Refueled XL

The HOTv logo gives way as we cut immediately inside The Best Arena…

This beginning of “This Means War” by Avenged Sevenfold thumps from the sound system as the crowd explodes into a fury of boos and hisses. A montage of Steve Solex plays on the HOV, flashing on and off in rhythm with the music. As the music stalls, the HOV goes black as the lights throughout the arena go dark. A bomb like explosion blasts at the top of the entry way sending a plume of smoke up and in front of the HOV in the shape of a mushroom cloud, and at that moment the music returns and Steve Solex makes his way out from behind the curtain. The montage continues to play on the HOV as Solex stops atop the entrance ramp and pounds his chest twice with a white knuckled fist before throwing his hands high up into the air. He soaks in the boos from the crowd before marching down to the ring. No glitz, no high fives, just a fast-paced march and the look of cold-blooded killer. He slides under the bottom rope and stares down the referee before finding his corner and resting back into it.

Joe Hoffman: Welcome everyone to Refueled!! We are starting off inside the ring as a member of the newest edition of The Best Alliance, Steve Solex, is ready to make his return to action.

Benny Newell:  The Number One Dad is now in the number one stable in the history of the company……and tonight begins his journey to the top of the rankings. Mark my words and someone tell a monkey in the back to be ready to update Solex’s win total.

Joe can only shake his head as the action cuts to the ring announcer.

Bryan McVay: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, representing the Best Alliance, weighing in at 252 pounds. He ails from Huntington Beach, California. Please welcome STEEEEEEEEEEEVE SOOOOOOLEX!

The crowd is bathed in red as the sound of a revving chainsaw fills the auditorium. As the curtain ruffles, the ramp lights up in white and the giant form of Rick emerges onto the ramp. He both 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. 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.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent, representing the Egg Bandits….

WHAM!

Benny Newell: Talk about an impact! That’s how the Best Alliance starts things off on their epic return on Refueled Extra Large, Hoffman.

Joe Hoffman: RICK didn’t even get to speak in French, Benny.

Benny Newell: After that clothesline from Steve Solex, I’m sure the only thing RICK will be saying again is his name. Solex just took off his head. Now that’s something I can drink to right now!

Solex doesn’t even let RICK get up the mat as Solex lays elbow after elbow straight into RICK’s temple. Hortega pulls Solex off RICK to check on him, but Solex yanks Hortega back and screams at him to continue the match or he would be fired. Solex stomps on RICK’s back then drops a knee onto his back before locking in the Camel Clutch. As RICK goes to tap out, Solex releases the lock. He picks RICK up and nails a few German Suplexes onto him. After releasing the third one, Solex scopes RICK off the mat and nails a nasty looking piledriver on him.

Joe Hoffman: Dear Lord, Solex is just tearing into RICK. It’s like RICK just disappeared or something from this match, Benny.

Benny Newell: I don’t care what is going through an Egg Bandits’ mind or not right now, Joe. I care about the greatest stable on the GOD of HOW’s green earth. Lee Best bought into Steve Solex and it looks to be paying dividends tonight.

Solex stalks RICK then nails him with a DDT. Solex then bites RICK on the forehead and looks up into the camera, eyes all glazed over. He slits his throat and motions he’s ending this match. RICK gets to his feet, but without hesitation, Solex nails his patented stunner – the Solexcution. Solex cracks his head and picks RICK’s lifeless body off the mat. He nails his perfect SolexPlex stiff onto RICK’s neck and Hortega makes the count.

UNO!

DOS!

TRES!

Benny Newell: Ladies and gentlemen! The Best Alliance just showed us they’re back in business tonight baby. Solex just dominated the hell out of the Egg Bandits. Now that’s what dominance in HOW should look like, Hoffhole.

Joe Hoffman: It looks like Solex means business. He won’t let Hortega raise his hand in victory.

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner via pinfall….STEEEEEEEEEEEVVVE SOOOOOOOLEX!!!!

“This Means War” by Avenged Sevenfold begins to play throughout the arena as Steve Solex exits the ring and hopes over the guard railing and into the crowd.  A mustached man in a #1 Dad t-shirt – not the kind that Steve Solex would wear, but think cheesy shit you might find in a tourist shop – confronts Solex and stands in his way blocking his path.  The man’s wife and young son stand on either side of the man, as he attempts to stare Solex down.  Solex looks the man up and down and notices the cheese sauced nachos in his hand.  Without hesitation, Solex swipes upward and spills the nachos all over the man’s.  Solex flinches at the man and without pause, the man falls flat on his ass.

Solex grins and mocks the man before grabbing his wife by the hip and pulling her in for a strong kiss as the young boy begins to sob.  The wife doesn’t fight it, and kisses him right back.  Solex then pushes her off and stares the man down and continues his walk the crowd and into Section 214, where he spots the custom 97Red chair and takes a seat.  Solex takes in the boos from the fans as he leans back and kicks his feet up onto the chair in front of him.  The music fades, as a smirk begins to develop on Solex’s face.  The boos continue to boom throughout the arena as Solex plays conductor with one finger and the microphone.

Joe Hoffman:  Solex sure is soaking in the hate from the crowd tonight, isn’t he?

Benny Newell:  Hate?  Are you fuckin’ kidding me, Hoffhole?  These fans love Steve Solex!  A true veteran, and from what I’m told…a legitimate war-hero!

A small scoff is heard from Joe Hoffman, but before he can disagree with his long time announce partner, Steve Solex take over the PA system..

Steve Solex:  I fuckin’ love it!  Thank you all!  And thank you, Joe Bergman!  I feel like Goldie-locks and this section and special seat are just fuckin’ right!

The crowd continues to boo, nearly drowning out Steve Solex.

Steve Solex:  Now, before all of you get all mushy and start throwing shit up in my direction, hear me out!

The crowd boos.

Steve Solex: Like I was saying.  I know all of you love you some Joe Bergman, but I have to say:  He’s really not all that great.  In fact, he’s less than great.  To be frank, the guys a total bitch.  But, that’s not the real reason that I’m up here in Section 214 tonight.  The real reason I’m here, is because I am takin’ over Section 214!

The crowd erupts in jeers.  Solex tries to silence them with hand gestures, but it doesn’t take and he’s forced to speak over the ten-thousand plus in attendance.

 Steve Solex: See, if any of you pissants actually had the nuts to join the military, you would know that when you are discharged you get what’s called a DD214.  This piece of paper is a veteran’s proof of service and is basically the thing that ensures that you are recognized for the hard work and dedication that you showed to this country.

The crowd continues to boo.

Steve Solex:  That’s right, boo me!  Boo me! Because while all of your pukes were sleeping in your beds, under your warm blanket of freedom, I was overseas in places like Iraq, Kosovo, Afghanistan and Africa ensuring that each and every one of you had the peace of mind that the real bad guys of the world were getting their asses handed to them by the American military!

The crowd continues to boo.

Steve Solex: So, without further delay, I hereby rename Section 214 to…

A drum roll is heard over the PA system.

Joe Hoffman: Solex really taking in the benefit of being in the Best Alliance, here.

The drum roll fades.

Steve Solex: Section….D….D….2….FOURTEEN!

The crowd erupts in boos even louder than before as “This Means War” begins to play throughout the arena once more as we cut to our first commercial break.

Back live from commercial and all focus turns towards the High Octane Vision screen above the entrance ramp and the crowd stands as one for them….

Them Bandeets.

Their numbers, dwindling by the show.

Once there were five. Now, there are three. Bobby Dean, Beautiful as ever, is out in front to ensure the–

POP!

Zeb Martin is on his hip. Levi Garret trucker cap snugly atop of his head.

Joe Hoffman: Here come the Bandits, Benny!

Benny Newell: I’ve been waiting for this moment for an extremely long time. Those fuckers are going to burn tonight! ALL OF THEM! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!

Joe Hoffman: And there’s the LSD Champion! No company jumpsuit tonight, he’s got the off black funeral wear on! My God what a main event that is going to be! STEEL CAGE announced yesterday. There’s going to be a definitive winner, and I don’t know who!

Benny Newell: Fuck him. He got lucky. I hope Hughie knocks all his teeth out. Let’s see him smile then. Jerk off.

Jiles is prowling a few feet behind the rest of the pack. His shades are Skynet certified, and his hair is still a certain shade of gray. Each step he takes it seems another wad of charcoal colored lunger goes flying from out of his mouth.

And when he’s not spitting…

Jiles: You FAT. STUPID. MONGOLOID OF A MAN. YOU BETTER WALK ON. I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU DIDN’T HOLD THE DOOR OPEN FOR ME! And YOU! WITH THAT STUPID FUCKING HAT. HOW DARE YOU? HOW. DARE. YOU. WHAT’S A MATTER? DIDN’T YOUR DADDY TEACH YOU ANY MANNERS? ME. CHAMPION. YOU… PITIFUL. FUCKING. LOSERS. THEY DIDN’T SAY IT, BUT YOU GUYS ARE THE REASON THEY LEFT. YOU TWO ANKLE WEIGHTS. I’LL TELL YOU THIS MUCH. YOU LOSE TONIGHT AND YOU CAN GO JOIN THEM IN NOWHERE. THAT’S THE FUCKING TRUTH.

Somehow, Bobby and Zeb are able to resist the urge to turn around and continue walking. It would seem as if they are taking the full brunt of Graybush’s SCORNED howl.

Jiles: OH. And you motherfuckers better have my back tonight! Don’t try telling me some sob story about it being inside a steel cage either! FIGURE IT OUT. FOR ONCE. Here’s a hint. NOT PLAN Z WHERE YOU GO AND FUCK EVERYTHING UP! YOU HEAR ME YOU TWO!!!!

Somehow, Bobby and Zeb are still able to resist the urge to turn around. They must know something no one else does. Maybe it’s that Jiles is hurting worse than they are?

Still though…

It’s starting to get excessive.

Jiles: Fucking Hollywood Boyz. YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME, ZEB! NO I’M NOT OVER IT!

That one did it.

Although I’m sure they all added up.

Zeb stops. He doesn’t turn, but he stops. Bobby, after obliviously taking a few more steps, also comes to a halt.

Silence.

Joe Hoffman: The Champ is losing it, Benny. Right before our eyes! I can’t watch.

Benny Newell: I haven’t been this hard since I blacked out on Viagra.

Unbothered, the Maestro continues to walk. His pompous swagger is only matched by the foul mood that he is. He throws a non-playful shoulder into Zeb as he passes by, and then he spits directly on Bobby’s shoe while walking by him. He does not stop to turn around and address his egg brethren, but rather he turns the corner leaving both his fellow Bandits standing by themselves.

“Damn.”

That voice…

“That was brutal.”

…could only belong to one man.

“Personally, I’d have slapped the shit out of him if he took that tone with me.”

The Straw that Stirs the Drink.

Eric Dane: But I’ve got balls, so, there is that.

Zeb Martin has had just about enough.

