Refueled LI

The HOTv logo gives way once and once again we are live inside The Best Arena here in Chicago Illinois for the 51^st edition of Refueled.

We see an overhead shot of the arena and we notice that there has been a change to the layout for tonight’s action as we see the octagon for the four DeNucci Cup HOFC matches has been moved to the left side of the entrance ramp (if you were looking down the ramp towards the ring) and all the seats in that lower section have been taken away.

For an explanation and to kickstart the show, we cut to the Hall of Fame announce team of Joe Hoffman and Big Buff Benny Newell.

The feed cuts to the announcers as the crowd is cheering madly behind them.

Joe Hoffman: Welcome everyone to Refueled!! Tonight we finish up the Sweet 16 of the DeNucci Cup and our main event will see the first LSD Championship match of the new year!

Benny Newell: That is right….the original Hall of Famer and current Tag Team and LSD Champion AND Best Alliance original and current member……holy fuck I am out of breath……Jatt Starr is where he belongs…in the Main Event here in Chicago.

Benny takes a deep breath and motions for Joe to take over as he looks down at his 97red colored smart watch is showing his heart rate at a brisk 197.

Joe Hoffman: Well I give Benny time to come back from what most certainly was a heart attack inducing love letter to Jatt Starr, let us talk about the reconfiguration here in the arena.

Once again we cut to an overhead shot of the arena floor as Joe drops some knowledge.

Joe Hoffman: As you can see with the DeNucci Cup nearing the homestretch the GOD of HOW has decided to make sure that the HOFC octagon still had a prominent place in the arena and was close to the fans while getting our normal ring back in the center of the floor in its normal setting.

The feed cuts to the fans that are around the octagon and Joe is right as they are right on top of the action.

Joe Hoffman: We have been told that they fans that bought seats for that section were given free tickets to March To Glory and will get to see the finals of the DeNucci Cup live and in person.

Joe looks to Benny for a retort but the man motions for Joe to continue as he sips on his whiskey to try and get his wind back.

Joe Hoffman: Like that will help…..but anyway….folks…it is time for the talking to be over and our first fight of the evening will be Chicago’s own Johnny Dorn taking on Pretty Boy Devin DeSean…and it is up NEXT!!!

The crowd cheers as the High Octane Vision screen above the entrance ramp comes to life as I Am The One hits the PA system and DeSean makes his way towards the Octagon where Johnny Dorn is already inside the cage waiting.

DeSean and Dorn stare each other down as HOW senior referee Matt Boettcher asks them both if they are ready. Both nod without taking their eyes off each other and Boettcher quickly signals for the bell and the fight is underway.

Joe Hoffman: Friendly reminder that these fights can only end with a submission or knockout. Each round is five minutes long and we go until there is a winner. There is a one minute break between rounds.  The winner of this fight moves on to the Elite Eight to take on Dan Ryan.

Benny Newell: Fuck Dan Ryan…..

Joe looks to Benny but there is nothing else coming as Benny is out of breath once again.

Back in the cage the 6’2” Playboy and six foot Dorn are circling each other as they size each other up. There is basically no size different here and it will come down to who wants it more and executes the best.

The first punch is thrown by Dorn but Devin is able to sidestep it and tries for a quick kick to buckle Dorn’s knee but he too misses. The two men circle each other for another minute before Dorn just charges in at Devin and uses his momentum to push the Playboy up against the cage. Dorn does not let up as he tries to avoid the lightning fast elbows and knees of Devin. He can only avoid them for so long however as DeSean lands a brutal knee to the ribcage of Dorn and the north sider falls back towards the center of the ring.  Devin follows that up with a spinning back elbow and quickly pounces on dorn and begins to work on the upper body of Dorn. The finish of the round comes just as Devin was locking in an armbar.

Both men head to their sides of the cage as it is clear that Devin won that round.

The second round begins with Dorn NOT charging in as he continues to work out the feeling in his arm. There has been clear damage down to his ribcage as well as he holds his left arm in tight to protect it as the two men square off in the middle of the cage.

This time it is Dorn that is able to sidestep a quick kick from DeSean and he quickly snags Devin around the waist and delivers a perfect German Suplex. Dorn can be seen holding his ribcage as he follows up with knife edge chops to the DeSean who was quickly back on his feet. Once again DeSean finds himself with his back to the cage and over the next minute or so he chopped repeatedly and just when he sees an opening, Dorn delivers a brutal double eye gouge to the man.

Devin flails blindly at Dorn but is unable to hit his mark and it is with a smirk that Dorn pulls him in by the back of his head and nails him with a double arm DDT. The Chicago crowd cheers wildly for Dorn as he slowly picks the man up and nails him brutally with his Shot of Malort finisher.

Boettcher starts the ten count and DeSean is unable to make it back to his feet. The ref signals for the bell and the fight is over.

Bryan McVay: WINNER OF THE FIGHT VIA KNOCKOUT IN THE SECOND ROUND……JOHNNNNNY DOOOOOORNNNNN!!!!!

Joe Hoffman: Dorn with the big second round knockout and now moves on to face Dan Ryan in the Elite Eight.

Benny Newell: I have sooooo many comments about this result but I am sure someone will bring several multiverse finishes of this match to the AIM Chat later tonight.

Joe Hoffman: Huh?

Benny Newell: Fuck off. Move on.

The show does just that as the crowd cheers on the hometown Dorn as medics tend to DeSean as we cut elsewhere.

After the match, the scene switches to Conor Fuse scurrying down a hallway in the Best Arena. Sporting a newly inspired Mortal Kombat-like purple cloak, he carries his can of silver paint along with him, leaking the odd drop along the way.

Conor Fuse: [shouting] Hey, hold please!

Fuse arrives at the end of a hall and in front of an elevator. There are a few suited men already inside, likely corporate sponsors for Refueled. Conor slips through the doors before they close. The Vintage presses the button for the second floor.

