Refueled XLIII

We open inside a nearly sold out Best Arena, as the camera pans around for the first true show since the horrific events of Rumble at the Rock. Gone is the formal attire from Max’s memorial and back are the rabid HOW faithful with their always colorful signs.

MAX IS STILL ALIVE

LONGEST TUESDAY EVER

JILES IS THE NEXT WORLD CHAMPION OR MY NAME ISN’T DAVE

MORE MURDER, DIE CAPONE!

COOL MOTIVE, STILL MURDER

WHERE IS BABY STEVENS

Joe Hoffman: Welcome to Refueled as tonight we turn away from the horrors of two weeks ago and back into action!

Benny Newell: Might as well get to it, pronto!

The scene switches to Bryan McVay inside the ring.

Bryan McVay: This is the opening match of the night! Introducing first, from Queens, New York, weighing two-hundred-forty-five pounds… Kevin Capone!

The lights go out and “Mr. Nice Watch” by J. Cole blares from the sound system in the pitch black. After several seconds the lights come back on and Kevin Capone is already standing at the top of the ramp, eyes cold. Capone’s face features a 4-finger length beard with sporadic strands of gray and balding head with connected short dreads at the far back of his dome. His body drenched in pre-match workout sweat, accentuating the 6-inch vertical scar down Capone’s toned abdomen along with the “Scarred For Life” tattoo right above it through the light amount of hair over his torso. He stretches both arms, wearing padded fighter’s gloves and cruises down the ramp in a blacked out ensemble, black boxing-style trunks several inches above the knee and short black boots. Capone does his ballistic stretches, swinging his arms performing different combinations, before making it to the ring, hopping on the apron in one swoop and pulling on the top ropes with bad intentions. Kevin enters the ring between the middle and top rope and assumes his position in a corner, his eyes never letting up on their laser focus.

Joe Hoffman: Capone is 0-2 in HOW… although both were well-fought battles against Hall of Famers.

Benny Newell: No different, here!

Bryan McVay: And his opponent, from New York, New York… weighing two-hundred-sixty-five pounds… The Hardcore Artist… SCOTTYWOOD!

“Beg” by Seether plays on the PA as Scottywood makes his way down the ramp. The camera changes to Kevin Capone, looking rather concerned. Capone knows he needs to step up in this contest… and yet, the man who slides into the ring is 6’5” and over 260 pounds and does not look happy.

Joe Hoffman: A big match for Kevin! Scottywood, too, is looking to get back on track after failing to capture the LSD Title at RATR!

Scottywood immediately exits the ring and makes his way to Bryan McVay. He grabs McVay by the collar and tells him something off-mic. The announcer reluctantly nods as Scotty lets go of him upon acknowledgement and rolls back into the squared circle. Meanwhile, Kevin Capone is unsure of what’s happening. The newcomer leans over to ask the referee for information but Matt Boetcher shrugs and figures whatever it is, it can’t be good.

Bryan McVay: I have been informed by Scottywood, this contest is now a hardcore match!

Joe Hoffman: A hardcore match!?

Benny Newell: Yes! What a great move by Scotty! He can do it too, with his 39% ownership of the company!

DING DING DING

Joe Hoffman: We are going to start here as a bewildered Kevin Capone is circling the ring, trying to find an opponent to lock horns with Scottywo- what’s going on here?

The Hardcore Artist puts a finger up and slides out of the ring. He pulls back the apron to reveal his hockey stick… wrapped in barbed wire.

Capone doesn’t look happy but ultimately welcomes the fight. Scottywood enters the ring, an expression face like he’s clocked into his regular 9-to-5 job. Capone realizes this is his one opportunity to catch Scotty off guard because Kevin didn’t bring any weapons along with him. It’s also too late to exit the ring and find something. Capone rushes Scotty…

Joe Hoffman: Scotty ducks the clothesline attempt and DAMN- a hockey stick across the chest!!

The barbed wire pulls out of Kevin Capone’s skin, making the fans who saw it up close cover their eyes. Scottywood blasts Capone in the side of the face with a boot, knocking the newcomer down to his knees.

Joe Hoffman: Scotty’s going off the ropes… ANOTHER blow across the face, this time with the stick!

Benny Newell: Two minutes for high sticking!

Hoffman scoffs at the easy jab by his announce partner, as Capone falls to his chest, covering his face and rolling around on the canvas. Scottywood methodically paces the ring, stalking his prey. He takes the end of the hockey stick, which isn’t covered in barbed wire and gives Capone a “break” by popping him in the eye with the end of it!

Benny Newell: Poke check! Hahaha!

Scottywood shrugs. He decides to poke check Capone five more times.

Joe Hoffman: This blindsided attack is uncalled for! Kevin came in looking for a wrestling match, not a hardcore one!

Benny Newell: This IS a wrestling match, though! A hardcore wrestling match! Ha!

Scottywood pulls Capone to his feet. He whips the newcomer into the corner and then races in with a crosscheck across the neck of Capone!

Joe Hoffman: Utter disgusting!

Benny Newell: Five minute major!! Get Capone in the penalty box!

Joe Hoffman: Why would Capone be getting the penalty?

Kevin falls out of the corner and Scottywood punts him as hard as he can in the side of the head!

Benny Newell: Because he can’t take it like a man!

Scottywood drops the hockey stick to Joe’s relief but it’s not a show of mercy. Scotty hits the Scottybomb, his front facelock into a gutwrench powerbomb onto the stick!

Joe Hoffman: This match is OVER. Pin him, Scotty! You proved your point… and you’ve made a solid statement coming off of Rumble at the Rock!

But Scotty doesn’t pin Kevin. Instead, he kicks Capone off the hockey stick and butts him in the face with it a few more times. Setting the stick up in the corner, The Hardcore Artist takes hold of Capone and hip tosses him…

CRACK!

Into and through the barbed wire stick!

That’s enough for referee Matt Boetcher to call for the bell!

DING DING DING

Joe Hoffman: Good call there. End this thing.

The ref leans over to the ring announcer and tells him what to convey.

Bryan McVay: The winner of this match by referee’s decision, SCOTTYWOOD!

Scotty isn’t interested in getting his hand raised. The 39% owner of HOW walks over to Kevin Capone, picks up the two pieces of his hockey stick and then puts his hand over Capone’s head, which is seeping blood. Scotty wipes some of Capone’s blood onto his forehead and chest, drops to a knee and walks up the rampway.

Joe Hoffman: Statement made, Scotty. A disgusting statement indeed.

Benny Newell: Enjoy your suffering, Capone! With hockey skills like that, Kevin could wind up on the Ottawa Senators!

Joe Hoffman: Since when do you follow the NHL? Can we go elsewhere?

HOW Refueled heads backstage.

The scene cuts backstage outside of the StarrSek Epicenter. Brian Bare, the HOW interview king that is wooden he could crack nuts during the holidays stands next to the Ruler of Jattlantis, the Savior of Starrkham, the King of Grapple from the Big Apple, Jatt Starr. Behind him, just out of frame is Hugo Scorpio. Basically, he’s just there.

BRIAN BARE: Jatt, last week, during the Max Kael—

JATT STARR: The obsolete and very much DEAD, Max Kael.

BRIAN BARE: Last week, you took the time to urge Lindsey Troy to quit the HOW before your match with her at ICONIC. We have not heard her yet, what do you think her response will be?

JATT STARR: Brian….I’m was not urging her to do anything. I was merely stating facts. As the self-proclaimed Fist of the Best Alliance, Lee Best has tasked me with destroying Lindsay Troy. The cold, hard truth is I have a job to do and that is to eviscerate her. I don’t necessarily relish the thought of disfiguring her or crippling her, but it’s my job. It’s nothing personal, it’s business. For Lindsay Troy, the choice is simple, she can quit and live a long happy life watching her kids grow up to be a fine upstanding citizen or….

The Marquis of MadagaStarr threateningly brings up his fist.

JATT STARR …she faces The Fist of the Best Alliance and gets FISTED again and again until she—-

Hugo Scorpio interrupts.

HUGO: Jatt, you can’t say that!

JATT STARR: What are you talking about? What do you mean I can’t say that?

HUGO: Do you know what “fisting” is?

JATT STARR: You know, make a fisty-fisty and go all punchy-punchy.

HUGO: Um…Jatt….that’s not what it means…it’s when you….um….

Hugo Scorpio looks towards the camera and embarrassingly moves in to whisper in Jatt Starr’s ear, as he does so, Hugo Scorpio makes fist and begins pantomiming, there’s some thrusting and twisting of…well, you can figure it out….Jatt Starr reacts accordingly as his eyes grow wider and wider.

JATT STARR: OH MY GOD! WHY??? WHAT KIND OF SICK TWIST WOULD DO THAT????

Hugo leans in to answer Jatt Starr’s clearly rhetorical question.

JATT STARR: NO! STOP!!!! YOU’VE TRAUMATIZED ME ENOUGH!!!!

Jatt Starr has a look of disgust on his face. He throws his hands up in the air, smacking Hugo away from him as if he were swatting at gnats in his face and turns back to Brian Bare. He turns away from the camera and mutters to himself. He turns back.

JATT STARR: Okay, so I have an announcement to make. I am no longer the Fist of the Best Alliance. Now, what were we talking about?

BRIAN BARE: Lindsay Troy.

JATT STARR: Right, yes, so, the point is, I laid it all out there last week for Lindsay. If she knows what’s good for her and her family, she’ll walk away and not look back…..

The Starrabian Knight looks off, staring into space before slowing looking around at his surroundings.

JATT STARR: If she decides to fight the Sovereign of Starrgentina at ICONIC, let it be known, I gave her fair warning…because this place….

The Earl of GlouStarr looks are his surroundings, almost pensively.

BRIAN BARE: So, uh, Jatt…

JATT STARR: Yes?

BRIAN BARE: You were saying?

JATT STARR: What?

BRIAN BARE: Okay….Moving on, StarrSek Industries has earned a tag team title shot and later tonight you face off against one-half of the tag team champions. Is there any pressure to make a statement in a match like this?

JATT STARR: I am going up against three quarters of the HOW Tag Team Champions in Brian Hollywood. His tag team partner, what’s his name? No one even knows.

