Refueled XIII

Refueled XIII opens inside the Allstate Arena a quick pyro blast goes off to the roar of the crowd as we quickly pan through the crowd before cutting to Joe and Benny at ringside.

Joe Hoffman: Welcome to Refueled XIII!  We are just a week removed from an extraordinary ICONIC PPV… and now the March to Glory starts with the return of the LBI Tournament.  I’m Joe Hoffman and as always I’m joined by Benny Newell.

Benny Newell: No Joe!  ICONIC was far from extraordinary.  Farthington was robbed of his ICON Title that should never have been on the line.

Joe Hoffman: My impartial college is referring to our new ICON Champion coming out of ICONIC, Dan Ryan.  Who was leading the 97 minute Iron Man match halfway through and won the ICON title. Farthington though was able to come back and retained his HOW World Title.

Benny Newell: Also our supreme leader of North Keakrea defeated the evil American High Flyer to retain the LSD Title!

Joe Hoffman: Right… you’ve been reading too many North Kaelrean tweets….  Anyhow, we have 4 matches for the start of the LBI tonight, all eight wrestlers were not on ICONIC last week including the former simultaneous World, ICON and LSD champion, Brian Hollywood Who takes on rookie Alex Redding.

Benny Newell: The newest recruit to the illustrious 5 Tive Academy… we’ll see how much Hollywood has learned in his short time there.

The slick and sleazy opening riff of ‘Love Spreads’ by the Stone Roses hits the PA. The HOW faithful give a polite “Who’s this?” reaction.   We’re well into the open, and damn near the lyrics before their curiosity, or lack there of gets a glimpse of Grady Patrick, dressed impeccably and under his trademark bowler’s cap. He’s breathing in the environment, and sneering at the lack of recognition. He walks forward a-ways before pointing to the stage.   Alexander Redding saunters forward, offering only a slide-glance to the paying public. The garish grin of the Joker splashed on the left leg of his MMA long shorts catches the eye before panning up to the Headstones tee. With a look that tells you all given-fucks could fit a thimble, he strides ringside.

Bryan McVay: The following LBI Match is scheduled for one fall, first making his way to the ring from Kitchener, Ontario and weighing in at 233 pounds… Alex Redding!!!

Reaching ringside, Red takes a lap around, ignoring the outreached hands, then slides in. He’s immediately to the ref for a short conversation/bullying session. Taking his place in a friendly corner, he lifts the tee off and teases the faithful with tossing it to them. They don’t really care, but, #FreeShit, ya know? Red drops the shirt to the floor and rolls his neck, looking ready for this fight.

Joe Hoffman: One of a handful of wrestlers making their HOW debuts here tonight in the LBI.  Lots of solid signings by Best and Woodson here inj 2020.

Benny Newell: New blood for the slaughter!

“Perfect Insanity” by Disturbed cuts in as the HOW crowd roars for the familiar theme of the former HOW World Champion….

Bryan McVay: And his opponent, from Los Angeles, California and weighing in at 225 pound… BRIAN HOLLYWOOD!!!!

Joe Hoffman: Hollywood trying to reinvent himself in this final era with the help of Mike Best’s Five Time Academy.

Benny Newell: Burn the fucking manision to the ground Joe!!! Hope Mike does that with him soon.

Boettcher calls for the bell as the two men lock up and Hollywood knees Redding in the mid section as he elbows Redding in the back of the head as he throws Redding into the corner.  Hollywood charges and drives his shoulder into Redding’s gut as he starts hammering at Redding until Boettcher pulls him back. Redding uses the opening to charges back out of the corner and nails Hollywood with a clothesline as he starts stomping away at the downed Hollywood.

Joe Hoffman: Hollywood with the strong start but Redding comes back with a big clothesline.

Redding grabs Hollywood by the ears and pulls him up to his feet as Hollywood grabs onto Redding and drops back down and connects with a jawbreaker as Redding stumbles back as Hollywood nails a super kick to Redding….

Joe Hoffman: Executive Promise!!!

But Reding falls back and through the ropes, landing hard on the outside as Hollywood quickly chases to the floor as he grabs Redding and throws him hard into the steel steps.

Benny Newell: Welcome to HOW Redding!

Hollywood throws him back into the ring as he follows suit and goes for a quick pinfall.

ONE!!!

TWO!!!!

Redding kickouts as Hollywood pounds the mat in frustration and pulls Redding to his feet but gets thumb in the eye accidentally… as Redding is trying to push him away.   Hollywood stumbles back as Reding hits the ropes and comes back with a double knees to the face of Hollywood as he quickly goes for a cover of his own….

ONE!!!!

TWOOO!!!!!

Hollywood powers out as Redding now stalks Hollywood as he gets back up to his feet and catches a spinning heel kick to the gut as he doubles Hollywood over and goes for a gutwrench….

Joe Hoffman: Could be the Grady Special III…

But the back body drop by Hollywood reverses it as he hits the ropes as Redding gets back up and Hollywood connects with a big boot across the face of Redding.  Hollywood starts to climb the turnbuckle as he quickly launches off for diving headbutt… but Redding rolls away as Hollywood hit the mat hard.

Benny Newell: Fuck that one up!

Joe Hoffman: High risk… big fail for Hollywood.

Redding drops an elbow to the back of Hollywood head as he calls for the end of the match as Hollywood stumbles back up and into a big boot to the gut.  Redding gutwrenches Hollywood up but again it’s reversed with a back body drop.

Joe Hoffman: Again Hollywood has that move scouted!

Hollywood goes for a super kick but Redding ducks and he counters with a spinning heel kick that Hollywood ducks and boots Redding in the gut.  Hollywood locks in a front face lock and connects with the jumping cutter.

Benny Newell: Paper Cut!

Redding is laid out as Hollywood stumbles back to the corner and sets up for a super kick as Redding stumbles back to his feet.  With Redding up Hollywood lets the kick fly.

Joe Hoffman: Executive Pro….

Benny Newell: Fucker ducked!!!!

Redding spins around with a spinning heel kick that stuns Hollywood as Redding boots him in the stomach and gutwrenches him up…

Joe Hoffman: Gutwrench Piledriver!!! He calls that the Grady Special III

Benny Newell: Fucking eh Hollywood!!!

Joe Hoffman: Cover by Redding!

ONE!!!!!

TWOOOOOO!!!!!

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DING DING DING!!!

Hollywood is somehow able to just kick out too late as Boettcher calls for the bell and we see Hollywood roll away and just bury his head in the mat.

Bryan McVay: The winner of this match…. ALEX REDDING!!!!

Joe Hoffman: And with that… Alex Reding takes the lead of the whole LBI with the first win of this tournament!!!!

Benny Newell: Even Mike can’t seem to save Brian Hollywood.

Joe Hoffman: Time Benny… the man needs time still.

Hollywood is visible pissed as he pounds the mat in frustration as Alex Redding has his arm raised by Boettcher as we cut away from ringside.

Backstage in the hallway in between two doors marked “Industry,” Lindsay Troy and the new HOW ICON Champion Dan Ryan are leaning against the wall. Both are in street clothes, neither being booked for the evening.

Ryan is in jeans and a black “Zero” t-shirt with sunglasses on, his head leaning back on the wall and looking down with his trademark smirk. The HOW ICON Championship belt is around his waist.

Troy stands to the side, arms crossed, curls dangling down over her shoulders.

