Refueled LXIII

The HOTv logo gives way and we cut live to an overhead shot, courtesy of Chopper 97, above the USS Octane and we see the HOFC cage is luminated as we are to begin tonight with a HOFC fight.

Except we are not going to lead into that match at all.

The feed cuts to a live shot from the nearest hard camera and we see that the match has already started and in the middle of the cage we see Farthington has his patented armbar submission locked in on Bobby Dean.

Joe Hoffman: WELCOME everyone to Refueled and we apologize as the show started a little late tonight and we had some technical issues here and I gotta believe that the crew just didn’t have enough time to test out everything before we went live here in the middle of the Pacific.

Back in the cage referee Rick “Even” Stevens signals for the bell as Bobby Dean begins tapping furiously.

Benny Newell: And just like that and for the FIRST TIME ever we literally start a show with someone tapping out and someone winning a match. What a way to be remembered you fat worthless fuck.

Joe Hoffman: It is like Bobby just did not show up mentally. And again apologies folks for those that missed the first few minutes of the match you honestly did not miss much.

Benny Newell: Farthington hit fat….fat fell…..fat tapped. There. Everyone is caught the fuck up.

Back in the cage Farthington is standing with his arm raised looking almost dejected at the easy win.

Joe Hoffman: One has to wonder where Farthington will fall when it comes to the PPV and a fight…..but for tonight it was an easy win and one has to expect he will be back at it next week when we land in Japan.

Benny Newell: Good thing everyone is on a salary. Paid by the hour in the HOFC division would suck dick. Speaking of sucking dick…..

Joe Hoffman:…..WE HAVE to cut elsewhere folks…..

Joe glares at Benny as we cut away.

The show feed switches to an exclusive, outdoor, top deck lounge reserved for where the important wrestlers spend their leisure time.

BAMBoO Lounge. 

Currently, The COOLEST One, AKA the most important one, AKA the World Champion one, is lying on an outdoor patio lounge chair. His hair is on point. Conor Fuse’s face has been photoshopped to his tights. Right leg, outside thigh. The stars are twinkling down at him, but not even the cover of night can stop him from wearing his BA-shades.

**Buy the new BA Miracle Enterprise Jiles shades while you are at it, you marks.**

Tag Champion and all around Great Miracle Man, the heart and soul of The BA, Steve Harrison enters the Lounge from stage left and approaches Jiles. He waves an attentive hand in front of his cohort’s face, but there’s no reaction. He does so again, and still nothing. After a third time and suffering the same result; he groans to himself and frowns while shaking his head.

Steve Harrison: You can’t be sleeping?

Jiles: No. I’m just high. Well. Scratch that. I was high. Now, that has been ruined. Hello, friend.

Steve Harrison: I thought it smelled like Jack Marley AT ALL TIMES. 

The Man of Miracles swats at the air around him to keep the smell of the kind bud out of his nostrils.

Steve Harrison: Fucking stoner. 

Jiles sits up and offers a nonchalant, you got me there, type of shrug.

Steve Harrison: Though, watching Bobby Dean get destroyed could easily put a man to sleep, so you can see where I was coming from. 

Jiles: The irony should be lost on no one that the last time Cecil was on TV he managed to lose in less time than it took for him to win tonight. Just saying. Now what do you want? Please make it quick you’re casting a shadow.

Steve Harrison: You do know that star tanning isn’t really a thing, right?

The Maestro of the Best Alliance yawns, as if simple, plastic, caramel coated ascots tire him.

Jiles: Neither are miracles, right? Then again, you are a Champion in High Octane Wrestling, so what do I know?

Steve Harrison: By that admission being kneed through a cage could also be defined as a Miracle. There is nothing wrong with that…of course. 

Steve chuckles to himself and rubs the little hairs on his chinny chin chin.

Steve Harrison: Before our collective panties ruffle, know that I am not here to throw shade at someone who never takes his shades off. Only twenty five dollars by the way. I am here because you and I are attached together because of these tag titles. 

Jiles: Ugh, don’t remind me. My back still hurts from all that carrying. You know, you never thanked me for stepping in and showing you how to get the job done. Not that you’d have to, being we’re Best Buddies.

Steve Harrison: G’odd Couple.

Jiles: Best Buddies.

Steve Harrison: No. I’m not going to do it.

Jiles: Fine, Buzz Harrington. What would you like to know about our complicated relationship? Do you want to move to 90210? Maybe if we are going to defend our Tag Titles at the Lethal Lottery? Or, this is good– do we allow our trusted own to defend them? Maybe Jattapod and SeKane get one last ball to cook in the sun before we take them behind the shed and trim the fat before the big game. OH. NO. Wait. Maybe we, more so you, get lucky and find out who the BEST of the Buddies is? That’d be fun, now wouldn’t?

Steve Harrison: I don’t trust anyone to defend the Tag Titles I worked for, buddy. If you want to prove who is better because you still haven’t forgotten Rumble at The Rock it isn’t going to be a flip of a coin chance. We need to be as cohesive as possible going into War Games because the Grapplers are far more annoying than anything else.

Jiles: Intriguing, Steve. 

Did he call him Steve? Like he was someone he knew? Or recognized maybe?

Jiles: Well, I wasn’t expecting that. 

Almost stunned, the Champ continues.

Jiles: I’ll have you know I’ve held those tag titles you speak of four times over now, Steve. Three different people have called themselves tag team champion with me. And, before I was fortunate enough to get knee’d through a cage door after Termiblasting Cracker Jack to the fucking moon, I considered those titles you so proudly speak of to be the only ones that mattered. Shit, I went to WAR over those titles you speak of. To hear you speak of them in such a… fuck me for saying it, yolky way… and then the stars tonight… I just… 

The Man of Miracles shrugs his sculpted shoulders and looks up at the very stars Jiles has been tanning under.

Steve Harrison: It isn’t about us being friends but it is about dominance. I do not want to lose EVER and that includes the Tag Titles. Lee almost taking an eye out has given me some new perspective on life, and I finally have the real motivation to succeed in ways I have only dreamed. 

Steve covers his left eye with his hand as he imagines getting bottomlined.

Steve Harrison: I have claimed greatness and now it is time to prove it over and over again. I haven’t had the best luck with belts but this time is different and I expect you to carry your weight even if you hold something more precious now.

The Miracle Man turns on a quick heel and exits the BAMBoO Lounge. Then, the shot cuts from a seemingly unbothered World Champion. Seemingly, because his wrestling boots for some reason are quickly salting, but the rest of him is normal.

Jiles: TAKE YOU FUCKING SHOES OFF NEXT TIME!

The action cuts elsewhere…

Back live and as we get ready for our second match of the evening, a gorgeous panoramic shot from a helicopter circling around the wrestle vessel itself, the U.S.S. Octane, is seen. The lights shining towards the ring on the ship’s surface and the lights shining down from the helicopter circling above glistens off the dark, choppy Pacific waters.

Joe Hoffman: Well, the water is a bit choppy out here tonight on the high seas of the Pacific, folks. Not gonna lie, I brought my Dramamine, just in case. It’s noticeably windy as well, which makes me mad that I didn’t bring an extra jacket. Anyway, according to my weather reports there’s consistent gusts of 15-20 MPH winds-

Benny Newell: – Yeah thanks, Weatherman Joe. Back to you, Connie! Jesus, man.

Joe Hoffman: What? People don’t have a right to know what it’s like out here tonight?

Benny Newell: Sure they do. It’s just… well, I don’t think they care. What they DO care about is what’s about to go down in the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Fair enough.

Benny Newell: With newcomer Arthur Pleasant coming off a tough loss in an impressive outing with Dan Ryan last week, one has to wonder if he’s looking to make a statement here tonight. Especially with his… umm, bizarre… intentions of siding with Grapplers Local 214. You know, the losing side.

Joe Hoffman: Oh please, Benny. But on the flipside to that, you have a bona fide legend in High Flyer coming into this match-up with a less than stellar record. Something tells me that High Flyer is looking to make a statement just as much as Arthur will be. Because let’s not forget that we also have the Lethal Lottery coming up as well!

Benny Newell: One thing’s for sure, this one is a smart match-up and the HOG betting lines are going to be bustling with activity.

All Aboard! AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA…

Ozzy Osbourne’s classic opening to “Crazy Train” hits the speakers of the U.S.S. Octane. But Instead of the rising fog and theatrics that usually follow inside an arena, High Flyer emerges from somewhere near the superstructure in the middle of the ship. Hopping in place with a laser focus look strewn about his face, High Flyer light jogs his way to the aft of the ship and hops up onto the portside ring apron.

Joe Hoffman: High Flyer certainly looks completely absorbed by this incoming match. It’s been a while since I’ve seen that look of concentration on his face.

Benny Newell: Yeah well, if he doesn’t want to become the next Darin Zion of HOW, he’d better be concentrating on who he’s about to face. Arthur Pleasant has been impressive since making his debut, and even in his loss to Dan Ryan last week, showed grit to be able to go toe to toe with one of the best HOW has to offer.

Joe Hoffman: Do NOT discount High Flyer in this! He even said it in his promo this week: he’s been wrestling for a long time. Considering High Flyer has seen them all come and go and faced some of the best in the world for years on end, I wouldn’t be surprised to see High Flyer come away with the win here and offset his three losses with a third win.

Bryan McVay: Introducing first, from Bethlehem, Pennsylvania… standing at 6-foot and weighing in at 234lbs. HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGH FLYERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!

High Flyer runs the ropes, loosening his leg muscles a bit when all of a sudden the sounds of screeching violins pierce the atmosphere here above the Pacific as the classic orchestral piece “Danse Macabre” flips the current mood on its head.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent, from Under the Midnight Sun in Ut… or is it Oot… uh, ooooot… ooot… kwee… oot something, Alaska, standing at 6’3’’ and weighing 207lbs… ARRRRRRRRTHURRRRRRRR PLEEEEEEEEEASAAAAAANT!!!

With his massive, personal bodyguard Yuri Reznikov in tow, Arthur Pleasant saunters down the ship and makes his way starboard side towards the ring. Looking up at High Flyer, Arthur Pleasant looks out at the ocean and then back at High Flyer.

Joe Hoffman: Sweet Jesus. Is he threatening to throw High Flyer overboard?!

Benny Newell: Yeah anything is possible with this crazy fucker. One thing’s for sure, I hope ole Aitch-Eff knows how to swim.

Just as Pleasant steps through the ropes, referee Joel Hortega motions to High Flyer to see if he’s ready. After a nod, he does the same thing to the Provocateur. Arthur scoffs and “shoos” away Ortega.

Joel shrugs and calls for the bell.

DING DING DING!

High Flyer is like a bullet coming out of the corner! Shotgun dropkick right to the chest of Arthur Pleasant sends him back into the opposite corner, landing in a heap.

Joe Hoffman: Whoa! I didn’t see that one coming! High Flyer has truly come to play.

Benny Newell: Look at him go! I think he’s lost his mind!!

High Flyer races back into the corner, hitting the turnbuckles with great speed. High Flyer again shoots out of the corner with lightning speed. Three quarters of the way to Arthur laying against the bottom turnbuckle High Flyer leaps up and nails a super rough, face-wash styled hesitation dropkick that just about murders Arthur’s face!