Conor Fuse: Going up? [Giggle] I am. Well, that is if I shock the world and beat Mike Best tonight.

The elevator doors close.

Conor Fuse: Then again, if I lose, I could be going down.

The three men in suits don’t say a word. Two of them aren’t paying attention and the other one is trying to figure out what the hell Conor is wearing. The Gamer, however, continues to ramble.

Conor Fuse: Either way, I used my trusty power-up here, my can of silver paint and it got me through.

The leak in the can is creating quite the pool of paint on the ground before the second floor doors open.

Conor Fuse: That’s me!

Fuse walks out, realizing the men in suits are likely going to the suite level, the floor above.

Conor Fuse: Good day to all of you BOTS. I hope you have an amazing night watching people cave each other’s skulls in and it was worth the price of admission.

The Vintage scampers across the hall. This is likely the production floor for Refueled. It doesn’t take long to get to where he intends. Standing in front of a door, Fuse starts knocking the World 1 – Level 1 Super Mario Bros. theme until it opens. A middle aged man looms over Conor. Behind him is lots of electrical equipment, likely a storage or archive room.

Conor Fuse: Hi, yes. I’m here to collect my pre-order please.

The man looks at Conor strangely but seems to know what he’s talking about. He hands over a VHS tape.

Conor Fuse: O.M.G. Vintage VHS and everything, thank you so much!

The man nods and closes the door. Fuse puts the VHS tape in his front cloak pocket.

Conor Fuse: Since that’s out of the way, now I can focus on tonight.

Fuse walks out of the picture.

Conor Fuse: CAVE MY FACE IN, EA MIKE! Let’s gooooooooooo!

The action cuts elsewhere…

Our scene transitions to catering where Teddy Palmer is seated alone. With a pen in his right hand, he scribbles on a card while sloppily tossing grapes at his mouth with his non-dominant lefty.  Distracted by the paragraphs he’s writing and lack of coordination, more grapes end up on the floor than in Ted’s chomper.

Brian Bare: Teddy, a word?

Teddy Palmer: One second…almost finished…

Brian Bare enters the frame, but is met with a ‘STFU’ pointer. Teddy jots down the finishing touches of his final blurb, promptly shoving the card in its envelope. Ted slathers the flap with his tongue, pressing it tightly down, securing its secrets safely. Standing up, he hands Brian the card, pats him on the shoulder, and begins to walk away.

Brian Bare: Hey, wait a second.

Ted stops, taps himself gently on the side of the head, and turns to face Brian with an abashed grin.

Teddy Palmer: Shit, where are my manners. Sorry buddy…

Teddy pulls his wallet out from his back pocket, removing a crisp, synthetic polymer, Canadian twenty dollar bill. Brian accepts what he believes to be Monopoly money, but is confused by the gesture.

Brian Bare: Uhm…

Teddy Palmer: Serious? That’s like fifteen American. Surely that’s enough for a simple delivery.

Brian Bare: Delivery? It’s me, Brian.

Teddy Palmer: Okay…Brian?

Now Teddy is the confused one. Why does he need to know a delivery man’s name?

Brian Bare: Brian Bare. HOW backstage interviewer.

Teddy Palmer: Since when? Wait, where’s Blaire Bear?!

Brian Bare: Ted…I was there when you set your cubicle on fire.

Teddy Palmer: Doesn’t ring a bell.

Brian Bare: The arena was evacuated. You were charged with…nevermind…can I get a brief word with you about your upcoming HOFC contest?

Teddy Palmer: Depends…you willing to deliver that card to Jiles?

Brian Bare: …Yes?

Teddy smiles, quickly yanking the rising in value twenty out of Bare’s grasp. Shoving it in his pocket, Bare is no less confused, but certainly more intrigued.

Teddy Palmer: So you want a couple sound bites about that weirdo Woodson eh…

Brian Bare: Hold on. What’s this?

Bare asks, holding the card up.

Teddy Palmer: An apology card.

Brian Bare: For what?

Teddy Palmer: Summarized, it’s an apology for calling Jiles a weak minded loser with a fragile psyche.

Brian Bare: Wait…what?

Teddy Palmer: Listen, this tournament had one rule: no feelings allowed. Jiles took my jabs personally, breaking said rule. Buuuuuut…after waging my war of words with Scotty this week, I’ve come to realize I misspoke. Jiles isn’t weak minded. Jiles doesn’t have a fragile psyche. Jiles was a victim of bamboozlement. And being a man of integrity, I will always apologize when I’m wrong. I just hope Jiles can be man enough to apologize for categorizing this clear as day gorilla knuckle as a fuckin’ cameltoe..

Teddy states, traffic controlling his hands around his nether region. Brian briefly looks down, quickly catches his mistake and looks away. Confusion is still the theme of this interaction.

Brian Bare: Jiles was…Bamboozled?

Teddy Palmer: And I am too! I thought Scotty and I were fighting tonight. But there’s been talk of beating my meat. Threats of tickling have been issued. Defiling my purity has been brought up. I mean, what the fuck.

Brian Bare: I think you might be misinterpreting Scotty.

Teddy Palmer: Then why the talk of waivers Bare-Bear? He legit asked if he could fuck me!

Brian Bare: Fuck you up…

Teddy Palmer: Up nowhere you sick freak! Stay away from my meat. Keep those fingertips holstered. Consent is not given. NO MEANS NO!

Brian Bare: This is ridiculous.

Teddy Palmer: Easy for you to say standing on the outside. But Mark my words, none of those threats will be fulfilled. None of those requests will be granted. It’s possible he gets off when I choke him out, but that’s a risk I’ll have to take…

Brian Bare: Well this was a waste of time. Maybe we bring it home? Any final words before you head out to the cage?

Teddy Palmer: You know what? Yeah…

Teddy looks directly into the camera. He holds his hand up and uses his pointer and middle finger to wave the operator closer. Soon enough, the frame is filled completely with Ted’s face, a shit eating grin spreading ear to ear.