Zeb Martin: Reckon you might have sumptin’ else mo important tuh attend tuh?  Ain’t tryin’ tuh squabble with CJ…

He jabs a thumb in the direction that Jiles had fucked off to.

Zeb Martin: …’cuz he’s kinfolk to me.  You on the other hand, though…

The Only Star blinks at him in the most patronizing of ways. After an awkward moment Eric turns his attention to Bobby Dean who looks like he might just cry.

Eric Dane: Bobby. Jesus. He spit on your fuckin’ shoe, man.

Sheepishly, Bobby chews on his bottom lip.

Bobby Dean: Maybe now’s not the best time, yanno?

Dane raises an eyebrow.

Eric Dane: Come on, man, think about last week. Everything I said about Jiles is true and you know it. He literally just scolded you like a dog and he spit on your goddamn shoe, Bobby. You can’t just stand there and take that shit.

Zeb tries to interject; Dane cuts him off with a raised finger an inch in front of his face. He never breaks eye contact with the man that used to make his reservations, carry his bags, do all his driving, and bring his coffee. To his credit Bobby doesn’t run away screaming.

Eric Dane: Listen. Bobby. I told you last week. You’re better than this shit. Even you…

Eric finally spares a glance at Martin.

Eric Dane: …you’re a man, ain’tcha?

Zeb Martin: Reckon so.

The Antagonist nods.

Eric Dane: Then do something. That’s all I’m sayin’.

A smirk finds its way to Dane’s face.

Eric Dane: Or don’t. Be stooges forever. Fuck do I care, am I right?

Another awkward moment hangs in the air before Dane heads off in the opposite direction of wherever the LSD Champion went, leaving the last two eggs in the basket once again standing alone in the hallway.

Zeb Martin: Nice fella.

The sarcasm dripped from the “compliment” that the Watson Mill Kid just paid to Dane.

Bobby Dean: You have no idea.

The camera lingers on the face of the Beautiful Boy from Honalee for a long moment before blacking out and jumping back to ringside.

Joe Hoffman: Benny, we got a potential barn burner ready to be raised here. High Flyer, the 25 year veteran hopping on the 97Red train straight to HOW central battles the forever loved by Missy, Simon Loveless. What do you expect here tonight between these two consummate professionals?

Benny Newell: What are you getting at. You looking for a raise?

Joe Hoffman: Simon most recently had to deal with Jatt…

Benny Newell: – STAR, THE Mayor of ManJATTAN Hoff-Hole. The JATTINUM STANDARD.

Joe Hoffman: Did he provide a list of buzz terms Newell?

Benny Newell: So what if I found a six pack with an index card taped to the bottom. StarrSek Industries and the BEST Alliance are straight TRUTH Joe. And I challenge anyone to prove they bribed me. Listen, Simon Loveless was just a victim. Maybe he can rebound against…

Joe Hoffman: Jack Harmen, aka High Flyer, has had an interesting career in HOW since arriving….

Benny Newell: Nobody cares Hoff. DRINK!

Joe Hoffman: I’m sure Flyer cares.

Benny Newell: I said DRINK!

“Nobody Does It Better” by Carly Simon blasts over the pa system as the sultry leg of Missy Monet parts the entrance curtain, hung up at the entrance ramp. Her leg kicks up in the air as she parts the curtain, revealing Simon Loveless behind her. Simon cusps her around the waist and raises his free hand to taunt the HOW crowd. The two make their way ringside, with Loveless holding an arm around Missy’s shoulder, occasionally shooing away outstretched HOW fans hands with extreme prejudice.

Joe Hoffman: There he is, Simon Loveless. A victory over Kostoff goes a long way…

Benny Newell: Does it?

Joe Hoffman: Loveless looking to rebound from his loss to Jatt Starr however.

Benny Newell: Don’t get me wrong. He’s probably got a little extra rope to hang himself from Papa Best by takin’ down Kostoff, but at the end of the day, it’s “What have you done for me lately.”

“Crazy Train” by Ozzy Osbourne blares from the PA speakers. A light fog, almost steam engine-esq, rises from the entrance ramp as Jack Harmen emerges from the backstage area. His feet stomp on the metallic entrance rampway as he raises one hand skyward in a devil horn taunt. Leading his rear is his manager and protege, the Tiny Attorny Mary-Lynn Mayweather. She holds a clipboard in her hand and makes notes as Flyer reaches out and slaps the hands of the HOW fans in attendance. Flyer stops near the rampway and climbs up the steel steps, hesitating before entering the ring. He makes sure Simon and Missy are sharing a small intimate moment before slipping inside.

Joe Hoffman: Small veteran nuance there Benny, Harmen making sure Loveless’ attention is diverted before entering the ring. You never know when the piranha’s will pounce.

Benny Newell: Always be prepared in the shark infested waters of HOW.

Loveless blocks the official from checking on Missy and is checked himself for weapons. Flyer has his wrists and boots checked, and the opening bell is rung. Hoffman and Newell go over a bit of banter as Flyer and Loveless kick start the opening chain wrestling sequence. Collar and elbow tie up into a go behind by Loveless and a smack of the back of the head of Harmen and a taunt. Another collar and elbow and Flyer gets the go behind, into the ropes, Loveless hooks them to block the roll up.

Joe Hoffman: The battle of the Yakuza Kicks Benny. Flyer’s variation is just a bit more deadly.

Benny Newell: Yeah, but Simon’s Loveless Driver is way more effective than that stupid Flyer Driver. That’s why wrestling is nuanced. It’s a battle of strengths and weaknesses.

Joe Hoffman: Highly coherent Benny.

Benny Newell: I know. I didn’t like it either.

Loveless turns and charges, as Flyer barely gets out of the way of the oncoming yakuza kick from Simon. As he dodges, Flyer kicks out his leg and sweep’s Simon’s plant leg, sending him to the mat. Flyer completes the twirl from the leg spin and leaps, corkscrew sentoning onto the exposed chest of Loveless into a pin.

Of which Simon crucifix reverses into a cradle of his own. Neither get a serious pin attempt as Flyer rolls out of it. Simon recovers and Missy shrieks at him. Loveless barely dodges at the last moment of the charging Yakuza Kick of Flyer. Loveless dives out of the ring and into the arms of Missy, who shouts “WHATEVER!” at a stomping and smiling Flyer in the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Both men showing their situational awareness and veteran positioning early on. Without Missy though, this match might be over Benny.

Benny Newell: Behind every great man Hoff-Hole.

As Missy gently strokes Simon’s chin to calm the nerves, Loveless turns to the fans reaching out their hands and shouts at them to get away. Missy shrieks again alerting Simon to turn, but only in time to catch noggin to noggin, the diving forearm of a topein’ Lunatic. The fans pop as both men stumble into the barricade, Flyer on his feet. Flyer grabs Loveless and irish whips him into the steps, no reversed, but Flyer jumps onto the top step, and then twists his body into a Lou Thesz Press, raining rights and lefts down to Loveless. He hops off, grabs Loveless and throws him into the ring. As Flyer tries to follow him in, Missy grabs his ankle and blocks him. This is enough time for Simon to recover and catch Flyer with a stunning Yakuza King, that sends the Lunatic tumbling out of the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Woah!

Benny Newell: Drink! For each count!

Our official starts his count, gets up to four before Flyer stirs. Flyer pulls himself up using the ring apron, and then slides in at 7, with our official watching to make sure Missy had no part. As Flyer recovers, Loveless grabs him behind and lifts him onto his shoulders, but Flyer flips completely out. As he does, Loveless looks to have pulled something and falls to his knee.

Joe Hoffman: Psycho Dri-NO! Flyer gets out and lands on his feet, off the other side.

Just as Loveless barely gets back to standing.

Benny Newell: DRINK!

Joe Hoffman: LOCOMOTIVE! Folds Loveless up like an accordion! Right into the cover, that just looked fluid Benny.

One.

Two.

Three!

The count is academic as the “All Aboard” of Crazy Train rings out over the pa system.

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner, via pinfall… HIIIIIIGH, FLLYYYYYYYYY-EEEEERRR.

Missy stomps her feet in frustration outside as Flyer stands to his feet. He insists his hand is raised by the official, and basks in the victory as his name echoes through the Best Arena. Mary-Lynn climbs onto the apron outside and claps for her client.

Joe Hoffman: Something to be said Benny, at any time, a match can end suddenly in HOW.

Benny Newell: Loveless just didn’t bring it tonight Hoff. “What have you done for me lately,” NOTHIN’! DRINK.

Joe Hoffman: Well, I doubt that’s the last we see of Loveless, although judging by how he’s limping outside of the ring being held up by Missy, it may be a little while before we see him back in a HOW ring.

Benny Newell: Big news outta this though, Lee Best’s Reject Wildcard showing some potential again. Maybe he can finally build some momentum and go from sucking to fucking.

Joe Hoffman: I… wait what?

Benny Newell: You heard me. DRINK!

The action cuts away to the HOV as a video begins to play

The HOV comes to life and a video begins to play….

A dark locker room and faint grunting. The moon’s hazy glare traveling through a sole window is the only source of what is scarce lighting. A man, a shadow really, bear-chested is doing pullups on a doorway. The moon provides just enough light to see the fair hair on the man’s torso as he pulls himself up.

“Close to 20 years I’ve waited…20 F’n years. As a guppy in 2002, I didn’t have what it took to make it to the big leagues…my dream destination…High Octane Wrestling.”

Voices swirl and overlap in the background.

–       ‘No talent… destined for the bottom…enhancement matches are in his future’ –

“So, I had to take the scenic route.”

Grainy video clip bleeds in.

Voiceover: This young up and coming bloke needs to show…oh would you look at that move.

A bald man with a chiseled frame, camo shorts, and stubbled beard puts out another man with an F5.

Grainy video clip bleeds in.

Voiceover: Der Pate des Wrestlings ist zu viel für ihn…aber warte’.

The same man staples on a gogoplata on an older gentleman with a receding hair line on top of a ladder.

Audio 

Voiceover: ファンは実際に彼を応援しています

Indiscernable cheeeeerr

“…but now I’m here.”

“The human body has over 650 muscles, did you know that?”

The shadowing figure is drenched in sweat, his short, grey shorts all that’s available to contain it  as he pulls himself pulls himself up once more.

Grainy video clip bleeds in.

Voiceover: That quad looks grotesque.

The man is writhing in pain holding his leg.

Voiceover: Did he just sew his own peck?

“…am I ready now?”

“I did it all for this.”

HIGH OCTANE WRESTLING

“Come find out with me.”

KEVIN CAPONE

COMING SOON!

The video comes to an end and we cut backstage…

The scene cuts backstage to the office of Mario Maurako where the Marvelous One is admiring his ridiculously expensive but finely crafted chess set. It is that of the Roman Coliseum with a glass chess board placed on top. Roman Empire themed pieces grace the top of the board. The pieces are all set up like Mario is about to play a game, but he is the only one in the office. Just then the door bursts open and the members of StarrSek Industries (followed by The Switch) enter.