Joe Hoffman: Damn! That. Looked. ROUGH.

Benny Newell: No way! I thought it looked warm and fuzzy, Hofflander.

Joe Hoffman: High Flyer with the early assault, and like we’ve mentioned, High Flyer definitely has something to prove here.

High Flyer drags Arthur out from the corner, not even bothering to go for the pin as he’s well aware of Arthur’s extreme tolerance for pain. Bringing the Provocateur to his feet, High Flyer scoops him up and drives him to the mat with a scoop piledriver!

Joel Hortega slides in for the cover..

Uno.

D- Arthur kicks out!!

Joe Hoffman: What?! Did Arthur just kick out of that scoop piledriver at one?!

Benny Newell: This guy’s a goddamn freak, Joe. And yes, he did. If High Flyer plans on winning this one, he’s going to need to stick to doing more shit like that.

Frustrated that he could only get a one-count off of his out of the gate offense, High Flyer wastes zero motion and continues his onslaught. He drills Pleasant with some quick left jabs, sending him reeling. High Flyer leans into Pleasant and the ropes and sends him off to the opposite side of the ring. Pleasant on the rebound. High Flyer leans back into the ropes before leaping forward off the recoil, leg extended, and catches Pleasant flush with a scintillating leg lariat that sends him inside out!

Joe Hoffman: Nice leg lariat!

Benny Newell: He reeks of a desperate man, but yeah that was a nice one.

High Flyer turns him over and hooks a leg as Joe Hortega is right there..

Uno.

Dos- Pleasant kicks out!

Pleasant kicks out just after two and High Flyer nods, knowing full well his onslaught is working and wearing down the inFamous One. Bringing Pleasant to his feet, High Flyer follows up with some knife-edge chops.

Joe Hoffman: High Flyer is looking really good here.

Benny Newell: Sorry, what did you say? I didn’t here you over the sounds of me setting my watch to countdown until High Flyer chokes.

Pleasant smirks wide and just lays High Flyer out with a headbutt!

Benny Newell: And that was my watch going off. Here comes the choke!

Joe Hoffman: That was a NASTY headbutt. High Flyer could’ve just had his nose broken or been concussed!
High Flyer holds his forehead, beating his foot on the mat out of sheer agony from the perfectly timed head-butt. Guiding High Flyer to his feet, Pleasant drives a knee into High Flyer’s abdomen. With High Flyer doubled over, Pleasant sets him up… and delivers a snapping piledriver!

Joe Hoffman: Arachnodriver!

Benny Newell: Holy shit! He spiked High Flyer with that snapping piledriver!

Pleasant lays back on High Flyer with a very lackadaisical cover…

Uno!

Dos!

Tre- NO! High Flyer shoulders out just before Hortega’s hand slaps the mat! Signaling that it was only two, Arthur Pleasant looks none too pleased at this. Getting in Hortega’s face, Hortega reminds the Pleasant he WILL disqualify him if he doesn’t back down and respect his officiating. Cackling at him, Pleasant makes like he’s going to throw a punch at Hortega but stops, making him flinch.

Benny Newell: Hahaha.

Joe Hoffman: Yeah, laugh it up. Arthur even remotely touches him Hortega will call it.

Having fun with his own bullying antics, Pleasant doesn’t see High Flyer slowly crawling up behind him… school boy roll-up! With the tights!

UNO!!

DOS!!

TRE- NO!! Pleasant kicks out!!

Benny Newell: He had the fucking tights Jorge!! Come on!!

Joe Hoffman: High Flyer did say he was gonna cheat and run in a promo a few days ago. And he almost did just that there.

Looking none too pleased at High Flyer for nearly beating him with a roll-up, Pleasant picks High Flyer the rest of the way up from the mat and goes for another piledriver. High Flyer’s senses are heightened, however, and he counters with a back body drop. Trying to pick up some much-needed momentum, High Flyer runs into the ropes. On the rebound, High Flyer hooks Pleasant’s head up with his legs and spins him down to the mat with a tilt-a-whirl headscissors. Pleasant’s own momentum carries him to his feet as High Flyer is right there with a leaping forearm shot that sends Pleasant back down.

Joe Hoffman: High Flyer gaining some impressive momentum back here.

Pleasant is up again, and High Flyer scoops him up… driving him right back down to the mat with a Michinoku Driver!

Joe Hoffman: Flyerdriver! We haven’t seen that one in a while!

Benny Newell: What?! Did he just beat Pleasant?!

Hortega makes the count…

UNO!!

DOS!!

TRE- Pleasant kicks out!!

Joe Hoffman: Wow that was close!!.

Benny Newell: High Flyer may be an old dog with old tricks, but he’s certainly got a lot of fight in him. I’ll give the bastard that.

Realizing he needs to follow up with another devastating move, High Flyer signals for something out of habit before realizing there is no crowd to signal to. High Flyer then begins ascending to the top rope.

Benny Newell: Well that’s a tad embarrassing. What a dumb shit.

Joe Hoffman: Can you really blame him, though? High Flyer’s a thirty year veteran of this great sport. 99% of those thousands of matches have been in front of fans. I think he’s earned a pass for a half-second of forgetfulness.

Benny Newell: Excuuuuuses.
Taking a moment to center himself, High Flyer stands up fully and leaps backwards with a picture perfect moonsault!

Benny Newell: KNEES!!

Pleasant gets the knees up as High Flyer crashes down across them with all of his weight.

Joe Hoffman: God, High Flyer is rolling around in agony!!

Capitalizing on High Flyer’s mistake, Pleasant brings him to his feet and hoists him up in a fireman’s carry. Pushing up, Pleasant pivots and snaps down to the mat with both knees extended, blasting High Flyer’s face with the double knee facecrusher!

Joe Hoffman: Calamity Pain!

Benny Newell: That’s gotta be it.

Pleasant with the lateral press and an incensed look on his face…

UNO!

DOS!

TRES!

DING DING DING!

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner at a time of 7 Minutes even… ARTHUUUUURRRRRRRR PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEASAAAAAAAAAAAANT!!

In a stark contrast to the screeching violins of his entrance theme, the soft sounds of a harp and cello begins to play over the sound system as the beautiful, calming, and serene song “The Swan” by Saint Saens begins playing. Basking in his victory, Arthur forgoes having his arm held up by Hortega and instead opts to move his hands from side to side like he’s conducting an orchestra. Spinning to the luscious sounds, Pleasant twirls his way peacefully, skillfully falling through the middle and top rope so that he lands on the apron. Sitting there, he continues to wave his hands like batons. As Yuri just looks on with his arms crossed.

Joe Hoffman: It’s unsettling how Arthur Pleasant can come out with such an unnerving theme, and then goes to the back with a light and calming theme. That, in itself, speaks volumes for Arthur Pleasant as a whole.

Benny Newell: Yeah, yeah. So much for an old dog having a lot of fight in him. Think he just got put down like Old Yeller.

Joe Hoffman: Despite your BS comments, High Flyer put up a hell of a fight against this tough as nails psychopath. My hat’s off to him.

Benny Newell: Oh please. High Flyer has now lost four matches in HOW. Get this loser off this ship!!

The final few remnants we see of this match-up before the scene transitions elsewhere shows High Flyer slowly getting to his feet, shaking his head in disappointment, and Arthur Pleasant making his way from the ring back towards the ship’s superstructure with Yuri at his six.

The camera cuts from the Arthur Pleasant vs. High Flyer match to another area of the USS Octane. The King of Everything Jace Parker Davidson can be seen wearing his ring gear with Madison by his side. Behind them walks Carmen Jennings wearing a large hat and sunglasses as a disguise.

Carmen: You want to tell me again why I’m wearing this ridiculous thing?

JPD: That’s because we’ve had to sneak you into the ship. No one is supposed to know you’re here and I have a feeling Lee Best is in a mood. So keep a low profile and stay out of sight.

Madison: That means keep your big fat mouth shut and enjoy the free trip!

Carmen grabs a hold of Madison’s arm and spins her around. Carmen balls up her fist and grabs Madison by the shirt but before she can strike Jace spots Blaire Moise and a camera crew heading in their direction.

JPD: Oh shit here comes Blaire, hide!

Jace pulls Madison and Carmen away from each other and with Madison’s help shoves Carmen into a nearby room and slam the door shut. Carmen bangs on the door repeatedly to be let out but Jace and Madison lean against the door as Blaire walks up to them with microphone in hand.

Blaire Moise: Jace, Madison, why are you leaned up against that door like that? And what is that noise?

JPD: Noise? What noise? Must be Sektor with some booger sugar. And uh, we’re standing here is because…

Madison: It’s a pre-match ritual, so what do you want Moist?!

Jace and Madison remain pressed against the door as Carmen continues to fight and argue from the other side of it.

Carmen: Let me out of this goddamn room!

Jace raises his right hand up to his mouth and pretends to cough loudly to muffle the sound.

Blaire Moise: It’s Moise, not Moist. Didn’t I just see you two walking along with someone? They looked kind of familiar.

JPD: You saw us with someone? Nooo, you must be seeing things Blaire.

Madison: What you saw was umm…my pet. Yeah, my emotional support animal, I never leave home without her!

Carmen: Did you just call me your pet?! Let my out of this room so I can fucking murder you!!!

Madison turns around and bangs her fist against the door.

Madison: Settle down Miss Puss Puss, be a good little kitty and I’ll pet you later!

Carmen: I’ll fucking claw your eyes out, bitch!!!

JPD: We just love our little Miss Puss Puss.

Carmen: I’ll rip your balls off and feed them to you!!!

JPD: Madison, why don’t you go in there and shove a ball of yarn into Miss Puss Puss’ mouth?

Madison: Are you kidding me? That’s one angry pussy! You go in there!

JPD: Just get in there and pet your pussy.

Jace cracks the door open and shoves Madison inside before slamming the door closed behind him.

Blaire Moise: You’re acting strange tonight.

JPD: Strange? No, that’s just excitement for tonight’s activities!

The sound of Madison screaming can be heard from behind the door followed by loud crashing and banging.

Blaire Moise: That sounds like more than just a cat in there.

JPD: Oh, that? Madison is always loud when she plays with her pussy. Don’t you want to interview me before my match tonight?

Jace asks as he wraps his arm around Blaire’s shoulder and leads her away from the commotion coming from inside of the room

Blaire Moise: Let’s start with last week’s Refueled where you did the heinous act of beating down Ray McAvay. You shoved him into a locker then proceeded to tip it over and light it on fire. Clearly, by now you’ve heard the negative reaction to what you did.

JPD: Blaire, since when have I ever given a single fuck about whether people liked or disliked what I did inside or outside of the ring? The fact is that I told everyone I was going to continue to pick apart McAvay until he is nothing but a hollow shell limping into War Games. He decided to poke the bear after my match with Lindsay Troy and now look at him. He isn’t on this boat and I seriously doubt he’ll be medically cleared for War Games.

Blaire Moise: I can’t believe you’re showing no remorse for nearly ending a man’s life on national television.