Teddy Palmer: Pucker…Kiss…Round Three…

Playfully winking, Teddy grabs onto the camera tightly and plants a wet one on the lens. For the next few seconds, all we can see are his lips and wispy beard hairs. Finished with his makeout sesh, he shoves the camera to the side, leaving behind a smudged view of the dirty floor and Brian Bare’s pleather dress shoes.

Off Screen Teddy Palmer: And that’ll be the only erotic thing happening here tonight. You hear me!?

Action fades to our first commercial break..

Back live from our customary Best Alliance commercial and the next two fighters are already in the octagon as we are back live inside the arena.

Joe Hoffman: Ok folks here we go. Last years LBI winner Teddy Palmer is set to take on HOW Hall of Famer and hardcore legend Scottywood with the right to move onto the elite eight on the line where Steve Harrison awaits.

Benny Newell: Speaking of Harrison……

Joe waits for Benny to finish his sentence but there is nothing. Instead of looks like Benny is starting to get a migraine…..then Joe sees it…

Joe Hoffman: NO BENNY….NO!!!

Joe quickly bends over and picks up a spray bottle and begins spraying Benny with water until the man pulls his hand out of his pants.

Benny Newell:  ……MILK….I WAS MILKING….YOU DIDN’T LET ME FINISH THE FUCKING JOKE…..

Joe sprays Benny again for good measure and the man just flips Joe off as we thankfully cut back to the action in the cage.

Boettcher has just signaled for the bell and the match begins. Scottywood charges immediately at Palmer and swings wildly and misses. Palmer grabs his arm and quickly falls to his back and pulls Scottywood down with him. He struggles to lock in his triangle choke that he is calling the L.B.I, as Scotty squirms violently to get out of the hold.

Palmer lets go for a split second to land a right hand to the temple of Scotty and quickly locks the choke back in. Scottywood begins to fade and falls all the way down to his knees. The crowd is going crazy as the Hall of Famer is fading fast here in the first round.

Boettcher drops to his knees and checks on Scottywood but the man is not out. At the sight of the ref checking on him, Scottywood gets a burst of energy and begins to fight back up to his feet. Palmer holds on but Scottywood has 30lbs on him and a good three inch height advantage. Those come into play as Scotty slowly makes his up to a standing position and with all his power he lifts Palmer up, while still locked in the triangle choke, and powerbombs the man down to the mat.

Joe Hoffman: What a move by Scottywood!!!!!!!!

But Palmer is still holding on.

Again Scottywood lifts the man up….this time more slowly….and this time with his face turning a darker red than his infamous dreadlocks………….and once again powerbombs Palmer to the mat.

Palmer is down on his back and no longer has the choke locked in. He is grimacing in pain as Scottywood is lying on top of the mans chest………Teddly slowly pushes him off as he hears Boettcher at the three count.

As Palmer crawls to the cage and uses the steel mesh to climb to his feet he turns just as Boettcher finishes the ten count as Scottywood never made it to his own feet.

Bryan McVay: WINNER VIA KNOCKOUT IN THE FIRST ROUND…..TEDDDDDDYYYYY PALMER!!!!!

Palmer is in complete shock as he turns towards the HOV and watches the replay along with everyone in attendance as the second powerbomb is shown in slow motion and we see Scottywoods desperation show of strength literally robbing him off the final bit of oxygen he had left. As the move lands we see that Scottywood is already out.

Joe Hoffman: Wow….what a finish and what a win for Palmer. Scottywood just got caught and just could not overcome that LBI triangle choke and one has to wonder if he didn’t go for that second powerbomb if he would have had enough oxygen to hold on.

Benny Newell: Who the fuck does Palmer have next again?

Joe Hoffman: Steve Harrison…..

Benny Newell: Speaking of Harrison…..

The action cuts away as we see Joe screaming NO at Benny.

Back from a commercial break and the scene switches to the interior of Lindsay Troy’s locker room, where the Queen of the Ring sits back, typing on her phone, while enjoying the relative peace and serenity of a night with no Steve Solex shenanigans.

No explosions from Macgyvered bombs outside her door.

No fights with Chicago bros to give her a headache.

All’s quiet on the Western front … for a whole ten seconds, before the distressing sound of rapid-fire knocking and muffled calls of her name from the hall are heard off-camera. Troy stands and starts to walk to the door, but she doesn’t get halfway across the room before Zeb Martin bursts inside, a look of shock mixed with anger on his face.

Zeb Martin: Y’all gotta come real quick like.

Lindsay Troy: Zeb, what the hell?!

Zeb Martin: Ain’t no time for questions jus’ c’mon!

The Watson Mill Kid grabs her by the wrist and drags her out of the room and down the corridor. Lindsay gets her feet under her, surprised at first by Zeb’s forcefulness, and follows him at a run, deciding that interrogating him isn’t going to get her anywhere and she’d better just go along. They sprint through the Best Arena, past murmuring crew hands and open locker room doors, one of which houses their buddy Teddy Palmer.

Palmer’s just out of the shower and half-dressed, his match with Scottywood ending a short time before. He pokes his head into the hall to see Troy and Martin booking it for the exit. Not bothering to find a shirt, he darts after them, because wherever they’re going at this pace seems urgent.

The two friends crash through the door to the wrestler and staff parking lot, where down the row of cars one is ablaze. Some members of Best Arena security (not Lee Best’s EPU) are trying to put the flames out with extinguishers while others are keeping curious onlookers at bay. In the distance, the wails of fire engines are heard.

Lindsay Troy: Oh my God.

She starts running toward the scene, while Zeb goes after her.

Zeb Martin: Wait a min’!

Behind them, Teddy Palmer’s arrived, and his eyes go wide.

Teddy Palmer: Sweet Jesus Cinnamon Tits!

Security hears the pounding of feet on pavement and turns to look behind them. Once they see who’s coming, one guy breaks off and tries to head the Queen off at the pass.

