- Sean Stevens vs. Devin DeSean
- To Fight? Or...
- Soliciting Services
- Brian Hollywood vs. Conor Fuse
- Edging With Steve Harrison
- Difficulty Mode
- Steve Solex vs. Black Mamba
- Equal Pain For Equal Work
- John Sektor vs. Clay Byrd
- Louder Than Words
- Bobby Dean vs. Simon Loveless
- No Funny Business
- Scottywood vs. Cancer Jiles
A solid back and forth first round between two HOW newcomers with a lot of prove. The High Octane fans are hesitant at first to the two rookies, but tensions mount after a battle against the cage shows that these two might just have the ferocity to cut it in the DeNucci cup. Sean Stevens is looking for a big knockout at the end of the first round, but Devin DeSean is literally saved by the bell as the referee calls the round to an end. While Sean Stevens goes over time by more than a few blows, this one is going to the second round.
Fresh into round two, Devin Desean is clearly wearing a chip on his shoulder over the cheap shots after the previous bell. The two fighters step to the center of the cage, but a flash headbutt from DeSean puts the lights out for Sean Stevens and this one is over. Devin DeSean advances to the second round of the Denucci Cup!
The action cuts away from the HOFC cage and picks up with Bobby Dean, who can be seen striding through the backstage area with a bit of a pep injected into his step.
Suddenly, a familiar voice calls out to him.
Jiles: YO! Bob!
The Beautiful Man from Honalee quickly loses his pep and braces for a yolky impact.
It never comes.
Instead, The Maestro of COOL hastily catches up to his old running mate to further engage him.
Jiles: Hey man. Relax. It’s cool. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll never throw another egg in my life……..
Like a cold blooded Stevens, Bob no sells the breaking news.
Jiles: Say man. You look great. Been tracking them points I see. Proud of you.
Bobby Dean: Yeah it’s amazing what one can do when left to their own devices.
Paying no mind to Bob’s slight, Jiles continues on with a brimming smile.
Jiles: Anyway, while I have you, I want to wish you luck tonight against Sighmon. I have all the faith in the world you’ll be moving onto the next round.
Bobby Dean: Really?
Bobby Dean: For real?
Jiles: For. Real.
Bob furrows a suspicious, unappreciative brow in Jiles’ direction.
Bobby Dean: Are you trying to jinx me so if you lose to Scotty you might somehow feel better about yourself? Better yet. Do you think my chances are that bad that you had to track me down to wish me luck? Tell me, Cancer. Which is it? Remember… I know you.
Aghast, The Slayer of Mongoloids backpedals.
Jiles: No. God no! None of that. I was just telling you good luck. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. From one brother of the shell to another.
Agitated, The Beautiful Man perks up.
Bobby Dean: HOW DARE YOU SAY THOSE WORDS TO ME! I still haven’t received my makeupsies gift basket you dark hearted son of a bitch. You have got to be fucking with me right now?!
Jiles frantically waves his arms in an attempt to quell rising tensions.
Jiles: Whoaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. Easy there, Big fella. I didn’t mean to rile you. Doozer stole your basket, and all I’m trying to say is good luck… and that I firmly believe in Bobby Dean. That’s it.
It’s not at Jiles, but needless to say The Maestro’s instantly soured puss doesn’t seem too thrilled about the infringement.
Bobby Dean: Big? FIRM. What’s next, Pizmo?
Suddenly, steam starts to rise off of Jiles’ T-Shades.
Nobody Pizmo’s Cancer Jiles.
Silence. Awkward… do we fight, or do we not fight, silence.
Bobby Dean: You are dead to me.
Quickly and without a moment’s hesitation, Bob stammers off leaving a shell shocked and Pizmo’d Cancer Jiles to ponder. Then, he calls out from the Abyss because Bandits will always be Bandits…
Bobby Dean: If I lose.
Cut to The Queen of the Ring.
The words Earlier in the Week fade into the top right corner of the screen as the scene opens up to the world famous Skydeck at the building formerly known as the Sears Tower. No, we’re not calling it the Willis Tower, fuck you. It’s relatively quiet, as the winter months are the off-season for the tourist attraction, but three of HOW’s finest – and one teenager – have decided to take in the sights on this crystal clear day.
Lindsay Troy: Probably a bad idea to have left them alone.