BRIAN BARE: Darin Mathews.

JATT STARR: Brian, focus. I would love to have an in depth conversation with you about “Bewitched” but now’s not the time. But for the record, Dick York was the better Darren.

BRIAN BARE: No, Brian Hollywood’s tag team partner—

JATT STARR: Is irrelevant, Brian. Hollywood and his Obsolete Bosom Buddy may hold the titles now. But they’re just keeping them warm for Sektor and me. Tonight, I have the dubious task of taking on someone whose namesake, Hollywood, is tainted by greed, depravity, and moral corruption, we all know that’s Lee Best’s M.O.!

BRIAN BARE: Well, that’s—-

JATT STARR: Look, look, look….Brian Hollywood, the Malibu Mimbo, struts around wearing that belt thinking he’s all relevant and such and not just another cumberworld. Tonight, I am Jattlas with the burden of the world on my shoulders as I seek to prove what I and the HOW gods already know, and that is Brian Hollyood isn’t a worthy champion much less a worthy human being. It’s on me to show the world that he belongs on the “Obsolete List” with Kostoff, Jason S, Scott Stevens, Bobby Dean, Mikey Unlikely, and Beta-Max Kael. Hit me!

The Savior of Starrkham raises a hand at the clearly awesome and original diss at the expense of the departed Max Kael. Hugo obliges and slaps Jatt Starr’s hand (because he’s being paid to, of course).

JATT STARR: So you ask if there’s pressure, there’s no much pressure on me right that my high blood pressure has high blood pressure. I am under so much pressure that if I were a piece of coal, I’d be a diamond right about now. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a match to prepare for and I will need time to meditate.

Hugo Scorpio opens the door as Jatt Starr walks in.

JATT STARR: So, does this mean “Enter the Fist” is a porno? I thought it was a karate movie.

HUGO: It’s a kung fu flick.

Hugo Scorpio closes the door behind them as the scene ends.

We return ringside to Joe Hoffman and Benny Newell, Benny seems to be fiddling with his phone while Joe greets the audience with a welcoming, warm smile. 

Benny Newell: Hoffman, have you ever used Fetlife before?

Joe’s smile waivers for a moment as he turns to look at Benny with a confused look on his face.

Joe Hoffman: Benny I swear you’ve brought this up before but I can’t quite remember.

Benny Newell: Really? Fetlife?

Joe Hoffman: Pretty sure, I’ll put in a request with Stevens to see if there is anything in the archive, I’m actually curious. However, outside of a lingering feeling, I have no idea what Fetlife is. 

Benny Newell: It’s a fuck site but for people with very specific wants and needs, like bourbon enimas! 

Joe Hoffman: I know what both of those words mean, Benny, but I refuse to understand what they mean together. 

He turns away from a rosy cheeked Benny who appears eager to show him something on his phone. 

Joe Hoffman: Moving on, earlier this week our very own Brian Bare sat down with the newly signed Sutler Reynolds-Kael, son of the late Hall of Famer, Max Kael, nephew of High Octane Wrestling Champion and also Hall of Famer, Mike Best and of course, grandson of High Octane Wrestling owner Le-

Benny Newell: God of HOW!

Joe Hoffman: …Lee Best. So folks, how about we learn a little more about h-BENNY!

Hoffman covers his eyes and yanks his face away from Benny’s phone which has been shoved into his face, the noises and voices coming from it make it clear the drunken Hall of Famer is simply attempting to further educate his broadcast partner of his fetishes. 

The HOTv comes to life as all attention turns there.

Brian Bare is seated across from the nineteen year old Sutler Reynolds-Kael, the two contrasts in appearances immediately apparent. While Bare is dressed in a gray suit looking awkward as he shuffles through some notes Sutler is dressed in loud, expressive colors while he sprawls across the chair staring at his cell phone. 

Brian Bare: Thank you for your time today, Sutler.

Sutler looks up from his phone with an apathetic look, his dark hair falling across apart of his face dramatically; a vibrant splash of #97red runs through his hair screaming pay attention to me Daddy except you can’t cause Mike Best murdered you. Sutler politely slips his phone away, readjusting his position in his chair as he smirks at Bare with all the condescension you’d expect from youthful arrogance.

Sutler Reynolds-Kael: Oh you’re so welcome, Brian.

Brian Bare: And also, before we start, you have my deepest condolences on the loss of your father, he.. Well he did a lot for this business and I’m sure you will do him proud.

Sutler’s smirk vanishes, his dark eyes glass over for a moment, like a shark, cold, unfeeling, a void. Brian doesn’t seem to notice, fiddling with his notes, by the time he looks up Sutler has managed to slip his face back on, that smug smirk neatly back in place.

Sutler Reynolds-Kael: Proud? Yes. Maybe. Let’s put a pin in that, I’m sure we’ll walk right back around to it. So, you got questions?

Brian Bare: Right to business, just like your father!

The young man’s eye visibly twitches but his smile stays intact. 

Brian Bare: The current High Octane Wrestling roster is made up of a collective of wrestlers from every era of the company’s existence but you, as far as I know right now, are the first Third Generation HOW Star, that is to say three generations of your family have been in this company.  

Shrugging his shoulders Sutler doesn’t look terribly impressed.

Sutler Reynolds-Kael: Is that true? Does it matter? 

Brian Bare: It’s an interesting fact if anything.

Sutler Reynolds-Kael: Is it? My father adopted me, he was adopted by Lee out of spite towards my Uncle Mike who is, himself, the product of a one night stand between his mom and Grandpa while on top of all this, my dad is actually Shane Reynolds so, you know, things are a little fucked with the fam. 

Brian laughs nervously as he is unsure if Sutler is making a joke or a statement or a weird blend of both. The young man doesn’t laugh but his smile grows a little though it’s likely at the expense of Bare rather than smiling with him. 

Brian Bare: Staying on the subject of family, last week was the Memorial Show for your deceased father. There were several moving tributes as HOW stars shared their memories and thoughts on the passing of Max Kael. I was just curious if you had any thoughts on the show, what did you think? Your own comments were, to put it lightly, divisive among fans. 

Reynolds-Kael licks his lips before chewing on a silver lip ring, lost in thought for a moment before he dramatically brushes the hair from his eyes. 

Sutler Reynolds-Kael: I don’t care about their opinions on my father. I think he was a massive piece of shit and he deserved to die. He abused me, he abused other people, victim blaming then claimed to be a victim. He was a monster, he brainwashed people, tortured them, he’s attempted to kill you multiple times in the past and everyone, EVERYONE just acts like it’s funny. Ho-ho, ha-ha, the goofy lunatic just shoved his brain dead son off a stage, what a funny guy! He was sick and you were all caught up in his sick fantasy. Remember that point we were going to walk around back to?

He readjusts himself in his seat, clearly the topic of his father getting him heated. The facade of a charming, arrogant young man cracks slightly as his smile strains, his eyes darkening. 

Sutler Reynolds-Kael: I don’t want to make Max Kael proud, I want to make him go away. I want to erase him, to destroy the legacy he created for himself in HOW because.. That is how I beat my abuser, Brian. That is how I punish the man the rest of you refused to punish. That is how I hold him accountable when nobody else will. In a year’s time nobody is going to even remember who Max Kael was. Hey, check this out.

Lifting his arm, Sutler pulled back the sleeve on his leather jacket to reveal a faded #97red Hall of Fame watch wrapped around his wrist. It looks dusty, a confirmation made by Sutler when he taps it, a small plume of grey dust falling from it. 

Sutler Reynolds-Kael: The only thing useful I ever got from my father. Of course he asked to be buried with it so I had to dig it out of his urn but still, cool huh? Guess this makes me a Hall of Famer too, that’s gotta be some kind of record, right? 

Brian Bare: I.. uh..I don’t think that’s how that works.

Sutler Reynolds-Kael: Whateves, I’ll just ask my Uncle. 

Bare sees an opening and jumps at it, eager to move on from the deadman’s watch.

Brian Bare: Speaking of your Uncle, how is your relationship with Mike Best?

The edge that Sutler had seemed to be on faded as he asserted control over himself, his features softening, his charming, boyish face flushing with life once again. His smile beamed with confidence while his eyes flickered with determination. 

Sutler Reynolds-Kael: Uncle Mike is the best man I’ve ever known and he has no reason to feel any guilt and remorse for what he did. He saved me and Chloe Sektor-Kael, he set us free from that maniac and the fans boo him. His only crime was being man enough to stand by his word and defend his World Title against anyone, even his suicidal brother. My Father knew what he signed up for, my Father was just as willing to kill my Uncle as he was willing to die. So fuck anyone who shits on my Uncle, I’ll fight anyone on his behalf because that is what real family does, Bare, they have each others back. 

Nodding, Brian shuffles his notes around before clearing his throat. He looks nervous, nothing new for Bare, as he seems unsure of where to go with the interview. Finally he snaps out of it, smiling toward the camera as he avoids uncomfortable eye contact with Sutler. 

Brian Bare: Do you have any closing remarks for the fans and fellow HOW Super Stars?

Leaning back in the chair Sutler folds his hands in his lap, his dark eyes disappearing into the shadows of his long hair but you still get the impression he is staring at Brian. 

Sutler Reynolds-Kael: Can’t wait to meet the plebs. 

He snaps both his fingers before shooting Bare a pair of finger guns. Brian looks at Sutler, looks down at the finger guns and then back at the camera.

Brian Bare: I’m Brian Bare, my guest has been Sutler Reynolds-Kael. Thank.. you?

Brian immediately winces and shakes his head at the failure of his awkward sign off as we cut to commercial. 

And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind
Never knowing who to cling to
When the rain set in
And I would have liked to have known you
But I was just a kid
Your candle burned out long before
Your legend ever did

The show feed comes back from commercial break and picks up with the HOF announce team.

Joe Hoffman: Zeb Martin spiked Doozer on his head last week during the Bandits one night only reformation egg cracking ceremony in honor of Max Shell. This week, they face each other in the ring.

Benny Newell: Who?

Joe Hoffman: Zeb Martin.

Benny Newell: I know who Zeb Martin is.

