Refueled XCVII

The High Octane Television logo gives way and we immediately cut inside to a sold out Spectrum Center here in Charlotte North Carolina.

As the cameras cut in we see Joel Hortega and Bryan McVay already in the ring, ready for the opening contest of the night as we cut to Joe Hoffman at commentary.

Joe Hoffman: Hello folks and welcome to the 97th edition of Refueled! We are excited to kick off the in-ring action as Scottywood and Simon Sparrow square off in a clash between Hall of Famers!

Bryan McVay: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…

The lights go out and one by one yellow spotlights illuminate the ramp from the ring to the curtain. “Everybody Wants You” by Billy Squier blares across the arena and emerging from the curtain is Sir Simon Sparrow, sporting his red and black plaid suit (no dress shirt) and a monocle over his right eye. He carries a walking cane, not for necessity but for aesthetics as the Wabid Wabbit follows.

Bryan McVay: From Havre, Montana, weighing in at 220 pounds…SIR! SIIIIIIIMON! SPAAAAROOOOOW!

The Professor of Sparrow-dynamics removes his suit jacket and carefully folds it before handing it and the cane to the Wabid Wabbit. The ring becomes illuminated in a teal light. The HOW Classic walks up the ring steps and middle ropes and enters the ring. Sir Simon Sparrow stands in the middle of the ring, all of the other lights go out save for one yellow spotlight in the middle of the ring where he stands, soaking in the cheers of his fans.

Joe Hoffman: Sparrow looks set on keeping the ball rolling after his win over Bobbinette Carey a couple weeks ago to qualify for War Games…and he faces a likely-irate Scottywood who is looking for some measure of revenge!

The spotlight fades, the house lights come up, and Sparrow heads towards the corner, leaning nonchalantly on the turnbuckle waiting for the match to begin.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent…

“Beg” by Seether begins to play throughout the Spectrum Center, but Scottywood is nowhere to be seen at the entrance. McVay presses on to continue the introduction, all the same.

Bryan McVay: From New York, New York, weighing in at 265 pounds…SCO–

McVay is interrupted by the shove of Scottywood, who has slid into the ring from behind, and the man clearly has his eye on the Sparrow as he makes a beeline for the former LSD Champion! The two end up going at it, and Hortega finally manages to control the situation to where he can call for the bell to start the match!

DING! DING!

Neither man looks to waste any time upon the start of the bout, trading lefts and rights as they each seek to gain the upper hand on the other in this already-chaotic affair! We find ourselves at a dead heat until eventually it’s Scotty with the advantage, sending Sparrow to the ropes as he looks for a clothesline on the rebound…but Sparrow ducks it! Hitting the ropes for momentum, Sparrow drops Scottywood with a sling blade that drops him to the canvas hard!

Joe Hoffman: Down goes Scottywood! Sparrow with an early advantage, and he’s feeling pretty good from the looks of it!

Sparrow with a smirk as he as brings Scotty back to his feet…only to find himself regretting the overconfidence as the Hardcore Artist lets loose with some lefts and rights, sending Sparrow reeling toward the corner. Scotty charges at Sparrow, slamming him hard with a nasty corner splash! Simon drops down to the canvas, giving Scotty an opportunity to stay on the attack with some stomps to the back. Satisfied with the damage he’s done there, Scotty hits a running elbow drop on Sparrow before going for the cover!

UNO!

D–NO!

Joe Hoffman: Scotty took a chance on that cover, but Sparrow clearly still in this one!

Scotty quickly brings Sparrow to his feet, looking to keep the momentum in his favor…but now it’s Sparrow fighting back, driving Scotty away with some lefts and rights of his own before dropping the Hardcore Artist to the canvas with a drop toe hold! Sparrow stays on top of things as he stomps away at Scotty’s leg, looking to slow him down in the process. Scotty is tenacious however, eventually building to a vertical base despite Sparrow’s best efforts to keep him down. Scotty strikes back with a forearm to the face, sending Sparrow back enough to create some much-needed space…before running full-force at him, sending him over the top rope with a clothesline that sends both men to the outside!

Joe Hoffman: Oh my! Both men go tumbling out of the ring, and Hortega’s ready to start the count!

Hortega takes a look at both men still down before starting the ten count:

UNO…

DOS…

Sparrow and Scotty slowly begin stirring, as the count continues!

TRES…

CUATRO…

Scotty makes it to his feet first, grabbing Sparrow before launching him right into the steel steps with a loud clang!

CINCO…

Scotty pays no mind to the count at first, still staying on the attack with some hard stomps on the fallen Sparrow! He follows up by pulling the top half of the steps away, before grabbing Sparrow’s right hand…and slamming it on the steps! Sparrow yells in pain at the damage done, much to the delight of the Hardcore Artist.

SEIS…

SIETE…

And now Scotty makes note of Hortega’s count, pulling Sparrow back up to his feet with the intent of sending him back into the ring…but Sparrow turns the tables in a bad way, slamming Scotty on the apron instead!

OCHO…

Sparrow quickly rolls into the ring, taking a breather…one that’s cut short as Scotty manages to slide back into not long after!

Joe Hoffman: Scotty really taking it to Sparrow on the outside, but now he seems to be back at square one!

Scotty still seems slightly shaken by the apron attack, giving Sparrow a chance to get to his feet…and he goes right back to work on Scotty’s leg with some swift kicks, dropping the Hardcore Artist to a knee! Sparrow seizes his opportunity here, heading to the ropes as he looks for extra damage…only for Scotty to catch him with a spinebuster! Sparrow dropped hard onto the canvas, giving Scotty a chance for a second wind as he gets back to his feet once more. This time he decides to taunt Sparrow, telling him to get back up as he looks to put Sparrow away…and as Simon gets to his feet, he’s quickly pulled into a front facelock by Scotty, who transitions into a gutwrench powerbomb dropping Sparrow down hard!

Joe Hoffman: Scottybomb on Sparrow! But it looks like Scottywood’s not done yet!

Sure enough, Scotty is once again shouting at Sparrow to get back up…and as he does, Simon is met with a kick to the side of the head! ICE KICK! This could be the end for Sparrow as Scotty lifts him onto his shoulders! He’s looking for Game Misconduct…but Sparrow slips out of the fireman’s carry! Sparrow catches Scotty off guard with a hard slap to the face! SMACK SPARROW! Scotty is incensed by the sign of disrespect, taking a wide swing at Simon who dodges it! SPARROW DROP! Sparrow with an inverted atomic drop on the Hardcore Artist before he swings Scotty around, looking for the Falling Sparrow…but Scotty slips out in the nick of time!

Joe Hoffman: A pair of close encounters there, for sure! Makes you wonder what it will take for one of these men to keep the other down long enough for the win!

We find ourselves at a standstill, reflected in the standoff between Scotty and Sparrow before they lock up once more…but Scotty clubs away at the head of Sparrow with elbow strikes, opening him up for another Ice Kick! NO! Simon evades it, responding with a knee smash facebreaker! ART SPARR-KNEE! Scotty goes down hard to the canvas as Sparrow goes for the cover!

UNO!

DOS!

TR–NO!

Scotty manages to kick out as Sparrow gets back to his feet, looking like he’s the one in control now as Scotty slowly gets to a standing positio. Sparrow charges at the Hardcore…running right into an Ice Kick that lands flush against the side of Sparrow’s skull! Simon is wobbly, much to Scotty’s delight as he lifts him onto his shoulders for a fireman’s carry…and this time connects with the DDT driving Sparrow headfirst into the canvas! GAME MISCONDUCT! This could very well be it as Scotty goes for the cover!

UNO!

DOS!

TRES!

DING! DING! DING!

Bryan McVay: Ladies and gentlemen, your winner in ten minutes…SCOTTYWOOOOOOOD!

Hortega raises the arm of Scottywood in victory, much to the chagrin of the crowd as we cut to Hoffman at commentary!

Joe Hoffman: A back and forth affair between these Hall of Famers, but Scottywood manages to pick up the victory and a measure of revenge against Sir Simon Sparrow!

Scotty takes his leave from the ring, celebrating on the ramp as a now-angry Sparrow stares him down before we cut away from ringside!

Backstage in the arena, we’re live in the office of the CEO himself, Michael Lee Best. It’s a makeshift affair, as the company is currently traveling from arena to arena, but the CEO clearly has a lot of business at hand. Stacks of papers line the desk in front of him, along with a particular pen that has become famous over the years around here.