The Queen of the Ring stands next to the Watson Mill Kid inside one of the observation boxes, and looks out across the vast landscape. She squints her eyes against the sun and reaches for her shades.
Zeb Martin: Eh. Dun tol’ her if she’s go’n hang out back here again, she needs tuh say she’s sorry fer that lil’ bear incident. I’m shore they fine.
Lindsay Troy: Well, I’m sure she’s fine. Him, not so much.
As they engage in separate conversation, mulling over the upcoming trial of a mutual friend, two bitter enemies attempt to bury the hatchet over harsh words and subtle threats.
OSV: Say it one more time. I dare you…
Not too far away, both Teddy Palmer and Kendra Collier are standing toe to toe. Neither is backing down, firmly holding their respective ground on what appears to be an extremely important matter. The scene zooms in on the two.
Kendra Collier: King…Pin…sucks…
Teddy huffs and puffs. He kicks up clouds of imaginary dust from the floor. He grasps and pulls at his beard, glaring at the mean girl in disgust.
Teddy Palmer: You know what? Who cares what you think! You’re like twelve, what do you know…
Kendra Collier: Y’all nerds wanna thank everythang Woody Harrelson does is ‘so cool.’ And Bill Murray ‘so funny.’ Bo-rin’! Kingpin SUCKS. And also, I’m fifteen.
Teddy Palmer: Sorrrrrrrrrry! Fifteen! Who cares!
Ted yells, drawing the attention of some nosey passerbyers. An elderly lady takes particular interest. Teddy, not wanting to further cause a scene, leans in closer, speaking softly.
Teddy Palmer: Name one movie that’s better. Go ahead. I’ll wait…
Kendra Collier: Easy. 17 Again.
Teddy crosses his arms and grits his teeth. He looks to his left, then to the right. Running through a mental maze desperately looking for an exit, he quickly gives up, dropping his arms in defeat.
Teddy Palmer: …Fuck. That’s a good one.
Kendra Collier: Right? ‘Member when teenage Mike tells the lunchroom Stu hadda little wiener?
Teddy Palmer: Classic!
Kendra Collier: I know!
Ted snickers, pointing at Kendra. She mirrors his movements, joining in with a chuckle of her own. Their brief moment of unity quickly comes to an end with some trademark southern sass.
Kendra Collier: Ferreal though. I’ll ‘pologize to ya, but I’m tellin’ ya one thang. You show up next week with that same lovey dovey Bee-Ess you and Zeb did, you’re gonna get yer ass whooped!
Teddy Palmer: Hey! Just because Zeb and I didn’t ‘fancy the idear’ of brainin’ one another, doesn’t mean I’m not man enough to run the table.
Kendra Collier: Oh I’m sure you two fancy the idea uh ‘brainin’ one another. Not that there’s anythang wrong with that. And don’t you talk tuh me about bein’ man enough. Woulda real man ask my brother for Lindsay’s number instead of jus’ nuttin’ up and askin’ her direct?
Teddy Palmer: Sssssssshhhhhh!
Teddy grabs onto Kendra’s arm, tugging her further away from Zeb and Lindsay. The old lady still lurks in the wings, intently watching. After a couple steps, Kendra wiggles her arm free, firing daggers at Teddy.
Kendra Collier: Keep yer paws off, Ruxpin!
Teddy Palmer: Shut it you! What in the hell was that! And how the fuck you know that? We were in the men’s room!
Kendra Collier: I got my sources…
Teddy Palmer: Well keep quiet blabbermouth, for the love of God. Not cool. Not cool at all.
Teddy looks back at Zeb and Lindsay, who in the midst of a conversation of their own, are none the wiser of the little snitch’s outburst.
Teddy Palmer: And wait a minute. What do you mean ‘sources’? You’ve been here for like a week.
Kendra Collier: Nunya! But ser’sly, ya best man up for real if you wanna tussle with Jiles er Woodson, that’s for damn sure.
Teddy Palmer: Oh is that right? “Man up for real” she says. Pffft. Awful big talk coming from a friggen’ teenybopper. I’m real certain you’d have ‘em both a ‘shakin’ in der wrasslin’ boots’…
Kendra Collier: Dadgum right. I’d crack that lil’ acorn ‘tween Jiles legs with my cowgirl boot. When he goes tuh the ‘mergency room, he kin draw an arrow down from that dumb ass tattoo so the nurse knows where tuh put the ice at.