JATT STARR: Mario!

MARIO MAURAKO: JATT! SEKTOR! Come in! Come in!

JATT STARR: What the heck, Mario!

MARIO MAURAKO: Isn’t it magnificent?

Mario Maurako returns his gaze to his newest and pricey purchase.

MARIO MAURAKO: All pieces were handcrafted! Look at the horseys and their little chariots!

JATT STARR: No! Not that! We’re upset!

MARIO MAURAKO: I was going to ask you to play, you just didn’t give me—

JATT STARR: You haven’t returned any of my calls!

MARIO MAURAKO: I’m a busy man doing very important things. What’s the problem?

JATT STARR: How in the hell does Conor Fuse get an ICON Title shot before either of us?! He doesn’t deserve one! Sektor and I combined have….John, how many championships have Sektor and I won combined?

Sektor begins writing a math equation in the air with his finger, this goes on for about fifteen seconds. Finally, he says….

SEKTOR: A fuck ton!

JATT STARR: That many! Meanwhile, Conor Fuse has had what? Four matches and a high score in Double Dragon? Is that what constitutes getting a title shot these days? After everything Sektor and I have done for the HOW, where’s our shots? Instead of rewarding the two greatest Hall of Famers in HOW history with title shots, we get Booby Dean and Joe Dirt?

MARIO MAURAKO: Guys! Comrades! Amici! Hombres! Amigos! I get it! You feel disrespected. Passed over for some delusional gamer with an ogre sidekick. If it were up to me, you would both be getting title shots and enjoying massages from busty Swedes named Inga and Bjorn while drinking champagne and eating cocktail weenies, but that is above my pay grade.

JATT STARR: But Conor Fuse—-

MARIO MAURAKO: The match is signed and happening tonight, it’s out of my hands.

JATT STARR: Then please, Don Mario, Godfather of my daughter, who ditched me, leaving me to rot in a pit of loneliness and despair, where alcohol is my—-

Sektor clears his throat and waves the Ruler of Jattlantis on.

JATT STARR: Right, please, Mario, grant me this favor and allow me to referee the ICON title match tonight.

MARIO MAURAKO: In the words of Beethoven, the original def jam, (to Beethoven’s 5th Symphony) Dun Dun Dun DONE!

JATT STARR: Switch! Make a note….Beethoven the composer, In. Those crappy Beethoven dog movies, Obsolete. Also obsolete, phone booths, jazzercise, and Scott Stevens.

The Switch pulls out a pen and pad from his jacket pocket and begins writing.

MARIO MAURAKO: That reminds me. Thirteen years ago, didn’t you make a DVD, “Jattzercise: Jazzercise with Jatt Starr”?

JATT STARR: You swore you would never bring that up!

MARIO MAURAKO: Oh right!! Forget I said anything.

SEKTOR: Wait, what was that?

MARIO MAURAKO: It is hysterically bad. We’re talking “The Room” level of entertainingly bad. I’ll show you later.

JATT STARR: You said you destroyed it!

MARIO MAURAKO: I say a lot of things, apparently.

JATT STARR: I want that DVD destroyed!

MARIO MAURAKO: No, no! One favor per customer. That’s the rule!

JATT STARR: John! Buddy! Tell him to destroy it.

SEKTOR: Fuck that.

Jatt inhales to continue protesting but Sektor stops him in his tracks holding up his hand.

SEKTOR: Enough of this horse shit, can we get back to business please?

Sektor looks at Jatt first who is angrily staring at Mario through the corner of his eye as Mario pretends to do some actions from the Jattzercise video. He then stops as Sektor looks at him.

SEKTOR: Mario—

MARIO MAURAKO: Godfather.

SEKTOR: Sorry, Godfather, whilst I get, that we can’t just walk back in here and expect title shots….particularly me because I literally haven’t even broken a sweat yet..

Mario raises an eyebrow, wondering where Sektor is going with this.

SEKTOR: I think it’s pretty obvious that after WE….

He continues, pointing simultaneously between himself and Jatt.

SEKTOR: …beat, what’s left of those shitty eGG Bandits, that we should be considered the number one contenders to the Tag Team titles. ¿Correcto?

MARIO MAURAKO: Er…Donde esta Julio Iglesias? I don’t speak Spanish… well not fluently anyhow. But I hear what you are saying. Don’t worry. I got your back.

SEKTOR: So, is that a yes?

MARIO MAURAKO: Sektor, as Godfather of the Tag Team division, it is within my rights to grant you this favor in the name of the Best Alliance.

SEKTOR: Fucking-A. Brian Hollywood and….what’s his partner’s name again?

JATT STARR: “Obsolete Friend”.

SEKTOR: Right. They’re as good as dead. Now let’s go scramble some fucking eggs!

JATT STARR: Thank you, Godfather. In return, I grant The Switch permission to play chess with you.

MARIO MAURAKO: Meh, I’m not in the mood anymore. But Hungry, Hungry Hippos….that’s another story!

Sektor and Jatt Starr proceed to leave the office of Mario Maurako while The Switch takes a seat across from Mario for a round of board game fun as the scene ends and we cut to a commercial break.

Back live and “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” by AC/DC blasts around the arena, whilst the crowd cheer in excitement and anticipation of the upcoming tag match. Two stagemen part the curtain to make way for a golf buggy being driven by none other than Jatt Starr. In the passenger seat is his tag team partner, John Sektor, with slicked back black hair and a well groomed moustache. Sektor leans back comfortably, puffing away on a Cuban cigar as Jatt gives the royal wave. On the side of the golf buggy are the words:

“Starrbage Truck”

The golf buggy is towing, what appears to be, a large dumpster with the words:

“StarrSek Industries Disposal Unit,” written on the side in bold and branded lettering.

Brian McVay: The next tag team match is ONE FALL… making their way to the ring at a combined weight of four hundred and seventy pounds, representing the BEST ALLIANCE, JOHN SEKTOR….JATT STARR…STARRSEK INDUSTRIIIIIIIIIIIIIES!

Jatt swings around one side of the ring, backing up the dumpster so that it sits alongside the ring apron. Sektor has already jumped out, snatching the microphone out of Brian McVay’s hands.

Joe Hoffman: Here come two legends, making their tag team debut and it appears as though they’ve brought a giant trash can with them. As we heard last week, these two have taken it upon themselves to ‘clean up HOW’ so to speak, and it looks like they’re planning to do the same with the eGG Bandits here tonight.

Benny Newell: Shhh Joe! The Gold Standards about to speak.

Sektor stands in the middle of the ring, waiting for their music to stop as Jatt joins him in the ring, limbering up as best he can.

Sektor: Last week the eGG Bandits stunk this fucking ring out!

Boo’s from the Bandit fans in attendance.

Sektor: Tonight, you are all privileged to watch as the two biggest ICONS this business has ever seen work side by side to clean up OUR company and restore greatness. Bobby…Zeb..

Sektor turns and looks towards the entrances.

Sektor: Your asses are going in the trash! Que Pasa?

Benny Newell: GOD I LOVE THIS MAN! No homo, though, in case Hollywood’s watching this.

Lights out. “Banditstruck”, an AC/DC Remix, reverberates throughout the Best Arena.

Ah ah ah ah ah ah…

Joe Hoffman: And here come their opponents!

Ah ah ah ah ah ah…

Benny Newell: Scrambled, fried, however you like ‘em, but one thing’s for sure… these eggs are gonna get cracked and cooked tonight! DRINK!

A spotlight the shape of an egg illuminates the top of the entrance ramp.

Ah ah ah ah ah ah…

Two figures emerge from the back and step into the egglight; Zeb looking oddly focused. Bobby’s pouting, staring at his boots.

Ah ah ah ah ah ah…

Bryan McVay: And their opponents, weighing a combined 455 pounds… representing the eGG Bandits, probably?

Bryan shoots a quizzical look toward Dean and Martin. Bobby, head still down, doesn’t notice. Zeb shrugs.

Joe Hoffman: Looks like they might already be cracked, Benny.

Bryan McVay: Either way, they are Zeb Maaaaartiiiiinnnnn and Beeeaaaaauuuutifuuuuuuulllllllll…. Bobby! Deeeeaaaannnnnn!!!

Ah ah ah ah ah ah– Band-its!

Benny Newell: This is going to be so much fun, Hoffhole! I don’t know if I’ve ever been this excited for a midcard matchup!

Ah ah ah ah ah ah– Band-its!

The rest of the tune you know all too well plays out as two slide into the ring and make their way to the corner opposite Jatt Starr and John Sektor. Zeb offers to let Bobby start, but the dejected Dean shakes his head like a scolded child and steps through the ropes onto the apron..

Benny Newell: These guys are so dead! What in the world did I do to get such a treat, Joe? Think hard. I did give a homeless guy a bottle the other day. It was pretty much dry, but had to have been a half sip left minus the backwash. Can’t think of anything else!

Jatt and John size up the zeroed in Zeb. They nod in unison and Sektor steps out onto the apron. Joel Hortega spits words at the competitors and quickly calls for the bell.

DING!

Starr and Martin slowly approach each other with open hands in front of them. As they get within reach of the other, Jatt raises his arms up looking like a standing bear more than anything else.

Joe Hoffman: An unorthodox approach to start here by High Octane Hall of Famer, Jatt Starr.

Zeb, keeping his eyes locked on Jatt’s, reaches up to accept the strangest test of strength of his young career. Just before he can grab Starr’s hands, Jatt snaps them away. Martin, confused by his hands grabbing air, glances up – Starr sends a swift kick to the groin doubling Zeb over!

Joel Hortega jumps in the middle of the two, scolding Jatt who backs away with his hands raised innocently.

Joe Hoffman: Hortega’s not too happy with that cheap shot by Starr!

Benny Newell: Cheap shot? That was clearly a missed shin kick, Joe. Jeez stop being so biased!

Hortega back off Jatt, who immediately charges the still doubled over Martin.

Joe Hoffman: Starr sends a knee into the ribs of – NO! Zeb Martin with a last second snapmare counter using Jatt’s own momentum to take him down.

Starr rolls and pops up to his feet frantically. Martin leaps up and catches a charging Jatt for a strong spinebuster! Starr bounces up from the impact, holding his back as he falls back down, rolling over in pain around the mat toward his team’s corner.

Joe Hoffman: Martin grabs Jatt’s leg, pulling him away from making the tag to fellow Hall of Famer, John Sektor.

Benny Newell: Smartest thing I’ve seen that kid do.

Shaking his head frantically, Jatt points over Martin’s shoulders.

Jatt Starr: Where’s Bob?!

Concerned, Zeb snaps around to see Bobby Dean shouting –

Bobby Dean: Don’t tur- OH NO!

Joe Hoffman: The warning was a split second too late there from Bobby Dean as Jatt Sarr just leapt to tag in Sektor! Here he comes!