JPD: This is HOW Blaire, what I did to McAvay barely scratches the surface of things that have happened in this company. We once had the remains of a Hall of Famer carried around in a coffee can. However since pissants can seem to get over what happened, next week live from Korakuen Hall in Tokyo, Japan. I’m going to hold a memorial service for the career of Ray McAvay. A chance for you and all the rest of the 214’s to mourn the loss of their fallen brother.

Blaire Moise: Absolutely disgusting. Moving on, do you have any thoughts on your three on one handicapped match against Darin Zion?

Before Jace can answer the door to the room opens and Madison comes crawling out on her stomach and screaming in their direction.

Madison: Help me, Moist! This pussy doesn’t like to be played with!!!

From inside of the room Carmen grabs a hold of Madison by the ankles and drags her back inside and slams the door closed behind her. Blaire goes to comment but Jace interrupts her.

JPD: Ignore them, she’s just being dramatic. As far as Darin Zion goes he knows he’s a dead man walking. Sure our teammate Solex has been…how you say…going through the motions but tonight is his night. Solex is going to get back to winning when he destroys Darin Zion and shows him that playing G.I. Joe isn’t the same has being the real thing.

Jace takes his arm from around Blaire and folds them across his chest as he continues speaking.

JPD: He’s got the World Champion and yours truly by his side. Tonight is about the reemergence of Steve Solex and Clay Byrd becoming the new HOW LSD Champion. It’s going to be another good night for The Best Alliance and this momentum is going to keep rolling right into the Lethal Lottery and War Games. Now if you’ll excuse me Blaire I got business to take care of.

Blaire nods her head and her along with the camera crew head off. Jace turns around as the room door opens and Madison steps out with her clothes torn and her purple hair an absolute mess.

Madison: That bitch as got an attitude problem!

Carmen: What did you just call me?!

Madison: Shit, I can’t handle round two with her. Let’s hurry up and get out there for your match!

Madison grabs a hold of Jace by the hand and rushes off as we head towards a commercial break.

Back live and we open up with Darin Zion pacing frantically back and forth near Gorilla position on the USS Octane.   He’s on his cell phone; gnawing down his fingernails.  Obviously he’s worried about the upcoming 3 on 1 Handicap match.  Faint words can be heard in the background as Zion’s waiting on a response.  As silences fill the air Zion lets out  an exasperated sigh.  He throws his arms down at his side and loudly begs.

Darin Zion:  COME ON WITNESS!!!!  Let me bet on my own match!   There’s obviously no way I’m surviving tonight’s encounter.  I won’t get a chance to enjoy any of that sweet HOG profit anyways. It’s purely profit.

A faint “do I really have to read you the ILCS Sports Wagering Act?” can be heard echoing in the distance. “It’s illegal to bet on your own match. You could go to prison, Darin.” Zion continues pleading.

Darin Zion:  I’m about to die.  I don’t care about prison!!!!!  I’ve been to Alcatraz already with HOW.  Sure I look ugly in an orange jumpsuit, but money is money to me at this point. I’d be making us both cash.

“Darin!” yells Silent Witness angrily, his voice echoing from Zion’s phone. “We are a legal betting company that is held to account by the gambling authorities. We are not starting out by breaking the law. That’s the end of it!”

Clearly this doesn’t deter Zion.  He lets out another sigh as closes his eyes and just shakes his head.  This one’s coming from his heart.  His eyes dart up towards the ceiling as the passion in his tone fades.

Darin Zion:  Look!  There’s vested interest in this for Lee.  If I lose this match, that’s it.  I’m done kidding myself. I’ll accept that I made the wrong choice in resisting the Alliance all these years.  I’d be Lee’s meat puppet.  All I want to do is bet my yearly salary on the match as a form of accountability.  Losing tonight means I’m walking out with nothing left.  I’d be paying the Best Alliance the dividends I owed for years.  So come on!  Please let me bet on my own match.

Zion pauses awaiting Silent Witness’ answer.  Jittering in place like an excited school kid; he thinks he has him as you can barely hear Witness pondering on the other side.  Finally an audible but firm “Not happening!” echoes.   Zion scratches his chin trying to desperately think of another ploy.

Darin Zion:  Uuuuuh…how about if Meredith makes the bet?

Zion’s smile grows wide just waiting for an answer, but the line goes silent.

Darin Zion:  Hello?  Witness?  Hello?

Zion smashes the cell phone against his leg before tossing it to Meredith to put away.

Darin Zion:  Stupid reception out here!  It cost me money.

Blaire Moise walks into the picture and just disappointedly shakes her head at Zion’s phone conversation.

Blaire Moise:  You’re really betting on yourself this week?  That’s stupid and childish.  You dug your grave over the last couple months and tonight; you’re walking into the war your mouth caused.  Do you have any more comments other than the ones the people at home just heard?

Zion shakes his head balking Blaire Moise.

Darin Zion:  Yes I bet on myself even if the odds are stacked against me.  It’s the toughest match in my career.  It’s all or nothing with me.  But I don’t have time to indulge in your 20/20 segment bullshit right now.  I’m up next and I gotta go get mentally prepared for this match.

Zion storms off leaving both Meredith and Blaire behind to talk as the scene fades as Zion vs. The Best Alliance is up next!!

The scene cuts to the announce desk where Benny is tapping at his headset and microphone and the Ruler of Jattlantis, the Sultan of SeaJattle, the Saviour of Starrkham, Jatt Starr has joined the announce team.

HOFFMANN: Welcome back and we are joined by Jatt Starr and it seems like Benny’s headset is malfunctioning?

JATT STARR: Malfunctioning, sabotaged, allegedly purposefully shut down temporarily until I leave.

HOFFMANN: What brings you out here?

JATT STARR: The sea air and to offer my support to my Best Alliance “comrade-dres”.

Brian McVAY is in the ring.

Tonight; there’s no gold robe or no lights for Darin Zion. It’s no fanfare for Zion as he wanders down the ring for his handicap match tonight. “Cursed or Cured” for Icon For Hire echoes from the USS Octane’s speakers. Zion looks up to the sky and points up; almost praying for mercy. He takes a deep breath before his head hangs rather low climbing up the ring stairs, nodding at Bryan McVay to go ahead and introduce him.

HOFFMANN: Darin Zion, looking nervous and a bit apprehensive as he enters the ring.

JATT STARR: He should be, the Best Alliance is going to kill him tonight.

BRIAN McVAY: Introducing the first opponent: from Lake of the Ozarks, Missouri; weighing in at 220 Pounds; please welcome DAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRIN ZIIIIIIION.

Zion doesn’t climb the turnbuckle to taunt the Best Alliance like usual. He just clinches his fists tightly together accepting his fate. He’s waiting for the sweet release of death. Zion wipes his chin down before the match starts; waiting in agony for the Best Alliance’s music to hit as Benny continues to drink and tap on his mic and headset.

JATT STARR: Benny, will you stop? I’m trying to watch a murder here.

HOFFMANN: It is not going to be easy for Darin Zion tonight.

BRIAN McVAY: And his opponents…..STEVE SOLEX, JACE PARKER DAVIDSON, AND THE HOW CHAMPION, CANCER JIIIIIIIIIIIILES!!!!! THE BEST ALLIANCE!!!!

Walking towards the ring to the #97Red, the Best Alliance anthem, “Undead”, Steve Solex to the left, JPD to the right, and Cancer Jiles in the middle, the HOW Championship rests around his waist. The Best Alliance proceed to enter the ring, one cocky individual at a time.

HOFFMANN: This is going to be a tough hill to climb.

JATT STARR: If it were the Ruler of Jattlantis in there against the Best Alliance, no question, the Jattlantic City Idol would be victorious. But Darin Zion is no Mayor of ManJattan. Darin Zion, Mathews, Whatever, loses because he doesn’t know what it takes to win. This is exhibition season for War Games.

HOFFMANN: Be that as it may, I don’t think Darin Zion will go down without a fight.

Matt Boettcher is handed the belt who hands it to McVAY at ringside. As the music fades the members of the Best Alliance huddle up to determine who will be starting the match as Darin Zion readies himself in his corner. Instead of waiting around, Darin Zion charges just as he approaches, Jiles and JPD telegraph it and duck, but Solex is not so lucky as he gets hit with a Zion clothesline causing him to stagger backwards. Realizing he is in enemy territory, Zion runs back to his corner as Boettcher signals for the bell.

“DING!”

HOFFMANN: It looks like Darin Zion made the decision for the Best Alliance. Solex starting things off.

JATT STARR: We’re looking at an army vet who has literally murdered thousands of people with his hands taking on a festering pimple.

Solex walks over to Zion, goes to grab him, but Zion connects with a kick to Solex’s gut. Zion, immediately charges the corner and nails JPD with a forearm, knocking him off the apron.

HOFFMANN: A blindside to JPD.

JATT STARR: Come on!

Zion after hitting JPD, immediately charges Solex and nails an Enziguri. Solex drops to one knee and shakes his head as Zion charges the BA corner again, this time targeting Jiles. Zion tries for a clothesline, Jiles ducks, Zion turns and Jiles pokes Zion in the eyes.

HOFFMANN: Good strategy to try and keep the momentum going—

JATT STARR: This is why the Best Alliance is dominance. It’s always a chess game. Zion should be focusing on Solex, instead, he’s trying to play Candyland with Jace and Jiles.

Solex is up, he grabs Zion, and looks for a German Suplex, Zion reverses and delivers a German suplex of his own. Zion immediately leaps onto Solex for a cover.

ONE!!!!

Solex practically launches Zion off of him.

HOFFMANN: Darin tried to put Solex away early.

JATT STARR: And failed, like everything else in his life. His little strumpet must be a masochist.

Darin and Solex are both up. Darin charges but runs right into a Solex spinebuster. Solex is up and tags in Jiles. Solex pulls up Zion and holds him up. The HOW Champ begins talking smack and slaps Zion in the face.

HOFFMANN: Jiles not showing Darin much respect here.

JATT STARR: Nor should he! Not even the Turd Union 214 wants anything to do with Darin Zion.

Solex heads back to the corner. Jiles delivers an inverted atomic drop on Zion followed by a righthand to the throat which drops Zion to his knees. Jiles nails Zion with a kick to the face. Jiles, his cockiness on full display, pulls up Zion and delivers a jawbreaker. Jiles follows up by scraping his boot across the face of Zion

HOFFMANN: Disgraceful.

JATT STARR: What? Clearly Jiles has something on his boot and he does not want to anger the HOW gods by getting it all over the ring. Benny’s even trying to agree with me.

Jiles tags in JPD as Zion slowly gets to his feet only to be taken down by a synchronized double dropkick to the head by both Jiles and JPD.

JATT STARR: See? The Best Alliance are, like Joey Fatone and Lance Bass, “in sync”!

HOFFMANN: Can we turn Benny’s mic back on?

JATT STARR: No.

JPD pulls up Zion and hits a snap suplex. JPD heads to the corner, goes to the top rope, jumps and lands a double stomp across Zion’s chest. JPD tags in Jiles, who charges the ring ropes, leaps on middle rope and nails a moonsault on Zion. Jiles hooks the leg.

JATT STARR: Cancer Giles showing he has the athleticism of Wayne Gretsky with that move!

Matt Boettcher with the count…..

ONE!