Sitting behind his desk, Michael is working on something at his laptop as a weary looking office employee comes walking into the office. He’s carrying a Manila envelope that has been sealed at the top using the metal insert. He softly clears his throat, as Michael looks up from his desk.

The Son of God takes the envelope, opening it up and quickly looking over the paperwork inside of it. The camera can’t see what he’s looking at, and whatever he’s reading, he’s sure got his best poker face on regarding its contents.

Mike Best: Has anyone else seen this?

The office worker shakes his head.

Worker: No sir, you’re the first.

Mike Best: Good. Get out of here.

He hastily waves the employee out of his office, as he continues to look over the paperwork in his hands. He slowly nods his head, before tucking it back into the envelope and gently placing it in the top drawer of his desk… and locking it up tightly.

The CEO reaches into his pocket, pulling his phone out and quickly digging through the contacts. He holds the phone to his ear, waiting through for the rings.

Mike Best: Hey… it’s me.

He nods his head along with whatever the answer is… from whomever he’s speaking to.

Mike Best: Yeah, I just got it. We’re not just 97% sure anymore… this is the full hundo.

A smile stretches across the face of the HOW CEO as he hurriedly finishes the conversation, nodding a few more times before turning the screen off and stuffing the phone back into his pocket. He turns vaguely toward the camera, flashing a smirk.

Mike Best: Refueled 97. You’re gonna remember this one.

With a flick of his hand, he gestures for the camera to go away now, as we move on to our first commercial break of the evening.

Back live from commercial and we cut to the locker room in the Spectrum Center, now official HOW roster member Tyler Streets steps into the hallway, hair still looking wet from showering up after a hard fought victory in tonight’s untelevised dark match. Now dressed in his street clothes, Tyler is carrying his gear back and wearing a well worn-in pair of jeans and a TEN-X t-shirt that shows off a lean but muscular build.

As Tyler makes his way down the hallway, he’s stopped abruptly by HOW interviewer Brian Bare. While it’s the clear first meeting of these two men, the half-sour look on Streets’ face is an indicator that he may not have the highest opinion on Brian.

Brain Bare: Tyler Streets, the newest official signee to High Octane Wrestling! Have a couple of minutes to introduce yourself to the world?

Streets balks at first, stifling a laugh as he keeps walking.

Brain Bare: Hey man, it’s an open microphone. Nothing at all you want to say?

After a moment of hesitation, Tyler does indeed stop and turn back to the interviewer. He steps back into the frame of the camera, and looks directly at Bare.

Tyler Streets: You know, Brian, I grew up watching you. Mayhem. Turmoil. Chaos, Refueled, you name it. I’ve been watching you for over a decade.

The interviewer smiles, but the expression on Tyler’s face makes it very evident that he isn’t done speaking just yet.

Tyler Streets: Yeah, it’s not a compliment, boomer. You’re like herpes, my guy. You go away every once in a while, and we all get excited and think you’re gone forever, but then you just go and flare up again. If you have a question, ask it… I’m not here to do your job for you.

The interviewer sighs. It shouldn’t come as much of a surprise that the protege of Michael Lee Best would instantly not get along with him, but he’d hoped that it wouldn’t be a complete reset.

Brian Bare: Well, this week, you officially signed a contract with HOW. Not just TEN-X, not just personal assisting, but a full blown spot on the roster.

Tyler Streets: That’s not a question. That’s just a thing that happened.

Again, Brain sighs.

Brian Bare: …how does that feel? Speak on it? It was rhetorical, Tyler.

The eighteen year old rookie does a double take at the attitude, surprised to hear Brian clap back at him a little bit. The look in his eyes wavers between newfound respect and longstanding annoyance.

Tyler Streets: …it feels good? Fuck, I don’t know, man. If you’re expecting me to say I’m gonna try to get on War Games and shake up the system and shit, I don’t know what to tell you. I’m still learning the game. Still working my way up the system. Do I intend to be the HOW World Champion someday? Fuck yeah, if I didn’t, then I shouldn’t be here in the first place. But I just wrestled a dark match, bro… get off my dick.

He swats the microphone away, leaving Brian Bare standing alone as he disappears off camera. Refueled continues, as the veteran interviewer shakes his head.

We pivot backstage where referee Rick ‘Even’ Stevens is in catering.

Joe Hoffman: There was a controversial ending to last week’s match between Joe Bergman and Christopher America and referee Rick Stevens was right in the middle of it.

(LAST WEEK)
Bergman is all over him with another right hand that takes America down to his knees. He fires off a series of rabbit punches and after five punches referee Rick Stevens comes over and pulls Bergman away. America has blood all down the right side of his face, his dirty blonde hair
…
Bergman turns around and America delivers a low blow that floors him directly in front of Rick Stevens, plain as day, indisputably visible, unmistakingly blatant, as evident as Godzilla walking down the streets of Tokyo. 

…
America looks at Rick Stevens who just looks right back at him with a blank stare.

…

Joe Hoffman: This is disgusting. Rick Stevens called this classic of a match like the Hall of Famer he is right up until the end. 

Rick Stevens: 1!

Rick Stevens: 2! 

Rick Stevens: 3! 

Joe Hoffman: Michael Lee Best and Michael Oliver Best got what they wanted I guess, a clean sweep on the final night of War Games qualifiers. But to get it this way… I’m going to be sick. 

America and Stevens hightail it to the back as The Highwaymen enter the ring…

Joe Hoffman: So that’s what happened last week.  America advanced and Joe Bergman was eliminated from War Games’s contention.

While Stevens picks through the food at the table, a visitor comes up to him.

Joe Hoffman: Wait?  Is that?

Rick looks up and sees the self-proclaimed ‘One True Queen of Professional Wrestling’ Sunny O’Callahan standing in front of him.

Joe Hoffman: That is Sunny O’Callahan.

Sunny’s wearing her queen’s crown, her long, flowing green and red cape, and a green bustier that shows plenty of cleavage- of which Sunny tries to direct Stevens’s attention towards.

Joe Hoffman: I wonder what she’s up to…

Meanwhile, the people behind them begin to scatter and make a circle.  For some reason, they begin to look up at something.

Joe Hoffman: …-man… hold on a second…

Finally, the camera tilts up and…

Joe Hoffman: …there’s someone rappelling down from the rafters?

The person reaches the ground with his back to the camera.  We can see he’s wearing a black trench coat and he’s got a baseball bat in one hand.

Joe Hoffman: Someone has just dropped down into the backstage catering area.

He holds out the baseball bat and everyone backs away from him even more.  Meanwhile, unaware of what’s going on behind him, Rick Stevens continues his conversation with Sunny O’Callahan and picks through the food at the catering table.

Joe Hoffman:  I don’t know who this man is but he’s got a baseball bat.

The man turns around.

He’s wearing a mask.

He pulls out a container… tips his head back… and drinks down a radioactive nuclear concoction (just a figure of speech folks) that gives his breath all the extra paint peeling, eye-watering, mind blowing fragrance of rotting reekiness he needs.  The movement opens up the trench coat and we can see part of the letter “H” on his t-shirt.

Joe Hoffman: Wait a minute!

Sunny taps Stevens on the shoulder and points to the man behind him.

Joe Hoffman: Wait a minute!  That’s no ordinary man.

Stevens turns around.   His eyes widen when he sees who’s standing in front of him.

Joe Hoffman: …THAT’S JOE BERG-

Sunny shoves Stevens forward as the masked man takes a deep breath…

Joe Hoffman: …NO, WAIT… THAT’S HALITOSIS!

…and then exhales right into Stevens’s face.

Joe Hoffman: BREATH OF DEATH!  BREATH OF DEATH!

Stevens immediately grips his throat and staggers off camera.

Joe Hoffman: THE LUCHADOR WITH INSANELY POOR ORAL HYGIENE IS BACK!

Gasping for breath and rolling back and forth on the floor, Stevens’s face starts to turn green…

Joe Hoffman: After what happened last week, you knew that the Highwaymen would have some sort of response.

…and then he passes out.

Joe Hoffman: But I don’t think anyone expected this.

The EPU appear and they are in full sprint towards the commotion.

Sunny O’Callahan: JOE!

Halitosis sees the inbound security force and signals with his hand.  Sunny jumps onto his back.

Joe Hoffman: HERE COME THE EPU!

Before the EPU can get there, Halitosis and Sunny ascend back to the rafters.  Halitosis points the baseball bat down at Rick Stevens. Sunny extends her middle finger to Stevens and the EPU.

Joe Hoffman: Earlier this week Joe Bergman told Blaire Moise we’ve probably seen the last of Joe Bergman in a HOW ring.