John charges into the ring and puts Zeb down before he can even fully turn back around with a spinning forearm smash. Sektor invites Dean to step through the ropes. Bob politely declines.

Benny Newell: Get in there, Dean! Make it a fair fight!

Sektor turns back to Martin, who’s halfway back to standing upright, and sends a overhead chop down –

Joe Hoffman: Zeb with a quick side step to avoid the blow! He grabs Sektor, pulling him into a lifted knee! Martin stands, grabbing Sektor by his side – GUTWRENCH SUPLEX! Zeb turns over and goes for an early pin!

Hortega drops.

1…

KICKOUT!

Benny Newell: Sektor just threw that long haired punk off him like he was nothing!

The two both get to their feet quickly. Martin throws a right hand that connects, but doesn’t even stagger his opponent, who sends a right back at him.

Joe Hoffman: Zeb Martin exchanging blows with John Sektor now! I gotta say, he’s holding his own in there so far against a team of vetted Hall of Famers!

After a third punch for punch exchange, Sektor reels back and lands a haymaker, sending Zeb back a couple steps toward The Best Alliance’s corner.

Martin shakes it off and reels back for his own-

Joe Hoffman: Oh, come on! Jatt Starr just grabbed Zeb’s fist and while holding onto it, jumped off the apron! Looks like Martin’s arm got hyperextended for sure there, Benny.

Hortega leans over the ropes, shouting warnings once again at the ever innocent Jatt Starr.

Benny Newell: That’s just solid teamwork, Hoffhole. Don’t worry, being a Bandit fan and all, you clearly wouldn’t know what that looks like!

Sektor waits as Martin twists back toward him, then grabs the arm Starr just hyperextended and yanks Zeb around and down facefirst onto the mat. He starts yanking the arm up, putting all his weight on Martin’s back.

Joe Hoffman: Pure John Sektor here, going after the arm he just saw his partner potentially injure with a fujiwara armbar!

Hortega drops to check on Zeb, who shakes his red-faced head, clearly in pain.

Joe Hoffman: Wow! Look at the ring awareness by young Zeb Martin, who just managed to get a foot up on the rope remembering he was in his opponent’s corner!

Without moving an unnecessary muscle, and with Hortega still checking in with Zeb, Jatt Starr nonchalantly kicks Martin’s foot off the rope.

Benny Newell: What foot on the rope?

Joe Hoffman: Oh, come on! You’ve got eyes, Benny!

Sektor increases his leverage on Martin’s arm, but the Watson Mill Kid starts to squirm. He gets his free arm under him for support and kicks his legs back with enough force to get Sektors weight off his back. Within the window, Zeb uses his momentum to flip over onto his back and twists over, sending a rolling kick up that smacks John square in the jaw.

Joe Hoffman: What a display of mat skill by young Zeb!

Benny Newell: I’m not sure how just yet, but he definitely cheated just then. Somehow.

Not letting the window of opportunity pass, Martin scurries past the stunned Sektor and jumps toward his team’s corner, slapping the outreached hand of Bobby Dean.

Joe Hoffman: Here comes Bobby with fresh legs!

Benny Newell: Said no one ever.

Dean charges toward Sektor, who quickly tags Jatt Starr back in, and slides under the ropes before Bobby can reach him. Starr grabs Dean by the head and drops off the apron. Bob bounces back up, holding his neck.

Joe Hoffman: Starr, from the outside, just swept Bob’s legs out sending him to the mat after that brutal top rope hangman.

Jatt, being the legal man, slides into the ring after yet another Hortega warning. He stands between the Bandit’s corner and Dean, crouched and taunting the Bandit to get to his feet. Just as Dean starts pulling himself up, Starr lunges forward –

Joe Hoffman: Bobby Dean with an unexpected counter, sending a back elbow right into Jatt Starr’s face!

The blow stood Starr straight up. Bob, eager to capitalize, jumps to his feet and scoops up Starr.

Benny Newell: Oh, please no – where’s my bottle?!

Joe Hoffman: Bobby Dean looking for a Michinoku dri- NO! Starr just wiggled his way off the back shoulder of the Beautiful One – He’s got Bob in the air! MANJATTAN DROP!

Benny Newell: FUCKING! RIGHT! DRIIIIIIIIIIIIINK!

Starr pops back up immediately and tags Sektor back in. Jatt picks Bob up and sets him up, standing in the Best Alliance corner. The two Hall of Famers position themselves in the middle of the ring and Sektor grabs Starr and irish whips him toward Bob –

Joe Hoffman: John Sektor sending Starr into the – NO! Starr reverses the whip and sends Sektor flying across the ring, sending a huge right hand into Zeb Martin who just flew off the apron into the barricade!

Sektor turns back toward Bob and charges, landing a big corner splash that sends Bob falling face first onto the mat.

Benny Newell: FINISH HIM!

John Sektor wastes no time and falls to the mat, applying a dragon sleeper on the fallen Bobby Dean.

Joe Hoffman: This could be it folks. Sektor’s applying extra leverage, hyperextending Bobby Dean’s neck while applying all his weight and pressure on his lower back…

Benny Newell: IT’S THE SEKTOR STRETCH! I’VE BEEN WAITING SO LONG I COULD CRY!

Hortega drops to check on Bobby Dean.

Benny Newell: HE TAPPED! HE TAPPED!

It’s not just blind fanboyism. Bobby starts slapping the canvas frantically as Sektor continues to apply more and more leverage.

Hortega calls for the bell.

DING DING DING!

Benny Newell: AHHHH! I think I need a cigarette, Joe!

Bryan McVay: And your winners… John Sektor and Jatt Starr… STARRSEK!! INDUSTRIIIIIIIIIIIIIES!!!

Sektor shoves Dean’s head forward, releasing his grasp on the eGG Bandit with conviction as he joins his elated tag partner, Jatt Starr in the middle of the ring, ready for his hispanic compatriot Joel Hortega to raise their arm in victory. As Hortega holds both mens arms in the air, Sektor and Jatt use their free arms to smack their hands together in acknowledgement of one another’s efforts.

Joe Hoffman: Pretty dominant display by the BA, wait a second..

Sektor, with a nod of the head, rolls out of the ring and begins to open the “StarrSek Industries Disposal Unit (SIDU). With the lid of the dumpster open he climbs back in the ring and stares down at the canvas at Bobby Dean, who is holding the back of his neck and trying to garner the energy to get to his feet.

Benny Newell: Time to take out the trash, Hoffman!

Sektor grabs Bobby by the back of his head and his jaw, easing him to his feet and pushing him against the ropes. Bobby looks deflated and in pain as his eyes scream mercy at the Gold Standard. Jatt suddenly appears at Sektor’s side and appears to be saying something to him.

Joe Hoffman: If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that Jatt was trying to reason with Sektor here..

Sektor plants his hands on his hips, looking down at the canvas as he listens to his tag partner. Eventually he looks around at the crowd and then at Bobby. He plants a hand on the side of his cheek, seemingly offering words of encouragement to the down and out eGG Bandit.

Benny Newell: See Joe? Sektor does have a heart. He senses that Bobby is….down in the DUMPS!

Eventually Sektor turns from Bobby, giving a wink at Jatt, before the pair jump back and execute a flawlessly timed, DOUBLE SUPER KICK.

The boots of Sektor and Jatt connect with the jaw of Bobby Dean, sending the former big man over the top rope and straight into the dumpster.

Joe Hoffman: Oh, COME ON! Enough’s enough. You got your win, leave the ring like sportsman!

Zeb Martin can be seen leering at the pair from outside the ring, proppep up on the apron with his elbows. Sektor and Jatt leave the ring, smirking from ear to ear as Dirty Deeds replays. The two then re-enter the ‘Starrbage Truck’ and head backstage, towing the dumpster with them as we cut elsewhere.

The show directly jumps to Blaire Moise with Conor Fuse backstage.

Blaire Moise: I’m here tonight with the challenger for the Icon Championship, Conor Fuse. Conor, it’s been nothing but success for you in HOW so far but this has to be, without a doubt, your biggest match yet vs. Dan Ryan and a shot to become the Icon Champion! What are you thinking especially with the news that Jatt Starr is now the special guest referee?

Conor rocks back and forth. He’s trying to show confidence but there’s a sense of confusion around him as well. The Vintage is already dressed for a fight, in his lime green ring tights, shooting sleeve and bandana. He takes one deep breath and then addresses Blaire.

Conor Fuse: Yes, yes. I beat a handful of BOTS quickly. I skipped some levels and here we are. Enter: Dan Ryan. One of the baddest, most evilest Bosses in the entire HOW system!

Conor attempts to drop his silly demeanor for a moment. He looks directly at Blaire and then into the camera.

Conor Fuse: And yet, I’ve got this Jatt guy after me, a special BOT in my match tonight, with blatant copyright infringement. He’s got a mute dummy named The Switch. He’s calling himself something like “The HOW Classic”. Ummmm, okay. Go ahead and try to be another Conor Fuse, you’ll fail. I’m one-of-a-kind! I’m The Vintage. The Original. The Retro Wrestler. Throwback Master. There, Blaire, I just gave you a ton of nicknames that are better than his. My mind… my mind works beyond anyone else in this league!

Fuse’s look intensifies.

Conor Fuse: I also have to deal with the death of Erin Gordon, my dear Erin Gordon. She was given her Game Over, all lives lost and no Continues at the hands of The Evil Within, Eric Dane. So I’ve got Jatt after me, I have to come to terms with losing the wrestler I looked up to the most…

Conor says this with an insincere look in his eyes before moving on.

Conor Fuse: …ANNNND I have to fight a Level Eight Boss tonight, in an attempt to shock the system! I have so much going on. If I was a normal guy I couldn’t keep track!

Fuse glances off-camera and snaps his fingers. The Game Boy walks into the picture with his hands full. Conor addresses what’s in The Mini Boss’ left hand first.

Conor Fuse: You see all those manila folders? They are filled with cheat codes [scouting reports] on Dan Ryan and the history of the Icon Championship. Also, the map [floor plans] to my parents house are in there too but that’s a story for another time. The point I’m trying to make, Blaire, is I know Dan Ryan. I have watched his entire campaign. If it was on tape, I’ve covered it. Will this prepare me for the real thing? I guess you and I are going to find out soon.

Blaire Moise can’t help but place her eyes on what’s in The Game Boy’s right hand. It’s a large black-and-white looking… toaster?

Fuse notices where Moise’s eyes are.

Conor Fuse: That’s my Magnavox Odyssey. It’s about as old and used as Dan Ryan. But you know what, Blaire, it still gets the job done. Ryan’s out for blood and I can respect that. However, The Vintage is ready to play along, too.

The Game Boy walks off. Conor is about to do the same but leans into the mic one more time.

Conor Fuse: I’m set for war, THE God of War, Dan Ryan. Just be careful Dan because I have my Magnavox along for the ride… and my henchman, who’s roughly the same size as you.

Fuse tussles Moise’s hair before leaving.