TWO!

THR—-

KICKOUT!

HOFFMANN: Darin just kicked out!

JATT STARR: Jiles is just adding to the drama. I’m sure he allowed Darin to kick out there.

Jiles is up and he tags in Solex. Jiles pulls up Zion and sends him into ropes, Zion bounces off and Solex connects with a side kick to the stomach. Zion, hunched over, on one knee is then lifted up by Solex who delivers a powerbomb. Solex proceeds to kick and stomp on Zion repeatedly.

HOFFMANN: This match has shifted to all Best Alliance right now.

JATT STARR: And Darin Zion is getting brutalized! It’s almost as difficult to watch as “Manos: Hands of Fate”.

Solex proceeds to set Zion up for the Solexplex, but desperate times, Solex begins yelling in pain. Zion is biting Solex on the leg, causing him to release Zion and causes Boettcher to admonish Zion.

JATT STARR: COME ON BOO-EET-CHER! YOU CAN’T BITE!!! Wait, can we bite now? Is that legal?

HOFFMANN: No.

Solex tags in Jiles who charges Zion, who is finally up, and kicks the knee out from under him. Zion is down. Jiles immediately tags in JPD. JPD smirks as he stalks Zion who is once again slowly getting to his feet. Zion turns, JPD goes for a superkick, Zion ducks!

NEWELL: Am I back on???

JATT STARR: Shut up Benny!

Zion and JPD turn, JPD hits a boot to the gut. JPD goes for another suplex but Zion counters into a small package. Boettcher counts….

ONE!!!!

BENNY: NO!

TWO!!!!

HOFFMANN: It could be an upset!!!!

TH—KICKOUT!!!!!

JATT STARR: Nope.

Both men are up. JPD charges, Zion manages boot to the gut to JPD. Zion nails a DDT! Both men are down. But not for long. JPD gets up as Zion is still struggling to get to his feet. JPD grabs Zion by the hair but Zion begins fighting back with an elbow to the gut, followed by another, and another until JPD releases. Zion immediately hits the ropes, ducks a JPD clothesline attempt. Hits the ropes, bounces off the ropes and connects with the RATINGS SPIKE!

JATT STARR: Oh bollocks!

JPD down. Zion with the cover!!!! Matt Boettcher with the count!!!

ONE!!!!

TWO!!!!

THR—-!!!!

JPD KICKS OUT!!!

HOFFMANN: That could have been it for the HOW Legend, Jace Parker Davidson!

NEWELL: BITE YOUR TONGUE, HOFFHOLE!!! THE BEST ALLIANCE CAN’T LOSE TO THIS….THIS…

JATT STARR: Pimple?

NEWELL: Yes! DRINK!!!!

Zion begins to lift up JPD, who shoves Zion away and connects a superkick!!!! Zion is down! JPD is slowly getting up and makes his way to his corner, eyeing Jiles to tag in. Jiles and Solex look at one another and drop off the apron.

NEWELL: Wait! What? What the fuck’s going on???

HOFFMANN: This doesn’t look good.

JATT STARR: This is “Battlefield: Earth” level not good.

JPD looks at his corner, confused as Solex and Jiles back away. JPD turns…..

THE BAN HAMMER! Darin Zion connects with a discus clothesline! Zion covers….Boettcher counts…..

NEWELL: NO!!!!

ONE!!!!

TWO!!!!

THREE!!!!!

Boettcher sounds for the bell!

NEWELL: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

BRIAN McVAY: The Winner of the this match…..DARIN ZIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!!!!!!

Darin Zion looks shocked and elated. And instead of waiting around he exits the ring.

HOFFMANN: DARIN ZION DEFIED THE ODDS AND HE BEAT THE BEST ALLIANCE!!!!

JATT STARR: This is absolutely ridiculous!

HOFFMANN: A massive upset—-

“UNDEAD” hits the PA system and the feed immediately cuts to the cop of the USS Octane where we see the GOD of HOW is standing and leaning over the railing looking down at the ring where the Best Alliance just lost. Lee is wearing a neck brace but is no longer using a wheelchair after the ASSAULT by Dan Ryan a few weeks ago.

Lee Best: Last week you decided to set a fire to another human being Mr. Davidson. Now granted I normally would not give two fucks what you do to non Best Alliance members……BUT….we were not in The Best Arena were we? Nope. Instead you had to do it inside The Staples Arena and you have NO IDEA how much money you fucking cost me. I have always said….do not FUCK with my money.

Back in the ring Jiles and Solex have slid back into the ring and are seen helping Jace back up to his feet as we see Darin Zion looking on incredulously on the outside.

Lee Best: Running a show in California costs enough money but then you went ahead and did something that was NOT APPROVED and ended up costing me more than what it was worth. You know you got off lucky tonight? I literally almost had the Los Angeles fire marshall booked to be here tonight so you could literally suck his dick and save me money…..but I felt you getting pinned by Darin Fucking Zion was punishment enough.

Now standing on his own, Jace looks up at Lee and is staring straight daggers thru the GOD of HOW.

Lee Best: Look….you still could have won the match asshole but you got distracted and lost the match clean. It is like you fuckers phoned it in anyway. Kudos to you Zion and SHAME to you Jace.  BUT with all that said…..your receipt is paid in full with me. We are good and we will move past this. If you need 24 hours to decide if you are going to be a little bitch and quit…..then by all means take all of 24 seconds and quit right fucking now.

Jace looks at Jiles and Solex and shakes his head in frustration and motions for the other two to follow him

The Best Alliance exits the ring and leaves behind a still in shock Darin Zion standing outside the ring smiling ear to ear as we cut away.

The scene begins in one of the Grappler’s cabins on the USS Octane where Conor Fuse sits on a chair, feet tapping excitedly on the floor. He’s clearly in mid-conversation.

Conor Fuse: Yeah, I’m just a multi-sport athlete, what can I say? I golf, soccer, baseball, soccer-baseball, tennis, kart racing. I even dabble in some curling from time to time but shhhhh that’s on the D.L. I throw big parties too, where evvvverybody’s invited! You know I was just thinking, I’ve yet to throw a High Octane brouhaha. Do you think everyone would be willing to come? Like, we all put aside our differences for one night only. That would be funzies, wouldn’t it? I know, I know, so fetch. Me, you, Jatt and maybe Harrison could play a hopscotch game. Meanwhile, LT, Solex, Dr. Eggman and EA Mike have a nifty battle of horseshoes. It’s like, ‘yeah we all hate each other but isn’t it cool we can still hang out’ type of thing?

Like a kid in a candy store, Conor’s eyes glisten innocently at the thought of this special High Octane Party. Suddenly, The Vintage snaps himself back into the unfortunate… reality.

Conor Fuse: Okay, so maybe not so much. Those guys have gone a little too far. But the spirit of the idea is pretty pop’n’fresh, right my awesome possum pal?

The camera turns to show Teddy Palmer at the mercy of this conversation. Perhaps ready to blow a gasket, maybe more. He’s definitely on his last line of patience.

The scene stays silent as Palmer mindlessly rubs his temples, his eyes clenched shut. Conor continues sitting there obliviously, feet still tapping, mind wandering, having a good time.

Conor Fuse: OH HEY! I have an amendment to Grapplers Loco 360! So last night, laying in bed, I’m like, ‘bro, Grapplers Loco 360 is cool but you’re missing an even bigger opportunity here. GAMERS Loco 360!’

Teddy Palmer: I’d trade places with Ray in a heartbeat.

Conor Fuse: But he was almost murdered.

Teddy Palmer: I know…

Teddy opens his eyes, staring at his buzzing compadre. He boarded this ship thinking the only possible threat of a splitting headache would be at the hands of a potential Texas Lariat. It turns out he was sadly mistaken. Conor side-eyes Teddy playfully and slaps him on the shoulder, acknowledging his attempt at a joke.

Except it wasn’t a joke.

Conor Fuse: Anyway, it’s time to get serious. I failed you guys with the Tag Team Championships and I’m sorry. I’m getting real tired of the odds being against us but I suppose that’s what happens when you face the guy who runs the system. If you need anything from me tonight, give a shout. We’re on a boat and ooohhh shit it’s about to go down! Haha, nice little Lonely Island reference for you there. See, I’m not JUST about video games.

There seems to be no end to this.

Conor Fuse: Speaking of games, wait until I show you all my super cool power-ups. I have special power-ups for each and everyone one of you-

The Vintage cuts himself off as Lindsay Troy and Zeb Martin walk into the cabin. Fuse immediately snaps upright, holds his feet still and keeps his focus. Teddy Palmer breathes a sigh of relief.

Lindsay Troy: What’s going on here?

Teddy Palmer: Thank God!

Teddy shoots up from his seat, snatching his LSD Championship that lay beside him. He refuses to make eye contact with his 214 brethren, splitting the duo while simultaneously swiping Zeb’s arm.

Teddy Palmer: Tag.

Zeb looks at his arm, then up at Teddy, thoroughly confused.

Zeb Martin: Huh now?

Teddy Palmer: I mean…I’ve got some suuuuuper important match preparations to go over. And uh…I could use your assistance.

Teddy points at Lindsay before grabbing onto her wrist, tugging her in his direction.

Lindsay Troy: I don’t…

Teddy Palmer: Trust me.

The two make their quick exit, leaving Conor and Zeb by themselves. Off camera Teddy can be heard mumbling ‘sucker’. Zeb stands in silence until Conor starts kicking his legs around again.

Conor Fuse: Hey Zebbo, are you familiar with Super Mario Bros. 3? Only the greatest video game of all time! This kinda feels like we’re on Iggy’s airship. Or Lemmy’s airship. Actually, if I’m being totally honest here, it kinda reminds me of Wendy O. Koopa’s ship. She’s the Water World level after all and we are on water…

Conor’s voice trails until he surprisingly realizes Zeb’s into the topic.

Conor Fuse: Yeah, people say Water Land is the best level but I don’t mind Pipe Land, either…

Scene cuts to commercial as Conor continues…

Joe Hoffman: Welcome back folks, and as you can see we got another overhead shot courtesy of Chopper 97. What a view it is to see the USS Octane out in open waters heading towards Japan and War Games.

Benny Newell: Speaking of Japan…..Did you hear the one about the Ja–

Joe Hoffman: Hard stop right there, let’s focus on the upcoming HOFC Title match instead where Mike Best defends his belt against number one contender Xander Azula.

Benny Newell: You mean Xantec Azumba… sorry, Xylophone Arugula.

Joe Hoffman: Honestly have no idea why everyone has such an issue with how to say his name.  But guess it’s a funny joke or something… but Xander will not be joking around tonight as he faces a very dominant HOFC champion in Mike Best.  Who has been literally unstoppable in this division since the DeNucci Cup tournament started.

Benny Newell: Knees to faces Joe… everyone has been eating a steady diet of Mike Best’s patellas and shitting the bed inside that HOFC cage against him.  You say he is literally unstoppable… which is true… and after he demolishes Xander there will be no one left to challenge him for that title.

Joe Hoffman: I’m sure a few people would disagree with that, but first let’s see if he can get through Xander here tonight.

Benny knocks back a drink from his HOW shot glass as we see Rick Stevens standing in the middle of the HOFC cage awaiting the challenger to make his way out.