Lindsay Troy: That what I think it is?!

Security Guy: You need to stay back.

Lindsay Troy: Just fucking tell me!

Zeb pulls up beside her, as does Teddy Palmer. Troy aggressively pushes her curls out of her face, looking around the Security guy’s bulky body to her torched SUV, or the husk of what’s left of it.

There’s laughter heard nearby, and all eyes turn behind them to see Steve Solex emerge from between two cars, a gas can and lighter in his hand.

Steve Solex: Not a whole lotta fun gettin lit up two weeks in a row, so I figured I’d return the favor, you fuckin’ bitch.

Lindsay’s face twists with rage.

Lindsay Troy: Motherfucker….

She lunges forward and Solex splashes some gasoline her way, laughing harder, daring her to keep coming at him. She would have too, if Zeb’s and Teddy’s cooler heads didn’t prevail and hold her back.

Zeb Martin: Ain’t nothin’ kin be done ‘bout this, let ‘im go.

Teddy Palmer: Yeah, not right now. Fuck this guy and that stupid womb broom of his.

Steve Solex: Just like I fuckin’ thought. Ol’ Mom can’t take the fuckin’ heat. Shit just got real LT, don’t let your boys hold you back now.

He walks back toward the Arena, throwing the lighter up in the air and catching it. Lindsay twists out of Teddy’s and Zeb’s grips and walks a little ways away from them, allowing a frustrated yell to escape her throat.

Refueled goes to commercial.

Back from commercial break and we once again see our next fighters already in the cage as we hear the Engel by Rammstein fade out as Xander Azula is set to take on Simon Loveless.

Joe Hoffman: Well folks here we go. Only two more matches left here in the sweet sixteen of the DeNucci Cup and the winner of this fight will be moving forward to take on Best Alliance member Steve Solex.

Benny Newell: Rumor has it that Steve will be getting a new teammate soon when Lee returns to Refueled next week.

Joe Hoffman: Wait….Lee is going to be on air next week?

Benny Newell: Yep. He straight up told me to tell everyone that he will be coming in HOT and has that Hall of Fame announcement he wanted to make tonight.

Joe Hoffman: You already know don’t you?

Benny Newell: Maybe if you didn’t cut off my Harrison time then you would get to hear all the juicy details….but NOOOOOO…….you had to be a fuckstick and ruin it. Call the action asshole….Boettcher just signaled for the damn bell!

Joe, caught off guard as he is usually the professional one, scrambles to focus in on the match as it has in fact started.

Azula and Loveless are locked up in the middle of the cage and Simon gains the early upper hand and once again shows that he is not just a brawler as he executes some flawless suplexes in the cage as he looks to wear down the upper body of the Azula in preparation of his Loveless Driver finisher. The crowd is mostly quiet as they watch Loveless literally have full control of the first round. Azula does not even get one punch in as the first round comes to an end with Loveless stomping away at the chest of Azula as the man is propped up against the cage.

Joe Hoffman: Big round there by Loveless.

Benny Newell: You know who else is loveless tonight cause of you…..huh….do you know WHO???

Joe for probably the billionth time on HOTv, ignores Benny, and focuses in on calling the match at hand.

The second round continues where the first one end…..with Loveless in control. This time Simon begins using well placed knee strikes to try and take the wind away from Azula. Loveless jumps to execute a standing moonsault but the move is blocked by a desperate Azula and it is Loveless instead who has his wind knocked out. The remainder of the round sees Azula take command and he never lets up as the round comes to a close….finishing the round with a chop block as Loveless turned towards his corner.

Boettcher signals to Azula that he was THISCLOSE to being over the line and Azula only smiles as he heads back to his corner.

Joe Hoffman: Azula almost got the DQ loss there….and yes you can get DQed for going past the bell at the end of a round……but the referees have been instructed that it has to be very blatant as Lee does not want ANY DQ finishes here in 2021…..or ever for that matter.

Benny Newell: A fucking Men.

Joe Hoffman: Who is A and …….oh never mind.

Benny Newell: Were…..were you just about to tell a joke……Joe fucking Hoffman??

Joe Hoffman: Focus Benny……next round has started…….FOCUS.

Benny smiles at Joe and raises his glass to the man as the feed cuts back to the cage.

Azula and Loveless waste no time at all and charge each other and start swingly widely with rights and lefts. The crowd begins to get behind the two men finally and are cheering by the time the end of the exchange happens when Loveless pokes Azula in the eye with his thumb. The crowd boos unmercifully but Loveless does not seem to care as he takes control as he follows up with a roundhouse kick and Azula is down on the mat. This time Loveless lands his standing moonsault and Azula barely gets to his feet before the 10 count.

The round continues as Loveless looks to stay on the offensive but Xander is finally able to sidestep him and take him down with a simple but effect drop toe hold. For the next couple minutes it is Azula who begins using his suplexes to take advantage. With a minute left in the third round we see the finish come as Azula does not one……BUT two Chaos Theory rolling deadlift German Suplexes followed by his Faithbreaker finishing move on a staggering Loveless, who is unable to answer the ten count afterwards.

Bryan McVay: WINNER OF THE MATCH VIA KNOCKOUT IN THE THIRD ROUND…..XAAAANNNNNDEEERRR AZUUUUUUUUUUUULLLLAAAAAAAA!!!!!

Joe Hoffman: Great showing by both men there…..wait hold on…..something is going on……

With his win secured, Xander makes a hasty exit from the cage…but not before grabbing the microphone from Brian McVay. Xander has a grin plastered from ear to ear as he looks back to the cage.

Azula: I did exactly what I promised I would do today, in front of this Best Arena crowd. I took a proud man and humbled him before my goddess and these heathens, exposing him for the fraud that he is.

Xander turns his attention to the camera, his focus on one man in particular.

Azula: And that means I move on, and get my first crack at the Best Alliance. Steve Solex, the eyes of my goddess are watching you now…and she is hungry for another sacrifice. All hail Eris, all hail Discordia.

