Refueled LV

The High Octane Television logo gives way as the Refueled broadcast begins.

But we do not go inside the arena.

We do not cut to the announcers.

Instead The Best Arena itself opens up the show as we see the building in the center of the screen as the Chicago skyline shines brightly in the background.

Slowly Clay Byrd strode into view, his black pinched front cowboy hat and long black coat stood out as the primary features. The behemoth approached the talent entrance wearily as he was swarmed by reporters.

Reporter: CLAY! CLAY! Could you tell us what you meant last week on Refueled about there being an infection?

Second Reporter: CLAY! Have you made your decision?

Third Reporter: Clay! Are you going to go after another fight with Mike Best?

Fourth Reporter: Clay, what are your plans!?

Fifth Reporter: Is Mike Best the infection!?

The cacophony of noise continues as Clay methodically pushes his way through the reporters. He swats a microphone jammed into his face away, following it up by grabbing a cell phone out of a reporters hand and throwing it into the streets of Chicago. Finally making his way to the security guards at The Best Arena he stops and pauses for a moment turning around to address the madness behind him.

Clay Byrd: First off, all y’all need ta calm the fuck down. This ain’t no press conference, I’m simply walkin’ inta this buildin’ ta discuss the terms of a potential agreement with High Octane Wrasslin.

Reporter: Does that mean you’ve signed with High Octane?

Clay Byrd: I don’t think ya really understand the definition of the term ‘potential.’

Clay mocks the reporter, using his hands to create air quotes as he says the word potential.

Clay Byrd: Whichever one of ya chuckle fucks that brought up Michael Best, understand I ain’t in no position ta walk inta this buildin’ demandin’ anythin’ like that. Michael Best knocked my ass out in the middle of an octagon, sure, I looked great in there for two rounds against the champ, but all that matters in the end is the result. I’m an unsigned talent, I’ll be subjected ta the same treatment as that nineteen year old kid competin’ on Refueled tonight, and I’ll be happy ta do it.

Reporter: But Clay many peo…

Clay holds up his finger interrupting the reporter.

Clay Byrd: Many people can say whatever the hell they want. Many people in this very buildin’ behind me are absolute fuckin’ idiots. They don’t have the common sense ta understand that there’s a time and a place fer breakin’ with the norms. They want Hellfire and Brimstone, they want broken bodies and pain, that’s what the faithful of High Octane desire. They don’t give a damn if it comes from me, or happens ta me. We’re the modern day gladiators fer those sick fucks, and they would just as well see me die in that octagon as seein’ me victorious.

Byrd pauses for a moment, removing his cowboy hat and brushing his long dirty blonde hair back out of his eyes.

Clay Byrd: The truth of it is, there’s a hierarchy when ya come inta a place like this. Even after doin’ well in a tournament ya still have ta play by the rules. Sure it’s great these people know who ya are, it’s fantastic that they want me ‘round and they enjoyed my work. But I didn’t earn no right ta be jumpin’ my way ta the top of the line. I haven’t earned anythin’ ‘round these parts and it’ll take time. I’d love ta punch Michael Best in the head again, but that’ll all come in time. I’ll have my battles and earn my stripes like everyone else in High Octane.

Byrd stops again, this time putting his pinched front black cowboy hat back on his head and finishes speaking.

Clay Byrd: My adversary today is Lee Best and his representatives. What comes out of that office as a final drafted document fer me ta take home ta Texas and review is the important part of this visit. Makin’ sure I’m adequately rewarded fer the amount of effort it takes ta clean up a place like High Octane Wrasslin. I’m sure Mr. Best and I have conflictin’ views on the needs as it regards ta my matter of my employment, and the negotiation will be hard fought. Hopefully fer the good of High Octane Wrasslin’ we can come ta an agreement. Thank ya’ll fer yer time, have a great evenin’ and hope ya’ll enjoy the show.

Clay tips his hat low as he turns away from the gate and continues walking into The Best Arena as we cut inside the arena and to the Hall of Fame announce team.

Joe Hoffman: And we’re ready for our opening match between Desmond LeRoux, who is making his HOW debut… and Sean Stevens.  Gonna be a match full of air time as both men have many frequent flyer miles in the ring.

Benny Newell: Really Joe?  Who the fuck even flys these days?

Joe Hoffman: What do you mean Benny?

Benny Newell: Just shut up Joe and call the fucking match.

Joe Hoffman: Ok then….

“Time Today” By Moneybagg Yo hits as there is a lukewarm reception for the new HOW high flying rookie.  Desmond makes his way down to the ring, focused on his HOW debut as he slides into the ring for McVay’s introduction.

Bryan McVay: The following match is scheduled for one fall, making his way to the ring from Lake Charles. Louisiana and weighing in at 180 pounds… Desmond LeRoux!!!!

The lights dim, as the soulful intro blares over the airwaves.

And, the beat dropped.

SFX: (Extra loud hissing sound.)

Smoke pyrotechnics shot to the roof, as “No Hook,” by Jay Z blasted over the PA system, and Trip stepped through the curtain. He was immediately met with a mixed reaction – that he ignored – as he sauntered confidently to the ring, in a 100% cotton “King’s Back” t-shirt, black and silver tights, and a pair of “Ray Ban” clubmaster sunglasses. Ignoring the cat calls, and flash bulbs, Stevens didn’t acknowledge anything or anyone ’til he entered the ring, and hopped on each of the four turnbuckles, thrusting his arms in the air victoriously.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent, from Orlando, Florida and weighing in at 218 pounds… Sean Stevens!!!

Joe Hoffman: A nearly 40 pound advantage for Stevens here in this match…

Benny Newell: Wait? Where is Scott Stevens?  Fuck him!

Joe Hoffman: Sean Stevens…

Benny Newell: He better win before we have another S. Stevens loser in HOW.

Joe Hoffman: Why?  Just leave that in the…

Benny Newell: LONESOME LOSER!!!!!

Joe Hoffman: Why… just why…

DING DING DING

Boettcher calls for the bell as the two men lock up exchanging some quick wrestling grapples as they swing around each other trying to get the other hand before the reset back at a quick stalemate and smile at each other.  But before they can do anything Stevens quickly throws a kick out to right under Desmond’s jaw.

Joe Hoffman: Chin Check!

Benny Newell: Hell’s Bitch Kick!

Joe Hoffman: That isn’t Kirsta Lewis!

Desmond is sent reeling back into the ropes as Stevens launches forward and leaps up for a hurracaranna that connects.  Desmond pops up as Stevens goes for a flying forearm but Desmond turns it into an arm drag take down and pops up to nail a standing moonsault as he goes for the cover.

ONE……………

TWO……………

Stevens kicks out as he rolls away and pulls himself back to his feet as Desmond goes for a big head kick but Stevens ducks and boots Desmond in the gut for a spike DDT.  Going for the top rope quickly, Stevens goes for a big frog splash and connects as he  now goes for his first cover.

ONE……………..

TWO…………………………….

THREE…….

Desmond just gets his shoulder up as Stevens hammers a few quick rights in as he pulls Desmond back up to his feet and whips him hard into the far turnbuckle.  Stevens charges in and drives his shoulder into the gut of Desmond before he goes for another hurracaranna but Desmond holds onto the ropes in the corner and Stevens slams hard back first into the mat.

Joe Hoffman: Desmond gives up those 40 pounds but the Harvard student outsmarts Stevens there and uses his weight against him.

Benny Newell: Didn’t he drop out though?

Joe Hoffman: And what world class education do you have to judge him with?

Benny Newell: I once drank with a doctor… or had to see a doctor after drinking… or maybe I punched a doctor while drinking.  One of those Joe!

Desmond quickly springboards off the middle rope and lands a moonsault.  He then hits the ropes and running towards Stevens, Desmond launches into a shooting star press that connects hard as the HOW crowd cheers the athletic maneuver.  With Stevens still on the mat and reeling, Desmond lays a couple of boots to his head as he points towards the top rope.

Joe Hoffman: Seems Desmond is calling for the end.  My notes say his big finisher is a…

Benny Newell: Fucking spoilers you nerd!

Desmond quickly leaps up to the top rope as to not waste time as he leaps off and twists 450 degrees and lands a massive shooting star press on Stevens.

Joe Hoffman: 450 Shooting Star Press!

Benny Newell: I’m fucking dizzy just watching that.

Joe Hoffman: You’re dizzy cause your drunk…. Cover by Desmond!

ONE…………….

TWO………………………

THREE…………………………………

DING DING DING

“Time Today” By Moneybagg Yo hits again as Desmond rolls off Stevens and climbs back to his feet holding his ribs as Boettcher raises his other hand in victory.

Joe Hoffman: Impressive high flying match and a win for Desmond LeRoux in his first HOW match here tonight.

Benny Newell: I’ll drink to that!

Joe Hoffman: Of course you will… and probably every other winner tonight on the Go Home show before March to Glory.

Benny Newell: Glory!! DRINK!

Joe Hoffman: Gonna be a long night…

We cut away from ringside as we see Desmond LeRoux walking up the rampway, arm again in the air celebrating his first win in HOW.

Our scene transitions to the interior of a locker room where Teddy Palmer is seated on a folding chair positioned between his wooden stall. His hands are clasped together, and his thousand yard stare is directed nowhere in particular. His right eye is still slightly swollen from last week’s attack by Cancer Jiles, the bruising starting to transition in color. He’s not his typical jovial self, and it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots as to why.

Teddy Palmer: Fuckin’ Jiles. And Sektor. And Starr. And the Bruvs. They can all eat a bag of dicks…

Teddy mutters to himself, obviously still bitter about the events of last week and the fallout from them. Unaware there’s a cameraman in the locker room, it’s no surprise he hadn’t noticed the arrival of Lindsay Troy moments earlier.

Lindsay Troy: Calm down with those scintillating barbs, Palmer, you’re encroaching on Starrsek’s territory.

Teddy’s trance is broken, and he looks up at the Queen. A slight smile reaches across his face, but it doesn’t take residence for long.

Lindsay Troy: But maybe we stop dwelling for a few hours, huh? New night, Go-Home Show. Time to put your stamp on it.

Teddy Palmer: Is that what this looks like? That I’m ‘dwelling’?

Teddy says the word in a sarcastic tone, accompanied by air quotes.

Teddy Palmer: Right. That’s exaaaactly what I’m doing. Just sitting here, pondering what last week’s outcome could have been had Jiles minded his own fuckin’ business. In fact, I’m also agonizing over my year long fall from grace, going from main eventing last year’s March to Glory to not even being on the damned card this year. Dwelling, pfft. Get your head outta your ass, Troy…

Teddy scoffs at the idea, but is quite unconvincing. Lindsay raises an eyebrow immediately.

Lindsay Troy: Excuse me?

Teddy Palmer: Err…sorry about that. I’m simply contemplating, that’s all…

Teddy is quick to apologize for his childlike outburst. Lindsay tilts her head, unsure if he genuinely doesn’t think there’s a difference between “dwelling” and “contemplating.” She shakes the thought away before pulling up a chair to sit beside him.

Lindsay Troy: Well how about you contemplate your upcoming match against Darin. That’d be fantastic.

Teddy turns to face Lindsay, this time his smirk sticking around a little bit longer.

Teddy Palmer: …Zion or Matthews?

Lindsay Troy: Oh for fuck’s sake, we’re not doing this again…

Teddy Palmer: Simmer down, I’m just fuckin’ with ya. I ain’t overlooking that annoying little shit one bit. I said I needed to make an example of him tonight, I intend on following through.

Lindsay Troy: Good, because gaining some momentum tonight can make a world of difference.

Teddy Palmer: Here’s an idea: stop worrying about me and focus on Small Soldier Stevie Solex. You know he’s gonna try and pull some stupid bullshit tonight.

Lindsay Troy: Bold of you to tell me what to do.

A grin appears on her face.

Lindsay Troy: Don’t worry about me; I’m planning on putting my own stamp on Solex in this little war of attrition tonight. I got the match I wanted, and now I’m gonna head into March to Glory with as much momentum as I can get.

Teddy Palmer: Great. You’re ready. I’m ready. We just gotta make sure Zeb’s ready. This trio needs to ditch the whole winging it approach. I think it’d be Best if we found our rhythm and started firing on all cylinders. We need to become a more cohesive unit, rather than walking into the Best Arena like some sort of cheap three musketeer imitation week in and week out.