The mid-tempo backing drone and accompanying piano and outlaw Nashville guitar licks begin to kick up. The voice of Ben Nichols pierces through the melody as “Everything Has Changed” by Lucero blares over the sound system, and the vocal queue signals the entrance of Zeb Martin.

Benny Newell: Is that him?

The Watson Mill Kid steps out to greet everyone with the bill of his Levi Garrett Racing hat worn low to shield his eyes. A friendly grin on his face, he attempts to pull the hat down even further (a real shy boy) as he makes his way down to the ring while making sure to outstretch his arm for some old-school hand slapping.

Joe Hoffman: The fans are really taking to the Georgia native.

Benny Newell: I thought he was from Boston?

Upon arrival, Zeb climbs the apron and wipes his boots before ducking underneath the top rope, then gives a friendly nod to his corner audience before patiently awaiting for the match to begin.

“Doozy” by Token hits the speakers.

Joe Hoffman: Here comes Best Alliance member, Doozer. I bet his new alliance didn’t take too fondly to the old veteran getting spiked on his head last week.

Benny Newell: Where’s his fishing pole at?

Joe Hoffman: Technically Zeb left him a fishing pole so the question has some validity.

The Dooze shows no emotion on his way down the entrance ramp. His jorts and sneakers look as fresh as ever, though. Without a moment’s hesitation the Boston native hastily traverses the ring stairs and enters the ring.

Joe Hoffman: Quick, who do you like before they start?

Benny Newell: Sleep.

Joel Hortega calls for the bell and we are underway.

Dooze wildly charges in, swinging with both arms in an attempt to immediately wrangle Zeb to the ground. Martin ducks underneath and delivers a standing dropkick to Doozer’s chest as soon as the old bull turns around. The impact sends Dooze reeling backwards into the corner. The young upstart springs to his feet and once again charges in. Instead of landing a clothesline, Doozer gets his size seven kids sneaker up in the air and uses it as a welcoming mat for Martin’s face. After a second of rest he grabs the Bulldog by his long southern hair and pulls him upright.

Joe Hoffman: Sit out jaw breaker by Martin!

The Dooze stumbles back into the corner. Zeb once again springs to his feet, lunges for, and then drives his shoulder into Doozer’s abdomen. Unbothered, Dooze drops a stiff double axe handle smash across Martin’s back, sending him down to canvas. The Master level tackle and baitsman looks up at his stern opposition from on his knees and is met with a snap right hook for his trouble from his old stable mate.

Joe Hoffman: That one done knocked the spit out of him.

Dooze grabs Zeb by the ankle and slides out of the ring. He drags Zeb to the outside with him, causing his opponent to thump hard on the ground. He then kicks the trucker cap wearing bumpkin in his ribs, flipping him over on his back. A short, precise, elbow drop lands right on Martin’s chin.

Hortega’s count reaches siete before Doozer rolls Martin into the ring.

Benny Newell: So close to this being over with. God, I can count on two hands how many divorce lawyers I’ve said that to.

Both competitors are now inside the ropes with Dooze back on the offensive.

Joe Hoffman: Multiple kicks from Dooze. Zeb is in trouble. QUICK PIN.

Dooze drops down, sensing blood in the water and goes for a cover. Hortega gets to the count of two and before he can count three, Dooze pulls Zeb up, canceling the pin.

Joe Hoffman: That might wind up costing him! He could have had Zeb there I think.

Dooze pulls Zeb to his feet, whips him into the ropes, and knocks him back down to the mat with a stiff clothesline. He then quickly drops down and covers Martin again.

Uno,

Dooze pulls Zeb up before the count can continue. A displaced smile crawls across his face. Horetega admonishes him for his unsportsmanlike behavior.

Joel Hortega: Deja de hacer el Doozer.

Dooze laughs off the admonishment. He stands to his feet, not before slapping Zeb in the back of the head. He walks around the ring with a proud strut, taunting Martin to get up and be a man all along the way.

Zeb, with the fire of a hooked tuna, slaps the mat and struggles to his feet. He manages to get upright and raises his arm as if to challenge Doozer to a test of strength.

Joe Hoffman: WOW.

Benny Newell: Kid has got spunk. I’ll give him that.

The Dooze shrugs, and moves in to accept the challenge. The two lock right arms, Dooze laughing all the while. He goes to extend his left arm, and Zeb slams his left thumb into Doozer’s unsuspecting eye.

Benny Newell: I told you he had spunk.

Dooze flails backwards, but Zeb keeps the hand lock intact causing a snap reaction. As both of their arms are fully extended, Zeb pulls Doozer in and delivers a straight kick to his jaw. Before Dooze can even hit the mat Zeb Martin is on top of him with both legs hooked.

Uno.

Dos.

Tres.

Benny Newell: FAST COUNT!

Joe Hoffman: WOW! Looked to be on the line to me, Benny. Regardless, Martin gets the opportune pin. Dooze had this one in control, but the ever resilient Martin hung in there and was able to quickly turn the tide with a devastating maneuver.

Zeb quickly rolls off of Dooze and goes to jump in jubilant celebration.

Benny Newell: Welcome to Chapter Two of High Octane Wrestling, kid. That’s the Best Alliance you just fucked with.

Scorching down the ramp from out of nowhere, Steve Solex crashes the party. He slides into the ring under the bottom rope and in one fluid motion spears Zeb as he is about to Phil Michelson. The impact sends Zeb rolling out of the ring in a painful hurry. Solex quickly follows and stalks Martin on the outside. He grabs the upstart by his hair and smashes his face down on the steel steps.

Joe Hoffman: He’s not done yet, Benny! Solex is setting Zeb up for a powerbomb!

Up goes Zeb, and then down goes Zeb. Well, technically his back slowly slid the ring post.

Joe Hoffman: Looks like there won’t be a victory lap for the young upstart tonight.

Benny Newell: You fuck with the bull, you get the horns.

The feed cuts away from the ring with Solex admiring his handiwork and a disgruntled Doozer observing from a knee.

We cut backstage following Zeb Martin vs Doozer and Brian Bare is walking the corridors obviously looking for something to do as his evening as been surprisingly quiet. He didn’t have any scheduled interviews so he was just poking around because that’s what Bare does. He gets pretty close to Lee’s office as he notices that door gets slammed pretty loud that practically the entire roster could hear it. Of course he investigates and doesn’t see anyone immediately around the area. Just then he notices someone turn the other corner and he runs around the corner and abruptly stops the man in question. One half of the HOW Tag Team Champions Brian Hollywood. 

Will Cancer Jiles face Doozer for the HOW World Championship?

BUY A CANCER JILES WORLD CHAMPION SHIRT JUST IN CASE!

The camera pans down on an old wooden staircase. Our location remains anonymous as distinct thrashing sounds echo from down below. They are preceded by antithetical snarls that grow louder as the footage travels downstairs. Once at the bottom of the staircase and facing the old brickwork; the distressing noises are at their maximum. However, once the rotation of the footage begins to slowly view more of the basement.. the carnage lessens in volume. To reveal, dominating the view: LSD Fighting Champion himself, Hughie Freeman. Well, what looks to be him as his back is turned to us. Additionally, the pre-mentioned noises can be identified as nothing more than Hughie’s hanging punch bag as it swings from a bracket.

Nothing plush, high-tech, or fancy. The HOW Resident Pikey is choosing to workout in minimalism. The rusty bracket that holds Freeman’s only training equipment (punch bag) is in poor condition; duck taped in places. The shirtless Hughie Freeman sharply turns to greet the camera. He greets it in the fashion of discontent with a ragged cigarette clamped in the jaws of his mouth.

Hughie Freeman: Ah grand.. you’re here.

Hughie removes the cig from his mouth and flicks it into the nearby spit bucket. Possibly.. piss bucket.

Hughie Freeman: I know you cunts wanted me to wear the LSD title belt; parade it around like it’s my pride-and-joy. In your little world.. you wonna try and advertise me as this LSD Fighting Champion. Now your man Hughie Freeman ain’t thick, if I’m seen with that gold plated belt.. I’m exactly what is advertised.

Cold breath escapes Freeman’s mouth as he stands there with his hands on his hips.

Hughie Freeman (sniggers): Thing is, though.. your man ain’t any advert. When you know in your heart that Hughie Freeman has been the only true fighting man since the first day when Solex went snoring. Now at ICONIC, yet another speed bump.. you’re billing this as Hughie Freeman The LSD champion; the seventh ranked versus the number fifth ranked wrestler.. Steve Harrison.

Hughie Freeman (sniggers): What’s the scope on this one then? Mothercunt Hughie Freeman avenging his loss against The Ducker And The Diver..?

Freeman shows that he agitated by his flinching mannerisms.

Hughie Freeman: You listen here, you… RIGHT. You better keep winning you flukey bastard cos I need you to be the mega-force. I need you to be the most glossy wrestler that ever walked this Earth when entering ICOINC. Please mate, I need you to keep that perfect record. It’s so that when I hit you so hard and it radiates down into the arches of your feet, and your man beats you….. it’ll be my very own special fucking miracle.

Suddenly, Freeman launches a big powerful right-hand against the punch bag behind him. Whilst doing so, snarling in fury. This on impact causes the bag to break off the bracket and crash against the floor. Hughie looks directly into the camera, as we cut elsewhere in the Best Arena.

Refueled goes backstage to find Blaire Moise standing near the hot zone with Lindsay Troy. The Queen’s match is up next, and despite the lingering cuts and bruises she sustained from the Prison Yard match two weeks prior, she looks ready to go.

Blaire Moise: Welcome back fans. I’m joined at this time by Lindsay Troy, who is set to take on former Industry member and friend Jack Harmen in a few short moments. Lindsay, you’re coming off a brutal match with Dan Ryan for the ICON title at Rumble at the Rock. Are you expecting more of the same tonight?

Lindsay Troy: As much as we’re all aware of Jack’s love for violence, I’m not expecting him to pull a relic out of a warehouse guarded by “top men” for our little dance tonight. I am expecting him to give me a fight, though. He always does.

Blaire Moise: It was another hellacious battle for you in San Francisco; a year ago, you and Dan were triumphant in retaining the Tag Team titles in the Guard Tower match; this year, you both went to war in the Prison Yard, but it was Dan who came out of the match victorious. It felt to me that we witnessed the end of things between you two; is that true?