Teddy Palmer: Oh yeah? Well…that ain’t half bad…
Kendra Collier: An’ Scottywood? Jus’ tell ‘em Aaron Lewis’s playin’ a free concert and there’s a bunch of women there wearin’ Jack Daniels’ tank tops and chain smokin’ Marlboro Lights waitin’ on him. He won’t even show up fer the match.
Teddy Palmer:…that’s pretty fuckin’ funny…
Teddy’s sentence fades off as a grin begins to grow on his face, curling ever so slowly. He locks eyes with Kendra, as an ingenious idea percolates in his head. An absolutely awful idea. Teddy thinks up and conjures his wonderfully awful idea.
Kendra Collier: Why you lookin’ at me like that?
Teddy Palmer: Let’s call a truce for a second and hear me out. What if you and I got together weekly, and you hit me with everything you’ve got. I mean let me reaaaaally have it. Litter my ears with your generations’ cruelty. Teach me.
Kendra Collier: You mean…teach you how to be a mean girl?
Teddy Palmer: Yes! Teach me how to mean girl. It’s a scientific fact that from decade to decade, teenage girls are thee absolute worst. It takes all of five seconds for you brats to kill off literally anyone’s self esteem.
Kendra Collier: I on’t know…
Teddy Palmer: I’m not looking for charity here. I’ll pay for your services. And trust me when I say I pay handsomely. I’m sure a young girl like yourself could find a way to spend the money.
The nosey old lady’s jaw drops in shock. Her hearing not the best, she’s keyed in on minor portions of their conversation. ‘Fifteen! Who Cares!’ ‘Keep yer paws off, Ruxpin!’ ‘I’ll pay for your services!’ Teddy winking doesn’t help the situation either. She takes off as quick as her walker will allow, especially as she notices both Lindsay and Zeb making their way back towards the pair.
Teddy Palmer: It’s an offer you can’t refuse!
Zeb Martin: …what offer?
Palmer walks over to Kendra and attempts to put an arm around her. While reluctant, she accepts, but not without a sourpuss look strewn across her face.
Teddy Palmer: Meet my new manager, guys! Kendra is joining Team Teddy! Having Bin, that keeps me level headed, right? But adding Kennie to the mix? That’s like injecting my mean streak with HGH! I’ve struck a real yin yang type balance!
LT and Martin shoot each other a look. Kendra looks like she wants to vomit hearing Teddy call her Kennie.
Lindsay Troy: Yup, a bad idea.
Zeb Martin: Reckon so. Mama ain’t go’n be too thrilled tuh hear about another’n her kids in this business. ‘Specially since you got other ‘sponsibilities.
Kendra Collier: No I don’t.
Zeb Martin: You thank the school go’n be closed ferever ‘cause uh the pipes burstin’? Y’all be back up and runnin’ in two weeks!
Kendra Collier: Ever heard of FaceTime, dummy? I ain’t gotta be here. ‘Sides, you ain’t the boss uh me.
Teddy Palmer: That’s right Zeb! You ain’t the boss of this strong, independent young lady. I am! Besides, what could go wrong?
The perfect words spoken for an officer to arrive on cue. In tow with the man in blue, the nosey old walker lady points accusingly towards Ted. Teddy misinterprets her pointer, bashfully nodding as if to say ‘you’re right, it’s me, Teddy Palmer’.
Old Lady: That’s him, officer. And that’s the poor girl right there.
Bashful nodding eliminated, Teddy, whose arm is still around the teen, looks at Kendra with confusion.
Officer: Is it true you’ve been attempting to solicit this young girl’s ‘services’.
Teddy Palmer: Not attempting officer. Succeeding.
Again, Teddy with an inappropriate wink. Lindsay rolls her eyes. Zeb isn’t too sure what is happening. And Kendra? Well, a devilish grin grows on her face.
Officer: Young lady, how old are you?
Kendra Collier: …Twelve…
Teddy Palmer: I thought you said you were fifteen? And why are you talking with a different accent?
The officer has heard enough to warrant pinning Teddy against the nearest wall, fighting to get his hands behind his back. The old lady is pleased, having saved this young girl, and said young girl is taking great enjoyment out of this development. Lindsay and Zeb look shocked, just for a moment, before Troy rushes forward.
Teddy Palmer: What did I do!?
Officer: Quiet scumbag! You’re under arrest for soliciting a minor!
