dean of old out there, and he looks to be in fighting shape!

Benny Newell: This was Mike Best’s fucking theme music for five years, Joe. This is just fucking disrespectful. Disqualify that fat fuck and get him out of here.

Joe Hoffman: Mike Best stole that music from Bobby Dean, Benny. It’s on the record.

Benny Newell: HE STOLE IT FAIR AND SQUARE!

“Beautiful” Bobby Dean isn’t quite spry enough to get to his feet gracefully, but he does manage to stumble up to his feet and take his corner with momentum still on his side. He looks across the ring at his long time friend and occasional rival, and even the SON OF GOD can’t help but smile at a feel good moment for ol’ BBD.

Matt Boettcher holds the ICON Championship aloft, signifying that the title is on the line. He hands the belt off to Bryan McVay at ringside, and soon after, rings the bell to begin the match.

DING DING DING

Bobby Dean stands in his corner, taking it all in, standing under the hot lights of the Lethal Lottery main event with a smile on his face. Stepping slowly out of the corner, he extends a hand to a friend he’s been on the road with since 2007, offering him a handshake.

Joe Hoffman: Well this seems like a bad idea.

Benny Newell: You fucking idiot. Do you not watch wrestling?

With a smirk, the SON OF GOD steps forward, looking around at the crowd as they yell at Bobby Dean to pull his hand away. Dean doesn’t oblige– he extends his hand once again, asking Michael to shake it in celebration of this beautiful moment between old buddies.

Finally, Michael accepts his handshake.

*CRACK!*

The sound of elbow cracking against orbital bone is heard just briefly… as Mike Best stumbles backward, holding the bridge of his nose in agony! The crowd goes fucking ballistic, and Bobby Dean giggles to himself as he raises his elbowin’ arm into the air, celebrating with the Chicago crowd!

Joe Hoffman: BOBBY DEAN WITH A CHEAPSHOT! The people are loving it!

Benny Newell: Fucking hipocrites! DISQUALIFY HIM, BOETTCHER! Do your fucking job!

Joe Hoffman: Come on, Benny— doesn’t Mike Best watch wrestling?

His eyes tearing up, Michael Best can hardly see what’s in front of him as Bobby Dean barrels into the ICON Champion with a big forearm to the side of the head. Best is staggered, and once more Bobby brings the thunder with a heavy forearm, beating the SON OF GOD back into the ropes.

Pissed off and blinded, Mike throws a wild haymaker, but he misses by a country mile! Dean manages to line up behind the champion, and hoists him over with a side duplex, dropping the bulk of his massive frame right onto the body of Mike Best!

Bobby grabs hold of the ropes, stumbling awkwardly to his feet as he throws both of his arms in the air. The crowd roars, and Michael shoots up off the ground holding his back, his eyes narrowing as he snarls at Bobby Dean.

Joe Hoffman: A very frustrated looking champion out there. I don’t think he’s feeling appreciated right now, Benny.

Benny Newell: Stop fucking enjoying this, dick. Bobby Dean is a fat fucking turd and failure– not just a failure to himself, either, but to the FORTY PERCENT OF OBESE CHILDREN IN THIS COUNTRY!

Joe Hoffman: That seems really exaggerated.

Benny Newell: Oh yeah, dipshit? What’s the ACCEPTABLE percentage of fat children, stuffing their faces with raw cookie dough and cheering for FUCKING BOBBY DEAN? He’s the Pied Piper of Actual Pies.

Having had enough, the SON OF GOD charges at the voluptuous Bandit with fire in his eyes, but Bobby Dean sashays to one side, like a bullfighter! Michael slams into the ropes, jarring his shoulder between them, and Bobby follows up with a knee drop directly to the neck of his opponent, putting the hurt on!

The crowd is louder than ever, and Bobby Dean is riding the momentum. He grabs Mike Best up by the scruff of the neck, pulling him to his feet. Best throws an elbow to the gradually shrinking gut of his opponent, but Dean absorbs the impact. Best throws another, but Bobby takes that one too! He’s still got enough extra weight on him to avoid the damage, and he quickly throws Mike Best toward the ropes with an Irish Whip!

Joe Hoffman: INCOMING!

Benny Newell: Jesus fuck, get out of the way or he’ll–!

Before Benny’s meaningless warning can finish, the full weight of Bobby Dean’s frame collides with the SON OF GOD, who is thrown violently to the ground on the impact of a full body running splash in the middle of the ring. Best hits his back, flattened, and Bobby Dean suddenly looks all around him as the crowd noise rises. This is his chance!

He covers the champ!

ONE!

TWO!

The crowd is counting along, but there is an audible disappointment as Mike Best gets a shoulder up after two, breaking up the pin.

Joe Hoffman: Bobby Dean knows how to beat Mike Best, Benny. He’s done it before, and this is eerily reminiscent.

Benny Newell: It was eight years ago, Joe. Does Bobby Dean own a comforter with his own face on it? NO HE FUCKING DOES NOT.

Mike Best is slow to get up, having just been run clear over by the still-not-slight mass of a man who has recently escaped the three hundred club. He rolls toward the ropes, pulling himself to his feet as Bobby Dean takes a moment to appeal to the crowd, motioning his hands along his body like some kind of a supermodel.

The crowd eats it the fuck up.

And then, the booing starts.