Dan Ryan: First thing’s first, because I’m a man of my word, I want to congratulate Cecilworth Farthington on still being the HOW World Champion. Before this match happened, I said I’d look him in the eye and congratulate him on his win if he pinned my shoulders to the mat to retain the title, and so… for the purposes of fulfilling that promise, this is me, and that camera over there is his eye, and I’m saying congratulations.

Both Ryan and Troy clap.

Dan Ryan: I would also like to congratulate… me. Lee Best wanted the ICON title on the line, and in an act of kindness, and not because he has a giant ego and wants to be the center of attention, he announced a very specific stipulation by which I could win said ICON title. Have the most pins by this point in the match, he said. So I said… I’ll do that first. I said it, and then I did it. And here I am, the HOW ICON Champion. I am the holder of a championship that only several months ago, our HOW World Champion Cecilworth Farthington said was the most important championship in HOW. I did hard work to win this title. I beat a man who so far is 1-and-1 on the year. I am PROUD to be that second 1 in 1-and-1. The problem with too many people is they care entirely too much about their legacies and the perception of the public. They wanna do bad guy shit one second, then argue about win-loss records and other nonsensical shit the next.

Ryan puts a hand on the title around his waist and smirks.

Dan Ryan: I’m here to tell you, I don’t care how you do anything you do. All I care about is what I can do and what I can’t do. I was given a road map to take the ICON title, and I took it. Cecilworth did what he had to do to keep the World Title, and good on him for it. Maybe I can’t beat him for that World Title… yet. But I can take something that’s important to him… so yes, I did that. I won’t apologize for pinning his shoulders to the mat to win this.

Ryan lightly taps the belt.

Dan Ryan: Now tonight, there are a lot of debuts and returns, and I won’t take the spotlight away from that, but next week, we’ll dive straight into the deep end of the Group of Death…

There’s an audible snort of derision from the Queen of the Ring, and the camera pans slightly around the ICON Champion to better frame his cohort.

Lindsay Troy: Yeah, if you want to give credence to the spin game, Dan, that’s on you. Way I see it, we’ve all got a pretty good reason now to ensure that one of us is the one to make it out and that we all do our damndest to see that Mike’s the one who doesn’t. And, Mike?

The camera pulls in a little closer to Troy’s face as she addresses the Son of GOD directly.

Lindsay Troy: You’ll say I’m to blame for these circumstances, I’m sure; that there is now, potentially, only one member of the Industry being represented in the Knockout Round and beyond, since I didn’t … what was it? Do my job and beat you? 

And now, that trademark smirk.

Lindsay Troy: Well, Son, you’ve just given me more motivation to see you fall the second time around.

Dan Ryan: Now, I realize some may say.. Oh, that sly Michael Best. That sneaky rapscallion. He’s capable of almost anything. He once shaved a trampy lower back tattoo into his beard. What might he do next?? Look, me and the Queen?

Ryan aims a thumb at Troy.

Dan Ryan: We’ve been through this before. I powerbombed her off of a ladder, she tore the ligaments in my knee, I broke her husband’s leg…

Troy frowns and looks at Ryan, but doesn’t interrupt.

Dan Ryan: It was an awkward few years of holidays, I admit, but all in all things are just fine. Right?

He looks at Troy, still frowning in his direction. He stares for a few moments, then smiles widely. She rolls her eyes and he looks back at the camera.

Dan Ryan: See? Fine.

Lindsay Troy: Sure.

With that, Troy turns and opens one of the dressing room doors and walks in. Ryan follows, but she shuts the door in his face. He throws his hands up and raises his voice just a bit so she can hear.

Dan Ryan: Isn’t it nice that we can joke about things like that now? Right? RIGHT?

After a moment, Ryan grunts and walks off.

Dan Ryan: (muttering under his breath) You barely notice his limp now anyway….

CUT.

Backstage, Blaire Moise stands poised, tonight dressed in a black blouse and pencil skirt with 97Red pinstriping. She flashes a short smile to the camera.

Blaire Moise: Ladies and gentlemen, I am standing by with one of the many wrestlers making their HOW debut tonight: Teddy Palmer.

As she says the name, the frame pulls back to reveal what most would describe as a ruggedly handsome athlete. Piercing blue eyes. Defined cheekbones. His smile toes the line of confidence and cockiness. His upper lip sports a well groomed, ash brown moustache. The rest of his face, littered with a five o’clock shadow. His hair shaved on the sides, short on top and messy to the point of being stylish. He looks away from the camera, making eye contact with Blaire.

Teddy Palmer: Well Blaire, here I am.

Blaire Moise: Uhm, yes. Here you are…

Teddy Palmer: Now what are your other two wishes?

Her tongue presses against her bottom lip, and she briefly glances at the ground. Her smile isn’t one of amusement.

Blaire Moise: To be interviewing someone else and for this to end quickly?

Teddy Palmer: Blaire, Blaire, Blaire. There is nothing quick about what I do.

His wink is met with a short cough and roll of her eyes.

Blaire Moise: If we could keep this about your match tonight, that’d be great.

Teddy Palmer: Keep the intimate stuff off screen, I hear you.

Ted turns his attention back towards the camera and the audience so his words will reach through its lens. Blaire is over this interaction at this point, but maintains a level of professionalism in the face of Ted’s advances.

Blaire Moise: In mere minutes, you step inside the ring with Black Mamba, officially kicking off the competition in the Embosser Pool of the Lee Best Invitational. Having been away from the ring for so long, how confident are you heading into tonight’s match up?

Teddy Palmer: Confidence is at an all time high. My absence away from this industry has been greatly over exaggerated. I needed those five years. I was hurt. I was burnt out. I was miserable. The time I spent away allowed me to heal physically and mentally. I fell back in love with what I had grew to hate. I’m a new man Blaire, and I’m here to run through the competition and tonight it starts with Black Mamba.

Blaire Moise: Five years away from active competition is a long time though, and reports are that up until as recent as last week, you were working as a bartender. How can you walk into that ring with the confidence you claim to possess against a competitor with the skill of Black Mamba?

Teddy Palmer: I’ll have you and Mr. Mamba know that bartending is no easy gig. Do you know how many drunks I’ve tossed on their asses into alleyways? Do you know how many times I’ve been attacked by men claiming I ‘slept with their girls’? How many times I’d have to engage in fisticuffs after hours because, well, it was the only way? I’d argue that it was a tougher, more unpredictable profession than this one…

Blaire Moise: Well that’s just asinine….

Teddy Palmer: Ass a nine? Don’t be modest, I’d give that ass a ten.

Blaire’s cheeks flush red briefly as she shoots daggers with her eyes.

Blaire Moise: No. Asinine. Foolish. Stupid.

Teddy Palmer: Oh yeah? Well you know what’s asinine? Naming yourself after a Latin dance. Talk about being foolishly stupid…

Blaire Moise: You realize that a Black Mamba is a snake, right?

Teddy Palmer: Sure it is…

Blaire Moise: It is. An extremely venomous snake at that.

Teddy Palmer: Let’s not get bogged down on..

Ted’s words trail as Blaire looks increasingly fed up. From stage left, Alexander Redding walks into frame, a towel over one shoulder and pouring the rest of a water bottle over his head. Turning to the side, he flicks his head and the auburn undercut sending water arching offscreen.

Teddy Palmer: That’s how we deliver out there.

Red takes the towel and wipes away the H2O to reveal a half-smile.