The EPU look up into the rafters.

Joe Hoffman: What he didn’t tell Blaire, is that we’ve seen the last of Halitosis though.  

HOW medical personnel arrive on scene to check on Stevens.

Joe Hoffman: Well, while the medical folks are checking out Rick Stevens backstage, ladies and gentlemen it’s time for the HOTv Title match.  Let’s go to the ring and Bryan McVay.

Bryan McVay: Ladies and gentlemen, our main event will be one fall and it will be for the High Octane Television Title!  Introducing first.

“Shipping Up to Boston” by Dropkick Murphys echoes through the arena. Murphy Doyle Maher emerges from the curtain.

Bryan McVay: The challenger, weighing in tonight at 224 lbs… hailing out of Evansville, Minnesota… He is MURPHY! DOYLE! MAAAAAHEEEEER! MMMMMM……DDDDDDDD……MMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Murphy walks out onto the stage carrying a bag and the audience gives him a mixed reaction.

MDM begins to toss items from the bag into the audience as he heads down the ramp.

Murphy rolls into the ring and shows the camera what he was tossing into the crowd and it was a can of rash cream.

As MDM begins to stretch out on the ropes “Juicy” by the Notorious B.I.G. blares through the public address system as the lights go down and the crowd’s attention turns toward the entranceway.

Shelley Greene walks out onto the stage, dressed in a cheap magenta colored suit and carrying a microphone.  He strolls down to the ring, grinning from ear to ear, stopping occasionally to gyrate to the sounds of Biggie Smalls.

Greene delicately enters the ring (stepping between the bottom and middle ropes, for some reason…), and takes the microphone from McVay as the music cuts out.

Shelley Greene:  Ladies and gentlemen… boys and girls… invalids, outcasts, degenerates… allow me to introduce to you… The Sherman Tank!  The Minnesota Hay Bale!  The STRONKEST Man Alive OR To Have Ever Lived!  Weighing at a colossal 307 and 8/10ths pounds.  He… is… THE HOTv CHAMPION!  THE STRONK DADDY!  STROOOOOONK… GODSOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNN!

With that, “Juicy” hits, playing from the top, the crowd begins to roar with approval as STRONKEST man in the business makes his way through the curtain sideways or else he wouldn’t fit. Godson has his HOTv Championship strapped around his waist.

STRONK ambles to the ring, ignoring the fans… especially the women… who stack up at the barricades yelling and screaming as he passes by.  He is still chewing something that he was eating while in catering.  Shelley applauds, looking like the proud owner of a champion race horse being paraded around the grounds for all to see.

Joe Hoffman: The phenomenon known as STRONK has arrived and he is taken HOW by storm.  Last week, one young lady brought a sign to the show that read “TAKE ME STRONK DADDY!” while another actually threw her panties at the HOTv Champion.

Once STRONK is in the ring, he grabs his custom printed “STRONK AF” tank top and effortlessly rips it from his body with one hand.  He drapes it over Greene’s shoulder (who then sneakily and creepily takes a whiff of it when GODSON isn’t looking).

Joe Hoffman: “Stronk Godson defeated GenoSyde three weeks ago for the HOTv title and then rolled past Steve Harrison and Brian Hollywood in his first two title defenses.  Can Murphy Doyle Maher succeed where Harrison and Hollywood have failed?”

STRONK!  STRONK!  STRONK!

Joe Hoffman: The fans don’t seem to think so… hold on.  We’ve got activity outside the arena I hear.

Cut to the parking lot.

*WHAM*

Sunny O’Callahan slams open the back exit door comes screaming out of the back exit of the Spectrum Center with Halitosis right behind her.  She reaches her rental car and slides Dukes of Hazzard style across the hood to the other side.

Halitosis rips open the passenger side door and bundles into the car.  Sunny jumps into the driver’s seat.  The engine fires up.  She guns the engine and tears out of the parking lot just as the EPU arrive.

Joe Hoffman: All right.  Back to the match.  Referee Matt Boettcher just finished up the pre-match check of both men for contraband.

Boettcher’s good to go and calls for the bell.

*DING-DING*

STRONK!  STRONK!  STRONK!

Joe Hoffman: The crowd is just about one hundred percent behind the HOTv champion tonight.

STRONK!  STRONK!  STRONK!

Maher shakes his head and seems more than a little annoyed at the fans chanting Stronk’s name.  Instead of locking up in the middle of the ring, he grabs the top rope and stays in his corner.

Stronk goes to lock up.  MDM just steps through the bottom rope to the apron and Matt Boettcher calls for a break.

STRONK!  STRONK!  STRONK!

Stronk raises his stubby arms and takes a few steps back.

Maher steps back in- his hand still clasping the top rope.

Joe Hoffman: MDM is being extraordinarily careful here.

Stronk steps forward.  MDM releases the rope and circles- trying to keep his distance.  Stronk tries to cut the ring off.  Stronk tries to lock up.  Maher barely evades and ends up clear on the other side of the ring.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Stronk chases MDM.  Maher runs out of space and slip under the bottom rope to the floor.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Joe Hoffman: Murphy Doyle Maher is rightly wary of locking up with the HOTv champion. He’s trying to figure out what to do against an opponent he can’t match up with power-wise.

Boettcher walks over to the ropes.

ONE…

Maher immediately hops up onto the apron and returns to the ring.

Joe Hoffman: All right.  We’re going to try this once again.

Becoming impatient, Stronk charges forward.  Maher steps to the left.  Stronk follows.  Shoulder block- no… Maher sidesteps and resets himself.  Stronk whirls around and moves towards MDM.  Maher retreats… NO!  Stronk pulls Maher by his arm.  MDM’s other hand grabs on to the top rope.  With a mighty pull, Maher’s hand releases the rope and he nearly goes airborne headed towards Stronk.

Joe Hoffman: Stronk’s got Maher!

Godson places a hand on each side of Maher’s head and puts pressure on him by trying ‘crush’ his head as if he’s crushing a pimple.

STRONK!  STRONK!  STRONK!

Stronk lifts MDM off the ground.  With a mighty roar, he heaves Maher across the ring.

Joe Hoffman: What power by the HOTv champion!

Maher gets right back up and he runs at Stronk.  HEADBUTT…and nothing.

Joe Hoffman: The headbutt may not work against Stronk.

MDM headbutts Stronk again.  This time it’s Maher who feels the effects.  His legs go full spaghetti and he instinctively rolls out of the ring to the floor.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Joe Hoffman: Maher tried the headbutt.  That didn’t work.  So he’s out of the ring again. MDM’s going to have to figure out another way to attack Stronk.

MDM gets to his feet and circles along the barricade shouting at the fans who continue to chant ‘STRONK!’

Stronk stomps over to the corner and shouts at Maher.  Maher motions to Stronk to come and get him.

Joe Hoffman: Maher is trying to bait the big man to get him out of the ring. Two weeks ago, Steve Harrison tried the same thing and had some success with it. Of course, Stronk hopefully will have learned from what happened against Harrison.

Boettcher starts a ten count.

ONE…

TWO…

Maher shouts at Boettcher.  Boettcher shakes his head and continues to count.

THREE…

FOUR…

MDM takes the ring steps up to the apron.  He sees Stronk preparing to strike the second he steps into the ring.

FIVE…

SIX…

Maher takes a tentative step through the ropes.

SEVEN…

Godson takes a step forward and Maher immediately yells at Boettcher to back him up.

EIGHT…

Boettcher then goes to Stronk and tells him to back up.  But instead of doing that, Stronk gets in Boettcher’s face and argues with him.  This allows Maher to stay on the ring apron.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Joe Hoffman: The crowd may not like it but Stronk needs to just back up and let MDM back into the ring.  He’s giving Murphy Doyle Maher a chance to catch his breath and gather himself.

Maher watches from the apron and smirks.

Joe Hoffman: MDM figures his best chance is to get into Stronk’s head somehow and totally throw him off his game.  Again, Steve Harrison tried the same tactics two weeks ago and actually had some success.

Finally Boettcher turns his attention back to Maher.

NINE…

MDM back in now.

Both men circle and finally we have a lock up.  Maher surprises Stronk and actually starts to push him back.

Joe Hoffman: Well, let’s see if this finally settles into a wrestling match.

STRONK picks MDM up and chucks him into a corner.  Maher grabs the ropes.  Boettcher calls for a break.  STRONK lets off and just waits on MDM.

MDM shoves Stronk.  Stronk shoves back and sends him sprawling across the ring.

STRONK!  STRONK!  STRONK!