Conor Fuse: I’ve got Pong on the Magnavox if you wanna hit up a game later. My mom packed some cupcakes too. Chocolate banana. Just let me know.

And off he goes.

Blaire Moise: Coming up shortly, Dan Ryan defends against Conor Fuse for the Icon Championship!

Conor Fuse: [heard shouting down the hallway] I’M READY TO PLAY, DAN. LET’S BREAK THE CHAINS OF OLYMPUS TOGETHER!

We cut away to a commercial break..

Back live, outside The Best Arena, Steve Harrison stands looking as dapper as always, do not listen to Doozer, he is not dapper.  Steve stands with a mic in his hand dressed in his Tan Suit a few feet away from several burning oil drums or what us elites would call them: bum fires.   A few people scatter about trying to keep warm, but nobody is currently tossing any bullshit eGG Bandit Merchandise and the fires are fairly low.

Steve Harrison: I would say it is great to speak to fans of High Octane Rasslin but that would be a lie.  You know those things Bobby Dean tells the FBI when they raid and take his laptop.  As you can see the bum fires are burning and it is only right for this bon fire to be just that because the eGG Bandits will be circling around these for warmth in a few months after they all give up and crawl into some defiant hole.

Steve chuckles to himself and shrugs at the camera.

Steve Harrison: The truth is I must have overestimated the popularity the eGG Bandits have to the uneducated meth heads that frequent HOW shows.  Here I am burning shit and not many people have come up to contribute.  It is kind of sad because whatever is left of The Ministers congregation will need to cook and keep warm around these bum fires tonight.   That is not a dig at The Minister…we cool.

Steve attempts to hide the fact he is rolling his eyes.

Steve Harrison: But let us pray to the New World as we watch what little eGG Bandits merchandise there is burns, putting an end to a pathetic past stable of underachievers, choke artists, and perverts.

The Miracle Man places his hands close to the bum fires and looks up at the sky and mutters to himself.

Steve Harrison: Amen!  Tonight, we will bear witness to Cancer Jiles and his fake Chinese martial art going against the One Punch Man, Hughie Freeman.

The Suplex Saint stares at the camera and winks.

Steve Harrison: My friend…Hughie Freeman, that is.  Anime references everywhere with these two.   It is hard for me to pick who I want to win in this match.  On one hand there is that diabolical former Bandit who I want to offensively pierce with a shard of obsidian.   On the other hand, we have my new buddy, Hughie Freeman who is quite literally a fucking madman.  See I understand if Hughie wins this match it puts your favorite Milk Man watching from the sidelines as that washed up drunk Scottywood gets an LSD title shot.  You know that guy is a cutter, right?

Harrison shakes his head disgusted at the thought of that.

Steve Harrison: Not fair, huh?  It does not seem right that the undefeated superstar to the masses must be overlooked again.  I would enjoy greatly a match to finally extinguish the last remaining flame of the eGG Bandits…you know if tonight isn’t it.  Cancer Jiles, the man who puts the cool in cooldown, as in Cancer Jiles sure has cooldown the LSD titles prestige.

Harrison chuckles and points to his head saying that, he is of course the smartest guy in the room or within ten feet of a fire.

Steve Harrison: Last week that cheating son of bitch Cancer Jiles kicked me in the face when I wasn’t prepared.  My handsome face was finally injury free before that but then you had to aim directly where Lee Bests Hulk bodyguard had smacked me.   Now my jaw cracks everyone I bite into a $100 steak.  You know, expensive food you cannot possibly afford because all your money went into sustaining the literal garbage fire I am burning right now.  Now, tonight he is protected from my retribution inside a steel cage.  Believe it when I say this will not stop me from wiping that undeserved smirk off his face.  It will happen and if it is for the title even better.  If tonight the Pikey Prince wins the title, I will have to just be happy with injuring Jiles even if a title is not at stake.

The Miraculous Saint of Wrestling sighs and kicks a can out of his way.

Steve Harrison: It is sad though.  I wanted to be the one to finish off this burning group of dried jizz but instead they did it to themselves.  As I have stated you cannot evolve in this business if you are constantly relying on someone to cover for what you lack.  RICK’s whole career is relying on others and look what has happened to those stables: POOF.  I really feel for Zeb Martin…look I said it right for once and that is because he is working hard and getting zero support from his supposed teammates.  Zeb needs a real mentor, not a rotten has-been stable teaching him incorrectly.  Miracle Enterprise is always hiring hard working people.

Harrison tosses some eggs into the fire and frowns at it.  A few fans walk by and Steve waves at them.

Steve Harrison: Come, come, toss your memories of the eGG Bandits into the fire.

The fans flip off Harrison

Fan #1: Fuck you, Milk Man.

Steve takes a step back surprised.

Steve Harrison: WHAT???

Fan #2: eGG Bandits will live forever, asshole.

Steve looks away and stares into the camera with a smirk on his face.

Steve Harrison: I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that some illiterate morons would still stand up for their fallen heroes.

SMACK

SMACK

SMACK

Eggs begin flying at Steve from the two fans and other fans have begun to circle around all sharing eggs to throw at Steve.  Harrison ducks and moves and rolls across the pavement to escape the eggs as they splatter all around him.  He looks back to camera.

Steve Harrison: CUT THIS SHIT.

The camera man does not listen as it watches The Miracle Man run for his life as dozens of fans run after him throwing eggs at him.  He trips and suddenly tens of eggs begin pouring down on him as he tries to cover up, his beautiful suit getting ruined in the process.  Laughter is heard everywhere as the scene fades.

We cut back inside the arena where the lights in the arena turn off before the big screen flickers on, like it has just been plugged in. There, a picture of Conor Fuse’s head is placed in the middle and numerous faces of various HOW talent are scattered around, resembling that of a Mega Man stage select screen. As the selection lands on the current match at hand, the lights come back on and a green strobe light shines in the center of the rampway.

Joe Hoffman: It’s time for the ICON Championship match, folks, and this one is exciting. Conor Fuse is relatively new to the High Octane scene, but he’s impressed thus far, earning four victories across four matches. Tonight, he’ll take on the Hammer of God himself, Dan Ryan, with an opportunity to become the HOW ICON Champion.

Benny Newell: Look, I like this kid and all, but Dan Ryan is basically just a giant slab of meat with murder for arms. When’s the last time you saw Dan Ryan lose to a guy half his size?

Joe Hoffman: Cecilworth Farthington.

Benny Newell: Yeah but like, before that.

Emerging from the back is Conor Fuse, followed by his henchman, The Game Boy. Conor takes a moment to pose with his left fist in the air. He turns back to The Game Boy and smacks the hulking individual on the chest before marching his way down to the ring, sporting a smile and too much confidence.

He stops at the front of the ring, takes one leap onto the apron and then with easy clears the ropes and somersaults into the squared circle while The Game Boy crosses his arms and waits on the outside.

Joe Hoffman: The Game Boy is ringside tonight, as he is most nights. With Jatt Starr being named as the special referee for tonight’s match, it might not hurt to have backup on hand– the Best Alliance isn’t known for their impartiality, and I can’t imagine Jatt Starr asked to be the referee in order to see a good clean fight.

Benny Newell: What a dumb name. Game Boy? That’s a game MAN.

The lights go out and a dual-spotlight makes an encircling pattern on the entrance area as the opening riff of the song plays. When the riff audio kicks it up a notch, Dan Ryan steps out and pauses, looking into the audience, then heads down the aisle as pyro blasts behind him. The video shows clips from his career: power bombing Bobby Dean, super kicking Andy Murray, taking MJ Flair’s head off with a clothesline, hitting Perfection with the Headliner, countering a Jack Harmen dive into a vicious power slam, smirking as he pins Doozer, standing on a balcony looking down at Andy Murray with a sinister grin on his face.

Joe Hoffman: Dan Ryan has been virtually unstoppable since War Games, winning the ICON Championship with absolute ease at No Remorse and literally ending careers in the process. Conor Fuse says he’s taking this match seriously, and I hope that’s true. A lot more than a title could be riding on how prepared Conor is for this matchup.

Benny Newell: PEOPLE MIGHT DIE, JOE. DRINK!

Ryan walks directly to the ring, rolls in under the bottom rope, and climbs the nearest turnbuckle, keeping his arms down and smirking into the crowd as the music plays.

Finally, “I Want It All” by Queen begins to blast over the speakers, as Jatt Starr makes his way out from behind the curtain in a pair of white pants and a dapper referee’s shirt. He slowly makes his way down the ramp, smirking as he climbs up into the ring.

Once he’s firmly planted and ready to officiate, Jatt calls for the bell, and this match is officially underway.

DING DING DING

Conor Fuse is showing no fear, making his way to the center of the ring as he stares a hole into the champion. Dan Ryan gives him a half smirk, slowly walking toward the center as well, and staring down at Fuse with the look of a cat about to play with its food. Fuse doesn’t back down, though, even as Dan Ryan puts his hand out and calls for a test of strength.

Fuse looks up at Ryan’s hand, and then extends his own in acceptance. As the two men interlock their fingers, Dan Ryan tries to catch his smaller opponent off guard with a stiff boot to the stomach, but Conor seems to be a step ahead! He catches the boot with his free hand, taking the champion off balance! Fuse gives Ryan’s leg a shove, sending him careening flat onto his back, as the crowd roars in surprise!

Dan Ryan quickly scrambles back to his feet, but now the mood in the ring is darker– he doesn’t seem all too pleased at being made a fool of, as he snarls and charges forward. Fuse charges toward the opposite ropes, though, springboarding and nailing a dropkick directly to the jaw of the champion! Ryan drops to a knee, and now Fuse follows up, this time with a spinning heel kick that takes Dan Ryan all the way to the mat!

Joe Hoffman: A stunning series of strikes here from Conor Fuse! He’s using Dan Ryan’s own size against him, which might be his best shot at keeping this match firmly in his favor.

Benny Newell: In his favor? He’s wrestling a four thousand pound pile of anger, and Jatt Starr is the referee. The only favor he should be hoping for is that someone resuscitates him after the match is over.

Conor Fuse knows the score, and makes a quick pin attempt early on.

…..

……..

Fuse expects to hear the sound of a hand hitting the mat, but as he looks to his left, Jatt Starr appears to be checking his e-mail on his phone. Dan Ryan powers out HARD at what could have been a borderline two count.

Dan Ryan climbs back to his feet, sneering like a raging bear as he stomps back to the center of the ring. He throws a heavy closed fist directly into the side of Conor’s face, staggering him backward– Fuse holds his jaw, looking back to Jatt for a call here, but Jatt is still just scrolling through his phone.

Dan throws another closed fist.

This one cracks right into the skull of Conor Fuse, as he’s still looking at Jatt Starr. The challenger staggers back into the ropes, slumping down on them for support as the special guest referee remains AWOL. Dan Ryan thrusts forward for a charged third swing, but this time Conor sidesteps it, pulling down the ropes and letting Dan’s momentum pull him over the top, flipping to the concrete below! The crowd is on their feet!