Alexander Redding: Like the pizza boy in a porno. One down.

Trying to take the reins back on this interview, or just have it over with, Blaire turns her attention to Alex.

Blaire Moise: Alex, speaking of taking time away from the ring: you hadn’t been apart of a nationally televised wrestling match in just over eight years. How was it you were able to walk into HOW and on your first night defeat someone the caliber of Brian Hollywood?

Alexander Redding: I feel like this is probably a trap question. You either want me to be falsely modest and chalk it all up to luck and maybe the support of the fans; or, you want me to say something arrogant enough like I was born for this business, I am a natural, an unstoppable beast. Not biting. Have you been harassing Ted like this the whole time?

It takes all the patience Blaire has to not call for the segment to cut out.

Alexander Redding: I’m looking forward to seeing what everybody else does tonight, measure up the competition, so to say. Speaking of matches, Ted, you think I should be out there with ya, good buddy?

Teddy Palmer: Negatory Cochise. I’m good to roll on  out there Han style.

Blaire Moise: What?

Teddy Palmer: Solo.

Blaire’s annoyance is jolted with a journalistic eureka thought.

Blaire Moise: Speaking of the Lee Best Invitational… say you were both, somehow, able to win your respective brackets, you’d end up facing one another in the knockout stage. If it came to that, who would win?

Red and Ted look at each other, disgusted that such a question should even be asked.

Teddy Palmer: That’s like, two months away. That’ll be a bridge we cross when the time comes.

Alexander Redding: Not even one card through and already trying to drive a wedge between this two man stable? Can’t do it.

Rolling her eyes, Blaire Moise huffs and walks offscreen, presumably to complain to whoever booked this airtime. The duo of Teddy Palmer and Alexander Redding watch her leave, and shrug their shoulders. Red steps closer to pat Ted on the back.

Alexander Redding: Go get ‘em, Ted.

As the scene fades we cut to our first commercial break of the evening

Scores will be posted tomorrow in a new format….same formula….same HOSS™……just a new delivery system…….Alpha test coming

Back live The crowd erupts as the bell rings to signify our next match in the LBI.  The graphic shows up on the HOV as Bryan McVay takes center stage in the ring.

Bryan McVay:  The following contest is a first round match of the 2020 Lee Best Invitation Tournament.

Joe Hoffman:  We are back with our second match in the first round of the LBI tournament for 2020.  Lots of talent gather from around the world to compete in this tournament to earn the prestige of being the best.  This next round match will be a barn burner. Two heavily technical wrestlers will bring their prowess to the squared circle.

Benny Newell:  It’s a tough standard to live up to for sure.  Let’s drink to this match. It’s definitely going to blow the roof off the arena tonight.

Tick Tick Ding   IT’S TIME TO WIN! The instrumentals from Down With Webster’s “Time To Win” projects through the arena’s PA system. The obnoxious beat reaches the point of lyrics, which coincides with Teddy Palmer’s emergence on the stage. Arms outstretched, his swagger brings him a few steps forward before he rips the hood from his sleeveless jacket down.   His smile is that of confidence. His wink to the camera is that of cockiness. Each step forward is in rhythm with a slight head bob, his eyes scanning the aisleway audience. Ted avoids use of the steps in favour of rolling underneath the bottom rope. Hopping to his feet, he circles about the ring. Deciding on a corner, he pops himself up on the middle ropes, yelling out to the crowd. The words are loud, but inaudible due to the crowd noise and bouncing speakers. His fingers pointing at his chest give context, however,  as we can assume he’s proclaiming greatness of sorts. His feet soon hit the canvas, followed by the jacket he tears off. His smile fades to that of a grin, as he paces about, eagerly anticipating the beginning of the bout.

Bryan McVay: Introducing first, ailing from Toronto, Ontario Canada, weighing in at 221 pounds, he is Teddy Palmer!

James Ranger comes out, slowly eyeing the fans to the left and right to him, as a slow smile creeps onto his face, as he stops short of the ramp, the lights focus upon just James Ranger, his sunglasses reflecting the light as it transitions from white to an eerie green.. Announcer: Hailing from London, England, weighing in at 243 pounds…. He takes off his sunglasses, smirking as he squats briefly, surveying the arena and the ring before slowly rising to his feet and walking slowly and purposely towards the ring, the smirk now gone.

Bryan McVay: Introducing his opponent, ailing from London, England, weighing in at 200 pounds, he is “THE BLACK MAMBA”… JAMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS RANGERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

Mamba and Palmer stare at each other across the ring as Joel Hortega motions for the time keeper to ring the bell.  Both men immediately fire off intense punches left and right. Mamba fires off a cross chop which pisses Palmer off. Palmer comes at Mamba with stiff elbows to the forehead. He isn’t playing around.  He whips Mamba off Palmer off the ropes and attempts a cross body, but Mamba has him scouted and hits one of his own as both men splat on the canvas holding their ribs for a moment.

Benny Newell:  These guys both look like they could use a drink after that collision.  I felt that like my last hangover.

Joe Hoffman:  You mean from the last LBI match?

Benny Newell:  Exactly!

Palmer gets back to his feet to attempt a Snap German Suplex on Mamba, but Mamba rebounds to his feet immediately and lands an inverted DDT on him.  Mamba pounds his chest charging up the crowd. He rushes towards Palmer with a Running Enzuguri, knocking Palmer down. Mamba with the fast pinfall.

 

UNO!

 

DOS!

 

Benny Newell:  Dammit!  Count faster Hortega! This is a fast paced match out of the gates!

Joe Hoffman: Mamba looks rather impressive in this match so far.  He doesn’t want to quit.

Mamba tries to get Palmer in the Octopus Hold, but Palmer reverses and rolls him up with Hortega going for another count.

 

UNO!

 

DOS!

 

Mamba reverses the roll up!

 

UNO!

 

DOS!

 

Palmer kicks out, Mamba gets to his feet again. He charges with a corkscrew tackle, but Palmer immediately tosses Mamba outside the ring. He steadies his position before he charges towards the ropes and leaps to hit a Suicide Dive straight onto Mamba launching both me into the barricade impressing the crowd.

Joe Hoffman:  CAR CRASH!  Palmer’s putting his body on the line for the win.

Benny Newell:  Winning the first round can set the pace for the entire tournament.  Both Palmer and Mamba know this.

Palmer gets to his feet to roll Mamba inside the ring. As Palmer comes in, Mamba charges towards Palmer with theLeaping Gamenknee straight to Palmer’s face as he falls back into the barricade.  Mamba takes Palmer’s head and bashes it straight into the barricade a few times before tossing him into the ring. Mamba then locks Inverted Figure Four Ankle Lock as Palmer winces in pain. Palmer struggles to the ropes forcing a rope break where Mamba keeps the lock in as Hortega counts.

 

UNO!

 

DOS!

 

TRES!

 

QUATRO!

 

CINNN…

 

Joe Hoffman:  Finally Mamba releases the hold.   Can’t believe he would take so long.

Benny Newell: That’s call creative winning, Joe.  Look at the greats in all sports. Tom Brady does it.  Bill Self does it. So does Black Mamba. That’s how you can tell he wants to be successful in HOW.

Palmer grabs the ropes and struggles back to his feet.  Mamba tries to charge at him with a back breaker, but Palmer locks onto the ropes.  Palmer hits a stiff elbow to Mamba’s face. He tries to charge at him with the Last Call but Mamba ducks underneath and hits the ropes.  He charges at Palmer with the patented Final Execution Axe Kick and connects much to the astonishment of the crowd. They count along with Hortega passionate at how hard he connected with that kick.