The whistling intro of “Engel” plays over the USS Octane speakers, we see Xander make his way out onto the deck, without any of his crew as he makes his way straight for the cage, refusing to even acknowledge the single cameraman in front of him.

Bryan McVay: The following fight will be five rounds and will be for the HOFC Title, first making his way to the cage, from Long Beach, California and weighing in at 230 pounds… XANDER AZULA!!!!

Joe Hoffman: No crew for Xander tonight, only him and Mike Best flown out here to the USS Octane for this fight.

Benny Newell: You think Kneesus couldn’t handle a couple of disciples too?  ChristPlow created the whole concept of disciples Joe!

Joe Hoffman: Sure… never done before that Benny.

Benny Newell: Thank you!

Xander enters the cage as he heads to his corner and stares down the entrance way, waiting eagerly for Mike Best.

HALLLLLLELUJAH! HALLLLLLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! HALLEEEEEEEELUJAH! 

The catchy but vaguely off putting groove of Hanzel und Gretyl’s “HELLAlujah” begins to slap over the sound system, heralding the arrival of the SON OF GOD, Michael Lee Best.  Mike lifts the HOFC Title in the air, not for the fans watching on the HOV in the arena or at home on HOTv, but for Xander, to send a clear message to the challenger.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent, hailing from Chicago, Illinois and weighing in tonight at 235 pounds… he is the HOW HOFC Champion… HOW Hall of Famer… MIKE BEST!!!!

Placing the belt on his shoulder, Mike makes his way down to the cage where he enters and quickly hands the belt to Rick Stevens.

Joe Hoffman: Mike Best ready to go here… please make your obligatory not paid by the hour comment Benny.

Benny Newell: Hey!  He left the helicopter running Joe, and gas prices ain’t cheap these days, so yeah, he wants to finish this quickly.

DING DING DING

The cage door is locked and Stevens calls for the bell as the two men slowly approach each other in the cage.  Mike trying to get an early read on a man he has never faced before as Xander tries to throw a few kicks that get nothing but air as Mike looks to go for a jab and has Xander throws a guard up Mike explodes forward and spears Xander to the mat.  Mike quickly then goes for some real shots to the head of Xander who does his best to fight them off and throws some shots back, but with the high ground Mike is able to fight most of them off.

Joe Hoffman: Well if Mike is trying to end this early, he’s off to a strong start here.

Benny Newell: Bloody his fucking face Mike!

Mike gets in a hard right that dazes Xander as Mike drives a knee into his gut as he gets back up to his feet and pulls Xander back up too.  A quick irihs whip and Mike sends Xander hard into the cage wall.  Xander collapses back to the mat as Stevens starts an early count on Xander.

1……

2…….

3……..

Xander quickly shakes it off as he pops back to his feet as Mike is right there to deliver a kick to the side of Xander head, but Xander ducks as he drills Mike in the back of the head and goes for a german suplex.  But Mike throws two quick elbows back to the face of Xander and breaks the hold.  Mike spins around and eye rakes Xander before hitting a spinebuster in the middle of the mat.

Joe Hoffman: Xander looked to turn things around quickly with that german, but Mike Best was too quick with the elbows.

Benny Newell: Germans in Japan?  I had a joke about…

Joe Hoffman: Nope, not gonna let ya go there.

Mike drops a knee to the right arm of Xander once, twice, three times as Xander grabs it in pain while Mike Best then starts stomping away at it over and over…

DING DING DING

Stevens steps in as the round ends and Mike Best smiles while Xander slowly gets back up to his feet while holding his right arm.

Joe Hoffman: Mike Best targeting that right arm to possibly prevent Xander going for that wheelbarrow neckbreaker he calls Faithbreaker.

Benny Newell: You can’t break ChristPlow, that is a fact written in that Bibble thing.

Joe Hoffman: The Bible?  Nevermind… Stevens is calling for the bell to start round two.

Mike smells blood in the water as he goes right at Xander and gets a couple quick leg kicks in as Xander is still trying to shake the pain from his arm.  Mike throws a couple punches that back Xander up just about to the cage wall.  Seeing the positioning, Mike goes for a running drop kick, Xander backs up and hits the cage that bounces him a bit back towards Mike’s feet and Xander gets drop kicked back into the cage wall.  Dazed but on his feet, Mike pops back up and grabs Xander for a big belly-to-belly suplex as Stevens starts another count.

Benny Newell: Now that is a suplex Joe!

1…..

2…..

3…….

4…….

5……..

Xander rolls over and starts to push himself up, but Mike comes flying in with a knee to the back of Xanders head and drives it into the mat as even Stevens cringes a bit as he checks on Xander who is now bleeding from the forehead.

Benny Newell: I have no idea what that was, but he nearly crushed Xander’s head into the mat.

Joe Hoffman: That shining wizard knee is not the only way Mike Best can do severe damage with that knee and Xander could be out in the second round here.

1…..

2…..

3…….

4…….

5……..

6……..

7………

8………

Xander pushes himself back up to his knees as he turns to Mike Best with his now blood soaked face and smiles as Mike is a bit shocked as Xander gets back up to a vertical base as the two men start to just throw big rights at each other.  The blood flying off the head of Xander as Mike lands punches and Mike getting rocked with a few hard shots from Xander….

DING DING DING

Stevens jumps in to break the two up, but Stevens is pushed away by both who don’t care about the bell and Stevens just calls for round three to start as the two exchange a few more shots.

Joe Hoffman: And this has turned into a pure brawl now… and Xander with a hard elbow to the temple of Mike Best!  The champion is rocked!

Benny Newell: Come on Mike, he’s a bloody mess!  Kill him!

But Mike is dazed as Xander grabs Mike’s head and nails a snap suplex on the champion.  With Mike on the mat, Xander quickly drops an elbow across the throat of Mike and starts hammering away with lefts that now bust the champion open as it’s hard for Mike to defend with the elbow still across his throat.  He manages to kick his legs up and break the hold enough to roll away from Xander.  Mike jumps back up to his feet, bit Xander is quicker and Xander connects with a neckbreaker out of nowhere that flattens Mike.

Joe Hoffman: Best is down and Stevens counting him out for the first time tonight.

1…..

2…..

3…….

Benny Newell: Come on Mike!  Get up!

4…….

5……..

6……..

Mike rolls towards the cage and grabs it to pull himself up enough to break the count.  He goes to turn around towards Xander, but Xander grabs Mike before he can for a german suplex again.  Mike throws an elbow again, but this time Xander ducks it as he spins both around and german suplexs Mike right into the cage wall, sickly folding Mike in half as his whole backside grates down the cage wall.

Joe Hoffman: Good god!  German suplex into the cage wall, Mike’s head and neck taking the brunt of that impact…

Benny Newell: That’s gotta be fucking illegal!  Come on Stevens!

1…..

2…..

3…….

4…….

5……..

6……..

7……..

Mike is starting to move as he holds his neck while pusyhing himself back to his feet, but Xander pushes Stevens aside and stops the count knowing Mike will beat it and starts stomping away at Mike while holding into the cage for extra leverage, driving his boot over and over into the gut of the cham…

DING DING DING

Benny Newell: No!  It can’t be over!  Xander broke the count by attacking Mike!

Joe Hoffman: He did Benny, that was just the end of round three.

Stevens pulls Xander off Mike as he won’t let things continue this time and allows Mike Best to get himself back to his feet.  Mike cracks his neck as you can see the anger on his face.

Joe Hoffman: The look on Mike’s face says it all, he knows Xander got him that round… if Xander can keep this up, we may have a…

Benny Newell: Don’t you fucking say it!

Joe Hoffman: The longer this goes, the better chance Xander seems to have in…

Benny Newell: NO!  Not gonna happen here.

Stevens calls the bell for round four as Xander comes at Mike quickly and goes for a big right that Mike ducks, but Xander quickly spins around and nails a chop block to the right knee of Mike Best.

Benny Newell: Not the knee!!!  He can’t go for the knees!

Joe Hoffman: Mike targeted the arm earlier… Xander now going after that infamous knee of Mike Best.

Mike drops down to his left knee as Xander goes for and connects with a bulldog as he sees his opportunity.  He grabs the legs of Mike Best and lifts him up into a wheelbarrow.

Joe Hoffman: Could be Faithbreaker time!

Xander lifts Mike up, a bit slower than normal as you can see the pain in his face from his right arm still, but powers through it and gets Mike in the air for the neckbreaker.

Joe Hoffman: Faithbre…

Benny Newelll: Mike lands on his feet!

Mike spins around and chops Xander in the throat, who stumbles backwards, trying to gasp for air.  Mike charges at him and throws the knee up towards the bloody face of Xander.

Benny Newell: I Kneed A Hero!!!  Game over bitch!

The knee does indeed connect as Xander drops to the mat as Mike lands and quickly drops to his left knee again as he holds his right, but has a huge smile on his face as Stevens starts his count.

Joe Hoffman: This could be academic now, unless Xander can be the first to get up from Mike Best’s knee…

1…..

2…..

3…….

4…….

5……..

6……..

7……..

8………

Joe Hoffman: Xander starting to move?

9……..

Benny Newell: Stay down Xander!

10……

DING DING DING

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner, in the fourth round…. And STILL the HOW HOFC champion…. MIKE BEST!!!!!

Joe Hoffman: Xander gave it a hell of an effort, but just ran out of gas there in the fourth round.  Those knees to the arm may have been his undoing as that Faithbreaker may have been just slow enough for Mike to reverse out of.

Benny Newell: Or Mike Best is fucking unbeatable… end of fucking story Joe.  No one… I mean no one can take him out.

Stevens hands Mike Best the HOFC title as Xander just starts to pull himself up slightly as he holds his head and wipes the blood from his eyes and shakes his head.  Mike exits the cage, not even looking back at Xander and makes his way to what may be a running helicopter waiting to take him off the USS Octane as we cut to an immediate commercial break.

Still in his wrestling gear from his earlier match, Arthur Pleasant walks through a narrow corridor on the impeccably built USS Octane. Every inch of her walls gleams with a vivacity that suggests hours, maybe even days, of intense elbow grease has gone into making her “ship-shape” for this very special edition of Refueled.

Conspicuous by his absence is Arthur’s bodyguard, Yuri, who had accompanied him to the ring just an hour or so earlier. His hair is caked to his body both from the sweat that comes directly with competing in a match, as well as the current humidity across the middle of the Pacific.

Suddenly, Arthur slows his pace down as he comes closer to a light shining out from the oval-shaped doorway of an open cabin. Distinct voices can be heard coming from within, and our Provocateur looks directly into the camera with a wink, a smirk, and an index finger pressed against his chapped lips.

Lindsay Troy: Alright, Teddy, what’s going on here? What other match prep could you need at this point?

Teddy Palmer: Oh that? No, I just had to get the hell outta there. The kid’s great, but fuck me, does he ever shut up?

There’s a pause, then.

Lindsay Troy: Seriously?

Teddy Palmer: Yes, seriously. You’re welcome, by the way.

All Lindsay can do is shake her head.

Lindsay Troy: Well, I’m going to trust you have a game plan and your training with Larry this week wasn’t all done for the ‘Gram.