Lindsay Troy: I could get used to this “take no prisoners” attitude, Ted. Better than that other one you had a couple minutes ago.

Ted is about to retort, but the pair are interrupted by a mesh cap poking through the crack of the locker room door accompanied by a soft knocking.

Zeb Martin: Hey y’all!

Lindsay Troy: Hey, welcome back, stranger. You’re looking tan!

Teddy Palmer: I’ll say! Takk about a bronzed beauty. How was the fishin’ trip?

Zeb’s face forms a bashful grin over the complementary observations from his pals. He steps in, revealing a souvenir from his vacation on the Gulf Coast. A tie dye tank top with the phrase “Salty Lil’ Beach” doesn’t quite seem to be something Martin would choose to wear, but who are we to judge?

Zeb Martin: Ain’t go’n lie. Not near long enuff. But reckon we got us some business need attendin’ tuh! Cain’t buhleve we go’n get a rematch at March tuh Glory fer dem tag team titles!

Zeb moves closer and raises his arm up for a high five, despite the fact that Lindsay and Teddy are looking at him like he’d gotten a little too much sun this week. Teddy, adhering to the unwritten code of not leaving a bro hanging, obliges in slapping five, but it’s void of enthusiasm.

Zeb Martin: Whut? Get STOKED y’all! We got another shot!

Teddy Palmer: Eh buddy…who uh…who told that?

Zeb Martin: Well, the guy I’m ‘rasslin tonight did. Brian Hollywood. He kept on congratulatin’ me on gettin’ a tag title shot at March tuh Glory. I mean, I ain’t seen nothin’ from management this week, but I ain’t checked my emails. Thought it was kinda odd y’all ain’t text ‘r call ‘bout it, though.

Lindz shakes her head, followed by a “bless your heart” hand to shoulder from Palmer.

Lindsay Troy: Yeah, Zeb. We didn’t want to interrupt your vacation, but guess what? Not only do you two have a title shot at March to Glory, but Ted also won the lottery while you were gone!

Martin’s elation only grows at the announcement. Temporarily. He then begins to frown as a realization hits like a punch to the gut.

Zeb Martin: Aw man. You go’n retire now, aintcha? I gotta find a new partner AGAIN? Dang it.

Teddy Palmer: Zeb…buddy…I don’t know what Hollywood was smoking, but no. We don’t have a rematch. We don’t have a match at all.

Zeb Martin: Aw, dang it! S’pose you still go’n retire tho?

Teddy looks at Zeb like Lindsay looks at him when he says something stupid.

Teddy Palmer: …No.

Zeb Martin: Great! You go’n share yer winnings?

Teddy Palmer: I DIDN’T WIN THE LOTTERY!

Teddy yells at The Watson Mill Kid while Lindsay enjoys this exchange more than she probably should.

Lindsay Troy: Alright, enough with the goofin’. Let’s leave this place on a high tonight, put Zion, Hollywood, and Solex in their places, and who knows…maybe you two will get yourselves a match in MSG after all.

The scene fades out as Refueled heads to the ring.

The scene goes to ringside where a purple carpet is laid out across the canvas floor and there are four “displays” in each corner of the ring, covered in a light gray cloth reading DISPLAY #1-4. Suddenly, an 8-bit rendition of Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train” blares on the PA and The Vintage Conor Fuse strolls out to a decent cheer. He’s sporting a purple “FUSE is LiT” t-shirt and dark purple Adidas track pants as he marches down the rampway with purpose. Conor slides into the ring and asks for a microphone.

Conor Fuse: How the hell IS everyone today!?

The fans give a light cheer but Conor keeps the energy going and continues quickly.

Conor Fuse: Did everyone like when I cracked all those VHS tapes over that prick Jack Harmen’s head!?

Cheers get a little louder.

Conor Fuse: Is it VIOLENCE you crave!?

And a little louder still.

Conor Fuse: Because I’ve caught on to all of YOU. You want to see destruction inside this ring! You want to see a bloody massacre am I right!?

Joe Hoffman: I gotta hand it to Conor, he’s riling these people right up.

Conor Fuse: Like how I took it to Scotty at his own game!? I got hardcore! Now I’m gonna take it to Jack at HIS own game. I’m gonna get… craaaaaazy!!

Benny Newell: [sarcastic] Great.

Conor quickly replies to Newell, even though he can’t hear him. The Vintage simply assumes the color commentator said something.

Conor Fuse: STFU, Benny. Every single BOT and Boss in the back is capable of GREATNESS. Even me. Even Darin Goomba Matthews. Even… HIGH FLYER. Yes, that’s right, at his ripe old age of like 50-bit, he still has the POTENTIAL inside him! Heck, everyone in the back CAN achieve greatness! But some won’t be able to do it… and you wanna know why?

Benny Newell: No!

Conor Fuse: Benny, seriously bro, killing my pop’n’fresh vibes here. Because they can’t get out of their own way! JACK HARMEN, you did something incredible when you beat me up… you beat me up! But if that’s all you get out of this then I have failed you as an opponent!

The Vintage walks over to the marked DISPLAY #1. Fuse pulls back the cover to reveal a mannequin sporting the same High Flyer tights The Lunatic normally wears. Conor shakes his head as he contemplates the look.

Conor Fuse: I was once like you, Jack. Lost in High Octane. Scared. Didn’t know what to do. Had no friends. Was a loner. Lost a Life to Jatt Moto. I was trying to find my place. Maybe I didn’t think I was good enough. Low self-esteem. Always relying on my crazy attitude to carry me through the day. Then you ruined another Life and got me all cray!

Conor pumps the mannequin in the jaw, instantly cracking its neck. He snatches the mannequin by the tights and hurls it to the canvas, beginning to stomp away profusely!

Conor Fuse: Made me realize I’m doing just FINE THANK YOU! [Kick to the chest] And I can get through anything you idiots throw at me! [Knee to the neck] Okay Jack, now tell me what you FEEL! [Yakuza Kick to the head which was already dangling by a thread but now it’s decapitated] You know you deserve this, right JACK!? RIGHT!?

Joe Hoffman: Conor Fuse has completely lost it!

As soon as Hoffman says this, Conor lightly kicks the mannequin aside and smiles for the camera. He saunters over to DISPLAY #2, revealing a picture frame with the display underneath saying “HIGH FLYER HOW ACHIEVEMENTS”. The picture inside the frame… is blank.

Conor Fuse: Hmmm. Nothing.

Conor cracks the frame across the ring post. He sprints over to DISPLAY #3.

Conor Fuse: Glad to get THAT outta the way. LET THE HEELING PROCESS BEGIN! Some of you may think that took place when High Flyer COST ME a fair fight vs. EA Mike but I digress… we are gonna do this now! It’s time for the High Flyer REBOOT!

Pause to calm himself down.

Conor Fuse: You’re over-the-hill, Jack. Your gaming sprite is at its end. Does this mean new graphics? What about a cool new haircut? There’s so much we could do!

Conor gives a sarcastic, goofy looking thumbs-up into the camera on the apron. He pulls back the curtain on mannequin #2, DISPLAY #3. It’s another High Flyer but in red and gray inspired NES tights. The words “HA HA HA HA” are replaced with the word “POWER”.

Conor Fuse: Now You’re Playing With POWER, Jack. Bahaha!

Conor tussles the mannequin’s head before wandering over to DISPLAY #4.

Conor Fuse: Ah, yes. But a reboot goes beyond a simple LOOK, doesn’t it. This one is a multi-part display, don’t get me wrong-

But before The Vintage can reveal what’s behind the curtain… the video screen flicks on.

A crackling fireplace. Like Masterpiece theater. High Flyer sits in a large recliner reading an old tomb while smoking on a corn cob pipe. His smoking jacket’s dark red hue shifts and changes with the flickering flame. He reaches over, and takes a sip of his brandy, swirling it once first.

High Flyer: This, is the story of Conor Fuse. An idiot. A charlatan. A misguided fool in a sea of monsters. A child playing at being an adult. Now, Conor Fuse has heart beyond measure, and usually that provides the hero of our story enough gas in the tank to overcome his obstacles. But this isn’t actually a story. This is real life. Conor Fuse is actually, an idiot. A Charlatan. A FRAUD.

High Flyer stands up and slams the tomb shut, throwing both it and the brandy glass into the fire.

High Flyer: So in Madison Square Garden, in front of thousands, viewed virtually by MILLIONS, I will DESTROY, Conor Fuse. It’s funny, you want to reboot me? You think I need a REBOOT?! When I’m done with you, you’re going to lose your third and final life, and when you’re looking up at me, begging me desperately to hit that reset switch… I’ll smile, and kick your teeth in. If I cared about you at all? I’d be there. I’d be saying this all to your face instead of on a pre-tape. At the end of the day…

In the ring, Conor’s trying to make sense of what’s happening. The Vintage also seems pissed High Flyer said he only had “three lives”. Fuse mutters something along the lines of “I packed lots of Continues”. Anyway…

High Flyer: I’m not there because you’re a SUCKER.

From behind, High Flyer emerges and CRACKS an old school grey Nintendo Entertainment System over the back of Conor Fuse’s skull!

Joe Hoffman: High Flyer from behind!

Benny Newell: Phrasing.

Flyer breathes heavily and chuckles to himself. He pulls out one of those old school Nintendo Track N Field power pads and starts to wrap Conor up in it like a burrito. He takes a broken off tag rope and wraps it around, tying Conor inside. Once secure, Flyer slips out of the ring and begins to rummage around the outside. He emerges with a trash can, and rolls back into the ring.

Flyer sets the trash can down and then lifts Conor up, tied just so only his head can see. He shoves Fuse into a corner, uses the attached tag rope and just loops it once so Conor can stand and watch. A trail of blood bleeds down the back of Conor’s head as his eyes show telltale signs of being out of it.

High Flyer: What was it you said?

Flyer pulls his hand out of the trash can and has one of those old school Nintendo Power Gloves.

High Flyer: Oh right, now I’m playing with… POWER.

Flyer charges, leaps and Superman punches the propped up Conor. Fuse’s eyes go into the back of his head. Flyer looks down.

High Flyer: Just as lame as you are…

Flyer tosses the glove aside. Conor, stuck in the corner, has nowhere to go. Out on his feet, Flyer gives himself a runway and charges at The Vintage, hitting him with a Yakuza Kick.

This sends Conor backflipping out of the ring, breaking the tag rope in the process as Fuse lands with a thud on the outside. Flyer just smiles. He looks around at the two destroyed mannequins, taking a moment to wonder how long the clean-up will be. Flyer quizzical steps towards DISPLAY #4. He peaks behind the curtain so we can’t see, but we can see his reaction. A devilish grin.

Joe Hoffman: What the hell is in there!?

High Flyer exits the ring and marches up the rampway to boos.

Joe Hoffman: Two weeks time… it’ll be Conor Fuse vs. his former idol, High Flyer, in MGS at March To Glory!

The scene switches to Conor, slowly coming to… eyes still rolled in the back of his head while cracking a very faint… smile.

High Octane Fighting Championship Match on the USS Octane
Dan Ryan vs. Michael Lee Best

Tag Team Championship Match
The Hollywood Bruvs vs. The Best Alliance©

Fans Weapon Match
Lindsay Troy vs. Steve Solex

Singles Match
Rah vs. Sutler Reynolds-Kael

Singles Match
Conor Fuse vs. High Flyer

Back live and show feed quickly jolts to Elsewhere, Best Arena.

Population of one: The Grand Maestro of COOL, Cancer Jiles.

He’s sitting with his back against the wall, and a faint smoke cloud lingers in the air around him. His salty boots are tightly laced, and his eGG Bandits themed wrestling tights act as his form of a Scarlet Letter. The T-Shades, hair, and COOL tattoo are all in play, too.

Jiles: I don’t usually get emotional like this, but if it is to be my last Refueled… well, I’d like to state that I really, and truly mean what follows with every single one of the joyous, immaculate, and well manicured hairs atop of my head.

A deep breath.

Jiles: To anyone that has ever stood up in those stands and supported me, or bought my merch, or even booed me for that matter… to Lee, Scotty, Mario, and whoever else might own a part of the company… to the dedicated staff over at HOT TV who have always made me look like a star… to my brothers and sisters of the sword who share the same field of battle as I do… and especially to Mike, and his personal assistant Dan… from the deepest, furthest, most impossible part to reach of my heart…

Like a wave, a contentious sneer rolls over Jiles’ face.