 

UNO!

 

DOS

 

TREESSSS

 

Joe Hoffman:  By God!  Last second!  Palmer kicks out with everything he has left.

 

Benny Newell:  That’s true intestinal fortitude right there, Hoff!

 

Mamba looks annoyed.  He jumps to the Top Rope to hit his Advent Dawn move.  As he begins to leap, Palmer leaps up hoping Mamba will crash to the mat, but Mamba rolls out of the way.  He charges towards Palmer with another Axe Kick when Palmer rushes at him with the Closing Time Rolling Cutter. He isn’t satisfied yet as he’s studied Mamba thoroughly through this match.  He picks Mamba up, props him up on the rope and hits the Last Call straight to his chin for good measure on Mamba. He pulls him to the center of the ring and makes the cover.

 

UNO!

 

DOS!

 

TRESSSSSSSS!!!!

 

Bryan McVay:  Here is your winner of the match:   TEEEEEDDDDDY PAAAAAAAAALMER!

Hortega lifts Palmer’s hand in the air as Mamba rolls out of the ring.  Palmer celebrates with the hot HOW crowd.

Joe Hoffman:  Impressive showing by both men tonight.  While Mamba came up short; he proved why he deserves to be here.

Benny Newell:  Yeah but almost never counts in this business. Palmer showed this crowd why he wants this.  He clearly studied his opponent on call and putting Mamba down with his signature and finisher was the best call. Way to go Palmer!  Here’s a toast to you.

We see out of the corner of the shot of Palmer celebrating his big win with Benny Newell raising his cup of Jack Daniels as we fade into our next segment.

The HOV sparks to life as we find ourselves focused on the large camp that has been created in the Best Arena parking lot by the North Kaelrean forces. Several dozen or so soldiers stand in rank and file order in front of the North Kaelrean ring that is in the center of the camp.

Standing in the ring is the Lord Supreme Dictator himself, clad in a black and red North Kaelrean uniform with what appears to be some kind of breathing apparatus strapped over his mouth, his single blue eye glaring forward as the camera focuses on him. His bald head and the visible parts of his flesh are bruised and burnt, still even a week after the PPV had ended. Slung over his left shoulder was the LSD Championship, it’s metal face shimmering in the bright lights of the camera.

Max Kael: Denizens of High Octane Wrestling it is I, your Lord Supreme Dictator, Maximillian Wilhelm Kael, still reigning LSD Champion..

His voice is distorted, tiny and mechanical as he speaks through the rebreather mask. The soldiers at ring side salute Max as he says his name causing the LSD-MWK to offer a lazy return salute.

Max Kael: At ICONIC I proved why for the year of 2019 I was THE top ranked talent in High Octane Wrestling. I dominated every opponent and every obstacle that was presented to me with my only loss being against that infernal Halitosis and, of course, MJF pinning me in War Games costing me my #97red High Octane World Championship..

His brow pushed down as his blue eye burned with conviction and hatred, he was likely snarling beneath his mask.

Max Kael: For those crimes I made my enemies suffer. I took Halitosis’s title after he pinned me. I took MJF’s LSD Championship after she pinned me.. And every challenger that has stepped up I have knocked back down! ..and now we have entered the season of the LBI, MY.. season.. There is no one alive who is as skilled as I am when it comes to the LBI, nobody as capable. Just like last year you will witness my domination of High Octane Wrestling as I carve my block to pieces and move on to face the World Champion at March to Glory..

The soldiers surrounding the ring lift their firsts into the air in a sign of solidarity as he let a collective “HAIL KAEL”.

Max Kael: But wait, you might ask yourself, isn’t Cecilworth Farthington the World Champion? He is, and a great World Champion he is at that. See, the LBI is my tournament, it is where I excel having the first two back to back! The odds are simply in my favor however, as is my case, March 2 Glory is NOT.. my pay per view. My record is spotty at best and if Cecilworth wants the easiest path out of March to Glory with that title? Well, it’s me honestly. And it is a sacrifice I am willing to make!

The LSD Champion holds his LSD championship high into the air.

Max Kael: For so long as the eMpire holds the Championships that is all that matters! And while the ICON Championship has wandered from it’s home it will return.. 2020 is the year of iMperial Rule.. For Michael.. For Cecilworth… for ME.. Maximillian Wilhelm Kael.. First of my Name…

The soldiers snap their heels together as they lift their hands once again into an even salute.

“LONG MAY HE MAIM!”

The scene fades to black as we cut to a commercial break

The real HOR returns with Lee, Ei, and LT this week as we talk new site launch, LBI and of course March to Glory

Back live and Blaire Moise stands in front of a High Octane Wrestling backdrop, microphone in hand, beside her stands Rick Dickulous. He’s dressed in his ring gear: black boots, red lumberjack tartan kilt, tight white “I’M AN EH HOLE” shirt, and black beanie with a Canadian flag in the centre forehead. The height difference between the two makes Blaire seem almost like a midget, Rick looks down at her and shifts gently back and forth.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen, Blaire Moise here backstage with my guest. He’s a new face joining High Octane Wrestling for the Lee Best Invitational, and he’s a lover of maple syrup, he’s the one and only, Rick Dickulous.”

“Rick, we first saw you in a commercial at ICONIC about maple syrup. I believe you called it Tree Blood, if I’m correct?”

Rick leans down to the microphone awkwardly, his speech seems almost forced. Like he’s holding back the biggest secret of all time and waiting for JUST the right moment to drop it like it’s hot.

“Yes, Blaire…that’s correct. Tree Blood’s my jam, but can we focus on the wrestling?” Rick says slowly, showing a thumbs up to the camera.

“It seems you’ve had some history with a few other promotions. You’re currently signed to a deal with Dominion Pro Wrestling? Previously with New Frontier Wrestling?”

Rick nods, but also waves his hands in front of him apologetically.

“Blaire, my history doesn’t matter. What matters here tonight at Refueled is how Rick Dickulous is going to be the second one and oh entrant in the Lee Best Invitational.”

Rick begins to come alive, almost as if a switch were flipped sending electricity to a freshly changed lightbulb. He begins to speak louder, using hand motions to accentuate his speech.

“See, Paul from Outback Steakhouse? Yeah, he and the rest of the kitchen staff from store 6492 – REPRESENT!! – they all taught me everything I needed to know about Buck Yates…and I got to teach them about poutine.”

Blaire gives Rick a confused look.

“What the heck is poutine? Is that some kind of Canadian thing?”

“Blaire?! Have you never had poutine?? Y’know, fries, gravy, cheese, fries, gravy, cheese, gravy?”

Rick stacks his hands over one another repeatedly as he names each layer, looking at Blaire cockeyed.

“Um, no? I mean, who puts gravy and cheese together? And fries too? Kinda sounds disgusting to me.”

She shrugs at Rick apologetically.

“Jesus, next you’re gonna tell me you’ve never had back bacon and real beer…and hey, in case you didn’t know, weed’s legal up there too…”

Blaire nods at Rick as if she just put two and two together.

“And that’s where Poutine came from, right?”

“Wait, what? No…hey, aren’t we supposed to be talking about my match tonight?”