Lindsay casts a hard look at Blaire before pursing her lips and looking down at the ground. She holds her gaze there, just for a few seconds, before nodding her head and looking back up at the intrepid interviewer. 

Lindsay Troy: Y’know what I came out of San Fran with, Blaire, besides a little less skin, a little less blood, and a whole lotta stitches?

Blaire Moise: N…No?

Lindsay Troy: I came out of there with some clarity, because I finally realized that for months now, my friends allowed High Octane Wrestling to put its stink on them.

Blaire blinks, quickly, but Troy presses on, not letting her get a word in.

Lindsay Troy: Dan Ryan’s always been a wrecking ball and a monster every place he’s ever worked, but could compartmentalize the violence and still go home to his family. Now, because he didn’t think he was good enough to make it here, he threw away his humanity and everything that made him the best at what he did. He may have a title, he may have beaten me, we may be done, but he’s not better because of it. Cecilworth Farthington didn’t just have two massive title runs, he started breaking limbs in the middle of the ring and demanding loyalty and sacrifice like a despot. Mike Best snorted the worth of a small country in cocaine and put the World Title up in a deathmatch for the thrill of it. And finally, Max Kael had a homicidal personality overtake his brain, answered Mike’s challenge, and lost his life because of it. All because HOW, and Lee Best, brings out the absolute worst in people….but they’re not gonna do the same to me.

Lindsay Troy: You might be workin’ the prosthetic eyeballs Lee – I dunno, you haven’t released the medical records – but I know your ears still work, so listen up: you want to have me run your lil’ Best Alliance gauntlet, and start me off with that puddin’-faced, Alec Baldwin look-alike, Jatt Starr? Fine by me. GOD knows you couldn’t resist sending the low-key misogynist up against me first, and since it worked out so well when Eric Dane tried – and failed – to take me out for good, I’m predicting a real bad time for your boy come ICONIC. And when I’m done with him, have Sektor and Solex draw straws to see who’s next, because I’m not stopping until I get right through to the top of the food chain.

With that last, pointed remark, the Queen of the Ring storms off toward the curtain. 

The ominous, opening chords to “Put ‘Em in the Grave” by Jedi Mind Tricks blasts through the speakers as a raucous ovation from the High Octane Faithful heralds the Queen of the Ring to the stage. Once the first verse kicks in, Lindsay Troy strolls out amidst a shower of pyro and cannon blasts, but doesn’t pause to preen or rile up the crowd. Instead, she marches down the ramp to the ring, blowing right by the camera in the aisle, looking focused. 

Brian McVay:  Introducing first! She stands at six-feet-three-inches tall, and weighs in at one-hundred-ninety-five pounds.  She is LINNDDDDSSAAAAAAAYYYYYY TRRRRRRRROOOOOOOYYYYYYYY!!!!

Spotlights follow her path as she makes her way up the steps, foregoing her usual jump to the apron and flip into the ring. She slips between the ropes, and saunters over to a corner to scale the turnbuckles and pose a bit as she awaits the entrance of High Flyer.

“All Aboard! AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA…” A light fog rises up from the entrance way as the opening guitar rift kicks in. Parting the smoke is High Flyer, who stands confidently at the top of the entrance ramp. He tosses one hand up in a devil horn taunt, and smiles slyly to the camera. He stomps his way to the ring, paying very little attention to the crowd. Once he reaches ringside, he slips in under the bottom rope, then sprawls on his back. 

Brian McVay:  And her opponent.  Weighs in at two-hundred-twenty-four pounds and stands six-feet-even!  This is HIIIIIIIIGGGGHHHHHHH FLLLLLLLLLLYYYYYYYERRRRRRRR!!!

He begins to make snow angels while residing on his back, looking up at the lights before recovering to his feet. As the announcer introduces High Flyer, he leaps onto the second ropes and looks out to the crowd.

Joe Hoffman: The should be a good one, against two former members of The Industry.

Benny Newell:  Yawn! DRINK!

Matt Boettcher calls for the bell.

DING! DING! DING! 

Troy and High Flyer stand across the ring from one another as the referee, Matt Boetcher calls for the bell.  The two former stablemates lock horns in the center of the ring.  Troy attempts to push High Flyer back, but to no avail as High Flyer takes immediate control of the match by forcing Lindsay Troy into a side headlock.  Troy tries to escape the hold, but High Flyer wrenches down on her neck forcing her down to a knee, but only for a moment.  With a hand full of green hair, Lindsay Troy pulls High Flyer back against the ropes and thrusts him across the ring into the opposite side.  High Flyer charges back in and his eyes widen before he’s clobbered to the mat by swiftly executed spinning back elbow from Lindsay Troy.

Joe Hoffman:  Nice elbow from Lindsay Troy, and she makes the first cover of this match!

1!

…

High Flyer kicks out, almost before the count of one.  Flyer sits straight up, with a little assistance from Troy and finds himself locked in to a chin-lock by Troy.  Flyer struggles for a moment but is able to find his way to his feet and move into the more favorable – at least in this moment – side headlock. Flyer grabs himself a handful of Lindsay Troy’s hair and forces her against the ropes.  Flyer shoves Troy to the opposite side of the ring, but instead of the ropes, Troy bounces chest first off of the turnbuckle and lands flat on her back.

Benny Newell:  Ouch, both chesticles!

Joe Hoffman:  Take it down a notch, Benny!

Benny Newell: Suck it, Hofftits.

Flyer stays on the attack and pulls Troy to her feet, he lands a couple of right hands to the side of her head before he shoves her against the ropes and whips her across the ring.  With what acrobatic skill he still has, High Flyer leaps into the air and flattens Troy with a spinning heel kick.

Joe Hoffman:  What a kick!  High Flyer with the cover!

Matt Boetcher slides in and makes the count.

1!

…

2!

…

…

Joe Hoffman: Lindsay Troy barely gets her shoulder up in time, and High Flyer can’t believe it!

Benny Newell: That was three!  Fuckin’ Bitcher.  Drink!

Flyer tries to argue the call, but is emphatically shown the number two from the official.

Benny Newell:  I think Bitcher’s gotta take a shit, let’s get a real ref out here! Vamanos!

Joe Hoffman: Jesus, Benny.  A count of two for High Flyer, and the match continues.

High Flyer’s dispute of the count only lasts a second or two before he gets back to the task at hand, and lifts Troy to her feet.  A few stiff right hands from Flyer sends Troy stumbling backward into the corner.  Flyer follows her in and climbs to the second rope and begins to drop a succession of right hands down into Troy’s forehead.  Matt Boetcher slowly starts a count of five, but it’s quickly stopped as Flyer hops down from the second rope.  Flyer backs up and lets Troy stumble out from the corner as he taunts her with a wagging finger.  Flyer goes for a clothesline, but Troy somehow ducks under.

Joe Hoffman: The Queen’s Gambit!  Out of nowhere!

Benny Newell: What the fuck is a gambit?  DRINK!

Both of Troy’s knees smash into the face of High Flyer planting him flat on his back.  But Troy is unable to capitalize, as she too falls flat on her back.

Joe Hoffman: Unbelievable! Both competitors are down!

Troy is the first of the two to budge, and slowly crawls over toward Flyer to make the cover.  But as she reaches over, Flyer rolls over to his stomach and climbs up to a knee.  Troy does the same, and the two lock eyes. Flyer goes for a punch, but Troy ducks underneath and lands a stiff uppercut that launches Flyer up to his feet and backward into the corner.  Troy climbs up and whips Flyer across the ring and into the corner.  Troy charges in after him but Flyer leapfrogs over the top of her, using the ropes as leverage and runs toward the opposite ropes.  Troy quickly gives chase as High Flyer springs up over the top rope and onto the apron.

Joe Hoffman: Spring board Lou Thesz press from High Flyer!

Flyer follows up with a series of mounted punches, but Lindsay Troy is able to cover up and without hesitation shrimps out from underneath Flyer and lands an upkick under Flyer’s chin that sends a loogie into the fifth row.

Benny Newell: Pretty sure that was a high flyin’ tooth, Hofflicker.

Joe Hoffman: It was spit, but I’m surprised it wasn’t a tooth Benny!

Benny Newell: Drink!

Flyer stumbles backward against the ropes and springs back to the center of the ring.  Flyer is doubled over by a well placed boot into Fyler’s stomach.

Joe Hoffman:  Thy Kingdom Come!  She nailed it!

Matt Boetcher slides into make the count.

1!

…

2!

…

…

…

3!

DING DING DING!

Brian McVay:  And the winner of this match, Lindssaaayyyyyyy Trrrrrroooooooooyyyy!!!!!!

Troy holds onto the back of her neck as she gets to her feet and raises both fists into the air as 

Right inside The Best Arena Jack Marley is seen with The Miracle Enterprise Holy Water Kiosk next to the Hot Dog stand.  Several people grab some water and toss some cash at Jack angrily.  Steve Harrison appears walking into the corridor and he makes his way towards the Kiosk with his usual shithead grin upon his face.  He is dressed in a brand-new Tan Suit with new Black Dress shoes and a shiny newly shaved head.  He walks by several fans who look at Steve like it is time to go to war but then look behind him.  Behind Steve walks a large bodyguard who is staring holes through all the fans that look at The Miracle Man without undying respect.   Jack sees them and waves like a moron.  Steve ignores him because he is only a few feet away at this point.

Steve Harrison: Put your hand down, dummy.

The hand goes down faster than Cancer Jiles losing a wrestling match.

Steve Harrison: How is the AMAZING antidote for all wrestling fans ills selling?

Jack Marley: Other than everyone crumpling up their money and throwing it at me…pretty good.

Harrison walks around the Kiosk and opens the register and starts counting the money.  A grin begins to appear that gets bigger and bigger.  He calm’s himself down with a few quick breaths and shuts it.

Steve Harrison: I am sure each toss is as accurate as Lindsey Troy’s STD results.

Jack’s eyes move all over the place as he attempts to think about that comment.  He puts his finger up and Steve shakes his head, but he continues anyway.

Jack Marley: Ok…wait…I will get this.