Jiles: I’m not leaving. I’M NOT FUCKING LEAVING! I will be back on the first Refueled after March To Glory, and the show goes on with me and my righteous, salty shoes standing at the tippy top of it.

A charcoal color loogie exits Jiles’ mouth with such velocity it has yet to land.

Jiles: I ain’t going nowhereeeeee.

Pucker.

Kiss.

The show feed cuts away.

We cut back to the announcers…

Joe Hoffman:  Jiles sure seems focused for his big match tonight….but right now its time for our second match of the night. 

We head to Bryan McVay who is in the ring with the first participant in the next match.

Varien – Can You Feel My Heart (feat. Andrew Zink) comes on the public address system and James Ranger comes out, slowly eyeing the fans to the left and right to him, as a slow smile creeps on to his face, as he stops short of the ramp, the lights focus upon just James Ranger, his sunglasses reflecting the light as it transitions from white to an eerie green.

Bryan McVay: Hailing from London, England, weighing in at 243 pounds…. 

He takes off his sunglasses, smirking as he squats briefly, surveying the arena and the ring before slowly rising to his feet and walking slowly and purposely towards the ring, the smirk now gone. 

Bryan McVay: “THE BLACK MAMBA”… JAMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS RANGERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

Hit the lights of the arena and hit those ivory keys of the piano because “Nobody Does it Better” by Carly Simon begins to play out over the PA system.  

The curtain parts as the theme from “The Spy who Loved Me” continues to play and out steps both Simon Loveless and his girlfriend slash manager Missy Monet.  

Loveless is wearing his yellow wrestling trunks, which have the initials ‘SL’ across the front in black and black t-shirt which reads ‘Winter is Loveless’ across the front. 

Bryan McVay: And his opponent, accompanied by Missy Monet, from Seattle, Washington and weighing in at 198 pounds… SIMON LOVE-LESSSSSSSSS!!!!!

Missy is wearing an extremely tight-fitting dress tonight which makes the crowd happy, but Simon is there to remind them to keep their hands and eyes to themselves.  As the song continues, Simon pulls Missy behind him making sure none of the mutants in the aisle are able to touch his manager.

Joe Hoffman: Simon Loveless is coming off a tough loss last week to Scottywood.  We’re going to see if he can bounce back tonight but he’s going up against the always tough ‘Black Mamba’ James Ranger.

Benny Newell: Holy shit.  That dress Joe.  I’m going to need a new pair of pants here real quick.  

Joe Hoffman: Benny!

Benny Newell: I would pay money to see Ranger snap Loveless in half like a twig.  There, is that better?

Referee Joel Hortega gives both men their final instructions and calls for the bell.

*DING-DING*

Both men circle slowly.  Ranger locks up with Loveless.  

Joe Hoffman: Ranger has a forty-five-pound weight advantage over his opponent.  

Ranger drives Loveless to the ropes. Loveless grabs the top rope- Hortega immediately calls for a break.  

Joe Hoffman: Smart move by Loveless.

Ranger and Loveless hook up again.  Simon rakes the eyes, kick to the gut.  Ranger then uncorks an European uppercut sending Loveless back into the ropes.  Ranger follows with an inverted DDT.  Cover.

UNO…

DOS- Loveless gets a shoulder up.  

Ranger wrenches the arm- Loveless reverses and wrenches Ranger’s arm.  Transition to a hammerlock -Ranger slips around to a waistlock.  Belly to back suplex follows.  Ranger wants a jumping spinning sole kick but Loveless ducks under and tries to shoot the leg- Ranger steps up and over and pushes Loveless to a corner. 

Joe Hoffman: Back and forth they go.  Good action, right Benny?

Benny Newell: ……oh right!  Yeah.  Really good action.

Quick cut- Monet pops a bubble with the gum in her mouth and checks her texts on her bedazzled phone.  

Loveless back up.  Ranger rushes in – Loveless goes second rope and sunset flips Ranger.  

UNO…

DO- Ranger powers out.

Loveless takes Ranger back down with a running roundhouse kick.  Simon takes a few steps back- runs and levels him with a step up enzuguri. Loveless tries to drag Ranger face first along the ropes.  Ranger breaks free and tosses Loveless out of the ring.  Ranger follows- grabs his waist- Northern Lights Suplex ONTO THE STEEL STEPS! 

Joe Hoffman: Oooh.  That’s going to leave a mark. 

Ranger slams Loveless head first into the steel steps and heaves Loveless back into the ring and immediately covers.

UNO…

DOS…

TR-NO!  Loveless somehow gets a shoulder up late.  

Joe Hoffman: How in the world did Loveless kick out from that……Benny?

Benny Newell: What?  Sorry, I was a little busy there.

Quick cut again to Missy Monet on the ring apron casually looking at her phone.

Ranger fires off a right hand.  And another.  Ranger drives a boot into Loveless’s midsection.  Loveless doubles over- Ranger double underhooks both arms- lift- and drives Loveless back first onto his knees.  

Joe Hoffman: Double Underhook Backbreaker!

Ranger with a cover.

UNO…

DOS…

TR- NO!

Joe Hoffman: Loveless just beat the count again!

Ranger keeps Loveless grounded and puts incredible pressure on his head and neck.

Joe Hoffman: Ranger is using his strength to lean on and put incredible pressure on Simon Loveless’s neck.

Benny Newell: Mamba’s trying to twist his fucking head off.

Joe Hoffman: Oh now you’re back with us?

Benny Newell: Shut up and watch the fucking match.

Now fading a bit, Loveless is completely down on the mat.  Shoulders down.

UNO…

Loveless gets the shoulder back up.  But Ranger keeps the pressure on.

Joe Hoffman: Ranger’s not letting up.  He’s got a vice grip on Loveless’s neck.

Loveless raises an arm and tries to fight back. He pushes up on Ranger’s head and swings his legs around for more leverage.  Elbow to the gut by Loveless – Ranger steps back.  Right hand to the gut- Ranger takes another step back.  

*SMACK*

Joe Hoffman: Ranger with a vicious chop there and Loveless falls to a knee. 

Ranger off the ropes – Loveless dropkicks him and lands on his feet.  He leaps up and swing his foot around.

*SMACK*

Joe Hoffman: STEP UP ENZIGURI!

Dazed, Ranger stumbles a little to the right – gets pissed off – unleashes a right hand – Loveless ducks – spins…

*SMACK*

Joe Hoffman: ANOTHER STEP UP ENZIGUIRI!

Ranger topples over like a tree falling.  Loveless to the ropes as Ranger tries to get back to his feet.

Quick cut- for some reason Joel Hortega is helping Missy Monet with her phone. 

Joe Hoffman: Well, this is strange.

While the referee is distracted, Loveless slips out of the ring – grabs a chair – slides back in – and…

*WHAP*

Joe Hoffman: CHAIRSHOT BY LOVELESS!  

Down goes Ranger.  Loveless tosses the chair and waits for Ranger to rise.  He slides in and uses every ounce of strength he has to put Ranger in the torture rack position and transitions into a piledriver variation spiking Ranger to the canvas.

Joe Hoffman: LOVELESS DRIVER!  

Simon immediately hooks a leg.  Missy points Hortega towards the pinfall.

Benny Newell: That’s my girl!

UNO…

DOS…

TRES!

*DING-DING-DING-DING*

Joe Hoffman: And Simon Loveless pulls out a hard-fought win over James Ranger!

Bryan McVay makes it official.  

Bryan McVay: Your winner at six minutes and fifty-eight seconds- SIMON LOVE-LESSSSSSS!

Loveless sprints toward the nearest turnbuckle. He jumps up to the middle rope and throws both arms into the air. Smiling from ear to ear, he soaks in the boos from the crowd, then jumps and runs for the opposite corner. He jumps up to the middle turnbuckle again, mimicking his same gesture for the other half of the Best Arena, and enjoying his shower of boos.

Meanwhile, Missy Monet reads another text on her phone.  

Benny Newell: Yep.  Definitely need new pants.  

We cut to the backstage area as Darin Zion is preparing for his match against Teddy Palmer.  Zion looks focused and intense as he’s doing sit ups.  Darin sees the camera and approaches it, looking rather intense.  He clutches his fist together as he speaks on the matter.

Darin Zion:  You know I’ve grown accustomed to being left off the Pay Per View cards.  Lee Best always gives me his scraps and expect me to turn all his chicken shit into gold.  I could bitch and make all the excuses in the world, but tonight isn’t about excuses.  Tonight, I celebrate my March to Glory.  Tonight, I pound yet another one of Lee Best’s pet projects into the ground.

Darin Zion points directly at the camera and looks the crowd in the eyes as the give him a mixed reaction.

Darin Zion:  Yeah, that’s right, Teddy, I am talking to you.   You see you talk about that HOW World Championship like it’s the only accomplishment to earn in this company.  You act like it’s the end all be all for High Octane Wrestling wrestlers.  I get it. I got caught in that trap too.  I tasted it’s 97RED strap for all of 4 years.  It’s blinding and impressing prize at the top.   Everyone wants their taste at gold.   It’s easily the prize every wrestler aspired to hold.

Darin Zion shakes his head and cracks a smile.

Darin Zion:  But sometimes you forget there’s other prizes around the HOW treasure chest.  Sometimes it’s easy to focus on that bright 97RED championship because it’s a unique prize.  I did and I lost myself and my career all in it.  Tonight, it isn’t about Darin Zion pounding his chest like all the other wrestlers in HOW proclaiming his shot at 97RED after Jiles defeats Mike Best at March to Glory.  No, I want a better prize.  I want a championship that got moved to the back burner when I held it because Lee Best let all the drama in his life get him butt hurt and derailed my chance at really molding the title in the image I wanted to make that belt:  The LSD Championship.

Matthews laughs as he paces back and forth of a moment, remembering back to the days of his reign with the LSD Championship.

Darin Zion:    You see the first time I won the LSD Championship, I won it off Electra in War Games.  It was treated as a third-rate belt in HOW when Lee claims it was at the level of the ICON Championship.  Bet we know it was third rate because he gave it away as the second elimination prize in the 2016 War Games.  We know Lee Best hasn’t made that second-rate jackass Jatt Starr defend it every single month.  He lets the damn belt rot around Jatt’s waste while he defends it at every other Pay-Per View.  Let’s face it, Lee’s too busy trying to make those Tag Titles relevant by throwing me and my washed has been best friend as a make shift Tag Team at those belts when he clearly watches these damn promos and knows we a’int on speaking terms…that moron!

Zion’s face begins to turn as red as the HOW World Championship belt.  His frustration towards Lee and the Best Alliance grows.

Darin Zion:  And what’s funny, Lee, you let your lust for Lindsay Troy control who gets the next shot at the LSD Championship.  It’s always got to be Troy and Jatt, Jatt and Troy.  BLAH!  BLAH!  BLAH! The same damn story months on end to build rivalries.  Meanwhile, I’m sitting here night in and night out in fucking catering being bored to death until you fucking put a spotlight on me.  Maybe I want a shot at your Special Division.  Maybe I want to destroy everything you crafted in that belt and make it in my image for once.  Maybe I want to punch my ticket as a dominant singles champion instead of getting carted out to fill your damn tag team division out and tag with some asshole who doesn’t give two shits about my worth.  FUCK THAT SHIT.

Zion punches the locker and glares straight back in the camera.

Darin Zion:  Give me Troy!  Give me Jatt!  Give me them BOTH for all I give a damn, Lee.  Because you know when I drop my shit and come back to being Zion; I’m pissed.  I’m hungry.  I’m looking to earn my opportunities.  That’s why when I step into the ring with Teddy Palmer tonight; I’m going to make my intensions known.  I’m leaving it all out there tonight.  I’m going to punch my ticket at an LSD Championship match and piss you the fuck off, you bald, fucking old man.  I’m going to take YOUR special Championship and I am going to make it my own.  I’m going to win it.  I’m going to Zion it up, and I’m going to make it worth more than just some trophy your two top bitches get to hold.

Zion marches out of the locker room as he finishes the promo to get somethings out of catering before he goes on to face Teddy Palmer later tonight.