Blaire gestures to Rick, handing him the microphone and pointing to the camera. He takes it from her, thanking her as he shiffles over to the middle of the screen.

“Buck Yates? Tonight’s the night I put a little water on your brushfire that’s long overdue! See, I came here to High Octane Wrestling because this is the best damned wrestling promotion in the United States – hell, the entire world – and the best damned promotion in the world is where I came when I heard about the Lee Best Invitational. The chance to prove to the entire world that Rick Dickulous is a force to be reckoned with!”

Rick begins pacing a few steps side to side as he continues.

“After tonight? After I pin Buck Yates to the mat, and Joel Hortega counts 1, 2, 3? I’ll be one step closer to proving to every person in the High Octane locker room that not only do I belong here at HOW…”

Rick stops, looking into the camera.

“…I’ll prove to them that I can chop down any obstacle in my way like I used to back in the logging camps in BC. Tonight’s about winning, sure, but tonight is also the first time Rick Dickulous has stepped into an HOW ring. You know how to make a good first impression? With a bang.”

“Buck, tonight’s all business. Sorry, not sorry, guy.”

Rick steps back and hands the microphone gently to Blaire Moise. She takes it from him, looking into the camera with a smile. Rick excuses himself and heads off screen as Blaire speaks.

“You heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen! Rick Dickulous, on his way to the ring to face Buck Yates in round one of the Lee Best Invitational Tournament! I’m Blaire Moise, back to you at ringside!”

We cut away from Blaire and head back to the Hall of Fame announce team as its time for our next LBI Match.

As we come back from backstage we see the Hall of Fame duo ready to go.

Joe Hoffman: Welcome back ladies and gentlemen and up next in the Lee Best Invitational is Buck Yates taking on the debuting Rick Dickulous.

Benny Newell: You know Hoffman, I like this Dick guy.

Joe Hoffman: Rick.

Benny Newell: Whatever, I mean even though he’s from that shithole Canada, he seems like a cool dude because anyone that says their dick is ridiculous is speaking my language cause the hookers tell me that all the time when I get done with them.

Bryan McVay: This contest scheduled for ONE FALL! With a twenty minute time limit is a one on one match in the Lee Best Invitational.

The sound of banjos begin to play and “Creepin” by Eric Church hits and out comes Buck Yates from behind the curtain to be met by a chorus of boos. Buck carries his most prized position with him, a pig’s head, and makes his way down the ramp with sinister facials.

Joe Hoffman: The Man from Down Under has been very impressive since debuting in HOW. Buck has destroyed Jace Savage and embarrassed Chris Kostoff. Will he make quick work of the newcomer, Rick Dickulous tonight?

Benny Newell: Fuck no! Big Dick Rick is gonna stroke it and stroke it until he covers Buck with maple syrup.

Joe Hoffman: Ummmmm. You sure that wasn’t a porno you ordered?

Benny Newell: He may have been…fuck you! DRINK!

Bryan McVay: Introducing first… from Diwan, Australia and weighing in at 250 pounds… he is “The Diwan Forest Killer” BUCK! YAAAAAATEEEEESSSSSSSS!!!!

Once at the bottom of the ramp he enters the ring by wrestling underneath the bottom rope and circles the ring, ungracefully. He gives Percy (pig’s head) the best seat in the house on the apron (in his corner) as he pulls on the top ropes as the crowd is bathed in red as the sound of a revving chainsaw fills the arena followed by sinister, “HA! HA!” follows it before “Lumberjack” by Jackyl begins to play.  As the curtain ruffles, the ramp lights up in white and the giant form of Rick Dickulous emerges onto the ramp.

Benny Newell: Look at him Hoffman.

Joe Hoffman: Indeed Benny, he is an incredible physical specimen.

Benny Newell: But he’s from Canada. His only knock.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent… from Toronto, Ontario, Canada and weighing in at 425.5 pounds… he is RICK!!! DICK!UUUUUUUULOUS!!!!

Rick waves to the crowd, and shows two thumbs up as his poster child smile practically jumps off his face.   As he makes his way down to the ring, Rick gladhands with the crowd, stopping to take selfies with lucky fans, gesturing to support signs in the audience, and signing the occasional autograph.

Joe Hoffman: Rick taking in this moment to allow the fans to get to know him because historically newcomers don’t last in HOW passed the LBI.

Benny Newell: Shut the fuck up Hoffhole! Don’t jinx this!

Upon reaching the ring, Rick hops up onto the apron with a mighty two foot leap, planting his feet firmly on the apron and holding the top rope.  He wipes his boots before stepping over the top rope and makes his way to the centre of the ring, letting out a roar as he flexes his gigantic arms and chest.

Joe Hoffman: Rick looks ready to go.

Senior official, Matt Boettcher, calls for the bell.

Ding. Ding.

Joe Hoffman: And here we go.

Buck and Rick come out of their respective corners and lock up and Rick easily overpowers the Aussie as he throws him to the mat.

Joe Hoffman: Buck is a big guy, but Rick Dickulous is bigger and just threw Yates down with ease.

Benny Newell: I wonder if he got all those muscles just on Canadian bacon and Maple Syrup alone.

Yates pops up from the canvas and Rick drills his opponent in the mouth with a stiff jab that stumbles Buck back. Buck continues to press forward but the Canadian bobs and weaves landing jabs followed by rights and hooks to keep Buck at bay.

Joe Hoffman: Rick Dickulous is a BC Golden Gloves champion and he’s showing off his skill here tonight keeping as he fends off Buck Yates.

Benny Newell: If the HOFC was still around this guy would be a hell of force in the division.

Each punch brings a smile to The Diwan Forest Killer’s face as it fuels him to keep pushing forward pushing Rick towards a corner. Rick tries to avoid it by spinning away quickly and trying to land an overhand right, but Buck catches it. Rick throws the left and the Aussie catches it and pulls him in and begins to deliver headbutt after headbutt after headbutt to the chest of Rick.

Joe Hoffman: Stiff headbutts from Yates.

Benny Newell: DQ! If Rick Stevens was in there this shit wouldn’t be happening Hoffman.

Rick is gasping for air as the Aussie starts to bite the chest of the Canadian causing Rick to writhe in pain and drop to a knee giving Buck the opportunity to deliver a jumping knee to Rick’s face.

Joe Hoffman: OH MY! The big man is off of his feet.

Buck scrambles to a cover.

 

One.

 

Two.

 

Kickout.

 

Buck maintains the assault by hoping onto Rick and locking in a front facelock. Buck begins to gator roll from side to side and when he stops he deliver a knee to the face of Rick. This continues for a few minutes before Buck goes for a cover.

 

One.

 

Two.

 

Thr…..

 

NO!

 

Rick is able to stretch his tree trunk like appendage and drape his leg across the bottom rope.

Joe Hoffman: Buck taking it to Rick here tonight.

Benny Newell: Yeah. Yeah. You heard me. I need some Maple Syrup and Canadian bacon out here, STAT!

Buck yells out in frustration before getting up and starts pulling Rick with all of his strength to the center of the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Buck mustering everything he can to drag the mammoth to the center of the ring.

Rick is able to use his pterodactyl sized wingspan to sweep the legs of Buck and pull his left leg towards him to lock in a knee bar.

Benny Newell: Tap bitch! TAAAAAAAAP!

Boettcher asks if Buck wants to quit and the Aussie gives him the finger.

Joe Hoffman: That’s nice.

Benny Newell: He uses to finger to give Awesome Blossoms Hoffman.