Steve Harrison: Did any of the money hit you?

Jack Marley: No.

Harrison mugs at the camera and laughs.

Steve Harrison: Exactly.  Do you have enough bottles, or should I send our hired friend for the night to the car?

Marley Mon turns around and looks in the coolers and starts counting out loud because that is what fucking idiots do.

Jack Marley: If every fan buys a bottle like we are expecting I will need a few more full coolers, mon.

Steve Harrison: That is a wonderful answer.  I am sure Max would be extremely proud that the HOW fans miss him so much and want one last memento that his greatness touched. 

Jack Marley: All that money really helps too!

The Suplex Saint stares at Jack and then smacks him on the back of the head.

Steve Harrison: Shut up, you!  This is not about the money, Jack.

Harrison mugs the camera again with a wink.  What a stinker.

Steve Harrison: This is about helping the needy fucking HOW nerds that are still crying over a wrestler who hated each and every one of them.  If selling them some Holy Water can get them to stop acting like snowflake incels it will help everyone.

Jack Marley: I did not understand any of that!

Harrison, the man of destiny smacks the palm of his hand to his forehead showing his annoyance.  He then sees someone walking towards them and points.

Steve Harrison: That is the definition of some stupid HOW fan that needs the Holy Water to survive another day.

The man stops and Jack stares at him and then back at Steve.

Jack Marley: Yo, mon…he looks familiar.

Steve ignores Jack and looks the fan up and down amazed he stopped to mean mug him after he called him out.

Steve Harrison: Probably reminds you of every moron who takes selfies of themselves as they post Pepe the Frog Memes on 4Chan.  Hey asshole, stop staring and go grab some Holy Water from my car with my Bodyguard here.  The more you look at me with those blank fucking eyes the more I want to poke them out and look around that is called irony.  Now do what I say or that buddy for hire will toss you out the building.

After further review from the camera everyone can tell by now but Steve Harrison…of course, that the person standing in front of him is Sulter Reynolds-Kael.  

Jack Marley: Hey, mon… I think that is Max’s adopted son, Steve.

Steve squints his eyes at Sutler who continues to stare at Harrison.

Steve Harrison: Oh…Great to meet you, Sutler, you want a bottle of Holy Water?  On the house of course.

Sutler turns his head from Steve ignoring his offer and begins to walk away.  Harrison with his hand out a bottle in it squeezes it in anger.  The cap flies in the air and hits the Bodyguard in the eye.  He crumples over holding his eye.  

Steve Harrison: Cannot find good help anywhere…

The camera cuts away with Steve shaking his head at his wimpy bodyguard.

The feed jumps backstage and closes in on new HOAX ambassador, Ellie Kallisten. On a pedestal beside her is not only the world’s smallest microwave, but also its sharpest straight razor.

Ellie Kallisten: Greetings, High Octane! As you know tonight is a night like none other! Tonight, one lucky fan will receive the COOLEST GIFT. EVER! And that happens… right… Now!

ARENA ENGULFING DRUM ROLL.

Ellie Kallisten: To the lucky fan seated in section…

Before Ellie can announce the lucky winner the camera zooms out revealing the challenger in tonight’s main event, The Grand Maestro of COOL. He’s battle ready, boots and all. 

Jiles: Hi there, Ellie. It’s a true pleasure finally meeting you in person. I hate interrupting you since you were doing such a good job, but the sheer joy and excitement of the COOLEST GIFT. EVER. has gotten the best of me. Do you mind if I announce the winner of tonight’s micro micro micro micro micro microwave and stiletto sheathed Maxium coated straight razor?

Ellie Kallisten: You came to us with this idea, so please do!

The new HOAX ambassador happily hands Jiles a piece of paper with the winning seat number presumably written on it. The Crown Prince of COOLsylvania clears his throat and gets ready to announce in his most distinguished voice.

Jiles: And the winner of the COOLEST GIFT. EVER… is. This… this can’t be right. This isn’t—

Confused, Jiles holds the piece of paper out but never really lets Ellie get a good look at it. 

Jiles: This is NOT a fan section, Ellie! What type of game are you trying to play here?! This… this is a locker room!

The look on Ellie’s face after abruptly stopping with her struggle to confirm Jiles’ affirmations would lead you to believe she has realized that unfortunately for her she is just another chord to be played on the Maestro’s violin string.

Jiles: This says the winner of tonight’s micro micro micro micro micro microwave and Maxium Blade is sitting in section Gee OH Dee, seat number, FUCKED.

Shit smear smirk.

Jiles: WHAT ARE THE CHANCES, ELLIE!?!?! I know who is sitting in that seat! He can use these nine times over!

The new HOAX ambassador shakes her head at Jiles like he said something he wasn’t supposed to. Of course he could absolutely care less about her distress so before leaving, he folds the piece of paper in his grasp into a nifty airplane and sends it on its merry way. 

This commercial brought to you for absolutely no reason at all while the HOAX adjusts to new Management.

No reason at all, folks.

Joe Hoffman:  Wow!  It’s been quite the night here on Refueled tonight.  Lots of action packed here on the show!

Benny Newell:  Yeah, but up next, I’m about to drown in a bottle of Jack Daniels because…

“Stronger on your Own” by Disturbed blares over the PA.  Hollywood slowly walks from the back and takes center stage as he stands there for a few brief moments, closing his eyes.  He reigns in the boos from the crowd as he gets in final mental preparation for his upcoming match.  As Hollywood opens his eyes, pyro shoots off in opposite corners of the stage as it makes its way to center stage.  As the pyro hits the center, raising his belt up.  As soon as does, suddenly…

“The Boys are Back in Town” by Thin Lizzy begins to blare over the PA System and out comes the returning Darin Matthews holding the other half of the HOW Tag Team Championships up in the air.  Both men immediately play the air guitar with their belts before they embrace and hug after being gone the last few weeks due to a brutal attack by the Best Alliance.  Both men immediately slap hands with the audience members around the ring side as they hit the ring.

Bryan McVay:  Making his way to the ring, weighing in at 225 Pounds….

Before McVay can even finish his sentence, “I WANT IT ALL!”   ”I WANT IT ALL!”   “I WANT IT ALL!”   ”AND I WANT IT NOW!”   Pyrotechnics explode at the top of the ramp as “I Want It All” by Queen blares across the arena.  Emerging from the curtain being followed by his bodyguard/employee The Switch, is Jatt Starr with John Sektor by his side.  Both men come storming down to the ring, but before Hortega can get down to the ring, all hell erupts with Darin Matthews and Brian Hollywood launching themselves with suicide dives onto both members of the Best Alliance.  Matthews and Hollywood are pumped as they land blow after blow into the guts of the Best Alliance members as the crowd erupts with joy.  Hortega is trying to gain control of both the Best Alliance and The Hollywood Boyz, but it’s no use, both teams are going at it.

Joe Hoffman:  The Hollywood Boyz are getting their retribution for the unwarranted attack last month against them.  The Best Alliance made examples out of them and…

Benny Newell:  Rightfully so!  They should know they have hell to pay for daring to sing a Queen son in the middle of Lee Best’s show and flaunting around HIS gold on television show.  The audacity of these two!

Matthews sends Sektor into the ring steps and continues to bash his head into the stairs for a moment as Brian Hollywood sends Jatt Starr into the ring and Hortega rings the bell to signal the match begins.  Matthews wipes his hands clean of beating down Sektor and gets in the corner to cheer on his partner as Hollywood nails a stiff super kick straight into Jatt’s jaw. He immediately covers him.

Uno!

Dos!

Benny Newell:  YES!  YES!  YES!  The Leader of Jattlantis kicks out!  DRINK!  DRINK!  DRINK!  That’s worth a celebration after the Hollywood Boyz took a cheap shot at the Best Alliance!

Joe Hoffman:  They’re fired up, Benny!  They’ve been on the shelf too long.  They’ve been ready to get back in this ring to defend their honor as Tag Team Champions!  They’ve been made to look like after thoughts.

Benny Newell:  Maybe it’s because they act too stupid for their own good!

Brian Hollywood doesn’t let up on Jatt Starr.  You can see the hatred in his eyes.  He’s legitimately pissed off.  He doesn’t waste any time and immediately lands one of the stiffest German Suplexes on Jatt Starr dropping him straight on the back of his head three times.

Joe Hoffman:  OOF!  Brian Hollywood is showing off the sides of his countless encounters with Lindsay Troy.  He’s putting some extra pepper in those shots.  That’s something Jatt Starr is going to have to deal with in the future as he’s facing Lindsey down the line.

Benny Newell:   Don’t count Jatt out, Hoffhole.  You know as well as I do, the daddy of Jattlatic City is one ruthless competitor.  Hollywood might be firing off his stiffest shots, but Jatt will put him right in his place.

Matthews cheers Hollywood on as he nails a big boot straight to Jatt’s jaw.  Matthews points to the top rope and Hollywood leaps to it, ready to hit a picture perfect moonsault.  Right as Hollywood makes the the top rope, Sektor grabs his foot.  Hollywood kicks Sektor off the ropes as he prepares to take the leap of faith.  As Hollywood flies down, Jatt’s feet go up in the air and right into Hollywood’s stomach.

SMASH!

Benny Newell:  I felt that one!  DRINK!

Jatt struggles to his feet with Hollywood still wincing out in pain.    Jatt waits in the corner for Hollywood to get his feet and nails a stiff as hell enzuguri to the back of Hollywood’s head.  He taunts Hollywood to get back to his feet.  Jatt goes for a clotheline, but Hollywood ducks out of the way.  Sektor gets up to the ropes to distract Hortega and Hollywood while Jatt crawls back to his feet and nails a stiff low blow to Hollywood’s groin.  Matthews screams out as Hortega missed the call.

Jatt picks up Hollywood and returns the favor with a couple of stiff German Suplexes of his own.  Jatt mounts Hollywood and continues to land stiff punches across his glass jaw, trying to weaken him for the finale later.  You start to see Hollywood’s eyes glaze over while Hortega checks on Hollywood.  He pulls Jatt off Hollywood and begins to count.

UNO!

DOS!

TRES!

QUATRO!

Joe Hoffman:  Signs aren’t looking good for Brian Hollywood!