Ringside, the sound of Queen’s “Princes of the Universe” is blaring across the arena.  In the middle of the ring is a desk with two chairs right next to it.  Towards the corner there is a small drum set in the corner of the ring with a stool and microphone on top of it.  The ramp is illuminated with spotlights as Jatt Starr, carrying the LSD Championship and his HOW Tag Team Championship over his shoulders, and John Sektor, his HOW Tag Team Championship over his shoulder, walk down the red carpet purposefully placed for this major event.

The Jattinum Standard and the Gold Standard enter the ring.  Jatt Starr takes his place at the desk as John Sektor is about to take a seat, but Jatt Starr whispers something into his ear, a look of confusion crosses Sektor’s face.  He gets up and walks over to the drum set and takes the microphone before sitting down on the stool.

The music fades as Jatt Starr picks up the microphone from his desk.

Jatt Starr:   IT’S JATTURDAY NIGHT!!!

The crowd is mixed, with more cheers than jeers.

Jatt Starr:  Tonight, StarrSek Industries has achieved a milestone!  After our dominating victory over Teddy Suckspin and Larry the Cable Guy last week, tonight marks our ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTH DAY as HOW Tag Team Champions, thus tying COOL Reality as the tag team with the fifth longest Tag Team Title reign in the HOW.  Since there’s no title match tonight, we hold the five spot ourselves!  So, tonight, in celebration, “StarrSek Industries” is bring you a very special “STARRGAZING WITH JATT STARR”!!!!

The crowd responds and Sektor just mashes one of the drums with a drumstick.  One drumstick.  Someone forgot to leave the second one.  

Jatt Starr:  Before we bring out our guests, it’s a party….so….

Sektor:  I am excited for this!

Jatt Starr:  You mean the “StarrSek-sy Dancers” handpicked by you?

Sektor:  Oh yeah, mi amigo!

Sektor has a leering, excited smile on his moustached face, and he looks towards the curtain, nodding with anticipation.

Jatt Starr:  Oh.  Yeah, sorry, the Ruler of Jattlantis had to send them home.

Sektor’s smile dissipates and looks over at Jatt Starr with an expression of shock and disappointment.

Jatt Starr:  Turns out, one of the dancers was throwing up a couple of hours before the show and another dancer who called herself “Bambi” said that “Sunni” with an “I” told her that “Sunny” with a “Y” said that “Mindy” had something called bulimia, which just sounds contagious, so I sent them home.

Sektor:  You said….you did…what?

Jatt Starr:  Don’t worry, Sek my man, there will be dancing!!!

Sektor:  Alright then!!!

Jatt Starr:  ALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE….THE LJNDSAY TROY DANCERS!!!!

Sektor:  The what now?

The sound of “Gangnam Style” by PSY blares across the arena.  From the curtain, Hugo emerges driving the once state-of-the-art-but-now-can-only-be-generously-described-as-a-jalopy golf cart named “THE STARRLITE SEXPRESS” (only now there is line painted on the left side of the “X” making look like it reads “SEKPRESS”).   Inside the golf cart are three women dressed like hookers (not call girls, not escorts, not even strippers).   They are wearing WAY too much make up, their skirts are WAY too short, one of which is wearing fishnet stockings, another sports a red feather boa, and they are wearing tops that leave nothing to the imagination.  It should also be noted that the three women are in their seventies.   

Hugo helps the elderly ladies into the ring.  They begin dancing awkwardly around.  The one with the feather boa eyes Sektor.  The Feather Boa Lady knows what she wants, she aims to get it.  She struts her stuff over to Sektor and throws the boa over him.  The only thing separating Sektor from this sex starved geriatric is a drumset.  Sektor begins waving his drumstick at her as if it were a sword, instead Feather Boa Lady grabs Sektor’s hand and begins licking the drumstick….Sektor does not look aroused in any sense of the word.  Horrified.  That’s what he is.

The other two members of the Ljndsay Troy Dancers begin strutting their stuff in the ring.  Jatt Starr is just bouncing his head back and forth to the beat of the music.  Shortly thereafter, the Ljndsay Troy Dancing Trio become winded and Feather Boa Lady backs away from Sektor, coughing and wheezing.  The music comes to an abrupt end.

Jatt Starr:  Get these geezers out of here before they have a coronary in our ring, Hugo.  And BRING ME THE BOX!!!

Hugo obliges, practically dragging the elderly ladies from the ring.

Jatt Starr:  Quite the show so far, eh Sek?

Sektor:  Fuck you!

Jatt Starr:  Before we bring out our guests, anything on your mind, bro?

Sektor:   You mean, apart from you being a fucking terrible party organiser? 

Jatt’s facial expressions look slightly dejected as he says this.

Sektor: Good job I love you, hermano. Now, our guests tonight are an incredible tag team. But together they have the combined intellect of a turkey who’s had a stroke….and then been shot…in the head. However, do not let that fool you. Whilst they portray themselves like Harry and Lloyd from the dumb and dumber movies, when it comes to accomplishments in tag team wrestling? They are no joke.

Jatt nods.

Sektor: But understand this..we? Are an immovable object. An unstoppable force. It means fuck all that you two have been a tag team for years, because Jatt and I have had a telepathic-like chemistry our whole career. We can only thank you for giving us the opportunity to solidify our title reign by beating a legitimate and recognised team such as yourselves. But make no two ways about it, at March to Glory?

He looks Jatt in the eye and gives him a wink but Jatt doesn’t know how to respond.

Sektor: We’re gonna smoke yo’asses!

Jatt Starr:  Well said.

Hugo has entered the ring and has placed a wrapped box on the side of the desk and proceeds to walk back to the “Starrlite Sek-press” where the elderly ladies are having a breather.  The Sovereign of Starrgentina begins reading from a paper.

Jatt Starr:  Our guests tonight have achieved…..ah, no one cares….

The Thane of Starrkarth crumples up the paper and tosses it behind him, out of the ring.

Jatt Starr:  Please welcome the Hollywood Team that does not have anyone named Hollywood in it…..Jesse Somebody and Mikey Oh Crikey!

“Fucking in the Bushes” by Oasis hits and outcomes the English and American duo. The crowd, unsure of who to root for in the segment, has a mixed reaction. The pair wear their street clothes to the ring, they motion to the packed crowd.

Joe Hoffman: The Hollywood Bruvs, Former HOW Tag Champions in their own right, Mikey Unlikely and Jesse Fredricks Kendrix are set to clash with the Tag Team Champions at March To Glory!

Benny Newell: Why do all of our Tag Champions think they are funny?

Joe Hoffman: Keep in mind the last Hollywood Bruvs match in HOW before their absence saw them defeat the daughter of Jatt Starr.

The Bruvs reach the ringside area, they look around suspiciously before slithering into the ring. The pair stand up and come face to face with The Best Alliance. The crowd shouts out at both sets of teams as the Bruvs music dies off. The new arrivals are handed microphones as they sit in the two seats afforded them. Unlikely checks the seat thoroughly before sitting down.

Kendrix: Listen Yeah! JFK has to say he’s not quite sure how to take this hospitality from you guys. inviting the Hollywood Bruvs onto your very own TV show on a TV show, I guess? 

Mikey shrugs his shoulders, none the wiser as Jesse points between the Bruvs and StarrSek Industries.

Kendrix: I mean, let’s look at the facts. Since our return to High Octane Wrestling, we’ve attacked you, you’ve attacked us.

Smirking and grimacing from both sets of teams ensues following the short history lesson.

Kendrix: We’ve never had the pleasure of actually competing against each other but I feel like there’s a sense of… what’s that word Mikey where you don’t disrespect someone?

Mikey Unlikely: Uhhh…Respect?

Kendrix: Yeah, that’s the one. There’s a sense of respect going on right now. What with you inviting us on your show. You’ve already introduced us to your daughter last time we were here, Jatt, how did that go down, Mikey?

The American Bruv winces in the ring remembering the matchup. 

Kendrix: And tonight we see you invited your mummy’s onto your show just before your breathtaking introduction of ourselves. Not quite pretty enough to be Strippees, but maybe someday! 

The Jattlantic City Idol stares blankly at Jesse Kendrix, who continues on while Sektor moves himself out from behind the drums.

Kendrix: Oh sorry, not mummy’s…I meant MOMMY’S…that’s how you say it here, right?!

Mikey holds his thumbs up enthusiastically at his tag team partner’s mastering of the American language before gesturing across the table for a moment to diffuse any further mother jokes from occurring.

Mikey Unlikely: We’re touched to have met members of the Best Alliance’s family, we’re touched to be invited on your show and fortunately for you guys, it’s not like you could have gotten any guests bigger than the ones who sit before you now. Jack, allow me to say, we’re quite glad to be here! 

The unamused Jatt Starr stares at the bruvs expressionless. He begins tapping his index card on the desk.

Jatt Star:  I’m sorry were you two talking?  I was just imagining a world without cheese.  It’s a horrifying thought, if I do say—–HUGO!  NOW!!!!

The bruvs hit the deck expecting a trap. They sprawl on the mat to avoid any oncoming onslaught. Jatt Starr just bellows in laughter.

Jatt Starr:  Oh wow!  Thank you for that moment, I haven’t had a good laugh like that since Max Kael was killed.

The Bruvs feel silly and smile. They look at each other and start to climb back into their seats.

Sektor: GO NOW!

The Bruvs once again jump up in attack positions in the middle of the ring, ready to defend themselves.

Sektor: This is your last chance to walk away from the title match and save yourselves some embarrassment at MTG.

Once more the Bruvs feel a little embarrassed.

Benny Newell: These guys are jumpier than a pair of Kangaroos!

Joe Hoffman: They are in there with the Tag Team Champions who viciously attacked them with weapons a few weeks ago… of course they have their guard up!

Jatt Starr:  All kidding aside guys, I have a couple of questions for you.  Jesse, why do you refer yourself to “JFK” knowing that he was assassinated?  Was Marilyn Monroe killed because of her relationship with JFK?  And who shot J.R.?  Have you considered a different name?  Are you ashamed at the fact that “Kendrix” sounds very close to “Spandex”?  Would not, Jesse Daytona or Jesse Alaska or Scott Stevens the Second be more badass names?  Are the rumors of your chronic bedwetting true, and if not then why did I start them?   And finally, where IS the beef?

Before Jesse can answer the slew of questions being thrown at him, Jatt Starr immediately turns his attention towards Mikey Unlikely.

Jatt Starr:  And MIKEY!  Do you enjoy being lame?  What was the capital of Maxipotamia before Jattlantis annexed it?   Do you like movies about gladiators?   Is there any truth to the rumor that you almost drowned in a puddle?  Do you like clowns?  What about strippers?  What about stripper clowns?   In my current playthrough in “Skyrim”, should my character marry Mjoll the Lioness or Jenassa and why?   Name three things you admire about Sektor.  Why does the combination of the HOW Tag Team and the LSD Championships look good on me?  And what would you do for a Klondike bar?  

The Bruvs yawn in the ring, look at each other amused.

Mikey Unlikely: As cute as that was… Let’s turn to the topic at hand. You did mention the HOW Tag Team Championships… That’s why we’re here Jatt. We can play these games, we can do your cute little interview show, all that is fine. We’ve attacked one another, We tried to throw you personally through the Arena floor.

The American Bruv looks over at John Sektor.

Mikey Unlikely: John and I have had a squabble before. Long long ago. This isn’t the first time he’s defended a championship against me. This time however, we’re bigger, stronger, and faster. We are in our prime… John, can you really say that? Jatt… you’ve been gone even longer than this guy. You are older, slower, and quite possibly invalid.  Do you really have what it takes to step into the ring with two wrestlers on top of their game? Do you really think you can OUTLAST the Bruvs?

The Hollywood Bruvs laugh loudly.

Kendrix: Oi! We’re very excited for the match up! 

Jatt Starr:  In this ring, I ask the questions, I don’t answer them.  In case you hadn’t noticed, I am a double champion.   As far as I am concerned, not answering the questions that I have asked of you, is a show of disrespect.  You’re no Mike Best, your Mike Mediocre at best.   You haven’t earned the right to dismiss me.  I dismiss you!   This interview is over.  And for being such a…..guest, please take this parting gift.

The Jattagonian Giant pushes the present on his desk to the edge of the desk towards Mikey Unlikely.

Mikey Unlikely:  No.

Mikey pushes the present back towards the LSD Champion.

Jatt Starr:  You can’t say “no” to a present.