With that, he shoves the microphone into the chest of McVay, who catches it as the Head Disciple of Chaos storms off with his fellow worshipers close behind.

Suddenly the HOTv erupts to life with images of the Son of Scion, Sutler Reynolds Kael, as “Believer” by Solence rips out over the Best Arena’s sound system. A spot line falls on the stage as the usually cocky Sutler hobbles out onto the stage, his left arm in a brace while a fluffy looking neck brace keeps his bruised face held aloft. The overall look is completed with his leather jacket which looks almost comically out of place with all the bandaging. He leans heavily on a heavy black cane with the grinning head of Max Kael cast out of silver.

The crowd greets the young wrestler with a mix of boos and jeers as he limps to the center of the stage, his lips pulled back into a sneer reminiscent of his late father while his dark, brooding eyes are reflective of his other father. Fishing what looks to be a decommissioned Maxopotamia microphone out of his pocket his music slowly fades away replaced with a chant of “You Washed Out!”

SRK: SHUT UP!

Unfortunately the demand is only met with louder chants and stronger boos.

SRK: Last week was a travesty, an absolute crime and I stand here before you another victim of this company’s complete lack of balance!

Shuffling across the stage Sutler looks to be in far more pain than one might expect if they had actually watched his HOFC bout against Dan Ryan.

SRK: Dan Ryan, the best part of the worst parts of the Group of Death, threw everything he had at me to kill me and yet here I stand! Before our match that dinosaur had the gaul to hit me and I suspect strongly that he struck me with poison on his hand! How do you explain me losing to him?! How do you explain my behavior in the match? I am the FUTURE of this company, there is no way that an old, washed up, second fiddle to a third rate High School ensemble could possibly, fairly, legitimately defeat the Son of Scions in the ring.. What we are looking at in High Octane Wrestling..

Pausing for a second as he hobbles back across the stage, wincing and dragging his left leg behind him like some kind of Dickenson’s cripple.

SRK: AGEISM! That’s right, my grandfather and all the other ancient methuselah who run the show around here don’t want new talent to shine! They don’t want guys like me to grow because they’re still banking on the same shit that worked in the 1990ies to still play out today! Well sorry, pops, but it’s time to grow out of the same stupid shit you’ve been doing for 29402 god damn years now! It’s time for me, for Sutler Reynolds-Kael! I will fight for the young people, for the new talent, for the guys who deserve a seat at the table instead of having conspiracies plotted against me!..Like ME! SUTLER REYNOLDS-KAEL!

Pointing a finger at himself Sutler seems to only garner more angry replies from the audience who has little interest in Sutler’s deranged rant.

SRK: Moving ward let it be known that if you were born before 1980, you’re on my hit list! I will destroy every old, tired, dry Rassler in this company and help lead it into the future! Into a better place, a place where guys like me can wrestle in a match without worry about a guy who was real big when moving pictures hit the scene poisoning me to win a match! Or cheating somehow.. Or whatever the fuck Dan Ryan did that was illegal to defeat me! That means you John Sektor. That means you Jatt Starr. That means you Kostoff, Scottywood, High Flyer, Steve Solex the whoooole geriatic lot! Oh and since Dan Ryan defeated me in the LBI under HOFC rules..

Sutler flexes one arm since the other is bandaged up.

SRK: That’s right, I’m still #UNDEFEATED you much of bitches. Sutler..OOOOOoooooOOOOUT!

Slipping the microphone away as “Believer” by Solence cranks up over the PA system once again, Sutler attempts to pose but winces and hobbles away appearing to be in great pain as we cut to commercial.

Joe Hoffman: Welcome everyone back to Refueled and it is time for our last DeNucci Cup match of the night and this one I cannot wait to see. Conor Fuse against Michael Lee Best. Winner moves onto an elite eight date with Clay Byrd who already has beaten a HOW Hall of Famer in John Sektor and newcomer Hudson Hughes thus far in the tournament.

Benny Newell: Boring as fuck. Sektor is focused on the Bruvs and the Tag Titles. Simple. This is like the FA cup for that scouser……focus Joe…focus.

But the focus is NOT on the octagon where Mike Best is waiting for his opponent but the instead everyone turns towards the entrance ramp as we see Conor Fuse come tumbling out from the back.

Right behind him…….High Flyer.

Fuse stumbles to his feet but is met with a Lou Thesz press from Flyer who continues the assault with right hands. He stands up and surveys the damage and pulls Fuse up to his feet….takes a few steps back……and charges at the man and nails him with his Locomotive Yakuza Kick.

The force of the blow sends Fuse rolling down the entrance ramp….finally stopping about halfway down.

High Flyer turns to head towards the back and then stops. He looks over to his right at Mike Best who is giving him the old Slow Clap of appreciation and this elicits a smirk from Flyer……….and he slowly turns back towards Fuse and begins running down the ramp after the man.

Joe Hoffman: Where the heck is security!!!????

Benny Newell: You think they are coming out to help Mike Best’s opponent?

For once Joe is silent as Benny makes complete sense.

Back to the action and High Flyer once again nails, a now kneeling Fuse, with his Locomotive kick and this time the man rolls all the way to the bottom of the ramp.

The crowd is cheering for Flyer and the man is not sure how to react to that as its clear they are supporting the man that just made Mike Best’s night an easy one. As High Flyer exits to the back the crowd is literally chanting his name….and so is Mike Best.

WAY TO GO FLYER….WAY TO GO

WAY TO GO FLYER….WAY TO GO

Joe Hoffman: This is just complete horse manure. Fuse worked way too hard for this to happen to him tonight. He DESERVED a clean fight against Mike…..not this……not at all like this.

Benny Newell: Hey its not over…..shit its not even started!!

Joe can only roll his eyes at Benny as HOW medics begin helping Conor to the back. They make it to the top of the ramp and Fuse pushes both medics off him and he falls to the stage without their support. They bend down to help him but he again pushes them off. He then turns towards Mike Best and slowly stands to his feet and stares down at the man.