Benny Newell:  The former World Champion Jatt Starr is showing Hollywood what true world champions do in this sport:  dominate.  He’s pulling Hollywood back to his feet!!!

Joe Hoffman:  Is that…

Benny Newell:  FALLING STAR ON ONE HALF OF OUR CURRENT TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS!  HERE’S THE COUNT!

ONE!

TWO!

WHA?!

Joe Hoffman:  Holy Moly Guacamole!  Hollywood some how kicked out of the Falling Star.

Jatt gets into an argument with Hortega, who screams out “DOS!  DOS!” at Jatt signifying he stands by his count.  Sektor takes the opportunity to slide “Mr. Whacky” into the ring for Jatt’s use.  Sektor comes up on the turnbuckle to continue to bully Hortega at the dismay of the crowd.  Starr takes Mr. Whacky and clips Hollywood right off at the knees!  Hollywood holds his knee as Jatt continues to rail on Hollywood.  Matthews has seen enough!  He immediately leaps on the turnbuckle and nails a bulldog on Jatt while Sektor continues to distract Hortega.  Both men are lying on the ground struggling as Matthews slides out of the ring and Sektor charges at him, clipping his head off with a viscious clotheline.

Benny Newell:  Hollywood didn’t need to cheat like this facing LT in the past, what do you have to say about that with your comparison earlier?

Joe Hoffman:  I meant what I said!  Hollywood’s pulling out all the stops.  He’s one of LT’s toughest opponents and Lee Best gave Jatt some great warm ups tonight.  Both these men are willing to do ANYTHING to get a win to change their momentum here in HOW.

Hortega gets back into the match as Sektor and Matthews continue to brawl on the outside of the ring.  Meanwhile, Hollywood and Jatt are both struggling to get to their feet and Hortega counts as they slowly struggle back to their feet.

UNO!

DOS!

TRES!

Benny Newell:  Come on Jatt!  Now’s not the time your bum knee starts giving out!

QUATRO!

CINCO!

SEIS!

Joe Hoffman:  Hollywood’s body is moving!  He’s starting to fumble closer to the ropes to prop himself up.

SIETE!

O….

Hollywood slowly gets to his feet, but before Hortega can count to eight, Hollywood drops a stiff stomp straight onto the back of Jatt’s head before buckling down on the ground.  He slowly pulls himself on top of Jatt before landing slow punch after slow punch.  Jatt flails around and reverses it, continuing to attack Hollywood’s glass jaw, and Hollywood pulls away.  As Jatt pulls himself up, he sees Hollywood still struggling to get back up and he clotheslines Hollywood straight at the knee to cut him off.  Jatt’s fuming now.  He’s limping as he’s trying to pull Hollywood into the center of the ring for the Jattclysm Cloverleaf.  As Jatt tries to lock the hold in, Hollywood flings him up against the ropes and kips up, nailing one of Darin Matthew’s old signature moves – the Reverse Darin Effect Flatliner bringing Jatt to the ground.  Hollywood tries to sink in the Boston Crab on Jatt, but Jatt slowly gets the rope break and Hortega changes his focus straight to Hollywood.  Jatt sees Mr. Whacky sitting in the corner and desperately dives to grab it.  As he makes it in the corner, Matthews who quickly leveled Sektor with a return clotheline in the background after a back and forth brawl grabs the cane and wags his finger at Jatt.  Jatt and Matthews have a tug of war over the cane as Sektor comes flying in with a stiff punch bringing Matthews straight to the ground.  Jatt flies a little bit as he gains control of Mr. Whacky.  As Jatt pulls himself up with the cane and charges towards Hollywood….

WHACK!!!!!

Joe Hoffman:  DANGER ZONE KICK FROM OUT OF NOWHERE!!!!  STRAIGHT TO JATT’S JAW!  HE’S HOOKING THE LEG!

Benny Newell:  Come on Jatt!  Come on Jatt!

UNO!

DOS!

TRES!

KICKOUT!

But it’s too late!  Bryan McVay comes to the middle of the ring as the bell rings.

Bryan McVay:  Here is your winner…

WHAM!  WHAM!  WHAM!

Sektor comes into the ring and lands a few stiff suplexes on Brian Hollywood after he barely won against Jatt Starr.

Joe Hoffman:  This is uncalled for!  Brian Hollywood doesn’t deserve this.  Jatt Starr barely missed that kick out, but that kick connected straight with his jaw.  Hollywood did his job.

Benny Newell:  That’s the second time the Hollywood Boyz crossed Lee Best.  Apparently, they didn’t learn their lesson.  Nice guys finish last here in HOW.   Jatt Starr is now showing Hollywood no mercy.  Cane shot after cane shot. You show him Jatt.  You show anyone that treats you disrespect, ESPECIALLY one person that’s one of Lindsay Troy’s rivals what you mean!    These fools are…

WHAM!  WHAM!  WHAM!

Joe Hoffman:  Matthews’ has had enough!  He’s pissed off and got the chair and waffled Jatt Starr across the back with it and he charges straight after Sektor!

Matthews has had enough.  His temper has gotten the best of him and he’s done playing nicely with the Best Alliance after the last month sitting at home.  He’s going to war and he’s going to hit harder.  He continues to waffle the Best Alliance with chair shot after chair shot after chair shot protecting his best friend.  Both Sektor and Jatt aren’t backing down and staying in taking those shots.  As Matthews gears up for yet another shot, Steven Solex runs from out of the crowd and clips Matthews’ knee out from under him.  The chair flies and lands on the ground and Solex picks it up and hands it straight to John Sektor as he’s struggling to get back to his feet.

Meanwhile, Solex hands Mr. Whacky off to Jatt Starr.  Both Sektor and Jatt obliterate the backs of Hollywood and Matthews with their respective weapons while Solex just laughs at them.  Sektor and Jatt then stand in middle of the ring and focus their sights on Brian Hollywood.  Jatt hands Sektor the cane and Sektor locks the Sektor Stretch onto Hollywood.  Jatt then follows up with the Jattclysm on Hollywood’s feet and they lock the locks in tightly.  Solex picks up the chair, wraps it around Matthews’ throat, stomps his foot down with all his force down as Matthews watches Hollywood slowly fading.

Steven Solex:  You see this shit?  You fuck with the Best Alliance, Matthews again and this is you!  We will retire you!  We will end your career.  You won’t be able to pack your bags and leave to MVW.  You won’t be walking out of here.

Solex then stomps the chair straight down into Matthews’ throat and Sektor, Jatt and Solex leave admiring their devastating work as the scene fades to black.

The scene switches to “The Vintage” Conor Fuse standing in front of a monitor in the backstage hallway. The background is blurry but it’s mostly white brick behind Conor with some red and black colors intermixing. Fuse has a small notepad with him and he’s scribbling down thoughts with a lime green pencil crayon. Not dressed to wrestle tonight, he’s in deep concentration, likely taking notes not only during the recent Jatt Star-Brian Hollywood match but throughout the entire night. This is when Blaire Moise walks into the picture, microphone in hand.

Blaire Moise: Conor, hi. Was wondering if I could get a few words with you.

Fuse is happy to see her and gives a polite nod in return.

Blaire Moise: Doing some scouting, I see? And you’re watching Jatt Starr… so my understanding is things may not be over between the two of you?

Conor nods but also gives a shrug.

Conor Fuse: Well, I decided my loss to Jatt at Rumble at the Rock is non-canon, since it wasn’t at the proper location, such as the Best Arena, etcetera, etcetera.

Benny Newell: Non-canon? That’s not how things work around here, moron!

Fuse pauses. Blaire isn’t familiar with this terminology but to anyone else at home (and Benny Newell) it’s clear Conor’s making an attempt at a light-hearted joke after he smiles and jabs her in the arm.

Conor Fuse: I’m just messing with ya, of course it’s canon. I took the L. I lost a Life. It’s cool, Blaire, it’s cool. So to answer your question… yes, I am “scouting” and yes, of course, I will one day seek a rematch against the Jatt O’Lantern guy. Shoot, Halloween is over. There’s a new nickname for his alias bank since he has so many of them. Makes my head spin. But Blaire, I’m also watching everyone else. I’m not “the new guy” anymore. I’m here, I’m here to stay.

Some of the crowd gives a cheer upon hearing these comments.

Conor Fuse: Let’s face the facts of the High Octane system. People come and people go. If you can’t hang with the worst BOTS, the best Bosses and general scum around this land, you find out pretty quick and you’re out the door. I think it was Benny Newell himself who made the comment during my first match in HOW when he said it was “likely” either myself or my opponent wouldn’t be around for long. Well, he was right about that… but it wasn’t me.

Benny Newell: Wish it WAS you.

Joe Hoffman: Give it up.

Blaire Moise: So what’s next for you, Conor? You heard the announcement for Iconic and it leaves you open to…

Blaire’s voice trails off. Conor’s attention is also taken away from the interview. The red and black blur in the far-off background comes into focus because there’s a slight movement. It’s not a forgotten part of the background… it’s actually Scottywood. The Hardcore Artist is holding his broken barbed wire hockey stick from the victorious beating of Kevin Capone. What’s even more unsettling…

Joe Hoffman: Is that Kevin Capone’s blood STILL on Scottywood’s head and chest!?

It is.

Blaire is beside herself and Conor is… well, he’s confused. How long has Scotty been standing there for?

Finally, Scotty walks off. Blaire turns her attention to “The Vintage”.

Blaire Moise: That was interesting.

Conor does his best to shrug it off. He leans in and asks Blaire an honest question.

Conor Fuse: Has he… even showered yet?

Moise doesn’t know what to say. She seemingly shrugs it off, too.

Conor Fuse: Ah, nothing really surprises me here anymore. Maybe Scotty will be wearing that blood next week. Might be some kind of “HATE” tribe symbol…

With that, Blaire says a “thank you”, realizing there’s no further time for questions and Conor awaits watching over the main event of the night.

Backstage, Blaire Moise is standing firmly and resolute in front of the dressing room door of HOW ICON Champion Dan Ryan. Holding a microphone in one hand and the other raised and ready to knock, she closes her eyes briefly, breathes deeply and knocks on the door three times.