Buck uses his free leg to deliver axe kicks to the side of face of Rick causing the Canadian to eventually to release the submission.

Joe Hoffman: Buck is obviously in pain as he is holding his knee…..Look out!

Rick builds momentum and jumps high into the air and lands on the vulnerable Yates.

 

One.

 

Two.

 

Thre…..

 

NO!

 

Benny Newell: That was a slow count Bitcher!

Rick shrugs and reaches down and hooks Yates and shows off his power as he delivers a massive Fisherman Suplex from the canvas.

 

One.

 

Two.

 

NO!

 

Joe Hoffman: Buck with the kick out!

Benny Newell: I think Buck slipped Bitcher some coin if you know what I mean.

Rick goes to pick up Yates, but the Aussie rakes the eyes. Buck goes to whip Rick, but the Canadian uses his Maple Leaf Muscles to reverse the whip.

Joe Hoffman: Reversal by Dickulous.

As Yates bounces off of the ropes Rick delivers an outside crescent kick to his opponent sending the Buck bouncing backwards towards the ropes again. As Buck comes back forward Rick delivers a ring shaking sidewalk slam.

Joe Hoffman: The ring just shook from that sidewalk slam, but Rick isn’t going for the cover.

Benny Newell: He has a plan Hoffman.

Rick pulls Buck to his feet and places him between his legs and places a hand over his heart before screaming out, “Oh Canada” and delivering his finisher.

Joe Hoffman: He calls that the Misery Whip (Canadian Destroyer).

Benny Newell: It looked liked poetry in motion Hoffman. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man of that size move with such grace.

 

One.

 

Two.

 

Three.

 

Boettcher calls for the bell.

 

Bryan McVay: And your winner by pinfall…RICK!!! DICK!UUUUUUUULOUS!!!!

Joe Hoffman: Rick Dickulous has impressed in his debut here tonight. He is going to be a force to be reckoned with in the LBI.

Benny Newell: Damn right Hoffman. I making my prediction right now and saying he’s going to win the Narcotic group. Sorry Number One Dad.

Rick continues to celebrate his victory as we cut backstage.

It’s quiet backstage…..too quiet.  In HOW, it’s NEVER quiet as there is always something going on…somewhere.  Well..a scene is literally right in front of us as a completely frustrated Brian Hollywood comes into frame and he does not look happy.  No reporters…no interviewers..just Hollywood looking completely broken down…something we are not accustomed to seeing.

Brian Hollywood: Tonight was supposed to be my night on the long road to comeback.  I just didn’t know..nor was I prepared by just how long the actual long road to comeback was.

A bandage can be seen over Hollywood’s head as he picked up the injury in a car accident just a few days before the Refueled event tonight.  You could tell Hollywood was distracted, though, and clearly was off then he normally was.

Brian Hollywood: Tonight was supposed to be the beginning of my re-ascendance..it was supposed to be my first positive win back in the column of winners as the road to March to Glory kicks off.  But no…it was anything fucking BUT that!

Hollywood continues to be impatient as you can tell he could lose a bolt really soon.  The tension around him backstage has indicated since his loss to Redding that he could lose it at any moment.

Brian Hollywood: The whole plan the last week and a half was a simple one.  At least it was supposed to be simple. Leaving Hollywood Enterprises was a very difficult choice.  That was never easy for me..perhaps one of the hardest decisions I have ever made.  But you don’t understand…I did it FOR this business!  I did it FOR HOW because that’s how much HOW means to me.  It should be no secret how much this company means to me…I’ve mentioned it on multiple occasions…as bout as many times as shifty Adam Schiff has beat a dead horse for multiple hours about some kind of impeachment inquiry…I don’t know.  But the point is there.  It’s always been there just how much this company means to me.  Yet for some reason…something wasn’t right.  Something is STILL not right!

Hollywood shakes his head as he tries to piece everything in his head together.  It was still a little dicey up in his mind..it was a mess…a disaster after a tornado sweeps through a trailer park..you know what that scene looks like…it’s a fucking mess.  Hollywood closes his eyes and sighs deeply as he tries to keep his composure, which is still amazingly intact.

Brian Hollywood: I left Hollywood Enterprises…I left the limos..the mansion…yes, fuck all you motherfuckers…you all secretly miss it.  Now take that level of everything I left behind…all to get back ahead in HOW..and that’s how much HOW means to me.  I was destined to be one of the greats in this business!  Everyone took me for NOTHING when I entered this company!  No one EVER thought I would amount to anything.  Then look what happened?  I got here in 2011…I sure as fuck didn’t do much for a few years..everyone thought I was a lost fucking cause…and maybe I should have been…but there are people here who would settle for a lot fucking less than that and it PISSES me off every time!  I won’t name names because you all know who you fucking are!

The passion in Hollywood’s voice was intensifying.  You could see just how much Hollywood cared.  Over the course of the last month or so, you saw more emotion from Hollywood then you saw the last few years of Hollywood’s HOW career and it was a breath of fresh air..but it was a concerning sight to see as no one really knew what Hollywood was going to do next as he spiraled out of control.

Brian Hollywood: The plan was to hit the RESET button…I understand that sometimes things get dicey when you hit that button…that you’re going to hit rock bottom…well tonight I hit rock bottom…I LOST TO A FUCKING ROOKIE!!

Now Hollywood was seething.  It seemed that it was this moment that was what was bound to happen as Hollywood seemed to finally…lose it.

Brian Hollywood: Who fucking does that?!  This should have been MY fucking win tonight!  It SHOULD have been!!  What the fuck did I do wrong?!  How the fuck did I lose my shit against a guy who’s never even been in this company before?! Well NO fucking more!  I know what I have to do now and it’s something that I’ve tried not to think about…nor even fathom to have to do but it’s something that I HAVE to resort to now!  FUCK ALL THIS SHIT…it really is back to basics…

Hollywood all of a sudden storms off but not before he violently brushes off several things that were sitting on a table as he angrily lets things fly backstage as we’re not really sure what he was talking about when he said he had to resort to something that would be morally hard for him to do as Hollywood walks off still visibly upset as Refueled cuts to a commercial break.

Special video advertisement coming this Tuesday

Cue the 1950s television theme music, as Steven Solex is shown on the HOV.  He’s backstage and is seated on a bench in the locker room.  He’s wearing only the finest of Dad-gear – a plain white t-shirt tucked into his jeans, no belt, and all white new balance shoes – and is showing the slight stubble of a two-day old mustache.  Steven is smiling the big shit eating grin while holding a few unopened white envelopes in his hand.  The words “Leave it to Stever” fade in on the center of the screen, the words stay for a moment and the fade out as the volume of the music fades low but not out.

Steven: I’d like to welcome everyone to the first edition of Leave it to Stever, right here on the High Octane Vision.

The thunderous boos from the HOW crowd can be heard.

Steven:  Alright, let’s take it down a notch, people.

Steven motions is hands downward, but the boos continue to roar.

Steven:  Really quick, I’m just going to explain how this works to you people out there.  Every week, every day even, I get a bag full of letters from the clueless fathers of the world asking…”Steven, how do you do it?  What makes you so good at being a Dad?” Well, to those Dads out there, I’m here to help you all.  I’m going to take the best letters and questions that I receive, and here on the HOV I’ll give you the advice that you all sorely need.