STRONK rushes in but MDM gets out of the way.  Stronk in a corner.  MDM chops him.  And chops him.  And chops him.  Stronk scowls. He pulls Maher towards him and slams him into the corner turnbuckle.  Right hand by Stronk.

STRONK!

Another right hand.

STRONK!

And a third.

STRONK!

HEADBUTT!

Joe Hoffman: STRONK JUST GAVE MAHER A LITTLE TASTE OF HIS OWN MEDICINE THERE.

MDM takes two steps forward and just falls over.  The fans pop and get on their feet.  Stronk whips MDM to another corner.  Taking his time now, Stronk stands him up and steps back.  RUNNING SHOULDER BLOCK- NO! MDM dodges and Stronk hits the turnbuckle shoulder first.  Maher to the apron.  He takes Stronk by the head and jumps off the apron- Stronk hits the ropes neckfirst and slingshots backwards to the mat.

Joe Hoffman: Great counter move there by Maher!  He’s going up top.

Maher goes top rope and let’s fly… elbow cocked and loaded… BOOM.

Joe Hoffman: Elbow drop from the top!

MDM hooks the leg.

ONE…

T- Stronk kicks out and sends Maher right through the ropes to the floor.

Joe Hoffman: Again, unbelievable strength shown by Stronk Godson.  Murphy Doyle Maher ends up back on the floor.

STRONK!  STRONK!  STRONK!

But this time, Stronk goes after him.  He whips Maher into the steel barricade.  MDM gets up holding his back.  Stronk boots him in the midsection.  He goes for his patented backdrop driver.  Maher lands on his feet though so Stronk levels him with a clothesline.

Looking on from the ring, Boettcher starts a ten count.

ONE…

Maher swipes at him. Stronk glares down at him.

TWO…

Maher wants forgiveness but Stronk grabs him by the head and again tosses him into the railing.

THREE…

FOUR…

MDM rushes in.  Stronk tosses him away.  Maher comes right back… he LOW BLOWS Stronk!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Joe Hoffman: MDM WENT LOW ON THE OUTSIDE. HOW DID MATT BOETTCHER NOT SEE THAT?

Matt didn’t have the proper angle to see this happen.

Stronk’s bent over.  Maher disappears for a second and then reappears.

Joe Hoffman: Now what is Maher doing?

MDM turns his palm up and blows something into Stronk’s eyes.

Joe Hoffman: POWDER IN THE EYES!

Stronk claws at his face which is covered in baby powder.  MDM DROPKICKS STRONK into the barricade.

Joe Hoffman: MAHER BLEW POWDER INTO STRONK’S EYES AND HE’S BLINDED!

Maher fires off forearms now!

Boettcher starts another count.

ONE…

Maher pulls Stronk up and rolls him back into the ring.

Joe Hoffman: I’ll give Murphy Doyle Maher credit.  He’s pulling out all the stops here tonight.

MDM gets in. He drags Stronk up and dropkicks him into the turnbuckle.  Backslide roll up by Maher.

ONE…

TW- Stronk kicks out emphatically again.

Maher goes up top.  Flying elbow on the way… BOOM.   He hooks the leg.

ONE…

TWO- Stronk again kicks out.

Joe Hoffman: MDM’s got to go for it as long as Stronk’s still trying to clear his eyes.

Maher lays in the boots with everything he has.  He stomps away but lets up as soon as Matt Boettcher starts another five count.

MDM gloats.  Stronk continues to try and clear his eyes.  Maher gloats and flexes.

Joe Hoffman: Maher can’t be doing that.  He’s got an opportunity here against the HOTv champion!

MDM comes back to stomp Stronk some more.   He pulls Stronk up.  Boot to the midsection.

Joe Hoffman: HE’S GOING FOR IT!

Maher leaps up and puts his knee behind Stronk’s neck.  But Stronk stands up and falls back and smashes Maher back first to mat.

Joe Hoffman: NO!  STRONK BLOCKED THE GON’ GET GOT AND HIT AN IMPROVISED GORY SPECIAL!

Maher scrambles to his feet.  He runs at Stronk but gets caught with one hand! STRONK SLAMS MDM DOWN!  That gets the crowd back into it.

STRONK!  STRONK!  STRONK!

Stronk to the ropes… he runs MDM over!   He runs the ropes again and fattens MDM with a vicious shoulder block.  Maher up.  He tries for a desperation clothesline.  STRONK SWATS IT AWAY AND ROCKS MDM WITH A FOREARM!

STRONK!  STRONK!  STRONK!

Stronk has MDM in a corner.  He launches Maher corner to corner and slams him hard into the turnbuckle.  Stronk runs in.  Maher saves himself by slipping to the right.  Stronk hits the turnbuckle!  MDM runs in and leaps.  He tries to drive Stronk down with the knee to the back of his neck but instead he slides right off Stronk’s back!

Joe Hoffman: NO!  Maher tried for the Gon’ Get Got again and Stronk just shrugged it off.

Stronk pops MDM up.  Maher defiantly fights back with fists and gets free!  MDM gets a bear hug.  Stronk’s too big for that and pulls MDM up to a fireman’s carry.

He hops and turns Maher face up.  ARGENTINE BACKBREAKER RACK!  The crowd pops.

STRONK!  STRONK!  STRONK!

Joe Hoffman: Squat Rack Breaker on the way!

Stronk drops to the mat in a kneeling position and nearly snaps MDM in half.

Joe Hoffman: YES!

Stronk grabs Maher from behind.

Joe Hoffman: Here we go!

He then lifts MDM into the air and drives him shoulder first to the mat with a backdrop driver.  Maher gets folded up like an accordion.

Joe Hoffman: BACKDROP DRIVER!

Stronk keeps his grip on MDM and pulls him back up to his feet.  He lifts Maher back into the air and drives him down to the mat from a high angle.

STRONK!  STRONK!  STRONK!

Joe Hoffman: ANOTHER BACKDROP DRIVER!

He’s not done yet.  Stronk pulls Maher up a third time and unleashes a third consecutive backdrop driver.  Maher hits the back of his head on the mat and the crowd goes crazy.

STRONK!  STRONK!  STRONK!

Joe Hoffman: Last week, Stronk Godson hit seven… SEVEN straight backdrop drivers on Brian Hollywood.

FOUR!  

Make that four backdrop drivers.  Stronk stands up and flexes for the fans.  MDM lies on the mat and moves very slowly.

Joe Hoffman: Four backdrop drivers by Stronk Godson.  He could pin Murphy Doyle Maher if he wanted to…

Stronk pulls his opponent up again…

FIVE!

… and again spikes him with another backdrop driver.

Joe Hoffman: …but he doesn’t want to.

Maher tries to somehow get back up.  Stronk turns around.  Pulls him up again… and spikes him a sixth time.

SIX!

Stronk pulls MDM up again and marches around the ring with him in the air.  He sets.  He backdrops Maher…

SEVEN! 

…and the challenger crashes down to the canva for the seventh time.

Joe Hoffman: That’s seven!  Will he go for an eighth?

Stronk grabs Maher by the hair and pulls his lifeless body back up to his feet.  He sets him up….

EIGHT!

…and backdrops MDM for an eighth consecutive time.

Joe Hoffman: That’s got to do it!

Satisfied, Godson wraps his arms around MDM and locks in Body Dysmorphia.

Joe Hoffman: It’s over.

Boettcher checks on Maher.  He’s unresponsive as Stronk continues to squeeze. Boettcher doesn’t bother lifting MDM’s arm in the air and calls for the bell.

The crowd pops as Bryan McVay announces the decision.

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner via submission in nineteen minutes and thirty-six seconds… AND STILL…HOTv CHAMPION… STRONKKKKK GODSONNNNN!!!

Godson raises his arms after the announcement and a flood of women’s apparel begin to be thrown into the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Stronk Godson’s winning streak continues.  Murphy Doyle Maher pulled out every trick in the book, used everything but the kitchen sink, but in the end, Stronk Godson remains the High Octane Wrestling HOTv champions.

Stronk snatches his High Octane Television Championship out of a crewman’s hands and holds it in the air.

After the match we cut backstage here in the Spectrum Center in Charlotte, North Carolina. HOW interviewer and world famous crack fiend Brian Bare can be seen roaming the hallways with a cameraman following and filming along the way. Bare continues his journey until he reaches a door to a conference room with the name plate ‘The Board’ placed on it. Bare stops and takes a deep breath before wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Cameraman: Will you hurry up?! We’re live here!