Teddy Palmer: What’s wrong with that? I’m paying her! Tell him Kendra!
Lindsay Troy: Ted, shut up! Hold on a minute, that’s not what’s happening here…
Kendra Collier: I told him no officer, but he didn’t listen!
Teddy’s eyes dart at Kendra with shocked betrayal. Kendra feigns cries, covering her face, peeking through her fingers. The officer now has Teddy in cuffs after their struggle, and is quick to yank him out of view. Kendra offers a little wave to Teddy as he can be heard screaming her name repeatedly, each time fading off in the distance.
Tonight, Best Alliance member John Sektor takes on Clay Byrd in HOFC action… who will advance to round two?
Brian Hollywood takes an early lead in the first round, having recently competed in HOFC and being familiar with the cage. Conor Fuse does his best to survive the early onslaught, escaping a few series of blows and taking shots to the skull of Brian Hollywood with every opening that he can get. It’s the tortoise and the hare throughout the round, with Hollywood landing more blows, but Fuse perhaps landing bigger ones. There is no decisive winner by the end of round one, as both men are sent back to their corners to break.
As the bell rings for round two, Hollywood charges Fuse into the cage and begins hammering him with right hands. He’s moving a little too slow, though, and Fuse is able to flip him around and drive the head of Brian Hollywood directly into the cage post. Grabbing him by the hair, he slams Hollywood two more times, putting the HOW veteran down with a vicious looking knockout to a head that has been targeted for two straight rounds. Conor Fuse will advance to round two and face the HOW World Champion, Mike Best!
Backstage Brian Bare is seen walking towards a door. He is moving frantically and then knocks on the door. ‘Come in,’ is heard and Brian opens the door and sitting down with dozens, maybe hundreds, oh fuck it you lot would believe thousands of Welcome Mats is Steve Harrison. He motions for Brian to come towards him. Jack Marley pushes some mats away from Brian, so he doesn’t trip on them.
Brian Bare: WOW! What is all this?
Harrison stands up and snatches the mic from Brian’s hand.
Steve Harrison: Did you forget the deal here, Brian?
Brian tries to talk but Harrison pulls his arm further away from him.
Steve Harrison: You are here to bring me a mic and watch on in amazement at your role model. Enough about your incompetence though. Do you see all these freaking welcome mats?
Steve Harrison: I cannot believe it. I went to all this trouble to bring a product to the wrestling world and Jack Harmen had his lawyers give me a cease and desist order! I didn’t even know he could find a lawyer that wasn’t half kraken but here we are. I have a bunch of welcome mats and nothing to do with them.
Jack raises his hand like he is class because he is a moron. Harrison stares at him and sighs.
Jack Marley: Uh…is that…well—how about we use them to make a bunch of quilts!
Steve Harrison: Are you going to take responsibility with giving smallpox to the quilts and handing them out to the Native HOWers?
Jack just stares ahead at Harrison and blinks several times not understanding anything Harrison just said just like most of the audience watching and three quarters of the wrestlers. Could you imagine Scottywood reading…anything? Lindsay Troy learning something that isn’t about her? It is not Oregon Trail, Conor, don’t make me explain why I choose that video game, assholes. Yea–so most of these wrestlers are straight Corky from Life Goes On.
Jack Marley: I don’t know.
Steve Harrison: Look, I am fairly certain I am edging really close to ANOTHER lawsuit so let’s move off this…
Jack Marley: Prayer Mats!
The Miracle Man pauses and taps his left index finger on his chin.
Steve Harrison: For?
Jack Marley: Praying duh…jeez mon.
Harrison rubs his face as he angrily shakes his head.
Steve Harrison: Ok…well we can put a pin in that because I…
Jack interrupts Steve because I guess he likes being yelled at.
Jack Marley: Or we could return them from where we stol…
Harrison stands up and covers Jacks mouth with his hand. With his other hand he puts his finger to his lips and makes a shhh noise.
Steve Harrison: Just shut up, you raving idiot.
Brian Bare moves closer to Steve. Harrison looks at him.
Steve Harrison: I don’t have any coke on me, Brian so no reason to cozy up here…
Brian shakes his head with a look of surprise on his face. Harrison moves the mic to Brian and nods at him.
Brian Bare: Oh…thanks. The world wants to know what your thoughts on ICONIC are and your rematch with Jatt Starr.
The Man of every Miracle rolls his eyes.