The ICON Champion takes a hard landing on the ground below, appearing to roll his skull directly into the steel steps at ringside. Conor starts yelling at Jatt to start a countout, but Jatt holds a finger in the air, telling him he’s going to need to wait.

Joe Hoffman: Oh come on! This is a tremendous opportunity for Conor Fuse! You’re telling me it’s going to get ruined because of the pettiness of Jatt freaking Starr?!

Benny Newell: Calm your tits, Hoffman. This is to his benefit– can’t win the title on a countout. Jatt is HELPING HIM!

Outside the ring, Dan is shaking out the cobwebs from a hard fall to the concrete. He pulls himself up onto the edge of the stairs, using them to slowly pull himself up to his feet. He’s clearly had his bell rung a little bit.

Conor Fuse shakes his head in disgust, deciding to go get Dan on his own. He backs up to the opposite ropes, charging toward a springboard, but Jatt Starr steps in his path, still staring down at his phone screen. He “accidentally” blocks the way, and the fans let out a mighty boo as they miss out on a big dive to the outside.

The ICON Champion has his bearings now, as he climbs up the steps and onto the apron. He gets back into the ring, and it would appear that he’s had enough of David vs Goliath for one night. As soon as he climbs into the ring, Conor Fuse is on him with a flurry of blow, trying to keep the momentum going, but Dan Ryan grabs the younger grappler by the throat and shoves him backward to the canvas.

Joe Hoffman: Dan Ryan had time to regroup, thanks to Jatt Starr.

Benny Newell: You can’t blame Jatt for this, Joe. The kid weighs two ten soaking wet. This is just what evolution looks like.

Dan steps toward the center of the ring, as Conor kips back up to his feet to a roar from the crowd. He points at Dan, letting out a triumphant howl as he charges forward, diving into the champion with a stunning cross body block– unfortunately, Dan Ryan catches him, and spins him into a THUNDEROUS powerslam in the middle of the ring! Ryan makes the cover, and suddenly Jatt drops his phone and hits the mat.

ONETWO–

KICKOUT!

Still relatively fresh, Conor manages to get a shoulder up, despite one of the fastest imaginable counts from Jatt Starr. Dan Ryan stands to his feet, staring at Jatt Starr as he slowly takes a step toward the Referee of Jattlantis. He gets right up into the face of the Best Alliance member, jawing off at him about not pulling some bullshit like that again.

Jatt smirks in the face of actual death.

Growing more and more frustrated with the beef between Jatt and Conor, Dan Ryan appears to be ready to get the fuck out of here. He lifts Conor Fuse back to his feet, throwing him limply to the ropes– Conor is running on pure heart at this point, but he can’t defend as Dan ragdolls him into the air, bringing him flat to his back with a shuddering spinebuster! Dan makes the cover, and Jatt drops to count.

ONETWOTHREE

NO! BARELY KICKED OUT!

This one shakes the roof off the building, as fans are suddenly on their feet. It took every ounce of energy left in Conor Fuse to do it, but he got a shoulder up a millisecond before Jatt Starr’s hand came down on another cripplingly fast three count!

Jatt Starr can’t believe it. Dan Ryan can’t believe it. The fans can’t believe it, and even Conor himself can’t seem to believe it! As Dan pulls himself back up, Conor rolls toward the corner, trying to give himself some breathing room.

Joe Hoffman: Folks, we are watching a star be born here in HOW! Despite the odds, somehow Conor Fuse is still in this thing! I can’t believe it! The crowd is completely behind Conor Fuse here tonight!

Benny Newell: They’re a bunch of fickle dickheads, Joe. Put some respect on the ICON Champion’s name. Put some respect on Jatt Starr’s LEGACY!

It would seem that the two men in the match aren’t the only ones tired of watching Jatt Starr get away with murder here tonight. At ringside, The Game Boy appears to have had enough– there is a buzz from the crowd as he slowly climbs the ring steps, standing out on the apron. Jatt Starr has his back to the behemoth enforcer– he doesn’t seem to realize why the crowd gets louder, as The Game Boy slowly ducks through the ropes and steps into the ring!

As the crowd reaches a fever pitch, Jatt finally notices that Dan Ryan is looking just past him, with amusement in his eyes. Slowly, and with a big gulp, Jatt begins to turn around– his eyes meet the chest of The Game Boy, who looks less than amused with the antics that he’s been observing here tonight.

The Game Boy grabs hold of the front of Jatt’s referee shirt, threatening him in a non-verbal but very plain English kind of way. Jatt’s eyes grow wider as he begins trying to struggle to get away– he begins screaming into the face of the manager, telling him that he’s risking a DQ for his pal if he lays another hand on the Ruler of Jattlantis! The Game Boy frowns, dropping Jatt back to his feet, but now Jatt immediately begins signaling for him to be ejected! HE’S BARRING THE GAME BOY FROM RINGSIDE!

Joe Hoffman: Oh come on! He’s just trying to get a little bit of justice out there!

Benny Newell: What is WRONG with you tonight, Joe? You can’t put your fuckin’ hands on a referee. Conor is lucky that he didn’t just get DQed. This is REAL fairness, right here.

Jatt yells once again for The Game Boy to remove himself from ringside, as the crowd boos. Slowly, Conor’s manager begins to turn to leave the ring, not wanting to see his buddy get disqualified… but in a last second change of plans, he turns and lays Jatt Starr out with a solid right hook to the chin! Jatt flies practically out of his shoes, flat backed on the mat with his arms spread out like angel’s wings! The crowd FUCKING EXPLODES!

Expecting a fight, Dan Ryan steps toward the center and welcomes the meat slapping extravaganza that would come from two hulking monsters in one ring. Fortunately for him, and unfortunately for the fans, The Game Boy doesn’t seem to have a beef with Dan Ryan– knowing that there will be hell to pay when Jatt wakes up, The Game Boy climbs back out of the ring and makes his way back up the ramp, having been officially ejected from ringside.

Joe Hoffman: What a mess, folks. We have a referee down, a Game Boy ejected from the match, and I’m not even sure what else could–

Benny Newell: PWN’D!!!!

Benny isn’t adopting Gen Z vocabulary– as Dan Ryan is turned around for a possible square up with The Game Boy, Conor Fuse comes across the ring and plants the ICON Champion dead to rights in the middle of the ring with a Tilt-A-Whirl DDT!!!

It’s the loudest reaction on the night so far, and Conor pops back up to his feet as though he’s just picked up an extra life!

Joe Hoffman: Uh oh, I think I know what’s coming next! VINTAGE CONOR FUSE IS GONNA FLY!

Benny Newell: Oh boy, Jatt isn’t gonna like this…

Dan Ryan is barely beginning to stir, as Conor goes straight from the mat onto the top rope. He steadies his feet, before flying into the air with the Super Splash 450! Dan Ryan gets his knees up to absorb the impact, but it mostly lands square– the air is taken out of both men as Conor lands lifelessly on top of an equally downed ICON Champion, making the cover!!!

……..

…………

…………….

Jatt Starr is still down! There’s no referee!

From backstage, Matt Boettcher begins sprinting down the ramp, making his way to the ring to count the final pin. He slides into the ring, starting the count in one fluid motion along with the fans.

ONE!

TWO!

DAN RYAN KICKS OUT!

Joe Hoffman: YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME! CONOR FUSE HAD HIM DEAD TO RIGHTS, BUT THERE WAS NO REFEREE!

Benny Newell: You hate to see it, Joe. You hate to see it. HA!

Conor Fuse rolls over, physically deflating as the oxygen seems to come out of the live crowd. After taking advantage of the distraction caused by the Game Boy, it seemed as though we had a new champion, but now Conor wonders what he has to do to get it done out there.

The challenger slowly crawls toward the corner, using the turnbuckle to pull himself to his feet. Slowly and arduously, he begins slamming his hand on the turnbuckle pad. He picks up speed, the crowd getting fully behind him again as he lets out a guttural roar– CONOR FUSE IS POWERING UP! THE FANS ARE ON THEIR MOTHERFUCKING FEET!

The challenger seems reinvigorated, as he quickly turns back around toward–

Joe Hoffman: HAMMER OF GOD! HAMMER OF GOD!

Benny Newell: GAME OVER, NERD!

As soon as Conor spins around, he eats the business end of a running rolling elbow from Dan Ryan, who climbed back to his feet whilst Conor powered up in the corner. The champion drags Conor’s lifeless body back toward the middle of the ring, dropping to make the pin– Boettcher is still in the ring!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

DING DING DING

The bell rings, as Dan Ryan slowly climbs up off the body of his opponent and allows Boettcher to raise his arm. Conor is on dream street, being completely blindsided by the elbow, and Dan Ryan stares down at him with a mixture of respect and contempt.

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner, and STILL the HOW ICON CHAAAAAMPION…. DAN… RYYYYAAAAAANNNNNN!

Dan snatches the ICON Championship as it is presented back to him, throwing the belt over his shoulder and promptly making his way back toward the ropes. He doesn’t seem to have any interest in whatever is going to happen next, as he exits the ring and slowly heads back toward the ramp. As Conor Fuse slowly begins to find his bearings, he climbs up to a knee and looks out at a crowd that usually doesn’t have a lot of support for him– while it’s hard to say what they’ll think of him next week, the HOW fans are all on their feet in support of a hell of an effort here tonight.

Joe Hoffman: You can say what you want about Conor Fuse, but you can’t say the man doesn’t have heart. He may have barely come up short here tonight in his first HOW title match, but mark my words, folks, this guy is gonna be a big deal.

Benny Newell: Fuck, Joe, you this kid co-sign on a loan for you or something? You gonna suck that Cheeto crumb dick of his, too?

Joe Hoffman: Classy, Benny.

Slowly, Conor gets up to his feet, seemingly perplexed about the positive reaction he’s receiving from the crowd. Unfortunately, the cheering is short lived.

*THWACK*

Conor’s knees buckle, as the boot of Jatt Starr collided with his personal joystick. Before he can fall over, Jatt hooks his arms, putting Conor Fuse flat on the canvas with the Falling Starr as the crowd quickly turns to an overwhelming chorus of boos. Jatt stares down at Conor before taking a look toward the entranceway, quickly bailing out of the ring before help can arrive as cut to commercial.

Back live and the HOV once again comes to life….

We open in Brian Hollywood’s mansion in Hollywood’s bedroom. But this time, everything is covered in foil. We see Brian Hollywood laying there, starting to wake up from last week’s HOFC match. As he’s sitting up, he runs face first into a hashbrown Darin Matthews has been eating over his body. Now visibly angry, Hollywood stares a hole straight into Darin Matthews.

Brian Hollywood: Why in the fuck are you eating in my bedroom? And why the fuck is everything covered up in tinfoil?

Darin Matthews: You’ve been in a coma for 50 years, Brian! Mike Best really knocked your ass out, Rip Van Hollywood. You literally put like a million Z’s extra in our name after how long you’ve been sleeping.