Again, the crowd boos crazily.  Steven, however, pays no attention to the crowd and quickly opens and envelope.  He unfolds the paper inside, and quickly reads the letter, chuckling to himself all the while.

Steven:  This one sure is a doozy!

Steven says this will all the excitement of the stereotypical television Dad, and even throws a finger gun at the HOV to accentuate his corniness.

Steven:  This is from Joe, in Alabama.  Joe asks, “Steven, I constantly have trouble with my youngest son. He’s always crying when he gets hurt, even if it’s only a small scrape on the knee.  What should I do? I’m at my wits end!”

The crowd continues to boo as Steven places the letter back in the envelope and sets it aside.

Steven:  Well, Joe.  The first thing that I would do, is threaten to amputate the wound.  This always gets my son, Jebidiah to quit that crying nonsense.  In fact, it’s quite the hilarious prank to play on your kid.  They’re SURE to love it!

Stevens shit eating grin is back, but the boos from the crowd don’t stop.

Steven:  The next letter is from Mike in South Carolina.  Mike asks, “Steven, my son is a food monster.  He won’t stop running up to me and saying, ‘I’m hungry.’  What can I do?!”

Steven folds the letter and places it to the side.

Steven:  Hungry sure is a weird name, Mike.  I don’t know what to tell you on this one, but maybe you and your wife should discuss a new name for your son.  And stat!

The boos continue to come in as Steven opens the last letter.

Steven:  And this last one is from Justin in Houston.  Justin asks, “Steven, my daughter has been hanging out with the darndest group of kids these days.  I can’t get her to understand that she should be hanging out with this group of ruffians.  What should I do?”

Steven folds the letter and places it on top of the others.

Steven:  Well, Justin.  I’ll give you the advice that my Dad gave me.  ‘You can pick your friends.  And you can pick your nose.  But you can’t pick your friends nose!’  I hope that helps!

The volume of the music picks back up as Steven waves at the camera.

Steven:  We’ll see you next time, right here on Leave it to Stever!  BYE!

The HOV fades to black as the music fades out.

The HOV comes back to life after a few moments of pause….

Darkness covered the room when the sound of rhythmic, scratchy, uneven sounds like a 1930s phonograph fills the area. It’s silence gives way to a voice–

Voice Over:: …Faith is the evidence.

The voice sounds older, but if you know the voice, you know it. By the sounds, one can tell the needle is lifted from the record. A flame breaks the black canvas & lights a single candle resting next to a gramophone, the amplifying brass bell catching the sparse light, spreading it out, not unlike it does with the groves of a record. The refractions light a form, a face, partially hidden by pristine white hair. A woman sits in a wooden chair next to the candle. Her hair cascades across her shoulders, red-tinted tips catching the light. She looks up, a smirk crossing her olive toned face, the piercings reflecting what light exists in the room adding a sparkle effect.

MAGADALENA: Is not those the words he had said? First, the one who spoke for the “mute freak”, and then the mute freak when he discovered his voice. The phrase was his mantra, four simple words to live by –

Her voice is accented, slightly but noticeable, though from where would be hard to judge. Magdalena nods & turns her head. A layer of hair flows with the motion.

MAGDALENA: Faith is the evidence. Countless inquiries were lobbied toward him – what type of evidence? He provided answers too numerous to list, and yet each time, the questions remained. Who is this man called the Deacon? What is this faith he speaks of?

Magdalena bites the hoop piercing on her bottom lip. With a quick arch of her eyebrows, she continues.

MAGDALENA: His answer was Jesus, a relationship with THE actual Son of God of the whole Earth & not simply an elevated, fuel driven one. This reality promised win or lose, Deacon would rise again just as his savior had done. And the reaction to this simple message? Shrugs Mixed. Some doubted him, in the old days they called him a hick. They didn’t realize  his ancestry goes back further than the hills they believed him to originate – rather hilarious given his lineage. Some thought he a mute, dumb man following a con artist, listening to a magician, never realizing that, though the Deacon’s language was difficult to understand, his creation of the message was not. Still, others championed him – even if they didn’t buy into his message, they … knew what he was – who he was. And they were smart enough to know, even if they didn’t believe his God was real, those slags he called fists certainly were. And so, seven years ago, the Deacon had carried his message to all corners of the globe. He thought his time was done. He untied the boots & hung them on a nail.

With her right hand, Magdalena pinches the bridge of her nose. She glances right then continues.

MAGDALENA: And what happened…she glances down, her hair covering her face happened. Some may question what has transpired with the one who’d been the Deacon’s mouthpiece for so many years. She looks back up, pushing her hair from her face, holding it back with her left hand as she continues. Some may want to know who I am. Some may want to know my connection to the Deacon. I’ll give you one answer – my connection is not like the man who’d spoke all those years. I’m not a Shepherd… and I’m certainly not a sheep. I will speak my mind, because the Deacon & I have watched enough. We’ve watched the exhibition from those who mock the innocent. She shakes her head as the following words come in staccato rhythm.. We’ve watched the exhibition of power from dictators & manipulators who daily destroy this planet we’re given as our charge. We’ve watched the exhibition of crowds moving beyond a cry for the freedom to live as they want to now decide what words are allowed, and to no surprise, that exhibition of evidence states true words are no longer wanted. We’ve watched as governments of total power trample the freedom of innocents. We’ve watched, and we’ve weighed the evidence of each incident.Magdalena pauses, taking a deep breath. Maximallian, the Deacon is done watching. He’s weighed the evidence against you and already found you wanting. Thus, he’s delivered his opening statement. I assure you, his closing statement will be twice as impactful. Mr. Harmen, my friend is not the man you remember, but he’s also not a man you should’ve forgotten. The message hasn’t changed, but the reactions to this crazed world has, and from what I know about you… well, you know a bit about the word crazy.

Magdalena tilts her head. But those stories will be told another time, another place. Tonight, Rodriguez is crashing headlong into a 7 foot tall mute freak who has some issues he plans to work out. Magdalena looks toward the candle that flutters to darkness, only the wick’s ember remaining. We shall see you soon.

We cut to our final commercial break of the evening as the video ends

The DeNucci and GOD (Group of Death) groups are in the spotlight next week on Refueled XIV

Back live from the commercial break and the lights promptly go out. The Gregorian chant begins. Magdalena steps onto the stage, scanning the crowd a moment before the Deacon enters, his giant robed frame creating a backdrop as Magdalena starts toward the ring, the Deacon behind her. His eyes stare blankly as he climbs the stairs to the apron, stepping over the top rope to enter the ring and go to his corner.

The sound of a car crash plays is heard coming from the sound system the arena just before an instrumental version of “Heroes and Villains” by Powerman 5000. Crash Rodriguez steps out from behind the curtain and onto the stage. Crash slowly makes his way down the entrance ramp as an animation of his name plays on the HOV behind him. Crash slides under the bottom rope and into the ring. He moves himself into the corner across the ring from Magdalena. The two stare one another down from opposite sides of the ring as the introductions are made by ring announcer Brian McVay.

Brian McVay: Introducing first, hailing from Alexandria, Egypt. Accompanied by Magdelana. He stands seven feet tall! And weighs in at three-hundred and twenty pounds….he is DEEEEEEEEEEEEEACON!

Joe Hoffman: Deacon is definitely the larger of the two men.