Mike motions for him to bring it and Fuse gingerly hops off the stage and begins walking back towards the octagon.

Benny Newell: PUSH START MOTHERFUCKER…….LETS FUCKING GO!!!!!

The crowd is in a frenzy as Mike is screaming at Boettcher to ring the bell but Boettcher is holding off as Fuse has yet to make it all the way there.

Conor reaches the outside of the cage and yells at Boettcher to PUSH START as its time to play the …..

Boettcher signals for the bell and just as the sound of bell can be heard Mike nails him with his running knee and the crowd screams I KNEED A HERO as the force of the blow sends Fuse down the steps and out of the octagon before he even could get his second foot inside.

Mike turns and does his best Rocky impression as the crowd cheers loudly as Boettcher rushes to the arena floor to check on Fuse.

The already damaged man is clearly out cold from the knee and Boettcher signals for the bell.

Bryan McVay: WINNER OF THE MATCH VIA KNOCKOUT IN THE FIRST ROUND…..MICHAEL LEEEEEEE BEEESSSTTTTT!!!!

Joe Hoffman: I cannot believe what we just saw. This was supposed to be a great fight. CONOR DID NOT DESERVE THIS!!!

Benny Newell: None of us deserve Mike Best…it is a privilege Joe….a motherfucking privilege.

The action cuts elsewhere as the HOW medics once again rush out from the back to attend to Fuse.

We are taken somewhere backstage in a not so very lit part of the Best Arena.  The camera pans through a door that leads to the stairwell.  Footsteps can be heard as they become closer and closer, it is revealed to be the steps of one Brian Hollywood.  Hollywood is sporting street clothes tonight, obviously being surprisingly knocked out of the HOFC tournament…but there is more pressing matters on his mind than the tournament.  Hollywood is sporting his iconic black pants and leather chain look as he tugs on his leather vest before noticing the camera.  Hollywood smiles briefly before looking away for just a moment as he gathers his thoughts.

Brian Hollywood: You know, a lot of people probably haven’t fucking cared about what I have got going on lately, but that’s alright.  I don’t need pity around here.  I never have.  I’ve always been a lone wolf around here.  It’s never bothered me.  That being said…I’ve always kept myself in the conversation…tonight is no different…

Hollywood pauses briefly as he takes a moment to relish in the opportunity that has finally presented itself in front of him.  Hollywood nods slowly before looking back towards the camera, still speaking calmly.

Brian Hollywood: HOFC is fine and all…but there is more on my mind than being knocked out of a tournament.  You see, I’m not the only one who’s recently been knocked out of a tournament…

Hollywood once again pauses as he relives a particular moment from last weeks show.  Hollywood smiles, knowing full well that fate had everything to do with this end result.

Brian Hollywood: Heh…it’s still funny to me how it happened.  Great fight and all…but the truth is that one is probably going to sting you a little bit.  However, let me take that loss, that thought off your mind and give you a new thought process….you know…because I respect you and want to save you from the grief and the questions you would otherwise undoubtedly be unleashing on yourself…trust me…I’m doing you a favor and god only knows you’ll thank me some day for it…

Hollywood lets the riddles continue for a minute before he finally sharpens his tone and looks dead into the camera.

Brian Hollywood: The truth of the matter is….no more riddles.  No more questions.  Fate has finally drawn us on the same path…the same collision course….and it’s time to finally let our battlefield take flight.  You and me have been waiting YEARS to do this and now fate has finally steered us down this avenue.  So what do you say?  I can think of no better battlefield for our epic clash to take place than at March to Glory!  I’m officially laying down the challenge and now there’s no more obstacles, no more hurdles keeping us from tearing each other apart in that ring….something we’ve always wanted to do…something we’ve always talked about always doing.  No stables..no more ego’s no more miles keeping us apart…no Unstable…no Order….just you…and me….March to Glory….so what do you say??  The ball’s in your court……

Hollywood pauses one more time before clearly, audibly and profoundly speaking….

Brian Hollywood: JASON CASHE!

Hollywood churns that all too familiar cocky and brash smirk before returning to the serious state we found him before turning around and walking back down the stairwell from whence he came as the show cuts to commercial.

The feed comes back to life after the commercial break.

Backstage, Skinny Robert Dean is loosening up with some minor stretches. He’s rocking the all powder blue vibe, and looks poised to give Jatt a run for his money in tonight’s upcoming main event for the LSD Championship.

Suddenly though, Bob’s sharpened focus shifts upon seeing a certain individual approaching him.

Bobby Dean: No. Not you again. I swear, I’m not falling for any more of your bullshit. Wasn’t the last time bad enough? You’re a sick man. I don’t want your luck. I don’t need your luck.

Yep. You guessed it. It’s the Good Luck Committee. Jiles, dressed in his customary 97red jumpsuit is surprisingly without his precious T-shades. His hair is fabulous and his smile is genuine.

Jiles: I get it. I jinxed ya. My bad. I just want to say I got your back out there if one of Jatt’s flock decides to fly in over the guardrail and interrupt the proceedings. We all do.

Bobby Dean: Who is we?

Jiles: You know who we is.

Bobby Dean: So just you then.

Jiles: Yes.

Bobby Dean: Good to know. Thanks. But don’t. You’ll just wind up screwing this up for me and then I’ll have to smash your sunglasses. Do us both a favor.

Hurt, the COOLMPIAN pleads his case.

Jiles: I’d never intentionally do something like that. NEVER. And speaking of sunglasses, I wanted you to have these. You’re the coolest guy I know so they should be yours.

The Beautiful Man from Honalee looks at Jiles with suspicion in his eyes.

Bobby Dean: Why would I want those cheap knockoffs? Am I supposed to believe those are the ones from off your face when you weren’t even wearing them to begin with? How stupid do you think I am?

Embarrassed, Jiles looks at Bobby as if he was just slapped across the face with his own penis.