Brian Hollywood: 50 years?! You’ve got to be shitting me! There’s no fucking way I’ve been knocked out for 50 years! No fucking way!

Matthews points and laughs at Hollywood, just simply shaking his head.

Darin Matthews: Well it seemed like 50 years! God damn you’ve been sleeping all week after that loss. I thought why not fuck with you after you’ve fucked with me all those years.

Brian Hollywood: Get this tinfoil out of my room right now!!! NOW!

Darin Matthews: Alright, alright! Geez, I thought we could have a little fun.

Brian Hollywood: Fun? You think wasting this much tin foil is….FUN?!

Darin Matthews: Yeah, I mean, clearly, I want to send a message to the HOW locker room today….

Brian Hollywood: And what message is that?

Darin Matthews reaches under Brian Hollywood’s bed and tosses his HOW Tag Team Championship belt at him. He raises his tag belt into frame and looks deadpan right into the camera.

Darin Matthews: Well, it’s my way of saying that we will be the longest reigning HOW Tag Team Champions ever, Brian. Right now, we’re 21 days into our second reign. Even though HO Wrestling.com doesn’t recognize our reign in the championship section; we’ve held these belts now for 3 weeks. And I wanted to make a statement that we’re 10% into the longest reign with these belts anyone in HOW’s ever seen. We’ve got to beat Ascended Supremacy’s reign, Hollywood. We’ve just gotta beat their reign.

Hollywood scratches at his beard a bit. And looks around the room at the tin foil and smiles.

Brian Hollywood: You’re right, Matthews. This tag team title reign isn’t a conspiracy. It’s fact. I’m not waking up in a dream. It’s a reality. Sure, it’s going to take the roster at least 50 years to figure out our formula. They don’t get our love-hate relationship. They don’t get our chemistry. They think we’re just jokes. They think they can run in and beat the holy hell out of us like we’re some sort of punchline…

Darin Matthews: Well…. I mean you were last week. You got literally knocked the fuck out by Mike Best. You’ve been asleep for like a week’s time.

Brian Hollywood: FUCK THAT SHIT! I proved a point. Sure, we might get in over our heads at times. We might write checks our asses can’t handle, but last week proved why we deserve to be in the conversation.

Matthews just laughs and pats Hollywood right on the back.

Darin Matthews: You gave it the old college try, Hollywood. I’ll give you that!

Brian Hollywood: Still, I might have taken an ass whopping from Mike Best. But now, it’s time to get to business. These Tag Team Championships need defending at Rumble at the Rock.

Darin Matthews: You’re damn right, Hollywood. HOW deserves defending HOW Tag Team Champions. We may be the champions. But we don’t have number 1 contenders in the hole right now.

Brian Hollywood: And I know The Best Alliance will be targeting these belts. I mean, after all, two weeks ago Mario turned to us to get the job completed; we followed through and what? He finds a new team to support! It’s like we’re chopped liver or something!

Darin Matthews: We followed through with our word and we brought back the Tag Titles, but if you want to replace us; fine! But you get no glory in us holding YOUR belts. You didn’t bring us back together. We did. The Hollywood Boyz are back in town and we’re here to defend these belts. Rather the Best Alliance wants these belts, rather the Egg Bandits want to take another crack at us; whoever wants to take these belts away from us; come and get it. We’ll meet any team at Alcatraz and…

Like an idea comes to his head, Brian immediately smirks. He cuts Matthews off to scream at the top of his lungs.

Brian Hollywood: ALEXA! Book a trip for two to Alcatraz Island! It’s time to begin our training now.

Darin Matthews looks at Hollywood perplexed.

Darin Matthews: Wait what?!

Brian Hollywood: Yeah, you and me are going to Alcatraz this week.

Darin Matthews: But….I have to clean up the foil!

Brian Hollywood: Fuck that shit! I’ll have one of the butlers clean that shit up. We lost our Tag Team Title match at Alcatraz this year. We have to go into the heart of hell to make sure we retain these things.

Darin Matthews: But the EPU guard…

Brian Hollywood: Who cares? What’s Lee Best going to do with his HOW Tag Team Champions? Lock us up? Like he would ever put us in Solidary Confinement….come on! They’re not going to bite. We’re going to Alcatraz Island to prepare for Rumble at the Rock! Because we need to know what we’re walking into when we defend our HOW Tag Team Championships at Rumble at the Rock. Come on!

Hollywood yanks Matthews by the arms and takes him out room as the scene fades to black.

Returning live inside the arena, we find Joe Hoffman and Benny Newell, as per usual, with Joe, the professional, looking straight while Benny is juggling three phones in front of himself.

Joe Hoffman: Welcome back folks, it’s been another action packed night and we still have our main event tonight for the LSD Championship! And..and.. Benny what on Earth are you doing?

Benny looks up from his phones, his face a webwork of confusion and uncertainty.

Benny Newell: Huh? Oh.. I’m trying to get in on this whole computer graphics card shit, I looked up a youtube video on how to make some quick cash but..

He throws his hands up in the air in frustration and looks over at Joe.

Benny Newell: But I don’t fucking have a clue what I’m doing, I blew my stimulus check on three burner phones, a vpn and I took a personal loan out to buy a shit ton of graphics cards but now some prick keeps upbidding my auctions!

Joe Hoffman: I.. have no idea what you are talking about.

Benny Newell: Jesus Christ, Hoffman, I spent way too much money on this! Why do I make such bad decisions!? Hoffman, listen, we’ve been friends for years, there are all kinds of jobs I know how to do. Uh.. I provide color commentary.. I’ve catalogued 29341 different kinds of alcohol and turned them into trading cards..

Benny looks back down at his phones in despair as Joe offers a friendly pat on the back.

Joe Hoffman: I still have no idea what you are talking about Benny but I’m sure it will be okay. Here, would it help if –

Before Joe can finish, the lights in the arena die, washing the crowd in darkness. “Shadow of Myself” by JT music creeps over the Best Arena’s sound system as the stage flickers to life with thousands of red eyes that seem to glare out over the crowd. In response the crowd begins to pour out the boos for the despotic Enforcer of the Best Alliance.

Light stars dying in the void of space, the burning red eyes slowly flickering out of existence before only one remains in the center of the stage. As the lights rise as the Minister is seen standing on stage in his white three piece suit, however, it has become dirty, covered in dried blood and filth, likely the same suit he wore when he was buried beneath the Tampa Five Time Academy location. He lingers on the stage as his music fades, glaring out over the crowd as the chant “You’re Gonna Die” at him with all the class and humanity of a High Octane crowd.

The Minister: Shut up.

He says the words evenly, with an eerie calmness, which, as you might expect, does not yield the results he was looking for.

The Minister: ..SHUT UP!

Lashing out the Minister’s face flashes red, his lips pulled back as a gruesome sneer stretches across his scarred visage. His vitriol only adds to the fire of the HOW crowd as they respond with a “Fuck You!” chant.

The Minister: Do you see what you’ve one Mike?! Do you see what you’ve driven me too!?

He loosens his tie, tearing it off as he paces back and forth on the stage, his voice becoming harsh, like a dry growl.

The Minister: Once again I have had to throw my name beneath the banner of the Best Alliance, once again I have fully allied myself with your father, Lee Best, in one final bid to accomplish what I promised to do.. Destroy Mike Best and claim the High Octane World Championship..

Scowling, he unbuttons his jacket and pulls it off, throwing it down on the stage. Fans begin to hurl garbage up at the stage however for now the Minister seems far enough away to avoid getting hit.

The Minister: ..and if I don’t I won’t have to live with the shame of it because you’ll be putting me out of my misery.. Both me and the man you claim to love, Max Kael..

A dark smile creeps across the Minister’s face as his metal teeth flash briefly between his lips.

The Minister: At first I was enraged that you would leave such an open challenge on the ground, as if it was some trivial matter.. But now I see it is a blessing. See, so far as I can tell there is no way I can lose this now. Either I kill you and achieve all my hopes and dreams.. Heh-heh.. Or you kill your brother.. Kill the eMpire.. Kill one of your only remaining friends.

An unpleasant, uncomfortable giggle eases its way out of the Minister’s throat as he removed his vest, his pacing slowing, his burning mechanical eye glaring out over the crowd which has grown quieter as he speaks.

The Minister: But I am not without my mercy. I will give you one last chance to save your brother. If you come to this ring next week and forfeit your title to me I will leave forever and allow Max Kael to go free, nobody has to die Mike..heh-heh.. I promise. You might want to thick quickly as well…

Unbutton in his shirt the Minister pulls it away to reveal a crossroads of welts, cuts and burns, many of them fresh, clearly signs of self-mutilation. Upon closer inspection it becomes obvious that they form names.. One name specifical, multiple times in multiple different scarification efforts..

Mike Best.

With a twisted, horrifically wide grin the Minister poses to show off the ritualistic looking damage he had inflicted upon himself, blood still oozing from some still.

The Minister: I’m running out of space… Have a Blessed Day.

Tossing the microphone to the ground the Minister once again poses for the crowd who is part horrified and captivated by the grotesque scene before the camera breaks away as we hit our final commercial break.

Back at ringside we see the steel cage starting to lower as we cut over to Joe and Benny sitting at ringside.

Joe Hoffman: We’re back and ready for our main event… held inside a Steel Cage!  Cancer Jiles will be defending the LSD Title against number one contender…

Benny Newell: The dirty fucking pikey!!

Joe Hoffman: …Hughie Freeman.

The sound of eerie flutes playing and a small drum beat rumble the arena terraces.  “The Lonesome Boatman” by Dropkick Murphys is the anthem playing at this time, with Hughie Freeman expected for his traditional walkout. The camera pans onto the curtain underneath High Octane Vision as Freeman soon storms through it.

Benny Newell: Where are his H.A.T.E. guards?

Joe Hoffman: My thought is they were banned from ringside tonight by Lee Best, to ensure nothing happens here tonight.  Plus I don’t think Freeman is running anywhere tonight.

The Irish traveller does not showboat for the HOW audience in capacity here tonight, but is appreciative of the ovation. Hughie Freeman slides into the ring from underneath the bottom rope and begins to shadow box. After a few punches, Hughie then stretches his back out on the top rope. Afterwards, it’s onto loosening up the rest of his joints ready to fight.

The lights dim. The arena quiets. A chill moves through the air…

“I am the COOL” explodes over the speakers.

~I’m the one your mama warned you about
~When you see me, I will leave you no doubt
~I’m the coolest man that ever walked this earth
~I’ve been the coolest since the day of my birth
~I AM THE COOL.

Out from behind the curtain, after a second or two of suspense, The Crown Prince of COOL, Cancer Jiles emerges. Shades on, hair on point, he pauses at the top of ramp and basks in the glorious affection of his precious OctaBandits. After having his fill, Jiles confidently makes his way down to the ring and slides on in under the bottom rope.