Brian McVay: And his opponent. From Kansas City, Missouri. He stands at five-feet, ten inches and tips the scales at two-hundred, seven pounds. CRRRRRRRRRRAAAAASSSHHHHH RRRRRRRRRROOOOOOODRRRRRRIIIIIIIIGUEEEEZZZZZZ!

Benny Newell: Drag it out Brian McVay, holy shit.

Joe Hoffman: Just doing what he’s paid to do, Benny.

Benny Newell: No, shit Hoffhole. Now do what you’re paid to do and call the match.

Brian McVay exits the ring, and the referee Joel Hortega calls for the bell. The two wrestlers approach one another in the center of the ring, and continue the stare down.

Joe Hoffman: Crash Rodriguez stares up at the much larger Deacon.

Deacon starts the action by throwing a right hand, but Crash – much smaller and faster – ducks underneath, and hits the ropes and goes for a runny cross-body-block, but Deacon doesn’t budge and Crash just bounces off and lands on the mat. Crash holds the back of his head and neck, again looking up at the much larger man. Deacon cracks a smile as he looks down on his fallen opponent. Deacon motions for Crash to get to his feet, indicating that Crash is getting a free pass. Crash obliges the request and gets to his feet. Crash quickly plants a boot in the mid-section of Deacon, and once again hits the ropes.

Joe Hoffman: Crash trying to his best to get the big man down!

Crash again tries a cross-body-block, but this time Deacon catches him in mid-air. Deacon plays to the crowd as he walks a circle around the ring before twisting Crash in his arms and slamming him to the mat with a thunderous black hole slam.

Joe Hoffman: What a maneuver!

Benny Newell: What did you just say?

Joe Hoffman: Maneuver?
Benny Newell: Never again, Hoffhole.

Joe Hoffman: Deacon with the cover!

Deacon hooks in a leg and makes a cover on Crash as Joel Hortega slides in for the count.

UNO!

DOS!

Kickout!

Joe Hoffman: Crash throws an arm in the air to get his shoulder off the mat.

Deacon makes no arguments and climbs to his feet, pulling Crash up by the hair. Deacon backs Crash into a corner and throws a couple of back elbows into Crash’s head. Crash crumbles down to a knee, before being thrust across the ring and into the opposite turnbuckle. On impact, Crash immediately falls flat on the mat face first.

Joe Hoffman: The power of Deacon is incredible!

Benny Newell: The only thing with power in this joint is this Jack Daniels. DRINK!

Deacon stalks his opponent, and slowly makes his way across the ring. Once again, Deacon lifts Crash to his feet with a fistful of hair. Deacon scoops and body-slams Crash down, flat on his back in the center of the ring. Deacon hits the ropes and comes back with a well-placed elbow drop right across the chest of Crash. Deacon, however, doesn’t make a cover and quickly gets to his feet. Deacon goes for another elbow drop, but this time Crash rolls out of the way and Deacon slams flat onto the mat.

Joe Hoffman: Let’s see if Crash can capitalize here!

Crash struggles to his feet, but he’s quick to get upright. Deacon on the other hand, grabs ahold of his arm as he grimaces in pain. Crash hits the ropes as Deacon sits up. Crash plants to feet into the face of Deacon with a well-timed low height drop kick that levels Deacon. Crash springs back to his feet, and moves into the corner of the ring. He patiently waits for Deacon to get to his feet.

Benny Newell: There’s not enough Jack in this Jack!

Joe Hoffman: What?

Benny Newell: Shut up Hoffman.

Deacon gets to his feet but he turns his back to Crash, who once again sends the big man to the floor by taking out his right knee with a chop block. Crash, feeling the rush of taking over the momentum of the match, quickly grabs the right leg of his grounded opponent and pelts the back of Deacon’s right knee with a few kicks before dropping an elbow across the softened knee. Crash holds on, and stays on the floor twisting Deacon’s knee into his body.

Joe Hoffman: Rodriguez applies a submission hold here. That knee has got to be tender at this point!

Magaldena appears concerned for the first time during this match and begins to shout instructions to his client. But the instructions fall on deaf ears as Crash continues to wrench on the right knee of Deacon. Deacon attempts to sit up and grab Crash’s hair, but again Crash wrenches hard on the knee, forcing Deacon to fall back down. Deacons determination to grab ahold of Crash’s hair pays off on the third attempt, and he’s able to break the submission move by pulling back on Crash’s head clubbing him in the face with a stiff punch. Crash doesn’t immediately let go of the hold, but he’s unable to muster any strength into the hold and Deacon lands a few more punches to Crash’s head and face, finally forcing the hold to be broken. Crash rolls off of Deacon, and turtles himself on the mat on his knees and hands.

Joe Hoffman: Deacon is finally free, but the damage has been done.

Deacon gets to his feet and limps up to Crash while holding the back if his right leg. Deacon attempts to stomp on the back Crash, but is unable to steady himself due to the damage that’s been inflicted on his right knee. Crash, noticing his opponent is injured quickly crawls away and gets to his feet. Deacon continues to limp around the ring as Crash bounces off the ropes and lands a hard clothesline across Deacon’s chest. Deacon doesn’t go down, however, and only stumbles backward a few steps. Crash again plants a running clothesline on Deacon, who again only stumbles back a few feet. Crash, spearing to be frustrated, hits the ropes again but this time takes down the much larger of the men with a sling blade.

Joe Hoffman: Sling blade! He’s got the big man down now!

Benny Newell: Drunk.

Joe Hoffman: I’d expect no less from you, Benny.

Crash climbs on top of Deacon, hooks a leg and makes a cover. Joel Hortega in for the count…
UNO!

DOS!

Kickout!

Joe Hoffman: What a kickout by Deacon! He sent Rodriguez three or four feet in the air!

Crash is pushed so far up into the air that he’s actually able to land on his feet, but Deacon quickly grabs Crash by the throat. Deacon slowly climbs to his feet while tightening the grip he has on Crash’s carotid artery. Magdalena begins to feverishly shouts more instructions to the monster of a man and Deacon replies by thrusting Crash off the ropes. When Crash returns, Deacon locks him up with a standing cobra clutch.

Joe Hoffman: Deacon’s locked in John 11:12!

Benny Newell: Bible thumpin’ hippie!

Deacon begin to thrash Crash around, lifting him from his feet as the submission hold is tightened. Crash appears to be going limp, but Deacon releases the hold and Crash stumbles about and right into a stiff kick in the gut.

Benny Newell: Razor’s Ed…

Joe Hoffman: It’s the Altar Call!

Deacon lifts Crash into the air, in the a powerbomb motion, but holds him in a crucifix position before slamming him into the mat head and neck first. Deacon hooks a leg and makes the cover as Joel Hortega slides in for the count.

UNO!

….

DOS!

….

TRES!

Magdalena jumps up onto the apron, as the referee calls for the bell and Deacon releases the pin hold. Magdalena celebrates with his giant client, and hoists Deacons right hand into the air as he brushes of referee Joel Hortega.

Joe Hoffman: A great win for Deacon here in his debut, and the first round of the Lee Best Invitational!

Benny Newell: That’s LBI, you asshat.

Joe Hoffman: What do you think that stands for Benny……and with that folks that is the conclusion of tonights Refueled. A great start for some newcomers to the company and some strong statements made by our ICON and LSD Champions. For my colleague Benny Newell…….I am Joe Hoffman….and we will see you next week right here as Refueled 14 hits the airwaves!!!

The feed fades off the live shot inside the arena and we see a final focus on the HOTv logo before the transmission ends.