Steve Harrison: The world wants to know? Hah, ok well we cannot say you aren’t good at embellishing shit. All the world needs to know is that HOFC is what I am concentrating on now and it just so happens that Jatt and I get to meet again but this time he doesn’t have two others targeting me and a damn ladder to scare me.
Brian Bare: Speaking about being scared, where is your new bodyguard?
Harrison shrugs and stands up and begins walking Brian to the door. He opens it up and softly pushes him out the door.
Steve Harrison: Don’t worry it.
The Scene fades as Steve slams the door on Brian and the camera crew.
The scene switches to a hallway backstage and Conor Fuse, a smug look on his face, still wearing his wrestling tights with a purple towel around his neck, carries a can of silver paint in his left hand. Blaire Moise walks into the picture with a microphone and a concerned look on her face.
Blaire Moise: Conor, you didn’t actually use… that did you?
She looks at the paint, it’s been dripping down the hallway and is now making a small pool by Conor’s left boot. Fuse doesn’t share the same concerns as the interviewer, however, as he starts laughing. Blaire takes this as a “no”.
Blaire Moise: Okay, good. Based on our conversation last week and you saying this was some kind of “power-up”, I thought maybe you did paint your tongue silver…
Her voice trails off. Fuse stops and looks into the camera. His eyes get shifty.
Conor Fuse: Oh, of course not. It’s just a… metaphor. Everyone here says I talk in metaphors… yes, yes, that’s it. That’s all it was.
Blaire Moise: Good news. I know you’re a strange guy but… [pause] Anyway, Conor, a HUGE victory for you tonight and that means in round two it’s you vs. Mike Best!
The smile washes away from Fuse’s face. There’s a growing sense of concern. Conor slowly puts the paint can down and takes a deep breath.
Conor Fuse: Yes, I know what round two means.
Blaire Moise: What is it going to take to step into the ring with…
Blaire’s voice trails off as one of the back entrance doors to the Best Arena opens and The Vintage is instantly captivated by who walks in.
Head down, walking rather quickly… it’s High Flyer. The fans inside the arena give a cheer. Fuse takes a moment, watching Flyer walk off as the vet doesn’t notice them. The Vintage spins around to Blaire.
Conor Fuse: Nobody has to tell me this will be the biggest fight of my life. That’s obvious, it almost goes without saying. The difficulty mode just increased tenfold.
Fuse looks down at his paint can.
Conor Fuse: Might need something even stronger than this. Do they make anything more potent than lead-based paint?
His voice trails off. Fuse leans against the wall and starts processing information, seemingly having a deep conversation with himself. The pro Moise is, she realizes that’s all she’ll be able to get from Conor tonight and pitches to a commercial break.
Steve Solex primed to skullfuck Black Mamba tonight… the Best Alliance isn’t named by accident, dickheads.
After two formidable brawls in a row, anticipation is high for this one as a returning Black Mamba tears into Steve Solex, a man who hasn’t been shy about his desire to see HOFC return to HOW. Black Mamba brings the fire with a spear into the cage, taking Solex to the ground and trying to keep him there with an armbar attempt in the middle of the first round. Solex is able to escape and mount an impressive offense of his own, so by the end of the first round, this is still anyone’s fight.
Early suplexes from Black Mamba start round two off with a big advantage, but he’s starting to look tired while Solex appears to be able to do this all day. A boot to the stomach is followed by a Solexecution in the center of the cage, and Black Mamba is unable to continue. Steve Solex wins in the second round, and he’s headed to the second round of the DeNucci Cup, as well!
Not long after his battle with Black Mamba, the cameras catch the #1 Dad-Soldier, Steve Solex, walking down a hallway toward the Best Alliance locker room. He looks pretty pleased with himself after the decisive win as he towels off his head and face, then throws the rag off to the side for some poor to pick up and deal with.
Solex isn’t alone in the hallway, though, as footsteps softly approach from his left flank. Steve tilts his head over his shoulder and is greeted by a stiff forearm shot to the mouth, courtesy of a trailing, and smirking, Lindsay Troy.
Joe Hoffman: The Queen of the Ring with a shot across the bow! Solex’s head recoils from the impact!
Benny Newell: This is a fucking travesty and an outrage, Hoffhole, she’s sneak attacking an AMERICAN HERO who JUST FOUGHT IN A CAGE.