Teddy Palmer: Obviously I have a game plan.

She waits, and he smiles.

Lindsay Troy: …which is….?

Teddy Palmer: To avoid having my head separated from my shoulders.

Arthur cocks his head and nods as if he’s considering all what was said. He mouths to the camera, “Not bad!”, before clearing his throat.

Arthur Pleasant: Actually?

He steps into the light but remains just outside of the cabin. Close enough to have boxed them in yet far enough to avoid any first strike attempts being made. You know, a usual “day in the life of…”.

Arthur Pleasant: Here’s what I think you should do, Tee-Pee. I think… I think you should go for the balls. And eyes. And hell, if you want to go for the grundle while you’re at it, go for that too. Then, maybe you should-

The look the LSD Champion shoots at the Provocateur lets Arthur know, in no uncertain terms, that his “suggestions” are neither wanted nor needed.

He rises from his seat, grabs the door handle, and locks eyes with the Alaskan.

Teddy Palmer: Here’s what I think you should do, Ay-Pee: Fuck Off.

The solid titanium steel cabin door slams shut with authoritah mere centimeters from his face. The force of which even blows his hair back a smidge.

Arthur Pleasant: Hm. Good talk.

Arthur does a military styled turn in the direction from whence he came. Marching off, Arthur begins humming an all too familiar tune.

Arthur Pleasant: ♫♫ Noooobody knoooows the trouble I’ve seeeeeen… nooooobody knoooows my sorrooooooow… ♫♫

And just like that? The scene fades.

Elsewhere….

The gray metallic walls of the USS Octane stretch out in multiple directions, and Dan Ryan walks along, clanging a knuckle on his left hand against the wall as he goes.

Twice, he peeks through a window into a room, but they’re mostly empty on this side of the ship, despite the number of people aboard.

Off somewhere ahead a voice starts to become audible in his ears, the unmistakable voice of Cecilworth Farthington, former World Champion, Tag Team Champion, LSD Champion, ICON Champion…

Ryan smiles slightly, and quickens his pace in the direction of the voice ahead.

“…..and you think that’s acceptable??”

The voice echoes through the halls.

“I thought this was the Good Ship Octane, not the Food Shit Awfultane… or something pithier, I’ll punch it up later… what is this horrendous slop that sits afore me?”

Ryan turns one last corner, and finally it opens up into a modified mess hall, where Farthington is standing across a serving table for a man in light blue jumpsuit, ladle in hand to put food on peoples’ plates as they walk through. He’s doing his best to ignore the scary man in front of him, but is clearly shaken.

Farthington turns his head to look at Dan Ryan there, smirking at him, and returns a slight smile. It goes away immediately, however, as he snaps his attention back to the mess hall attendant.

Cecilworth Farthington: And another thing, if you think I’m drinking this swill… you’ve lost your mind. I specifically told Leecifer that he needed to stock this awful floating prison with the finest goats’ milk. From a goat called Lady Fancy that sits atop the Himalayas. It is only milked once per eclipse, so I have no idea why Lee couldn’t get the ten gallons I requested.

Cecilworth jabs a finger in the man’s face, and the man, with the patience of a saint, ignores him.

Having finished, Farthington turns to Dan Ryan, who gives him a little nod.

Dan Ryan: I thought I’d come by and say hello now that you’re back. I figured, where are the poors? That’s where Cecilworth will be, berating them, as is his way.

Farthington nods.

Cecilworth Farthington: I was hungry. That bout of fisticuffs with HOW’s chubby funster gave me a real rumbly of my tumbly. Then I get here and it’s like a rutting party for poors. I hope Lee spayed them all before they boarded…

With Farthington’s back turned, the poor service worker takes it as his signal to scurry from the room as quickly as possible, and Cecilworth just misses seeing him as he whips his head around to see the little swirls in the air that anyone who watched Roadrunner cartoons as a child knows, means someone just left in a hurry.

Farthington frowns, then flips over and slams down the plate of “slop” in his hand.

Ryan crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the wall.

Dan Ryan: Interesting that you’re exclusively competing in HOFC. There are so many people around now that I’d love to see get trapped in that submission of yours. And I have to warn you as well. Some of the people weren’t here when you were last here. Jatt Starr for example. Be careful never to hear his voice, for he is beset upon by a curse that causes anyone who hears him to develop a mind-piercing migraine.

Cecilworth blinks.

Cecilworth Farthington: I didn’t bring any of those pills Max used to give me that makes the screaming stop. They always did the job, named after an English rock band if I remember…

Dan stares back.

Dan Ryan: I couldn’t find my earmuffs. That’s what makes him so devious.

Cecilworth looks down and away, as if saying “son of a bitch” under his breath.

Cecilworth Farthington: Son of a bitch.

Farthington mutters under his breath.

Cecilworth Farthington: But just one last thing, Mr. Ryan…

Ryan tilts his head slightly.

Dan Ryan: What’s that?

Cecilworth raises his head and meets his gaze once more.

Cecilworth Farthington: What is a Jatt Starr?

Dan Ryan: It’s like a regular star, only it isn’t very bright and peaked in 2013.

Cecilworth Farthington: Oh.

Dan Ryan: And then there’s John Sektor…”

He says, ignoring the question.

Dan Ryan: Now, you know John from way back, sure. But what you may not know is that while you were gone, John has decided to take up the sport of raping.

Farthington squints.

Cecilworth Farthington: Is that actually a sport?

Dan nods.

Dan Ryan: For John it is… now. It’s all he talks about, how he wants to stick his finger here or there, various appendages and ladies’ undergarments he wants to sniff slowly while sitting next to a fire…

A frown crosses Farthington’s face.

Cecilworth Farthington: Did he possibly have a stroke?

Ryan shrugs.

Dan Ryan: I don’t really know. I’m not getting too close to him. I don’t need his fingers in anything of mine.

Cecilworth is agreeable.

Cecilworth Farthington: No, no you don’t.

Dan Ryan:And another thing.

Ryan says, coming off the wall and standing up to his full height.

Dan Ryan: If you ever find yourself bored, and you need an arm to break, just let me know and I’ll be happy to feed someone to you, so long as I can watch.

Farthington double-takes.

Cecilworth Farthington: Sorry, what was that?”

Dan Ryan: Nothing.

Ryan waves his hand.

Dan Ryan: Forget what I said. But don’t forget that ultimately, this road you’re on leads to Mike. Now, remember that he will be happy to take any of his father’s help, will happily crack you on the head with his Hall of Fame jewelry, to keep hold of what is his.

Farthington listens intently, then raises a finger.

Cecilworth Farthington: I need a little rewind back to you offering to offer up people for arm breaking… is this a per person deal, a subscription service? How many arms do I get per month at the platinum level? I appreciate you looking out but… it’s me and Mike here, you two were friends, certainly but you never sacrificed the damn World Title for him. That cuts differently.

Dan waves his hand again, this time as if motioning “it’s nothing”.

Dan Ryan: I can easily get people for whom arms can be broken and deliver them to you. That’s not a problem. And best friends or not, don’t hesitate. I’m not saying anything he wouldn’t admit to himself. He watched me do it for years, then he took what I did to the next level. He’s on top and he likes it there. He won’t give it up willingly, even to you. He’ll expect you to sacrifice again.

Farthington frowns at this.

Ryan straightens up again, tugging at his shirt absent-mindedly.

Dan Ryan: I’m not gonna get in the middle of it, don’t worry. You won’t find any trouble with me.

He smiles and juts out a hand for a bro shake.

Dan Ryan: It’s just good to have you back.

Farthington slowly reaches out and engages the shake, a slightly perplexed look on his face. Dan lets go, and the smile erases from his face as he turns and walks back down the hall as we hit another commercial break.

Back live and the feed flashes to darkness before a pair of dark brown eyes fill up the screen, a silver stud above the left eye, as well as a cocksure expression lets the viewers know that these are the eyes of Sutler Reynolds-Kael, President of Human Resources, Son of Scion and World’s Greatest Gamer.

Sutler Reyonlds-Kael: I gave you a week to decide if you would join me, Conor Fuse. A week to think about all the choices you’ve made in your life up to this point and do something smart for a change..

In the background the soft sounds of violins playing dramatically begins as Sutler’s eyes narrow.

Sutler Reynolds-Kael: The trouble with you, Conor, is you’re stuck in a gamer’s philosophy. You’ve got extra-lifes, power-ups, you know, a bunch stupid little gimmicks that you’ve tried to cobble together into some kind of a wrestling persona. It’s trite, flimflammery, Fuse, and it’s taken you as far as it can.

As the scene pans out more of Sutler’s youthful expression is visible. His pale cheeks are accentuated by his smug bemusement.

Sutler Reynolds-Kael: You could have joined Human Resources with me and we could have been great. Instead you’re just happy being whatever sloppy hot mess you decided on. You know what? That’s your prerogative, it’s your freedom and right, it’s like my dad, Max Kael, always said. You can lead a horse to water but you can’t smash it with a rock and tell me it’s cheddar or something like that, it kinda gets lost in translation from Old Kaelsavania

Most of Sutler’s head is in the shot now, his black and #97red hair tousled messily atop his head.

Sutler Reynolds-Kael: Grandpa Lee has a new target for me now that I’ve picked off Dan Ryan and baby, that’s you. That’s how you synergize your priorities, Conor, and learn how to use the momentum to gain the advantage, this could have been a lesson you benefited from buuuuuut.. You know this whole thing reminds me of another famous Kaelsavanian quote by my great uncle Hubert HoovKael, it’s older men who declare wars but it is the youth that must fight and die, with the screaming and the blood.

Cocking his head to the side, Sutler lifts up a green helmet slapping it onto his head before he turns to look back up at the camera. The strings in the background slowly change into wildly screeching guitar solos while the sounds of marching and gunfire grow.

Sutler Reynolds-Kael: I’ve got many goals but only one purpose, Conor Fuse and that purpose is outlasting you at WAR GAMES and watching you watch what you COULD have been if you had joined me CONOR when I become the YOUNGEST WORLD CHAMPION in history! It could have been you, Conor, but because of what you’ve decided, now it HAS to be ME.

With another brash, smug smile he salutes the screen.

Sutler Reynolds-Kael: Private Sutler Reynolds-Kael, reporting for Duty.

His face is bathed in light before it is washed out by darkness. A single red eye pulses in the space where Sutler’s own eye was glowing balefully, the edges of a wicked smile just visible beyond the limits of its luminousness before blinking, or perhaps winking, out of existence as the video ends and we cut back to Joe and Benny for our Main Event.

Joe Hoffman: All right.  We are back and it is time for tonight’s main event.  Benny, what are you doing?

Benny pulls another bottle of Jack Daniels and puts it next to the nearly empty one on the broadcast desk.

Benny Newell: Getting ready to celebrate.  Clay Byrd is going to give Teddy Palmer an old-fashioned Texas ass whuppin’ and bring the LSD- Lee’s Superstar Division- title where it belongs- to the Best Alliance. You honestly think the BA is going to lose EVERYTHING tonight??

Joe Hoffman: Let’s find out……Bryan McVay is the ring for the introductions for our LSD Championship match!!