She exhales slowly and takes a slight step back in anticipation of whatever may come, blinking an eye nervously and trying to push away the nerves which are trying to overwhelm her at the moment.

With no response, she raises her fist and raps at the door three more times.

Still nothing.

She turns her head to look down the hall, wondering if she should give up on this assignment, then turns her head back where Dan Ryan’s head, and only his head, is protruding from the edge of the door now slightly opened.

An involuntary yelp escapes her lips as she stares into his cold eyes, a common sneer boring a hole into and through to the back of her head.

Blaire: Um… Mister Ryan….

He grunts, pulls his head back and slams the door loudly enough to shake the wall.

She flinches, considering her next move, but the door opens again, and he’s there once more, this time with more of his head and left shoulder slightly protruding from the small opening.

Dan Ryan: Blaire Moise?

He looks the hall over and behind her, then focuses back on the small interviewer.

Dan Ryan: What do you want?

Shaken, she steps back again, then does her best to stand up as tall as she can and holds her ground.

Blaire: Uhhhh, well, actually, I thought I might talk to you a little bit about Rumble at the Rock, and maybe about ICONIC.

His eyes narrow.

Dan Ryan: So, you wanna talk about Rumble at the Rock, eh?

He pokes through his left cheek with his tongue, looking her up and down. She nods.

Dan Ryan: And you wanna talk about ICONIC, eh?

He does the same with his other cheek, and looks her up and down again.

She sighs internally.

Blaire: Yes, actually, if you don’t mind.

Dan Ryan: HOLD ON.

He booms, then slams the door again.

Blaire’s mouth drops open, but before she can register anything else, the door opens again and he hurriedly slips through the opening and into the hallway right in front of her, pulling the door closed behind him.

Dan Ryan: Don’t look in there. None of your business.

Despite herself, her eyes drift to the opened door.

Dan Ryan: I SAID NO LOOKING.

Moise drops her eyes to the ground, doing her best to keep her mind on the job at hand.

Blaire: Um… sorry, I… I didn’t see anything.

Ryan relaxes his posture, smiles slightly and reaches out with his index finger to lift her chin up just a little bit.

Dan Ryan: Don’t be sad. I forgive you. Now, you had some questions. I may or may not have some answers. Let’s see how it goes.

Moise nods imperceptibly. This is uncomfortable, but at least we’re starting to get somewhere.

Blaire: Well, I wanted to know how you were feeling after the somewhat violent match with Lindsay Troy at Rumble at the Rock. We know she took some damage at your hands, and she seemed to have been able to get a few shots in on you as well.

Ryan nods, thoughtfully.

Dan Ryan: Yes, indeed. She was able to get a few shots in on me. I was scratched. I was bruised. But not broken. I attempted to use my broken glass glove to scrape some of the cellulite off of her stomach, not that she’ll ever thank me, since she’s ungrateful. But otherwise, I’ve come through it quite nicely. Thank you so much for asking.

Blaire: Oh… you’re welcome. And um, what about the emotional toll of the match on your family connections?

A smile.

Dan Ryan: Well Blaire, my family connections are just as I want them to be. We’ve never been better. The holidays are coming up, and I have no doubt that whatever small misunderstandings led to this most recent dust-up will be all sorted out in good time. Lindsay is a tough girl, if not an insufferable nag, and we’ll get through this.

Moise is skeptical, and her expression suggests as much.

Ryan frowns.

Dan Ryan: Your expression suggests skepticism.

She holds up a hand.

Blaire: No, it’s just… some of the things you said in the lead up to the match…

Ryan holds up both hands in a “who me?” gesture.

Dan Ryan: Jokes! Just good clean jokes between family members. Surely you’ve ribbed family members, played the ‘I’m not touching you’ game, punched them in the arm when mom isn’t looking, called them a cunt, a bitch, and a whore, and accused them of spreading HPV. These are classic inter-family squabble techniques. Trust me, there are no hard feelings toward me from Lindsay Troy. I’m very tuned in to things like this. If there was any lingering trouble, I’d know.

He smiles, satisfied with his answer, and Blaire just kinda blinks.

Blaire: Well okay, if you say so.

He frowns again, but she presses on.

Blaire: And what then about the big announcement that at ICONIC you will be facing Mike Best for the HOW World Championship, with not only the World Championship on the line, but your ICON Championship as well, and that the winner will be the final ICON champion? How will this match announcement affect your relationship with your Group of Death partner and friend?

Ryan holds his hands up in front of him, palms facing inward, about three inches apart, as if preparing to describe his tax plan.

Dan Ryan: Listen, I know that you and all the rest of your little microphone munchers would love for me to say something controversial and stir up some trouble with Mike, and I think it’s pretty damn inconsiderate. The man is in mourning right now, and as his friend, I think there is a certain level of decorum to be adhered to. We’ll handle the business of that match when the time is right, but for right now, you’ll just have to live without your little juicy quote. I’m here to watch his match with Jiles, and if he needs me for anything, I’ll be here. Now shuffle off to, I assume, your hairstylist. I’m busy.

Moise’s mouth drops again and she absent-mindedly grabs at her hair as her face drops into a sad clown expression.

Blaire: I hate him so much.

Refueled cuts to commercial break.

COMING SOON: Limited Edition Max Kael Action Figure w/ Real Eye Stabbing Action!

Backstage in the Best Arena, HOW interviewer Brian Bare is standing with a microphone in his hand, standing in front of an unmarked metal door. 

Brian Bare: Folks, we’re just moments away from tonight’s scheduled main event between HOW World Champion Michael Best and challenger Cancer Jiles. We’re hoping to get a word with the champion on his way to the ring, now that the main event match for ICONIC has been confirmed. Mike Best vs fellow GoD member and ICON Champion, Dan Ryan. 

He awkwardly twiddles with the microphone in his hands, as he glances at the camera, waiting for the door to open. After a few seconds of cold silence, it does– the metal door swings open, as Michael Lee Best steps out with the HOW World Championship over his shoulder. 

Brian Bare: Michael, a tough month for the Best Family, and now maybe a tough month for the Group of Death as well. With a match against Dan Ryan on the horizon, and the stakes being high, what are your–

He doesn’t even stop. 

The shoulder of the HOW World Champion collides into Bare, stumbling him backward as Michael just keeps walking, ignoring the microphone altogether. 

Brian Bare: Is this going to be a friendly competition? Even knowing that the winner will be the final ICON Champion? 

He’s talking to no one.

The HOW World Champion disappears behind the curtain without a single word, headed out to make his entrance for the main event.  

Joe Hoffman: It’s time for the main event of the evening, ladies and gentlemen, and it’s proving to be a much more heated match than initially suspected. HOW World Champion Michael Lee Best defends his championship just two weeks after Rumble at the Rock against former eGG Bandit Cancer Jiles, but this match wasn’t even originally cited to be a World Title match, Benny.

Benny Newell: Play stupid games, win stupid prizes Joe. Jiles has never received a shot at the HOW World Title in all his years in HOW, and now he’s busy stirring up the hornet’s nest against a dominant champion who has literally killed two HOW wrestlers in matches.

Joe Hoffman: Well, Kostoff survived.

Benny Newell: THANKS FOR REMINDING ME THAT KOSTOFF IS STILL ALIVE AND MAX KAEL ISN’T. I APPRECIATE YOU SO MUCH, JOE.

Suddenly…

POWER. OUTAGE. BLACK. Then pin drop silence takes over the Best Arena.

Seconds of anticipation start to add up.

Benny Newell: Oh Christ, the melodrama. I hope Mikey murders this one just for making me wait this long for an entrance.

Joe Hoffman: This is Jiles first ever World Title match, Benny. He’s known for the theatrics– what could he possibly have in store for us tonight?

Before Benny can answer, a loud, overwhelming, but also acutely harmonious tune takes over the Best Arena.

Joe Hoffman: That’s Ode to the Bandit, Benny! Max Shell played this song on the Yolkulele! Could that be wh– MY GOD LOOK AT JILES!!!!!!

Benny Newell: The balls on this fucking guy.

A spotlight the shape of an egg pierces through the pitch black arena and illuminates the top of the entrance ramp. There, an already posing Maestro of COOL is shown facing the ring. His T-Shades are on, and his hair is radiating blond. More importantly than that though, what Joe was reacting to– the challenger is wearing an eyepatch over top of the T-Shades.

Also of note, Jiles’ usually bare chest has a white, old school Max Kael T-Shirt covering it. On the front of the shirt Max’s last name has been crossed out, and underneath it is the word Shell written in black magic marker.

Joe Hoffman: Jiles did say he wanted Mike to look across the ring tonight and see, and I quote, his dead brother looking back at him. I wonder if he got his teeth done?

Benny Newell: This fucking prick. HOW DARE HE! Max never even wrestled as a BANDIT!

After making his way down to the ring, Jiles stops to engage a lucky fan sitting in the front row. The fan, a young STAR struck child, is the recipient of Jiles eyepatch.

Joe Hoffman: That fan is going to remember this moment for the rest of their life, Benny.

Benny Newell: Poor kid.

Joe Hoffman: Oh look! There goes the Max shirt from off Jiles’ back and into the crowd!

Benny Newell: What a swell guy. Now get in the ring and get smothered to death.

Joe Hoffman: With The Maestro handing out all sorts of gifts tonight, Benny, one has to wonder… could he give Mike the gift of defeat?

Benny Newell: No.

After interacting with the fan, Jiles shoots up the ring stairs and then pauses for what feels like an eternity, before finally he confidently steps through the ropes and walks right on over to his corner.

Joe Hoffman: Does he have a red contact lens in his left eye?

Benny Newell: Oh he’s gonna fucking die.

After one of the more theatrical entrances in recent memory, there is a stark contrast as the lights come back up in the Best Arena.

There is no music.

The HOV doesn’t light up. The curtain parts, as an expressionless Michael Lee Best makes his way out from the backstage area. Dragging the HOW World Championship behind him, Michael doesn’t even take a pause at the top of the ramp as he makes his way to the ring at a slow but steady pace.

Joe Hoffman: I don’t think anyone could be sure what Mike Best’s first match after Rumble at the Rock was going to look like, Benny, but I don’t think I could have prepared myself for this. The champion looks like a ghost out here tonight.