Eating a vicious sliding chop block to the back of his leg, Bobby is hobbled to a kneel by the sheer momentum and impact as Mike Best rolls immediately back to his feet, all semblance of amusement wiped clear off his face. He comes off the opposite side of the ropes, and as Bobby struggles to pick his weight up off one knee, Michael bursts forward off his back leg, stepping off Bobby’s kneeling leg and kneeing him as hard as a man can, directly in the fucking skull. Bobby Dean’s arms are at his sides, laid out as he stares at the ceiling.

Joe Hoffman: …There it is. I Kneed A Hero. 

Benny Newell: TOLD YOU, MOTHERFUCKER! You don’t fucking flex on the SON OF GOD, the GREATEST ICON CHAMPION IN MOTHERFUCKING HISTORY!

Michael Best drops for the pin.

ONE…

TWO….

But Michael stands up from the pin. 

The booing is even louder now, as the ICON Champion stops short of victory on the night of his very first HOW ICON Championship defense tour. He stands over Bobby Dean, leaning down and slapping him aggressively in the side of the head, berating his ol’ buddy for daring to step into the ring with him.

Mike Best: You wanna play games now, you fat sack of shit? HUH?!

The crowd disapproves, and they are loud about it. This doesn’t stop the SON OF GOD, however, who slaps Bobby again, continuing to abuse the downed legend of wrestling.

Mike Best: Who’s the BEST AROUND, Bobby Dean?

Bobby tries to cover up his face and head to protect himself. The booing is even louder now, as Michael Best yanks him up by a tuft of his hair, leaning in real close this time.

Mike Best: Is it you? Huh? Is it fucking YOU, or is it me? SAY IT! Who’s the BEST AROUND, Robert? 

Bobby rolls to his side, trying to avoid taking any more punishment, but Michael Best doesn’t let up. He grabs a back mounted position over Bobby Dean, and immediately drives as 12-6 elbow down onto the back of his head.

And then another.

And then another. 

Dean is trying desperately to cover up, but his gas tank is empty– the adrenaline rush of the match is over, and he can only realize how much more he still has to go to get back into proper fighting shape. Another elbow smashes into the back of his head, as the world begins to look fuzzy.

Joe Hoffman: Come on, ring the damned bell already! The match is over, Boettcher! Jesus Christ, Bobby is going to get seriously injured by that psychopath!

Benny Newell: For once, we agree. It’s fucking OVER!

Another elbow.

Matt Boettcher tries to get between Michael Best and his opponent, but he keeps raining down the elbows– Bobby Dean’s body has gone limp, and he can no longer defend against the strikes. Boettcher checks the hand of the challenger, and it drops lifelessly to the mat.

Boettcher calls for the bell.

DING DING DING

The match is over, but Michael Best doesn’t stop. He drops another elbow, and another, something having snapped in his brain has he tries to devastate a longtime friend. From ringside, security rushes into the ring to separate the ICON Champion from his opponent, and eventually they’re able to pry him free.

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner… and STILL HOW ICON Chaaaaampion…. MICHAEL… LEE… BEEEEEEESSSSSST!!!

Medics make their way to ringside, checking on Bobby Dean and trying to stabilize him in the ring. The SON OF GOD rolls out of the ring, snatching the ICON Championship from Bryan McVay and greedily stuffing it into his arms.

Joe Hoffman: Well, this one is over, ladies and gentlemen. The ICON Champion retains.

Benny Newell: Show some appreciation, Joe. Don’t sound so glum.

Michael Best backs slowly up the ramp, staring down at the ring as the crowd yells for his fucking head. He doesn’t care– he slings the ICON Championship over his shoulder, holding a single finger into the air.

One defense down.

Eight to go.

The Lethal Lottery goes off the air……or so was the plan….

We cut backstage where we see a hand reach out with a remote and directs it at the monitor set up to the side.

The monitor quickly turns off and we see the GOD of HOW, Lee Best, sit up and put his elbows on his desk and lets out a sigh of relief.

Lee Best: What a fucking night. New tag team champs, a few folks made it into the qualifiers for the War Games draft pool, and of course the Son’s retained.  Thank GOD my SON pulled that fat fuck Bobby Dean for the Main Event……..

Suddenly Lee’s phone rings and he stops the “Undead” ringtone from playing and he answers:

Lee Best: He is here? Good….send him right in.

The GOD of HOW tosses his cell phone on his desk and stands up as he awaits for the person to enter. A few moments later there is a knock heard on the door and Lee smiles.

Lee Best: Get the fuck in here!!

Lee, smiling from ear to ear, walks out from behind his desk and meets the person entering with a firm handshake.

Lee Best: Too long man….its been too fucking long.

The man just smiles and nods and Lee motions for him to take a seat in the chair in front of his desk.

The GOD of HOW takes his place back behind his desk and wastes little time before pulling a piece of paper out from the top drawer of his desk.

He pushes it across to the man and reached into his pocket for his Bottomline pen but the man holds up his own hand and motions for Lee that he brought his own pen.

Lee Best: You didn’t think I was going to…..ah never mind…….everything should be in order man. Complete and utter control. I even changed the card tonight to make sure there were no qualifiers for War Games for the belts. You have complete and utter control of how this plays out over the next few months.

The man looks up from the piece of paper, clearly not completely trusting Lee, and nods in approval.

With a quick motion the man then signs the paper and slides it back to Lee.

Lee brings the paper up to his face and smiles at the signature.

Lee Best: Welcome home man…welcome the fuck home….now lets go get some fucking food….I got even better news for you.

With that Lee and the man stand up and leave and as they do the camera focuses in on the piece of paper……namely the signature and title.

GODFATHER OF THE TAG TEAM DIVISION

MARIO MAURAKO