Troy doesn’t care much about fairness or civility, though – what’s good for the goose is good for the gander when it comes to the Best Alliance. She stays right on Solex, grabbing him by the arm and whipping him into some nearby trash cans. The combat veteran tumbles into the industrial strength rubber barrels, sending debris and papers flying down the corridor. Lindsay takes the mount, slamming fists into his mouth and, once Solex tries to cover up, changing tactics and driving knees into his ribs.
Steve coughs and splutters, blood starting to bubble and paint his lips red. He rolls to his side and Lindsay lets him, where he spits a wad of crimson onto the tile. Her smirk grows as she leans forward, making sure he can hear her amidst his hacking.
Lindsay Troy: Equal rights, bitch.
She stands up, kicks him once more in the ribs for good measure, and walks away before the EPU can arrive on the scene.
Refueled cuts to commercial.
Jatt Starr isn’t even booked this week and he wins.
The technically gifted John Sektor looks a bit more uncomfortable in the cage than usual, sizing up an opponent he doesn’t have any experience with. As the bell sounds, Clay Byrd is all over the veteran Hall of Famer, but Sektor the ring general manages to keep himself out of trouble time and time again. A series of suplexes from Sektor followed by a fujiwa armbar looks to seal it up immediately in round one, but Clay Byrd holds on for the bell and the round is over.
Round two begins with John Sektor trying to continue the technical clinic, but Clay has reassessed for round two and wants to keep this one on their feet. A series of big punches and kicks back John Sektor into the cage, which Byrd is more than happy to use as a weapon in his arsenal. Sektor battles back near the end of the second round, however, and manages to get into position for the Sektor Stretch! The fans are here for it, but the referee isn’t– the bell rings, and we’re headed to the third round for the first time in this tournament!
Ready to seal it up, the opening bell rings for the third round and finds John Sektor metaphorically rolling up his sleeves. He ties up with Byrd in the center of the ring, by Byrd counters and spins the Hall of Famer around… THE TEXAS LARIAT! The crowd is in actual shock as Sektor goes down, and the referee calls for the bell. This one is over, and Clay Byrd is advancing to round two!
The feed is interrupted by grainy footage of Xander Azula and his Eternal Circle disciples standing near the entrance to Navy Pier, a smile on the face of the Head Disciple of Chaos.
Azula: They say that actions speak louder than words, and I do believe I was able to express myself quite vividly last week on Refueled when I put Hannibal Frost’s dreams on ice within the span of one round.
This draws a chuckle from his disciples, much to Xander’s amusement.
Azula: Do I have your attention now, High Octane Wrestling? Are you ready to hear my message? After last week, only a handful of your competitors can say they started this year with a perfect record. As a matter of fact, I’ve already outlasted at least one of my fellow guests for the DeNucci Cup, which means it’s time to focus my attention on two stalwarts in Bobby Dean and Simon Loveless. One of you is going to have to deal with me next week, and I look forward to sharing the good word with one of you inside that octagon…that word, of course, being mayhem. See you then. All hail Eris, all hail Discordia.
His disciples repeat this final statement, drawing an evil laugh from Xander as the footage cuts to black, sending us straight to commercial.
Okay maybe the marketing department needs to make new commercials but fuck you, we’re the Best Alliance.
A surprisingly ferocious Bobby Dean controls the entire beginning of this fight, reminding the crowd and a returning Simon Loveless why he’s managed to stay relevant all these years even as a fat piece of shit. Smashing Loveless’ face against the cage, Dean makes the mistake of enjoying his success a little too much, only to be caught in the back of the head with a savage donkey punch at the hands of Simon Loveless. Simon Loveless keeps it pretty even for the remainder of the round, but the bell rings without a conclusive winner.
A solid back and forth begins round two, with Dean and Loveless exchanging blows in the middle of the ring. Bobby Dean tries to throw a little extra into those punches and end it before he gasses out, but his overreach is too much– a running Yakuza kick followed by the Loveless Driver is all it takes to end this one, as Simon Loveless makes his way to round two by way of knockout.
We head backstage where Blaire Moise has the returning ‘Sunshine God’ Rah with her.
After what happened last week when her interview with Rah was derailed by the selfie-taking, former sorority girls in his entourage, she’s determined to get an interview with The Sunshine God of HOW without the extracurricular distractions.