Benny Newell: The joke is too easy, and it might be too soon even for me. Drink.

At the ramp, the camera zooms in, anticipating the champion’s usual flipping of the bird with his Hall of Fame ring, but it would appear that he isn’t even wearing it here tonight. He walks past the camera without a sideways glance, heading toward the ring and climbing up the steps opposite from Jiles.

The Son of God tosses the HOW World Championship at referee Matt Boettcher, who looks utterly shocked at seeing the title so callously handled by the champion.

Benny Newell: Lee Best is gonna lose his fucking mind when he sees this, Joe.

Joe Hoffman: No doubt about that, Benny. There’s going to be an angry phone call about the champion’s behavior tonight, for sure.

Boettcher raises the belt into the air, giving it the respect that it deserves before checking that both combatants are ready to go. Once he has the call clear, Boettcher calls for the bell.

DING DING DING

With a shit eating grin on his face, Jiles makes his way to the center of the ring, letting Michael Best get a good look at his special attire for the evening. The HOW World Champion clenches his fists, gritting his teeth as he meets the challenger in the middle of the ring and stares him down.

*SLAP!*

The right hand of Michael Lee Best’s open palm smashes into the side of the Maestro’s head, literally knocking the red contact lens out of his eye along with a healthy mouthful of spit. Immediately, the crowd is on their feet, ready to see war in the center of the ring. They’re desperate for it, and Jiles clearly has the support of the crowd as he lifts his head up to look at the champion.

And laughs.

Jiles wipes a trauma-induced tear from his eye where the contact grazed his cornea, wiping it down the eyes of Max Kael on his t-shirt. He offers his face up to Michael Best a second time, daring him to try it again. The crowd is even more hyped for it this time, as Jiles stares Michael in the face and mouths the word he wants the crowd to chant.

“Murderer.”

The crowd catches right on, and soon they’re chanting right along.

MUR-DER-ER

MUR-DER-ER

MUR-DER-ER

The vein in the forehead of the Son of God looks like it’s about to burst, as he rears back with all his might…

…and throws on a headlock!

Instantly, the crowd begins to boo, but the champion doesn’t give a single fuck. He begins to laugh, as he snugs up the hold around Jiles’ neck and marches him in a small circle around the ring. Jiles fights back against the hold, though, and pushes Mike Best off of him toward the ropes. The champion recoils back from the counter Irish Whip, meeting Jiles in the center of the ring–

Headlock!

MUR-DER-ER

MUR-DER-ER

MUR-DER-ER

The booing is even louder this time, as Jiles finds himself once again caught in the grip of the Starmaker. It’s the first time the HOW World Champion has smiled since Rumble at the Rock, as he wears the cheesy, shit eating grin of a man who knows that he is putting on dogshit television right now out of spite.

Joe Hoffman: Well, Mike Best promised us the most boring World Title match of all time tonight, folks. Despite the best effort’s of Cancer Jiles to make this a barnburner, it looks like the champion might get his wish.

Benny Newell: Come on, Mikey… you know I wanna put over these headlocks but I can literally feel us losing sponsors as we go.

Jiles struggles to fight out of the second headlock, but as soon as he’s almost free, the champion rotates around behind him and grabs a wrist, twisting him up with a wrist lock instead. The booing grows even louder, as do the chants.

MUR-DER-ER

MUR-DER-ER

MUR-DER-ER

The Maestro can’t help but smirk, as he’s trapped in the expertly applied but not ultimately too dangerous wrist lock in the center of the ring. He shakes his head, shoving a boot behind him into the midsection of the Starmaker. It shoves the champion back, and now Jiles springboards off the ropes in front of him, sailing backward with a flying elbow that takes Best off his feet!

Instantly, the crowd is back, and Jiles scrambles back to his feet just in time to meet the rising HOW World Champion. He throws a wild forearm that backs Best into the ropes, and now Jiles wraps his head up under an arm, walking him toward the turnbuckle and springboarding off the pad, landing a tornado DDT near the middle of the ring!

He makes a cover!

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

The champion easily powers out at two, as Jiles rises back to his feet once again. He stares down at the champion, still smirking.

The Maestro: Congratulations… murderer. You killed a golf legend!

Laughter from the front row, for those close enough to hear the joke and get the reference. The crowd is very much enjoying watching Jiles dunk on the man that they blame for the death of Maximilian Kael. The Maestro slaps the champion in the side of the head, telling him to get up and fight.

Michael rolls to one side, grabbing the ropes to aid him in standing up. He’s still clearly not healed from his match at Rumble at the Rock, and Jiles is completely in his head. He starts to stand, but Jiles takes a step backward and tees up, readying his next attack with a glint in his eye as the crowd starts to buzz.

Best stumbles to his feet, and Jiles comes off the back foot with a thunderous superkick!

Benny Newell: No, no, no… look out, Mike! LOOKOUT!

Joe Hoffman: TERMINAL CANCER! TERMINAL CANCER!

BUT THE CHAMPION BAILS OUT OF THE RING!

Catching a last second sideways glance of the situation, Michael drops to avoid the kick and rolls to the outside, narrowly avoiding an end to this match and a new champion. The crowd is incensed, as fans at ringside scream “MURDERER!” at the champion and berate him for getting out of the ring. Jiles looks frustrated, but not exactly defeated– this was still a small victory.

1!

Boettcher begins to count, as Mike catches his breath at ringside.

2!

Feeling something hot running down his face, Best reaches up and touches his forehead– the stitches still hadn’t healed where his nose had been shattered by The Minister, and a small trickle of blood is running down toward his mouth.

3!

Mike Best: Fuck this, and fuck you.

Grabbing his belt from the timekeeper’s table, Best shakes his head and begins to walk away. The arena is aghast, booing even louder now as he makes his way toward the ramp.

4!

MUR-DER-ER

MUR-DER-ER

MUR-DER-ER

The champion keeps walking. He isn’t looking back.

5!

Realizing that his first ever HOW World Title shot is suddenly in jeopardy, Jiles bails out of the ring as well to give chase. He heads toward the champion, trying to mock and goad him back into the match. On the way, he grabs something from ringside to aid in his crusade.

The Maestro: Wow, he learned how to walk away!

The champion pauses, stopping on his front foot, but not turning around.

6!

The Maestro: Too late for Max though, huh?

Slowly, the HOW World Champion turns around to face the challenger. Jiles stands sneering, a carton in one hand as he tosses a single egg up and down in the other. Michael’s face is no longer expressionless– his eyes are filling with exactly the anger that Jiles wanted from him here tonight, and he takes a step toward the challenger with clenched fists.

7!

With a cruel laugh, Jiles lets the egg sail…

~SPLAT!~

…and it lands directly into the center of Michael chest!

Joe Hoffman: MIKE BEST HAS BEEN EGGED! FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER, THE SON OF GOD HAS BEEN EGGED!

Benny Newell: Jiles is LITERALLY egging him on. Holy shit.

8!

Best lunges after Jiles, but the challenger is a step ahead– he tucks the egg carton like a football, sprinting back for the ring and sliding in under the ropes. He pops back up to his feet, reaching into the carton and throwing another egg at the Starmaker as he makes chase!

~SPLAT!~

~SPLAT!~

It’s raining eggs outside of the ring, as Michael Best slides under the ropes and ditches the HOW World Championship on the apron. He charges for Jiles, ready to tackle his dick into the dirt, but Jiles throws one last egg…

~SPLAT!~

DIRECTLY INTO THE FACE OF THE CHAMPION!

The crowd loses their fucking mind!!!!

Joe Hoffman: Mike Best has egg on his face!

Benny Newell: The jokes write themselves, Joe! Wait, maybe Mike had a point with all that commercialism stuff…

Jiles cannot stop laughing, proud of himself and his complete dismantling of Michael Best’s composure here tonight. The crowd is loving it too, but strangely enough the HOW World Champion doesn’t look angry anymore. He’s smiling.

He’s laughing.

He slides back out of the ring, egg still dripping off his face as he snatches a microphone from ringside and carrying it with him back up the ring steps.

Mike Best: Disqualify him, Boettcher.

The referee looks confused, as he steps in closer to the champion to discuss whatever madness he’s talking about.

Mike Best: He hit me with a foreign object inside of the ring. Disqualify him. I win this match. Still champion. ME.

Jiles rolls his eyes, yelling at Boettcher and telling him that obviously this is a ridiculous request. Boettcher clearly agrees, and now both men are trying to talk some sense into the HOW World Champion as he shakes his head vehemently. Boettcher tries to explain that an egg is hardly a real weapon, and that years of precedent dictate that it’s fine.

Mike Best: No, no, no, no. NO! I was attacked with a weapon! Do your FUCKING JOB and ring the bell. Now. It’s your JOB, Boettcher.

Boettcher looks unsure what to do.

Mike Best: NOW.

He takes a decisive step toward Boettcher, looming down at HOW’s most senior official. With a sigh, Boettcher gives Jiles an apologetic shrug before looking helplessly at the timekeeper and calling for the bell.

DING DING DING

The booing reaches a fever pitch, as Michael Lee Best grabs the HOW World Championship off the apron and aggressively throws it over his shoulder. He flips Jiles the bird, as The Maestro tries to figure out exactly what just happened in his first ever HOW World Championship match.

Bryan Mcvay: Here is your winner, as the result of a disqualification, and STILL HOW World Chaaaaampion… Michael… Lee… Beeeeeeest!

The fans get even louder as the official announcement is made, and they realize that this result is going to stand. A sideways smirk curls onto the face of the champion, as he turns back toward Jiles one last time.

Mike Best: Congrats, sellout. I just made you a star.

CRACK!

Egg still dripping down his face, Michael Lee Best pops Jiles in the face with the microphone, before bouncing off the ropes and stepping up into his midsection. He connects with a vicious knee to the side of his head, laying Jiles out in the center of the ring with an I KNEED A HERO.

Dragging the belt back behind him, Michael Lee Best bails out of the ring and makes his way up the back to no music. No HOV. No celebration. Refueled comes to an end with a shot of Cancer Jiles, laying motionless inside of the ring.

The Star Destroyer has come.