Bare waves dismissively at the cameraman as he lowers his head. Bare reaches his arms out and begins to shake them a bit trying to build up the fortitude to proceed. Once he’s finished his little routine he cautiously reaches up and knocks on the door. He waits a few moments while gripping his microphone tightly in his hand. Finally the door cracks open and HOW Hall of Famer Jace Parker Davidson peeks his head out from inside the conference room.

JPD: Goddammit Bare! Can I go one fucking week without you hunting me down?!

Brian Bare: Well I mean it is Refueled 97 and I–

Jace pushes the door wide open and steps outside wearing a three piece suit. He holds out his hand to silence Bare.

JPD: Don’t you think that I KNOW that this is Refueled 97? That’s why I’m here in the building this evening. There are important decisions that need to be made by The Board.

Brian Bare: Could you give some insight on what–

Jace interrupts Bare once again.

JPD: No! Actually let me take that back. Fuck No!

Jace goes to walk back into the conference room but Bare stops him.

Brian Bare: You have to at least talk about all the sudden releases over the past week!

JPD: It was sad to see Michael Oliver Best go. We didn’t always see eye to eye but he drafted me for his team for War Games. That is something that I will always respect. Even in his absence the machine rolls on tonight and The Board will make sure Refueled will run smoothly.

Brian Bare: What about the three roster members that were released?

JPD: Well Kostoff is old as fuck so it’s not surprising that he’s riding off into the sunset. That’s a good thing because it was only a matter of time before Daryl Dixon caught up with old zombie Kostoff. Though I find it hard to believe that Xander Azula of all people can claim to have slayed a beast like Kostoff. A goddamn travesty.
Jace shakes his head in disgust.

JPD: As far as Eli Dresden goes? Good riddance. Why was she even here to begin with? Did we ever really need that worthless replacement pussy? It’s addition by subtraction and now that’s one less person trying to make themselves relevant using my greatness.

Brian Bare: You seem to have personally been behind the release of Scott Stevens after what happened last week.

JPD: Scott Stevens had become a menace and he wore out his welcome here in HOW. From being homeless, to his substance abuse, and alcoholism. There was just no longer a place for a delusional human being who begs for shots at the HOW World Championship belt from Conor Fuse after already receiving multiple shots. The man would rather hang out in the women’s restroom than put his life back together. It won’t be long before he tries to pawn off his Hall of Fame ring for crack money.

Brian Bare: What’s wrong with that?!

Jace narrows his eyes down at Bare who laughs nervously.

Brian Bare: I mean… continue.

JPD: If anyone out there runs into Scott Stevens and he tries to sell you his Hall of Fame ring. Please contact me immediately, I will personally compensate you for the safe return of High Octane Wrestling property.

Brian Bare: Finally, to close the show tonight HOW World Champion is having a meeting with his War Games teammates in the middle of the ring. There are rumors that Fuse is trying to recruit more members to his team because your side has a large 8 person to 4 advantage on them heading into the Ukraine. What do you think of this plan Conor is trying to pull off?

JPD: Conor Fuse is a man that reeks of desperation. It’s no hidden secret that both him and Clay Byrd completely shit the bed with their draft choices. I mean they got Simon Sparrow and Steve Solex. They look at the murders row we have on our side and they just know that they stand no chance. So he damn well better start begging for help. Hell, I hope he decides to give Bobbinette Carey and Scottywood spots on his team. Who couldn’t use some easy eliminations come War Games? Whatever the case maybe Conor is fighting a losing battle and tonight The Board will be watching very closely to see that team practically implode before our very eyes.

Jace reaches his hand up and kisses his Hall of Fame ring.

JPD: Now if you’ll kindly fuck off Bare, I got things to do.

Jace smiles but suddenly Madison rushes into camera view holding a cup with a lid in her hands.

Madison: Sorry that took so long but I had to brew a whole new pot of coffee at catering but I finally have it here, just like you like it.

Madison hands the cup of coffee over to Jace with a weak smile on her face. Jace glares at the cup in his hand before taking a sip then immediately spits it out.

JPD: What the fuck is this?! Why did you hand me luke-warm coffee?

Jace tosses the cup of coffee at Madison and it completely drenches her from head to toe. Madison stands there horrified as Jace sneers at her.

JPD: Fucking good for nothing. Get me a proper cup of coffee or I swear to God I’ll make you fucking hitchhike back to Miami!

Jace heads back into the conference room and slams the door behind him as we head to commercial break.

Coming back from commercial, we are backstage and see Scottywood and Bobbinette Carey high fiving in celebration over Scotty’s win earlier against Simon Sparrow.  Scotty cracks open a beer while Carey pours herself a glass of wine and the two toast each other.

Scottywood: And we’re in War Games!

Carey: Was that a legal deal you made with him, Scooter?

Scottywood: I mean he never said no, so…

Carey: That’s not how consent-… ya know what, in this case, I’ll overlook it and just agree….

Scottywood: And since we are a tag team, if I’m in War Games, so are you.

Carey: This is a different type of logic working than Bob-logic but Scooter, but I am here for it. I may have a back up in though just Incase this isn’t kosher…

Scottywood: But… if for some reason, the people in charge wanna fuck us out of a legitly won way into War Games… I have no problem beating ole Jatt up again next week.

Carey: He can even bring his little pet Zion along with it, make it a tag team match.

Scottywood: What ya got against poor little Zion?

Carey: He sided with that weasel instead of the most respectable member of the HOW Hall of Fame.

Scottywood: Frankie?

Carey: Nope! Scooter, I’m not taking the bait.  Speaking of Frankie, how are you doing after that Star Wars night with him? Because… seemed like something…

Scottywood: I blacked out half way through Phantom Menace… but yeah, if Jatt has some balls to go again against me, let’s fucking go!

Carey: What ya think Simon?

The two cheers the camera as Scotty pounds his beer and we cut away.

Moments are all that remain before Jeffrey James Roberts and Steve Harrison battle over the LSD Championship. Harrison, his bald head as shiny as it has ever been, turns the corner with the LSD Championship slung over his right shoulder.

His eyes are locked and focused as he makes his way to his position and when he turns the corner once again, he runs smack into a man he did not expect to be standing right there.

David. Noble.

The two men lock eyes with one another, no words exchanged. Just a moment that passes between them, intensity in their postures and looks at one another.

David then looks to the right shoulder of Harrison and sees the LSD Championship right there. Harrison, following Noble’s eyes, looks at the title as well, and then looks back at Noble. He then slaps the title three times.

Harrison: Want something?

Noble simply nods his head, before he shrugs his shoulders and walks away.

Harrison walks the back of Noble’s head as he disappears from view.

He then turns back towards the way he originally was heading and re-focuses upon his mission at hand.

Defeat. JJR.

Back live and we cut ringside where it is time for our main event.

Brian McVay: Ladies and gentlemen! It’s now time for the main event of the evening and it is for the LSD Championship! This match will be a FALLS! COUNT! ANYWHERE! MATCH!

The crowd erupts into cheers with the announcement of the stipulation and just as they do, “Goldberg Variations” by Johann Sebastian Bach plays over the speakers as four security guards step out onto the stage. They form a square as Jeffrey James Roberts steps out and stands in the middle. His hands are out front, tied with plastic ziptie cuffs, and he walks toward the ring, keeping his eyes focused on it. The guards keep a perimeter to make sure he can’t reach any fans and they walk with him all the way to ringside.

Brian McVay: INTRODUCING FIRST! The Challenger! He is a former HOTv Champion. He’s from Gainesville Florida. He weighs in at two-hundred-thirty pounds and stands six-feet-three-inches tall! JEFFREY! JAMES! RRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOBBBBBERRRRRRTSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!

The guard in front unlocks the cuffs, then steps back to allow Roberts to climb into the ring. He does so, then leans back against one corner, his eyes closed, head back, swaying slightly to the music as he patiently awaits his opponent.

Joe Hoffman: The challenger definitely has his game face on here tonight! This is another shot for another championship for Jeffrey James Roberts.

“Take the Money and Run,” By The Steve Miller Man starts to play and the curtain flies open. Steve Harrison walks out with his arms in the air, a smirk across his face. He begins walking towards the rings and begins waving at that crowd who return his waves with boos and indifference.

Brian McVay: And his opponent! He stands six-feet-four-inches tall and weighed in at two-hundred-forty-five pounds! Representing The Highwaymen, he is THE! L! S! D! CHAMPION! The Miracle Man! STEEEEEEEEVVEEEEEEEEEE HARRRRRRRRRIISSSSSSSSSOOONNNNNNNNN!!!!!