Bobby Dean: Plus, if I wanted YOUR shades, what’s to stop me from walking up to you at Quiy  Neys and taking them? Or anywhere else for that matter?

The Maestro’s tune runs silent.

Bobby Dean: That’s what I thought. How about you keep them Cancer, keep them to hide your tears after I win, proving once and for all that I never really needed you, or your good luck.

With a sneer, Bobby shoulders past Jiles and continues on down the hallway as we cut elsewhere.

Cutting back to ringside we see Bobby Dean standing in the ring, pulling on the ropes to get that last minute stretch in as he awaits the LSD champion to make his entrance.

Benny Newell: Bobby Dean may have lost a fuckton of weight, but he still walks to the ring like he weighs a literal ton.

Joe Hoffman: Well what matters is how he moves once that bell is rung… and Bobby Dean poses a big challenge for the Hall of Fame LSD champion Jatt Starr here tonight.

Benny Newell: BIG indeed.

Joe Hoffman: He’s 255 now Benny, give up on the fat jokes.

Benny Newell: He’s still fucking fat at heart Joe.

“I WANT IT ALL!”   

”I WANT IT ALL!”   

“I WANT IT ALL!”   

”AND I WANT IT NOW!”   

Pyrotechnics explode at the top of the ramp as “I Want It All” by Queen blares across the arena.  Emerging from the curtain being followed by his hulking, disfigured bodyguard/employee Hugo Scorpio, is Jatt Starr.  The Ruler of Jattlantis smugly walks down the ramp carrying a walking cane with a weighted spherical head which has an inscription that reads “Mr. Whacky”.   Jatt Starr hands Hugo his cane, “Mister Whacky”, walks up the ring steps and enters the ring.   In the center of the ring, he kneels down as a single purple spotlight shines upon him, as if the HOW gods themselves are showering him in the “their” light.   Jatt Starr rises as the purple light fades, the house lights once again illuminates the ring.

Benny Newell: Give him it all Joe!  NOW!

Joe Hoffman: All what?

Benny Newell: Yes Joe! 

Jatt hands his LSD Title over to Joe Boettcher who lifts it in the air as Bryan McVay enters the ring for the introductions.

Bryan McVay: Per the COO of HOW, Scottywood, the following match for the LSD Title will be a falls count anywhere match!

Joe Hoffman: Curve ball by Scottywood for both the LSD Champion and his foe from ICONIC.  Who do you think this benefits Benny?

Benny Newell: Who the fuck does Scotty think he…

Joe Hoffman: Yeah, figured you didn’t have a productive thought for that question.  I think this has to benefit the challenger.  Jatt wasn’t planning for

Bryan McVay: Introducing first, from Houston, Texas and weighing in at 255 pounds… BOBBY DEAN!!!!!

Dean throws his arms up as Jatt looks away, ignoring Bobby as McVay turns his attention to Jatt.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent, he is the HOW LSD Champion!!! From Havre, Montana and weighing in at 225 pounds…. HOW Hall of Famer… JATT STARR!!!!

Jatt goes to raise his arms but lunges at Dean and decks him with a wicked clothesline as McVay dives out of the ring and Boettcher calls for the bell.

DING DING DING

Joe Hoffman: Cheap shot by Starr to start things off, but falls count anywhere, so anything will go here tonight.  This match will only end by pinfall or submission, wherever it happens.

Benny Newell: That is why Jatt is one of the greatest ever!  One of the smartest competitors HOW has ever seen.

Bobby quickly rolls out of the ring as Jatt gives chase as he runs towards Dean and shoulder tackles him straight into the crowd barricade.  Hugo quickly tosses Jatt his walking cane as Dean starts to pull himself up and Jatt cracks the cane straight across the head of Dean, splitting him open.  Jatt follows up with a few more shots to the body before the cane breaks and Jatt discards it before going for a cover.

ONE…………

TWO……………….

Benny Newell: Record win by Ja…

Dean powers out as he wipes the blood away from his eyes and starts firing back with wild punches to Jatt that start landing as Starr staggers away.  Dean makes it back to his feet as he spears Starr into the nearby ringpost as Jatt arches his back in pain before Dean connects with a DDT onto the outside floor.

Bobby picks up the steel steps and goes to slam them down on Jatt, but Starr rolls out of the way as he pops back up but Bobby Dean clotheslines him over the crowd barricade and into the first row of fans.  Jatt quickly stumbles up and tries to evade Dean but Bobby grabs a steel chair and as Starr stumbles, Dean cracks him across the back.

Joe Hoffman: Spine splittering shot by Bobby as Starr is now quickly on the defense here.

Benny Newell: Toss out a cupcake as a distraction Jatt!

Joe Hoffman: Bobby isn’t fat anymore!  Plus where is Jat hiding a cup… I don’t even wanna ask actually…

Jatt turns to try and fight back but gets a chair shot straight between the eyes that now busts the LSD champion open.  Dean drops the chair and boots Starr in the gut before nailing a snap brainbuster straight onto the steel chair.

Joe Hoffman: He may have broken jatt’s neck there!  Cover by Dean!

ONE…….

TWO………………

THREEEEEEE……………………

Benny Newell: NOOOOOOOOOO……

Jatt gets the shoulder up at the last second as Benny slumps back into his chair in relief before Bobby grabs Jatt’s head and starts slamming it into the steel chair over and over again… five times in total before going for another cover….

ONE………………..

TWO………………….

Shoulder up by Jatt as Bobby slams his fist on the steel chair as he pulls Jatt up to his feet and throws him back over the crowd barricade and back to the ringside area.  Throwing the chair towards the ring, Bobby goes to climb back over as Jatt pops back up though and big boots Dean as he is halfway over the barricade.  Picking Dean up just enough, he slams Dean crotch first into the crowd barricade as Dean winces in pain and falls to the ringside floor.

Benny Newell: Jatt scrambling Bobby’s eggs!