Bryan McVay: The following contest is a FALLS COUNT ANYWHERE match for the LSD Championship!

Guitar and harmonica begin to blare and Nick Nolan’s “Gunning For You” echoes through the interior of the ship.

Bryan McVay: Introducing the challenger, from Plainview, Texas, weighing in tonight at 295 pounds, he is CLAAAAAAAAY BYRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD!

Clay Byrd appears on the ramp, cowboy hat low over his eyes, a long black duster on and a rope in his hand.

He starts a slow walk down, eyes fixed on the ring, and trudges on until he reaches ringside.  Byrd hauls himself up into the ring and casts a glance towards where the LSD champion will be walking out of.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent…

“Hold Up a Light”- Thrice comes on the public address system.

Bryan McVay: …from Toronto, Ontario, Canada, he weighs in at 235 pounds.  He is the ELLL-ESSS-DEEE CHAMPION… TEDDY PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALMER!

Teddy Palmer steps out holding up the HOW LSD title belt.

Joe Hoffman: Clay Byrd made his allegiance to the Best Alliance known at March to Glory when he viciously attacked Lindsay Troy.  You’ve got to think Teddy Palmer will have revenge on his mind here tonight.

Benny Newell: I’ll tell you what Teddy Palmer should have on his mind.  Clay Byrd is going to fuck his world up.  If Palmer’s not scared of Clay Byrd, he should be.

Joe Hoffman: Clay did say this will be a battle over Teddy’s soul.  We will see soon enough.  Joel Hortega will be the referee for this LSD title match.

*DING-DING*

Joe Hoffman: And we are underway.

Palmer goes right at Byrd. Lock up and Byrd drives Palmer to the ropes.  Byrd runs the ropes – big swing with his arm – Palmer ducks under.  Byrd stops – spins – Palmer ducks the discus punch.  Byrd shoves Palmer back to the ropes.  He charges- big clothesline sends Palmer up and over the top rope.  But Palmer lands on his feet on the apron.  He reaches for and snaps Byrd’s neck down across the top rope as he jumps to the floor.  Byrd recoils backward.  Palmer jumps back on the apron – SLINGSHOT CUTTER over the top rope!  Cover.

UNO…

D- Byrd kicks out and rolls back to his feet.

Joe Hoffman: Both men aren’t messing around.  They are going right at each other.

Benny Newell: Palmer’s playing right into Clay Byrd’s hands.  DRINK!

Palmer shoots forward for a double-leg takedown.  He covers.

UNO…Byrd emphatically kicks out and this time Palmer lands a few feet away.

Joe Hoffman: What power from Clay Byrd!

Benny Newell: Clay Byrd is a tough son of a bitch and he’s on the winning team at War Games.

Joe Hoffman: The Best Alliance.

Benny Newell: Duh.  DRINK!

Both men up now and they circle.  Byrd’s face is a twisted snarl.  Palmer’s eyes oozes intensity and stays focused on the big Texan in front of him.

Lock up- no…drop toehold by Palmer and Byrd goes down.  Palmer tries for a hammerlock – Byrd rolls to the side.  He tries to pull Palmer down but Teddy skips back out of his grasp.

Joe Hoffman: Palmer very fortunate to get out of harm’s way there.

Benny checks his watch.

Joe Hoffman: Do you have to be somewhere?  We’re on a ship you know.

Benny Newell: Just counting down the minutes before Byrd puts Palmer out of his misery.

Again, both men stare each other down.

Again, both men circle and waits for the other to make the first move.

Byrd with a right hand- does not connect cleanly.  Palmer fires back a volley of elbows into Byrd’s face.  Byrd falls back to the ropes.  Palmer rushes forward.  Byrd sidesteps and pulls the top rope down and Palmer goes crashing over to the floor.  Byrd follows.. He lifts Palmer and slams him down hard.  He hooks the legs…

UNO…

DOS- Palmer gets a shoulder up.

Byrd rolls him up again and sticks his arm right across Palmer’s throat.  Hortega starts a count…

UNO…

DOS…Palmer kicks out.

Byrd steps back after giving Palmer a right hand to the chops.  He pulls Palmer up and heaves him into the barricade.  Byrd grabs the rope from his corner and proceeds to choke Palmer with it.

Joe Hoffman: Blatant choke there.

Benny Newell: Looks legal to me.

Palmer fights back with elbows.  The rope falls to the floor.  Byrd goes to pick it up.  Big knee lift by Palmer catches the Texan and stands him up.  Palmer grabs a nearby chair and drives it into his midsection – Byrd doubles over.  Side headlock…Palmer spikes Byrd’s head on the floor.

Joe Hoffman: DDT TO THE FLOOR!

Palmer goes for the cover.

UNO…

DOS…

KICKOUT!

Palmer hooks the leg again.

UNO…

DOS…again Byrd kicks out and his time he sticks a thumb in Palmer’s eye for good measure.  He rolls away and leans on the ring apron to regain his bearings.

Joe Hoffman: Palmer could have had Byrd in real trouble there but for one well-placed thumb.

Benny Newell: Clay Byrd is as tough as they come.  He gives no shits and he will hurt you if he has to.

Joe Hoffman: And most of all, he’s part of the Best Alliance.

Benny Newell: Exactly.  That too.

Palmer’s eyesight clears and he snatches the chair off the ground to chase after Byrd.

Byrd rolls back into the ring and waits.  Palmer up on the apron with the chair.  Chair shot blocked – Byrd grabs the chair and they scuffle – Byrd grabs the chair and swings it at Palmer – Teddy ducks and uses the ropes to sling his shoulder into Byrd’s midsection and the chair falls to the mat.  Palmer slingshots up and over – SUNSET FLIP…no, Byrd does not go down and he’s got Palmer stuck on his back.

Joe Hoffman: Big mistake there by Palmer.

Byrd backs and slams Teddy into the corner turnbuckle.  Two steps forward… two steps back and Palmer again gets crushed between Byrd and the turnbuckle.

Benny Newell: Big fucking mistake.

Palmer falls to the mat.  Byrd lays the boots to him but Palmer goes low and Byrd doubles over – Palmer roars back to his feet and snaps Byrd’s head back with an European uppercut.

Joe Hoffman: Teddy Palmer showing resiliency time and time again after taking punishment from Clay Byrd.

Benny Newell: He’s postponing the inevitable Joe.

Joe Hoffman: PALMER’S GOT THE CHAIR!

Benny Newell: Oh shit.  DUCK!

WHACK!

Joe Hoffman: BIG chair shot by Palmer that stunned Byrd.

The Texan hangs in the air for a second before falling to the mat.

Standing over his fallen opponent, chair in hand and ready, Teddy Palmer asks the same question that Clay Byrd asked of Lindsay Troy two months ago…

“Is this what you wanted?”

WHACK!

Palmer spits down at Byrd.  “I will give you exactly what you wanted!”

WHACK!

The chair’s clearly bent now.  Palmer leans over Byrd. “Oh.  And equal rights- OOOOOF” 

Joe Hoffman: Clay Byrd just booted the living hell out of Teddy Palmer!

Byrd yanks down Palmer and spikes him to the mat with an improvised DDT.

Benny Newell: Palmer had his shot.  Byrd’s going to tear him apart now.

Byrd stomps the hell out of Palmer.  One.  Two.  Three.  Four.  Five.  Six.  Then he drags Palmer over and chokes him with the ring ropes.

Hortega immediately calls for a break.  Byrd ignores him and pulls even tighter.

UNO…

DOS…

TRES…

CUATRO…

Joe Hoffman: Byrd finally let go at the last possible second.

Benny Newell: Told ya.  Clay Byrd is-

Joe Hoffman: Tough as hell Benny.  We know.

Palmer falls to his knees, gasping for breath.

Benny Newell: And-

Joe Hoffman: He’s part of the Best Alliance.

Benny Newell: Damn right.  ADRINK

Byrd methodically pulls Palmer up and whips into the corner turnbuckle.  Palmer bounces off the turnbuckle and lands at Byrd’s feet.  Byrd rolls him over and slaps on a crossface.  He tries to hook an arm – Palmer furiously fights back.  Byrd pops him with his free hand.  Palmer keeps his arms moving and tries to get to the ropes.

Joe Hoffman: Palmer has got to get away from Byrd.  This is not a good place for him to be.

Benny Newell: Byrd’s going to chew Palmer up and spit him out like a guy in a parachute landing inside a woodchipper.

Joe Hoffman: That visual is slightly disturbing.

Benny Newell: You didn’t see Deadpool 2?

Byrd drives a forearm shot to the neck and releases the crossface.  He drags Palmer up.  Snapmare right into a chinlock.   Byrd cinches it in tight and leans on Palmer’s back as Teddy tries to pry Byrd’s arm away from his throat.

Palmer keeps flailing back and forth.  Byrd holds the lock firmly and tries to squeeze it even tighter.

Using all the strength he can muster, Palmer scoots forward, dislodging Byrd’s arm and leaving an opening.  Palmer ducks under the arm to escape but Byrd grabs him by the hair and slams him to the mat.  Elbow to the throat by Byrd.  He drops another.  And a third.  He covers.

UNO…

DOS… Palmer gets a shoulder up.

Teddy tries to get to the ropes by Byrd grabs him by the waist and rolls him back and over into a pinning predicament.

Joe Hoffman: O’CONNOR ROLL!

UNO…

DOS…Palmer kicks out.

Byrd claps his hands quickly three times to show Hortega how the count should go and then drags Palmer to the ropes.  He sticks his knee on Palmer’s neck and chokes him over the middle rope.  Hortega again right there for the count.

UNO…

DOS…

Byrd drives his knee into the neck harder…

TRES…

CUATRO…

…and releases leaving Palmer draped over the middle rope.

Joe Hoffman: Byrd once again skirting the edge of getting himself disqualified.

Benny Newell: He had Palmer pinned.  Hortega’s too slow on the count.

Byrd steps back.  Then he leaps forward and drives the knee into the back – Palmer whiplashes back off the ropes to the mat.  Byrd then again stomps away on Palmer.  Palmer grabs the bottom rope – Hortega starts another count.  Byrd lets off again at 4.99999- this time he stomps Palmer’s fingers as a final parting gift.

Benny Newell: And that’s how you grind your opponent into dust.  DRINK!

Joe Hoffman: The tactics are a little questionable.

Benny Newell: Fuck that Hoffman.  This is a wrestling match, not a gymnastics competition.

Hortega immediately castigates the Texan but Byrd pushes right past him and yanks Palmer up.  Knees him low and hard and shoves him into the corner.  Byrd runs in – Palmer stick the boot up and connects.  He slides out of the ring to regroup.  Byrd’s right behind him.  Byrd scoops to slam – Palmer slips out and posts Byrd.  Palmer drives Byrd head first in the steps and rains down fists.

Byrd knees him low and hard.  He lifts Palmer into a crucifix position – Palmer escapes and shoves Byrd towards the post – Byrd blocks.  Back kick to the balls.  Palmer doubles over and lands on the floor.  Byrd goes for the pin.

UNO…

DOS…

T-No!  Palmer gets a shoulder up in time.

Byrd shoves the shoulder back down.

UNO…

DOS…

T- Again Palmer kicks out!