Harrison’s smirk begins to fade after hearing the response so the Miracle Man begins jawing back at some of the audience and pointing to himself yelling over and over “ME, ME, ME!.” Steve walks faster to the ring his smirk now a scowl, he enters the rings and leans against one of the turnbuckles and begins talking to himself, his face becoming red in anger.

Joe Hoffman: Both men are definitely looking up to the task here tonight. One has to wonder just how much Steve Harrison is worried about any involvement from The Board here tonight. I’m sure his fellow Highwaymen are watching this match closely!

Referee Joel Hortega takes the center of the ring. Steve Harrison looks Hortega dead in the eyes as he hands over the LSD championship. Hortega holds the belt up high in the air as the crowd cheers wildly in anticipation.

Joe Hoffman: Here we go!

The referee calls for the bell.

DING! DING! DING!

Both men charge the center of the ring and begin throwing wild punches at one another. JJR is able to back Harrison up toward the corner and he leaps up onto the second rope and knocks Harrison into the corner with a springboard dropick.

Joe Hoffman: Nice start here for JJR! He’s got the champion on his heels!

Harrison tries to charge out but is absolutely flattened with a superkick that lands right under Harrison’s chin.

Joe Hoffman: Jeffrey James Robert with a quick cover here!

UNO!

…

KICKOUT!

Joe Hoffman: Harrison able to kick out almost instantly and both men are to their feet!

JJR hits the ropes and ducks under a clothesline from Harrison, bounces off the opposite site and then slides through Harrison’s legs.

Joe Hoffman: JJR picking up the speed! NECKBREAKER!

JJR, from behind Harrison, drives the champion into the mat with a vicious neckbreaker. JJR doesn’t make the cover this time, however, and climbs to the top rope instead.

Joe Hoffman: JJR is perched on the top rope waiting for Harrison to get up!

Harrison struggles to his feet, but finally gets there after a few seconds. JJR leaps from the top rope.

Joe Hoffman: Missile Dropkick! The Champion is down again!

Again, JJR foregoes a cover, and this time runs to the ropes.

Joe Hoffman: Springboard moonsault finds its mark! JJR hooks the leg!

UNO!

…

DOS!

…

KICKOUT!

Harrison kicks out as soon as Hortega makes the count of two. JJR gets right back up to his feet, and keeping up the fast pace he has set early on, hits the ropes. Harrison gets to his feet, and ducks under a running clothesline from JJR.

Joe Hoffman: OH! Harrison just shoved JJR over the top rope to the outside!

The fans go ballistic as Harrison climbs through the middle rope to the outside. JJR props himself up on the barricade only to be met with a couple of well placed right hands from Harrison. With a fistful of hair, Harrison looks JJR dead in the eyes and then out of nowhere goes low with a drop kick into JJR’s shins, putting the challenger down face first on the outside floor.

Joe Hoffman: A very tactical move there from the Champion!

Harrison points to his head, showing how smart he is to the crowd before pulling JJR back to his feet. Harrison pushes JJR back against the barricade and goes to whip JJR into the ring mat, but instead pulls JJR in tight…

Joe Hoffman: Belly to belly suplex right into the barricade!!! JJR is down! Harrison with a cover!

UNO!

…

DOS!

…

TRE….

NO! KICKOUT!

Joe Hoffman: JJR gets a shoulder up just in time!

Harrison argues the call with Hortega, but only gets two findgers shoved into his face for his troubles.

Joe Hoffman: Harrison definitely not happy that this match isn’t over, he thought he had won the match.

Harrison pulls JJR to his feet, but is stunned by a lightning quick throat punch! Harrison stumbles backward attempting to catch his breath and when he finally does he turns back to JJR.

Joe Hoffman: OH! JJR just scaled the ring apron and put Harrison down with a perfect cross-body!

JJR jumps back to his feet and takes one look at Harrison then takes a look at the ringside mats covering the concrete floor. He immediately does some rearranging on the outside of the ring.

Joe Hoffman: JJR has pulled back the mat on the outside, exposing the concrete floor! And these rabid fans are loving it!

JJR goes after Harrison, but Harrison retreats up the entrance ramp. Near the top of the ramp JJR grabs a hold of Harrison and hits a couple of punches before being doubled over by a boot to the mid section from the Champion.

Joe Hoffman: Suplex from Harrison! And on the metal ramp! You’ve got to wonder how much that hurt the Champion, he’s back to his feet but he’s grimacing in pain as he holds onto his lower back!

JJR squirms below as Harrison stands over top of the challenger before pulling him up to his feet. Harrison lands a couple of punches, and JJR stumbles down the ramp back toward the ring. Harrison follows right behind him and tries to smash JJR face first into the ring apron, but JJR puts up both hands and stops the move dead in its tracks, and instead of JJR, it’s Harrison that is put face first into the apron.

Joe Hoffman: The challenger is regaining control of the match here and once again he puts Harrison face first into the ring apron!

Harrison escapes JJR’s clutches, but JJR staggers Harrison backward with a couple of good punches, turns away from Harrison and hops onto the apron…

Joe Hoffman: Moonsault from JJR! Harrison is down and the challenger is standing tall!

JJR patiently waits on Harrison to get to his feet, plans a boot in the champs stomach…

Joe Hoffman: DDT! NO! Harrison yanks his head down and pulls JJR’s legs out from underneath him!

Harrison then launches JJR head first into the ring post with a slingshot. JJR stumbles backward.

Joe Hoffman: German Suplex from Harrison! Luckily for JJR, he didn’t land on that exposed concrete!

Harrison jumps to his feet, and wastes no time taking the attack to JJR. A couple of stomps first, and then he pulls JJR to his feet. Harrison lands a couple of well placed punches and staggers JJR back into the announce table. Harrison winds up for a big punch but JJR ducks under and whips Harrison into the ring post. Harrison can’t stop himself in time and goes head first into the steel ring post and flops down on the exposed concrete.

Joe Hoffman: The LSD Champion has been busted wide open!

A short but wide gash opens right near where a hairline would be on Harrison’s bald head. Blood flows rapidly from the wound and in no time at all Harrison’s face has become completely covered in blood.

Joe Hoffman: That is a nasty cut! OH! Jeffrey James Robert with a few stiff right hands right into the cut Steve Harrison’s forehead!

JJR mounts Harrison and lands a few stiff right hands into the cut. JJR steps off of Harrison, looks down at his bloody fist and goes right back to work with a few more mounted right hands.

Joe Hoffman: JJR is not letting up here, and Harrison is in big trouble!

JJR relents, but only to pull Harrison up to his feet. JJR pushes the champion against the ring apron, and twists up Harrison’s arm before interlocking his fingers into Harrison’s. Harrison grimaces in and moves away from the apron.

Joe Hoffman: What a move by JJR!!

JJR scales the apron and leaps out, hooking Harrison neck with his legs and putting Harrison headfirst into the exposed concrete with an immaculate hurricanrana that sends the crowd into an absolute frenzy.

Joe Hoffman: Harrison went head first into the concrete and the sickening thud has these lunatic fans going crazy!

JJR crawls over to Harrison and makes a cover on the blood soaked champion. Joel Hortega drops to the floor to make the count.

UNO!

…

Joe Hoffman: The champ’s in trouble here!

…

DOS!

…

THREE!

…

NO!

Joe Hoffman: Steve Harrison got his shoulder up at about 2.99999999999! This one continues!

The crowd cheers for the match to continue. JJR, visibly frustrated, just shakes his head at the referee in disagreement, but immediately returns his focus back to the champion.

Joe Hoffman: JJR back to his feet and he drags Harrison up as well. JJR is covered in Harrison’s blood!

JJR takes a big swing, but somehow Harrison is able to duck underneath and lands a hard punch to the gut JJR and immediately plans the challenger headfirst into the exposed concrete with a DDT.

CRACK!

Joe Hoffman: The sound of JJR’s head hitting the concrete was sickening! JJR might be out cold here but the champion can’t make the cover!

True to Joe Hoffman’s words, Harrison can’t make the cover. He’s barely able to move as Joel Hortega begins to count both men down.

UNO!

..

Hortega throws two one’s high up in the air.

…

DOS!

…

TRES!

…

The crowd begins to count along.

…

QUATRO!

…

CINCO!

…

SEIS!

Joe Hoffman: Neither man is showing any signs of life here, and I can hardly tell through the amount of blood Harrison poured out, but it looks like JJR has been busted wide open himself!

…

SEITE!

…

Joe Hoffman: A little movement from both men here!

…

OCHO!

…

NUEVE!

…

Joe Hoffman: Both are struggling to get up here!