Joe Hoffman: Um… sure… but Dean is in trouble now as Jatt is going under the ring!

Jatt pulls a kendo stick out from under the ring as he stalks Dean for a second before…

CRACK! 

CRACK! 

CRACK! 

CRACK! 

CRACK! 

The skin on the back of Bobby Dean is welting over and over as the kendo stick splinters and again Jatt has to dispose of his weapon as somehow Bobby staggers back to his feet and turns toward Jat..

Benny Newell: Low Blow!

Joe Hoffman: Starr focusing on the already injured extremities….

Benny Newell: Falling Star!!!!

With Dean laid out Jatt thinks about the cover, but instead grabs the legs and goes for the modified Texas cloverleaf, but Dean frees his leg and cracks Jatt in the side of the head.  Jatt reaches back for the leg as Dean kicks it up for his own low blow as Jatt staggers back to the announce table.

Benny Newell: No Fair!  DQ his ass!

Joe Hoffman: Seriously?  He… ugh, nevermind.

Dean pops up and grabs Jatt and slams him through the announce table with a Michinoku Driver.  The crowd is roaring as Dean grabs the far leg for a cover.

ONE……….

TWO…………………

THREE………………………

Benny Newell: You spilled my Jack you fucker!

Joe Hoffman: Jatt just gets his shoulder up somehow!

Dean rolls over onto his back, exhausted as he can’t believe he still can’t put away the LSD champion as he turns back to Jatt who has some of the announcer cables in hand and starts strangling Bobby Dean with them.

Joe Hoffman: We are taking cover as Jatt Starr is now choking Bobby Dean out on the remnants of our table and Benny Newell is trying to lick Jack Daniels off Jatt’s boots.

Benny Newell: Stop moving your feet Jatt!

Dean struggles to get free as the oxygen has been cut off from him while Jatt tightens his grip and pulls back even more.  Dean continues to reach out for something for leverage and manages to grab Benny bottle of Jack Daniels and heaves it backwards, smashing it over the head of Starr.

Benny Newell: NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

We can almost hear Benny’s heart rate racing into the 200s as he collapses to the floor.  Jatt meanwhile staggers away towards the entrance ramp as Dean grabs another chair from the fans behind the announce table and follows the LSD champion.  Dean cracks the chair across the back of Jatt who tries to keep putting space between the two, but can’t as Bobby again cracks Jatt with another shot across the back.  Dropping the chair, Dean tosses Jatt off the ramp way and he lands back first on the concrete next to the HOFC cage. 

Joe Hoffman: I think I could hear Jatt’s spine cracking on that concrete as Dean has full control of this match. 

Bobby pulls Jatt up to his feet and goes to irish whip jatt into the HOFC cage, but Jatt reverses it and sends Bobby face first into the cage.  Dean bounces off it and Jatt grabs Dean’s head and rams it again into the cage and starts grating his face back and forth across it as blood starts to cover the face of Dean.  With his face against the cage, Jatt drives some knees into the back of Bobby, over and over, for five hard shots.  Jatt then spins Bobby around and connects with a quick snap suplex on Bobby as it’s now Dean’s spine cracking off the concrete as Jatt goes for the cover.

Joe Hoffman: Jatt working the back and then gets his payback on the cold hard concrete.

ONE………..

TWO………………………

THREE……………………………

Joe Hoffman: Shoulder up by Dean!

Benny Newell: Where is my emergency Jack bottle!  Someone get me my emergency Jack!

Joe Hoffman: That WAS your emergency bottle.  Jatt is now opening up the HOFC cage door.

With the door open, Jatt drags Bobby over to the door and places his head in the opening as he grabs the door and slams it closed.

CRASH!

Joe Hoffman: Oh shit!

But Dean rolls out of the way at the last second as Jatt slams the door closed as it bounces back a bit and whacks him in his face.  On his back, Dean kicks the door again back into the face of Starr who staggers back to the entrance ramp.  Dean charges at Jatt and spears the champion back first into the edge of the entrance ramp as he locks him in a front face lock.  Lifting him up he slams Jatt face first on the cold steel as Dean then drives his knee over and over into the top of Jatt’s skull.  Climbing back onto the steel ramp, Bobby goes to pick Jatt up for his finishing piledriver.

Joe Hoffman: Danshoku Driver!

Jatt’s feet come a few inches off the ramp but then slam back down as Jatt reverses the move and slams Bobby back first into the steel rampway with a back body drop.  Dean’s body arches in pain as the blood continues to run down his face.  Jatt nearly collapses himself as staggers backwards as he stares down at Dean who nearly ended this match.

Joe Hoffman: Bobby Dean so close right there!  Had he hit that piledriver on the rampway, we’d have a new LSD champion.

Benny Newell: Someone get me a straw!  I can suck it up off the floor still!

Jatt drives his boot into the side of Dean’s skull before he picks him back up off the steel and he locks in the inverted headlock.

Joe Hoffman: Morning Starr…

Driving the elbow into the chest of Dean, Jatt raises the knee and drives it into the welted back of Dean.

Joe Hoffman: Connects!  Dean laid out on the entrance ramp as Jatt goes for the cover.

ONE……………..

TWO…………………………

THREE……………………………………….

Benny Newell: AND STILL….

DING DING DING

Benny Newell: YOUR LSD CHAMPION… JATT STARR!!!!!!!

Bryan McVay: Your winner… and still the LSD champion…. JATT STARR!!!!!

Joe Hoffman: Bobby Dean pushing Jatt Starr to his limit here in this brutal falls count anywhere match… but Jatt Starr just being able to hang on and retain his LSD title tonight.

Jatt just rolls over onto his back and stares up at the lights as Boettcher hands him the LSD Title and Jatt Starr clutches onto it as he looks over at Bobby Dean who is just starting to move and shakes his head.

Joe Hoffman: Jatt Starr retains as we head into the final eight of The DeNucci Cup next week, good night from Chicago folks!