The HOW Hall of Famer pushes the present back towards the Bruvs.

Mikey Unlikely:  I just did.

Mikey Unlikely tries to push it back towards the Hero of Jattlanta, but he is holding it still.  They begin pushing against each other.

Jatt Starr:  But it’s impolite.

Mikey Unlikely:  It’s some kind of trick.  There’s probably a pie in there and we open it up and it hits one of us in the face.

Jatt Starr:  What am I, Bugs Bunny?  

Mikey tries to slap Jatt Starr’s hand off the present but the Marquis of MadagaStarr moves his hand away.

Jatt Starr:  Don’t touch me!

Mikey Unlikely brings his finger one inch from Jatt Starr’s face.

Mikey Unlikely:  I’m not touching you, I’m not touching you, I’m not touching you….

The Champion of Jattanooga has grown impatient and stands up from his chair, bumping the desk, and the present falls to the mat.

Jatt Starr:  Look at what you did!   I can’t believe you—-

The package suddenly EXPLODES!  “POP!” A blast of powder fills the air and covers all four men.  They all recoil and cough, brushing it out of their faces.

Mikey Unlikely:  I knew it was a trick!

Jatt Starr:   What are you doing?  Stop that!  STOP THAT!

The Jattsylvanian Count stares at Mikey and Jesse first with confusion and then utter horror.  Jatt Starr drops the microphone and screams a high pitched girlish scream.   He grabs his championsips, clutching them with one hand, and can be heard yelling something about rat people.  He begins ducking and swatting the air with his free hand, screaming about how they have wings.  Sektor, Mikey, and Kendrix look on at first with befuddlement.   Jatt Starr bolts out of the ring towards the golf cart. 

Sektor:   Where the fuck are you going?

The Ruler of Jattlantis throws the elderly ladies out of the cart onto the ground.  Hugo exits the drivers seat in confusion, Jatt Starr shoulders Hugo onto the ground as he hops into the driver seat attempting to make his getaway.  He begins travelling at a whopping five miles per hour back up the ramp.

The Bruvs hit the mat and get out of the ring. They start swinging at invisible opponents.

Joe Hoffman: What was that stuff?

Benny Newell: I don’t know but someone get me some! 

Refueled heads to a commercial break as the crowd is still buzzing about what the hell just happened..

The HOTv flickers to life as we are treated to the President of Human Resources for High Octane Wrestling, Sutler Reynolds-Kael, Son of Scions seated behind what looks to be a desk that has been roughly taped together with gray duct tape. Instead of his usual leather jacket Sutler is wearing a white suit though instead of a tie he as a rather flamboyant looking #97Red neckerchief wrapped around his neck like a formal Fred.

He is sporting what appears to be a black eye and white bandages wrapping part of his head as he gazes forward with a steady grim expression.

SRK: Good evening ladies, gentlemen and everything in between*.

Beneath Sutler’s an asterisk appears with the following text. “Inclusion matters to Human Resources which is why we at High Octane Wrestling acknowledge Conor Fuse’s identification as a Little Bitch. Thank you!”

SRK: It is my responsibility as the President of Human Resources to ensure that High Octane Wrestling is both a positive and safe work environment. In a company filled with so many ne’er-do-wells, thugs and bog dwelling swamp donkeys my job is never easy and it is certainly never boring. As a personable and friendly President I have tried to be nice and friendly, gently providing the kind of example all employees here at High Octane should attempt to be.

His serious appearance hardens with grim responsibility.

SRK: Last week I was brutally assaulted by Rah which left my office in ruins and my body broken, bleeding and quite honestly the many MANY qualified doctors who looked at my injuries didn’t even think I’d be able to wrestle again. I had a torn umbilicus, a ruptured exilla! I ripped my coccyx and shattered my philtrum! That’s right, Rah ALMOST forced me to retire!.. But you don’t become as successful as me without grit, determination and great genetics. Over the last three days I have trained harder than ANYONE has ever trained themselves..

A smile spreads across his face like gravy over fresh mashed potatoes.

SRK: ..And I’m proud to report that despite his best efforts that’s right, I’m walking again!

Sulter stands up, kicking his legs to either side to show off that he could walk despite never having indicated that he couldn’t or that any injury he sustained crippled him. Still the young man makes a pretty impressive show of kicking his legs as though they were bullet proof.

SRK: So listen closely to your President of Human Resources RAH.. see you might have tried to put me on the shelf in an early grave but the jokes on you and your little manager, Clammy O’Sunnyside-Over, cause I’m about to make a HUGE announcement for March to Glory as it pertains to our match.. March 13th..

He pauses for dramatic effect.

SRK: Rah verses Sutler Reynolds-Kael, the Son of Scions.. The only way to win..

Another dramatic pause from Sutler as his smile vanishes, that serious expression tightened back on his face.

SRK: ..is by Pinfall..

He holds one finger up with a pause.

SRK: ..Submission..

A second finger flips up with pause.

SRK: ..Countout..

Of course the third little piggy flips up with an accompanying pause.

SRK: ..or by Disqualification..

Four fingers for four mighty ways to win the match. Drink it in cause there is a final pause.

SRK: In what I am calling..a BASIC match, I wanted to keep things simple and relatable for Rah. Be there Mighty Rah or.. Or lose by Countout I guess?

He plops back down in his chair, his boyish grin spreading across his face once again.

SRK: Sutler… OOOOOOoooOOOooOOOOOOOUT!

The HOTv drops back into darkness as the symbol for High Octane Wrestling’s Human Resources Department fills up the new found void before we cut elsewhere…

We cut back to ringside to see Bryan McVay standing in the ring as the bell goes off.

Bryan McVay:  The following singles contest is scheduled for ONE FALL!

“Stronger on your Own” by Disturbed blares over the PA.  Hollywood slowly walks from the back and takes center stage as he stands there for a few brief moments, closing his eyes.  He reigns in the boos from the crowd as he gets in final mental preparation for his upcoming match.  As Hollywood opens up his eyes, pyro shoots off in opposite corners of the stage as it makes its way to center stage.  As the pyro hits the center, the camera zooms in to see the reflection in Hollywood’s eyes as he finally makes his way down the ramp, quickly taking off his vest and throwing it down with intensity.  Hollywood makes his final push as he charges the ring, rolling under the ropes.  He gets back to his feet and looks about the entire arena glaring at the fans before he takes his place in the corner turnbuckle before turning his gaze intently in the ring as he awaits for the bell.

Bryan McVay:  Introducing first, from Hollywood, California…..BRIIIIIIIIIIAN HOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLYYYYYWOOOOD.

Benny Newell:  YES!  Here comes the Hollywood we’ve all wanted.   You know, he threw last week’s Tag Match, right?

Joe Hoffman:  If memory serves me correctly, Kendrix knocked him out clean and pinned him for the 1, 2, 3….

Benny Newell:  That’s what HOW wants you to believe, Benny.  But look at how Brian took that loss.  He wanted out of the Tag Team Division in HOW to prove his worth.   He knows his value isn’t as a Tag Wrestler…

Joe Hoffman:  You’ve had too much, Jack Daniels tonight.

Benny Newell:  Yup, and I am sarcastic as fuck! If Hollywood wants to prove he truly wants to move forward as a force and not continue up and down like his best friend Darin Zion has in his roller coaster career, he’s gotta pick up some more wins and stop pulling bullshit like he did last week.

Joe Hoffman:  Especially with his opponent tonight.  Zeb Martin is pissed off about losing his HOW Tag Team Title shot and is here to make a point.

The mid-tempo backing drone and accompanying piano and outlaw Nashville guitar licks begin to kick up.  The voice of Ben Nichols pierces through the melody as “Everything Has Changed” by Lucero blares over the sound system, and the vocal queue signals the entrance of Zeb Martin.  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 (a real shy boy) as he makes his way down to the ring while making sure to outstretch his arm for some old-school hand slapping.  Upon arrival, Zeb climbs the apron and wipes his boots before ducking underneath the top rope, then gives a friendly nod to his corner audience.

Bryan McVay:  And his opponent from Comer….

WHAM!

 Joe Hoffman:  Wait a minute, Hollywood just tried charging Zeb, but Zeb threw Hollywood straight into the turnbuckle head first.

Benny Newell:  Hollywood’s ruthless streak didn’t pay off too well.  Zeb’s rolled up with the Inverted Cloverleaf already….

Joe Hoffman:  THE DANG TANGLER attempt already.

Benny Newell:  Play stupid games, win stupid prizes here in HOW tonight, Hoffhole.  Hollywood’s flailing around trying to grab the ropes and we haven’t even had Boettcher ring the bell.

DING!  DING!  DING!  DING!

 Benny Newell:  There!  That’s more like it!

Hollywood continues flailing around as Zeb tries locking the hold in.  Both men fight, but Hollywood grabs the ropes out of desperation and slides out of the ring as the crowd boos incessantly at him.  Hollywood overreacts to his pain, grabbing his hip while Zeb isn’t putting up with this.  Zeb Martin charges towards the ropes and hits a baseball slide straight into Hollywood’s jaw.  Hollywood holds his jaw while Zeb comes charging at him.  Zeb tries to hit a Belly to Back Suplex, but Hollywood takes his foot and drives it straight into Zeb’s groin.    Hollywood takes Zeb and chucks him into the steel stairs head first and smiles as the crowd boos.

Joe Hoffman:  I haven’t seen a Hollywood that ruthless in a long time.  Now he’s putting Zeb’s hand under the stairs and…

SMASH!

Benny Newell:  OOOOOOH!  DRINK, JOE, DRINK!  Zeb’s going to feel that one in the morning!!!!

Zeb holds his hand after Hollywood stomps the steel stairs onto Zeb’s hand.  Hollywood rolls Zeb Martin into the ring and immediately goes for a series of 3 German Suplexes on him, dropping Zeb straight on his head.  Hollywood cuts his throat and smirks as Zeb tries to get back to his feet.  Hollywood then dives and drives his forearm straight into Zeb’s leg.  Hollywood begins stomping at Zeb’s leg, but Zeb rolls into the ropes and Boettcher gets int the middle.  Hollywood begins yelling at Boettcher while Zeb tries to recover in the corner.

Brian tries charging at Zeb with a tackle, but Zeb sends him into the corner shoulder first.  Hollywood grabs his shoulder as he turns around, but Zeb catches him and drives him spine first into the mat with a picture perfect Spinebuster.    Zeb then grabs Hollywood and rolls him around the ring in his famous gator roll before recovering and hitting a belly to back suplex on Hollywood and attempting to pin him:

ONE!

TWO!

Joe Hoffman:  Zeb almost had Brian Hollywood with that Belly to Back Suplex pin.

Benny Newell:  Hollywood needs to be careful.  Zeb’s bound and determined to get that win over Brian Hollywood.

Zeb attempts to pick Hollywood up in a Gutwrench suplex, but Hollywood once again tries to low blow Zeb, but Zeb catches Hollywood’s leg.  Zeb pushes Hollywood forward and catches him with a clothesline to the pack of the head.  He charges at Hollywood landing a bulldog on him, driving Hollywood’s face straight towards the mat.  Zeb picks Hollywood and tries to hit him with a Samoan drop, but Hollywood elbows Zeb straight in the ear and Zeb falls straight to the mat.

Hollywood gets back up and as Zeb pops back to his feet, Hollywood nails a stiff Big Boot kick straight to Zeb’s jaw.  Hollywood then grabs Zeb and locks in a Boston Crab on Zeb.  Zeb crawls towards the ropes and Hollywood pulls him back in the center of the ring.  Zeb fights Hollywood off and immediately rolls him up into another pin fall attempt.

ONE

TWO!

No dice as Hollywood kicks out!  This has pissed Hollywood off.  Zeb goes to pick Hollywood up, but Hollywood viciously rakes Zeb in the eyes.  Hollywood charges up and hits the Danger Zone kick straight into Zeb’s jaw.  He tries covering up Zeb Martin.

ONE!

TWO!

TH….

Benny Newell:  GOD DAMN!  Zeb Martin kicks out of the Danger Zone kick strategically planted on his jaw by Hollywood.

Joe Hoffman:  Hollywood’s just hoping someone else has a glass jaw like him.