A frustrated Byrd leaps right up and yells at Hortega about the ‘slow’ count.

Joe Hoffman: Byrd has words with referee Joel Hortega again.

Benny Newell: He’s too slow on the count.  This match should have been over a long time ago.

While Byrd jaws with Hortega, Palmer sets.

Benny Newell: NO!  WATCH-

Boot to the gut – double underhook – DDT!

Joe Hoffman: And this match takes yet another swing in momentum.

Palmer now stomps away at Clay Byrd.  He slams Byrd’s head into the mat, once.  Twice.  Three times.  Four times.  Five times.  Six times.  Palmer rolls him over.

UNO…

DOS…NO!  Byrd kicks out.

Palmer waits as Byrd gets back up – short arm clothesline backs Byrd to the ropes.  Palmer runs in – LAST CALL!

Joe Hoffman: Running single high knee caught Byrd clean and how he’s wobbly!

Benny Newell: COME ON CLAY!

Byrd is sent to the ropes – Palmer waits – standing sidewalk slam…no – Byrd powers through and he sends Palmer to the ropes – running cross body block by Palmer…CAUGHT?

Joe Hoffman: Byrd catches him in the air again.

Benny Newell: I can’t wait to see what happens next!

Byrd shifts Palmer around – turns – and slams Palmer down.

Joe Hoffman: SPINEBUSTER!

Benny Newell: FUCK YEAH, DRINK!

Byrd waits for Palmer to arise.

Palmer staggers back to his feet with Byrd lurking behind him.  Palmer turns – Byrd spins around…

SMACK!

Joe Hoffman: DISCUS PUNCH!

The force of the blow sends Palmer lurching towards the ropes.  Byrd moves in – knee strike stands Palmer up.  Byrd off the ropes,  arm extended and tries to crush Teddy’s larynx.

Joe Hoffman: TEXAS LARIAT!

Benny Newell: DOWN GOES PALMER!  DOWN GOES PALMER!

Palmer crash lands in a heap and Byrd goes right for the cover.

UNO…

DOS…

TRES-

Benny Newell: YES!

But Hortega waves off the count.

Joe Hoffman: NO!

Byrd jumps up and raises his arms.

Joe Hoffman: Clay Byrd thinks he’s won this match.

Benny Newell: He won the fucking match!

Joe Hoffman: But Joel Hortega clearly called it a two count.

Benny Newell: WHAT THE FUCK?

The replay confirms Hortega’s ruling.

Joe Hoffman: Teddy got his hand on the bottom rope!

Byrd now realizes the match is not over.

Benny Newell: NO!  NO NO NO NO!

He confronts Hortega and pushes him.

Joe Hoffman: Clay Byrd is irate!

Byrd continues to argue with the referee and the longer he does the more Palmer begins to stir and begin to get back up to his feet.

Benny Newell: This is bullshit Hoffman.  Clay Byrd won this-

Joe Hoffman: TEDDY PALMER’S UP!

Palmer spins Byrd around.

Joe Hoffman: BOOT TO THE GUT!

Palmer grabs the arm in the pumphandle position – lift – DEATH VALLEY DRIVER!

Joe Hoffman: HE GOT IT! UNSCRIP-TED!

Benny Newell: THIS IS A FUCKING RIP-OFF!

Cover.

UNO…

DOS…

T-

Joe Hoffman: STEVE HARRISON PULLED HORTEGA OUT OF THE RING!

Benny Newell: Good job Harrison!

We see Harrison standing over Hortega on the outside.

Joe Hoffman: Teddy Palmer had the match won-

Benny Newell: Bullshit.  Clay Byrd had the match won.

In the ring, Teddy Palmer grabs the bent to hell chair in the corner and hops over the top rope.

WHACK!

Joe Hoffman: PALMER JUST TOOK OUT HARRISON WITH A CHAIR!

Harrison pirouettes and falls to the floor.

Benny Newell: DAMMIT HARRISON!

Palmer stands over him and he doesn’t notice looming danger headed his way.

Clay Byrd is up and he leaps through the ropes and drives his shoulder into Palmer’s stomach.

Joe Hoffman: BYRD JUST SPEARED TEDDY PALMER!

Byrd rains down rights and lefts on Palmer.  Palmer with a block and gives Byrd a right hand in retaliation. Now the men are brawling…..

Joe Hoffman: Oh my god……they are getting might close….

But before Joe can finish his sentence we see Teddy irish whip Byrd the final 10 feet of the deck of the USS Octane and Byrd goes flying over the side of the ship.

Benny Newell: WHAT THE FUCK!!!! MURDER!!! MURDER!!!!

Palmer takes a few steps towards the edge of the USS Octane and looks down. He see’s the big Texan wading in the water and as Byrd looks up and sees Palmer he promptly flips off the LSD Champion.

WHACK

Harrion, holding the very chair that Palmer used on him, just hit Palmer in the back and the LSD Champion staggers forward and joins Byrd in the water.

Back to his feet, Hortega sees the Palmer go over the edge and quickly calls for the match to be over.

Bryan McVay: DUE TO A REFEREE STOPPAGE THIS MATCH HAS BEEN RULED A NO CONTEST…..AND STIIIILLLLLL LSD CHAMPION……TEDDY PAAAAALLLLLLMMMMMEEERRRRRR!!

The feed turns to a split screen as we see both the rest of the Grapplers 214 and Best Alliance stables running across the flight deck and towards Harrison who just turns to see the oncoming onslaught.

Joe Hoffman: Folks, we’ve run out of time…….

Benny Newell: BUT ITS FALLS COUNT ANYWHERE!!!! CLAY COULD BE PINNING PALMER RIGHT NOW IN THE WATER!!!???

Joe can only shake his head no as their audio is cut.

Fade to black just as we see Harrison flip off the 214 stable as they rush towards him with the Best Alliance hustling to catch up.

The show is over.

Curtains as they say.

Most have left the ship… one way or another….or in the case of Clay Byrd….returning to the ship

Most not named Bobby Dean that is.

Bob has been tucked away in his cabin/locker room/coffin, recovering from the twisting he received earlier in the night at the hands of High Octane newcomer, Cecilworth Farthington. Finally, he’s found enough strength and courage to pack up his things and get himself in a position to make an unimpeded exit. He’s been stuck on the USS Octane before. He knows how dire ship life can be.

Bobby Dean: Man. Fuck this ship. I’m out of here.

The Man From Honalee goes to open the door to his cabin, but as he reaches down to spin the handle the door suddenly opens by itself. Or so it would seem. In reality, it was the person standing on the other side of the door who opened it. A person from Bob’s past who caused him to drop his gym bag and smile wide. A person who is not supposed to be standing aboard the USS Octane.

Bobby Dean: OH MY GOD! It can’t be… are you real? I can see you! DOOZER! You’re alive! OH MY GOD THER–

Before Bobby can run through the full gamut of emotions and hug his long lost pal, Doozer swiftly punches him in the gut. The shot robs Bobby of his wind, and causes him to drop down to a knee. His eyes bulge from shock… and because he’s gasping for air.

Doozer: I don’t want to do this.

Bobby tries to respond, but gets his head slammed into the wall for his efforts. Actually, more like Bob gets his temple ricocheted against the wall for his efforts. Not good.

Doozer: I have to do this.

Then, there’s one of those long, metal lockers in the room, and Dooze tips it over and on top of the now unconscious Dean.

Doozer: I’m sorry it had to be this way.

The Boston Betrayer lets out a long, defeated, is the juice worth the squeeze, cost of doing business too high, beleaguered breath of regrettable air. He then turns, closes the door behind him, and leaves Bobby to bleed out from the ear. He walks down a long hallway that leads out to the deck of the ship; his head held low as if he had just farted in church. He steps out and into the unforgiving night, and to his chagrin, waiting for him is the entirety of the Best Alliance.

Spoiler, they don’t look too happy.

Doozer: Fuck.

Jatt, Sektor, Clay, Harrison, Solex, and Jace all stand at the ready like a crazed Iraqi firing squad.

Redrum and Laser stand behind their intended subjects.

The Captain, and his righteous, dignified, one of one, but two times over Champion of the World sit at a small folding table. One looks disinterested and is in a wheelchair; the other couldn’t be bothered.

Lee Best: What do you know? He did it.

Jiles: Who did what now?

Lee Best: Bobby lost again.

The two share an animated, cryptic chuckle together. Then, the priorly named Best Alliance members start to crack on their knuckles, lick on their chops, and circle about the about to be reinitiated Doozer.

Lee Best: You wanted back in?

Steve Harrison quickly dashes in and lands a right hand on the tip of Doozer’s jaw. The impact from the punch spins the old Bandit like a top, and sends him crashing down onto the ship’s deck.

Lee Best: This is HOW you get back in.

Dooze pops back up in a daze, only to receive a firm kick to the shin by Jatt Starr, and then a swift knee to the gut by John Sektor.

Lee Best: Get up, or get off. Your choice, but don’t keep us waiting.

Dooze struggles back to his feet after the gut check dropped him to his knees. As soon as he is upright, Solex darts in and clips him in the back of the knee. Jace then quickly steps into a giant boot that lands flush against Dooze’s chest. The impact should have sent Dooze flying off the side of the ship, but Solex stayed rolled up and instead Doozer probably tore every ligament in his knee.

Well, presumably that is; since Dooze is so old that he probably didn’t have any ligaments left in that knee to begin with.

Take that Best Alliance.

Jiles: Oh look. A bird.

Clay Byrd charges in and drives his shoulder through Doozer, planting him firmly into the ship deck.

Jatt wastes no time and starts to jab kick the former BA member. Sektor soon joins in. As does Solex. As does Jace. As does Byrd. As does Harrison.

Sektor pushes the rest of the team away like there was a free gram on the ground. He lifts Dooze to his feet, and then C-Sektion’s his face into the deck of the ship. He slaps fives with Jatt and the two walk off down the hallway Doozer came out of.

Not wasting any time…

Solexplex. (Solex finisher in case you might have forgot)

Bend The Knee.

Then, Solex and Jace lift Doozer’s lifeless body upright, just so Clay can clothesline the ever living fuck out of him.

The Texas Lariat.

The three men stomp off leaving Harrison as the lone gunman.

Lee Best: On your feet, soldier.

More sadistic, disinterested laughter from the Captain and his Champion. Doozer can barely move his lungs, let alone his body. He’s not finding his feet for quite some time.

Lee Best: Finish it.

Harrison doesn’t hesitate and destroys whatever is left of Doozer with a cross face chicken wing suplex that could bring the Colinel back to life.

It’s a Harricle.

The Miracle Man shoots his Champion in Crime a look that would indicate he didn’t much like playing his part in this, but he did so anyway because expectation is a mother fucker once you put it out there. Then, he joins his mates inside the ship, leaving Doozer completely incapacitated and at the whims of Lee Best and Cancer Jiles.

The Captain of the USS Octane, and its Champion.

Jiles: Between you and me, that over there is what I think a no contest looks like.

Awkward silence.

Jiles: Too soon?

Lee smirks at the comment and motions for the World Champion to follow him as we fade to black leaving a final image of the destroyed man on the deck of the USS Octane.