Blaire Moise: This week Rah, there’s no Announcer Guy, no Barbie, no sorority girls flitting around taking selfies, no one to get in my way of doing this interview with you.
Rah: Rah understands.
Blaire Moise: It’s just you and me. No interruptions and no funny business. Right?
Rah, dressed in his customary flowing brown robe with a black scarf wrapped around his neck and a pair of sunglasses on his face, flashes Blaire a thumbs up.
Blaire Moise: Okay. Good. Now-
And the second Blaire attempts to ask her first question, The Sunshine God’s attention is immediately diverted elsewhere when he looks down the hall and his eyebrows suddenly raise up.
Rah: Great aurora of luminosity! Who is that?
Blaire sighs and cranes her neck behind Rah to see who has captured his attention.
Blaire Moise: Um…oh. That’s Lindsay Troy.
Rah: Lindsay Troy?
Blaire Moise: Right. Lindsay Troy. The Queen of the Ring.
This intrigues Rah. He rubs his chin with his hand.
Rah: Ooooh. A queen?
Blaire Moise: Right. Queen of the Ring. Now, first question-
But alas, Rah’s attention is elsewhere.
Rah: She shines like the radiance of a supernova. A statuesque beacon of splendor.
Blaire desperately tries to get the interview back on track…
Blaire Moise: Yeah, that’s nice Rah. Now, back to my first question-
…but that’s not happening.
Rah: She is a glittering allurement of incandescence, sparkling as the summer sun.
Blaire Moise: Okay. Now back to the interview-
Rah: Even at her advanced age, she would make a most magnificent addition to Rah’s entourage.
Blaire Moise: Um, I wouldn’t say that to her out loud if I were you.
Rah: Rah will return.
Blaire Moise: I don’t think that’s a good idea either.
Rah leaves on his quest to bring Lindsay Troy into his entourage and HOW’s backstage reporter sees her interview slipping away yet again.
Blaire Moise: Rah!
No response. Rah continues to walk towards Troy.
Blaire Moise (calling out to him): No. Wait! Did you not see what she did to Steve Solex earlier tonight?
But Blaire’s cautionary words of wisdom fall on deaf ears. All she can do is watch Rah walk right up to Troy and flinch at what happens next…
Rah’s voice: Oooooof!
Blaire Moise: Oooooooh.
Blaire Moise (calling out): Told ya. Never say “advanced age” to a woman. Especially Lindsay Troy.
…and then shake her head in a mildly amused detached way as Rah makes his decidedly untriumphant return. He’s bent over like an old man, walking slow, and clearly in extreme pain.
Blaire Moise (matter of factly): So. How’d it go?
The Sunshine God looks incredulously at Blaire…
Rah (voice in a higher octave): Mommy!
…and then tips over and lands in a heap on the floor.
Blaire Moise (rolling her eyes): And yet another interview bites the dust.
Blaire throws up her hands and walks away muttering to herself.
The arena darkens as the HOTv flickers to life looking out over the darkened city of Arkham, Massachusetts. An unusually warm Winter means instead of snow the dismal and secluded city was enduring a cold, grey rain while the windows of homes glowed with warm lights. One such home was the once stately and now decrepit halls of the Kael Estate that like a tomb in a long line of other aged manors overlooking Arkham.
On the air there seems to carry a strange noise, like whale song and bells before we find ourselves within the Kael Estate before a massive fireplace with an almost comically small fire smoldering away within its stony maw. The elegant chair with its #97red cushions sits to the side of it, the dancing flames of the fire glimmering off its varnished wood surface. Sauntering into frame once again was the cocksure Sutler Reynolds-Kael, his arms swinging to side as he took each languid step toward the chair.
Settling down into the chair he reached into the inner pocket of his leather jacket before revealing a white envelope with words HOFC written on it.
SRK: It’s HOW’s favorite son, the new Prince of High Octane Wrestling, Sutler Reynolds-Kael. #UNDEFEATED.
He winks as he tacks the hashtag to the end of sentence as if it were a noteworthy achievement with less than five total matches in his entire career.
SRK: And I made sure to set up this Tournament so that I’d have smooth sailing from here on out, an easy trip all the way to the top, ha-HA! Why? Cause I’m a genius, I’m third Generation Best, second generation Reynolds-Kael, some of the smartest minds in the business.. And I’m the culmination of all three lines. I haven’t even looked at the brackets yet to see who I’m facing next week ’cause I know whatever shmuck it is, they don’t have a chance. So let’s see what poor, dumb idiot gets to add to my #UNDEFEATED streak!