Hollywood tosses Zeb straight in the corner and begins to stomp a mudhole into Zeb’s skull.    Hollywood pulls Zeb Martin away from the corner and attempts to go for a Top Rope Elbow drop, but Zeb rolls out of the way and Hollywood clashes with the ropes elbow first.    Zeb then kicks Hollywood straight in the gut and hits the Neck Cricker Guillotine drop on him.  Zeb looks on at Hollywood and attempts to go for the Hook, Line, and Sinker piledriver.  As Zeb kicks Hollywood in the gut to set him up, with the little energy left in Hollywood’s tank, Hollywood nails a low blow straight defiantly right onto Zeb and brings him towards the ground.  Hollywood spits directly in his face as he goes down to one knee and just bites Zeb in the forehead.  Boettcher gets in Hollywood’s face about following the rules, but Hollywood flips him off.    While Hollywood and Boettcher fight, Zeb slowly gets back to his feet and charges at Hollywood with bar-fight style punching.  He’s wailing at Hollywood as Hollywood slithers towards the bottom rope and Boettcher pulls Zeb off as he’s counting towards five.  Zeb tries to stomp at Hollywood, but Boettcher gets in his face too about the rules.  Meanwhile, Hollywood kips back up and from out of nowhere….

WHACK!

Benny Newell:  EXECUTIVE PROMISE RIGHT TO ZEB’S JAW AGAIN!

Joe Hoffman:  The lights are off in Zeb’s chrome and Hollywood barely missed Boettcher’s head as he ducked.  But he’s not playing around with this anymore.  Hollywood has picked up Zeb’s lifeless body and he’s going for the Exclaimation Mark on this match.

WHAM!!!!

Joe Hoffman:  BASIC INSTINCT….cover…

Benny Newell:  God damnit, you gave me a hard on thinking about Sharon Stone in that movie, Hoffhole….

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!!!

DING!  DING!  DING!  DING!

 Bryan McVay:  Here is your winner of the match….BRIIIIIIIIIIIIAAAANNN…

As Boettcher goes to raise Hollywood’s hand, Hollywood immediately goes towards Zeb Martin and nails him a few more times with punches for good measure while Boettcher pulls him off.  Hollywood throws his hands up into the air and smirks admiring how he left Zeb Martin.  He waves it off acting like that’s just a display of what’s to come in the coming months as Bryan McVay goes to announce Hollywood again.

Bryan McVay:  Here is your winner:   BRIIIIIIAN HOLLYWOOOOOOOOOOOD!

Hollywood takes a bow at the stage as he mocks the crowd and leaves.

Joe Hoffman:   That was one good showing from Zeb Martin tonight, but Hollywood was in the zone.

Benny Newell:  Good showings mean nothing here in HOW.  Brian Hollywood knows that.  While Zeb Martin is one helluva fighter, Hoffhole.  Sometimes you got to get down and dirty and Hollywood showed us he’s back tonight in HOW with that fire in his belly.

Hollywood leaves as Zeb Martin gets back up and scowls at the result as the we cut backstage..

“The Means War” by Avenged Sevenfold begins to play throughout the arena as the camera focuses on Steve Solex seated up high in Section 214, or as he calls it…Section DD214. Solex leans back as far as the stadium styled seat will allow, and kicks his feet up on the back of the chair in front of him. The music fades as Solex twirls a HOW microphone in his hand. The crowd boos ferociously as he grins from ear to ear, his mustache perched upon his lip.

Steve Solex: Oh, can it. You bunch of self-righteous, unrelenting, bags of shit!

The crowd boos louder than before as Solex laughs to himself, off mic.

Steve Solex: I’m not out here to talk about twenty-thousand ungrateful inbreeders like you fuckwads. I’m out here to talk about the only and only, the Queen herself. How fitting a moniker for an aging shell of her former self, like Lindsay Troy. The only person older than Lindsay Troy is the Queen of fucking England, and that’s a fact!

The crowd continues to boo as Solex is quite obviously only cracking himself up at this point.

Steve Solex: Look, a fans bring weapons match is exactly what the doctor ordered in HOW. As far as I know, this is the first time that Lee Best has allowed such a match, and you’ve got to wonder why. Not only is the Dad-Soldier about to absolutely destroy his one-time dream signing, but I’m going to do it with the help of the HOW fan base and once and for all…Lindsay Troy will be pushed off into oblivion where her overgrown ass belongs!

The crowd continues it’s unrelenting assault of jeers.

Steve Solex: But I digress. Our match at March to Glory is probably a year or more too late, but that won’t stop me from putting her sorry ass in the grave!

“Put ‘Em in the Grave” by Jedi Mind Tricks crashes through the sound system as the High Octane Faithful all jump to their feet with a cheer. Lindsay Troy storms through the curtain and marches down the ramp, throwing a scowl up toward Section 214. She makes her way over to where Brian McVay sits at the timekeeper’s table and motions for a microphone.

Benny Newell: Ugh, we already saw this broad once tonight, now we gotta deal with her a second time?

Joe Hoffman: Did you really expect Lindsay to not have something to say about what Steve Solex just said?

Benny Newell: I expect her to be seen and not heard but apparently that’s too much to ask in the year of our Lee 2021.

The Queen’s music fades out and her full attention is directed up at the #1 Dad-Soldier.

Lindsay Troy: A year or more too late, huh?

The crowd boos at the timetable, clearly not a fan of that or anything they’ve heard from Solex’s lips.

Lindsay Troy: Way I see it, Steve, not only is it March to Glory the right time and the right place for us to take our personal war to the next – and final – level, but I don’t think we should wait that long.

A sneer crawls along her lips and the fans begin rumbling with excitement.

Lindsay Troy: I say we kick it off right here….right now!

Lindsay tosses the microphone aside and hops the guardrail, the fans on the floor slapping her on the shoulders and back as she starts making her way up to Section 214. The cameraman on the floor starts after her, trying to keep up, while up above Solex has a momentary look of surprise on his face before it switches to one of malice.

Joe Hoffman: Lindsay Troy doesn’t want to wait for Madison Square Garden in New York. She wants to take it to Steve Solex right here amongst the Chicago crowd!

Benny Newell: God I hope she gets Andy Murrayed. THROW HER DOWN THE STAIRS, SOLEX, PUT HER IN TRACTION!

Troy is now all the way through the 100-level seats and making her way up to 214. Solex has abandoned his post and decided to meet her on the stairs. The fans in and around the two athletes start looking around their seats and purses to see what they can hand over as the two athletes are on a collision course.

Solex throws the first punch, blocked by Troy! She fires back with a right hand that socks him square in the jaw. The #1 Dad-Soldier staggers up the stairs and Lindsay is hot on his heels. A fan hands her his beer and she chucks it at Steve, nailing him in the temple with it. Whatever pisswater was in the plastic cup spills all over Solex and some nearby fans.

Steve manages to get his bearings and lands a kick to Troy’s arm with his military-issued boots, halting her momentum. He yanks a set of keys away from a middle-aged blonde woman and rips off a small pair of brass knuckles from the chain, then lands a punch of his own to the side of Lindsay’s head. She stumbles but catches herself on the metal handrail, preventing a fall, but the cheap shot has clearly thrown her for a loop. She shakes her head and feels a bottle being placed into her hand; as Solex stomps toward her, Lindsay depresses the top and lets loose a stream of pepper spray into his eyes.

Benny Newell: Solex is unfazed, eats his steak with pepper spray!

Joe Hoffman: Lindsay Troy getting the best of Solex as he tumbles backward, up the stairs!

Solex, clearly blinded by the pepper spray, wanders backward up the stairs. The fans nearby are animalistic as Troy walks past them, attempting to hand her a variety of sharp edged makeshift weapons and steel chairs. Solex throws a wild punch that Troy dodges by ducking under, sending him into an uncontrolled spin. Lindsay lands a stiff punch into the back of Solex’s head, sending him in a tumbling run further up the stands. Troy grabs him by the hair and drags him up the steps. They stop at the next level, and Troy rears back to punch Solex but…

Joe Hoffman: Thumb to the eye by Solex!

Benny Newell: Legal punch, Hoffhole…pay attention!

LT covers up her eye and Solex heads out of the bowl and into the hallway. The camera stays with Troy as she slowly gets to her feet..  She stumbles into the concourse…

CRACK!

Joe Hoffman: Steel chair to the skull! Steve Solex has flattened Lindsay Troy! Look at the dent in that chair!

Benny Newell:  YES! YES!

Solex stands over Lindsay Troy and hoists the chair high up in the air as fans nearby throw popcorn and expletives at the Dad-Soldier as he breathes in deep. He wads up a mixture of snot, spit and blood in his mouth and spits it right into Troy’s face, then leans down and gets right into her face.

Steve Solex: (whispers) Equal rights…..bitch.

The scene fades to commercial.

Joe Hoffman: Welcome back ladies and gentlemen, and tonight’s next match up is between Teddy Palmer and Darin Matthews…..

Benny Newell: Fuck Zion!

Joe Hoffman: Let’s take it down to the ring before my partner begins on a rambling fit.

“City of Angels” – 24kGoldn ft. YUNGBLUD”

Begins to play throughout the arena bringing everyone to their feet as they await the arrival of Teddy Palmer.

Joe Hoffman: Do you hear this crowd?

Benny Newell: He probably paid them to cheer just like last week.

The cheers grow louder as Teddy emerges from the back and onto the stage looking around the Best Arena.

Bryan McVay: Introducing first, coming to the ring from Toronto, Ontario, Canada and weighing in at 235 pounds….TEEEEEDYYYYYYYY! PAAAAAAALMMMMMER!

Teddy slowly takes his sunglasses off and tosses them into the crowd before heading down the ramp.

Joe Hoffman: Earlier tonight, Brian Hollywood defeated Zeb Martin here tonight. Can Teddy avenge his partner’s loss?

Benny Newell: It’s possible Hoffman. I mean we have the battle of the losers here tonight so unless they get a double countout Teddy has a seventy-five percent chance of winning.

Joe Hoffman: Don’t you mean fifty?

Benny Newell: He’s facing Zion, so everyone gets another twenty-five percent advantage.

Palmer rolls into the ring and heads towards the nearest corner and hops onto the second ropes and stares out into the crowd as they chant his name when the voice of a lady is heard quickly turning the cheers to boos.

Meredith: EXCUSE ME!

Benny Newell: Like fucking nails on a chalkboard.

The boos grow.

Meredith: I SAID EXCUSE ME!

The boos grow even louder and the more rowdier fans begin throwing things towards Meredith.

Benny Newell: Anyone listening in the back, go find Stevens and remove that syringe out of his chest and bring it to me so I can have some black tar sweet dreams.

Meredith: Introducing the man ailing from The Lake of the Ozarks, Missouri. Tonight he weighs in at lean, mean 223 Pounds. He is the man known as the Pinnacle of Pro Wrestling, The Artiste of Atlantic City, The Messiah of Missouri Valley, your Tyrant of the Territories and your HEEEERO OF HIGH OCTANE: DAAAAAAAAAAAARIN MAAAAAAAAAAAATHEWS!!!!

The boos continue to grow as the lights dim as the opening chords to Icon for Hire’s “Cursed or Cured” queue up and blare over the arena speakers. Suddenly, a spotlight shines down on both Meredith and Darin Matthews.

Benny Newell: That black tar heroin is the true Hero of High Octane.

Decked out in his Gold Robe with Black Collar, Matthews takes a deep breath raising his arms in the air while Meredith hugs and gives him a kiss on the cheek. Matthews spins around and throws his robe off. Meredith collects his robe while Matthews charges towards the ring, handing out high fives along the way. Matthews climbs up the top turnbuckle basking his glory, taken back by some of the cheers from the crowd tonight. He smirks before he flips off the top turnbuckle. Hortega signals for the bell.

Ding. Ding.

Joe Hoffman: And here we go.

Teddy and Darin come out of their respective corners and begin to circle each other.

Joe Hoffman: Last week, both men were involved in tag team matches and both men lost. Tonight, Matthews’ partner avenged that loss with a victory. Can Matthews pick up momentum for the Hollywood Boys?

Benny Newell: The answer is simple Hoffman…..HELL NO!

Darin and Teddy lock up and quickly lock in a side headlock before transitioning to a hammerlock.

Joe Hoffman: Nice chain wrestling by the former Tag champion.

Benny Newell: What’s he call that Hoffman? The Ban Hammer-Lock? HAHAHAHAHA!