…

DEIS!

…

…

…

Joe Hoffman: NOOOO!!!!! BOTH MEN ARE UP!

Both men barely beat the count of ten and Joel Hortega waves away the timekeeper from the bell.

Joe Hoffman: This match contin….OH MY GOODNESS! Mask of Sanity incoming!!

JJR plants a boot right into the gut of Harrison and lifts him for the brainbuster.

Joe Hoffman: Harrison escapes!

Harrison flips out of the move and lands on his feet behind JJR.

Joe Hoffman: It’s a Harricle!

Harrison is able to secure JJRs back and again, on the exposed concrete flattens JJR with It’s a Harricle and immediately makes the cover.

Joe Hoffman: Hortega in for the count!

UNO!

…

DOS!

…

…

…

…

TRES!

DING! DING! DING!

Joe Hoffman: The Miracle Man has pulled it off!

Brian McVay: Your winner, and STILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL The LSD Champion!!!!! STEEEEEEVVEEEEEEEEEEEE HARRRRRRISSSSSSSOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!

Harrison slowly rolls out of the ring before Hortega can even think about raising his hand in victory. Harrison snatches the LSD Championship out of the hands of a crewmember and slowly makes his way to the back. The cameras quickly pivot to a laid out Jeffrey James Roberts in the middle of the ring before heading to our final commercial break of the evening.

Back live from our final commercial break and “Dad Vibes” by Limp Bizkit plays on the PA as Steve Solex walks out from the back. Solex slowly makes his way down the ramp.

Joe Hoffman: I believe Steve Solex is here to answer the for War Games. Last week we saw Conor Fuse ask his teammates to meet him in the middle of the ring. However, I am told Clay Byrd is NOT here tonight.

Solex stomps up the ring steps and is handed a microphone from a crew member before stepping through the middle rope and into the ring. The music fades as Solex begins to speak.

Steve Solex: Ya’ know, normally I’d be off in the back somewhere right now, putting together another fantastic episode of Leave it to Stever for all of you second rate Dad’s out there. But for some reason, I’m in the middle of this ring because I’ve been called out by a supposed War Games Caption, Conor Fuse.

The crowd boos at the mention of Dad’s being referred to as second rate and then more at the mere mention of Conor Fuse.

Steve Solex: Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be out here to tell a World Champion or a War Games caption what he should and shouldn’t be doing but I gotta tell you Conor Fuse… you’re going about this all the wrong way. I’ve got more ring time that you’ve got time in this world you pasty faced, powder lookin’, can’t get no chicks so I gotta play video games, punk!

“Everybody Wants You” by Billy Squier interrupts the end of Solex’s sentence as Simon Sparrow appears from the back. The Rembrandt of Wrestling emerges from the back, clearly amped, after his less than stellar performance earlier in the night. Simon enters the ring, mic in hand.

Simon Sparrow: A drunken third-rate wrestler giving parenting advice, that’s rich! Granted, earlier this evening, I was not operating at peak performance, something Jace Parker Davidson knows about… Anyway, it doesn’t change anything. Yes, Steve Solex is about as subtle as a sledgehammer and as trustworthy as a nickel prostitute with a history of pickpocketing, but he does have experience. And there’s all this talk about how our team is down in numbers….

Simon Sparrow turns to face the ramp, moreso the curtain.

Simon Sparrow: It’s perfect! Did being down in numbers stop the Yul from winning “Survivor: Cook Islands”? No. We’re the underdogs! I am Sparrow-ticus! And right here, we have King Steve-onidas! He’s the “300” guy, right? Clay Byrd is, well, he’s Clay Byrd. He fought off a tribe of forty-eight horny Amazonian cannibals with nothing but his beard and a toothpick! We have the advantage! Allow the Rembrandt of Wrestling to paint a picture here. Starting with Stronk—

While Sparrow talks, the LCD big screen flickers on and words FLY across the screen, although no theme music is accompanied.

LOVABLE.

ADORABLE.

WORLD CHAMP.

LOCKER.

ROOM.

LEADER.

C O N O R F U S E.

A mixed reaction follows as the rock remix of “Bloody Tears” from Castlevania II begins but the champion is not alone. The same ballroom dancers as last week emerge onto the walkway. They are dressed in #97MarioRed and they line the stage from left to right. The women link arms with each other and perform various leg kicks as Conor Fuse rises from a 360 spinning platform from underneath the ramp. Red sparklers follow as Fuse’s lift reaches the top and stops with his back to ringside. Meanwhile, inside the ring Steve Solex isn’t amused and Simon Sparrow claps for his former co-op mate. Fuse sports the same obnoxious Castlevania-inspired trench coach before turning around and pyro EXPLODES behind him. He links arms with two of the ballroom dancers who disconnect from the others and escort the manchild to ringside.

Joe Hoffman: You’d have to think if Clay was here, this entrance wouldn’t fly. Then again, it’s likely not to fly with Solex, either.

Conor smiles from ear to ear as the dancers reach inside his jacket and stroke the gamer’s chest. Once at the end of the rampway, Conor asks the ladies to walk up the steel steps and open the ropes for him. As they begin to pull the top and middle ropes apart, Conor leaps onto the apron and then jumps over the ropes completely, standing directly in the center of the ring. He looks back at the ladies and gives them the Harry Osborne meme wink. The dancers shrug and enter the ring themselves. One of them is handed a microphone and she holds it in front of Conor’s face as his theme song ends and a chorus of jeers (and some mild cheers from the amusing entrance) follow.

Conor Fuse: HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOO co-op! Here I am. Conor Fuse. Vintage extraordinaire. World Champion. But most importantly to allllll of you…

Conor does this hand gesture as if insinuating it’s only Solex he’s speaking to and would not downgrade his idol, Simon Sparrow.

Conor Fuse: I’m your Locker Room Leader.

The Power-Up King sees the empty space beside Steve Solex.

Conor Fuse: And hello to you, Clay. So great of you to continue to put your big boy pants on and let bygones be bygones. What are ya, on vacation or something?

There’s an awkward silence between the men in the ring. Conor nudges the woman on his right.

Conor Fuse: [whispering to her] Go ahead, it’s okay. Just like we talked about. He won’t bite… much.

As if Fuse was a shifty used car salesman, he displays a clever smile and his eyebrows bounce up and down as the ballroom dancer reluctantly walks over to… Steve Solex. The Ultimate War Gamer turns to Steve.

Conor Fuse: Cute little lady there for ya.

She reluctantly extends an arm to potentially place around The Dad’s shoulders… until she gets a look of death from him.

Steve Solex: I’m not exactly sure what the hell you’re trying to accomplish Conor, but this isn’t the way to go about it.

Fuse isn’t rattled. The other ballroom dancer continues to hold the mic in front of Conor’s face.

Conor Fuse: It’s fine, no worries, all good LOL.

Fuse drops his arm from around the second woman. He walks over to Simon Sparrow and stands in front of the legend…

Giving Sparrow a hug.

Conor Fuse: Love ya, buddy.

Simon Sparrow: Right back at you?

The champion pirouettes, cocking his head at Steve Solex before returning to the dancer with the microphone.

Conor Fuse: As always, I will be the one who carries everything around here. So nice of you to show, Clay. We are teammates right now and you decided to make it about YO-SELF. Reason number one why I defeated you, clean I might add, a little over a month ago. It’s because I care about this promotion, I live this game and I am a mother fucking heat magnet. [Magnet sound effects from Conor] Clay, you only wish you were as integrated in the H O W system as yours truly. But it’s okay, SIT THE FUCK HOME and be jealous.

Conor recollects himself.

Conor Fuse: We don’t have many teammates at the moment, do we? Clay, you and I BOTH failed when it came to choosing the best talent out there other than SIMON and SOLEX… and now as *I* stand in the middle of the battle field, we are down fifteen to three-and-a-half men. That’s like a sitcom, or something.

Fuse undoes a couple of buttons on his trenchcoat, revealing the world title around his waist.

Conor Fuse: I worked for this. I EARNED this. And I’m not about to let some schmucks in the back get their hands ON this because WE didn’t have enough help that was on our level.

As Conor continues talking, his voice grows more serious with each word. He’s no longer vying for attention, you can tell he actually means what he’s saying.

Conor Fuse: And I’m sorry but last time I checked… Conor Fuse, Steve Solex, Simon Sparrow AND Clay Byrd have to survive together… or not survive at all.

Fuse shakes his head.

Conor Fuse: Last year I was on the team that didn’t survive. I was in the “do-gooders” group who were ALL OUT FOR THEMSELVES. I’ve complained about it for a full calendar year.