He flashes an arrogant, pearly tooth smile, maybe just a little too perfect, like a goblin that polymorphed into a human. If you get it you get it. Stripping the envelope open Sutler pulled out the HOFC Tournament brackets, his brown eyes turning down to scan the paper.
SRK: It’s Dan…
The color in Sutler’s face drains as his brain reads the last name before his lips can push the air out of his lungs.
The third generation Best looks up at the camera, his smile faltering for a moment before he looks back down at the paper, his brow knitting together as he ferociously rechecked the name.
SRK: Dan Ryan. Fuuuuuu-
The image jumps as it is clear there is a break in the footage as we see Sutler on the phone, pacing back and forth, his face now red.
SRK: ..she did WHAT?! Lindsay Troy fucked everything up! My Grandfather will hear about this!..hello? Hello!?
Another jump in time as Sutler is seated back in his chair holding his head in his hands, his black and #97red hair covering his face.
SRK: It’s okay.. It’s okay.. I can figure this out. Just think.. Think..
His head shoots up as he snaps his fingers as a look of hope passes over his face.
SRK: Wait, I have an idea. Chloe! I need to pick Dad’s mind!
The soft tapping of tiny shoots on the dark wood floors of the room Sutler sits in announces the arrival of little Chloe Sektor-Reynolds-Kael, Little Lady Sutler, John Sektor’s 2019 Redemption Run throwaway, whatever you want to call her. In her hands she holds the metal half-skull of her and Sutler’s adopted father, Maximillian Wilhelm Kael, thrusting it up toward her older Brother.
SRK: Thank you, Chloe! Folks, you know I’m very lucky to have so much experience at my fingertips.
Scooping the remains of his Father’s head up into his hands Sutler reaches into the macabre bowl pulling out a small dusty leather book with the title “Max’s Ole’Timey Insults About Dan Ryan Vol. VI”. Sutler blows on the book as dust and ash create a Max cloud which causes Chloe to retreat away, screaming while waving her arms above her head. The Crown Prince of High Octane tosses the metal skull to the side as it clatters across the floor.
SRK: What secrets dwell within I wonder?
Carefully opening the book, a soft golden light pour from its pages filling up Sutler’s face with its glowing light. The smile slowly returns to Sutler’s face as he basks in the warm glow of his Father’s greatest insults. He turns to look at the camera however instead of confidence the cracks in his mask reveal fear and concern.
SRK: ..I have no idea what any of this says..FUUUUUUUUUU-
The scene cuts back to outside the Kael Estate as the rain continues to pour. Sounds of Sutler throwing things while cursing the name of Lindsay Troy carries through the wet night air. We continue to pan out over the murky city of Arkham before the HOTv darkens and the house lights rise.
Remember this guy? He was in the Best Alliance once. Check him out on the network. I don’t know, this bit is stupid.
Maybe this week’s most anticipated fight, both young and old HOW fans are real into this one for different reasons. The former Cool Reality members square off in the center of the ring, talking some shit, but Cancer Jiles isn’t ready as Scottywood lays him out with a stiff clothesline in the middle of the canvas! Jiles is back on his feet fast, and now two old friends come to blows back and forth as the crowd is getting hot! Jiles flies off the cage with a springboard elbow that takes Scottywood out of the fight, but Woodson answers the count before the end of the round as the two fighters are separated for the beginning of round two.
As the second bell rings, Scottywood charges in to take control, but Jiles sprays him with that COOLYMPIAN YOLJK to a roar from the crowd! Scotty is in a bad way, blinded and in a No DQ environment, as Jiles launches the superkick heard round the world… TERMINAL CANCER! Scottywood knows Jiles well enough to see it coming, though, and he counters into a fireman’s carry… but Jiles reverses too! He falls onto the back of Scottywood, and now both men are brawling on the ground and jockeying for control as round two comes to an end– it’s still not over!
Into the third round for the second time tonight, Jiles is firmly in control for the beginning of the round. He turns around to jaw jack the audience a little bit, but gets too cute, and Scotty is back on his feet! Jiles goes from popping shit to hitting the mat with a Game Misconduct in seconds flat, as Scottywood advances to round two of the Denucci Cup via knockout and ends the show proving that the old man can still fucking go.