Joe just shakes his head as Teddy tries to get free with a couple of back elbows to the side of Darin’s face, but the former ICON champion holds his ground with a stiff shot to the neck area of Teddy before sending him to the mat with a sweeping kick and following it up with a double stomp to the chest.

Joe Hoffman: Matthews with a flurry of offense sending Palmer to the mat.

Cover.

Uno.

Dos.

Kickout.

Teddy was able to pop his shoulder up as Darin shoots a look towards Hortega.

Joe Hoffman: Matthews not liking the count of the official.

Benny Newell: Hortega can only count to three. If he’s good at anything it’s counting to three.

Darin reaches down to pick up Teddy, but gets pulled down as Palmer tries to lock in a guillotine choke.

Joe Hoffman: GUILLOTINE! TEDDY LOOKING TO CHOKE OUT MATTHEWS HERE TONIGHT!

Benny Newell: BREAK HIS FUCKING NECK! DRINK!

Before Palmer can wrap his legs around Darin’s body to secure the hold, Matthews rakes the eyes of his opponent.

Joe Hoffman: Matthews knew he was in trouble and had to act quickly.

Matthews rubs his neck as anger begins to show in his face as he begins to stomp the hell out of Teddy Palmer. Darin stops his attack to pick up Palmer and whip him across the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Darin looking for the Ban Hammer here.

Darin rotating that arm around and goes for the discuss clothesline, but Teddy ducks underneath and springboards off of the ropes and drills Matthews with a high knee.

Joe Hoffman: Variation of a move his called the Last Call during his first stint in HOW.

Benny Newell: Last Call? Those are fucking jokes! If I want to drink all night by Lee I’m going to drink all night long!

The impact forces Matthews to stumble backwards and through the ropes to the outside. Palmer heads towards where Darin fell through and Hortega stops him, but Teddy pushes him aside and looks pears through the middle ropes only to be hot shotted back to the canvas.

Benny Newell: What the fuck Teddy? That’s the oldest trick in the book!

Matthews grabs Palmer by his legs and pulls him to the outside and begins delivering body shots to his opponent. Darin stops his assault and takes a second to admire his handiwork before balling up his fist and kissing it.

Joe Hoffman: Darin looking to deliver a massive haymaker.

Darin goes for a knockout shot, but Teddy avoids it and quickly locks in a standing arm triangle.

Joe Hoffman: ARM TRIANGLE!

Matthews quickly tries to fight out of it with body shots, but Teddy locks it in tighter. Matthews switches tactics by ramming Teddy’s back in to the ring causing the Canadian to grunt in agony. Darin does it a few more and Teddy’s grip loosens ever so slightly. Darin goes to do it again, but Teddy uses Darin’s momentum to drive his head into the edge of the ring.

Benny Newell: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FUCKING AWESOME! DRINK!

Joe Hoffman: Palmer with a modified flatliner from the arm triangle position driving Matthews’ face into the ring.

Benny Newell: It was a thing of beauty Hoffman.

Teddy catches his bearings before rolling inside the ring and yelling at Hortega to count him out.

Joe Hoffman: Matthews may be out after that Flatliner.

Benny Newell: Good.

Uno.

Dos.

Tres.

Cuatro.

Matthews begins to stir on the outside.

Cinco.

Seis.

Darin is to one knee leaning against the ring.

Siete.

Ocho.

Matthews is standing and leaning on the outside of the ring.

Nueve.

Die…………..

Darin rolls in and Teddy immediately begins stomping away on Matthews.

Joe Hoffman: Darin beat the count, but rolled right into the boots of Teddy Palmer.

Benny Newell: Watching Zion get his ass kicked never gets boring.

Darin tries to fight back, but Teddy delivers a stiff boot to the side of his head.

Joe Hoffman: Sickening shot from the former LBI winner.

Teddy signals it’s the end and sets up for the Pumphandle Death Valley Driver. Teddy lifts Darin up and places his across his shoulders, but Matthews shows signs of life as he begins to hammer Teddy in the face with elbows. Darin delivers a staggering shot causing Teddy to drop Matthews and when Teddy turns around he eats a spin kick from Darin.

Benny Newell: WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?!?

Joe Hoffman: Flash Point by Darin Matthews has Palmer rocked.

Darin holds his mouth and checks for blood momentarily before turning to see where Teddy is. Matthews goes over and picks up Palmer and slowly places him across his back.

Joe Hoffman: Darin looking to finish off Teddy here with the Sixth Star.

Benny Newell: He wants to be Mike Best so badly. Fucking drink.

Matthews takes a few steps back before his running start and Teddy tries to fight with using his heel to kick Darin in the face.

Joe Hoffman: What a shot to the face!

Benny Newell: Zion is an expert at taking shots to the face Hoffman.

Darin runs forward, and as he goes backwards Teddy is able to counter the air raid crash into a submission.

Joe Hoffman: LBI! LBI! LBI! WHAT A COUNTER!

Matthews tries to find a way to escape but he cannot as he is in the center of the ring and has no choice but to tap.

Benny Newell: YES!

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Bryan McVay: And your winner by submission….TEEEEEDYYYYYYYY! PAAAAAAALMMMMMER!

Teddy releases the hold and takes a moment to get to his feet as Hortega raises his hand in victory.

Joe Hoffman: What a victory by Teddy Palmer here tonight. The match went back and forth and could’ve gone either way.

Benny Newell: Gone either way? Hoffman, we all know the outcome when Zion is involved.

Hortega checks on Matthews as Teddy exits the ring and heads up the ramp as we cut away.

We immediately backstage for a Blaire Moise backstage interview.

Blaire Moise: Well, due to Rah being been banned from tonight’s show by Sutler Reynolds-Kael for his attack on Kael in his office last week… 

Sports Entertainment Barbie steps into the frame dressed in her usual sports entertainment attire- a strapless golden miniskirt ensemble with golden heels.

Blaire Moise: …we’ve got Sports Entertainment Barbie here with us tonight in his place.  

Barbie: Hi Blaire.

Blaire Moise: So, two weeks away from March to Glory, Barbie.  What’s going on with Rah?

Barbie sighs.

Barbie: I…I don’t know.  First it was this stuff with Dawn McGill.  Then Sunny O’Callahan came on board.  

Blaire Moise: She seemed okay at first.

Barbie: She was okay at first.  But then Rah got hooked on Sofia Boutella movies which just got all kinds of weird and then Sunny suddenly became difficult to work with.  She’s turned into this real bi-

Woman’s voice: Hold on a second!  Stop the interview!

Sunny O’Callahan barges into the picture and shoulder checks Barbie into Blaire.  

Sunny O’Callahan: Who the hell do you think you are?  I am the official voice of the Sunshine God.  I am the only one who speaks for the Champion of the World Rah.  Not the fucking eye-candy who’s there for T & A purposes.  Me.  Sunny O’Callahan.  And only ME! 

Barbie rolls her eyes.  

Sunny O’Callahan: So step back, stay in your lane, and show off your tits and ass like you’re supposed to while I do the talking or else you’ll find yourself becoming Trailer Park Barbie when I have Rah fire your ass and you’re unemployed, ca-peeshe?

Blaire’s mildly taken aback by Sunny’s unwarranted aggressive tone but she keeps her cool.

Blaire Moise: All right.  I’ll ask you, what is going on with-

Sunny O’Callahan: Shut up Blaire.  I’ll tell you exactly what’s going on with Rah. Sutler Reynolds-Kael actually did Rah a favor by banning him from the arena tonight.  So instead of being here talking to you, Rah’s back in Southern California training for March to Glory so he can- as he promised last week- to unleash the fury of a supernova and bring the heat of a thousand suns down on Sutler Reynolds-Kael. 

Sunny turns to the camera and points. 

Sunny O’Callahan: At March to Glory, there’s no shelter, there’s nowhere to hide, and there’s not enough water in the world to protect you – Sutler Reynolds-Kael – from the searing heat that Rah is going to bring down on you.  He’s going to unleash the most incredible, the most devastating, the most spectacular new move in the history of professional wrestling called the… 

Sunny has to stop and recalibrate. 

Sunny O’Callahan: …okay, Rah still hasn’t got a name for it but you can guarantee it will be the devastating, spectacular, and unbelievable move in wrestling history.  And do you know why Rah is going to do this?  

She points at herself.

Sunny O’Callahan: Me.

Then she turns back to Blaire.

Sunny O’Callahan: That’s right Blaire.  For the first time in his wrestling career, Rah has someone who actually knows what the fuck she’s doing running the show for him.  

Blaire Moise: Okay.  So is Rah still hung up on Dawn McGill or-

Sunny O’Callahan: Fuck Dawn McGill.  

Blaire again is taken aback.  She glances over to Barbie.  Barbie rolls her eyes.

Sunny O’Callahan: Dawn McGill a has-been, never-was.  Sunny O’Callahan is the here and now.  Dawn McGill had her chance to motivate Rah to win a world title and she couldn’t get the job done.  Sunny O’Callahan is the woman who will get things done.  Dawn McGill did nothing to further Rah’s wrestling career.  Sunny O’Callahan is going to move heaven and earth to make sure Rah shines like the Sunshine God he is.  If the promise of Dawn McGill fucking Rah’s brains out produced the best in-ring performance of his career against Michael Lee Best, what do you think is going to happen at March to Glory when Rah steps into the ring against Sutler Reynolds-Kael- the man I told Rah was directly responsible for Dawn McGill going away?  And besides…

Sunny turns to the camera, purses her lips, and fluffs her blonde hair.

Sunny O’Callahan: I have my own methods of motivation, if you know what I mean.

She winks at the camera and exits.

Barbie just shakes her head and puts her hands on her hips.  Blaire turns to her.

Blaire: God.  What a bitch!

Barbie swipes at a loose strand of hair in front of her eyes.

Barbie: You have no idea.

“Take the Money in Run,” By Steve Miller Band starts blasting throughout The Best Arena.  The crowd begins to boo as they remember whose theme song this is.  The music keeps playing and the crowd begins to restless as swears are heard being tossed around like LT at a music festival.  Finally, Steve Harrison walks out slowly.  He is sporting his new black tights and the same hoodie as last week with the hood up covering his face.  He lifts his arms up in the air as if he was celebrating the birth of his child and breathes in the disgust from the fans.  He quickens his pace a little as objects start to fly towards him.   He grabs a mic from ringside and slides into the ring.  He gets o his feet slowly and brushes his new tights off.  He looks up to speak and looks out at the crowd spewing mean things like bullies at the amazing Miracle Man.  

Steve Harrison: Get it out of your systems.  

Crowd continues booing.  Harrison lowers the mic and stands till.  He takes the hood off his head to show his bandaged face which gets another pop and laughter from the crowd.  Harrison grits his teeth and puts the mic back to his lips.

Steve Harrison: Is this what you want?  Does my injured face amuse you illiterate pieces of trash?  Fuck Dan Ryan and his illegal elbow.  I am not plaguing his shitty harvest though…this is all about that loose skin FORMER fat and always unreliable Bobby Dean.  I hope when my knee went through the back of his neck his smile faded from his fluke victory and he realized nobody is left to help him.  

Harrison chuckles softly to himself with a small shrug following.

Steve Harrison: Cancer Jiles is no longer around to carry you, Bobby.  This is all on you so maybe for once you can live up to the multiple title shots you have received in just the last nine months I have been around.  World title, Tag Titles, and LSD title shots for a grotesque skin suit who has won less matches in the past year then times he has gone missing.  The Miracle Man cannot accept this, Bobby.  I don’t care anymore about our small past because the present you is nothing but a coddled clown who doesn’t deserve anything but another coma.  Know your place, Bobby and it is to entertain us actual wrestlers who have the talent to succeed and need a small laugh after a tough night of breaking necks.   

Crowd starts cheering ‘BBD.’  Steve spits to the mat angrily.  He shakes his head and then continues.

Steve Harrison: This is about The Man of all Miracles getting what he has earned and if I must do it by stepping on Bobby Deans back, I am more then happy to do so.  When I counted what was in a briefcase, I knew it was worth it and that is what I have been missing in HOW.  To get ahead in this company you need to listen to Lee Best or be ready to have zero control on how you are booked.  I am putting a huge BET on myself and at March for Glory I am going to take apart Bobby Dean.  You will get no more chances at glory, Bobby…this is your last stand and my first win…

Harrison unzips his sweatshirt and tosses it to the floor to show a Best Alliance t-shirt.  The crowd goes mute in surprise, a small smile is kind of seen through his bandages.