Joe Hoffman: Certainly a new swagger to Jiles, a new confidence behind Jiles here.  That LSD Title has really boosted his moral.

Benny Newell: At the cost of all The Egg Bandits though.  That steel cage isn’t keeping any of his former friends out of that ring tonight.

Hortega keeps the two men separated as he takes the LSD Title from Jiles and holds it up in the air.

Bryan McVay: The following match is for the HOW LSD Title and will be contested inside a steel cage!  As a reminder, the only way to win is by pinfall of submission… inside the ring!  Introducing first, from his cell on Alcatraz Island, weighing in at 215 pounds… HUGHIE FREEMAN!!!

Throwing his arms up, Hughie then points at the LSD Title while keeping his eyes locked on Jiles

Bryan McVay: And his opponent, from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and weighing in at 229 pounds… he is the HOW LSD Champion…. “COOL” CANCER JILES!!!!!

McVay exits the ring as another official locks the cage door up and Hortega calls for the bell to get this match underway.  The two men go to lock up but it’s Jiles with a quick low blow to Freeman who chuckles as he drops to his knees before Jiles plants him with a quick DDT.

Joe Hoffman: Jiles quickly taking advantage of these No DQ rules inside the cage.

Benny Newell: Scrambling those pikey huevos!!!

Freeman stumbles back up to his feet as Jiles grabs his head and throws him face first into the steel cage.  Freeman slams off the steel and crashes back down to the mat as Jiles goes for a quick cover.

UNO…..

Freeman powers out and lands a quick jab that sends Jiles reeling back.  Freeman is able to pop back up to his feet as Jiles comes back with a super kick that Freeman ducks.  Jiles turns around straight into a spinning backfist from Freeman that nearly breaks Jiles’ nose as blood starts to trickle from it.  Freeman now repays the favor as he grabs Jiles and throws him face first into the steel, grating up the COOL ones forehead as more blood starts to run down the face of the champion.

Joe Hoffman: Freeman is focused on winning that title tonight.  He thinks it is the only thing that will ensure a match against Scottywood at Rumble at the Rock for his freedom.

Benny Newell: Dumbass already has the match signed… now he’s just trying to give Scottywood an extra reason to beat his pikey ass.

Jiles stumbles up to his feet as Freeman takes his hand and grabs Jiles by the lower regions and starts to squeeze as Jiles yells out in pain before dropping to his knees as Hughie lets go and drives a knee into the side of Jiles’ head.

Joe Hoffman: Cover now by Hughie!

UNO………

DOS………………….

Jiles gets the shoulder up as Hughie hammers an elbow down at him.  He pulls Jiles to his feet and throws him into the corner as Hughie starts laying a combo of body and head shots into Jiles who tries his best to get his arms up to defend himself, but several shots connect hard.  Hughie pulls Jiles off the turnbuckles and as Jiles staggers Hughie hits the ropes and comes flying back with a big time punch…

Joe Hoffman: Fatality Punch!

Benny Newell: Jiles ducks it!  Is that the SHIT-ORI  thing he was talking about this week?

Joe Hoffman: No… that is… nevermind….

Duck might be a strong word as Jiles crumbles more so as Hughie sores past and strikes the steel cage with his finishing move as he shakes his hand in pain as Jiles pulls himself back up to a wobbly base Freeman turns around and right into a spray of yellow mist from Jiles.

Joe Hoffman: Coolympian Yolk!  Hughie might be blinded!

Benny Newell: Hope he gets fucking salmonella!

Hughie is stunned as Jiles goes for the super kick… but he can’t balance on one leg well as it gives way and he collapses to the ground.  Hughie wipes the yellow mist from his eyes as he goes to pick Jiles up from the mat….

Joe Hoffman: Small package pinfall by Jiles!

UNO…….

DOS………………….

TRES………………………………….

Benny Newell: Pikey FAIL!!!!

Joe Hoffman: Shoulder up by Hughie!!!

Benny Newell: Fucking eh!

Hortega throws up two fingers as the HOW fans in attendance yell out DOS as Jiles rolls away and slams his fist on the mat in frustration.  He pops back up as he stalks Hughie who uses the ropes to pull himself back up and Jiles runs a drives a knee into Hughie’s back, slamming his face off the steel cage.  Jiles then grabs Hughie’s hair and slams his head again… and again… and again off the steel as blood starts to run down the smiling face of Hughie.

Joe Hoffman: Is he actually smiling?

Benny Newell: He’s spent weeks… months at Alcatraz… do you think this is anything to him?  I mean he’s a pikey fuck… but this is childs play to him Joe.

Jiles can see the reaction that Hughie has to tasting his own blood as he pulls Hughie off the cage wall and again goes downstairs as he boots Freeman who drops the smile as he clutches his jewels as Jiles again goes for the super kick.  But Hughie ducks it as he crouches down low and springs back up…

Joe Hoffman: Fatality Punch!!!  This time it connects!

Benny Newell: Fuckers!

Jiles flies backwards and into the cage door which somehow was incorrectly attached and the hinges give way.  Jiles falls through the door and falls to the outside with both feet touching the floor.

Benny Newell: HAHAHA Jiles retains!  Dumb fucking pikey!

The crowd starts booing as Freeman collapses to the ground as Hortega starts waving his arms and yelling something in Spanish.

Joe Hoffman: No Benny! Remember this match must be settled by pinfalls or submission.  The escape means nothing.

Freeman now realizes this too as he climbs back to his feet and exits the cage and approaches Jiles who has climbed back to his feet.

Joe Hoffman: Terminal Cancer!

Benny Newell: Right on the fucking jaw!

Hughie is thrown back into the steel cage by the kick as he collapses to the ground as Jiles goes for the cover!

Benny Newell: ONE!!!!

Benny Newell: TWO!!!!!

Benny Newell: THREE!!!! Jiles is still the champion!!!!

Jiles throws his arms up as Hortega is again waving his arms and pointing inside the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Your count means nothing Benny.  The outcome must happen inside the ring!

Hughie opens his eyes, seemingly knowing this and not kicking out as he thrusts his knuckles into the throat of Jiles who stumbles away gasping for air.  Hughie throws the ring apron up and pulls out a kendo stick as Jiles sees the weapon and dives back into the ring through the open door.  Freeman quickly follows as officials work to replace the door behind them with more chains and padlocks.

Joe Hoffman: Again these two are locked in that cage as they have each ate a finisher from the other here tonight.

Freeman swings the kendo stick as Jiles who ducks it but Freeman spins around and laminates Jiles across the thighs with his second attempt that cuts the COOL one down to his knees as JIles eatsa  shot across his already bloody forehead.

Joe Hoffman: Jiles’ eyes rolling back in his head there….

Freeman cracks Jiles a few more times with the stick before discarding it and leading the lone Bandit back up to his feet as signals for the title around his waist before he croches down and spring up for the Fatality Punch.

Joe Hoffman: Terminal Cancer again!

Jiles throws his leg out as a last ditch effort as Hughie comes down with his punches and drives his fist into the shin of Jiles who yells out in pain from what could be a fractured leg….  Jiles collapses to one knee as Hughie quickly resets and explodes back at Jiles with another shot that lands straight on the COOL jaw of Jiles that drops the LSD champion like a sack of potatoes… probably irish ones.

Joe Hoffman: Lights out for Jiles who may have just had his leg broken by Hughie!

Benny Newell: No… this can’t happen like this Joe!!  He can’t win the LSD Title….

Joe Hoffman: Cover by Hughie….

UNO………….

DOS……………………….

TRES…………………………………………………..

Benny Newell: Kick out!!!!!

Joe Hoffman: This match is….

Benny Newell: FUCK!!!!!

DING DING DING

Bryan McVay: Here is your winner…. And NEW HOW LSD CHAMPION…… HUGHIE FREEMAN!!!!!!

Hughie rolls over and just stares up at lights smiling… laughing as Hortega comes over with the LSD Title that he hands off to Hughie who just clutches onto it.  His music hits as he sits up palming some blood off the face of Jiles before smearing it across the face of the LSD TItle and raising it up in the air.

Joe Hoffman: It’s been a long and unusual road for Hughie Freeman to this moment…. But he has fought through it all and he is now our new LSD Champion.

Benny Newell: The pikey fuck set a man on fire and should be rotting in a hole on Alcatraz…. And instead of that he is now holding the LSD TItle.

Hughie stands up and climbs the turnbuckles as the cage starts to raise.  He throws the title up in the air to the cheer of the Chicago crowd as a medic slides into the ring to attend to Jiles.

Joe Hoffman: Now there is no question of if Scottywood will show up to Alcatraz to fight Hughie for his freedom…

Benny Newell: That Pikey fuck just set a huge bullseye on his chest…

Lowering the title into his chest Freeman nods his head, knowing that all the Hell he has gone through at Alcatraz has been worth it, that….

OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH, BEG MOTHERFUCKER, BEG!!!!!!

The joy of his title win quickly leaves as Hughie jumps down from the turnbuckles as H.A.T.E. guards flood the ringside area as we see Scottywood walk out onto the stage with hockey stick and microphone in hand.

Scottywood: Congrats Hughie…. Congrats on bringing me that LSD Title.  I knew you were the right man to bring into HATE… just like RICK was… just like Lucian.  You all played the perfect part to bring me back MY LSD Title.

Hughie yells back at Scottywood, but the mics can’t pick it up as the H.A.T.E. guards, maybe twenty five of them jump onto the ring apron.

Scottywood: I know you think that LSD Title is your ticket to freedom Hughie.  But even you can’t be that delusional… can you?  You will rot at Alcatraz Hughie…. And that LSD Title… MY LSD TItle…. Is coming back to me a Rumble at the Rock!

Hughie doesn’t wait for the guards to attack as he drills one with the LSD Title as the rest flood into the ring, tasers in hand as the start zapping the shit out of Hughie who convulses in the ring.  Scottywood now starts to walk down the ramp as he just shakes his head.

Scottywood: Why must you try and fight me Hughie?  You’d think by now you would have learned that you can’t win.  That you are playing right into everything I want you to do.

Entering the ring, Scottywood takes the blades of the hockey stick and jams it into the throat of Freeman who is be shackles by the H.A.T.E. guards.  One of them hands Scottywood the blood stained LSD Title as The Hardcore Artist smiles and drops the stick and slams the title into Hughie’s face.

Scottywood: This is mine Hughie!  You are right… this is my legacy here in HOW.  THIS is what I have given everything in HOW for.  THIS is what I will hold one more time to prove to you and everyone in HOW that I am far from fucking done here.  That despite everything, everyone has thrown at me…. I am not dead.  I am not done.  That I am HOW.  HATE that Hughie…. HATE that.  Because come Rumble at the Rock… you will need a lot more than four fucking letters to beat me.

The H.A.T.E. guards start to drag Hughie away as Refueled XL goes off the air with Scottywood holding Hughie Freeman’s newly won LSD Title high up in the air.