Conor eyes Solex over from head to toe.

Conor Fuse: So maybe it’s not a bad thing you want nothing to do with me because your friend lost to me a month ago. Might I add, your friend who ISN’T HERE and clearly doesn’t give a fuck about High Octane Wrestling!

Conor once again relinquishes his arm around the second ballroom dancer. He takes the microphone himself and asks the ladies to remove themselves from the ring. He struts up to Solex and puts a finger in his chest.

Conor Fuse: I thought you’d be cool with me, buddy. It’s not my fault The Board are out to make Clay Byrd suffer. It’s not my fault your other little teammates Joe Bergman and The Milk Man couldn’t get it done in their matches, either. I’m World fucking Champion and it’s time I was the selfish one. Because that’s the answer to success in HOW. Give none, take all. And it’s gonna be the reason we GEL together. We can hate each other’s guts but Steve… you’re gonna fucking like it.

Before Conor allows Solex to blow a gasket, the gamer takes a full step back and raises both hands.

Conor Fuse: Imma do you one better. Something Clay would’ve never done if he was #97 right now.

Conor stands beside Simon and pats him on the chest.

Conor Fuse: Both of you. If I walk out of War Games as champion… I’ll give evvverrrybody on my team individual championship opportunities. We don’t gotta be best buddies, lick lollypops together and sing Kumbaya.

Conor shakes his head.

Conor Fuse: But we don’t gotta be your nimrod cowboy friend either and not answer the call of the Locker Room Leader, either.

Fuse claps his hands.

Conor Fuse: So bravo for being a man, they don’t call you the Number One DAD for a reason, Solex. For the past few years I’ve watched you… this Stevens dad shit ya got going on, it tickles my funny bone, bro. You have potential to be on my level. I know you’re a Hall of Famer but you’re not a CHAMPIONSHIP Hall of Famer. At least not yet. You’ve been around the block longer than I have. You’ve played the game through all the levels. But you aren’t The Video Game Kid. So when WE step into the cage together, prove it. Show me what you have. Help me, help you, help yourself.

Conor walks over to Simon.

Conor Fuse: My best buddy. A year ago I was out for blood against you and now I’ll bleed beside you. Whatever you need, Simon, I gots you. I may be all leveled up now but I will never forget where I came from. Jace and Mario? Where are they? Jace bounced to The Board. Mario pissed off like every other returning star. Does this grind YOUR gears? It grinds mine. You’re the fucking legend of legends, man. I won’t ever John Sektor you, Simon. Past all the ballroom dancers and my adorable lovable goodhearted nature, lies the loyalty of the best co-op player you’ll ever have.

Simon Sparrow: You’re setting the bar pretty low.

The champion shrugs and turns to the center of the ring.

Conor Fuse: And when all is said and done-

Fuse stops dead in his tracks as EVERYONE in the arena turns their attention towards the entrance ramp as THAT song begins to play.

“UNDEAD”

All 20,000 plus fans erupt as instead of Michael Lee Best making his way out to THAT song……we see the Father make his way out from the back.

Joe Hoffman: HE IS BACK!!! HE IS BACK!!! LEE MOTHERTRUCKIN BEST IS BACK!!!

Lee stands at the ramp and the crowd starts chanting “WELCOME BACK” as Lee takes it all in.

The camera zooms in on Lee and we see the GOD of HOW is now sporting a very LONG beard and his hair has grown out.

But what hasn’t changed is his attire. Although a lot thinner than even before, Lee is sporting his 97red jacket and black pants, his eyes are still the main thing that pops as they are piercing a hole thru the World Champion in the middle of the ring.

With a smirk, Lee starts down the ramp and the crowd cheers with every step that he takes.

Joe Hoffman: The rumors are true…..Lee is here….Lee is back….the 97^th edition of Refueled will forever be known as the ONLY show that Lee could make his return back to the company…..I cannot believe it though!!

The cameras cut to Joe and we see the High Octane Wrestling Hall of Fame announcer standing up and having lost all his professionalism as he is marking out with the rest of the arena with the sight of Lee.

Lee slowly climbs into the ring and as he does both Solex and Sparrow slowly slide out of the ring out of respect for their long time boss.

The camera pans out as we see Lee Best standing face to face with the World Champion of High Octane Wrestling…..Conor Fuse.

Fuse looks around and is clearly uncomfortable with the fact that he is alone in the ring with Lee and slowly he starts to take a step towards Lee but quickly stops as Lee reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket.

Joe Hoffman: BOTTOMLINE!!!! BOTTOMLINE!!!!

Conor flinches hard as Lee’s hand exits the jacket and we see that he is not infact holding his infamous Bottomline pen….but something else.

Once Fuse realizes what Lee is holding he can only smirk and begins smiling as he watches Lee slowly opens up the product he is holding.

The camera zooms in and we see the label…

“LEE’S PUDDING”

Lee reaches back into his pocket and pulls out a silver plated spoon and slowly takes a bite of the pudding as Fuse gives him a golf clap as even Lee begins smirking.

Lee quickly tosses the pudding over the top rope and into the crowd and the crowd scurries like they were back in the Reesemart at Rumble at the Rock looking for weapons.

Lee then steps forward and pulls out a microphone from his other pocket and begins to speak for the first time in a very long time live on his show and his network.

Lee Best: Conor Fucking Fuse. World Champion of High Octane Wrestling. There were many things I became privy to when I defeated Death and returned to the land of High Octane and the main thing was obviously what the actual fuck has happened to my company.  YOU are representing me and my family? YOU are representing all these High Octane Fans?

Fuse begins nodding his head profusely and as he begins to speak he is quickly cut off.

Lee Best: That is some real PRIME shit there. Last time I was awake it was Rumble at the Rock….we were sponsored by Reesemart and High Octane Wrestling was the top of the food chain…….now? The company has turned into exactly what I always feared…..a shell of its former self……and no longer the place to be……and that is YOUR FAULT.

Lee steps into the face of Fuse and the World Champion looks back into the cold dead eyes of the GOD of HOW.

Lee Best: You should NOT be World Champion. You should NOT be the face of this company. I should fire your ass just like I did my brother.  I saw what my fucking dick sucking brother did to the biggest show on the professional calendar every year…..War Games……and someone might as fucked in me the ass while I was in my coma until my face turned PRIME blue….and that is a fucking SHOOT.

Fuse’s smirk quickly turns into an angry glare as he stares back at the Creator.

Lee Best: But you know what you fucking Canadian fuck…..by the way….I am glad to see you made it into the country for all these shows…..kudos to you for that.

Lee smirks as he winks at the hard camera….

Lee Best: I am here to right the wrongs. Over the next several weeks everything will be put back into its rightful place….but tonight let’s start with what is our biggest show of the year. My JOB is to make sure you do the JOB at War Games…….so with that said…

Fuse stands up a little taller as he prepares for what Lee is about to say….

Lee Best: Stand up a little taller there prick. You are 6 foot fucking 1 inches tall. I am taller than you lying down. Get brave fucker.

Fuse takes another step forward and now he is nose to nose with Lee.

Lee clearly is loving this as he continues.

Lee Best: War Games. I saw the names that qualified. Fuck those teams. Fuck Oliver’s bullshit. This is what we are going to do….because I SAID SO.

Lee smiles as his eyes continue to pierce a hole thru Fuse.

Lee Best: Fuse. Byrd. Solex. Sparrow. Rivers. JJ Starfire. Xander Azula. That’s your fucking team.

Fuse is clearly upset as Lee does not slow down and continues….

Lee Best: Sektor. Jace. America. JJ FUCKING R. STRONK……and because he beat Sparrow earlier tonight….SCOTTYWOOD. That is Mike Best’s team…..

Fuse and the crowd quickly begin to do the math and they realize that team Mike is one person short….

Lee Best: Oh ya…..I forgot. You honestly feel that War Games would happen without a Best in the match……I believe you know my SON?

Panic comes over the face of Fuse and he quickly turns and as he does his temple comes into direct contact with a knee.

The World Champion crumples to the ground and the crowd is in complete shock as we see Lee kneel down over the Champ.

Lee Best: Let me introduce you to the final member of Team Best at War Games……..my GRANDSON….TYLER STREETS.

Lee spits in the face of the World Champion and then slowly stands up and as he does we see Michael Lee Best running down the ramp and slides quickly into the ring.

Michael looks at his Father and then at his Son and three generations of Best smile as they stand tall over the fallen World Champion as Refueled comes to an end.