Steve Harrison: …As a member of The Best Alliance!

Steve drops the mic as part of the crowd starts cheering and others still are not sure what to do as we cut a commercial as the camera zooms in on the Best Alliance shirt.

High Octane Fighting Championship Match on the USS Octane
Dan Ryan vs. Michael Lee Best

Tag Team Championship Match
The Hollywood Bruvs vs. The Best Alliance©

Fans Weapon Match
Lindsay Troy vs. Steve Solex

Singles Match
Rah vs. Sutler Reynolds-Kael

Singles Match
Conor Fuse vs. High Flyer

Singles Match
Steve Harrison vs. Bobby Dean

We are back live after the last commercial break and the HOV comes to life once again and we see a replay of what just happened and the big return.

Joe Hoffman: I did NOT see that coming and I can only imagine what Lee has up his sleeve for the PPV….but for now the focus shifts as it is time for tonight’s main event, folks, and this one has big implications for the entirety of the March To Glory pay-per-view in two weeks time. The man it maybe has the largest implications for is HOW World Champion Michael Lee Best, who has joined me at the commentary table tonight to see this one in person.

Mike Best: Two steel cages, Joe. That’s what I’m looking toward at March To Glory. Daddy is going to do what Daddy is going to do. It is clear for me however…. For the first time in HOW history, the Word Champion will both open and close the show in two separate title matches, both inside of a steel cage. The winner of tonight’s main event earns the right to challenge me in the main event, and for anyone who thinks that the difference it makes is just on the ego, you’re dead fucking wrong.

Joe Hoffman: Dan Ryan has made it through the finals of the DeNucci Cup, and will take you on for the HOW HOFC Championship at March to Glory. Five rounds, and the only way to end the match is knockout or tap out– no pins, no escape. How does that compare to the HOW World Championship match against Cancer Jiles?

Mike Best: Against Jiles, the ONLY option is escape. One man has to climb the cage and make it to the outside. I’m fucked if I do and fucked if I don’t, Joe– either Dan Ryan beats the fuck out of me in the opener and I don’t have the legs to climb out of the cage in the main event, or Cancer Jiles beats the fuck out of me to start the show and Dan Ryan inherits me at 50% in the main event. Both men NEED to win this match, because I promise you I’m walking out of the opening match with a title around my fucking waist.

Joe Hoffman: Well, we’re heading to the ring now to find out just who wins that honor.

The lights draw to a dim. A reverberating chill moves through the air. The arena jumps to their feet, preparing to litter the entrance, aisle, and ring with boos and debris.

Anticipatory silence becomes the rave.

Then.

I’m the one you’re Momma warned you about…

Volcanic booing ensues. Salt Shoes Jiles slowly emerges from behind the curtain, strikes a pose, releases a short burst of the mist, then smiles that shitbag smile for everyone to target.

Joe Hoffman: Not to make it weird right away, Mike, but it could be argued that Cancer Jiles should already be the HOW World Champion three times over. He’s been cheated out of that title on two separate occasions since you became the champion.

Mike Best: What, you think I’m gonna disagree with you? In a just world, he’d already be the champion, Joe. But we aren’t living in a just world. You don’t have to be just as good as the champion to win the belt, you gotta be better than him– no one is better than I am, because I’m fucking smart. I think ahead. Jiles is a good fucking wrestler. But he isn’t the best. It’s literally my name.

Joe Hoffman: I might not agree with your ethics, but I can at least agree with your logic. Jiles might finally level that playing field tonight with a victory over Dan Ryan.

Luckily, Jiles manages to make it all the way down to the ring without incident. There’s a few close calls, and an egg actually does strike him in the leg but it just bounces off.

Probably hard boiled.

Upon reaching the ring though, The Crown Prince of COOL decides to engage in a brief spat with a young fan wearing an old eGG Bandit T-Shirt at ringside. He demands the fan take it off, or that he be removed from the arena. The uproarious demand is not met, so Jiles disgustedly slides under the bottom rope, quickly scales the turnbuckles, and gives everyone one last shot at him. He pops off another short burst of the mist, hops downs, and begins chatting up the referee in an attempt to curry some favor.

“Daddy’s Home” by JT Music begins to blast over the speakers, as the lights go out and a dual-spotlight makes an encircling pattern on the entrance area. Dan Ryan steps out from behind the curtain. Standing on the stage, he looks out into the crowd and walks intently down the ramp, pyro blasting off behind him.

Mike Best: Here he is, folks. Dan motherfucking Ryan. I called it from the beginning– Dan Ryan versus Mike Best in the DeNucci Cup final. This is the scariest dude in wrestling not named MIke Best

Joe Hoffman: Once again, another man who arguably might have become HOW World Champion if it wasn’t for the meddlings of Lee Best. Hard to rely on outside forces inside of a steel cage with no disqualifications, isn’t it?

Mike Best: The day that they announced the DeNucci Cup, Dan and I sat down and made a mutual agreement: We do whatever it takes. That guy is one of my fucking brothers, Joe. We’re gonna beat the dog shit out of each other, and against anyone else, that’s your next HOFC Champion. But it’s not just anyone else– it’s me, and I haven’t lost a HOFC match in ten fucking years.

Dan rolls in under the bottom rope and climbs the nearest turnbuckle, looking out into a mostly cheering crowd as the music plays. Once he climbs down from the turnbuckle, he stares across the ring at Cancer Jiles, who looks back at him with a mean little smirk on his face. Dan Ryan is not smiling, and he doesn’t break eye contact as he stretches out, preparing for the beginning of the match. Referee Matt Boettcher doesn’t waste any time, and calls for the bell.

DING DING DING

For two men who know exactly how important this match is, there is no rush to the center of the ring. Feeling one another out, Jiles takes a moment to stretch and adjust, as Dan slowly saunters toward the middle, daring Jiles to come meet him face to face. Jiles contemplates his own mortality for a moment, before holding up a single finger and dropping to his back, rolling out of the ring to a huge boo from the HOW fans.

Joe Hoffman: Not the most confident start from Jiles tonight.

Mike Best: No, this is smart. You gotta keep a guy like Dan wondering. Jiles has been around HOW almost as long as I have, Joe, and all this time he’s been using about half his potential. He’s been slowly unleashing for the last year, and I promise you this guy knows what the fuck he’s doing.

Jiles paces around the outside of the ring, weighing his options as Matt Boettcher begins a count out.

1!

2!

3!

4!

By the count of four, Jiles rolls back into the ring as quickly as he can, trying to do so before Dan Ryan can reach the ropes. Dan charges for a quick head stomp, but Jiles slides through his legs and pops up from behind, shoving Dan into the ropes and letting him rebound backward! Jiles uses the momentum to crucifix him from behind, planting Dan’s shoulders trapped to the mat!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Joe Hoffman: OH MY GOD!

Mike Best: OH MY GOD!

Jiles pops up off the mat, his face looking like he’s just won the fucking lottery as the stunned crowd doesn’t even know how to react. Boettcher is trying to communicate with Jiles, though…

DAN GOT A SHOULDER UP!

The crowd goes ballistic, but Jiles doesn’t have time to be pissed off, as he catches a solid right hand directly to the jaw from Dan Ryan!

Now the crowd is fired up, as Dan peppers the Maestro with hard punches, staggering him back to the corner. Jiles is trapped, taking shot after shot as a real pissed off Dan shows him what he thinks about the dirty trick that nearly cost him the March to Glory main event.

Joe Hoffman: A very near ending to the match almost immediately. You may have been right, Mike– Jiles is operating on a different level tonight.

Mike Best: Yeah, but if you’re gonna line Dan Ryan up in your sights, you’d better make sure you kill him. Dan is straight up. He wants a straight up fight, too. Try to deny him that, and he’ll fucking kill you.

Jiles lands a knee to the midsection of Dan, trying to slow the onslaught as he pops his butt up onto the turnbuckle and wraps his arm around Dan’s head. The Maestro launches off the top with a tornado DDT, planting Dan Ryan on the mat and going for the cover!

ONE!

TW– KICKOUT!

Joe Hoffman: Another close one for Jiles!

Mike Best: He’s not facing Cardboard Dan out there though, Joe. As far as I’m concerned, this match could go on for another hour. Let them tire eachother out. Someone break a fucking leg.

Dan is back up again, and now he seems to just be getting angrier after two near falls. He grabs hold of JIles, launching him toward the corner while following closely behind. Cancer manages to spring up off the turnbuckle though, landing behind Dan and laying a hard kick to the back of Ryan’s knee. Jiles takes a gingerly step back, launching a superkick directly toward the back of Dan Ryan’s head…

TERMINAL CA– nope.

Dan slides to one side, getting out of the way with seconds to spare, and lunges forward with a rolling elbow that seems heavily improvised by very, very effective. The Hammer of God connects with the face of Jiles, using his own momentum against him and laying Jiles out in the center of the ring. Boettcher drops to make the count!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

DING DING DING

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner by pinfall…. DAN….. RYAAAAAAAAAANNNNNN!

Walking toward the ropes, Dan Ryan stares out at the commentary table, eyeing Michael Lee Best with a smirk on his face. He points down at the champion, talking some shit from within the ring.

Standing up from commentary, the HOW World Champion pulls a black bag out from underneath, reaching down inside. The crowd in the Best Arena roars as he pulls out the item hidden inside– still flecked in dirt and mud, the official, ORIGINAL HOW HOFC CHAMPIONSHIP appears from inside the bag, and Michael puts it immediately over his other shoulder.

Cancer Jiles rolls sideways, just beginning to come to, as Michael stands tall on top of the commentary table, both the World and HOFC Championships displayed proudly and at equal weight. Dan Ryan versus Michael Lee Best closes the show for the DeNucci Cup.

HOFC returns to the March to Glory main event.

Refueled comes to an end.

 High Octane Fighting Championship Match on the USS Octane
Dan Ryan vs. Michael Lee Best

Tag Team Championship Match
The Hollywood Bruvs vs. The Best Alliance©

Fans Weapon Match
Lindsay Troy vs. Steve Solex

Singles Match
Rah vs. Sutler Reynolds-Kael

Singles Match
Conor Fuse vs. High Flyer

Singles Match
Steve Harrison vs. Bobby Dean

Steel Cage Match for the World Championship (Escape Only)
Cancer Jiles vs. Michael Lee Best©

Cutting backstage we see the man who is still COO of HOW who is wearing an HOW hoodie covering up his entire head other than his eyes and #BloodRed goatee.

Scottywood: March to Glory season… and it seems we’re missing something.  Something in the greatest city in the fucking world, NYC.  Where the streets are alive 24/7 and nothing ever sleeps.  So I’m here to announce I’ve booked a little surprise for my hometown.  Cause yes, I’m still 39% owner and I’m not checked out from HOW.  So fuck all you questioning my dedication.

Scotty drinks his imperial stout and flips off anyone thinking he’d have an IPA in hand tonight.

Scottywood: So at March to Glory we’re gonna take to the streets of New York City… for a fight.  And that fight will determine the new number one contender for the LSD title.  Oh and who will those people be.  The wrestlers fighting to face whoever the LSD champion is?

Taking another drink of his stout Scotty smiles.

Scottywood: Teddy Palmer… despite that fucker knocking me out of the LBI.  Zeb Martin… even if he associated with those rotten eggs.  Brian Hollywood and his last minute antics.  Oh… and Darin… Matthews?  Or Zion?  Whichever… those four will battle in the streets of NYC in the night’s most brutal match for a shot at the greatest lady in wrestling, the LSD Title.

Finishing his beer Scotty places the empty glass on the table and stares at it for a moment.

Scottywood: No Scottywood in this match you ask?  No Hardcore Artist battling for the LSD Title?  No.  I will not be fighting in this match.  No.  I will be the special guest referee.  See you all in New York City… at Madison Square Fucking Garden… for March to GL—

WHACK

WHACK

WHACK

The image of a now bloody baseball bat drops to the now downed Scottywood.

The camera pans up to see who the person was that just took out the Hardcore Artist and we hear his voice before we see his face…

Man: And the 5^th member of the match…and newest member of the Best Alliance…..me…..

The man bends down and picks up his hat that fell off while he was swinging and its then we finally see his face as he spits at the back of Scotty’s head.

Hughie Freeman.